Charlotte had been on station in Ankara, Turkey for a week now, gathering as much information as she could on the prison facility run by a man called Jaheer Dafi. The suspicion was that he was a member of Al Sahara, a group of terrorists operating worldwide looking to make a name for themselves in a big way. Charlotte’s team had been sent in because they were holding a member of British Intelligence, and they didn’t even know it. They thought that he was a member of the press, getting a little too nosy around their weapons facilities. The Firm handled situations like this, where the use of the usual organizations would give away more information than necessary. Plus, the Brits would owe them a favor, which was always helpful.
The building they were using as a prison facility was conveniently located at the edge of a public park, so today Charlotte was playing tourist. She was going for the classic college student bumming around Europe look. Her long, blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun with a bandana wrapped around her head like a headband. She was wearing light-weight khaki cargo pants, sturdy brown hiking boots, and a grey wind breaker jacket over her pink t-shirt because it was a little on the cold side that day. The building she was interested in luckily was one that had some interesting architecture, so she could get away with taking pictures of it, and writing down her observations in a travel journal, typical college student stuff.
Once Charlotte had gotten all the shots she needed she headed back across the park to the hostel, conveniently located within view of the prison building. The young man at the desk smiled and waved at her as she came in the door.
“You get some good shots for your paper?” He asked. Earlier that week she had gotten to talking with him and she found that he was a student at the local University. He had bought her student travelling abroad story hook line and sinker.
Charlotte walked to the desk and set her camera down. “Yep, I was particularly interested in that building right across the street. There is something a little off about it.”
The man laughed and nodded. “See, that’s how I know that you’re an architect major. What the guidebooks don’t tell you is that that building is older than it looks. My grandmother would tell you stories about how it was build a few years before we won our independence after World War I. Apparently it was used to smuggle spies during the Cold War. She tells the most fantastic stories of paying in hidden passages in the walls as children.”
“Really?” Charlotte was suddenly very interested.
“Oh yes. See, that’s something that isn’t going to be in your guidebooks.” The man beamed.
“They just let the kids play in the building?” Charlotte wasn’t quite buying the story.
“Oh no. See when they built the building they knew they had to have a way to smuggle people out. There is a tunnel that goes out into the park. It’s probably been long sealed now, but my grandmother said they would slip in under the bushes and take the tunnel right to the building.” He said solemnly. “A little bit of local culture to add to your paper huh?”
“Definitely, thanks!” Charlotte smiled. She picked up her camera and rounded the corner to the stairs. She went up to the second floor and went to the second door on the right. She gave two quick nocks, paused, then one more knock before opening the door. She smiled at the team assembled in the small room. “I think this job just got easier.”
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