Want to see more? Here's a chapter of Mason Pierce: Assassination for you enjoyment.
Riyadh,
Saudi Arabia
Central Intelligence Agency agent Mason Pierce sat in
a cold, metal chair, eyes transfixed on a large computer screen, monitoring
both radio chatter and audio feed from a bug placed in a building less than two
city blocks away. Even to the most astute eye, the building he was inside
looked like nothing more than another business in a commercial district of the
capital of Saudi Arabia. To any individuals privy to the knowledge of its
interior, however, it was far more. It was a major black site set up in Riyadh
after the September 11th terrorist attacks to monitor any and all
actions of terrorist organizations with operatives in Riyadh. Numerous others
had been set up in the Middle East, controversially kept a secret from the
governments of the nations they were based in.
The agents located in the black site were currently
monitoring a discussion taking place between two known Al Qaeda members: Asad
Ibn-Gabir and Rashid Al-Karim. The CIA had been tracking their movements for
years, and that had only increased when Ibn-Gabir met with a notorious bomb
maker three weeks prior. The contents of the conversation were unknown, but one
thing was certain: there would be a bomb, and many could die.
The tension and anticipation in the room became
tangible. It was more sweltering and more oppressive than the Saudi sun. The
computers let out a constant gust of hot air, as if mocking the air
conditioner’s feeble efforts to keep the temperature beneath a cool ninety.
A bead of sweat trickled down Mason’s brow. He wiped
it away. He was listening to an audio feed from a bug placed underneath a
table. He could hear distant talking—Ibn-Gabir was talking on a cell phone.
Suddenly, an agent listening to the wiretapped phone
line let out a short outburst.
“Hey. I’ve got something.” He made a circle in the air
with his finger, signally for everybody to listen in.
Mason strained to make out the rapid Arabic as his
audio feed was switched to the phone conversation. He was trained to pick up
languages quickly, but having only had a few months of study, he was not
entirely fluent.
“The device has been positioned successfully?” he
heard Asad say.
“Yes, our man just left.” Mason could feel the tension
rise to an audible hum. Another bead of sweat made its way down his forehead.
He became aware of the lives whose futures rested upon the shoulders of the
agents. Tens, maybe hundreds, of people whistling past the graveyard.
“And you are in position?” said Asad.
“Yes. I am directly across on Al-Idrisi, I will see
everything,” the other voice was deep and menacing. Mason recognized it as an
unknown man who had been working with Ibn-Gabir over the last month.
The whole black site shot into a panic at the mention
of Al-Idrisi. It was the name of the street on which the United States Embassy
was located. One man ran into the middle of the room and began barking orders.
“Bomb located in the north wing of the embassy! The
detonator is held by an unidentified man in a white sedan on Al-Idrisi. Crown
Prince Nayef Bin Abdul Aziz is currently in the building and has been informed
that the embassy has gathered intel on an attack planned by suspected Al Qaeda
members. The occupants are being slowly evacuated to the courtyard. Move!
Move!”
Mason ran to a closet with an array of various
disguises lain out. He and two other agents grabbed outfits in order to blend
in with Saudi Arabian men. Mason threw a Saudi headdress, a Ghutrah, and fastened it before finally
throwing on a traditional cloak, and rushing out of the black site down the
steps which led into a deserted alleyway. Each step carried him closer to
danger. He could feel the adrenaline beginning the course through his veins.
The rush propelled him onwards—this was his element.
Mason and one of the other agents from the site began
immediately dashing down the alley, while the other took a more leisurely jog. Should
all not go as planned, he would bring in reinforcements
As they ran, Mason motioned with his hands to show the
other agent the plan of action. The other agent would walk up a flight of
stairs to the door, giving a predetermined greeting that had been previously
intercepted. Mason, meanwhile, would scale the opposite wall and storm the room
through a window. Every agent in the black site had poured over schematics and
photographs of the apartment—they knew it just as well as the men inside.
After running the length of the two blocks that
separated the two respective bases of operation, the agents slowed to a walk
and went about their respective paths. As the other agent walked to the front
door, Mason retrieved two climbing spikes from inside his Thawb. Each spike had
a spring-loaded mechanism which would drive it into the wall when Mason smashed
it against it. As soon as the agent reached the stairs, Mason began his ascent.
He brought a spike into the wall. Within an instant, with a sleek, metallic
sliding noise, the metal bolt blasted its way into the adobe, then expanded to
lock itself in place.
It took most of his strength to haul himself up the
vertical façade, but it was only one story up and did not take long. Once he
reached the top, he found that he had timed it perfectly—the other agent had
just made it inside. Mason smashed one of the climbing spikes against the
window. A latch inside clicked off and the spring slammed forwards into the
window, cutting a fine whole and creating vein-like cracks which
instantaneously spread to the window frame. A solid blow from his elbow
shattered the window inwards. Mason leapt in, stowing the climbing spikes and
drawing a Heckler & Koch USP35 pistol.
Across the alleyway, Adriana Bachavelli, agent for the
Italian Agenzia Informazioni e Sicurezza Esterna, watched the scene unfold
through a pair of binoculars with another AISE agent. She swore in Italian. She
had been entrusted with keeping an eye on and possibly arresting Ibn-Gabir due
to intelligence suggesting that he might perpetrate a bombing somewhere in
western Europe—likely Italy. And now what was probably an American agent had
gone charging in to arrest him himself—and Adriana could not afford for
anything to go awry.
“Put your hands behind your head and face the wall!”
Mason commanded in Arabic. He was not going to mess this up. Asad Ibn-Gabir had
been responsible for the deaths of several of Mason’s comrades during his
tenure with the Special Forces, and he was glad to be the one to put make the
man’s arrest. To Mason’s delight, Asad agreed. Rashid, on the other hand,
wheeled around on his heel and drew a pistol. Mason swerved his arm to fire,
but just before he could pull the trigger, another body dashed into the room.
He caught a quick glimpse—by the looks of her clothing and equipment, she was
European—another spy.
The woman’s entrance had only thrown Mason off his
guard for a second, but that was just enough for Al-Rashid to rattle off two
shots into the wall behind him. The new agent retaliated by firing a warning
shot between the two Saudi men. Now Asad had drawn a gun. He fired at the other
CIA agent, who agilely dodged. Mason hollered a warning in Arabic, which only
prompted both Al Qaeda members to direct their guns at him. Ducking to avoid a
bullet he knew would be coming, Mason fired one shot, hitting Asad in the
shoulder. Another bullet thudded into the floor as he rolled to dodge. There
was a scream of pain as the other American agent took a bullet to the leg. He
collapsed, tearing a strip from his cloak to tie a tourniquet.
Not wanting to kill the two Al Qaeda members, but
realizing he needed to take action, Mason employed one of the tricks he had stashed
up his sleeve. From the recesses of his cloak, he removed a small EPIC—an
Electromagnetic Personnel Interdiction Control. The device was not too
different from a handgun, but in place of a muzzle was a rectangular housing
for what looked like the tip of a laser pointer. The wall-penetrating device
could emit electromagnetic signals to disrupt stimuli which affect the target’s
balance and induce dizziness—essentially causing them to vomit.
“Stand back!” Mason shouted towards Adriana, who was
in the line of fire. He then pulled the trigger on the weapon just as Adriana
began to dive out of its range. The effects were almost immediate. Asad vomited
immediately before collapsing onto the ground. His head collided with the floor
several more times as he attempted to shake the feeling of sickness and regain
his footing. The stronger-stomached Rashid held out for only two additional
seconds before disgorging much of the contents of his stomach and nearly
falling into it. Both men rolled, clutching their heads in agony. Mason rushed
to handcuff them both with plastic ties. Having done that, he turned to the
Italian agent.
“You almost
got us all killed. I had everything under control, then you decided to fly in
through the window and do everything yourself!” Mason spat. His words were like
venom.
The Italian agent, however, had not completely escaped
the EPIC’s range of influence and collapsed on the hard wooden floor. Mason
stared down and shook his head as he walked out the door. Spinning the EPIC and
re-holstering it.
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