End of Days (Pike Logan #16)(2)
Like the pilots on 9/11 who’d learned to fly but not take off or land, he’d had some instruction on paragliding, but he was by no means an expert, and the worst thing that could happen was face-planting his target on the slope without getting airborne.
Another bus pulled in, and this time it was only passengers. They went out to meet their designated pilots already positioned on the hill, and within a few ticks of the clock, he was alone again.
He waited another seven minutes, then saw a two-car caravan headed toward his location. The cars stopped and a swarm of men exited, taking positions of security. An older man, looking to be about eighty, exited the car and stood, waiting.
The target. One Gideon Cohen. A former head of the Mossad—otherwise known as the Ramsad—he was the man who had killed many, many of Mustafa’s clan, from patriots in the Gaza Strip to nuclear scientists in Iran. He had nothing to do with the killing of Soleimani, but he was a symbol. A powerful one.
It had been known that he summered in Switzerland, and apparently a plan had been developed the year before to assassinate him, but then COVID had struck, and made any such attack impossible. There was no way to conduct surveillance for an operation or develop any type of infrastructure necessary because of the shutdown. A year later, COVID was still rampaging about, but the vaccine was available, and various parts of the world were slowly coming back to life.
The biggest obstacle to targeting Gideon had been his security detail. They were very thorough, and very skilled. The only way to kill him was to separate him from them without a fight—and that had proven impossible, right up until they’d learned that Gideon had taken an affinity to paragliding.
Once every two weeks, he used the same company to take flight. A pastime he enjoyed, but also something that gave the security detail fits. And perhaps, that was part of the enjoyment. Being free from the chains of his past.
But those chains would follow him into the air on this day.
Chapter 2
After Mustafa had been activated, he’d spent three months learning the skills required to paraglide. He had no idea where the funding had come from to take the courses, believing it was from his masters in Iran. He was wrong on that point, but the death would come all the same.
The security man who’d talked to Gideon marched down the hill to him, his tie flapping over his shoulder in the breeze, a distinct bulge on his hip. A large man wearing sunglasses and a black mask, he had no humor in him whatsoever.
The man reached him and said, “Where’s Ulrich?”
Mustafa pulled his own mask up and said, “He might have COVID. He’s not sure. He came into contact with someone who’s come up hot and asked me to take this trip. To protect the client.”
“We don’t fly without Ulrich.”
Mustafa knew they’d conducted a background check on the man he’d killed, and understood this was the endgame, because he had no such check. He said, “Okay by me, but you still have to pay. Whether I fly or not, I’m getting my charter for this trip.”
The man fiddled with his mask for a moment, muttered, then went back up the hill. Mustafa held his breath.
And he saw Gideon shaking his head, wagging a finger, and then coming down the hill, the security man following. Mustafa exhaled, now feeling the adrenaline of what he was about to do. They both marched up to him and Gideon said, “Are you competent?”
“Yes, yes. I’ve done this as much as Ulrich. He’s my friend. We both work for the same company.”
The security man said, “Do you have the same safety equipment? Reserve parachute?”
Mustafa pointed at a bag on the ground and said, “Of course. I would never leave earth without it.”
What he didn’t say was the reserve bag had nothing but cloth in it. And a note.
The security man grunted, and Gideon started putting on the harness. Mustafa jumped forward saying, “Let me help you.”
Gideon waved him off with a laugh, saying, “I think I know how to do this now.”
Mustafa put on his own harness, then waited under the watchful eye of the security man. Gideon turned around to him and held his arms out. Mustafa pretended to check the harness, but honestly, didn’t know what anomalies or mistakes he was supposed to find. His limit of experience was flying solo, and he was beginning to panic about flying someone else.
The security man looked at him with some bit of concern, and Mustafa put his sunglasses over his eyes, shielding them. With the mask in place, he was now unreadable.
He stood up and said, “Looks good. You ready to go for a ride?”
Gideon said, “Yes, yes. Are we landing in the same place? In the field in the center of town?”
Mustafa really wanted to say, “Yes, but a lot harder than you’re used to.” But did not.
He said, “Yes, same place as all the others.”
He snapped the carabiners designed to hold Gideon to himself, tugged on them once to make sure they were secure, and glanced at the security man, seeing him staring at him like he wanted to use a knife. He turned forward and said, “Run, run, run!”
The old man started trotting down the hill, and Mustafa overtook him, almost falling on top of him. He staggered forward, the old man now dragging his legs on the ground, held up by the harness attached to Mustafa. In a panic, Mustafa leaned back, getting the man’s legs back underneath him, and then he began to fall forward. His worst fears realized.