Istanbul Passage by Joseph Kanon Read Free Book Online Page A

thumb through the notes. Unshaven, face surly.
    “Nothing extra for the extra day?”
    Leon could feel Mihai tense up next to him, coiled. “Not here,” he said quickly, improvising. “After you’re back. And we know no one’s seen you.” Something Tommy could easily arrange. Pocket change.
    “The bag,” Mihai said, his voice low, almost threatening, so thatthe fisherman picked it up without question, heaving it across the gap. Mihai swung it onto his shoulder.
    “No lights till you’re past the landing,” Leon said, reminded by a sweep of headlights from the road.
    Mihai tossed back the rope.
    “Did he say anything? You had two days.”
    The fisherman shook his head. “No Turkish. We play dominoes.”
    “The money will be there when you get back,” Leon said. “The extra.”
    The fisherman smiled, an uneven row of teeth with gaps. “Inshallah,” he said, a hand on his chest. He went over to the controls, pushing the handle forward. The boat choked, then started moving, the engine grinding, swinging out again toward the dark, the sputtering still audible even after it was out of sight.
    “They’re lucky they made it. In that,” Mihai said.
    “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
    Mihai turned to him. “You know what you’re doing?”
    “What do you mean?”
    A crunch of tires, a car door slamming. Mihai turned to it, then suddenly swiveled, the air near him exploding, his body jerking back, as if he’d been punched. He let out a sharp cry, hit somewhere. Leon saw the duffel bag falling, then Mihai pitching forward, rocking.
    “Get down!” A hoarse grunt as he dropped onto the duffel, scraping the pavement to get behind it.
    Another shot, hitting the concrete near the edge of the bag, Mihai rolling away from it. Leon ducked, then threw himself down, flattening his body on the concrete. Out of the light but still exposed, his mind a minute behind what was happening, trying to catch up. What soldiers must feel, everything around them moving too fast. Getting killed. Afraid they’d pee.
    He lifted his head a little, looking across the quay. The shots hadbeen so loud that everyone must have heard. He expected people rushing out of the café. But nobody appeared, even the café lights now hidden behind the dark bulk of the car where the shots had come from.
    “Mihai,” he said, a hiss.
    “Keep down.” He was reaching into his pocket, pulling out a gun, crouching farther behind the duffel for cover. “Roll away!” Mihai said, still hoarse. “Keep moving.”
    But the next bullet went to the duffel again, a locator shot for Mihai, who now aimed at the point in the dark where it had been fired. Leon watched him steady the gun. Nothing but dim reflected light on the road. But he found the spot. Another explosion, louder than the others, almost in his ear, and then a grunt from the other car, a surprised scream, a shadow forming, trying to stand then falling down again. For a second, silence, so quiet he could hear the boats creak against their ropes.
    “Mihai?” he whispered, crawling over on his belly, still trying to keep his head down.
    “I hit him.”
    Now close enough to see Mihai’s hand, covered in blood. “Jesus.”
    “We have to get to the car. We don’t know how many—”
    Mihai pushed himself up, knees, then a low crouch, moving, his eyes fixed on the other car. Leon scrambled up, following, then saw the shadow take shape, on its knees, hand extended.
    “Watch out!” he shouted, flattening himself again.
    “My hand. It’s stiff,” Mihai said, sliding the gun to Leon. “Get him.”
    For a second, less, Leon stared at the gun, reaching for it as if it might snap at him, a gray lizard flecked with blood, alive.
    “Quick!”
    Then, a pure reflex, he was aiming the gun, firing, hearing another grunt, this time the crack of bone as a head hit the pavement. Mihai was up and running, bent over, dragging the duffel.
    “Get in the car,” Leon said, taking the bag from him, risking a