Chapter 24- And then there were eight
Jessica swung her leg off the motorcycle while pulling the bike up on its stand, then slowly looked around, her eyes taking in everything and her symbiont using the input to search for faces. Information sprung up in front of her eyes: possible identifications, threat assessments, and a tactical overlay of the surrounding area. She was in Khartoum, the capital of Sudan, just south of where the Nile and the Blue Nile come together on their journey north to the Mediterranean.
It was hot, but temperature was one of those things that didn't bother her new body, and the crowds of people surrounding her didn't seem bothered either. Many wore the traditional long shirt called a Jalabiya in Sudan, though others wore jeans and tennis shoes. A few women wore dresses, but many were veiled with only their dark kohl-rimmed eyes showing. Sudanese women here would never ride a motorcycle, so Jessica was dressed as a man, complete with a scruffy beard and glasses. The people she was looking for would never agree to meet with a woman either, people who thought setting off a dirty bomb in Tel Aviv would get them to heaven. What a crock, she thought. Jessica was here to retrieve the bomb-grade uranium and help those misguided souls on to whatever reward or, more than likely, hell awaited them.
In the chaos after the strike on the Om, some of Iran's processed uranium had gone missing, finding its way to a group who believed the Om were an invention of the Western world designed to enslave them. Similar conspiracies had sprung up all over the world in various forms; most were harmless for now, but not this one. Mika and Michael had missed a few crazies when they unleashed the drones on Iran to take out the security service and the ruling religious fanatics. A few of them and the uranium had found its way to Khartoum, and now they wanted to send it violently to Israel. That was what Jessica was here for, posing as a contact that would move the bomb through Sudan, across the Red Sea to Saudi, north to Jordan, and then ultimately into Israel.
Jessica left her bike and headed south into the maze of narrow streets designed for horses and people, not vehicles with engines. The street was cobblestone, rough in places, with two- or three-story buildings, a winding maze filled with small stores, fruit vendors selling exotic fruits, and crowds of men and women shopping and working. In the still heat, odors battled for supremacy: lamb on long skewers, live chickens, garbage overflowing from containers, a meat market with a camel head hung prominently from the ceiling, and the ever-present smell of unwashed human bodies doused with an overabundance of the worst male perfume ever created. The hum of flies was a constant drone, drawn to the open-air meat markets and food vendors. Sweaty bodies pressed against her in the narrow maze of the old bazaar as she followed the map on her tac-grid. Her path led through the market into a series of crooked streets, with vendors selling warm Coca-Cola next to another selling olives gleaming in the heat. The smell of unfamiliar spices tickled her sensitive nose, her symbiont picking out and classifying even the subtlest fragrances.
The buildings became so close together that Jessica could touch both walls. She passed heavy wooden doors inlaid with wrought iron, some of them at least three meters tall, most closed, but others open for whatever ventilation was available. There was an occasional glimpse of a staircase rising into darkness. Jessica turned left and passed through an arch into a courtyard, two scruffy dogs following at a distance along parallel walkways. Jessica didn't expect to need them, but they were her early warning system in case the Om were involved. If she needed more firepower, her fighter was overhead. Invisible to radar and vision, but not to the Om. Jessica had to admit it felt comforting to have her own dedicated air support.
She found the door to a building she had been directed to, knocked, and a man Jessica recognized as her contact opened the door. Kazim was Sudanese, tall and thin, with eyes that darted over her shoulder as if looking to see if she was alone. Satisfied, he opened the door to a narrow, dingy staircase and, after looking her over and not seeing any obvious weapons, he motioned her up. Jessica did not carry a gun of any kind, just two bracelets on each wrist; they would be enough for any threat she found here. She had practiced long and hard with the Binary and Rhys, learning to use the disruptor. It was the most devastating hand weapon imaginable. Leslie and Amancia were fast and deadly individually, but when interlaced, they were dangerous beyond compare. Jessica insisted on pitting herself against them in training whenever she could. Jessica never won, but occasionally, she would get a "kill." That was good, better than the other girls. Only Rhys was better, but even he never won against the Binary or Hua.
Jessica followed Kazim through a courtyard, up some more narrow stairs, and through a curtain into a large rectangular room with high ceilings. It was not what she expected. The room was covered with carpets, the floor, and three walls. Low benches were set against the wall on all four sides; those were also carpeted. The color was a deep burgundy red with smaller designs throughout as if to disguise any violence that might occur there. In the middle of the room was a table and a tea set, illuminated by light from the one window that looked out over a courtyard. Overhead lights dispelled some of the gloom, but it was a harsh yellowish light.
Three men were sitting on pillows drinking tea, and they slowly rose to greet her. To them, Jessica was Johan Clausen, a man known as the intermediary. Clausen was rumored to be from Denmark, but no one was sure. He was someone who turned up in unlikely places and never seemed to actually do anything. It was as if he existed in the spaces between people. Clausen was a conduit and could make things happen for the right amount of currency. The MOSSAD had picked him up two years ago but kept his legend alive (unlike his body), and now she was putting it to use. Today was just a meet and greet, where she would plant trackers and identify the people her drones would follow. With any luck, she would finish this mission in a few days.
Jessica's symbiont pulled the available information on the men and displayed it for her. One of them was indeed part of the Ministry of Intelligence and Security from Iran, otherwise known by its acronym VEVAK in Farsi. The other was military, but someone who had worked with the Qud. These agents were called the "Unknown Soldiers of Imam Zaman," a name Ayatollah Khomeini gave them. Within VEVAK were the Quds force, which handled extraterritorial operations such as sabotage, assassinations, and espionage. This one had been involved in assignation attempts from southern Lebanon and northern Israel, some of which had been successful. His name was Jahangir, which in Persian meant "ruler of the world." He may have had greater aspirations than the mid-level Quds Officer he was, but Jahangir was a vicious killer, and now his time on Earth was very limited.
"
Yair, are you receiving this,
" she formulated into the Captain's com unit. He was on alert at the base in the Negev.
"
Roger, we are standing by. Do you want us airborne
?"
"
No, I can handle these if need be, but I keep waiting for a Trangrod to show up.
"
"
Humans have been trying to kill each other in large numbers before the Om; the Quds may be planning this on their own. We gave them plenty of motivation, so we shouldn't be surprised when they try to strike back.
"
Jessica acknowledged Yair while sitting and drinking tea, a mid-eastern tradition dating back at least a thousand years. Jessica had known Yair from her time in the IDF. He was experienced and was one of the first to train in Texas with Rhys. Israel had its own training facilities now and a small cadre of trainers. Yair had fifty soldiers plus five senior non-commissioned officers and a lieutenant, for a total of fifty-seven men and women. One of several Israel was forming.
As Jessica talked and tried to gain the confidence of the men sitting around the low table, her symbiont was monitoring the drones. Jessica had the area around the building tightly covered from above, and the dogs were prowling around the outside. She was amazed at Thea's latest upgrade to their AI; the dogs' behavior accurately mimicked the real thing, even lifting their legs to mark territory.
"Where have you been for the last two years, Mr. Clausen?" Jahangir suddenly asked. His voice was level, as if casually asking a question but laced with suspicion. Jessica could see the tensing of muscles, the heart rate slightly accelerating as he looked at her.
"Johan, please," Jessica replied calmly in Arabic with a slight Danish accent. "As you know, the MOSSAD was a little mad at me over a bombing I helped arrange, so I had to disappear for a while. That affected my income and reputation, which is everything to a man in my position. I see this as an opportunity to help you and repay Israel for my forced period of unemployment. Also, this will announce to the world that I am back in business, and finally, you are offering to pay me quite a lot of money."
Jessica continued the conversation while noting something one of her dogs had seen. There was a quick view inside an iron grill where water would fall through the drain into the underground sewage system. It was more like a brief reflection, but it was enough. "There they are," she thought; the roach was unmistakable if you knew what they looked like. The dog continued to wander down the road; she didn't think the Om had suspected what it was. Rhys had been puzzled from the beginning by how successful the Om were in infiltrating human society. Then he found the underground cavern where the Om used human bodies to build their Trangrods. Rhys guessed that somehow, the Om could use the information contained in the brains of those individuals. Jessica hoped that was it. It would be horrible if the Om somehow kept the human brain alive and if a conscious person was still trapped inside one of the monsters.
Jessica turned her full attention back to the small circle of men. It seemed Johan had passed the first interview. "Be at this address tomorrow," Jahangir said, "at the same time. If we decide to use your services, we will take you to the package we want delivered."
"Of course, Jessica said, rising to her feet. "Shukran lak," she said in Arabic instead of Persian. Jahangir and the other Persian frowned, but Kazim and the other man who had not been introduced responded. Two Arabs and two Persians, not a group that would typically work together. Probably the Om are running this, Jessica thought to herself. Regardless, all the men now had trackers, and her drones would follow them as they moved about. Exiting the building, Jessica made her way back the way she came. "
I wasn't followed,
" she reported as she swung her leg over the motorcycle and pulled into traffic, joining the flow of vehicles, scooters, and bicycles that clogged the narrow streets.
Jessica returned to her hotel, an expensive one that Clausen would stay at. She was there only long enough to put on light armor, collect her weapons, and change into the more traditional Burqa that a Muslim woman would wear. The long robes would hide her armor, and Muslim men tended to dismiss a woman as a threat. She slipped out the back stairs, through an alley, and into another back street. Jessica walked about two kilometers to a more local hotel, where she was booked under an Arabic name. No doubt Clausen's room would be checked, along with his background. The AI had done a marvelous job filling in Clauson's legend. Her new friends wouldn't find anything there. The Om were another matter; they hadn't followed her back to the hotel, but they probably knew where she was staying. Jessica relaxed, watching the drone surveillance. The terrorists were still where she had left them, discussing whether to use Clausen. Nothing would happen for a while.
Jessica entered a much more modest hotel, something local, with separate rooms just for women. It was modest, to say the least, and not very clean either. However, right now, she wanted Rhys. Being on an operation excited her, and the exquisite ache between her legs grew as she thought about his cock. She wanted it, a brutal fuck with a side of hair pulling, rough and hard. "Fuck," she moaned, throwing herself on the narrow mattress and slipping her hand beneath her underwear. Her fingers brushed lightly over her clit. "Oh God, I'm so wet," she moaned. Her clit was sensitive, hard, and swollen. Two fingers went quickly inside her while another gently strummed the hard nub. Jessica moaned as she felt close, a powerful climax just waiting to happen. Nevertheless, she held it there, waiting for the contact she was sure would come.
"
