I yanked the weapon from her as she fell on her back, pulling it off her shoulder and into my hands. An instant later her throat was beneath my foot. I could have broken her windpipe if I needed to, and she knew it. She breathed heavily, wheezing, dirt on her neck. I felt sorry for her. I had liked Meryem. I had liked her a lot. But I didn’t like what she was planning on doing, and I didn’t like that I still had a machine gun trained on my back. I turned. Chip-Tooth had me in his sights. I had Meryem, but I couldn’t say that he looked worried.
Then I saw why. Actually, I heard it first. A hydraulic hum. After that I caught a flash of silver out of my eye. I knew what was happening, but I wasn’t fast enough. The giant bucket of the excavator hit me like a tank. And like a tank there was no arguing with it, no negotiation. It clipped me hard on the side of the head and sent me tumbling into the freshly dug hole below.
I landed on my back in the dirt. It must have been six feet down, maybe eight, I was woozy so it was hard to tell. But I wasn’t unconscious, not yet. And I still had the gun. I fired a burst upward to keep the others away. But, as it happened, the others weren’t the problem. It was the dirt. Because the excavator raised its boom and slowly dumped a fresh bucket of loose dry soil on top of me. I remember thinking that I should leap up, but I just couldn’t pull it together. I thought I heard the word kale again and after that, my world turned dark.
Chapter 53
EVERYTHING WAS BLACK. I wasn’t dreaming, but I knew I wasn’t awake either. I was in some kind of protoconscious state, a place where there was no life, but no death. A place of suspended animation. I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t even know who I was. All I knew was that I was thinking about a man. The man looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He was just an older man having dinner with a younger woman. Dating a younger woman. A woman less than half his age. The woman was familiar, but somehow not right. She had dark auburn hair and good teeth and a radiant smile. It definitely wasn’t the woman the man was supposed to be with—I knew that.
Then my focus shifted. I needed to get out. Out of what, I wasn’t sure. A blanket, I thought. A black wool blanket that went on and on and never stopped. A black wool blanket that was gritty and hard and filled my mouth. A blanket of dirt.
It was then that I came to. I knew that I wasn’t under a blanket. My head hurt and my eyes were closed. I tried to open my eyes, but quickly closed them again. There was dirt everywhere. My arms were in front of my face, elbows together, my chin tucked into my neck. I moved the ends of my fingers, feeling the gritty soil. I remembered that the man in my dream was my father. The woman was Kate. I was sure of it. And then I realized a terrifying fact. I had been buried alive.
I gasped. There was air in front of my mouth. Not dirt. So that meant that there was an air pocket there. Maybe not a big one, but an air pocket. I felt my claustrophobia kick in. The panic. The fear. But I fought it. I willed myself to remain calm. I moved my fingers again, soil all around them. But I felt something else. Something hard and metallic. I knew what it was. It was the machine gun’s trigger. I pulled the trigger back and the earth shook around me. More dirt fell, the rifle’s muted report shaking the earth. But the falling dirt made my air pocket smaller, not bigger. I tried to move my shoulders. I got a little movement, but not much. It was the same with my legs. It felt as though I was trying to swim in concrete.
My breathing became labored. There just wasn’t enough air. From the lay of the trigger guard, it felt like the barrel of the rifle was pointed above my head at about a sixty-degree angle. I didn’t know whether I could shoot my way out. I figured the gun would jam eventually, but I had to try. I hit the trigger again. It worked after a fashion. I was able to increase the size of the air pocket above me. But at the same time, the more dirt the bullets moved, the more dirt fell on top of me. It told me that the earth was loosely packed. It was the only way to explain why I was still alive.
But my luck didn’t hold. My air pocket, which had been getting bigger, began to get smaller again. Loose, friable dirt rained down on me. I knew that the gun would jam soon. AK-47s were known for their reliability, but no weapon could continue to fire from six feet under the ground. If I was lucky, it would jam. If I was unlucky, the barrel would blow up in my face.
There was dirt all around my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. I reached up with my left hand to clear the dirt away. Then I fired with my right hand and tried the swimming motion again. The dirt was even looser. I reached down and cleared my mouth. But I was running out of air, I could feel my lungs burn with the desperate need to begin hyperventilating. I fired the gun again and reached up. More dirt fell, but it was too much to clear away. I was down to the tiniest of air pockets. I closed my eyes and mouth and tried to control my breathing. I put my hand over my nose, pushing the dirt away, but it did no good. I was going to die down there.
I thought about praying. I thought about how far I’d come. I thought about the irony of my situation. Here I was, trying to find my father, a man I had idolized for so long, only to discover that he wasn’t the man I thought he was at all. I thought about the fact that I had been chasing a phantom—a man who didn’t really exist.
I wanted to laugh at that point. I wanted to cackle hysterically, the dirt closing in around me. And then I thought that I wanted a good stiff drink before I died. It was a weird sensation. I’d never been a whiskey drinker, but I wanted a single malt at that moment. I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. But instead of a whiskey, I got a slap on the wrist. I actually felt my left wrist move as though I had been hit. Then something grasped it, something warm. After that I felt myself being pulled out of the dirt, hands digging around me.
What felt like an eternity later, my head was pulled free.
Chapter 54
I GASPED LIKE a drowning man, gulping down the fresh air. My eyes felt as if they were on fire. I opened them briefly before quickly shutting them. They hurt because there was dirt in them, but the irritation was nothing compared with the relief of being able to breathe again. When I opened my eyes for a second time, I was staring at Kate. My day just kept getting better and better.
“Michael,” Kate said. “Are you all right?”
I breathed in deeply, sucking up the sweet dry air.
“Been better,” I said.
I looked down at my waist. The stock of the AK-47 still sat in my lap. I hadn’t let go of the machine gun.
“Why did you pull me out?” I said.
I looked around. As far as I could tell, Kate was alone.
“Because like I told you, we’re on the same team.”
“Prove it,” I said.
She removed the gun from my lap and wiped the dirt from my face with her sleeve.
“I think I just did,” she replied.
I LOOKED AROUND. The barn’s two sidewalls were still standing, but the pile of dirt in front of the doorway to the tunnel had been moved to the side. I could see right through the doors into the tunnel, but there was no Unimog there. There was no trailer either. Knobby tires tracks left the tunnel heading out for parts unknown. I turned to Kate. Her hair and clothing were damp, but she was alone. No Faruk. No guards. Nobody from the boat.
“How did you find me?” I said.
“I heard the gunfire,” she said. “When I got out here, the truck and trailer were already pulling away.”
“But how did you know where to look?”
“The bullets, Michael. Your finger must have locked on the trigger. You emptied the mag.”
I looked down at the machine gun. I didn’t remember that I had continued firing, but I didn’t remember much except my bizarre desire for a single malt scotch.
“I had to wait for you to stop firing before I tried to pull you out,” Kate said.
“What about the others? It was more than just you coming after us.”
“They got what they wanted,” she said.
“What do you mean what they wanted? You were working with them. They’re your pa
rtners.”
“Not anymore. Why do you think we wanted Meryem eliminated?” Kate said. “I told you we had our concerns about her. She hasn’t been loyal to MIT for a long time. She’s part of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party. The PKK. It’s a fact, Michael.”
I laughed.
“Loyalty,” I said. “You don’t find it amusing that you and I are discussing loyalty? You don’t know what the word means.”
“Maybe I deserve that, Michael. But this conversation isn’t about you and me. This is operational. Meryem is a member of the Kurdish resistance. So are Faruk and his team. They abandoned me back there once I ceased to be useful.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Believe what you want. They locked me on the yacht. Flex-cuffed me to the toilet. Probably had some kind of misguided illusion about ransoming me to the Dragons. I got out.”
“How?”
“Michael? Really. We don’t have time for this.”
“I don’t care. If they flex-cuffed you to the toilet, how did you get out?”
“I worked the guard, Michael. I got him into the cabin. Got him to where I needed him. Then I broke his neck with my legs.”
I thought about her story.
“Even if you did. You still had to deal with the flex-cuffs.”
Kate raised her wrists. There were raised raw red welts where the cuffs had bitten in.
“Tell me about it.”
I didn’t know whether Kate was telling me the truth. I knew that she had pulled me from my death. That was real. And I knew she had welts on her wrists. Those were real too. But the rescue could have been planned and the welts could have been purposely inflicted. I knew that as well. I couldn’t trust Kate. I couldn’t trust anybody.
“So say I buy that Faruk is working with Meryem? Why fire bullets at us at all?”
“They were worried, Michael. They had too much invested not to find the Device. Pairing you with Meryem was a logical way to ensure that you would assist them. But they couldn’t make it too easy for you or you would have seen through the act. Of course, looking back, I’m sure Faruk would have dialed it down a notch. I’m fairly certain that bailing out of a sinking chopper isn’t anybody’s idea of a good time.”
“The gunfire in the tunnel? Was that you?”
“I took one of their radios and followed them after you. Pegged a few of them off. They left two top-ropes coming down from the ceiling.”
“Suppose I believe you. Answer this,” I said.
“Yes?”
“That thing about you and my father. Was that for real or were you playing me?”
“I’m sorry, Michael.”
“You’re sorry it was for real, or you’re sorry for lying to me?”
“I’m sorry, it was for real. I’m not proud of it, but I did have a relationship with your dad.”
I thought about it. Kate. My father. My mother. Their marriage. I didn’t want to admit it. Not really. But there was a chance Kate was telling the truth. A chance I felt in my bones. Maybe my dad wasn’t who I thought he was. You can never know anybody. Not really. I didn’t know what I thought about it. But I had more pressing concerns. I needed to stop the United States Navy from being blown sky high.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” I said.
Chapter 55
IT WAS LATE in the day, but it still must have been more than a hundred degrees out. My muddy shirt and shorts dried in the hot air as Kate and I jogged down the winding mountain road toward the town of Bodrum below. My arm was beginning to bother me where the bullet had grazed it, but I could tell that the duct tape had kept the wound passably clean. The priority now was that we get back to the castle. I knew this was what we needed to do because of what Meryem had said to Faruk before dumping me in my grave.
Kale—the Turkish word for castle—Bodrum Kale.
I recognized the word from a plaque leading to the dungeon. We needed to get back there quickly. I had an idea of what they were planning. It made sense now. It revolved around the construction crane that had been erected alongside the flagpole in the upper courtyard.
We already knew that the Tesla Device required an insulated tower to operate. But transporting the Device back to its original insulated minaret would waste valuable time. Especially if they were dealing with a moving target. I suspected that the crane had been adopted as a fallback position. And it made sense. The crane would lift the focusing array, but just as importantly, if the sphere was suspended with nonmetallic tackle, it would be insulated from the ground, offering an obstruction-free platform from which to fire the Device.
Kate’s T-shirt and cargo pants were wet, but she hadn’t been buried alive, so she wasn’t looking quite as worse for wear as I was. The first few vehicles that passed us didn’t bother to slow down, but I put my thumb out and we got lucky with the third, a farm truck with a load of tomatoes in the bed. They had no room for us in the cab, but they let us hop on either side of the back bumper like itinerant garbage men as we descended the hill.
The blue sheet metal of the truck was hot to hold, but the sea breeze was refreshing, and we made good time as we rolled down into the city below. We jumped off the truck at a taxi stand two blocks from the waterfront, the last of the day’s heat shimmering off the whitewashed buildings. I could see the castle to the east, the giant red Turkish flag flying from the upper courtyard in the breeze. I stepped into an open storefront and pulled the last wet bill out of the front pocket of my T-shirt to pay a merchant for two large bottles of water. I cracked the plastic lid and handed one to Kate before opening a bottle for myself. The water wasn’t cold, but it was wet. I felt my strength returning as I rehydrated after the long ride down the hill.
Kate and I continued down the street to the waterfront, where we turned left toward the castle. The castle was still closed to the public, but there was activity inside, the sun setting as the construction crane swung slowly around.
“They’re in there,” Kate said.
“Not only there.”
I flicked my chin down the promenade. I recognized another one of the soldiers from the yacht standing guard outside the castle gates. He was trying to seem casual but he was on duty. Fortunately, we weren’t the only ones on the promenade. We turned down a dock running between two polished gulets. A woman in a worn yellow dinghy plastered with stickers advertising ice cream idled there, exchanging ice-cream sandwiches from a cooler for a handful of coins.
“We need to verify the target,” I said.
“How do you want to do that?” Kate asked.
“We ask her for a ride.”
Kate pulled out her damp polyurethane-sheathed iPhone and typed in a phrase, holding it out to the woman. The app translated, speaking the words.
“Başka bir tekneye bizi gezdirir?”
It was as simple as that. Kate and I took a seat on either side of the ice-cream cooler and within a few minutes we were staring at the low, sleek waterline of the Turquoise Fox. A soldier appeared on the deck above as the ice-cream lady dropped us off on the swim deck. I thought I recognized him in the final rays of the fast setting sun. Not Chip-Tooth, but another of the original four who had hauled Meryem and me onto the plane. His dark eyes met mine and I hoped that Kate had a plan. Instead, I discovered that she had a gun. As the old lady in the ice-cream skiff pulled away, Kate pulled out her Glock, neatly placing a bullet between the soldier’s eyes.
It was a clean shot. Center mass may be what they teach you in training, but aiming for the chest does no good when your target is guarded by the rail of a ship. No, Kate took the headshot dropping him fast. The gun was loud, but not so loud that it couldn’t be written off as coming from the noisy two-stroke skiff as it rattled away.
“You think we’re alone?” Kate asked.
“Nobody’s that lucky,” I replied.
“A girl can dream.”
“Tell me something,” I said. “You were MI6. Half-American, sure, but half-British too. Why do you shoot a Glock?�
�
“You really want to know?” she said.
“I asked, didn’t I?”
“Same reason my iPhone’s in a waterproof case. The Glock fires reliably underwater,” Kate said. “Never know when that might come in handy.”
I nodded and followed her up the aft stairs. I have to say that after my experience with Meryem, I liked having Kate there, up in front of me where I could see her. It meant that she couldn’t stab me in the back.
Chapter 56
THE FOX SAT in the dark shadow of Bodrum castle. She was moored eighty feet off the base of the sea cliff, the old fortress towering above. I picked up the fallen guard’s HK33 and checked that the mag was loaded and a bullet was chambered. Music carried over the sea, the scent of freshly roasted lamb in the air as I continued down the outer corridor two steps in front of Kate. I took point only because not trusting your partner is tactically limiting. One of us needed to be in control and, at that juncture, I decided it was better to risk a bullet in the back than to walk into an ambush.
The door to the salon was propped open with a shiny chrome latch. I entered cautiously, covering the room in a fast, sweeping arc. A soccer game was playing on the television, but the cabin was empty. As I made my way farther in, checking behind the bar, Kate covered me from the rear. The Heckler and Koch felt lighter in my hands than the clunkier AK-47, but either gun would have done. Regarding my choice of weapons, I was a pragmatist. Some very determined men and women intended to blow up a significant portion of the American Navy and I intended to do everything in my power to stop them.
The salon was clear, nobody behind the bar, nobody anywhere else. Somebody had just been there, however, as was evidenced by the condensation ring left by a glass on the bar. I nodded to Kate to cover the corridor leading back to the galley and cabins and glanced back at the television. Something was wrong there. The feed had switched from the soccer game to a six-way split-screen security-camera view. There were camera angles covering the swim deck, the bow, the stern, each stairwell and, of course, the salon. That’s when I dived down. Because I had just noticed the camera in the ceiling.
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