Perfect extraction ethan.., p.1
Perfect Extraction Ethan Jones, page 1
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The Story
How do you say goodbye?
After an agonizing, unsuccessful search for his missing family, Jack Storm finally makes a breakthrough. But how much can he trust the one offering him this supposed sliver of hope? His source has already betrayed him before; could she be doing it again?
Before getting the intel, Jack is tasked with executing the most daring extraction of his entire career, right under his agency’s nose. A former Saudi spy chief is seeking political asylum in Canada, but the Saudi royal family has branded him a traitor and wants him dead.
With more questions than answers, will Jack risk it all on this daredevil operation and be able to pull off … the Perfect Extraction?
Lose yourself in Jack’s most personal and brilliant mission ever with a spectacularly satisfying twist.
PERFECT
EXTRACTION
JACK STORM SERIES
BOOK FIVE
ETHAN JONES
To God who gives all good things.
“Our help is in the name of the Lord,
Who made heaven and earth.”
Psalm 124:8
To my readers and my behind the scenes team.
Thank you for being part of my good things.
Table of Contents
Front Page
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
Bonus - Short Story Escape
Bonus Terms of Extraction - Chapter One
Acknowledgements
Copyright
Chapter One
Outside Las Brisas Restaurant
Ottawa, Canada
The ruthless fury and lust for revenge rushing through his veins blinded Jack Storm. Hearing the voice of his long-lost daughter telling him that she was scared caused him to explode. He took a step forward toward the Saudi man who had pulled his pistol. Before he could cock the gun, Jack twisted the man’s wrist. The crunching sound and the scream of the man dropping to his knees from the excruciating pain told Jack that the Saudi’s bone was broken.
The second Saudi man stepped back, but not soon enough. Jack had already retrieved the gun and used it to pistol-whip the man. The metal barrel cut across the man’s face, breaking his nose. Blood spattered, and the man cried in agony as he fell to the side.
Jack cocked the pistol and shoved it into Nora Lake’s throat. “Give me a single reason why you should live,” he said in a low, growling voice full of hate. His lips were pulled back, and he was baring his teeth.
Nora moved her arms away from her body. She swallowed hard, feeling the cold steel of the muzzle choking her. She found enough breath to say, “Because you want… uh… to see your… your daughter alive?”
Jack locked his fiery eyes with her frightened ones. She was trembling with pure fear. He could tap the trigger and end everything right here and now. But she was right. More than he wanted revenge, he wanted to see his wife and daughter again.
One of the Saudis crawling on the sidewalk tried to reach for Jack’s foot. Jack stomped on the man’s hand and kicked him in the stomach. The Saudi hollered in pain.
The other Saudi knew better than to move. He stayed down, lying on his back, holding his broken wrist and squirming without making a sound.
Jack returned his eyes to Nora, then looked at her right hand. She was still holding the phone on which she had played the recording of his daughter’s voice. Jack’s wife and daughter had disappeared in an apparent plane crash over the North Sea. But the evidence Nora had just given him proved that his daughter was still alive.
“Where’s my wife and daughter?” he demanded in an angry voice. Spittle was building up in the corners of his mouth.
Nora’s face had turned ashen, and her body was trembling. She lowered her eyes to the barrel of the pistol rammed into her throat. “Jack… the… the gun.”
Jack thought about it for a moment. More than his desire to blow her brains out, he wanted to hold his daughter in his arms, to kiss his wife, to be with them once again. So he decided to stay his hand.
He moved the weapon back about half an inch, allowing Nora to draw in an easier breath. She did, and her frightened eyes never left his face. She took another moment to catch her breath, too long for Jack’s liking. He asked, “Where?”
“They’re safe. That’s all you need to—”
Jack pressed the pistol hard against Nora’s throat. “Not good enough! I want to know where they are. Right now!”
Nora nodded and moved her head back a hair’s breadth, enough to be able to draw in a shallow breath. She closed her eyes just for a brief moment. When she opened them, she was staring at him, but she didn’t look like she was seeing. “Fine, okay, okay. They’re in Germany, Jack. That’s all I know.”
“Where in Germany? And don’t lie to me.”
Her lips and chin trembled while a vein beat a visible pulse beneath her skin. “I… I really don’t know, Jack. They didn’t tell me that. They… they don’t tell me much.” Her voice was shaky as she looked at the Saudi to her right, the man who hadn’t moved since Jack had broken his wrist.
Jack glanced in that direction. “Yes, but you know enough. And you can and will learn more. You will help me find them, or you will die. All three of you,” he said in a louder voice.
A car drove up the street from behind Jack. He turned his body slightly to the left, to hide the pistol. The car’s headlights didn’t shine in that direction. He didn’t care if the passersby noticed how he was dispensing his private justice. He just didn’t want to have to deal with yet another complication.
He waited until the car had disappeared around the corner and said, “You will give me their location, or you will die.”
Nora held his eyes and offered a small head gesture. Tendons were standing out in the side of her neck, and a sheen of sweat was covering her forehead. “There is a better, easier way, Jack,” she said in a low, fearful voice.
“Easier for who?” Jack spat out the words.
“For you and for us, all of us.”
“The deal. Extract the former Saudi spy chief,” Jack spoke the words slowly in a spiteful tone.
Nora jerked her head back and nodded. “Yes, the traitor. Hand him over, and you will see your family again. Safe and sound.”
Jack snorted. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t know what’s involved in extracting a high-profile target like him. The level of security surrounding him is impenetrable. He knows how to hide and survive.”
Nora nodded again, this time more firmly. “We’ll help you find him. We also have men on the ground.”
Jack smirked. “Then why don’t you get him out yourself?”
Nora offered a slight shrug and said nothing.
“Exactly what I thought,” Jack said, continuing to smirk. “Because it’s impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible for the famous man from the CIS.” Nora returned the smirk.
Jack sighed. “I wish that was true.”
Jack was one of the best operatives of the Canadian Intelligence Service, or CIS, working as an extractor. He was called in when an asset needed to be extracted from a volatile situation or an operative needed an exfiltration after a mission had gone sideways. In this case, however, his services were being demanded for an off-the-books, unsanctioned operation.
Nora cocked her head toward her right hand and looked at the phone. “Then make it true. Your daugh—”
“Don’t mention her,” Jack cut her off and tapped Nora’s throat with the pistol’s muzzle. “Don’t you dare!”
Nora cowered and blinked rapidly at Jack. Her breaths were bursting in and out in low gasps. “I… I’m just saying that it can be done. We’ll… provide all the support you need.”
Jack let out a deep sigh. He wasn’t convinced the extraction operation would be possible. The Saudi was the former head of the General Intelligence Presidency, or GIP, Saudi Arabia’s primary intelligence agency. He might have betrayed his country, but he’d still have a vast network of connections, assets, and contacts. He was hiding in an undisclosed location in Canada. He’d have a lot of security, considering he had survived at least three
Jack pulled the pistol back an inch and looked at Nora, who seemed to be breathing easier. “Provide support like you did in Vienna?” he asked her with a sneer.
Nora opened her mouth, then shook her head and bit her lip. She looked down, and her forehead wrinkled. “That was different, Jack. An operation thrown together at a moment’s notice. It was also…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked away.
“What? Finish your thought.”
“It’s better if I didn’t,” she replied slowly and raised her shoulder in a half shrug. “Regardless, this will be a joint effort. You can’t do this on your own.”
“We can agree on that. I can’t do it even with all your cronies.”
Nora began to shake her head. “You’re underestimating yourself and us as well. Remember, the king wants this done. So we will get this done.”
“Oh, so why are you coming to me, then?”
“Because it’s convenient, Jack. And because we know we can count on you. You’re the best operative in your agency. But you’re not going to work alone,” Nora said in a fairly confident voice.
Jack tried to read her facial expression. She was still blinking rapidly, and her lips were pursed back, but her voice was no longer shaky. A sliver of hope was reflected in her eyes.
“Do you have other CIS operatives working for you?” Jack demanded.
The left corner of Nora’s lips began to curl up. “Maybe. Look, Jack. We’ll get this done with or without you. It’s in your best interests to become involved.” She looked to her right and tilted her head very slightly toward the cellphone.
Jack sighed and decocked his pistol. He pulled his hand back but didn’t lower his weapon. He cast a look full of disgust at the two Saudi men still stretched out on the sidewalk. When he returned his eyes to Nora’s face, he nodded and said, “Okay, Nora. I’ll do this, but on my own terms. You will get your ex-spy—”
“Traitor,” she cut him off.
“Your ex-spy,” Jack continued, unfazed by the interruption, “and I will get my family back. Is that clear?”
“Absolutely. You have our word of honor. An honorable deal.”
Nothing is honorable when dealing with venomous snakes, Jack thought, but he kept that to himself. His sentiments toward the Saudis in general and Nora, in particular, were very clear. Jack began to lower his pistol and said, “Just one warning, Nora: If I suspect you’re trying to trick me, I won’t stop until everyone responsible for my family’s kidnapping is dead and buried.”
Chapter Two
A Week Later
New Way Rehabilitation Center
Moscow Oblast, Russia
The slick black Mercedes-Benz drove through the newly-paved road leading to the rehab center set in a thick-wooded area of the Moscow Oblast. The driver had just gone through the entrance gate manned by security armed to their teeth by simply showing the credentials of his boss, a gray-haired man sitting in the backseat. The ID card issued by the Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki, or the SVR, which meant Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service, opened many doors and made people ask no questions.
The state-of-the-art medical facility served mostly as a neurological and physical therapy and rehabilitation clinic for former and current SVR operatives. The center was very secure, considering its clientele, but it also incorporated an additional layer of secrecy. A number of patients were kept off official registration records until the headquarters decided about their future, their new way of living after returning home from botched operations. The gray-haired man was an SVR director, and his mission was to assess and determine the fate of an ex-SVR operative. Her name was Bronislava Pavlinka Antonova, but everyone close to her called her Bronia.
The driver took a couple of last turns, and the expanse of the rehab center opened up in front of their eyes. It was a four-story building painted a dull yellow color and built in an unattractive U-shape. Constructed during the Soviet Union years, the building’s exterior was utilitarian and spartan. It had large, square windows—some of which were barred in iron—and small balconies on the second and third floors. The flat roofs had sufficient space for two helipads. The building was surrounded by a small parking lot with rows of pines, cedars, and birches. A large gym stood to the side next to the tennis courts and an indoor swimming pool.
The director leaned forward and said to the driver, “Park by the gym.”
“Of course, sir.” He nodded respectfully and turned the steering wheel to the left.
The director got out of the car and stepped through the parking lot. The air was crisp and filled with the fresh aroma of pines. It was still cold by Moscow standards, but there was no snow on the ground. There were no sounds but the rustling of a couple of black birds in a nearby birch tree.
He marched up the set of stairs to the gym, pushed open the entrance door, and looked to his left. Two young men in navy blue uniforms were standing next to a small security counter equipped with a metal detector. As soon as the guards looked at the director, they stood up straight to attention. “Good morning, Director Turgenev,” they both said in unison after saluting him.
Turgenev slowed down his pace just for a moment, then stopped and peered at the first guard, the one closer to him. The director took a couple steps and glanced at the man, who was giving him an intense look. Then Turgenev’s eyes dropped to the man’s chest. A white stain about the size of a grain of rice had caught the director’s vigilant eyes. He got into the man’s face, held his gaze, and said in a calm yet firm voice, “Agent Lukin. When was the last time you checked your uniform?”
The young man flinched as if the words had slapped him across the face. His eyes sparked with fear, knowing that the director wasn’t going to compliment him on the tidiness of his uniform. Lukin wanted to look down at his chest, where the director was pointing with his hand, but he was afraid. He was just frozen with panic. Turgenev’s reputation preceded him. The director had an extremely short-fused temper. At the first sign of perceived or real incompetence, he was known to have demoted or thrown people out of the agency.
“Uh… hmmm… this morning, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” the man said in a terrified voice.
“What is the reason you are apologizing?” Turgenev shouted.
The man gave him a confused look.
“Your uniform is a mess, and you apologize… Is that what they taught you at school?”
The man shook his head but remained silent.
“No, they taught you to act. You want to be someone great in this agency, you want to do something great for your motherland, right?”
“Of course, sir; yes, yes, sir.”
“Well, then start doing it. Start doing the little things, which, in time, will amount to greater things. If you can’t be trusted with little, you’ll never be trusted with much.”
The man lowered his head and glanced at the floor.
Turgenev tapped the man’s chest at the place where the almost invisible stain was located. “Clean this up and get yourself a new uniform. Then, clean up this place.” He stepped back and waved his hand. “This entire hall. I will inspect it on my way out.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard said in a weak tone.
The director reached and lifted up the man’s chin. He held it for a long moment and peered deep into the man’s eyes, enjoying the feeling of panic he had instilled in the man’s heart. Then Turgenev asked slowly, “I didn’t hear your reply…”
“Yes, sir. I will have it done right away, sir.”
“That’s better; that’s much better.” He nodded approvingly and took a step back. “You have thirty minutes.”
Turgenev spun on his heels and went through the metal detector, which went off with a shrill alarm. The director ignored it. He was wearing a shoulder holster with a compact MP-443 Grach 9mm pistol underneath his gray suit, which had set off the machine. The guards knew that, but even if they didn’t, they wouldn’t dare stop him. No one would dare stop Director Turgenev.
