Betrayal, p.16
Betrayal, page 16
He drummed his fingers on the door, thinking about how the events might unfold. If the GIP played their cards right and waited until the right moment, they could strike when all of Al-Qaeda members were in the warehousing complex. But Al-Faraj was notorious for his impatience.
About ten minutes later, a second two-car convoy appeared from the left side. The lead vehicle was a black SUV, followed by a grayish sedan, like the other two already at the warehouse. One of the men rolled aside the gate, and both the SUV and the sedan zipped through. A few seconds later, another man joined the two guards standing outside the gate.
“The party is starting,” Claudia said.
“Yes, and quite early.” Javin glanced at his wristwatch. It was not even nine o’clock, but the meeting was not expected to start until ten.
“Could they have moved the time?”
Kabiri shook his head. “No, but this could be a smaller meeting on the side.”
“Or maybe they’re starting early, if they’re suspicious,” Claudia said.
“Wouldn’t they cancel the meet, or move it to another location, if that was true?” Javin said.
Claudia shrugged. “If that was possible, or maybe they’re just all early.”
“Not all.” Javin pointed at another convoy approaching the warehouse from the right side.
This one had three vehicles. The first two were SUVs—one silver and one white—followed by a greenish truck. The three men at the gate stopped the first SUV and chatted briefly with the driver, then nodded in a gesture of respect when he drove through the gate.
“Is that the other Al-Qaeda leader?” Claudia asked.
Javin peered so hard his eyes formed tears, then shook his head. “I can’t tell. We’re so far away, and the sun was bouncing off the windows.”
“We should get closer,” Kabiri said. “Park next to those dump trucks.” He gestured to the right, next to a structure whose foundation had just been poured. Three dump trucks and other heavy machinery were parked in a cluster.
Javin shook his head. “No, that’s too close. They’ll notice us, especially now.”
“And that doesn’t give us the best angle,” said Claudia.
“Don’t you folks say ‘no guts, no glory’?” Kabiri’s tone took on a hint of sarcasm.
“I don’t,” Claudia said.
“We’ve got plenty of guts, but we’re not here for the glory,” Javin said with another headshake.
He had turned in his seat to face Kabiri and held his eyes for a long moment. Javin had just started to turn back around when Claudia said, “Hey, who’s that?”
A tan camouflage truck, followed by a Humvee of a similar pattern, raced up from the left.
Kabiri shook his head. “I . . . I can’t tell.”
Javin did not answer. He glanced at the three men at the gate. The courier was on the phone, while the newly arrived guard was talking to the gunman in a very animated way. “Something’s wrong.”
“That convoy’s not Al-Qaeda,” Claudia said.
“Are they GIP?” Javin asked in disbelief.
Before anyone could say another word, the gunman produced a submachine gun from underneath his robe and aimed it at the truck.
A moment later, an assault rifle came out of the truck’s front passenger window, followed by a quick barrage.
Chapter Thirty-six
Five blocks southwest of the Saudi Aramco Riyadh Refinery
Al Ghnamiah District
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
The barrage of bullets did not hit the gunman or any of the guards.
The gunman dropped to one knee and returned fire. His bullets lifted sparks off the front of the truck. Others struck the windshield, which held. But the truck came to a screeching halt about fifty yards away from the warehouse’s gate.
One of the guards ran inside the yard.
The other flattened himself against the wall, then ran for cover behind the sedan.
Javin cursed the Saudi intelligence’s early arrival. “They blew it.”
Claudia nodded. “We can still do this.”
“If the target’s there.”
“There are plenty of targets there,” Kabiri said in a frustrated tone. “We’re not going to just sit here, are we?”
“No, but we’re not going to storm the building. We need a plan.”
“And I need a gun,” Kabiri said.
Javin shook his head. “No, I don’t—”
“Am I to go to the battlefield unarmed?”
“No, but—”
“I can’t stay here, useless.”
Javin reached into the glove compartment and brought out the rope.
“No, no, come on,” Kabiri said.
“It’s so you—”
Kabiri swung open the back door and darted away from the car.
“What are you doing?” Javin shouted.
He cursed Kabiri, then pulled out his Fateh assault rifle. “I’ve got him,” he said to Claudia, who was holding her pistol tight next to her face.
“And I’ve got your back.”
She slid open her door.
Javin sprinted behind Kabiri. He had already put some distance between himself and Javin. But the agent was closing it quickly. “Stop, just stop,” Javin shouted, then turned his head toward the warehouse.
It was just for a split second, but that move saved his life.
One of the guards had noticed the commotion around the Toyota and had turned his attention in that direction.
Along with his rifle.
Javin dove onto the sand banks in front of him as bullets whizzed above his head. A couple kicked up sand around him as he tried to roll away. One grazed his left forearm, an inch above the elbow.
Javin cursed the shooter and rolled again. He struggled to get behind one of the sand mounds to his left. More bullets flew all around him, bouncing next to his feet.
He crawled to relative safety behind the mound and glanced at Kabiri. He was still running away.
Not for long.
The other gunman was also firing at Kabiri, the only target still standing.
A bullet struck Kabiri’s back. He toppled forward and dropped to his knees, like a tree axed by a powerful lumberjack blow. While he was still on his knees, another bullet knocked him to the ground.
Kabiri did not move.
Javin wondered if the Iranian asset was dead or playing dead. It did not matter. Javin could not go to Kabiri’s rescue.
The gunmen had already turned their rifles toward Javin.
A string of bullets missed his head by mere inches. Grains of sand hit his face. Javin turned his rifle but struggled to hold it straight. Blood was trickling from the left arm wound, and a sharp pain zipped through his upper body.
Still, he was able to aim his rifle. He put the courier into the rifle’s crosshairs and pulled the trigger.
Javin’s left hand jerked at the last moment, and he missed. He cursed the wound, then wrapped his fingers tighter around the rifle’s foregrip. Ignoring the pain shooting up his left arm, Javin tapped the trigger again.
This time, his bullet hit the target. The courier fell against the gate.
The other gunman continued his barrage.
Javin dropped behind the sand mound. He thought about the number of bullets left in his magazine. Was it ten or twelve? Not enough for a long burst.
He flicked the rifle’s selector lever to single fire, then waited for a pause in the gunfire. No bullets struck around him, but the gunfire did not subside. Instead, there were now at least two other gunmen squeezing off bullets from assault rifles.
Then came the hammering of a machine gun.
Javin crawled backwards farther away from the sand mounds and toward the Toyota. Claudia had just finished firing a couple of rounds and was crouched at the back of the car. Three gunmen in tan camouflage uniforms were firing from the Humvee and the back of the truck.
Two men ran from the yard of the warehouse and rolled away the gate. Then the SUVs began their getaway, followed by the sedans.
The Humvee’s gunmen intensified their firepower. The side and back of the lead SUV were riddled with bullets. The driver still kept going.
Not for long.
He lost control of the SUV, which veered off the road, then began to climb a sand mound. A second later, it tipped to the side and flipped over.
Taking advantage of that gunfight, Javin bent into a high crawl and bolted to the Toyota.
The second SUV was also stalled and was being pounded by relentless gunfire. But the other SUV, the white one, and one of the grayish sedans were able to move away from the warehouse.
The escaping Al-Qaeda operatives were coming toward Javin and Claudia.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Five blocks southwest of the Saudi Aramco Riyadh Refinery
Al Ghnamiah District
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
Javin glanced at Claudia. “Get in, get in,” he shouted.
She nodded. “Cover me.”
Javin stood up behind the Toyota. He placed the rifle over the car’s roof and fired a couple of rounds. One struck the SUV’s windshield, cracking it. The other bullet sparked against the grille.
The return fire shattered the Toyota’s windshield.
Javin crouched and looked at Claudia.
“I’m all right,” she shouted from behind the wheel. “Hurry.”
Javin fired again, then slid into the backseat.
Claudia threw the car in reverse and yanked at the wheel. The Toyota swung around, then she hit the gas. The car lurched forward and away from the warehouse.
The relentless barrage continued. The rear glass exploded in a hail of fragments that struck the backs of their heads. Bullets banged the rear of the car.
Claudia swerved left, then right, trying to dodge the bullets and raise a curtain of dust to conceal the Toyota. But more rounds bounced around the cabin.
Javin turned around, but could see nothing through the thick curtain of dust. He guessed he had maybe four or five bullets left. He was not going to waste them.
Then one of the tires exploded. The car dropped a few inches and sank to the left. Soon, a scraping sound came from the wheel cutting through the asphalt. The Toyota began to slow down.
“Won’t hold much longer,” Claudia shouted over the noise and the gunfire.
“Pull over,” Javin shouted.
Stopping the car would make them an easier target. But it worked both ways, as Javin would be able to make those last bullets count.
Claudia hit the brakes and brought the car to the edge of the road with a long swerve.
Javin opened the rear door and rolled onto the ground. Ignoring the pain shooting up from his arm, he lay on his stomach and aligned his rifle with the spot where he was expecting the SUV to come into view.
It did.
Javin closed his left eye and fired a single round.
The SUV erupted into a large orange fireball.
“What was that?”
He turned his head to see a rocket-propelled grenade slam into the truck behind the SUV. The second explosion sent metal and plastic pieces everywhere. Huge flames began to devour the truck.
Javin climbed to his knees and glanced at a white Audi SUV stopped perhaps sixty yards away. Neither Javin nor Claudia had seen it, as the road snaked to the right, around a mosque.
“Who’s that?” Claudia asked.
She was stretched next to the Toyota’s hood.
“Not sure, but glad they’re here.”
“I hope it’s GIP.”
Javin nodded. “Yes, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad to see them.”
He peered through the veil of smoke billowing from the wreckage and the dust created by Claudia’s maneuvering. He still could not make out the facial features of the slender silhouette dressed in tan khaki pants and an olive-green shirt standing to the left of the Audi. He could tell it was a woman.
Javin got to his feet and took a few cautious steps forward and toward the middle of the road. When he had covered about ten yards, the woman lifted her large sunglasses. Javin cocked his head, then shook it in disbelief.
The woman holding the rocket-propelled grenade launcher over her right shoulder was Yael, the Mossad operative.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Five blocks southwest of the Saudi Aramco Riyadh Refinery
Al Ghnamiah District
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
“What are you doing here?” Javin asked Yael as he jogged toward her.
Yael grunted. “What does it look like? Saving your sorry a—”
“We’re doing fine on our own.”
“You’re welcome, Javin. Can we go now before the Saudis get here?”
“Go where?”
“To our safehouse.”
“You have a safehouse in Riyadh?”
“On the outskirts. I’ll explain everything when we get there.” Yael’s voice turned firm, and she tipped her head toward the SUV.
Javin glanced at Claudia, who was a few steps away from them. “You got everything?” He gestured at the rucksack on her back.
“Yes.”
“Let’s go, come on,” Yael said and climbed in the front passenger seat.
Javin and Claudia walked to the rear door. A man with short-cropped hair and a full beard nodded at them through the open window. “My name’s Aaron,” he said and moved his assault rifle closer to his chest to make room for them.
“Javin and Claudia,” Javin said.
“Hold on,” Aaron said. “Ben likes to drive fast.”
As soon as Javin shut the door, the driver shifted the car into reverse. He completed a swift J-turn, with the SUV swerving wildly and sliding to the side. Javin was glad for the warning. He had been able to buckle the seatbelt and was holding onto the door. The driver’s maneuvering tossed them around until he straightened the wheel and stepped on the gas pedal. The SUV rocketed forward, leaving behind the warehouse.
Javin heaved a sigh of relief as the Audi SUV rounded the turn by the mosque. “How . . . how did you find us?”
Yael shrugged. “That’s not important. Suffice it to say you’re not the only one who has assets and contacts.”
Javin frowned. How much did Mossad know about Kabiri? “All right, so you knew what was taking place at the warehouse?”
Yael groaned. “Seriously, Javin, even after our saving your skin you’re playing games, watching every word coming out of your mouth? Unbelievable.” She shook her head.
Javin shrugged. “I’m just trying to find out what you know.”
“How about you tell us what you know, as a sign of gratitude? And I hope it’s more than ‘Al-Qaeda jihadists were meeting about an assassination plot.’ We know all about it.”
Javin shook his head and sighed. “Yael, if you know about the plot, then I’m afraid I don’t have much to add. We know the attempt will take place tomorrow in Riyadh. We never got any further, considering how it all went sideways.”
The driver slowed down as the SUV came into heavy traffic. Three police cars followed by an ambulance with their blaring sirens barreled along the other lane, heading in the opposite direction toward the warehouse.
“Who was your asset?” Aaron asked.
Javin hesitated for a moment.
Yael shifted in her seat and held Javin’s eyes. “Isn’t it clear we’re on the same team?”
“We are, yes.” He nodded slowly. If he answered Aaron’s question, Javin would be revealing classified intelligence to Mossad. Given the circumstances, he decided it was a fair trade. “He went by Mehrab Kabiri, a Quds Force asset, who became a turncoat.”
Yael nodded. “Thank you. I want to know everything he told you about this plot.”
Javin began to shake his head, but Yael stopped him with a stern hand gesture. “It’s only for confirmation purposes. At the safehouse, I’ll give you what we know. Then you can confirm our intel.”
Javin nodded. “That’s doable.”
“Of course it is.” Yael sighed. “Mossad gets a bad rep, Javin, but we’re just trying to help.”
“In this case you are.”
“I am talking about this case.”
Javin wanted to say that he had a long experience of being played by Mossad, but he decided to stifle that thought. “Let’s compare notes and see how we can stop this plot.”
“Yes. As I told you, we have everything we need, and we just need to confirm a few details.”
“Such as?”
“The exact location of the assassination.”
“We know only that it’s taking place in Riyadh.”
“No building? Approximate area?”
“Sorry, no.” Javin shook his head.
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing else.”
“And the time, what do you know about that?” Aaron asked.
“The attempt will take place tomorrow. That’s all we know.”
Yael’s eyes studied Javin’s face.
He said, “I’m telling you the whole truth.”
“I believe you. I just feel bad you didn’t find what we did.” Yael’s voice had a triumphant ring to it.
Javin wanted to say that it was not about who won or lost, since gathering intelligence to stop an Al-Qaeda plot was in everyone’s interest. But he was more interested in learning what Mossad knew than in lecturing Yael. So he said, “What do you have?”
“The exact timing and location of the assassination.”
“When and where?”
“Eleven in the morning at the grand opening of the Kingdom Business Tower. Prince Khalid bin Abdullah Al-Hamad, the third in the line of succession to the throne, will be there, along with other important royals.”
“Prince Al-Hamad?” Claudia asked.
Yael nodded. “Like I said, we know everything.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
Mossad safehouse
Al Malqa District
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
Having the knowledge and doing something with that knowledge sat at completely opposite ends, as far as Mossad was concerned. While they knew the exact specifics of the Al-Qaeda assassination attempt, Yael did not plan to intervene.
