Jihad (13 page)

“Hello, Marie,” he said. “What’s the situation?”

“It looks like Red Lion is meeting someone in the Topkapi Palace,” she told him. “Probably in a basement area. We don’t have a definitive map. I’d like to have the U-2 Senior Project overfly the area with its penetrating radar.”

“Do it.”

“We’re having technical difficulties because of the building,” Telach continued. “We need to put boosters closer to the source. That may involve going into the palace itself, possibly into the Pavilion of the Holy Mantle where Mohammed’s cloak is kept. Charlie’s already gone through the security screen and we’re confident we can get a unit in without it being detected.”

Rubens took a slow breath, contemplating the situation. The president—against Rubens’ advice—had already decided against bringing the boosters inside any of the mosques; if the device were discovered, the act would be considered sacrilegious and would have considerable repercussions. The Pavilion of the Holy Mantle was not a mosque—but in some ways it was even more sensitive. The discovery of one of the units in the palace, an official government building, might embarrass an important ally.

Would definitely embarrass them.

“Do what is necessary to accomplish our mission,” said Rubens. “But do not leave one of the units unattended in the building with the relics. Have Lia or Dean bring it and stay with it, if needed.”

“All right.”

“I’m sorry I overslept, Marie. I was up late with George Hadash’s daughter last night, helping her make arrangements for her father’s funeral. I’ll be in shortly.”

CHAPTER 36

“ARE YOU SURE you’re entitled to wear white?”

Lia spun around, caught off-guard though the Art Room had told her Dean was nearby.

“You’d know,” she told him, smoothing the sides of her long outer dress. “And the color is cocoa, not white. Off-white. What’s the setup?”

“Asad went into that corner building and they lost the signal. He’s downstairs somewhere. They’re getting a radar plane to map the basement.”

“You sure he hasn’t slipped out?”

“Once he’s outside they’ll hear him.”

“Can we get inside?”

“They want to try and map it first.” Dean turned toward the building Asad had gone into. “They want to put a booster as close to the building as possible.”

“All right. I’ll go over to that bench.” Lia slipped out one of the pseudo-eyeglass case booster units.

“Give me some,” Dean told her. “I’ll walk into the Pavilion of the Holy Mantle with them. They don’t want us to leave any equipment in there, but I’ll find out if there’s a signal at least.”

Lia gave him the one in her hand and reached into her bag for another.

“Take the fake cameras,” she told him. “One for a backup.”

The fake camera looked like an early-model digital camera and could actually take two photos. But unlike the eyeglass case, anyone spotting it on the ground would probably take it with them.

“Smile,” said Dean, pretending to take her picture. “See you up there.”

“NOT GETTING ANYTHING, Charlie. We think now he might have moved to the west toward the water,” Telach told him. “Take a turn around the hall and then go back outside.”

Dean held the fake camera in his hands, pretending to be angling for a picture of the swords that belonged to Mohammed’s followers. A security guard waved frantically at him from the side.

“You’re not allowed to use your flash,” said the man. Dean nodded.

“No flash,” insisted the man.

“I understand,” said Dean, walking away.

“Charlie, the radar plane’s above you now,” said Rockman. “We found a passage you can use to get into the subbasement. It’s in the second building on your left as you come out. They use it for maintenance. You should be able to slip in.”

Dean worked his way toward it, pausing every so often to snap a picture. Finally he backed against the doors, reached his hand around and found that they were locked.

He turned and knelt before it, checking to see how the lock was oriented before reaching behind his belt buckle and pulling out the pick and the tension wrench. He slid the pick all the way to the back of the lock, then began teasing the pressure to undo the lock.

For a split second he thought of Lia, who was so much better at this than he was. He pushed the thought away, concentrated on what he was doing.

When the tumblers clicked into place, Dean pushed down on the handle and the latch moved with a heavy crunch.

“Go to your right.” said Rockman. “You should come to a set of stairs on your left.”

Dean found the steps and descended to an open landing. Dean paused on the steps, listening. The stone block walls and smooth tile floor meant sound should echo a considerable distance.

“There should be some sort of passage down a few yards to your left,” said Rockman.

“Some sort?” whispered Dean.

“We’re working with a radar map, Charlie, doing this on the fly. You need to go down at least two levels.”

Dean started down the hall, treading as lightly as possible. In contrast to the ornate displays in the buildings above, this section of the palace appeared to be used for nothing more than storage. A pile of cardboard boxes sat in a haphazard pyramid a few paces ahead of him, covered with dust. Just beyond them, Dean found an open door and a set of steps; he listened, then descended slowly, pausing every second or third tread to listen. There were no lights in the passage itself, but a dim yellow haze filtered up from the landing, which Dean estimated was a good thirty feet down.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, listening. When he heard nothing he swung out into a large open space lit by a single overhead bulb, forty watts at the most. Stacked cardboard boxes formed a maze of walls about waist high.

“Okay, Charlie. There should be another set of steps about fifty feet in front of you.”

Dean threaded his way through the piles of boxes, moving slowly, his eyes not completely adjusted to the dimness.

“Are you going to lose my com system?” he asked.

“If you go down another twenty feet, probably. But we think we can route you through the booster units. We’re working on the setup for that. It’ll be done soon.”

“How close am I to Asad?”

“We’re still not sure where he is. You’re almost directly under the door where you went into the building. The next passage will take you to a set of stairs for an underground cavern—well, it looks like a cavern—that extends to the west. It may have been a water holding area, or just a big storage hall. It looks like it’s the only way Asad could have gone.”

Dean walked toward the shadows at the far end of the room. Boxes were stacked along the wall, and it took him a few moments to find the door Rockman had said would be there. He had to move three stacks of boxes before he could open it, the hinges squealing.

A rush of dank, cold air greeted him.

“All right, I have the steps,” said Dean. “I’m going down.”

“We’re with you, Charlie.”

Yeah, right behind me, thought Dean.

LIA GAZED OUT over the nearby park toward the city, admiring the view as she waited for a knot of tourists to leave so she could stick the transmitter under the bench without being seen. When they finally left, she slipped the hard case down next to her, pushing on the outside hinge of the hard case to activate it. Then she got up and, as if looking pensively toward the mosaic on the building, prepared to drop it behind the marble bench.

“We’re not picking up anything, Lia. Don’t bother leaving it,” said Rockman about three seconds after she’d dropped it.

“Peachy,” she growled, stooping to retrieve it. As she did, she saw a man in a suit watching her a few feet away.

Lia fished out the glass case, patting it against her hand as if it had been bad. Then she walked deliberately away, the bodyguard’s stare burning a hole in the back of her head. Lia didn’t stop until she reached the restaurant, which was located on the other side of the grounds overlooking the Bosporus. She circled around the outdoor dining area before choosing a table, making sure she wasn’t being followed.

“Lia, what’s going on?” Telach asked.

“Someone was eyeballing me over near the Baghdad Pavilion,” she said. “I don’t think he wanted a date.”

“Did he follow you?”

“No. I’m having some tea,” she added for the approaching waiter. “Just sugar.”

Lia leaned back in the chair as the waiter left. “Where’s Charlie?”

“He’s directly below the palace walls, several levels down. We’d like you to plant some more video bugs,” added Telach. “We want to try and catch a glimpse of who’s at the meeting as they leave.”

“Who’s going to back up Charlie?”

“He’s fine.”

“Someone should be backing him up.”

“He’s fine, Lia. Mr. Rockman will tell you where to set up the bugs.”

ABOUT HALFWAY DOWN the long stone staircase, the light from above faded completely to black. Dean moved down slowly, guided by the light of his keychain flashlight. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he crouched and played the light around the space in front of him. He’d reached another large room, this one with a low ceiling. A forest of thick stone pillars ranged in front of him.

Dean nearly jumped when he heard a light scraping sound to the right. He turned his light but saw nothing.

A rat, probably.

“How we doing, Charlie?” asked Rockman.

“We’re doing fine.”

“We’re just barely reading you, Charlie. Turn on the booster and let’s make sure we can get a signal.”

Dean took the unit out and activated it.

“Hang on a second,” said Rockman.

Dean waited while they dealt with whatever technical issues were involved in switching the communications over the different channels.

“Got it. Okay,” said Rockman finally. “But we still don’t have Red Lion.”

“Charlie, do you have one booster or two?” asked Telach.

“Two.”

“Leave one there, and activate the other. It’ll act as a relay as you go.”

“All right.”

Dean put the transmitter down, then walked forward, keeping his light aimed at the floor. After he’d gone sixty paces, he saw a wall ahead. He moved along it to the right, his heart pounding so loudly he could barely hear Rockman when the runner told him to turn right.

“There’s another set of steps downward about ten yards away,” said Rockman. “That level is a warren of spaces and hallways that extend to the old Byzantine fortress walls by the highway.”

“You think he grabbed a car out there?”

“No. He hasn’t come aboveground. He’s somewhere between you and those old ruins,” said Rockman. “There are no other passages that link up to where we lost him. But where, exactly, I don’t know.”

When he reached the wall, Dean saw a faint light filtering along the floor about twenty yards away. As he approached, he heard the echo of a voice. But the booster still wasn’t picking up Asad. Dean flattened himself against the wall, moving slowly toward the opening.

“They’re guards,” said Rockman when Dean finally drew close enough for his microphone to pick up their echoes. “We’re definitely close.”

Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he started moving back the way he came.

“Where are you going, Charlie?”

Still close to the guards, Dean remained silent. He took another few steps, then froze—a pair of eyes were watching him ten yards away.

Red eyes.

A rat.

But it was at his height. How could that be?

Dean lifted the flashlight and flicked it on and off. The rat scurried to the right, running along a ledge in the wall. To the left of the ledge was a square opening about three feet on each side right above the ledge. The bottom of the opening was covered with a slimy moss.

“Where does this hole go?” Dean whispered.

“Hold on.”

Dean climbed up into the hole and shone the flashlight down it. He heard squeals, then the sound of wings. He flattened himself just in time to avoid a pair of bats as they flew overhead, exiting the passage—and then returning, disappearing somewhere beyond the small beam of his light.

Rats, bats, and sewer slime. Clearly Asad was around here somewhere.

CHAPTER 37

DR. RAMIL NODDED AT the desk clerk as he left the hotel, stepping out in the overcast day. He started up the hill toward the Blue Mosque, then turned left and walked through the small array of shops that stood at its base. The open windows of the Mosaic Museum drew his attention; he went through the small alley to the entrance, paying a few lira to walk above the faded stones that had once decorated a Byzantine emperor’s palace. The scenes of daily life roughly fifteen hundred years ago didn’t hold his interest, however, and he soon found himself back outside, walking in the direction of the Bazaar Quarter. He made his way across Veniçeriler Caddesi, one of the old city’s main boulevards crowded with shoe stores and banks. Ducking one of the trams that ran down the wide street, he wandered into the tangle of alleyways near the Grand Bazaar. Everything was for sale here; he passed rows of stores with toys, then a handful of others selling guns, still more with kitchen goods. He’d been in the Bazaar Quarter a week before, while getting oriented to the city, but nothing looked familiar until he reached the Ṣark Kahvesi, a cafe on the western side of the bazaar, far from where he had started. He stopped and had some Turkish coffee, extra sweet, and listened to the merchants nearby complaining in Turkish that business had fallen off. From there he wandered farther south, passing through the Spice Bazaar and emerging near the New Mosque and the Galata Bridge. A man with a stubble beard waved an array of Turkish flags at him, trying to coax him into buying one before moving on.

The New Mosque stood before him on the right, a towering succession of domes that topped graying concrete. He turned and began walking in the other direction.

He’d been avoiding mosques all day, Ramil thought; he’d walked by not only the Blue Mosque but the majestic Süleymaniye at the heart of the Bazaar Quarter as well.

Just then, the call to prayers sounded. Ashamed, Ramil changed direction and went toward the gate. As he did, a flock of pigeons took flight; the birds were so numerous that they darkened the sky. Surprised, Ramil shielded his head as they flapped by, ducking his head as if afraid they would hit him.