by Angus McLean
She shrugged again, grinning this time. ‘It worked, didn’t it?’
They found a small shop nearby that sold cheap phones amongst a plethora of other cheap crap, and Moore paid cash for two phones and SIM cards. It cost extra for charged batteries but he didn’t care; he didn’t have time to shag around waiting.
He flagged another cab and asked to be taken to the nearest department store. After some translation issues and the passing of cash they arrived eight minutes before he was due to call JJ back.
‘Full change of clothes, two or three sets,’ he said, ‘and something to carry it in.’
‘In eight minutes?’ Katie said. ‘I’m a girl. Are you fuckin’ serious?’
‘Ten minutes,’ he replied. ‘Meet me back here. Go.’
Katie shook her head and headed straight for the women’s department. Moore made his way to the men’s area and in five minutes he had selected three full sets of clothes including socks and underwear. He deliberately chose plain, unremarkable gear that would help him blend into the background. He grabbed a small suitcase from the luggage section and shoved everything into it, before firing up one of the burn phones and dialling JJ.
‘Ormani Hotel,’ JJ said quickly, ‘room 512. See you there in one hour.’
He cut off and Moore stripped the phone down, dropping the pieces in his pocket as he headed back to RV with Katie. To his surprise she was waiting, her arms full of clothes and a suitcase at her feet.
‘I hate shopping,’ she said as soon as she saw him. ‘And none of this will probably fit anyway.’
Moore gave a small smile and led the way to the payment desk.
His credit card took another hit. He knew it would leave an electronic trail, but the bad guys knew they were there anyway. Five minutes later they entered another department store, making straight for the public toilets.
Moore was pleased to find the toilets were new rather than the old hole in the floor, unoccupied and smelling of disinfectant. He smashed the pieces of the used burn phone and flushed them down the drain first.
There was no disabled access so he locked himself in a cubicle with his suitcase balanced on the commode and stripped off completely. After removing the tags from his new clothes he dressed again quickly, the clothes fitting well enough for what he needed.
He crammed all his old gear into one of the plastic shopping bags and wrestled his way out of the cubicle again. Katie emerged from the women’s toilets ten minutes later, also carrying a shopping bag full of her old gear. She was right about the new clothes – not the best fit and she looked more like a 40 year old housewife than a 20-something traveller in comfortable jeans, a chambray shirt over a T-shirt and a pair of flat shoes.
She looked irritated and Moore was too slow suppressing a grin.
‘Don’t say a goddamn word,’ she warned him as they headed for the exit. ‘If this wasn’t a serious situation I’d hate you right now.’
They walked to a side alley and found a Dumpster to dispose of their old gear, before Moore called a stop to regroup.
He was running low on cash and they also needed to get their bearings. Spotting an ATM further down, he sent Katie to it with his card while he checked the map and got his head together. By the time she got back with a wad of cash he had a plan to brief her on. After running through it and having her repeat it back to him, he did the same with a contingency plan.
He noted that she didn’t question the need for a back-up plan, and was pleased that the gravity of their situation had sunk in.
That done, he checked his watch again.
‘Forty five minutes,’ he said,’ let’s go.’
Yet another taxi ride took them to a café a block south from the Ormani and Moore sent the driver on his way with a hefty tip. As per their plan, Katie found a table inside the café and slid the two suitcases in beside her. Moore got coffees for them both and took his with him when he left, also leaving her the second burn phone. He found another kiosk and bought himself a replacement phone, paying twice as much as last time for a charged battery. He gave Katie a hang up call so she had his number and carried on, conscious of time.
Given the events of the last few hours, Moore was trusting nothing and it was important to get eyes on the hotel before the meet. There was no way he wanted to blindly stumble into something, and he also didn’t want to compromise JJ; diplomatic status didn’t always count for much.
Moore sipped his coffee and acted as nonchalant as he could while he did a walk past of the hotel’s front entrance. He boxed around and did a complete circuit of the hotel before finding a doorway to watch from across the road and several buildings down. The hotel was eight stories high, all white and glass, with a ground floor restaurant and bar.
The front entrance was busy with cars and pedestrians coming and going. It was a good place for a meet; busy enough that it was easy to blend in. It was a concern that there was also rear and side entrances, but there was nothing he could do about that.
With eight minutes to go Moore spotted JJ’s female assistant doing a walk by, and two minutes later she entered the front of the building. She carried herself confidently, and when she looked over her shoulder as she entered the lobby, he got a quick look at her face. She wasn’t unattractive.
Moore wondered idly if JJ was tapping her. If he was, who cared? Moore knew he was in no position to make moral judgements. JJ was a minute behind her, walking purposefully with a briefcase in one hand and a coffee in the other. He was a lean man in his late forties with thinning brown hair and the easy gait of a runner.
Moore gave him another two minutes then followed, ditching his coffee cup before cutting round the side of the hotel and taking the less-used side entrance. He wasn’t challenged as he took the lift to the fifth floor, the doors opening softly into an empty corridor.
Chapter Seventeen
Room 512 was to the left and he knocked twice then once more before standing back from the door.
JJ opened it and ushered him inside, securing the door behind him. Moore took in the studio room at a glance. There was no sign of JJ’s assistant. JJ himself was keyed up.
‘I don’t know who that watcher was,’ he said. ‘As far as I know I wasn’t followed and the MIT don’t know you’re here.’
‘What about your sidekick?’ Moore queried, going to the side of the window for a glance out.
‘Evin? No. She’s a pro.’ JJ shook his head firmly.
‘Well we’ve completely changed outfits,’ Moore said, ‘so hopefully that’s shaken whoever it is.’
‘Good. Here.’ JJ opened the briefcase on the bed and showed Moore the contents. Inside was the holstered Sig P229R pistol he had sent from London with two spare magazines and a box of ammo, a new iPhone, an envelope of cash and his legend package – passport, driver license and two credit cards, all unused. There was also a new passport in Katie’s name, backdated and carrying sufficient stamps and marks to appear genuine.
He checked the pistol, chambered a round and secured the holster to his belt.
‘You sure about this?’ JJ asked, a trace of nervousness in his voice. ‘You get caught with that here and you’re fucked, mate. We won’t be able to help you.’
Moore glanced at him as he distributed the other items around his pockets. ‘I get caught without it and I’m fucked,’ he replied tersely. ‘Somebody already took a pop at us this morning.’
‘Yes, us; what’s the story with this girl? Obviously she’s a friendly?’
Moore succinctly filled him in and JJ listened intently. When the briefing was over the former airman nodded once.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘I’ll leave it to you to update Mr Ingoe and be in touch. Where will you be?’
‘Around,’ Moore said vaguely. He trusted JJ but the less anyone knew, the better. ‘I’ll give you a ring once I know whether today’s events change anything for the Director. Either way, I need to get rid of this girl. If I’m sticking around, she can hop a plane back home. If not,
I guess I can take her back.’
JJ cocked an eyebrow and smirked. ‘Tasty is she, Rob? You dirty dog, you know what they say about dipping the wick…’
‘Huh.’ Moore snorted. ‘I’m old enough to be her father, man. And she knows it.’
‘Many a fine tune…’
Moore ignored the ribbing, but was pleased to see the other man had relaxed somewhat. The wrong kind of tension led to mistakes, and mistakes could be fatal. ‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘You leading the way?’
‘Visitors first, mate,’ JJ replied, sticking out his hand. They shook firmly and JJ ushered him to the door. ‘I’ll hear from you, hotshot.’
Moore opened the door and gave him a wolfish grin. ‘Watch your back, flyboy.’
With that he was gone, taking the stairs at the opposite end of the floor to the lift. As he descended, his mind was buzzing as he planned the next moves. He hit the third floor landing at the same time as he heard a door open somewhere above him. He paused and looked up, just in time to see a flicker of movement as if someone had stepped back from the railing.
Moore froze, all his senses pinging. He heard a door open again and close softly, maybe three floors up. Or was it on the fifth? He wasn’t sure, and was torn between competing needs. His operational head told him to keep moving, get distance from the meeting point, but his heart was shouting at him to go and check on JJ.
‘Bollocks,’ he muttered to himself, shaking the paranoia off and continuing downstairs; JJ was a big boy and could handle himself. Moore’s priority right now was to get the hell out of Ankara and find out where he stood.
He hit the ground floor and took the rear entrance, boxing north around another block before doubling back on himself abruptly and scanning for watchers. Despite not seeing anything obvious his antenna was going nuts and he couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched. He tried another couple of blocks, throwing in plenty of angles, but still saw nothing.
With his hackles on edge he made his way west and gradually south for another twenty minutes, before deciding it was time to just get the hell out of there.
Katie was waiting patiently and saw him coming. She passed him his suitcase and together they exited the café, leaving a tip on the table for the chubby waitress.
They walked south and took a couple of turns before Moore finally spoke, guiding Katie into a shopping centre. They stopped just inside the floor to ceiling glass frontage and he scanned their backs. Satisfied that they were at least temporarily safe, he rapidly brought her up to speed as much as he needed to.
‘We’re going to leave the car here and head back to Istanbul by train,’ he said. ‘By then I should know the state of play with finding Natalie, and I’ll get you to the airport.’ He saw her jaw set and a determined look come into her eyes. He held up a placatory hand. ‘I know that’s not what you want to hear Katie, but that’s how it needs to be okay? It’s bloody dangerous here and you’re going to be much safer either back in London or Wellington.’
‘Fuck that,’ Katie retorted, ‘I didn’t come all this way to be treated like a bloody kid. She’s my friend and I promised to find her, so you can either tag along with me or do your own thing, but I’m staying here.’
Moore opened his mouth to argue but she stopped him with a warning finger. He could see the fire in her eyes and felt his own anger rising.
‘No,’ she said, ‘you can play the bloody hero all you like but you don’t call the shots for me, alright? I’m here and I’m doing it, whether you like it or not.’
‘And how do you plan on doing that with no support, no money, no passport, no plan and no fucking idea what you’re doing?’ he demanded. ‘This ain’t tiddlywinks here, this is a Third World country full of bad bastards who don’t like nosey palefaces poking around asking questions. Or did you forget that little incident at the hotel?’
At the same time as Katie opened her mouth to reply, Moore saw a familiar figure over her shoulder. Crossing the pavement towards the entranceway was the guy in the long sleeved brown shirt. His eyes had locked onto them and gone was the vaguely confused look. He was oblivious to everyone else around them, zeroing in like a homing beacon.
Moore saw now that he was only in his early twenties and his stubble was patchy. His body still had the slightly gawky, uncertain look of youngsters his age, but his face was set and focussed. 100% concentration.
The second thing Moore noticed was that his torso was bulkier than his frame suggested, with a distinct spread around his chest and stomach above spindly legs in cheap jeans.
His right hand was clutched tight around something, with a wire running from his hand to the folds of his shirt.
His eyes met Moore’s as he got closer and his lips tightened, his whole face pinching as he began to move faster, his hands coming out from his sides as if he was welcoming them to his home.
Moore knew instinctively that the only thing the young guy was inviting them to was his own version of paradise. He grabbed Katie’s arm and began to run into the mall, dragging her almost off her feet as he shouted, ‘Bomb! Get down! Get down!’
Chapter Eighteen
People turned to look at the two crazy tourists as the young guy stepped across the threshold of the entranceway several metres away and raised his hands, shouting something unintelligible.
Moore threw Katie forward, knocking over another shopper as he dived to the floor and slid, skittling a middle-aged couple like pins and covering his head, his mouth half open. Katie was beside him and shouting something he couldn’t hear.
With a thunderous explosion the young martyr detonated, filling the entranceway with a blinding orange and yellow flash. Glass burst out of shop windows.
The entranceway itself and nearby shoppers were thrown like rag dolls as the intense pressure wave burst forth. Wet flesh and shards of bone burst out as the bomber’s body was obliterated.
Smoke and dust filled the air and Moore kept his eyes clamped shut tight as he was lifted off the floor and tumbled across the hard polished floor.
When he came to a stop he immediately scanned, seeing Katie a few metres away with her arms over her head.
The bloodied body of a man was twitching beside her and Moore realised he had shielded her from the blast. Everywhere he looked were people screaming and running. An alarm of some sort was sounding. Debris and body parts and blood covered the floor near the site of the detonation. A fallen pot plant was in flames.
His ears were ringing and his mouth was filled with dust. He spat and snorted snot and spat again, trying to get to his feet but getting bowled by a panicked shopper who knocked him flat and stomped on his back.
Moore pushed up and fended off another runner, scrambling towards Katie who was also starting to rise. Her eyes were wide and she was covered in grime. He saw her mouth moving but couldn’t hear a word.
He got to her and grabbed her arm, helping her up and shouting at her to move. His voice sounded detached and far away, as if it was someone else speaking.
Her legs went from under her and she dropped to the floor, pulling him off balance. As he started to go down too, he sensed movement to his left, from the direction of the entranceway. Controlled movement rather than the panicked scrambling of the shoppers.
He swivelled, instinctively reaching for the Sig under his jacket, fingers closing on the grip as he spotted the two men. Both were in casual gear with neatly trimmed beards and daypacks. They were focussed on the pair of dazed Kiwis and both had their right hands tucked under the front of their shirts.
Moore knew that if these guys were more suicide bombers then they were fucked. He ripped the Sig free and dropped over Katie, pushing her flat as he took a knee and brought the Sig up, sweeping the safety off.
Sprinklers began to shower everything, adding to the confusion.
If he was lucky he may be able to drop one of them before they took themselves and everyone else to a paradise full of virgins. They were about fifteen metres away now and moving.
Screaming people were immediately behind them, and a teenage girl staggered across their path, holding her bloodied hands in front of her as her mouth moved soundlessly.
Moore triggered his first shot into the right hand guy’s chest, sweeping left and punching out further, nailing the left hand guy with a double tap in the gut, then moving right again as the first guy started to drop. The first guy involuntarily fired a round into the floor and it whined off into the distance.
Moore snapped a fast shot into his chest, let the guy drop to his knees then rose up and pumped another double tap into his face. Brains and blood splattered the dirty floor behind the body as it slumped down.
The guy on the left was on his side, clutching his gut as blood rapidly leaked out. His pistol was still in his right hand and he tried feebly to raise it. Moore squeezed two rounds into his chest and put him flat on his back. He moved forward and kicked the pistol aside. Lifeless eyes stared up at him. The first guy was leaking fluids in a wide pool.
Moore scanned for more threats, saw nothing, and turned back to Katie. She had got up and was watching in silent horror.
Moore grabbed her hand and hustled her away, further into the shopping centre, keeping the Sig in his hand as they ran from the scene. They reached a back exit and joined the throng of people pushing their way out, getting into the fresh air and hurrying away. Moore holstered his weapon and kept Katie at his side as they got free of the crowd and pushed their way through the onlookers who were flocking to the scene.
Sirens were sounding and already Police cars were arriving.
They made it to the next side street and he slowed the pace, deliberately sucking in air and getting himself back in control.
‘Stop,’ Katie panted, ‘stop stop.’
He pulled up and stood aside as she bent at the waist and emptied her guts on the footpath. She heaved and gasped and spat for a good minute before slowly easing upright and putting her hands on her hips, breathing deeply.