The Assassin's Daydream || Mitch Rapp

Chapter 42

The team arrived in Beirut few hours ago and were settling in their rooms. Mitch had been calling Aayat non stop ever since they landed Beirut but apparently her phone was switched off.

"Did you finally come to your senses and realized your girlfriend ditched you?" Hurley rhetorically asked.

"You wouldn't have come all the way to Beirut just based on my words. Even you know very well that Sayyed is here." Mitch snapped

Before Hurley could come up with a smart ass come back, Rupert pitched in "Guys we don't have time for arguments. We are here now in Beirut so there is no going back. Mitch why is Aayat not answering?"

"I don't know. The last thing she said to me was that she was going to meeting Sayyed at this place and—" Mitch stopped abruptly as realization dawned upon him.

"Oh god."

"What do you mean oh god? What happened?" Richard hastily asked

"I hope I'm wrong on this but I think Sayyed found out about us and I think he captured her." Mitch said as he worriedly started pacing around the room

"Or maybe he already killed her." Rupert casually said

If looks could kill, Rupert would've burnt to ashes right then and there just by the look Mitch gave him.

"How do you know he found out?" Hurley asked

Mitch looked back at Hurley and replied "Because Sayyed was suspicious. Why else would Aayat not answer her phone?" he said as he started working on his laptop

"What are you doing?" Richard asked

"I am tracking her cell phone." He replied

Few seconds later he grunted "I was able to track her phone before, but now I cant. Sayyed surely has her." Mitch confirmed and looked at Rupert angrily before continuing "And I'm sure he didn't kill her because he needs her to find us."

Rupert gulped and quickly averted his eyes to Hurley before asking "So what do we do now?"

"We need to carefully plan everything now. We cannot afford to make any mistakes." Hurley continued as the team started planning their move.

They took their time planning everything because this was a serious mission and they couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

"So why do I have to go and negotiate with the Armenians?" Mitch asked as he prepared to leave

"Because I said so. Now leave." Hurley ordered

Normally Mitch wouldn't have just taken Hurley's tone like that but right now he was too worried about Aayat. Sayyed was a heartless bastard and he knew very well that Sayyed would feel no remorse or pain in hurting Aayat for betraying him.

He left to meet with Armenians to negotiate with them about the weaponry and Sayyed's location.

An hour later Hurley and the team decided to execute their plan. First Hurley went down the lobby and noticed a man sitting in the chair with his back to the door. It was probably nothing, but then again Hurley had survived all these years by noticing the little things.

Hurley watched him intently as he crossed the red-tiled floor. The man slowly closed his eyes and went back to dozing.

Hurley went outside, keeping an eye out for things like goons. He then made his eye towards a small market. The streets weren't busy. They were almost empty in fact. He couldn't remember if it was normal or abnormal for a city like Beirut to be so slow at this time.

There was a boy standing in front of the market. Hurley guessed him to be around eight. He was selling newspapers.

Hurley approached the boy and smiled at him. He didn't care where he was; you had to admire a kid who got his butt out of bed to sell something. As he reached into his pocket to grab some money bells started going off.

There was movement to his left, from the market, two or three car engines turned over and then there were footfalls.

Two men came out of the supermarket – big, burley guys in uniform who stopped just out of his reach. Car tires were now squealing and engines were roaring as vehicles closed in from three directions.

Hurley turned with the idea of running back towards the hotel but there were two more men hoofing it up the sidewalk.

In less than five seconds he was surrounded by ten men and three sedans. Six of the men were wearing police uniforms and four were in civilian attire. The civilians had pistols drawn. They could be either part of militia or detectives or worse, Syrian intelligence officers.

Hurley noticed that not of a single of them attempted to lay a hand on him. Hurley calculated the odds, even if he had a gun he wasn't sure he could have gotten himself out this jam.

They all looked nervous, which in itself told him something.

Normally it was club first and ask questions later.

Hurley greeted the men in Arabic and asked "What seems to be the problem?"

"Good morning," announced a smiling man in a three-piece suit who appeared just beyond the phalanx of men. "We have been waiting for you, Mr. Sherman." He glanced ever so slightly at the two men behind Hurley and gave them a nod.

Hurley turned and blocked the first blow with his left hand, wrist to wrist, and then delivered a palm strike to the man's nose. He ripped the truncheon from the man's hand and ducked just in time to miss the blow from his partner. The man was out of position from swinging so hard and had left his ribs exposed, so Hurley rammed him with the truncheon and sent him to the ground. Just as he turned to face the others he was cracked across the head and then the back. He dropped to one knee and then to the ground as the batons and feet came crashing down. As they took the fight out of him, Hurley lay bleeding and hoping that Richards and Rupert had enough time to run.