The Red Room

18

Back on the same bench in front of the Sisli mosque, Grace speaks softly.

“Detroit is up in the World Series. Congratulations.”

“Verlander is a god,” says Knox.

“He cannot pitch every game. I will put ten dollars on the opponent in tonight’s game three.”

“You, gamble?”

“Consider my heritage. You think mahjong is a game of fun?”

“What do we know of our boy’s movement?”

“His chip went unused the morning after we spotted him surveilling. He’s obviously careful.”

“Or well informed.”

Grace respects Knox’s ability in the field, is trying to learn from him. This work, the work she is doing right now, is dream work. Out from behind the desk, yet still able to use her accounting skills, sitting on a plaza bench in Istanbul riding an adrenaline high. She senses how close she is to being given a solo assignment. Sees down the road a boutique security firm, her picking and choosing ops that satisfy more than the bottom line — like the work she and Knox did in Amsterdam.

She worries that Knox won’t forgive her once he realizes how she has used him. She has evolved from tolerance, through acceptance, to appreciation of her sometime collaborator. Knox is like a piece of contemporary art: meaningless at first glance, but in time comes to speak to you.

“Sarge has withheld information from us,” Knox says.

“Possibly.” Grace feels a rush. “SOP. NTK.”

“Protecting the client?”

“And the mark,” she says. “This is how he explained it to me. Yes. Perhaps not only the client and mark. You were rescued by that van, or so you said.”

“But then what we’re saying is that this is something so heinous a government can’t be associated with the outcome. That’s the reality break for me. Sarge promised there would be no targeting of Mashe.”

“Sensitive, perhaps not heinous,” says Grace.

“Their own spooks handle sensitive. This has to be more than that.”

“David prefers we perform the operation as assigned.”

Knox ignores her. “It could be someone connected to Mashe. I could buy that — using Mashe to lure out a bigger fish. That would allow Sarge to promise me nothing’s going to happen to Mashe. I didn’t expand the playing field. My bad.”

“I could suggest we stay with the operation,” Grace says.

“Says the woman doing all the digging around. What’s gotten into you, anyway?” When she fails to answer, he asks, “Is there actually any hope that these videos will mean anything?”

Knox gets restless easily. His legs bounce. His feet start tapping.

“There is, of course, something of significance here. Four separate visits by the person we now think of as an agent of the client.” She speaks encouragingly. “A few more minutes, please.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“If you sit still, the image will be clearer.”

“Point taken.”

The two ride out the remaining seven minutes. In that time, fifty or more people stream in and out of the mosque entrance. Several hundred cars flow past. It is a remarkable sight. Europeans, Americans, Africans, Japanese tourist groups, Arabs.

“Maybe your guy just likes people-watching.” Knox is in a snarky mood. She can’t blame him; he’s not a stakeout type. More the brass knuckle variety.

“Your opinion of Akram?” She tries to read his face.

“My opinion doesn’t matter. Sarge puts him as the messenger. He and his brother know that even an ancient copy of the Harmodius is invaluable. Many times what I’m asking, and I have a problem with a client willing to sacrifice millions — many millions — just so we can spend five minutes with Mashe Okle. Translation: whatever it is we’re supposed to accomplish would either cost the client those same millions, or the desired outcome is so impossible for them to accomplish on their own that it’s worth those millions. You see?”

Knox has a way of clarifying things. Grace is overly sensitive about her lack of this ability. She equates Knox’s faculty with the much-heralded American ability to create and innovate; her own tendency is toward rote technical skills. She thinks of Knox’s Chinese violinist example and flushes. Here, he has turned a double negative into a positive. It’s not the high price of the art; it’s the amount being given up by establishing a lower price that tells them something about the seller.

“You are more clever than you give yourself credit for,” she says softly.

“Do you hear me disagreeing?”

“You are also arrogant and rude.”

“And I wear it proudly.”

She reminds herself never to compliment him. “You can be such an ass.”

She expects another of his snide comebacks. Is surprised to see that she has stung him.

“I put out a feeler for a meeting with Sarge. I got back postponement.”

“He is here in Istanbul,” she says. “I feel it.”

“You know what? I hope not. I actually hope not.”

“Hope leads to disappointment; action to success.”

“Another proverb?”

She doesn’t answer. “What do we do about it? About David?”

“We consider the people that pulled me into the van and the people who followed you as allies, at least of Sarge. Probably working for the client. We assume we are pawns, and you know how I feel about that. We need to come up with a way to do the op without their involvement, client or not. I don’t trust them.”

“Maybe this helps us determine who and why,” she says, indicating the two phones shooting video.

“I’d rather shoot a guy in the leg than shoot video,” Knox says. “Puts a person in a sharing mood real quick.”

“There is a surprise.”

“Akram?”

“I have what I need.” Grace looks toward the mosque. “Xin and Dr. Kamat will help me to breach the bank firewalls. I have every confidence the plan will go forward as designed.”

“You never lack for confidence,” Knox says.

“You exaggerate, as usual.”

“Don’t give me that false modesty… that Chinese thing you do, going all humble and demure? It’s undignified.”

“On the contrary, it is quite dignified, which is why you do not recognize or understand it.”

“I won’t dignify that with a comment. Look, we wait a day for Mashe and Akram to settle out the funds. You need to be ready by then. Thirty-six hours, max. Then we’re on a plane home.”

“I may need more time. David’s plan is more… evolved. I am to challenge the sourcing of the funds, demand an explanation. This provides you — us — with the meet. The five minutes.”

“Doesn’t mean I like it,” he grumbles. “So, we’ll make our move once the deposit and sourcing are confirmed. ‘Action breeds success.’”

“Given that my work cannot commence until the deposit of the funds,” Grace says, “we are presented with ample opportunity to shoot more video tomorrow. We then download it to Xin for analysis. We meet here again tomorrow, sixteen hundred.”

“You’re putting too much on this,” Knox says.

“It is tangible. Actionable intelligence.” It will impress David. “We must know why this agent spent time here. Perhaps to meet his control. Neh? How pleasing would it be to identify not only this agent but also his control?”

“You’ve grown your hair longer,” he says. “And changed perfumes. This is tangible.”

She swallows her surprise, is able to contain her reaction.

“Enough! It is past five,” she says. “We are done here.”