Rebecca looked at her watch when she heard the front door close two storeys below her. It was 6.35 am. She watched as the property owners got into their cars and drove off. Both, she noted, had failed to do as instructed and looked back as they drove away. Fortunately, the blinds were still closed in the windows opposite. She had dozed on and off for the last few hours as it became apparent that her potential target had gone to bed.
The owners leaving had woken Rebecca from her dozing. Now fully awake, she turned her attention to the house directly opposite. She was looking for any movement and ideally just the faintest glimpse of the Senator would do. Once confirmed, she would call Ben and do whatever needed to be done.
Rebecca did not have long to wait for movement. Five minutes later, the blinds changed as a light inside the house backlit their blackness. The lines of light did nothing other than confirm that there was somebody inside. It was still forty minutes until sunrise and Rebecca predicted the blinds would stay shut until then. Why open blinds when it was still dark? She took the gamble, visited the restroom and grabbed a quick bite to eat. She did all that in semi darkness so as not to alert anybody to her presence.
By the time she was back, the third storey window had not changed. The blinds remained closed and the light on. The first wisps of sunlight began to break through and Rebecca stared intently. Even the slightest view of the Senator was all she needed. She had studied many photos sent over by Ben over the last few hours and knew many of the Senator’s distinguishing features. It was 7.40 when the first movement of the blinds paid any dividends. The sun’s rays had slowly multiplied until it could be said that daylight had broken. The blinds parted and a face appeared. Rebecca instinctively ducked back but the face across from her looked up and down the street, not up and across to a third storey window opposite. The face was not the Senator, most definitely not, it was a female.
Clark checked up and down the street and shook her head. There was still no sign of the Secretary of Defense.
“I told you, he won’t be here until nearer 8.00,” said Sam. “Now will you please come back here and relax,” he pleaded pointing to the seat next to his brother.
“I just don’t get it,” said the Senator, returning to the previous conversation with Sam. “I don’t understand what I have done to piss off James Lawson so much that he’d want me and for that matter you and your family dead?”
“You’re running against his boy?” suggested Sam.
“Most of Washington are his boys. He doesn’t need Russell in power that much. It has to be more than that, surely?”
“You know what they say, power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely,” offered Clark taking her seat next to the Senator.
“Very true,” pondered the Senator.
“But what if the President is involved?” asked Clark suddenly, the thought just popping into her mind.
Both Bakers turned and looked at each other. The thought, stupidly, had not crossed their minds.
“We think Russell is. If the Vice President is, why not the President?” continued Clark, thinking out loud.
“Jesus!” exclaimed Sam. A noise at the window caught his attention and he got up to check.
“Exactly. And whether Murphy is on our side or not, if the President wants us dead, we’re as good as dead,” added the Senator, standing up to see what had caught his brother’s attention.
“For Christ’s sake, get away from the window!” Sam waved wildly at his brother to sit back down.
Rebecca watched as the man walked towards her, his features were similar to what she was looking for but unless the Senator had lost 30lbs, five years and had seriously manned up in the last twenty-four hours, it was somebody else. But that somebody else was certainly from the same family. She looked at the info on the Senator, compiled by Mossad and their Sayanim. It was at least as detailed as anything available in the US and perhaps even more so. Rebecca looked up and confirmed it. The man in front of her was Sam Baker, although her records suggested it wasn’t possible. He had been dead for over three years — just about the time the house she was watching had been purchased.
It was Sam’s waving behind him that had caught Rebecca’s attention. She followed the hands and caught the only glimpse she needed. She withdrew her phone and made the call she had been 95 % certain she could have made five hours earlier.
The call was answered instantly.
“I’ve found him!” said Rebecca.
“Kill him!” was the automatic response before the line went dead.
“Jesus, there are people trying to kill you Charles!” said Sam as he checked the street and saw the two Humvees and a limo pull to a stop at the door.
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking!”
“Well, they’re here, so what are we doing? Do we trust the President or not?” asked Sam, as he watched Defense Secretary Murphy exit the limo and make his way towards the house with his two bodyguards.
Clark nodded. She did.
“Forgive me,” offered the Senator. “But as you have sworn an oath to give your life for the man, I’m afraid you’re ruled out of this vote of confidence.”
Clark shrugged her acceptance.
The door bell rung below.
“Well?” asked Sam.
Clark walked towards the window and watched as the Humvees emptied their eight operatives, all heavily armed and obviously with no intention of anything other than storming the house.
“I’m going to change my vote,” she said moving quickly from the window and drawing her pistol.
“Shit,” Sam caught sight of the action below and instantly realized he had been right about one thing. He could trust the Secretary of Defense. Otherwise, he most certainly would not be standing like a lame duck with his two bodyguards ringing the doorbell.
Sam bound down the stairs, swung the door open and literally pulled the Secretary of Defense off of his feet and through the doorway, slamming the door behind him. The two bodyguards barely had time to react to the abduction of their boss before both were struck by a hail of bullets from the eight men closing in on the house.
“What the…?!!” screamed the Secretary before the bullets began thudding around him.
Sam threw the Secretary on the floor and instinctively jumped on top. As the first volley paused, Sam was up and dragging the Secretary up the staircase, grabbing his holdall as he went.
As Rebecca stepped out of the house opposite, the limo and Humvees came screaming round the bend. She pushed her silenced pistol further into her coat pocket and contemplated stepping back inside but as she had already shut the door and heard the lock click, her fate was sealed. In order to stall until they passed, Rebecca fumbled in her pocket. To any passer-by she would look just like a woman who had forgotten her phone or keys. All that changed as the scene before her unfolded. The limo stopped and the instantly recognizable Secretary of Defense, James Murphy, stepped out of the limo. The Secretary was a staunch ally of Israel and Rebecca knew he was a personal and trusted friend of Ben Meir.
With her mind racing as to what to do, the Humvees emptied and Rebecca could instantly see the eight men were in no way friendly towards the house opposite nor the Secretary of Defense.
“Shit,” she muttered as she hit the speed dial button for Ben.
The first bullets struck as Ben answered.
“What is the priority, saving the Secretary of Defense James Murphy or killing the Senator?”
“Sorry?” replied Ben, somewhat caught off-guard by the question.
“Ben, you have seconds to decide, Secretary or Senator?”
Being asked to decide an eventuality that you did not conceive possible, in a fraction of a second, was not something a normal individual copes with well. Ben Meir was as long in the tooth as they came and normal was never a word that could be used to describe any part of him.
“Secretary,” he answered. His mind had calculated the pros and cons in an instant. The Secretary of Defense was one of two men in the US who had helped drive Project Ararat. The Senator needed to be dealt with but that could wait. There would be no waiting if the Secretary was dead.
“OK.” Rebecca killed the call and in a swift motion swapped her phone for her silenced pistol. She moved away from the door and walked towards the action.
Although it was one against eight, Rebecca had one major advantage. The men believed themselves to be the hunters and only had eyes for the house ahead of them. They obviously did not consider for a second that they would become the hunted. Rebecca could tell the men were well trained. Their movement was excellent, two forward, two covering, two forward, two covering but that meant there were two behind all the time and as Rebecca reached the side of the Humvee, she took aim and eight became six, four rounds double tap to each of the two men. The Sig had been chosen for one reason, not because it was Rebecca’s favorite or it was the best tool for the job. It had simply been chosen because most federal agencies used it and as such would help Rebecca with her cover. However, as the two men dropped before her, she had to admit, it was a rather nice handgun.
Sam managed to drag the Secretary to the top of the stairs and had unceremoniously dumped him while he retrieved his weapons from the holdall. He grabbed a Heckler and Koch MP5 and tossed it to Clark. She obviously knew her stuff. She caught the weapon, flicked off the safety and immediately made for the window in an attempt to knock out at least some of the competition. Sam grabbed the AA-12 automatic shotgun. If the guys came through the door down below, it would be like the hotel corridor all over again. Only this time, Sam’s shoulder was in much better shape. He stuffed two grenades onto his belt and his Wilson Combat Supergrade.45 handgun into the back of his trousers — it was a present from the Senator many years earlier.
With the Secretary and the Senator secured in the kitchen area, Sam made for the top of the stairs. A hail of bullets removed the lounge window and pinned Clark down. They were coming. Sam looked away from the door below him and covered his ears. If these guys were who he thought they were, he’d use it to his advantage. Almost like clockwork, the flashbang flew through the small window next to the door. Sam, despite not having witnessed one for some time, managed to maintain his wits and counting to two after the bang, swung the AA-12 barrel to his right and fired five of his explosive rounds into the space below. The screams told him all he needed to know.
“Got one!” screamed Clark from behind him.
A quick look confirmed he had killed the first two through the door. There had eight, minus Clark’s, that made five.
“Three down, five to go!” he shouted across to Clark.
“Five down three to go!” replied Clark.
“Good girl,” he shouted back.
“Six down, two to go” she replied quickly.
Sam was feeling the effects of the flashbang but not so much that he’d miss the sound of the MP5 firing ten yards away. OK it was quiet but he heard it.
“We’ve got some help and she certainly knows what she’s doing!”
Sam bounded down the stairs. There was no way the men would come through the door now.
Rebecca had watched as the six men had prepared to attack. The hail of bullets had taken out a side window and one of the men was preparing to toss in a flashbang. Rebecca was over forty yards away and with no cover between her and the house, any move now would be suicidal, whether they were expecting her or not. All she could do was wait for the charge and rush in behind them, hopefully in time to save the Secretary.
She turned her head as the flashbang exploded and then watched as the six men charged in, rather amateurishly she thought. Her assumption was correct and as the first rounds exploded into the charging men, those at the rear did, as one faced with overwhelming firepower would do. They ran for cover. Unfortunately, the only cover meant Rebecca could take out another one. Another double tap ensured the fastest runner would not be running anywhere. The woman in the window nailed another who was just behind her one. Which left two. They now knew they were surrounded and could do nothing but crouch either side of the doorframe. Out of range for Rebecca and out of sight for those inside.
Unless they were suicidal, their best option was to rush Rebecca. She could see it in their faces and she knew that’s exactly what she would do. They also had XM8 machine guns, grenades and pistols against her Sig automatic handgun. It looked like the tables had turned and the hunted were once again the hunters. She watched helplessly as they nodded to each other and as one raised his XM8 and began to fire towards her, they didn’t care if they hit her, they just wanted to pin her down so they could get to a car. Once they were nearer, then they would kill her. Rebecca had no option but to duck down behind the wheel and wait for the rounds to stop hitting.
***
Sam reached the bottom of the stairs just as the two made their move. He dumped the AA-12 and pulled the Wilson Combat Supergrade from his pants. This was going to be up-close and personal. The shotgun was too cumbersome. The guy covering was more interested in keeping the woman’s head down and so was easy work for the supergrade. Sam walked through the door and nonchalantly raised the handgun and put a round through the man’s head. The.45 round almost removed the top of his head. Sam’s hand didn’t even stop moving. The same motion swung the gun up and as he continued through the door, he waited for the running man to realize his cover was no more. It took him longer than Sam thought. He must have covered twenty yards before his stride began to falter. At twenty yards, most handguns were still effective but the Wilson Combat Supergrade was still lethal. Unfortunately for the man, now caught in the middle, he was also within Rebecca’s range. Although the Sig was nowhere near as accurate as the Wilson, it came down to the user and Rebecca was an expert shot. The twenty yards from the house also meant Clark had a shot from the window above and the MP5 was certainly more than comfortable with a range five times further.
Three highly trained gun operators, all expertly versed in how to take a man down and keep him down, trained their weapons as one. Time slowed as each of them went through a routine that was as natural as breathing. What felt like seconds to each of them could have been measured in milliseconds. The three shots from each of the weapons were almost indistinguishable, each having calculated, aimed and reacted in unison. The three bullets struck as one. The last man’s body danced to its death as each shooter automatically sent a second and third bullet towards their target. Everything had happened so quickly that it was only when they stopped shooting, they realized two others had shot also.
“Eight down,” shouted Sam to Clark as he looked towards the woman now standing behind the Humvee. A woman, who without a doubt, had helped save their lives.
“Hi, I’m Sam,” he offered his hand as he walked towards her.
“Rebecca,” she accepted his hand. “The Secretary?”
“He’s fine, upstairs in the kitchen having a coffee. Do you want one?” smiled Sam. He recognized her very slight accent as he had worked many times in the middle East. Deadly and beautiful with a middle-Eastern twang. She was Mossad, without a doubt. What next, he thought as he led her into the house.
First things first, they needed to get the hell out of Washington.