She didn’t.
Caspian lowered the phone, then scanned the garage. The lot was about three-quarters full, but he saw only a few people. A young couple pushing a stroller was about to exit near the far stairwell, and a man in a suit was walking toward the elevators, talking loudly to someone via Bluetooth.
That’s when Caspian spotted him.
A man stood by a support pylon, leaning just enough to look casual. Caspian didn’t buy it. The man was in his late thirties, maybe early forties. He had a lean build and a clean-shaven face with short-cropped hair and was wearing a blue tracksuit. His eyes met Caspian’s for a full second, then darted away.
Definitely not a tourist,Caspian thought.But not a pro either.
Caspian adjusted his angle, walking toward the far side of the F row before dipping behind a silver four-door sedan. He moved quickly, his steps absorbed by his rubber soles and the worn asphalt. He cut between two cars, then another, approaching the man’s blind side. Caspian dropped into a crouch behind a red SUV and waited, watching through the passenger-side window as the man scanned the garage, clearly alert.
He’s looking for me.
Caspian looked around to make sure no one else was closing in on him, then glanced back toward the watcher. He was coming his way, and his lips were moving. He wasn’t alone.
Sliding along the back of the SUV, Caspian circled wide, staying out of the man’s line of sight before closing the gap once the man had walked past his position. Caspian came in from the man’s blind side and grabbed him by the collar of his tracksuit, yanking him backward, using the man’s own momentum to unbalance him. Caspian hooked his heel behind the other man’s ankle and swept his legs out from under him, sending the man face first onto the ground. Caspian was on him in an instant, one knee digging into the small of his back, and the tip of his pistol pressing firmly against the base of the man’s skull.
“Who are you talking to?” Caspian asked in Turkish as he patted down the man with his free hand. “And keep your voice low.”
“I ... I don’t speak Turkish,” the man sputtered, his voice cracking in surprise.
Caspian recognized the accent and switched to German. “Fine. Who were you talking to?”
“No one!”
Caspian used two fingers to dig out an earbud from the man’s right ear.
“Don’t fuck with me,” Caspian growled.
“I’m ... I’m a diplomat. From the German consulate,” the man pleaded.
Caspian narrowed his eyes and dropped the first line of Ranger’s cipher.
“I’m looking for someone to take me to Silivri,” he said.
The man hesitated, then replied, “Too much traffic at this time of day.”
“Maybe tonight, then?” Caspian asked.
“Tomorrow would be even better,” the man said, finishing the coded exchange.
Caspian muttered under his breath. He’d been ready to kill the man if he had to.
“You alone?” he asked.
“There’s a driver.”
“Where?”
“Parking slot G33.”
Caspian helped the man to his feet. “Lead the way.”
They moved quickly, but Caspian kept the man five steps ahead of him. As they turned the corner into the G section, he spotted the vehicle. It was a compact commercial van, a dark blue Mercedes-Benz Citan. It was parked facing out. A woman stood beside it. She had short blond hair and wore a pair of black jeans and a black leather jacket. She was on the phone, but the second she saw them, she hung up and shook her head at the man Caspian had just tackled. No words, just a look that saidyou screwed up.
She clicked the fob in her hand, and the van gave a soft chirp.
“You, get in the back,” she said to Caspian. “We’re leaving now.”
