Blown Circuit Read Online Free PDF Page A

really much cared. I was too tired. I watched as dust motes danced in the steam, my hair slicked back, the marble slab hot on the tips of my ears and the back of my neck. I felt as if I was in a hot tub without the weight of the swirling water. It was perfect. And then I felt a waft of cooler air blow over my chest and everything changed.

Chapter 6

    “M IKE .”
    It wasn’t loud, but I heard my name. I turned my head to see my unit leader standing there in a blue, checkered hammam towel. His dreadlocks were tied back and he was cleanly shaven, a tattoo of Earth as seen from space on his pale chest. We called him Crust, and though he was in charge of our little unit of covert backpackers and technically my boss, I still didn’t know his real name. I’d last seen him four or five days earlier in Yangshuo, China, and he didn’t look like he’d slept since.  
    Beside him stood Jean-Marc, another backpacker in my unit. Jean-Marc was dark, swarthy, and French, or at least he spoke with a French accent most of the time. I didn’t know where he was from, but given that the CIA employed him, I had to assume some allegiance to America. Jean-Marc was a little shorter than Crust, but a lot more muscular. Not the kind of guy you wanted to meet in a dark alley.
    “Hey,” I said.
    I kept my voice to a whisper, but it was still louder than I would have liked.  
    “How was your evening?” Crust asked in his Scottish brogue.
    I hesitated. I wasn’t sure how to answer that. Especially with the old man in the other room.
    “I don’t know yet,” I replied.
    “Progress?”
    “You could say that.”
    I picked myself up and sat back down next to the basin beside Crust and Jean-Marc. Then I turned on the water faucet, lowering my voice yet again.
      “Did you check out the fireworks?” I asked.
    “You betcha,” Crust said. “You need to keep a low profile, friend.”
    “I found some things,” I said.
    Crust raised a finger to his lips.
    “Later,” he said. “I trust you found your pack? Jean-Marc will bring you up to speed. Listen to what he has to say. Stay strong.”
    Then Crust rose and left the room.  

    “ B ONJOUR , M ICHEL ,” J EAN -M ARC said as Crust disappeared out the swinging door.
    Great , I thought. He was speaking French again. In my limited experience with Jean-Marc, his mind was on serious matters when he spoke French.  
    “ Bonjour , Jean-Marc,” I replied.
    “ Il fait chaud . It’s hot.”  
    No shit, Sherlock , I thought. But I scolded myself. I was being too harsh. Jean-Marc was my point man on this mission and though he’d mildly irritated me since we’d met in Hong Kong, I knew I’d better get over it. I wasn’t sure why he rubbed me the wrong way. It probably had something to do with his stare. It was the way the guy made eye contact. He didn’t just look at you. He overstayed his welcome. He drilled a hole right through your skull with his eyes. And now he wanted to talk business. Right away. He was as amped up as a Kentucky racehorse.
    “The authorities are looking,” Jean-Marc said. “They know the explosion in the harbor last night was not an accident. They have an image of you on CCTV.”
    Jean-Marc’s voice was low, low enough that nobody could hear it over the running water, but I still didn’t like talking about it in there. Of course, Crust had chosen the place.
    “Do they have my face?”
    “We do not know. Maybe so. Our information came from a contact inside the Turkish Police. But we cannot help you here in this country. It would damage your cover.”
    “I get it,” I said. “I’ll figure it out.”
    “So?” Jean-Marc said.
    “So what?” I said.
    “So what did you find?” Jean-Marc asked.
    “What do you mean?”  
    I didn’t know why, but I was feeling cagey. Probably because he’d blown my perfect hammam buzz.
    “Last night. What did you find?”
    I eyed the door to the smaller room. Water gurgled loudly into the basin beside me. There was no way