Tsunami Connection Read Online Free

from the bottle, savoring the sensation of bubbles
pouring down their throats and flowing over their lips before Sam got up and
looked in the outdoor cabinet for some glasses. He returned with three wine
glasses in his hands and said, "It's a new beginning."
    The conversation turned back to the mission. Yochana
explained that Zak and his team would meet Kefira either in Paris or a small
town near Birmingham, England, in a few days. Sam made his apologies and left,
as he had a meeting in the early hours the next day with the Prime Minister.
After he left, the two women looked at each other; tears moistened both of
their eyes.
    "Hold me, please," asked Kefira.
    "Are you holding up?"
    "It's an awful lot for three days. I'll go to Great
Britain. Now I need to sleep."
    "Just to be clear, your mission is to neutralize those
responsible for this nightmare. Try to get information from this MacAuley
before you terminate him. I'll arrange a military flight for you at noon. Sweet
dreams."

MEETING
IN REDDITCH
    February 10,
2012
    On Love Lane, outside Redditch,
England, Kefira's driver accelerated abruptly. Untrimmed sections of hedgerow
clattered against the body of their racing green Austin Mini. Laneway entrances
and exits flashed by as Kefira glanced again at the young woman driving. She
down shifted yet another time, spurring the car's engine into a leopard-like
whine.
    "I never would've guessed you could drive like
this!"
    "Aren't you the one who lectures on appearances being
deceiving?"
    "Touché … someone's been talking about me."
    "You got it. Anyway, driving is like putting on a glove
for me. It was second nature from the first time I drove my father's car at 14
years old," added Sarah, downshifting once more.
    "Is it necessary to drive so fast now?"
    "Never know when you'll be havin' to run from the 'Old
Bill'," replied the driver, using an Irish lilt.
    "Forgive my ignorance, but who's the 'Old Bill'?"
asked Kefira.
    "It's possibly a reference to a popular World War I
cartoon character, or maybe Sir Robert Peel, one of the founders of modern
policing. Nobody really knows for sure," said Sarah.
    Sarah used the handbrake to lock the rear wheels.
Immediately after, she released the handbrake and accelerated into a
perpendicular laneway directly on her right. The car stopped and Kefira raised
her hands to protect herself from bending into the dash. Her belt snapped hard
enough against her chest to bruise.
    "Really nothing to it – just car rally stuff. This car
has what they call a fly-off handbrake, specially made for doing that turn. I
just couldn't resist."
    "Spare me the details. I am sure your skills will come
in handy. It was great feeling your positive energy behind the wheel,"
replied Kefira as she stepped out of the low-lying Austin, rubbing her collar
bone.
    The red brick, Tudor-style, country manor in front of Kefira
and Sarah displayed stability and security. Hardwood smoke curled from the
hearth inside before an isolated temperature inversion swept the smoke back
towards the ground. It smelled divine.
    Kefira reacted to the odor as though it was comfort food,
sparking memories of off-season visits to her family's island home on Paros,
near the small ferry landing to Antiparos, in the Cyclades Islands of Greece.
Kefira sighed. Wood smoke always brings out the nostalgia in me. The smoke made
her think of her father's penchant for building fires in every room to keep the
wintery dampness out of their home. The home had a nickname. It was called the
Pirate's Den, after an old story of pirates plying the Cyclades Straits in that
part of the Mediterranean. Swells near Paros have been recorded between three
and ten meters in height, seriously endangering sailors who did not seek refuge
before these afternoon winds picked up. What were those winds called again,
miltemi, in Greek.
    Kefira remembered her father's pirate stories at bedtime.
These memories surprisingly triggered her biological clock, tugging at