A Colder War

61

Travelling on a French-Canadian passport under the name ‘Eric Cauques’, Sebastien Gachon took a scheduled flight from Paris to Istanbul in the early hours of Sunday, 5 May. He had travelled overnight from Kampala, where he had been spending time with a girlfriend.

Gachon had never visited Istanbul before, nor did he speak Turkish. He waited in line for a taxi and passed the driver a piece of paper on which he had written down the address of a clothes boutique in Yeniköy. An hour later, Gachon was outside the Wallinger yali, wheeling his suitcase along the road, making a preliminary observation of the property. A single front door. No side entrances. Access from the sea.

The target was at home. Gachon could see her moving from floor to floor, a woman matching the description cabled from Kiev. No apparent security detail, no third parties in the building. He could have taken her there and then. Left his suitcase on the street, rung the doorbell, made the hit, walked away. But he was acting under orders.

Gachon continued along the street to the main coastal thoroughfare where he hailed a second taxi. He retrieved the name of the hotel in Galata from his phone and showed the display to the driver. The driver stared at the screen. Gachon could not tell if the man was illiterate or merely lazy. He waited. After a delay of several seconds, the driver nodded, engaged first gear and proceeded south towards Beyoğlu.

Gachon was hot. He removed his jacket, took a bottle of water from his suitcase and swallowed several mouthfuls. He then tapped out a message on his phone, in English, which he sent to the dedicated number.

We have arrived. Your sister is home.

Alexander Minasian had replied within a minute.

Thank you. Please wait for us. We are still looking at the albums. We are glad you have arrived safely.