The guards led them through the corridor toward the central hub of the prison.
“Dan, what is it with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re on edge,” Conley replied.
“We are in a Turkish prison,” Morgan said.
“Which is Disneyland compared to the last one we saw,” Conley said.
“Better doesn’t mean good.”
They reached the hub and the guards led them down to a new corridor. Since this part of the prison complex housed everything from the infirmary, to the library, to solitary confinement, they could have been facing anything.
“My money’s on an interrogation,” Morgan said casually.
“Your money’s always on interrogation,” Conley said.
“And how often am I wrong?”
They were ushered into a small, windowless room with a table in the center. At one side of the table there sat a very nervous-looking man of about thirty in a suit.
There were two empty chairs on the other side of the table. If this was their interrogator, Morgan wasn’t worried.
Conley listened to the guards and then whispered, “That’s our lawyer.”
“Is it too late to request an interrogation?” Morgan replied.
As a rule, he wasn’t a big fan of lawyers. But in this country he imagined that all of the good ones were in prisons like this one. Anyone who was left he assumed was either part of the president’s corrupt system, or ineffectual and afraid of his or her own shadow.
Judging by the sweat on their lawyer’s forehead, Morgan could guess what kind of man this one was.
He stood up and offered his hand. “I’m Nadim Akan. Your company has engaged my services.” He handed them each a business card. Akan’s name was on it, as well as the name of the best and most expensive law firm in Istanbul.
“We appreciate you coming out so soon,” Conley said.
“Your CEO was adamant that I see you as soon as possible. I’m frankly surprised that the prison allowed it. In cases like yours, it is weeks or months before the first consultation.”
“Well, our employer is very determined, and she has a way of cutting through red tape,” Morgan said. Of course, that was a fair description of Diana Bloch. She was the director of Zeta Division and he knew she was the one who had leaned on the warden or whoever had allowed this meeting.
“We—” Conley began.
“We’re glad you’re here. We’re innocent and we’d like to clear this thing up as soon as possible,” Morgan interrupted.
“Certainly, when you are charged, we can plead your innocence…” Akan let the words trail off.
“Good, because we are completely innocent,” Morgan declared.
The man was somewhere between stricken and confused. “Of course, you haven’t been charged, but your arrest was on the news. There was video of the chase.”
“Wasn’t us,” Morgan said, feeling Conley’s eyes glaring at him.
“The video was very clear. And the prosecutor seems confident,” Akan said.
“Mistaken identity,” Morgan replied. “Or perhaps a frame-up. It could be a conspiracy.”
“I see,” Akan said.
“So while we wait for the charges perhaps you can pursue that angle.”
“What do you mean?” Akan asked.
“You must have investigators. Please have them work on proving our innocence. No need to come back until you have something solid.”
Morgan let that hang in the air and then said, “Otherwise, we’re done here.” Then he stood up. Akan followed suit, as did Conley.
As they shook hands Morgan said, “We have absolute faith in you.”
On the way back to the cellblock, Conley said, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I was perfectly nice,” Morgan said.
“You terrified him. Then you asked him to investigate a wide ranging conspiracy to frame us.”
“Given what’s going on in this country, he’ll be lucky if that’s the worst thing that happens to him this year. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt him to toughen up a bit.”
“What is it with you on this mission?” Conley said.
“Like I said, we are in a Turkish prison,” Morgan replied.
“That’s not it and you know it,” Conley said.
There was a moment of silence between them.
“What is it, Dan?”
Morgan sighed and said, “It’s this place. Not the prison, which is better than I expected. But the country. Fifteen years ago we did something we thought was important to the U.S. and to NATO. It was also supposed to make sure that things got better here, or at least didn’t get worse.”
“Like all of our old missions. We did our best. We’ll never know what we prevented,” Conley said. “That’s the job and you know it. There are no guarantees. We did the right thing then, that’s all we get.”
“You’re right but I can’t help feeling like we’re cleaning up the same mess again,” Morgan said.
“It wouldn’t be the first time we did that. But you know this isn’t quite the same mess. Shakir is a garden variety jackass tyrant, but he’s also riding a religious wave that was barely a ripple fifteen years ago, at least here.”
That was true. Like most of his ilk, Shakir had the heart of a petty dictator, but the slow and steady radicalization of the country had long roots. He and his predecessor had stoked that fire but they didn’t start it.
“Yeah, yeah, but this place still pisses me off. And I’m telling you right now, if we’re back here in another fifteen years, I get the top bunk.”
* * * *
As they got into the cab, Alex called out, “The clock tower, please.”
The driver didn’t respond, nor did he pull the cab away from the hotel.
“Did you hear? The clock tower,” Shepard added.
“Yes, the clock tower,” the driver said in accented English.
This had been part of the briefing material. Drivers, among others, would usually not speak directly to a woman if she were with a man.
The more charitable travel guides claimed that it was out of “respect.” It ensured that there could be no male behavior that could in any way be misinterpreted as flirting.
Maybe the driver was showing respect. But to Alex it seemed like he was showing it to Shepard, not her.
The tower was a beautiful turn-of-the-century stone structure that rose out of a large courtyard and was surrounded by fountains. As soon as she got there she took a number of selfies. And then she had her “brother” take more pictures of her.
Even she was annoyed by Alex Jackson’s behavior—using a beautiful historical structure as a backdrop for inane pictures of herself.
They made their way west to a public park near a north-south section of a four-lane highway that was one of the biggest state roads in the country—running east to west through central Turkey. On the east side of the highway was the Izmir prison. In addition to hardened criminals it was also home to one of the largest female prison populations in the country. Consequently, it also housed quite a few children who were being raised by their imprisoned mothers.
On the west side of the highway was the park. At the north end of the park stood Erdoğan Prison, which currently contained her father, Conley, and one important nuclear scientist. Alex and Shepard got as close as they could while still staying in the park.
The open space, fields, and trees could have been any park in the West. However, Alex saw that a small but significant percentage of the women were wearing traditional headscarves.
That was important because as little as five years ago that percentage would have been zero, or very close to it. The eastern provinces of Turkey near the Syria, Iraq, and Iran borders had always been the most conservative areas in the historically secular Turkey. Thus, in the east, headscarves were not unusual. But the fact that the traditional headgear had made it this far west showed how far the country had come in its transformation. Alex thought that in five or more years, this city would look quite different.
Near the northern edge of the public park, they could see the walls of her father’s prison. Shepard became more alert and started checking his phone.
Erdoğan Prison was named after the last president, and the prison grounds were built on what had been part of the public park less than two years ago.
Taking charge, Shepard guided Alex along the central path and put his backpack down against a streetlight post. He fumbled inside the pack and then pulled out a device about the size of a phone but a little thicker. She noticed that it was exactly the same shade of green as the light pole itself.
She saw Shepard place the device on the pole. It held itself in place and the matching color made it nearly disappear.
Alex knew it was some sort of a comm signal booster that would come in handy for the last phase of the mission.
“Is that high enough to do any good?” Alex asked.
“It doesn’t matter where I put it, it makes the whole streetlight an antenna,” Shepard said.
Alex was impressed but not surprised.
They repeated the operation five more times, the prison’s concrete walls looming in the distance.
Just when Alex had judged that they’d spent enough time that close to the prison, Shepard announced they were finished. They headed south and out of the park, grabbing a cab for their last stop of the day.
At the waterfront, they had lunch at one of the upscale restaurants with a view of the Aegean Sea. The seaside was lined with hotels, restaurants, cafes and shops. Alex realized it was quite beautiful. Izmir had been a major international port since the seventeenth century, and was a nice mix of the old and new worlds.
After lunch, they headed for the harbor. Alex had studied the mission briefing materials, but she wanted to see the roads, access points, and ship traffic for herself.
They had barely begun when she turned to Shepard and said, “We’re being followed.”
To his credit, his voice was steady when he said, “How long?”
“I saw two men watching us as we went into the restaurant. They waited and followed us out,” she said.
“Do you think we need help?” he asked.
“Not sure, but I am sure we don’t want a big fuss. We can’t afford the attention,” she said.
“So what’s the play?” he asked.
Shepard was completely in control when it came to technology and computer work, but he was far from a field agent. And while Alex was the youngest agent at Zeta, she was much more qualified to handle things if the situation got rough.
And how rough it got depended on their new friends’ motives. She thought terrorism was unlikely. It was a growing problem near the Syrian and Iraqi borders, and also in Istanbul and Ankara. But terrorists still tended to leave the western coastal areas alone.
Even if she ruled out terrorism-based kidnapping or mayhem, that still left a few options and none of them were particularly good.
“Let’s head for the pier,” Alex said. Shepard nodded and they walked toward the ferry slips. “Could be terrorists, petty crooks, police, or intelligence.”
“How do we find out?” Shepard said.
Alex saw the spot she wanted, a deserted alley between a ferry terminal and a large hotel.
“I say we ask them,” she replied.