The SPECTRE Of The VATICAN ©

Chapter 63 - The Terrorist Plot.

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!