The blonde smiled and returned her attention to the American man she’d cozied up to. It was odd that the blonde hadn’t checked on the brunette after the fight.
The brunette wore a short, midnight-blue dress with a snug top cut low enough to reveal that impressive cleavage. She draped her purse over her shoulder just as a man walked by and bumped into her. The bag slipped and dropped to the floor.
She bent to retrieve it with reflexes that showed she hadn’t had much to drink. While she bent over, Hejan got a prime view of her ass while Ian got a glimpse straight down her top. He corrected his initial assessment of her cleavage from impressive to downright spectacular, but a quick glance at Hejan revealed the man’s gaze was fixed on the fallen purse, not the blatant display.
Yeah. Hejan had definitely passed her the chip, and now he was worried.
She slung the long purse strap across the opposite shoulder so it crossed her chest and wouldn’t be easy to dislodge again, then she swept her long hair off her neck and twisted it in a knot that somehow managed to stay up without a fastener.
With her hair up, her high cheekbones became more prominent. She went from being simply pretty to…well, something more. Irrelevantly and involuntarily, he found himself wondering about her eye color.
Focus, dammit. The microchip is now in play.
Hejan and the woman headed for the exit, but not the main one, which emptied onto the busy Antalya street. No, they went through the hotel entrance. The woman had a hotel room?
Shit.
“Grab her drink and see if you can get a print,” Ian instructed Zack. “I’ll follow and get her room number.”
She had a microchip that held information wanted by at least three countries and two terrorist networks. Ian couldn’t lose her. If she managed to pass it up the line, then a terrorist organization would have access to the funding they needed to plan and implement a major strike. Ian’s orders were clear: follow the chip, but if there was any chance he’d lose it, take out the carrier by whatever means necessary to stop the data from reaching the group leader.
His primary goal was to intercept the chip, identifying the group leader was secondary.
Hejan was playing a dangerous game, and unwitting or not, the woman was in it up to her beautiful unknown-color eyes.
Chapter Two
Cressida led Hejan past the elegant flight of stairs in the center of the hotel lobby to her ground floor corridor. She hadn’t planned on taking him to her room, but it had been hard to hear in the nightclub over the loud music, and she needed to go over the recordings and map with him, to make sure she understood both the translation and how to use the phrases he’d recorded for her.
Inside her hotel room, Hejan turned nervous. Very nervous. When she asked him what was wrong, he shrugged. “When you are east, especially near the border, never enter a bedroom with a man. It will get you in trouble.”
Something in the way he spoke sent a chill up her spine.
He must have seen the fear in her eyes, because he paused and cocked his head, staring at her with uncharacteristic directness. In the several times they’d met over the last two weeks, he’d almost never looked her in the eye. He pulled a pendant from his neck and placed it over her head. “This will protect you. Wear it always. Promise you won’t take it off.”
Cressida lifted the necklace, still warm from Hejan’s skin. The symbol was a Turkish evil eye, similar to the ones she’d seen in every tourist shop and outdoor market, but prettier, more elaborate. Not just blue-and-white glass but metal filigree holding polished, shaped glass. “It’s beautiful.” She started to take off the necklace. It was different and obviously special. “Hejan, I can’t—”
He stopped her before she got the chain above her ears. “No. You need it. It will protect you. But keep it hidden. Next to your heart. Only show it to my brother.”
She hesitated.
“I will be insulted if you refuse,” he added.
Put that way, she didn’t really have a choice. She was worried about this trip; a good luck charm might be the only thing that would put her mind at ease. She turned away from him and tucked the pendant between her breasts. With the long chain, it rested on her breastbone, hidden even with the low cut of the cocktail dress.
She led him to the couch and plucked the digital recorder from the envelope. They spent the next thirty minutes going over the recordings and digital file organization, making sure she knew how to use the recorder and could find the proper language when she needed it.
Task completed, she rubbed her tired eyes as Hejan folded his copy of the map he’d translated. The late night had caught up with her, and she was unable to stifle a wide yawn.
Hejan stood. “I’m sorry I was late, and now I’m keeping you up even later when you have an early flight.”
“It’s okay. I’m so thankful for your help and for arranging with your brother to be my guide.”
Hejan frowned. “I forgot to tell you—there was a problem with Berzan’s work schedule. He is trying to trade shifts so he can take you south toward Cizre tomorrow evening, as planned, but if he cannot, you won’t be able to set out until Tuesday morning.”
She tried to hide her disappointment. She’d just have to roll with it. She needed a guide, and Berzan was available and cheap, even if she had to wait a day. “Where does he work?”
“On the Lake Van ferry—”
There was a sharp pounding on the door. “Cress, open up! I need to talk to you.”
Shit. Todd had found her hotel room. Could this night get any more ugly and complicated?
She was about tell him she would call security if he didn’t leave, but Hejan slapped a hand over her mouth, shocking her with his quick, physical reaction. He pulled her back, away from the door. “No. Letting him know you are here will only add to your troubles—and mine.”
She studied Hejan. He looked worried. Really worried. But then, he’d pulled a knife on Todd only…what, forty-five minutes ago? Was he afraid Todd had returned with the police?
She had no idea how the Turkish police worked. Just because no one in the nightclub had seemed to care didn’t mean it wasn’t a big deal. Hell, in the US, she was fairly certain bouncers would have detained Hejan until the cops arrived.
“You should go,” Cressida whispered, nodding toward the sliding glass door that led to the patio by the pool. The hotel had been an extravagant expense, the only room in Antalya available at the last minute when her flight had been switched to six o’clock in the morning. That had forced her to take a room in the city because the water taxi from the island didn’t run early enough for her to get to the airport on time. Now she was glad the resort had given her a room with poolside access.
“I can’t leave, not with that man at the door,” Hejan said. “He’s dangerous.”
“Todd isn’t—”
Hejan merely touched his neck and looked at her pointedly, reminding her that Todd had shoved a table into her side.
Yeah, she didn’t really know what Todd was capable of. Hard to believe she’d lived with him for months and had even thought herself in love with him.
“Go. Out the back,” Hejan said. “Go to the airport.”
She shook her head. “I should call the police.”
“If you do, they may wish to detain you—and me—for questioning. You’ll miss your flight.”
Shit. Hejan had a point. She couldn’t afford to reschedule, and Todd, of all people, knew that. He knew she’d gutted her savings for this trip and what it meant for her dissertation.
Hejan grabbed the digital recorder from the coffee table and shoved it into her hands. “Go. Now. To the airport.”
She rubbed her eyes as Todd pounded on the door again. Hejan was right. Forget the expensive hotel room with the bed she hadn’t even slept in. If she left now, she could avoid Todd and all the trouble he could bring crashing down on her. She needed to leave for the airport in a few hours anyway. It wasn’t like she was going to get a ton of s
leep. And with Todd at the door, she’d get zero sleep.
She padded silently into the bathroom and grabbed her bag of toiletries. Back in the main room she crammed it into her suitcase. She tucked her evening bag and digital recorder into her larger purse. She hadn’t bothered to unpack anything else. She glanced down at the tight cocktail dress. Not exactly something she could wear in eastern Turkey without getting into trouble, but she’d have hours to change at the airport.
At the sliding glass door, she tugged at the secondary lock, a metal peg in the frame, but it was stuck. Hejan pushed on the door, taking the pressure off the peg, and plucked it from the hole. The door slid open without a revealing squeak. A low brick wall with a gate separated her private patio from the pool area.
Hejan unlatched the gate and held it open for her but didn’t follow her through. She looked at him in question.
“I will deal with the man at the door.”
She frowned. Hejan didn’t even know who Todd was, let alone why he’d assaulted her. She thought of how quickly Hejan had produced the knife and couldn’t suppress the small shudder that swept through her.
“No,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Hejan shook his head. “Leave, Cressida. Now. You don’t want to be here.”
His eyes flattened and the congenial tone of voice disappeared. Had she imagined it? She’d hired Hejan as translator through the local university affiliated with the dig. It had been fortuitous that he was from Van and had a brother who could translate for her when she arrived. But she didn’t know him. Was he the simple farm boy relocated to the big city, as he claimed?
Did it matter when she had a newly violent ex-boyfriend pounding on the door? She needed to get away. She would check in for her flight and wait behind security, where Todd couldn’t reach her.
* * *
Ian tucked farther back into the shadows of the pool area as the woman paused to talk to Hejan. Then, with her suitcase in one hand and a purse over her shoulder, she crossed the pool area at what appeared to be the maximum pace the tight cocktail dress and low heels allowed.
He whispered to Zack, “She’s got her suitcase and is headed your way. Alone.”
“Where’s Hejan?”
“He stayed in her room.” Ian crept along the pool perimeter, following at a distance. He pressed against a low wall as she paused to retrieve her key card to enter the hotel from the pool area. This time of night, the rear door was accessible only to hotel guests. Unfortunately, Ian hadn’t been able to snag a key and would have to circle around.
“I see her,” Zack said a moment after the woman entered the hotel.
Ian jumped the fence and entered the building through the nightclub. He skirted the busy dance floor and headed for the hotel lobby.
“She just stepped out to the front driveway.”
Good. That meant the coast was clear for Ian to enter the lobby without being spotted.
Ian entered the opulent, brightly lit lobby. Through the glass door, he caught sight of the woman as she wheeled her bag to the front of the wide, circular drive.
“You want me to tail her from here?” Zack asked.
Ian hesitated. It could take her some time to get a taxi. “Wait with her. I need to talk to Hejan.”
“Roger.”
He turned to go to the woman’s room but paused midstep when Zack said, “She’s talking to the doorman.” A moment later he added, “She slipped him some money. He’s nodding and waving to one of the waiting cars.”
Shit. Go after her or Hejan?
“The car is pulling up. What should I do?”
He had no choice. “Follow. Don’t lose her.”
“I won’t.”
Ian darted down the long interior hallway, then paused at the intersection with the wing where the woman’s room was located. A quick glance revealed an empty, quiet corridor. He treaded silently on the expensive Turkish carpets and came to a dead stop when he reached her room.
Motherfucker. The door was ajar. A foot protruded through the opening.
“Zack. We have a problem. Do not, under any circumstance, lose sight of the woman.”
“What’s wrong?”
Ian pulled his Sig and shoved open the door. A man lay just inside the door in a pool of his own blood, glassy eyes fixed unseeing on the ceiling.
Chapter Three
“Her name is Cressida Porter. She’s in Turkey on a student visa,” Ian’s boss, Stan Mott said, when Ian called him less than an hour later.
“Where is she now?”
“She went straight to the airport,” Stan said.
“Is she flying to Van?”
“Yes. I’ve got Zack booked on the same flight.”
“This is my op, Stan.” Ian stifled a curse. It had been necessary for Zack to follow the woman while he stayed back and photographed and searched Hejan Duhoki’s body, but Zack was backup on this. Hejan had been Ian’s asset; no way would Zack take the lead.
“We need to tip off the Antalya police about Duhoki,” Stan said.
“Not until her flight takes off,” Ian said. “Even though Hejan was alive when she left, you know they’ll detain her. We’ll never get the next link in the cell if she doesn’t go to Van.” He paused. “Get me a seat on her flight. The seat next to hers, to be exact.”
“You know I can’t do that. She saw you at the club.”
“She didn’t see me.”
“Zack said you held her back, during the fight. No way would she fail to notice you after that.”
Ian silently cursed Zack. The rat. “She was focused on the fight. I retreated before she thought to look.” He sighed and rubbed his chin. The beard would have to go, which was a shame. The extra-long beard helped him blend in in the Muslim world, and it was a shield against people noticing him. Supervisors had told him his face was too striking for covert ops, and he’d never go unnoticed, which was simple bullshit. His looks were nothing special in the Muslim world. But still, to get around that objection, he’d grown the beard and found it useful. “I’ll shave and put on glasses. Even if she got a glimpse, she won’t recognize me without the beard.”
“Zack is ready to go.”
“As backup. Zack’s language skills are weak, and he reeks of newbie.”
“Zack’s been in-country for months, and he aced every simulation the Company put him through.” Stan sighed. “But you’re right about his Turkish. You’re sure she has the microchip?”
“Hejan gave her an envelope marked in the corner, just like he promised. You and I both know whoever killed Hejan was probably after the microchip. Now they’ll be after her.”
“We should let the Turkish police nab her at the airport.”
“We might get her—and the chip—but Hejan was adamant that the courier would lead us to the next link in the chain, who will take us to the leader. We can take apart the entire network with this op.”
“Ian, you’ve been doing this too long to believe that fairy tale. It’s always the next one up the chain.”
Ian took a deep breath. He couldn’t put into words how he knew it wasn’t a bullshit lead. He just knew. From the moment he’d interviewed Hejan, he knew this was the informant, the man who would break everything open. Hejan was the real deal. All he said was, “This is it, Stan. She’s the key, and with Hejan dead, she’s the only lead we’ve got.”
Stan clicked his tongue. “You’re talking about using a civilian as bait.”
“There’s a good chance she’s in on it. And we aren’t the ones who put her at risk. Hejan did that when he gave her the microchip, and she accepted that risk when she took it from him. In a public place. In front of a hundred people. Get me a seat next to her on the plane. That will give me two hours to decide whose side she’s on and act accordingly.”
Stan sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
While Stan pulled strings, Ian took a long and involved Surveillance Detection Route back to his hotel so he could shave and prep for his role. Transformed,
he then took another SDR, driving around Antalya, seemingly aimless. His role in the mission would have to be aborted if there was any sign he was being tailed.
Thankfully, after an hour and a half, he hadn’t spotted any followers. He was clear to head to the airport. He pulled into the airport parking lot and called the intelligence officer who’d been gathering information on Cressida Porter. “What can you tell me?” Ian asked.
“She’s here working on an underwater archaeology excavation funded in part by the Akdeniz University in Antalya, her graduate program at Florida State University, and the MacLeod-Hill Exploration Institute. One of our guys went out to the island where the crew for the underwater dig is living. Most were out—night on the town, just like Porter—but the professor running the dig was there. He’s Porter’s graduate advisor at FSU.”
“Name?” Ian asked.
“Dr. Steven Brenner. One of those academic types who insists on being called ‘doctor’—a real prig, according to our guy. He was none too pleased to be woken up early and questioned but eager to spill info on Porter. She’s not his favorite student.”
“Why’s that?”
“A few months ago, another graduate student, Todros Ganem—goes by Todd—stole the university’s new, state-of-the-art Lidar equipment. We’re talking upwards of a few hundred thousand dollars, including drones for aerial survey. The equipment was recovered from his house, which Ganem shared with his girlfriend, Porter. He was arrested and implicated Porter in the theft, saying she needed Lidar drones for her dissertation research. Tallahassee PD arrested her, and she was facing serious time, but—and this is where it gets interesting—none other than US Attorney General Curt Dominick ordered the FBI to investigate, citing counterintelligence concerns. Sure enough, the FBI found evidence Ganem had sent out feelers to associates in Jordan prior to the theft. No word on whether he planned to use the drones to map sensitive locations on US soil, or if he simply wanted to sell them to finance his own research. Political motives haven’t been ruled out. There was no connection to Porter’s research, and the FBI found no evidence other than Ganem’s word she was involved—he’d offered her up hoping to receive a reduced sentence. All charges against her were dropped. The university was forced to reinstate her.”
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