A Deceit to Die For (92 page)

“You stopped going to church. You didn’t attend the memorial service when Mom died. You never send a card for Christmas. You’ve changed. It’s like you’ve turned away.”

“I have.”

“I know.”

“You know, but not what it means.”

CHAPTER
71

B
LACK
S
EA
C
OAST,
N
ORTH OF
I
STANBUL
  
“Eagle’s Nest this is Hummingbird. The nectar has arrived. Still no sign of the bees, though.”

“They’ll start swarming soon enough. I’m sure they have their own lookout somewhere near to let them know the American has arrived. Did he come alone?”

“Affirmative.”

“What about the other people on the beach?”

“The family is already gone. The young people look like they are leaving too.”

“Good. The last thing we need is civilians caught in a fire fight. Keep us posted.”

“Will do.”

He watched the lone American walk the length of the short, rocky beach. Then he turned around, came back to the middle of the beach and stopped. He zoomed in on the man to get a better look. A job in the security forces was a study of human nature. He was essentially a psychologist with a gun. His job was to stay one step ahead of the deviant human psyche, whoever the particular host happened to be.

There was not a trace of fear, doubt or intimidation in the American’s manner. He had the stiff bearing of a man facing incredible odds and determined to come out on top. Stress was something he handled well but did not hide. His face was covered with a five-day growth of beard, and he looked out of place on the beach, dressed in jeans, a button-up shirt and dress shoes.

He moved his monocular up and down the beach. There was still no sign of anyone coming to meet the American. The two young couples that had been swimming all day were walking back towards their car. They obviously didn’t like the look of this stranger either and gave him a wide berth. The American paid them no mind. He just stood with his arms crossed in a stance of defiance and stared stolidly out at the sea. The last rays of a setting sun had turned the beach blood red.

The storm approaching from the east had begun to whip up the waves. He turned his monocular back to the sea and saw a single boat heading towards the beach. It was still several miles out, so he watched it for a couple of minutes to see if it would veer east in an attempt to take cover from the approaching storm in one of the two marinas located at the northern end of the Bosphorus straits. Two minutes later, there had been no change in course. It was headed straight for the beach.

He zoomed in with his monocular. There were three men on the deck, dressed in black wetsuits. Even though it was summer, they wore toboggans that he felt sure could be pulled down over their faces to make ski masks. One was driving; the others held assault rifles that looked like HK 91s. All of them had pistols strapped to their waists. He wondered how many more men were out of sight below deck.

“Eagle’s Nest, this is Hummingbird. We have a boat approaching from the northwest at full throttle on a collision course with the beach. It looks like a Regal Commodore, one of those forty-footers. These are definitely the bees we’ve been waiting for. There are only three men visible, one is carrying an assault rifle, but who knows how many more are below deck.”

“Copy Hummingbird. What is their ETA?”

“They’re coming in fast, less than five minutes, just in time to make the transaction and get away under the cover of darkness.”

“We’ll see about that. A cruiser isn’t exactly a get-away boat. Any markings?”

“No sir.”

He kept his monocular trained on the boat. When it was about five hundred yards out, another man came on deck and began untying two inflatable rubber dinghies. By the time the boat finally came to a stop about fifty meters from the beach, all of the men had pulled the ski caps down to cover their faces. One lowered an anchor while the others lowered the rubber dinghies over the side. Two women and three children were brought up from below deck, followed by two more masked men carrying assault rifles. Two men boarded each dinghy; one took the oars while the other kept his weapon at the ready.

Then, the women were put into one rubber dinghy and the children in another. One of the women seemed particularly distraught at being separated. She tried to break free from her captors and throw herself into the water towards the dinghy that held the children. She was roughly shoved down on the floor of the rubber boat, which pulled away from the cruiser and was tossed on three-foot waves.

He moved back to the American to see how he was reacting to the drama. The man might as well have been a statue. Nothing in his demeanor had changed. His face was completely expressionless, a sign that all emotion had been compartmentalized. The only thing that moved was his hair. He looked like a mannequin with a toupee.

The man turned back to the rubber dinghies and refocused the monocular. It was impossible to tell if it was the oars or the wind at their back that was propelling them towards the shore. They were coming in quickly, and the waves were becoming more and more menacing. Returning to the cruiser was going to be a challenge in these rough waters. This meant Murat’s team would have more time after the exchange before the cruiser could depart.

He turned his attention back to the mother ship. Now, there were five more men on deck, all armed. Two of them had their rifles leveled at the beach even though hitting anything from a vessel pitching in these seas would be a function of how much lead one could put in the air and not marksmanship. The extended magazines on the rifles indicated that the gunmen probably shared his assessment.

“Eagle’s Nest, this is Hummingbird. They are rowing ashore. We have a total of nine hostiles, all armed and dressed in black wetsuits.”

“Confirmed.”

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Gilbert stood sphinx-like, watching the dinghy carrying his children pull ashore to his right while the one with his wife and Shelly beached to his left ,each about fifty meters away. A man from each boat converged on him from either side, weapons drawn. It was unnerving not to be able to see both his children and his wife at the same time, so he focused on the men. They were both tall and muscular.

The wind had grown steadily stronger. Rising away to his left, over Ginger’s head, he could see thunderclouds mushrooming up into the sky. For a moment, he imagined the apocalypse approaching from the east. The noise of the waves crashing on the beach was so loud that when the first man reached him, he practically had to shout to make himself heard.

“Mr. O’Brien, I presume.”

His English was almost perfect.

“That’s right.”

“Is that the document?” he asked, looking down at the canister Gilbert held in his left hand.

Gilbert nodded and pointed to the piece of paper he had taped to the top.

“I wrote the combination down for you. It’s A clockwise E counterclockwise and H clockwise on the shortest mark.”

The man took the canister from Gilbert. Keeping the muzzle of the assault rifle aimed at Gilbert’s chest, he handed it to his friend.

“Open it,” he ordered.

The man turned the cap as Gilbert had instructed, pulled the plastic page protector that held the document out of the canister and gently unrolled it. All Gilbert could make out was the Muslim star at the top. This was the document that had led to his father’s death, the piece of parchment that had torn his family away from him and made him a fugitive. The man pulled out a cell phone, took a picture of the document and sent it as a text.

“We’ll have this verified, and then you will be reunited with your family, Mr. O’Brien.”

“How long will it take?”

Gilbert’s voice was devoid of emotion. He was determined to maintain a steely aloofness and refused to even look at his wife and children.

“Not long,” the man replied indifferently.

Gilbert said nothing. He simply returned their cold stare. The man with the document rolled it up, put it back in the canister and closed the lid, which automatically changed the combination. The other man seemed focused on the hill overlooking the beach. It took Gilbert only a second to guess that there was probably a sniper hidden in the trees.

He didn’t hear the phone ring. The roar of the wind and waves was too great. He could only tell the man was talking because his lips moved. This was it. Gilbert could feel his whole body tense up. He was about to be reunited with his family. The man closed his phone and nodded to his companion.

“It’s genuine.”

“Good,” the other man replied.

He turned to face the sea and waved both arms three times over his head, obviously a prearranged signal. Then, he turned to Gilbert and said, “Mr. O’Brien, in good faith, we have returned your family. You have ten days to resolve the mix-up in Vienna. My boss doesn’t handle disappointment very well.”

The man didn’t even wait for a response. He slung his weapon over his shoulder, turned and began running towards his boat on the right while the other man peeled off to the left. Gilbert didn’t move. He looked at his wife and then back to his kids, who were already running towards him. He wanted to run over and take them in his arms. But, he couldn’t run in two directions at once. Emotions he had never experienced before were welling up inside. He fought them down.
No sign of weakness
.
Not in front of them.

When Ginger saw the men begin to pull away in their boats, she simply melted on the beach, a heap of sobs. Shelly tried to pull her up, to no avail. Gilbert was on his knees hugging the kids. He quickly picked up the two smallest and began walking towards his wife with Garret in tow. When Ginger looked up, the sight of her husband crossing the sand in long, strong strides restored her sapped strength. She leaped to her feet, running like a gazelle across the beach. He set the kids down gently.

“Oh Gilbert! Thank God you came!”

She threw herself into his arms, buried her face in his neck and kissed him wildly. She could feel the terror melting away.
 

“Are you okay?” asked Gilbert.

Ginger said nothing. She only held him tighter. Gilbert looked at Shelly and repeated the question with his eyes. She only nodded. To speak would have been to burst into a fresh round of tears. The vacant look in her eyes told him the ordeal had taken its toll.

He whispered into Ginger’s ear, “Honey, are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

“We’re all fine, darling,” she said. “But we wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t found us today. How did you do it?” she asked, pulling away from him and looking up into his eyes only to find hot tears of joy running down his cheeks and dripping on her face.

“It only matters that I did,” he said softly.

“Where are we?”

“A beach north of Istanbul.

“Why did they kidnap us? What did you have to do to get us back?”

“Not now, my love. We’ll have to save that for another day.”

“But…”

He put his finger gently over her lips.

“Later. Why are your clothes all damp?”

“They hosed us down right before we boarded the boat to come here.”

“Why?”