[Anthology] Abby & Sei Thriller Starter

by Ty Hutchinson

  My assumptions were right. Demir had the Turkey/Syrian border on lockdown and had expected to catch them. Perhaps that was the reason for his lackluster interrogation earlier.

  The door opened, and the same two guards appeared with a wooden chair and a rubber hose. The guard with the chair leaned it back against the table and then sat me in it while the other hooked the hose up to the water faucet extending from the wall. Demir had finally decided to press me harder.

  The simultaneous waterboarding and questioning went on for what seemed like an eternity. But it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Waterboarding was part of my training as a teenager. Long and I were both forced to experience that and a variety of other torture techniques. Should we ever have found ourselves in a precarious situation, we would at least know what to expect. I had been waterboarded so many times by my family of assassins, I worried my reaction would indicate its ineffectiveness on me. I did my best to choke and cough.

  I continued to repeat the same story to Demir: my role was to distract while another team attacked the other convoy to free the Wolf. I told him I was on my own, and that it was never in the plan for me to meet up with the other team.

  Demir wouldn’t accept my answer and continued to push for information on the other team. He also wanted to know how we knew another convoy was being used.

  “Who is this stink dog? What disgraceful person has committed this act of treason toward Turkey?”

  Demir had already made up his mind that an insider had leaked information. For all I knew, he had already started to interrogate his own guards.

  I thought of giving Kashani up to Demir but didn’t because of the note. If Kashani had nothing to do with my capture, he was my ticket out of the prison and out of the country. No need to dive further into the cesspool. I decided to play along with Demir’s assumptions of an internal leak.

  “Grenem? Does that mean anything to you?” I gave him the name I saw sewn on the fatigues of the guard who took my clothing, except I pronounced it wrong on purpose. I had to buy myself enough time to make it to Thursday morning.

  “Ghanem? Was it Ghanem?”

  “Maybe. I can’t be one hundred percent sure. I wasn’t privy to that information. It’s just a name I overheard during a discussion that took place around me, and I can’t be sure about the role he played.” I knew Demir would bite, so I kept at that story and didn’t detour.

  As for the team that hit the convoy, I told Demir my employer and his team had always worn black balaclavas around me. “But I would recognize his voice,” I added.

  I couldn’t be sure if the information I had given Demir was enough to keep me alive or enough for him to decide he no longer needed me. I was sure of one thing. My time was running out.

  28

  Wednesday morning brought me a beating by one of the guards. It’s not as bad as it sounds. A few slaps to the face, a punch to the stomach—all of it easily hidden from Demir during my next interrogation. He hadn’t laid a hand on me nor had he ordered another guard to do so. I could only suspect I was off limits. At least that’s the way I saw it.

  The guard who took his frustrations out on me entered my cell visibly upset. He kept our interaction purely physical and as quiet as possible, not speaking to me at all except to repeat “Ghanem” over and over. Demir must have gotten to the guard I gave up. I kept my mouth shut and took the beating.

  I spent the remainder of the day undisturbed. At sundown, no one delivered dinner or refilled my water pitcher. My VIP privileges had been revoked. I didn’t care. Thursday morning would arrive soon, and my attention remained focused on my escape.

  Every so often I would hear footsteps outside my door. From what I could tell, they appeared randomly but at least it confirmed I wasn’t alone in the building. I wasn’t sure if it was a guard, but who else could it really be? My only real course of action was to attract attention to my cell. The odds weren’t favorable, but in my line of work, they usually never were.

  I lay quietly on my mattress most of the night, occasionally getting up and listening near the window. Accidentally falling asleep wasn’t a problem. I was determined not to let my opportunity for freedom pass me by. I didn’t think I would make it to the next scheduled delivery the following Tuesday.

  The night was quiet, though I heard footsteps outside my cell twice and voices outside my window. The thought that the Thursday morning delivery might not happen did cross my mind, but I discarded that notion. The prison needed supplies.

  Eventually the sound of the familiar diesel engine caught my attention. I quickly got up and stood next to the window. I could hear the vehicle approaching. It was time.

  I called out for Demir, shouting his name over and over in hopes of attracting attention. I continued yelling and clanking my water pitcher against the wall. The delivery truck had passed by my window, and the countdown had begun.

  About twenty seconds later, I heard a voice outside my cell. He spoke in Turkish. I kept yelling Demir’s name. The door opened, and a guard I had not seen before stood before me. I could barely make him out because he was backlit by what little light there was in the hall.

  “I have to speak to Demir. It’s very important. I have the information he wants.”

  The guard shook his head. “Morning. You wait.”

  “Where is he?”

  The guard said nothing but still stood in the doorway. I needed him to come closer if I wanted any shot at getting my hands on that key ring. I sat propped up on my elbows, leaning back. The shorts I had on were loose and revealing. A smile formed on my face as I parted my legs, inviting him. The guard looked up and down the hall before stepping inside my cell. He shut the door behind him.

  “Hurry.” I opened my legs wider.

  He leaned his weapon against the wall before fumbling with his belt buckle. He pushed his pants down to his thighs and moved closer. He grabbed his erect penis in one hand as he got down on his knees.

  That’s it. Come closer.

  He positioned himself between my legs, his eyes never once leaving my crotch. In an instant, I wrapped my legs around his neck, clamped tightly, and twisted my body to the side. A dull crack emanated from his neck. He wasn’t dead, but I’d immobilized him. I maneuvered my body until my thigh pressed into his windpipe and squeezed until he stopped breathing. I searched his pockets and found the large key ring. Seconds later, I had my shackles off. I grabbed the knife the guard had attached to his waist. I considered the rifle, but firing shots would only draw attention. Stealth always paid bigger dividends.

  I poked my head out of my cell. The hallway was empty and quiet. Since the guards had always led me to the right for my interrogations, I headed left, hugging the wall. I spotted the first camera, where the hallway turned left again. I didn’t have time to think about how to get by without being seen. I hugged the shadows of the wall and pushed forward. My grip on the knife handle tightened as I anticipated the sound of an alarm.

  I passed another camera before I rounded a corner and saw a door up ahead. As I approached, I could see a large window along the right wall. An office, I assumed. I slowed my pace and peeked inside. Sitting in front of a bank of monitors were two guards. They were more interested in their tea and backgammon game than keeping watch over an empty prison barrack.

  At that point, I wasn’t sure if the door was unlocked or if opening it would trigger an alarm. If there was one, I hoped it shared the same condition as most of the building: old and not in operation. I gripped the doorknob to the office door and twisted it slightly. It was unlocked. I quickly moved into the office and toward the guard sitting with his back to me. The eyes of the guard facing me widened in disbelief as I dispatched the first guard by slicing his neck. The second guard reached down for his rifle on the floor, and I leaned over and jammed my knife into his thigh. He barely got a yell out before I slammed my palm onto his mouth and then stuck the knife into his neck.

  While he gagged and kicked on the floor, I familiarize
d myself with the gray control panel near the monitors. The knobs and switches were worn and dusty; some were chipped, others cracked in half. I wondered if any of them controlled the exit door. Nothing jumped out at me, and I didn’t have time to dawdle.

  The door leading out of the building had no windows, so I pressed my ear against the cool steel and listened. All I could hear was a faint hum, and I couldn’t be sure if I would hear the delivery truck through the door. Before I could make any more assessments, the phone in the office rang.

  Its low gargling tone echoed in the hall, amplifying its presence. Each ring was a call for a guard. I had no choice but to open the door and risk setting off an alarm. It’s been twenty minutes. That truck should be here any second, right? The muscles in my body tensed. I grabbed the handle, but before I could turn it, the ringing stopped. I wasn’t sure if I should breathe a sigh of relief or expect company. Then the drumming of distance footsteps in the hall told me what to do.

  29

  The delivery truck came to a halt at the prison’s front gate. With paperwork in hand, the driver rolled his window down and waited. A few seconds later, a guard appeared from the small office attached to the entrance. He exchanged a few words with the driver and looked at the paperwork briefly before walking toward the back of the truck. Along the way, he poked the barrel of his rifle through the metal railing at a cardboard box. When he reached the rear, he peered inside the flatbed with a flashlight, studying the load against the back of the truck’s cabin.

  “What’s in the boxes?” he called out to the driver.

  “Vegetables. For another delivery,” the driver answered.

  The guard took a pull on his cigarette as he eyed the inventory.

  “Everything okay?” the driver called out. “I’m late.”

  Satisfied everything seemed in order, the guard called out for the gate to be opened. The gate creaked and slowly slid open. The driver forced a gear into place and pressed on the gas pedal. The truck lurched forward and then stalled out.

  “What’s the matter? You forget how to drive?” The guard laughed as he approached the driver’s window. The driver started the engine but struggled to get it in gear. The guard was about to make another remark when a commotion from the building behind him gained his attention. Three guards were running straight for the door of the building kitty-corner to the prison entrance with rifles in hand.

  “What’s happening over there?” the driver asked, curiously as he peered into his side mirror

  “Go, get out of here,” the guard motioned with his hand as he began walking toward the building.

  The driver squinted, hoping to see something. The guard turned back. “What did I say?” he shouted.

  Giving up, the driver finally forced the gearshift into place, and the engine grinded as he applied pressure to the pedal. The truck moved forward, but the engine died just as the truck almost cleared the gate. A loud bell rang out in the compound. More guards appeared. The floodlights around the walls came on. Men could be heard shouting. Whistles were being blown.

  The driver leaned out of his window this time, still eager to see what the commotion was about.

  Another guard appeared from the office. “Move your truck,” he shouted. “I need to close the gate.”

  The driver turned the key in the ignition and shoved the gearshift back into place, his eyes still glued to the side mirror.

  “Move!” the guard shouted, this time raising his rifle and aiming it at the cabin of the truck.

  30

  About fifty yards away from the prison, the truck stopped at an intersection and gave me the opportunity to drop down from the chassis of the vehicle and roll to the side of the road. I thought the driver would never get the truck clear of the prison gates. I got to my feet and ran for the shadow of a nearby building. The sound of the prison sirens pierced the quiet night. Anyone sleeping would surely be woken and poke his head out of a door or window.

  A search would be initiated soon. I wasn’t out of trouble, just out of the prison. There was no way to disguise my prison uniform, and stripping it off wasn’t an option. I had to keep moving. I hurried toward a small opening between two buildings, hoping it led to another street. I held the blade I’d lifted off of the guard tight against my thigh, ready to dispatch anyone who dared to signal my presence.

  I entered the narrow space between the buildings and immediately met a moving shadow. Just as I raised the blade, I heard a familiar voice.

  “Sei-sei, wait. It’s me.”

  My left hand still had a firm grasp on Kashani’s neck when I lowered the knife. “I almost killed you.”

  “It’s good you didn’t. I’m your only hope out of here.” Kashani threw a large coat over me. “Come this way. We must hurry.”

  We moved quietly but quickly between the buildings to where it opened to a small street. “There.” Kashani pointed to a small car.

  We got inside the vehicle and within seconds were on the move. “Stay down. We’re not safe yet.”

  “Where are we heading?” I asked.

  Kashani shifted gears. “Back to the shop.”

  “Shouldn’t we be heading out of the city, not farther into it?’

  “The main roads are being secured as we speak.” Kashani pressed a little harder on the gas pedal. “Don’t worry. I have a plan in place to get you out of the city.”

  Even though Kashani had helped me escape the prison, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he might have been involved in some way with my capture. Demir had readily admitted that they were tipped off. How could I not have reservations about Kashani’s intentions? As I mulled my predicament, Kashani must have sensed my concerns.

  “You don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?”

  I shrugged. “You knew the details of my plan. You helped me execute it.”

  “I got you out of that hell hole. If not for me, you would still be there. Or dead.”

  “Demir knew an attack on the convoy had been planned. Someone set me up.”

  “Sei-sei. Who helped you get to Diyarbakir? Who supplied you with weapons? Who is helping you right now?” Kashani shook his head. I could see in his eyes the hurt my accusation had caused. Seeing that side of him was a bit odd for me, considering our relationship was more along the line of business associates. Though I must admit, I’d known he had a crush on me from the moment we met and might have played up to that slightly.

  “I’m sorry. Please understand where I’m coming from. I have to rule out those who knew about my plan to intercept the Wolf.”

  “If I had set you up, would I be here now?” Kashani said with small huff. “You should know you can trust me.”

  “I do.” I gave his thigh a gently squeeze. “I just needed to be sure. Thank you.”

  I spent the remaining time of our drive telling Kashani everything else I learned through my conversations with Demir.

  “So nobody knows where this Wolf is?”

  “As of yesterday, no. But Demir suspects whoever took him headed toward Syria. It’s the closest border.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you’ll be heading in the opposite direction. It’s a longer route out of the country, but it’ll be safer.”

  “Is there any advantage to staying put until this blows over?”

  “This won’t blow over. You have to try and get out now. We both have to get out now.”

  “You? I thought you had friends in high places.”

  “I do, but once Demir confirms the Wolf made it out of the country, he’ll press even harder to find those responsible for leaking information about the second convoy. They’ll want to talk to people like me, but they won’t use words.”

  We ditched the car just outside the gates to the old city and continued on foot. “So how do you intend to get me out of city?”

  “Farmers.”

  31

  Kashani had arranged for two farmers to transport me to a small town west of Diyarbakir. He assured me they knew what
roads to take to avoid checkpoints. I just needed to get over the twenty-foot wall that surrounded the old city. Not a problem.

  I leapt from the rooftop of Kashani’s store and landed on the adjacent building. I knew he was watching me, but I never looked back. There really wasn’t time for a goodbye. I had to make it over the wall before sunrise. Kashani had provided me with money and surprisingly, clothing my size. “Take this tesettür,” he said, handing me the headscarf. “It’ll help you blend.”

  The buildings in the old city were practically built on top of one another, making moving along the rooftops fairly easy. I leapt over five-foot-wide gaps and hand-vaulted over brick knee walls, all while focused on the massive exterior wall up ahead.

  The fortified walls of Diyarbakir were in various states of disrepair, and I was heading toward a section near a large column tower. Parts near the top had crumbled, lowering the height I had to scale to roughly fifteen feet. I knew from an earlier excursion that the interior wall in that area had numerous decorative reliefs that I could use as foot and hand holds. I had to assume the exterior side had the same decorative reliefs. If not, the drop down wouldn’t kill me.

  It took me fifteen minutes to reach the wall and less time to scale it. I crossed over in the cover of darkness. There were reliefs on the other side, which made the climb down quick and easy.

  According to Kashani, I was to head straight through the brush until I reached the field. He said two farmers would meet me there. Seemed pretty straightforward, only I saw no one when I cleared the brush. The sun was already nipping at the horizon, and I had began to question Kashani’s plan.

  The field itself was more like a small hill that rose at a steady grade in front of me. I was blind to what was on the other side, so I made my way to the top for a better view. Perhaps the farmers were waiting in another area.