Angels Don't Die (Madeleine Toche Series Book 2) (19 page)

             
“I hope so.  The sooner we find him and leave the country, the better.  Karen is holding up well, but I can see the tension building in her each day,” John said.

             
“This last operation will require getting in and getting out fast.  Getting in shouldn’t be too difficult.  The soldiers guarding the border will be planning for an offensive, and our small group should be able to slip in past them while they are concentrating on crossing the border themselves.  However, getting out of the country with an escaped American captive won’t be as easy.  The whole country will be on alert,” Madeleine said.

             
“I think I can help with that,” John said wiping grease off his hands with a well-used rag.

             
“What do you suggest?”

             
“We’ll go out in style.  My friend’s airline runs a flight out of Damascus.  We’ll board the plane at the last minute and fly out of their airspace.  Even if they suspect anything, they’ll hesitate a long time before they shoot down a commercial aircraft loaded with Syrians and other passengers.  There are many western journalists reporting from Syria, as well as other Arab journalists.  I just don’t think it’s a good idea to rely on being able to cross back over enemy lines into Israel.  We’ll be safe, once we’re on Cecil’s plane.  I think it will be the last place anyone chasing us would look,” John said.

             
“Your friend must have some clout with the airline.”

             
“He does.  He owns it,” John said with a chuckle.  “I guarantee that he will insist on flying the plane himself.”

             
“A commercial jet is not cheap,” Madeleine said.  “Will he be willing to risk it?”

             
“He’s a fighter jock from the Battle of Britain.  He worked his way up as a commercial pilot until he owned the airline.  Those Battle of Britain boys never think any other pilot in the world is as good as they are.  And in Cecil’s case, he’s probably right.”

             
“We need the flight schedule and someplace to hide while we wait,” Madeleine said.

             
“With the middle east gearing up for war, they’ll have an increased flight schedule.  We won’t have a long wait,” John said.

             
“No, I suppose we won’t.  I’d better get the others. It’s time to go,” Madeleine said, moving back up the stairs.

A few kilometers away, Amaya observed the Mossad building through the lens of her tourist’s camera. She wore loose cotton shorts and a t-shirt.  She looked like a student, complete with a backpack.  The camera dangled around her neck and provided great cover while she waited.  She even had a return plane ticket that she carried in a zipper pocket of her pack.

  Despite the political tensions, so far foreigners were not being asked to leave.  That would come once the fighting broke out.  Even at this point, there had been no official suggestion that tourists and civilian visitors leave the country. To do so would have been an acknowledgement on the part of the Israeli government that they expected war.  It is an interesting situation, she thought scanning the crowd again.  She had memorized Madeleine’s photo and was fairly confident that she would recognize her, either alone or with a small group. She won’t be alone, and a group would provide good cover. Amaya’s plan was to get Madeleine alone, but if others got in the way, she would take them out, too.  Even someone with Toche’s experience needed assistance in a location as foreign as Israel.

     Amaya used the camera and took pictures of everything around her.  As a test, she moved closer to a couple of Israeli security officers, who took no significant interest in her as she passed in front of them.  She was careful not to appear interested in the Mossad building; she really had no need to go inside.  Her plan was simple, to wait and watch.  At some point her target would come to her. She was confident that the Mossad wouldn’t have the luxury of moving their operations center, with the war imminent. This was her second day of waiting; thankfully she was able to blend in with the other market goers.  There was no longer any doubt concerning the connection between Toche and the Mossad.  The few PLO operatives that had escaped their bungled attack on the Mossad director, all spoke of the assailant that had seemed to materialize out of nowhere and attacked everywhere at once.  Amaya sat on the rim of a small fountain and removed her backpack.  She opened the zipper just wide enough to place her hand inside and to feel the grip of the silenced pistol inside.  She reached further down and felt the compact sniper rifle, the barrel, scope and ammunition fit inside the stock.  She pulled out a new roll of film and reloaded her camera.  Passersby smiled at the attractive young woman, oblivious to the fact that she had carried out dozens of hits for the Yakuza, in Japan and more recently, internationally.

  Amaya neither enjoyed nor was bothered by her chosen profession.  She was a professional.  She never concerned herself with the motivation behind any of the killings.  The hit on Madeleine Toche was business that was simple enough.  All Amaya considered was that her target was a well-armed and highly proficient killer.  But, she’d targeted very dangerous individuals in the past, particularly when the victims were members of organized crime. Toche wouldn’t be easy at all.  But she would be preoccupied with her own mission and at some point will have dropped her guard.  That is when I’ll strike, Amaya thought.  It will be on the street, a clean kill.

             
John and Karen kept a discreet distance behind the Range Rover Jack was driving. He and Madeleine were on their way back to the market near the damaged Mossad building.  The violence of the battle had left a few scars and scorch marks on the exterior of the Mossad headquarters, but the busy hustle of the crowded marketplace swallowed up any memory of the battle that had taken place a few days earlier. The only other sign was an increased police presence.

             
“Jack, pull into the parking lot over there next to the café.  I’ll go in and speak to Hartmann, the rest of you can wait at the café,” Madeleine said.

             
John parked at the far end of the parking lot, keeping the vehicles separated.  He and Karen walked over to Jack’s vehicle as Madeleine exited from the passenger side.

             
“I’ll meet the rest of you in twenty minutes or so,” Madeleine said, walking away.

             
“Try to make it quick, Madeleine,” Jack said.  “We need to get to the new safe house.  I’m worried that you’re not quite as invisible as before.  The PLO will have eyes on the Mossad either from the outside or within.  It’s safe to say they want your head at all costs.”

             
“I don’t like being out in the open any more than I have to, but the information Hartmann might have is too important to discuss over the phone.  Hartmann’s probably in more danger than I am following the attack and the conflict that is heating up. I’m being careful, so don’t worry,” Madeleine said, pulling her large sun hat over her head.  She turned and walked across the park lot, staying out of the market square as long as possible, glancing over her shoulder as her small group seated itself under the awning of the small café.
             
She walked towards the entrance to the Mossad building.  She was to meet Ariel there in a few minutes.  Right on schedule, Ariel opened the front door and waved Madeleine inside.

             
“The director thinks he has some news,” Ariel said quietly to Madeleine as they moved past the reception desk and approached an elevator.

             
“I hope so.  I’m beginning to think that I’ve overstayed my welcome in this part of the world.”

             
“You’ve certainly been busy,” Ariel said.

             
“Yes, but they haven’t released Tracy yet.”

             
On the right side of the lobby, Ariel inserted a key into the elevator console and the door to a private elevator opened.

Madeleine gestured for Ariel to precede her as they entered.  Ariel took the same key and inserted it into the interior panel.  The doors closed and the elevator car started its descent.

             
“How far down?”  Madeleine asked.

             
“Four floors,” Ariel said.

             
“That would give the best protection if a bomb was detonated above ground,” Madeleine said.

             
“This elevator is the only way down to the director’s office,” Ariel said.

             
“There must be another way out from below,” Madeleine said.

             
“I suppose so, but that information hasn’t been shared with me,” Ariel said as the car came to a stop and the door opened revealing a small lobby guarded by two heavily armed Israeli soldiers.  They saluted sharply after the briefest eye contact.  Behind the men, a female soldier glanced up from a video screen.

             
“We observe all visitors from the moment they arrive until they leave,” the female soldier said gesturing towards the screen.

             
“Inside the director’s office as well?” Madeleine asked.

             
“Video only, no audio.  The director prefers his conversations to be private.”

             
“As do I,” Madeleine responded, following Ariel over to a set of heavy oak doors.

             
Hartmann rose from behind his desk as the women entered and gestured for Madeleine to come over.

             
“Madeleine, if you don’t mind, I’d like Ariel to stay.  I have some news and she will be better able to help you out in the street or in the desert on the way to Syria,” Hartmann said.

             
“I trust your judgment,” Madeleine said, sitting in the offered chair in front of Hartmann’s desk.

             
Ariel sat next to Madeleine and both waited for Hartmann to speak.

             
“I believe we have a breakthrough in locating the missing NSA agent.  One of our embedded agents believes she saw a man fitting the agent’s description being transferred to a secondary military base in the Syrian town of Suweida.  Her information is generally correct.  Her cover story is as a civilian domestic worker at the military base in question.  We have similarly positioned agents in Egypt and others in Syria.  We do not use them for operational purposes, simply to report on troop movements, and the general comings and goings in strategically important locations.  Suweida is just on the other side of our northeastern border,” Hartmann said.

             
“I thought the Knesset was not going to sanction any assistance in retrieving the agent,” Madeleine sai
d, moving forward in her chair.
“The Knesset ca
nnot be seen to endorse any such activity, but Prime Minister Meir has given me some
unofficial leeway in assisting you,” Hartmann said turning his attention to a sheaf of papers on his desk.  “I believe we can help in a variety of ways.  First, we have recent schematic plans of the base in question.  While we don’t have the luxury of a great deal of time, we have good intelligence and have a previously devised plan of entry to the base in question.  As you know, many governments have contingency plans in place in the event they need to be executed.  Ariel is intimately familiar with the plan and the base.”

             
“Have you been there?” Madeleine said turning to Ariel.

             
“I’ve been to the base and observed it over a period of days. As a matter of fact, I developed the plan.  I was able to infiltrate the base, although I stopped once I had gained entry to the secure areas.  I would be happy to go over the plan in detail,” Ariel said.

             
“That would be of great help,” Madeleine said, smiling at the two Mossad agents.

             
“There is one other thing,” Ariel said.

             
“You want to come with me,” Madeleine said without hesitation.  “I can read it from your posture and the excitement in your voice.”

             
“Rachel Goldberg was killed in the attack when your American agent was kidnapped. She and I entered military service together when we were eighteen years old and the Mossad a few years after that.  I want vengeance for her, the way my brothers and sisters would want vengeance for me,” Ariel said.

             
“Will she follow my orders without question?”  Madeleine said addressing Hartmann again.

             
“I will do….” Ariel interrupted, stifled by Hartmann’s raised hand.

             
“She will without fail, Madeleine.  Or she will answer to me.”

             
“That is good enough for me.  I wouldn’t want to disappoint Berthold Hartmann, Ariel, in any way.  While you may now know some things about me, the director is a mystery neither of us will ever truly fathom,” Madeleine continued.  “We are moving to a new safe location today. The others are waiting for me outside.  I’ll brief them and then get in touch with you, Ariel, when we have addressed logistics from our end.”