Chapter one
When Harry first joined MI6, something was made very clear to him. He was not James bond, this was not 'the spy who loved me', and there was most certainly not pussy galore in his future. He wouldn't be getting super-mega-awesome spy gadgets, nor would he be given an Aston Martin that shot laser beams from its wing mirrors or anything else so ridiculous. He would, however, be given a service weapon and the right to purchase his own backup weapon, so long as it was a handgun. That was it though, everything else was mission specific. Need ten pounds of C-4? Did you requisition it before the op? No? Well, your shit out of luck sunshine, they'll be no air dropped 'care packages' full of munitions for you to scrounge up.
You want something? You plan your bloody op and you requisition the kit you need. He was told in very clear terms, the special operations branch is for the elite only, you can't even decide if you might have to blow open a door or a wall at some point then you may as well leave now.
The training was extensive though, if at any point he found he didn't have the kit needed for the job at hand, and it would happen at least once in his career, then he should be able to make it. The training covered all of this, from making IED's out of whatever he could find, to picking locks, to learning the main trade languages of the world. Through His three years in the Academy he was turned from a thrill seeking civvi-student, to a thrill seeking special operations agent of Her Majesty's Government.
Which is why it was somewhat embarrassing that he was currently being outrun by some half-starved goat farmer in rural Palestine, well the outskirts of Jericho to be precise. As the aforementioned half-starved goat farmer shot off the right, Harry drew his service pistol (a Sig-Sauer P229 chambered for .357 SIG) and kept after him, his boots pounding across the ground as the hard packed dirt soon became gravel and then would later turn into tarmac if he let the chase go on any further.
The goat farmer ducked down an alley way at almost full speed and Harry hurtled after him, catching sight of the tail end of his keffiyeh as he shot up a flight of mud brick steps and into a seemingly abandoned dwelling.
"Bollocks!" Harry whispered, furiously, as he slowed down and brought his pistol up, racking the slide as he went.
He quietly made his way up the crumbling steps towards the battered, plain wood plank door at the top. He stopped when he heard voices.
"Ziva, I've been made! There's a man outside chasing me!" That was the goat farmer. Harry wasn't too great with Hebrew but he knew it well enough to recognise it when he heard it. 'Interesting' He thought to himself as he pressed himself against the wall, pistol still up and ready, should the door open. 'Why would a suspected Arabic terrorist be speaking Hebrew?'
"What do you mean 'you've been made'!? You were followed? By who?" Another voice, angry and female this time, sounded through the door.
"I don't know who it is! He's been chasing me since he bungled our meeting at the farm. A foreigner, westerner by the looks of him."
"Did he see you come in?" The woman's voice was quiet and furtive now, though still obviously angry.
"I – I don't think so. I think I lost him on a turn, he wasn't there when I came up the steps."
'Yes, I saw you, and I'm stood right outside you bloody idiot." Harry thought to himself with a small smile. Time to find out what was going on; this was obviously not as simple as his brief had led him to believe.
With a deep breath, Harry stood back from the door and then viciously kicked it from its rusted hinges. The door flew inwards to the floor and Harry stepped through quickly, pistol raised and ready, zeroing in on the goat farmer.
"Get down on the ground!" He shouted, focused on the man he'd been chasing. That was a mistake.
Whilst the farmer had instantly dropped to the floor, the woman had sprung into action. Knocking his gun from his hand, the Woman delivered a powerful spin kick to the side of his head, a blow Harry was only just able to fend off.
'Oh Merlin' He thought as the woman advanced again, a leg whipping out in a brutal snap kick that landed on just above his left knee, forcing him halfway to the ground.
Harry blocked her follow up attack and drove his fist into her lower right ribs, impacting in a devastating liver shot that would make must men vomit.
The woman let out a loud growl of pain and drove her forehead into the bridge of his nose, soundly breaking it.
Harry's eyes watered and his nose stung like a bitch as he almost fell the rest of the way to the floor but he struggled up as the woman recovered and he moved in close to avoid any more powerful kicks, her hands shot out, going for his eyes but he batted them away and wrenched one of her wrists around, trying to turn her to an easier position to pin.
She was having none of it and sunk her teeth into his shoulder as he tried to flip her around. He grunted tried to pull her head away with his free hand but she broke free of his grip in his distraction and swiftly raised a knee into his groin.
This time Harry did drop to the floor, gasping for breath as he cradled his abused privates in one hand. The woman grabbed his other hand and twisted it behind his back as she knelt on him.
"Who are you!?" She whispered furiously into his ear.
"Ani lo medaber Ivrit, Ata medaber Anglit?" Harry said urgently as she twisted his writ just a little bit more. He needed to buy himself some time, maybe distract her.
"Fine!" She continued in English. "Who are you?"
"How about you let me up, and we can have a nice chat about it, eh?" He grunted from his position on the floor.
"Not a chance." She chuckled, and Harry felt her shift before something cold was pressed against the back of his head, a pistol. "How about we try again, who are you?" She demanded and heard her pull the hammer back.
'She's got to be IDF or something, her English has a distinct Israeli accent and there's no way your average Jihadist irregular fights like that" Harry thought fast. 'She was speaking Hebrew earlier as well. What the hell have I walked in on' Harry sighed, 'This was supposed to be simple'
"How about you, who are you?" He asked, half his face pressed against the filthy floor. She let off a round next to his ear.
"I'm asking the questions." She said in voice like silk over an anvil. "Answer my question or the next one goes through your shoulder." It was a cold statement of fact and Harry fully believe d that the next shot would, indeed, going through him rather than the floor.
'Bollocks, I best be right about this.'
"Potter, British SIS, and you are?"
Harry felt her weight leave his back and he was roughly pulled to his feet, the woman let go of his wrist but kept the gun pointed in his general direction, ready to snap to him if the need arose.
"MI6?" She asked, "I expected better from a British agent." She scoffed at him. "You were hardly any trouble."
Harry glared at her, she was right. Not only had his body taken a beating, but his ego had been rather dented by this little episode as well. He drew a little comfort from the fact that she was now slowly rubbing her ribs with a grimace, though the intense ache in his nether regions diminished that comfort by quite a bit.
"Mmhmm, anyway, who are you? IDF?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Mossad?" The woman nodded ever so slightly at that and slowly stuck out her hand.
'Obviously not a staunch traditionalist Jew then' Harry thought with a small smile as he took her hand, it was obviously well used to hard work, but deceptively soft.
"Ziva David, Mossad control officer." She said, as they shook.
"Harry Potter, SIS Intelligence officer." He let go of her hand and stared at her for a moment. "So, feel like telling me what's going on, especially with my suspected terrorist?" Harry asked as he nodded towards the goat farmer, who was still on the floor.
Ziva snorted. "Your 'suspected terrorist' is a Mossad… asset" She frowned slightly "He was placed by Mossad to try to infiltrate Hamas."
Harry looked at the goat farmer, who only just appeared to be getting over his fright and standing up. "Doesn't look like much… for a Mossad asset."
Ziva rolled her eyes. "He's an asset, not an agent. He's exactly what he appears to be, a goat farmer."
Harry nodded absently "And doesn't seem to speak a word of English by the looks of it." Indeed, the goat farmer was looking between the two of them in confusion. Intel was so very far off on this one.
"You're right, he doesn't." This time the frown was more pronounced. "So why did you chase him across a mile and a half of dirt track?"
Harry leant down to pick up his weapon and Officer David's own gun was pointed towards him in a flash. "Relax." He said, as he thumbed the Safety on and then slid it into his shoulder holster. "And I was chasing your boy because the intelligence, that Mossad probably purposely leaked, pointed towards this bloke having done a stint in Britain." Harry frowned.
"It's obviously not true, now that I've had contact with him, but you can understand that Her Majesty's Government doesn't take kindly to home-grown terrorists, especially after last month's foul up."
The Mossad agent nodded and slid her own gun into its holster on the small of her back. "Understandable, though now you've trashed my OP and you've disrupted the plans set in place by my superiors." She pursed her lips. "Mossad won't be happy about this." Now she glared. "I'm not happy about this."
Harry held his hands up on apology. "Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry about this but mistakes happen." He scratched his jaw. "And they happen more often when agencies leak this sort of thing without informing other agencies."
Mossad didn't exactly have a reputation for playing well with others, even their 'allies'. Still, it was a mistake and not one that Harry felt any need to make again, from a professional stand point this was rather embarrassing.
Officer David ran one hand through her thick hair and then pinched the bridge of her nose "Oy vey." She shook her head. "I need to contact Mossad and tell them what happened." She glared at Harry. "Or who happened."
Harry nodded and looked around awkwardly. "I need to contact my handler as well." He sighed and went to stand by the sole window in the room. He pulled a sat phone from one of the pockets in his jacket and held down the connect button.
"Please verify." The electronic voice came across.
"One, one, zero, nine, two, eight, eight, nine." Harry spoke his eight number agency serial number and took the time to look around the room he was in as the signal was encrypted and then bounced through multiple satellites and towers.
The room was small, bare wood flooring that needed work and mud brick walls covered in lime wash, there was a threadbare rug by the doorway and Harry was stood by the only window. The window was closed and covered by a small net. It's amazing, the details you miss, when you're having your balls knocked up behind your ears.
There was a noise, almost like dial-up, as the phone signal was encrypted and then he was connected with his handler in MI6, one James Brass.
"What's your situation Agent?"
"Clusterfuck, the suspect was a Mossad plant." There was silence on the line for a moment and Harry noticed that Officer David was also talking to her superiors, in quiet Hebrew in the opposite corner. The goat farmer was stood between them, obviously not sure what to do.
"Say again, you said he was a Mossad plant?"
"Affirmative, the guy was – is – a Mossad 'asset'. He was supposedly planted to gain information on Hamas. Please advise."
"Wait." Harry nodded to himself. James was a good man, if a little odd. He made a good handler. "New orders from the top, you're coming home for debriefing. Proceed to Ben Gurion airport, terminal three. Your flight tomorrow leaves 14:00 local time."
"Wilco, out." Harry tucked the sat phone away and turned towards the centre of the room. Officer David was just finishing up her own conversation as well; she tucked her own phone away and turned to the goat farmer. A few short words and a nod later and he left.
She spoke to Harry next. "The op's been scuttled. I've been reassigned. Mossad is not happy with you."
Harry shrugged. "At this point it's for the higher-ups to sort out. I've been reca-" Harry was interrupted by shouts from outside and the sound of car doors thumping closed.
Harry quickly moved to the window and peeked out through the netting.
'Shit. Four blokes, armed, heading for the back of the building."
"Four blokes, packing type 56's, they're heading for the steps at the back." Harry drew his pistol and thumbed the safety off. "You sure your boy was on your side?" He asked.
"Like I said, he was an asset not an agent." Officer David said as she pulled the slide back on her own pistol and checked the chamber. "Do you have a car?"
Harry shook his head; he could hear loud footfalls as the armed men drew closer. "Too far away, you?"
She shook her head with a frown. "No." She moved to the side of the Doorway and nodded towards Harry.
Harry moved to the opposite side of the door and shot the Mossad agent a tight smile.
The pounding became louder as the men moved up the steps, the noise stopped for a moment, and then all hell broke loose.
Two men came in; waiting for the first man to go past Harry shot the second man in the knee as he entered, then again in the head. The first man spun around at the noise, just in time to catch a .357 Sig in face. It was over in seconds.
Officer David stepped out the door, pistol barking, as she shot the third man twice in the chest. The last man was stood at the bottom of the steps and he brought his rifle to bear as Ziva hit the deck and rapidly crawled back into the room, the sharp crack of multiple 7.62 rounds chasing her in.
She looked to Harry and quickly said. "One left, though we need to hurry, more will soon come." Harry nodded.
"I'll cover you, you shoot the bastard." He shouted as he leant out the door frame and fired four rapid shots. The last man dove for cover and Harry fired three more shots at the low wall he was ducked behind.
Just as the last armed man raised his head to take in the situation, he caught a round to his cheekbone courtesy of Ziva.
"Let's get out of here!" She spoke quickly to Harry as she half-ran down the steps. "We need to find a car."
Harry followed closely. 'Two rounds left.' "We can take theirs, they won't be needing it anymore, it should be around front." He said as he slowly stepped to the side of the mud brick house.
Officer David advanced down the side alley, pistol raised; as Harry followed her walking backwards, covering the direction they came.
She reached the end of the alley and pressed her left hand back, tapping Harry on the shoulder. He turned to her and nodded as he stepped into the empty open. He soon saw the vehicle the men had arrived in, a banged up technical with a dirty great big Russian KPV machine gun on the back. Harry let out a low whistle; if they'd just sprayed the building with that thing then the chances were he'd be a fine pâté right now.
Officer David slid into the driver seat and Harry hopped over the bonnet, getting into the front passenger seat.
"Idiots left key in the ignition. We'll have to ditch this before we hit Jerusalem though, where's your car?" She asked as Harry settled in his seat.
"About two miles south of here, follow the track until it meets a small farm, it's parked around the back of the main building.
Letting Ziva Drive was either the very worst, or very best, decision Harry had ever made.
On one hand, it was both terrifying and exhilarating. On the other hand, it was both terrifying and exhilarating.
It was very fast however, and the two mile drive was over in a matter of moments.
As ziva pulled up behind the main farmhouse, Harry hopped out of the technical and fished his car keys out of a pocket on his cargo trousers.
He unlocked the doors on a discreet black coupé and slid into the driver's seat, whacking the air con up to high as he went. Officer David slid into the passenger seat and Harry quickly reversed out and drove onto the track, Heading west towards highway ninety.
Just after turning off of highway ninety and onto highway one, which led straight towards Tel Aviv past Jerusalem, A strange gurgling noise came from the passenger seat.
Harry raised an eyebrow and looked toward the Mossad agent currently sharing his car. "Hungry?" He asked.
"I haven't eaten since yesterday." Was the simple reply; it wasn't unheard of in this business, it wasn't even unusual.
"There's a bag of sunflower seeds and a chocolate bar in the glove compartment."
It was almost comical, the way the hardened Mossad agent leapt at the idea of food, whether it was the idea of sunflower seeds or chocolate Harry wasn't sure.
After a moment or two of rummaging she was holding the food in one hand and something else in the other.
"What on earth is this?" She asked, holding up a heavy looking revolver. "Where did you get this antique?" There was definitely laughter in her voice and Harry frowned, looking towards her.
"Oi! Don't knock the classics." He said as he took a hand off of the wheel to grab the gun from her. "This here is a Webley mark six, four fifty-five revolver, it'll kill someone just as well as my SIG and it'll do it with style and panache as well." Harry placed the gun on the dashboard.
Ziva held her hands up in apology. "I'm sorry; I will refrain from insulting your antiques from now on."
Harry snorted. "It's not an antique; it's a precision engineered, highly reliable, sexy looking bringer of death."
"It's an antique." She deadpanned.
Harry merely shook his head. They were now about twenty miles away from Jerusalem and about fifty miles away from Tel Aviv.
"Where am I taking you anyway?" Harry asked as the needle drifted past sixty.
"Tel Aviv. I need to report back and you owe me for wrecking my op." Harry nodded absently.
"I was heading to Tel Aviv anyway. I've been recalled to London and I've got a flight to catch tomorrow."
Ziva nodded as she quietly munched on her sunflower seeds. "You handled yourself well back there. After our tussle I was expecting you to be dead weight."
Harry shot her an odd look. "Er, thanks I guess. I have to admit, you gave me quite a surprise, I underestimated you and I got my arse handed to me because of it. I won't be making that mistake again."
She made a small noise of agreement and eagerly set about devouring the rest of the sunflower seeds.
The rest of the journey passed without comment and was over within an hour and a half.
"Pull over here." Ziva said as they passed a falafel stand on the corner Dubnov Street, across from Cameri theatre.
Harry swung into the car park on the corner and killed the engine. Ziva opened the door and made to get out. Harry took a leap.
"Officer David, wait." She stopped, looking at him curiously as he scribbled something on a piece of paper.
"That's my work number, if you ever need help." Ziva seemed to be trying quite hard not to roll her eyes. Harry smiled.
"I'm good in a fight, but you're excellent, so this isn't an offer to help you kick down doors. I am, however, a bloody brilliant intelligence officer. In this line of work it's important to know people. Someone in MI6 is a good someone to know, we practically wrote the book on this sort of thing. Besides, like you said, I owe you one."
Ziva took the note and slipped it into a pocket as she stepped out of the car. "Thank you Officer Potter." She said with a nod.
"No problem Officer David, you take care now." Harry said with a grin; and with a wink, he leant over, closed the door, and sped off.
'Now, I'm sure there's a hotel around here somewhere…'
A/N: Well, as you can see, It's been a while and i'm out of practice. Hopefully my writing will improve once I get back into the swing of things. Now, I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed :) Many thanks guys, I really enjoy reading your thoughts and ideas keep 'em coming. :) As always, please read and review.
