The orders had been issued the night before. As morning arrived, so fleets of armoured buses drove into city and town centres across Turkey. Tens of thousands of riot police set up steel barricades, while cells were emptied and paddy-wagons deployed in anticipation of hundreds of arrests. And it wasn’t just the police on the move. Great convoys streamed out of army garrisons around Istanbul, Ankara and other major cities. Squadrons of tanks divided into troops then parked with maximum visibility next to major road junctions and by international airports, while units of light infantry went into towns and cities, establishing defensive positions outside government offices, national monuments, railway stations and the like.
People arriving for their day’s work, or for the marches, grumbled about intimidation; but in truth most were glad to see the army, for they trusted them more than they did the police. Conscription meant that they’d all served themselves, still had friends and relatives in uniform. And the soldiers themselves took pains to diminish any sense of threat. They stayed well away from the main rally points and march routes, and they waved in solidarity, and assured them that their orders were only to protect and deter, and on no account to intervene.
Not unless something truly cataclysmic should happen.
Asena led the way back to the Cairo road, bowed down by the enormity of her failure. Every so often, she’d catch herself favouring her left leg slightly and it would make her scowl. Her ankle still ached from Black’s makeshift lasso, yes, but the limp wasn’t about that. The limp was self-pity.
The sun rose behind them, grew warm upon their backs. Yet still she had no signal on her mobile. She had little appetite for the calls ahead, but they needed to be made. ‘Keep up,’ she said to Uğur and Bulent.
‘His leg’s hurt pretty bad,’ said Uğur.
‘We need to catch Black.’
‘Sure,’ scoffed Uğur.
The insubordination rankled, but she let it go. They reached the place they’d left the taxi. It was gone. She glared at Bulent to remind him who’d added the keys to the Subaru’s ring, but this fiasco was all hers. She’d underestimated Black. It was simple as that.
Never again.
They trudged on. Finally she acquired a signal. She pinged the Lion at once, knowing it would take him several minutes to call back. Then she rang Emre in Famagusta. ‘It’s me,’ she told him, when he picked up. ‘Where are you?’
‘The safe house,’ he grunted. He sounded half asleep.
‘Then who’s on watch?’
‘Tolgay and the others.’ He fought a yawn. ‘We could always go join them if you reckon it needs all six of us to watch an empty house.’
‘Your mission there is important,’ she said tightly. ‘I wouldn’t have sent you on it otherwise. But this is about something else. You’ve all got clean passports, yes?’
‘Of course.’
‘Good. Then I want you to go to Nicosia for me.’
‘Why? Is there an empty house for us to watch there too?’
‘There’s a young Dutch woman staying in the Nicosia Grand Hotel. Her name’s Karin Visser. You’re going to pick her up for me.’
‘A young Dutch woman. Now you’re talking.’
‘She’s to be a bargaining chip, so hold her somewhere safe until I can get there.’
‘Consider it done.’
It was five more minutes before the Lion called. She talked him through last night’s débâcle. When she was done, he was silent for half a minute. Like many great men, he had problems with his temper; but his voice was calm when at last he spoke. ‘Will Black go public with this?’
‘I don’t think so. Not as long as he’s worried about Visser.’
‘But you’re not sure?’
‘No.’
Another silence. She knew what he was thinking. When plots like this started to unravel, you couldn’t stop them, you could only buy yourself time; and not always very much of that. ‘We’ll have to bring it forward,’ he said.
‘How far?’
‘All the way. We go today.’
‘Today? Is that even possible?’
‘You’ve no idea how our three scandals have stirred things up,’ he told her. ‘The Day of Action is going to be huge. Our men are everywhere. We have the perfect cover. Give us enough mayhem to work with, and we can do the rest, I promise you.’
It was Asena’s turn to fall quiet. Her Grey Wolf packs were all primed and ready to go. A single coded message to her dozen top commanders would initiate a cascade of carnage and chaos across the country. Yet the suddenness of it, after these years of toil and planning; it didn’t seem possible somehow. ‘How much?’ she asked doubtfully.
‘Everything,’ he said.
‘The marches? The department stores? The train stations?’
‘Everything.’
‘Even the four horsemen? But what if he doesn’t hold a press conference?’
The Lion grunted. ‘He’ll hold a press conference. Trust me. It’s all he has.’
A deep breath. For better or for worse, by this time tomorrow their fates would be sealed. ‘Very well,’ said Asena. ‘I’ll issue the orders now.’
‘The Lion and the Wolf,’ he said.
‘The Lion and the Wolf.’
Karin was barely through the doors of the Société Genève when the branch manager came out of his office to greet her, almost as though he’d been watching for her. He was wearing a girdle beneath his cotton shirt this morning, she could tell, and he smelled pungently of cologne. She immediately relaxed a little. This was going to be a breeze.
‘Miss Visser,’ he said, shaking her warmly by the hand.
‘Well?’ she said, giving her smile just a hint of the flirts. ‘Did I pass your tests, or should I run for it while I still have the chance?’
‘Of course you passed,’ he beamed. ‘Welcome to our bank. Do you wish to see the vault now?’
‘If I may. My flight, you know.’
‘I’ll get the keys.’ He led her to an empty office, opened a wall cabinet and pocketed a selection of keys hanging from hooks inside. A fire-door at the rear of the branch led to an internal stairwell. They went down. The basement was shabby and cluttered compared to the plush space above. The vault had a steel door fitted with lock and keypad. She turned her back so that he could tap in his code. He heaved the door open and ushered her inside ahead of him. It was smaller and less impressive than she’d expected, and one of the strip-lights kept breaking into fluttery spasms. The boxes were ranged around three walls. There was a plain pine table in the middle and a stepladder against the wall, presumably for reaching the highest boxes. Those were, sensibly enough, the smallest, and they grew progressively larger as they neared the floor. Each had two keyholes and a unique serial number. Karin looked around for 16a and was glad to find it on the bottom row, where the biggest boxes were.
The manager fished his keys from his pocket. Most had green rims and serial numbers, just like Rick’s. But one had a red rim and no number. He selected this and one of the greens, then looked around for the corresponding box. He inserted and turned both keys, pulled the steel safety-deposit box inside all the way out. It was deeper than she’d expected, the best part of a metre long. He set it on the table, lifted its lid to show her that it was empty. Then he replaced it and relocked it. He held up both keys. ‘This green one will be yours to take away,’ he said. ‘But the red one never leaves the bank. That way, even should someone steal your key, they still couldn’t get at your belongings, not without first passing our identity checks.’
‘May I see one of your bigger boxes?’ she asked. He checked through his keys, selected one, opened one of the bottom boxes. It slid out on rails, like a filing cabinet drawer. He lifted its lid for her. She was surprised by how roomy it was inside. She could just imagine it filled with banknotes. ‘Perfect,’ she said.
‘Then you’ll take one?’
‘Grandmother had a lot of stuff,’ she told him sweetly. ‘I rather think I’m going to need two.’