Chapter 24

Janus

Coming to Istanbul is always something else.

The golden domes of the mosques, the bridging of Europe and Asia, the spectacular yellow light…it’s something, that’s for sure.

I had no idea the experience could get more spectacular, but then, this is the first time I’d had the experience with Danielle Robinson sitting beside me, buttoning up her shirt. We have a few minutes left before we touch down in Istanbul, so I take the opportunity to soak in her now-messy hair and satisfied dark eyes.

God, she’s sexy.

Honestly, she’s astonishing when she’s all sexed-up and relaxed, but we’re on a dangerous international criminal trail, not a beach holiday.

Astonishing won’t cut it—surreptitious is what we need. So I grab her hand to stop her there. It’s warm, and her fingers twist through mine temptingly.

She smiles at me questioningly.

“We have to be even more inconspicuous here.”

“Ah yes, that’s what I hired you for.”

Of course, I’ve already prepared for this. It’s particularly easy to disguise a woman in Istanbul—the headscarf and long dress do most of the work.

Unfortunately, Dani’s still spectacular even with most of her skin covered. I give her a pair of sunglasses to block out those eyes—the fewer heads she turns, the better.

The disguise is simple for me, too.

Istanbul’s population is diverse enough that I can fit right in with my dark hair and current tan.

I simply dress down. With a pair of Levi’s on, a tight shirt, and a different part to my hair, I am no longer a gentleman but any local guy going about his business. A couple of brown contact lenses go in too, and then Bob’s your uncle.

We won’t have to go anywhere near customs—that’s the benefit of a private jet and my contact on the ground—but I take some time to double-check everything is well with our fake passports anyway.

And then we’re there, climbing onto the tarmac, and I’m being kissed on both cheeks by Mahdi al Sahli.

Being greeted by this bloke is the closest thing I’ve had to coming home to a parent in over fifteen years. It’s a goddamned delight. Most of the brotherhood have gotten tougher over the years, but I swear Mahdi has gotten more eccentric.

When he sees my eyes combing the area for anyone who could be watching, he claps me on the back and sings a couple of lines from one of his favorite Gilbert and Sullivan songs.

“We're sober men—true and attentive to our duty.”

Dani giggles from behind me and I roll my eyes.

“Why always so serious, Jackal?!” he asks in his thick Cairo accent with widening smile.

He sees me watching Dani descend the plane.

“Ah, this one! Yes, you told me a little about this one last time.”

His eyes crinkle in soft sympathy. But before I have a minute to protest that I don’t need sympathy, and I’m just doing my job, Dani’s on the tarmac next to us, and he’s herding us towards a car park.

“Come, I’ve got a car around the corner. A better place to talk.”

“Dani, this is Madhi al Sahli. Mahdi, this is Danielle Robinson.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. al Sahli,” Dani says as she takes his outstretched hand.

Mahdi responds by bursting once more into Gilbert and Sullivan. I’ve got to hand it to Dani; she reacts with total grace to the strangest of things.

The car Mahdi’s picked out will blend right in.

It’s not too old, not too new, and a little beaten up. You’d never be able to tell it’s bullet proof.

Mahdi and I have a little disagreement because I want Dani to sit in the front with him, but he insists on playing chauffeur.

He looks at me knowingly, and I almost go red. I’d forgotten how people you knew as a teenager are still so able make you feel like an adolescent.

He’s right though; it’s bloody nice to feel Dani sliding in next to me.

Her jasmine perfume matches the scent of this city, and it’s intoxicating. She’s running her foot up and down my leg, and it’s very hard to concentrate on what Mahdi is saying. I barely catch the end of his sentence.

“...you like that area, don’t you Jackal?”

I stiffen and feign attentiveness. “I’m sorry Mahdi, I didn’t quite catch that over all the car horns.”

Mahdi’s no idiot and gives me a look through the rear-view mirror.

“Kunt dayimaan dhakia hataa tadkhul almar’at.”

You were always a smart one until a woman walked in.

Of course he’d switch to Arabic to say that.

I laugh, embarrassed, but I make a mental note to be on top of my game. I love Mahdi like family, but it won’t do for any of the guys to see me at less than my best.

“This is serious stuff. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” His tone is more serious now—not that I blame him.

“Mahdi, I’ve taken down Tartarus before. It’s dangerous, but it’s important. We’ll be fine.”

I get another look in the mirror; it’s one I’ve seen before, and I know now that it wasn’t Tartarus that he was talking about. I look over at Dani, who’s half listening and half sightseeing, and look back to him with a nod.

“I’m sure.”

“Good. Now, do you like Turkish coffee, Miss Robinson?”

“Love it,” Dani answers as her attention turns inward to the vehicle completely.

“Good, good! Because I’ve found you two a private loft in his favorite part of town. There’s a wonderful coffee shop around the corner. Not to mention, the guy who runs it is a good friend.”

“I look forward to it,” she says, flashing a smile. “But how do you know Jackal’s favorite part of town? You guys go back a long way?”

“My dear, we are, as your expression says, ‘thick as thieves.’ Pardon my pun, but we do go back a very long way. I met this guy when he was just a little jackal pup on the streets of Cairo.”

“Oh. This is a story I’m excited to hear,” she says.

Dani’s sexy little smile is even sexier when she thinks she’s about to find something out. It’s infuriating though.

“It’s an exciting story!” Mahdi agrees. “Did you know it was I who named him Jackal?”

Oh come on! A man has to have some mystery.

I interrupt before this all goes too far. She’s already heard most of my sob-story anyway.

“So—you got us a place, Mahdi?”

“The best. Close to everything, secure, great views, and, of course, private.”

Is that a wink? Did he really just wink?

“And a car. Something a little nicer than this. But not too nice. We don’t want to draw attention to you.”

We’re hitting central Istanbul now. The smells are intense and varied; spice markets, shisha, tea, meat, honey, and baking are all hitting my nose.

God, I love the Middle East.

Beautiful city with a beautiful woman…what more could I want?

Oh that’s right—to not be tangled up with one of the most terrifying group of mercenaries on the planet. Again.

I’m jolted out of my reverie as we arrive at our destination. We’re pulling into an underground car park in what looked like a charming, turn-of-the-century Istanbul building.

Mahdi’s insisting on grabbing our bags, all the while singing to himself again, and taking us through a series of complicated security checks to an elevator.

“There’s a good restaurant here. A waiter will come to give you your car keys. You’ll find the car a few blocks from your apartment. I’ve sent the encrypted address to you already. All the usual tricks.”

He’s right; the restaurant is beautiful. Top-floor views of all the domes of Istanbul. Perks like this are the reason I gave up the straight-and-narrow.

I notice Dani noticing the view. And I wonder if she notices me watching her ass. Even in that floor-length disguise dress, she’s something else.

Mahdi rings off a list of new numbers for his men on the ground. Unsuccessful in convincing us to take a night off to go to the Opera with him, he kisses us both on the cheek and then he’s gone.

When I turn around, Dani is standing very close and looking straight at me.

Her smile is cheeky but also soft and sincere. Some of her hair is escaping out of her scarf, and I stride over to fold it behind her ear.

She grabs my hand and playfully nips my finger.

“Well Mr. Jackal-pup—I’m impressed.”