Jaffa, Israel
16:48
Bruce Bryden examined the Glock then worked the cotton patch attached to the cleaning rod into the barrel. The gun lay disassembled in thirty-odd pieces, neatly in their order of reassembly. He nodded, satisfied every part was spotless. He stood and fumbled for the GLD when it vibrated in his breast pocket. He fished it out, a blue light flashing at the base of the unit.
Code blue. Shit.
He held a button on the transmitter and listened to the barely-audible message. He replayed the recording and listened closely. Zach’s voice was muffled, it sounded like he was driving. He strained to hear Zachary Cohen’s panicked words. “Get Becky.”
The GLD needed a computer and mapping software to locate the agent. And Bruce, who was not a strong believer in technology, had neither. He made up his mind and jumped into his Jeep; Zachary had a computer at home.
He arrived at Zachary’s home a couple of minutes later. Something was wrong. The front door stood open, and splotches of blood were visible on the white pebbled pathway.
Bruce crouched next to the open door and peered inside. Sarah lay naked on the ground, a pool of blood spreading beneath her disheveled hair. He bolted inside and kneeled beside her. Her throat had been slit, and her breathing was labored and shallow.
He barged into the kitchen, filled a jug with water, and splashed it over the wound. The carotid artery had been severed. He gently lifted her head. Judging by the amount of blood, her throat had been cut a couple of minutes ago. He dialed 102. The operator answered. “This is Esra speaking, what is your emergency?”
“I have a woman with a fatal neck wound, I need an ambulance!” Bruce shouted, groping for the severed artery then pinching both ends with his thumb and forefinger.
“Certainly sir. We’re in luck, I have a unit on standby at Ben Gurion.”
Thank God. “Patch me through to them.”
He heard a click, and after a short silence, someone answered, a wailing siren in the background. “I need to speak to the medic. I’m with the patient,” Bruce said.
“Hello, Seidmann here. You're with the patient right now?” the paramedic asked.
“Yes, severed carotid, two pints of blood lost. I have managed to stop the bleeding, but hypoxia will set in within a few minutes.” Bruce held his ear to her mouth, clutching the phone to his shoulder. “She’ll be brain-dead by the time a surgeon tends to her.”
“Right, we’re close to you. I’ll radio Dr. Goldblum, our vascular specialist.”
Within five minutes, the paramedics arrived. One guy was clutching a two-way radio to his ear. “Uh-huh. OK, OK, OK got it. We’ll have her in ICU in ten minutes.”
He nodded at Bruce and knelt next to Sarah. “I’m going to insert a stent to stabilize the blood flow. The doctor is waiting at the hospital.” He looked up at Bruce with pursed lips. “You a doctor?”
Bruce ignored the question and shifted his focus to finding a computer. He ran upstairs to find Zach’s office in a mess. Empty floppy disk boxes and CD cases lay scattered everywhere. Drawers had been pulled out and tossed to the ground; their contents lay strewn throughout the room.
Bruce wiped his bloodied hands on his trousers, picked up the phone, and dialed Zach’s mom. It rang twice before Ruth Cohen answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Ruth, Bruce here. Is Rebecca with you?”
“Yes, why? What’s—”
“Stay there, lock the doors. I’ll see you soon.”
He disconnected the call, then he pulled the PC towards him and plugged the GLD directly into the serial port at the back. He opened a command shell and launched the mapping application. A minute later a satellite image appeared, a blue blip flashing in the center of the map.
“Got you.”