Prologue

The Ottomans founded the old section of the city in the 15th Century, but before the Ottomans, there were the Romans, the Goths, and even Slavs. It was an ancient place. The architecture reflected this fact with a mix of Medieval European, Ottoman, and Austrio-Hungarian influenced buildings, as well as religious structures that ranged from pagan to Islam to Christianity. The constant mix of historic periods and style gave the old section of Sarajevo an ancient feel, but something darker pervaded the old city, something lurked just under the surface, something antediluvian and wicked. Maybe it was all the bloodshed and loss of innocent lives, which had occurred in Sarajevo through the decades, but it could not be argued that underneath the facade a preternatural evil permeated.

An elderly man, his skin pale from lack of vitamin D as he spent too many hours in doors, sat at an outdoor café. Blue green veins were visible in his sinewy hands, which he used to scratch a head full of white hair. Across from him at his table sat a dark haired younger looking man with a handsome. Like the older man, he was dressed all in black. The café was a short distance from Cathedral of Jesus Heart in the Stari Grad section of Sarajevo. Even though it was summer, a cool wind blew across their faces causing the priest to shiver, while the man inhaled filling his lungs with fresh air. Before they could begin their conversation, a comely waitress brought a plate of cevapi, which was meat grilled dumplings flavored with onions, garlic and spices, white rice, grilled pita bread, and some plain yogurt, and placed it in front of the large man along with a cup of glass of larger. In front of the older man, she placed a hot cup of coffee. She smiled at them and left.

"I feel cold," the older man stated in perfect non-accented English, as he sipped his hot coffee.

"That's because you spend all your time in libraries doing research, old man, it's left you without warm blood in your veins. You should spend more time outside. Now this is good fresh air. Enjoy it," the dark haired remarked with a slight Israeli accent punctuating his words then he started stuffing his face with cevapi. "I love this stuff, especially the amount of garlic they put in the meat."

"Garlic doesn't agree with my stomach," the older man responded with obvious disdain towards the food.

"Sorry that you don't enjoy good food. I guess cevapi is a young man's dish," he said as he shoveled the food into his mouth as if he was in a rush. This was habit he had picked up in a life where he was forever eating on the run.

"You're not that young a man, Malachi," the older man sniffed at the man.

"Being Kidon does that to you," Malachi Ben-Gidon said with a grin between mouthfuls of meat and pita bread.

"You should start thinking about becoming a control officer. Assassination is a young man's game," said the older man.

"Let's not waste any more time with shop talk. What is it you have for us, Gregory?" Malachi asked.

The older man sighed then spoke: "A Russian Mafia member by the name of Vladimir Newka is meeting with a man named Kristijan Wren, who we believe will interest you."

"Get the smug expression off of your face, Gregory. Is that all you have to give me or is there more?"

The smug expression faded from the man's face, as he considered the information he was about to share. Having a sense of superiority over a Paladin was enjoyable, yet what he had to say next stifled that joy.

"There is more," Gregory started in a halting manner. "The Russian Mafia was hired by Wren's employee to steal nuclear material, and now Newka has the item. It is an important that this transfer from one party to the other be stopped. We would be in your debt."

"There was a time would handle this yourself, but that was your country played with genocide," said Gregory.

Malachi shoveled some food in his mouth then he took a sip of his drink. He understood that men like Gregory fed Mossad information in expectations that Mossad would act. It was a game they played with each.

"All right. I'll stop the transfer of this item," Malachi broke the silence, "as a favor to you, my friend."

"Thank God. I can give you the address where Newka is staying. He is supposed to meet with Wren this evening and do the exchange somewhere in the city."

"I'll follow him this evening to the meeting and retrieve the suitcase, that it what it is, right?" said Malachi.

Gregory nodded.

Malachi wiped his mouth with his napkin and then tossed it onto his half-eaten plate of cevapi. He looked into the eyes of the older man. There was fear in his eyes, as well as hope.

"No more games, no more feeding each other just enough information, this is too important. Tell me who does this Kristijan Wren work for?" he asked.

"Julian Benoit, the nephew of Rene Benoit" answered the Gregory.

"Le Grenouille was shut down. He'd dead," said Malachi.

"Julian is his nephew and is reviving the family business," said Gregory. "A suitcase nuke will make him the biggest player on the block."

Malachi appeared physically to deflate when he heard the name and a suitcase nuke were verified.

NCIS

NCIS Headquarters was still under construction after the bombing by Harper Dearing. Lives were lost and the confidence of the agency shaken, but the agency's responsibilities remained. Operation Broken Arrow was being planned with Special Agent Don Dobbs in the lead, but Dearing's bomb killed Dobbs. Vance sat reviewing the two best remaining candidates: Special Agent Heather Mills and Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

Mills was experience in fieldwork overseas and undercover work. She was also a friend of Dobbs. Vance liked Mills. She was smart, beautiful, and competent; she was a good choice. Maybe the better choice of the two agents.

DiNozzo was mercurial, a cop at heart more than a federal agent. He was sometimes brilliant and sometimes as annoying a two year old child. He was also loyal to Special Agent Gibbs more than even the agency. Secretary Jarvis offered his opinion and it was DiNozzo. He said that DiNozzo's history with the Benoit Family could be used to keep him under control, but the final choice was Vance's.

Director Vance picked up Mills' folder and smiled. She was a damned good candidate.

NCIS

It was early evening, just past eight, and the sky was graying with a white full moon glowing. Malachi, dressed in black shirt, pants, and boots with a black Italian soft linen overcoat on, stood on a rooftop of a building wearing night vision binocular goggles looking down at Bascarsija, the Ottoman-Turkish style cobble stone main street of the old city, with its bazaar of shops and stalls selling jewelry, pottery, metalwork and food. He was looking for Newka who would lead him to Wren. Once he zeroed in on his target, he would use his years of training to do the rest of the work for him.

As people milled about shopping for items, bric-a-brac, as well as buying street fare food from stalls, Morgan watched patiently. Men and women moved about the streets in constant motion on a 72 degree night, a whir of greenish figures through the night vision goggles enjoying themselves. Suddenly, Morgan recognized a figure that quickly flashed by his sight. He switched off the night vision function. Deliberately, he searched the crowd until he picked up the form of the Russian mafia delivery boy, Newka. Once he found him, he took off his goggles and looked down in order to visually identify the figure he needed to follow. Spotting his target, he watched as Newka bought a piece of fruit, an apple, at a stand. He was a six foot tall, long blond hair man wearing black leather pants and a black jacket over a black silk shirt and carrying a large sliver suitcase.

Malachi breathed in the air taking in the smells of the city. He then headed for the roof door and made his way quickly down the four flights of stairs and out into the square. Quickly, he scanned the crowd until he picked up Newka. Blocking out the sounds and scents of everyone else, Malachi allowed his years of training and experience be his guide through the mix of 15th century and 21st Century odors that flavored the air. Within the stones and dirt of this old section of the city were the lingering odors of fallen Ottoman warriors and the many builders who began this place. It smelled foreign to Malachi. But those smells weren't alone. Malachi could recognize a whiff of the Hungarian spices and his imagination even thought his nose picked up a hint of the dull, oppressive communists, who had added their flavor to this area.

Malachi followed Newka with his eyes focused on his back. As they meandered through the city, Morgan knew where they were headed. Newka was headed for the empty Asim Ferhatovic Hase Stadium, formerly known as Kosevo Stadium, where the Olympics were played out not too long ago. Now it was a place for this war torn country's national football team to play in. But, it would also make a good place for an exchange, thought Malachi.

He watched as Newka walked to a gate that was supposed to be locked. Newka tested the door, which easily opened, and walked inside of the stadium. He waited until Newka had disappeared into the stadium then he made his own move to join him. Running at top speed, he ran towards a stadium wall. When he reached it, he leapt at the wall, grabbing hold of whatever he could get a grip on, and then he scaled it with some more difficulty than he anticipated. He wanted some height to do what he needed to do. As he reached the top of the wall he looked down to see that he was several stories up. The distance between him and the ground made his head swim for a moment, but he fought it off and finished his climb.

Going over the top of the wall, he inhaled deeply to gain his breath. The stadium was filled with green colored seats, a large green field for football and track and field events, and a reddish brown track circling the green field. It was a simple stadium, nothing too extravagant for this poor country. In the middle of the football field, Malachi spotted Kristijan Wren. Wren was a tall imposing, dark hair man in a very expensive Italian suit. He stood in the middle of the field holding his silver metal briefcase and waiting with an air of boredom. Newka was slowly making his way towards the man.

Reaching into the hidden sheath of his overcoat, Malachi drew out a .357 Glock with an ergonomic grip. Malachi began to rush down towards the field and Wren. Hurdling seats he sped down towards Newka and Wren, who heard him coming, stopped and turned to see who it was. His face lit up in a bright horrible smile, as he saw Malachi coming towards them. Newka reached under his coat, drew his own revolver, and started firing at Malachi, who returned fire. His bullets landed at the feet of Newka tearing up grass and soil, while Wren watched them with a lopsided grin on his face.

Hurdling the last railing Malachi was now on track level, also. He stopped all forward motion, went down on one knee, and fired four rounds into Newka, whose chest exploded with four bursts of red from the bullets. Newka fell to the ground dead. Malachi stood up feeling momentarily self-satisfied until he saw that Wren was still smiling, then his instincts kicked in and he was sure that there must be a sniper somewhere in the stadium. Moving to his right, it felt if someone had punched his right shoulder hard. He was shot. He stood there for a moment stunned by his own mistake until the next bullet exploded his chest. Falling to the ground, Malachi grimaced. He had failed. Wren had the nuke. Deputy Director David would be pissed at his funeral.

NCIS

Vance looked at the image of Eli David on the MTAC screen. The man seemed greyer and older. There was an aura of heaviness around him as if his responsibilities had become too great for him. Vance stood there looking at his friend and waiting for him to speak.

"Leon, Operation Broken Arrow is now a priority," said Deputy Director David.

"How bad?" asked Vance.

"A suitcase nuke," said David.

"What happened?" asked Vance.

"One of my people failed," said David. "Officer Ben-Gidon died trying to stop the exchange. I need your team in Israel in three days to start training and coordination. We must hunt down this suitcase and get it back before it is used in either my country or yours."

"I have three members ready but the originally chosen team leader is dead. I need to pick a new one," said Vance.

"Who are the choices, Leon?" asked David.

"Agent Heather Mills and Agent Anthony DiNozzo," said Vance.

Vance knew that Eli and DiNozzo had history. He would let Eli choose making the decision easier and giving him cover with the SecNav.

"Your choice, Eli. Mills or DiNozzo?" said Vance.

"I want Agent DiNozzo. I'll expect him and his team on Friday," said Eli.

Vance tried not to look shocked.

"Are you sure, Eli?" asked Vance.

"I am positive, Leon," said Eli.