SEVENTEEN
Rafael stood watching through the window in the small office as the team out on the dock loaded the metal cylinders into containment chests. It was exciting that after all the decades of planning and hard work the mission was finally getting under way.
He glanced to the clock and saw that they were behind schedule. There were long overland drives ahead of them, and then a journey aboard a freighter that would make several stops before reaching South America. Many other members of their team were already on their way. They would infiltrate in separate groups.
He and his team had been training for this mission nearly their entire lives. It seemed surreal that the real thing was finally happening.
He looked up and saw a cylinder slip from José’s arms when he turned to tell a joke to some of the other men. The cylinder bounced twice and then rolled across the floor of the loading dock.
José ran after it, tripping over his own feet along the way. When he stumbled, his foot hit the cylinder and sent it racing away even faster. Fortunately, Ronaldo planted his boot on the cylinder to stop it as it rolled past.
Those cylinders were quite strong, but if they were mishandled who knew what might happen? José, laughing, thanked Ronaldo, and then hoisted the cylinder up onto his shoulder, as if it weren’t the least bit dangerous, to carry it back to the crate.
“Idiota,” Rafael muttered under his breath.
Rafael couldn’t hear through the window what José said to the other men when he brought the canister back, but some of them returned a weak laugh. Others shook their heads. José was the joker of the group. But this was hardly the time or place.
Alejandro, Rafael’s second-in-command, glanced up and gave Rafael a look as if to say he’d about had it with José.
Rafael’s jaw clenched tight. Like Alejandro and many of the others, he was sick and tired of José’s antics. This was the mission of their lives, the mission they had trained for since early childhood. Now that the most critical parts of the plan were finally in motion, he didn’t know how they could any longer afford to have such a fool involved in the operation.
He wished they had cut José from the team years ago. But even then it would have been far too late to bring anyone else in. Even if there was no one to replace José, José was far more of a liability than an asset. José put everything at risk.
Rafael turned when he heard the door. Hasan stormed into the room. His face was red. His thobe swirled around his legs when he came to a halt. He raised his shoulders and then lowered them to make slack to pull his bisht together in front. The rich brown cloak edged in gold was distinguished looking, as it should be for someone of Hasan’s importance.
“Que te trae aquí hoy?” Rafael asked.
Hasan waved a hand. “Farsi, please. You know I don’t speak Spanish.”
“Sorry. I forget. I asked what brings you here today?”
“I wanted to let you know that everything should be ready for final assembly by the time you get there.”
Rafael folded his arms. “How are you getting the exploding bridgewire there so the team on site can continue the build without any delays?”
The exploding bridgewire was of concern to Rafael because it was a vital component that had to be sent on ahead of them, and if it was intercepted or lost it would jeopardize the entire mission. Like many of the critical parts, exploding bridgewire was usually illegal to possess in America and closely tracked.
“Couriers,” Hasan said. “We have MOIS intelligence officers in foreign missions and embassies in most of the countries we need to send it through. They’re waiting to hand off the package with the EBW from one of our trusted agents to another.”
“That makes sense,” Rafael said. “But what about in America? That is the most dangerous link in that chain. Do you have trusted agents who can make the final delivery?”
“We can’t risk using any of our agents to deliver the package because it’s possible they are known to American intelligence and under surveillance. The Americans have electronic communication techniques we don’t always know about. Using our people for this delivery would risk everything. This is the operation that will make history. We can’t afford to let it be compromised.
“To eliminate suspicion, we won’t use our people or even sympathizers. We will instead use small, commercial couriers. They will hand the package in a chain from one to another. None of them know the contents or the destination. Each courier has only sequential instructions to deliver the package to another courier. In this way, only the final courier will open the instructions with the final destination—your team there run by Miguel.”
“But that final courier knows where the package is going,” Rafael said. “He has to deliver it there. That knowledge is a threat to us.”
Hasan smiled. “You and I think alike, Rafael. That is why I had instructions placed in the box along with the EBW. The instructions order them to kill the courier and make the body vanish. No one will know what happened to that last courier so there will be no connection to our team. In that way, the link is broken. I used your name on the orders. Those are your men, so they will not hesitate to carry out the instructions.”
Rafael nodded as he sighed with relief. “Good.”
“What about you? You are behind schedule.”
“We have the most dangerous part done and we will soon have the rest of the components loaded. All that is left is to load the power unit. We are close to having the shipment on its way. I have calculated that if we push we can be back on schedule by the time we reach Brazil. Our people are keeping a watchful eye over the route until we arrive at each transfer point.”
Hasan nodded. Rafael thought he looked distracted.
“Is there some problem?”
Hasan swiped a hand across his mouth and then smoothed down his black beard. “You remember me telling you that we sent Wahib into Jerusalem?”
Rafael cast about in his memory for a moment. “Wahib, the assassin? Is that who you mean?”
Hasan nodded. “He was recognized.”
Rafael leaned in with a frown. “Recognized. How could he be recognized? As far as anyone knows, the enemy did not know of him. That is why he is so valuable. He was unknown to them, invisible, a ghost among the infidels.”
Hasan glanced about as if the walls might have ears. “You recall me mentioning my suspicion?”
Rafael tapped his thumb on his leg as he thought a moment. “You mean that the Mossad have people who can tell if someone they see has killed before?”
Hasan nodded again. “From our intelligence reports, it sounds like that may have been what happened. Our people say that they saw two men together. One of them must have made a sign of some kind when Wahib turned his face in the man’s direction, because soldiers and men in plain clothes immediately swooped in out of nowhere and seized him.”
Rafael found it a troubling notion. “You are certain of this? I mean, certain that he was recognized as having killed the enemy before simply by this man looking at his face?”
“Not his face. His eyes.”
Rafael’s expression twisted. “It’s hard to believe that such a thing is actually possible.”
“I believe it is.” Hasan gave him a troubled look. “Wahib was a valuable man. No one there ever knew who he was. We are certain of that much.”
“Where did you come up with this idea about people who can recognize in someone’s eyes that they have killed before?”
Hasan smoothed his beard again. “Wahib told me that when he was once on his way to an assignment, he encountered an old woman—one of our women carrying home a jug of cooking oil so she could prepare a nightly meal for her family. As Wahib was making his way down the crowded alleyway, when she looked up into his eyes she gasped.” Hasan held up a finger to make the point. “The old woman recognized he was a killer.
“He said that this had happened to him once before, and that he, in turn, was able to recognize in her eyes that she was one of those very rare people who just by his eyes knew that he had killed before.
“He said that both he and the old woman possessed a rare ability, each the counterpart of the other, and that was how she recognized him as a killer.”
Rafael was dubious. “Just by looking at him?”
“By looking into his eyes,” Hasan corrected, holding up the finger again to make his point. “Fortunately, he was able to calm her and assure her that he only killed Jews. She was very relieved and happy to hear this and went on her way, wishing him success and many more kills.
“Wahib said, though, that he had heard talk that the Mossad used people like this, people who were able to recognize killers. He believed that it was an ability like this old woman had. I am worried that there may be truth to what Wahib said.”
Rafael lifted an eyebrow. “So, then you think that one of these people recognized him in this way and that was how he was captured?”
Hasan let out a heavy sigh. “I believe so.” He adjusted his robe again. “Because of how serious this situation is, it is a high priority that this person working with the Mossad be eliminated. There is no telling what harm he could do to us, or what plans this enemy snake could ruin.” He gestured out the window to the dock. “Who knows, even plans such as this. We cannot afford the risk. We need to eliminate this person.”
“How in the world could we find this Jew with such vision?”
Hasan regarded him with a sideways look. “That’s the problem. You or I would not recognize a person with such special ability. It takes a very high-level killer to recognize them—a killer like Wahib. In order for them to tip their hand, it needs to be someone this Jewish devil would recognize as a killer.
“An ordinary assassin might not be aware they had been identified for what they are. We need a man who can recognize in their eyes that they can identify killers. That means we need someone like Wahib, but unfortunately he is now in the hands of the enemy.”
“So, it would have to be someone who has killed before, but also a high-level killer, a special man, who could recognize this ability in the eyes of the enemy?”
“That is it exactly.”
“Allah willing, how in the world are you ever going to be able to find a man like that?”
Hasan met Rafael’s gaze. “We have a man, Cassiel, that I believe to have this ability to identify such an enemy.”
“What makes you think so?”
“This man, Cassiel, is a wolf in a thobe. He’s a ruthless killer. Highly intelligent. Clever. Cunning. He speaks five languages fluently and several more well enough.”
“He is one of our men?”
“No. He is a murderer captured by the SSF.”
“Why would the State Security Forces be involved with a murder case? They usually only handle internal security.”
“They became involved because this was a special case and in a way it did involve internal security. This man was preying on women, mostly, but also some men, slaughtering them for no reason or pattern we could understand. One of his most recent targets was an imam and his relatives. He killed the relatives as he worked toward the imam.”
“And the imam?”
Hasan pulled a finger across his throat. “The Ministry of Intelligence and Security isn’t sure where he was born, but they learned that for many years he has moved about from country to country. We know he has killed people from Italy to Tajikistan. I’m sure there are more victims. For some reason he sometimes slaughters entire families. He is an international serial killer.”
Hasan tilted his head closer. “I believe the seeming random nature of his victims means that they must have something in common. I suspect he was hunting those rare people who could recognize a killer—recognize him as a killer.”
“He was eliminating possible threats to himself?”
“In a way.” Hasan arched an eyebrow. “No wolf likes the sheepdog watching him hunt. I think that this man, Cassiel, was hunting sheepdogs.”
“That’s a disturbing thought.”
“Anyway, he was to be executed shortly after he was captured. I went to him and made him an offer. I told him that we would release him on the condition that he worked exclusively for us, killed for us, going after people we selected, rather than going after victims of his choosing. We told him that he could kill them in any way he wished as long as he killed them.
“The man is an animal, though. He is dangerous. I told him that if he killed any but the enemy we selected, we have agents everywhere—eyes everywhere—and we would put him down as we would any rabid dog. He liked the idea of not being put to death, and even more the idea that we would let him continue to kill, even if it is those on our target list, so he agreed to the terms.
“I believe he has the ability to spot that person we are looking for, the man who recognized Wahib as an assassin.”
“So then you will send him after the Jewish snake who identified Wahib?”
“Yes, but it is not that easy,” Hasan said. “From what our informants tell us, the Israelis always have this special man under heavy guard. With the Mossad handling him it will not be easy to get close to him, but he must be eliminated. He puts too much at risk.” He gestured out the window again. “Even this.”
“How do you intend to do it, then?”
Rafael was beginning to wonder why Hasan was bringing him into his confidence about the whole affair. After all, it was not Rafael’s area of responsibility, and besides, he had critically important work ahead of him with his own team. They soon needed to be leaving on their mission.
Hasan clasped his hands in front as he rocked back on his heels for a moment.
“For Cassiel to get close to the target and eliminate it, we will need to use a distraction.”
“What sort of distraction?”
“A martyr. Someone who wants to serve Allah by carrying a bomb that will kill as many Jews as possible. We need someone who wants to be a martyr and bring honor to themselves. Someone who has never killed anyone yet so they can’t be recognized in the same way Wahib was recognized.
“That bomb will be the distraction Cassiel will need.”
Rafael suddenly looked out the window to the people loading canisters. José was making stupid faces for the other men to see as he was screwing on the inner lid. He wasn’t watching what he was doing and cross-threaded it. Once he saw what he’d done, he cursed at the lid, as if it were to blame.
“I think I have just the man for such an important mission.”
Hasan saw where Rafael was looking.
“Those are incredibly valuable men,” Hasan said. “We have trained all of you since you were babies just for this mission. We have much invested in all of you, and much hope lies with all of you.”
It didn’t sound like Hasan was objecting so much as he was testing the strength of Rafael’s suggestion.
“It is because we have so much invested in this plan that I believe this one must be culled. He makes too many mistakes. Our leaders of course had no way of knowing when we were still young children, but he isn’t very intelligent.
“I fear that because he is so clumsy and ignorant he could accidentally put the entire effort in jeopardy without even intending to. As valuable as each of those men are, I think it would be better to select this one as the martyr you need. It would solve two problems at once.”
Staring out the window, Hasan considered Rafael’s suggestion.
At last, he smiled. “Bring him in and I will let him know that, because we have so much faith in him, he has been selected for a very special honor: he is to become a martyr far earlier than he had anticipated.”
Rafael finally smiled himself. “He will be in awe that you have personally selected him for this mission.”