Double Blindside

CHAPTER SIX

The truck pulled in at the service entrance to the hospital, and two figures dressed in the standard green uniform of ancillary workers climbed out. They both had identification cards hanging around their necks and were wearing latex gloves. They opened the rear of the truck and maneuvered a large wicker basket on wheels to the ground. It contained piles of folded towels and sheets. They pushed the basket in through the rubber doors leading to the ancillary department.

It was late, almost nine o’clock at night, and the department was quiet. They rolled the basket through the department unchallenged and entered a service elevator that accessed all floors. The men talked between themselves as they emerged onto the floor they wanted. At the reception desk they asked for the linen supply section and were directed along the corridor. They carried on until they reached the section they wanted and pushed through the swing doors.

Once inside, they reached into the basket and threw the sheets and towels to the floor. Resting in the bottom of the basket was a pair of AK-47 autorifles and two canvas bags. The bags were slung across the men’s shoulders and the AKs were quickly checked and made ready.

Emerging through the door, the men walked along the semilit corridor until they came to a junction. It was obvious they knew where they were going as they chose the left junction.

They were halfway along the corridor before they encountered anyone. A nurse, studying a patient chart, glanced up as the men appeared. She stared at them, surprised at what she saw. She was given no chance to warn anyone. One of the men produced a handgun from beneath his uniform top; it was a bulky weapon made larger by the suppressor screwed to the end of the barrel. The pistol fired twice, making a comparatively quiet sound. The 9 mm slugs hit the nurse in midchest. She fell back against the wall and slid to the floor, blood blossoming on the front of her uniform top.

The men didn’t break stride as they walked by the body. The shooter kept the pistol in his hand in case they encountered anyone else. They saw no one.

The corridor branched off at the end and again the two men changed direction without pause. The man with the pistol put it away so both hands were free to hold his Kalashnikov.

The corridor ahead of them ended after thirty feet. There were doors on each side of the corridor. Midway along, two uniformed city cops stood guard at one of the doors. They reacted when they saw the armed men approaching.

The AK-47s rose and the loud hammering sound of autofire filled the corridor. The cops never stood a chance as twin streams of jacketed slugs ripped into them. They were knocked back by the impact, bodies punctured by the slugs. Their bloody corpses slammed to the floor.

One of the men raised a foot and kicked open the door. The room inside, with a shrouded light, was empty except for the motionless figure in the bed. Monitoring equipment showed lights and a number of tubes were attached to the patient.

Standing side by side, the intruders trained the AK-47s on the figure. They opened fire and triggered their weapons until they snapped empty. Brass casings littered the floor around them. The shooters ejected the empty magazines. They took fresh ones from the shoulder bags and reloaded. While one man guarded the door, the other took out the pistol again, walked to the side of the bed and fired two shots into the head of the man in the bed. It was an entirely unnecessary action; the man on the bed, resting in a spreading wash of blood, had been shot almost to ribbons by the sustained AK-47 overkill.

Together the men left the room. Already alarms were sounding as they moved along the corridor. From their bags they produced smoke canisters. Activating them, they dropped them on the corridor floor. Thick smoke began to rise and fill the corridors. The men dropped more of the canisters as they proceeded to their escape route.

They pushed through the fire escape door, emerging on an iron landing, and made their way down the ladder. When they reached the bottom they made their way to the far corner of the hospital grounds, pausing only long enough for one of them to take out a remote unit. He flicked the power switch and waited for the light to come on. He thumbed the button. The van they had arrived in was suddenly engulfed in an explosion that blew it apart. Flame and smoke rose in a cloud. Pieces of bodywork were thrown into the air.

As the debris fell back to the ground, the two made their way to the trees that edged this section of the hospital grounds and concealed the AK-47 rifles, the pistol and the bags that had held their weapons in the undergrowth; they would eventually be discovered, but by then the assassins would be long gone. The latex gloves and the hospital uniforms were removed and dumped. The men wore casual civilian clothing underneath.

Three streets away a nondescript Fiat sedan sat at the curb outside a closed store. The keys were already in the pocket of one of the men. They climbed in and drove away. Behind them in the distance could be heard police sirens approaching the hospital.

* * *

AHALF HOUR LATER Kartal received a call informing her that the man wounded in the attack on Phoenix Force had been killed during an armed strike at the hospital where he was being treated. She was with Phoenix Force at their hotel and immediately passed along the information.

“Great,” McCarter said. “These buggers don’t waste time. They’re bound and determined to keep us in the dark.”

“Didn’t want anyone talking,” Encizo said.

“They are organized,” Kartal agreed. “Able to buy whatever they need. People. Weapons.”

“Well,” McCarter said, “we’ll have to see about that. But tomorrow, how about we go take a look at Mr. Polat? Time we sussed out our enemy.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

London

Tak Kumad had just shot two men and was on his way to kill a third.

His agenda was firmly set out. It was to clean up matters relating to Özgürlük to make certain nothing could be traced back to the organization and hinder the progress of the operation. His orders had been specific; and Tak Kumad followed his orders for the client he was working for.

It was his job.

He was an assassin. His current assignment was to locate and eliminate the three men who had turned against Özgürlük and betrayed the organization.

Kumad had already visited the apartment where two of the men had been staying. He’d caught them both and placed 9 mm slugs in their skulls before they’d been able to do a thing to prevent it.

With that part of his assignment over, Kumad moved on.

Aziz Makar was Özgürlük’s banker. He handled all the money the group used and collected. And, as with a number of terrorist organization bankers, he was based in London.

Makar had decided to go into business for himself by cheating Özgürlük out of millions of dollars. To add to Hakan Kaplan’s problems, two of his trusted lieutenants had also joined forces with Makar to work a deal that would give them the chance to fleece the organization out of even more money.

Kaplan’s betrayal by Egemen Binice and Bora Terzel had been a bitter blow. He had championed the pair since they had first joined the organization, not realizing their enthusiasm and dedication to Özgürlük had been false from the start.

Binice and Terzel were cousins. In their late twenties, they were minor criminals, having spent most of their teen years committing small crimes for little reward. They considered themselves smart, a cut above the lower Turkish criminal element, and they possessed sharp minds always on the lookout for a chance to make a score. Unfortunately they always seemed to miss the best opportunities.

Until they’d learned about Özgürlük. A drinking friend, himself on the criminal fringe, had made mention of the organization in passing. Binice and Terzel had listened to what he’d had to say, and when they were on their own again, decided it was worth looking into.

They’d picked up on one of the public meetings in the city, went along and afterward made contact with the man they soon found out to be Hakan Kaplan.

Now, one of the many talents the cousins possessed was the ability to be extremely persuasive and willing to commit to a cause. They’d learned about Özgürlük and its aims, though at that stage they were not privy to the underlying intentions of the group. They were willing and eager recruits, listening to the party line and proving themselves by performing the tasks offered to them. Over a few months the cousins had insinuated themselves deeper into Özgürlük.

Anyone who had come in contact with them and listened to their talk had been convinced of their usefulness to the organization.

Whenever they were in the presence of Özgürlük’s people higher up the ladder, they performed as expected, and because they showed their compliance with the policy, their involvement became deeper.

While Binice and Terzel professed commitment to Özgürlük, they were, in truth, simply looking for opportunities to make money.

It hadn’t taken them long to see how Özgürlük put cash out to anyone who showed genuine interest. They’d realized the organization was pretty well loaded. The top man, Kadir Polat, had money in spades, to say nothing of the money being donated by sympathizers. It hadn’t taken the pair long to learn about the man, his business holdings that raked in millions, his property, cars and planes—even a luxury cruiser he used like a floating HQ.

While maintaining an interest in the organization, the pair had been gathering intelligence, watching and listening at every opportunity. Hakan Kaplan had taken a liking to the young recruits and had offered them more and more responsibility as the weeks went by.

They’d been assigned to Polat’s cruiser on a number of occasions. Their duties consisted of making sure guests were supplied with food and drink, and keeping things running smoothly. Their service offered them a chance to pick up snippets of information as drink often loosened mouths and they learned valuable details.

It was about this time that Hakan Kaplan, convinced the pair was genuinely part of Özgürlük, had taken them aside and, in the presence of Polat, filled them in on the organization’s long-term plan. Not to simply create unrest and agitation, but to do something that would throw the country into confusion and, as the main thrust of the plot, to damage the American presence in Turkey.

Their indoctrination took a couple of weeks and Binice and Terzel, realizing it was becoming deeply involving, had upped their act and made it clear they were on board.

When Kaplan had eventually broached the real reason, despite their act, Binice and Terzel were almost caught off guard.

Polat and Kaplan were proposing to blackmail the Americans by threatening to detonate nuclear devices. One at Incirlik. The other to be transported to America.

After the revelation, Binice and Terzel had readily endorsed and volunteered any and all assistance; they had realized an opportunity presented itself. Hakan Kaplan, by this time convinced of their loyalty to Özgürlük, had enlisted their help in taking control of the nuclear devices being delivered by the Russian, Gennadi Antonov.

This encounter had brought them into contact with Aziz Makar, the moneyman, and the pair, spotting the man’s discontent at having to handle so much money, quickly moved in.

Makar might have been in charge of the Özgürlük finances, but he was not personally wealthy. His skill with money had brought him little for himself. Binice and Terzel had spent their lives assessing and playing other people’s emotions. And that was how they’d manipulated Aziz Makar.

Their persuasive manner had drawn him in. He’d worked a few small withdrawals, and his new partners had taken it and used it to feed a new account, well out of the reach of Özgürlük. The ease of the operation encouraged Makar and he’d devised other ways to move and lose donated amounts. With each success Makar began to increase the amounts. Polat and Kaplan were so involved in the main operation they had little time, or opportunity, to be aware of what was happening. Money was coming in and going out on a daily basis, and only Makar, safe in his London office, had any real grasp of how things were. The thousands became hundreds of thousands and then Makar, flushed by his success, had made his major error when he’d earmarked a couple of million for siphoning.

Unbeknown to the duplicitous trio, their scheme to take Özgürlük’s money had been discovered and the information passed on to Hakan Kaplan.

Kaplan had initially refused to accept the news, but his source was impeccable. A bank teller loyal to Özgürlük had discovered the cash movements and checked it out. When the discovery was verified, Kaplan was informed. The bank official initiated a full trace and the extent of the theft was revealed. The trail led to accounts opened by Binice, Terzel and Makar. Following disbelief and embarrassment that he had been taken in by the three men, Kaplan had the information kept quiet so he could deal with the three. Loyalty to the cause had taken a backseat, smothered by deceit and pure greed. Ignoring the reason behind Özgürlük’s existence, the trio had given in to their base emotions.

Having been put in the picture, Kaplan took control and made the decision that the traitors would not be allowed to escape. He set in motion the means by which he would exact his revenge.

Revenge. Retribution. It had to be done. Betrayal required closure. Allow people to steal from you and it diminished your standing. The scales had to be balanced. With all that was going on, Özgürlük’s reputation needed to be put on firm ground—and allowing a pair of petty crooks to sully that reputation was unthinkable.

* * *

KAPLAN HAD MET Tak Kumad in a busy Istanbul café. They’d sat at a table, outside, the sun high overhead. They could have been any Turkish customers, drinking small cups of aromatic coffee and discussing anything.

But they were discussing something far deadlier than the price of food or the results of the international football match that had taken place the previous night.

They were arranging how Binice and Terzel would pay for their treachery. The moneyman, Makar, would be dealt with as a separate matter.

“This must be painful for them before the final bullet,” Kaplan said. “I am not normally a vengeful man, but those two have manipulated me. Made me look a fool. So my heart seeks a way to make them suffer.”

“As God looks down on me, I promise you suffering for them both,” Kumad, the assassin, said. “By the end they will welcome my final bullet.”

“Should I ask how you will achieve this?”

“Do you recall Alexander Litvinenko? Former Russian SSB officer. He left Russia to avoid being prosecuted for his stand against the Russian Secret Service. He was given asylum in the UK and continued as a journalist writing about the behavior of the Russians. He wrote books condemning their actions. He became ill in November 2006 and died three weeks later. It was confirmed later that he had died from being poisoned by polonium-210. A very lethal radioactive compound. Most likely put in his tea. It is undetectable in that condition, but works very well on the immune system, or so I have been told.”

“Is this what you would propose for our friends?”

“I have been able to obtain some. Only a small amount,” Kumad said. “That is all it will take.”

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.