“You guys OK with working for Tariq for a while longer?” asked Vance.
“How long is that exactly?” asked Saneh.
“A few months. We need to maintain the status quo as far as Mossad is concerned. Keila and her people need to believe that Bishop works for Priority Movements Airlift. It goes a long way to explaining how he put together a team to get them out of Iraq.”
Bishop nodded. “Keila reached out today. Wants to meet somewhere neutral. Saneh and I are planning to head over to Greece to inspect our boat. I figured we could tie in a meeting.”
“Unless you don’t think it’s a good idea,” added Saneh.
“No, it’s all good,” said Chua. “Keila is a link into the most capable intelligence agency in the Middle East. She’s going to be a formidable ally in the future.”
Bishop spotted the look that passed over Saneh’s features. He’d seen the eyebrow twitch before, and knew what it meant. She wasn’t happy with the situation, which was understandable. When she was a MOIS operative the Israelis had been her sworn enemy and she’d personally dispatched a number of their agents. Still, that was a lifetime ago. She was PRIMAL now and their views on justice were not aligned to a single nationality or entity.
“So, tell us more about New Zealand,” Saneh asked diverting the conversation.
“Who said anything about New Zealand?” said Vance, feigning surprise. “Let me guess, Mitch?”
“He said he was working on something special for you guys.”
“All will be revealed in good time,” said Vance. “Now, what about this boat of yours?”
***
NYAGATARE, RWANDA
Bianca had tracked down the girl through her new fixer, the cab driver who’d abandoned her to the security thugs. She’d guilted him into running some errands, and the promise of cash had incentivized him to find someone who worked at the medical facility she was investigating.
Their meeting place was a teahouse on the outskirts of Nyagatare. Bianca arrived late in the afternoon and took a seat in the corner of the empty room. Unwinding the bulky headscarf she’d used to cover her blonde hair she gave the establishment a once over. It was spartan to say the least. What served as the kitchen was a low counter at the back with a sink, two kettles and a pile of plastic mugs not unlike the ones she remembered from summer camp. A scrawny teenage boy had taken her order with eyes wide as saucers. Bianca doubted that a westerner had ever visited before much less a blonde woman.
As she waited for her contact she sipped sickly sweet tea and recapped the events that had brought her to this meeting. She’d first learned of the rumors surrounding the medical facility when she was working for a non-profit organization teaching English. The former Canadian Special Operations Regiment non-commissioned officer had left the service eighteen months earlier. It had only taken her a few months to realize that while she’d needed to go her separate way from the military, she still needed purpose and excitement in her life.
Unfortunately, her role at the English school had been short, ending when her agency had been investigated back in Canada for fraud. With funding dried up, she’d been ready to head home when one of her students had told her of the medical facility. Google had proven its existence, and a few queries around town had raised her suspicions.
The laboratory, as it was described online, was a research facility that employed fifty locals in a variety of roles. The company behind it, Lifebright Foundation, also claimed to run several medical aid stations around Rwanda, although she had been unable to find any evidence that the clinics had ever operated.
Prior to the incident with Lifebright’s security guards, she’d had little evidence linking them to nefarious activity. The threat they’d issued had reinforced her suspicions.
A bell attached to the teahouse door jingled and Bianca spotted a middle-aged Rwandan woman with a red scarf tied around her head entering. She half rose as the woman walked directly to her. “Hello, my name is–”
The woman cut her off with a raised hand. “No names.”
“OK.”
She sat opposite Bianca, waved the teenager over and ordered sweet tea.
“So, how long did you work at Lifebright?” Bianca asked when he’d moved back to the kitchenette.
“Eight months.”
“What was your role?”
“I worked in the kitchen. Making meals for the girls.”
“Tell me about the girls.”
“I only saw them twice. One of the workers did not come to work and I had to stay late to clean the kitchen. When I left, I saw a truck arrive full of girls.”
The teen delivered a cup of tea.
“You’re sure?”
She nodded. “The second time I saw the same truck from a distance. More girls unloaded.”
“Do you know what happens to them?”
She shook her head. “No, I never see them again.”
“But you make meals for them?”
“I think so. We make lots of food. More than is needed for the staff.”
“But you don’t know what they’re doing to the girls.”
“No.” She glanced over her shoulder at the door. “But I think it is very bad.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Why do they hide it from us?”
“Good point.”
The woman took a sip from her cup then rose. “I have to go now.”
Bianca stood. “Please wait. I’ve got some more questions.”
“These are bad people. They need to be stopped. I must go.”
She made to follow her but thought better of it. The woman was terrified. Plus, she didn’t think she was going to get any more information out of her.
Bianca finished her drink, rewrapped her head scarf and paid the teen along with a healthy tip. Light was fading as she left the teahouse and began walking to the next block where her cab driver waited. Turning the corner she heard a commotion further along the dimly lit street. A small crowd had gathered by the side of the road. As she got closer she saw that someone was lying in a crumpled heap. Her training kicked in and she pushed her way through the group. On the ground was the woman she’d just met.
Her pulse quickened as she saw the woman’s head was at an award angle, eyes wide and staring. She didn’t need to check her vitals to see she was dead.
“A car hit her and didn’t stop!” exclaimed a bystander.
Bianca backed out of the crowd, disappearing into the darkness. For all she knew the Lifebright guards who’d assassinated her contact were still close by. There was no doubt in her mind now, she was up against an evil entity and they’d upped the ante.
***
LASCAR TOWER, ABU DUBAI
Avi Lerner strolled into the foyer of Lascar Tower and collected a pass from the security desk. Entering an elevator he pressed the button for the top floor.
As it rose at high speed he felt a strange prickling sensation and the hairs on his arms stood on end. No doubt some kind of advanced scanner had confirmed that he wasn’t carrying a weapon. Not that the square-jawed Mossad operative needed one. If he wanted to kill Tariq Ahmed he could do it with his bare hands.
The elevator slowed as it approached the top level. The indicator displayed the highest floor, but the doors didn’t open, it merely blinked twice and rose another dozen feet.
“Sneaky,” Avi murmured as the doors finally opened.
He recognized the attractive brunette behind the sleek white desk in the foyer. “Hello, Emily.”
“Mr. Lerner, you are expected.”
Avi had no way of knowing that the bookish secretary had a Kriss .45 submachine gun aimed at his torso. A weapon that, thanks to tutelage by Saneh, she was highly proficient with.
Thick opaque glass doors slid open and Avi gave her a wink as he strolled through them.
Tariq was sitting at his desk when the Mossad operative entered. The CEO and owner of Lascar Logistics’ attention was fixed on the tablet in front of him.
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Avi coughed.
“I’ll be with you in a moment.”
The Mossad operative made himself comfortable on a white settee.
Finally Tariq looked up and locked eyes with him. “I take it this is not a social visit?”
“Not at all,” Avi replied. “I’m here to discuss our business arrangements.”
“I’m sure that could have been achieved over the phone.”
“Director Lisker wanted me to add a personal touch.”
Tariq folded his hands in front of him. “I’m truly blessed. Now if you don’t mind, I have business to conduct. So, if we could keep this quick.”
“Of course. A company called Dynamic Procurement Holdings will place orders for equipment we need moved. The shipments will primarily be of a humanitarian nature and as such will be shipped into high-risk areas.”
Tariq’s eyes narrowed. “Humanitarian Aid.”
“Yes, I believe you have an outfit called Priority Movements Airlift that is adept at conducting such activities.”
“That business unit is closing down.”
“Unfortunate. But, with your fleet of aircraft, I’m sure you’ll find something to meet the requirement.”
“And you expect Lascar Logistics to be at your beck and call.”
“Of course not. We’ll have an account like anyone else and we’ll submit shipment orders just like anyone else. In fact, we’ll pay a premium to ensure expedited delivery.”
“I don’t need your money.”
“So you’d provide your services out of the goodness of your heart. Knowing that your actions will further Israel’s interests over that of your countrymen.”
Tariq exhaled, fighting the urge to draw the pistol he kept in his drawer and shoot the smug Mossad agent in the face. “You’ve made your point.”
“Excellent.” Avi rose. “I’ll see myself out.”
“Please do.”
Tariq waited for Avi to leave then rose from his desk. He walked across to a glass cabinet and studied his reflection. The face that looked back was a face that repulsed him. It was the face of a man who’d betrayed a friend, a man who had sold out everything he stood for.
He lashed out at the glass, cracking it with his fist. His only consolation was that his actions were keeping Lascar employees safe.
CHAPTER 5
LAVRIO, GREECE
“Keep them closed, babe.” Bishop gripped Saneh’s hand as he led her along a floating concrete pier at the Olympic marina in the Greek township of Lavrio. The pair had flown in to Athens that morning and caught a bus to the center of the coastal town. Breakfast at a café was followed by a stroll through streets lined with vibrant white buildings capped with red terracotta tiles. Bishop’s research had revealed that the small town had grown around ancient silver mines. The port and subsequent marina had been constructed to manage a growing fishing fleet and shipments of ore.
He stopped her at the end of the pier. “OK, open them.”
Saneh let out a sigh as she took in the sleek lines of the yacht that Bishop had purchased. The vessel sported a deep blue hull with polished teak decks and superstructure. “She’s gorgeous.”
Bishop unhooked a lanyard on the railing of the boat and gestured for Saneh to board the 115-foot vessel.
“So, what makes it a ketch?” she asked as they walked along the deck.
Bishop gestured to the twin masts. “A ketch always has a mainmast taller than the second mizzenmast.”
“And the mizzenmast is the one at the rear?”
“Correct.”
“Does she have a name?”
“She did, but I didn’t like it.” Bishop led her to the wheelhouse.
“What was it?”
“The Isabella.”
Saneh scrunched her nose, confirming his assessment that she wouldn’t like the name either.
“I was thinking Susurro,” he said.
“Susurro?”
“It means whisper.”
“I like it.” She followed him into the wheelhouse.
The elegant vessel’s cockpit reminded Bishop of the control surfaces in a modern aircraft. Sleek black touch panels surrounded the ship’s wheel, and a row of waterproof headsets sat on a charging dock. Mitch had organized the refit of the forty-year-old yacht, and Bishop could see that the systems were state-of-the-art. The scent of marine varnish hung heavy as they descended a staircase into the hull. LED panels recessed into the rich honey-colored wood lit the interior.
“Wow, there’s a lot more room down here than I expected,” exclaimed Saneh as they entered the living area. The open space doubled as a dining room with a well-equipped galley running along one side.
“There’re two bedrooms forward and a bunk room, store room and gym aft.”
Her eyes shone as she turned and wrapped her arms around him. “She’s perfect,” she whispered as their lips touched.
“Wait till you see the master bedroom.” Bishop slipped his arms around her waist as they kissed passionately.
“Show me,” she said huskily when they broke.
He maneuvered her through a narrow doorway into the vessel’s master suite, lifted her from her feet and lowered her onto the king-size bed. “Damn I love you,” he said as he eased himself onto her.
“Me too,” she murmured as he slid his hands under her T-shirt. “And I love this boat.”
Bishop pulled her T-shirt off, revealing a lacy bra that he removed with a flick of his wrist.
Her long brown hair spilled out over the bed as she arched her back and let out a soft moan. Bishop kissed his way down her lean body to the top of her jeans.
An hour later Bishop strolled alone through the streets of Lavrio. He wore a bright smile and walked with a skip in his step. Finally he felt like things were back on track with Saneh. They’d had a tough last few years but their relationship was heading in a positive direction. He could tell that she was as excited about the boat as he was.
He found the restaurant he was looking for one street back from the waterfront. The cheerful seafood establishment boasted an outdoor dining area surrounded by white pillars and a seaside view. Taking a seat he ordered a beer and a plate of dolmades. It was a pity that Saneh had stayed onboard the boat, she loved Greek food.
“Hello, Aden.”
He turned and locked eyes with Keila Bachman, the Mossad operative whose team he’d saved during a mission in Iraq. “Keila, you’re looking well.” She wore her usual sports attire with her hair in a ponytail.
“You too. Do you mind if I take a seat?”
“Of course, I’ll get you a beer.” He signaled to a waiter.
She sat opposite him. “After everything that’s happened, I think I owe you a beer, or ten.”
Bishop shrugged. “I’m not about to argue that. So, what’s this meeting about? I’m guessing you didn’t agree to meet in Greece because you wanted to buy me a beer.”
“Correct. I wanted to discuss the future of our relationship and I thought it best to do that in person.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You do know I’m already in a relationship.”
“Yes, with a gorgeous Persian woman who’s deadlier than anthrax. I’m here to talk to you about our professional relationship. What you did for us in Iraq was nothing short of amazing. We’d like–”
“For you,” Bishop interrupted.
“I’m sorry.”
“We did it for you and your team. Not Israel and certainly not Mossad. I took my people in to Iraq to rescue your people because it was the right thing to do.”
“What about Salim?” She referred to the ISIS arms dealer that Bishop and his team had captured and delivered to Keila.
“The guy was an asshole.”
Keila laughed. “So, what if I was to point you in the direction of other assholes.”
“Enemies of Israel?”
“No doubt. But assholes none the less.”
“So, you’re talking about a mutually beneficial relationship?”
“Exactly.”
Their beers and the dolmades arrived and Bishop gestured to the plate. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” Keila slipped one of the vine leaf-covered morsels into her mouth and chewed it. “Damn, that’s good.” She wiped her fingers with a paper towel. “So, I’ve looked into your boss.”
“Oh yeah?”
“He seems to be a good guy. Did you know he sponsors a dozen orphanages in Turkey?”
Bishop cocked his head. “That I did not know, but then I’ve never met the guy.”
“You’ve never met Tariq Ahmed, the CEO of Lascar Logistics?”
“Not personally. He’s visited the hangar a few times. I’m not one for hobnobbing with big shots.”
“OK, well take it from me, he’s a good guy.”
Bishop could tell by the tone of her voice that she wasn’t buying his story. “What about your boss? He a good guy?”
“Yeah, he’s decent.”
Bishop finished his beer. “Then I guess this could work then.” He waved the waiter over and ordered another beer. When the man had departed, he took a dolmades from the plate. “OK, so let’s talk communications protocols.”
***
OMORATE, ETHIOPIA
A rooster crowed as Booyah approached a ramshackle cluster of tin huts on the outskirts of a village. As he got closer he spotted a woman crouched over a pot, cooking breakfast. A dog barked as he made toward her and she glanced up with a concerned expression.
“Good morning,” he chirped in her native tongue.
She gave him the once over and decided that despite his disheveled appearance, he was probably harmless. “Good morning.” She went back to stirring the contents of the earthen pot.
A quick glance around confirmed that the woman and her family were dirt poor. Their hut leaned sideways and was held together by rusted wire and lengths of twine.
“I’ve been traveling all night. Any chance I could sit and rest my feet. Perhaps warm my hands by your fire?”
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