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Hour of the Jackals
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HOUR OF THE JACKALS
Emil Daynov
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2019 Emil Daynov.
This edition published in 2019 by BLKDOG Publishing.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. The moral right of the author has been asserted.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
DAY ONE
Part 1
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
Part 2
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
Part 3
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
Part 4
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
DAY TWO
Part 5
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
PART 6
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
PART 7
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
DAY THREE
Part 9
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
Part 10
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
Part 11
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61
CHAPTER 62
CHAPTER 63
CHAPTER 64
PART 12
CHAPTER 65
CHAPTER 66
CHAPTER 67
CHAPTER 68
CHAPTER 69
CHAPTER 70
CHAPTER 71
CHAPTER 72
DAY FOUR
PART 13
CHAPTER 73
CHAPTER 74
CHAPTER 75
CHAPTER 76
CHAPTER 77
CHAPTER 78
CHAPTER 79
CHAPTER 80
CHAPTER 81
CHAPTER 82
PART 14
CHAPTER 83
CHAPTER 84
CHAPTER 85
CHAPTER 86
CHAPTER 87
CHAPTER 88
CHAPTER 89
CHAPTER 90
PART 15
CHAPTER 91
CHAPTER 92
CHAPTER 93
CHAPTER 94
CHAPTER 95
CHAPTER 96
CHAPTER 97
CHAPTER 98
CHAPTER 99
CHAPTER 100
PART 16
CHAPTER 101
CHAPTER 102
CHAPTER 103
CHAPTER 104
CHAPTER 105
CHAPTER 106
CHAPTER 107
CHAPTER 108
PART 17
CHAPTER 109
CHAPTER 110
CHAPTER 111
CHAPTER 112
CHAPTER 113
CHAPTER 114
CHAPTER 115
CHAPTER 116
CHAPTER 117
DAY FIVE
PART 18
CHAPTER 118
CHAPTER 119
CHAPTER 120
CHAPTER 121
CHAPTER 122
CHAPTER 123
CHAPTER 124
PART 19
CHAPTER 125
CHAPTER 126
CHAPTER 127
CHAPTER 128
CHAPTER 129
CHAPTER 130
CHAPTER 131
CHAPTER 132
CHAPTER 133
CHAPTER 134
PART 20
CHAPTER 135
CHAPTER 136
CHAPTER 137
CHAPTER 138
CHAPTER 139
CHAPTER 140
PART 21
CHAPTER 141
CHAPTER 142
CHAPTER 143
CHAPTER 144
CHAPTER 145
CHAPTER 146
CHAPTER 147
CHAPTER 148
CHAPTER 149
PART 22
CHAPTER 150
CHAPTER 151
CHAPTER 152
CHAPTER 153
CHAPTER 154
CHAPTER 155
CHAPTER 156
CHAPTER 157
PART 23
CHAPTER 158
CHAPTER 159
CHAPTER 160
CHAPTER 161
CHAPTER 162
CHAPTER 163
CHAPTER 164
CHAPTER 165
CHAPTER 166
CHAPTER 167
CHAPTER 168
DAY SIX
PART 24
CHAPTER 169
CHAPTER 170
CHAPTER 171
CHAPTER 172
CHAPTER 173
CHAPTER 174
CHAPTER 175
CHAPTER 176
CHAPTER 177
CHAPTER 178
PART 25
CHAPTER 179
CHAPTER 180
CHAPTER 181
CHAPTER 182
CHAPTER 183
PART 26
CHAPTER 184
CHAPTER 185
CHAPTER 186
CHAPTER 187
CHAPTER 188
CHAPTER 189
CHAPTER 190
CHAPTER 191
PART 27
CHAPTER 192
CHAPTER 193
CHAPTER 194
CHAPTER 195
CHAPTER 196
CHAPTER 197
PART 28
CHAPTER 198
CHAPTER 199
CHAPTER 200
CHAPTER 201
CHAPTER 202
CHAPTER 203
CHAPTER 204
CHAPTER 205
CHAPTER 206
CHAPTER 207
DAY SEVEN
PART 30
CHAPTER 208
CHAPTER 209
CHAPTER 210
CHAPTER 211
CHAPTER 212
CHAPTER 213
PART 31
CHAPTER 214
CHAPTER 215
CHAPTER 216
CHAPTER 217
CHAPTER 218
CHAPTER 219
CHAPTER 220
CHAPTER 221
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CHAPTER 222
PART 32
CHAPTER 223
CHAPTER 224
CHAPTER 225
CHAPTER 226
CHAPTER 227
CHAPTER 228
PART 33
CHAPTER 229
CHAPTER 230
CHAPTER 231
CHAPTER 232
CHAPTER 233
CHAPTER 234
PART 34
CHAPTER 235
CHAPTER 236
CHAPTER 237
DAY ONE
Part 1
CHAPTER 1
Jian Bo
Malaysia
By plan Jian Bo should have spent no more than forty minutes in the freezing sea off the coast of Japan.
Forty minutes?
How about two endless hours?
Sure, they gave him a thermal suit, but two hours! He had almost gone mad by the time the submarine showed up.
Could have sworn sharks brushed his legs twice.
The agency had the resulting pneumonia nursed away in the private wing of a top state clinic, and his angina only counted as borderline, and he no longer had to run to the john every ten minutes, but there were also some...psychological aftereffects.
Which is why, here in Malaysia, Jian Bo forced himself to enter the sea at least twice a day. A budding phobia of big bodies of water is not something you ignore. Not in the spy trade you don’t.
Now he stood at the water’s edge, goggles on eyes, snorkel in mouth, waves dissolving around his ankles, pulling at the sand beneath his feet.
Two freighters and one yacht crawled along the blue horizon. The yacht’s sail enjoying an infinitesimally growing lead.
Jian Bo finished pretending that he was stretching, that he was thinking, that he was yawning, and finally waded in.
To his shins.
To his knees.
To his crotch.
His chest tightened up, and his bladder tried to lose control. Jian Bo did not let his bladder lose control. Instead, he swam onward with forceful strokes.
The sea bottom fell away. A colder current brushed his toes. The fear increased. A silent scream fluttered in his chest.
He forced himself to dive. The water closed over his head.
The fear vanished.
The scream dissolved, unuttered.
Jian Bo was weightless now. The underwater panorama—a world of magic dreams.
As a spinning vortex of thin silvery fish collapsed and then reformed further off, Jian Bo saw something else down on the bottom.
Human figure.
Dark diving suit.
Oxygen tank on back.
Diving enthusiast? Why alone? Why here? Looking straight at me. Can’t be accidental. Waiting for me.
Then the figure signaled with its scuba flashlight. Two short flashes, followed by a long one, and another short one.
CHAPTER 2
Jack Masterton
Sofia, Bulgaria
Jack Masterton suppressed a cough.
The air in the homey office was layered with cigarette smoke.
Tacky photo-wallpaper to Masterton’s right—on it a section of China’s Great Wall surrounded by trees in bloom.
The woman behind the desk was smallish and plumpish, brown wavy hair to her jawline. She had made it very clear her name was to be pronounced ‘Gala’, and definitely not ‘Galya’.
She wore a black leather jacket.
A subculture chick past her prime, thought Masterton. Must have been quite the stunner twenty years ago. Still can’t let the persona go, obviously.
Gala picked up the tumbler of grape rakia from her desk and Masterton glimpsed a tattoo on her wrist and at the same time realized what the pungent undertone to the tobacco smell was. Weed.
Doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. I am here for revenge. I will do what it takes to get my revenge.
Gala raised a ‘cheers’ at him with her drink and Masterton mirrored the gesture with his own tumbler.
“So, you were referred to me by Mr. Punchev,” the woman said.
Masterton swallowed a bit of the drink. It was…surprisingly good.
And now, finally, the time for his opening speech. “Yes,” he said, “I was looking for how to—”
“Mr. Masterton,” cut in Gala, “your Bulgarian is passable, for which I congratulate you, but I think my English is better.”
“All right then.” He shifted to English. “I need you to find the people who assaulted my daughter.”
CHAPTER 3
Jian Bo
Malaysia
The sea pushed at Jian Bo’s body from all sides, and way down here it was much colder, and almost, not quite, but almost triggered a panic flashback to the Sea of Japan. Again the scream writhed in Jian Bo’s chest.
The figure in scuba gear displayed a waterproof plastic packet. Unmistakable USB flash drive inside.
Jian Bo grabbed the bag, and let his body begin ascending.
With the promised quantum encryption tech still behind the corner, hardware information transfer was prudent enough, but surely cloak and dagger theatrics of this sort were overkill?
Damn local operatives, jumping at any chance to show off.
Once inside his bungalow, Jian Bo locked the flimsy door, and opened his laptop. He thumbed aside the camouflage panel, located the modified port, and plugged the flash drive in.
A new assignment.
He had not expected to receive one so soon.
Something to do with his old beat—Eastern Europe. Had to fly to Beijing ASAP. The digital ticket was in the files too.
And on a separate document—a link to a coded message. He logged onto the specified forum and found the specified post.
Oh my, oh my.
He gave a quiet whistle. He had a new boss now, apparently. Old Guiren had finally retired, apparently.
Big changes indeed.
One could only hope the period of adjustment won’t be too traumatic an upheaval for the agency.
Jian Bo shut the laptop and breathed in the fresh, salty air with a sudden thirst.
CHAPTER 4
Jack Masterton
Sofia, Bulgaria
“Please keep going,” said Gala in her cinematic KGB accent. She displayed a pack of cigarettes. “Victory Blue. You like?”
Masterton shook his head. He tried to control his voice. “After my divorce, and the…spousal maintenance I have to pay…teaching at the university was barely enough for anything, but then aunt Agatha passed away, left a bit of money.
“I invested it and thought hey, why not take a break from all the nonsense and go to sunny and friendly Southeast Europe?”
He said the last words through his teeth, the glass beginning to shake in his hand.
“And when did the…incident happen?” asked Gala, already typing something on her keyboard.
“Last summer. I thought I’d take my daughter here for a great vacation in the village.”
“What village? Where is it?”
“Mamalevo. By the river Yanitsa”
Gala nodded. “I want to check out your daughter’s online profile. Name, please.”
“Tahira Masterton. Fourteen. No, fifteen.”
More clacking of keyboard. “Ah, yes!” said Gala finally. “I see well-wishes and cute pictures of kitties with bandaged paws. Indian blood, yes? Ah, Pakistani. Black hair, light brown skin, she can pass for a Roma here. Although she would be dressed too well for a real gypsy.”
Gala clicked her tongue and rubbed her fingers together in the universal sign for cash. “Maybe the attackers thought you were her decadent Western sugar daddy.”
Masterton said nothing. Breathed in. Breathed out.
“Your daughter, I can see photos with a neck...mmm...thing…?”
“Neck brace, yes,” Masterton said slowly. “Also one sprained wrist, one dented shinbone, three cracked ribs.”
“Bastards,” Gala said conversationally. “Rape?”
“Not qu
ite. A few fingers probably, the doctor said. No semen, no traces of…foreign objects.”
“When I hear ‘a few fingers’,” Gala said, “I instantly imagine American television serial; sexy men and women looking at DNA spirals on computers—we found a match, Captain Kowalski, we’ll get that bastard!”
She lit another cigarette. “Nothing of the sort happened, am I correct?”
Masterton made a face. “These pathetic, incompetent, corrupt—”
Gala held up a hand. “Start minute by minute. You were both in Mamalevo.”
“Yes,” exhaled Masterton. “It was Friday, July 27th. I was having some beers with my local so-called friends, Bulgars and Brits and one Irish chap. Little shop, mini-markets, you call them here. A grimy plastic table out by the side, a few chairs around it. Folksy downshift paradise to drink your stress away. Flirting with Mara, the shopkeeper, she’s somewhat fetching after the fifth beer.”
“And the girl? Tahira?”
“She was…around. Didn’t make any friends with the local kids—just fiddled with her phone.
“So, a car stopped. I didn’t even look at it. A provincial shop, cars stop. Later was told it was a white Volkswagen Golf. On the way to a rally in Dolno Orekhovishte. I heard bawdy laughter, nasty voices, but still didn’t look at them.”
“When did you look?”
“When—when she screamed and called me.”
CHAPTER 5
Jian Bo
Malaysia
Children giggled in the obligatory afternoon rain.
From the bungalow’s porch, Jian Bo could see a slice of the sea, which looked safe and friendly from over there, its invigorating briny aroma carried over by a gentle wind.
Jian Bo wondered if he could smoke already.
The doctor had warned him off smoking, but that’s what doctors do. You go to them with a sprained ankle and they tell you no smoking. You cheat death, dodge bullets, vomit up poison, and they tell you no smoking.
The rain was thinning out. The moment would soon be over. Since he was being recalled to Beijing, it was really now or never.
Jian Bo dug out a half-empty pack of Benson & Hedges. Back on the porch he lit up, hands trembling with anticipation, then the cigarette hit him and he finally relaxed. His lungs felt fine. Even the myriad tiny aches all over his body quieted down.
The final globules of rain shimmered naively and enthusiastically on blades of grass. The sea murmured less than eighty meters away.
Jian Bo took a sip of coffee. He closed his eyes.
So, Eastern Europe... His specialty. The Second World.
Although both of Jian Bo’s parents looked like banal Han Chinese, his great-granddad’s Slavic look had made a startling comeback in him. Thus Jian Bo had naturally become the agency’s main Southeast Europe guy almost right after graduation.