The guards didn’t bring Tunca back until the next day.
The man took one step into the cell and fell into the hands of Morgan and Conley. Morgan didn’t dare make eye contact with the two guards. It wouldn’t help anything for them to see how he felt about them.
As they helped him onto his bed, Morgan saw that Tunca wasn’t just thin, he was emaciated.
Conley gave the journalist a quick exam while keeping him talking.
“No concussion. Nothing broken that I can see,” Conley announced.
“Of course, they are very good at what they do,” Morgan said.
The agents got some water into Tunca but he turned down food.
“He just wants to sleep,” Conley said.
When Tunca was comfortable Morgan asked, “Do they want information?” Morgan said.
Conley had a quick exchange with Tunca and then said, “He told everything he knew in his articles.”
“So this is just part of the punishment?” Morgan asked.
Conley didn’t respond. He didn’t have to.
After a minute Conley said, “I know everything you’re thinking. In a few weeks we can just get the hell out of here.”
It was true, Morgan thought, but what about Tunca and the tens of thousands of men and women across the country like him?
And what about the millions of people left in the country who knew that places like this awaited them if they stepped out of line…or told too much of the truth?
Suddenly a few more weeks seemed like a hell of a long time.
Less than an hour later the guards returned and Conley said, “Dan, you have a visitor. Your daughter is here.”
That got Morgan’s attention.
He got up and the guards brought him to the central hub, and then into a room with a long counter that was partitioned into ten individual cubbies. Each cubby had had two chairs with a glass partition in between them. The glass was high enough that visitors couldn’t pass anything to the inmates but low enough that they could hear one another.
Morgan saw his daughter sitting in the cubicle on the far end. That was better; it meant other people on only one side of them. Of course, Morgan had no illusions about privacy here. Especially in a political prison such as this, they had to assume the administration was listening in on prisoners’ conversations with visitors.
Alex was blonde and wearing a brightly colored dress. She was also heavily made up and appeared more like a minor wannabe celebrity than the intelligent, practical daughter he’d known for more than twenty years.
That’s undercover work for you, he thought.
“Hi Daddy!” Alex said with a forced brightness in her voice.
“Hi Honey,” he said, taking a seat.
“When are you coming home?” she asked.
“Soon, but aren’t you early? I thought you were too busy to come right away,” he said. The fact was that she wasn’t due for weeks.
“I hated the idea of you all alone here,” she said, taking in the room. “It’s awful.”
Though Alex Jackson may not have exactly been his daughter, on that they could agree.
“I don’t want you exposed to this, sweetie,” he said.
She ignored his comment and said, “Do you want Mommy to call anyone? Can’t we just fix this?”
“We can. It’s all a big mistake. I’ve got a great lawyer and he’ll sort it all out in no time. Is everything okay at home?”
“Yes, but now Mommy and I have to do all the arrangements for my birthday party without you,” she said with a pout.
“Like I said, it won’t be long and I don’t want you to worry,” he said.
“I’ll stay as long as it takes,” she replied.
“Then try to have fun while you’re here and stay out of trouble,” he said.
As they filled out the rest of the visit with pleasantries, Morgan decoded what she’d told him so far: Everything was on track and she’d simply decided to set up the back office early.
All he had to do was sit tight and keep to the timetable.
The problem was that as they spoke he realized that something was wrong. Alex wasn’t nervous. And she was doing an excellent job maintaining her cover. These weren’t his agent’s instincts kicking in; these were his father’s instincts.
As they got up and said good-bye, Morgan realized what it was. Alex was wearing a cardigan over her dress.
A long-sleeved cardigan.
She was intentionally hiding something from him. An injury?
Had there been trouble? He was suddenly sure of it. And she’d just been here a few days. If they kept to the mission plan, they would all be here for more than another month.
And there would be plenty of opportunities for real trouble when the mission went into its active phase.
Suddenly his frustration with what was going on in this country and this prison threatened to boil over. On top of everything else, the longer the mission went on, the greater the danger to the back office personnel—the greater the danger to Alex.
He was sure she could handle anything they threw at her…and yet that pit in his stomach was growing by the second.
Heading back through the hub, Morgan passed a series of offices. There was a man in a suit talking to two subordinates, and suddenly the posture of the guards escorting him changed. They stood up straight, grasping him firmly.
Who was the man in the suit? The warden? Probably. Well if that was the case, Morgan thought he might like to file a few complaints…
The man turned around and Morgan got his first good look at him. He would have recognized him even without the eye patch.
Morgan put his head down. If the warden saw him, the operation would be over—and their carefully wrought escape plan would likely be worth nothing.
A few steps later they were past the warden and Morgan was out of immediate danger. However, this changed everything.
Of course, it should have been impossible. Zeta had checked the records of every guard and member of the staff—none of them had been working at any previous prison that Morgan or Conley had ever visited in Turkey.
But Morgan hadn’t run into this man in a prison. And it would have been impossible for him to show up on any computer check.
Back in the cellblock, as he and the guards approached the cell, Conley could tell something was wrong.
Morgan knew Peter was thinking of their carefully wrought plan: They would soon be assigned to work in the prison laundry, where they would begin assembling equipment and resources for the escape. That would take weeks of careful work.
It was a solid plan. And they would have Zeta crawling around the prison’s computer system to make sure it went off without a hitch.
It was a shame that they wouldn’t be able to wait weeks. They needed a new plan, one that got them out of here very soon.
“Dan…” Conley said, when they were a few steps closer.
When the guard with the scar on his cheek grabbed his left shoulder to shove him into his cell Morgan was moving before he had consciously decided to do anything.
His arm swung around wide so that when Morgan’s fist made contact with the guard’s face it had quite a bit of force behind it.
The man stumbled back, gave Morgan an uncomprehending look, and then fell to the floor.
Well, Morgan thought, he isn’t so tough when the prisoners hit back.