Firth snorted a quick protest but returned to focusing on not getting sick. Adriana seemed satisfied and was once again reading her book. The conversation was, apparently, over because Jabez got up and went back to the cockpit, closing the door behind.
Sean closed his eyes and went back to where he’d been in his mind only a few moments before.
The deal for the nuke was taking place in an abandoned fabric warehouse on the outskirts of town. It was a logical location for the people making the deal. And it also made intervening a huge tactical problem. Line of sight was covered by men on the roof and in the windows of the old building. That meant a direct approach was nearly impossible. They would see a frontal assault coming from a mile away. Literally.
Sean had gone over the layout of the facility and found a way in through an underground drainage system that ran under the walls. The plan had been to go in from the inside then bring in support from the outside, effectively surrounding the culprits.
It all sounded like a great idea. But as Sean had predicted, it all went haywire.
The entire operation depended on timing, which Sean hated. He preferred to have the ability to audible out of a situation, or at least have enough flexibility to make a judgment call. British special ops wouldn’t hear of it. They’d insisted on everything being done on their timetable.
When the demolitions expert on their team, a heavily muscled guy named Vince, had trouble setting off the explosives imbedded in the floor, the whole operation was thrown off kilter. Sean had tried to radio the units outside the building and tell them to wait, but there was too much interference. With no warning, the units on the outside moved in too soon and were immediately pinned down by the snipers stationed around the building.
By the time Vince finally blew the floor out from under the terrorists, they were already in full panic mode, trying to load up and make their escape. Sean slung his grapple up quickly and hauled himself up the rope into chaos. The first thing he saw was the back of a white delivery truck’s doors being closed with a large wooden crate concealed in the back.
The explosion had drawn the attention of the terrorists who weren’t trying to get away quickly, and a hail of gunfire ensued from four men on the other side of the warehouse. Sean fired off three quick shots, taking down two of the gunmen before ducking behind a nearby steel support beam.
He pointed to several wooden boxes on the other side of the hole Vince had blown in the floor and yelled at the other three members of his team to take cover in that position when they got topside. Bullets pinged off his protective barrier; a few hit the tin wall behind him. He spun around and fired his AR-15 four more times, dropping the remaining two gunmen.
Another threat appeared on the upper catwalk that encircled the warehouse. Several more men with assault rifles were firing down on his position and on the rest of his team who were coming up through the cavity in the floor. Two more appeared on the ground from behind the truck that was now starting up and trying to turn around so it could go through the large hangar doors at the end. Sean also noticed a man in a slick gray business suit with peppered gray and black hair jumping into the back of a black SUV. For a split second, Sean thought he recognized the man, but the barrage of bullets kept him focused on the immediate threats.
The SUV sped off, cutting past the delivery truck as men were still trying to get the doors locked down. Sean had to find a way to stop the truck. He laid down covering fire as his support team continued to appear through the hole in the floor. When all of them had made it to cover, he signaled for them to take out the guys on the catwalk first. He could handle the two on the ground.
Mere seconds after he’d given the order, one of the men on the catwalk fell over the railing and smacked into the floor. His support team on the left picked off the gunmen one by one in quick succession. Sean wasted no time. He pulled out his Berretta and ran toward the first of the two terrorists on the ground, squeezing of three shots as he sprinted to a concrete cylinder. The target dropped to the ground leaving one guy remaining. The delivery truck roared to life as the loan terrorist continued to fire his weapon recklessly in Sean’s direction. He gave a quick nod to Vince who was still tucked behind the crates. Vince popped up and fired twice with his AR-15.
The gunman’s assault rifle went silent as the truck started to pull away. Sean dropped his pistol and put the butt of his assault rifle against his shoulder. He would only have one chance to hit the driver as the truck made the turn to go through the door. If the vehicle reached the exit, he doubted the team on the outside would be able to stop it.
He closed one eye and breathed slowly as he watched the front edge of the truck. It swerved to the left then turned sharply to the right. The driver, a man in a black turban with a thick black mustache appeared in his scope’s crosshairs. The truck would be gone in less than three seconds. Sean let out a long, slow breath, and squeezed the trigger.
He’d received commendations for valor and leadership. But none of that mattered anymore. Taking lives was something he was good at. And he wished he wasn’t. Sean longed for a life in which he didn’t have to kill, didn’t have to hide, or worry that someone was watching him. His friend, Tommy had given him a standing offer to join the International Archaeological Agency. It was a security position, the main task of which was to secure artifacts for transport to research facilities. The pay was good. The hours were great. And the risk factors were much lower. It was exactly what Sean had been looking for. Since he had a long-time interest in ancient history, it pretty much sounded like the perfect gig.
His resignation from Axis had been difficult. He’d worked with Emily a long time. She had become one of the few people he trusted in the world. But she would be okay without him. Or so he hoped. There was a group of recruits that looked promising for the small agency. The realization that he wouldn’t regret leaving, but he might regret staying, was the biggest influencing factor.
Emily had begged him to stay on. But too many things were telling him to get out. So, he did. And he never looked back. That wasn’t to say he ever lost touch with his former boss. They’d helped each other out several times since he left. And he imagined that cooperative exchange would continue well into the future.
“We’ll be landing in Istanbul in a few minutes,” the pilot’s voice cut through his thoughts, and he opened his eyes. Everyone was securing their seatbelts in preparation for landing.
Sean hoped this visit to the ancient city would go better than the last.
Chapter 20
Istanbul, Turkey
The untamed scents of the eternal city filled Alexander Lindsey’s nostrils as he stepped out of his car, onto the sidewalk. The dry air outside his lavish hotel was filled with the smell of spices, herbs, roasting meat, onions, and garlic; all of it wafted in his direction from the bazaar a few blocks away. Istanbul was a wild parade for the senses. The sidewalks were a river of people dressed in a vast array of clothing from the bland to the extraordinarily colorful. Lights flashed from a thousand directions. The sounds of cars, music, and laughter filled his ears.
DeGard exited the vehicle and gazed around at the sites of Istanbul at night. The city was a cornucopia of historical significance. The city had been the economic center between Europe, Asia, and the Middle East for thousands of years. It was dead center of the famous Silk Road, and was the only connection between the Black Sea and the Mediterranean. Over the course of its history, Istanbul had been the capital city for four major empires. In the early 1920s, when Turkey became a republic, it was passed over as the Turkish capital in favor of Ankara. Still, the city had grown immensely during the twentieth century, boasting the second largest population within a city limit in the entire world.
Everywhere DeGard looked he could see the mingling of modern humanity, ancient architecture and design, and Islamic influences. Each time he visited, DeGard felt like he was in a cultural playground.
Lindsey didn’t seem nearly as impressed. A scowl covered his face, and he hurri
edly trudged into the hotel, past the doorman in a costume that reminded him of the story of Aladdin. Inside the hotel, he was greeted by more smiling faces and a world of opulence that would appease the most particular of tastes. His scowl still prevailed.
Will followed him in with wide eyes staring around at all of the sights. He had stayed in luxurious hotels during his employment with Lindsey, but this one might have topped them all. Lavish burgundy curtains flowed from the ceiling of each end of the white marble concierge desk. The glass elevator was in the center of the enormous lobby, ferrying patrons up and down the twenty-story facility. In front of the elevator, a wide semi-circular fountain displayed an amazing water show like a miniature version of what one could find at the Bellagio in Las Vegas.
Lush greenery hung from the balconies and ledges. Enormous pottery lined the orange-tan marble floor with various trees from the region.
Kaba had entered the building before the others and secured the checkout, knowing that Lindsey did not wish to delay. The Prophet was tired from his extensive journeys. He would need a good night’s rest before moving on to Ararat the next day. It would be a journey of several hours, and he would need all the energy he could muster. She stepped away from the mocha-skinned woman behind the concierge desk and handed Lindsey his room key, sure to point out which room he would be staying in. She also handed a key to Will, but gave him a knowing, flirtatious glance as she did.
DeGard had finally dragged himself inside and spun around in circles as he inspected the hotel’s interior for the first time.
“I have to say, Monsieur Lindsey, you certainly know how to travel in style.” The old man simply grumbled and shuffled away toward the elevator. DeGard looked at Kaba with a confused expression. “Was it something I said?”
She shook her head. “No. But he detests Islam. And we are in the heart of a city that is built on it.”
“Ah,” the Frenchman realized. “I see. And how do you feel about that?”
A quizzical expression passed over her face. “I do not believe in religions,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone that suggested he should already know.
DeGard seemed somewhat surprised. “Yet you follow a man who is obviously religious?”
She crossed her arms, the tight white turtleneck she’d put on accentuating her muscular figure. “I do not follow The Prophet because he is a Christian. I follow because he pays well, and he will rid the world of all wickedness.”
There it was again: a cryptic reference regarding getting rid of the wicked. DeGard wondered if his employer was planning some kind of holocaust or ethnic cleansing. He watched as Lindsey and two of his other men stepped onto the elevator and ascended the many stories to his floor. Kaba and the others had grabbed some of their luggage and were walking toward the next elevator.
The Frenchman wanted to get to the bottom of things. He felt like he’d been kept in the dark long enough. He caught up to Kaba and pulled on her shoulder. As soon as he’d done it he knew it was a bad move. She spun around quickly with a defensive frown on her face.
“I’m sorry,” he tried to make the peace in his meekest, nasal tone. “But what is all this I keep hearing about getting rid of the world’s evil doers? That isn’t the first time I’ve heard about it. What is the old man planning?”
Her eyes narrowed, sizing him up to see if she should apprise him of what Lindsey was planning. “I think if you want to know about what The Prophet intends to do, you should speak to him about it.” She turned around as the elevator doors opened then stepped inside with Will and the remaining men from their group. DeGard watched the doors close with an annoyed stare.
“Fine,” he said to himself, and pressed the button between the elevators.
A few minutes later, DeGard was knocking on the door to Lindsey’s room. The old man had reserved a room on the top floor of the hotel. DeGard imagined his employer preferred the space so he could look down on everyone else. The thought brought a disfigured smile to his wiry face. He wiped away the grin when the door opened.
Lindsey stood in the doorway. He had already put on a black smoking jacket, and poured himself a bourbon in one of the hotel’s rocks glasses.
“What do you want?” he asked, clearly annoyed. Lindsey took a sip from the bourbon and barely flinched as he swallowed. He’d been in a foul mood since arriving in the city.
DeGard decided to be blunt. “Monsieur Lindsey, if I am going to be an integral part of this operation, I want to know exactly with what I am involved.” He almost literally stomped his foot as he was metaphorically putting his foot down. Lindsey seemed unimpressed so the Frenchman continued. “I want to know what it is you and your little group are up to. You are the head of The Order of Golden Dawn, non? This is a well concealed organization that very few people know of. But you are planning something on a global scale, and from what I have heard you and your associates saying, many lives will be lost. Is that true? Are you planning some kind of holocaust or genocide?”
Lindsey listened as patiently as he could. He almost seemed amused by the archaeologist’s clown-like mannerisms. The man’s thin pasty frame didn’t help. Lindsey took another sip of the bourbon and chopped his lips after he swallowed, savoring the taste of the oak-aged liquor.
“My dear DeGard,” Lindsey smiled at his visitor. “Am I to understand that you are developing a soft heart for the degenerates of the world? I certainly understand, knowing full well the reputation that precedes you.”
DeGard bit his lip for a second while his face flushed red at the barb. He cocked his head sideways for a second then responded. “A soft heart? Non, Monsieur. However, if you are planning some kind of massive attack on humanity, I want to make sure I will not be harmed.”
Lindsey snorted a short laugh. The loose skin under his chin shook as he responded, and his hollow eyes stared back with sincere deprecation.
“You will be spared, Monsieur DeGard, but only because you are working for me.”
“That is all I needed to know.”
The old man closed the door before the Frenchman could say thank you or goodbye. Not that he needed to. Alexander Lindsey was a strange man. That was certain. And he’d not come clean about what he was planning. DeGard was still frustrated about that. At the moment, there was nothing he could do. He would find out what the crazy old man was scheming soon enough. As long as he was safe, that was all that Luc DeGard cared about.
He’d learned a long time ago to always watch out for number one. It was what he did best. And no matter how much money he was being paid for this wild goose chase, he wanted to make sure he would live to spend it.
Chapter 21
Istanbul, Turkey
Driving through the streets of Istanbul was almost surreal to Sean. Most of the buildings looked the same, with a few, more modern exceptions sticking out here and there. Bright flashing signs lit up the night sky and illuminated the streets and sidewalks like a strange, electric sun.
The plane had landed a few hours before, but the man Jabez had made arrangements with for pickup arrived thirty minutes late. Based on the thick traffic, Sean didn’t pay much mind. Of course Firth had complained the entire time they’d sat in the lonely hangar off to the side of the airport. Sean wished he’d had one of the tranquilizers he’d used on more than one occasion with Axis. In fifteen seconds the professor could be out cold, the only problem being that they would have to carry him into the hotel, which might look somewhat conspicuous. Sean laughed to himself at the thought.
Adriana hadn’t said much on the flight or after they had arrived. She seemed deeply interested in the leather bound book she had been reading. Her eyes glimmered in the lights of the city as she stared out the window.
Their host, a squat Turk named Khalil, zipped the small caravan of SUVs through the busy evening traffic of downtown Istanbul. He didn’t say much, probably because of the reaming he’d taken from Jabez on account of his tardiness. But Sean got the impression he was more a man of action rather than word
s. He wore a short red fez, a linen long sleeve shirt and matching pants, and sported a Fu Manchu style moustache and goatee. His dark hair was slightly receded, giving Sean the impression the portly man to be roughly in his mid to upper forties. Since Khalil hadn’t said a word on their drive into town, it was unclear whether the man spoke English or not.
The vehicle turned into a driveway that was blocked off by an ornate, bronze gate. Palm trees and shrubbery lined the pavement beyond the entrance, leading to a five-story hotel overlooking the Mediterranean. The gate opened slowly and the two SUV’s passed through, zipping their way down the driveway and to the front of the hotel. Several valets waited under a giant awning made of plaster, accented with cedar cross beams and paneling. The valets were dressed in uniforms that almost looked like Turkish military garb, with gold tassels and medallions dangling from their shoulders and chests. They quickly opened the doors for the new arrivals and began busily asking which things they could take.
When Jabez exited the vehicle, a younger valet stared at him with uneasy apprehension. Jabez was an imposing figure, and when he wasn’t smiling, that sense was only amplified. The young man got over it quickly and asked if there was anything he could take in. Jabez shook his head but never broke the stern look on his face. The valet rushed off to help someone else.
Firth was clearly used to a life of convenience, and all too happy to allow the men to carry his few bags. He carried himself with an exhausted dignity through the bronze-framed doors.
Inside the hotel, the guests were greeted by tan marble floors and matching pillars. Hundreds of thousands of mosaic tiles covered the walls in dramatic fashion. Signature domed archways hung over openings in a hexagonal lobby. The portals led to the different sections of the facility containing the hotel quarters, dining and entertainment areas, exercise and spa area, and the lobby in which they were standing.
Sean’s head spun around a full 360 degrees as he admired the craftsmanship that had gone into creating the palatial hotel.
Sean Wyatt Compilation Box Set Page 71
