Carpathian: An Event Group Thriller (Event Group Thrillers) Read online

  “What are you doing?” she asked as she saw that the large blond American had been hit hard in the head and was just now trying to pick himself off the carpeted floor. Ryan was assisting Carl, but DeSilva had been placed on his knees with a Glock nine-millimeter pinned to the back of his head. With her fears confirmed, Major Sorotzkin slowly reached for her blazer and the BUL Cherokee semiautomatic. As she moved toward her weapon a hand coming from behind moved far faster and removed the gun. As the man to her rear pulled the weapon he intentionally allowed his hand to slowly press and glide over her left breast. She heard the sharp intake of breath from the man as he removed his hand and then stepped in front of her. Her eyes widened when she saw that it was General Shamni’s special projects assistant.

  “Lieutenant Colonel Ben-Nevin,” she said as she gave the man a filthy and distasteful look. The pencil-thin mustache had a small line of gleaming sweat just above and below that made the major cringe. “The general will not like it if these men are mistreated,” she said as Ben-Nevin tossed one of his men Sorotzkin’s weapon and then turned and grabbed the major by the shoulders and brutally pulled the blazer from her body. He then turned her and slowly and perversely frisked her for other hidden weapons. Finally he stopped and ripped her sunglasses away. He smiled when he saw the two differing eye colors. He had always heard about the major’s strange eyes but never saw them before today.

  “Ah, the general, the prime minister, the people of Israel, they don’t know what they like or dislike. It’s whatever wind blows that particular day from the direction of Washington that sways them. Threats of sanctions over the West Bank make them think. The prospect of defense cuts from America gets them thinking even more. But saving the heritage of the people, nah, can’t be bothered with that, no, no, no,” he said as his hands made their way to the front of her pants and then deftly slid inside making the major jump and scowl at his treatment of an agent from his office. She realized something was very wrong at the safe house. The colonel roughly probed the inside of the major’s pants and when he was satisfied that she carried no throw-away weapon he smiled and kept running his hand along her waistline.

  Everett watched as he was helped to his feet. The blood that coursed down the left side of his head slowly made its way to his jawline. He shrugged off Ryan’s helping hands as he watched the strange confrontation in front of him—a conversation that wasn’t going this raven-haired woman’s way at all.

  “Where is my safe house team?” she asked as she squeezed her eyes shut as the colonel completed his frisking of her. He removed his hand and then winked at the major.

  “I’m afraid they have retired while still on active duty, along with the agents that General Shamni had sent in to debrief this American spy. We’ll be doing that,” he said as his smirk brightened at the prospect. “My specially chosen men are good at recovering data from the human element.”

  “This is treason, Colonel. General Shamni will come after you like no agent in Mossad history. I had five brilliant technicians here, now what did you do with my people?” Her last few words came out far louder than she had intended. “Do you not think that the general has suspected someone in his office for quite some time was getting information to the extremist elements outside the Knesset?”

  The major’s eyes went from the injured American to the young priest and then at the smaller man, who had his hands in the air but looked as if he were just playing the game—a game Mica knew these two Americans had played before. The young priest may be new to this backdoor game of thrones, but not the blond American and his smaller friend—they have been here before and danger didn’t really frighten them, and as she could see by the small dark-haired American it was a game they loved to play.

  “After we find what we came for the general will have no choice but to become a part of what is happening. I daresay the people of our besieged nation will demand that the current left-wing regime take part in what we are going to do.”

  “Everyone in the service knows your appointment was a political move by the prime minister to satisfy the religious hard-liners in his own cabinet and those even harder men inside the Knesset. As soon as this traitorous act has been exposed you will hang in public.” She looked around desperate for a way out of the situation she never saw coming. She needed time. “And what of these Americans, do you plan on killing agents of an ally state?”

  The thin colonel looked over at Everett, Ryan, and DeSilva.

  “Life is hard, Major, harder for some than others. But then again, we as a people know this, do we not? Now,” the colonel said as he walked over to where one of his men had DeSilva kneeling with a gun to the back of his head. “I need to know where the written report was sent on the animal skull you took such fine pictures of at the Vatican archives.” The colonel leaned over and patted the young priest on the back. “I think you know the one of which I speak. You sent it via computer to a secure source. Journal pages recovered from a villa in Greece describing a certain campaign of a Roman centurion later turned very important senator. Now, son, what was the name of that Roman soldier and senator, or better yet where was the campaign he was sent upon two thousand years ago? What country did he describe in his journal?”

  “What?” the major asked loudly as another restraining hand held her in check. Her eyes took a quick glance at the taller American, who kept his eyes solely on her own.

  “Look, I didn’t read the filing,” DeSilva said. “I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about. I filed the report with the pages attached but I didn’t read it.”

  Again there was a pat on the back from Colonel Ben-Nevin. “But I do not believe you, my young American friend. But we will get the truth out,” Ben-Nevin said as the weapon was pushed harder into the American’s skull.

  Major Sorotzkin took a quick look at the front door and Ben-Nevin saw the movement.

  “Major, there will be no daring last-minute rescue by the forces of good. I have arranged for an uninterrupted afternoon of thrilling historical discussion.”

  At that exact moment the bell above the door tinkled and the door opened sending sharp shards of afternoon light into the small antique shop. Everett’s eyes widened and at the same moment one of Ben-Nevin’s three men pointed his weapon in his direction as the boy stepped over the threshold of the door with his bag of oranges clutched in front of him.

  “Mister hai dimenticato la tua arance,” the boy said with his big brown eyes flitting from the much taller American naval captain and then over to Mica, who was still being held in place by the disgusting hand of the colonel. The child held up the plastic bag of oranges. The colonel released Mica and then the weapon was slowly aimed at the boy. Sorotzkin reacted.

  “He only wants this man to take the oranges he paid for. He’s just a vendor. He’s harmless, Colonel.”

  The boy didn’t flinch as he took a cautious step toward Mica, which elicited a threatening point of the colonel’s weapon at the twelve-year-old. Major Sorotzkin shook her head at the boy.

  “No, no, le arance per la American man.” Mica explained that the oranges should go to the American who bought them.

  The boy held eye contact with the major for a split second longer than was necessary. The boy then turned toward Everett. His eyes saw the blood on the man’s face and where it had dribbled down into the collar of his blue shirt where it stained a dark maroon in color. It didn’t seem to faze the boy as he took two steps toward the man. Everett felt the gun leave his back and knew his guard was going to shoot the boy.

  “Hey, hey, my oranges, I thought you ripped this poor tourist off, kid,” Carl said, hoping to defuse the situation, at least where the kid’s safety was concerned. He felt the gun lower somewhat as Everett reached for the small bag of oranges. As he reached he saw the sparkle in the twelve-year-old’s eyes and then the small smile that only the captain saw.

  As soon as Everett’s large hand closed on the plastic bag he felt the cold steel of something the child was hiding beh
ind that bag. This was no ordinary child vendor. His eyes momentarily flitted over to Mica and he knew that the weapon had been purposely introduced into the store by the boy for express use by Mica. The street hawker was a plant, guard, and lookout, whatever the euphemism was these days for kids used by spies in their operations. As he saw the colonel and Mica looking at him he realized that the Mossad major had a look in her eyes that could only be related to excitement. He saw her slowly lick her red lips: this woman was watching and waiting for something that she was used to—extreme violence.

  Colonel Ben-Nevin saw what had happened too late to react. The large American took the bag of oranges and the small pistol concealed behind the bulging bag and then swung the bag as hard as he could at the man to his rear catching him squarely in the face. Then without aiming Carl fired at the man holding Ryan at bay. The bullet struck the man in the side of the head and Ryan had his fallen weapon before his captor knew he was dead.

  Mica realized that the American saved his friend first and that was about to cost him. As Ben-Nevin reacted slowly she brought her left wrist up and out catching the weapon just as it discharged, sending the bullet into the ceiling. The colonel swung back and caught Mica in the face as the third man in the small shop met his end when he tried to gain his feet from the staggering blow that had been delivered by the now broken plastic bag of oranges. Everett saw Ben-Nevin turn and break for the back of the store beyond the curtain. At that moment sirens started sounding as the loud reports of the guns had shattered the late afternoon solace of the tourists. Everett started forward after helping the small boy to his feet.

  “Thanks, kid, now run like hell away from here,” he said as he started after Ben-Nevin. “Let’s go, Ryan.”

  Mica tried her best to stop the big man from going after the colonel. She turned and followed the two Americans through the curtain. As she went past the scattered desks she saw what had become of her technicians. They were all piled in a lump of humanity in the far corner of the communications center. With a shake of her head she finally reached Everett just as he pulled the back door open.

  “No!” the major shouted just as five bullets struck the old wooden door sending splinters in every direction. Carl went to his back side, knocking Ryan down, and then reached up with his leg just as two more rounds struck the framing of the door. He kicked out, slamming the door closed, and then rolled free of harm’s way.

  “That bastard always has a plan,” she cursed as she reached up and pulled the boy to her, who was watching from the curtain. She kissed him on the forehead and then held him at arm’s length.

  “Treceţi, stiti ce aveti de facut,” she said and then kissed the boy again on the forehead. The dark-haired child looked hesitant at first and then with a last look at the two Americans he ran for the front door and was gone. The sirens were getting closer.

  “I was always terrible at languages, but one thing I do know for sure,” Everett said as he pulled the clip from the small .32 caliber weapon. “That wasn’t Italian you just spoke to the boy.” Everett reinserted the clip and just before Mica reached for a fallen weapon from one of her deceased technicians, Carl reached over and placed the barrel of the gun gently against the dark-haired woman’s temple. “Now I know not speaking Italian to an Italian kid isn’t a capital offense, but I’m willing to make an exception for you, gorgeous. Until I figure out just what language you and the boy were using I suggest you produce no more surprises for the rest of the afternoon.”

  As Everett slowly allowed the major to rise from the floor, DeSilva stepped into the back room. He stood looking from Everett to the woman. Finally his eyes settled on Ryan, who saw a youthful look of arrogance come over the kid’s face.

  “Captain, I think our young friend here has something to say,” Ryan said from the front of the store where he turned to look out the window by pulling out on the shade.

  DeSilva stepped meekly into the back room with his head held firm.

  “I want to go back,” was all he said as he took in the bloodied Captain Everett.

  “No, your cover is blown and one foreign agency knows of your existence. We can’t take a chance that the Swiss Guard doesn’t know either.”

  “Captain, I’ll take that chance. It’s worth the risk and you know it. I have to keep my job in the archives. If you could only see what I’ve seen inside, you wouldn’t believe it.”

  Everett looked from DeSilva to Ryan, who turned away from the window with a large smile on his face at the kid’s naïveté. The young agent thus far had not been given the tour of the vault levels at the Event Group complex.

  “I’m sure they have great stuff stashed in there, Lieutenant, but you need to come home now. It’s over.”

  “With all due respect, Captain, I think it’s my call. My ass is on the line and I think the risk to that ass is acceptable.”

  Everett used a handkerchief to wipe some of the blood away from his scalp. He looked over at Ryan, who nodded his head in agreement with the young Vatican spy. Carl then shot the Israeli Mossad agent a look. She just raised that left eyebrow of hers and stared at Everett. He stared at the two differing colors of her eyes and then nodded his head as he turned away.

  “Okay, kid,” he said as he pocketed the bloody handkerchief. “The colonel and director will more than likely fry my ass for this.” He shook his head. “But you’re right, it took too long to get one of our people in there.”

  “Who in the hell do you men work for?” Mica asked as she slowly eyed her possibilities of escape. She was starting to piece together the idea that these men may not have the same restraints that officers of the CIA or FBI would have—she was thinking these Americans were totally capable of killing her and dumping her body in front of Mossad headquarters in Tel Aviv. Yes, she thought, these men worked for someone other than an intelligence agency.

  “We happen to work for people that don’t like ambushes, Ms. Sorotzkin,” Everett said as he reached out and removed the Glock nine-millimeter that DeSilva was holding.

  “And how do you know my name? My own people don’t know me for the most part.”

  “We have files on many bad guys that are really pretty impressive. As I see it you don’t rate up there with the bad people we do business with on occasion, you’re a little different, Major.” Everett gave her a dirty look. “You work for a supposed friend, and when you showed your true colors along with your Colonel Ben-Nevin, you made our decision making really very easy.” Carl made sure a round was chambered in the Glock.

  Mica saw the handgun lower for a split second as Carl started to raise the weapon and that was the only window of opportunity the young Mossad agent could see for getting the hell out of her situation. Mica’s hand soon found an old-fashioned glass paperweight that lay on one of her technician’s desks. She didn’t hesitate as she grabbed it and threw the heavy silver inlaid paperweight, hitting Everett in the chest, making him automatically recoil and fire blindly at the blur of speed that had become the dark-haired woman.

  Before Ryan could move past DeSilva, Major Sorotzkin had moved far too quickly and was through the curtain before Everett could react. He intentionally shot wide of his mark as he never wanted to kill the young woman. The round went through the flapping material of the curtain. The three men all heard the bell above the door jingle and then there was silence. The sirens drew closer to the small antique store.

  “Damn, I lost two hostile agents in one day and now can’t prove anything,” Everett said as he looked over at DeSilva. “And now I’m going against orders and sending a kid back to face one of the harshest security teams in the world at the Vatican.” Carl slammed the slide home on the reloaded Glock. “Yeah, this is a red banner day for the Navy, Mr. Ryan. I’m beginning to think Jack’s been right all along,” he said as he pushed DeSilva toward the back door.

  “About what?” Ryan asked as he placed his head out the door and looked to make sure the crazy Mossad colonel wasn’t lying in wait for the three men.

&
nbsp; “That he would be better off hunting his sister’s killer without us being in his way.”

  “Bullshit, he needs us,” Ryan said, looking back momentarily to make sure the captain heard what he had to say. “Now, I suggest we get this young man back to school at the archives and we get the hell out of here to try and explain how an ally state tried to kill us all.”

  Everett nodded his head and then thrust his right hand out for DeSilva.

  “Lieutenant, it will be noted for the record you refused to leave the post you were assigned.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “Good luck, Lieutenant,” Everett said, as he released his hand. Then he watched Ryan do the same.

  “Good luck, Army,” the naval aviator said, shaking DeSilva’s hand.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Both Jason and Carl watched the boy leave through the back door after checking right and then left, and then one last look back at his two superior officers with a smile.

  “The colonel does know how to recruit, doesn’t he?”

  Everett ignored the statement, not wanting to admit that Collins could do anything right, at least for the moment. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Carl looked through the curtain toward the front door. He saw the milling crowd to gathering outside.

  “What are we going to do about the woman and that crazier than a shithouse rat Mossad colonel?” Ryan asked as he held the back door open for Everett.

  Carl stopped in the doorway looking straight ahead. The Navy SEAL captain moved his head ever so slightly toward the interior of the safe house.

  “That colonel needs a little bit of killing done to certain areas of his body, but the girl, I don’t know, there’s something not right there.”

  Ryan saw Carl smirk for the briefest of moments as if he knew an inside joke he didn’t. He heard Everett’s explanation as he started to run slowly down the alley.

  “Her, I just want to talk to.”