Angels Don't Die (Madeleine Toche Series Book 2) (18 page)

             
Kishimoto smiled at Amaya and said, “Daughter, this is a photograph of Madeleine Toche, taken shortly after the war.  She is the assassin that the PLO wishes to have eliminated in Israel.  There will be war there soon, and Toche seems to be allied with the Americans and the Israelis.  Regardless, our contact has paid the usual sum and requests our services.  Other groups and individuals were approached for the hit, but it seems that we are the only ones willing to take the job.  Toche has a very formidable legacy in your tiny community of assassins, even though it has been many years since she has operated in that capacity.”

             
“How were these pictures obtained?” Amaya asked, as she looked at each one in succession.

             
“The majority of these are from military ceremonies, Toche was decorated by all of the allies for her heroism.  Since then she must have protected herself and allowed few if any official pictures of any kind.  We couldn’t even find her passport photo,” Kishimoto said.

             
“Grandfather, did you hear of her during the war?” Amaya said.

             
“No, I first heard about her after the war,” he answered smiling, enjoying his deadly assassin’s use of the venerated greeting.  “The reports of her activities in occupied France are hard to believe. She will be like no other target you have gone after.  So, be careful, don’t underestimate her.”

             
“But as you said, it’s been decades since she was active,” Amaya said, looking more intently at a photograph of Madeleine’s face, trying to form a mental picture of her target in her mind. 

             
“It has been a long time, but there was a whisper t
hat she was active in the 1960s
for a brief while in South America.  I believe it was in Argentina.  She must have been after a Nazi war criminal, if she was there at all,” Kishimoto, said, looking out the window overlooking Tokyo harbor. 

It was dusk.  It was his favorite time of the day.  He loved to watch the boats, large and small, going here and there all around the harbor.  He loved the choreographed chaos of it.  The tiny fishing boats and the big ocean going vessels all seemed in harmony.

His life had started in the harbor, his father supplementing his meager income as a fisherman as an enforcer for the Yakuza.  Once Kishimoto was old enough, he too entered the Yakuza, learning both of his father’s trades.  When the war started, he joined the army. The young men in his organization were all mobilized.  The Japanese military made an agreement with the Yakuza, many of whom went directly into the army.   It was expected as a means of protecting the Japanese way of life, not the least of which included the age old crime families.

             
“I do not fear old legends, except you,” Amaya said, her smile punctuating her beauty.  Her looks were one of the tools she used to distract her victims before she killed them.  She was the best of the Yakuza assassins.  Because of her skills, Amaya was among only a handful of women that were accepted as members.  She had been accepted on merit.

             
“I indulge you like a child,” Kishimoto said. He remembered rescuing her from the streets and the life of prostitution that was surely in her future.  She had been caught in the cross fire between his and a rival gang.  Her father was a small time criminal, whose life had put her and her mother in the middle of a gang war.  The family was caught in a shootout.  At that time, Amaya was eleven. She watched as her parents were killed.  She reacted and escaped by killing one of the opposing gang members, shooting him with a gun taken off the dead body of a combatant.  Kishimoto saw it happen and spirited her away under fire.  He had seen the look in her eyes as she fired.  That level of hate and dispassion for one’s enemies was very difficult to find.  Her father had been Yakuza and the gang violence had taken both his and her mother’s lives.  The Yakuza were well known for taking in orphans or others shunned by their own families.  Strict obedience to the organization supplanted family.  There were no exceptions.

             
“When do I go?”  Amaya said, placing the picture of Madeleine that she had been examining into a canvas bag at her feet.

             
“You can leave today.  You’ll be routed through Damascus and assisted into Israel by our friends in the region.  We have strong interests in the Middle East.  For now, Japan needs their oil.  Lack of it was one of the reasons we were defeated by the west.  I’m confident you’re  aware of the circumstances of the situation. 

You will be alone there, but your job is not complicated once you have identified the location of the target.  The difficulty will be choosing when and how to strike.  Egypt and Syria will attack Israel very soon and waiting until after that occurs will make your job much more chaotic and less likely to succeed,” Kishimoto said.

             
“You certainly aren’t sending me into a very hospitable place,” Amaya answered.

             
“The various militaries are not your worry.  Madeleine Toche should be.  Remember that the four other assassins that were approached declined the mission, including those insane bastards in the IRA.”

             
“Wasn’t the money good enough?”

             
“It had nothing to do with money.  It seems that many of the old European spy masters remember what Toche is capable of, and word gets around.  I was told the old IRA leader, who was around during the war, laughed out loud when he heard the name.  He said there wasn’t enough money in the world,” Kishimoto said.

             
“They must be cowards,” Amaya answered.

             
“Perhaps they are, or perhaps they value their lives.”

             
“Perhaps,” Amaya said.

             
Leaning forward to serve them both another splash of tea, Kishimoto said, “I want to be clear Amaya, I’m not ordering you to take this assignment.  If you don’t want to go, I’ll decline the money.  Operating in Israel isn’t like striking a target in Europe or the United States where we have more connections and support.  You’ll be alone in a very foreign land.”

             
“Would this be good for us?” Amaya said.

             
“Very,” Kishimoto answered.”  It will bring us a great deal of respect, both at home, and abroad.”

             
“Then I will go.”

             
“Because you think I want you to?”

             
“No, because I am Yakuza,” Amaya said, leaving no doubt.

             
Less than 24 hours later, Amaya was speeding over the Syrian Desert with two tight lipped Syrian army operatives.  They were all business.  She was to be delivered through the desert and to a location several miles into Israeli territory.  She checked her two pistols, knowing that if she needed heavier firepower the Syrians would supply her.  She went over the intelligence that she’d been given.  Clearly Toche was operating from within Israel; both strikes had taken place on Israeli soil.  The reports also stated that she had support, although how high up that went was still undetermined.

  During the plane ride from Tokyo to Damascus, Amaya had pored over the file that had been amassed detailing the activities of the Angel of Death during the war.  It was the information buried in the file regarding Toche’s training that had caught her eye.  A good portion of the file contained information that had been obtained through highly placed spies within a Japanese Intelligence agency.  The file was complete and thorough, thanks to excellent work by Yakuza agents.

There was a brief dossier on Berthold Hartmann.  During the war, he had worked with the Angel of Death.  And now, he was the head of the Mossad.

Toche was almost certainly receiving assistance through that organization.  She would have needed a great deal of information to have carried out the strikes that she had made to date.  Amaya kept looking at the grainy picture of Madeleine’s profile, taken from video footage inside Al Lubnani’s home during her assault.  The markings left by Toche in her victim’s blood troubled Amaya.  Toche was not trying to hide.  Amaya took that as a challenge.

Toche would need to go back to Mossad headquarters.  When she did, Amaya would be there to track and kill her and any others who got in the way.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

             
“You know, eventually the PLO, the Syrians or the Egyptians will send someone after you,” Jack said to Madeleine as they sat on the steps leading down to the street from the safe house porch.

             
“I just love the sunset here,” Madeleine answered, gesturing with her cigarette towards the orange glow of the setting sun.  “If it was always night, I could live here.  The emptiness of the desert reminds me of the vastness of the ocean.”

             
“You didn’t answer my question.  MI6 intercepted part of a coded message sent out by the Syrians.  You weren’t mentioned, but they were seeking assistance for a regional operation involving an undisclosed target.”

             
“Me,” Madeleine said.

             
“Who else could stir up so much trouble?” Jack said, sliding his arm through Madeleine’s.

             
“My worry is that whomever they send will be able to identify the location of this safe house,” Madeleine said.

             
“Then we’ll move.  We need to enter into Syria as soon as possible.  I’ll find another location when I make contact with London in the morning.  It’s about 135 miles from Jerusalem to Damascus.  Let’s hope the target isn’t that far north.  Once London verifies when our next safe house is ready, we’ll move there and plan our entrance into Syria.  Unless the Syrians or Egyptians send one of their own shooters, we should have some time before there’s someone on the streets looking for you,” Jack said.

             
“They’ll send someone from outside.  That person could already be in the country, depending how fast they traveled.  They wouldn’t want a trail leading back to them if the war doesn’t go their way or the shooter misses,” Madeleine said.

             
“You seem very certain that they will send someone,” Jack said.

             
“It only makes sense.  Besides, before they negotiate anything concerning Tracy, they’ll seek another alternative, and try to remove me from the equation.  Once a war starts, the need to kill me is secondary to their military objectives.  I think they’re more concerned with the impact I could have behind enemy lines fighting outright or trying to rescue Tracy.  If the war is going in the Arab’s favor, their interest in me will diminish, unless they’re only after revenge,” Madeleine said.

             
“Let’s go tell John and Karen to be prepared to move,” Jack said, offering his hand to help Madeleine off the step.

             
“At least we are getting closer to finding Tracy.  Our enemies must be concerned if they’ve hired a hit out on me,” Madeleine said.

             
“Yes, at least we’ve narrowed it down to one unfriendly country, and not an entire region,” Jack said, sighing in frustration. “I can’t imagine trying to find Tracy in Egypt and Syria at the same time.”

             
“Have faith, Jack, something will happen soon.  Sometimes the best intelligence comes when it’s least expected,” Madeleine said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

             
Madeleine found John out by the garage, loading the vehicles and checking the engines.  Everything was cleared out of their quarters and stowed away in the two Range Rovers.

             
“Is everything ready, John?  Is there anything else to carry down?”  Madeleine said, handing him a cup of coffee.

             
“Extra black, just the way I like it,” John said, taking a sip. “No, I think this is it.  We’re a little lighter without the Russian machinegun and the extra ammo.  I hope we don’t need it.”

             
“I think we should be able to purchase another machinegun or get one from the Mossad,” Madeleine said. “We should head out soon.  I need to stop and speak to Hartmann.  I want to make my report in person.  He might be able to make a very good guess as to where the Syrians are holding Tracy.  I’d think the most secure place would be a military base.”

             
“An exact location would be best.  At least we’d know what we were up against,” John said.

             
“I can tell we’re getting close.  If they’ve moved Tracy to Syria, they must be planning to invade any day,” Madeleine said.  “The Russians or the Syrians must have felt the pressure and insisted on moving him behind enemy lines.”