Revolution

“Not yet, anyway.”

THE TANKER MOVED MORE SLOWLY THAN THE MATE HAD

predicted, and it was nearly an hour before they got close enough to the city to see its lights. The Blue Mosque sat on a hill at the tip of the oldest quarter, glowing yellow in the distance, spotlights illuminating its dome and minarets.

A long string of ships sat in the water to the east of the mosque, some resting before moving northward or to the west, others waiting to unload cargo at the docks, which were out of sight beyond the jutting land. A train poked along the shore, heading in the direction of the sultan’s palace and the ruins beyond, ferrying workers to their late night jobs and returning others home.

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The Indian mate appeared from inside the ship, popping out on deck as if sprung there.

“Time,” he said loudly. “Time. You must go.”

Boston climbed up and undid the raft, lowering it from a pulley set on the stanchion.

“You are taking our raft?” asked the mate.

“You didn’t expect us to swim, did you?” asked Boston.

“Our raft.”

Da

“Yes.”

“How much?” said Da

“Big.”

“That wasn’t what I mean.” He reached into his pocket and took out a roll of American bills. Quickly, he peeled off five hundred dollar bills and gave them to the mate. “That makes it a small problem, right?”

The man looked embarrassed. “No, big problem. You ca

The mate tried to give the money back but Da

Boston had already gotten the raft into the water. Sorina Viorica was standing nearby, watching the bills flutter away in the wind but saying nothing.

“No—you ca

“I’m taking the raft,” Da

The mate shook his head.

Enough, thought Da

The Indian moved back, shocked.

“I’m sorry, but I’m taking the raft,” Da

The Romanian took hold of one of the ropes and climbed over the rail. Boston followed. The Indian mate continued to stare at Da

“Thanks for your help,” Da

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DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

He tucked the pistol into his belt and started down. He hadn’t had a chance to put his gloves back on, and the wet rope cut into his palms. After a few feet he considered dropping but stuck with it, hands burning. He felt a hand on his leg and lowered himself into the raft, which bobbed beneath his weight but remained afloat.

“Did you shoot him?” asked Sorina as Da

“No, I didn’t shoot him.”

“You ca

“I didn’t want to corrupt him. I just didn’t want you to freeze to death in the water.”

Boston started the small outboard at the stern of the raft.

The high-pitched sound was so loud, the sides of Da

Istanbul straddled the Bosporus, its eastern and western precincts co

Boston circled to the north, crossing behind the tanker and then heading toward the shore. But as they approached, blue lights appeared on the highway above the water. A police car flashed southward. A moment later another one came north, then pulled off the road almost directly opposite them.

Boston cut the engine. “What do you think, Cap?”

It was unlikely that they were waiting for them, but Da

“Let’s land on the other side,” he said.

“You got it, Cap.”

Boston spun the boat around, starting out slowly and then picking up speed. A large cruise ship sat docked to the north on Da

“Bring it into that marina?” Boston asked, leaning forward and shouting in Da

“No. Somebody might be watching in there. Go up the shoreline a bit, to my right. That way.” Da

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“Probably have some sort of security near that cruise ship.”

“Don’t get that close. The marina will probably have somebody there too. We want to be in the middle.”

Boston found a clump of rocks near what looked like an abandoned field, but that Da

Sorina hopped out as the raft began to slide sideways back toward the water. Da

“I’m not ru

“I didn’t think you were,” Da

“You don’t have to lie, Captain. It doesn’t suit you.”

Boston, ruck over his back, joined them. By now the two teenagers had broken their embrace and stared at them as they walked past.

“We have to get across,” said Da

They began walking, Sorina and Da

The area mixed small apartment buildings with clusters of commercial buildings in between. They picked their way uphill, following a side street that veered away from their destination, then found themselves in a tangle of streets that were so narrow they would barely rate as alleys back home.

A taxi passed on the boulevard just as they reached it.

Da

“This way,” he said, pointing to the left.

He checked his watch. It was 2105—five minutes past nine.

They were supposed to call at 2130.

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DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

A block later he spotted a bank. Stoner had given him a credit card to use for a cash advance or whatever incidentals he needed; Da

“Let’s see if there’s an ATM,” he told the others, nudging Sorina toward the street.

Sorina hesitated.

“They have cameras in the machines,” she said. “I don’t want to get close.”

“Right.” He hadn’t thought of that. “You stay here with Boston.”

Inside the bank’s vestibule, he slid the card into the machine and began punching the PIN number. Just as he hit Enter he realized he’d used his PIN, not the one Stoner had given him. He cursed himself, then waited for the machine to tell him he had made a mistake.

The screen stayed blank. It seemed to have eaten his card.

Be patient, he told himself, stifling the urge to punch the machine. Just be patient.

Finally the card spit out. Ignoring the Turkish words on the screen, since he had no idea what they said, Da

Fortunately, the numbers were familiar. He pressed the largest denomination: a thousand liras.

Boston and Sorina started walking as soon as they saw him come out. Da

“Look for a taxi,” he told Boston when he got close. “We’re behind on time.”

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Aboard EB-52 Johnson,

over northeastern Romania

2120

ZEN BANKED THE FLIGHTHAWK NORTHWARD, SKIRTING THE