Crescent Dawn (Dirk Pitt 21)

The tallest of the three, who had worn the mirrored sunglasses, spoke for the group.

“The man named Pitt and his wife apparently detected our presence and fled on a ferryboat to Sariyer. We established contact with them, but they escaped.”

“So you failed,” Celik said, letting the words hang in the air like an executioner’s sword. “Where are they now, Farzad?”

The man shook his head. “They checked out of their hotel. We don’t know if they are still in the city.”

“The police?” he asked, turning to Maria.

She shook her head. “Nothing has been reported.”

“This man Pitt. He must be lucky, if not resourceful.”

Celik walked over to the desk and picked up the gold coin from Ruppé’s office.

“He will no doubt return to his shipwreck. An Ottoman shipwreck,” he added with emphasis. He walked close to Farzad and looked him in the eye. “You have failed once. I will not tolerate a second failure.”

He stepped back and addressed all three men. “You will be paid in full for your work. You can collect your wages on the way out. Each of you is to remain underground until called for the next project. Is that clear?”

All three men nodded quietly. One of the Janissaries opened the door, and the men made a quick retreat for the exit.

“Wait,” Celik’s voice suddenly boomed. “Atwar, another word with you. The others may go.”

The man who had worn the blue shirt stood where he was while Farzad and the Persian left the room. The first Janissary stayed in the room, closing the door then moving behind Atwar. Celik stepped close to the Iraqi.

“Atwar, you let this man Pitt subdue you during the Topkapi theft. As a result, we lost the Holy Mantle of the Prophet that was in our hands. Now yesterday, you let him elude you again?”

“He caught us all by surprise,” Atwar stammered, looking to Maria for support.

She said nothing as Celik pulled open a desk drawer and retrieved a three-foot-long bowstring. As with his Ottoman ancestors, it was his favored tool for execution.

“Unlike Farzad, you have failed me twice,” Celik said, nodding at the Janissary.

The guard stepped up and grabbed Atwar in a bear hug from behind, pinning the man’s arms to his side. The Iraqi tried to struggle, but the Janissary was too powerful to break the grip.

“It was her fault,” he cried, motioning his head toward Maria. “She ordered us to abduct the woman. None of this would have happened if we had let her go.”

Celik ignored the words, slowly stepping closer until he was inches from the struggling man’s face.

“You will not fail me again,” Celik whispered in his ear. Then he flung the cord around Atwar’s neck and tightened it with a lacquered wooden cylinder.

The man screamed, but his voice was quickly snuffed out as the cord tightened around his throat. His face turned blue and his eyes bulged as Celik twisted the block, applying greater pressure to the cord. A perverse look of delight filled Celik’s eyes as he stared into the face of the dying man. He held the twisted cord tight well after his victim’s body fell limp, seeming to savor the moment. He finally unraveled the garrote, taking his time removing it from the dead man’s throat before returning it to the desk drawer.

“Take his body offshore after dark and dump it into the sea,” he said to the Janissary. The guard nodded, then dragged the stiffening body out of the room.

The act of murder seemed to invigorate Celik, and he paced the room with nervous energy. The gold coin was back in his hand, fondled like a child’s toy.

“You should have never brought in these imbeciles to do our work,” he barked at Maria. “My Janissaries would have not failed at the task.”

“They have served us well in the past. Besides, as you have just shown, they are expendable.”

“We can’t have any mistakes going forward,” he lectured. “The stakes are too high.”

“I will personally lead the next operation. Speaking of which, are you certain you wish to proceed in Jerusalem? I’m not sure the benefits are worth the risk.”

“It has the potential to create a massive unifying impact. Beyond that, with a bit of inflated Zionist fright, it will be good for another twenty million euros from our Arab backers.” Celik stopped pacing for a moment then gazed at his sister. “I realize it is not without danger. Are you committed to the task?”

“Of course,” she replied without batting an eye. “My Hezbollah contact has already made arrangements with a top operator who will assist with the mission for the right price. And should there be any difficulties, they will offer the necessary culpability.”