“Ezra Goddam Haven.”
The man in the black suit returned Caleb Jackson’s smile and the two men clasped hands in a solid shake. “It’s been a long time, Caleb.”
They were standing in a hangar over in the general aviation apron of Istanbul Atatürk Airport. “You can say that again.” The former Ranger and CIA man looked at Ezra shrewdly. “Maybe not long enough?”
“I see you haven’t changed.”
“What the hell are you doing in Turkey, Ezra?”
Ezra Haven studied the confused faces of the Raiders, dwelling for several seconds on the badly beaten face of Jed Mason, and then glanced at his watch. “Like I said, I have a job for you, and since we spoke last it’s gotten way more serious.”
“What is it?”
“On the plane first.”
Mason took a step forward, still battered and bruised but now thinking clearly again. “Just wait a minute. I trust Cal with my life, but until someone tells me just who or what the hell you are, me and my team aren’t going anywhere.”
Ezra’s mouth curved into a respectful grin. “I can understand that, but I think just this once it might be smart to get on the plane. Your little stunt at the Istanbul Sapphire has not gone unnoticed. It’s being reported as a bungled robbery and murder by a foreign thief and just about every alphabet agency in the country is hunting you down. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life in Silivri Prison I’d trust your friend and get on the Citation. Plus, there’s a medic on board who can take a look at you.”
Mason fixed his eyes on the man in the black suit, determined not to waver or show any weakness. What he’d said about the Turkish authorities was true and the last thing he wanted was for his crew to get arrested and broken up and scattered around the country in different prisons. On the other hand, this guy could be anyone. Even if Caleb had known him once, there was no way to know who he was working for now.
He turned to look at his old friend. “Who is he, Cal?”
“He left the CIA at the same time as me, and the last government job he had was with the DIA.”
Ella frowned. “What’s that?”
“Defense Intelligence Agency,” Caleb said, still smiling at his old friend. “But you’re freelance now, right Ezra?”
Ezra’s smile faded. “We need to make tracks, Cal.”
Mason sighed impatiently. “Can we trust him?”
“For sure,” Caleb replied, returning his attention to his old friend. “But I still want to know why you’re here. Seems like one hell of a coincidence that you show up at the same airport, and at the exact same time.”
“I need you, Cal. You and your team. You’re the best.”
“It’s not my team, Ez. I told you that already. It’s Jed’s crew.”
Mason stepped forward. “And what the hell do you know about my crew anyway?”
Ezra replied without hesitation. “Caleb Jackson: former US Ranger, bomb disposal expert. Give him a screwdriver and he can build anything. Zara Dietrich: former LAPD with a rocky past. Silat guru, not to mention just about every other martial art under the sun. Sharp, inquisitive, takes shit from no one. Milo Risk: one of the world’s greatest computer programmers and hackers. On the watch lists of more governments than I can count. Virgil Lehman: Brilliant classicist and polymath scholar. Like a walking Smithsonian. Ella Makepeace: a stunningly talented hypnotist also specialising in mentalism, mind control and mesmerism.”
Mason held back the grin. “And what does your research say about me?”
A pause. “Jedediah Mason: a broken soldier who came back from the brink of terrible personal tragedy. Weighed down by a crushing guilt. A brilliant strategist and leader.”
“I don’t know…” Everyone recognized Mason’s doubtful tone. He still wasn’t convinced.
The man in the black suit turned on his heel and started to walk across the tarmac toward the jet. “Take it or leave it, Mr Mason. I hear Turkish prisons are some of the worst in the world.”
Mason looked at his crew. Zara shrugged, Milo gave an uncertain smile and Caleb raised his arms into the air in a ‘What the Hell?’ gesture. Virgil pulled an uncertain face and put his hands in his pockets. Mason had hoped someone might help him out, and then she did.
“He’s telling the truth,” Ella said.
Mason’s face got serious. “You sure?”
She raised an eyebrow and gave him a condescending look. “Yes, I’m sure. I do this for a living, Jed.”
As Ezra started to climb the air stairs, he called across to Mason and the others. “Is that sirens I can hear?”
Mason knew he had no choice, and started to walk toward the plane with his friends right behind him. Whatever was inside the private jet had to be better than a Turkish prison. They climbed on board, greeted the medic and then the plane taxied to the runway and prepared to take off.
The Citation was the same kind the CIA used for covert flights, especially extraordinary renditions. It was fast and small and could land just about anywhere, but now it was climbing out of Istanbul Atatürk Airport at four thousand feet per minute with the Raiders crew on board.
At cruise, they unbuckled their belts and Ezra Haven started to talk.
“First off, as Caleb says, I’m no longer with the DIA. I was, but no more. I transferred to the NSA. That’s where I really wanted to be after the CIA and I finally got there, but now I’m freelance. I work for a private consortium.”
Ella sighed. “Christ, it’s like being in a bowl of alphabet soup in here.”
Ezra laughed. “Sorry, sometimes those of us on the inside can forget what it sounds like. The NSA is the National Security Agency. They’re one of the highest intelligence agencies in the US and responsible for monitoring foreign intel and counterintelligence. They’re also responsible for cryptology and breaking any codes that need to be broken and they’re in charge of US Cyber Command which deals with cyber warfare issues. I have many contacts there.”
“Wow,” Ella said, visibly impressed.
Mason sighed. He looked much less impressed. “That’s all fantastic, but why are you talking to us? I presume all of this is not just your quirky little way of catching up with your old pal Caleb here.”
Ezra Haven dipped his head for a moment and nodded in recognition of Mason’s justified frustration. After a few moments he began to explain. “A few hours ago one of my key researchers was kidnapped in a violent assault on her workplace. Her name is Dr Evangeline Starling and she was taken by a professional snatch squad who attacked Harvard University to get at her.”
“Who was the squad?” Caleb asked.
Ezra looked at his old friend with an apologetic smile. “I can’t tell you that at this stage. It’s classified.”
“But you know?” Mason said.
“Yes, we know. We have a positive ID. We ran some stills from the university CCTV system through our extensive computer records of known felons.”
“Why was she taken?” Zara said.
“I can’t tell you that either, sorry. It’s highly classified.”
“So what the hell can you tell us?” Mason said.
Ezra looked like he understood his frustration. “I can tell you that the kidnapping of Dr Starling represents the gravest national security threat since the Cuban Missile Crisis and we have to get her back no matter what the cost.”
Mason frowned as he listened to Ezra calmly talk about national security threats and missile crises and kidnapped researchers. “Why am I here, Mr Haven?”
“I’ve known Caleb for over twenty years,” Ezra said firmly. “We lost a great agent when he left the agency, but he’s one of the best asset extraction specialists there is. You all are. I originally contacted him a few days ago to help protect her, but now I want him to get her back. I want you all to get her back.”
Mason laughed. “You want us to get your missing researcher back?”
Ezra was stony faced. “I don’t see what’s so amusing about it.”
“You don’t? Try the fact that you were in the NSA and could rustle up just about any team of specialists in the US to get any job done no matter how dirty — and yet you’re asking me and my crew instead.”
“I understand.”
Caleb started to look uncomfortable for the first time since the airport. “So what’s the deal, Ezra? Why did you bring this to me the other day, and again now? Why us and not someone still in the government?”
“I’m glad someone asked me that,” he said, flashing Mason a withering glance. “Many reasons. Let’s start with the fact that any extraction team sent into a foreign country is going to take a lot of paperwork and land on a lot of desks. Putting it bluntly, there are hostile factions within the US intelligence community who represent a threat to our national security. If any of these factions learns of our attempt to rescue Dr Starling it’s no exaggeration to say that we could see the collapse of government in America. Plus, I’m freelance now and just don’t have the kind of influence needed to get government forces deployed.”
A long, heavy silence filled the cabin of the Citation. Like the rest of his crew, Jed Mason hardly knew how to respond to what he had just heard. When he spoke, his voice split the silence like an axe through dry wood.
“I’m not risking the lives of my team without knowing who we’re up against. I don’t care if it’s highly classified or not. Either you tell us who took your researcher or the deal’s off right now. Final word.”
Ezra sighed and looked to Caleb for support, but he didn’t get any.
“Sorry Ezra, but Jed’s the leader of this crew and he’s right. I’m with him on this one.”
Ezra rubbed his nose and stared into the middle distance for a few tense seconds. In the background, the medic fussed with a first aid box but Mason pushed him away. The Londoner guessed Ezra was wrestling with his conscience about just how much to tell them all. He was in the army once and he understood classifications, but he wasn’t going to budge on this one. Not one inch.
Then Ezra Haven relented. “All right, but what I’m about to tell you has a code word classification, ranking it above Top Secret. It’s what we call SCI, or Sensitive Compartmented Information.”
“Spit it out, Ezzie,” Zara said. “I want my afternoon nap.”
Ezra was clearly wrestling with something in his mind, but then he rubbed his face, let out a deep sigh and started to speak.