by Lynda Filler
“No, it was a favorite of mine when I went to college here.” His newest associate raised an eyebrow at that information.
“I know. It’s expensive for a college kid, but my family has old money and new money—they got their assets out before the downfall of the Shah of Iran and invested wisely since then. I was fortunate enough to carry a Platinum AmEx while still in University.”
“I see. Well, ah, there you are.” His guest stood to greet a man in his mid-fifties, fit, and confident. He looked vaguely familiar, but Abdul couldn’t quite place him.
“Abdul, let me introduce you to the new Turkish Minister of Defense. I’m sure you will have lots of communication with each other in the future.”
“Congratulations, Sir.”
“Oh, no need for formality, son. Call me, Omar.”
“Hungry? Let’s order. What’s the specialty, Abdul?”
“I like the curried chicken. But everything here is excellent. Just leave room for the chocolate souffle or the baklava.”
“Perfect.”
The Panorama rooftop Restaurant, situated across the street from the Adamar, offered similar views but was not quite as elegant. The food was adequate, although not world-class, like its competitor. However, tonight, none of that was relevant. It was the perfect vantage point for a team of watchers, the same national intelligence agents who were assigned to follow Abdul after he appeared at the new Istanbul Airport the evening before.
The leader of the two answered a phone call while sipping on a Coca Cola and cracking pistachio nuts.
“Yes?”
“Can you see him?”
“Yes.”
“And who is he meeting with?”
“I don’t recognize one of them, but the other, yes.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense. Who is it?”
“The new Minister of Defense.”
His boss was silent.
“Stop chewing in my ear!!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you read lips?”
“No, sir.”
“What good are you?”
The watcher cracked more nuts and put them to the side. He waited for his boss to hang up before he ate them.
“Get photos. Keep following the young Iranian from Saudi Arabia.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me know where he goes. Text me. I will replace you at midnight.”
“Yes, sir.”
40
The following day Abdul, with a reference from his contact the prior evening and the suggestion of the Four Seasons hotel, entered the exact type of property he envisioned. The building incorporated a combination of business and living space. It was a unique set-up. Work was limited to the 2nd and 3rd floors, with the fourth, the residential area, entered either from the offices situated below or a private keyed elevator on the main level. Beside the lobby, International jewelry shops lined the ground level delivering a message of elegance and security. Daily maid service was an option for both the work and the home space. Abdul remembered Sude once telling him, “If you can visualize it, you can make it happen.” This was precisely what Abdul wanted.
The leasing agent showed him two available units. However, the second was different and had a unique feature that sealed the deal for Abdul.
“Follow me through this doorway, sir.” They entered a different elevator on the ground floor.
“The third floor is your office space, the fourth your apartment, and let me show you the fifth.” They exited on the fifth floor to a corner terrace, completely private from the neighbors. In one direction they could see the minarets of the Blue Mosque and to the other, the view of the Grand Bazaar.
“This unit has an outdoor fire pit, a bar, and a fridge. And of course, we have service available twenty-four-hours a day from our five-star hotel attached to the suites.” The satisfied agent knew his newest tenant was pleased. It was a rare occurrence when a client didn’t fall in love with this unique environment.
“It’s fully furnished?”
“Yes, of course. The service level is on a per-diem basis. You decide when and what you need.” The leasing agent pulled out a pen, a prepared paper, and began to add the details.
“I assume this fits your needs perfectly?” His smile told Abdul that the recommendation from his business associates of the prior evening made reference checks unnecessary.
“Yes. This is exactly what I wanted.”
“You haven’t mentioned whether you require an office presence, sir. However, secretarial services can be secured per diem also.”
Everything was falling into place for Abdul. He signed the preliminary paperwork and shook hands with the agency representative.
“By the way, your business associates have given me their account information. We will bill them directly, with your permission.”
“Thanks. Of course, that would be excellent. I will be moving in this afternoon if that suits you?”
“Certainly, sir, we will have the cleaning staff make sure everything is perfect for your arrival. Would you care to check off the food items you would like for your kitchen?”
“Yes, perfect.” Abdul thought about his basic necessities, not forgetting to tag the alcohol he preferred and his passion for junk food at midnight.
Would 3 pm be acceptable to you?”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
“Shall I send the limousine to pick you up at the Four Seasons?”
“Yes, that would be excellent.”
The real estate agent watched his new tenant turn down the road towards the Grand Bazaar. Then he responded to the urgent vibration of his cell phone. He recognized the caller immediately.
“Yes. Your new associate finds the arrangement perfect. He will check-in after 3 pm.”
“Good. I will have my men there in half-an-hour. We have some special features to add to the office and living spaces.”
“As you wish. It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”
The caller hung up without saying goodbye.
Abdul returned to the Four Seasons and packed his clothes. He had two suitcases, one unopened. When Abdul went back to Saudi Arabia, he would bring more clothes. From what he saw so far, nothing much had changed. Clothing was still secular, although there seemed to be more women wearing Chadors than before. Likely the conservative religious nature of the current President made a difference. Or it could be Middle Eastern tourists. It might be a good idea to consult with a University friend who was a well-known researcher and journalist. She could fill him in on the ongoing relationships of Ankara, the USA, and the Middle East. Ariane would have her own opinions on the political situation in Turkey as well as how it impacts the financial and investment sector.
He pulled up his contacts on his phone and found Ariane’s number. It was unlikely she’d kept the same contact information as her college days, but you never know.
His call went to voice mail. The journalist signed off with a cryptic message stating that between the hours of 3pm and 6 pm Ariane would be personally answering any and all calls that came through. Strange. He would call back after he moved into his new home.
Right now, he was hungry. If he remembered correctly, he passed a chicken Doner restaurant on the way to dinner last night. It was an easy walk from his hotel. And he could satisfy his need for baklava while he was there.
He checked in to the office in Iran. All was under control.
41
Tehran, Iran
Bāzār e Bozorg
It would be easy to lose oneself in the labyrinth of the ancient bazaar. Dark alleys and poor lighting spoke of intrigue and mystery. Chador-covered women walk arm-in-arm, shopping, chatting, their male guardians close behind. There’re no barking or loud catcalls luring tourists to purchase overpriced carpets or unwanted trinkets. Instead, the atmosphere is one of relaxed wandering, tea-drinking at various welcoming stalls, and a mosque or two to visit when your shopping is complete.
Behind one such stall, f
our older mullahs indistinguishable in their flowing grey beards, tailored robes, and plain white turbans sat on colorful Persian cushions and sipped tea. They kept their faces blank, but a trained observer would recognize tense body language in the stuffy private room.
“Let me see the plans.”
“Yes, here they are.”
“How many are in place?”
“Enough.”
“Can your man do the job? Will he be able to deliver the project?” The oldest cleric waited.
“Speak.”
“We haven’t really explained what we are after. We think we can work around our agent. We have leverage here. Powerful leverage. But so far, he has done everything we've asked. We knew about his desire to move on. We used that to enlist his service.”
“And his family?”
“Yes. The father is one of us. Our asset has no wife or children. We have him under surveillance.”
“And what about Paris?”
“Yes. Paris is merely an old man attempting to be relevant. There's nothing of concern there.”
“Keep me informed.”
“There is one thing.”
“Explain.”
“He met up with a girl. From what we could hear, they are old friends from his university days.”
“And?”
“Nothing. The girl is rather non-traditional, even for a modern Turkish woman.”
“So why is this important?”
“We just want you to be aware. Our asset has nothing to confide. Possibly, the girl will be a good distraction. We are not worried.”
“And the process? You have already completed part of the project.”
“It’s better that we don’t speak of how we will accomplish our objective. Some might question our actions. This way, you have deniability.”
“Proceed as quickly as possible. The Americans are pushing our limits.”
“Yes.”
The men dispersed, each lost in his own dreams of unimaginable power and influence.
They quickly blended into the hustle of Middle Eastern tourists and locals entering the Tajrish Bazaar. An hour later, the sound of the call to prayer commenced. Each cleric returned to his own mosque.
42
Istanbul, Asian side, Raven Group estate
The limousine dropped David and Alice at the helipad. Alice slept intermittently on the short flight from Taksim to the estate. Samaar held her wrapped in a Turkish shawl. The child shivered and mumbled something in her sleep, but she was not injured in any physical way that Samaar could detect. David kept the details of the event brief; he didn’t want to speculate until he heard back from the men who were in charge of interrogating the assailant.
The helicopter landed amidst a flurry of activity. After David explained the incident in Sultanahmet and Samaar had found listening devices in their room at the hospital, Luke had secured extra security personnel for the estate.
Zach and Rachel were already working on-site at the compound. They had a lead on the bio-chemical event. It was a very loose fragment, and together with Firestorm’s team leader, Fatimah, they were trying to search for more information. Himanish joined. He was like a ghost. Luke never knew where he was or when he would appear. Yunus was on his way. David sat calmly and quietly in the kitchen with Maggs. After all the pain and destruction he witnessed in the Middle East, he was content flying the Raven Group fleet. It allowed him to keep his skill set honed. Today had not been a good day.
Luke sent a general text to the team, let’s meet in 30 minutes.
Maggs brought the snacks. Her day was spent mastering many more Turkish delicacies.
“You know, boss, I think I’ll open a Turkish restaurant in Paris when we get home.”
Luke looked at Alice, who looked at Samaar. No one smiled. Maggs spoke up.
“Is there something I should know? Luke?”
He looked at both his girls as he spoke. “I’m re-assessing the townhome in Paris. There’s been a breach of security on our side. So far, everything appears fine, but we haven’t got all the information yet. We don’t know if it has caused any problems.” Luke’s tone of voice remained neutral. The day had held enough challenges. He didn’t need to make Alice feel worse.
“But I think a Turkish restaurant would be a great idea, Maggs.” Luke added.
The team was too busy eating to answer. Nods sufficed.
“Alice had an incident today. We need to talk about it.”
David was quite disgusted with himself. Security for Alice was his responsibility. He shouldn’t have let her out of his sight. He’d offered his resignation to Luke, but it had been rejected outright.
“Alice. Would you like to share what happened?”
She hesitated, then looked at her mother and gained the courage to go forward.
“I went to the washroom, but on the way, I stopped to buy a wedding gift for you and mom. The vendor was so nice. I even negotiated a discount! Here.” Alice took the wrapped package and smiled as she passed it to her mother.
Samaar didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Her child was attacked today, and all she could think about was giving a wedding gift to her parents.
“You are just like your mother, Alice. I’m very proud of you.”
“Merci beaucoup, Mamam!”
Samaar ripped the packaging to get to the Turkish lamp.
“It’s lovely, Alice. Luke, Look at the colorful mosaics! This will be such a wonderful memory of our trip here—our honeymoon.” Only Samaar could make a joke about a canceled wedding and honeymoon.
“Thank you, darling.” Alice moved closer to her mother, leaned her head on her shoulder, and took her hand. Samaar was surprised at the gesture. It had been years since Alice would allow her to hold her hand. She was so damn independent.
“I guess my mind was on the gift or I would have noticed the guy who followed me into the washroom.” Tears threatened her eyes.
“I don’t know what he wanted. But thank you, Mom, for allowing me to take all those martial arts classes. The guy never had a chance against me. I laid him out on the cement floor!”
The team had been ready for tears and fear. Instead, they congratulated a very skilled Alice on her expert performance.
Luke checked an incoming message on his phone.
“Update. Let’s look at the positive. The attacker has nothing to do with our mission here in Istanbul. As it turns out, it didn’t take a lot of convincing for him to give up a sex trafficking operation. He’s in protective custody. Himanish, I know you will want to talk to him.”
“Yes, we’ve been trying to get a handle on the problem in Turkey. The challenge is the migrants, many are undocumented fleeing Syria and other war-torn areas. Children arrive without chaperones or parents. Their disappearances are not reported. I’m surprised he took a chance on someone like Alice.” Himanish made it his mission in life to look out for the world’s disenfranchised children.
“She probably looked easy. Her coloring, Middle Eastern, like both her parents. He wouldn't have grabbed an American kid. Her trashed style of clothing, the in-style ripped jeans—looks are deceiving. He probably thought she was a vagrant carrying a parcel to look like a tourist while she grifted. Predators hate to miss an opportunity and often take chances.”
“I will send a message to my team in Ankara. Thanks for the photo. They will know if he’s on a list or if his photo is in our database.”
The team wanted to keep this conversation light for Alice’s sake. But it was for young girls like Alice that Himanish became Firestorm. His top-secret work with the UN Human Rights Commission gave him all the freedom he required to bring down human traffickers all over the world. Terrorists weren’t the only people transferring funds across the globe in crypto currency. Both missions intersected.
Himanish looked at the Raven Group assembled in the room. He was grateful for Rachel, who had helped them capture a repulsive group who enslaved runaways in Washington, DC. At the same time, Raven and S
amaar were integral to the bust of a trafficking ring spread along the newly completed Silk Road from China to the United Kingdom.
Firestorm looked over at Samaar, her arm protectively around the shoulders of her child. A few years ago, Samaar had rescued a mother and child who were displaced traveling the refugee route from Syria. They were stranded at the Hungarian border in Serbia. The mother was also carrying invaluable biological warfare information from her scientist husband. But the mother had been attacked, and her valuables were stolen. If Samaar hadn't rescued them, the mother and child would have ended up the natural prey of human traffickers.
And now Himanish looked towards his friend Zach who was currently working with Rachel to help the destitute Yazidi women and their children. They were stuck in refugee camps incapable of returning to their now-destroyed communities, victims of ISIL cruelty, and the war in Syria. These were his people, his friends. And now they were all here to help the Turk.
Himanish looked at the determination and power that young Alice exuded. There was no doubt in his mind that with time, Alice would join the Raven Group. And more than likely, it would be against her mothers’ wishes.
Luke summarized what was on everyone’s minds.
“You’re safe, Alice. That’s the most important thing. We are incredibly proud of how you handled yourself. I think we’ve all learned we need to be more vigilant. We look out not only for each other but for the disenfranchised. If we don’t do it, who will?”
Everyone took a moment to think about Luke’s words. Then Alice spoke up, “So does this mean I get to stay for this meeting?”
“This means you can go and do your chatting online with your friend in Paris. But, no, Facetime and don’t send him any photos!”
Alice blushed and giggled at the same time.
“The rest of you, don’t ask!”
Alice left the room, laughing. The resilience of youth.
“Let’s bring RB in from Seattle and get his updates. RB, you’ve had us swept again, right?”
“Yes, boss. We’ve got the head of our European operations onsite. The watchers from Sultanahmet have resigned. It turns out they were new to the team and still on probation. Sloppy. I apologize for not being aware of what was happening in our Turkish office.”