Read Online Jihad by Stephen Coonts - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephen Coonts
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Espionage, Intelligence Officers, Adventure fiction, spy stories, Undercover operations, Cyberterrorism, National security
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was already fumbling with his clothes. Lia grabbed at the collar and helped, buttons popping as she pulled.
There was blood on the wheels. Lia took the gown and started sopping it up.
“Let me,” said Pinchon, dropping to his knees next to her. “You hide the guns.”
“There are two security people in the lobby,” warned Rockman. “They’re looking at the elevators now.”
Lia glanced at the panel. They’d just passed the second floor.
THE DRIVER OF the Mercedes tapped nervously on the side of the door, keeping time to a song Dean couldn’t hear. Dean walked past him, making sure he was alone in the sedan.
“Charlie, they’re in the elevator,” said Rockman. “They need you—fast.”
“On my way,” said Dean, turning around. He walked to the Mercedes and rapped on the car window.
The driver glared at him, then reached for the door. The bodyguard had his pistol in his hand, but before he could even point it in the American’s direction, Dean put a bullet an inch and a half above his nose.
LIA STOOD BEHIND Reisler and the wheelchair, holding the .22 down at her side as the doors to the elevator opened.
“Here we are now, almost home,” she said in Turkish, mimicking the translator’s accent as closely as possible as they started from the elevator. The security people glanced at her, then at the “patient” in the wheelchair. Lia saw from their eyes that they sensed something wasn’t right, but they weren’t quite sure what it was. She flicked her left hand behind her, keeping the pistol hidden.
“Dur!” said one of the guards. “Stop!”
In the next second, something exploded in the elevator—the small flash-bang grenade Lia had tossed a second before. Everyone dropped to the floor—except Lia, Reisler, and Pinchon, who began running for the door. Lia dropped two more small grenades—they were about the side of cigarette lighters—and a second loud explosion and bright flash rocked the lobby. Smoke spewed behind them.
Through the door, Lia turned to her left and started to run. A horn sounded to her right. She turned, and saw a Mercedes.
Charlie.
Charlie!
CHAPTER 23
ISTANBUL LAY AT the intersection of two continents; historically it was the crossroads of several great civilizations. For Tommy Karr, this meant one thing: great food.
And lots of it. He began with a plate of mezes or appetizers, a mixed bag of exotic salads, minced vegetables, and brightly colored dips. Eggplant, yogurt, and olives reappeared in various combinations, accented with strange spices and little green curlicues he assumed were herbs. He couldn’t identify a single dish, but that only added to the adventure. He wolfed them down with the help of a triangular piece of pitalike flat bread, whetting his appetite for the main course: grilled palamut, a local fish specialty. A silvery pair arrived with their heads poking up from the center of the plate, eyeballing him like the evil eye charms available on the nearby street corner.
“Almost seems a shame to bother them, huh?” Karr said to the waiter, picking up his fork. “Maybe I’ll just eat around them.”
“Tommy, can you talk?” asked Sandy Chafetz from the Art Room.
Karr waited for the server to leave, then prodded one of the fish. “You’re sure you’re dead, right? If I talk to you, will you answer?”
“Two cars have pulled up a block from Asad’s safe house,” said Chafetz. “Can you check them out?”
“On my way.” Karr rose, digging into his pocket for some Turkish bills.
The waiter came over immediately.
“I’m afraid I just realized I have another appointment and I’m a little late,” said Karr. “Think I could get the fish to go?”
CHAPTER 24
ASAD BIN TAYSR welcomed Marid Dabir with a hearty hug, taking his arm to lead him into the small room where they could sit alone. It was his practice to show people he despised as much kindness as possible. It kept them off balance.
“I heard that you were
There was blood on the wheels. Lia took the gown and started sopping it up.
“Let me,” said Pinchon, dropping to his knees next to her. “You hide the guns.”
“There are two security people in the lobby,” warned Rockman. “They’re looking at the elevators now.”
Lia glanced at the panel. They’d just passed the second floor.
THE DRIVER OF the Mercedes tapped nervously on the side of the door, keeping time to a song Dean couldn’t hear. Dean walked past him, making sure he was alone in the sedan.
“Charlie, they’re in the elevator,” said Rockman. “They need you—fast.”
“On my way,” said Dean, turning around. He walked to the Mercedes and rapped on the car window.
The driver glared at him, then reached for the door. The bodyguard had his pistol in his hand, but before he could even point it in the American’s direction, Dean put a bullet an inch and a half above his nose.
LIA STOOD BEHIND Reisler and the wheelchair, holding the .22 down at her side as the doors to the elevator opened.
“Here we are now, almost home,” she said in Turkish, mimicking the translator’s accent as closely as possible as they started from the elevator. The security people glanced at her, then at the “patient” in the wheelchair. Lia saw from their eyes that they sensed something wasn’t right, but they weren’t quite sure what it was. She flicked her left hand behind her, keeping the pistol hidden.
“Dur!” said one of the guards. “Stop!”
In the next second, something exploded in the elevator—the small flash-bang grenade Lia had tossed a second before. Everyone dropped to the floor—except Lia, Reisler, and Pinchon, who began running for the door. Lia dropped two more small grenades—they were about the side of cigarette lighters—and a second loud explosion and bright flash rocked the lobby. Smoke spewed behind them.
Through the door, Lia turned to her left and started to run. A horn sounded to her right. She turned, and saw a Mercedes.
Charlie.
Charlie!
CHAPTER 23
ISTANBUL LAY AT the intersection of two continents; historically it was the crossroads of several great civilizations. For Tommy Karr, this meant one thing: great food.
And lots of it. He began with a plate of mezes or appetizers, a mixed bag of exotic salads, minced vegetables, and brightly colored dips. Eggplant, yogurt, and olives reappeared in various combinations, accented with strange spices and little green curlicues he assumed were herbs. He couldn’t identify a single dish, but that only added to the adventure. He wolfed them down with the help of a triangular piece of pitalike flat bread, whetting his appetite for the main course: grilled palamut, a local fish specialty. A silvery pair arrived with their heads poking up from the center of the plate, eyeballing him like the evil eye charms available on the nearby street corner.
“Almost seems a shame to bother them, huh?” Karr said to the waiter, picking up his fork. “Maybe I’ll just eat around them.”
“Tommy, can you talk?” asked Sandy Chafetz from the Art Room.
Karr waited for the server to leave, then prodded one of the fish. “You’re sure you’re dead, right? If I talk to you, will you answer?”
“Two cars have pulled up a block from Asad’s safe house,” said Chafetz. “Can you check them out?”
“On my way.” Karr rose, digging into his pocket for some Turkish bills.
The waiter came over immediately.
“I’m afraid I just realized I have another appointment and I’m a little late,” said Karr. “Think I could get the fish to go?”
CHAPTER 24
ASAD BIN TAYSR welcomed Marid Dabir with a hearty hug, taking his arm to lead him into the small room where they could sit alone. It was his practice to show people he despised as much kindness as possible. It kept them off balance.
“I heard that you were
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