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He double-tapped his Sig, aiming at the legs of the masked man. Javin’s bullets dropped him to the cobblestone street.

  A fourth masked man jumped out of the BMW driver’s side. He aimed a pistol at the team’s car, but before he could fire a round, Claudia pulled the trigger. The gunman fell to the ground.

  Ajaz, the Volkswagen driver, stumbled out of the car, holding his leg. He was unarmed and hobbled for a couple of steps. Then his legs failed him, and he collapsed to the ground next to one of the masked men.

  Javin waited for a moment.

  No gunfire, so he peeked through the glass. Then his eyes met Claudia’s; she was crouched at the other side of the car. He gestured to her that he was going to check the gunmen.

  She nodded and mouthed the words: Got your back.

  Javin walked slowly, keeping his gun trained on the masked men. They were sprawled on the ground, and at least two of them were still alive. “Don’t move, don’t!” Javin shouted.

  He retrieved one of the pistols, a Walther PPK, and put it into his waistband.

  One of the masked men, the one that Javin had shot, rolled onto his back. He groaned, then raised his arms in surrender. “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot,” he said in Turkish.

  Javin thought he noticed a slight British accent. He glanced at the other masked man, who also was on his back. But he was trying to reach for his pistol a few feet away.

  Javin pulled the trigger.

  The masked man screamed in pain as the bullet pierced his right arm near the shoulder.

  “What did I say about staying put?”

  The masked man cursed at Javin with a very recognizable British accent.

  He stepped closer to the man and picked up the second pistol, which was also a Walther PPK. “You’re a Brit: What are you doing here?”

  The man cursed again.

  “You MI6?” Javin asked.

  The man shook his head and did not say another word.

  Javin glanced back at Claudia. “Keep an eye on them.”

  “Got it,” she replied and stepped closer to the masked men.

  Javin checked on the third masked man. He was shot in the chest, and, considering the pool of blood formed around his body, he was beyond Javin’s help. The fourth shooter was lying on his stomach and was not moving at all.

  A groan and a curse came from Ajaz. He was still on his stomach, and blood was gushing from a shoulder wound. His black curly hair was disheveled, and a large bruise had formed on the left side of his face.

  Javin shouted, “Don’t move, stay there.”

  He neared Ajaz carefully, then said, “Your arms; spread them.”

  Ajaz did as ordered. “What . . . who are you?” he asked in a thick accent.

  “No one of importance. Are the others alive?”

  Ajaz shook his head. “No, these . . . these robbers . . .” He gasped for air and coughed up blood.

  “Take it easy, easy. Where’s the flash drive?”

  “Huh, what?”

  “The flash drive you got from the police station.”

  Ajaz frowned. “You . . . how do you know about that?”

  “Not important. Where is it?”

  “Save . . . my life, and I’ll give it to you.”

  “No, you’re gonna give it to me, so I don’t kill you.”

  Ajaz grinned. “You’d have done so.”

  “The flash drive.”

  Before Ajaz could reply, the sharp shrill of a police siren cut through the air. His grin grew wider. “You’ll be surrounded soon. Take me to a hospital, and I’ll give you what you want.”

  Javin began to rummage through Ajaz’s pockets.

  “I don’t have it on me,” he said. “You’ll never find it in time.”

  Javin’s search produced a wallet and a cellphone, but not the flash drive. So he pressed his pistol to Ajaz’s face. “Where is it?”

  “My life for the drive. A fair deal.”

  The siren rang much closer. The police were only a few blocks away.

  Javin looked at the Volkswagen. Depending on where the agents had hidden the flash drive, it might take minutes to find it, if he was lucky. He shook his head. There was no time.

  “All right, you’ve got a deal. Where is it?”

  “Man in the back. Right side pants pocket.”

  Javin shook his head. That would have only taken a moment. He glanced over his shoulder at Claudia. “Watch him.”

  “Got him,” she said.

  Javin dashed to the Volkswagen. The front passenger’s body was slumped against the door. Ajaz’s second associate had been shot twice in the chest. His lifeless body had fallen to the side.

  Javin found the flash drive and pocketed it. Returning to Ajaz, he took off the mask from the dead gunman. “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “So this doesn’t hurt.”

  He placed the mask roughly over Ajaz’s face and covered his eyes. Then he called to Claudia, “Give me a hand.”

  She rushed to him, and they half-carried, half-pushed Ajaz to the backseat of their car.

  “Zeki, clear the street,” Javin said.

  “Right away.” Zeki ran to the BMW.

  “You’re making a mistake, a grave mistake,” one of the masked men called out at Javin.

  “Oh, really?” Javin walked over to them. He pulled out his phone, then removed the man’s mask. “It’s you who made the mistake of attacking the wrong people.”

  The man tried to cover his face with his hands and moved his head away, but Javin was able to take a few clear pictures. Then he moved to the other men and repeated the procedure.

  “Ready to go,” Claudia called to Javin.

  He bolted to the car and got into the front passenger seat.

  Claudia drove slowly, avoiding running over the two men. She stopped when she came to Zeki, who had moved the BMW out of the way, and he slipped into the back, next to Ajaz. Then Claudia hit the gas, and the car zoomed down the street.

  Javin drew in a deep breath. Police sirens still echoed in his ears, but they were growing distant with every second. He tapped the front of his jacket. The flash drive was stored safely inside his zipped pocket.

  Then his eyes went to the rearview mirror. Ajaz, the MIT covert operative, was in the backseat hooded and wounded. All right, we’ve got the drive, but what are we going to do with him?

  Chapter Eight

  CIS Safehouse

  Istanbul, Turkey

  Ajaz had lost consciousness by the time Javin and his team arrived at the safehouse, a nondescript one-story blue-painted house near the Mall of Istanbul. Javin had tried to stop the blood flow, but the shoulder wound had proven to be deeper than they had first thought. Shoulder wounds were the most complicated ones to treat, because of the three bones and four tendons and their intricate connections to muscles that gave the arm its range of motion. The surgeon would have a very difficult time putting together Ajaz’s torn shoulder.

  At the safehouse, Claudia called a doctor the CIS used in cases when extreme discretion was vital. He could only see the patient in a few hours, but he gave Claudia instructions on how to treat the wound and the patient until he arrived. Ajaz’s life was not in danger, but the longer they waited, the less likely the chances of his regaining the full range of motion of the left arm.

  Javin scrubbed the grime off his face and removed his blood-stained clothes. The safehouse had an assortment of outfits for all occasions, and he picked a gray hoodie and a pair of black jeans. He sat on one of the brown leather couches in the living room and dialed his boss’s number.

  Martin answered after the second ring. “Javin, I’ve been waiting for your call.”

  “Eh, yes, we’ve had some complications.”

  He gave Martin a brief account of events since they had almost crashed into the MIT’s vehicle. When Javin came to the firefight on Sezai Bey Avenue, Martin interrupted Javin. “These masked people. You’re saying they’re MI6?"

  “No, but I suspect that
much. Circumstantial evidence, for sure, but it points in that direction. Walther PPK pistols. British accents.”

  “But they’re driving a BMW. Shouldn’t that make them BND agents?” Martin’s voice had a slight hint of irony.

  The BND or Bundesnachrichtendienst was the Federal Intelligence Service, Germany’s foreign intelligence agency.

  Javin grinned. “That would be too obvious. Thus, the masks,” he said in a voice matching Martin’s tone.

  “All right. So they’re after the same thing: the thumb drive.”

  “I’m positive about it. This was well planned and executed. If it weren’t for our intervention, the MIT agents would all be dead, and the drive would be gone.”

  Martin sighed. “Yes, but now you’ve got Mr. Ajaz Tekin, a liability for so many reasons.”

  Javin shrugged. “I understand, sir. A judgment call. I had no idea where the drive was. We had the police breathing down our necks, so I had to strike a deal with him. Plus, there was a chance that the MI6 agents would kill Ajaz, to cover their tracks.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “At least one of the agents was dead, or gravely wounded. I’m assuming the police haven’t nabbed them, otherwise we would have heard about it.” Zeki and Tolga were monitoring the police communications and talking to their contacts within the local enforcement agencies.

  “Possibly. I’m going to check with MI6, to clarify their potential involvement.”

  “You’ll talk to Mr. Fox?” Javin’s tone of voice indicated his hope it was not going to be Mr. Fox, who was Martin’s counterpart in the British Secret Intelligence Service.

  “Yes. Not looking forward to it.”

  “Would you rather I called him?”

  “No, this is something I need to take care of. But I’m sure he’ll give you a harsh scolding because of what happened.”

  Javin shrugged. “I’m used to it. And that was self-defense.”

  “Fox won’t see it that way, but then there’s very little that Fox and I see eye to eye about.”

  Javin nodded.

  “Now, back to the police coms: what’s the chatter about the disappeared MIT operative?”

  “They’ve been relatively quiet about the whole matter. Some initial reporting when they first reached the scene. But nothing conclusive.”

  “No witnesses?”

  “None the police could find right away. The van drove away before we brought Ajaz into our car. Most Turks don’t like to get involved with the police, so I don’t expect anyone to come forward.”

  “So the only way someone would know about our involvement is from the MI6 operatives—if they are the secret intel service?”

  “Correct, sir.”

  Martin drew in a deep breath, followed by a brief pause. Then he said, “What are you thinking of doing with the agent?”

  Javin shrugged. “I’ll talk to him, once he’s well enough to do so. Perhaps he can see reason, keep his mouth shut, and forget about this entire affair.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he will,” Javin said in a strong, confident tone. “Besides the fact that he has no options—we’re not going to kill him or hand him over to his enemies, of course, but he doesn’t know that—Zeki and Tolga are digging up dirt on him. They’ll find something we can use against him.”

  “You sound very positive about it.”

  “I am, sir. Everyone has some deep-buried secret in their life, hoping no one will ever find out. But we will. We’ll find a quiet way to make him still his tongue and owe us a favor.”

  “Yes, that’s good. Another option would be the clear threat of payback from his own agency. He handed over the flash drive to the opposition to save his own skin. That will look very bad for him and his reputation.”

  “Great idea, sir. It has worked well in the past. I see no reason why it wouldn’t work in this case, especially if our agents come up empty. But, like I said, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “All right, Javin. Now, where’s the drive?” Martin’s voice took on a sense of urgency.

  “Claudia has it. We’re not sure whether it’s clear and free of tracking bugs. We used the detector, of course, but we can’t be a hundred percent certain.”

  “And where is she?”

  Javin frowned and glanced at the cellphone. Why is Martin asking about her location? “She’s still in the city.”

  “In the neighborhood?”

  “Yes, not too far from the safehouse. Why is that important?”

  “I’m trying to assess the threat to her and the safehouse, Javin. If the flash drive has a tracking device, the MIT or the drive’s original owners may be coming for her and for you.”

  “Very true.” Javin nodded. “She’s running a diversion protocol, following the established route for such scenarios. The drive was never in the safehouse.”

  “Okay, let’s keep it that way.”

  “For sure.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Good. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from MI6.”

  “And I’ll do the same after I’ve had my chat with Ajaz.”

  “Update me if anything happens.”

  “Will do.”

  “Make it home, Javin.”

  Javin smiled at Martin’s way to end their conversations. “Will do, sir.”

  He ended the call and glanced at the cellphone. Yes, we’ll make it home in one piece.

  A groan followed by a loud clang came from the next room where Ajaz lay.

  Javin glanced in that direction and stood up. Let’s see how we can make him be quiet.

  Chapter Nine

  CIS Safehouse

  Istanbul, Turkey

  “Hey, don’t do that,” Javin said as he entered the room. “Stop.”

  Ajaz gave Javin an angry glare and rattled his left hand, cuffed to the black metal frame of the bed. “I thought you and I had a deal.”

  “We do.” Javin stood near the bed.

  “Then take this off, and take me to a hospital.”

  Javin shook his head. “Neither of those is going to happen, so stop, before you injure yourself.”

  “I gave you what you wanted: the drive.”

  “And I kept my part of the deal. You’re alive.”

  “At the hospital, they’ll fix my shoulder properly, not like this patched-up job.”

  “They’ll see my face at the hospital.”

  “Then let me call someone.”

  “No, you’ll tell your service about me and the drive.”

  Ajaz began to shake his head, but the movement proved to be too much. He winced, then cursed in pain. “I . . . I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Really? How will you explain your release? Your kidnappers had a conscience?”

  Ajaz gave Javin a look of confusion. “I . . . I’m not sure, but I’ll figure out something.”

  “And when your boss asks about the drive, what are you going to tell him? That you gave it up for your life?”

  Ajaz shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I have to worry, because this involves me and my team. Your agency, the MIT, already knows the drive is missing, and so are you. Your partners lie there in pools of blood, while you’ve disappeared. What if word got out that you arranged for the attack to cover the traces of your selling off the drive and its secrets?”

  Ajaz grinned. “No one’s going to believe that.”

  “Are you sure?” Javin gave him a piercing gaze. “Many operatives have been caught stealing and selling off classified intel. What makes you think you’re special?”

  “My boss knows me. My colleagues know me.”

  Javin leaned closer to Ajaz. “I’ve done this sort of thing for quite some time. Evidence can be fabricated to show whatever one wants. Bank transfers to your accounts. Meetings with foreign intel agents. You’ll be branded a traitor. Oh, and your family will suffer worse than you.”


  Ajaz shook his head. “You can’t do that.”

  “Oh, yes, I can do that and more. But none of this needs to happen.”

  Ajaz drew in a deep breath.

  Javin walked closer to the small window. The blackout blinds were pulled down. He moved them to the side and looked at the alley below. It was clear.

  Ajaz said, “You’re bluffing. You also have no reason to leak that story.”

  Javin turned around. “I might be bluffing, but you don’t know that for sure. And sooner or later, a story will take shape. If we don’t give MIT the truth, they’ll make up their own. Now, what do you want them to think of you and your family, your children?”

  “Leave them out of this.”

  “That’s up to you. Think about how you want this to go down. You can be the hero or the villain in this story. It’s all up to you.”

  Ajaz held Javin’s eyes, then gave him a small nod. “Who were the attackers?”

  “I was going to ask you the same question.”

  “I don’t know them, and it’s evident I had no dealing with them.” He turned his head slowly toward his wounded shoulder. “Or this would not have happened.”

  “What if they were trying to tie up loose ends?”

  “I told you I don’t know them.”

  “So how do you explain their following you from the police station?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t have to explain.” Ajaz’s voice rose.

  “You’ll have to lose the attitude, and you’ll have to explain it when your boss asks you during the investigation. If you have no answers, it will make you look guilty.”

  Ajaz thought about his answer for a long moment. “They must have learned from someone. Perhaps one of the police officers.”

  Javin nodded. “Okay. Could it be one of your associates?”

  “No, never.”

  “Think about it before answering. Anyone can betray their country for the right price.”

  “Not everyone.”

  “Almost everyone, then. Did these people have debts, any unusual needs for money?”

  Ajaz began to shrug, but the pain must have shot through his shoulder. His face twisted in a grimace. “I . . . I have to think about it.”