“Where are you going after Saudi Arabia?”
“Home. I’ve got to brief McClain. We need answers about Johnson, the bad intel on our Somalia mission and those assault rifles we found with al-Shabaab terrorists.”
Carrie swallowed. “Uh, about McClain. Keep in mind you’re a rogue agent. He will not be happy to see you. Not after he hears about this battle.”
Justin shrugged. “He sent me to find the traitor, and I did. He disagrees with my methods; I disagree with his.”
She wanted to remind him that McClain was their boss, but she saw Yuliya and Daniel coming out from the back of the warehouse. Daniel was limping quite badly now, occasionally stopping and shifting his weight to his good leg. Yuliya helped him once, so that he could climb over a collapsed part of the wall.
“Quite a party you were having back there,” Justin said when they came over.
Daniel sat down with difficulty on a pile of rubble. Yuliya rubbed her left hand. A large blood stain covered the front of her vest, and blood splatters had hit her neck and face.
“That son of a bitch thought he was tough. I almost broke my hand on his jaw.”
“But you broke his jaw,” Daniel said. “On the third try.”
“Well, I wanted him to talk.”
“Did he?” Justin asked.
“Yeah, he did. They think they’re tough, unbreakable, but they all talk. They all break.”
Yuliya wiped some of the blood from her face with her sleeve.
Justin kept his gaze on her. “What did he say?”
“He told us about some arms deals he was planning to close over the next month. Mostly illegal, as it was his practice. He also knew where Romanov’s money went, the money stolen from the safe house. And he admitted it was Houthis behind that attack.”
Carrie blinked. She was in the dark about most of Justin’s moves after they parted ways in Kenya.
Her face must have shown her thoughts because Justin said, “The safe house of Yuliya’s team in Sana’a. The house was raided, and the money vanished. A lot of good men died. I’ll tell you the whole story later.”
Yuliya nodded.
“And you’re going to find the money and the people who have it?” Justin asked.
“We will. Romanov wants the money, and I want revenge.”
A low shriek came from the back of the warehouse.
Justin said, “Hamidi’s still alive?”
“Yeah, but he wishes he were dead. He’ll bleed out in an hour or so. Earlier, if he’s lucky.”
Daniel cringed and let out a low groan.
“How’s the leg?” asked Carrie.
“It hurts at times, but it will heal.”
“We’ve got two choppers coming in. We can take you to a hospital,” Justin said.
Daniel shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll have some pills and this.” He pulled out his flask and drew in a sip of his vodka. “My personal doctor, Doctor Smirnoff,” he said and laughed.
“You’re sure? Don’t want you to lose your leg.”
“I’ve had worse, Justin. I’m Russian. A little pain never hurt anyone.”
Daniel let out a nervous laugh, which turned into a dry cough.
“So, this is good bye?” Justin asked Yuliya.
She stepped closer to him. They eyes locked for a moment in a friendly gaze. Yuliya smiled. “For now. Look me up if you’re ever in Moscow.” She put her hand on Justin’s shoulder, then pulled him near for a hug. “The two of you,” she added after the embrace, looking at Carrie. “Here’s my contact information.” She gave Justin a small piece of paper.
“I might take you up on the offer,” Justin said. “I’m not sure about Carrie,” he added, looking at her. “She doesn’t like the cold.”
That’s a polite way to put it, Carrie thought. She smiled. “Oh, I can make an exception for Justin’s friends. Nice meeting you, Yuliya.”
“Likewise.”
Daniel stood up and Justin walked over to him. They exchanged bear hugs. Daniel whispered something to Justin in Russian and when he returned to Carrie he had the vodka flask in his hand. “A memento,” he said.
“Do svidaniya, dorogaya,” Daniel called out to Carrie, as he stumbled toward the warehouse. Yuliya waved, then followed him.
Justin said, “That means—”
“Good bye, darling,” Carrie said. “I know a few words, Justin.”
He smiled. “What’s with the exception? You’re really thinking of going to Moscow?”
“What’s with ‘she doesn’t like the cold,’ eh?”
“You would rather me tell them you hate Russia?”
Carrie shrugged. “I don’t hate Yuliya. She risked her life for you. She’s the exception. And Daniel too.”
Justin seemed taken aback by her words. “You’re changing.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe I shouldn’t judge people for the sins of their fathers. But they will surely pay for their own.”
Yuliya and Daniel left in one of the jeeps from the warehouse. Justin drove with them to retrieve his knapsack from the truck at the top of the hill. He checked the tribesmen’s convoy and found only charred vehicles. Two trucks were gone, along with whoever had survived Mossad’s airstrike. They had taken with them the wounded and the dead. Justin walked back to the camp.
Eliakim told Justin he was entrusting him with the unconscious pilot and one of his crewmen. The others were confident their wounds could wait until they boarded their warship. The Israelis rigged the entire camp and their downed helicopter with explosives, after cleaning anything of potential intelligence value from these areas. They handed over Justin the remote controls for the explosions. Before taking off, Eliakim went to the back of the warehouse and put Hamidi out of his misery.
Over the next few minutes, Justin told Carrie and Nathan about last night’s events and what has taken place earlier that day. They exchanged their stories of preparing for this mission and how they had overcome each and every obstacle in their path. Then they waited, along with Al-Khaiwani, for the Black Hawk helicopters of the Saudi Arabian Army.
Chapter Nineteen
The medical team rushed out of the Saudi helicopter landing next to the warehouse. They loaded the wounded Mossad agent into the Black Hawk, while the second helicopter hovered over the hills, keeping guard. The crew was instructed not to ask any questions about the identity of the men they were picking up from this location. Justin noticed curious glares and a few thoughtful nods among the medical team. They knew what had gone down at the camp. The Apache wreckage, the destroyed camp, dead bodies strewn about everywhere; they all spoke louder than any of Justin’s words.
The medical staff of Najran Armed Forces Hospital also was very discreet. They registered Justin and the pilot without asking for any identification. Justin was assigned his own private suite and around-the-clock medical care. The hospital was very clean, the equipment modern, the staff friendly and welcoming. Justin wondered about the green and yellow signs in the halls giving directions in both Arabic and English. Maybe they get American or foreign soldiers who need medical care, he thought.
The ER staff performed a series of operations on the Mossad pilot, which saved his life. A surgeon explained to Justin in layman’s terms the delicate procedures of broken bones realignment and steps taken to control the pilot’s internal bleeding from his injured organs. The surgeon noted the first twenty-four hours were critical, but they hoped the pilot’s recovery would be steady and without relapses. Depending on his progress, he could leave the hospital within a week.