Tidal Rage by David Evans (bill gates books to read txt) 📕

she was pleased that Ghislaine had been reassigned to assist her in the Geneva office. She had enjoyed the Palestinian’s sense of humour and sharp brain.

Fabienne also enjoyed her company each night when they would finish at 10 pm and enjoy a pleasant meal at her favourite restaurant. She was a little jealous when Ghislaine would kiss her farewell and the head waiter would fuss over Ghislaine. The handsome, thirty-something head waiter had never shown an ounce of interest in Fabienne in the two years she had frequented the restaurant, but he had been like a cat on a hot tin roof as soon as Ghislaine arrived on the scene.

So, both Fabienne and Ghislaine, for different reasons, were not overjoyed when Cutler told them he wanted the office manned twenty-four hours a day over the next week. Fabienne volunteered to do the night shift.

Meanwhile, Cutler redirected Matt Rice back to the Everglades. No matter how small the risk, he wanted Cheryl to have some protection, even if it was Basmati, who was more proficient with a camera than a gun.

It was Monday, and the plan was to launch the attack on Wednesday. Cutler put Shultz on the exit plan; Cortez maintained visual and auditory surveillance on the villa. Tuck reconnoitred the area above the villa for an attack plan. A frontal assault was out of the question, as they would be spotted halfway up the hill by Werner’s henchmen. Werner maintained a constant lookout at the front of the villas, a duty carried out by his Turkish minders and Delegate Frau Uebering’s minders.

The pictures Cortez had taken of the delegate’s minders had been sent to Fabienne for identification. Cutler had no appetite to kill agents of the German government, if indeed they were. Cutler and Cortez agreed it was highly unlikely she would have brought her official minders, in case one of them recognized Werner.

Fabienne confirmed their suspicions; the bodyguards were hired minders from Dresden. Ex-East German agents, Stasi thugs in their forties, who had been in the delegate’s employ from before the Berlin Wall was demolished. Fabienne had done her research thoroughly. She produced a report for Cutler with their names, and a synopsis of what they had been up to before and after the wall came down. All four were killers; two had been torture specialists for the Stasi during the 1980s.

“The world would be a better place without them,” Cutler had confided to Colton.

Cutler had utilized Colton as a sounding board, and as he got to know him better and began to build up a healthy respect for the man and for his knowledge of tactics, he sought his guidance on the attack.

On Tuesday night, Cutler left Cortez to monitor the surveillance. The rest of the group travelled twenty miles through the mountains on the way to Mugla. Fabienne accessed satellite images of the area, and this was the nearest spot she could identify that had no dwellings or activity. The area was a self-sufficient area of olive groves straight out of a scene from the Bible, with rocks interspersed. The area would be flooded with olive pickers when they ripened, but Fabienne informed them that that was months away.

Over the next two hours, they used four of the twenty magazines of bullets. They realigned the sights for their individual use. They set the weapons from semi-automatic to single shot; the targets were not boars, but Coke bottles. Cutler had spaced the bottles at intervals of two hundred yards, seventy yards, and at close quarters.

The only one who would be firing without adjusting the gun would be Cortez. While this was not perfect, Cortez had received excellent training on multiple weapons by the German police, and Cutler was sure he could adjust his firing position rapidly to hit his targets.

Once Cutler was satisfied, they drove back, stopping at a bay along the way for Turkish mezze and pizza. Cutler ordered an extra portion for Cortez, who ate gratefully on their return.

The group sat at the kitchen table until 2 am on Wednesday morning. Tuck outlined his plan for the entry points, and Shultz explained their exit strategy, including clean-up operations. Colton and Cutler apportioned responsibilities and divisions of attack.

Cortez, Shultz, and Tuck agreed with the strategy that Colton and Cutler had come up with to attack both villas simultaneously. Were they just to attack one, they would put themselves at risk of being flanked and cornered by the secondary villa?

Cutler assigned their duties for the following day. There was still equipment to be purchased, as well as other supplies identified to complete their plan.

Finally, when the others had all retired for the night, Cutler telephoned Fabienne.

“Hi, Fabienne, thanks for the latest reports, they’re a big help.”

“Just doing my job, Herr Cutler,” she replied, addressing him as she always did, despite protests from Cutler to just call him by his surname.

“Good, now do your job again and tell me what you didn’t say last night.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

 

Glancing over his shoulder to bid the flight attendant goodbye, Stahmer took a deep breath as he descended the aircraft steps. The sharp, acrid aroma of jet fuel was lost on him; the only thing he could smell was blood in the air.

The scent of the hunt was always the same to Stahmer; he thought he had a sixth sense when it came to investigations. No one was more aware than he that facts make a case, not intuition. However, during the final stages of the Houses of Parliament investigation, the quest to catch his wife’s killer and latterly the pursuit of Sebastian McKenzie, Stahmer had that elevated consciousness that he was close to an answer.

Classical Canta Libra was moored off the coast of Capri, as the majority of the guests were no doubt enjoying a trip to the beautiful Blue Grotto, a sea