Birth of an Assassin, Books 1-3: Killer Plots and Powerful Characterization (Birth of an Assassin - the series)

by Rik Stone

“Have you made the arrangements for transport when Anna gets to Turgutkoy?” Yuri asked.

  “Yes, there’ll be a vehicle waiting for her.”

  Mehmet wasn’t appeased by Petrichova’s words; he had a Herculean, life-changing task ahead of him and he’d been sidetracked to become a chauffeur.

  *

  Icmeler, Turkey

  Beyrek Ozel was furious.

  “I just don’t believe Mitrokhin. Suddenly, he wants the Bernstein girls back and I have to hand them over like an underling who was only holding them for him. I should tell him to go fuck himself.”

  “You were just holding them for him, Papa. They were never part of the deal. But if you don’t want to give them back, why don’t you just tell him?” said Ilkin. “He has nothing to do with the business anymore and you’re the one with the power here.”

  “Don’t think I wouldn’t, but if we were to start a war it could kill the drug trade. I know he doesn’t know anything about it, but Mitrokhin was the reason we got the franchise from the Russians in the first place. No, we have to let the women go. Mitrokhin is sending one of his bitches over to get them and she’ll be here later today.”

  Just before noon, Beyrek and Ilkin drove from their mansion in Icmeler. Beyrek was sweatier than usual, the drive to The Turkish Delight was dusty and the grime seemed to cling to him like shit. He was in a foul mood, made all the worse because he was losing two of his favourite girls.

  Inside the club, he thought he might make use of them one last time, but the unusual humidity put him off. He had them play around with each other for a while, but even that did nothing to get him going. Giving up, he sat swilling a Raki around the bottom of a glass.

  Early afternoon, a blue Ford Transit pulled up outside the club and a shortish, blond woman in her early thirties stepped out of the vehicle. She put one hand on her waist, wiped her brow with the back of the other and brushed her long hair to one side. Beyrek got a little lift on seeing her looking as grubby from her journey as he felt. But that changed nothing; he was still seething. Now looking at this little thing with an expression that would turn milk brought more anger. All the same, he’d made the agreement and she was only a courier. He stepped out from the main entrance before she had chance to approach.

  He said, “I think I’m expecting you, but confirm your name and why you’re here before we go any further.”

  “If you’re Beyrek Ozel then you’ll have been told to expect Anna and that is the only name you were given.”

  Beyrek nodded.

  “My reason for being here is to pick up two Russian Jewesses, Hannah and Becca. And you better have them ready for me. The last thing I want is to stay in this hellhole any longer than I have to.”

  Beyrek snickered. This girl had spunk and through the grime, he could see she was one hell of a looker. His thoughts ran ahead of him. He stared at her full breasts and heat moved into his loins where there had been nothing for the two girls earlier.

  “Are you saying I can’t convince you to stay over tonight, maybe cement international relations?” he said.

  The look he got would have taken the heat out of chilli peppers. “I’m not one of your fucking whores,” she snarled. “Just bring me the girls.”

  He reached behind for his gun, but the drug franchise came to mind and, biting his lip, he brought the hand back out front. His drooling mouth rearranged itself and then his lips twitched and curled into a vicious sneer.

  “Today, you’re one lucky bitch, but hold your tongue or that luck might run out.” Shoving his anger to one side, he pushed the door open and shouted, “Bring the girls out.”

  They came out, hands on hips, looking coy, expressions full of innocence, but at the same time pushing their small breasts out provocatively. He’d taught them well. Beyrek felt another pang of disappointment at losing them.

  The girls looked at the woman waiting for them and dropped their gaze in unison. But Mitrokhin’s woman ignored them, took a briefcase from the van and laid it at his feet.

  “You want to count it?” she asked.

  Sarcastic bitch; if she belonged to him, he would break her the hard way. He placed his hands on the backs of the Bernstein girls and eased them towards the woman, as if ushering shy children forward.

  “I don’t think that will be necessary. Otto wouldn’t short change me. And if you have, well, I’ll be straight in touch with Otto and I’m not sure he likes women so much. But I’m sure he’d enjoy teaching you a lesson or two. Thinking about it, maybe I’ll tell him you took some anyway, just for the fun of it.”

  The Anna woman hadn’t looked fazed by the jibe and her answer came as more than a surprise to Beyrek. “Yes, and if you do, I’ll be back. And if I have to do that, I promise you here and now, I’ll cut your balls off, push them in your mouth and sew it shut… And don’t think I wouldn’t.”

  He felt his face boil in anger, but nervousness entrenched him. He believed her. He pushed the girls a bit harder. “You belong to her now,” he said and went back into the club.

  Ilkin had stayed inside and was watching Beyrek’s entrance expectantly.

  “If all the Russian girls were like that one,” Beyrek said, “I don’t think business would be doing so well.”

  *

  Mehmet watched dust form a cloud and engulf the Transit van as it raced down the hillside and pulled up next to Turgutkoy dockside. Anna got out, a bit scruffy from a sticky journey, but still looking like Miss World. She opened the back doors of the van and held out a hand, helped two girls balance as they stumbled out. They looked like frightened rabbits and clung to one another nervously.

  Mehmet approached, hoping he could put Hannah and Becca at ease, but their response was to put hands on hips and thrust their upper bodies out towards him.

  “No, no, you don’t understand,” he said in Russian, not feeling pleased at the way his body reacted to the provocation. “We’re not here to make use of you. You are free. We’re taking you to Russia, back to your father.”

  The taller of the two said, “Why? So he can sell us to someone else?”

  “You really don’t understand,” Mehmet said, thinking of Yagmur’s manipulation concerning Nina. “Your father never sold you. He thought you were being taken to Italy where you would have a better chance in life.”

  Almost in unison, both girls heaved a breath, the face of the younger crumpling into tears, the elder biting into her bottom lip, refusing to show emotion.

  Yuri came over. “We’ll sort the explanations out later. Right now, you need to hurry. If Beyrek Ozel had second thoughts and made checks elsewhere in Moscow, Anna may have someone on her tail. Come, get on the boat.” He helped Hannah and Becca from the quayside onto the gulet, stowed them below deck and then came back to the dockside.

  “That’s your job done, Anna,” he said. “I hope everything goes as well for you back in Russia.”

  She smiled and kissed him on either cheek. Mehmet was disappointed to only get the smile. She went to the van and climbed in. “Good luck with the rest of the assignment,” she shouted.

  Turning the ignition key, the big diesel spun into life and she waved one last time before leaving. Mehmet and Yuri watched clouds of sandy grit kick up from the unmade road as she gunned the van up the hill and out of sight.

  Mehmet asked Yuri, “What does she mean ‘good luck’? How could anything go wrong with what we’re doing here?”

  “Like the general said, getting the girls away from Beyrek is the first part. The real task begins when Hannah and Becca have been made safe.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t know anything about the mission.”

  “Look, let’s get the girls onto the merchant ship in Istanbul and then I’ll tell you everything I know, everything.”

  Chapter 44

  Leaving the forested hillsides of Turgutkoy behind, they sailed through the stillness of turquoise waters, cleared sight of land and stumbled into deep sea swells.

  “You wouldn’t no
rmally sail this far out in such unsettled seas. You must have genuine fears of Beyrek checking out Anna’s story,” Mehmet said.

  “No, I don’t think he’d do that, else he’d have done it before Anna got there. But I like to go with the safe options. We’ll stay deep until we round Bozcaada Island, then we’ll go back to hugging the mainland.”

  Eventually, they came abreast of Canakkale and sailed closer to shore where the waters were more settled. They navigated the Dardanelles, the strait between the Aegean and Marmara Seas, and sailed past Gallipoli before setting a direct course for the island of Marmara Adasi where they would pick up the main shipping lanes into the Bosporus Strait.

  The general had given them a rendezvous point in Sariyer, a port at the northern end of the strait near the Black Sea. It was there they found the Russian merchant ship that would take the girls back to their homeland.

  Passing the responsibility of the young women over to the merchantman, they manoeuvred the gulet from the dockside. Mehmet looked back and saw the girls out on the main deck waving goodbye.

  “Sweet girls, sad what happened… I think that was a job worth doing,” Yuri said, from behind the helm.

  “I can’t believe their reactions: no tears, no hysterics; in fact, no emotions,” Mehmet said.

  “If only things were that simple. I’d bet money that as soon as they get back with their father they’ll fall apart at the seams.”

  “Well, it’s over for us and now we move onto yet another task before my grudge can be dealt with,” Mehmet said, feeling cheated.

  “That’s the life you signed up for, but don’t worry, my young friend, I think you’ll find this new task and your grudge are one and the same thing.”

  Yuri was stood at the helm while Mehmet had a foot up on the aft bench encircling the inner bulwark. His focus had been moving from the girls on the ship to the wake dissolving from aft of the gulet, but Yuri’s words turned him with a start, surprised. “The same thing? How so?” he asked.

  “Beyrek Ozel was the one who gave the order to have your father killed,” Yuri told him, going for nonchalant, but clearly uncomfortable.

  Mehmet listened, struck silent as numbness worked its way into his flesh.

  “Your papa grieved for your mother like no other I’ve seen. He couldn’t forgive himself for the way she died. But while he had been guilty of doing some stupid things in his life, he wasn’t responsible for what happened to her. I think most of his torment was because it made him realise he’d been a bad husband and father and it was too late to do anything about it.”

  “Why did Beyrek kill him?” Mehmet asked, sad thinking of his mother, unmoved thinking of his father.

  “Your mother was a beautiful woman and both Levent and Beyrek fell in love with her. I think when she died Beyrek took his grief out on Levent.”

  Yuri cleared his throat.

  “Levent promised himself your life wouldn’t be wasted like his had been. He knew Beyrek’s safe was bursting with money and made a plan to rob the apartment while Beyrek was away on business. Levent – sorry, your father – was aware of the dangers, but he wanted to make up for his shortcomings.” Yuri held out open palms. “Beyrek caught him and your father paid the ultimate price.”

  Mehmet felt a burning, watery pressure behind his eyes – Beyrek: he was the one responsible for turning his life to shit.

  Yuri went on. “On the boat, your father asked me to take care of you, but I was being held at gunpoint and wasn’t allowed to answer. I did give him my assurance with a nod. At least he died believing you would be safe.”

  Mehmet’s brow furrowed. “Then why wasn’t I?”

  “I tried. When I eventually got rid of Beyrek and his henchmen I went out looking for you, but Zeki had been sent ahead. By the time I got to Galata he’d taken you… I couldn’t believe it when years later I fished you out of the Bosporus. It was as if some god had plucked you up from that gang and given me another chance to keep my word.”

  “Oh … just a minute, so it was Beyrek that Zeki worked for?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I have seen him before. He would’ve been the one Senturk and I saw next to the Galata Bridge on the night we followed Zeki. Not only is he responsible for killing my father, he killed Senturk as well… But why didn’t you tell me any of this earlier?”

  “And what would you have done? You were a dogged child. If I’d told you, you would have been off seeking revenge. You’d have been killed and, of course, I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “But it seems okay for me to go after him now that the general wants it done?” Mehmet said.

  “Ouch! Now is okay because you have the might of the Soviet forces behind you.”

  Mehmet fell silent, overwhelmed. Suddenly he wanted to be alone, think things through. Without a word, he began making his way towards the fore of the vessel.

  “Mehmet,” Yuri called.

  But Mehmet held up a halting hand and continued his way to the prow of the vessel, Yuri’s words reverberating around his brain. He stood up front watching the bow break the still waters until he became desensitised to what Yuri had told him and accepted things for what they were. Beyrek had been responsible for the murder of his father and for the life Mehmet was subsequently subjected to. Now he had a picture of him in mind he could see Beyrek for what he was: a man, nothing more than a man.

  “Are you all right, Mehmet?” Yuri asked, coming up the deck behind him.

  Mehmet’s head spun in surprise. “What? Oh yes. Don’t worry, Yuri, what you’ve told me has given me strength and now I know what has to be done. You told me that the next step and my grudge were the same thing; what exactly is the task?”

  “Our first priority is to get the current batch of Russian girls away from Icmeler and to a place of safety. If we succeed, we return to raze the club to the ground, destroy those who run it. Will you have a problem doing things as General Petrichova has ordered?”

  The sun radiated warmth onto Mehmet’s back and it was with calmness when he answered. “Don’t worry, Yuri, I must do this job the way you describe it and not just because the general wants it that way. The Bernstein girls must have gone through hell with Beyrek Ozel. How could I do anything to jeopardise the girls still under his control? No, I will follow your orders.”

  “Good. Our first stop is the Russian Embassy in Yenikapi.”

  “I think before that you should get back to the helm,” Mehmet laughed, “or you will need another new boat.”

  Yuri looked to where Mehmet was pointing before rushing back, taking the helm and steering away from the oncoming ferry.

  *

  Russian Embassy, Yenikapi

  “If you think the task is too big for two people, say so now,” the general said after outlining his orders. “I have agents in Ankara that could meet you in Turgutkoy.”

  “No, General. I think too many Russians on the scene could be more of a problem than a help. The details you’ve given are more or less in line with what I already knew, so I think we’ll be better off with just the two of us,” Yuri said. “I’ve put together a list of what we need.” He handed the general a sheet of paper.

  General Petrichova summoned an aide. “See to it that the embassy staff gather these items and put them in the foyer.”

  Mehmet thought it an odd list, but they didn’t seem to have any trouble filling the order and soon they were carrying the items down to the boat. It wasn’t long after that that they set sail.

  “I haven’t even seen half of these weapons before, Yuri. It’ll take me the full trip to become familiar with their use.”

  Yuri laughed. “Mehmet, if we had a month of Sundays I don’t think you’d be able to shoot straight. But we’ll see what we can do.”

  Mehmet pulled a face and began sorting through the arms cache: two of each of Uzi sub-machineguns, Dragunov SVD sniper rifles, Makarov handguns and Welrod silent pistols. At least Mehmet could fire them if nothing else and the field glasses were o
bvious, but as for the other stuff… As he learned along the way: hand grenades, smoke grenades, a couple of Stinger air pens, firearm simulators, a garrotte, Chinese Crackers and C4 explosive with detonators.

  Mehmet was puzzled. “Are you expecting me to do something with this lot?” he asked.

  “No, I’ll be using most of it. But you should understand the principles.”

  And Yuri taught him as much as he could in the time they had. The grenades and other bits were no big deal, but by the time they approached the peninsular leading to Turgutkoy, Mehmet had practised shooting and it was still the same – hopeless.

  Silence ruled until Yuri said, “Wealthy Turkish families pay a lot of money to come here from the cities on holiday, but you, you are seeing it all free.”

  “Yes, thank you, Yuri, but with Beyrek’s club within two hours of here, getting excited about the scenery is stretching the imagination a little.”

  But Yuri was right; the coastline was as beautiful as any Mehmet had seen. The sun shone on a cobalt-blue sea and bare cliffs watched over the gulet as it entered the Turgutkoy inlet. Hills off the starboard bow were covered in dense, green forest and seemed to radiate a relaxing calmness.

  Approaching shore, there were a multitude of docking choices and Mehmet was at the helm when Yuri shouted from the fore while pointing. “We use the same floating pontoon that we took when we brought Anna in; the one near to that red Transit van.”

  Three dark-skinned men with jet-black, greasy hair leant against the side of the van. Mehmet looked at them with suspicion. “We didn’t have a welcome party when we brought Anna here,” he said.

  “No, but they’re the same people that served us then.”

  “They don’t look Turkish.”

  “But they are. Well, sort of. They’re Kurds who escaped to this place from one of the many Turkish conflicts. They’ve settled in the surrounding hills.”

  They docked the gulet and the Kurds helped them load the bags of weapons into the Transit. Yuri settled the debt and the men left wearing big smiles.

  “Let’s eat; it’s midday and we have a long afternoon ahead before we get another chance,” said Yuri.