He turned to Casey Franks. “And you behave, or you can walk home.”
Franks nodded, her mouth never losing its scar-pulled sneer. “Always.”
Alex knocked on the door, standing slightly to the side of the frame. He looked to Sam. “Give me thirty seconds.”
The HAWCs spread each side of the door as it was pulled inwards a crack. Alex pushed on the door and stepped into the ink-black room and waited. He could sense the people, three of them, without seeing them. One to his left and another to the right, both watching him from their dark spaces; the third was seated directly in front of him.
An oil lamp was suddenly lit, but it was turned down so low it only cast a tiny yellow circle of light over the person beside it. Alex lifted an arm and pressed a small stud at his neck. The full face shielding telescoped back into the collar of his suit.
There came a soft laugh. “Of course it would be you.” The woman smiled, and in her eyes there was genuine interest, and perhaps even delight at seeing him.
Alex gave a small bow, looking at her more closely. She seemed relaxed but he knew there was lethal power coiled in that athletic frame. She wore two Israeli designed Barak pistols, which meant “lightning” in Hebrew. They were blunt and business-like — the power punch of a magnum without the weight. She had them both strapped on her front so the gun barrels pointed down toward her groin, creating a “V” shape for rapid access and firing.
“Adira.” Alex straightened, waiting.
He expected her, and knew she expected, or maybe hoped, it would be him. He knew everything about her — her name meant “mighty” in ancient Hebrew, and it suited her. She was related to the famous Chana Senesh, who was sent by the Kibbutz Sdot Yam to save Jews in the Nazi-occupied countries and was betrayed to the Nazi regime. Severely tortured, she never informed on her friends, never gave in, and for that she was sentenced to death. Adira Senesh had all of her ancestor’s grit and courage.
She rose to her feet; above average height, with a smooth olive complexion and dark eyes like pools of oil. She smiled disarmingly, but Alex knew she was a fierce warrior in the Metsada, and was responsible for single-handedly entering a Hamas terrorist tunnel network and rescuing a captured twenty-two-year-old border guard from a nest of ten Hamas butchers. No terrorists had survived.
Alex looked to his left. “Come into the light.” He turned to the right. “You too.”
Adira nodded. “It’s okay, we’re old friends.” The two large men came forward. Both cradled skeletal-looking automatic weapons in their arms. “Friends…” Adira repeated and shrugged. “Sort of.”
Alex half turned. “HAWCs.”
Casey and Sam came in fast, taking up positions just inside the door. Sam’s bulk filled the space, and Casey slowly shut the door behind them. They both retracted their face shields.
Adira looked coolly at Casey, the female HAWC returning the steady gaze. The last time they had met at the foot of the Black Mountain, Adira had bested her in a one-on-one fight. Casey hadn’t forgot it. Adira nodded, but turned away, not interested in the woman’s blazing glare.
Adira’s smile returned and she stepped forward to tap on Alex’s armor. “There’s still a man in there, yes?”
“It’s good to see you again, too.” Alex smiled. “And yes, still here, just a little more battle-scarred.”
“Like us all.” She stood in front of him, looking into his face. “Unfortunately, it’s the business we are in.” She turned to the giant figure in the room. “Sam Reid; big as a house as ever, I see. Still part robot, I assume?”
Sam grinned. “Only the best parts… and they all still work.”
She shook his hand warmly, and then called her own team forward. She motioned first to a dark eyed, formidable-looking man, whose eyes darted from one HAWC to the other, missing nothing.
“Agent Eli Livnat.”
He nodded almost imperceptibly. She then turned to other man. “And Moshe Levy. Both are experts in explosives, weaponry and combat.”
The three HAWCs examined each of the men. They appeared capable and if Adira had selected them, then they’d be as good as they looked.
“We’re in your hands… for now,” Alex said. “We should compare Intel, and then investigate the Mosul facility.”
“Tonight, we go in. Today, we scout the area and make a plan.” She half smiled, her eyes going to Casey and Sam. “Where we are going is into the belly of the beast — over a thousand fanatical jihadis, light and heavy weaponry, and unfriendly eyes everywhere. You walk around looking like that, you’ll have exhausted your ammunition before you even get inside the city walls.”
“What about the local population — any chance of friendlies?” Alex asked.
“Maybe once.” She tilted her head. “Most of the sectarian civilian population fled months ago. Those that stayed were either killed or learned quickly to become informants, sycophants, or themselves turned into butchers. Daily, the Hezar-Jihadi brings back captives to either sell as slaves, rape, torture, or simply execute for the enjoyment of the blood-hungry crowd and the western media. This place has been turned into hell, Captain Hunter.”
She walked to a large plastic bag and emptied it on the ground. Mounds of clothing piled on the floor of the cabin and she began sorting and then throwing garments at the HAWCs.
“Thawbs. Traditional robes of men in the area; it will conceal everything. One for each of us.” She tossed one to Casey. “You get one too as you can pass as a man.” She half smiled.
“No shit,” Casey said, snatching the robe from the air.
“Moshe, the map.” Adira moved to a small table.
Moshe Levy brought a tablet computer to the table and opened a satellite view of Mosul. He drilled down to the building they had targeted.
“In here.” Adira moved the image around, pointing at different sections of the street and other buildings. “There will be people watching. I would place them up here, in here, and here.” She looked up at Alex. “They need to be taken out first.”
Alex nodded. “But we go in together.”
“Then you better be quick.” She looked back down at the map. “In and out, because if we stall and get trapped inside, no one is coming to our aid.” She drew the image back to take in the entire city center, a sprawling metropolis, with many of the roads blocked now either by formal gates, or simply piled high with the rusting hulks of cars.
Adira looked at the HAWCs. “Which of you speaks Arabic?”
Sam nodded and said a few words to her.
“Not bad, but a terrible accent,” Adira said. “Though the primary language is Mesopotamian Arabic, most other dialects are spoken and understood. For you, Sam, I can hear a touch of American, so speak only if in an emergency. I suggest each of you accompany one of us. Team one, Alex with me. Team two, Sam and Moshe.” She turned and grinned. “And Eli gets Casey Franks all to himself, as team three.”
Eli Livnet’s eyes went to Casey, and hers to his. She seemed to snarl, and he looked away slowly, clearly not impressed with his choice.
“We’ll do all the talking,” Adira said. “But hopefully we can avoid anyone else.” She looked at a wristwatch and then opened another plastic bag full of clothing. She sighed. “And a niqab for me.” She holstered weapons and knives, and then pulled on layer after layer, the clothing even covering her face, leaving just a slit for her eyes.
“Stifling.” She adjusted the heavy cloth, and pointed again at the map. “Alex and I will take this route — Jalba, the direct one, and leave first. Five minutes later, team two will enter through Al Jaddid Road, this route. And then in another five minutes, team three will walk east toward Yarmuk, here. These are fairly small thoroughfares and unlikely to be guarded.” She looked up. “But they’ll be watched by a dozen eyes; hopefully none of them Hezar-Jihadi.”