Chapter Thirteen
February 11
Atmeydani Avenue
Istanbul, Turkey
Justin sat at a bench in the Sultan Ahmet Park and glanced at the stream of tourists flowing through the square, the sidewalks, and spilling onto the streets. Some of them held up cameras or phones as they took pictures of the mosque or selfies. Others held hands or strolled at leisure.
He could not enjoy the view or the peacefulness of the surroundings. Reza had disappeared, most likely captured, or possibly killed. Justin’s operation and perhaps his life were in danger.
What now?
He glanced at the phone and thought about calling Reza one last time. But if he had not answered the first few times, nothing was going to change. But I can call Carrie, see if she can help me make sense of this situation.
Justin stood up and walked further inside the park. He stood about twenty yards from the nearest tourists—an old couple meandering about—and beyond their earshot. Then he dialed Carrie’s number from memory.
She answered after the first ring. “Justin, how are you?”
“Eh, I’ve been better.”
“You okay? What happened?”
“Yes, I’m all right. But Reza’s gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean?”
Justin briefed Carrie about the course of events, starting with the warehouse escape, followed by the car chase, and culminating with Reza’s no-show.
When he was finished, Carrie said, “All right. It’s almost certain something terrible has happened to Reza. An accident; nabbed by MIT, another intel agency, or the police.”
“Yes.” Justin nodded. Carrie’s words confirmed his fears. “This is not a case where his phone’s battery died, or he got a flat tire.”
“No, nothing of that sort.”
“I’m reluctant to call Esmail.”
Esmail was another one of Justin’s contacts in the Iranian Islamic Revolutionary Guard.
“Yes, that would be a dangerous move. We’re not sure Esmail knows about your rapport with Reza. Plus, even if he does, Esmail may not know about Reza’s unofficial op. What if Reza didn’t tell anyone he was headed to Turkey?”
“Yes, that would complicate the situation.”
“I know this is not the answer you want, but there isn’t much to do at this point,” Carrie said in a soft, warm tone. “Unless the Turks or the Iranians report about Reza’s capture or killing, we’re in the dark.”
“Yes, and I’m the one who drew Reza to Istanbul.”
“Justin, don’t even go there.” Carrie’s voice was still soft, but it became firm. “This may have nothing to do with you. Reza works for the Iranian intel service. Bad blood runs between them and the Turks, and it has for years.”
“Still, it brings me no comfort.”
“It’s not supposed to. But this isn’t your fault. Even if the Turks traced your calls—which is extremely unlikely—and somehow intercepted Reza, he’s a skilled operative. He has been in hostile situations before, and he knows how to handle himself.”
Justin shrugged and drew in a deep breath. “Maybe Reza sensed the danger and has gone dark.”
“That’s a possibility.”
“But he would have informed me.”
“If he could.”
“What do you suggest we do?”
Carrie thought about her answer for a long moment. “Well, we need to think this through. We have no other contacts in the Quds Force, and, as in the case with Esmail, even if we did or could find another contact, we might be causing more harm than good.”
“I agree.”
“We can inquire with the MIT and other Turkish ‘partner agencies.’ But after the chase and the crash, I doubt they would be forthcoming.”
“Yes, and that would be admitting our role in running an unsanctioned op in Turkey.”
“Without the knowledge of our ally, that would be a scandal in the making.”
Justin snorted. “After the way they treated me, I doubt I’d use the word ‘ally.’”
“You’re right, and you need to get out of there. With Reza gone and the Turks knowing about you . . .”
Justin nodded. Carrie did not need to finish her thought. “Yes, I’ll have to arrange for transport to Bulgaria. I’m thinking Svilengrad. It’s just across the border with Turkey and Greece.”
“Not getting in touch with our local station?”
“No, why cause more problems for them? In this way, they’ll have complete deniability.”
“Good call. They already have to deal with the aftermath.”
“Yes, now, we’ve talked to death about my op. How are things going with you?”
“Things are okay. I’m almost finished in Dubai and should be able to leave tomorrow morning.”
“Back to Vienna?”
“Unless I receive other orders.”
“Good. I’ll call our boss and give him an update. Then I’ll reach Svilengrad.”
“Okay, and what about the next steps with this op?”
Justin frowned. He had thought about it and did not like the next obvious option. Reza’s disappearance had left him no choice. He sighed, then said, “I’ll give a call to Eliakim and see what they might have.” He dragged out his words as if he was about to begin a Herculean task.
“I understand, Justin. After what they did to us in the Tehran operation, I’d rather not get involved with Mossad. But . . . we have to.”
“Yes, but the cost . . . I don’t think our boss has calculated the true cost of sharing a bed with Mossad.”
A brief pause, then Carrie said, “He’ll have to deal with that, when it comes up. We can do what we can, Justin.”
“Yes, yes, I hear you, Carrie. After I’ve heard from Mossad, I’ll give you a call. I’m sure Eliakim or another operative would like to meet and provide us their intel, if they have any. I’ll push for a meeting somewhere in Europe, but it will depend on their availability.”
“Sure, let me know how it goes. Then, I’ll make travel plans.”
“All right. Anything else?”
“No, stay safe, Justin.”
“Yes, you too, Carrie.”
He tapped the End key and sighed. Yes, Mossad, the monster I was trying to stay away from. He shook his head. I have no choice. He sighed again and dialed Eliakim’s number.