JET - Ops Files by Russell Blake Read Free Book Online Page A

windshield.
    The van exploded in a ball of flame, its fuel ignited by an errant spark from the collision. The last thing the driver saw before he hit the pavement was the fire reaching for the heavens, a thing of pure majesty, the embodiment of destruction brought to Singapore by men of vision and determination in an ongoing holy war that would know no end.
     

Chapter 9
    Ramallah, West Bank
    The graveyard shift was a kind of penance for Maya under normal circumstances, the tedious hours ticking by in slow motion, but not this night – her mind raced out of control as she tried to engineer an escape from the box she found herself in. As the hours wore on, any confidence she’d been able to muster waned as she played through scenarios in her head where she was able to warn her superiors, bypassing Kevod, and averting disaster.
    But even as she imagined ways to do so, she understood that she really didn’t have any evidence other than hearsay – a conversation overheard that she may or may not have interpreted accurately. And even if she was taken at face value and given full benefit of the doubt, what was the crime committed? Discussing ball bearings?
    Maya believed that the man in the house was the passenger from the ambulance attack, but what proof did she have? True, his features were similar to those in a grainy photo taken through a dirty windshield, but the reality was that it was a face not unlike that of a substantial number of adult males in the West Bank. With the beard, the resemblance was even fainter, although she was still convinced it was him.
    And he was involved in a plot that would cause maximum destruction to “the cockroaches.” Her imagination hadn’t invented that.
    When the first rays of dawn marbled the eastern sky with purple and fuchsia veins, she was pacing, nervous energy causing her to grind her teeth, frustrated with her predicament. If her superior wasn’t a pig, she might have had a chance, but as it was, she was sure that any confession would be used to grind her into the dirt. Traffic began arriving, as it had that fateful morning Sarah had lost her life, and she busied herself with routine checks, praying for her final hour to draw to a close so she could try to get some sleep. She couldn’t think clearly running on empty, and she was hoping some rest would afford her the breakthrough that had eluded her during the night.
    When her shift was over, she made her way to the women’s barracks, which now felt more like a prison than a refuge. She was sure that Kevod had something to do with her being the only female at the checkpoint, a sort of solitary confinement to punish her for rejecting him. She stripped off her uniform and hung it in her locker, her robe and hijab safely hidden away in one of the bathroom cabinets, and within minutes was lying on her cot, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to embrace her.
    Maya’s slumber was restless. She tossed and turned to the distracting lullaby of muffled motors revving and gears grinding out in the line. When she cracked her eyes open five hours after lying down, she felt more fatigued than ever. A headache had started while she dozed that now threatened to blossom into an incapacitating throb.
    A tepid shower and three cups of black coffee revived her, and by the time Samuel was back on duty, she felt jittery but alert. The heat of the day was intense when she met him by the rear gate. She still wore her uniform, but kept her disguise rolled up under one arm.
    “I’ve got a situation, Samuel,” she said in greeting, worry written across her face.
    “Yeah? What is it?”
    She told him about her suspicions.
    He emitted a low whistle and shook his head. “I’d go to Kevod, or above him. These are people’s lives you’re playing with.”
    “I know. But I need more than just a few overheard snatches of conversation. It’s not enough to get anyone to act.”
    “You can’t be sure of that.”
    “Yes, I can. Anyone I report it