by M. B. Lewis
“No, but…” Kadie hesitated. Duke said Delta Force was an elite group, which inherently made it small. They would know him if he had been a member. “This is different.”
Patricia stopped. That got her attention. “Are you saying he’s not who he says he is?”
She sure put that together quickly.
“I—I’m not sure what I’m saying. He might be using a false name. Perhaps he padded his resumé to get hired. There’s no telling. But Duke assures me no one in Delta Force has ever heard of him.”
Patricia’s face went blank. Finally, Kadie thought, she said something that registered with the senior executive.
“I’ll look into it. If he’s given us any false information or misrepresented himself in any manner, we’ll take care of it right away. Mister Thorndike won’t tolerate any such action from an employee.”
Graham Thorndike was the CEO of Alligynt, the parent company of GDI. Kadie had never met the man, though she had seen him from a distance. He spoke to the entire group before they departed Atlanta and headed for the Middle East, but she never had the chance to say hello up close and in person.
Kadie nodded and took a sip of her cappuccino. The intensely caffeinated beverage had cooled since she first took a sip. The bitterness nipped at her tongue, much like this conversation had flowed—overwhelmingly awkward.
“I look forward to meeting this Duke character someday,” Patricia said. “He seems to have made quite an impression on you. Certainly, something I haven’t been able to do.”
Kadie started to say something, then stopped herself. “I think Brian and I need to return to the hotel. We’re both starving and tired.” They rose from the table, but Patricia remained seated. “Goodbye, ma’am.”
“Be careful, Kadie. Brian, take care of your sister. She’s my favorite.”
“Okay,” he said, looking away.
Kadie cringed at the clingy words Patricia continued to use. But why would she need to be careful? Why here, why now?
As they reached the door of the coffee shop, Patricia said, “You never know who you’ll upset when you meddle in other people’s affairs.”
30
Tel Aviv, Israel
Ben Gurion International Airport
* * *
Duke and Mac loaded the King-Air with their gear and conducted a pre-flight. The IDF returned the weapons and other items GDI had left on the plane. The weapons had been disassembled and sealed in a box. Unfortunately, so had the one Mac used. Once everything was secure inside, Duke did a walk-around and inspected the patches the Israeli’s made over the bullet holes in the fuselage. Mac accomplished a thorough inspection of the new engine. Duke commented on the excellent job the Israeli mechanics did on the engine and fuel lines.
The plane flew well the day before, but they were extra cautious. Mac had made a few phone calls to get their diplomatic clearance adjusted to fly to Turkey. The original clearance had expired, and they were well outside the standard time required for submission. Sometimes it paid to have friends in high places.
Once ready, the two pilots climbed inside the twin-engine turboprop and started her up. They taxied to the active runway and took off over the Mediterranean, then turned north toward Turkey.
When they leveled off at ten-thousand feet, Duke engaged the autopilot.
“We’ll be in VHF contact the entire way,” Mac said. “You worried about her?”
Duke looked at his mentor and friend. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m just concerned. She’s the only witness to this murder in Egypt. The murdered guy had information about why they were really in Egypt. She takes his laptop, which freaks out our phony Delta guy when he discovers she has it. We meet Isaac, who tells us what they’re actually searching for, then he gets killed.” Duke returned his gaze out front of the airplane. “Yeah, I think she’s in danger.”
“That isn’t what this Isaac guy said. He said you’re both in danger.”
Duke nodded. “Yeah, but I’m more worried about her. And her brother. I can take care of myself.”
“Just make sure you do.”
As they approached landfall, the two of them got busier and focused more on flying the airplane. The flight from takeoff to touchdown took two and a half hours, and Duke taxied the King-Air from the active runway to the Tav Genel Havacilik Terminal, where several uniformed customs officials waited. Some of them displayed their weapons openly.
They shut down the engines, and the two crusty pilots looked at each other, unsure of what to do next.
“I’m glad GDI’s weapons are sealed in those containers the IDF supplied us,” Duke said.
“Yeah, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say our pal Curt had this welcoming party staged on our behalf. I bet they were tipped off that weapons were floating around the airplane improperly secured.”
As soon as the props stopped spinning, the soldiers surrounded the aircraft and leveled their weapons on them.
“Sometimes, I hate being right,” Mac said.
“Yep.” Duke breathed deep. “I guess we’ll sit here until they can figure out a way to open the door.” He set his hands on the dash, palms out. Mac did the same.
“There’s our boy.” Mac pointed to Curt across the ramp in the background.
Duke shook his head. A minute later, the door to the King-Air opened, and two soldiers entered the plane screaming. Duke and Mac were removed from the airplane at gunpoint and forced onto the tarmac facedown. The soldiers shouted at them in Turkish, which neither of them understood. They stayed there for at least five minutes before anyone who spoke English showed up. By that time, everything had been removed from the airplane.
The Turkish customs office let them eventually stand. He then told them the Turkish government would hold the items until they paid the taxes on them. He checked the manifest and then their cargo. Thankfully, the Israeli ramp crew and customs officials did a great job storing, categorizing, and documenting their cargo.
There was a sense of disappointment among the Turkish soldiers as if the intel they’d been given was bad. Duke and Mac gave each other a silent grin, as the soldiers carried the Pelican cases to the truck where Curt stood.
“That guy is a putz,” Mac said. “Wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.”
“Yep. I guess that was his way of letting us know we need to stay away.”
“How’d that work out for him?”
Duke put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It didn’t. Which means we don’t have to stay away.”
Kadie sat in her hotel room after taking a shower, the towel wrapped around her. Her chat with Patricia was not as enlightening as she hoped it would be. Flipping up her laptop, she logged on to the hotel’s internet.
Brian walked in from his bedroom.
“Kadie—gross. G-go put on clothes.”
She brushed her hand at him. “Hush, don’t talk like that.”
Brian giggled. “You dress—like that in c-case Duke comes by.”
Her face flushed red. She wished Duke would stop by, but she had no idea where he was. Things had evolved quickly, and she needed his perspective.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. We’re here now. When his airplane gets fixed, I imagine he’s heading back to America.”
“Oh.” Brian turned on the television. “Why don’t you call—and talk to him?”
Kadie glanced at her phone on the coffee table. “I would if I had his number.” She bit her thumbnail between her teeth; she had only called his hotel room in Tel Aviv.
Brian turned from the television and faced her with a wide grin. “You like Duke.”
Pulling the small towel from her head, she rubbed it in her hair as if to help it dry faster.
“Not like that,” she said, although she wasn’t quite sure. She hadn’t thought about it until Brian said something. “We’ve become . . . friends. He’s helping me with something from work.”
“You
like Duke.” Brian returned his focus to the television. “I have his phone number.”
Kadie’s mouth fell open. How did he get that? She rose from her chair and walked between Brian and the television. Brian had a big smile on his face. That rascal—he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Well?” She tapped her foot, her hands on her hips.
Brian laughed, which caused her to laugh also. “It is on my phone.” He reached in his pocket and handed it to her. “Duke g-gave it to me. Awe you g-going to call him?”
Kadie stared at the phone in her hand. “No, I think I’ll text him.” Or, I’ll text him from your phone, she thought. That would be the best solution. She gritted her teeth and walked into her room.
“Hey—b-bring back my phone,” he yelled from the couch.
“Be quiet and watch your movie.”
Brian settled back into the couch. “O—kay.”
Kadie thought about it for a moment, then typed to Duke:
Hey, where are you?
There was no response for a few minutes, so she walked into the bathroom and started to get dressed. After she put on her underwear and a shirt, she heard a TING on Brian’s phone.
I just landed in Istanbul a couple of hours ago. How are you?
Kadie smiled, and her fingers went to work.
Good. We are at the Grand Tarabya Hotel.
After several seconds, Duke responded.
Okay. We’ll find it and find you. Tell your sister we need to talk. I’ve got to go. I’m dealing with Customs. See you soon.
She walked back into the common area where Brian was glued to the television and handed him his phone.
“Okay,” she said. “Just so we’re clear, you texted Duke and told him where we’re staying.”
Brian appeared confused until he checked his messages. A scowl came over his face, and Kadie instantly regretted her decision.
“Brian, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pretended I was you.”
The scowl intensified, and his head began to shake. It began to shake way too much. Then he started howling.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” he said. “You like Duke.”
Kadie smiled and shook her head. He pulled one over on her, and she deserved it. And she liked it when he was happy. She bit her lower lip and walked back to the bedroom. Who knew? Maybe she did like Duke.
31
Istanbul, Turkey
Hagia Sophia Museum
* * *
Frustrated, Dr. Patricia Hastings descended the steps of the gallery in the Hagia Sophia Museum. The sheer blouse she wore was tucked into her tight slacks; a colorful scarf resembling a rainbow countered the bright white short-brimmed straw hat that perched on the back of her head. Her long, svelte legs were perched in heels that echoed with each step on the marble stairs. Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the circular lights illuminating the marble-covered floor, and the massive, gray-marble columns thrust four stories upward to hold the ceiling in place. Curt stood at the base of the stairs, sipping a bottle of water.
“You’re not supposed to have a drink in here,” she said, pointing to his bottle of water.
“Sue me.” Curt chugged the bottle and placed the cap back on top.
“Where have you been?” she said. Her voice reverberated against the ancient walls.
“Making arrangements. Cleaning things up.”
The building was constructed in 537 A.D. by the Emperor Justinian and was the largest cathedral in the world until the Seville Cathedral in Andalusia, Spain surpassed it in 1520. GDI had only received the authority to search the Hagia Sophia Museum two days ago.
Patricia’s jaw clenched. Curt had upset her with the way he had handled things so far. “We’ve made some progress here,” she said. “Excellent progress.”
“You found the map?”
She shook her head. “No, but we’ve found instructions. Partial instructions. It’s more like a clue we can’t figure out.”
Curt paused. “Any idea where to start?”
“That’s what we need to find out next. We believe the Aramaic Vase is in the hills to the south, in Altinova.”
“Helenopolis?”
Patricia beamed. “Yes. The Sator Square provided the key.” They had searched the Hagia Sophia to find any documents or manuscripts they could on the Aramaic Vase, and she was more than pleased with their discovery. The Istanbul team of GDI consisted of twenty personnel spread across the city at different locations. With the addition of Team Egypt, their numbers swelled to twenty-six.
Curt set his hands on his hips. “We need to find the map. Then we can be sure.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What in the world happened in Port Said? It should have been a routine operation.”
Curt gazed at the ground, contemplating an answer. “After the Samuel Jacobson incident, we bugged out. I thought the airport was safe. Who knew ISIS controlled the place?”
“But the pilots handled the evacuation, okay?”
“Yes. Impressive actually. They flew what the pilot called a tactical approach, whatever that is. Came in low, perpendicular to the runway, and circled around blacked-out. Landed with no lights, no nothing. We started taking fire as soon as they touched down. Guys did a good job getting us out of there.”
Patricia walked toward the coffee shop. She never checked to see if Curt followed her. He would be there.
“Why in the world did you go to Tel Aviv?” She stopped and glared at him.
Curt shrugged his shoulders. “Going to Israel wasn’t my idea. One of the engines was shot up. I’m not the expert but flying to Istanbul on one engine didn’t seem like a good idea. I’m sure they landed at Tel Aviv because we had nowhere else to go. We certainly couldn’t land in Syria or Jordan. Those places aren’t too friendly to random Americans.”
“Why not return to Egypt?”
Curt stuck his hands in his pockets. “I asked the pilot the same thing. His response was, Don’t tell me how to fly my airplane.”
Patricia pursed her lips and waved at the barista, who nodded. The young girl would bring Patricia her usual cappuccino. “Well, at least the trip through Customs allowed you to discover she had Samuel’s laptop.”
Curt nodded. “Yes. I can’t believe she had it.”
Patricia’s eyebrows raised, then she exaggerated them even further to prove her point. “Did you ever ask her if she had the laptop?”
After a moment of silence, Curt stared at the ground. “No.”
“How much do they know?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Them going to Jerusalem—will it hurt us?”
“Unknown at this point. Abelman is no longer a problem.” He looked back at her. “She and the pilot . . . they seemed to hang around each other quite a bit. I tried to restrict her to the hotel, but she didn’t listen. They’ve got something up their sleeve.”
“Really?” That was something he had never told her before. “You can be a fool sometimes.”
He started to speak, then stopped himself.
“Whatever you did, they did some investigations on their own.”
“Investigations?”
“Yes. On you.”
His face tensed, and his mouth formed an ‘O.’
“It seems our pilot knows quite a few Delta Force people, and none of them has ever heard of a Curt Baxter.”
Curt grimaced and shook his head. “I think we need to move to Plan B,” he said. That phase was something she wanted to avoid, but he was right. It was time.
32
Istanbul, Turkey
The Grand Tarabya Hotel
* * *
Kadie sat in the coffee shop of the hotel, R.E.A.D., nursing a large vanilla latte. The chair was comfortable yet secluded. At least as secluded as it could be in a hotel lobby. Her hijab lay folded on the table next to her latte. She opened Safari on her iPad and searched for Pontius Pilate. There were the usual hits, but she couldn’t find any with the depth and
breadth she needed.
It was a long-shot that Duke would show. She hoped he would; there were so many questions about everything. The afternoon grew long, and she finished several lattes before her search got any traction. And what she found wasn’t what she wanted.
Curt strode into the coffee shop, intense as usual. She couldn’t believe how wrong she’d been about the guy. Talk about Jekyll and Hyde. This guy’s personality flipped a full one-hundred-eighty degrees.
She tried to make herself small, but Curt had some kind of internal radar that found her wherever she was. Unfortunately, his internal radar didn’t work for anything else.
“Kadie, what are you doing here?”
His tone was unusual, considering he had threatened to have her thrown in jail earlier. Apparently, he was Jekyll again, back in his courting persona.
“I’m reading, Curt,” she said and sipped her latte.
“What are you reading?” He reached behind her and rubbed her neck behind the collar of her shirt.
“None of your business.” She lunged forward at the waist, causing him to release his grip.
Curt started to speak, but she cut him off. “I just want to be left alone to read.”
“If that were the case, why are you sitting in the coffee shop?”
Hmmm . . . Curt’s a jerk, but he’s not stupid. “Brian’s watching television upstairs. I didn’t want to be bothered by the background noise.”
“Well, there are other places you could—”
“CURT! Leave me alone! I’m trying to read.”
The few other customers and the barista turned in their direction. She could see him tense up when she blurted his name. That should have sent him a message loud and clear.
“Fine, but you should be wearing your head cover.” He wandered off toward the elevator. No sooner was he out of sight than Duke and Mac walked in.
“Duke!” She dropped the iPad on the table and rushed to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her head crushed against his chest. Realizing what she’d done, she released him and backed away. “I’m sorry, I—I overreacted.”