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

I hid my bag next to the fence of one of the houses and made my way slowly to the car. The streetlamps lit the pavements and the raindrops were like thousands of shiny drops of light, but by walking alongside the fences near the houses, I could stay in relative darkness. I tried to memorize the license plate, but from my angle, I couldn’t quite make out all the numbers and letters. It didn’t matter, because by then I had come up with another plan. I could have opened the car door and taken out either the driver or the passenger next to him, but I was without a weapon and they no doubt had guns. Another problem that I would need to overcome, but one that would cause me to make a federal offense of an attack. I really wanted to avoid that at all costs. It would lead to me being kept away from the investigation. So I chose the second option. I sidled up to the car, and as soon as I was close enough, I took a picture of the license plate number. The flash of the camera reflected in their rearview mirror and in seconds they had started the car and zoomed away.

I went back to get my bag and ran across the road. The cop stopped me. I showed my credentials and he let me go towards the door, but not before he notified the cop inside the house that I was about to enter. It was late in the evening and an especially quiet Saturday night. It was freezing outside in the November gloom, and the cold came from outside to take over the living room of the house.

The cop on duty inside the house quickly turned off his phone as if it was forbidden to look at during work hours. Maybe their orders didn’t allow them to. I wasn’t there to keep an eye on him.

“It is hard in Paris today, hey?” His voice broke the silence of the house. Except for the occasional rattle of the police radio, the stillness was like that of a grave. It was no wonder that they were so interested in their phones. The television set in the house was silent and they wanted some connection to the news around them from the outside world.

“Very difficult,” I answered.

“They must be caught before they bomb us as well.”

I nodded and then asked, “Where are they?”

“In his study,” he answered and looked towards the room in question. “Do you think you could ask them to turn the heat up a bit?

“I’ll take care of it,” I answered, without looking his way. I put my bag down and made my way to the study. It had only been two days since I last put foot in the house, but they seemed to have aged ten years. It killed me. All the power and the goodwill from the American side and the Israeli side we had gathered to look for Jonathan and we still hadn’t found him yet.

I put a hand on my brother’s shoulder and hugged his wife. She was smaller, as if the stress and grief had shrunken her. “You’re cold,” I said. “We have to warm the place up a bit.”

She answered in a broken voice, “He is cold too.”

“It won’t help him if you catch pneumonia.” I went to the wall and turned on the heat.

“You also look tired.”

“I am okay,” I answered and then added, “My trip wasn’t for nothing. I have a lead.”

“Oh, Guy. I wish…” There was a tear at the corner of her eye. She held onto my hand, refusing to let go. I loved and respected her. She was a well-regarded dentist in Israel and had managed to do well here in the United States. She had opened up a successful private practice. I realized she was hanging onto me with some force, so that she wouldn’t break down, and I respected her even more for that strength.

“I want to make a few calls and see how things are coming along here, okay?”

“You do what you have to do. You are cooperating with the local authorities, right?”

“Of course. Everything is legal, so please don’t worry about me. I’m going up to my room to make the call.”

The room was tidy, warm and inviting, which accentuated even more the ache of Jonathan’s absence. I laid down my small bag, the one I had taken with me to Mexico, and pulled out my big suitcase. I opened it and removed a device that blocked wiretapping. These were the kind of toys I loved having on me and their usefulness had been proven more than once. If there was one car I’d seen, then maybe there were more I hadn’t picked up on. I switched on the device and then dialed.

My first call was to Laura. “Someone was watching the house. Could you run a license plate?”

“Of course. Give me the plate number and I’ll have it run immediately.”

I opened the picture I had taken from my phone and read out the number to her. “Have you managed to connect Yassin to this affair?” I asked.

“Actually, no. I am not sure we’ll manage to find anything, because I am not sure we have anything against him.”

“Have you checked his movements from the time he landed in the States?”

“From the time he landed and even before then, on the plane. He’s continuously updated his social media with photos of himself and of those who accompanied him. He is a playboy and not a terrorist.”

“What do you mean?” I couldn’t understand how the Mossad viewed him as a completely different character and Laura saw him as a playboy. “He could easily command people to operate from afar,” I suggested.

“I can send you links. This guy doesn’t stop uploading photos of himself with models in bathing suits