Days of Rage (19 page)

Y
uri ordered the cab to pull over and exited, paying the man much more than was necessary to keep him quiet. It was dark, and he’d managed to wash the blood off of his hands at a public bathing stall, but his shirt was still stained, so he gave the cabdriver every incentive to forget him.

He walked down Ordu Caddesi toward his hotel, feeling more secure when he began to pass shops with Cyrillic writing. The stores were closed, but the nightclubs were still pumping on a full tank, and all catered to Eastern Europeans with specials and sales spelled out in the Russian language. A little bit of Moscow in the heart of Istanbul.

He turned left on Laleli Caddesi, in the heart of little Russia, and finally pulled out his cell phone. He dialed Vlad, knowing that waking him up would not be pleasant. But neither would telling him the awful truth in the morning.

To his surprise, Vlad answered after the second ring, saying, “What happened? The Turks are going crazy.”

“We had an incident. The Americans interceded.”

“Switch your SIM card. Call me back on the second number I gave you. It goes to VOIP.”

Yuri did as he asked, wishing for the encrypted phones they usually used, but knowing the signature would swiftly bring the Turkish intelligence establishment. At least the constant switching of SIM cards and the use of voice over Internet protocols would make it a matter of luck for MIT to be listening.

This time, Vlad answered on the first ring. Yuri briefly described what had occurred, relaying that he’d lost both Mishka and Dmitri.

Vlad said, “Damage?”

“Sir? They’re dead.”

“I understand that. I mean what is the damage to the operation.”

“Mishka is covered under the consulate in Bulgaria. He was killed by gunfire, but it will be protected by the fact that the Syrian and an American were also killed. The American assassins on the motorcycle will be blamed for all three. Nobody is going to check ballistics. Dmitri was working under a private company cover, but he has no gunshot. I left him where he lay, and he’ll be found in the morning. Most likely, it’ll look like he broke in for some reason, climbed the scaffolding, and fell to his death.”

“So no compromise with the authorities? No encounters with police?”

“None.”

“Good. What is Akinbo’s status? Was he harmed?”

“No, sir. I contacted him and he’s okay. He’s currently hiding in a mosque inside the Grand Bazaar. I have no idea how he knew to go there, but it’s probably the safest place he could have found. I’ve told him to stay put until further orders.”

“Excellent. And can you still operate?”

“Yes, but I’m down to three men.”

Vlad continued as if that mattered little. “Good, because I’ve learned where Boris hid his thumb drive. It’s in the Cistern in the old town.”

The comment gave Yuri pause. As had happened with men throughout Russian history, Yuri wondered if he was being set up for a fall. He certainly wouldn’t put it past Vlad, and the FSB chief showed little concern about the men he’d lost. Perhaps he was simply tidying up a few loose ends.

Because there’s no way he has any information on a thumb drive or Israeli intentions to retrieve it.

He said, “You want me to go get it?”

“No. I don’t know specifically where, and neither does the Israeli. That information will be coming soon, I’m sure. I want you to interdict him.”

“Why not just get the drive?”

“We will, if we get that information, but I don’t believe that will happen. All I may get is confirmation that the Israeli has the location. From there, our only option will be interdiction. You can recognize him, correct?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then we will not have an issue.”

The entire exchange caused Yuri’s survival instinct to spike. He said, “Sir, what about the men we lost? What are we doing about that?”

“What do you want me to do? I can’t bring back the dead.”

“Sir, we were penetrated. Someone is working the inside to Akinbo. There’s no other way the Americans got here so quickly.”

“No, no. That’s not the information I’m getting.”

Yuri thought,
Information you’re getting? What does that mean?

Vlad continued, “I believe they were tracking the Syrian as well. When they lost Akinbo, they reverted to the Syrian. He’s the leak.”

“Sir, that’s too much coincidence. Way too much.”

Vlad said, “Think about it; if they penetrated our Russian operation, why didn’t they target your men first? Why did they assassinate the Syrian, then let your men simply walk up on them? Mishka killed one outright, didn’t he?”

“Yes. He did.”

“The assassination was tight, but the follow-up was sloppy, which tells me they didn’t know about us.”

“That may be true, but they do now. We should hunt them before they come back on us.”

“We will. I promise we will. First, I want that thumb drive. Then, I want to get Akinbo moving again.”

He said, “Sir, please, turn me loose. Let me hunt them like I did the Chechens.” Then, what Vlad had said penetrated. “What do you mean, get Akinbo moving? We lost the operational objective. We don’t have any chemical munitions from Syria.”

“I know. But we have something else. I’ve come up with a different plan. One that we control. One that’ll be much, much better than dealing with incompetent Arabs from Syria.”

“What?”

“I want to meet in person for that. I’ll send you an e-mail for linkup instructions. For the time being, get Akinbo moving to Berlin.”

K
neeling down and speaking Hebrew, Aaron Bergmann asked Shoshana if she’d been hurt. She said no, then said, “They lost a man because of our target. The leader in the hallway is on the edge. I can smell it like burning sulfur. Be careful.”

“Are they CIA?”

“I don’t know what they are, but it’s not CIA. The man outside is hard. Very, very hard. He’s a predator. The girl is skilled as well. She killed two.”

Aaron took that in, reassessing what he knew. Shoshana was somewhat of an empath, with the preternatural ability to slice through subterfuge and see the true nature of people. On top of that, she was a predator in her own right. Nothing scared her, and yet this team had given her pause. He was the leader, and she would do whatever he asked, but he’d learned to listen to her. Learned the hard way, through lost blood.

He watched the man pace back and forth with the phone and saw a glimpse of what she meant. A sliver of something feral and deadly.

The girl, on the other hand, gave off no killer vibe. A tall brunette, she looked like someone who would be more at home working in an animal shelter than on some covert team.

But looks were deceiving. Along with Shoshana’s statement about killing two men, the girl had just executed an elaborate linkup plan that guaranteed her protection. It wasn’t the work of an amateur.

Aaron said, “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know who they work for, and the man definitely has an edge. He’s capable of anything, but the girl isn’t. She wouldn’t be here if they were killing for hire. Because of that, if I were forced to choose, I’d say they’re government.”

Aaron smiled. “Maybe you’re just smitten.”

She smiled back, saying, “She doesn’t swing that way. She’s with him. They’re a couple. In fact, I think she’s the one keeping him in check. He’s starting to lean into the abyss because he lost his man, and if something happens to her, it will swallow him. He’ll destroy everything in his way. And I think he’ll succeed.”

Aaron watched the man hang up his phone and come inside, closing the door.

They sized each other up for a moment, then Aaron said, “Your partner searched me before allowing me to follow. Can I do the same?”

The man nodded and held out his arms. Aaron conducted a brief but thorough screen, finding no weapons. When he finished, he said, “So what do you want from us?”

“You killed a Syrian in the bazaar. Because of it, I lost a friend. I want to know what you know. I want to know why you targeted the Syrian and who was helping him.”

Aaron said, “Who are you?”

“Who I am is of little consequence. All you need to worry about is what I’ll do. I’m going to eradicate whoever harmed my men. You will help, or I’ll start right here, right now.”

The brunette showed alarm at his words, then Aaron saw her place a hand on his shoulder from behind. He glared at her, but didn’t make her remove it. Aaron glanced at Shoshana, and she nodded.

“Okay. Against my better judgment I’m going to dispense with the games. I have no idea who killed your man. I had nothing to do with it, but I spent a great deal of time preparing for my mission. Part of that work was hijacking the various camera feeds outside of the café. There were three, and I cut the video to hamper authorities. Forcing them to rely on eyewitnesses for their evidence.”

He smiled and said, “Imagine trying to solve the Kennedy assassination without the Zapruder film. You would get nothing but conflicting reports from the people there.”

The man said, “I’m not here to pat you on the back about your excellence in killing. Get to the part where this helps. Why do I care about the lack of video?”

“Because I didn’t just delete the feeds. I redirected them. I have them on the laptop at my hotel, and they might help you figure out who attacked your men.”

The man leaned back, skepticism on his face. The brunette said, “So you’ll help?”

Aaron said, “That depends. First, what is your intention with Shoshana? Second, what assurances do I have that you won’t take what I show you and attempt to use the information, either with the Turks or someone else?”

The man said, “You have no assurances other than my word. I don’t give a shit about anything you’ve done over here. From what Shoshana’s said, killing that fuck was probably a good thing, so you won’t get a rise out of me. As for Shoshana, I’ll release her as soon as you do what you say.”

Aaron stuck out his hand, “My name is Aaron Bergmann. We have a deal.”

The man shook it and said, “I’m Pike Logan. This is Jennifer.” He bared his teeth in a humorless smile. “We’re an archaeological firm here looking at old shit for a client. What do you do in the business world?”

Jennifer untied Shoshana, and she stood, rubbing her wrists. “His real name is Nephilim.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow and said, “As in Genesis?”

Pike said, “Yes, damn it. As in Genesis by way of Woodstock. Jesus.”

“Jesus? I hear he was a pretty good carpenter.”

Shoshana coughed to hide a smile and Aaron saw Pike’s face grow dark at the humor, believing it was at his expense. Aaron backed off. “Okay, so we’ve built some limited trust. How do you propose to get to my hotel without falling into my diabolical trap that I’m sure you’re worried about?”

Pike said, “Call the fuckers off. Simple.”

“You’d trust that?”

“No. Which is why Jennifer will stay here with Shoshana.”

“Jennifer can’t take out Shoshana. She has no weapon, and my girl is a killer.”

“Jennifer’s staying here as a backup to come get me if you try to screw us. I don’t need her to fight. You pull any shit and you’ll know the meaning of total destruction. I will not spare anyone. Do you understand?”

Bemused at the bravado, Aaron said, “You have no weapon either.”

“Really? Look again. I
am
the weapon.”

The absolute confidence from the statement caused the small grin to fade from Aaron’s face. He dialed his phone.

T
hirty minutes later Aaron pulled his rental car into the security circle of the Conrad Hilton in Beyoglu, across the Bosphorus Strait. A listless guard ran a mirror under the frame, then let him pass.

Aaron parked, then said, “There’s a metal detector inside the door. In case you really do have a weapon.”

Pike said, “I don’t. But if I did, I’m fairly sure nobody at that security checkpoint would stop me. Unless this hotel is different from the others I’ve seen.”

Aaron opened the door, saying, “Nope. That’s about right.”

They entered the lobby, passing through the metal detector. Both of their cell phones made it go off, but they were waved forward by the man watching the X-ray machine.

Aaron shook his head and said, “One day they’ll regret showing nothing but a facade of security. If this were Israel I’d teach him a valuable lesson. Follow me. Elevators are this way.”

He entered, placed his key-card in the slot, and punched the button for the ninth floor. They rode up in silence. Exiting out into the small lobby, Aaron said, “The man you saw on the motorcycle, Daniel, is in the room. He’s not happy with you. Please do not antagonize him.”

Pike said, “Tell him to keep his hands to himself and we’ll be fine.”

They passed ten or twelve rooms before Aaron stopped and knocked once on a door. He waited a bit, then knocked again, this one a double tap, then used his key. A wiry man with a pockmarked face, thinning black hair, and a four-day growth of beard stood on the other side, his hands behind his back.

Aaron closed the door and said, “Daniel, this is Nephilim. He’s no threat.”

Daniel squinted at the name. “Nephilim? As in the Old Testament?”

Exasperated, Pike shook his head and said, “Why do you people give a shit about that? Are you all Rabbis? I go by Pike.”

Daniel rotated his hands to the front, exposing a Glock 17. He ignored Pike’s outburst, speaking to Aaron instead. “Sir, video footage is loaded in the bedroom, ready to go.”

“Thank you.” Aaron pointed a hand toward the room. “Pike?”

On the bed was a fifteen-inch MacBook, the screen opened to a grainy still from a video camera. Aaron could make out a streetlight, but little else.

Daniel said, “There were three cameras on the street, none aimed lengthwise down it. All three were focused directly out from a storefront, protecting the store. Luckily for us, all were wireless, so we had little trouble interdicting the signal. It was much harder hijacking it and recording, but I felt that would be prudent.”

Aaron said, “I fought him on that decision, but he insisted. I suppose you should thank him because otherwise you’d have nothing.”

Pike nodded and said, “I still might have nothing.”

Daniel said, “The first is from the north, the direction I came from. You’ll see me go by, then I think you’ll see your men.”

He hit “play” and the image sputtered forward in a jerking manner, the frames skipping faster than real time in order to save hard drive space. The view was an outdoor café, people sitting around tables eating and drinking. Behind them was the street.

Daniel said, “I’ve chopped it to just the particulars. Watch now.”

The small motorcycle came in view for a slice of time, two people on it, then nothing for five seconds. Abruptly, the people at the café all stood, some waving their arms, others looking bewildered. One male stood on a chair, and Pike said, “That’s my man.”

Daniel said, “I thought so.” Knowing what was coming next, he said, “Do you wish to stop?”

“No.”

The tape ran forward, a silent, unforgiving testament. They saw the crowd gather, then saw a bear of a man bull through them, a pistol in his hand. It spit fire, and the man on the chair’s head snapped back. Aaron saw Pike begin to clench his fists, and wondered if he should turn the video off. Wondered if he should have insisted the girl, Jennifer, come as well.

Pike said, “Do you know him?”

Aaron said, “No, and I think I would remember someone of that size.”

“When I met him in Bulgaria he had a card saying he worked for the Russian embassy in Sofia.”

Daniel said, “It’s irrelevant. He’s about to die. Watch.”

Aaron saw the woman known as Jennifer rise from the ground, previously hidden. She began to fight, and he was amazed she had survived. Shoshana hadn’t mentioned the size of the opponent or the violence of the action.

It was hard to see on the grainy image, but somehow, she managed to disarm him, then the pistol began flashing, hitting the man over and over. Within seconds, it was done, the last image showing her stabbing the barrel into the bear’s forehead, then pulling the trigger.

Aaron glanced at Pike and saw him panting with shallow breaths. Trying to dilute the adrenaline flowing through him from what he’d seen. On the screen, Jennifer took off running, disappearing from view. Pike leaned in close, then said, “Stop it. Stop right there. Back it up.”

“What are you looking for?”

“She was chased. I want to see that man.”

Daniel did so, going back and forth until they had the image, but the best they got was a back shot of a man running away, only on the screen for a split second.

Daniel said, “He came from the south, so maybe one of the other cameras got it.”

The second feed was from the target café itself, but it showed only a narrow slice of about forty-five degrees from the front door. Zero from the tables.

The motorcycle appeared, then nothing. Three seconds after, there was a brief flurry of chaos as a jumbled mass of people ran back and forth. Finally, a man came out from the interior of the restaurant, walking underneath the camera and speaking on a cell phone. He was wearing the same clothes as the runner from the first tape, but his back was to the camera. When he turned to look down the street, giving a profile shot, Pike said, “Stop it.”

The frame froze, and Aaron answered the unspoken question. “No again. He’s Caucasian, but I don’t know him.”

“Can you print that? For future reference?”

Daniel said, “No. We don’t have a printer, but I can put it on a flash drive.”

“That’ll work. Anything more?”

“Just the last tape, but it’s farther down the street, away from the café. Around the bend, closer to the bazaar. There’s not much to it.”

“Run it.”

They watched nothing for a moment, then caught the motorcycle flying by, the person on the back wrapped tightly against the driver. After it disappeared, a man entered the view of the camera, walking head-on to the lens.

This time it was Aaron who spoke. “Stop it.”