Chapter Three

 

 

North-west Bosnia and Herzegovina

November 29, 2:40 p.m.

 

“Ten minutes. The target should arrive in ten minutes,” Justin said after he glanced at his wristwatch. He shook the snow off his winter camouflage jacket sleeve and looked at Carrie, stretched on her stomach next to him. Their position was concealed by the natural cover of snow, shrubs, and trees.

Carrie nodded. She looked at the GPS tracking device in her hand, which followed the signal emitted by the tracker embedded deep inside the hood of Hakim’s armored Hummer. The device showed their distance from the vehicle as less than five miles.

“Status?” Justin asked Nathan over the radio.

“Clear and quiet,” Nathan replied. “No movement anywhere.”

Justin peered through his binoculars.

“You’re tense, Justin,” Carrie said. “They’ll show up, and we’ll follow our plan.”

“Yes, I’m just having this unsettling feeling we’ve missed something.”

“Missed what?”

“We didn’t have eyes on him at all times.”

Carrie tilted her head toward Justin. “We couldn’t. His security would make our men. Our contact confirmed he left earlier today, along with his guards. They’ve made no stops.”

Justin nodded, but his jaw remained clenched. He planted his elbows deeper in the snow.

“You’re overthinking it,” Carrie said, “but it will go okay.”

“Many people know about this op. I hope no one had too much to drink and loosened their tongues.”

A recent leak of classified intelligence had almost killed Justin a few weeks earlier. He did not want the same situation to happen again, but he could do little to avoid it.

He shook his head as if to clear his mind of the heavy thoughts. He took a deep breath, the fresh air rushing in through his nostrils, and looked at Carrie.

She smiled. Justin liked her smile. It reassured him to know Carrie had his back. Justin had always worked for the Canadian Intelligence Service and had spent over a decade hunting and killing terrorists all over the world. He had gotten really good at it and was arguably one of the best operatives of the Service.

Carrie had been his partner in almost all operations over the last five years. She came from Joint Task Force Two, the elite counter-terrorism unit of the Special Operation Forces, after two tours of duty in Afghanistan. She could pilot anything with wings or rotors and was an explosives expert. She had no patience for words, instead preferring action. The motto of her former unit was Facta non verba. Deeds, not words.

They waited and listened to the sounds of nature. A woodpecker was hard at work on one of the pines behind them. His hammering reminded Justin of a machine gun rattle. He remembered he had read somewhere how the woodpecker’s brain is cushioned by sponge-like bones inside his skull, so that it is not damaged during the constant drilling. Scientists were trying to replicate the design to create “intelligent” helmets.

A large truck appeared on the highway. Justin followed it through his binoculars as it slowed down to take the turns. The road was icy in parts, but the driver was doing a fine job negotiating his descent.

“We’ve got company,” Nathan’s voice came over the radio.

Justin glanced at the tracking device in Carrie’s hand. The black dot moved fast through the road map. The vehicle was now about a mile and a half away from their position, but less than five hundred yards from Nathan’s and Dragan’s position.

“Do you have visual?” Justin asked and searched the highway’s hairpins through his binoculars.

“Affirmative. Five-Hummer convoy as expected, speeding our way.”

Their tracker was in the third Hummer, the one with Hakim, his wife, and two bodyguards. The other four vehicles carried the rest of the security force, fourteen men in all.

“There they are,” Carrie said and pointed with her hand. “Two o’clock.”

A wind gust blew a couple of twigs close to his face. Justin pushed them out of the way with his snow-covered glove and looked through the scope of his Zastava M91. The Serbian-made sniper rifle gave this job the local touch.

The first Hummer came into his crosshairs. Justin adjusted one of the scope rings as he quickly studied the distance to target. Then he placed his right hand on the trigger guard.

He saw the second Hummer, then the third, as they climbed up the dangerous mountain. They slowed down and steered closer to the middle of the road and away from the fifty-foot drop. The convoy was winding around a steep, tight curve, and the first vehicle was out of sight of the last one.

“Now,” Justin whispered on his throat mike his order to Nathan.