The Lucifer Code (4 page)

‘Can you get the car registration?’ Dawson asked.

‘Yes, sir.’

Another section of the wallscreen opened up and showed an image of the SUV’s rear. The magnification increased steadily until the number could be read.

‘Who owns that vehicle?’ Dawson asked.

‘Checking now, sir.’

Furious, Dawson paced the floor. He felt for his cellphone inside his jacket just over his heart. He resisted the impulse to see if his supervisor had called. The phone was set to vibrate not ring so only he would know a call was coming through. He stopped himself from pulling the phone out. He would have known if it had rung. For the last eight years, he’d been aware of the instrument and how closely it tied into his rapid advancement.

‘The SUV’s licensed to a messenger and courier service in Istanbul,’ one of the technicians said. ‘Strait Messengers. They’re located near the Galata Bridge in the Eminonu District.’

Dawson didn’t know where the Galata Bridge was or how many districts there were in Istanbul. All that mattered was that his people could find the location.

He paced the floor some more, weighing his options. He refused to panic. His mentor hadn’t chosen him because he froze under pressure.

‘Get the address to Red Team,’ Dawson said. ‘If this vehicle wasn’t stolen and those people kidnapped Lourds, they may take him there. And if they don’t, someone there may still know where the professor is. Tell them to find Lourds for me, or find someone who knows where he is.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Angrily, Dawson raked his gaze over the images of the woman, the dead men and the fleeing SUV. He was behind in the chase, but he wasn’t out of it.

His phone vibrated over his heart. He took it out before it could vibrate again and answered, ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Jimmy,’ the smooth, cultured voice said, ‘I’m in my office watching the news, putting together my notes for the Middle East conference coming up. CNN just came on with a breaking story about Professor Thomas Lourds being involved in a shooting at Ataturk International Airport.’

‘Yes, sir. We’ve got eyes on the situation.’

‘Nowhere in Professor Lourds’ background did I see that he had any military training or connections with the Turkish army. Or any army.’

‘No, sir, but he was an Eagle Scout.’

‘I suppose that would be helpful if he needed to start a fire, work out which way north was or help someone across the street.’

‘Some Eagle Scouts are trained to shoot, sir.’

‘I’m fairly confident that such a background wouldn’t enable Professor Lourds to evade the men you sent after him.’

Dawson’s face grew hot. ‘No, sir.’

‘You wouldn’t have sent someone who would heavy-handedly take him in a frontal assault. From the looks of things on CNN, there are a lot of wounded and possibly some dead people at that airport.’ Although the man’s words were damning, the flat New Hampshire accent remained even. ‘In short, this is an international incident. Was this your plan?’

‘No, sir. This was not in the plan. It happened in reaction to an outside party we didn’t know was in play. Things escalated when that outside party took Lourds before we could get to him. We tried to get him back. Those shooters won’t tie back to the Agency or to your office.’

‘That’s good to hear, Jimmy. Really fine. But it appears you’ve lost Professor Lourds.’

Dawson stared at the rear view of the fleeing SUV. ‘Not yet, sir. We’ve identified the people who took the professor. We’re going after them.’

‘All right, then. You’re showing initiative. That’s what I like to hear. You’ve always been a man I could trust to get results.’

Pride swelled Dawson’s chest.

‘As I told you earlier, Jimmy, this business is important. Vastly important. I would like very much to speak with Professor Lourds some time in the near future.’

‘You will, sir.’

‘Then I’ll leave this in your capable hands. Get back to me when you’ve got this thing sewn up.’

‘Yes, sir, Mr Vice-President.’ The click of the broken connection sounded in Dawson’s ear. He returned the phone to his pocket.

‘Sir,’ one of the technicians said.

Without turning back to face them, Dawson said, ‘This had better be good news.’

‘We’ve identified the woman.’

Dawson stared at the woman’s image on the wallscreen. ‘Tell me.’

‘She’s a member of the Irish Republican Army. Allegedly.’

That, Dawson decided, didn’t make any sense at all. Why would the IRA be involved in this?

‘We’ve got a helicopter team in the area, right?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Get them in the air. Feed them the information about the SUV and let them find it.’ Dawson forced himself to let out a breath. Maybe the op was running a little hot, but it was still going to be over in a few more minutes.

Feneryolu Cd

Yesilkoy District

Istanbul, Turkey

15 March 2010

Rubber shrieked and the SUV’s transmission strained. Lourds could hear the scream of abused metal beneath his position on the vehicle’s floor. His stomach twisted as the SUV lurched and seemed to go airborne for a moment. His head slammed into the floor, then into the metal seat anchors ahead of him. He tasted blood from his split lip. Horns blared all around them.

The man in the front passenger seat swore in Farsi. The driver was asking for divine guidance in the same tongue. The hulking brute with the shot-off ear laughed in a deep rumble.

Unable to see her, Lourds didn’t know what Kristine was doing. He lifted his head and wiped blood from his mouth. Crimson stained his fingers.

Someone, and he was fairly certain it was Kristine, kicked him in the head.

‘Look out!’ one of the men yelled.

‘I see it!’ the driver yelled back.

The SUV jarred violently, shuddered almost to a stop, then—with a lurch and a whirlwind of screaming metal—the vehicle continued more or less on its way.

The hulking man reloaded his machine pistol with practised ease. He was either stoned on something or had a death wish, Lourds decided.

‘Bleeding wankers,’ Kristine said in disgust. This time Lourds detected the Irish lilt in her voice. She’d obviously been hiding that, too, while pretending to be the awe-struck fan.

Lourds squirmed a little and struggled to move, to bring the woman into view.

Kristine leaned over the back seat for a moment, then returned with a pistol in her fist. She snapped off the safety and worked the pistol with obvious familiarity.

The hulking man stopped laughing.

‘Do you know where you’re going?’ Kristine demanded.

‘Of course,’ the man in the passenger seat said. ‘Everything is going according to plan.’

‘Really?’ Kristine’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

This was no kid, Lourds realized. She wasn’t at all what he’d thought she was. He wondered how old she really was. She looked about nineteen, but that made him wonder how she could have learned all she’d done today in such a short lifetime. Lourds guessed she was in her mid-twenties at the latest. She had a definite accent of the Emerald Isles in her voice now, but he could tell she hadn’t used it for some time. Her American accent had been flawless. She must have lived in the States for a while. Either that, or she had Oscar-worthy acting skills along with her martial arts training. And lots of target practice. The gun in her hand was rock steady.

Who was she? And how could he escape her?

‘Was it in your bloody plans for those men to show up and start shooting?’ Kristine demanded.

The men in the front remained silent. The driver’s lack of response was for the obvious reason. It took everything he had to dodge the cars as the van screamed down the roadway. Again and again, the SUV swerved, sped, slowed and jumped. Only occasionally did the vehicle hit something, and then never more than a glancing impact.

‘No,’ the hulking man said.

‘Then why were they there?’

‘Our prize is more popular than we anticipated.’ The hulking man shook his head. Blood droplets from his damaged ear spun into the air. ‘It doesn’t matter. Your part in this is done.’

‘Not till I get the other half of my fee,’ Kristine said.

While they sparred, Lourds considered his chances of escape. If he were Harrison Ford in an action picture, he could stand, elbow the hulking man in the face, then open the door and leap out onto the roadside without picking up more than a few scratches from the impact. Sadly, Lourds knew he was no Harrison Ford. He’d break something if he leapt from a vehicle moving at this speed—possibly even his neck. The impact with the pavement would probably skin him alive. And one of the vehicles they were weaving through might run over him. However, judging from the carnage they’d left behind at the airport, he figured he was a dead man if he didn’t do something to change his situation soon.

Nobody was paying him any attention. Maybe it was time to try something.

He’d played soccer since he was a boy. He still played on a university team and joined pickup games wherever he had the opportunity. He was in shape and he was fast. He shoved himself into a crouching position, succeeded in standing on his tangled feet, and slammed his head against the vehicle’s rooftop almost with enough force to knock himself out.

Not exactly what he’d planned, but it was something.

‘What do you think
you
are doing, pencil neck?’ The hulking man reached for Lourds.

Fuelled by adrenaline and operating on instinct, Lourds shoved an elbow into the hulking man’s face. He’d hoped to knock him out: the blow succeeded only in tearing off another chunk of the man’s tattered ear.

Roaring with pain, the man clapped a hand to his head and swung the machine pistol at Lourds. The barrel struck Lourds’ head with enough force to make him see stars. Unfortunately, the weapon also fired. Reeling from the noise and the pain, Lourds staggered back. The car swerved. Lourdes glanced at the driver. The back of the man’s head had been ripped away. Blood covered the shattered windshield. As Lourds watched in horror, the dead man fell forward over the steering wheel. The horn blared and the SUV swung wildly out of control.

CHAPTER

3

Istanbul Cd

Yesilkoy District

Istanbul, Turkey

15 March 2010

L
ourds lunged for the steering wheel. He met with resistance from the guy in the passenger seat. Lourds slammed his throbbing elbow into the man’s head. The guy went down. Dazed, Lourds continued to flail for control and ended up getting soaked in blood from the dead man. His hands slipped on the steering wheel and he watched in growing horror as the SUV sped toward an outside café.

Café patrons scattered, alerted by the SUV’s shrill horn still pressed down by the dead man’s head.

A strap whipped over Lourds’ head and settled at his throat. When the strap tightened, the pressure choked him. For a moment he thought someone was trying to strangle him.

‘Give it up, Professor,’ Kristine yelled in his ear. ‘The bloody car is out of control. Let’s see if we can survive the impending crash, eh?’

Giving in to the strangling seat belt, Lourds fell backwards and landed in the young woman’s lap. If circumstances had been different, it would have been a wonderful place to be. For just the briefest moment, he was aware of the feminine curves beneath and behind him as she shifted and dropped the seat belt across his chest.

You’re about to die and this is going to be the last thing on your mind?

Lourds couldn’t believe himself. Then he had no more time to think because the strap snapped tight round his chest, the woman wrapped her arms round him and buried her face against his back, and the SUV ploughed through the abandoned tables and chairs.

Something hard pressed into Lourds’ groin. Despite his situation, he couldn’t help looking. Kristine’s pistol lay in his lap. Before he could grab the gun, the SUV slammed into the side of the café. The right side of the car crumpled and the bloodstained windshield caved in and became a glittering haze of shrapnel ricocheting inside the SUV. Like a dazed boxer, the SUV rebounded from the wall and careened back toward the busy street. Lourds felt the shock of the impact all the way through his body. But the van rolled on. No sooner had the SUV rolled back into the street than a produce truck collided with it on the left side. More pain.

But he was still alive. The pain made that clear.

The crumpled side of the SUV dropped and Lourds thought he felt the front wheel roll away. With mass and speed on the side of the cargo truck, the SUV sagged and rolled over like a submissive hound before its master.

Lourds braced himself against the ceiling, but he and Kristine were thrown across the vehicle’s interior. Feeling cut in half by the seat belt, Lourds dangled. He watched in horror through the broken window as the right side of the hulking man’s face was ground away on the rough street as the SUV skidded along the pavement. The hulking man screamed briefly in agony before the shrieks stopped. The SUV continued careening down the street. Lourds fought to stay away from the huge hideously dead corpse. He feared the body would be reduced to scraps and then he’d share the same horrible fate.

Then both vehicles came to a stop.

The sudden lack of movement seemed almost inconceivable after the last few seconds, but the terrible sounds of screeching metal and human screams continued echoing inside Lourds’ head.

We’re alive!
he thought.

Then he looked at the ground-up corpse and the driver with part of his head missing.

Well, some of us are still alive
.

‘Get up,’ Kristine ordered.

Lourds didn’t move. ‘You’ve got your pistol in my crotch.’

Kristine moved the pistol. ‘Get up.’

Lourds tried, but the strap was too tight with his weight against it. He couldn’t pull free. ‘I can’t. The strap’s—’

A short combat knife flashed in the young woman’s hand. The strap parted like butter under its keen edge.

She has a knife
, Lourdes thought.
A very sharp knife …