Gav, code name Nahmer, crouches next to a pile of rubble near an intersection. The debris from a partially fallen wall spills across the sidewalk and out into the street — most likely caused from a mortar blast or RPG. Looking to her left and right down the cross streets, she sees nothing moving in the green glow of her NVGs. More rubble and the burned out husks of cars sit silently along the edges of a road littered with the debris of battle; the pockmarked walls attesting to the ferocity and volume of fire that has been exchanged at this intersection over time.
This particular location has changed hands many times and no one is sure who owns it now. But, whoever has it, it is a sure that it will change hands again. For the time being, though, it is quiet, which is exactly the way she wants it. Sporadic gunfire in the distance says that’s not the case everywhere, some other intersection is being contested. The jagged shapes of the surrounding buildings are outlined when the night sky occasionally flashes from a mortar round or RPG striking a target, the dull roar echoing down the streets seconds later.
Looking behind her, she barely spots the five others that comprise her team — only visible because she knows exactly where to look. They are crouched behind vehicles, other rubble, or peeking around corners of blown out building fronts. All six members, including her, of her Mossad team were inserted two days ago near the outskirts of the embattled town. Since then, they slowly snaked their way to their present location, holing up in abandoned factories and housing complexes during the day and skirting observed strongholds at night.
Their mission is the elimination of a group responsible for the daytime bombing of an outdoor café in Jerusalem. Intel had placed them deep within a portion of Hezbollah-controlled territory. Normally, they would verify the presence of the group and call in a strike, but the higher ups wanted photo verification that those responsible were dead. Her thought was that they wanted to cast fear in those who would dare strike against their small state…that nowhere was safe…that they would be found and eliminated.
Regardless of the reasons, she has her mission, and she will carry it out as she has all of her previous ones: with extreme prejudice. She had earned her moniker while serving in the Sayeret, and it followed her when she was recruited into Mossad. It meant ‘panther’ and it resulted from the fact that she could infiltrate with stealth, complete her mission, and disappear.
To her, that capability didn’t come from luck or some form of magic, it was due to her meticulous planning and training. She thought about every angle and had a counter to each one prior to stepping onto her transportation. Her team trained extensively, but not so much where their edge was worn down. She didn’t want them to lock in to a set series of actions. Her experience has taught her to be flexible and flow with each situation. It only looked like a flow from the outside, but it was running scenarios through her mind time and time again, looking at every factor, which made the action become instinct. Still, anything can happen at any time.
A distant flash is followed by rolling thunder, resounding down the war-torn streets. Adjusting her silenced Micro Galil, she glances down the streets once more, concentrating on the irregular outlines of the building’s windows. Seeing nothing, she rises and darts across the intersection, settling next to one of the burnt out vehicles. Nothing erupts from the night that would signal that she has been seen — no shout of discovery or sudden volley of gunfire.
Gav issues a single command into her radio. The others of her team rise like ghosts, dash across the street — their soft-soled boots making almost no noise at all — and fold into concealed positions. After two days of tense movements, they’ve crossed the boundary into what is now mostly Hezbollah-controlled territory. If all goes well, they should make it to their target’s location and be able to slip out before the sun rises over this battle-scarred land.
They slink farther into enemy-controlled territory (of course it became that the moment they crossed the border), keeping to the darkened entryways and other cover as much as possible. There isn’t a light that shows in this particular part of the city. The power lines had been decimated long ago…along with the water and sewer lines. The sound of a vehicle has each member folding into cover, merging even more with the darkness. The noise increases until a pickup truck loaded with figures passes by an intersection ahead of them. With the sound of the vehicle receding, they ease out of their positions and continue making their slow way farther behind lines.
Over time, they advance into the heart of the city. Some lights glow from windows, and the walls show less bullet strikes than those near the much fought over edges of territory. Several times, Gav had to direct them around roving patrols and intersections guarded by militia carrying AK-47s and RPGs. At one point, they had to scramble in and hole up in an abandoned store as one patrol decided to dismount at their location. The voices and occasional laughter from the patrol drifted across the street over the sound of distant gunfire. The wait was so long that Gav thought the patrol was actually barracked here and her team would have to hole up in the building for another day. Eventually, the patrol loaded up again and moved on, their reason for stopping unknown.
Gliding through partially destroyed buildings, through alleyways, and cautiously yet quickly along main avenues, Gav and the rest of her team find themselves in what used to be a shop of some kind after having gained entrance through the rear. Across the street, at the location given by intelligence, two people holding AKs stand next to a wooden door leading into a multi-story building. On the third floor, light shows from several windows, each covered on the inside by thin cloth. As Gav looks over the establishment, a silhouette of someone walking by the windows shows a couple of times.
To her, the guards are an indication that something or someone important is inside and lends evidence that their intel is good. She assumes that any back way in would be equally guarded, but it’s better than going in the front where they can be more easily spotted.
The roar of a low-flying jet streaking through the night sounds directly over her. The startled guards across from her crouch and turn their heads upward, searching and tense with the possibility that bombs might fall on them. A few blocks away, two penetrating flashes light up the night sky, followed by ground-shaking explosions that rock the nearby buildings. A scattering of dust falls from the ceiling onto the watching team.
Thirty seconds later, as the noise from the pair of bombs fades, another jet roars over the roof tops, adding yet another set of shattering blasts to the area. The lights on the third floor go out. While still crouching, one of the guards holds a radio to his ear. A second later, they both turn and rush into the interior.
“Now’s the time. Across the street and in. VOX and cameras on. Clear the sides as we go, but we make haste to the third floor. Everyone is considered a threat and eliminated immediately. No noise. Let’s go,” Gav says, rising.
Gav and her team emerge from the shop on the run, widening the gap between them as they go. The chatter of the distant gunfire has fallen off, but not silenced altogether, as the night has progressed. Perhaps the munitions, more than likely delivered by the IAF, has caused everyone to go underground. Or maybe it’s just quitting time.
She and another of her team quietly rush across the street, their suppressed barrels focused on the doorway, two others spread out to the sides concentrating on the windows overlooking the road, while the remaining two keep their eyes out down the narrow, debris-covered avenue and behind them. Approaching the door, they stack against the wall, listening for any sounds.
A loud voice sounds from the floors above, but it fades just as quickly. The most important thing is that she doesn’t hear anything coming from the other side of the thin door beside her. Her teammate reaches out and, with a nod from her, pulls the door open. Gav streaks inside, weapon at the ready.