Target three, p.2
Target Three, page 2
That’s what Jacob wanted too. In his line of work, asking for anything long-term from a woman wouldn’t be fair. He wasn’t sure he’d be alive next week, let alone next year.
And something in her voice when she called had told him danger lurked nearby.
Her voice had been hushed, almost a whisper, and she called far earlier in the morning than usual.
“Could you come down to the Poseidon Taverna? I think someone’s been following me.”
That had immediately set off alarm bells. Gabriella was on assignment in Athens, filming a refuge for sea birds on a cluster of rocky little islands just off the coast, a lucky assignment that brought the beautiful globetrotter close to home.
Not that he could ever show her his home. The location was top secret.
As he gunned the powerful engine up to 120, he ran through the rest of the conversation.
“Why do you think someone’s following you?”
“I went down alone to the beach to catch some second unit shots of the dawn. My crew is busy editing today. I noticed a man walking there. I didn’t think much of him until he started approaching. I called to him to keep back because I was going to do a panning shot. He just stopped and stared. Creeped me out. Then a jogger came down the cliff path, and he turned around and went away.”
“Did you see him again?”
“Yes. When I went back up the cliff path to get into my car, he was at the scenic overlook. He was facing the sea, but I could see him glancing over his shoulder at me. But that’s not all. I went here, to the Poseidon Taverna, to get some breakfast, and just two minutes ago, he stopped at the seaside window and looked in. He looked right at me!”
“Ok. I’ll be right there. Stay in the taverna where the waiter can see you.”
He took a sharp curve, risking his life by straddling the center line, then cut hard to avoid a truck coming in the other direction. Jacob was so keyed up that he didn’t even hear the irate driver’s blaring horn. Nor did he see the rugged hills to his right, punctuated by traditional, whitewashed homes with red tile roofs, or the glittering blue Mediterranean to his left, its blue sky puffy with white clouds, and a few distant tankers on the horizon.
All he saw was the road, and all he thought of was the possibilities.
He told himself that it was simply a stalker. Gabriella Cremonesi was a beautiful woman, after all, and she had been alone on that beach with the guy until the jogger showed up. Then he had waited for her at the scenic overview. Jacob knew that beach, and he knew the guy could see her on the beach from there. The perv probably took a few photos while he was at it. Then, when Gabriella drove away, he hopped into his own car and followed.
Now, he was lurking around the taverna.
That was the most likely explanation.
But Jacob Snow hadn’t survived a couple dozen missions with the CIA by discounting less likely explanations.
The other explanation, the one he desperately wanted not to be true, was that someone was stalking him through her.
They’d been casually dating for more than a year and had been seen in public many times in Athens and along the lovely stretch of coastline to the east of Greece’s capital. He had never brought her anywhere close to his house, but if some spotter for one of the many terrorist groups or security agencies for hostile governments had been watching for a while and discovered a pattern in his movements, they could have narrowed down the location of his house to this general area.
And what better way to get him to come out of hiding than to make a show of stalking her so she would do exactly what she did do—make a frightened call to him and get him to come running?
But he couldn’t stay away. If it was a stalker, he couldn’t leave Gabriella to deal with him alone. If it was something more sinister and he didn’t show, then they might decide to kidnap her.
He had to handle this carefully. The Poseidon Taverna was coming up.
Jacob wished he knew the taverna and its surroundings better. It was a touristy place, a popular stopping point for bus tours thanks to its incredible sea view. Not Gabriella’s kind of place at all, but it was the only place open this early for breakfast.
Jacob ran through the tactical situation. The first bus probably hadn’t shown up there yet. He usually didn’t see any on this road until nine. That meant she was likely alone in the taverna except for the staff and one or two other early risers.
Good. Fewer people meant fewer innocent bystanders, fewer witnesses, and fewer possibilities for who was the bad guy.
But if they had the place staked out, he could get caught in sniper fire as soon as he showed up.
His tires squealed as he braked hard and swung across the lane to stop at one of the road’s many scenic overlooks. It wasn’t the same overlook Gabriella had mentioned, but one less than a mile from the Poseidon Taverna.
A quick glance around showed no one in sight. A car passed by on the highway, but that was the only sign of life except for the distant ships and the seagulls. Jacob grabbed a sports bag from the passenger’s seat. Inside was a compact but powerful set of binoculars, a compact MP5 submachine gun, a couple of spare clips, and two stun grenades taken from his personal arsenal at home.
Slinging it over his shoulder, the zipper open halfway to allow easy access to the death hidden inside, Jacob got out of the car and raced across the two-lane coastal highway. Within moments, he was leaping from rock to rock up the slope like a mountain goat.
Within two minutes, he was on the crest of the ridge. He ran along it, glancing every few steps down on the coastal road below.
The Poseidon Taverna came into view up ahead, a long, rectangular building with a roof of red tiles, a large parking lot facing the road, and a covered patio facing the sea. Gabriella was driving a rental, so Jacob didn’t know which of the four cars in the parking lot was hers.
Jacob only looked at the taverna for a moment before cutting to the right to get out of sight of the building and the road.
He sprinted, not wanting to waste time, worried that the stalker or someone worse might make a move.
God, he hoped it was a stalker. He’d beat the crap out of him, Gabriella would be suitably impressed, and they’d spend the rest of the day sightseeing and making love.
If the situation was as he feared, then he had a whole lot of trouble on his hands. Not only would he have to take out a threat on his home turf, but he’d also end up with his cover blown.
First thing first—he needed to flank the taverna, assess the situation, and then neutralize any threat.
It was a hard run under the hot, Greek sun, winding around boulders and olive trees, going up and down the rough terrain atop the ridge, all the while he was going over and over in his mind what dangers his innocent friend could be facing.
He made it, sweating but not out of breath, to a position directly behind the taverna. Jacob lay down and crawled forward, his sports bag slung across his back, the weapons inside pressing against his damp shirt with a reassuring weight.
He got to the edge of the ridge, hid behind a rock outcropping, and scanned the area.
No one was in the parking lot. A couple of cars sped by on the highway. They didn’t slow before they passed out of sight. After a minute, a man in a white apron stepped out of the taverna and stood facing the parking lot. He seemed to be doing something with his hands. Jacob was too far away to tell what.
Jacob pulled out the binoculars and focused on him. The guy was smoking. He had no visible weapons, and he wasn’t looking around like a sentry would.
The man turned and spoke to someone inside before turning back to face the parking lot, taking another drag of his cigarette.
Jacob scanned the area. He saw no one. The smoker, who Jacob was now 99% sure was the cook, tossed his cigarette away and went back inside, leaving the door open to catch the morning breeze. Or so he could watch the parking lot unseen from the darker interior.
Feeling somewhat reassured and yet still wary, Jacob stood and scrambled down the slope. While this made him clearly visible, regular civilians would assume he was a hiker who had lost his way, while any bad guys would divert their attention away from Gabriella inside the taverna and focus on him. The terrain was rough enough to provide him with plenty of cover if he ended up needing it.
Assuming he saw any gunmen before they took a shot. His gaze roved the nearby slope and building, stumbling twice when he didn’t pay enough attention to where he was running.
No shots came. Jacob got all the way down the slope to the side of the highway and saw no one peek around the building or appear at the windows or door. He got no response from anyone in the area except a curious look from a passing trucker.
Feeling somewhat foolish, he darted across the highway to the taverna entrance.
He peered through the open door, his eyes trying to make out the dim interior after being out in the bright sunlight. An older Greek couple sat at a table. A waiter stood with his back to him, looking out through the large windows that opened out onto the patio.
Jacob headed right and peeked through the still-open door the smoker had entered. As he suspected, it was a kitchen. The smoker was busy frying up some eggs while a pimply teenager washed dishes, bobbing to music on his earbuds.
Jacob tiptoed past the open doorway and made his way around the building. He could see the patio, a large rectangle of flagstones bordered with potted plants and a sloping roof above. Several tables were set outside. Only one was occupied.
Gabriella sat alone, occasionally looking over her shoulder back inside.
Was the stalker in there? He hadn’t seen him, but there had been a few blind spots.
Jacob hurried back to the front door and adjusted the sports bag to hang by his right side. He put one hand inside and gripped the MP5. Then he strolled into the taverna, his mannerisms casual, his nerves strung, his senses razor sharp.
His eyes scanned the interior. No one but the older couple and the waiter, unless the guy had hidden in the bathroom.
The waiter turned to him.
“Welcome, sir,” he said in English. “Would you like to sit inside or outside?”
“Outside, thank you.”
Jacob passed by him and out onto the patio. No one but Gabriella.
The young Italian woman turned and saw him.
She rose, giving him a relieved smile. He noticed she had changed her hairstyle.
He smiled, too, equally relieved. There was no stalker in sight, no shots from cover. She was safe.
A moment later, he noticed the unattended bag at the next table.
A simple gym bag. It looked stuffed to capacity. He could see a hard edge pushing out the fabric on one side. It lay directly under one of the tables, half blocked from view by the chairs carefully crowded around it.
“Gabriella, run inside!”
Her face registered confusion. The next instant, there was a blinding flash and an ear-splitting roar. Gabriella was blown to the side, blood spraying from her body from countless wounds. Jacob felt himself get hurled into the air.
He hit something hard and knew no more.
CHAPTER TWO
A field near Asilah, northwestern Morocco
Jana Peters wiped her hands on her jeans and let out a sigh. She and her crew had backfilled the last trench of her archaeological excavation.
It had been a rewarding three months, during which they discovered a Roman villa complete with a giant, floor mosaic depicting all twelve signs of the zodiac. Her team had worked hard, covering for her during two unexpected absences when she had to “rush off to Europe to help her sick sister.”
In fact, she had been saving the world. Twice.
That kind of made it hard to focus on archaeology.
Still, it had been a satisfying dig, and their many discoveries would ensure she’d get funding to come back. Just two more days of finishing up some lab work, then the long flight home and an even longer process of applying for grants and writing up the results of the field season.
Brian Tanner walked up to her. An older graduate student who had a career in a different line of work before switching to archaeology, he was more or less her age, and she was more or less interested.
He was most definitely interested.
“Looks like we’re just about done,” he said, turning his handsome face to her. His blue eyes looked quite attractive now that his face had developed such a deep tan.
“Yeah, just about,” she said, looking into those eyes. They registered interest and hesitancy.
“How’s your sister doing?”
“On the mend.”
“I’m glad. Hopefully you won’t get called away before we pack up,” he said with a chuckle.
“You never know,” Jana whispered.
She thought of that strange man with whom her life had become bound up. Jacob Snow.
Jana had known of him vaguely from a long time ago, when her father took him under his wing. Dad had spent more time with him than he had with her, training him or running off on some mission or other. She didn’t know the details. Couldn’t know the details.
But she’d find out more. She had a way now.
All her adult life she had resented her father’s absences. As she reached adulthood, she had given him an ultimatum—attend her twenty-first birthday or she’d cut him off. He didn’t come, giving some vague excuse that was obviously a coverup for gunning down bad guys in some godforsaken land.
She had hated him for that and had carried that hate as a heavy weight for a long time now.
In the past couple of months, her view had softened. Through a complex series of events, her expertise had been needed twice in missions Jacob had been tasked with. She had seen the other side of the world, the hidden side where powerful forces fought to bring order or chaos to a planet of sleepwalkers.
She had seen just how close the world was to slipping over the brink, and she had helped Jacob pull it back.
This time.
There would be new threats, new evils. She understood that now.
“You’re worried about her,” Brian said.
“Hmm?” Jana had been so lost in her own thoughts that she had all but forgotten they were in a conversation.
“Your sister.”
“Oh. Yes. There’s a lot to worry about.”
“I wish I could help.”
Jana gave a helpless shrug. “So do I.”
“Well, I can’t help your sister, but maybe I could cheer you up.” Brian hesitated, then spoke in a rush. “How about we go to that little seafood place in Asilah? Omar’s cooking is great, but I could use a change. Dig food gets repetitive after a while.”
Jana looked at him and saw nervousness and expectation written all over his face. She didn’t need to be told that the “we” did not include the rest of the crew.
They’d been circling each other all field season. She had been attracted to him, but unsure she wanted to start something when it would end with the excavation. He lived in another state. She sensed that he hesitated for the same reasons, plus the fact that she was technically his boss.
Then Jacob had shown up and thrown even more emotion into the mix, emotions she didn’t want to even put a name to let alone work out consciously.
“Sure. Let’s go,” she said. His face lit up. Then she remembered the appointment she had for a Zoom call to a former colleague of her dad. “I need to be back by ten, though. I have a call with … family.”
Brian gave her an uncertain smile. “No problem.”
***
At five minutes to ten, Jana sat in her tent, staring at her laptop. She had a satellite uplink to make the Zoom call and wore earbuds so none of the crew passing by her tent could hear Hank Gunner’s side of the conversation. She’d keep her questions nonincriminating. She had already heard the crew whispering about her two absences and the attempt on her life. Not everyone believed the sick sister story, although they had no clue about the real truth.
Poor Brian. That dinner had not been what he had hoped for. The food was delicious, the view over the Atlantic at sunset was stunning, but she had not been the best company. She couldn’t help but obsess over what Gunner might tell her in this call, and that made her distant and unresponsive.
She hoped he didn’t take that as rejection because it wasn’t.
At least she wasn’t quite sure if it was or not.
But enough. She had questions she wanted answers to, and Hank Gunner was the man to ask.
She licked her lips, checked the clock for the fifth time, and hit dial.
It rang. Jana shifted in her seat. Gunner was one of the many men who told her at her father’s memorial service (there had been no body) that she could call him anytime, for anything. She knew he and the others meant it, and yet she had never reached out. She didn’t want to be reminded of a relationship that had withered and opportunities that had been missed.
Gunner picked up on the third ring. His craggy face appeared in the frame.
Jana blinked with surprise. His salt and pepper hair had gone full gray, and the lines she had remembered in his face had deepened. Bags had formed under his eyes.
How long had it been? Gunner was older than her father, but at the memorial service, he had been in rugged middle age. Now aging had caught up with him.
The face may have been old, but the smile was warm. “Hey, Jana! Look at you hunkered down in a tent in Morocco. How did the excavation go? I saw that mosaic on CNN. Great stuff!”
“Yeah, we made quite a find. We’ve excavated a large portion of the villa. I’m going to apply for funding to come back next year and do the rest, as well as search for the outbuildings and nearby peasants’ settlement to put the villa in its proper context.”
“If it’s federal funding you’re after, or something from the UN, I can put in a few calls.”
“No. I can get all that myself.”
Gunner nodded and smiled like a proud uncle. “Standing alone, just like your dad taught you.” There was a pause. Both stared at each other. The old CIA operative went on in a softer voice. “It’s about him, isn’t it?”
