The Justin Hall Spy Thriller Series - Book 14
The Story:
How far would you go to save the one you love?
Spymaster Justin Hall is on a sanctioned assassination operation in Tunisia when his partner is captured by terrorists. With only a few hours to get her back alive, Justin frantically begins working with a CIA operative and attempts to activate a precarious old contact. Distraught and determined, Justin will go to any lengths to save her. Will he make it in time to save the one he loves?
Grab a copy of the book now to enjoy an alternate ending and two bonus short stories:
Start the adrenaline rush now...
Chapter One
Seaside resort town of Sousse
Tunisia
Justin Hall could hardly believe the voice that came into his earpiece, giving him the bad news. He glanced through his binoculars at the target house and said into his throat mic, “Repeat your last.”
“The car dropped off a woman and two children, a boy and a girl. The woman went in; the children are playing in the yard. Age four, five at the most.”
Justin frowned and bit his lip. The development complicated their already difficult mission. The Canadian Intelligence Service operative was studying the back entrance to the target house, waiting for the opportune moment for the assault. His partner was covering the main entrance. According to the intelligence the team had received, there were supposed to be four to six men, all known jihadist fighters. Those odds were not in the team’s favor, but the arrival of the woman and children had made matters worse.
“Justin, come in,” the voice said.
“Yes, is the car gone?”
“It left, yes.”
“Was the woman armed?”
A brief pause. “No, not that I could see. She was dressed in the loose local garb, so anything is possible.”
Justin nodded and glanced at his watch. It was almost ten fifty. Faint lights lit the narrow, crooked back alley. The entrance led directly inside the house. The asset who had informed them about the terrorists’ safehouse had drawn its plans, and Justin had committed them to memory. There was a narrow hall with guest rooms on each side. Then, beyond the kitchen, there was a third, larger room the jihadists used as their headquarters. It was very likely that most of them would be in that room.
Justin drew in a deep breath and said, “Marco, we go on with the plan. Be extra careful.”
“Of course, Justin. Any movement on your side?”
“Negative. All quiet.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
“May God bless us.”
“Yes, we will need that. Over and out.”
Justin tightened his fingers around the Russian-made GSh-18 9mm pistol and slung the AK-105 rifle over his shoulder. Both weapons were equipped with sound suppressors. He dashed toward the back entrance and unlocked the metal door in a swift move, as the asset had procured them a copy of the key. Justin pushed the door as slowly and gently as he could, but its hinges still made a low screech. He hoped no one inside the house had heard the noise.
He was wrong.
“Hafeez, is that you?” someone shouted in Arabic.
Justin flattened himself against the wall of the dimly lit hall and pointed the pistol to his right, in the direction of the voice. Somehow, he felt the voice was closer than it really was. It was the adrenaline rush through his body that heightened Justin’s senses. He could now be laser-focused. His heart pumped harder in his chest; his fingers felt natural around the pistol, making it an extension of his hands.
A man appeared at the other end of the hall.
It took Justin a split second to determine the man was not the main target of the team’s operation. So he pulled the trigger, planting a bullet in the man’s chest.
The gunshot made a small crackling sound, like someone opening a can of pop.
But the thud of the man’s body collapsing on the floor was louder.
The element of surprise was gone.
Loud curses and scrambling noises came from the headquarters room.
Justin dashed forward.
He reached the first door to the left and kicked it open while remaining out of the line of fire of anyone who could be inside.
No one returned fire from that room or from the hall.
As he came near the next room, the door was thrown open and a gunman rushed out. Before the gunman could turn his AK rifle toward Justin, the agent fired a couple of rounds. The first one struck the man in the right arm, causing him to drop the rifle. The second bullet found the man’s lower abdomen. He dropped back against one of the walls, then crumpled onto the cement floor.
“Two men down,” Justin whispered into his mic.
A loud, long barrage came from the kitchen.
Justin fell to one knee, looking for the shooter.
There was no one in the hall, but bullets ricocheted from the wall a few feet away from him. Whoever was firing was doing so blindly.
Justin took a couple of steps, staying away from the bullets kicking up dust around his feet. “Marco, come in.”
“Just getting in—”
Gunfire cut off his words.
“Marco, Marco?”
“Taking fire, but I’m all right. Inside the house now.”
“And the kids?”
“The girl came in. Watch out for her.”
Justin frowned. “Copy that.”
He remained in place and peered down the hall for the girl. He did not see her right away nor did he see Marco.
The gunfire ceased, and it was silent for a brief moment.
Then came a tiny sobbing and small footsteps thumping along the hall. A little girl ran toward the headquarters room. “Mommy, Mommy, I’m scared...”
Justin shouted. “No, go back, back...”
The girl did not look at him or pay attention to his words. She scurried toward the room. Just as she came to the door, a man stepped outside and scooped her up in his arms. Then he walked out into the hall and toward Justin.
His pistol was trained at the man’s head, but the little girl covered most of his body and a part of his face. She was shaking and squirming, and Justin did not have a clear shot.
The man held the girl with his left arm against his chest and pointed the pistol in his right hand at Justin. “Drop your gun. Now!”
Justin did not even flinch. He kept his pistol leveled with the gunman’s head. “Put her down, gently,” Justin said in a warm voice in Arabic.
The man cocked his head. “You don’t hear me? Drop your gun, or I’m going to kill her.” The gunman pressed the muzzle of his pistol against the girl’s temple.
Justin locked eyes with the gunman. “You don’t want to do that—”
“Now, or she dies,” the gunman shouted.
Marco’s voice came into Justin’s earpiece. “I have him, Justin.”
Justin began to lower his pistol and took a couple of steps closer to the gunman. “All right, all right. You got it. But don’t hurt her.”
“Stay back, back.” The gunman began to turn his gun on Justin.
“Now,” Marco whispered.
Justin darted forward as Marco’s gunshot echoed through the hall.
The bullet pierced the back of the gunman’s head. It came out through the forehead, spraying brain matter and blood. His body began to fall to the floor, along with the girl screaming at the top of her lungs.
Justin dove as far as he could. He grabbed the girl just as her head was going to hit the floor. He wrapped his arms around her softly and rolled away from the dead gunman.
Some of his blood had splattered the left side of her face, and she was terrified, but otherwise unharmed. “You’re going to be okay.” Justin smiled at her and spoke in a warm, low voice. “I’m going to take you to your—”
“No, Justin,” Marco said, standing at the end of the hall. Then he whispered into his mic, “Her mother is gone, man.”
“What?” Justin’s eyes met his.
“Yes. She fired at me from the kitchen...”
Justin cursed under his breath. “Is the kitchen clear?”
“Entering now.” He slipped inside.
Justin held the girl close to his chest. She was still sobbing and shivering, but her hands were around Justin’s neck. His right hand was still holding the pistol. He shifted his body slightly and turned the pistol toward the headquarters room, in case someone else burst out.
No one did.
“Marco, come in,” Justin said after a long moment.
“Yes, we got him. We got Khazri, but he’s wounded.”
Justin heaved a sigh of relief. “Can he walk?”
“I’ll make him.”
“All right. Let’s get out.”
“And the girl?”
Justin stroked her hair and felt her warm breath on his face. It seemed she was sobbing a little less, or perhaps Justin wanted that to be the case. “She ... she’s coming with us.”
“Bad idea, Justin.”
“After what happened, we can’t leave her here with—”
“And we also can’t take her. What are we going to do with her?”
“I ... I don’t know.” His voice turned firm and louder than necessary.
The girl glanced at Justin with her clear blue eyes. They were the same color as Karolin’s, Justin’s girlfriend and partner in the initial operation that had brought them to Tunisia. Shortly after their arrival, Karolin had been taken. It had been over forty-eight hours, and there had been no news from her. No ransom call, nothing, just dead silence.
Justin shook his head. “I’m not leaving her behind.”
Marco cursed out loud. “Fine, but let’s go. The gunshots will bring the hyenas around, if they’re not here already.”
Justin slowly lifted himself and the girl off the floor. “We’re going for a short trip now.”
“Is my brother coming?”
Justin shook his head.
“And Mommy?”
He bit his lip. “No. She’s not.” He turned and raced toward the door.
“I’m going to fall.” She grabbed a handful of Justin’s hair.
“I won’t let you.”
They came to the end of the hall. He turned slightly and glanced at Marco, who was covering their retreat.
Marco gave him a thumbs-up. “We’re good, Justin.”
“Oh, I heard a tiny voice...” The girl noticed Justin’s black earpiece, then reached for it and pulled the wire. “Who is that?”
“No, no, don’t...” His voice trailed off as the earpiece fell off his ear.
Justin shrugged and stopped as they came to the metal door. He unlocked it, pushed it open a crack with the tip of his boot, and listened for a moment. Hearing no strange noises but a dog howling in the distance, he stole a quick peek.
The back alley was empty.
“Good to go,” Justin said.
He shouldered the door and stepped outside, hurrying toward their car parked around the corner.
“Where are we going?” the girl asked.
“For a little trip. You like trips?”
The girl shook her head. “I want to go back home.”
“You will. Soon. What’s your name?”
“Alina.”
“That’s a beautiful name,” Justin said about it, which, indeed, meant “beautiful” in Arabic.
Alina nodded, and her face formed a tiny smile. “My mommy says I am her beautiful princess.”
Justin nodded. “My name is—”
Gunfire bursts came from behind him.
The girl cried out.
Justin did not look back. Marco was covering that direction. Still, Justin said, “You good?”
“Yes, but we’ve got company.”
“I hate nosy guests.”
“Me too.”
Justin’s fingers tightened around the pistol’s handle as he neared the corner. As he expected, a gunman was standing near their silver Peugeot sedan. The team should have had a third person in charge of their exit, who would have brought the car to the back entrance. But this snatch-and-grab operation was unauthorized. Justin could count only on himself and Marco, his old friend from the Agenzia Informazioni e Sicurezza Esterna, or AISE, the Italian foreign intelligence agency.
Justin stepped close to the wall before the gunman could see them. Justin’s left hand brought Alina closer to his chest. “Cover your ears.”
“Why?”
“There will be some loud noises. Cover them now.”
Alina nodded and brought her small hands to her head.
Justin raised his pistol and rounded the corner.
The gunman saw them and raised his rifle.
“Don’t do it,” Justin said.
The gunman’s rifle turned toward Justin.
He double-tapped his pistol.
Alina let out a shriek.
The gunman fell against the Peugeot, bleeding from his chest.
“Justin...”
He thought he heard Marco’s voice, but the earpiece was dangling around Justin’s neck, so he could not be sure. But the throat mic was still in place, so Justin said, “Almost at the car, Marco.”
He held Alina’s head down and close to his chest, so she would not see the bleeding gunman. She had already seen more bloodshed in one day than most children saw in their entire life. Justin placed her gently into the backseat and buckled her seatbelt. “Stay there, okay?”
Alina nodded. “Okay.”
Justin looked at the corner.
Marco had just come around it half-dragging and half-carrying the wounded man, the senior jihadist leader who was the target of the operation. He would know where Karolin had been taken, and if he did not, he would be able to find that information. If he refused, Justin was prepared to extract that information out of him, by any means necessary.
Justin raised his pistol and kept it aimed at the corner, in case any gunman came from that direction, as Marco and the wounded leader reached the car. Marco noticed Alina in the backseat, so he shoved the leader into the front passenger seat. His hands were tied behind his back, and there was a black hood over his head.
Justin cast a last glance at the corner, then slipped into the car next to Alina and behind the jihadist. “Hit it,” Justin said to Marco who had already climbed behind the steering wheel.
As he stepped on the gas, the rear window erupted in a geyser of glass.
Justin leaned over Alina to protect her from the sharp pieces.
She glanced at him with her frightened eyes and began to sob quietly.
Justin said, “Don’t be afraid. I’ve got you.”
Alina nodded slowly but did not stop sobbing.
Justin placed his head over hers and brought her closer to him.
Alina rested her head against Justin’s chest and became quiet.
Marco eased up on the gas pedal as they came to an intersection, then took a sharp right turn. The rear wheel climbed over the edge of the sidewalk, then dropped back onto the potholed road.
Justin glanced through the window for a long moment. No gunmen or vehicles were coming in pursuit. “I don’t see them.
Marco nodded. “Yes, but let’s make sure we’ve lost them.”
He took the first left turn, then another right, and drove for two more blocks, before repeating the same maneuver. They were on Rue des Palmiers, east of Las Vegas Beach on the Mediterranean Sea and heading north, toward their safehouse. Justin and Marco had booked a room in the small Hannibal Inn, named after the well-known ancient Carthaginian leader who sowed fear in the hearts of so many Romans. Carthage, Hannibal’s birthplace, was less than a hundred miles north of Sousse.
Justin looked behind him. He was not expecting anyone to have followed them, but he wanted to make absolutely sure before they came close to the inn. After a long moment of observation, he said, “We’re clear now.”
“Good.” Marco nodded.
“Are all the bad people gone?” Alina asked without looking up.
Justin brushed her brown curly hair and looked at the jihadi fighter in the front seat. “No one is going to hurt you. I won’t let them,” he said in a warm tone to Alina and kept brushing her hair.
I wish I could do the same for Karolin. He sighed. Hold on, honey, I’m coming to get you.