A Deceit to Die For Read Online Free PDF Page A

be here within fifteen to twenty minutes.”
    “Call the governors of Zonguldak and Düzce. I want roadblocks on every highway and have them send Bekir’s picture to every roadblock team.”
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    Twenty-five nautical miles north of Turkey’s Black Sea coast, the sun rose on a small boat carrying eight men who pulled alongside a container ship under the flag of Qatar. The FAL rifles slung on their backs, the grenades on their belts and the wetsuits made them look like a team of commandos. A ladder was lowered over the side and one by one the men climbed up.
    “As-salamu alaykum.”
    “ Wa Alaykum As-salam. Thanks for picking us up ahead of schedule.”
    “My pleasure, Bekir. Run into a little trouble?”
    “Yes, but with Allah’s favor we gave them the slip.”
    “The favor and protection of Allah is the only thing that can explain why you’re still alive.”
    “ Alhamdulillah. May Allah be praised.”
    “So, what are our orders, Bekir? Do we head straight for Moldavia?”
    “Yes. Can your crew be trusted?”
    “All of the grunts are Gagauz Turks who graduated from our schools in Moldavia.”
    “So, they are all converts?”
    “Yes. Our schools are tremendous evangelical tools.”
    Bekir smiled. “Every idea’s time comes sooner or later. It’s our turn now.”
     

CHAPTER 2
     
    L ONDON , E NGLAND     Raindrops raced chaotically down the window pane where Ian stood looking out on a grey sky. He stared broodingly at the tiny crumbs of water sliding in stalls and starts down the glass, gathering strength as they huddled with like-minded molecules until they finally gathered the critical mass that sent them plunging headlong to the ground. The rolling black clouds he watched through the ordered chaos of the drizzle splattered pane had blotted out a beautiful summer day in London. Normally, this would have been enough to dampen his spirits, but today his mood was an unusual mixture of melancholy and mirth.
    Ian turned away from the window, stared at the wooden lockbox sitting on the table, and reached in his pocket for the key. This was what had buoyed his spirits. Yesterday’s discovery had reignited his desire to complete a personal quest and renewed his enthusiasm. And yet staring out the window at the storm, he felt that the water falling from the heavens meant to douse his newfound fervor. Memories of the dreary, overcast day when his wife, Patricia, had passed away threatened to come rushing in like a flood removing the silt that had accumulated in his soul over the last two years and finally buried the grief of separation. For two years, he had muddled through his classes and shelved all his projects until time and numbness interred his sorrow.
    He fingered the key in his hand. What’s the point if Patricia’s not here to share it with? It was a negative train of thought and he knew it wouldn’t take him anywhere worth going. He had been down that track before, had lived there for almost two years. He saw another train of thought going the opposite way and, with the desperation of a homeless hobo, he hopped unto it instead. Your misery doesn’t honor her memory. Get on with your life. There was a fresh pot of Ceylon tea on the table and the whole afternoon to examine this miraculous find, the first lead he had had in years. But this train was suddenly thrown off track by a ringing doorbell. Ian sighed. Intrusion. Again. He sat motionless contemplating whether or not to answer it. A voice from the other side made up his mind for him.
    “Ian, it’s me, Judith.”
    One could hardly hope for a more charming intrusion. He walked quickly to the door, slipped the deadbolt and opened it in a crack.
    “Judith? I had no idea I was expecting you.” The feigned reproach made her smile.
    “Were you expecting someone else?” she rejoined. “If you were, I need to know now.”
    Ian was accustomed to her directness.
    “Of course not. Who would a grumpy old professor like me be expecting on a