by Ethan Jones
Claudia drew in a deep breath and shook her head. At least I don’t have to worry about which car is the one shadowing me.
About five minutes later, her phone rang. She recognized the ringtone assigned to Javin’s cellphone. Her hand went to her side pocket to take out the phone.
Before she had completed her move, a gray SUV came rocketing from the right, aimed straight at the van.
Claudia saw it a split second late.
She hit the gas. The van jumped forward, but not enough.
The SUV’s hood smashed into the side of the van and pushed it onto the other lane. Another vehicle hit the rear of the van, sending it forward.
Claudia fought with the steering wheel to regain control of the van. She stomped on the brakes and was able to avoid crashing into the black truck in front of her. She gazed at the right-side mirror. The gray SUV was following her.
Claudia shook her head. These guys. Why be so violent? You know you’re not gonna get me.
She smiled and flattened the gas pedal and began to swerve into traffic. Advanced driving and evasion techniques had been one of her favorite classes at The Plant—the training facility for CIS recruits. Claudia had finished at the top of her class and loved high-speed car chases, especially when she was the one getting away.
The van was not the most maneuverable vehicle. Despite Claudia’s skills, the gray SUV was gaining on her. She tried to slide into a gap between two vehicles to her right, but one of them jerked forward at the last second. The van bumped into the front of a taxi and shoved it to the right, sending it into a streetlight. But the van was able to cut through the lane and climb onto the sidewalk.
She swerved around a metal bench and slammed the horn to alert pedestrians and sidewalk café patrons. They scampered in panic as the van plowed through plastic tables and chairs. A few of the patrons’ drinks and food ended up on her windshield, so Claudia tried to use the windshield wipers to clean the debris.
She glanced over her left shoulder. The gray SUV was still on the road, about fifty yards behind, and following her. Claudia yanked the wheel and cut through another gap in traffic. The van dropped back onto the road. She hit the brakes and avoided crashing into the back of a large dump truck.
Then her eyes fell on the left-side mirror.
A bullet shattered it into pieces.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
She thought about stepping on the gas, but the slow-moving truck was still in front of her. The sidewalk was cordoned off by a series of metal barriers along a construction area. So Claudia sighed and veered to the left.
The maneuver brought her right in front of the gray SUV. A volley of bullets hammered the side and the back of the van. The shooters were now behind a small Fiat car and firing at her relentlessly.
Sorry, Fiat driver.
Claudia slammed on her brakes.
The Fiat collided with the back of the van. Then the gray SUV crashed into the Fiat.
Claudia stepped on the gas and gained a few precious yards. She passed the dump truck and a couple of other vehicles. When she glanced again at the right-side mirror, the gray SUV was coming up fast behind her.
All right, let’s try something else.
Claudia slowed down, allowing the gray SUV to get right behind the van. She ignored a new volley of bullets that pounded the rear of the van. More glass shattered in the back, but that was part of her plan.
She pulled out her pistol and, without looking, fired a round at the rear glass partitioning the cab from the back of the van. Then she glanced quickly and aimed her pistol at the latch keeping the van’s doors together. She double-tapped the trigger.
The doors were thrown open. The boxes full of shattered bottles began to slide and roll onto the road. Claudia swerved left and then right, then hit the gas, to drop the entire load. Boxes came crashing down, filling the road with razor-sharp glass pieces. It was Claudia’s version of a spike strip.
The gray SUV driver tried to slow down and swerve to avoid the stream of obstacles.
But he could not do so in time.
The SUV went through the glass spike strip. The front tires blew out, causing the SUV to veer left, and then right. A moment later, it rolled to its side and slid forward. It rolled another time, flipping onto its top.
The driver of a truck driving behind the SUV also lost control. The truck hit the back of the SUV, spinning it around.
Claudia glanced over her shoulder at the mayhem she had caused. That should slow them for a while. Now let’s see what Javin needs.
Chapter Thirteen
Kennedy Avenue
Istanbul, Turkey
“Hello, Javin. Claudia here,” she said in a low, hurried tone.
“What’s going on? You weren’t picking up.” Javin’s voice was full of concern.
“I had my hands full.”
She told him about the shootout behind the Blue Mosque and the high-speed chase. Javin listened without interrupting. At the end, he said, “They’re getting really vicious.”
“Yeah, I never thought MIT would be so public.”
“If it’s MIT.”
“Who else could it be?”
“Whoever’s picking up the drive’s signal. We’re suspecting it’s MIT, but it could be another service.”
Claudia shook her head. “The police and MIT have had the drive in their possession for almost three days. They would have noticed the tracking device and figured out how to follow the signal.”
“Unless they’re not aware of it or don’t know how to remove it. Louis’s colleagues explained to me that the procedure is not as easy as it sounds.”
“So you think it’s MI6 again?”
“I’m tempted to think so, considering the earlier attack.”
“I . . . I don’t know, Javin.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m glad you’re safe.”
“Yes, I should be at the station in about forty-five minutes or so, unless I have more company.”
“Let’s hope you don’t.”
Claudia sighed. “Yes, that would be nice, but the signal’s still active.”
“I’m getting the station ready. If your pursuers are getting furious, they might attempt to attack the station.”
“You really think so?”
“Everything’s possible, Claudia. It’s Turkey.”
“True that.”
“Anything else?”
“No, it’s all good.”
“Take good care, Claudia, okay?”
“Yes, you too, Javin. Bye now.”
She ended the call and returned the phone to her pocket. She looked over her shoulder. No vehicles were following her. She thought she heard faint police sirens in the distance. Perhaps there’s an APB on me and the van. I should ditch it right away.
She began to look around for her next vehicle. She would have to leave Kennedy Avenue and take one of the narrower side streets. A back alley would be her first choice, so that she could keep a low profile.
Claudia steered to the right and turned onto Genç Osman Avenue. She drove toward the north, then to the west until she reached one of the housing neighborhoods. Then she began to scout the area. The perfect target would be someone getting in or out of their vehicle, close to their home.
She hated this part of the job, jumping an innocent person minding their own business. But she rationalized it by the old maxim that the end justifies the means. And she tried to cause the least possible amount of necessary harm.
A possible target appeared when a young man zipped through an intersection without slowing down. Claudia had to slam on her brakes to avoid crashing into the sleek black Mitsubishi SUV the careless man was driving. He then proceeded to make a swift right turn without signaling. Yeah, he can do without his ride for a day or two.
She followed the SUV for a couple of blocks. The young man slowed down and turned into a back alley. Claudia stayed back about twenty yards, then parked on the sidewalk as the man stepped out of his ca
r.
She walked toward him at a quick pace and, when the young man glanced at her, she waved and said, “Excuse me, I’m lost. Can you help me?”
The young man raised his sunglasses to the top of his head, then gave her a sideways glance. “I don’t English,” he said in a thick voice.
“I am lost. Lost. Do you understand?” Claudia said and drew near the man.
He shook his head and shrugged in frustration. Then he said something in Turkish that Claudia did not understand.
She looked over the young man’s shoulders, then all around them. Only an old woman was slowly making her way across the street a dozen or so yards up ahead.
It was the right time.
Claudia stepped very close to the young man.
He gave her a confused look, as if he was not sure of her intentions.
Claudia hit the young man on the side of his neck, a swift blow to the vulnerable vagus nerve that carried much of the information from the body to the brain. The blow was not very hard, but sufficient to disorient the young man. He crumpled to the ground like a puppet without strings.
Claudia searched the young man’s pockets for the SUV keys. She found them in his front jeans pocket. He was still out cold, but not for long. Claudia’s punch, similar to a karate chop, caused the man to lose consciousness for a few seconds. Before long he would be back on his feet and wonder what had just happened, and she would be long gone.
Once behind the wheel of the SUV, Claudia drove toward the north, then turned east, toward the DGSE station.
Chapter Fourteen
DGSE Station
Istanbul, Turkey
Javin glanced at the traffic rushing through Tarlabashi Boulevard, then turned his head to the station’s parking lot. The presence of French intelligence in the old neighborhood was not exactly a secret. While no sign advertised the exact purpose of the station—only the street name and number were on the side of the two-story gray building—the intelligence community and most of the neighbors knew the true purpose of the ten members that worked there. As much as the French agents tried to keep their missions concealed, sooner or later word got out. And the number of people coming and going at odd hours of the night, armed and fully loaded, sometimes drew unwanted attention. Still, the neighborhood was quite safe as it boasted some of the tightest security in the entire city. A number of consular offices were located in the area, which also housed a large number of private security contractors and expatriates.
Javin sensed feet shuffling behind him, so he turned around on the small balcony. Louis, the DGSE operative and an old friend of Javin, stepped out and closed the door behind him. “Anything interesting?” he said in his warm voice with just a slight hint of his native tongue.
Javin shook his head, then brushed back his hair that the cold wind gust had thrown into disarray. “No, all quiet. How’s it going?”
“Good. They’re almost finished. It was harder to remove the bug than they had initially thought. It was embedded deep inside the drive, right next to the memory chip. It was so close they had to be careful not to damage the information and make the drive useless.”
“Is the bug disabled?”
“It is, yes. It’s no longer transmitting the drive’s location.”
“Good. Hopefully, whoever was tracking the flash drive lost the signal pinpointing the location before the drive was brought into the station.”
Louis stepped closer to Javin. “You sound concerned. Do you think they’ll attack the station in broad daylight?”
Javin shrugged. “I don’t know. There have been a number of attacks so far: against the MIT car and against my team. Then Claudia was also targeted at the Blue Mosque and on Kennedy Ave. I wouldn’t be surprised if this station were ambushed also.”
Louis grinned. “This place is a fortress, Javin. Heavily guarded and well-defended.” He stretched his arm and waved it around. “Look at the positioning. No one can come near without being seen, and there’s no place for a swift escape.”
“I know, but the folks who are after that drive are very desperate. And desperate people do the unexpected.”
Louis held Javin’s eyes for a long moment. “You may be right, but I hope you’re not. The security of the entire area is so tight. Once someone fires a round, they’ll be surrounded in no time.”
“That may not matter if their mission is suicidal. If a death squad is sent with the objective to destroy the drive, they’ll do anything to get it done.”
“I still don’t believe it. You’ve always been paranoid, Javin.”
“True, but it has kept me alive.”
“I’m alive too, but half as suspicious as you.”
Javin shrugged. “We’re different beasts.”
“Of the same herd.”
“I’d drink to that, if I were a drinker.”
“You used to chug down rum like a pirate celebrating his booty.”
“I used to do many things. Then one day I stopped.”
Louis nodded. “I know. I was there when it finished.”
“Yeah, and it is finished. That lifestyle, those things . . . they’re all over.”
The balcony door creaked, and Claudia said, “They’re done.”
“You’ve got the drive?” Javin asked.
“Right here.” Claudia tapped the front of her jacket. The analysts had returned the drive to her.
Javin said, “And it’s all clean?”
Claudia opened her mouth to answer, but Louis said, “Of course, Javin, you’re still—”
Javin cut him off. “Get down, down,” he shouted.
“What? What is it?”
Javin pointed at the bright red dot dancing on Louis’s forehead. Then Javin jumped over him, shoving him to the floor.
The sniper bullet shattered the balcony’s glass door.
Claudia rolled onto the floor and pulled out her pistol.
Another round slammed against the top of the balcony’s parapet. It shaved off sharp slivers that rained on their heads.
Javin also had his pistol ready, but before he could do anything with it, a heavy barrage of bullets began to pound the parapet, the balcony’s door, and the station’s windows. The bulletproof glass held, but the machine gun volley continued. Bullets started to chip away glass fragments.
“Get in, get in,” Javin shouted.
He kicked the door, but it did not open. So he reached up, turned the knob, then pushed the door open. He let Claudia slide in, then waited for Louis.
He glanced at Javin and said, “Thanks, man. You saved my life.”
“Thank me later. Now, let’s do something about this.”
Louis crawled inside the station and rolled onto the floor.
The volley continued relentlessly. Bullets had pierced the glass and were whizzing over their heads. Javin glanced at Louis, who had armed himself with an HK416 assault rifle. “Where did you get that?”
Louis glanced up at one of the operatives positioned to the left of the balcony’s door. “Michel, get an HK for Javin.”
“Here.” Michel slid his weapon across the floor.
Javin took the rifle, glanced at Louis, and pointed at the right. “I’ve got that.”
“Good.”
Javin looked around for Claudia. His eyes found her rushing behind Michel.
“Let’s go,” Louis called to Javin.
He nodded and edged toward the balcony’s door. He stayed behind the wall as more bullets battered the damaged door. Then he stood and stole a peek. His watchful eyes had followed the way bullets were striking the door, which gave him a general idea of the shooters’ potential positions.
He noticed a silhouette crouched on a rooftop about two hundred yards away. He rammed his rifle’s barrel through one of the almost shattered sections of the door, then fired a quick burst.
His bullets missed, and the shooters’ barrage continued.
Javin realigned his rifle, but before he could fire again, a bullet almost took the rifle o
ut of his hands. It struck about three inches away from the barrel, and sent slivers cutting against his neck.
Javin clenched his teeth and ignored the pain. He aimed his rifle and fired a couple of rounds. The first one missed again, but the second struck the sniper in the head.
Javin fell behind the wall and thought about the location of the machine gun. Considering the sniper’s position and the direction of bullets it had to be further to the left. He drew in a quick, shallow breath, then popped again around the wall.
He saw the silhouette of a man on another rooftop about fifty yards from the first shooter. Javin fired a long barrage. A couple of his bullets found the target, piercing the man’s head and chest. The machine gun went silent.
Javin looked at Louis.
He was firing at some unseen target to the right.
Javin stepped further away from the wall.
A rocket-propelled grenade erupted against the balcony. The explosion destroyed the door and sent fragments at Javin’s and Louis’s bodies. The force of the blast threw them to the floor.
Chapter Fifteen
DGSE Station
Istanbul, Turkey
Javin struggled to get back to his feet. His ears were ringing, and he was bleeding from the right side of his face. One of the splinters. He shook his head and looked around through a thinning dust curtain. He had fallen against the large office desk, but he was still holding his assault rifle. How’s Louis? Where’s Claudia?
His eyes found Louis lying about five feet away. He seemed to be breathing, but his left arm was jerking almost involuntarily. Javin crawled to Louis. “How are you?”
Louis grunted. “I’m . . . I’m all right.”
“Can you get up?”
“Yes, yes.”
“And your arm?”
Louis cursed the shooter. “Shrapnel cut through it.”
Javin looked at the bleeding forearm. “Find a medic and have that patched. I’ve got this.”
Louis shook his head. “No, absolutely not—”
“Listen, you’re no good if you can’t use your arm. But you can bring some ammo and find Claudia.”
