“Now look at the wall.”
She saw it immediately. It was impossible to miss really, once you knew what you were looking for. The match died out and Meryem struck another. There were two stones. Two stones that were whiter than the others, cleaner, and they were positioned in the wall exactly like the crates. Even their shading matched the rock. I was sure that we had found the spot.
Except, we hadn’t.
I touched the stone with my fingers. It was solid as rock. Because it was rock. Not a facade. Not a hiding place as in the wall, but solid marble, heavy and strong. I rapped on the other stones with the heel of my palm. It was the same thing. I dug my fingers into the dirt mortar cracks around the stones, but I could already tell it would be no use. The stones were too big, too monumental. I’d need more than my fingers for a pry bar. I’d need a jackhammer.
I looked down. There was more stone. But stone with a difference. Stone slabs with cracks around the edges. I ran Shakespeare’s line through my head.
…in the posture of a whore.
I got down on my hands and knees, feeling the grit and grime beneath my palms.
“Shine your match here,” I said.
“Why?”
“The line, it might mean on your back.”
“That is not so creative for a woman in bed.”
“Maybe not. But I think it’s what Shakespeare meant.”
Meryem lowered the match. I remembered the ten-inch toilet float rod that I still carried in my back pocket. I took it out and tried it in one of the cracks between the slabs. Not levering, but cleaning away the dirt. Meryem's match went out, but I continued to work, hollowing out the crack. The dirt was mostly on the surface. After some fiddling, I was able to sink the rod several inches into the crack. I tried levering it. It was too heavy to lift with the rod, but I felt some movement.
Meryem lit another match and I got a better look at the slab of stone. It was probably five feet long and three feet wide, but it was cracked down the middle, which meant that I might actually have a chance of moving it. Meryem peered over my shoulder as I cleaned out more of the joint between the slabs until it was wide enough for me to get my fingers in.
“Here we go.”
I lifted.
My fingertips were hot and moist with sweat, but I felt the slab move a little at first, and then more, until it swung out toward me, a waft of stale air accompanying it. The match flickered down as Meryem poked the flame into the new hole in the floor. Beneath us was a small alcove. Nothing more than a dirt space really, except for the two wooden crates lying on the rocky floor. The crates were painted in silver with “CCCP” stenciled in black on the sides. I didn’t have to translate what they said because I already knew.
A red hammer and sickle accompanied the Russian name of the old USSR, its paint shining brightly, even in the match light.
Chapter 37
The Broken Slab gave me enough room to slip inside the chamber. It was cramped in there, no more than four feet high, but it was difficult to determine exactly how far the chamber extended into the darkness. My first priority was to verify the contents of the crates. The wooden lids were secured down with metal bands on pivot points. I inserted the steel rod and levered back the band on the nearest crate.
When I removed the lid I saw wood shavings. Long, curled wood shavings. Moving the shavings aside revealed a hint of the tooled metal components within but, honestly, I was already sold. However the triggers might work, they weren’t wrapped in polystyrene, and that meant that they were vintage. Nobody packed precision components in wood shavings these days.
“Meryem, throw me a match,” I said.
But I didn’t get a match. I got a Klieg light. A blinding xenon wash of 50,000 lumens. Probably enough to light up a parking lot, let alone the hole I was squatting in.
“Hello, Michael,” a familiar voice said.
Kate.
It was not the voice I wanted to hear. I immediately scrabbled back farther into the alcove, my eyes adjusting to the bright light above.
“Don’t make us come in there to get you, Michael.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” I said.
Actually, I was thinking exactly that. The light revealed the alcove clearly for the first time. It was still a small space, blocked in on three sides, but hidden behind me was a passage leading out. It wasn’t a big opening at the other end of the passage, but there was a good chance it was passable — I knew because I could see a sliver of scrubby grass overlooking the sea.
That was about when I heard Meryem scream. Not a huge scream, more of a whimper really, but it made the mission personal. It reminded me that I wasn’t the only one in the field.
“Michael, please come out before this gets unpleasant,” Kate said.
“Why don’t you come in here?”
“OK, Michael.”
That’s when I heard Meryem again. Only it wasn’t a whimper this time. It was a full-fledged wail. I evaluated my options. Even if I rolled the dice and tried to escape through the end of the tunnel, there was no way I could take the triggers with me. Plus, I’d be abandoning Meryem. So I faced a false choice really. All roads led back to Kate.
I crawled forward and rose into the light, hands above my head. I squinted to see that Faruk held Meryem at knifepoint, the anodized steel blade of his combat knife creasing her neck. Kate, herself, held a gun pointed directly at my head. It was the same Glock 26 she’d brandished at me more than once in the past. A compact, efficient weapon. She smiled and I thought I saw laughter in her eyes in the bright beam of the portable spotlight.
“Thanks for your hard work, Michael,” Kate said. “Now get out of that hole before you turn into a rat.”
The trip back to the boat wasn’t as pleasant as the trip to the island. Not by a long shot. They loaded us into the Zodiac at the dock and after a short hop, off-loaded us onto the yacht. I expected to be on the receiving end of a healthy interrogation, but I knew that Kate wouldn’t get rid of me. She still needed me. Instead of leading us up the rear stairwell, Faruk opened a hatch on the rear deck revealing a storage locker below. It was then that I realized that they were no longer bothering with niceties. Faruk brought his radio to his mouth and issued a command in Turkish. A moment later a glow was cast over the sea as the bridge lit up and the yacht’s diesel engines turned over. Then I heard the clank of the anchor chain and they shoved us down the hole.
It was pitch black in the storage locker. So black you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. Fortunately, it was also a soft landing. The locker was filled with coils of rope. I felt around in the dark, soon bumping into Meryem beside me. Then I smelled sulfur as she struck a match, filling the six-by-six-foot metal compartment with a warm, flickering light. Meryem had a small scrape on her cheek from the kick into the hatch.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
Meryem nodded. As I listened to the ship pulling up anchor, I felt bad that I’d gotten Meryem involved in the whole thing. Not the search for the Tesla Device — that was her career. But the part with Kate. Kate knew me and she was making the mission personal. Meryem didn’t need that. I draped my arm around her and pulled her close. She nuzzled into me, warm in the night.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she nodded sitting up. “Now let’s get out of here.”
Easier said than done. I looked around. It was an impromptu place to store us, but it was solid. Nothing short of a welding torch would breach the steel-plate walls. And they hadn’t left us unattended either. I could hear the guard shuffling his feet above. A few moments later, the anchor chain stopped its clanking and I felt a vibration flow through the ship as the props started to turn. I repositioned myself and sat with my back to the metal wall, the mild vibration massaging my spine. Meryem struck another match.