‘Listen,’ the man said in a much harsher voice, ‘this is going to be done my way-’

‘No,’ Cleena replied. She gazed out of the windows up at the sky and tried to pretend this was a day like any other.

‘Did your sister tell you what I promised I’d do to her if-’

‘Spare me.’ Cleena checked her watch. ‘You have another minute and twenty-three seconds till I hang up.’

‘If I wanted to track this call, it would already be done.’

‘You work with a United States intelligence agency then? You have to in order to make that claim and not even feign false modesty.’

The man didn’t speak.

‘Not only that,’ Cleena said, ‘you’re a desk jockey. A paper pusher. You’re a mouse playing at being a lion.’ She knew that pushing his buttons was dangerous, but it was also the only way she knew to find out more about him.

He cursed her.

‘See how easy this is to play?’ Cleena asked. ‘The more you talk, the more I’m going to learn about you. And the more you can be sure that one day – when you least expect it – I’m going to walk in behind you and slit your throat for threatening my sister.’

‘You don’t call the shots here,’ the man said.

‘I do. Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting there waiting on me to call. And you’ve got twenty-nine seconds to bring this to a close.’

‘Your sister-’

‘Already couldn’t be in any more danger, so don’t even bother trying to up that particular ante.’ Cleena made herself sound cold. She was good at that. Even her father had been impressed. ‘Seventeen seconds.’

‘You cost me a team,’ the man snarled.

‘Those oafs at the airport? Please.’ Cleena waited for the man to deny the charge. If he didn’t, she could try tracing those dead men back to their master. She was already certain she was looking at an American intelligence agency, so she felt sure the task wouldn’t take too long.

‘So you’re going to be my team now.’

Bingo, Cleena thought triumphantly. There is a connection I can exploit.

‘Eight seconds,’ she said.

‘I want you to shadow the man you kidnapped and let me know what he’s up to. You can call me at this number any time of the day or night.’

‘You’re too late. I already lost him.’

‘The Istanbul police department currently has him. I suggest you get over there and pick him up.’

‘If you know so much, why do you need me?’

‘Go. Play nice. If you do, your kid sister gets to see her next birthday.’

But you won’t, Cleena promised herself. Not unless it’s coming up really soon.

‘It would help me if I knew what makes him so important,’ she said.

‘They say curiosity killed the cat. In this case, it could get your sister killed. Pay attention to your assignment. Call me the minute you have news, and call me at least every twelve hours. I know you won’t be keeping this phone, so I won’t try calling you.’

The man hung up and the dial tone buzzed in Cleena’s ear. She squeezed the telephone so hard that it broke in her grip. She forced herself to breathe out, then took the escalator down to the first floor. She never broke stride as she walked to the front of the mall. Her mind was fully engaged. If she was going to be staying in Istanbul for a while longer, she needed more supplies.

But most of all she needed information. And she knew where to get it.

Stone Goose Apartments

Zeytinburnu District

Istanbul, Turkey

17 March 2010

‘Sevki, open up.’ Cleena banged again on the weathered door with her fist. It was only 10.37 a.m., much too early for the man she had come to see.

The apartment was deep in the heart of the Zeytinburnu District, on the sixth floor of a building that had seen much better times long ago. Rickety metal stairs zigzagged along the side of the building. Cleena thought they shivered much worse than they had the last time she’d come calling. Even then she’d been worried that the stairs might completely fall off the building while she ascended them. The bottom floor of the building had once been a textile factory but now served as a way station for homeless people.

No identifying markings existed on the door. Cleena knew that Sevki hadn’t moved, though. Although the other renters didn’t know it, Sevki owned the building. That fact was hidden through a small series of shell holding companies.

‘You better off come back,’ a screeching voice said.

Turning slightly, her hand already dropping under her coat to grip the Czech pistol, Cleena looked across the alley to a neighbouring apartment building. There in the shadows, a little old woman sat on a narrow window sill with her feet on the landing, smoking a cigarette. Her dress was faded and looked brittle, but it was clean.

‘That one,’ the old woman continued, ‘he no get up in morning. Sleep all day, that one.’

‘Thank you,’ Cleena said. ‘But I think I’m going to try anyway.’ She waved, then turned back to the door. This time she kicked it, hard.

A harsh flurry of curse words in a mixture of languages grew louder as someone approached the door. A moment later, a brown eye peered through the peephole.

‘Oh my God,’ a male voice groaned. ‘Go away. Come back at a more decent hour.’

‘Sevki, let me in before I break the door down.’ Cleena kicked the door again, harder.

‘God, have you no decency, woman?’

‘None, nor shame either. Let me in, Sevki, or you’ll think the three little pigs got off easily.’

‘As I recall, the three little pigs won.’

‘Not in my world.’

Sevki shot the bolts, seven of them, and opened the door. It was heavy and swung on well-oiled hinges. Beneath the aged wooden veneer was a metal core thick enough to withstand bullets and low-yield grenades. Sevki believed in security.

‘Is anyone with you?’ he asked. He stuck his head out and glanced along the walk.

Cleena slapped him on the back of the head. ‘It’s stupid to stick your head out like that. Someone will shoot it off.’

‘No, no, no, no one will shoot my head off. I knew you were here, and I knew you were alone. I took your advice and put in a precautionary measure.’ Sevki pointed at the building across the alley. ‘Look along the rooftop under the eaves.’

When Cleena did, she spotted the small camera mounted there.

‘Wireless feed,’ Sevki explained. ‘I see what it sees on my computer.’

‘Very well done.’

Sevki grinned like a kid. He stood a little taller than Cleena and was lanky. His black hair was thick and in obvious disarray. Blue highlights showed on the ends. He wore olive cargo khakis and a black flannel T-shirt sporting a costumed superhero with a glowing ring under a green shirt. Round-lensed glasses softened his narrow face.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,’ he said.

‘A few months,’ Cleena agreed.

‘Five months, three weeks and two days.’

Cleena wasn’t surprised that he knew that. Sevki had a phenomenal mind, which was what had originally brought her to him.

‘You look well,’ he said. ‘Life has been good?’

‘I’m in trouble.’

Some of the carefree attitude slid from Sevki’s face. ‘What kind of trouble?’

‘The bad kind. The kind you don’t know how bad it really is until it’s on you.’

‘And it’s on you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Has any of this bad kind of trouble followed you here?’

‘No. I’m sure of that.’

Sevki stepped back and opened the door wider. ‘Come in.’