| |
––––––––
TREMBLING WITH RAGE, I locked the door. That low-down, smug-faced Brit thought he stood on high moral ground. He didn’t know me. He didn’t know my history or what I was capable of. I didn’t need to prove anything to him, and yet somehow, the thought of bringing Dark Sparrow to justice on my own was more important than ever.
Ryan’s murder faded into the background, replaced with an urgent desire to show Theo who was in charge. If he thought he could bulldoze his way into my life, he was badly mistaken. I didn’t need him, and I didn’t want him tagging along.
I was still fully dressed, and though it was three in the morning, I’d wasted enough time. There was no point in hanging around the hotel room any longer. Theo knew what I was up to. He knew that I was going on a solo mission, and there was no way he could stop me.
I grabbed my field kit in the form of an oversized purse. It was the kind with two straps that could function as a backpack when I needed it to or an over-the-shoulder bag when I wanted to be inconspicuous. With a change of clothes, a snack, a weapon, and an all-purpose surveillance device inside, it didn’t look like much. Traveling light was important when you were out in the field. The less you looked like you were carrying, the more people ignored your presence.
I thrust my way into the hall, swiping my door closed and moving purposefully toward the stairs. This time, I wasn’t going to take the elevator. I didn’t see a camera inside the car, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t wired. I gravitated toward the back roads, the stairwells, and the dark alleys. Especially at three in the morning, secrecy was a woman’s best friend.
I had the last known location of the missing agents, and that was as good a place to start as any. It was a hotel; not the one I was staying at, but fairly close. I didn’t want to risk being spotted by getting a taxi, so that meant spending precious time crossing the distance on foot.
Again, I didn’t want to attract attention by sprinting, but a woman walking very swiftly early in the morning wasn’t unusual. If anyone stopped me, I could simply say I was nervous and trying to get home as fast as possible.
My breath sped up as my pace increased, and I worked up a slight sheen even with the chill of the morning air. It felt good. I loved physical exercise. It was one of the few indulgences I allowed myself since there was no downside. Drinking could numb the senses, and sex always involved another person. Running, jogging, or speed-walking kept me in peak physical condition, sharpened my senses, and didn’t force me into uncomfortable situations. I relaxed my mind, running over the briefing again in my head. Whatever I could do not to think about Theo and his irritatingly handsome face was welcome. Hopefully, I could put this whole ordeal to bed soon and be stateside by the end of the day.
The hotel was an older building, although old was a relative term in Turkey. It took up an entire city block, its slate gray façade clearly worn with age. It was too early to go in and ask to see the room where the agents had been staying. I didn’t think that would gain me any ground. Assuming that the missing agents had a speck of professionalism between them, they wouldn’t have left anything meaningful behind.
I wondered why both the CIA and MI6 had chosen to use this hotel. The agencies never did anything by chance. There was obviously a reason, and it might prove important.
Instead of going in the front door, I went around back. Slipping my bag off my shoulder, I dug around for my lock picks. Sliding one whisper-thin bar into the lock, I made short work of the old technology. I was surprised they even bothered with a key. It was child’s play getting into the building, but that’s when the real work began.
I slung the bag over one shoulder and affected the look of a guest who had lost their way. No one was in the hallway that early, but I could see a light coming from the kitchen. I paused to investigate every door leading up to the lobby. Striking gold with an office that had a set of monitors set up, I eased into the seat and did some quick reconnaissance.
There were six cameras at various entrances and two in the lobby. None of the visuals showed the staff areas or the guest quarters. It wasn’t a modern hotel, and maybe that was the point.
I grabbed a thumb drive from my bag and slid it into the computer port. Clicking through a few older files, I found the day in question. The two MI6 agents had disappeared a few days ago, while my own colleague had gone missing about thirty hours prior. With one ear, I kept alert for the sounds of people coming down the hallway. I didn’t hear anything at the moment, emboldening me to take my time.
I set the feed on triple time and scanned all six images at once for signs of the missing agents. There was nothing suspicious from the timeframe I flagged for the American spy, but when I went back a day, I hit paydirt. About three minutes into my covert surveillance, I spotted them.
The two agents were about as recognizable as anyone I’d ever seen. I wondered how MI6 managed to maintain their dominance in the field. Anyone who had an ounce of experience could have spotted them as government agents.
I watched as they moved toward the door seemingly of their own volition. But then at the edge of the screen, I caught a reflection in the mirror. There was a van parked outside, and a shadowy figure waiting to usher the two agents into it. The culprit, whoever he was, held a rifle in both hands, his head obscured by a mask.
That kind of blatant disrespect for authority wasn’t uncommon. The kinds of men we hunted were often brazen. I suspected that there were witnesses to the abduction, but that none of them would come forward. People who lived in the area knew to leave well enough alone. What did they care if two British officials got their heads chopped off? There was no love for the throne or for the American president in this neighborhood.
I made a quick copy of the video and grabbed the thumb drive. Sneaking out the way I’d come, I circled around to the front of the hotel. Sure enough, there were tire marks right out front, indicating a large vehicle had been recently parked there.
I crouched, doing my best to discern make and model of the van from the tire tracks. Like any good agent, I had a head full of knowledge that came in handy. That included a few tire tread patterns and some manufacturing red flags. I could tell that the tires weren’t local, that the van had been brought in from Germany. In the United States, that wouldn’t have been much to go on, but here in Istanbul, the number of German cars was significantly lower.
It was a start.
I stood up and took some photos. If I sent it to my contact at the CIA, a person I only knew by the handle Z, they should be able to give me a more detailed picture of the vehicle. It seemed like a long shot, but they might even be able to tell me where it had been sold.
Light was beginning to infuse the streets, signaling the beginning of the workday. I would be better off in something less practical. The black pants served me well in the dark, but they would attract more attention as soon as the sun came up.
I ducked into the alley beside the hotel to change. I wasn’t shy. If anybody came upon me as I was undressed, I would simply kill them. I felt no fear at the thought of being partly naked, hidden only by a dumpster. Besides, I was a master of the quick change and could strip and don a new costume in a matter of seconds.
I hiked out of the pants, rolled them up, and stuffed them in my bag. The red shirt was next, leaving me in my bra and panties. Out of the bag came a form-fitting dress. It was the kind that definitely drew attention from men, but I knew how to use that particular brand of distraction to my advantage.
I wiggled into the dress and zipped it up from behind. The sensible shoes I wore were equally appropriate for the newer look, though heels would have been preferable. There was no way I was bringing along extra shoes on a job, so the ones I was wearing had to do double duty.
I emerged from between the two buildings a changed woman. Pulling the rubber band out of my hair, I shook it down around my shoulders, perfecting the look. Not a lot of women walked around with their hair down in Istanbul, so I knew that was all anyone would pay attention to. My bag and all the information it contained wouldn’t rate a second glance.
I paused to send the photos of the tire tracks and the surveillance video to Z. Hopefully, Z would have something for me before too long. In the meantime, there were other leads I could track down.
There was a café across the street that looked promising. If I was right about there being witnesses to the abduction, maybe I could coax the information out of a particularly horny stranger. I walked inside, pulling out a Turkish Lira to pay for a cappuccino. I had to have some business inside the café, and a cup of coffee sounded about right.
I scanned the dark and crowded room, looking for a mark. I wanted someone who looked local, someone who went there every day, maybe on their way to work. I also needed someone who would be open to my charms. It wouldn’t do any good to try to get information out of a woman. She would view me as competition and would clam up the moment I sat down.
A single man, slightly older than me, who was down on his luck and not shy about his taste in women was exactly what I needed. I was so focused on my task I failed to see who was sitting right in front of me.
My eyes surfed the room, picking out a man in the far corner. He was flirting with the hostess, who wasn’t the least bit interested. He was perfect. I set my sights on him and was about to swoop in for the kill when someone at the table closest to me grabbed my arm.
I looked down to see Theo sitting right beside me, a coffee mug in front of him and a smile on his face. His fingers slid down my arm to my wrist, which he pinned to the table with a move that only the most experienced combat veterans had perfected.
I ground my teeth together, trying to free myself without making a scene. But I might as well have stumbled into handcuffs, his grip was that strong.
“Have a seat,” he said.
The man I had been hoping to pump for information turned to look. I saw his eyes widen appreciatively, which was exactly what I desired. But then he saw that I was with Theo and turned right back to the hostess. I cursed under my breath and slid into the seat beside my British counterpart.
“What?” I demanded.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
“Out,” I snapped.
“Did you find anything?” he persisted, still not letting up.
“Yes, in fact,” I informed him. “The agents were kidnapped by someone in a militia driving a German van.”
“Hmm,” he replied, finally releasing his hold.
I rubbed my wrist, not wanting to admit that it hurt. “That’s better than what you have,” I accused him.
“The van was rented from a place called Ali’s,” Theo said blandly. “The name, or presumably the alias, of the person who rented it is Sullivan.”
I frowned. “How do you know?”
“I have my sources,” he replied, giving me a narrow look. “While you were climbing through windows, I was doing real spy work.”
“I wasn’t climbing through windows,” I defended myself.
“Well, you were certainly dressed for it,” he countered. “Nice outfit, by the way.”
“It does the trick,” I said, smoothing the dress out and pressing my chest forward. I didn’t have to apologize for using my assets. “I don’t usually leave marks alive long enough to notice my costume changes.”
“Why did you leave me alive?”
“Moment of weakness,” I said. I wasn’t about to explain how his soulful eyes had stayed my hand or why I couldn’t bring myself to make that final, fatal strike.
I got a ping on my phone and looked down. Z was one step ahead of Theo, giving me not only the alias used to rent the van but known associates and a safehouse in Athens. It looked like I would be leaving Istanbul after all, although not to return to the United States as planned.
I reached for a napkin, feeling generous. With a pen sourced from my bag of tricks, I wrote down the address and passed it over to him. He glanced at it, clearly not connecting the dots.
“That’s your Sullivan,” I said, blowing him a kiss. “You’re not the only one with contacts.”
I started to get up, but his hand shot out to cover mine again, holding me in place. I was starting to get tired of this particular game. I didn’t want to pull against him because I already knew how strong he was. Getting into a fist fight in the café wasn’t my first choice. Though I managed to hold my own, the last two fights with Theo had told me everything I needed to know about him. It wouldn’t be easy to get the upper hand in an all-out brawl.
“What?” I snapped.
He put his phone on the table, tapping the screen to draw my attention to a recent text. I leaned over to read the tiny print. “Sullivan” had been identified as a commonly used alias for Vinny Carmini, a shady character who was a suspected member of Dark Sparrow. Theo and I were booked on a flight to Athens together.
I sat back down, realizing that my lead had just shrunk to nothing. He relaxed his hold as soon as it was clear I wasn’t going anywhere. It looked like for the time being we were stuck with each other.
Theo raised his coffee mug, a satisfied smile on his face. I rolled my eyes. While I had been conducting real work, he had been sitting on his ass in a coffee shop letting the desk jockeys handle the investigation. It irritated me to no end that he’d managed to stay up to speed with a minimal output of labor. Hopefully, that wouldn’t continue in the field. I wanted a partner who was going to carry his own weight, not someone who would farm out responsibilities to analysts.
“When do we go?” I asked.
“Ten o’clock,” he said. “Relax. Have a drink.”
I wanted to throw his words back in his face, but the truth was, I was operating on zero sleep. Coffee was something I needed right now, not to make idle conversation, but to stay awake.
