Honorable Lies (A Titus Black Thriller Book 6) Page 6

BEN LEVINE USED HIS foot to shove the latest room service tray out of his room and against the hallway wall. He ducked back inside before the bellhop pushing a cart of luggage could make eye contact. As the squeaky wheels drew closer, Levine peered through the peephole while gripping the knife tightly behind his back. He held his breath until the man disappeared from view without incident.

  He had money and a fake passport, but he doubted he’d be able to get far with it. Without question, Mossad was searching for him and using the passport on a flight would alert the agency to his whereabouts. And until he knew who he could trust, he wasn’t about to leave his room if he could help it.

  Distraught and running out of ideas, Levine fell onto the bed. Lying on his back, he stared at the ceiling before closing his eyes. He could still hear the sweet voice of his wife Esther telling him to hurry back from the trip because of a big party planned for her father’s seventieth birthday. Levine had married Esther just over two years ago, yet she still had no idea about the truth of what he did for a living. She believed he was an analyst for an investment firm, his job requiring him to travel the globe to determine the feasibility of potential projects. He hated lying to her, but it was a necessary evil.

  However, Levine felt in this case, his secrecy was more cruel than usual. Three days before he left, Esther told him she was pregnant. He’d been reluctant to have children due to the nature of his job, though he’d used another excuse with her. Yet she begged him to reconsider. After months of pleading and explaining that she wouldn’t feel complete as a woman until she’d become a mother, he relented. Now, he was awash with regret.

  Levine picked up the cell phone he’d purchased and logged into a secret social media profile he’d created. He’d never told anyone about it, but it was how he spied on certain targets who were careless with the way they conducted themselves online. With a deep breath, he searched for Esther’s account and almost immediately wished he hadn’t. Her private grieving had become public. Messages from friends attempting to encourage and console her comprised most of her interactions over the past two days. She even posted a tearful video, letting others know just how painful the news had been.

  Levine turned off the phone and slid it onto the nightstand. That wasn’t the image he wanted to see. Esther’s disposition was cheerful and hopeful, always ready to hand out a compliment to friends and strangers alike and brighten their day. Instead, a steady river of salty tears meandered down her face. They started to trickle down Levine’s, too.

  He sat upright and wiped his face dry. While the gravity of the moment weighed heavily upon him, Levine needed to clear his mind for a minute and think about something else, anything else. He snatched the remote off the nightstand and turned on the television.

  After flipping past a few sporting events and shows, he stopped when he came to the news. A somber woman clutched her microphone with both hands as she delivered her report in Spanish from the Bahamas about a grizzly murder. He wondered for a moment why a Dominican reporter would be covering a story there, only to remember how such a story could dissuade tourists from going to one destination over one that was far safer. The fact that the woman he’d killed in broad daylight had yet to be mentioned in the news served as sufficient proof to him that his theory was true.

  “Federal agents from the United States government are investigating the murder,” she said in Spanish. “And while police officials have yet to share the name of the victim, it’s clear that he’s someone affiliated with the U.S. government.”

  Levine jumped up off the bed and raced closer to the television. A man in the background talking with Bahamian police looked familiar.

  That can’t be him, can it?

  Levine cocked his head for a moment, the woman’s voice fading into background noise. He studied the screen some more before shaking his head in disbelief.

  Suddenly, he had a plan. He picked up his burner phone and dialed a number.

  “I need to speak to Mr. Blunt,” Levine said.

  “What’s this regarding?” a woman asked.

  “It’s about what one of his representatives was doing in the Bahamas today.”

  Chapter 10

  Istanbul, Turkey

  SHIELDS GLANCED AT her watch as she pulled into a parking spot just outside the Istanbul Archaeological Museum. She rolled down the passenger side window and drew in a deep breath. With the Bosphorus Strait no more than fifty meters from her vehicle, she listened to the hum of boat motors moving back and forth between the parcels of land divided by the water. She watched bundled-up tourists on cruises beneath the stars, and barges navigating back to the docks.

  And if she had her druthers, Shields would’ve been on a boat skimming through the strait than in the predicament facing her. But Titus Black was hidden away somewhere in a building with a significant security force, and he needed her.

  Inside the museum, artifacts dating back to more than twenty-five hundred years were on display. Alexander the Great’s sarcophagus served as one of the institution’s center pieces and required more than just a few guards wandering around with flashlights and bobby sticks. And on such a short notice, getting inside undetected would be nothing short of impossible. Without an onsite team to help her, she needed a different strategy.

  As she watched Black’s tracking beacon become stable inside the facility, she considered the situation for about ten minutes. Mulling over the pros and cons of each possible scenario, she narrowed down her course of action to one that would give her the best chance of succeeding, albeit a slim one. Upon making up her mind, she picked up her cell phone and dialed Jana Shadid’s number back at the Firestorm offices.

  “How are things going?” Jana asked.

  “I’m about as lost as last year’s Easter egg,” Shields said.

  There was an awkward silence on the line before Jana spoke. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean by that.”

  Shields smiled. “I’m between a rock and a hard place. Understand that?”

  “Of course. So, how can I help?”

  Shields explained her problem of needing to get inside the building after hours, and then how she was unsure that even after she got in if she could extract Black.

  “Apparently the beacon I gave you worked,” Jana said.

  “Yes,” Shields said, “but let’s forget about that for a moment and think about what we do have.”

  “Do you have the earrings I gave you from your previous mission?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you remember what they do?”

  “I can use one of them as a tranquilizer.”

  “You remembered,” Jana said, clapping her hands. “Now, you need to inject it into the neck of one of the guards so you can take his access card.”

  “That’s great, Jana. But I need a way inside first.”

  “Oh, of course. That’s the easy part. I’ll send you a replica of the badge so you can get inside.”

  “And how are you going to do that?” Shields asked.

  “I still have some friends in Mossad stationed in Istanbul. Just text me your exact location and I’ll have the badge there for you in a matter of minutes. And keep me posted. Good luck.”

  Shields hung up and then sent Jana the information she requested. For the next forty-five minutes, Shields called up schematics of the building on her laptop in attempt to acquaint herself with the layout. She studied them, committing the different passageways to memory. However, she was struck by the fact that there didn’t seem to be a viable place to hide. If she could just avoid the security guards, she figured it’d be easy to find where Zahid had taken Black.

  A tap on the window startled Shields. She slammed her laptop closed and looked at the silhouetted figure outside her window. A woman with her hair twirled up in a bun stood outside blowing on her hands to keep them warm.

  “Can I help you?” Shields asked after rolling down the window.

  The woman shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “Yes, I bel
ieve we have a mutual friend who sent me.”

  “Jana Shadid?” Shields asked.

  The woman nodded. “She asked me to give these to you.”

  She handed Shields a small envelope. After peeking inside, she pulled out two badges and examined them.

  “Impressive,” Shields said.

  “What’ll be more impressive is if you try to get inside there tonight,” the woman said.

  “Got any tips?”

  “I’d sit right where you are until the museum opens in the morning.”

  Shields furrowed her brow. “Why’s that?”

  “Because if your man is indeed inside that building, he’s in a place where you won’t be able to go until someone takes you there or gives you their security card.”

  “Where do you think he is?” Shields asked.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say that they’ve taken your partner to the basement. It’s the only truly secure place in the whole facility. First thing in the morning, go inside and ask to be shown to the basement—or find another way in. I’m not going to tell you how to do your own op, but if it were up to me, I’d wait until they open in the morning if your asset remains inside. That’s why there’s a second badge in there for you.”

  “Thanks,” Shields said.

  “Any time,” the woman said before spinning on her heels and walking away.

  Shields was left alone to ponder the Mossad agent’s advice. Her plan seemed reasonable and would explain where Black would be hidden. She thought through a plan in case Zahid attempted to move Black in the middle of the night. Then she set up an alert on her computer that would be triggered if he moved more than a hundred meters from his current position. After that, she leaned back in her seat and tried to get some sleep.

  * * *

  AT DAYBREAK, Shields awoke to the tapping on her window. Her eyes still blurry, she rubbed them before a police officer came into view. She rolled down her window a few inches before he launched into a tirade, which she gathered was over her decision to sleep in her vehicle. Shields nodded and placed her hands up, signaling that she acknowledged what he was talking about. After rolling her window back up, she turned the key, igniting the engine. She waited until he stepped clear of the van before shifting into reverse and leaving the parking space.

  Shields looped around the block, scanning the area to see if the officer had left. Upon determining that he was gone, she returned to her spot. The man was gone, but Black had remained put all night.

  She studied herself in the mirror and then glanced at the image on the badges. One identified her as Maggie Blumhardt, an American researcher from Stanford, while the other designated her as Zehra Kaplan, a museum employee. Shields looked at both of them for a moment, rotating the card so she could see the holograph on each of the cards.

  Impressive. It’d be a shame not to use both of them.

  She tucked them in her pocket and checked her face one final time in the rearview mirror. Then she secured her weapon inside her prosthetic leg and exited the vehicle.

  In the distance, a bell tolled nine times. She closed her eyes for a moment, absorbing the direct sunshine despite the cool weather. Her night of sleep hadn’t been the greatest, but she was more than ready to free him.

  She wasn’t the first one to the museum as a school bus pulled up to the front and unloaded several dozen children. Teachers tried frantically to keep the students in some semblance of order, while Shields dodged them darting around the courtyard in front of the building. She eased over to the side, choosing to enter through a set of doors that wasn’t full of swarming hyperactive boys and girls.

  A security guard gestured toward the metal detector, which Shields went through. When she was cleared, she asked a woman on the security team about meeting with someone from the museum for research. She picked up her phone and made a phone call. Following a brief conversation, a woman came down the hallway to meet Shields.

  The woman introduced herself as Caria Bulut as the two women shook hands.

  “My apologies, Miss Blumhardt, but I wasn’t notified of your arrival,” Caria said. “Are you sure this was cleared with our research department?”

  Shields nodded. “My doctoral advisor set everything up. Perhaps you’ve heard of him. His name is Dr. Victor Gordon.”

  Caria’s eyes widened. “Dr. Gordon sent you. Well, I would hope that we had everything in order after a request from such an esteemed professor. But, I’ll make it work either way.”

  Shields fiddled with her earring as she gave the woman a thin smile. “I appreciate that, and I apologize for any confusion. I promise that I don’t usually travel halfway around the world without prior plans being made.”

  “Of course,” Caria said. “Come with me. I’ll get you taken care of. Now, what exactly were you hoping to review?”

  “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to see some of the artifacts from the early Mesopotamian civilizations.”

  Caria sighed. “I’ll see what I can do, but I must warn you that some of them are in the process of being restored right now, while others are packed away in the basement waiting to be shipped for a traveling exhibit.”

  “At this point, I’ll settle for whatever you can show me,” Shields said.

  The woman led her down a long corridor before passing the stairwell to the basement.

  “Didn’t you say some of the artifacts were in the basement?” Shields asked, nodding toward the door.

  The woman stopped and shook her head. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to see the ones that are already in the basement since they have been packed into a secure crate.”

  As soon as she spun back around, Shields pulled out her right earring and jammed the sharp stud into Caria’s neck. She collapsed, but Shields caught the woman before dragging her off to a nearby supply closet.

  Jana Shadid had warned Shields that she would have about one hour before the victim would regain consciousness. Shields set her watch and went to work.

  Her first order of business was to remove Caria’s access card. With that, Shields swapped out the research identification badge for her employee one. As Zehra Kaplan, she wouldn’t draw any looks from passing security guards, even if she was venturing into places within the museum that normally were off limits.

  Shields slipped back into the hallway and waved at several children still being corralled by teachers like sheepdogs getting a herd under control. She hustled over to the doorway leading to the basement and descended the steps.

  Once she was inside, she unholstered her weapon from her leg and then proceeded to creep down the rounded stone staircase. When she reached the ground, she kept her gun behind her back as she glided around the room, which was clearly used for storage. Crates and boxes were stacked on shelving units, stretching the entire length and width of the room with the exception of a small clearing in the middle.

  Shields eased along the outer perimeter. All she wanted to find was a doorway, something that could help her find Black. She pulled out her phone and accessed the app that showed Black’s position. She was getting closer, but when she reached the back of the space, there didn’t appear to be anything but a stone wall.

  What the hell?

  She felt along the wall, looking for anything that could open up a door to the other side. Black was clearly on the other side, but she couldn’t figure out how to reach him. Then she noticed a small pinhead-sized light shining behind one of the shelves. She waved Caria’s access card in front of the small panel. A short hiss was followed by a section of the wall sliding aside, revealing a large room. However, it wasn’t what she expected.

  Instead of walking into a cavernous space that echoed every sound, she found a carpeted room with state-of-the-art walls and a ventilation system. She quickly surmised that the climate-controlled space must be where the museum kept some of its more delicate artifacts when not on display. This was also where Zahid was keeping Black.

  She glanced at her phone and then navigated towa
rd the blip on her screen through the room lined with shelves and packed with boxes. She followed a corridor to her right, which had a series of doors on both sides. After trying a few knobs that were all locked, she froze when she saw a man brandishing a gun at the far end of the hall.

  He yelled at her in Farsi before he approached her. Instead of waiting for him to get any closer, she put two bullets in his chest before he could react. Shields hustled down to the room she’d seen the man emerge from and found Black bound and gagged. Working quickly, she freed him and then turned to go.

  Black grabbed her wrist. “I’m glad you made it, but getting out of here won’t be easy. There are another half-dozen men somewhere else around here.”

  Shields poked her head outside and glanced down the hallway. Three more of Zahid’s men were walking toward them. She looked at Black.

  “Good thing I did my homework,” she said. “You ready to move?”

  He shrugged. “Almost. Did you bring me a weapon?”

  She retrieved it from inside her leg and handed it to him. “Happy now?”

  Black grinned. “You have no idea.”

  They both ripped off several shots at the men from around the corner. They immediately returned fire, resulting in a short gun battle. Black and Shields took out two of the men, while the other retreated.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  Shields led Black to the hallway that ran perpendicular to the one she’d found him in. She went through a door as the environment transitioned back to the old stone architecture, leaving the climate-controlled space behind. They hustled along for a hundred meters before she heard a door in the distance slam.

  “They’re in pursuit,” Black said. “Are you sure you know the way out of here?”

  “Right around this corner,” she said.

  But as she sprinted toward the spot she was counting on to exit, there was no door. A wheelbarrow loaded down with bricks sat next to a scaffold.

  Shields cursed. The footfalls of the men behind them grew louder.

  “What now?” Black asked.