DeathByte by Kane D. S

Author:Kane, D. S. [Kane, D. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Hunted, Russia, mercenary, thriller, mole, Mystery, Mossad, Nanotechnology, Israel, assassin, hacker, spy, Washington, covert, MI-6, China
ISBN: 9780996059138
Amazon: 099605913X
Goodreads: 22462410
Publisher: Swiftshadow Group, Inc., The
Published: 2014-06-12T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

Charles Crane’s flat,

38 Vauxhall, Stantonbury,

Milton Keynes, UK

July 31, 1:45 a.m.

Sir Charles Crane pulled the cell phone from his nightstand as soon as he heard it buzz. He yawned and pressed the Accept Call button and rose from his bed. His view of the Thames River calmed him. “Ms. Schlein. I’ve been expecting your call. But I expected it this afternoon.”

From the headquarters of Dreitsbank, Gunda Schlein’s voice seemed agitated. “I’ve cooperated. I gave Stamphil the story you fed me. Are we done now?”

Crane scanned the Parliament building across the river. “Not yet. Tell me what his response was.”

“Response? I sent him an email. No response. I don’t even know if he read it.”

Crane frowned. “Well. Let me know if he replies. In the meantime, I don’t require anything further. If I do, I’ll be in touch.” He terminated the call. She was becoming troublesome. He wondered if pursuing her had been worth the effort. She hadn’t met him face-to-face, so there was no danger of being exposed. Or was there?

He lay in bed, wondering how much she’d guessed. Thirteen years ago, Jon Sommers’s father, Abel, had worked at the British Trade Mission in London. His beautiful wife had often been with him. As a young case officer in MI-6, Crane had trusted them. They hacked into the MI-6 servers and stole intelligence specifying that Syria was building nuclear bombs. Two weeks later, Israeli jets bombed the Syrian nuclear research factory to dust. The Syrians assassinated Jon’s parents, and Crane was demoted for inadvertently helping the couple steal state secrets. It had taken Crane’s career a decade to recover. He hated Sommers for what his parents had done.

He hated the Israelis.

* * *

By noon, Ben Gurion Airport was as busy as it ever got, taxis and vans jammed at the curbside for drop-offs and pickups. Lev Robinson hefted the suitcases from the trunk of the taxi, not waiting for the cabby to get out of the vehicle.

From his seat in the Chevy van two cars back, Michael Drapoff drummed his fingers as he watched, his hand fingering the Mossad credentials in his pocket. He was close enough for his earpiece to pick up every word the Robinsons said.

“Where are we going?” Miriam Robinson’s voice cut through the babble of voices in many languages. A jet roared overhead drowning out Lev’s reply.

“Why?” Her face was wrinkled with confusion.

Lev whispered into her ear. His impatience was visible.

Her arms dropped to her side and the suitcase she’d dragged behind her slid away.

Lev pointed to her with one hand and waved the other. She shrugged and fetched the suitcase.

“They’re headed into the terminal. Toward El Al. That should make your job easy.” Drapoff terminated the cell phone conversation with Lester Dushov inside the terminal and unbuckled the seat belt. He sauntered through the terminal doors and maintained his distance, about ten meters behind his quarry.

A few meters ahead, Dushov stood in line right behind the Robinsons.

Drapoff joined him. “Thanks for saving my place in line.

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