‘I do now,’ Hart said, running his hand through his hair. ‘I wish I had.’
‘When did you find out about the weapon he was planning to put the new parts in?’
‘Last week, he phoned me at the office to ask if I’d reconsider. I asked him outright what use the parts would be to him, when they’d been specifically designed for a grenade launcher. He said that he was building something which would define a new age in the politics of eastern Europe.’ Hart stopped and reached across his desk for a glass of water. He drank deeply before setting the glass back down. ‘He must have a source in the military too, because only two people within the Turkish army’s procurement team know about these parts.’
‘What did you say to him?’
Hart shook his head. ‘I didn’t – I hung up. I was scared about who might be listening.’
Steve had been pacing the room while Ian spoke. ‘What are your thoughts, Hart? What’s he planning to use the parts for?’
Hart shrugged. ‘There’s only one possibility,’ he said. ‘He’s building a bomb.’
Kaan ran his hand along the workbench, his fingers leaving a path between the cast-off ends of wire, screws and hand tools.
As he drew closer to the electrician’s handiwork, he turned his head slightly.
‘You are sure this will work, Mehmet?’
‘Yes, yes I am,’ said the electrician. ‘All we need are the special parts from Mr Hart, and you will have your weapon.’ He fell silent, wringing an oily cloth between his hands, and bowed his head.
‘Yusuf – you are happy with this man’s work?’
‘I am,’ said Yusuf. ‘He has worked diligently and without complaint. He is an asset to our cause.’
Kaan nodded, and then turned to face the room. He rubbed a hand over his chin before raising his gaze to the men staring at him.
‘In less than a week, we will show our Turkish masters what we think of their efforts to join us to Europe,’ he said. ‘For too long, we have allowed our government to dictate what they believe is right for us.’ He laughed. ‘By aligning our beautiful country to a bankrupt continent, we are enslaved.’
A low murmur of assent filled the space, the men nodding, urging Kaan to continue.
‘You are the trusted few who can change this,’ continued Kaan, building the fervour which permeated the group. He held his breath, waiting until he had their full attention.
‘Tell us, Kaan,’ urged one of the younger men, his eyes wide with anticipation.
‘Yes, tell us! Tell us!’
Kaan held up his hand until the men had settled once more, their voices reduced to a low murmur.
He stepped towards a wooden crate, slipped the lid off, and reached inside.
‘Istanbul is enjoying a new age of construction and renovation,’ he said. He turned, lifting a high visibility shirt and a hard hat into the air. ‘What better disguise than to blend in with the workers which fill our city?’
‘In less than a week, we will attack the Marmaray rail tunnel which runs under the mighty Bosphorus,’ he continued. ‘We shall tear apart Asia and Europe once more. We will send a clear message to our masters that we will not stand by and watch as they try to erase our Persian heritage!’
Kaan smiled, sweat beating on his forehead, as his men erupted as one, shouting and calling his name.
‘This will be our day!’ he called out. ‘We will remember this day and tell our grandchildren for years to come!’
Chapter 12
Finn sat on the floor of the room he and Steve had commandeered for their use, a swathe of paperwork strewn around him.
Knowing that van Zant had approached Hart directly led Finn to believe that the bomb was being made somewhere in the city. If what Hart had said was true, van Zant was intent on using it to create an impact.
While Steve coached Hart through what he needed to say when van Zant phoned back, Finn began to try and locate the bomb.
Hart had instructed his security detail to help in whatever way they needed. Steve had reviewed the map of the city, using his contact at Interpol to identify all the low-key electronic appliance stores Hart felt van Zant would need. Then he had mobilised the security team.
The trick was to remain low key, which was why Steve’s contacts only provided information, not feet on the ground to help with the search. Hart’s security team, dressed in casual clothing, were less likely to raise suspicion.
‘Gently does it,’ Steve had said to Finn. ‘We need answers, but we can’t afford to push too hard for them and alert van Zant.’
Each man had been assigned electrical stores within a specified radius within the city – small, out of the way stores off the main streets.
Now, a few hours later, Finn put down the notes and turned to the report which Steve had collated while the private security contractors were scouring the city. Steve had analysed the trace elements recorded for each bomb attributed to terrorism groups in the country. If he was right, van Zant’s bomb-maker would go shopping for the same parts. Not from one electronics store, but from several in order to disguise what he was doing.
Finn worked on the hunch that the electrician would source his goods from different stores, but ones within a radius of wherever the weapon was being built. If he was right, then the purchases would lead like a trail of breadcrumbs to the bomb-maker’s location.
And if he was lucky, to Kate.
Finn closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and forced himself to focus. He cursed. He’d lost concentration, skimming through the last of the notes.
He cricked his neck and started again. Hart had told them what to look for – specific wiring, transistors, timing mechanisms. Simple things which could be purchased in any home electrical store but which, if assembled correctly, with the right mix of chemicals added, could have the potential for a lethal bomb.
And then the kidnappers were planning to enhance that with the parts they were trying to get from Hart.
From the adjoining room, he heard Steve’s mobile phone ring, then a murmured conversation. He frowned and checked over his shoulder towards the door at the sound of the man’s voice growing louder with excitement, until he could bear it no more.
Standing, he walked through to the other room where Steve was pacing. He turned when Finn entered the room and grinned, putting his thumb up in the air.
Finn waited until the call was ended.
‘What was that all about?’ he asked.
Steve exhaled, and tried to calm himself before speaking. ‘That was my contact,’ he said. ‘Our missing vehicle turned up this morning.’
‘What, abandoned?’
Steve smiled. ‘No – it’s in perfectly good condition. It’s been moved since, so they’re going to check traffic cameras to see if they can spot where it went.’
‘What area is it in?’
‘Haydarpaşa. Near the old port terminal.’
‘It’s mainly industrial around there – warehousing and factories.’ Finn frowned. ‘It rings a bell. Hold on.’
He dashed through to the other room and began pawing through the notes he’d already checked, his heart racing as he pushed his hands through them, his eyes scanning the addresses at the top of the documents.
A blue slip of paper reached the surface, and he grabbed it, looked at the address along the top, and then the list of parts that Hart had given to him as a guideline.
His heart thudding in his chest, Finn hurried through to where Steve was waiting. ‘Might have something,’ he said.
Finn parked the car a few hundred metres down the road from the shop, climbed out and leaned against the vehicle to get his bearings.
The electrical store was on a busy road, one side of which housed a string of food outlets, cafes, a tobacconist, and a small convenience store. Everything a worker might need before heading to one of the factories or warehouses that surrounded the sprawling industrial estate.
The store was squashed in between a coin laundry and a
small pharmacy. Finn began walking towards it, forcing himself not to rush straight in, but to walk past it before doubling back, to make sure he hadn’t been followed from Hart’s office.
Satisfied, he approached the electrical store and pushed the door open. A blast of cold air brushed against his face as he crossed the threshold, an old air-conditioning unit rattling above his head as he passed under it.
He closed the door, tucked his sunglasses into the neck of his shirt, and peered into the gloom of the shop.
A counter ran the length of the store. Behind it, a variety of boxes filled with different electrical gadgets lined a shelf. More shelves ran in rows towards the back of the store. In front of the counter, refrigerators, dish-washers and ovens had been arranged in aisles, stretching across the width of the shop.
Finn wandered amongst the aisles and shelves, picking up boxes of parts and briefly reading the packets before returning them to their place. All the time, his eyes roamed the store, making sure he was the only customer.
He’d timed it well. It was early afternoon, and most workers had finished their lunch and anyone who would have called into the store during their break were now gone.
An electronic bell had sounded as he’d opened the door and now a man hurried down the length of the counter from the rear of the shop, wiping his hands on a towel.
‘Can I help you?’
Finn smiled, walked towards the counter and pulled out the notes from his shirt pocket. ‘I hope so, yeah.’ He checked over his shoulder to make sure the door was closed. ‘I’m hoping you might be able to tell me what these parts might be used for.’
The store owner slipped reading glasses off his forehead and perched them on the top of his nose. Finn noticed how the man’s arm moved the page as his eyes tried to focus, and wondered if he was due for a new prescription.
‘Ah. Yes.’ The man slipped the glasses off his face and tapped them on the papers. ‘These are quite hard to get hold of.’ He visibly preened. ‘I do believe we’re the only store on this side of the city that stocks them.’
‘What would someone do with those parts – what would they use them for?’
‘Off the top of my head, if I bought these, I’d be making some sort of timing mechanism.’ He frowned, and tapped his glasses on his cheek. ‘Maybe, with the businesses around here, he wanted the parts for unlocking a door at a particular time – maybe to keep staff out when he wasn’t around, you see?’
Finn nodded. ‘Got it.’
He spun round at the sound of the door opening and was surprised to see a boy of about thirteen or fourteen in school uniform rush through, slam the door behind him and run to the back of the shop. Minutes later, he appeared behind the counter, a grin on his face and a cold can of drink in his hand.
‘This is my son, Osman,’ said the store owner, and Finn noticed the note of pride in the man’s voice.
‘Sorry, I’m being rude,’ he said. ‘My name’s Finn.’
The man shook his hand. ‘Mazhar Kadír.’
Finn leaned over the counter and solemnly shook hands with Osman before turning back to Kadír.
‘So you’re saying these parts aren’t normally in high demand.’
‘That’s right. We don’t often sell them. Your friend was in here earlier? The one that gave you this?’ The store owner held up the notes.
‘That’s right. We’re trying to find the man who bought them.’
The store owner nodded. ‘I remember this man.’
Finn’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You do?’
‘The man who bought the parts was very rude to my son.’ A smile appeared. ‘You could say he left a lasting impression.’
Finn smiled politely. ‘It takes all sorts.’
‘I know who he is.’
Finn nearly gave himself a whiplash at Osman’s voice. He managed to keep calm, not wanting to scare the kid.
‘You do?’ Finn turned to Kadír, who shrugged, and indicated to Finn he should continue. ‘How?’
‘His son goes to the same school as me. Sometimes.’ The boy fell quiet for a few seconds, and then seemed to change his mind. ‘I haven’t seen him for a few days.’
‘Do you think he’s on holiday?’
The boy took a sip from his can of drink.
Finn felt like an age passed while he watched Osman swing his legs back and forth as he sat on the stool. It took all his resolve not to leap over the counter and shake the information out of the kid.
‘Maybe,’ he said eventually, leaning forward and putting the empty can on the counter. ‘Or he’s sick.’
‘Why would you say that?’ asked Kadír. ‘Is there something going round the school?’
‘No. But sometimes he comes to school with bruises on his face.’
Finn and the store owner exchanged a glance.
‘Has he lived here long?’
‘I’ve seen him around before, but he only started in my class this term.’
‘That was six weeks ago,’ added Kadír.
The boy slipped from the stool and wandered back into the depths of the store. Finn heard a door slam shut and an extractor fan began to whir. He turned back to the store owner.
‘Do you think he knows where the man and his son live?’
‘Maybe.’ The store owner shrugged.
Here we go again, thought Finn. He reached into his pocket, his fingers touching the money folded there. He carefully flicked through the notes until there was a quarter of the total between his fingers this time and extracted his hand.
‘I could pay you for his time to show me,’ suggested Finn. ‘To make up for him not being here to help you for the next hour.’
The man’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you want to find this man so badly?’
Finn thought for a moment. He didn’t really want to advertise why he was here, but given the store owner seemed friendly enough, and had obviously taken a dislike to the man he sought, he figured it was worth the risk.
‘My friend was taken yesterday. Kidnapped after a car hijacking went wrong.’ He pointed to the notes. ‘I think that man knows where she is.’
The store owner nodded and took the money. ‘That seems to be very reasonable.’ He flicked through the currency before tucking them into his shirt pocket. He handed back the notes to Finn, but didn’t release them immediately. ‘There is no danger in this for my son?’
Finn pulled the papers out from the man’s fingers. ‘You have my word he’ll come to no harm,’ he assured the man.
Kadír nodded and they both turned at the sound of a toilet flushing. The boy reappeared and jumped at a shout from his father.
‘Osman – please go with this man and show him where your school friend lives. Can you do that?’
The boy nodded. ‘Sure. No worries.’
Kadír waved him away and turned to Finn. ‘At least if he’s with you, he’s not watching the television in the office and quoting Australian soap operas,’ he muttered.
Finn laughed. ‘I’ll bring him back within the hour,’ he said and held out his hand. ‘Thank you for your help.’
They’d only been driving for five minutes and already Finn wished the kid would shut up. An incessant stream of conversation left the boy’s lips – television, computer games, music.
He began to tune out the words, listening only for directions as the boy called them out.
Osman cried out suddenly.
‘Here! Turn here,’ he said, pointing.
Finn hit the brakes and swerved into a street on his left-hand side. ‘How far up the street is the house?’
The boy shook his head. ‘It’s not a house.’
‘What?’ Finn ignored the smug expression on the boy’s face and counted to ten. ‘What do you mean it’s not a house?’
‘It’s a garage. Motor vehicles.’ The boy jutted his chin to the right, having the sense not to point. ‘There.’
Finn took his foot off the accelerator and looked to where Osman indicated.
The g
arage was decades old, the signage in need of a coat of paint. Two car wrecks were parked on the forecourt, while three rusted sedans were parked to the left of the closed double garage doors, the windows displaying sale prices.
Finn had time to take in the rusted window frames, the glass covered with white paint. Two levels of living accommodation or offices appeared to be above the main workshop. He lifted his gaze and noted the television aerial and satellite dish.
Business might not be doing well, but there was nothing wrong with the communications to the outside world.
Finn brought his attention back to the road and gently pressed the accelerator.
He wondered which room Kate might be in, and shook his head to clear the thought. He had to concentrate. He only had one chance at this.
Osman’s voice broke his thoughts.
‘Turn around here. It’s a dead end if we go any further.’
Finn braked, reversed into a deserted warehousing complex and turned the vehicle around.
‘Talk to me as we drive past again,’ said Finn. ‘Don’t look at the garage.’
‘Okay.’
The garage drew nearer. Finn chewed the inside of lip and kept his head facing forward, while his gaze wandered over the building.
An alleyway led down one side, and he noticed an industrial-sized waste bin overflowing onto the floor. On the other, a pathway led to what appeared to be an entrance to an office, before reaching a dead end.
‘I don’t think it’s very busy,’ said Osman as they drove past. ‘There aren’t many cars there. My father’s business is very successful,’ he added. ‘Always people in the shop.’
Finn smiled at the boy. ‘Your father is a nice man,’ he said. ‘If the man that owns that garage is as rude as your father says he is, that’s probably why his business is struggling.’
He glanced in the rear view mirror, checked he wasn’t being followed, and then increased his speed.
‘Alright, Osman, let’s get you back home. You’ve been really helpful, thank you.’
Before Nightfall Page 8
