They made steady progress, stopping about every half block to window shop or tie a shoe, just to get a look behind them. At one corner, they came across a bakery, and while Amanda studied the ground they had already covered, Lee bought a couple pieces of simit covered in sesame seeds, hoping when they stopped that Amanda might be able to eat a bite and settle her stomach. A block further on at a little newsstand, he bought a newspaper, two cans of soda, and some pistachios - enough that the clerk put it all in a paper bag. They were shopping. They looked normal.

They approached a corner within a couple of blocks of their destination when Amanda grabbed a fistful of Lee's shirt and drew him backward. "Ten o'clock."

They were back a few feet but could see through the plate glass windows on both corners of the building. Across the street, loitering a little inside the vestibule of another shop, stood the other gunman from the market.

Lee swore under his breath. "The safe house is a bust."

"Agreed."

With Amanda still clinging to the tail of his shirt, Lee backtracked by one doorway and turned into the lobby of a tiny hotel. He led her through the lobby and up the stairs like they belonged there. In her periphery, Amanda watched the clerk, who was occupied on the phone and didn't even turn to see them pass by.

One flight up, Lee pulled her into a little alcove by the ice machine. A housekeeper was just closing a room three doors down. The woman hoisted her bucket of cleaning supplies, turned the opposite way, and left by another set of stairs at the far end of the hall. As soon as she was out of sight, Lee picked the lock, and they were inside behind a locked door. He sagged against it and exhaled loudly.

Amanda looked at him expectantly.

"Right. We need a plan." Lee looked down at the street from their window. "We can't stay here, but I hope we can hold out until the sun goes down. Go clean up, try to eat a bite?" He reached for the phone on the bedside table. "I'm going to see if we can get a call out to Billy."

"What if someone rents the room?"

"We'll tell them it's our room, and when they go down to complain to the clerk, we split."

"Fine by me." Amanda tossed her purse and the scarf onto the bed, headed to the bathroom, and closed the door. She did all that was necessary, splashed some water on her face, and washed up as well as she could.

Back in the room, she was relieved to hear Lee on the line with Billy. Lee wasn't explicit, but explained that Omar was compromised, there had been a shootout, and they absolutely could not remain on the island.

"Everything's hot. We're holding it together, we just need to get off the island as soon as we can," Lee explained.

Amanda sat at the foot of the bed and did some deep breathing, determined to be patient while Lee wrapped up the call.

Lee nodded as Billy replied, but Amanda couldn't make out his words.

"Understood. Thanks, Billy." Lee hung up and paced between the window and the door while he explained. They would wait until dark, get to the pier, and hotwire a boat. A 40-minute trip by ferry would be a great deal faster in a small craft with an outboard, and there had been several at the dock that fit the bill. The mainland was mostly north for miles in both directions, and no matter where they landed, it would be better than being isolated on the island.

Lee sat beside her and leaned in a little, so their shoulders just touched. "The CIA has assets in Istanbul. Billy's going to call in a favor and have someone sit on our hotel room until we get there. I'm not sure how far back in the food chain the breach goes, and I don't want to walk in on uninvited guests. If there's trouble waiting for us at the hotel, it'll be dealt with before we ever set foot in the room. And if for some reason we can't get out tonight, reinforcements are a phone call away." Lee bumped her shoulder. "I think it's a good plan. We can do this."

"Ok." Amanda nodded thoughtfully. "Then we stay put until it's dark."

Lee squeezed her hand briefly and excused himself to the bathroom.

Amanda rolled her shoulders, aching all over from the tension. Digging into her bag, the filthy white shirt she'd started the day wearing came out first. The knife and the pistol came next, and then the wallet. A little container of aspirin sat at the very bottom of the bag. She popped the tab on one of the soda cans and swallowed two pills. Amanda found the sesame bread in the shopping bag and tore off a piece she did not want to eat but knew she must.

By the time Lee came back and sat next to her on the bed, she'd eaten most of a piece of the simit. She offered her partner two aspirins.

With a featherlight touch, Amanda brushed the hair back from his brow. "How bad does it hurt?"

"Bad enough," he admitted.

"You look like crap," she said with half a smile.

"Then I look like I feel," he said, taking the soda can she held out. "Thanks." He made quick work of the other piece of bread. They sat there for a little while, grateful for the quiet and the stillness.

Amanda broke the silence first. "Thanks for not making me talk to Billy yet."

"Later. He'll understand." While she knew it would be short-lived, she appreciated Lee's restraint.

He looked over at the collection of items on the bed that were clearly not hers and gave her a questioning look.

Amanda shrugged and picked at a thread on the hem of her shirt. "At this point, what's a little theft?"

He nodded and picked up the pistol. "CZ-83, .32 ACP. With…" Lee dropped the magazine. "Four rounds left in the mag, one up the pipe." He cycled the slide and reinserted the round back into the magazine. "Five total. Useful."

Amanda hated it but had to agree. "Do you still have yours?"

"Never even drew it," he admitted, pulling up his shirt. A large bruise was forming up at his waist where the handle of his pistol had been forcibly jammed into his side under the crush of people.

"Oh, Lee!"

"Yeah." he said, gingerly moving his holster to the other side of his belt to draw on his dominant side.

When he was done, she leaned closer. "Look here." Amanda turned his face so she could look him in the eyes. "You were a little fuzzy for a few minutes."

"Yeah, I know," he admitted. "And you were bleeding."

"I was?" Amanda asked, surprised.

Lee knelt and gently tugged up the cuff of her jeans on her right leg. Amanda hissed as it pulled away from a cut low on her shin. There was blood soaked through the slit in her jeans, and down in her sock and shoe. "Adrenaline is a funny thing," he said. "Stay right there." He went to the bathroom and returned with a washcloth and a bath towel. He folded the cloth for a bandage, tore the towel into strips, and wrapped up the cut. "All we can do for now. We can get it looked at maybe tonight."

"Thanks." Amanda was visibly gritting her teeth.

The cut had to hurt like the devil, but a whole other kind of pain was likely the real culprit. It was clearly a slashing knife wound and Lee wanted above anything to ask exactly how she got it. And how she got away. He picked up the wallet instead. "You're thinking on your feet, Amanda. When it's bad, that's how you get to go home."

Amanda grimaced. "He wasn't gonna to use any of it."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I should stop carrying all of the money, it puts you at a disadvantage." Lee pulled a stack of bills from the stranger's wallet for Amanda, glanced briefly at the ID, and stuffed the wallet in his pocket without further examination. "We have some time, a couple of hours at least. Pack up, do anything else you need to. Lay down and rest for a little while. I'm going to watch the street until it's time to go."

"All right." She started to put the money in her bag and noticed something alarming. "Lee? These aren't lira." She held the bills out to him. The first few were Turkish lira, but the rest were rubles.

"Wow." Lee thumbed through the stack and did mental math. "Twenty five hundred, like $1800 American. Running money is one thing, but Russian running money is whole other matter." He gave it back to her, and before he could second guess himself, he leaned over and kissed her on top of the head. "This is good intel," he said against the crown of her head.

Lee ate pistachios and kept watch while Amanda puttered around repacking her bag. She examined the pistol – dropped the magazine, cycled the action, and reinserted the clip. Against her inclination, she racked a round into the chamber. Making sure the safety was engaged, she dropped it appendix carry style into the waistband of her snug-fitting jeans.

He watched her with interest. "Index on the barrel, draw, thumb drop the safety, finger on the trigger, unload. Elbows bent, don't telegraph. You don't have to hit him to effectively slow him down. I'll worry about accuracy," Lee advised.

Amanda nodded. She'd been spending more time at the range, but it was something of a running joke, her disinterest in the firearms part of the job. Leatherneck was patience itself, and Lee knew her well enough not to press. When push came to shove, Lee knew Amanda did what needed to be done, or found another way to accomplish the same thing. She pantomimed a draw several times without actually touching the gun.

Lee ached, knowing that every tender inclination she normally displayed was miles away today from this all-business version of her. But he didn't dare do anything to disrupt her focus.