NORTHERN SYRIA—03:05 / 3:05 A.M. EET
Once they had cleared the city, Avi had Yaron pull off his vest and shirt. A bruise was spreading on the left side of his chest. Avi felt around, eliciting a colorful remark from Yaron about his parental heritage.
“You kiss your ima with that mouth?” Avi asked. He turned to Nir. “He’s got at least a bruised rib. Possibly a break. Can’t know for sure without X-rays.”
“Better than the alternative. What about him?” Nir nodded toward Noblesse.
Avi shifted over to where Abu Mustafa was buckled into a seat. The old man glared at him as he pulled the shoulder harness away from the wound. He lifted the gauze away, throwing it to the back of the cargo cabin. Abu Mustafa tensed as Avi prodded the damage.
“He’ll be fine. The blood flow is slowing. Got to hurt like anything, though. Should I give him some morphine?”
“Not yet,” Nir said. “Give me a sec.”
A thought had been forming in Nir’s mind, and he wanted to process it for a minute. The plan had been to get Noblesse back to Tel Aviv and question him there. The problem was that they were still over enemy territory. Anything could happen between here and Israel, including running out of fuel. The pilots had done all the calculations, but they’d spent nearly 15 minutes in Al-Hasakah. What if the numbers were off now? They’d risked too much, and the information that Abu Mustafa held was far too valuable to chance it.
He made the decision.
Even though he was confident that Abu Mustafa couldn’t hear him over the rotor noise, Nir shifted to the opposite side of the cargo cabin.
“Base, you all still connected into our coms?”
“Check, David Lead,” replied Liora.
“Okay, I want you to turn us off. I need to go dark for a few minutes.”
“Wait, why? Procedure requires that we—”
“Listen, you’ve just had a malfunction. Do you understand? And I want you to make sure this conversation we’re having right now is lost in that malfunction. Got it?”
Nicole’s voice came on the coms. “David Lead, what are you planning to—”
“Please, just do as I ask.”
There was a pause, then, “Going dark.”
“Dove 2, I want the same from you.”
“Root. Going dark.”
Nir slid around so he could put his hand on his pilot’s shoulder. “I’d appreciate you not recording what’s about to happen.”
“This stupid voice recorder has been given me problems all week.”
Nir slapped his shoulder, then went back to the cargo pit.
“Drago, I think our friend here needs the Soviet treatment. Will you let him see how high up we are?”
“Da.” Dima unbuckled, then walked his large frame to where Abu Mustafa sat. He leaned forward and said, “I must break you.”
He unbelted the old man and dragged him to the open door of the helicopter. Then kneeling on the man’s legs, he held his upper body out into the night air.
“No!” Abu Mustafa struggled to find a way to pull himself back in.
Nir let him hang out there for about 20 seconds, then nodded to Dima, who pulled him in.
“Listen, you terrorist piece of trash. I have no problem letting you take a nose dive out of this helicopter. In fact, I think it might be fun to watch you fly. But I’ve got a job to do, and that job is to get some information from you.”
Abu Mustafa was breathing hard and looking at Nir with hate. “I will never tell you anything, Jew.”
“You see, that’s my concern. Is this a fool’s errand? We’re already short on fuel. Lightening the load by 86 kilos may make the difference between us making it or splashing into the water. If you talk to me, I’d be willing to take the risk. If you say you’ll never talk…well, then…”
Nir nodded at Dima, who let Abu Mustafa’s upper body drop forward again, hanging free in the icy wind. After 30 seconds, Nir had him pulled back in.
But now Abu Mustafa was smiling. “Do you think I am afraid to die, you Jewish pig? I have served my god faithfully, and now I am ready to die a shaheed, a martyr for Allah. Go ahead, throw me out and into the arms of my god.”
Nir shook his head. “You know, I was afraid you’d go this way. I didn’t want to go Plan B, but Plan B it is. Dima, take him back.”
On the surface, Nir was all business. He couldn’t show any cracks. Underneath, though, he was a roiling sea of emotions. He’d really hoped he wouldn’t have to go this direction. But Abu Mustafa had information that could save the lives of who knew how many people.
While he was training for Caesarea, his instructors drilled a quote into him. It was from a commentary on the Babylonian Talmud by the eleventh century French rabbi, Rashi. While commenting on a passage explaining Exodus 22:1, he wrote, “If someone comes to kill you, rise up and kill him first.” This was the justification Nir carried with him when he executed a targeted elimination. The logic made sense to him, as did the morality. However, did rise up and kill him first extend to what he was about to do? He wasn’t so sure. But he also felt he had no other option.
He crossed to where Dima had sat Abu Mustafa down. “What are your IRGC masters asking you to do?”
Abu Mustafa spit in his face.
Nir wiped the saliva off with his sleeve. He stared in the terrorist’s eyes, then pulled back and punched Abu Mustafa’s wounded shoulder with all of his might. He punched a second time, then a third. He could feel the already damaged bone splintering and could see the blood starting to flow freely again.
Abu Mustafa cried out, doubling over to try to protect himself. But Nir grabbed him by the hair and lifted his head.
“Tell me, where are you going to attack?”
The man groaned and began to weep. At that moment, he didn’t look like a terrorist. He just looked like somebody’s grandfather. Nir felt sick to his stomach.
“Tell me, old man. Do something right in your life for once. Save lives instead of taking them.”
“Go…to…”
Nir punched him in the shoulder, then again.
Abu Mustafa screamed. Nir put his hand directly on the man’s wound and began to push.
“Tell me, where will you attack?”
A deep groan sounded through the old man’s gritted teeth until he finally shouted, “Abu Dhabi! The UAE! That’s all I know! I promise you, that’s all I know.”
Nir let off the pressure. “When? What is the nature of the attack?”
“Like I said, that is all I know.” He was gasping through the pain.
“Come on. They wouldn’t keep you out of the details.”
The old man sobbed. “I swear to you, I know no more. I went up to Al-Hasakah. The others were to make the arrangements.”
“Okay, then who are the others? I know you know that much. Tell me and I’ll have my friend there give you some morphine for the pain.”
Suddenly, Abu Mustafa lunged forward, driving his forehead into Nir’s chest. Nir stumbled backward. Before anyone had a chance to react, the old man crossed the cargo cabin and launched himself out the door.
“No!” Nir yelled.
The old man was gone. Just like that.
The men looked at one another, stunned at what had just happened.
“I’m sorry,” Dima said after a moment. “It’s my fault. I didn’t belt him in when I took him back.”
“No, it’s not your fault,” Nir said. “I should have noticed. I’m lead. It’s on me.”
He stood hunched over in the cargo area, looking at the door where a puddle of blood had accumulated, then looking at his men.
What now? What will happen when headquarters hears about—
The voice of Dove 2’s pilot interrupted Nir’s thoughts. “David Lead, Dove 2. We’ve got a problem.”