“Plan B, should they enter together, the team inside draws down on them and orders them onto their knees, hands on their heads. Whether they comply or not, one way or another they hit the floor.”
“And if any try to take off and head out the door, your sniper has a bead on him,” Atakan said, nodding his approval as he spoke.
“What about the station employee? Where’s he in the store should this happen?” he asked. “Have you an arrangement with him?” Without knowing who Lokman might’ve befriended or bribed, Atakan hoped no one tipped off the employee.
“The minute the group crosses the road my men will secure the employee in the storage room until the operation is complete,” Dag assured.
“Say they split up. If I were Lokman, I’d send either one or both of my people into the store to make sure Binici didn’t betray them. Just to make sure it’s not a trap and we aren’t waiting there,” Atakan asked.
“Plan C, covers that possibility. Say Lokman does what you suggest. The inside team still has his men at gunpoint. Lokman, if he’s armed, can start a firefight. It’s suicidal, but who can predict his mindset? He’s done before he takes three steps.” Dag tapped the X that marked the sniper’s location. He had a clear shot at anything that moved. “Same-same, if Lokman tries to dash back across the road in an effort to escape.”
So far, all Dag’s plans revolved around what would happen after Lokman, Yildirim, and Ulvi crossed the road on foot or arrived in a vehicle. “What about the fishing boat Binici said they’re staying on? We know there might be a fourth traveling with them. I assume the boat’s covered.” Atakan asked.
“Our spotter on the rooftop has a visual of the pier and boat dock. We have a navy patrol boat concealed in a nearby cove with two divers suited up onboard.”
One of Dag’s men went out to a Land Rover as Dag gave Atakan and Iskender radios and they did a test broadcast with the base. The soldier returned with a black military duffle bag and set it on the floor. Dag folded the map and tucked it in the pocket of his utility pants. Then, he opened the duffle and removed two Mehmetcik rifles and handed one to Atakan and one to Iskender with an additional magazine.
“Load up,” Dag ordered.
When they left the office, Iskender headed for the SUV the team he was with came in and Atakan followed Dag to his SUV. He was about to climb inside when he saw Charlotte on a nearby bench. She gave him a tight-lipped, half smile. She hated he was going on the operation and feared for him. The weak smile was all she could manage and he knew it.
She touched her fingers to her lips and then turned her hand toward him to send the kiss his way. Self-conscious in front of the other men, Atakan declined to return the gesture. He smiled and nodded and gave her a wink.
Dag must’ve noted the exchange. “Go on, you got sixty-seconds to say goodbye to her.”
Atakan dashed over. “There’ll be a lot of paperwork, a debriefing, and interrogations once we get them to the base. I’ll be late, but I’ll be back in time to share a bottle of wine with you. Run to town while I’m gone and pick a nice red table wine.”
“You don’t like wine all that much except for champagne,” Charlotte said.
“No, it’s not my favorite drink but you like it, and I love you so we will celebrate with a wine you chose.”
He gave her a quick kiss and ran back to the SUV. Dag’s vehicle led the way. The SUV with the second team brought up the rear with the jeep with Binici sandwiched in between.
#
At the BP station, the three vehicles parked behind the building, out of sight. Iskender’s team entered the store through the rear door. Atakan, Captain Dag and their third man monitored the two soldier guards as they unchained Binici and jerked him from the back of the jeep and led him to the patio.
They arranged Binici sideways in a table chair. When Lokman and the others approached they’d see only his profile. While the guards removed the metal cuffs, Binici eyeballed Atakan hard, his hatred burning through.
“Something you want to say to me?” Atakan asked.
“I hope they kill you first. I just wish it was me who could do it.”
The guard holding the loose cuffs backhanded Binici. The second guard held him by the collar so he stayed seated.
“Show some respect,” the first guard said.
Binici sneered at the guard, dabbing at the corner of his mouth where a small cut from the cuff’s edge drew blood.
Atakan smiled and stepped close. “A better opponent than you has tried and failed. Your threat is laughable by comparison.”
“We need to finish,” the first guard said to Atakan who stepped back.
They flex cuffed his hands together in front of him on the table’s top with a can of Coke by his hands. Then they covered his mouth with clear tape. The drink gave him a relaxed, natural appearance. The cuffs and tape were to keep him from attempting to warn Lokman.
The spotter came on the air. “I’ve got them in view. They’re on a fishing boat like Binici said. They left one person onboard. Three of them are coming your way.”
“Are you able to get a good look at the one on the boat?” Atakan asked.
“Yes, I can zoom in close,” the spotter replied.
Atakan’s team scrambled, lying low in the scrub, meters from the patio, Mehmetciks in hand.
“It’s a woman onboard,” the spotter said. “She’s pacing the deck and there’s a Kalashnikov propped against the opening to the wheel. I’ll notify the divers she has a rifle near at hand.”
A double click on the radio followed the info that a woman was with the group. Atakan knew it was Iskender’s transmission. He was signaling he had assumed the same as Atakan. The female was the ruthless Havva Pelin.
A Renault Cabriolet with a family of four pulled into the station and up to the far gas pumps. Atakan sucked in a deep breath, willing the father to be the only one who got out. Dag quietly swore. The father took cash from his wallet. Atakan, Dag and their third man all swore.
“Do these pumps take cash?” Atakan asked Dag.
“No, debit or credit cards only. Cash is paid at the register inside.
The father counted the bills and then stuck them back in the wallet and slid a card out and paid at the machine on the end of the island.
While the gas was pumping, the father leaned into the rear passenger window and talked to the children who started bouncing and clapping, excited by whatever was said. Atakan worried the father offered to buy treats and they’d jump out and run into the store.
“No. No. No. Stay in the car little ones,” Atakan said under his breath. Doubtless, Iskender’s team was sweating bullets, worrying over the family’s intentions.
“Iskender, if they are not out of here in sixty seconds, push the man into the rear with the children and get the car out of here,” Dag ordered.
“Roger,” Iskender answered.
After a minute that felt like an eternity, the father finished climbed back in the car and pulled away. The children were still bouncing up and down in the rear seat when they left.
Dag had rolled the dice and almost created a major problem for the teams. Atakan wondered if Dag would acknowledge his misjudgment at the debriefing.
“The moment Lokman and the others cross the road stop the through traffic,” Dag ordered the men in the vans. “That was nerve-wracking,” he told Atakan.
“Targets are all carrying backpacks with something of weight inside from the looks. E.T.A. of two minutes to your location,” the spotter updated them.
“I’m guessing short-barreled assault rifles in the backpacks,” Atakan said to Dag.
“I agree. If any of them makes a move to swing their packs around, don’t wait for my signal. Move.”
“Understood.”
Omar Lokman, Turgay Yildirim, and Goker Ulvi came into sight. All of them crossed the road directly in line with the patio but then split up as they reached the station. Yildirim and Ulvi went toward the store while Lokman approached the e
dge of the patio.
“I told you to bring the woman,” Lokman said to Binici. When Binici didn’t answer, Lokman insisted, “Speak to me. I asked you a question.”
Binici didn’t move.
Lokman quickly glanced at the store and back at Binici, as he swung the backpack around in front of him.
“Go,” Dag ordered.
The three rushed forward, weapons fixed on Lokman.
Lokman drew a short-barreled rifle from the pack.
“Drop it.”
Atakan watched Lokman’s eyes flicker from the captain’s face to the Mehmetcik pointed at his chest. Lokman swiveled a fraction to the right the barrel of his rifle moving toward Binici.
Dag saw it too. “Take the shot.”
In an instant, a spray of pink filled the air from the sniper’s headshot. Lokman’s body hit the cement before the spray dissipated.
Iskender’s team joined Atakan, Dag, and the third man on the team on the patio, the other two terrorists in shackles. Lokman’s rifle and backpack were gathered and put with Yildirim’s and Ulvi’s in a spare duffle bag.
Binici’s guards ripped the tape from his mouth, cut the flex cuffs off and used the steel ones, cuffing his hands behind him until they got him to the jeep where he’d be chained again. The two vans that had been used to stop traffic pulled into the station. Yildirim and Ulvi were loaded into separate vans. The three prisoner transport vehicles left for the base.
“Any problems getting them secured?” Dag asked the leader of Iskender’s team.
He shot Dag a smug smirk. “You should’ve seen the surprise on their faces. They just looked wide-eyed at us and froze. I have more difficulty taking my boots on and off than we did taking them.”
A typical hot, end of summer day in Cyprus and they were all sweltering under their helmets. The others removed their helmets to wipe sweat from their faces and necks. Atakan had his helmet half off and then stopped. He’d promised Charlotte he’d keep it on while he was out of the Land Rover and in the open.
“And the shop owner?”
“He was all right with our presence, especially after I explained who we were arresting. I can’t say he’ll be all right once he’s sees this mess,” the team leader said, tipping his chin at the body and the large amount of Lokman’s blood covering the patio.
Atakan sidestepped a trail of blood that inched close to one of his boots.
“You two will stay behind to assist with this scene and see to the disposition of the body,” Dag said.
A transmission from the divers confirmed Havva Pelin was taken into custody without incident. Two naval officers would accompany her to the army base where she’d be interrogated and imprisoned until transport to Turkey.
“I understand you wish to sit in on the Pelin interrogation,” Dag said to Iskender.
“Very much so.”
Dag nodded, and then turned to Atakan. “Do you wish to be present at hers or Binici’s? I would think his since your investigation revealed his true identity and led to his apprehension.”
“You’re right. I want to sit across from him. Knowing I am responsible for him spending the rest of his life in prison, it will give me pleasure to have him see my face every time he looks up.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Today was Vadim’s birthday. The Dashiell woman told Rana she arranged for a suite at the hotel and planned on spending the day with him there. The plan played into Maksym’s hands.
“Rana, come here. Sit.” Maksym pointed to the stool by the salon’s bar. “Today is very important. I want you to listen well. You’re to do what I say, no matter what happens.”
“You’re going to tell me something I won’t like. I know it.” Rana huffed and sat on the stool next to him. A pout started and then disappeared before her lips completely pursed.
She was finally catching on to how much he disliked that particular habit of hers. It was a hell of a time for her to figure it out, he thought behind a faint smile.
“Evgeniy is dropping me somewhere and coming right back to the boat. If I have not returned by three this afternoon, the two of you are to leave and sail to Kusadasi.”
“Without you? No.”
Easy to read Rana, the wheels of her mind were spinning at warp speed. Maksym didn’t have time to answer the dozen questions he knew were forming.
“Yes, without me. If I have not returned by then, I am not coming back.” She opened her mouth to speak, but Maksym held up his hand and cut her off. “Rana, I told you from the start I had unfinished business here. Today, I will put an end to it. The point is—you must go.”
“But you might return, yes?”
“The odds are slim. I’m not counting on making it to the boat.”
Evgeniy had bribed a room service waiter at the hotel who was the same approximate size. The waiter had sold him a spare uniform and agreed to provide a cart with a bucket of champagne. That exchange cost Maksym five-thousand Euros, it cost him an extra five-hundred for the same waiter to check the reservation book to see which suite they’d have.
Maksym worried either Vadim or Dashiell, whichever one answered the door, would recognize Evgeniy from the one time he went with Rana to Ada’s. Evgeniy altered his appearance as much as possible without surgery. Instead of shaving his head daily, he let it go and dyed the fuzzy start of a brush cut black. He let his mustache grow in, which was blonde like the natural color of his hair so it was dyed too. They added black frame, clear lens glasses. His startling blue eyes had always attracted attention especially from women. As a final touch, Evgeniy volunteered to wear brown contacts, which Maksym wouldn’t have done, even for good money. He cringed at the thought of putting anything in his eyes even eye drops. He’d had to rely on lubricant eye drops while a military diver, having suffered corneal irritation a number of times from the mask anti-fog solution.
The room service ruse was good, Maksym didn’t doubt he’d succeed at killing Vadim. Whether or not he’d kill Dashiell, he hadn’t decided. The shots would bring hotel security. There wasn’t much chance he’d escape. If he didn’t get to an exit, he’d shoot it out and they’d kill him in a hail of gunfire, kind of like John Dillinger, the American gangster. It was a fitting end, better than cancer.
Rana’s soft voice interrupted his musings. “You believe this is the last we’ll see of each other, these moments we are sharing now.”
He nodded.
To his surprise, she didn’t cry. Instead, she bent her head and brought his hands to her face. She kissed the palms. He stiffened. The gesture was so unexpected, so oddly gentle and kind, Maksym was briefly at a loss as to what to say or do.
“Don’t,” he told her, pulling his hands from hers as she looked up.
He handed her the envelope with bank paperwork and cash. “I have deposited seventy-five-thousand Euros into an account, in your name at Vakif Bank, in Kusadasi.” He ignored her loud inhale and removed the cash from the envelope. “There’s ten-thousand here. This is for Evgeniy. Do not give it all to him until you are safely returned to Kusadasi. Keep it hidden. If he bothers you in any way on the trip, tell him he must leave you alone if he wants the rest of his money.”
Maksym grabbed the edge of the bar to stay seated. She’d thrown her arms around his neck and pressed hard against him. Rana was neither a large woman nor a strong one but the force of her actions almost knocked him off the stool. It shamed him to think he’d grown so weak.
She buried her face in his hair and said. “I don’t want your money. I want you. Maksy please, let’s leave. Forget the business that brought you here. We’ll be happy. You’ll see.”
Her shoulders shook with her tears that dampened the hair by his ear. He peeled her arms from his neck, pushing her away as he did so he could stand.
“Maksy...”
“Promise me, you’ll do as I told you. Three o’clock, you must go.”
She wiped at her tears with her fingers and back of her hands but refused to answer.
�
��Rana, if I must, I will have Evgeniy take you to the airport and put you on the next plane to Kusadasi.”
“I promise.” She hugged him tight and kissed him deeply then blinked back more tears and gave him a watery smile. “Until this afternoon...when I know—” She touched her palm to her heart. “We’ll be together again.”
“Sure, until then. Now, go hide the envelope and money and find Evgeniy. Tell him I’m ready to go.”
#
Charlotte tried to brush as much of the wax residue as possible from her hair. A good shampooing would wash off the stickiness left behind that the brushing didn’t get. She used more wax than her instructors did to keep her sword from moving too much or falling when she danced. She replayed Tribal Dream, or as she referred to it, her sword song, and hummed along while she brushed. She waited for Atakan to finish his shower so she could take one.
Atakan had been impressed with how she’d managed to dance and have the scimitar-style sword stay in place...for the most part. There was a dodgy moment or two when the sword started to spin twice as fast as she spun. The thicker underside of the sword was the waxy edge that stuck to her hair. It stayed on her head, but she wasn’t adept enough to control the spin. Because it was a dancer’s prop, the blade side was shorter, lighter, and dulled to not be dangerous. But she wanted to look more professional when she danced and a crazily whirling sword took away from the image. She’d slid her hand up, twisting it in an exotic Egyptian like gesture to stop the spin before the sword went airborne. Atakan thought she practiced the maneuver and assumed it was part of the routine. I like that cabaret thing you did where you snaked your hand along your face to halt the sword. She didn’t tell him any different.
He had the sword set aside on the desk, her costume off, his clothes off, and both of them rolling around the bed before the song ended.
The water in the shower shut off and the glass door creaked as Atakan stepped out.
Byzantine Gold Page 23
