Boundless Ambition: (Kyle Achilles, Book 5), page 15
“We have no ID. No credit cards we can use. I don’t have a computer or phone with me and I wasn’t about to leave you alone, so for the moment I’m afraid walking is our only option.”
Katya paused a beat. “Where are we headed, on foot?”
“Away from the hospital. Beyond that, we’ll be opportunistic. An all-night diner, a cheap hotel, or perhaps a taxi waiting outside a fancy hotel. Any of those would do.”
“To what end?”
“As a stepping stone toward Antalya.”
“Antalya. The popular beachfront resort city?”
“It’s about a hundred fifty miles up the coast. There’s probably a bus, or maybe we can negotiate a ride once it’s light. In the meantime, we don’t want to be wandering the streets.” He tapped her thigh. “We don’t want to be wandering at all.”
The night sky was cloudless and the light breeze was balmy, at least seventy-five degrees. But the air right there stank from the cigarettes discarded in an ashcan.
Achilles headed toward the ocean, walking as quietly as he could. The clogs were comfortable enough, but loose shoes always made him feel uneasy. You couldn’t effectively run, climb or fight in them. Still, he was happy his feet weren’t bare.
“What time is it?”
“It’s about 4:15. My watch died.”
“The battery, or did it drown?”
“I’m not sure, I don’t have a charger to check. I put it in waterproof mode after my initial plunge, but then swam for hours. Yours definitely didn’t make it.”
“I surmised as much. Does that mean you might have lost the recording you made at the White House?”
Achilles smiled with relief. His wife’s mind was sharp as ever. “I’m not sure about that either. My phone is at the bottom of the ocean, so the sync is irrecoverable. I don’t recall if that app backs up to the cloud.”
Once they’d cleared the corner of a building, blocking their view of the hospital and vice versa, Achilles slowly set Katya onto her good leg.
After a few seconds of fidgeting, she tested the aluminum crutches. “This will work.”
They put another block between them and the hospital and were working on a third when a light blinked to life ahead. Red letters on a white oval read TOTAL. “There we go!” Achilles said.
“A gas station?”
“Exactly. What kind of driver is going to be filling his tank at this hour? I feel stupid for not having thought of it earlier, but I’m happy to settle for lucky.”
“I’m not feeling very lucky,” Katya said, looking down at her leg.
“Really? Because I feel like we won the lottery.”
Katya stopped hopping and glanced his way. She asked a question with the tilt of her head, but she was obviously already working the problem internally. “My memory goes from being a hero enjoying a mission-accomplished celebration to waking up in a hospital bed with a gunshot wound and people wanting me dead. That seems like a pretty crappy shift of circumstance, but now I realize that’s only because I didn’t experience what we went through in-between.”
Achilles felt himself tearing up. “Consider yourself lucky, and leave it at that. For now, anyway.” He gestured toward the TOTAL station. “It’s time for a bit of role play, and you’ve got the lead.”
Chapter 38
Mistaken Identity
KATYA FELT FAINT as she stepped from the hot panel van onto the shady pavement. She’d been obliged to engage with the chatty driver for much of the four-hour ride up the Turkish coast, despite the hundred euros they’d chipped in for gas. Common courtesy.
Achilles’ plan to find a car heading north and offer to split the gas had quickly yielded a catch. At that early hour, most drivers filling up had long hauls ahead, and Antalya was the nearest major city. Having a girl on crutches as bait probably didn’t hurt. But that was where their good luck ended. The driver spoke both English and Russian, so Katya couldn’t discreetly grill her husband on the details of what had happened and what he had planned. On top of that, the van’s air conditioner was broken.
“Thank you so much, Arman. We really appreciate it,” she said, over the rumbling of the old motor.
“I hope they take good care of you.”
They were under the portico of the Medical Park Hospital in Antalya. She would not be registering when the van pulled away, but it had been a fitting destination to cite, and would be the perfect place for people dressed like them to catch a local taxi.
“I’m going to run in and grab some supplies from the pharmacy,” Achilles said, motioning to a nearby bench. “Do you mind waiting?”
The shaded bench appeared positioned to offer a marina view and catch the sea breeze, plus she probably wouldn’t have to make polite conversation. “Not one bit. Don’t be surprised if I’m asleep when you get back.”
“I won’t be that long.” He kissed her and headed inside.
“You weren’t kidding about that nap,” Achilles said, seconds later. Or so it seemed. Judging by the big bag in his hand, it had been considerably longer. When she didn’t reply immediately, he added, “Are you feeling okay? We can have you checked out if you’d like.”
“No. I’m just tired.” Her leg was actually feeling more painful by the minute, but she figured that was just the painkillers wearing off.
He held her eye for a few heartbeats. “Okay. Here comes our cab. I had reception call it.”
He helped her to her feet and into the backseat before addressing the yellow Toyota’s driver. “We need an economy hotel that has a computer guests can use.”
“This is Antalya, there are dozens. You want a pool? A view? A balcony?”
“Doesn’t matter, so long as they take cash. Someplace close, preferably in town.”
The driver let his eyes drift to Katya. “Okay, let me think.”
Five minutes later, the taxi pulled to a stop before the Yazar Lara, a charming white and blue boutique hotel in a business district a few blocks from the waterfront. Ten minutes after that, they walked into a cheery room with a sea-view balcony. As the door closed behind them, Achilles swept her off the crutches and carried her to the bed.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked.
She’d drunk a liter of orange juice and two bottles of water in the van. “Actually, I’m ready for the bathroom.”
“Of course.” He scooped her back up and then left her to her business. “Holler when you’re done.”
Katya decided to test her leg rather than request a lift. Her calf was seriously sore but not blindingly painful. If she kept the muscle loose, it was easy enough to ignore. Alas, she soon discovered that there was no way to put pressure on her foot without involving her calf.
Achilles sprang to his feet when she opened the door, but she hopped through and over toward the bed. “I’m okay.”
He’d been busy laying out his pharmacy purchases. There were about a dozen items designed to keep her leg happy. One box on the bedspread caught her eye. It didn’t fit. A box of pills. Not pain killers. She pointed. “Am I reading that label correctly?”
Achilles didn’t need to follow her finger. “Yes.”
“Isn’t Rohypnol the date-rape drug?”
“That’s an off-label use,” he said with a mischievous smile. “It’s intended uses include insomnia and anxiety. It’s legal here.”
“I think I’ll pass all the same.”
“I didn’t buy it for you. I saw an opportunity and seized it.”
“I don’t follow.”
His smile faded. “We’re in a covert war. Rohypnol is a covert weapon. It’s colorless, odorless and tasteless.”
“You bought a knock-out drug just in case?”
“I bought Ketamine too.”
She’d initially ignored the small vial, assuming it was an injectable antibiotic. “The veterinary anesthetic? Why?”
He answered her question with one of his own. “Don’t you cringe every time the victim in the movie fails to grab the gun off the floor? Or snag the axe or fire extinguisher from the wall?”
“Sure.”
“I’m trying not to be that girl.”
Katya couldn’t help but smile at the comparison. “Nobody would ever mistake you for her.”
“Thank you. I think. May I inspect your leg now?”
“Fine. What are you looking for?”
“Infection. The doctor got the wounds cleaned up, and the nurses treated it with ointments and injections. I just want to make sure it hasn’t deteriorated since we left the hospital. Feel free to get comfy and close your eyes. If it looks good, I’m going out for intel and supplies.”
“What if it looks bad?”
“Close your eyes, picture the Spanish fountain in our backyard, and ask me again in five minutes.”
Katya closed her eyes, but quickly realized she wouldn’t be able to distract herself with calming images. “What intel and supplies?”
“We need normal clothes and toiletries. Plus, if our money stretches, I need a business outfit.”
“What for?” Normally, Katya would work it out herself, but she was groggy and preferred to keep her husband talking while he worked her wound.
“Initially, for a bank visit. Once I’ve identified a suitable establishment with a local office, I’ll transfer the operating funds from Singapore. Then we’ll really be in business.”
“What business?”
“The rev—, the justice business.” Achilles probed around the edges of her wound as he spoke. The pressure was painful, but far from excruciating. “Your wound looks great! Minimal swelling and inflammation.”
Katya lifted her head and opened her eyes and saw that her husband was smiling. She flopped back down as he went to work with salves and fresh bandages. “What makes a bank suitable?”
“The bank we want will work with numbered accounts, so no identification is required. It will issue checks on the spot, put cash in our hands, and get us debit cards within a day or two.”
“You think you’ll find one fitting that bill here?”
“I’m pretty sure. This part of the world tends to be flexible when it comes to business arrangements.”
Katya believed it. Banks made fat profits for doing little more than moving numbers around cyberspace. Since the banking transactions themselves were generic, the banks had to differentiate themselves on customer service. Under those circumstances, most institutions would go as far as the law would allow. Some further. “Once we have the money, then what?”
“Then I buy us passports and charter a jet.”
Chapter 39
Zeki
ACHILLES HAD PARACHUTED from a few jets. It was a very different experience from jumping out of a helicopter or propeller plane. Rather than falling, you felt like you were getting sucked up into a vacuum cleaner. Or swept up by a surprise tornado.
Achilles wasn’t wearing a harness and he hadn’t just jumped off a plane, but he felt that way now.
He had been cruising home, mission virtually accomplished, when Wham! Bam! he and his wife were dropped into an entirely new set of circumstances. Disastrous, disorienting, dangerous circumstances. Circumstances from which there was no clear, quick or easy escape.
Oddly enough, Achilles wasn’t unhappy. Or at least that emotion wasn’t registering. Not at the moment. Right then and there, with Katya healing and in good spirits by his side, a high-stakes challenge before them, and considerable financial resources at their command, he was content. Grateful even.
He’d heard that the three things you needed to be happy were someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for. At the moment, he could put big bold checkmarks next to all three boxes.
But the specifics of the last two would change.
They had to change.
Because his life was out of balance. Way out.
Restoring equilibrium would require an equal and opposite reaction. Violent, vicious and surprising moves matching the destabilizing ones. Achilles felt prepared to deliver those blows. He could sense the anger seething like lava beneath the surface of his skin. Red hot and raring to explode.
He would keep it tamped down—until an eruption was appropriate. Then he’d obliterate his opponents with the force and fury of Vesuvius.
Patience, Achilles. Patience.
Arriving at their hotel room from the store, he quietly cracked the door and slipped through, careful not to snag any of his shopping bags on the frame.
Katya wasn’t on the bed.
He immediately gave the air a good sniff. No gunpowder or blood. No cigarette smoke or sweat.
He looked around. No signs of struggle, but no note either. She must have stepped out without thinking. He had been gone a long time. Surely, she wouldn’t have gone far. She must have gotten hungry, or—
Achilles set down his bags and ran downstairs to the nook the hotel called a Business Center.
“I was starting to worry,” Katya said as he appeared. “Nice suit. Did you stop to get it tailored?”
“It’s off the rack. I have one for you too—up in the room. Sorry I took so long. I kept thinking of more things I needed to buy and do. I would have called but I hoped you’d be sleeping. How are you feeling?”
“Fine. I found our ship.”
Achilles was stunned. “How’s that possible?”
“I looked it up on marinetraffic.com. The website displays a map with live GPS tracking of all oceangoing vessels. It’s amazing. They even have a phone app.”
“How did you know what ship to track? They had the name covered with tarps hanging like laundry when we boarded. At the time, I assumed it was to keep nosey neighbors in the dark, but now we know better.”
“I saw the ship’s name on several documents while we were passing through the bridge. I’m sure you did, too. But even if I hadn’t, it wouldn’t have mattered. The website stores historic data.”
Achilles had noted the name, but he was trained to do that type of thing. It was second nature. He had not discussed it with his wife. “You never cease to amaze me. Where is the MS Sea Star?”
“Middle of the Mediterranean latitudinally. Longitudinally, it’s between Greece and Sicily.”
“Halfway from Mersin to the Atlantic Ocean.”
“Exactly.”
“Great work! And just in time. Our plane to Istanbul is in four hours.”
“Istanbul? Don’t you mean Gibraltar?”
“We need passports. The supplier I know resides in Istanbul.”
Katya crinkled her face. “By supplier, you mean…?”
“No worries. Zeki is a printer, not a mafioso. He looks like a stiff wind would blow him over, although he does talk like a bulldozer pushing rocks uphill. That always catches people by surprise. Anyway, he’s already working on our passports, but I need to send photos. If you’re done here, let’s go up to the room. We’ll take headshots with our new phones.”
As they made their way upstairs, Katya asked, “How does Zeki create fake passports? Given all the imbedded security measures these days, I’m thinking we’re way beyond acetone and razor blades.”
Achilles was pleased to see his wife coping with her crutches and managing the pain. “There are three main methods the modern suppliers use. The best is creating a real fake. Like the passports Rex Rowe gave us. That’s done by bribing someone either at the manufacturer or an office that can order them. Another method is building one from scratch, usually using supplies obtained out the back door of the original materials suppliers.”
“That’s possible?”
“Sure. If you think about it, making a passport is simply a sophisticated book-binding operation. And a high-volume one. Most countries crank out thousands every day. With that level of throughput, screwups at every stage of the manufacturing process are inevitable. Those mistakes create waste, which savvy employees quickly turn into gold.
“Zeki has spent decades cultivating his supply chain. Rumor has it that when he runs low on a specific item, a page type or security strip or whatnot, he simply orders it. His contact then arranges a mishap that generates the required product.”
“What’s the third forgery method?” Katya asked as they stepped back into their room.
Before answering, Achilles dug into the Apple Store bag and extracted a charger. He was anxious to learn whether his watch had survived. He plugged it in and placed his watch on the magnetic disk.
Nothing happened.
Disappointed, he answered Katya’s question. “The third method is brokering an existing, legitimate passport. Suppliers pay desperate people to order real passports and turn them over. They’ll have them alter their appearance for the photo in order to make it easy to approximate. Things like shaving their head or adding a beauty mark or wearing a wig and moustache that can be used by the passport purchaser. Visual distractions that the customs agent will naturally focus on.”
“Clever.”
“Very.”
“I assume this means I’m going to get yet another name?”
“Already assigned. You’re Katerina Kakos.”
“Sounds Greek, not Turkish.”
“That’s intentional. Turks need a visa to visit the U.S. Greeks don’t.”
“I don’t suppose you’re Achilles Kakos?”
He chuckled, then embraced her. “I’m Kostas. We’re Kostas and Katerina Kakos. Should be easy enough to remember.”
Katya pointed over his shoulder. “It’s charging.”
Achilles turned to see green symbols illuminating his watch face. It had survived! “Excellent!”
“How long will we be in Istanbul?” Katya asked, bringing him back to the moment.
“Not more than half an hour I hope. Zeki is going to meet us at the private aviation terminal.”
“Then what?”
“On to Gibraltar, as you predicted. We’ve got a ship to intercept.”
Chapter 40
Human Nature
KATYA ACCEPTED her new Greek passport from the flight attendant and inspected it closely as their Falcon jet began taxiing toward takeoff at Istanbul Ataturk International airport. To her amateur eye, it looked perfect. She hoped the embedded electronics were similarly flawless.
