Читать книгу Double Blindside - Don Pendleton - Страница 11

Sea of Marmara

“There is no easy way to tell you this,” Hakan Kaplan said. “Amal is dead. He was killed by the Americans when his team attempted to neutralize them. Salan was wounded and taken prisoner.”

Kaplan waited for Kadir Polat’s reaction and was surprised when the man failed to do or say anything.

Sitting at his desk on his cruiser, Polat shifted his gaze to look beyond the open window to the glittering sea. Sunlight danced across the waves. He saw nothing but emptiness. The death of his younger brother had affected him more than any outward sign might show.

Like a movie played in reverse, he saw the images that took Amal from manhood to his teen years, then beyond to when he was a child. Always at Kadir’s side. The tie between them had strengthened as they’d grown. Amal had always been the impulsive one. Always ready to take risks. His older brother had been forced to step in on many occasions to pull Amal out of dangerous situations. Amal’s recklessness was part of his character and no matter how many times he placed himself in danger he would do the same thing again and again.

* * *

WITH THEIR PARENTS having died while both Kadir and Amal were young, it had been the elder brother’s responsibility to look out for Amal. Being the heir to the Polat dynasty had made it easier. There were always advisers around, people to watch over the young brothers. As the years passed and Kadir assumed full control over the family businesses, he remained aware of his family responsibilities. Family was important in Turkey. Kadir never forgot that.

He’d spent time with Amal. He’d indulged the young man. He knew he’d taken that indulgence too far at times, but his love for his younger sibling had been too great. There were times he’d had to bail Amal out, rescue him from the escapades of youth. If it wasn’t the fast cars Amal drove, it was the young women he always seemed to hang on his arm. No matter how many times problems came along, Kadir had cleared the way for Amal.

It helped that as well as being ultrawealthy, Polat was a well-liked man. His power and influence had grown over the years and he’d used his position to get Amal out of his various scrapes. Living in such luxury as the Polat dynasty offered, Amal had grown into a good-looking, intelligent young man. But he’d never moved on from adolescence. He’d simply enjoyed the good life. The money. The trappings of wealth and the lack of responsibility.

With Kadir involved in the growing Özgürlük organization, Amal had found himself being pushed aside to a greater degree. Özgürlük had become Kadir Polat’s passion. His need to free Turkey from the grip of America and the base at Incirlik increasingly devoured his life. For the first time since childhood, Amal had felt himself being pushed into the shadows.

He’d realized that to regain his brother’s attention, Amal had to insert himself into Özgürlük. He might not have fully understood his brother’s politics but he quickly grasped that Kadir was becoming a national figure. The rallies and the constant meetings with important people appealed to Amal. He’d understood the meaning of celebrity. He’d joined in with Kadir’s new obsession. He met the people involved.

And he’d allowed himself to be caught up in the heady atmosphere of the crowds. The eager men who wanted to become part of Kadir’s army, the willing participants clamoring to use affirmative action on behalf of Özgürlük. He’d allied himself to the cause, finding this new experience liberating, and he’d understood Kadir’s anger when it was learned a team of Americans had been assigned to work with the NIO in an attempt to disrupt Özgürlük’s plans.

The Özgürlük inside man at the NIO had given out details of the arrival of the Americans, and Amal had put himself forward as part of the hit team preparing to strike at them.

The operation had been devised in haste. The moment the Americans arrived at the NIO, the Özgürlük insider had planted a tracking device on the official vehicle assigned to the team. Amal and his partner had waited in their battered pickup until the Americans were driven out of the NIO building. With the tracking unit working, it was not difficult to pick up the NIO vehicle’s location.

It had seemed such an easy operation. They would trail the NIO vehicle until a moment presented itself. They would ram the vehicle and fire on the Americans.

It had been a poorly conceived plan, Kadir knew, badly executed, and this time Amal’s cavalier disregard for his own safety had cost him his life.

* * *

AT TWENTY-FOUR years old he was gone. Everything taken away. And his older brother was left with a yawning chasm of blackness. No more Amal. No smiling, handsome young man with a wild enthusiasm for life—and the loyalty to Özgürlük that had taken him to his death.

Özgürlük. Freedom.

Amal had achieved his own freedom in a perverse way. He no longer had to suffer the denials of Turkey’s political and military alliance with the Americans. His passion to sever the links binding the country to U.S. needs had cost him his life, and Kadir Polat would not allow that to go unavenged.

“How did you find out about this?”

“I spoke to some of the others. The younger ones Amal was friendly with. They told me he had volunteered when the operation was planned. Amal was eager to prove himself to you. To show he was not worthless. The younger recruits kept everything to themselves. I think it was a group effort to show their loyalty to Özgürlük.”

“Amal had no need to prove himself,” Polat said. “He was my brother. That was all I needed to know.”

“He was young, Kadir. He thought he needed to take that step,” Kaplan said. “I know that was not what you wanted. But you know how he was. Impulsive. Ready to go ahead and show you how smart he was.”

Polat understood. His younger brother had lived in his shadow for so long. Always eager to please Kadir by doing something reckless.

That wild streak had never left him. It had stayed with him all through his young life, and in the end it had killed him.

“Will you bring Amal home for me?” Polat said quietly. “Arrange things quietly?”

Kaplan nodded slowly.

Polat knew he would not need to ask again. His mind was still coming to terms with his loss. The full force would come later. Most likely when he was alone at night. The time when resistance was low. When the shadows held a thousand images and the silence the whispers of lost voices.

One thing Polat knew for certain. His brother’s death would not be forgotten. He would see to that. The Americans would pay a heavy price. Their interference in Özgürlük’s plans had to be stopped. Too much had already been invested in the program. Many people and a great deal of money. The whole thing had a momentum of its own now. Piece by piece, matters were coming together. Özgürlük was close to initiating its strike. A plan that would play havoc with Turkey and its relationship with the U.S. He had a meeting that day with other members of Özgürlük’s committee. That meeting would put into motion critical operations. Operations that would start the countdown…and once that was done, nothing would be allowed to interfere.

Özgürlük took precedence over all other considerations. Even the death of his brother would be sidelined until such time as it became acceptable. Polat struggled to push Amal’s death to the back of his mind. He wanted his revenge against the people who had killed Amal. He understood that in time he would have that revenge. But first the operation had to be carried forward regardless of personal grievances.

Polat reflected how swiftly life could change. How with a single act the tracks of existence could be wiped away. Earlier that day Amal had been alive and obviously eager to take on his covert mission. Now, hours later, that young life had ended and Polat had to carry on as if it had not taken place.

“See to it Amal is taken somewhere safe and looked after. Do this for me.”

“Of course. It will be done, my friend.”

“And find out about these Americans. The ones who murdered him. Be assured it was murder. I will accept no other explanation.”

Kaplan nodded. “I understand. Our people within the police department will help. I will arrange it. I will inform you as soon as I have anything useful.”

Polat stood, moving from behind his desk. He clasped Kaplan to him, the contact solid.

“Always at my side, Hakan. With advice and friendship. Now I need your strength more than ever.”

“And you will have it. Go about your business with the committee. There is a great deal to finalize. Much to coordinate with our friends in America. I understand this will be hard for you, but it needs to be done, Kadir. If we lose our timing now, it may be too much for us to regain the balance.”

Polat did not need telling. He understood the implications of failure at this time. His personal feelings had to be put aside. His people and his country were the most important considerations right now. The long-term planning could not be compromised. As things began to slip into place, keeping the momentum was vital.

“You go,” Polat said. “Use whoever you need. Recruit if you have to. And do not worry about money. It is there for you to take.”

* * *

POLAT’S CAR WAS waiting at the quayside when he left the cruiser. He sat in the rear, his hands resting on his lap. He looked out the side window, seeing very little as the car eased out through the gates and picked up speed. In the front sat the driver and an armed bodyguard. They had a twenty-minute drive ahead of them. During the drive no one spoke.

Thoughts rolled back and forth inside Polat’s head. What he would say at the meeting. The logistics of the merchandise to be moved into place. How he would arrange the funeral of his brother… Polat could not quell those thoughts. No matter how much of the burden Kaplan handled, Amal had been his brother and the active memories refused to go away. Those thoughts plagued Polat to the point where he almost missed the sound of his cell phone. He pulled it from his pocket, glancing briefly at the caller ID as he activated the call.

It was General Demir Marangol, a member of the Turkish military, and one of the high-ranking Özgürlük group members.

“I learned about your brother’s death a little time ago,” Marangol said. “Accept my sympathies.”

“Thank you, General.”

With that out of the way, Marangol moved on quickly to the reason he had called.

“Is it true one of our people was wounded and taken prisoner?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Salan.”

“He must not be allowed to give away any information. This is understood? At this stage that is vital. We must protect ourselves. Can you have arrangements made that he will be silenced?”

“It will be done, General.”

“Good. Remember I can step in if need be.”

Polat knew Marangol meant every word. The man was strictly military. Down the line. There was no left and right in Marangol’s world. He walked the center. Polat felt a momentary pang of jealousy, wishing he could maintain such a posture himself.

“The offer is appreciated.”

“We will meet on your boat later to review matters,” Marangol said. “No mistakes, Kadir.”

The cell went dead. Polat had been dismissed. Marangol had the unfortunate habit of treating everyone as if they were one of his lowly military recruits. It seemed he was never off duty. There were times he forgot who Polat was and spoke to him with familiar contempt.

Polat pushed the thought away. He had too much to concern himself with to be overly worried about Marangol and his ego.