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opened fire.
    ‘I’ve got access to the second camera now, sir.’
    ‘On screen.’ Dawson shifted his attention to the new image.
    The second camera, placed in the helicopter’s cargo area, offered a view forward. Metternich occupied the pilot’s seat. Two gunmen crowded the cargo door with heavy-calibre machineguns; they were firing.
    Dawson took a deep breath and let it out. He told himself that the op was going to play out just fine. But they hadn’t run one this hot in years. Whoever Lourds was, whatever he represented to the vice-president, he’d better be worth the risk they were all taking.
    Bullets from the men beside the sedan crashed through the helicopter’s Plexiglas shield. Metternich cursed ferociously and struggled to bring it under control. The aircraft swung out over the rooftops and the alley was obscured.
    ‘Get on the skids,’ Metternich ordered. ‘We’ll strafe them on a straight run.’
    The two gunmen moved out to either side of the cargo area and clambered out onto the skids. They hunkered down into position as Metternich piloted the helicopter round to approach the sedan once more.
    ‘I want that package,’ Dawson growled. ‘Unharmed.’
    ‘We’re going to get it for you,’ Metternich said. ‘Just shut up and let us do our job.’
    Dawson covered the microphone and made a mental note that Metternich was going to get a bullet instead of payment for this one. His insolence, never mind his proximity to the vice-president’s pet project, rendered him expendable. Dawson took satisfaction in that.
    As the helicopter swung back into the alley, Dawson spotted two marked police cars speeding up from the other end. A sinking sensation formed in the pit of his stomach.
    One of the men stopped firing, yelled hoarsely, and pointed at the back of the sedan. One of the new arrivals pulled a rocket launcher from the vehicle’s trunk. He settled it over his shoulder and aimed even as Metternich tried to pull up from the attack run.
    The helicopter filled with flames and the cameras went offline.

 
    CHAPTER
    4
     
     
    Off Istanbul Cd
    Yesilkoy District
    Istanbul, Turkey
    15 March 2010
    S tunned, Lourds watched the helicopter go to pieces in the sky above the alley. Flaming wreckage flew in all directions. Some of it dropped onto the rooftops, but a lot of it fell into the alley. The cacophony of explosions and their echoes rolled through the confined space and physically battered him.
    Still on his feet, but only because he hadn’t thought to throw himself to the ground, Lourds ran his hands over his body. As far as he could tell, he was still in one piece. But he didn’t think he was in a good position to know for sure.
    By the sedan, the man with the rocket launcher calmly reloaded his weapon. Sirens shrilled behind Lourds. When he turned to look back, he spotted two police cars on the other side of the flaming debris. The wreckage blocked them from approaching.
    Lourds turned and fled back toward the policeman. He raised his hands and shouted, ‘Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!’
    The doors on the police car opened and two officers squatted down behind them with guns drawn.
    Lourds repeated his entreaty in two different languages and was on his third when Kristine tackled him. Her arms encircled his knees and he plummeted forward just as the police opened fire. The bullets passed overhead within inches.
    Kristine slithered up his body and settled on top of him in a prone position.
    ‘You’re going to get yourself killed,’ Kristine shouted into his ear. ‘You must have some kind of death wish.’
    She slapped the back of his head.
    The man with the rocket launcher fired again. This time the round streaked for the police car. The police officers had just enough time to abandon their positions before the explosive slammed into the vehicle. The car flew up from the ground and flipped over backwards. As the vehicle lay rocking like an overturned turtle, flames wreathed it.
    Rubber shrilled