Behind her, she heard the steel pipe clang to the ground. She glanced over her shoulder. The homeless man had jumped onto the other man’s back and seemed to have his teeth buried deep in his neck.
The hell?
Liesel tried to pick up the pace, but she couldn’t. She didn’t have the energy. Her hand went to her side. It came back wet and sticky. She looked. Blood. A lot of it.
Had she been stabbed twice? She’d been so focused on fighting the two men, she couldn’t remember.
She pulled her phone. Her hands were shaking. Caspian’s number glowed on the screen. The call was still active, connected to her now-lost earbud. She moved to switch off Bluetooth, but her vision swam. Then the world tilted, and she slumped against the wall.
Fuck.
Her hand found her side again. The pain was sharp now, definite. Her knees folded, and Liesel felt herself slide down the dirty, graffiti-colored wall in slow motion. She could see the people on Istiklal walking by, but none of them looked her way.
And even if they had, they would have only seen another drunk. Another ghost.
And then her eyes closed.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Istanbul, Turkey
Caspian didn’t want to do it, but he had no choice. He had to sever the connection to Liesel. His thumb hovered over the screen of his phone a beat longer, then he pressed the button to end the call. Whatever had happened in the alley, whatever had silenced her, it wasn’t the kind of trouble he could help her with from where he was. Even if he was to sprint to her location, he’d be too late. If she was still alive—and he hoped to God she was—his running blindly through Istanbul wouldn’t accomplish anything.
She needs help. Real help.
He called Ranger’s emergency line. She picked up immediately, her voice brisk.
“Caspian, I can’t talk right—”
“I need your help. Now.”
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Liesel’s last ping was at the corner of Istiklal Caddesi and Muammer Karaca Tiyatro,” he said, walking toward the elevator bank. “Something’s happened. I don’t know what, but she’s not responding. I think she’s hurt.”
“You’re not with her?”
“We had to split.”
“Okay. What do you need me to do?” Ranger said.
“The driver who’s waiting for us at the Hyatt,” he said, watching the elevator numbers descend, “I need you to contact whoever controls that asset and tell them we need to get to Liesel. And I want everyone the German consulate can spare to look for her. I don’t care if they’re desk jockeys or fucking interns.”
“Caspian, I can’t just redirect—”
“For God’s sake, Samantha, Liesel might be bleeding out in an alley,” he said, his hand clenching the phone.
There was a moment of silence, then Ranger said, “I’ll do what I can. But this is still a BND operation. I don’t control their assets.”
“Nicklas does,” Caspian said, then ended the call before she could respond.
The elevator doors opened with a shudder, and he stepped inside, punching the underground-level button with his fist. There was no one else in the elevator, so Caspian allowed himself to curse out loud. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go.
At this very moment, Liesel might be bleeding out in some piss-soaked alley, and all he had was a damn code phrase and Ranger’s word that someone would be waiting for them in the parking garage. The elevator doors slid open again.
The underground parking level smelled like concrete dust. Faded directional arrows were painted on the floor, but most of them were covered by oil stains. Caspian checked his phone. He had one bar. He called Liesel’s number. It took a few seconds, but it started to ring.
C’mon, Liesel. Pick up.
