Chapter Twenty
Özalp, Turkey
A grayish cargo van was parked outside the nearest house, which was a small, simple cinderblock building, but Jack didn’t want to steal the van. It looked like it had seen better days. Moreover, four children were playing with a tattered ball around the van. Jack didn’t want to make a scene in front of them. Their father, or brother, or whoever owned the battered vehicle needed it more than the agents.
Riley’s left leg buckled beneath him every ten steps or so, but he wasn’t going to stop. He insisted they needed to get away from the attackers. “I’ll rest when we’re in the car,” he said to Jack more than once.
No vehicles were visible around the second and the third houses, so they moved on. “How did they find us?” Riley asked. “We checked every inch of the BMW.”
Jack shrugged and hurried in front. “Not sure. There must have been a bug planted deep somewhere. Maybe inside the doors. Somewhere in the dashboard or the spaces around the glove compartment.”
Riley cursed out loud.
When they came to the fourth house, a brand-new, three-story villa painted yellow and surrounded by a tall wall, Jack gave Riley a hopeful smile. “This looks like a rich man’s house. We’ll find something here, I’m sure.”
He looked through the black wrought-iron gate and nodded at Riley standing a few steps away and watching his back. “Does a Black Mercedes sound good?”
“What year?” Riley asked with a grin.
“Not sure. Just a few years old.”
Riley offered an exaggerated frown. “Nothing else?”
“Sorry, chief.”
“Is it convertible, at least?”
“No, but it has a sunroof…”
Riley shrugged. “Sure, let’s get it.”
Jack stepped closer to the gate and looked through it again, only this time to be faced with the curious gaze of a young man. He had wavy black hair and was sporting a small goatee. The man couldn’t be older than twenty and was dressed in a black tracksuit. A golden chain with a large cross hung around his neck. He stepped closer to the gate and said something that Jack didn’t understand. However, the angry tone, the dismissive hand gestures, and the menace in the man’s fiery eyes gave him the clear message: Hit the road, Jack.
Jack studied the man’s hands, narrow shoulders, and thin physique. He was unarmed, and Jack, even with his injured foot and shoulder, wouldn’t have much trouble taking him down. The agent looked at the young man and back at the Mercedes-Benz sedan. “I want the car.” He pointed at it.
The young man gave Jack a puzzled glance. “Huh, car? You want buy Benz?” he said in broken English with a thick accent.
“Yes, how much?” Jack pulled out his wallet.
The young man grinned. He seemed to think about it for a moment, then he shook his head. “No sale. Benz no sale.”
“I have five thousand dollars.” Jack showed the young man the cash and waved it through the bars. “It’s all yours for the car.” It was a good deal, depending on the condition of the engine. Of course, Jack wouldn’t be able to tell until he was behind the wheel.
“No, no. Three thousands no good.”
“That’s all I have.” Jack showed him the empty wallet.
The young man’s facial muscles tightened. “Go away.” He stepped closer to Jack. “Go off.”
“Please,” Jack asked in a warm voice.
The young man pushed away Jack’s hand still holding the wad of cash. “You go away. Away—”
Jack dropped the money and grabbed the young man by the thick necklace. He pulled the young man toward him, slamming his face against the gate’s bars. “You little punk,” Jack whispered harshly in the man’s ear. “I offered you good money, and you send me off…”
The young man tried to say something, but his voice came out muffled because his mouth was pressed hard against one of the bars.
Jack said, “Now, I’ll take the Merc and give you no money.”
The young man tried to move back, but Jack rammed his pistol into the man’s side. Jack cocked the weapon, which made a loud metallic click. The young man froze, recognizing the sound. “You know who I am?”
“Do I look like I care?” Jack shoved the pistol harder into the man’s ribcage.
“No, no. No kill. No kill!” the man begged in a trembling voice.
“Quiet!” Jack said. “I’m not going to kill you, if you’re quiet. Open the gate!”
The young man nodded slowly. All the color had left his face. He reached slowly into the left side pocket of his jacket with his shaky hand and brought out a set of keys. They jiggled as he struggled to find the correct one and unlocked the gate.
Jack said, “Okay, get back, back. And don’t do anything stupid.”
The young man nodded slowly.
Jack let go of the young man’s necklace. The latter rubbed the side of his nose and his face as he stepped back. Jack took the keys and swung open the gate. One of the keys belonged to the Mercedes-Benz. He kept his eyes on the young man while hurrying toward the sedan, stepping over the hundred-dollar banknotes that the wind had swept across the cobblestoned driveway. He unlocked the sedan and opened the driver’s door. Before sliding into the driver’s black leather seat, Jack said, “Gather that money. It’s yours. For the Merc. I might return it, but no promises.”
The young man nodded slowly.
Jack wasn’t sure how much he could understand, but at this point, it didn’t matter. He disliked taking the property of innocent people who just happened to be in the wrong place and at the wrong time. Even when they were punks, they had the right to live in peace and prosper. But there was no other way. Jack and Riley needed to make a swift exit. Calling a cab just wouldn’t cut it.
Jack drove slowly through the narrow driveway. When he came to the young man, he rolled down the window and said, “Don’t call the police. Or I’ll come back for you. Got it?” He gave his voice his best threatening tone.
The young man nodded. “Police, no, no, no.”
“Good.”
The sedan glided through the gate. Jack jerked the wheel to make the tight turn onto the narrow alleyway in front of the house. He picked up Riley, and a minute later, they were driving toward the north, through the maze of the town’s streets. They stopped in a narrow alley and checked the vehicle for any GPS tracking devices. They found none, so they resumed driving.
When they reached the Van Saray Yolu, one of the major roads going through the town, Jack turned right. Their plan was to avoid the highway, at least for the next little while, and take the backroads. With a little bit of luck, they’d be able to reach Çaldiran and continue north, toward the border with Armenia, without running into Nazar or the Iranians.
Jack hoped, but deep down in his gut, he knew it wasn’t going to happen.