by K. J. Howe
“Don’t hurt these innocent people,” Johann pleaded.
“That girlfriend of yours has warped your thinking. You’re one of us.”
“No, I’m not.”
“These people are terrorizing us; they’re not even human. We are in a war for civilization.”
“Can’t you hear how paranoid that sounds?”
Thea’s voice sounded in his earpiece, asking Brown if he’d seen his father’s men.
“You’ve been duped by the enemy, Johann, as a way of getting to me. Thank God I’m always vigilant.”
“Please, Vater, call off the attack.”
“In time, you’ll thank me.”
A man spoke heatedly with a security officer near the stanchion blocking off the ramp to the upper level. Someone jostled Johann from behind, ducking under the rope to access the ramp. Something about his form struck Johann as familiar. The man turned slightly, and cold fear shot through Johann’s veins. Leopold—and he was carrying a black nylon bag.
“Mutti would never want this for you.” It was the one thing that might change his father’s mind. Johann pressed the end button. Noticing the security guard was still distracted, Johann stepped over the barrier, sprinting up the ramp behind Leopold.
Chapter 95
Thea waited for Brown’s response, her ears straining to hear over the noise of the crowd. The red dots would guide them to Dietrich’s men, but in such congested conditions, they’d need to be cautious that they had located the right targets.
“Eyes on a hostile. Negative on the football.” Brown’s voice rumbled in her earpiece.
The first Freedom Guardian had been located but no sign of a canister.
“Stay on him. Johansson, anything?”
“Still on the hunt,” Johansson said.
She moved toward the apse, but the incoming swarms weren’t making it easy. For maximum effect, the Freedom Guardians would probably wait until the Hagia Sophia was completely full before releasing the plague.
“Hostile located.” Neil’s voice buzzed in her earpiece. “No luggage. I’m on him.”
She could feel panic rising. “Keep at it.”
Two down, four to go.
An older woman wearing a head scarf climbed the steps on the minbar and raised the microphone to her lips. She spoke in Arabic, thanking the crowd for coming, stressing the importance of this event and letting them know that the imam would be with them shortly.
The crowd cheered, anticipating the imam’s speech.
“Hostile located. Positive.” Stewart’s voice was raspy.
The roar of the crowd overwhelmed Stewart’s voice in her ear. “Repeat. Did you say positive?”
“Affirmative. He has Johann’s backpack with the Red Bull Salzburg patch.”
Lots of bags inside the Hagia Sophia today—diaper bags, backpacks, totes, but this one stood out.
“Photo.”
“On its way.”
Her phone buzzed, a group text with an image file.
She stared at the pic. “Johann, you recognize him?”
No response.
“Johann, you there?”
“Yes, looking now.” He sounded out of breath.
“You okay?” she asked.
“That’s Hencler Raab, one of my father’s men.”
A jolt of electricity buzzed through her. “Rif, you and Jean-Luc ready?”
She waited what felt like a lifetime, but there was no response.
Chapter 96
Thea’s question ringing in his earpiece, Rif remained perfectly silent and still. The doorknob turned. Jean-Luc stood on the hinge side, Rif on the other. Slowly, the door swung open. A man stepped over the threshold.
Rif snaked an arm around the man’s neck, placing a hand across his mouth, and shoved the intruder to the floor while Jean-Luc quietly closed the door. A quick analysis of the man’s garb: a uniform but not security—maintenance.
In Turkish, Rif explained they were there to stop something terrible from happening. Just in case their new friend wasn’t in a believing mood, they would err on the side of caution. Jean-Luc wrapped duct tape around the man’s hands and ankles. A strip on his mouth, and their captive was immobilized. Rif told him not to worry, but judging by the terrified look on the man’s face, the message didn’t sink in.
“Rif, you there?” Thea in his earpiece again, an edge to her voice.
“Sorry for the delay. Unexpected visitor. Green light now.” Rif edged open the door of the maintenance room. The roar of the crowd greeted him. He searched for guards on the upper level. Nothing. Probably all downstairs handling the crowd.
“One target confirmed. Get into position.”
“On it.” He signaled to Jean-Luc.
They eased out of the small room, leaving the maintenance man trussed up inside. He might dehydrate from sweating, but he’d survive. Jean-Luc took point on the south side of the galley near the enormous Deësis mosaic while Rif headed to the opposite side. Hugging the wall, he scanned for intruders, the soft soles of his boots silent on the marble floor. Moving quickly, he was now in position.
Low-crawling to the balcony, he hid himself behind a partition. Slow, steady breaths, in and out. Cradling the rifle in his arms, he stared at the mass of people below. At first sight, the idea of identifying a target was overwhelming, but Stewart was pointing a laser upward so Rif could easily locate the Freedom Guardian.
Neil’s voice buzzed. “Hostile in view, positive.”
Another laser in the crowd caught his eye.
“Photo?” Thea asked.
“Already sent.”
“Johann, can you confirm?”
No answer.
“Hostile is opening the bag,” Neil said.
“Everyone in position. We need to move now.” Thea’s voice was firm, in control. “Jean-Luc, please confirm eyes on target.”
“Red baseball cap, canvas bag.” Jean-Luc’s gravelly voice filled his ear.
“Correct. Clear shot?” Thea asked.
“Green light.” If anything changed, Jean-Luc would let them know. Otherwise, the operation was a go.
Rif’s world shrank to a small bubble, all the background noise and activity fading away. It was just him and the target. He stared through the scope at his quarry: a middle-aged man with sandy hair and a prominent nose, dressed in a crisp button-down shirt. He looked like an office worker, not a terrorist about to unleash a deadly biological weapon.
Another man in the crowd shifted, obstructing his view of the target.
“Not clear.” Shit. “Man in brown jacket obstructing.”
“Stewart, take care of it,” Thea directed.
As Rif watched through the scope, Stewart gently touched the man’s arm and asked him a question. The man pointed to the door. Was Stewart asking for directions to the nearest pub or what? Just get him out of the way.
Jean-Luc’s voice cut through his focus. “Target has the canister in hand. Immediate shot required.”
“Hold for tandem. Rif?” Thea asked.
They had to coordinate the shots, but he didn’t have a clear view. Jean-Luc’s quarry was about to release the bioweapon—would he have to take out the man in the jacket, then immediately fire a second shot at his target?
Seconds passed with agonizing slowness.
The man wearing the brown jacket smiled at Stewart and stepped aside. Rif exhaled. He had a clear view. His target was also opening his backpack.
“Ready.” Rif settled the crosshairs on the man’s face.
“Operation is a go. Three, two, one . . .” Thea set the countdown.
A deep breath. Hold.
Rif’s finger squeezed the trigger.
Chapter 97
The imam stood halfway up the minbar, addressing the enthusiastic crowd, speaking about the sanctity of peace, the importance of women. Meanwhile, Thea held her breath, waiting for the rounds to take out the targets. Given the tightly packed crowd, any slight movement could result in a miss. But she believed in Rif an
d Jean-Luc, both crack shots and resolute under pressure.
Two soft claps sounded, hardly audible over the throng.
“Confirmed.” Rif’s voice was tight, focused.
“Done,” Jean-Luc said.
“Package secure.” Neil’s voice sounded in her earpiece. He’d been able to grab the first canister from Jean-Luc’s target.
Less than twenty yards away from Stewart, she moved closer to help secure the second canister. The Freedom Guardian Rif had targeted collapsed to the floor.
Stewart leaned down to grab the second canister when a woman dressed in a hijab coldcocked him over the head with a cane. The interloper scooped up the backpack and sped off toward the minbar. A few people standing nearby seemed startled by the commotion, but most of the crowd barely noticed, intent on the imam’s speech.
Thea sprinted forward, chasing the woman. “Stewart is down.” Her gaze locked on the slim form. “Woman in a blue hijab has the canister. On it.”
Neil and Brown would check on Stewart while she pursued the woman. She couldn’t risk losing the woman in the crowd. Thea shoved and jostled after her, dodging between clusters of attendees, pushing others aside. As she closed the distance between them, the crowd began to slow her down. She glanced up. Cold fear seeped into her bones. The woman was headed straight for the minbar, where the imam was speaking.
A security guard tried to block the woman from climbing onto the minbar, but she neutralized him somehow. The cane? A knife? Thea couldn’t tell. The guard buckled near the stairs.
The woman powered up the steps, taking them two at a time. At first the imam smiled, perhaps used to overexuberant celebrants, but his smile quickly faded. The intruder pushed him aside and scaled the rest of the stairs, shocking the crowd, as only the Prophet Mohammed belonged at the top.
Thea reached the base of the minbar. The woman faced the crowd and pulled the canister out of the backpack. When she looked up, Thea’s mind recoiled in shock.
Wait a minute.
She recognized the woman’s face.
Ocean.
The enigmatic passenger from the plane. The real reason Prospero had hijacked the 737. The woman who’d left Ayan and Jabari alone in a snowstorm while she escaped.
White fury pulsed through Thea’s veins as she sprinted up the stairs.
Chapter 98
Johann rocketed up the ramp that led to the upper galley, trying to catch Leopold. Breaths short and shallow, Johann increased his pace. At the crest of the ramp, he searched for Leopold. The scientist rushed toward the balcony and slid the bag from his shoulder.
Johann tried to see what was in the black nylon bag, but his vision blurred. He shook his head, cursing his Marfan syndrome. Did Leopold have one of the canisters? He called out to the man, “Thea Paris and her team have stopped the others.”
Leopold lifted the bag. “That’s okay. The batch I used to infect Kaleb—remember how effective it was?”
Johann ran forward. “These people have done nothing to you.”
Leopold reached into the nylon sack, revealing a third canister that Johann hadn’t known existed. “That’s exactly the kind of attitude that led to the Schönbrunn massacre.”
“Hate breeds hate. You’ll just unleash another backlash.” Johann slowed to a walk, only a few feet from the shorter man.
Leopold gestured to the crowd below. “The number of Muslims in the world has reached one billion—but we can change that.”
Johann froze in place at the threat.
Sunlight from the dome’s arched windows reflected off the lenses of Leopold’s wire-rimmed glasses, snapping Johann out of his trance.
Johann spoke to the Quantum team over the comms link. “Leopold has more plague. Upper level.”
Chapter 99
Thea sprinted up the minbar’s steps. Ocean was poised higher on the stairs, giving her an advantage. Preparing for contact, Thea crouched, keeping her center of gravity low and making herself into a smaller target.
Ocean placed the canister on the top step, freeing her hands. Turning with whiplash speed, she snapped her right leg in a kick. Thea caught Ocean’s calf in midair, trapping the limb against the minbar’s railing, preventing her from breaking loose to kick again.
Using those precious seconds to scramble up two more steps, Thea was now only a foot lower than her opponent. But Ocean was flexible and fast, bending her leg to lower herself and grabbing a fistful of Thea’s hair.
Pain seared Thea’s scalp; her vision blurred.
Extending her neck to move with the pull, Thea jabbed Ocean’s solar plexus. A wheezing sound, and the other woman’s grip on her hair faltered.
Seizing the opportunity, Thea ensnared Ocean’s right wrist with her left, twisting it toward the center of her body, then shoved her opponent’s elbow upward, thrusting her into an arm lock. A sharp cry, and Ocean released her grip on Thea’s hair. Before Thea could force her down, Ocean hammered a swift kick into her face. The copper taste of blood filled her mouth, and Thea stumbled backward. Her hands clung to the railing as she slid down a couple of stairs.
Thea raced back up the steps, but Ocean had already lifted the canister in both hands and was struggling to open the seal. Thea dove forward, tackling the other woman. Ocean landed hard on her back. Still clutching the canister, she swung it at Thea’s head.
Thea ducked to one side, delivering a hard punch to the woman’s temple. Reeling from the shot to the head, Ocean kicked and twisted. Thea slammed her fist into the woman’s throat. A crunching sound followed. Ocean dropped the canister and reached up to her neck, gasping for air. Thea fished two cable ties out of her pocket and deftly bound the woman’s arms and legs.
Thea grabbed the canister, inspecting it closely. The seal had not been broken. Sucking in a few deep breaths, she said, “Second package secure. Stewart okay?”
“He’ll have a nasty lump but will continue to annoy us with his questionable sense of humor,” Brown said.
They had secured both canisters.
Johann’s voice in her earpiece set her nerves jangling: “Leopold has more plague. Upper level.”
Chapter 100
Johann could see Rif sprinting toward him, but he was too far away to get there in time. He turned back to Leopold. “Don’t do this. Please.”
“You are a child and naïve.” Leopold stepped backward, the canister in his hands. Johann lunged for the scientist, but the man twisted away, leaving him grasping at air.
Father appeared at the top of the ramp behind him and called his name. Johann’s gaze connected with his father’s for what seemed like a long, heavy moment. Johann searched for the man who’d attended his football matches, the man who had been there when he was ill, the man who knew right from wrong.
But all he saw was madness, fanaticism, determination.
Johann returned his focus to Leopold. He charged the scientist, grabbing him in an awkward and effective bear hug. Leopold writhed, banging against the balcony’s banister, managing to stomp on Johann’s left foot. He faltered for a moment and stumbled backward, his foot in agony.
Ignoring the pain, he took one step, then two and three, accelerating, propelling his body toward Leopold with every ounce of energy he could muster. He collided with the scientist and again wrapped his arms around Leopold’s arms and body, the force of the assault slamming them both against the railing.
Johann felt his center of balance shifting across the railing, his upper body hanging over the edge. Leopold thrashed against his grip, but Johann refused to let go. The canister slipped to the balcony’s floor, still unopened.
Johann arched his back in an effort to return to the safety of the balcony floor, but Leopold’s writhing thwarted him. Johann’s feet rose off the floor, his weight shifting farther out over the railing. He still clung to Leopold, unwilling to let the shorter man escape, and they toppled off the gallery together.
Time slowed, every second frozen in a clear snapshot. Johann hung in the air for a long m
oment, taking in the beauty of the Hagia Sophia as it spun around him. From his midair perspective, the architecture and design appeared otherworldly. A kaleidoscope of memories played in his mind as he tumbled: Uncle Karl, Mutti, happier times, his newfound love.
The crowd buzzed below him. So many hopeful faces. He wanted to see Fatima’s face one more time, bathe in the kindness and love shimmering in her eyes. But it wasn’t to be. Gravity kicked in. He hurtled downward, terror warring with absolution as the floor closed in on him.
Chapter 101
Commotion sounded from above. Thea glanced up at the gallery, doing a double take as two figures cartwheeled off the balcony. The sight of the blue-checked shirt Johann had been wearing made her stomach roil. Oh, no, what was he doing here? The other man hurtling over the edge must be Leopold. A spine-tingling scream from the scientist cut through the buzz of the crowd and was answered with cries from below. She watched helplessly as they plummeted to the nave, people below them scrambling to get out of the way. The two bodies hit the floor with a heavy, wet-sounding thunk.
The crowd immediately below panicked, surging for the exits. Thea looked back up at the balcony. A tall man who could only be Gernot Dietrich stood beside the railing, arms fully outreached, as if he were trying to pull his son back through space. She couldn’t read his expression from this distance but could imagine his distress. He had come here to hurt others but hadn’t expected his son to be a victim.
A tall figure appeared beside Gernot: Rif, his handgun trained on the Freedom Guardian.
“Third package secure.” Rif’s voice was flat.
Johann Dietrich had just saved countless lives.
The imam stood below her on the stairs, speaking in Arabic. “It’s Allah’s will that we go outside to celebrate this monumental day. Come, join me.”
A sage man, he was trying to clear the Hagia Sophia without initiating panic. The crowd slowly filed out of the structure while security personnel fought their way in.