site video security?' she asked.
'We now own the on-site video security,' the woman replied. 'Wave at the camera and I'll get you some prints ready for Christmas cards. This the season for breaking and entering.'
Samantha smiled. 'Brilliant,' she said sarcastically.
'I can do them up nice. Santa and his little elves standing in the background.'
'I'll pass.' Samantha waved at the video camera. She slid the card through the next reader and entered the foyer on the fourth floor.
She walked quickly to the third office on the left. The card got her through that door, as well, and they entered a conference room.
'All right, people,' the young computer wizard said as he put the cases he carried on the big table. 'Let's get clandestine.' He cracked his knuckles theatrically.
As Samantha watched, the five techs quickly assembled a mission-control station made up of various computers, monitors and miniature satellite receivers. Tech support monitored the communications, but they were going live on the mission they were currently involved in. Once they had all the satellite links in place, Room 59 would be operational.
The designation Room 59 described the virtual command post that could be set up anywhere. Once it was live, it pulled in significant espionage satellite links that could be traced back by various international intelligence agencies. MI-6, the British watchdog of the international scene, would immediately begin sniffing them out. So would MI-5, their domestic equivalent.
Other international spy groups, if interested in what took place in Istanbul at the moment, would also try to find them if they were noticed. Every time Room 59 was alive and active, it could be a cat-and-mouse game. Not all of the international community was willing to let the personnel and invisible agents of the clandestine espionage group operate unchallenged.
'Have you asked your guest about the business taking place in the target area?' Samantha asked Kate.
'No. I've been waiting to get confirmation of a green light.'
Samantha silently agreed. There was no reason to make Hirschvogel aware that they knew about his operations. If their campaign didn't pan out, they didn't want to give away their source of information or interest.
'I'll let you know the minute we're green,' Samantha said. 'How bad is the situation there?'
'We're intact,' Kate said, 'but there are three losses.'
Meaning that Jacob Marrs had killed the three security men. When it came to protecting Kate, Samantha knew Jake never hesitated.
'Will you need cleanup there?'
'Negative. Our guest is used to cleaning up after himself, and he'll be properly motivated to do a good job of it.'
Okay, that was a point in their favor. Now if everything happened correctly in Istanbul, it was going to be a good evening's work.
4
Ajza sat in the back seat of the cargo van and tried not to look nervous. She thought about the cargo they planned to pick up and how cruelly Turkish laws dealt with criminals regarding drugs. Considering the fact that she was more or less on her own — except for the exfiltration team she hadn't talked to in weeks — she thought she was holding up pretty well.
As it had been for hundreds of years, the marketplace was a gathering place for merchants, local buyers and tourists. Only a few of the tourists walked through the aisles, along with those in search of early-morning bargains. Mostly the hawkers and buskers pursued the regular customers, people who'd come to market early to buy fresh vegetables for meals.
Ajza loved the Anatolian side of Istanbul. The city stood proudly, the only one in the world to straddle two continents. As a result, throughout history, armies and peacemakers of the East and the West met there to do battle and to reach trade agreements.
The Bosphorus Strait cut the city in two. The brown water flowed into the green Sea of Marmara in the harbor — not far from the prearranged meeting place. Fishermen already plied the waters, their sails brave and full against the azure sky. Motorboats filled the immediate vicinity with noise.
Bookshops and antique dealers butted up against coffeehouses and cinemas, the constant mix of the old and the new that shaped the city. At least this side of it.
When she'd had time on her own, which hadn't been often, Ajza loved roaming through the bookstores. Spying in the field was lonely work. Reading helped pass the time and occupy the mind so it didn't constantly dredge up everything that could go wrong.
Besides that, bookstores often held gems of information, lost books and maps that had histories and locations within whatever city she was posted. These had, on rare occasions, helped her keep her cover story intact and saved her life.
'Are you thinking about breakfast?' Nazmi asked.
She didn't look at him. She'd already given him far too much encouragement. Getting close to someone, especially someone she might have to kill or who might try to kill her, was foolish. She'd already been down that road once and it hadn't worked out well.
'No,' she answered.
'Then what?' Nazmi demanded. 'You're not worried, are you?'
'Should I be?'
'No.' Nazmi put a hand on the stock of the AK-47 assault rifle he carried. 'We're here for show. Just to keep the honest men honest.' He shrugged. 'When you're dealing with drugs, the people involved aren't always trustworthy.'
Ajza knew that. Spies working for money or for political conviction proved much easier to work with than drug dealers. The drug dealers lived on paranoia and killed at the drop of a hat. The only reason spies and terrorists dealt with those people was because the commodity they sold translated more readily into influence across international borders than cash or gold. Drugs represented money in any currency.
'I know,' Ajza said. The feeling that something was off haunted her. 'We've never made an early-morning pickup like this.'
Nazmi shrugged. 'Who knows? Maybe these people came in during the night and haven't been to bed yet.'
That, Ajza decided, seemed even worse. Paranoia and insomnia wasn't a good combination.
'Here comes Mustafa.' Nazmi nodded at the leader of the group Ajza had infiltrated.
Mustafa was broad and powerful-looking. Early in his life, he'd been a stevedore, one of the young, strong backs that eked out a living shifting freight for the cargo ships. His mustache was fierce. His loose shirt hid the pistol he carried in his waistband. He also carried a briefcase that Ajza knew immediately was going to the drug dealers.
'Out of the van,' Mustafa ordered. He rapped the knuckles of one hand against the glass beside Ajza. 'Stay ready.'
Watching the man, Ajza decided he was more ready for the coming encounter than in his previous calls to action. He walked briskly to the designated meeting area. Anyone watching him would think he didn't have a care in the world.
Nazmi placed the assault rifle into a long duffel bag that he slung over one shoulder as he stood. Although the canvas material was heavy, Nazmi could get to his weapon in record time. Slits in the sides allowed him to reach inside and fire the rifle from within if he needed to.
Ajza shoved her pistol into the holster at the back of her waistband. Then she followed Nazmi and the other men out. All of them trailed Mustafa to a waiting delivery truck.
A group of men stood in front of the truck. They wore loose robes that concealed the weapons Ajza knew they
