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Say You Love Me
Chapter 8.
The Fox and the Hounds
"You didn't have to shoot him James. Now M will know exactly what we've been up to. I thought you wanted to avoid that."
"Hell, we needed the information," growled Bond. "Besides we've been damn near killed on this bloody assignment and on more than one occasion."
"I thought that happened on all your assignments."
"You listen to too much gossip."
"Ah no, it's not just gossip – anyway, what's our next move?"
"We move on the names he gave us."
"You think we can?"
"You ran them – right?"
"Demetrius Poledouris – been off the radar for the last five years."
"Before that?"
"Last records showed him listed as muscle for the Russian mob. Picked up this trade as a minor member of a central European drug cartel. Then he just fell off the ends of the earth."
"He's got protection now, and the anonymity that goes along with it. When we find out who – we'll be much closer."
"Maybe your SPECTRE?"
"Who knows. Anything on that other bloke he mentioned?"
"Andrei Syncilly: Electronic bank fraud, financial hacking on point of sale computers, now a hack for hire allover Europe. This one is definitely worth following but with no known base of operations."
"That's our man. He should get us closer to this Shaggy Dog."
"How the hell do we find him."
"We don't."
"We don't?" she said and wriggled her small nose.
"We let him find us. We'll need Bradley's help for this one."
"Explain."
"Simple – we get back to using our real identities and let Bradley drop cyber bread crumbs. I mean, hell, they've found us every time, but his time we'll be ready."
"Ah jeez, that sounds like a long shot."
"You got anything better?"
Starling pulled a little animated frown and shook her head.
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"I would never have thought Istanbul," lamented Starling.
"That's the best guess out of Bradley's group."
"I just would have never thought it. I mean, Istanbul of all places."
"It's the only city in the world that spans two continents," said Bond. "The European side is one of the biggest financial networks in that part of the world, besides Car rentals and credit-card traffic says he's there."
"Yeah, I understand. It just wasn't my first guess," she kept on.
"Well," pondered Bond. "It's as good as any I suppose. Here, this looks like a good person to annoy."
Bond proceeded up to a young man that looked like an Airport security agent at Heathrow. He flipped open a credentials wallet for the agent to see."
"Morning old man," began Bond. The man took one look at Bond and then studied his identification. Bond's credentials didn't identify him as MI6, but it did identify him clearly as a high ranking member of her Majesty's section of undercover operatives.
"This says you're permitted to carry concealed. Are you carrying sir?"
"Yes," answered Bond. "Me and my partner." The young man's eyes widened a bit. Agent Starling had reached into her jacket and produced similar identification.
The man nodded. "Right this way sir."
Led away from the river of check-in traffic to a small office, Bond and Starling produced Letters of Authority and filled in more forms. In a matter of minutes they were sitting at their respective gate. Starling always took a seat to watch foot traffic coming in and out of the gate. Bond, looking like the proper businessman, sat one seat over and appeared to be reading a business-journal.
'British Airways flight 505 to Istanbul, boarding gate B24.'
A horde of travelers immediately jumped up to form a line. Starling looked perfectly stylish in a grey suit made of a slick looking fabric with an almost metallic sheen. The trousers cinched her narrow waist but were cut full and comfortable in every other way. Her jacket was also a bit roomy, leaving plenty of space for the Glock 19 to feel right at home. She moved effortlessly and quietly in glove leather loafers with no hosiery. Pulling a small carry-on, she and Bond looked the perfect business couple.
Bond hated carry-on bags of any kind. Of a true business nature, there were never any documents he was allowed to take out of the secured environment of MI6. The most he ever carried was a magazine rolled and stored under his arm. If he had to pull a gun in a crowed airport, the magazine might come in handy.
Starling would balk at his methods. The first day would go just fine. Snooping around into places Syncilly had lived and worked would seem normal enough and should suffice to introduce their presence. After that, they would cool their heels, and take in the sights of the Istanbul Starling had never seen. This would give Bond a chance to poke at her hard crusty exterior. Was there a soft filling? She wouldn't appreciate him trying to find out. Besides, it was very likely they would be followed and would have to keep a close watch behind them and not accept just any taxi.
The wide body Boeing approached Istanbul from the north, over the black sea, before turning south to begin descent from the Sea of Marmara. The seat belt warning signs lit in unison as stewards began up and down the aisles to tidy and make sure all the passengers complied.
The beautiful Turkish coastline came up fast as the huge jet began an almost straight descent into Ataturk international. With Starling glued to the window they completed their descent with the squalling protest of rubber tires on hot tarmac. The temperature, humidly, and cabin smells immediately changed walking down the narrow tube to the airport boarding gate. Starling was instantly overdressed and Bond wondered if she'd brought a change in the carry-on.
Sent from the field office, they waited patiently for a black Mercedes. There would take no more chances taken with exploding vehicles. They made a call the office to verify the driver before accepting the ride.
Starling had changed into Khaki shorts and a loose airy top for dinner with several agents from the field office. They explained the man they were after had attempted fraudulent withdrawals on Deutsche Bank, and Garanti Bank with no luck before cracking HSBC Bank for big numbers. It was speculated by Bradley that another, outside hacker, was able to cause a problem and Syncilly, posing as a technician, came to investigate. This was all the introduction the man needed. Once familiar with their computer hardware and systems, which was all American made, the hacker was home free.
Ali Tilki Uzun and the junior Turkish officers from Station T felt their plan was a little overambitious and voiced the opinion that Starling and Bond's unfortunate encounters may have been more a stroke of bad luck rather than cyber stalking.
"Well, perhaps," replied Bond, "but we won't be taking chances all the same. Tomorrow we stop by all these banks and ask a lot of questions. Syncilly has stayed at several hotels since arriving. We'll also stop by those although we don't expect him to just be hanging around for our convenience. And... he may have jumped ship entirely."
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It went almost according to plan. Two of the banks were willing to discuss their recent hack attacks and were receptive to suggestions on how to thwart them. The third bank; the one that was successfully hacked was not. They feared the bad publicity that went along with such investigations. Better to let the insurers settle the matter and sweep this unfortunate business under the Persian rug.
Of the hotels Syncilly was thought to be a guest, only the last turned out to be of any help. It was a nice garden hotel in the old part of the city. They didn't employ computers or have any connections to the internet that would leave a cyber trail. His movements had been tracked by cell tower triangulation technologies and nearby credit-card purchases. Bradley kept them informed of any information he found.
When they found the room it looked like Syncilly left in a hurry. They quickly collected a pile of debris in the form of receipts, scribbled notes, and matchbook covers. The prize turned out to be a small SIM chip discarded in the en-suite bathroom wastebasket. Using a phone-app, Starling discovered a nearby Wi-Fi point that was unlocked and open. No doubt their man was using this to stay connected.
Then the trail ran cold. Nothing new was found and no more messages from Bradley. Starling was, as predicted by Bond, becoming quite impatient. It was however her first assignment and impatience was to be naturally expected.
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It was now time to take in the sights of Istanbul and let the fox come to the prey. Bond and Starling took in a small breakfast at their hotel. The Sultania was well centered in the old section of Istanbul and naturally protected from intruders, solicitors, and the like. They would be most careful when re-entering the rooms at the end of the day. They would enter each room together with guns drawn and carefully 'clean' the room. Recording devices and other security measures were taken to root out any intruders.
Transportation was carefully selected. There was a nearby tram and all taxis were stopped on the street entirely by random. All of this was based on the supposition that while Bond and Starling tracked Syncilly via Bradley, someone else was tracking Bradley. It was as Tilki Uzun had said: all tricky business.
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Years ago, when Starling was most likely in nappies, Bond had worked Istanbul. It was all a nasty business and most unpleasant telling the sons of Ali Kerim Bey that their father was dead. He still didn't know what to think of it, but he did become acquainted with Istanbul and knew of many tourist stops, which Istanbul appeared to have in an endless supply. Their tour on this day began with taking the public ferry up the Bosphorus strait all the way to the waterside village of Andalou Kavagi. They stopped to get large straw hats and followed a long trail under the hot sun that led them to Genoese Castle. After a long look at the castle and a view of the Black Sea as seen by Byzantine occupants in 400AD, it was time to take the return ferry to a nearby fishing village for lunch.
Starling had been taciturn all morning. This wasn't terribly unusual; she'd pretty much been this way since beginning this assignment. He had hoped the Holiday nature of this trip might lighten her mood. As usual, she sat looking over a view of foot traffic coming and going from the cafe.
"How long do we do this?" she asked.
"Are you growing tired of this already." She'd never come out and said it but he strongly suspected she disliked his plan.
She shook her head. "No, I like it – that's what worries me."
"Really," he said and took a healthy pull from his beer. "Explain please?"
"I feel more comfortable feeling an edge," she said firmly and then smiled at the incongruity. "At work, that is."
"Sure, there's a time when we need to embrace that – but – there are also times to relax," he replied. "You have to give the bad ones time to act."
"For sure," she fired back. "Which gets back to my original question."
Bond grinned, but wouldn't spar with her. "I don't suppose it was classified, what M said about you. He mentioned something about a relative of yours – she was SOE?"
"That's kind of personal, isn't it 007?"
In her cubicle she'd called him James. Here in Turkey, and alone, it was back to 007.
"I suppose it is. Sorry then."
There was a silent moment of iciness between them.
"She was my Grandmother. Captured by the Germans, but she survived," she said after reflection.
"I can see that," he said playfully.
"Yes, but it was rough for her – she almost didn't."
Bond could tell, even under the oversized Ran Bans that she was scanning and cataloging everything going on behind him.
"She must have been very intense and I can see that in you."
"Yes but – but can we just keep it…"
"...keep it professional? Of course, I was hoping it might loosen things up a bit to have a real conversation."
"It doesn't have to be professional," she said defensively. "And just what is it you don't like about me Bond – and don't give me that crap about not having experience."
"That wasn't all crap!"
"It wasn't the only reason though – was it?"
"No," he said firmly.
"What's the other?" she asked and lifted the Ray Bans.
Bond ducked the question to look about the calm waters of the Bosphorus. Suddenly he focused on Starling, looking her over from head to toe.
"You're rather good looking," he blurted, and Starling chuckled.
"And that's a problem?" she asked.
Bond nodded diagonally. "Yes – a little."
"Would it help if I looked like a man?" she teased.
"Stop it – you know what I mean."
Starling took off the Ran Bans and twirled them by the temple. She looked pleasantly amused.
"Well James – so do you," she said at length. "But I'll try to keep my mind on business."
Bond was suddenly reminded of the time and glanced at his watch. "We better be heading back. The ferry should be back soon. You wouldn't want to be stuck here."
Starling appeared relieved as if moved by Bond's clumsy attempt to eliminate the rough edges between them. Once back on the ferry she quickly cased out all the passengers but appeared to be more relaxed as she took in the sights along the Bosphorus.
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The next day began right after a quick bite in the hotel lobby. Starling tried to be engaging in conversation but expressed little enthusiasm with the mission. He spirits lifted after catching the first boat ferry.
The Sultan Ahmed Mosque, or simply the Blue Mosque as it was casually referred to, would be the next stop. The huge and touristy attraction resembled the Taj Mahal with it's needle-like menarets and multiple domes.
Once again Starling opted for a large straw hat. Until the sun drew high overhead she would wear it behind her hanging on a string around her neck. She wore a blue collarless wrap blouse with V past the sternum. Turkey is quite out-spoken about being a secularist country but most of the population is Muslim and dresses so. Starling stood out, even among the other European tourists with the risque top and a Straw hat in place of the head scarf or the traditional Tesettür
Once inside the Mosque, officials were handing out scarves and zip up dresses to women who were inappropriately dressed to visit a mosque. Inside the awkward gown Starling was fuming.
"This thing is awful James – it's hot and I feel like a sausage."
So inside the mosque it was back to James now!
Bond smiled. "The tour won't be long."
"Well... I can't reach the Glock – so be warned."
Bond inspected the long turquoise blue dress. He totally expected to find a tag saying it was made in China. He felt around for the gun and found it resting over her right thigh.
"Sorry, you can't do that in here James," she quipped.
Taking out a small penknife, he cut an eight inch slash over the pocket holding the Glock.
After the tour Starling quickly came out of the gown and rushed out to the lavish gardens around the grounds. She went straight away to a shaded bench and plopped down with her elbows on her knees. Bent over this way the top dropped open, letting in the fresh air. Bond got his first full glimpse of her breasts before joining her on the stone bench.
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They spent the rest of the day milling around from one tourist stop to the next aimlessly. Finding a pleasant place to sit Bond would chatter about Istanbul, previous assignments, and the strange people he'd encountered. Back with the hat and Ran Bans, Starling would sit laconically and take in his stories. Scanning over the crowds, and cataloging every face she met, she would occasionally stop to look his way and smile.
She was much more relaxed and would often slouch in the hot sun. Strange or out of character sounds might make her jump – she was still a bit edgy.
Now Bond would use a cruel trick. He would use her inexperience and edginess as a type of reverse barometer. When Starling finally and completely relaxed, when she had given up hope of encountering the enemy, Bond's years of experience told him that trouble would be just around the corner. He couldn't tell her his plan – that would ruin it.
It was the third day of meandering through the city. Starling was wearing a blue tie-dyed frock that had Bond guessing where she hid her gun. It was about knee length and he would bet more than even money that it was nestled somewhere in a thigh holster. She was so insouciant at this point she suggested they split up while touring the Basilica Cistern.
Reluctantly Bond agreed, but reminded her he couldn't allow her to get completely out of sight.
"Oh, don't worry," she said with a smile and Bond frowned his displeasure. "Really James; I don't think we'll find him."
By 'him' she meant whoever in the hell it was they were looking for. Bond nodded his approval and watched Starling swish away in the lightweight frock.
The cistern, a cathedral sized underground reservoir, began construction by Emperor Constantine and was finished by Justinian. The ceiling was held in place by a forest of over three hundred columns thirty feet in height. After sweltering in the Ottoman sun all day Starling had suggested they stop there. Bond didn't want to go; he still had bad feeling about the place from his first visit with Ali Kerim Bey years ago.
Fifteen paces – then twenty five. At thirty five he would keep this distance or shorten it. Starling had just passed the sideways Medussa and stopped to look over the rail for a few moments. When she pushed away from the rail she spun back to face him, but she deliberately failed to make eye contact!
Bond pressed on a little harder, looking for whatever the hell it was that spooked her. Had she seen a reflection in the water? A figure she recognized? She kept walking but paused to look this way and that. Was she looking for reflections in the water or mirrowed images on the facings of slick marble columns? Apparently she thought she was being followed. Damn, would she ever slow up?
Now for some reason she moved into a dimmer lit row of columns. Why the hell had she done that?
There was the cough of a silencer from an automatic. Bond saw the man now, tall, in a light tan suit. The bullet hit a column in front of Starling. She immediately turned to face the attacker. Bond flipped off his sandals. The flooring around the cistern was just quiet enough not to leave the sound of bare slapping feet as he picked up the pace to a trot.
Starling went for the Glock just as the attacker was on her. He grabbed her by the throat, pinning her to a huge marble column behind her and pulled her arm and hand away from the gun. With powerful legs she launched a knee to man's groin that almost lifted him off the ground. The big man didn't flinch. Either he had bollocks of steel or was wearing a cup. Now he was reaching up her skirt for the Glock.
Bond had his gun trained on the man's head. If his hand came out of Starling's skirt with the Glock, he'd take a shot to the man's temple, but they desperately needed him alive. Starling finally spun a left elbow to man's nose as he bent to reach under her skirt. The man recoiled from the blow. It was all the distraction Bond needed.
With two more long strides, the man turned to face the sound of something fast approaching. With everything he had, Bond put an overhead blow with the butt end of the Walther to the man's forehead. He went backwards to the ground and rolled for a moment with Bond standing over with an extended arm. Finally his eyes rolled back into his head and he stopped moving.
From the choking she took, Starling was still wobbly and almost took a tumble herself. Bond caught her by the shoulders and propped her up against the column.
"Damn," she managed hoarsely. "I thought you'd let him kill me."
"You opened up too much distance – who the hell is he."
Starling shook and cleared her head. "Saw him the other day at the Mosque."
Bond nodded. She quickly recovered and pulled her shoulders from his grip.
Bond looked down at the motionless figure. "We'll talk to this bastard when he wakes up."
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A/N: Thanks so much for the comments from IKhandoZatman, and AmalieNico and sincere grats to all the readers.
