Kitabı oku: «Double Blindside», sayfa 3
“This was on the side of our fuel tank,” McCarter said.
Kartal’s expression revealed her thoughts. “You are saying this was placed at NIO?”
“Couldn’t have been anywhere else. The minute we drove out of the gate we never stopped moving,” James said. “Had to have been already in place.”
“Not your fault, love.” McCarter smiled. “But it tells me we have enemies closer than we thought.”
“You were with us, too,” James said. “In the same danger we were.”
“Part of the package,” Encizo said. “You are now officially on the hit list.”
“We should go,” Kartal said moments later. “It will be a little more peaceful at your hotel.”
“You think?” James said. “Let’s hope there isn’t a welcoming committee waiting there, as well.”
McCarter said, “Hold that thought.”
He took out his sat phone and called up Stony Man. When Price answered, he quickly brought her up to date with the current events.
Price listened in patient silence.
“And how long have you been in Turkey?” she said when he had finished.
“I know. Fast turnaround on this one.”
“You sure you’re all okay?”
“Fine, love, but I have a little job for you. Cancel our current hotel. Find us another and book us in.”
“You think the opposition might know where you were going to stay?”
“They found our car. So I’d rather not find out if they had our hotel under surveillance, as well.”
* * *
THE STONY MAN call came less than twenty minutes later, Price updating McCarter on their accommodation status.
“You’re booked in,” she said, offering McCarter the hotel details. “Unless your Turkish sparring partners have access to Stony Man, you should be clear.”
“Good,” McCarter said. “Efficient as ever. We’ll keep in touch.”
“Make sure you do.”
McCarter beckoned and they all piled into the taxi. He told Kartal the new address. She relayed this to the driver and they drove away from the scene.
“Can you find out where the wounded guy was taken?” McCarter asked. “In case we need to talk to him later.”
“Yes, I can do that. Do you believe he will give you anything useful?”
“It’s always worth a try,” McCarter said. “If you don’t ask questions, you won’t get answers.”
“A logical line of thought, boss,” James said in a tone reminiscent of Mr. Spock.
“Star Trek,” Kartal said lightly.
“Ah,” Encizo said, “the global reach of American culture.”
“How does it sound in Turkish?” James said.
“If you check your hotel TV, it could be showing.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The hotel was large and close to the water. Part of a global chain, it was the sort of place that had lots of rooms and guests. The taxi pulled up to the entrance and the three Phoenix Force men hauled out their luggage and followed Kartal inside. She confirmed the rate and McCarter handed her the cash to pay.
“Perhaps I should call back later,” Kartal said once they’d checked in. “Allow you to settle. It will give me the chance to change into something a little less dramatic.”
She left them, picking up one of the taxis waiting outside.
“I don’t have any objections to the way she dresses,” Encizo said as they made their way to their rooms.
“This thing you have about women in uniform, carrying guns…” McCarter said. “I think we need to talk about it.”
They took the stairs to their floor, parting company as they located their individual rooms. Even in the comparative safety of the hotel, the Phoenix Force commandos made sure security was on their minds, each keeping a handgun close. They had agreed to meet up in the cafeteria after freshening up.
After a quick shower and a change into fresh clothing, McCarter used his sat phone to contact Stony Man again and spoke to Brognola.
“Hell of an introduction to Turkey,” the big Fed said.
“Not the first time we’ve had a warm welcome,” McCarter reminded him.
“So, what happened?” Brognola asked. “You got any suspects?”
McCarter laughed. “How about the NIO? They’re the only ones who knew we were here. As far as we’re aware.”
“They were supposed to be the only ones aware of your presence in Turkey. Big agency. But it’s not unknown to have leaks in large organizations. We should know about that. This Özgürlük deal is a Turkish phenomenon. Nationalistic fervor can turn up in surprising places. And so can prying eyes and ears.”
“That supposed to make me feel better?”
“Not really. Just aware.”
“Hal, I’m already aware we are in a tricky position here.”
“Just saying stay alert, David.”
“Concern noted.”
“Any doubts about your Turkish lady cop?”
“I think she was as surprised as we were when it happened. I’m just glad she’s on our side. She handles herself pretty well.”
“My suspicious nature warns me to remind you to keep watch until you’re one hundred and one percent sure.”
“Don’t worry, Mother, we will. You have any results from Gary and T.J. yet?”
“Still waiting.”
“Okay, talk to you if and when something happens,” McCarter said, knowing that sooner or later something would.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sea of Marmara
“There is no easy way to tell you this,” Hakan Kaplan said. “Amal is dead. He was killed by the Americans when his team attempted to neutralize them. Salan was wounded and taken prisoner.”
Kaplan waited for Kadir Polat’s reaction and was surprised when the man failed to do or say anything.
Sitting at his desk on his cruiser, Polat shifted his gaze to look beyond the open window to the glittering sea. Sunlight danced across the waves. He saw nothing but emptiness. The death of his younger brother had affected him more than any outward sign might show.
Like a movie played in reverse, he saw the images that took Amal from manhood to his teen years, then beyond to when he was a child. Always at Kadir’s side. The tie between them had strengthened as they’d grown. Amal had always been the impulsive one. Always ready to take risks. His older brother had been forced to step in on many occasions to pull Amal out of dangerous situations. Amal’s recklessness was part of his character and no matter how many times he placed himself in danger he would do the same thing again and again.
* * *
WITH THEIR PARENTS having died while both Kadir and Amal were young, it had been the elder brother’s responsibility to look out for Amal. Being the heir to the Polat dynasty had made it easier. There were always advisers around, people to watch over the young brothers. As the years passed and Kadir assumed full control over the family businesses, he remained aware of his family responsibilities. Family was important in Turkey. Kadir never forgot that.
He’d spent time with Amal. He’d indulged the young man. He knew he’d taken that indulgence too far at times, but his love for his younger sibling had been too great. There were times he’d had to bail Amal out, rescue him from the escapades of youth. If it wasn’t the fast cars Amal drove, it was the young women he always seemed to hang on his arm. No matter how many times problems came along, Kadir had cleared the way for Amal.
It helped that as well as being ultrawealthy, Polat was a well-liked man. His power and influence had grown over the years and he’d used his position to get Amal out of his various scrapes. Living in such luxury as the Polat dynasty offered, Amal had grown into a good-looking, intelligent young man. But he’d never moved on from adolescence. He’d simply enjoyed the good life. The money. The trappings of wealth and the lack of responsibility.
With Kadir involved in the growing Özgürlük organization, Amal had found himself being pushed aside to a greater degree. Özgürlük had become Kadir Polat’s passion. His need to free Turkey from the grip of America and the base at Incirlik increasingly devoured his life. For the first time since childhood, Amal had felt himself being pushed into the shadows.
He’d realized that to regain his brother’s attention, Amal had to insert himself into Özgürlük. He might not have fully understood his brother’s politics but he quickly grasped that Kadir was becoming a national figure. The rallies and the constant meetings with important people appealed to Amal. He’d understood the meaning of celebrity. He’d joined in with Kadir’s new obsession. He met the people involved.
And he’d allowed himself to be caught up in the heady atmosphere of the crowds. The eager men who wanted to become part of Kadir’s army, the willing participants clamoring to use affirmative action on behalf of Özgürlük. He’d allied himself to the cause, finding this new experience liberating, and he’d understood Kadir’s anger when it was learned a team of Americans had been assigned to work with the NIO in an attempt to disrupt Özgürlük’s plans.
The Özgürlük inside man at the NIO had given out details of the arrival of the Americans, and Amal had put himself forward as part of the hit team preparing to strike at them.
The operation had been devised in haste. The moment the Americans arrived at the NIO, the Özgürlük insider had planted a tracking device on the official vehicle assigned to the team. Amal and his partner had waited in their battered pickup until the Americans were driven out of the NIO building. With the tracking unit working, it was not difficult to pick up the NIO vehicle’s location.
It had seemed such an easy operation. They would trail the NIO vehicle until a moment presented itself. They would ram the vehicle and fire on the Americans.
It had been a poorly conceived plan, Kadir knew, badly executed, and this time Amal’s cavalier disregard for his own safety had cost him his life.
* * *
AT TWENTY-FOUR years old he was gone. Everything taken away. And his older brother was left with a yawning chasm of blackness. No more Amal. No smiling, handsome young man with a wild enthusiasm for life—and the loyalty to Özgürlük that had taken him to his death.
Özgürlük. Freedom.
Amal had achieved his own freedom in a perverse way. He no longer had to suffer the denials of Turkey’s political and military alliance with the Americans. His passion to sever the links binding the country to U.S. needs had cost him his life, and Kadir Polat would not allow that to go unavenged.
“How did you find out about this?”
“I spoke to some of the others. The younger ones Amal was friendly with. They told me he had volunteered when the operation was planned. Amal was eager to prove himself to you. To show he was not worthless. The younger recruits kept everything to themselves. I think it was a group effort to show their loyalty to Özgürlük.”
“Amal had no need to prove himself,” Polat said. “He was my brother. That was all I needed to know.”
“He was young, Kadir. He thought he needed to take that step,” Kaplan said. “I know that was not what you wanted. But you know how he was. Impulsive. Ready to go ahead and show you how smart he was.”
Polat understood. His younger brother had lived in his shadow for so long. Always eager to please Kadir by doing something reckless.
That wild streak had never left him. It had stayed with him all through his young life, and in the end it had killed him.
“Will you bring Amal home for me?” Polat said quietly. “Arrange things quietly?”
Kaplan nodded slowly.
Polat knew he would not need to ask again. His mind was still coming to terms with his loss. The full force would come later. Most likely when he was alone at night. The time when resistance was low. When the shadows held a thousand images and the silence the whispers of lost voices.
One thing Polat knew for certain. His brother’s death would not be forgotten. He would see to that. The Americans would pay a heavy price. Their interference in Özgürlük’s plans had to be stopped. Too much had already been invested in the program. Many people and a great deal of money. The whole thing had a momentum of its own now. Piece by piece, matters were coming together. Özgürlük was close to initiating its strike. A plan that would play havoc with Turkey and its relationship with the U.S. He had a meeting that day with other members of Özgürlük’s committee. That meeting would put into motion critical operations. Operations that would start the countdown…and once that was done, nothing would be allowed to interfere.
Özgürlük took precedence over all other considerations. Even the death of his brother would be sidelined until such time as it became acceptable. Polat struggled to push Amal’s death to the back of his mind. He wanted his revenge against the people who had killed Amal. He understood that in time he would have that revenge. But first the operation had to be carried forward regardless of personal grievances.
Polat reflected how swiftly life could change. How with a single act the tracks of existence could be wiped away. Earlier that day Amal had been alive and obviously eager to take on his covert mission. Now, hours later, that young life had ended and Polat had to carry on as if it had not taken place.
“See to it Amal is taken somewhere safe and looked after. Do this for me.”
“Of course. It will be done, my friend.”
“And find out about these Americans. The ones who murdered him. Be assured it was murder. I will accept no other explanation.”
Kaplan nodded. “I understand. Our people within the police department will help. I will arrange it. I will inform you as soon as I have anything useful.”
Polat stood, moving from behind his desk. He clasped Kaplan to him, the contact solid.
“Always at my side, Hakan. With advice and friendship. Now I need your strength more than ever.”
“And you will have it. Go about your business with the committee. There is a great deal to finalize. Much to coordinate with our friends in America. I understand this will be hard for you, but it needs to be done, Kadir. If we lose our timing now, it may be too much for us to regain the balance.”
Polat did not need telling. He understood the implications of failure at this time. His personal feelings had to be put aside. His people and his country were the most important considerations right now. The long-term planning could not be compromised. As things began to slip into place, keeping the momentum was vital.
“You go,” Polat said. “Use whoever you need. Recruit if you have to. And do not worry about money. It is there for you to take.”
* * *
POLAT’S CAR WAS waiting at the quayside when he left the cruiser. He sat in the rear, his hands resting on his lap. He looked out the side window, seeing very little as the car eased out through the gates and picked up speed. In the front sat the driver and an armed bodyguard. They had a twenty-minute drive ahead of them. During the drive no one spoke.
Thoughts rolled back and forth inside Polat’s head. What he would say at the meeting. The logistics of the merchandise to be moved into place. How he would arrange the funeral of his brother… Polat could not quell those thoughts. No matter how much of the burden Kaplan handled, Amal had been his brother and the active memories refused to go away. Those thoughts plagued Polat to the point where he almost missed the sound of his cell phone. He pulled it from his pocket, glancing briefly at the caller ID as he activated the call.
It was General Demir Marangol, a member of the Turkish military, and one of the high-ranking Özgürlük group members.
“I learned about your brother’s death a little time ago,” Marangol said. “Accept my sympathies.”
“Thank you, General.”
With that out of the way, Marangol moved on quickly to the reason he had called.
“Is it true one of our people was wounded and taken prisoner?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Salan.”
“He must not be allowed to give away any information. This is understood? At this stage that is vital. We must protect ourselves. Can you have arrangements made that he will be silenced?”
“It will be done, General.”
“Good. Remember I can step in if need be.”
Polat knew Marangol meant every word. The man was strictly military. Down the line. There was no left and right in Marangol’s world. He walked the center. Polat felt a momentary pang of jealousy, wishing he could maintain such a posture himself.
“The offer is appreciated.”
“We will meet on your boat later to review matters,” Marangol said. “No mistakes, Kadir.”
The cell went dead. Polat had been dismissed. Marangol had the unfortunate habit of treating everyone as if they were one of his lowly military recruits. It seemed he was never off duty. There were times he forgot who Polat was and spoke to him with familiar contempt.
Polat pushed the thought away. He had too much to concern himself with to be overly worried about Marangol and his ego.
CHAPTER SIX
The truck pulled in at the service entrance to the hospital, and two figures dressed in the standard green uniform of ancillary workers climbed out. They both had identification cards hanging around their necks and were wearing latex gloves. They opened the rear of the truck and maneuvered a large wicker basket on wheels to the ground. It contained piles of folded towels and sheets. They pushed the basket in through the rubber doors leading to the ancillary department.
It was late, almost nine o’clock at night, and the department was quiet. They rolled the basket through the department unchallenged and entered a service elevator that accessed all floors. The men talked between themselves as they emerged onto the floor they wanted. At the reception desk they asked for the linen supply section and were directed along the corridor. They carried on until they reached the section they wanted and pushed through the swing doors.
Once inside, they reached into the basket and threw the sheets and towels to the floor. Resting in the bottom of the basket was a pair of AK-47 autorifles and two canvas bags. The bags were slung across the men’s shoulders and the AKs were quickly checked and made ready.
Emerging through the door, the men walked along the semilit corridor until they came to a junction. It was obvious they knew where they were going as they chose the left junction.
They were halfway along the corridor before they encountered anyone. A nurse, studying a patient chart, glanced up as the men appeared. She stared at them, surprised at what she saw. She was given no chance to warn anyone. One of the men produced a handgun from beneath his uniform top; it was a bulky weapon made larger by the suppressor screwed to the end of the barrel. The pistol fired twice, making a comparatively quiet sound. The 9 mm slugs hit the nurse in midchest. She fell back against the wall and slid to the floor, blood blossoming on the front of her uniform top.
The men didn’t break stride as they walked by the body. The shooter kept the pistol in his hand in case they encountered anyone else. They saw no one.
The corridor branched off at the end and again the two men changed direction without pause. The man with the pistol put it away so both hands were free to hold his Kalashnikov.
The corridor ahead of them ended after thirty feet. There were doors on each side of the corridor. Midway along, two uniformed city cops stood guard at one of the doors. They reacted when they saw the armed men approaching.
The AK-47s rose and the loud hammering sound of autofire filled the corridor. The cops never stood a chance as twin streams of jacketed slugs ripped into them. They were knocked back by the impact, bodies punctured by the slugs. Their bloody corpses slammed to the floor.
One of the men raised a foot and kicked open the door. The room inside, with a shrouded light, was empty except for the motionless figure in the bed. Monitoring equipment showed lights and a number of tubes were attached to the patient.
Standing side by side, the intruders trained the AK-47s on the figure. They opened fire and triggered their weapons until they snapped empty. Brass casings littered the floor around them. The shooters ejected the empty magazines. They took fresh ones from the shoulder bags and reloaded. While one man guarded the door, the other took out the pistol again, walked to the side of the bed and fired two shots into the head of the man in the bed. It was an entirely unnecessary action; the man on the bed, resting in a spreading wash of blood, had been shot almost to ribbons by the sustained AK-47 overkill.
Together the men left the room. Already alarms were sounding as they moved along the corridor. From their bags they produced smoke canisters. Activating them, they dropped them on the corridor floor. Thick smoke began to rise and fill the corridors. The men dropped more of the canisters as they proceeded to their escape route.
They pushed through the fire escape door, emerging on an iron landing, and made their way down the ladder. When they reached the bottom they made their way to the far corner of the hospital grounds, pausing only long enough for one of them to take out a remote unit. He flicked the power switch and waited for the light to come on. He thumbed the button. The van they had arrived in was suddenly engulfed in an explosion that blew it apart. Flame and smoke rose in a cloud. Pieces of bodywork were thrown into the air.
As the debris fell back to the ground, the two made their way to the trees that edged this section of the hospital grounds and concealed the AK-47 rifles, the pistol and the bags that had held their weapons in the undergrowth; they would eventually be discovered, but by then the assassins would be long gone. The latex gloves and the hospital uniforms were removed and dumped. The men wore casual civilian clothing underneath.
Three streets away a nondescript Fiat sedan sat at the curb outside a closed store. The keys were already in the pocket of one of the men. They climbed in and drove away. Behind them in the distance could be heard police sirens approaching the hospital.
* * *
AHALF HOUR LATER Kartal received a call informing her that the man wounded in the attack on Phoenix Force had been killed during an armed strike at the hospital where he was being treated. She was with Phoenix Force at their hotel and immediately passed along the information.
“Great,” McCarter said. “These buggers don’t waste time. They’re bound and determined to keep us in the dark.”
“Didn’t want anyone talking,” Encizo said.
“They are organized,” Kartal agreed. “Able to buy whatever they need. People. Weapons.”
“Well,” McCarter said, “we’ll have to see about that. But tomorrow, how about we go take a look at Mr. Polat? Time we sussed out our enemy.”
