Don Pendleton - Double Blindside

Kaplan thought it an ideal way to repay Binice and Terzel.

“They would not die immediately?”

Kumad smiled. “No. The full effects would run over a few weeks. But initially they would become extremely ill. Skin affected. Loss of hair. General lassitude.”

“How would you give it to them?” Kaplan asked, his interest piqued.

“In a similar fashion,” Kumad said. “I have spoken to a friend in the business and he has instructed me how to do this.” He smiled at the thought. “A very smart man who has been in the business for a long time.”

“And has he used this polonium-210 himself?”

Kumad nodded. “Oh, yes.”

When Kaplan picked up his coffee again he hesitated. “It would be as simple as putting it in a cup like this?”

“Don’t be concerned. I did not bring a sample with me.”

“I want this done quickly.”

“Then all I need from you is a timetable of where Binice and Terzel can be found. Once I have that, I can make my arrangements.”

They concluded their meeting after finance details were completed.

Kaplan felt satisfied. He had cleared the way for a matter of honor, Turkish-style, to be carried out. With Binice and Terzel dealt with, the episode could be forgotten and he could concentrate on the Özgürlük campaign.

* * *

TEN DAYS LATER Kumad received a call from Kaplan.

“It has been reported to me that Makar is becoming a nervous man,” Kaplan said. “I believe he may be regretting his involvement with Binice and Terzel. Remember he knows a great deal about Özgürlük. As banker he has been responsible for moving around money. Most important, the payment for the devices from the Russian. We cannot risk anything going wrong at this stage. It’s time he was retired. Better that way than risk additional problems. Deal with him but make sure you bring his computer back with you. Understood? Above everything, that computer must be returned into our safekeeping.”

“Understood.” Kumad brought up the other business he was involved with. “Did you know Binice and Terzel are in London? At one of our emergency apartments?”

“Yes. I sent them there to keep them away from everything here. They believe they are being given a reward for the work they have been doing for the cause. I told them I needed them to oversee a project that is coming off in London. Their arrogance is amazing. They truly believe that while they have stolen money from us I am rewarding their loyalty. I told them to take a break while the project is being set up. Your treatment seems to be working well. In the last week they have started to look unwell but have said nothing because they have no idea what is happening. Tak, as much as I would like to have them suffer even more, I think it is time to cut short their suffering. We have enough on our hands with other, more important matters. Would you agree?”

“It would complete our deal and close it nicely.”

“See to it.”

* * *

KUMAD KNEW LONDON WELL. He visited often. He enjoyed the rush of the big city, the busy pace. The fact that for the most part he could come and go as he pleased. Anonymity was a useful thing for someone in his profession. Although security, as in any large city, had been increased, London was still an easy place to get around. The busy streets, full of people going about their business, were comparatively safe. Armed police were in evidence, but with such crowds it was easy to lose himself. He was, on the surface, simply a citizen going about his business. He posed no threat to the watchful eye.

With Binice and Terzel taken care of, all that remained was for him to handle the banker. Kumad saw no problems there. Makar would not offer any kind of resistance. He was just a money mover. Not a trained gunman.

Sitting in a small café that served real Turkish coffee, Kumad considered his options. Makar would not be in his office until morning. It was just after nine o’clock in the evening, so he would have to wait until the man came to his office for the next day’s business. As he drained his cup, Kumad decided he may as well return to his hotel and get some sleep. Nothing was going to happen until the next day.

At his small hotel in Bayswater he had a shower, cleaned his pistol and made sure the magazine was fully loaded. Then he went to bed and got a solid night’s untroubled sleep. He knew that Makar never opened his office before nine thirty.

He was in another café across the street from Makar’s building, having breakfast and keeping an eye out for the man, when Makar stepped out of a London cab, paid the driver and went into his building. He carried an attaché case that would most likely contain his laptop. Kumad finished his food and coffee, paid and left the café.

He walked along the street before he crossed it and eased into the alley a few doors along from Makar’s building. The rear area was quiet and Kumad made his way to the wooden gate that would lead him to the back of Makar’s property. He had been here before and knew all the access and exit points. There was a brick wall with a timber gate. Kumad pulled on a pair of latex gloves, slipped the latch and stepped through, closing the gate behind him. There was a small yard leading to the metal stairs, which in turn led to the upper floor. At the top was a metal door that gave access to the interior. From earlier visits, Kumad knew that Makar kept the door unlocked during the day; the man had a fear of being trapped inside a locked building and turned the key when he arrived each morning. He didn’t worry about anyone breaking in to steal because there was never money on the premises. Everything Makar did was via his computer; he brought his expensive laptop with him each day and took it home at night. The office setup was nothing more than a front for Özgürlük.

The door in front of him let Kumad take the short passage to Makar’s office. He took out his sound-suppressed pistol and eased off the safety. He could hear Makar on the phone and waited until the man finished his call. The moment Makar replaced the receiver, Kumad pushed open the door and stepped inside. He closed the door behind him and walked across the room to stand at the desk, extending his arm, the pistol inches from Makar.

Makar stared at the black muzzle, then at Kumad.

“Who are you?” He had never met Kuman before and would have no idea he worked for Özgürlük. “What do you want?”

“I’m here to close your account. The same as I’ve done for your two partners,” Kumad said and pulled the trigger.

It was a close shot, the skin around the wound peppered with powder and scorch burns. The back of Makar’s head blew open, depositing brain and skull matter on the high seat back. Makar’s head bounced against the seat, then forward. The phone rang at that moment. The sound startled Kumad for a second. He recovered, putting away his pistol. He closed the laptop and disconnected the cables. He turned and disturbed items in the office to make it appear as though someone had broken in. He didn’t believe the actions would fool the authorities for long but it was no more than a distraction.

The phone stopped ringing

With the laptop under his arm he pulled the office door almost shut, made his way out of the building the way he had come in. A couple of minutes later he slipped back onto the street, walking calmly, and merged with the pedestrians on the sidewalk. He had already removed the latex gloves by then.

Kumad returned to his hotel, packed his carryall, with the laptop under his clothes, and made a quick call.

“Your appointments went well?” Kaplan said. “No difficulties?”

“None.”

“You found the laptop?”

“Of course.”

“Then I will see you when you return.”