She answered on the sixth ring from Yayladaği. “Who’s this?”
“It’s Crocker. We made it.”
“You’re back in Turkey?”
“Yeah. Just arrived. Where’s the closest IHOP?”
“Excellent. Fantastic news. Where are you?” Janice asked.
“The town’s called Karbeyaz,” Crocker answered, reading the name off a sign and mispronouncing it. Somehow they had missed the turnoff to Kilis.
“That’s northeast of here. Hold on. I’m going to go get Colonel Oz.”
Ten minutes later she was back on the line. “Where precisely are you now?”
“We’re parked in a lot just past the Turkish checkpoint.”
“You’re in possession of the sarin?”
“Yeah, we’ve got it, a newly delivered baby, a mother, and an injured colleague who needs medical attention.”
“How did that happen?”
“Which, the baby or the injured colleague?”
“The baby.”
“It’s a long story. How should we proceed from here?”
“Continue a couple kilometers on the same road,” Janice instructed. “You’ll see a refugee camp on the right with a big AFAD sign.”
“What’s AFAD stand for?” asked Crocker.
“Turkish Disaster and Emergency Management Directorate. Pull up to the front gate and ask for Captain Nasar. He’s with the Askeri Inzibat-the Turkish military police.”
“He knows we’re coming?”
“Yes, Colonel Oz just informed him. He’s awake and expecting you.”
“Cool.”
“There’s a clinic there and a contingent of guards and soldiers. They’ll take care of you-feed you, tend to your wounds, whatever you need. Oz and I are on our way. We should be there in about two hours.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Sorry about your colleague.”
“Nothing serious. He’ll be fine.”
Chapter Fifteen
“To mystify, mislead, and surprise the enemy,” is one of the first principles in war.
– Sun Tzu
Once arrived at the AFAD camp, Crocker left Suarez guarding the Sprinter and made sure the women and baby were taken care of and his men were shown to the visitors’ tent, where they could wash up and rest. Then he escorted Akil to the clinic, which was housed in an old train station. In the entryway he stopped to receive grateful hugs from Amira and Natalie, who were being shown to an empty room with beds.
A male nurse cleaned the wound on Akil’s shoulder and summoned a doctor to stitch it up. While they waited, Crocker put his feet up on a chair and fell asleep. He dreamt he was back in the Himalayas sharing a tent with his old friend and climber Edyta Potocka. As a kerosene lamp burned in the corner, she ran a hand over his chest and sang a Polish lullaby.
Oh, sleep, my darling,
If you’d like a star from the sky I’ll give you one.
All children, even the bad ones,
Are already asleep,
Only you are not.
So sweet he wanted to cry.
Didn’t she die in an avalanche? Crocker wondered.
She seemed happy and vital now, kissing his face, snuggling up against him and laughing. Snow fell outside the tent, and the wind howled like a wolf, but he felt warm and safe. Then, realizing someone was calling his name, he opened his eyes into the fluorescent light and blinked.
“Crocker. Crocker, sorry to bother you,” a woman’s voice entreated.
She looked down at him with brown eyes, not light-blue ones like Edyta’s. Mancini stood by her side.
What is he doing here?
“Crocker?”
“Go away.”
“We can’t. Wake up.”
It took him a couple of seconds to realize that she was Janice, the CIA analyst he had first met in Istanbul. He looked at his watch: 0726. That couldn’t be right. “Is it really after seven?”
“Something like that,” Janice answered. “Crocker, we have a serious problem.”
He’d slept almost three hours in the waiting room, totally unaware of where he was or of the passage of time.
“Where’re the rest of the men?” he asked Mancini as he sat up.
“They’re in the visitors’ tent.”
“Good. Very good. So what’s up?” He wiped the spittle off the side of his mouth and adjusted the light-green medical robe the nurse had given him when he arrived. Saw the long scabs on his arms from last night, and remembered that they were safe inside Turkey. By the grace of God.
“It’s a very serious situation,” Janice said.
“What?”
“The sarin canisters are missing.”
“What did you say?” Crocker asked, not sure he had heard correctly.
“The canisters have been taken.”
“Taken? What are you talking about?”
“According to Mancini, you arrived with eight canisters of sarin.”
“That’s correct.”
“Well…they’re missing,” Janice stated.
“From the van? From the Sprinter?”
“Yes, from the Sprinter.”
“How the hell did that happen? Who took them?”
“Unclear.”
“You mean they’re not in the van?”
“They’re not in the camp.”
“Holy shit!” He jumped to his feet, ignoring the soreness that ran from his neck to his ankles. “Where’s Suarez? He was guarding them.”
“Suarez was shot,” Mancini said. “Two bullets in the back.”
“Oh, fuck. Bad?”
“Yeah.”
He ran out with them to look. Turkish EMS officials were wheeling a stretcher to a red-and-white ambulance with blue flashing lights. Suarez, immobile, lay on his back with an oxygen mask over his face.
Crocker was torn between going with him and staying. “Where are they taking him?” he asked one of the EMS workers.
“To…hospital,” the man answered in broken English.
“From the local hospital he’ll likely be medevaced to one of our NATO facilities,” Janice added. “Depends on his condition.”
“Who shot him? How the hell did this happen?”
He had too many burning questions to be able to leave the camp. As soon as the ambulance left he returned to the Sprinter, where Mancini and Janice were standing. Saw a pool of Suarez’s blood on the pavement and four Turkish soldiers guarding the back of the vehicle. The mattress Jamila and Tariq had rested on had been pulled out. Inside, all that remained were discarded wrappers, MREs, and a few boxes of medical supplies.
“Did anyone see what happened?” Crocker asked.
“Most of the Turkish guards were sleeping over there,” Janice said, pointing to a large camouflaged tent fifty feet away. “One of them says he heard an engine.”
“What kind of engine?”
“A truck engine.”
“He hear shots?”
“He claims he didn’t. Maybe the weapons the attackers used were suppressed.”
“The Turks didn’t have anyone guarding the gate?”
“They did, in fact. Both of them were shot and killed.”
Crocker turned to his left and saw for the first time that the gate wasn’t really a secure gate, only an opening in the fence with a barrier and sandbag-covered guard station.
“Did anyone see the vehicle?” Crocker asked.
“The lighting wasn’t good. It was a little after five a.m. All this individual saw was the back of a truck. Maybe a two-and-a-half-ton. Maybe a black Volvo. Maybe a dark-green Mercedes.”
“So they knew we had arrived. Someone informed them.”
“Who?” Janice asked.
“The attackers.”
“Or they watched us enter,” Mancini added.
“Video surveillance?” Crocker asked, his brain spinning wildly.
“There’s a camera at the gate, but it isn’t working.”
“Is Colonel Oz aware of all this?”
“He and Captain Nasar are on the phone with Ankara now.”
“Who’s Captain Nasar?”
“The camp commander.”