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C
AIRO
Jabbar sat looking across the conference table at Ahmet. Ahmet stared blankly at the wall. All of the technical personnel had left the room when the call ended.
“I’m sorry,” said Jabbar. “The man was obviously in a moving vehicle. There was no way to pinpoint his location. The only thing we were able to tell was that he was somewhere south of the Golden Horn. Now, the signal is gone completely. He bought the phone two days ago at the Atatürk Airport.”
Ahmet made no reply. In fact, there was no indication he had even heard. His face was expressionless. All of his emotions were focused in his eyes, which bored into the opposite wall like laser beams. So intense was his glare that Jabbar would not have been surprised to see a black spot materialize in the paint and begin to smolder and spread. Jabbar knew better than to push Ahmet when he was under so much pressure. He just sat there patiently waiting for the explosion. But, when Ahmet finally spoke, he was dead calm.
“If they have the document in Istanbul, the sister may be there with her brothers as well. Damn it! Zeki has been helping them the whole time! Why, Jabbar? Why is he helping them? I need an answer to that question, and I want this man found. Find out who can help us in Austria. Meanwhile, I want you to build a web of all of Zeki’s relationships. Who did he work with at MIT? Who did he do his military service with? Family, friends, colleagues, everyone. He couldn’t have pulled this off on his own. This is priority one. Inform all our people—at the Turkish Security Directorate, MIT, the Gendarmerie, the Police Intelligence Bureau Headquarters, Counter-Terrorism, everyone . . . And, send one of our boys from the Ministry of Internal Affairs to Istanbul. I want him onsite when this goes down.”
He closed his eyes. Silence pervaded the room. Jabbar thought he could see Ahmet’s lips moving almost imperceptibly.
“Prepare the bowstring,” he said at last. “When our operations are back online and Salih’s office is taken down for disinfecting, make sure he shares the fate of Mustapha Pasha after the Battle of Vienna. See to it that not a drop of his blood touches the ground. His failure does not make him an infidel. Have the body delivered to his family and make sure his entire family, even that British hussy, is returned to his father’s house. If any refuse to go, then they shall share the fate of Mustapha’s concubine.”
Jabbar’s face registered his shock.
“But, I . . . What about Fatih’s rule?” asked Jabbar, careful to remain calm and dispassionate so as not to inflame the situation. “He won’t even let us take out Bekir, much less someone in our own organization.”
“The society has rules Fatih is not aware of. He is the tail, Jabbar, not the dog. He provides a face and a voice, yet he is but a mask, not the reality. You would do well to remember that in the future.”
“Sir, I’m not sure I understand your meaning?”
Ahmet’s fist slammed down on the table.
“I don’t give a damn if you understand! That is not a prerequisite to following orders, is it?”
“No, sir. Of course not, sir.”
“Now, are all of the teams ready for the exchange?” asked Ahmet, regaining his composure.
“They have been rehearsing every day, sir.”
“And you’re confident the device will work?”
“Gilbert has proven extremely competent. If I know him, he has already destroyed the cell phone we called him on. The tracking device cannot be put in their shoes or clothes. A rectal or oral application will not work for more than two days at the most. The best thing is to use a surgical implant.”
“But, they will see the incision.”
“I’ve thought of that already. We’ll have one of the guards provoke the oldest boy. That should be easy enough. That’ll be their excuse for giving him a good beating with plenty of different cuts and bruises. Then, knock him out with halothane, and insert the capsule in one of the wounds.”
“Are you confident that it will be sufficient?”
“If you want them dead in a month, we have plenty of time. The device is modeled after one used to track migratory birds except it is far more sensitive and operates for sixty days. It only transmits when there is a GSM network available. As long as he is within range of a GSM network, we will be able to pinpoint his location. Think of it as a silent cell phone.”
“Okay, do it then,” replied Ahmet.
“Tell the team to release the hostages in exchange for the document. We’ll track them electronically until the G.O.B. is returned. Then, I want the entire family taken out at their earliest opportunity. Have the bodies buried in concrete at a construction site somewhere.”
“I understand. What about tonight?”
“I want a full team on hand. We’ll monitor the whole thing live. I want every asset we have on stand-by. Have the Istanbul office make preparations, but Cairo will have operational control. Make sure they understand that. If anything goes wrong at or before the exchange, have them kill his youngest child, and get out with the rest of his family. We need them alive until this is resolved.”
“What about our other operations?” asked Jabbar. “Shouldn’t we suspend everything in case they are compromised?”
“A blanket suspension would be too costly. There is nothing that can’t wait a couple of hours. Let’s give our technical people until noon to see if they can learn anything about the scope of the damage and how badly compromised we are. But, if we haven’t found out something by noon, begin suspending sensitive operations.”
Ahmet stood to leave and Jabbar rose to his feet as well.
“Yes, sir.”
“I have some business to take care of. Call me after you’ve talked to our people in the Security Directorate in Ankara and Istanbul. I need confirmation that Gilbert hasn’t spoken with local authorities.”
Half an hour later, Ahmet’s black Mercedes pulled up beside a mosque. It stuck out in the poor neighborhood and was drawing more attention than he wanted. He hated waiting, but he was early so it was his fault and this only irritated him more. He was scanning the crowded street on the passenger side looking for Jamil’s cousin when a sharp knock on the window behind him caused him to jump. His man was here. He opened the door and slid over to make room for him.
“
As-salamu alaykum.
”
“
Wa Alaykum As-salam.
Tell me what you have.”
“Each time she left the apartment, I followed her. She went to her father’s house every time. While she was there, no other guests arrived and after a couple of hours, she went back to your apartment.”
“She made no stops at all?”
“No sir, straight to her family and straight home.”
Ahmet could feel some of the tension melting away. With everything else that was going on, the last thing he needed to deal with was a cheating wife. Two of his wives, the last two, had played the harlot on him. Both times, he had realized what was happening and caught them in the act. Islamic law gave him the right to demand their execution, but that would have been an act of mercy, a concept Ahmet was not familiar with. No, he had wanted them to live. He did not believe that any cruelty would equal the suffering and shame they had subjected him to. He had provided them with everything, and they had shamed him, so he had branded the word
fahise
right above their pubic bones and cut the tips of their noses off.
“I appreciate your doing this for me,” he said as he opened his wallet and began looking for the right bills.
“I’m glad to be of assistance, sir.”
Ahmet folded several bills and pressed them into his hand.
“I want you to keep following her for another week. Let me know if there is anything suspicious.”
“There was one peculiar thing, sir.”
“What?” asked Ahmet sharply. He was surprised at how quickly all of the tension snapped back into place.
“Well, both times she came out wearing different clothes. It looked to me like her hair was wet.”
Ahmet forced a smile.
“This has been one of the hottest Augusts on record and her family has no air-conditioning. I’ll see you next week.”
He opened the door to let the man out and nodded to the driver. The black Mercedes drove away with a hundred pairs of eyes following it, and Ahmet wondering if Nafrit had taken a bath both times. The car phone rang. He looked at the number. It was Jabbar.
“
As-salamu alaykum.
”
“
Wa Alaykum As-salam.
Neither Ankara nor Istanbul has picked up anything that would suggest Gilbert has contacted local authorities. There is no record of him entering the country, but I’ve had a local police bulletin issued for him in connection with the FBI search warrant.”
“Keep it in play. I want our people to be looking for anything suspicious near the point of exchange.”
CHAPTER
66
L
ONDON
McIntosh reviewed his notes one more time before the meeting. It was too early in the morning to be doing this sort of thing, but that was just the sense of urgency he was trying to create. He needed answers. The problem was they didn’t even know what questions to ask. The investigation had hit a wall. There were no more leads to follow and no evidence to help them—no fingerprints, no DNA, no witnesses, no document, no Gilbert, no Gwyn, no Zeki and no motive.
This lack of evidence was pushing him to do something he tried to avoid, which was to build a case on assumptions. And, the only assumption that seemed to offer any hope as a starting point was Gilbert’s claim that there was a rat on the police force. It was this lack of evidence that he now hoped to use as bait. Maybe they could coax the rat into the open.
The door opened. Bob walked in.
“Everyone’s ready.”
“Okay, great. What’s the latest word on the interrogation of the fellow that was wounded and taken into custody in Gilbert’s hotel room?”
“He is sticking with his story, sir.”
“That he works for a private security company, which turns out to be bogus, and was accidentally sent to the wrong room to gather evidence on a divorce settlement case but doesn’t know the name of the couple getting divorced?” asked McIntosh incredulously.
“Yes, sir.”
“Even after we showed him the video Gilbert sent us?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, the fact that he cannot show us a single salary payment?”
“He says it was cash work.”
“Well, good luck convincing a jury of that.”
“How about numbers from his smart phone?”
“Sir, there was only one number on that phone. It belonged to a pre-paid card registered to a fictitious person.”
“More dead ends.”
“Afraid so, sir.”
“I want us to tear this guy’s life apart. Banking records, travel, purchases, associations. Go back as far as you have to. You’re sure no one in the department is aware of the man’s status, right?”
“Just me, you and internal affairs, sir.”
“Good, let’s keep it that way. Have we received those server records from the university’s computers?”
“Not yet, sir. They say it’ll take a few days.”
“How about records for Dr. Brown’s gmail address?”