by Dave Edlund
Nadya was glad she could not see Joshua’s eyes.
She turned away from her fallen colleague and called out. “Don’t shoot!” She held her rifle out in one hand, the other hand raised. Slowly, Nadya stood.
“Don’t shoot!” she shouted again. She was scrutinizing the rock fortress.
“What do you want?” Peter shouted in return. “Why are you trying to kill me?” Nadya was looking directly at Peter’s hide between two boulders, at the left end of the outcropping.
“You shoot well. Were you a sniper in the Army?”
“Never served,” he answered. “Why are you trying to kill me?”
“Can we talk?”
Peter considered the request. It surprised him, but he did want answers. Plus he had her in the crosshairs and could drop her easily.
“Very well. You can walk toward me. I’ll tell you when to stop. And if you don’t stop when I tell you to, or if you make any threatening movement, I’ll kill you where you stand.”
Nadya stared across the open expanse. She was surprised at his determination. Most civilians would have crumbled under the fear and pressure.
“Do you understand me?” Peter asked.
“Yes, I understand.” She started walking forward, hands still raised.
Peter tracked her step by step. She walked easily, not showing any sign of fatigue. She was composed, remarkably so, especially since he’d already shot dead three of her associates. When she was close enough that they could talk without shouting he said, “That’s close enough.”
Nadya stopped. She could see Peter’s face now, at least the left side not hidden behind the hunting scope.
“Now. Carefully place your left hand on the rifle stock.”
She did as instructed, aware that he could place a bullet in her heart at any moment if provoked.
“Place your right hand on the barrel, close to the muzzle, and heave that rifle toward me. One handed! I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if you try anything.”
Nadya slid her right hand to the muzzle and flung the rifle forward. It travelled maybe twenty meters before landing muzzle first in the dirt. Even if she could somehow get to the weapon without being shot, she wasn’t confident it would cycle without first being field stripped and thoroughly cleaned. And if dirt was stuck in the barrel it might even blow up on her if she pulled the trigger.
“Okay lady, what’s on your mind,” Peter said.
“A trade. Let me go, and you walk away.”
“I could kill you now and still walk away.”
“No, you won’t shoot an unarmed woman.”
“Why are you trying to kill me? Who sent you?”
Nadya turned up the corners of her mouth. If the situation was not dire, the naiveté of the question would be humorous. “I suspect you know how this works.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come now, Mr. Savage—”
“How do you know my name?”
“I was briefed.” She paused. If Peter was surprised, he didn’t let on.
She continued. “Your knowledge of tactics is commendable. And you seem to take killing in stride, like a man who has killed before and is good at it.”
For a moment Peter wondered if her assessment was true. Is this really what I’ve become? The thought was disgusting. She was right, of course. He had shot many men, but only when they were threatening him or his family. He wanted to believe that was the difference—the distinction between being a cold-blooded killer and someone who was only reluctantly forced into self-defense. But was that boundary really as clear as he wanted to believe? In the end, people still died… by my hand.
“No, that’s not who I am.”
“Do you really believe that? Your actions here today would argue otherwise.”
Peter felt his finger brushing the rifle trigger. Why not kill her, too? No. She could taunt him, but he was not a killer. Not like she was. He was defending himself.
“Who sent you to kill me?”
“It’s always the same answer, isn’t it?” She sighed. “A government sent me, and my team.”
“You’re trying my patience. If you really think I’m a killer, remember which end of my rifle you’re looking at.”
“You know what, Mr. Savage? I don’t think you are a killer.” She took a step forward.
Peter squeezed the trigger—heard the report and felt the butt stock shoved violently into his shoulder.
Nadya saw the eruption of dirt an inch in front of her foot. Dirt and gravel sprayed against her boot and leg. She froze.
“Okay, point taken.”
“Who sent your team to kill me?”
“I work at the pleasure of a government. An ally of the United States. Your only true ally in the Middle East.”
“Israel,” Peter said. But this answer just led to more questions. “Why would the Israeli government want to kill me?”
Nadya shrugged. Even if she had known, she would not have shared that information.
“They don’t want the file on the Liberty incident released to the public,” Peter said. “Is that it? But why would they care? That happened so long ago.”
“I’m a soldier. And like every good soldier, I simply follow orders and don’t ask questions.”
“So goes the justification for murdering innocent civilians. I’ll bet you sleep well at night.”
She shrugged again. “I do okay.”
“Did you murder Emma Jones and send that woman assassin to kill me?”
“I don’t murder innocent civilians, Mr. Savage. My country is at war with terrorists who wish only to see the Jewish people wiped from the face of the Earth.”
“Maybe you missed the news, but the U.S. is also at war with terrorism.”
Nadya tugged the side of her mouth in a mock grin. “So I’ve heard. While Americans hear about terrorism in the news, my people live it every day. You have no idea what it is like to wonder if the city bus you are riding will be bombed. Or if the man or woman passing you on the street will attack you with a machete. That’s true fear.”
“The ends never justify the means.”
Nadya laughed. “You are naïve, aren’t you? The ends always justify the means. Your government, above all others, lives by that simple rule.”
The silence hung on the air: Nadya waited for Peter to make the next move, while Peter was uncertain what that move should be. He wanted to feel righteous, and yet her words stung with the unmistakable pain of truth.
She broke the silence. “So, I have answered your questions. Now, I will go.”
The Mossad operator turned and began the long descent. Peter watched her leave, conflicted. True, she and her team had brazenly tried to murder Peter. But equally true, she was now seemingly unarmed and walking away.
Peter slid down and rubbed Diesel’s head. The amber eyes peered backed at him. “I don’t know what to make of that either.”
Only after she’d covered half a mile and was within the trees again, did she key the satellite phone. “Marcus. Change of plans.”
She gave Marcus new coordinates. They would meet, rest, and regroup. This plan had fallen apart almost from the outset. She had made the capital mistake of severely underestimating her opponent.
That would not happen again.
Chapter 24
Sacramento, California
April 21
Jim was finishing the details of his plan when his phone rang. It was Lieutenant Lacey. “I checked current records of all staffers working for the House, and there is an Angela Meyers. She’s the Chief of Staff for Abraham Schuman.”
“The Speaker of the House?” Jim said.
“That’s correct, sir. And she’s his principal campaign manager as well.”
“Doesn’t get more high-level than that. We’ll have to proceed cautiously.”
“How do you want me to handle it?” Lacey asked.
Jim thought through the possibilities. “We still need confirmation that the email address Gary
found is active, but I’m guessing it is. I want you to call Schuman’s office and get an appointment to talk with Angela Meyers.”
“Given the time difference, I won’t be able to reach anyone in Washington until tomorrow morning. But she may be out on the road anyway. The Presidential campaign has got to be a huge commitment with a grueling travel schedule.”
“I understand. Call first thing in the morning. If you get the brush off, tell them it’s a matter of national security—make up a story, whatever is necessary—but I want you on the phone with Meyers tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir. And when I do speak to her, what should I say?”
“Tell her we are investigating a security breach. Ask her what she knows about top-secret files from 1967. But don’t mention the USS Liberty.”
“You want to spook her, she if she slips up and says something incriminating.”
“That’s the general idea. Maybe she’ll give us enough to get a warrant for a phone tap.”
“Sir, we both know that is very unlikely. As a branch of military intelligence, we have no jurisdiction. And the Justice Department doesn’t like it when we try to help them do their job.”
“I am well aware of the situation, Lieutenant. I took the same oath as you—to protect our country against all enemies, foreign and domestic. And right now it’s looking more and more like we have a very serious threat developing. Do what you can.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I still want to keep this under wraps, at least a while longer. Is Stephens enough support for you?”
“We’re good. If I feel we need additional assets, I’ll let you know.”
“One more thing. See if Stephens can get any new information from the Bend Police Department or Deschutes County Sheriff.”
“We’re on it. I’ll let you know when we have something new to share.”
s
Mona Stephens spent about 30 minutes on the phone, being transferred from one desk to another, before she was finally connected to Detective Colson’s desk. It was late in the evening. Luckily, the detective had her calls automatically forwarded to her cell phone when she was out of the office. And lately that was often.
“Detective Colson,” she answered.
“Detective, my name is Mona Stephens and I’m working on a case involving national security. Do you have a minute?”
It took closer to five minutes to offer sufficient explanation for Colson to agree to share an update on her investigation. She concluded with a name to call within the Sheriff Department, Deputy Tom Hastings. “He’s your best source at the moment. Two hours ago they found the body of a deputy sent to track down a lead. He was executed, his body and vehicle pushed off the road. State Police and Sheriff Deputies are organizing a manhunt.”
“What lead?” Stephens pressed for more specific information.
“A location in the mountains, west of here—possible location of Peter Savage after he fled the crime scene in Bend. Three civilians are dead; a security guard is in the hospital with a skull fracture, he may not make it. Mr. Savage is our prime suspect. And now it looks like he’s graduated to cop killing.”
Stephens thanked Colson for her help and promised to return the favor should she learn anything new. No mention was made of secret files.
Next, she phoned the contact in the Sheriff Department. The phone rang six times before going to voicemail. Frustrated, Stephens phoned the non-emergency number, explained her situation, and asked how she could reach Deputy Hastings.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. He’s unavailable now. I suggest you leave a voice message for him.”
Stephens sighed. “Already did that. Thank you.”
It had taken an hour to gather only a few additional clues, and she was frustrated she couldn’t get a detailed briefing from either department. She walked down the hall to Ellen Lacey’s office. The door was open. Still, she knocked before entering.
“Come in,” Lacey said.
Mona Stephens closed the door behind her and took a chair in front of the desk. “The local law enforcement doesn’t like to share much.”
Lacey frowned. Seems like they still couldn’t catch a break.
Stephens continued, “But I do have one additional clue. A sheriff deputy was checking a possible location for Mr. Savage. Somewhere in the mountains—I couldn’t get the specific location. But it didn’t go well. The Deputy was shot, execution style. The crime scene is still being processed, and the State Police and Sheriff’s Office are coordinating a massive manhunt. The local news will probably air the story tonight, might get more details then.”
“Probably, but we’ll lose several more hours in the meantime. Maybe the Commander will have a guess as to where Peter might be hiding out.”
Two minutes later Jim had joined his two intelligence analysts.
“The detective… she said west?” Jim wanted to confirm he’d heard correctly.
“Yes, sir,” Stephens replied after checking her notes. “Detective Colson is her name. She said Peter Savage was believed to be at a location in the mountains to the west of Bend. Is that significant?”
“It might be,” he answered. And then, almost as an afterthought, “Follow me. I need a large display.”
They followed their boss to the nearest conference room. Jim booted up the computer and soon had a satellite map of the Cascade Mountain range displayed on the large wall-mounted monitor. He focused in on the area due west of Bend.
“Peter often spoke of this area.” He pointed with his finger to identify certain features. “Here’s Mount Bachelor and Broken Top.” He moved his finger a little to the north. “And these three peaks are the Three Sisters—North, Middle, and South.” The satellite image showed snow on all the mountain peaks, but the lower elevations were shades of green and gray indicating foliage and open ground.
“Todd Lake was special to him. It’s here, next to this unimproved road.” Jim jabbed an oval blue shape with his index finger. “He often told me how he likes to hunt in the back country north of the lake and on the eastern slope of Broken Top.”
“You think he might have fled there?” Lacey asked.
Jim stared at the map in silence. On many occasions Peter had spoken so fondly of his time at Todd Lake with his children and his late wife, Maggie. Those memories harkened back to happier times for Peter, when his life was full of hope and love; a time when the future held limitless possibilities. In those memories Peter found sanctuary, a spiritual comfort that he turned to in time of need.
Lacey’s question still hung on the air when Jim answered. “Yes. I know that’s where he is.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Stephens said, “but how can you be so certain. Reference to ‘the mountains west of Bend’ covers a very large territory.”
“Because that’s his refuge. He knows the area extremely well. Just being there is comforting to him. Plus, he can play a defensive game in that country without the risk of civilians getting hurt.”
“Once that manhunt gets underway,” Lacey said, “they will find him. And they believe he executed a deputy. Law enforcement won’t be inclined to bring him in alive.”
Jim folded his arms across his chest, his jaw clenched. “That’s why I have to get to him first.”
Chapter 25
Eastern Drainage of Broken Top
April 21
Nadya never turned back, didn’t even look over her shoulder. Instead, she hiked directly back to the meadow beneath the rocky point. There, she picked up Marie’s rifle and the extra magazines from her cooling body. There was no time to be sentimental. Marie and Ben and Joshua were dead. Others would deal with the bodies, when they were finally discovered. For now, she still had a mission to complete.
Shouldering the rifle, she referenced her GPS and set off on a new bearing—one that would take her to the rendezvous location. This was one of several locations agreed to in advance and pre-loaded into the hand-held navigational unit of each team member. The destination was overlaid on either a to
pographical map or a satellite photo, depending on settings she selected. Currently she was using the topographical display and following a course that would avoid any difficult terrain. She had a mile to cover.
When she reached the coordinates, the sun was behind the mountains and only twilight remained, soon to be followed by an ink-black night sky speckled with starlight. She’d familiarized herself with the lunar tables and knew the quarter-moon would rise after midnight.
Because of the detour Marcus had to take when the rendezvous location was altered at the last minute, Nadya arrived first. She unlimbered the rifle at the sound of a twig snapping. Careless, she thought. She had her body pressed tight against a large tree to breakup her outline. In the ever-dimming light it was impossible to discern details. Through her night vision glasses she watched the approaching figure and raised her rifle. She called out in a low voice, “Marcus?”
The figure froze. “Nadya? It’s me.”
Nadya exhaled in relief, lowered the rifle, and stepped into the open. “Over here,” she said.
Marcus also was wearing his NVGs and joined up with her.
“Where are the others?” he asked.
“Dead.”
Surprise was evident when Marcus spoke. “But how can that be? We were hunting only one man.”
“One very dangerous man. The plan has changed. We were sent in poorly prepared. Now, we are going to change that.”
She placed a call on the satellite phone.
The voice had a hard edge. “This better be important.”
“It is,” she said calmly. “If you want the mission completed, you need to send in a fire support team and heavier weapons.”
“What? Lady, you’ve got to be kidding me. Your team was supposed to handle this easily and quietly.”
“My team is no longer functional,” she answered through gritted teeth. “There are only two of us left. The target has detailed knowledge of the terrain and is picking us off before we can get close enough to kill him. Now, as I said, if you want this mission to succeed, send in more firepower.”
