Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
ISTANBUL (FIVE YEARS LATER)
“I’m beginning to regret this gig. Maybe I ought to start a normal life.
” Luke kept his voice low as he walked through the bazaar.
The place was like a maze, and despite having his people on comms to help him make the right turns, today he felt like Alice after she went down the rabbit hole.
He was in a tourist Wonderland with signs pointing every which way, making him dizzy.
“Give me a break,” Jessica sputtered through the earpiece. “I know you don’t like malls, but come on; you don’t even know the word normal.”
The Grand Bazaar may have been one of the first malls in the world, but damn, it was just too much. Most of it was enclosed and gave off the vibe of a cave. The bazaar covered over sixty streets and had more than four thousand stores. Heaven for shoppers, and hell for a SEAL.
The place made him itchy: the buzzing of voices, the people jamming up near him from left and right as they bargained with shopkeepers as he passed. Too many people meant he could be taken out easily by a sniper, or lose his target.
“American, yes? Can I interest you in this gorgeous handmade carpet?” a Turk asked as he slowed near one of the storefronts.
Luke was dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt with BIG APPLE printed on it, and cowboy boots. Between his wardrobe, blue eyes, and a complexion lighter than most Turks’, he may as well have been wearing a MADE IN THE USA stamp on his forehead.
It was one of the few times in his life he wanted to be identified as an American in a foreign country.
“No, thanks,” he said, checking his impulse to answer in the native language.
In the SEALs, if you didn’t know something you had to learn it.
Preparation was vital to survival. And the black ops group he now co-led, which was so secretive it didn’t even have an official name, was no different.
He required more knowledge because he didn’t have the entire government working behind the scenes.
“There’s a military-aged male about a half klick away from you.” His crew member Owen’s voice came through the line. “I’m going to move in closer to confirm the target,” he said. “Keep past the rugs and swing a right once you see the belly dance skirts.”
“Copy that,” Luke said.
“The target has stopped moving, and he’s talking to another military-aged male. I’m uploading the images to my program for facial recognition, but by sight, it appears to be Ender Yilmaz,” Jessica said a few minutes later.
“He’s a hundred yards up on your right. You got him in your sights?” Owen asked.
Luke spotted the target up ahead. “I’ve got him.”
“Make sure he sees you,” Jessica directed.
“Roger that, boss lady.”
Ender was about five feet ten, with dark hair, brown eyes, and a trimmed beard. His face had been a permanent imprint in Luke’s mind ever since the prick shot him in the arm three weeks ago.
Luke slowed as he neared Ender, trying to ensure eye contact.
Look at me, motherfucker. A second later, the target lifted his head and locked onto Luke, recognition dawning on him.
Luke walked past him, his eyes remaining connected with Ender’s, and then he purposely increased his pace, breaking into a fast walk, appearing as if he wanted to escape. “Is he following me yet?”
“Yup. He’s hanging back, but you’ve been marked,” Owen answered.
Luke exited the bazaar, following the signs to find his way to the street. “Heading for the car.”
A few minutes later, Luke arrived at his rental. Once inside the little blue sedan, he shifted his rearview mirror and watched Ender hop inside a taxi behind him. “He’s tracking me.”
“Perfect,” Jessica said into his ear.