ISTANBUL, TURKEY
Jake was lost in the sounds and chaos of the Istanbul International Airport. He was sitting in one of those cheap vinyl chairs that stick to your pants on a hot day as you try to get up. It was one of those hot days and the terminal air conditioning wasn’t doing the job. Hoards of people swept by as they deplaned. He had a half hour left of a two-hour layover on his flight from Odessa to Adana. He couldn’t wait to see the airplane they’d use for that final flight. It seemed that not many people were traveling to Adana on that day.
It was late Friday afternoon. Jake had spent the layover wondering what had happened to Helena. He had given her clear instructions to go to Yalta, check into the Summit Hotel, and wait there for him to pick her up in four days. If everything went as he wanted, he’d be in Yalta on Sunday as promised. But he had called the Summit Hotel, and no one matching Helena’s description had checked in. Had she gotten to Yalta safely? His mind was flipping back and forth on what could have happened to her. He had been certain nobody had followed him to Nikolaev, where he put her on the train to Yalta.
Jake looked up from gazing at a magazine and saw a woman down the corridor stroll through the crowd. Standing up quickly for a better look, he lost her in the distant crowd. Yet he was certain it was Chavva. It wouldn’t have been that much of a coincidence, since they had first met in Istanbul. But it was curious, since he thought she had left Odessa the day before on her way back to Tel Aviv. He smiled thinking of his encounter with her, as he turned to sit down.
Standing just behind him was Sherut, Chavva’s boss. He had that smirk on his face, like he was superior and he thought everyone should know it. They stared for an uncomfortable moment.
Finally Jake said, “I thought you went back to Tel Aviv?”
Sherut had his hands in the pockets of a long overcoat that seemed far too warm, considering the temperature. “I was delayed in Odessa, I’m afraid. Business. And you? What brings you to Turkey?”
Jake thought for a moment. He didn’t have to tell this man shit, but what the hell. “An old friend of mine. I used to work in Turkey. I thought I’d look him up before heading back to the States.” That was really the truth. He was looking for Sinclair Tucker.
Sherut smiled. “I’m just on a layover myself.” He pointed to a large flight schedule on the wall. It showed a flight leaving for Tel Aviv in one hour.
“Is Chavva traveling with you?”
He raised his brows, as if Jake had caught him at something. “I’m afraid not. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering. I thought she worked for you. So naturally you’d be traveling together.”
He shook his head and then turned and nodded toward a man sitting across the waiting area. It was the large bodyguard dressed in nice slacks with a black leather coat. He looked like the driver Jake had seen pulling up during his late-night visit with Sherut at the Odessa train station. He was reading a newspaper, but keeping an eye trained in their direction. “Just my associate. Chavva left yesterday, I believe.”
There was no arguing. Jake was tired, but sure he had seen her crossing the corridor. It didn’t matter one way or the other, really. Jake said goodbye to Sherut and decided to head out and walk until his flight. He hated being cooped up on planes. He went in the direction he thought he had seen Chavva. Nothing. Continuing on, he stopped at a magazine stand and looked behind him. Nobody was following him.
Jake rubbed his left arm against his chest, where his 9mm normally hung. He had left it in the hotel safe, but wasn’t sure why. Tully had told him he’d get plenty of firepower once he reached Incirlik. He hoped so, because he felt somewhat naked without it.
He checked his watch. Time to head to the plane.