Charles Brokaw - The Lucifer Code

‘This guy threatened my sister. If it’s the same guy, he hurt her. I’m not going to allow that.’ Icy calm thrummed inside Cleena.

Sevki cursed again, this time with more passion. ‘Well, you’re going to get your chance. I just finished chasing down all the connections. This guy, whoever he is, is here in the city.’

Paranoia bloomed within Cleena, spicing the fear already coursing through her. ‘In Istanbul?’

‘Yes. His communications people were cute about it, and if I hadn’t been as good as I am and had enough time, I might not have found him. But I did. He’s in the city. My bet is that you’ll have company soon.’

‘Everything here is set?’

‘Of course.’

Cleena pushed up from the chair and headed for the back door. Sevki had already briefed her on how to get out of the building without being seen.

‘We own the perimeter.’

‘Affirmative. If possible, I want the target alive. Damage at this juncture is a moot point. But I want the target able to answer questions.’

‘Then you’ll get it.’

Settled into the passenger seat of the SUV across the street and down two blocks from the cyber café, Dawson held his pistol in his lap and watched the takedown team in action.

Dawson lifted his sat-phone and called another number. When it was answered, he said, ‘Sir, we are at go.’

Vice-President Webster didn’t hesitate. ‘Secure your target. I want to talk to Professor Lourds.’

‘Yes, sir. I’ll call you when we have the secondary target.’

‘Do that. And good luck. We’re in very dangerous times at present. All of us.’

The gravity in Webster’s voice was unmistakable, and Dawson had never before heard that tone so strongly. Dawson couldn’t help thinking about the vice-president more or less marooned behind enemy lines in Saudi Arabia. Tensions in that part of the world continued to escalate as skirmishes and civil unrest broke out like grass fires.

‘Are you all right, sir?’ Dawson asked. If the vice-president had asked, he would have abandoned the mission in Istanbul at once and charged to his rescue.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Webster replied. ‘I’ll be fine.’ His voice grew stronger. ‘Glory is about to rain down on us. Trust me on that.’

Dawson hesitated, not at all certain what the vice-president was talking about. But he heard the conviction in the man’s words. The stakes, whatever they turned out to be, were huge. Dawson just wished he could see the connection between what was taking place in Saudi Arabia and Istanbul. As far as he knew, no other American intelligence community was interested in Professor Thomas Lourds.

‘I do trust you, sir,’ Dawson replied.

‘Good, because we’re going to have to trust each other a lot over the next few days,’ Webster told him.

‘What do you mean, sir?’

‘Soon, Jimmy. Everything will happen in due time. I’ve planned this for a long, long time. Get Lourds and bring him to me.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The vice-president hung up the phone, but not before Dawson heard explosions in the background. He knew from the news reports coming out of the area that hostile aggression had increased within Saudi Arabia. The Saudi army had mobilized and begun spreading out across the major cities. But their efforts weren’t enough to keep Shia terrorists, or rebels as some of the local news stations were calling them, from striking back. The Shia targeted American and European businesses as well as Saudi government buildings. Several oil fields were burning, and international investors complained bitterly and threatened to take action.

Dawson’s headset buzzed for attention.

‘The clerk has made a positive ID on our target,’ the agent inside the cyber café said.

Dawson glanced at the cyber café. ‘Do you see her?’

‘No, sir. She’s not at one of the computer terminals.’

‘But she was?’

‘Definitely. The clerk IDd her.’

‘Then where is she?’ Anger and frustration welled up in Dawson.

‘I don’t know, sir. We’re looking.’

Dawson cursed. ‘Don’t just look. Find her.’ He slipped the restraining loop from the hammer of his pistol and pushed the door open. Across the street, the rest of the team flooded into the building. Dawson’s driver got out and stood beside him. He was a young, intense man with black sunglasses that made him look like a spy. He whirled round and lifted his pistol from beneath his jacket. Dawson didn’t know what had caught the man’s attention, but he turned with him.

Cleena MacKenna was on them with the speed of a stalking predator. She fired a taser at the driver. Both darts struck the man in the chest and unleashed their voltage. The driver shook and shivered for a moment, then dropped to the ground.

By that time the woman had already closed on Dawson. A stun baton extended with a meaty chukk! sound. Instinctively, Dawson lifted his pistol to fire. He never had the chance. The woman whipped the baton across his right wrist. Incredible pain exploded through Dawson’s right arm, but his hand went numb immediately. The pistol dropped from his nerveless fingers.

Dawson grabbed at Cleena with his other hand. She smiled at him cruelly and hit that hand with her baton as well. Before he could react to the new pain, she swept the baton up into his crotch. As he dropped to his knees, she hit him again, this time on the side of the neck. Agony swarmed inside Dawson’s head. He almost passed out. Vomit burned up his throat then shot through his lips to splatter against the sidewalk. He was almost too weakened to hold himself up out of the mess on his arms.

Coolly, as if she had all day and there weren’t a dozen specially trained men tearing through the building across the street, Cleena MacKenna popped the car’s passenger door open. She pulled the baton up under Dawson’s throat, into a chokehold, and forced him into the passenger seat. She knelt beside the driver for just a moment, then plucked the car keys from his pocket without hesitation. That she knew which pocket the man had kept the keys in told Dawson that she had been watching them get out of the car.

The whole meeting was a set up.

Dawson thought he’d been outfoxing her and he had only put himself into a box. He tried to flex his hands, tried to move, but it only doubled the pain and nearly made him pass out. He was helpless.

Cleena slid into the driver seat, started the engine, and buckled up. She looked at him and there was no emotion in her eyes.

‘If you try anything, if you lie to me, I’m going to kill you. I already owe you that for hurting my sister.’

Dawson cleared his throat with effort as she pulled out into traffic. ‘But I didn’t-’

She backhanded him in the mouth without looking. His lips split and his mouth filled with the taste of salt.

‘Don’t,’ she snarled. She grabbed his numbed right hand and held it up to him. ‘See this bruising?’

Dawson did, and he remembered his trip to Boston.

‘That tells me you hit someone not long ago. If you try to sell me that the someone you hit wasn’t my sister, you’re going to be wasting breath. And I meant what I said. Killing you isn’t going to get me into any more trouble than I’m already in.’

Believing her, Dawson sat back in his seat and hoped he passed out. She was good. But stealing the car was a mistake. She was going to find that out. Soon.

And then Dawson fully intended to kill her.

Oceanview Offices

Eminonu District

Istanbul, Turkey

24 March 2010

Lourds nursed a beer as he sat on the balcony and stared out at the green-blue sea that filled the harbour and tried to order his thoughts. Though his body was at rest, his mind spun like a dervish, bouncing off the various tangents he’d had to consider. He had the scroll deciphered. He even felt certain he had the hiding place for the Joy Scroll worked out. What he found immensely distracting was the purpose of the scroll.