Chapter Eighteen

 

 

Leyla’s apartment

Queen Rania Al Abdallah Street, northern Amman, Jordan

June 18, 10:50 p.m.

 

Justin and Carrie needed to make sure Leyla was not luring them into a trap before they called in the rest of their team. They hurried to check the apartment, and found no one else. There were no signs someone else was sharing the two-bedroom apartment with Leyla.

She began to tell them how she had activated Mustafa’s handle because she needed to get in touch with someone from the CIA. Justin hushed her with a quick hand gesture. He did not know if there were recording devices hidden around them. The team had brought no counter-surveillance equipment to sweep the apartment. And there was no reason for them to stay there a minute longer than necessary.

“Where’s the computer?” Justin asked.

Leyla led them to the office where Justin had glimpsed a white laptop while he was clearing the rooms. Justin unplugged it, then began to rummage through the desk drawers looking for flash drives, DVDs or CDs, notebooks, scraps of paper, anything where Leyla or Mustafa might have stored or scribbled intelligence.

Carrie looked inside a cabinet near the corner and pulled out a couple of notebooks and some thick black binders. She flipped through them, then whispered at Leyla, “Anything else of intel value in the apartment?”

Leyla shook her head.

“Take what you need,” Justin urged her. “You’re coming with us and we’re not returning here for any reason.”

“My passport and a few clothes. They’re already packed.”

Carrie followed her out of the room while Justin finished his search. He found Carrie and Leyla in the hall. Leyla had a small black briefcase the size of a carry-on, while Carrie’s hands were full of the notebooks and the folders.

“Ready to go?” Justin asked.

“Yes, we’re ready,” Leyla replied.

Outside the door, Justin signaled to Eli and Raphael that the operation had ended faster and smoother than they had ever imagined. All that remained now was to exit the building and reach the safe house. They would interrogate Leyla and assess the intelligence they had gathered from the apartment.

Rushing down the staircase, they reached the parking lot. Eli jogged to bring around the vehicle, while they waited across from the elevators.

Justin kept his eyes open for any suspicious movement. The parking lot was quiet, with only the constant humming of a powerful generator in the background.

Eli had not returned yet when they heard the low rumble of an engine that did not sound like their Nissan SUV. Justin’s hand went for his pistol, but before he had a chance to pull it out or use it, a silver BMW sedan materialized from the right, about fifty yards away. The front passenger was halfway out the window, a large rifle glistening in his hands.

“Get down, down,” Justin shouted. “Get—”

His warning was cut off by the long barrage. Bullets slammed the wall and the columns behind them, stitching a wide pattern over their heads.

Justin hit the ground and rolled behind the hood of the nearest car. He pulled his pistol and held it tight near his face.

The shooter must have readjusted his aim, because bullets shattered the windows above Justin.

Rapid gunshots echoed from behind him, followed by another barrage in the distance.

Justin crawled to the other side of the car and advanced to the next parked vehicle as he waited for the right moment. It came with a bone-chilling screech of brakes and a short pause in the shooter’s barrage.

Justin popped up behind the vehicle and fired a quick three-round burst at the BMW as it rounded a corner. One of the bullets smashed the back window. He fired again, emptying the entire SIG P228 pistol magazine. A couple of the rounds pinged against the silver sedan, but were not enough to stop the driver. He veered to the right and sped out of sight.

Justin cursed as he rushed to his team huddling behind one of the columns. “How’s everyone?”

“Unharmed,” Carrie replied.

Leyla was cowering behind Carrie and Raphael.

A loud engine growled right behind them and was followed by a squeal of brakes.

“Eli,” Raphael said.

They dashed toward the Nissan. Raphael took the front seat, while the rest slid in the back as fast as they could, with Justin behind the driver and Carrie in the middle. Eli hit the gas and the SUV’s tires spun. The vehicle fishtailed, curved around one of the columns, and headed for the parking lot exit.

“What happened to you?” Justin noticed a small cut along the right side of Eli’s face that was trickling blood.

“Two shooters happened. I’m convinced they were GID.”

“GID? The mukhabarat? They’re Jordanian secret service,” Leyla said in English in a low and very frightened voice.

“Yes,” Eli replied. “But they’re no longer a threat since they’re dead.”

Leyla nodded slowly as she leaned against the door.

“You’re safe now,” Justin said in a soft, reassuring tone. “You’re with us. We’re not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

“But . . . the GID . . . They found me. How did they find me?”

Eli jerked the steering wheel to the right. They were now almost at the exit.

Carrie and Raphael still had their weapons drawn and were watching for the silver BMW or any other shooter from the strike team.

Justin said, “I’m not sure how they found you. Perhaps they knew about Mustafa and kept the apartment under surveillance. Or bugged it. In any case, we’re not staying long in Amman or Jordan. And of course, you’re coming with us.”

His eyes caught Eli’s disapproving glance in the rearview mirror. They had not discussed the possibility of bringing someone else but the informant out of Jordan. But Eli just shook his head and bit his lip.

They reached the shutters, which began to roll up automatically as the SUV drew near the motion detectors. They had no idea what to expect on the other side, so Eli pressed the gas pedal. The SUV shot through the gate of the parking lot and barreled up the driveway.

“Hold on,” Eli shouted.

Justin grabbed the door handle.

The SUV reached the street quite fast and it bounced over a speed bump. It became airborne for a couple of moments, then it dropped down hard onto the curving street. Eli straightened the wheel as the SUV swung dangerously close to a streetlight. He regained control of the Nissan, but the momentum threw the car into the oncoming lane.

A dump truck was tearing through the street, aiming right at them.

Justin dug his nails deep into the door handle as he braced for impact.

Eli yanked the steering wheel to the right at the last possible moment.

Their SUV missed the dump truck by mere inches. Justin’s eyes fell on the side mirror. The dump truck driver kept charging down the street without slowing down or changing direction. One more second and it would have smashed through their SUV.

Eli stepped slowly on the brakes as they reached Queen Rania Al Abdallah Street. No sign of the silver BMW or any other vehicle tailing them. Still, Eli turned right and began to drive north, toward the Jordan University Hospital, in the opposite direction to the safe house.

Justin turned his head to check behind them. He did it tactfully so as not to spook Leyla, who was still shaken by the ordeal. She was not crying or sobbing, but she was curled up in an almost fetal position with her eyes closed and her back resting against the door. Carrie had placed a gentle hand around Leyla’s shoulders.

He said, “See, Leyla, they’re gone. They won’t be able to hurt you. And they won’t find you or Mustafa. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Leyla opened her eyes slightly and her lips curled into a small grin. “Oh, I’m not worried about the GID finding Mustafa. He’s not in Jordan. He’s long gone to a place it would be extremely hard for anyone to find him. Too dangerous. The GID would never attempt to go there.”

Justin frowned. “Where is Mustafa?”

Leyla shook her head. “I’ll tell you all about his location and the secret he carries with him, but only when we are in a safe place. Away from Jordan.”

Justin’s frown deepened. He did not like Leyla playing games with them, especially after they had just risked their lives to save hers. They had no time to waste. He gestured around slowly with his hand, then said, “You are safe with us, and we’ve proved that to you. It’s time you start to trust us and tell us what you know. All of it.” His voice was kind yet firm.

Leyla said nothing. She just stared at him. It was semi-dark inside the Nissan’s cabin but Justin thought he saw fear mixed with desperation in her weary eyes. The intel is her only leverage. Once she reveals it to us, she has no more bargaining chips.

“Listen, Leyla. We’re not leaving Jordan right away. We’ll take you to another apartment, a very secretive place. But in order to get the papers ready so you can come with us and we can all go away from Jordan, we need you to tell us everything you know. The longer you stall, the longer we’re stuck here. In Jordan. Not too far away from the GID. The choice is yours.”

He glanced quickly through the back window without hiding the worried look on his face. Leyla needed to feel a jolt of panic so she would realize the consequences of her delay.

Carrie gently rubbed Leyla’s shoulder. “We’ve lost the shooters, Leyla, but if we have to stay in Amman or even elsewhere in Jordan, we run the risk of being found by GID assassins. The next time we may not be that lucky.”

For a few moments the engine rumble was the only sound in the cabin. The tense silence was playing with his patience, but Leyla was pondering her options. Justin hoped she would see the situation from their viewpoint and reveal the intelligence of her own will. The alternative of “enhanced interrogation” was always a last resort. A dreaded, rarely used, but available tool in the operatives’ toolbox.

Leyla gave them a slow nod, then heaved a deep sigh of surrender. “You win. Mustafa is hiding in northern Iraq.”

Justin cursed under his breath. If she was telling the truth, then she was right. The GID was staying away from Iraq and Syria. Mustafa had found safe haven in perhaps the deadliest corner of the planet for anyone but the brutal jihadists of ISIS. And he must know something really earth-shattering if he can feel safe only when surrounded by bloodthirsty beasts like ISIS fighters.

Justin closed his eyes and sighed. He did not want to ask the dreaded question, fearing the dreaded answer. “And what is Mustafa’s secret?”

Leyla hesitated for only a split second. “He knows about a plot to assassinate the Prime Minister of Israel. He knows the time and the place. And even though it will be made to look like the Palestinians are the ones pulling the strings, Mustafa knows the real people who are planning and who will execute this assassination plot.”