The following morning was dry but overcast, the chill air depositing a layer of hoarfrost over the truck that made their footing treacherous and the removal of the camo netting a chore. Between the seven of them they managed, and when they were all packed away, the truck started to pick its way down off the mountain and back towards the main highway leading to Constantinople. They kept their eyes peeled, looking for trouble and ready to respond to any police response at a moment's notice.
As they descended the steeply-angled switchback roads to the west, they discussed again the issue of the personal gear they'd abandoned at the truck stop and if it was a security risk. Although it was their gear, they weren't particularly attached to it, and it wasn't really meaningful to them – so as far as they could establish it would make a poor component for a tracking ritual. Tads certainly indicated that she wouldn't even attempt it with something that had so little significance. And, with the clothes having gone through a wash cycle with detergents, the forensic usefulness was also much reduced. After ten minutes of chat, they decided the risk of going back and trying to sneak in and get their stuff was far higher than just leaving it there – it probably hadn't even been flagged as theirs, and truckers must lose stuff all the time.
They dropped down off the hillside and ran parallel to the E80 for nearly eleven kilometres on the old main road, fighting through the local traffic until they could reach the next highway junction at Hereke. Marius got them back up to speed and merged in with some of the heavy goods traffic also heading for the city, nestling in behind a couple of large articulated lorries and using them for cover. They maintained an active watch around them, checking their rear often in case of a tail. As they ate up the kilometres west, though, they saw little sign of police activity, just an increasing volume of traffic. They countryside gave way to suburbs, and the agriculture slowly vanished into a sea of concrete and bricks as they proceeded west, the greenery on the hills being pushed further and further back as the pressure on the land increased.
They passed the signs for the International Airport, still labelled as Istanbul out here, a remnant of a bygone time – so much so that there were still bullet holes in the sign, a reminder that the combined might of the Muslim armies had pushed deep into the lands to the north west during the Euro-Wars, continuing the legacy of the land as the location of international conflict derived from faith that stretched back over a thousand years. The highway here was raised, and they could stare out into the city as they drove, seeing the ranks upon ranks of houses and low-rise towers in sprawling suburbs that looked to stretch all the way down to the coast. The traffic grew more and more dense until they were forced to slow as all three lanes became nose to tail on the final approach to the free city limits.
Marius pushed through the sensor readings to the displays in the truck, and inched over to the side of the lane as much as he could, letting the sensors scan down the gap between lanes to give them an idea of what was ahead. The three lane highway split up into at least a dozen lanes, feeding into what looked like a toll booth station. The high walls and barbed wire on either side showed that whilst it might have been a toll stop originally it was now the border check point into the city. All of the lanes were full, but the traffic seemed to be moving ok – just a little stop-start. Vehicles would approach a booth, and hand over their IDs into the booth, and perhaps twenty or thirty seconds later, they were handed back, the barrier was raised and through they went.
This trigged the usual discussion about IDs, and they decided to go with their medical IDs to get them into the city. Those without the relevant chips climbed into the back of the truck and found somewhere comfortable to wait, while those with the "doctors without borders" identities spread out in the front.
As they inched forwards one car length at a time, the picture grew clearer, and they got a closer look at the booths and the barriers, spotting the heavy armour and solid construction, the anti-ram bollards. As the picture panned over the booths, Marius spotted something, and then zoomed the sensors in further – aiming beyond the booths to the far left side and steering the picture carefully with minute touches of the controls. It wasn't a great shot with the angle they were at, but it was unmistakeably the front end of some kind of armoured personnel carrier or light fighting vehicle – sharp angular sides and heavy armour, and a lethal-looking cannon mounted on a turret. Aswon spotted the logo and gave a gasp of surprise.
"Lionheart? Here? What the hell?" Tads and Hunter looked at him with raised eyebrows and curious expressions. "Merc outfit – English. I worked with them for a while, a few years back. Up in Germany mostly. Solid outfit, though – very competent and professional." Tads and Hunter continued to look at him, clearly expecting more information. Aswon gave a little sigh and leant back in his chair, closed his eyes and raised his hands to his head, slowly massaging his scalp through his thick dreads as he recalled information.
"Right, ok. Lionheart. English private security company, formed in 2024 by retired Major Allistair Davies, ex Royal Marine. Set himself up a firm using some contacts in the UK government to get the necessary licences and permits to operate non-domestically, and recruited heavily from ex-servicemen. Average employee was quite old, but very experienced and often had multiple tours under their belts. Used a lot of equipment that matched current military issue, so they've very well equipped and familiar with the operating characteristics."
They listened as Aswon gave a potted history of the mercenary outfit, how it had grown and worked in various hot spots and flash points across Europe, recruiting more personnel and expanding to the position it had been in three years ago, where they had at least two "companies" of troops ready to deploy or out in the field.
"At the end of the day, they're going to have top line and well-maintained gear, and the training to use it. Electronics and sensors will be high quality, comms will be solidly encrypted and they've all likely seen pitched battle at some point. Do not take liberties with these guys, as they will hand us our heads, ok?" Aswon tied up the summary and glanced at each of them for emphasis, his dark brown eyes making eye contact with each of them in turn.
They rolled closer to the booth, then closer again, watching as the cars and trucks went through one by one. Finally it was their turn, and with a deep breath the IDs were passed out through the small hatch in the window and down to the booth. A moment later the IDs were passed straight back, the booth operator glaring up at reflective window with annoyance on their face. A moment's confusion filled the cab, as they tried to work out what the issue was… surely it couldn't be so blatant…
The IDs were passed back, with a dozen 100 Turkish Lire notes from their stash of local currency, and the attendant swiftly detatched the notes from the bundle and pocketed them, then quickly swiped the IDs through the basic ID reader on the desk. Each came back with a reassuring green light, and the IDs were passed back up, and a stamp on the foot pedal at the bottom of the console lowered the twin bollards and raised the barrier to allow the truck through. Marius pulled away smoothly, merging in with the traffic from the other booths and giving the Lionheart vehicle a quick look over as they passed. He recognised the basic style, and had an idea of the capabilities of the class, and activated the speakers.
"That looks like a Saracen APC, though I'm not sure on the specific model. They handle pretty well, and have 6 by 6 power, so it'll handle most terrain as well as we do. Probably not as fast as us, and won't accelerate as well, but mainly because it's got twice as much armour built on as we do. Forget small-arms fire, in fact anything up to a tripod mounted machine gun will probably not stand a chance against that. It looks like it's got a variety of sensors on it as well, so it's going to be fully effective at night. I think the basic chassis is gas-sealed, so those dispensers on top probably fire tear gas as well as smoke. Nowhere near the cargo capacity or load hauling ability as us, of course – but that's partly because they've got a fully traversable turret built into the centre, and what looks like an auto-cannon fed from an internal magazine. A three round burst from that will stop us dead if they get a clean hit – and if it fires fully auto, then even a glancing hit will chew us up."
Aswon stared at the vehicle, and his eyes glazed as memories of a previous life came flooding back to him. He remembered riding in the back of vehicles like that, running patrols, chasing down bad guys… he snorted a little and shook his head. Chasing down Shadowrunners… people like who they were now. The gamekeeper had turned poacher – but of course things were not so black and white now he was on this side of the line.
As they entered the city, they looked around them, and it was immediately noticeable that the city had changed. Although the houses were exactly the same in style and construction outside of the city as within, those inside the limits were in a much poorer state of repair. Some houses were ruins, having been burnt out or by the looks of things destroyed by gunfire, and there was a general air of slovenliness about the place. It was also distinctly obvious that the culture changed abruptly here – whereas in the surrounding suburbs men and women dressed in a fairly generic and slightly westernised fashion, inside the wall there was a much higher proportion of women wearing headcoverings – some only a hijab or dupatta, some full niqab or burkas. Equally though, the men wore thobes, ghutra and egals, and serwals – with almost none of the jeans and t-shirts that had been so common amongst the manual workers elsewhere.
As they drove along the highway, they saw signs of poverty everywhere – broken-down vehicles abandoned, potted roads, empty stores and shanty towns that had sprung up between buildings and in common areas. Gangs of people stood around major intersections, buckets of rancid water ready to wash windscreens for a handful of change, and traffic showed a tendency to older and smaller vehicles, and as with their encounters in Georgia, some were old enough to lack polarised glass.
They followed the E80 towards the centre of the city until it swept to the north at the junction with the O-4, and rather than following the large highway leading to the bridge, they dropped down into the town itself. Hunter had warned them there were very few junctions before the bridge, and they figured the traffic would be bad and would limit their options. Down at street level, the different feel of the city became even more apparent, and they saw lots of people turn to look at their vehicle as they passed, with a large number of them having clearly hostile expressions.
A motorbike erupted out of a side alley at a ridiculous speed, flashing up onto the sensors with only a few metres notice. Marius had no time to brake, no time to stop safely. A fraction of a second spent in a glance told him there was a truck on his back quarter, then he had to make a decision. The truck slewed hard to the side, smashing into the flatbed truck with a horrific crunching noise. Marius used every bit of his training to minismise the impact, turning it into a shunt rather than a ram – but it bought him just enough room. Rather than the bike rider going completely under the truck and being run over by multiple sets of wheels, the metre-high all terrain tyres instead just demolished the front wheel and steering rods of the bike, spinning it sideways and flipping it over, and sending the rider spinning across the roadway with arms and legs flailing. The thin polycotton of his thobe was shredded in an instant, and he left behind a trail of flesh and blood as the harsh concrete ripped at his body during the crash.
The engine started to rev up as Marius prepared to just bull through the traffic and leave the scene of the incident, when he noticed the distinctive shape of a Saracen rounding the corner ahead, turning their way.
"Oh shit…"
The red and blue armoured lights on top of the APC flashed into life, and the siren activated, warning people to get out of the way.
Marius slammed the brakes on, sliding to a halt and blocking the street, and frowned at the chorus of horns that sounded as he did so. The truck he'd sideswiped was half turned and had been driven into the kerb, but didn't look badly damaged. All around them people stopped and stared, having screamed and rushed away from the sound of the crash, they now stood in a sullen mob staring at the stopped vehicle.
Slowly the driver of the truck climbed out of the cab, and wandered around his vehicle to the damaged side, to inspect the impact. Aswon pointed at him.
"I'm going to go check he's ok, see what the damage is. Keep an eye out, yeah?" He climbed through the back of the cab and moved to the rear doors of the truck, climbing down between the truck and trailer and heading over to the angry-looking man who was pulling at twisted strips of metal around the rear wheels of his truck.
The Saracen slowed as it approached, and also turned, clearly blocking the street and preventing anyone from driving off unless they were prepared to mount the pavement and drive through the crowd. The locals pulled back from the Saracen, and gave it the same hostile looks as they did the team's truck – clearly there was no love lost here. The turret slewed around in their general direction, and a trooper in the yellow and black Lionheart-coloured armour appeared out of the top hatch, grabbing hold of the heavy machine gun there and bringing it up to bear on their general direction.
As Aswon approached the old man, he called out to him in English,"Hey man? Are you ok? Sorry about your truck, but the idiot on the motorbike was about to go under our wheels unless we moved."
The man turned upon him and spat out what could only be a string of curses at him. His face was contorted with anger and he made angry gestures at Aswon before spitting on the ground in between them. The words were unknown to him, but the meaning quite clear to Aswon. Worse, the crowd seemed to sympathise with him, and angry muttering could be heard from several of them. Feeling somewhat isolated, Aswon started to walk backwards towards the truck – hands up in front of him splayed open and clearly showing he wasn't armed – but ready to deflect anything thrown at him.
WHOOOP WHOOOP
The blast from the sirens was amplified through the PA system, and in the moment afterwards, the gunner in the turret made an obvious show of cocking the machine gun. Satisfied that the crowd had noticed, he slapped the top of the truck with the flat of his hand. A moment later a side door opened and another trooper squeezed out of the doorway carefully in a half-slither. It looked odd, but fluid, but they realised it was probably one of only a couple of ways to get out of the narrow gap without some part of the armour or webbing fouling on a doorway and getting stuck. The trooper wore a helmet with a pair of mirrored goggles, and carried a medium-sized assault rifle made out of matt-black plastic and composites. They, too, made a conspicuous and open show of cocking their weapon, and then strode over towards the team's truck. The crowd pushed back a little, ensuring they were not too close to the trooper. Kai watched the body language, and murmured to the rest of them.
"They hate them, but they also fear them. Look at the expressions there. They'd happily attack if they thought they could get away with it – see, look at the way that group is standing, holding things from the stall like weapons – but nobody wants to go first, and whenever the trooper looks at them, they all shuffle back. There's something going on here, these guys must throw their weight around to get that kind of reaction." The others listened to him, but all attention was on the trooper approaching. The trooper stopped, still a metre or two from the front of the truck, with the rifle cradled in their arms. One hand released the rifle, and pointed towards Aswon, and the voice called out, the accent very definitely a distinct one that made Hunter blink and stare with renewed interest.
"Oi, you. Yes, you chummer. Come here!" A finger pointed at Aswon, and then beckoned him over. "The rest of you, piss off. Go on, get back to your business." The second shout was greeted with sullen looks from the crowd and some shuffling, until the trooper raised his weapon to a shoulder and sighted down it to a specific member of the crowd. They turned and pushed forward, hastening to comply with the instructions. The trooper pointed at another, then another, until a few people were moving, and gently pushing the crowd with them. Aswon walked along the side of the truck, keeping his hands clearly in front of him and came to a stop next to the cab door, about two metres from the trooper.
The trooper watched him approach, and then strangely enough turned his back on him to stare back at his APC. The head tilted slightly, and one hand moved up to press the helmet against the side of his head.
"Repeat your last, sir?" A pause. "Are you sure, sir?" A pause. Then a shrug. The trooper turned back towards them, and let the rifle drop onto its sling. Hands pulled open one of the pouches on the webbing, and extracted a pack of smokes and a zippo, and then deftly shook out a cigarette and lit it. Despite the cumbersome security armour, the manoeuvre was accomplished swiftly and surely, having been practiced many times. He took a long drag on the cigarette, the end glowing a fierce red as the air was pulled through it, before blowing a cloud of smoke out of his nose. Then, moving slowly, he raised the cigarette over his head and started to lower it down towards Aswon's fro…
"Oh, you can just piss right off!" burst from Aswon's mouth, and a hand slapped away the trooper's hand and cigarette. The trooper didn't flinch, apparently expecting this kind of response, but the team were equally confused when Aswon didn't make an attack either – despite the guy trying to stub out his cigarette on his head. A moment later, another door opened in the APC, and a second figure emerged, repeating the half-climb, half-slide move. This time, he was without a helmet, and he sauntered over towards the first trooper and Aswon.
"Aswon, you daft prick, how are you?"
"Sofi? What the hell are you doing here? And what is going on in this place?"
"Well, that's a story that needs a few pints, and this is neither the time or place. But what happened here?"
Aswon quickly sketched out the incident, pointing at the motorcyclist who was lying at the side of the road being attended to by a few of the locals, whilst he cried and rocked in pain, then at the still angry and belligerent truck driver standing by his damaged vehicle. The new arrival, Sofi, listened without interrupting, and nodded as the description was given. When Aswon was done, he glanced up at the truck for a moment, staring at them, as if he could see straight through the polarised glass, before grabbing Aswon by the shoulder and pulling him with him towards the motorcyclist.
In the cab, Tads concentrated for a moment and extended her vision into astral space and examined the troopers. She didn't assense them, trying to gauge their health and abilities – but just examined them passively. None of them appeared in any way magical, and she spotted no spells or effects upon them.
Sofi walked around to the side of the road and then pointed down at the wounded rider.
"You, you daft prick. You learn how to ride a bike right, or next time you'll be under the wheels. This man here won't press charges, but you can get up and walk away right the fuck now, you hear me? No whining, no crying, no angry shouts from the crowd – the lot of you, disperse now and go about your business, and if I get any lip from any of you, I'll cut you. Get away, go on, MOVE." As he got to the end, his rifle came up one handed and pointed in their direction. Despite being held in only one hand, the end of the barrel was solid as a rock, not waving at all. The crowd scrambled to obey him and pushed back, forcing people away from them, whilst a few of them helped the wounded cyclist to his feet and supported him as he staggered away sobbing with blood dripping down his limbs from the road rash.
"Don't feel sorry for him, they'll patch him up. You gotta be firm with 'em, otherwise the next thing you know, they're chucking food at you. Then it goes to bricks, then molotovs, and it all gets serious. Gotta nip it in the bud. Right, the other guy, he looks pissed about his truck. Tough luck on him, and it looks like he didn't do anything wrong. If you've got a couple of hundred, we can make this go away without raising the stakes." He glanced at Aswon and saw him nod, then fish inside his clothing for a roll of cash. "I reckon about eight hundred will be more than enough to keep him sweet."
They approached the truck driver, and Sofi spoke to him, being as blunt and crass as before, but in a less directed fashion. He told the driver in no uncertain terms it was the fault of the motorcyclicst, but the foreigner felt bad about his truck so had agreed to pay for all the damages which he was going to accept, get back in his truck and drive on if he knew what was good for him. As Aswon fanned out the eight hundred Nuyens worth of mixed currency, greed lit up in the man's eyes. He continued to curse and wave his arms around, but it looked pro-forma now, and more for the crowd's consumption than out of genuine anger. He took the notes, and gave a brusque nod to Aswon, then returned to his cab.
"Right. Let's get out of the area for a few minutes of chat. Follow us about five blocks west, I know a place that does reasonable coffee." Aswon nodded, hearing the unmistakable tones of an order, not a request. He climbed back into the truck and through into the cab, resuming his normal seat and told Marius to follow the APC. Whilst he was doing that, they watched both Sofi and the trooper get back to the APC and swing themselves up and in using an overhead grab-rail and an odd little hop to reverse the earlier dismount, and then the driver slowly backed up and swung hard around. The gunner on the turret traversed the gun, keeping an eye on the crowd and the team.
Back in the truck, Aswon explained the situation.
"Right, so that's Sofi – I worked with him a few years ago. Ex-service, English, good guy to have at your side on an op. Bad person to piss off. We're going for coffee with him a few blocks over. He's going to be asking us some questions about why we're here and what we're doing, and almost certainly will have to report in to his boss – so watch what you say, but also be careful about lying to him. Actually Nadia – can you grab a bottle of that nice Vodka from the stock in the back. That's going to cheer him and his squad up no end if we got a nice present for him. But, I'll talk to him, and see if we can find out what is going on around here, ok?"
The others nodded, and Nadia could be heard rummaging around in the compartment behind as she dug out one of the bottles of decent quality vodka they'd purchased back east. Marius followed the APC carefully, and pulled in a few blocks later next to a café in a side street. The burnt-out wreck of a mid-terrace house had been cleared by the looks of things, and turned into an outdoor seating area with a few tables and benches scattered around. It was cold out, but dry – and far less cramped than being inside a building, and would give them the advantage of being relatively isolated.
As they pulled up, Sofi and two troopers got out of the APC, leaving one behind in the turret. All of the team climbed out of their truck, and joined him in the outdoor area, and they ordered a large carafe of coffee before pulling some extra chairs over and sitting around the largest table. The first trooper they had seen lifted his goggles up onto his helmet and nodded at Aswon, then lit up a smoke as he leant against the back wall, keeping an eye on the wider scene. The second trooper was shorter, and had her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, with no helmet visible. She had a very short SMG dangling from under her armpit in a tactical harness, and sat twirling a keycard on a small chain – presumably the driver for the APC. Sofi approached Aswon and spread his arms wide, enveloping him in a big hug.
"Man, it's good to see you. How are you keeping? And what are you up to?"
"I'm good Sofi, and likewise, good to see you too. I'm solo contracting at the moment, this is the team I'm with. This is the boss…" Aswon introduced Sofi to the team, giving brief names and no detail to the introductions, as he worked around the table. "Oh, and we thought you and the squad might like this. Nadia, if you please?" Sofi examined the bottle and gave Aswon a punch on the shoulder.
"Nice, thanks. I'm sure that'll go down a treat after the patrol."
They chatted – or rather Aswon and Sofi chatted, and the rest mostly listened quietly, answering questions only when asked. In a quiet voice, Aswon informed Sofi that they were not really here for business, only passing through.
"Look, we've got one drop off to make, we've got about two weeks to hang around, then a pickup to make and take elsewhere. If we can keep it entirely quiet, we will – we're not looking to cause any trouble, or get involved in anything. Nothing that will come to your attention. Speaking of which – what are you doing here? It looked like you were doing police duty back there, and that's not the usual gig?"
The team listened as Sofi explained a little about the situation, covering the fallout from the Eurowars and the change of Istanbul into the free city of Constantinople, when the Turkish capital moved to Ankhara, and how following the destruction of so much following the Alliance for Allah and their ill-fated jihad, that much of Turkey had become very secular. However, the rise of Muslim fundamentalism in the eastern half of the city over the past few years, and the increasing security concerns they faced had caused the corporate council in Constantinople to bring in additional mercenary forces – now Lionheart covered the eastern side of the water, including many of the ghetto areas, while the Ten Thousand Daggers still controlled the western shore and the approaches from Europe. After he finished the potted history, he looked at the team, and then pulled out a small datapad and spun it round to show them. The screen showed details of a number of crimes – armed robberies, hit and runs and kidnappings – that the truck had been involved in.
"Well, the first thing you need to do, is get that plate changed, and probably get a new transponder. I don't know where you've been hiding, but if you're staying here, you're going to get scanned, and as soon as someone runs a check on your plates, there's a world of hurt waiting for you."
Shimazu was the first to respond.
"Can you suggest anywhere we could get this fixed? Anywhere in town?" Sofi glanced at him, then returned his gaze to Aswon.
"You might want to check in with Sasha Grey - owner of Grey Automotive. Greek origins, she came here with her father nearly twenty years ago to start a new life, and they've built up a chain of garages across the city. She's a proper petrol head, and tweaks and customises vehicles for people – and if our intel is right, also does some 'other' work. I've marked the location on the map." Aswon nodded his head in thanks. "So. What are you dropping off and to whom?"
There was a moment's silence. Then Aswon spoke, even more quietly.
"We picked up a package that we need to drop off at a cemetery to the north of the city, being dropped off for a Georgian national. The Hekimbasi Mezarligi, if that means anything to you." Aswon watched as Sofi took a sip of his coffee. "It's a small wooden puzzle box – probably containing some intel documents or something small like that – the box is only big enough to fit a single thing in, maybe a clip of ammo tops.
"If you're dropping off there, you're meeting Grandfather Otto. He runs the Mafia ops to the north of the city, and is currently having issues with the fundies. Again, from what we understand, it was a Mafia drugs run that was blown up on the north bridge that took out the span. Dropped the truck and a ton of drugs into the straights – waters over a hundred metres deep just there. Since then, he's escalated ops against them, they're pushing back. Play it cool with him, and you should be ok. But be wary of taking any work from him – it'll mark you as his side in the city."
Aswon nodded in thanks again. Sofi took another sip of coffee, and then quirked an eyebrow at his friend.
"So, what are you shooting with these days?"
"You want me to show you? Here?"
"Yeah, it's fine." Aswon went to the truck, and came out with the Purdey, passing it over to Sofi after dropping the magazine and clearing the breach. Sofi examined it carefully, letting a finger run over the silver engraving and the polished wooden stock. Carefully he sighted down the rifle, aiming up and at a distant chimney. "Nice, very nice. Got some style. Magazine?" Aswon passed over the mag, and Sofi gave the rounds a quick glance and then slapped the mag home into the receiver, and passed the rifle back to Aswon.
"I think we're all cool here. Want an escort most of the way to the graveyard?" Aswon smiled at him and finished his cup of coffee, and ushered the team back to the truck, making sure Kai dropped enough cash on the table to cover the bill. He and Sofi keyed their phones and swapped contact details, and they watched the security team climb up into the APC while the team returned to the truck.
"Try and keep them out of trouble. I'd hate to have to chase you."
"I'll try. I'd hate to have you chasing me." They nodded, and climbed aboard their respective vehicles. Moments later the APC started up, fired up the lights and with a roar from the diesel engine, pulled away, leading them through the streets of the city to the north.
As they followed the APC north, Hunter looked over at Aswon.
"What was the deal with the gun? And the magazine?"
"He was seeing how we're kitted out. If it had been a sniper rifle, or we'd had tungsten penetrators or maybe even hollow points – he'd have known we were here to do some work. I'm loaded with standard copper jackets though – general purpose rounds, not for assassination. He probably also figures that we're kitted out to at least a roughly equal level – and if that's what I've got, then we're not packing auto-cannons, nerve agents or lasers or any other fancy stuff. But it also means he didn't have to ask me outright, and risk being lied to."
They headed north – their journey through the city very smooth with the equivalent of a police escort. As they reached the northern section of the city, the APC slowed a little and the lights turned off, then a few moments later it made a sharp right turn. The last they saw was an armoured hand thrust out of the window in their direction, with the middle finger raised in salute to them, then the APC disappeared out of sight.
Kai got on the phone, and called the number he'd been given. It connected on the third ring, and he spoke calmly into the receiver.
"Mr. Otto? We have a delivery for you from a friend to the east. We're near your location, is it convenient to deliver? It is? Ok. Very Well. Yes, by the south side of the cemetery, in about twenty minutes then. Ok." He hit the disconnect button, then keyed the intercom. "North side of the cemetery, please, Marius."
The truck headed north, and Kai got Hunter to bring up the map of the area on the large display.
"Ok, we'll enter here, on the north side at the vehicle gate. Marius and Nadia stay with the truck, keep your eyes peeled. Tads, you here as well, ready to provide magical cover, or help us escape. Aswon, you head down this way, find a perch or lookout spot, keep us covered from long range. Hunter, you up this side, medium range please – between the two of you, you should be able to keep eyes on. Shimazu, you're with me for close support then." They nodded and readied their weapons, then refined the plan on where they would be, examining lines of sight and escape routes, fallback positions and codewords.
A few minutes later they pulled up at the north side of the cemetery, and parked the truck. Tads did a quick scout and reported back that there was no unusual activity. Aswon and Hunter climbed out of the truck and moved towards their positions, guns carefully concealed in Hunter's case and wrapped in a long piece of material in Aswon's. A few minutes passed, and then Kai and Shimazu got out and headed along the gravel path, walking past row after row of headstones. They spotted Aswon leaning against a tree watching to the south on the terrace below them, and then Hunter walking slowly past a row of carved stone crosses on the terrace above them. The cemetery was deserted, with only the occasional bird flying through the cold and grey sky. As they closed on the south side, they saw a man with a rake, gathering leaves from the grass into a mound.
They closed in on him, checking him out as they walked briskly towards him. He looked to be old, perhaps in his seventies. A white moustache was neatly trimmed, but otherwise he was clean shaven, and a grey hat covered the top of his head. Large ears glowed a bright pink in the cold winter air, but he was wearing just a check shirt on top, with a heavy jacket neatly laid over the handles of his wheelbarrow a few paces away. As they approached he glanced up at them but continued raking until they had closed to a few metres away from him, apparently unconcerned. As they stopped, he spoke in a dry and deep voice.
"You have a delivery."
Shimazu passed the box to Kai, who held it carefully in both hands, and stepped across the distance towards him, then held it out on open palms. The man looked at him with grey and slightly rheumy eyes, then looked down at the box for a few seconds. He turned and leant the rake against a tree, then stepped close to Kai and reached out for the box.
Shimazu tensed, ready to spring into action. Behind and slightly above him, Hunter keyed his accelerators into action, and felt the world slow down. His smartlink implant mated with the electronics in the weapon held inside his coat, and he felt the gun report that it was ready to fire. Further back, and below him, Aswon pulled the fabric off the gun and draped it over his shoulder, then grasped his rifle in both hands – but kept it carefully pointing down at the ground.
The old man gently picked the box up and looked at it closely. He turned it over in his hands, looking at each face in turn, without saying a word. Turning it back upright, he held it firmly in one hand, and with the other pressed a button or protrusion of some kind on the pattern carved into the lid. There was an audible popping noise as something gave way. The old man looked up at Kai, who had taken a step back at the noise and was looking concerned.
"It is good. I accept." With that he turned and dropped the box into the wheelbarrow, then grabbed the rake and scooped up a mass of leaves with its forks and dropped them over the top of the box. Kai and Shimazu slowly backed up a few paces, watching him carefully as he picked up and donned his jacket and then grasped the wheelbarrow handles and lifted it, before walking to the south. Shimazu and Kai turned and walked to the north, their pace quickening to a brisk walk.
Nothing happened. No shots rang out, no cries of alarm, no pounding feet – just the pounding of their hearts as they walked away convinced that the other shoe was about to drop. They passed Hunter who was keeping a watch out, his head scanning slowly in a wide arc as he looked for anything amiss. A minute after they passed, he too turned and left, walking quickly and followed them back to the truck. Aswon saw him pass, and counted to thirty slowly in his head, whilst he too continued to scan the area. Still nothing. He grabbed the material and wrapped the rifle in it, then turned and strode back towards the waiting vehicle, joining the others in the cab. As soon as he was aboard the truck accelerated away smoothly into the traffic, heading south west.
Kai licked his lips and then breathed out deeply.
"Well, that went really smoothly – but I don't mind telling you, I was pooping my pants there. I don't know why, but I just felt that was going to all go horribly wrong." The others nodded, and several of them grinned or laughed, as the stress bled off. Weapons were put on safe and returned to the racks, and they relaxed a little with every passing minute that took them away from the meet. Kai grabbed a phone and sent a text message back to Mr. Kulkachev, informing him that the delivery had been made as requested.
Marius called his contact next, using his internal phone to route the call securely. He advised Andre that the team were on the way and they'd meet him for lunch – as arranged. The team drove through the city streets, carefully following the directions that Hunter had worked out over the last few days. However, as they got closer and closer to the Bosphorus the traffic grew thicker and thicker, and they found themselves stuck in slow moving traffic as they queued to get over the southern crossing. Minutes ticked by and Marius became more and more agitated as they got closer to the appointed time. Eventually they made it onto the bridge, and started to pick up a little speed, crossing the giant suspension bridge and weaving across the three lane highway held thirty metres above the sea. Drivers honked and cursed as the truck cut them up and dived through gaps, trying to make up for lost time. By the time they reached their destination, they were nearly thirty minutes late. Marius led the party up to the table with a look of shame on his face, finding his contact halfway through his starter, with a half drunk glass of wine at his side. Andre looked up at Marius and frowned a little, then waved for the team to take their seats.
"Andre, I'm so sorry. I thought we were fine for time – the roads were clear up in the north, and we should have made it easily. But the south bridge was chaos, and the traffic was blocked up in every direction."
"First time back since the bombing I take it?" He watched Marius nod. "No harm done, but something to bear in mind, yes? Don't worry about it, my friend." He waved for the waiter, and then ordered several sharing platters of food to be bought out as soon as they were ready.
"Now, as requested, I have found you somewhere to stay. I would prefer it if you not conduct business there – I am looking after it for a friend. But if you must, you must. There are other people staying there, on other floors – but they should not interfere with you or cause you any problems. I have three keycards here, and there should be more than enough room for you and your friends whilst you stay here. Here is the address, and the details." He triggered a download from his pad whilst he delicately grabbed another slice of soy pate on his cracker and nibbled on it.
Marius took the cards, keeping one and passing the other two to Kai, then keying his display alive to look at the details. A low whistle escaped his lips as the display zoomed in on the house – or mansion more accurately. It was a huge structure, set just by the water's edge and comprising of at least five floors. At least fifteen metres across, and more like twenty-five deep, the wooden structure was a mass of windows, towers, balconies and gently sloping rooves. It was nestled in trees and had a small lawned area around the house, separating it from the adjacent properties.
"Thanks Andre, thanks a lot. Looks nice – we'll work to keep it that way."
A moment later, the first of the food arrived, and business was put to one side as they settled down to eat and make general conversation. The next half hour was spent chatting amiably and filling in their knowledge on Constantinople a little more. They were most of the way through desert when Andre was interrupted by a call. He listened carefully for a minute, then said he was on his way. Now he turned to Marius, with an apologetic look upon his face. Marius beat him to it, though.
"Don't worry. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's important. Go. We'll catch up with you later." Andre nodded, and then headed out of the restaurant, already thumbing his phone on and hitting a speed-dial button.
They finished their lunch and paid the bill, then got in the truck and headed down to the house. Marius pulled the truck up onto the lawn by the side of the building, parking it right in front of a security camera, and trying his best not to rip up the grass. The swipe card opened the modern and high-tech maglock on the main door, and let them into an elegantly furnished lobby. A pair of old fashioned lifts were ahead of them, along with two wrought iron staircases that climbed up each side of the building, looking down into a large atrium area. Delicate ironwork wound around the stairs – enclosing them and making it impossible to climb out onto the surrounding floor without going through the gate on each level, whilst still letting light and the breeze through.
The got up to the top floor and found a whole series of rooms, all painted in shades of white and grey, forming a vast and airy space. A large veranda ran across the front of the house, giving them superb views of the waterway. Each room was tastefully but minimally decorated, often with nothing more than a bed and a small amount of storage – but the floors and walls were beautifully carved and painted, and the house had details everywhere that more modern buildings lacked.
Over the course of the next few hours, they slowly transferred everything from the truck up into their floor – running the bug scanners over it as it came in, just in case. Everything looked clean though, and they settled into their room, their meagre possessions looking lost amongst all of the space. Once everything was in, they headed to their rooms to get clean from the effort of unloading the van, and relax a little. Shimazu sat on the end of the bed and keyed his phone to life, and tried to call Saito – but couldn't get through. The automated message on the line told him he'd dialled a non-existent number. He tried again, just in case, but got the same message.
Taking a deep breath, he sent a message to Turul.
"Am in Constantinople. Keeping eyes peeled, but cannot see Nadia. Have you heard anything from Saito?"
He clicked send and then laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling covered in fine plasterwork detail. Technically, he wasn't lying – and he hoped that Turul wouldn't pick up on the very specific choice of wording in the message he'd sent. He gazed up at the ceiling, not really seeing the room at all, and worried about his friend.
