Black Widow Read online

  The fear of many in the intelligence community was that it wouldn’t matter too much longer. With the sanctions being lifted against Iran, and over one hundred billion dollars about to flood its coffers, the proxy war with Israel would heat up quickly, and once Iran successfully acquired the bomb, it could smuggle one into downtown Tel Aviv and solve the problem itself.

  Triggering Israel to drop its estimated two hundred nukes on Iran and anyone else that had pissed it off, since it would be its last act.

  If the Twelvers running Iran wanted their Armageddon, this might be the very real way of attaining it.

  Kane regarded Nazari, his eyes filled with just a bit of craziness that those enjoying an adrenaline rush, and who were just a bit touched, displayed.

  This is someone who would definitely strap on the vest.

  “We made it!”

  Kane nodded, searching about to see if any of the others had. Judging from the tepid response of the troops, he suspected they would all get across unless someone did something stupid like try to take a gun.

  But Nazari had been explicit in his instructions, and from what Kane had seen, everyone within sight had followed them.

  Someone shouted to their right and Kane turned to see several of their cell waving as they walked toward them, and within minutes they had all gathered.

  “Where now?” asked one.

  “We make for the coast. A boat has already been arranged to take us to Greece.”

  Kane started to walk with the others, Nazari leading the way. If there was one part of this journey that might be dangerous, it would be the boat ride across the Aegean.

  Thousands had drowned already.

  And thousands more would die before the crisis was over.

  And he didn’t want to become part of the statistic.

  At least not before he delivered his intel.

  18

  Kilis Refugee Camp, Turkey

  “I’ll give you two hundred American dollars for your daughters.”

  Amira stared at the man, horrified, unable to believe she had heard the man correctly. “What? What did you say?”

  “I said I’ll give you two hundred dollars for your daughters.” He scrutinized little Rima. “Okay, two-fifty, but I can go no higher.”

  Amira put her arms around her daughters, holding them tight against her side. “There’s no amount of money you can offer me for my children. Who would ever sell their own flesh and blood?”

  “You’d be surprised,” said the man, stepping closer, Amira backing away. He reached for Maya but Amira swatted the man’s hand.

  “Don’t you dare touch them!”

  He glared at her, then smiled, his rotting teeth a testament to his character. “You should take the money. Eventually someone will come in the night and simply take them from you, then you’ll get nothing.”

  “You stay away from us!” she cried, picking up both of her girls and rushing back toward Jodee’s family who were holding their position in a registration line while she had sought a bathroom for Rima.

  “But Mommy, I have to pee!”

  “Just hold it a little longer, honey.”

  She spotted Jodee who waved. She rushed up to them, feeling slightly safer with Sami there. “We have to get out of here!”

  “Why?” asked Jodee.

  “Someone just tried to buy my children!”

  Sami’s eyes narrowed. “Really?” He shook his head. “I took a stroll a few minutes ago and talked to some of the other men. Apparently children are getting kidnapped in the night. All girls.”

  “What are they doing with them?”

  “Selling them into the slave market. Sex slaves. A young, healthy girl fetches thousands of dollars on the black market. The younger the better. They groom them into whatever they want.”

  “That’s disgusting!” cried Jodee.

  Her husband nodded in agreement. “Unfortunately, it’s reality.” He lowered his voice. “But that’s not all.”

  “What?” asked Amira, terrified to think what could be worse than her daughters sold off to a life of rape and torture.

  “There’s a rumor going around that they’re going to send us all back to Syria. Anyone who registers here today is going to be sent back.”

  A pit formed in her stomach. “But where will they send us?”

  “Probably into government controlled territory.”

  “We’ll be thrown in prison if they find out where we’re from!”

  Sami nodded. “The regime basically treats anyone from the eastern half of the country as enemies of the party.” He looked at his wife. “We can’t stay here, we need to get out of this camp and head for the coast.”

  His wife’s eyes narrowed. “Why the coast? Won’t we be trapped there?”

  He shook his head. “No, we’ll take a boat across to Greece. We’ll be safe once we get there.”

  Jodee turned to Amira. “What do you think?”

  Amira wasn’t sure. They were genuine refugees, and her understanding was that a refugee was supposed to declare their status at the first safe haven, and this appeared to be safe—at least from the ravages of war, if not from slave traders. “Who is spreading these rumors? Can they be trusted?”

  Sami shrugged. “I don’t know, and you’re right, I’m not sure I believe it anyway.” He tilted his head at the children. “But staying here puts them at risk, as you’ve already seen. I think we need to take our chances elsewhere.”

  “But how do we get out? How can we afford to get across on a boat?”

  Sami leaned closer to her, lowering his voice to barely a whisper. “I have money. I was a dentist before this and have been planning our escape for some time.”

  “But what about us? We have no money.”

  “You’re with us now. Allah will provide.”

  Tears welled in Amira’s eyes as she hugged him then his wife. “You are such good people. I thank Allah at every chance for bringing us together.”

  “Allahu Akbar,” smiled Sami, putting an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

  Amira smiled, wiping her eyes, happy to hear those two sacred words said calmly for once, rather than in a psychotic fervor.

  “Allahu Akbar.”

  19

  Northern Greece

  It was almost too easy.

  Comically easy.

  It was Greece’s revenge on the rest of Europe for the horrendous conditions imposed on them for bailout money. Kane could almost hear the politicians in Athens laughing at the situation. The humanitarian crisis was dire, of that there was no doubt, and Greece was in no position financially to deal with it.

  Yet instead of imposing a naval blockade, which they could, they continued to rescue the refugees and allow them to flood their territory by the thousands each day.

  And each day they put them on trains and buses and sent them north to the borders of Bulgaria and Macedonia.

  At first these governments, wanting to look good to the masters in Berlin and the other capitals of Europe, agreed to take the refugees in, under the promise they would receive monetary support as they processed them and sent them on their way to the Mecca for most of these people.

  Germany.

  The great Germany, twice the oppressor of Europe, was now the orchestrator of its ultimate doom with their Chancellor’s promise to take in almost one million refugees this year alone. It wasn’t until the reality of this had begun to settle in that the other governments in Europe reacted with outrage, blaming Germany for creating the crisis. The vast majority of these refugees were not refugees at all, but merely economic migrants, something Kane himself could attest to. He had heard dozens of different dialects of Arabic since he had joined the masses moving north, most of which were not Syrian or Iraqi. He had even heard Farsi far too often for it to be a chance encounter.

  There were clearly hundreds if not many thousands of Iranians among these refugees.

  He thought of the Germans, still blaming themselves for what happened over seventy years ago, their leaders willing to destroy the culture they had created after the war, all for the sake of looking like great humanitarians in the face of the greatest crisis Europe had faced since the Second World War.

  Though what many didn’t realize was Germany had an extremely generous refugee policy, a policy that allowed refugees to bring their families in to join them.

  So one million refugees actually meant as many as seven million by some estimates.

  And that was just based upon those expected to arrive by Christmas.

  The train he and much of his group, including Nazari, were riding on was jam packed, far beyond the safety limits he was sure. It almost reminded him of the Tokyo subway during rush hour, poor families terrified the wall of flesh pressed together might smother their children.

  Yet there were acts of kindness he had witnessed all along the way. These weren’t all bad people, far from it. In fact, whether they were refugees or not, he’d feel confident in saying 99% of them were kindhearted people who tried to be good human beings, helping others when they could, especially the women and children.

  But he had also seen the ugly side, including young Muslim men refusing to take bags of food because there was a Red Cross symbol on them.

  Where did they think they were going? If they felt that strongly about their hatred for anything Christian, why were they desperately trying to get to the heartland of Christendom?

  Europe was heading for a crisis, and how it would come out of it in the end, he had no idea, only that a continent that had enjoyed relative peace for seventy years was most likely going to lose its innocence once again. If millions of Muslims arrived, all demanding the services foolishly promised, then family reunification, then reasonable accommodation based upon their distinct belief systems, he feared civil war and strife that could see the Nazi regime’s solutions to such problems return.

  How do you deport thirty or forty million people, many of whom were born in your country?

  “This is it,” said Nazari, slapping him on the shoulder as the train came to a halt, snapping him out of his reverie. He flowed off the train with the others, getting off much calmer than getting on. “Cameras!” hissed Nazari, turning his head quickly to the left. Kane did the same, desperate to look at the news crews and get his face on their footage, but surrounded by those of his cell, he couldn’t risk being seen ignoring Nazari’s warning.

  A wise warning, for Langley and every intelligence agency in the Western world would be analyzing every piece of footage they could get their hands on to try and identify any known terrorists, their computers mapping facial recognition points for everyone. And even if they didn’t identify someone, it would be stored, and in the future if they were caught doing something untoward, their face would be run, they’d be identified, then everyone they were travelling with traced as well.

  But only if their faces were captured.

  He stole a quick glance over his shoulder.

  “Turn your head!” hissed Nazari and Kane’s head swiveled back, a wide-eyed expression on his face that would have done his high school drama teacher proud.

  “Sorry, I don’t know what made me do that.”

  Nazari grabbed him by his sleeve and pulled him forward. “You Americans are always so eager to get on camera.”

  Kane chuckled, trying to break the tension, the man already clearly not trusting him. “It’s one of the many reasons their society must fall.”

  Nazari slapped him on the back, smiling slightly. “If you don’t keep screwing up, Allah willing, it will be so.”

  Kane nodded. “Allahu Akbar.”

  20

  Aegean Sea between Turkey and Greece

  “We’re going to sink!”

  Amira held onto her daughters as tightly as she could with one arm, the other arm hooked around the railing encircling the waterlogged boat, the driving rain and wind making it impossible to see ahead, the screams of terror surrounding her nearly drowned out by the howl of the storm. Both Maya and Rima had their arms wrapped around her legs, their whimpers going unheard, their heaving chests torturing her with each sudden inhalation.

  But they were alive.

  For now.

  Crossing Turkey and getting a boat had been relatively easy, though only because of Sami’s money. The man had been true to his word, using his precious stash of foreign currency, mostly Euros, British Pounds and American Dollars, to get them all out of the refugee camp—a modest bribe to a guard—then transport to the coast—a not so modest bribe—then passage on a boat.

  Where the only one available was the rickety affair they were now on due to his funds having to cover seven people instead of just four.

  She had felt overridden by guilt when they had heard the price for safe passage on a boat they all felt they could trust to get them there. He had enough for his family, and Sami had looked at her and she had stared at him, dread filling her eyes as she silently pleaded for him to find another way, not to abandon her and her children after having come so far.

  “There’s seven of us. We need something cheaper.”

  Another man had been called over, the café they had met their prospective boat captain at seemingly teeming with profit mongers, and a deal struck.

  She squeezed her eyes shut as she realized that if they should all die here today, it would be her fault.

  Sami was just ahead of her, he holding one child and the railing, his wife the other. They weren’t going to fall overboard, though the waves kept sweeping over them. The concern now shouted by the captain at the helm was that they were overloaded and going to sink.

  “She’s Christian!” shouted someone to her right. Her head spun toward the man who was now pointing at a woman, huddled at her husband’s feet, praying, a crucifix in her hand, a look of horror on her face at having been discovered.

  “Throw her overboard!” yelled someone else. “Why should we die so infidels can be saved!”

  “Throw the dirty Christian off!”

  Amira stared up at the Captain, hoping he’d do something to stop this, but instead he simply turned his back on the entire proceeding. She watched in horror as several young men approached, slipping and sliding on the deck, risking their own lives as they seemed determined to take others’.

  The woman’s husband swung his free hand at the first man, making contact, his would be attacker falling onto the slick deck, sliding back as the prow rose steeply, dumping everyone off their feet who didn’t have a good hold of something.

  Yet it didn’t stop them. More converged on the man and he was quickly overpowered, his screams, his pleas, barely heard above the angry, desperate shouts of the others.

  And then they stopped, his flailing body tossed overboard, his wife’s scream tearing across the deck, then silenced, as she too joined her husband in the roiling sea. Amira looked back to try and spot them, and for a moment thought she saw a hand, though couldn’t be certain.

  To her horror the young men weren’t done, joined by more as they made their way around the boat, there only about thirty souls aboard, challenging each to recite passages from the Koran, any who hesitated attacked and tossed overboard. She again stared up at the Captain who seemed careful to avoid looking at what was going on, and she felt sick to her stomach as the men who had taken charge approached Sami and his family.

  She had to admit she felt bad for those dying, though a small part of her was relieved that someone had taken action. Was it right that they should all die, or did it make sense to sacrifice some so that the others could live? And how should it be decided who should live and who should die? Should it be men? Women? The elderly? How was that any less discriminatory than choosing by religion?

  Her mouth suddenly filled with bile and she pushed her head over the side of the railing, heaving several times, her children crying out, gripping her legs tighter. She thanked Allah that she was Muslim, that she was one of the followers of the Prophet’s teachings, and she would be spared the culling.

  And prayed for those misguided souls sacrificed to save her and her children.

  Already she could sense the boat was faring better, the Captain seeming less agitated, but still not stopping the murders happening around him. She stared up at him, pleading silently for him to look her way, and he did.

  And they made eye contact.

  “That’s enough!” he shouted, the young men who had taken control stopping just as they approached her, Sami having passed the test. “We should be fine now.”

  They continued for several more hours, land finally spotted, bypassing the safer Greek islands and heading for the mainland. The Captain pulled into shallow waters, smaller boats rushing out to meet them and take them ashore, their own deathtrap roaring away the moment the last foot left its deck.

  As her feet hit land for the first time in hours, she dropped to her knees and began to pray, thanking Allah for sparing their lives and for the sacrifices the kafirs had made, praying their souls would be allowed entry into paradise even if they weren’t worthy in some people’s eyes.

  Jodee patted her shoulder. “Come, we need to get moving.”

  She nodded and rose, taking her children by the hands when several vehicles with flashing blue lights arrived on a road just ahead, soldiers or police pouring out. Several people screamed, others shouted, the young men sprinting away, she and her travelling companions instead simply standing there, exhausted, soaked, and hungry, resigned to whatever fate had in store for them.

  It turned out it was a ride to a refugee-processing center.

  Processing took hours, their photos taken, their names and other relevant information recorded before they were finally pointed toward a tent-filled camp.

  “What now?” she asked the woman who had processed them, a woman who spoke passable Arabic.

  “Now you wait.”

  “For how long?”

  The woman shrugged. “However long it takes.” She pointed toward a road leading away from the camp, a long line of people slowly walking down it, away from the area. “If I were you, I’d follow them and get to Germany. Those fools are taking everyone.”