[Anthology] Abby & Sei Thriller Starter

by Ty Hutchinson

  “What’s the option?” I asked.

  “I’m lowering my weapon. I suggest you do the same. We can then have a civilized discussion and maybe, just maybe, help each other out of this mess.”

  I nodded, and we both lowered our arms and put our weapons away.

  “There still seems to be some aspect of trust alive in us both. Now—”

  “First, I want to know who you are and why you’re interested in me.”

  “That is of no concern of yours. What should be is finding a way out of this—alive. So I suggest you stop asking questions and start listening.”

  I said nothing and kept my eyes locked onto his. I could feel the heat in my cheeks. It took all I had to keep my temper in check. I didn’t like being treated as if I were his detainee. Had I wronged someone in my past such that he or she would go to such lengths to have brought me in? That’s what it felt like—like Kostas’ orders were to bring me to someone. But who? How could this person have known I would need to escape Turkey? It made no sense.

  Kashani was the only person I could think of who might have answers. He told me before we parted that we were to have no contact until I was safely out of the country. At the time, I thought nothing of his request. It was reasonable then, but my situation had changed. Alas, the only phone I had access to was Kostas’.

  I didn’t know what else to think. Kostas said I had a chance to save myself. Why say that, unless I had it all wrong? Were we in that much trouble that he actually needed my help to fight the Askeri Inzibat? Would he cut me loose once we got away? There were many what-ifs and not enough answers. I brushed off my inner voice, and for the time being, accepted that I had no real choice but to play along.

  “In about an hour we’ll reach the junction where this road connects with the D300 highway,” Kostas said, his voice stern and direct. “There will be a diversion waiting for us: road construction. We’ll use that to peel away from this deathtrap we’ve attached ourselves to.”

  “Who’s responsible for creating that?”

  “I have friends. They can be trusted. They won’t blow up the convoy, but they’ll do what they can to slow the Askeri Inzibat should they reverse course and follow us.”

  Bombs? What sort of friends does he have? “And then what?”

  “I’ll brief you on ‘then what’ if the diversion works. Until then, sit tight.”

  48

  With the speed of the caravan averaging about 140 kph, the hour passed quickly, and soon the sun brightened the horizon.

  I had been using Kostas’ phone to monitor our position on the map. “We should be approaching the junction soon. Did your friends mention what sort of construction to look for?”

  “They didn’t get into specifics. Only that it would be big enough that we would have to slow, and they would be able to separate us from the pack.”

  No sooner had Kostas spoken those words than the brake lights on the truck ahead of us burned red. We slowed to about 40 kph. So far, so good.

  A little bit later, a couple of trucks, two steamrollers, and a large semi that looked as if it were applying a layer of asphalt behind it came into view near the T intersection. I had to admit I was impressed by their ability to organize so quickly. Kostas slowed even more to create separation.

  “I know we think the caravan is heading left to Denizli, and we’re supposed to go right, but what if they turn right?” I slouched down in my seat.

  “Then we turn left. A plan has been put in place for either outcome.”

  As we neared the construction zone, I could see workmen wearing yellow hard hats and reflective vests. Two of them were directing traffic to the left. They all had olive complexions and appeared to be Turkish.

  The convoy came to a complete stop at the intersection. Kostas held his handgun out of view. I did the same with my knife.

  “Looks like the lead vehicle is talking to one of the workers,” Kostas said. “Come on, a-hole. Turn left and get on with it.”

  A few more seconds passed before the lead truck accelerated and did exactly what we had hoped. One by one, the others turned left. Kostas stalled our vehicle on purpose to once again create separation. By the time we started moving, we were about three car lengths behind the truck ahead of us. Just enough of an opening for the semi up ahead to move into position and cut us off from the pack. It completely sealed off the road to the left, so our only option was to turn right. And we did.

  Kostas slammed his foot down on the accelerator. “We’ve got maybe thirty seconds to a minute before they realize we’re not behind them. That rig should also keep us out of view during that time.”

  “How hard are they willing to try and stop the Askeri Inzibat from coming after us?”

  “They’ll play dumb and use every stall tactic they can think of using their equipment. There’s a ditch on either side of the road, so driving around them isn’t really an option.”

  I peered into the side mirror and watched the construction site get smaller and smaller. The plan seemed to be working. We kept driving until we put about seven or eight miles between us and the Askeri Inzibat. We couldn’t see them behind us, so we had to assume they couldn’t see us.

  “Okay, we’re past the construction site. I think it’s time you fill me in on what happens next.”

  Kostas said nothing and instead hung a hard left onto a dirt road and then dialed a number on his phone. “We’re about three minutes out. Yes, we’re in the same vehicle.”

  “How about telling me what’s happening?” I asked with a tad bit of force.

  He pointed up ahead to a small, dilapidated building. It looked like some sort of farm shed.

  “That’s the plan? To hide out in there?”

  No sooner had those words left my mouth than the doors to the shed opened. Two men appeared carrying assault rifles. They were dressed in local-style clothing, but their white skin color made it clear they weren’t Turkish. Kostas drove our truck inside, and the doors closed behind us.

  Kostas exited the car. “Hurry. We don’t have time.”

  I got out of the vehicle.

  “Wait here,” he said before moving out of ear range and having a hushed conversation with the two men. The few words I did manage to pick up were in English. They then walked over to a large tarp. One of the men yanked on it and revealed three ATVs. Kostas hopped onto one and looked at me. “Get on and hold on tight. They can still find us here.”

  Seconds later, we and the two other men were continuing north on the dirt road.

  “Will they be our escorts? Because the large assault rifles slung over their chests aren’t exactly covert.”

  “Farther up there are vehicles waiting for us. We’ll be on our own from there.”

  After a bumpy ride, I spotted two SUVs parked under a couple of fruit trees. Kostas pointed to one of the vehicles. “Hurry. We’re still on the clock.”

  “What about them?” I asked, looking back as we drove off.

  “They have business to attend to.”

  Fine by me. My concern was still getting out of Turkey. The SUV we had looked about eight to ten years old. The paint was faded, and rust spots dotted the rear panels of the vehicle.

  “Don’t worry; the engine is solid.”

  “I’m assuming we’re back on course to Cesme?” I asked.

  Before Kostas could answer, a booming explosion rattled our car. I looked out the rear window of the SUV, and a large, yellowish fireball appeared in the distance, about where the shed stood. I turned back to Kostas, speechless. A second later, a second explosion erupted in the vicinity of where we abandoned the ATV vehicles.

  A coy smile appeared on his face. “It’ll be like we were never there.”

  49

  Exploding buildings, friends with assault rifles, getaway vehicles. It wasn’t hard to rationalize who was sitting next to me. With my arms folded across my chest, I turned toward Kostas. “Unless you’ve learned to master a perfect American accent, you’re not with MI5. That
leaves the CIA.”

  “Does it matter?” he asked, glancing over at me.

  “Yes. What does the CIA want with me?” Four previous contracts immediately came to mind. They all involved Americans, but nobody I thought would warrant their involvement. “How long have you been tracking my movements?”

  “We’re not. Our person of interest was Basir Kashani. Our hope was that you would connect us with him, inadvertently.”

  “You’re the driver who’s helping me out of this country after I escaped from a prison. That’s pretty specific information, if you ask me.”

  “We got a last-minute tip from an informant that Kashani needed a driver. I became that person.”

  It sounded plausible. “Wait. You said ‘was.’ Where’s Kashani?”

  “That phone call I received earlier was from a Turkish contact. Kashani’s body was found dumped on the side of a road in Siverek.”

  “What? Are you positive?”

  “Enough to terminate the operation. Which also means we no longer need you.”

  “Then why are you still driving me west?”

  Kostas chewed on his bottom lip before answering. “It was my decision.”

  His answer took me by surprise. “I have no interest in becoming an informant for you, if that’s what this is all about.”

  “It wouldn’t be like that. Think of it as more of a mutually beneficial relationship, one where we help each other. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”

  “You’re helping me because you want me indebted to you.”

  “My initial orders were to abandon you at the shed. So yeah, I think you owe me big time as it stands. And when I get you on to that fishing boat in Cesme, I’d say one favor won’t be enough to pay off your debt.”

  “Why help me? What makes you think you can trust me?”

  “The last two days. I like to think I can read people fairly quickly. I may not approve of the work you do, but I do feel as if you have a level of morality that most in your field lack. And you seem like a decent person. You’re an assassin with a conscience. How’s that for irony?”

  Kostas must have sensed my tied tongue. “Surprised?”

  “Why on earth would you want to develop someone like me as an asset? Answer that.”

  “Don’t read too much into it. In my line of work, it’s advantageous to have all sorts of friends.”

  “Oh, we’re friends now?”

  “Why not? Weren’t you and Kashani friends? Wasn’t that a relationship born out of benefit?”

  “Kashani wasn’t in law enforcement.”

  “I have resources that can give me access to information that supposedly doesn’t exist.”

  Whether he knew it or not, Kostas had pressed the right button. He could prove useful in helping me find my daughter, but it wasn’t the time to discuss that.

  “You said mutually beneficial. Am I to presume that I can receive information from the CIA in the future?”

  “As it stands now, you owe me. And once you deliver, yes, I would say we can have an exchange of information when warranted.” Kostas looked at me. “I want us to be friends. I want us to work together.”

  The way I saw it, the deal favored me. Kostas was still helping me when he didn’t need to in the hopes that I could provide information in the future. It was a gamble, one that could endanger his life, again. I had nothing to lose. “Before we start making pinky promises to each other, let’s focus on getting me to Greece.”

  Demir stood a few feet away from what used to be an old equipment shed. It was mostly just charred ground, with a burnt Askeri Inzibat truck sitting in the middle of it.

  “There were two explosions,” said the officer from the Askeri Inzibat. “The other is farther down the dirt road. Three ATVs were destroyed. A plastic explosive was probably used, C4 most likely. Whoever is with her isn’t just a driver.”

  Demir gritted his teeth. He had come so close to capturing Sei. He had shut off the D300 at Cay and Denizli. All he’d had to do was close in. “What about the men posing as a construction crew? Where are they now?”

  “Gone. All the vehicles were abandoned. We don’t know their location, but it’s apparent they were also involved. That amount of organization in that short amount of time—this is beyond someone like Basir Kashani. We’ve widened our search to the adjacent highways and are conducting stops on every vehicle. They can’t be that far.”

  That’s what I keep saying. Demir turned and headed back to his vehicle.

  50

  “We’re about two hours away from Cesme,” Kostas said, looking at his watch. “Unless we run into trouble, we should get to the port a little before eleven a.m.”

  “Is the fishing boat still on, in lieu of everything that’s happened so far?”

  “I’m their only contact. They have no reason not to believe it’s business as usual. It’ll take about an hour to get to Chios. I trust from there you can arrange transport on a ferry to Athens?”

  I nodded.

  “I can’t take you exactly to the port. You’ll have to make your way by foot. Once there, look for a fishing boat called the Spiro.”

  “Sounds familiar.”

  Kostas smiled. “Tell the captain I sent you. They’ll be expecting you.”

  “And what about you? What will you do?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out.” Kostas dug into his pocket for his wallet and handed it to me. “There are business cards in there. Take one.”

  I removed a simple white card with a phone number on it.

  “Call that number, and the person on the other end will put you in touch with me.”

  “How will you contact me?”

  Kostas chuckled. “I work for the CIA, remember?”

  We arrived at Cesme close to the timing Kostas had predicted. We were driving down a single-lane road in a quiet neighborhood when he pulled the SUV over to the side and parked. Old apartment buildings lined both sides of the road. An old woman walked her dog across the street. A couple carrying groceries was about to enter a building. A man selling fresh apricots from a wooden pushcart steadily made his way down the sidewalk.

  “This is where we part,” Kostas said. “The ocean is that way.” He pointed straight head. “Just keep moving in that direction. All roads eventually lead to the port.”

  “Are you on foot as well?” I asked.

  “Yes, but it’s best I not say any more. What you don’t know you can’t divulge. Remember, you’re not out of danger yet. I expect this city to be crawling with Demir’s men. Our little diversion back on the highway didn’t slow them; it just allowed us a way to get out of that Askeri Inzibat conga line.”

  I exited the SUV and walked over to the sidewalk where Kostas stood. “I appreciate you getting me to Cesme, knowing you didn’t have to.”

  “Technically, I was hired to do a job. I wanted to hold up my end of the bargain. Plus I know you have a crush on me, and I couldn’t leave you back there.” A silly grin spread across Kostas’ face.

  As hard as I tried not to crack a smile, I failed, and a tiny one snuck out.

  Kostas nearly jumped out of his skin. “Aha. I knew you had a sense of humor buried somewhere inside of you.” He clasped his hands together before resting them on his hips. “It’s a shame you didn’t come out of your shell earlier. We could have had fun on this trip.”

  “Fun? Didn’t you just blow something up not too long ago?” I said, smiling.

  “Is it always this hard for people to get to know you?”

  “My line of work isn’t exactly conducive to being everybody’s friend.”

  “Yeah, that would be awkward if your new best friend turned out to be your next hit. Speaking of knocking off someone you know, have you—”

  “Never. Why? Are you volunteering?”

  “Look at you. Once you get going, you don’t stop. I think I like the new Sei.”

  “As much as I’m enjoying this bonding session with you, I think it’s t
ime I go.”

  “Of course.” Kostas stuck his hand out. “Good luck, and I’ll be in touch.”

  As I grabbed a hold of his hand, his smile sunk and his eyes widened. Instantly, Kostas tightened his grip and yanked me down to the sidewalk, just as the popping of a handgun rang out.

  51

  “Stay down,” Kostas shouted as he leaned back against the SUV with his weapon drawn. All I had on me was my knife; the other handgun was still in the glove compartment.

  “Who’s shooting at us?” I called out as I crawled over to the driver’s-side door, intent on retrieving the other weapon.

  “Your friends, the Askeri Inzibat. Two are taking cover behind their truck, twenty feet to the right of us.”

  “Draw their fire. I’ll flank them,” I said, exiting the vehicle.

  Kostas leaned out from his cover and let loose a barrage of return fire while I moved quickly to the front of the SUV. I peered under the vehicle and saw the feet of both men behind the vehicle. No need to flank.

  My first shot hit the ankle of the shooter behind the driver side. He let out a cry and dropped to the ground, exposing his face and allowing me to sink my next shot right into it. The other Askeri Inzibat was clueless as to what had just happened, so I shot his foot as well. He dropped to one knee and I put a bullet into it, but he fell behind the wheel. I sprinted to the vehicle and quickly finished him with two shots to his chest.

  “Nice shooting,” Kostas said as he came up behind me. “We need to move out of here now. I’m sure multiple calls to the police have already been made.”

  Just as those words left his mouth, the cry of a siren could be heard nearing us. “This way,” Kostas said, placing a hand on my back and ushering me in that direction.

  We slipped through a narrow walkway between buildings, which opened up next to the patio of the ground floor unit. “Hope you can climb,” he said, running toward a six-foot-tall wooden enclosure gate. He leapt, planting his right foot against a plank and reaching with both hands for the top so he could pull himself over. I followed suit and landed right behind him.