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Tel Aviv, Israel
Riyad looked up when Rafiq opened the door and strode into the study. He closed the book in his lap and set it aside, looking at his second-in-command expectantly.
“Well?”
“Reports are beginning to come in,” he said, moving to the chair across from Riyad. “It’s still too early to tell with any degree of certainty what’s going on, but military forces attacked the compound an hour ago.”
Riyad’s eyebrows soared into his forehead in surprise. “Military forces? Whose?”
“The Americans. It sounds like they sent in a special forces unit.”
Riyad whistled quietly. “So they found him,” he murmured. “That’s very interesting, and unexpected.”
Rafiq nodded. “Yes. There are also reports of an explosion inside the compound.”
“And Masha’al?”
He shook his head. “Nothing yet. I’m waiting for confirmation that he was still there when the Americans went in.”
Riyad was quiet for a moment, then he stood up and picked up his empty glass from the table beside his chair. He carried it over to the side board to refill it from a glass decanter.
“According to Reilly, he was there,” he said, turning and holding the decanter up questioningly. Rafiq shook his head and he set it down again. “I received a message from him three hours ago. He and the woman were in place and ready to proceed.”
“Proceed with what?” Rafiq asked, watching him go back to his chair. “What, exactly, was Reilly’s purpose?”
Riyad smiled and settled himself in his armchair again. “To kill Masha’al, of course.”
Rafiq stared at him in astonishment. “You sent a Mossad assassin into Egypt to kill your cousin?”
“Yes.” Riyad frowned. “The Americans are a surprise. I was unaware of that. Strange coincidence that they would launch an attack on the same night.”
“Is it?” Rafiq asked after a moment of silence. “Perhaps not as much of a coincidence as it appears.”
“Why do you say that?”
“How did the Americans find Masha’al? Who else would have an interest in seeing him dead? And who does Reilly work for?”
“You think Mossad is involved?” Riyad tilted his head thoughtfully. “It’s possible.”
“If they are, we need to be very sure that your cousin is dead. I don’t need to remind you how persuasive the Israelis can be.”
“I don’t think we need to concern ourselves with that. I’ve never known Reilly to fail me. He’ll kill Masha’al.”
Rafiq was quiet for a moment, then he looked at Riyad. “And once he has?”
“Then I’ll have no more need of Reilly.” He paused and sipped his drink, then smiled faintly. “If the Americans stormed the compound, they may have tied up that end for me. I was planning on presenting him as the assassin who killed Melnik, and then arranging for his death. This way may be much cleaner. You said there was an explosion? What kind of explosion?”
“I don’t know yet. The reports are very scattered and sporadic. Some say a building exploded, and others say a missile hit it. Until the dust settles, I won’t know what we’re really looking at.” Rafiq shrugged. “I can tell you that there is heavy, confirmed fighting, and that the entire compound is in chaos. Right now, that’s all I know for certain.”
Riyad nodded. “Then we wait,” he said, lifting his glass again. “And while we wait, I will drink to my cousin’s health. May he find the peace he’s been looking for.”
Camp Arifjan Army Base
Arifjan, Kuwait
Dean watched as the man in the black suit disappeared behind the privacy curtain that hung around his cot. He looked down at the business card in his hand, his brows knit together in confusion. The effects of the anesthesia hadn’t completely worn off yet, and he was having trouble concentrating and processing everything that had been said. Focusing on the well-known crest on the corner of the card, he shook his head slowly. The last thing he had expected coming out of surgery was to receive a visit from the CIA.
Leaning his head back onto the pillow, Dean stared up at the ceiling. His whole body was stiff and felt as if it was separate from his head, even though he knew it wasn’t. Good drugs were flowing through his veins, and the pain was non-existent now. He wasn’t sure which he preferred: the pain that told him none of this was a dream, or the numbness of not feeling or caring about anything.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled and forced himself to try to think clearly. That the entire op had been an unmitigated disaster was an understatement. Not only had they not extracted Masha’al, but he’d lost his team when the compound had been leveled by...by who? He didn’t even know who the people were that so successfully derailed his mission.
The image of the woman was so fresh in his mind that he thought if he opened his eyes, she would be standing right beside him. He opened his eyes, casting them around his cubicle quickly. Of course she wasn’t there. He’d known she wouldn’t be. But the memory had been so clear and precise that he’d had to look.
Who was she? And who were the people with her? If it weren’t for them, his team would have come under much heavier fire than they’d faced going in. He had no doubt that they’d been the ones responsible for the terrorists dropping like flies as they breached the compound. But why? If they were there to kill Masha’al, which was the only logical explanation given how he’d found the terrorist, why take the time to help his team? It made no sense.
And why save him?
The question popped into his head, just as it had every waking moment since the explosion. Why had the woman been so determined to save him? She didn’t have to. She could have left him there and saved herself. Yet, she hadn’t. She’d forced him to keep moving, getting him downstairs and outside before...before what? Were bombs planted in the house? Was it a gas explosion? Was it a missile strike? He had no idea. The explosion had been so encompassing, so intense, and so all-consuming that he had no clue what had actually caused it. All he did know was that she knew it was coming. She’d said repeatedly that they were running out of time as she rushed him out of the house. Whatever had caused that explosion, she had known all along that it would happen.
And she’d chosen to save him over herself. Why?
And why was the CIA so interested in it all? The man had asked very specific questions about what he had witnessed. Even in his fuzzy-minded state, Dean knew that the information he’d given had been very carefully pulled out of him with laser-like precision. The report that he’d given to his CO before getting taken into surgery was already known to this man, yet he had wanted to know strange details, details that the Navy had no use for. Details like whether or not Masha’al had been shot in the head or the chest, or both. What did it matter where he’d been shot? Or how many times?
Shaking his head, Dean looked down at the card in his hand. After the interrogation, the man had advised him to never speak of his visit, or what he’d seen in that house, to anyone. It wasn’t the order as much as the tone that had delivered it that made Dean uncomfortable. He was used to keeping his mouth shut. That wasn’t the issue. It was the underlying threat that accompanied the order that made his blood run cold.
Almost as if he had sensed it, the man had then smiled enigmatically and cheerfully reminded Dean that his special forces career was over. His right knee had been torn to shreds by the machine gun fire, leaving him physically unable to continue with the SEALs. Dean was fully aware that his career was over, but this man had then offered him a new one. Right there, in this cubicle, without knowing anything more than what they had discussed in less than half an hour, the man had offered him a job. The transition would be easy, he said. Dean would finish out his time with the Navy in military intelligence, and he would have a position waiting for him when he got out. The man had then left, telling him to think it over. No rush.
Dean looked at the blow-up cast encompassing his entire right leg. As if he would be rushing anywhere anytime soon.
The curtain moved and he looked up as Brian pulled it aside and stepped into the cubicle.
“You look like hell,” he said as he pulled the curtain closed behind him.
“I’ve never felt better,” Dean retorted sarcastically.
Brian chuckled and sat down in the chair next to the cot. “At least you’re not covered in mud anymore. Pulling you out of that swamp was disgusting.”
“I’m told that swamp was what saved my leg,” Dean said, unobtrusively slipping the business card under the blanket. “If I’d landed on hard ground, the docs think my femur would have splintered. As it is, they think they can put in screws.”
Brian looked at him for a moment, then exhaled. “The others are dead.”
“I know.”
“After the medevac took you away, what was left of the house collapsed. It was razed right to the ground. There’s nothing left.” He sat back in the chair and looked at Dean, shaking his head. “The swamp you landed in stopped the flames from spreading, so the rest of the buildings only had minor damage.”
“Any survivors?”
“No. Brenner’s foot is all that was left of him. His dog tag was in his boot. Doc was mostly in one piece, but the rest...” his voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. “At least it was quick.”
Dean swallowed. “And Masha’al?”
Brian shook his head. “We think he was inside, but several bodies were vaporized by the blast. There’s no way of knowing how many were in there, or if he was one of them.”
Dean stared at him. “He was there,” he said firmly. “I saw him myself.”
“What?”
“I found him on the second floor. He’d been shot. He was already dead when I saw him.”
“Are you positive?”
“Yes. I told the CO. It was definitely him. He’s gone.” Dean rubbed his face, wincing when he inadvertently pulled at the bandage covering the gash over his eye. “That’s when I got shot.”
“How did you get out of the house?”
He shrugged. “I don’t remember,” he lied. “I slid down some back stairs, but I couldn’t tell you much else. There was a hand cart with wheels, I know that, and I rode it out the back door,” he added with a grin. “I was obviously working in survival mode.”
Brian shook his head. “It’s a miracle you’re even here,” he said. “When I found you, you weren’t conscious. Debris from the house hit your head. Hell, I didn’t think you would survive long enough for the medevac to pick you up.”
“It was that bad?” Dean asked, startled.
“Hell, Dean, you were shot thirteen times! Yeah, it was that bad!”
They were silent for a minute, then Brian suddenly grinned. “Aren’t you glad you wore the body armor now? Most of those rounds went into the plates.”
Dean grunted. “Yeah, yeah.”
Brian sobered and looked at the inflatable cast. “They’re flying you to Germany tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’ll have another surgery there and find out for sure if they can save the leg. The doc here says they can, but I’m not getting my hopes up yet. My knee is gone. Completely blown apart.”
“They can replace the knee. Hell, they can patch up most of the leg if they can save it.” Brian returned his gaze to his face. “At least you’ll be going home, and not in a box. That’s what’s important.”
“I know.” Dean nodded. “I’m very lucky. I know that, but I’d trade places with any of the others if it meant they would’ve come back.”
“I know.” Brian was silent for a long moment, then he sighed and stood up. “I’m gonna miss you, man, but I’m glad you’re going home in one piece.”
Dean nodded and gripped his outstretched hand. “Thanks.”
“And hey, you’ll have Diane waiting for you stateside with a list of potential girls just itching to nurse you back to health.”
“Oh God,” he groaned, drawing a laugh from Brian.
“I have no sympathy for you,” he said, turning to reach for the curtain. “After this, you’ll not only get your promotion, but you’ll get a nice, cushy job to go with it.” He stopped and turned to look at Dean, his eyes meeting his. “And you better be at the airport to welcome me home, Ryder. No excuses. I want to see you at the airport with Diane.”
Dean nodded, smiling faintly. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he assured him. “Just don’t take all year about it.”
Brian grinned and nodded to the inflatable cast. “That goes for you too.”
He disappeared out of the cubicle and Dean leaned his head back, closing his eyes tiredly. Tomorrow he would go to Germany, and from there they’d fly him home. He’d live to see another day. As he drifted into a drug-induced slumber, one nagging thought encroached and his brows came together in a frown. He’d live to see another day because the mysterious woman with the strange accent had given up her tomorrow to insure that he had his.
And he had absolutely no idea why.
