Nir rolled to a stop against the front of a small car. Steadying himself with the bumper, he pulled himself to his feet. Despite his best efforts, his head had taken a good jarring and his brain felt as if it was pounding against the back of his eyes, begging to come out. The world swayed around him as he tried to get his bearings.
Gil! Where is he?
Cars had stopped all around him and people were pouring out. Some were Good Samaritans, looking to help. Most had their cell phones out, looking to post an exciting story on their social media. A small group was kneeling to his left. Lying there in the middle of them was the minister of defense, his eyes wide open and his head cocked at an impossible angle. He was on his side, which exposed his zip-tied hands. Heads began to turn Nir’s way.
Just past him, Gil was pulling himself together as he leaned against the hood of a car. Concerned hands were touching him, looking for injuries. But then the first accusatory-sounding words came from the defense minister crowd.
This is going to get ugly really fast.
“Gil,” Nir shouted. His teammate turned, shocked to see Nir amongst the growing throng. “We gotta go! You good?”
“Little gimpy, but I’ll be okay. Lost my gun in the roll.”
Nir felt for his, but his sidearm was missing too.
Lovely.
A voice came over a loudspeaker. Everyone tensed, including the two Mossad agents. The Turkish police did not have a good reputation, especially when it came to crowd control. And, intentionally or not, the group outside of their cars had become a crowd.
Nir moved toward Gil. Once again, the voice spoke. There was authority in the words. Some of the men around Dogan began yelling, but their overlapping words were canceling each other out.
One of them moved toward Nir, reaching out his hand to grab his arm. Nir pushed him back hard, and the man stumbled to the ground. That one action turned the remainder of the crowd against them. Suddenly, Nir and Gil weren’t victims; they were perpetrators.
Again, the police called out.
“Apparently, we’re being beckoned,” Nir said to Gil before turning toward the voice.
A police car must have been traveling several vehicles behind the van when Dagon took his plunge, because it was now wedged within all the stopped traffic, and the officers were out of their cars with their guns drawn.
“Ever had a desire to spend time in a Turkish prison?” Nir asked.
“Nope.”
Nir dropped to his knees. Gil followed suit. Gunshots rang out.
These idiots have at least a dozen cars between them and us filled with innocents. What are they doing?
But Nir didn’t have time to stay and ask. Staying low, he ran to the median and into the flow of opposing traffic. A driver in a Toyota that looked like it had been around when Atatürk still ruled the republic slammed his brakes. The front bumper glanced the side of Nir’s knee and sent him sideways. He managed to keep his feet, but the pain was electric. Gil had raced ahead of him and was holding out his hands to stop the next two lanes of traffic.
Gunshots sounded behind them once again. The windshield of a BMW next to Gil spiderwebbed. Who knew where the rest of the shots went—whether into people or things?
Once across, Nir and Gil came to an intersection. Thankfully, the light was theirs, so there was no cross traffic. On their left was a long building with hanging banners that read “Alibaba.” The gunshots had gotten the attention of two armed guards who manned the entrance to the store, as was typical in the nicer areas of town. Both were large men who looked like they could have medaled in the heavyweight division of the country’s Olympic wrestling team. Making matters worse, each was holding a shotgun.
Nir and Gil were only meters away.
“Durmak,” one of them yelled. Nir knew that word, but there was no way he was going to be able to stop in time.
“Down,” Nir called to Gil.
As Nir dove forward, he watched as the front man pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. It was what Nir had hoped for. Rent-a-cops in front of never-robbed stores. Of course, the idiot had left the safety on. By the time the guard realized what had happened, Nir’s entire body weight was folding the man’s knees backward.
As Nir hit, the other guard’s gun fired. But he was aiming at Gil, who, rather than going to the ground, had angled toward the street. The guard attempted to compensate for the angle change, but he wasn’t fast enough. The blast from his shotgun shattered the passenger windows of a parked car. Spinning, he turned the barrel toward Nir, but found himself tottering backward as Nir caught the back of his leg with a kick.
Jumping from a crouch, Nir pounced at the man. But he was huge and incredibly strong. He grabbed hold of Nir and hefted him into the air. Then Nir saw the sidewalk below, approaching rapidly. But before he hit, Gil flew into the guy’s side. Nir went tumbling end over end.
Sirens echoed down the street. They had to get rid of these guys and on their way fast. Gil was on the ground wrestling with the second behemoth. Nir turned back to the first man. He was on the ground groaning. Nir jumped to his feet, grabbed the man’s shotgun, and whacked the side of his head with the stock. Quickly, he moved next to where the guard was now on top of Gil, ready to ground and pound the smaller man. Nir racked a shell into the chamber just for the sound effect, then placed the end of the barrel against the back of the man’s head. The guard froze.
Moving to where the man could see him, Nir used the shotgun to motion him off. He moved over.
“Nir, behind!” shouted Gil.
Ducking, Nir felt a blow glance along the top of his head. Turning, he saw a bystander trying to regain his balance after whiffing on a punch. Reversing the shotgun so that it was like a club, Nir drove the stock into the civilian’s forehead, sending him air-bound before he fell to the ground. Nir’s momentum was the wrong direction for dealing with Gil’s guard, so he called his teammate’s name before tossing the shotgun. Gil caught it and swung it around in one fluid motion. A crack of wood against bone echoed in the busy street, and the beast fell to the ground.
Kneeling, Gil retrieved the other shotgun and tossed it to Nir. The sirens made it sound like the police were right on top of them, even though they couldn’t see them yet through the traffic. They ran.
At the end of the block stood a big sign written in English. It read, “Next Level.” Then below was the word “Giriş” with an arrow. Giriş was another of those basic Turkish words that Nir knew. The sign said that to the left was the entrance to the Next Level mall.
Whatever level they were on now, it was clear they were getting nowhere. Might as well try the Next Level. They cut to the left and spotted the three-story mall.
Perfect!
A very large building with lots of people and many stores where they could “borrow” clothes from retailers and blend in with the masses—what could be better? They both picked up their speed.
“We can’t go in with shotguns,” said Gil. He began racking out the shells, letting them drop to the cement sidewalk.
Nir followed suit, getting rid of the shells before dropping the shotgun into a street-corner trash bin. Next came the plate carriers. They tore open the Velcro as they ran and tossed them into some bushes. As they bypassed a Starbucks store, they slowed down and took deep breaths. Their goal was to look like they belonged there, not like fugitives from justice.
Nir pulled open a large glass door. There were no shouts, no gunshots. So far, so good. Despite this being a high-end mall, the first smell that reached his nose was the greasy odor of KFC. But, seeing the stores around him, he realized that with a decent chunk of money, he could enjoy a nice shopping spree.
The mall seemed much smaller on the inside than it had from the exterior. There were quite a few people wandering around, but not as many as Nir would have liked. He still felt out of place, out in the open. Maybe it was the knot growing on his head, or Gil’s bloody nose, which he kept dabbing with his shirt sleeve.
They were passing by the Rolex store when voices called out. Nir had no idea what the words meant, but he was pretty sure of their intention when he turned to see six policemen running toward them.