CHAPTER 44

HOW WOULD MO MAKE contact? Reece knew the CIA had given him some of the same training they give the case officers, but Reece’s experience with Mo and his unit in Iraq had been of a more kinetic nature. Reece still had a hard time believing that the Iraqi major he’d trusted with his life was now a terrorist, targeting the same Western nations he had fought alongside in the cradle of civilization.

Reece needed to get some air. The coffee bar downstairs had proven to be excellent, so he ordered a to-go cup of their lightest roast. After doctoring it with milk and honey, he nodded to the bellman, who held the door for him as he walked out into the afternoon sunshine.

The coffee was too hot to drink, so Reece removed the plastic lid and blew on it as he walked along the steep uphill path. With his subconscious mind occupied by the mountain of intelligence documents he’d read and his conscious focus on the coffee, Reece noticed and then dismissed the maintenance worker clad in bright coveralls as he walked past him. Mistake. Two seconds later, he heard the pop of the compressed nitrogen and immediately felt the sting of the metal barbs that penetrated his shirt and embedded themselves into the muscle of his upper back. His limbs instantaneously contracted and cramped as two thousand volts of electricity surged into his body, dropping him to the sidewalk, his entire body in taut agony in addition to being burned by the scalding-hot coffee.

The pain ended nearly as quickly as it began, and he found himself floating above the sidewalk, unable to move his limbs. As his chest hit the floorboard of the Transit Connect delivery van, he realized that he’d been flex-cuffed at both his wrists and ankles. A pillowcase was pulled over his head as the door slid to a close. In a moment of out-of-body clarity, he marveled at how quickly his abductors had planned and executed this operation.

It was hot inside the van and the floor smelled of grease and oil, mixing with the strong odor of the coffee that soaked his shirt. Reece lay still, conserving his energy in case it became necessary to run or fight later, though the objective of the mission was to do neither.

Strong hands frisked him from head to toe, covering every inch of his body with no regard for modesty. His subcompact SIG, spare magazine, knife, shoes, and iPhone were taken from him. He assumed that the phone was being placed inside a container that would prevent his location from being tracked. There was no talking among his captors, which made it nearly impossible for him to determine their exact numbers. The driver didn’t speed or drive erratically. Instead he navigated the city’s streets as part of the normal flow of traffic, making frequent turns. These men were pros.

After what seemed like an hour but was probably half that, the van stopped. The driver turned off the diesel motor and engaged the parking brake. He heard the sound of chains from outside the van and a steel service door rolled downward on its tracks. They’d pulled into a garage or warehouse, based on the echo of voices in what sounded like Arabic. The van door slid open quickly and what felt like three men dragged him out by his ankles and stood him upright, his stockinged feet landing on the cold concrete floor. Some type of motor hummed in the background.

“Walk, ” a voice from behind him said in accented English.

One man held each arm and a third had him by the top of the head, guiding him forward and away from the direction of the door. He walked twenty paces before his feet felt the threshold of a door and then thin carpeting. After a few more steps, he could hear the sound of a chair being dragged across the carpet behind him.

“Sit. ”

Footsteps shuffled away, and he heard the door shut behind him. He slowed his breathing, settled his heart rate, and concentrated on the plastic restraints that bound his wrists in front of him. In a move that he and his teammates had practiced dozens of times in various SERE courses, Reece pushed his arms up and away from his body, then snapped them down across his abdomen. The plastic gave way to freedom. He rubbed his wrists as the blood rushed into his tingling hands and pulled the cloth away from his head.

The room was dark. It was a small office, the kind attached to industrial spaces, with a desk, filing cabinets, and dusty stacks of books and papers on the floor. Ten feet away he saw a dark couch against the wall and a shot of adrenaline shot through his body as his brain registered a human figure seated on it. As he rose to his still-restrained feet, a flash of light illuminated the room. The flame burned brightly and, as the man inhaled on his cigarette, the light glowed against his bearded face.

“Mo! ” Reece shouted.

“James Reece, what on earth are you doing here, my friend? ” Mo said as he exhaled a cloud of gray smoke and extinguished his lighter. He turned on a lamp, and Reece saw him clearly for the first time. Dashing as ever, Mo’s longish black hair was slicked back, his beard precisely cropped, and his clothing impeccable. He stowed the silver lighter into the pocket of his tailored sport coat, rose from his chair, and embraced Reece in a strong hug. Then, drawing an automatic knife from the pocket of his jeans, he dropped to one knee and swiftly cut the plastic binding from Reece’s ankles.

“Sit down, sit down. ” Mo motioned Reece back into his chair as he turned back toward the couch. “Sorry about the way my men treated you, but I had to make sure it was really you. ”

“Well, you could have just called my room! No worries, though, no permanent damage except for the coffee stains. ”

“I have heard so much, Reece. I am so sorry for the loss of your family, may God watch over them. To lose loved ones in wartime is one thing, but to have the peace of one’s home shattered is another altogether. I have some experience there, if you recall. ”

“I do. Thanks, Mo, ” Reece said, feeling the gut-wrenching pain at the thought of his wife and little girl riddled with bullets on the floor of their home.

“Why did you come to Istanbul? The way you put yourself directly in my sights, my guess is you came here to find me. I can help you, but if you are looking to hide, there are better places, my friend. The American intelligence services will find you here. You should not have come. ”

“I’m not on the run anymore, Mo. The government made me a deal. ”

“Why in the world would they do that? ”

“Because they needed me to find you. ”

Mo’s calm and composed demeanor changed perceptibly. He shifted forward with a puzzled look on his face. “What do you mean by that? They know exactly how to find me. ”

Now it was Reece’s turn to look puzzled.

“What are you talking about, Mo? You’re running a terrorist cell for Amin Nawaz. You’re a wanted man with a price on your head. ”

“Reece, you don’t understand. I work for the CIA. Remember Jules Landry? He’s been my handler for years. ”

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