FIFTY-NINE
Dr. Azra Kaya had Wednesday night off, so Court paid her a visit at nine p.m. He was in the middle of both his infusion and some Indian take-out food when his phone buzzed. He received a text on his Signal encrypted app, and when he read it, he smiled.
“Good news?” Kaya asked.
“Yeah. I’m going to see an old friend.” He checked his watch. “Would it be okay if I came back in a couple of hours and finished the treatment?”
“Sure. You have another fifteen on this antibiotic, if you can stay. I’ll switch the bag to the other antibiotic for when you come back.”
“Good.”
“You seem happy. Must be a good friend.”
Court thought this over. “He’s good to have around in certain situations.”
“And I guess you can’t tell me who it is?” Court just looked at her, and then she laughed a little. “Dumb question?”
“It’s better if I keep my work out of your life.”
She was genuinely amused. “Your work is very much in my life. The cut on your arm, the bruises on your face, the infection in your bone, the surgical wound that has reopened every day since you showed up in Berlin.”
“Good point.”
But she wasn’t finished. “The drugs I give you to keep you moving, the constant news on TV about combat in the streets of Berlin. Face it, sir, you aren’t exactly keeping me away from your work life.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I owe you a lot.”
“You would pay me back by getting a safer job. I worry about the day you don’t come back to see me. Not because you are too healthy to need me, but because your health no longer matters.”
Court thought about this. “Honestly, I’d rather bleed out in the street than on your sofa.”
She looked at him with incomprehension. “You would rather die alone than with a friend by your side?”
She hadn’t intended it, but her comment got to Court. He fully expected that was how he would go, surrounded by enemies, not friends. He tried to play it off with a joke.
“You have such a nice sofa, I’d just hate to ruin it.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s a settee, and you aren’t the first oddball who’s bled on it.”
“That’s comforting.”
“But . . .” she said, “you will be the last.”
“What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “This was exciting at first. Now it is just stressful. Scary. Heartbreaking when I lose one of you or, in your case, when I see you go back out, day after day, for more abuse when you should be convalescing.”
“I have to—”
“I know you think you have to. That there is no one else on earth who can do what you do. But your actions will lead to a lot of sadness for your friends and family when you die. Maybe you should think about them.”
Court didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t around many people who gave a shit about him, and even those who did, like Zoya, lived lives similar enough to his that they understood why it was hard to walk away.
Azra said, “Yes, I lose patients in the hospital, but when I save them, they don’t usually go back out and throw themselves to the wolves again the very next day. I will treat you as long as you need me, and then I will leave the network behind.”
Court thought this to be an excellent idea. He needed people out here in the field ready to treat him covertly, when he needed them. But this young woman was too good for this type of work, and too pure for men of his ilk.
As soon as he left Dr. Kaya’s flat, Court took a streetcar to Tegel Airport, and immediately conducted a thirty-minute SDR around the terminal. This done, he walked back outside into the rainy night and then into a parking garage. On the fourth level he stepped out of the stairwell and headed straight ahead. There, all the way at the end, was a black Audi A6 sedan. He opened the driver’s door and sat down, checked the center console, and retrieved the key that had been left in the car for him.
He got out, popped the trunk, and looked in before sitting back down behind the wheel.
Court knew he was taking a chance using Berlin station again, but Hanley had given him a number to call if he needed supplies, and he was banking that neither Hanley nor Brewer had contacted them to tell them he was no longer sanctioned to operate in Berlin. He’d called the number, given his identity code, and referenced a number Hanley had given him that provided the authorization code Berlin station needed to authenticate him, and then he simply told them what he wanted and where he wanted it all delivered.
He started to check his watch, but then he saw a man approaching the Audi through the driver-side mirror.
Seconds later, the passenger door opened and the man climbed in.
“Dude, I’m starving! Been eating beans covered in shit for the last week. We’ve got to stop at KFC or something before we do anything else.”
Court laughed despite himself. Zack Hightower was in his fifties, but he’d been like this for the ten or more years Court had known him.
Now Zack looked around the vehicle, seeming to notice it suddenly. “Pretty sweet. Agency ride?”
“It is. Got it just for you.”
“It’s a little European. I’m more a Silverado guy, myself.”
The Audi was already moving for the exit. “A Chevy pickup would be a touch conspicuous around here.” Court looked to his passenger. “Not that you aren’t conspicuous enough on your own.”
Zack shrugged.
“How was the clink?” Court asked.
With another shrug he said, “What do you think? Third-world prisons aren’t nearly as much fun as everyone makes them out to be.”
“That’s too bad. I was planning on getting arrested in Quito next week.”
But Zack had moved on. “So, Anthem says Hanley is out of the loop on me being over here.”
“He is—for now, anyway. I know you pride yourself on being a good soldier. Is that going to be a problem for you?”
“Anthem also said Hanley left me out in the jungle to rot.” He looked in the glove compartment, started feeling around, searching for something. “So . . . my loyalty is to you now, Six, as long as the op is legit.”
When Hightower had been Court’s team leader, his call sign was Sierra One, to the much more junior Court’s Sierra Six. Zack still referred to Court as Six instead of his real name, or even his Agency code name.
Court said, “As soon as we have an op, I promise it will be one hundred percent legit.” When Zack reached under his seat, still searching with his hand, Court said, “Center console.”
Zack opened the console and retrieved a pistol in a holster. He drew the weapon and looked at it. “What is this bullshit?”
Court glanced towards Zack, then back to the exit ramp in front of him. “Looks like a Steyr. M9.”
“I know it’s an M9. Got eyeballs. Since when did the Agency start fielding these?”
Court shrugged. “Dunno. I’ve been out awhile. There’s a pair of UMPs with all the fixings in the trunk.”
Zack reholstered the weapon and slid it under his shirt in the appendix position. “Damn, it’s good to see you, Six. You all healed up from that blade you caught in LA?”
To this Court replied, “Not really.” He changed the subject. “What about Zoya?”
“What about her?”
“Did she tell you where she was heading next?”
“She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. Just that she was burned here, and she was pretty damn concerned about you.” Zack winked. “I told her I’d take care of you.”
Court looked out at the night as they hit the highway, filling Zack in on the status of the operation as he drove. He told his former TL that Hanley himself was on his way here to Berlin, apparently because Court had ID’d some unknown subject for him earlier in the day.
Zack turned to face Court. “The big man coming out himself? That’s weird.”
“Tell me about it. Anyway, we’re on stand-down till he gets here, but as soon as his plane touches down, I’m going to ask for approval to snatch this Dittenhofer woman. She’s got answers about Haz Mirza.”
“Mirza was the leader of the cell that attacked the embassy today?”
“Affirmative. Four terrorists dead, no other casualties. I don’t think the Iranians got more than a couple shots off before the USMC splattered them across the square. But Mirza wasn’t there. He’s still on the loose.”
“So . . .” Zack said, “you’re basically saying this Mirza cat was the leader of a gang of dipshits. What are we getting all spun up for? He’s all alone. Can’t do too much without his men. Sooner or later, Hanley and his boys will roll him up.”
Court shook his head. “No, we are missing something. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to tie Mirza with the Iranian embassy. I can’t believe it was all to implicate members of his cell in today’s shitty little attack. There’s got to be something else coming. Something that involves Mirza, who has been disavowed by Tehran.”
Zack shrugged. “Whatever, man. I just work here. What’s the first thing on our agenda?”
“I have to go to an apartment on Tiergarten Strasse for about an hour. You can come with me and wait in the car, or I can drop you off on the way.”
“Who’s there?”
“A woman who has been helping me out.”
Zack cocked his head. Soon he gave a knowing smile. “Listen, man, I think it’s awesome how you discovered sex in your late thirties.”
Court fought a laugh, because he knew it would just encourage his old team leader to continue with the razzing. He said, “She’s a doctor. I’ve got an infection.”
“I do believe it’s called an erection, Six.”
“Just stop. She’s treating me.”
“Treating you well, I hope,” Zack said. Court couldn’t tell if the man was kidding or if he really did think there was something else going on.
Court abruptly changed lanes, headed for the off-ramp. “I’ve made the decision for you. I’m dropping your ass off at the safe house.”