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quietly organized themselves. The CIA’s Black Ops forces were so named because of the black operations they had to perform. This time the operation was in fifty shades of darkest black, each deeper than the next. I wasn’t with them physically, but I could feel the adrenaline flowing through their bodies, sharpening their eyesight, their reflexes and their body movements, making them more alert and precise, like cheetahs preparing to pounce on their prey. Not only were the muscles affected but also the brain. The feeling of heightened concentration turned the mind into a more effective machine and made teamwork a personal challenge.

Their professional honor and prestige were being tested, the will to prove to everyone, to commanding officers, the other units, to the brothers in arms, as well as to oneself. They had practiced so many years for this moment, for this one single shot, which would hit its target and miss the hostage. Their failure would not only jeopardize the whole operation, but their close friends as well.

I understood why Major Key hadn’t included me. Such teamwork was built through weeks and months of training, which lead to knowing exactly how to operate precisely. Who goes in from the right and who from the left, who will be in front and who kneels to shoot, and where. It all lay on knowing your teammates and on your almost blind understanding of how each of you would react when faced with danger.

Laura Ashton,

The Break-in, November 16, 2015, 1:30 a.m.

The field team reported that the streetlights were darkened. The electricity was switched off in the hotel across the street and the apartment building next to it. The darkness outside would create a cover for the black-clad fighters and serve as another shield. Soon six fighters will be hanging outside the windows, the sleepy street below them, awaiting the signal to break-in. Two of them were hanging near the area where Yassin, his professional fighter, and Murat Lenika had been spotted. Two of them would break into the corner room, where the nervous guy with the hand grenades had come from and another two would quietly enter the darkened room where the wife lay sick. The alpha team, headed by Major Key, would break in through the main entrance.

I looked at the screen in front of me. All these hours, Yassin had remained on the floor, holding his young son. As the hours went by, his human parcel had seemed to grow heavier, yet Yassin would not leave. From time to time the doctor leaned over to check the child’s pulse and then returned to his seat next to the couch.

“That’s dedication,” I whispered, as if embarrassed to assign the terrorist in front of me the human qualities belonging to a typical compassionate, doting parent.

“I think he is still alive but is showing signs that the disease is taking its toll,” Linda noted. “Look at his chest, it’s barely moving when he breathes.”

“Let’s go back and look at the plan,” said the agent commanding the break-in team. “Murat Lenika and the fighter next to the window will be shot down by the team breaking in through the main entrance. I want to clarify that I mean the guy standing by the window with the weapon. He must be shot.” Everyone listened raptly. “Curt will rappel down the side of the building, and enter the side room through the west window. Dan will rappel down next and will enter through the north window. If the terrorist with the hand grenades returns to his position, he will be in that room. In that case, Dan will shoot and neutralize him. Both of you must make sure that there are no more terrorists, or worse, more unknown hostages. That is the room we couldn’t cover with the cameras. If, by any chance, Jonathan Niava is in the suite, then he will most likely be in that room. Make sure all hostages remain unharmed.

“What is our main problem?” I wanted to make sure that they all understood any big obstacles of our upcoming mission.

“Yassin is hostile. He must be kept alive. I, as the commanding officer, will enter through the main door and will take my shot directly at Yassin, who will be sitting opposite the door. I have one chance to hit him with the anesthetic dart… It will be a difficult shot, especially taking into consideration that he is holding his son and we have no idea if he is wearing a bullet-proof vest or an explosive.”

“What is the danger?”

“That the dart will hit the child or that the child dies before we have a chance to wake him up or inject him with the Mossad’s antidote.”

“Who will break into the wife’s room?”

“I will go in with night-vision,” Jack said. “That room is as dark as hell. I need to make sure not to get tangled up in the curtain. This is the only room whose curtains have been shut the whole time.”

“What’s next?”

“After we make sure the rooms are clear and we remove Yassin for questioning, our doctor will come in with the Mossad’s antidote and inject the wife and son. We will have to evacuate them both to a government-isolated facility.”

“Do we have enough of the antidote?” someone asked. I wondered if he’d been part of the meeting where the US government told Israel that they needed to fix their poisoning affair.

“We have enough for everyone, including all those in this room. All those we know of and also those whom we have not anticipated. Make sure the doctor has three doses on him. Jonathan may be in there,” I said, looking at Linda to indicate that she was in charge of making sure the doctor had what he needed.

I looked at all of them. They had done everything right. They’d checked their personal gear to make sure everything was intact, looked over the plan of the suite they were about to break into, memorized the kidnapped doctor’s face, and

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