Massive Attack (A Guy Niava Thriller Book 1) by Dana Arama (diy ebook reader TXT) 📕

had a chance to live. Would my cooperation give me the opportunity to do something brave or would it bring upon my death?

Guy Niava,

November 15, 2015

The latest news had actually shone a little light of hope on the situation. According to the intel, they surmised Yassin would choose his favorite hotel, the Four Seasons. The name took me back a few years, to Paris, to Gabbi Korman.

The other news was that my brother had stopped and was now at the next rest area. “If you can accelerate more, you could be there in ten minutes. The team arriving from the south will also be there and, if needed, will detain him.”

“Copy. I will try to drive faster,” I said, and pressed down on the gas lever to its maximum capacity. If I was of a thinner build the wind would have torn me off the bike. If I was shorter, I would have needed to bend over less. The first nice day after a week of rain meant that many people were out for a drive. In this case, it worked to my advantage. In a car, my brother could only merge with the traffic, but I could wind my way through the cars, and so I did.

When I arrived, I recognized the car outside and hurried in. The hard part was still before me. I looked for him in the convenience store, but he wasn’t there, so I walked into the bathroom. He stood there, leaning on the sink and looked older than usual. Next to him, on the floor, was the briefcase. When he raised his eyes and caught my image in the mirror, something broke inside him and he started crying quietly, with heartrending sobs. I saw the tears running down his face. His shoulders shook. The face that was reflected from the mirror looked tired more than ever, maybe because of the graying stubble of his beard. As far as our switch was concerned, the look was perfect. My stubble also indicated that I’d had many nights without a shower or sleep. It was also the weak point of our cover -- my stubble wasn’t gray.

“I can’t let you go there.” I hoped he heard the sorrow in my voice.

“And I can’t afford not to go there.”

“You will stay here with the American agents who will guard you. Take your suitcase back with you and I will continue in your place. Please, let me take your place,” I asked, as if he had a choice in the matter.

“Jonathan’s life is in danger. I can’t take that chance.”

“You also can’t go there. My orders are unequivocal.”

“If you arrive without the briefcase, they will know immediately that there has been a switch. If you arrive with it, your fingerprint won’t open it.”

“There is too much at risk here. We both know that. Let’s not waste any more time. Tell me exactly what they told you to do and where to go and I will carry on from here. We will deal with the suitcase later.”

As if to emphasize my words, a man in a cheap suit walked in and stood behind me, so that no one could enter the restroom.

“What are the instructions they gave you?” I repeated.

He breathed in deeply and said, “First of all, not to tell anyone the instructions they gave me.”

“So, you have already broken one of them. Let’s continue from there. Where are you supposed to go? What are you supposed to do there? Did they give you a timetable? A code of some sort?”

“They said that they know what I’m working on and to bring it with me. I assumed they were talking about the briefcase, because it has everything in it. All the codes, the whole history of the project, all the modes of access. I couldn’t take a chance that they would kill Jonathan if I arrived without it.”

“And for this exact reason you can’t allow the briefcase to reach the wrong hands.”

“I can’t, Guy.” His face was gloomy, and the tears flowed rapidly. “I have to give it to them.”

“Wait. Let’s see if Tel Aviv has a solution for us.” I hoped I sounded more cheerful than I felt and dialed Gideoni’s number. When he answered I said, “You have to find me a solution for the suitcase. They are expecting him to arrive at the meeting point with something he is working on.”

Gideoni answered, “Give me a few minutes,” and hung up. Businesslike as usual, calm, collected and efficient.

Seven minutes and twenty seconds passed, in which my brother broke down in my arms and cried gut-wrenching sobs. The vibrating sound of the phone on the counter was like a bell of hope for the two of us. I answered and just listened. My brother was watching with desperate anticipation. I ended the conversation with, “That’s what we shall do,” and hung up.

“Okay, we have a solution. The suitcase will be passed on. I will pass it on. I just have to work on the briefcase before we depart. I will introduce myself as Professor Niava.” I smiled at him hoping to cheer him up a little, “They will get what they asked for… more or less.”

“And then I will lose you and Jonathan.” My brother shook his head. “I am prepared to take care of the briefcase, like you said, but I will not let you take this risk.”

“This is one of the least dangerous risks I have taken in my career. Don’t worry about me.” I walked up closer to him and put my hand on his shoulder to cheer him up. “You do your thing and I will do mine and together we will get Jonathan back.”

He was quiet for a while, which seemed like eternity, and in the end, he straightened up and asked, “What do you want me to do with the briefcase?”

“First of all, open it with your fingerprint. Then, we will need to make a few changes according to