Time: Present Day

Location: Aleppo, Syria

Two men knelt beside them taking cover behind the jeep. They trained their guns on the top floor of the building opposite giving the two other men who were running towards the building some cover.

Mal lay on top of Layla but it was giving him no pleasure as he reached into his pocket and retrieved his white handkerchief. He folded it in quarters and pushed her hair back with it in an effort to try and stop the bleeding. He was expecting the jeep to be riddled with bullets at any minute but it wasn't. He heard the two men to his left speaking in Arabic. Then one of them appeared under the vehicle with them and asked in broken English."You are hit . . . Hurt . . . Yes?"

Mal looked at him, "No but she is, not sure how badly, but she's going into shock, get a medic under here will you. Go, as fast as you can."

No sooner had he said it than someone grabbed his feet from the end of the jeep and started pulling him out. He held Layla tightly which slowed his backward progress for a few seconds. Whoever it was must have gotten some assistance because the next thing both of them were unceremoniously pulled from under the jeep. Mal was relieved to see that one of the men pulling them out was a paramedic.

They helped him roll off Layla. She moaned as he came off her. Blood spurted out as he lost his grip on her forehead. The medic quickly checked him over then turned his attention to Layla when he said, "Not me! It's not my blood . . , fix her . . . quickly! How serious is it?" He had never felt so relieved when he heard the paramedic speak in English into the microphone,"Flesh wound to the woman."

Two men either side of him pulled him to his feet. He instinctively ducked. Two others of Yazzi's men had guns trained on him. Layla came to with a coughing fit from the dust that had been stirred up as they were pulled out. She too was then manhandled to her feet and left to join him under guard. The paramedic continued to dress her head wound from a standing position, "Not serious . . . lucky . . . lucky," he repeated.

No more shots rang out. They were now joined by Yazzi who had emerged from his tent and strode out purposefully towards them. "Who was that? The government, security forces? Who sent you here?" he asked.

"Now, wait a minute, you don't seriously think we had something to do with this do you? It was your idea to do this out in the open like this, remember? Besides, you weren't the target. If you were you would be dead right now. The guards jostled their weapons menacingly. "We were the targets or more specifically, she was. I saw the laser sight on her forehead just in time. The cameraman moved in the way or Layla would be dead now, maybe me too. Our cameraman wasn't so lucky." Yazzi looked to his commander who nodded agreement to what Mal was saying.

"All right, but still, pack up your things and leave. I will notify the hospital to expect you."

"Nice meeting you mister Yazzi."

Yazzi grunted and walked back towards his tent.

Peter answered the Red phone from the top draw of his desk.

A voice said, "Failed!"

"What happened?" Peter asked.

"Not sure, a combination I think. Blind luck and, I don't know, it's almost like, they knew I was there somehow. They were expecting it. Are you sure we don't have a mole?"

"That's impossible, ring me tomorrow. I need to think."

"There were casualties, two of Yazzi's men, and the cameraman, I think."

"Jesus, Anton, just ring me, same time tomorrow will you." Peter slammed down the phone.

Carter read his mind. No,no Dad, you can't!

Teacher appeared next to him. "He can and he will, unless you've made up your mind Carter Cheval? You are half way there, you could have let Anton succeed, you could have had Layla for yourself, with you right now, but you intervened. Have you already decided which path you are taking or do you still vacillate Carter Cheval? Do not vacillate much longer, or you'll be having a family reunion like no other before."

Peter looked over at Graz, "I know, I know, Graz, don't you think I've already thought of that. I know it's a dangerous move. I know Anton now. I know how he thinks. He is very loyal to me now. If it comes to that. I'm sure he won't let either of us down. He'll do the honourable thing, after all he knows the secret too, so he has nothing to fear but fear itself."

"Are you sure Petros, this is a massive gamble, if it should go pear shaped, are you sure you don't want Andre to take over now, while we have some leeway."

"I'm sure of my relationship with Anton. I know Anton, my spies assure me this plan has a good chance of success. That nothing should go wrong. They desperately need the money due to the war the Syrian economy is collapsing, the government is in crisis, vulnerable. It is their best chance. Perhaps their only chance to overthrow it, before America and Russia join forces. They need American Dollars to buy arms, he will do it."

"I hope you are right Petros, you better be. I have grown quite fond of Anton over these last few years, if anything should happen to him, I don't think I could control Andre so good. This plan of yours better work this time."

"It will, but if things should go pear shaped as you say, then I'll still have Netty."

"Will you? Will you really, Petros? I'm not at all sure of that either, you know my opinion, from the start. It was your idea not mine, you know I don't like using women."

"Oh I know that now Graz, boy do I know that." They both laughed, a nervous laugh though.

"I didn't mean in that way, of course I'm not like you in that respect, but I mean I think they can be loose cannons, and we don't need our SPECTRE instruments to be loose cannons. I just hope and pray that it won't come to that. I'm not at all sure what she might do. She might be more dangerous than the terrorist you are trying to enlist."

"Don't be so melodramatic Graz, it'll be okay..you'll see, all our problems will be over sooner than you think, and nobody will be able to blame the Vatican for this."

"Just make sure Anton has hidden the money trail well, that's all I ask, if it should lead back to the Pontiff somehow . . . we may end up with a bigger problem than we have now."

"Don't worry, its hidden alright, our friends in the Mafia have seen to that, no one , . . no one alive that is, knows where the money came from except you and me, and I'm sure of me, not so sure about you though."

They laughed that nervous laugh again. They fell silent for a long while

Peter's sleepless night was interrupted as he jumped a bit when the red phone rang.

"Good morning Anton, it's still morning there? No, oh well, good afternoon then, Anton. I have discussed the matter with Graz. No, he's not angry, more disappointed than anything. This is what we want you to do, I want you to do . . . "

The black BMW must have stood out like dog's balls. Anton was amazed that Peter was able to find him one in Damascus. He drove all the way back to Aleppo. The ISLA had been told not to interfere with the progress of the black BMW and to protect it's occupant at all costs, as though it was Jihad Yazzi himself.

Anton finally pulled up outside the gates to the compound. He was escorted by two military jeeps across a makeshift airport, past the fruit and vegetable market and his vantage point from two days prior, to the very large and familiar white tent. The jeeps pulled up either side of him and trained their guns on him as he alighted. They prodded him into the tent with the barrel of an uzzi.

Jihad Yazzi sat flanked by his body guards. Anton recognised him. He had had him in his telescopic sight, two days earlier. He had thought to himself how surprisingly easy it would have been to assassinate him at the time, had he been the target he was being paid to kill. He wouldn't have to be here now if that had been the case. He could have been back in Paris or Rome, in the loving arms of some new girlfriend, or two."

Yazzi spoke first. "They tell me you are quite the assassin."

Anton felt for his skull ring, should he need it a cyanide tablet was contained and hidden inside the skull ring. The ring was always made too small so it could not be taken off the assassin except by amputation. It was both a weapon and a cure for failure if captured.

He remained silent.

"I am told you could easily have killed me the other day, why didn't you?"

"You weren't the target," Anton replied.

"So you weren't paid to kill me, that's all, you were paid to kill the journalists?"

"Yes, the girl."

"Who paid you, and why do it in my back yard?"

Anton didn't answer, he fingered the ring, things could go only two ways here.

"You killed two of my men, and yet failed to kill the girl, what went wrong?"

"I don't know, they just did, and your men were trying to kill me." Anton shifted nervously from side to side between the two guards.

Yazzi laughed. "So self defense eh?"

Anton nodded.

"Ha. sit, sit. like you, you don't scare easily. If it was either of the men you killed they'd be pissing in their uniforms by now."

"Have something to eat, here a drink for my friend, now tell me what I must do to earn this Million American Dollars eh!

"So you weren't paid to kill me..that's all...you were paid to kill the journalists?"

"Yes...the girl."

"Who paid you... and why do it in my back yard?"

Anton didn't answer...he fingered the ring...things could go only two ways here.

"You killed two of my men.....and yet failed to kill the girl...what went wrong?"

"I don't know..they just did...and your men were trying to kill me." Anton shifted nervously from side to side between the two guards."

Yazzi laughed..."So self defense eh?"

Anton nodded.

"Ha...sit...sit..I like you...you don't scare easily..if it was either of the men you killed they'd be pissing in their uniforms by now."

"Have something to eat....here a drink for my friend....now tell me what I must do to earn this Million American Dollars eh!

Chapter 63 - The Terrorist Plot.

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