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attempting to flee. ‘You sonofabitch – we gonna want some skin now.’
    They careened around the corner, and skidded to a stop. Alex hadn’t run deeper into the gloom to hide among the mounds of soggy newspapers and rotting garbage. Instead, he stood with his back to them, hands down at his sides, as immobile as dark block of stone. His body was relaxed, ready, but his mind burned; his pent-up fury was like a tidal wave smashing against a rock wall, the pressure building.
    He felt the trio’s soft footsteps on the wet asphalt as they approached. They slowed, wary. He closed his eyes. He heard and sensed everything – their breathing becoming quicker as excitement accelerated into nervousness. There was a slight ruffle of clothing, then the click of a hammer being drawn back on a small caliber revolver. He automatically identified the weapon from the sound: a .22 snub-nose Smith & Wesson J-Frame – a toy.
    A snigger as the men’s confidence returned, and then an almost imperceptible movement of air behind his head.
    Kill them all , the voice whispered deep inside his brain. Let me.
    He spun, and grabbed the man’s gun hand just as it was coming up behind his ear. He bent the hand around and back on itself, forcing the gun under the shooter’s chin, crushing both his finger and the trigger at the same time. The bullet entered his skull and probably ricocheted around a few times in the cranium, not able to escape and turning an already addled brain to mush.
    The man’s face retained a look of surprise even as life’s spark left him. Alex released his body, but before it had fallen to the ground he’d turned and swung his closed fist backhanded like a sledgehammer into the face of another attacker, who was holding up a greasy blade. The blow came so fast and hard, the man’s skull crumpled like an old soda can. Alex flung the body into the wall behind him.
    The third attacker dropped the metal bar he held and turned to run. He didn’t get half a dozen paces before Alex had him by the collar and was flinging him to the slick ground. It was the whip-thin one, scrabbling backward, babbling now.
    ‘I didn’t know … sorry, man … I didn’t know.’
    Alex lifted him again and slammed him into the wall. The thin hands tore at his captor’s grip, but he might as well have tried to break steel chains.
    Alex brought his face in close. ‘You have no idea what’s really out there.’
    ‘I didn’t know. Please … don’t.’ The eyes that had been aggressive and confident were now wide with terror. The predator had become prey. He clawed at Alex’s hands and then at his bearded face, babbling and sobbing. ‘Who the fuck are you?’
    Alex felt nothing for the man. No, that wasn’t true; he did feel something. He felt good. He drew his fist back.

CHAPTER 5

Special Forces Mobile Command Center, Istanbul
    Kemel Baykal’s frustration showed in the volcanic glare he turned on the team of local police who were tasked with monitoring the image feeds from the cisterns. He had requested a twenty-four-hour watch on the cameras placed in both the inner and outer chambers of the deep tunnels. But sometime during the night, one of the image feeds had gone dead, and no one had noticed for several hours. Whoever was supposed to have been watching, wasn’t.
    Baykal noticed a young policeman’s eyes darting back and forth, refusing to meet his own. You , he thought. He leaned his large frame toward the young man, his moustache a black shelf of bristles and fury.
    At last the young man’s eyes slid up to his, and he dry-swallowed. ‘I just stepped out for –’
    ‘Go.’
    The policeman’s mouth snapped shut. He looked like he was about to plead his case, but then must have thought better of it. He got to his feet and left the room.
    Baykal turned to a seated technician and spun his finger in the air, indicating he wanted the relay feeds backed up so he could look at the information prior to the image whiteout, for the