Golden Chariot Page 25

  Damla handed Maksym the Thuraya phone identical to Atakan’s that contained the pirated DRC information.

  “This is the code.” Damla punched the four digit number. “All the transmissions from Vadim’s phone will play back.

  “Perfect.”

  “Everything else is set.” Damla turned the dashboard vent so the air blew into his face. “Ursula tested the key I had made. The lock opened like a whore’s legs. Where do we hand the package off and who’s the contact?”

  “Enter the Spice Market from the waterside. Go straight through the intersection of the two main avenues. Fifteen meters on the left is Sirkeci Luggage, Tomko will be waiting inside.”

  “What about the woman?”

  “Once she’s given Tomko the package, she yours. Kryianos has no use for her.”

  “And, the Dashiell woman?”

  Maksym smiled. “I am taking care of her personally.”

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Marmaris

  Atakan updated the Director after his talk with Charlotte. In his email, Atakan requested two backup teams from his unit. Firat flew the investigators out the same afternoon.

  Atakan met them in Marmaris to discuss deployment. He split up the first team. They’d keep the Izmir and Marmaris Airports under surveillance. The airlines operating the shuttles to Istanbul were instructed to hold one seat empty for a Ministry agent on every flight.

  He kept the second team, the men he worked with most often, Iskender and Halim, with him.

  “Refik arranged for you to stay in the camp. He’ll introduce you to his crew as pottery reconstruction experts,” Atakan explained.

  “We have the equipment you wanted and rented a car. Is there a location nearby we can garage it?” Iskender asked.

  “A second vehicle is needed. We’ll get one here. There’s a closed olive factory at the edge of the village we can use.”

  Atakan chose a nondescript tan Peugeot for Halim. If Ursula and Damla drove to Istanbul, the car blended in with traffic and made a good tail vehicle. At the right time, Halim would break off and a fixed wing airplane would take over as a spotter.

  In addition to the spotter plane, Atakan requested a helicopter to standby at Milas Airport. Whether Ursula and Damla took a commercial flight or drove, Halim, Iskender, and Atakan would take the helicopter and arrive ahead of them.

  #

  Atakan’s eyes snapped open on the first beep. As he expected, Ursula waited until her free day with no dives to act. He, Halim, and Iskender slept in jeans and tee shirts, ready to track her from the minute she left camp with the replica seal.

  Halim and Iskender awoke with the signal too and were up and putting shoes and gun belts on as fast as Atakan. Atakan doubted there’d be a confrontation at this stage of the operation. They armed themselves just in case. They all carried the government issued Akdal Ghost TR-01, semi-automatic with extra magazines.

  Atakan turned his transmitter to mute while the flashing green light continued to indicate the seal’s location. They each grabbed their gear bags with the additional equipment. Atakan took the case with the GPS monitor and transmitter for the tracking device. The team silently slipped out of the men’s quarters.

  Pre-dawn darkness covered their movements as they shadowed Ursula. Atakan used hand signals and directed Halim to swing wide to the right flank of the camp, next to the hillside. If a car waited for her anywhere in the vicinity, Halim knew to ready his vehicle and follow. Atakan and Iskender would stay in communication and catch up.

  Damla waited for Ursula on the paved road that led out to the main highway. A Citroen, the motor running with only the fog lamps lit was parked behind him. They had a brief conversation before getting into the car.

  Atakan cursed the delay as he and Iskender were forced to stay hidden while Ursula showed Damla the seal under the car’s interior dome light.

  On the dirt street that ran perpendicular to the paved road, the nose of Halim’s blacked out Peugeot eased forward.

  Damla and Ursula didn’t look as they drove away.

  Halim exited the garage and gave the Citroen a head start before turning onto the road behind it.

  Atakan and Iskender ran to their vehicle and drove the same direction, ready to back Halim if Damla noticed the tail. Atakan pulled the portable radio from his gear bag and turned it to the secured frequency. He kept the GPS monitor on his lap, watching the screen as Iskender drove. If for some reason, Damla and Ursula split up, he and Iskender would follow the seal. Halim would stay with the car.

  “What’s your distance?” Atakan asked Halim.

  “Twelve hundred meters.”

  “Sounds too far. With the empty road, it will have to do.”

  Atakan notified the Director of their status. Firat said he’d have both the fixed wing and the helicopter pilots ready. Atakan told him he’d know in the next thirty minutes if Damla and Ursula were headed for an airport or driving. He also requested Firat contact the men assigned to the airport details to standby for further instructions. The men knew to switch to the designated frequency once they were mobile.

  “Izmir,” Atakan and Halim said at once when the Citroen exited onto the highway for that city.

  Atakan raised the pilot for the spotter plane on the air. “How long until you are wheels up?”

  “I am on the runway now. Give me their last co-ordinates, travel speed and a description of the vehicle.”

  Atakan relayed the information and waited for the pilot to acknowledge.

  “I should be over them in approximately ten minutes. I will confirm once I have them in my sight.”

  Atakan acknowledged, and then told Halim, “As soon as he has them, break off the tail and meet us at Milas Airport.” He radioed Cengis who was on site at Marmaris Airport. “They’re flying out of Izmir. Take the next shuttle and meet us at the command post.”

  Iskender had scouted locations for the Command Post before flying down to Bozburun. He’d chosen the top floor of an abandoned school on Tahtakale Caddesi. The old brick building overlooked the Spice Market and narrow streets around it on three sides. Another Ministry team at ground level would cover the fourth side and ferry terminals.

  Firat came on the radio. “Surveillance cameras are in place. I also ordered the Istanbul Police to stay away from the immediate area.”

  “Hakim, Iskender, and I will be on board the helicopter in thirty minutes.”

  “Atakan, I do not have to remind you how crowded the Misir Casisi is with civilians. Make this a clean operation,” Firat said. “I do not want negative tourist’s chatter on Yahoo Trip Advisor about dangerous criminals in one of our most visited attractions.”

  “Yes, I’m aware.”

  Firat went off the air.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Charlotte searched and couldn’t find Atakan. The schedule showed her diving with Gerard again. Atakan and the “pottery experts” had stayed in camp for the last two days. Refik assigned them lab work while they waited for Ursula to make her move. Charlotte wanted to see if Atakan and the “experts” would like to have breakfast together before she had to leave. She went to Refik’s office to ask if he knew where Atakan was.

  She knocked. “Refik?”

  “Come in.”

  Refik had the steel box with the broken lock and its relics on his desk. He was bent trying to arrange room in his office safe for the added artifacts.

  Charlotte walked to the desk and fingered the broken lock. “Ursula’s work?”

  “Yes. Atakan and his agents are in pursuit of her now.”

  “Is Damla with her?”

  “I don’t know. Atakan, the agents, and Ursula were already gone when I awoke. He had the Director call early and inform me of the circumstance.”

  Guilt swamped Charlotte. She meant to tell Atakan she was as worried for his safety as he was hers. She meant to tell him be careful, don’t take unnecessary risks. Nick’s SWAT escapades were bad enough to deal with. The time never seemed right t
o tell Atakan. A pathetic excuse.

  “Hand me the pieces, please,” Refik said.

  Charlotte gave him the larger diptych first then the smaller pieces. Refik worked on his hands and knees wedging them into the safe.

  Shouts and yells came from all sides of the camp as Talat threw open the office door. “Fire.”

  Refik hurried to shut the safe. The three rushed from the office.

  The backside of the kitchen and dining hall was an inferno. Fire consumed the framing posts and spread to the plywood walls. The summer sun had dried the inexpensive wood they used for the construction of all the buildings, making the supports like matchsticks. Where the fire had broken through the walls, flames were sucked inside and started to engulf the tables and chairs. The grass matting used for the roof was next.

  The west wind blew sparks in the direction of the lab. They could lose the entire camp, but not the lab, not the artifacts.

  By a stroke of luck, the Suraya was still docked and everyone was in camp. They broke up into groups. One brought stored water from different parts of the compound. The others formed fire lines, passing buckets of water hand-over-hand, dousing the flames. Rachel ran to the village where the locals kept a water truck filled for fire emergencies.

  Charlotte and Uma dragged a water barrel that normally served to fill desalination tanks.

  “The lab,” Uma yelled as they ran back for the second barrel.

  Embers caught in the breeze had begun to land on the canvas roof. Charlotte shouted for Talat and Gerard. The two men took over handling the second water barrel. Charlotte and Uma ran to the lab and began moving cabinets and tanks of artifacts out to the open area of the camp.

  “Dump the water tank for the showers,” Refik ordered, taking Charlotte’s place.

  She nodded and grabbed an empty barrel from the fire line and ran with it to the showers. She positioned it against the back of the shower stall and started climbing the steps. Metal clamps on the side fastened the tank to crossbeam posts. Once the clamps were unhooked, she’d turn the tank and unscrew the top to let the water run into the barrel.

  A loud whoosh came from the kitchen and a tall, black plume of smoke shot skyward. The roof was aflame.

  She hesitated midway on the stairs at the sight.

  A man’s large hand covered her mouth. His other hand brandished a gun.

  With the cold barrel to her ear, he walked her backwards down the few steps to the ground.

  “Don’t scream.”

  Little-by-little his palm came away from her mouth.

  She screamed and tried to break and run. She spun as he caught her by the arm and backhanded her across the cheek with a closed fist. Dazed, she staggered but stayed on her feet.

  A second man wrapped his forearm around her throat and covered her mouth with his other hand.

  Tischenko stepped in front of her. “Your screams won’t be heard. As you can see and hear...” He gestured to the burning kitchen. “Folks are busy elsewhere.”

  The second man’s fleshy fingers forced her lips apart and pressed against her teeth. She managed to part her teeth the fraction she needed and bit down hard, drawing blood. He jerked his hand from her mouth but not his arm from her throat. He tightened the choke hold, cutting off most of the air to her lungs. Screaming was impossible.

  Long ago, Nick told her, “If the only weapon you have is your body, then you make every move count.” He showed her good pain points to strike.

  She stomped her heel down on the man’s foot. He relaxed the pressure on her throat. The distraction enabled her to wedge her hands under the man’s forearm. She pushed with all her strength to loosen his hold.

  Tischenko backhanded her again. Stars filled her vision then faded.

  “You recognize me?” Tischenko asked.

  She nodded.

  “I will tell my associate to let you speak if you do not try to scream.”

  She opened her mouth ready to scream again.

  “If you disobey, I will have Atakan tortured.”

  The mention of Atakan stunned Charlotte into silence. Tischenko had Atakan? How? She knew he’d left with two other agents. Tischenko overpowered all three? She didn’t believe him.

  “Liar,” she rasped.

  “Bring her,” Tischenko told the man holding her. Tischenko covered the rocky path on the camp’s edge in several long strides. Her captor half carried, half dragged her along as she fought to break free.

  Tischenko stopped behind a clump of trees between the rear of the living quarters and the cove.

  “You can continue to fight or come along like a good girl.”

  Charlotte’s father always said; never go willing with a kidnapper. Never. You’re better off forcing his hand there and then. He might kill you. He might not. But, if you go with him, you’re dead. In all likelihood, you’ll be tortured for hours or even days before he kills you. Go down fighting first.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Then I’ll kill your lover slowly. I’ll record his screams for you to hear. I’ll record him begging for death.”

  Tischenko pulled a hunting knife from a calf pocket on his cargo pants and unsheathed it. He stood in front of her and put the tip of the blade to the corner of her eye.

  “First I will take his eyes so he cannot see what torture is next, only anticipate it. Then,” Tischenko moved the knife to the first knuckle of her forefinger. “I will snip his fingers off.” He slid the blade across her finger, lightly, just enough to draw a thin line of blood. “One knuckle at a time.”

  Charlotte’s body tensed and she clamped her teeth together. She concentrated on him, not on the sharp pain.

  He moved to her second knuckle. “If he were to live, which he won’t, he wouldn’t be able to wipe his ass,” he said, chuckling.

  She couldn’t contain her fear. It controlled her breathing which came in short, rapid pants. She winced, but refused to look away. She wouldn’t give him the additional victory of seeing her terror as he made another light slice.

  “Next, I will castrate him, one ball, then the other, then a final whack and he is a woman. In the end, I will disembowel him and lay his intestines on his chest. You’d be surprised how long you can live with your guts spilled.”

  A wave of nausea came and went with the picture he painted.

  “I don’t believe you. You don’t have Atakan,” she challenged, trying not to sound terrified.

  He sheathed the knife and shoved it back into his pocket. From his shirt pocket, he took out a Thuraya cell phone.

  “Atakan’s phone,” he said, showing her the face.

  “Bullshit, anyone can order that phone on the internet.”

  “Such belligerence. I’m going to enjoy breaking you. This is Atakan’s security code.” Tischenko punched in a four digit sequence that was Damla’s code.

  Charlotte racked her brain to remember if Atakan used a security code when he made calls. She hadn’t paid attention.

  Tischenko put the phone near her ear.

  She listened as Atakan talked to the Director. On another he spoke to someone at the Ministry about a report. Tischenko let her listen to call after call.

  He has Atakan. She felt ill again.

  “You’ll kill him, whether I go or not.” If he denied it, she’d know he was lying.

  “True. Come, and I’ll let him keep his eyes and manhood.”

  She had to go. If nothing else, it bought Atakan more time. If he wasn’t incapacitated, maybe, just maybe, she and Atakan could find a way to escape.

  “I’ll go.”

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Istanbul

  Atakan issued orders as he watched on the surveillance cameras. Ursula and Damla entered the luggage store and met with Kryianos’s contact. At his command, Atakan’s unit had swept in and taken everyone inside into custody. In a co-ordinated effort, the Greek authorities raided Kryianos’s home and office at the same time.

  The suspects from the lug
gage shop were brought to the command post. There, they’d been separated and placed in different rooms for interrogation. Atakan’s men were questioning all but Ursula and Damla. Those interrogations he’d conduct himself. He started with Ursula.

  “She’s useless,” he said in disgust, closing the door to the room. “She only knows Kryianos and Abassian, who she refers to as Damla. The identity of the other contacts were kept from her.”

  Atakan poured a cup of strong coffee. He wanted the caffeine boost for his interrogation of Abassian.

  Iskender hung up the field phone. “More bad news,” he said, tossing his note pad on the desk.

  “Tell me,” Atakan said.

  “Kryianos is dead. Someone else was watching from another location here, someone we missed. He must’ve got word to Kryianos immediately. When the Greek team went in to arrest him, they found he’d hung himself.”

  “Who did we miss? How? We had cameras everywhere.”

  “It’s the market, Atakan. It could’ve been any of a dozen merchants or delivery men,” Cengis said.

  Atakan hit rewind on all the surveillance screens. He slumped in his chair ready to replay the tapes, hunting for the suspect he hadn’t seen.

  The desk phone rang and Iskender answered. He listened for a few seconds then turned to Atakan. “It’s Firat.”

  Atakan changed chairs with Iskender and took the receiver from him.

  “Yes, Director.”

  “I am putting this through as a conference call. I have Refik Mahir on the line.”

  Refik wasted no words. “Charlotte is missing. We’ve searched--”

  “How?” Atakan demanded, furious with his friend. Refik and Talat failed. There was no excuse. “She was never to be out of your or Talat’s sight. You knew the danger.”

  “We did, and she wasn’t. But this morning a terrible fire started in the kitchen. It went up like a torch. We all rushed to contain the fire so it wouldn’t engulf the entire camp. She was by my side.”

  “A fire?”

  “It was madness. You can imagine the chaos.”

  “That doesn’t explain how you let her out of your sight. One of you should’ve stayed with her, no matter the trouble.”