A Date to Remember (standard:mystery, 2967 words)
Author: pjlawton	Added: Jun 14 2004	Views/Reads: 3441/2384	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A chance encounter in Istanabul puts a tourist in grave danger, and a date to remember.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

tourist escape. He cannot be allowed to get to the American Consulate” 
Closing the phone, Ahmed, the talker gave out a few instructions then 
left the other man to guard the entrance and moved off. 

Jason didn't like the sound of that but he knew he couldn't stay in his
current position. If Ahmed came back they would surely find him. The 
loud arrival of the police created a sudden outside commotion and 
caught the second man's attention. When the waiting man turned to 
investigate, Jason made his move. He made a quick sideways shift and 
then a sprint to the closest side street. He slowed so not to attract 
unnecessary attention and with feigned casualness quickly walked away. 

From alley to alley deeper into the inter bazaar he franticly looked for
a telephone. If he could reach the American Consulate he could get some 
help. His anxious search proved to be fruitless, no phone available. 
What to do now was the big question. God, if he only had his laptop he 
could at least find out what was so important about the disc he 
carried. For a time he aimlessly wandered around. His numbed brain 
finally kicked in when he spotted an exit sign.  His only chance of 
getting out of this jam was to get to the American Consulate. 

The day's events had given him the foresight to use extra caution when
he neared the doorway. Outside a waiting man was closely eyeing every 
person leaving the Bazaar. Jason knew he had to do something soon, but 
what? Slowly approaching the exit was a tour group in western dress.  
He figured that this just might be his best, possibly only chance to 
leave. He casually joined the group and moved through the exit with 
them. 

Keeping his head down he edged toward the side of the group away from
the man. He walked with slow measured steps and kept his eyes averted. 
In a minute they were past the watcher. 

Home free he thought as his pained lungs expelled a gigantic rush of
air. He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath. When the tour 
group stopped and climbed into a waiting bus he walked on down the hill 
toward the bright lights of a taxi stand.  A cab was exactly what he 
needed. 

With his eyes locked in on his destination he almost missed movement to
the left. His peripheral vision picked up someone stepping out into the 
rapidly darkening street. 

He suddenly realized who it was. Without a doubt it was the same man,
Ahmed. 

A quick jump placed him in recessed doorway of an old abandoned
storefront. He flattened his shaking body into the shadows. Ahmed was 
now only inches from where he stood. Jason placed his weight against 
the door and pushed. Unexpectedly there was a slight movement. He 
shifted his weight and silently pushed harder. There was more movement. 
With a sudden whoosh the door popped open. Sliding inside he reached 
out and gently pushed it closed. 

He peered through the dirty glass doorway window. Where was Ahmed?  He
was still there, standing right in front of the store but now facing 
back down the street.  Presently another man came into view.  This man 
was different, not Arabic or Middle Eastern but had a dark European 
look. 

They shook hands and the Ahmed started to quietly speak. Jason placed
his ear to the door that he had slightly cracked open. Straining, he 
was able to make out some of what was being said. 

“Please speak English,” he heard the European say.  “I do not speak
Arabic and I was told that you do not speak my language.” 

Ahmed nodded.  “No, I am sorry I do not speak your language but I do
indeed speak English fluently.” 

“Good, report please. What of the Israeli spy? Did he pass the
information?” 

“Yes, we saw him pass the disc to an American tourist and then try to
run away.  He was terminated. The tourist will also be eliminated. Do 
not worry we have all the exits covered; he cannot escape.” 

The European said,” It could have been a mistake to kill the Israeli in
the Bazaar entryway, but it had to be done. Keep me updated by mobile 
phone. We must retrieve the strike plans; nothing must interfere with 
11-9.” Turning, the European moved off back down the street.  Ahmed 
watched for a few seconds then turned and walked off in the other 
direction. 

Jason was stunned. Eliminated.  That's what Ahmed had said.  Strike
Plans? What was 11-9 anyway?  The data on the disc, or strike plans as 
the European had called them must be extremely important. The urgency 
shown by the dead little man proved that. He needed to get to the 
Consulate now, tonight. 

He knew he had to get out without being seen. That was his only chance,
but how? He quietly moved away from the window and slipped into the 
front corner of the musty smelling shop. He sat on the floor and 
settled in as best he could. He would rest just a few minutes then 
figure something out. 

*** 

With a start Jason sat up.  Oh no, he had been sleeping. What time was
it?  Moving to the window using the light from a distant lamppost he 
could faintly read his watch dial.  9:40 P.M.  Wait a minute; his watch 
was still on US time. Istanbul was eight hours ahead. That made it 5:40 
A.M. 

A flash of light on his watch face caught his attention. At first glance
something had failed to register. What was it? Yes, the date indicator. 
The date indicator read 10.  That's right he thought. Today is the 
10th.  September 10th. He was due to return home on the 13th.  Just a 
second, he thought, here it would already be September 11th. 

It suddenly dawned on him.  9-11. That's it. 9-11 must be a date. Today.
Whatever was to happen was going to go down today.  Now getting to the 
Consulate was even more important. He had to go and he had to go right 
now. 

Jason looked out the dirty window. Ahmed was nowhere to be seen but
another man was there.  Something about his manner looked odd. The man 
was slumped head down in an awkward position. With soaring spirits 
Jason realized that he was asleep.  Without giving any thought to other 
possible danger he quickly moved to the door.  He paused only long 
enough to make sure the watcher hadn't moved then swiftly darted down 
the hill. 

The cab rank at the bottom of the hill was vacant. To the right he could
see the clock face on the tower entrance to the main train station 
about three blocks away. If he was to get an early taxi, that would be 
the place. He quickly jogged in that direction. 

There was only one cab waiting at the station taxi stand and the driver
appeared to be asleep. As Jason approached the waiting driver opened 
his eyes. 

“Can you please take me to the American Consulate,” he asked. 

“I am sorry my friend, I am not yet on duty,” the driver replied.  “I do
not begin my work day until the first train arrives at 6:15. 

Desperation was creeping into Jason's voice but he worked hard to keep
it under control. He said, “I believe that the American Consulate isn't 
really that far.  You can easily get me there and return here by the 
time the first train arrives. I will gladly pay you extra to take me.” 

Looking thoughtful for a moment, the driver nodded. “Okay, my friend,
twenty American dollars.” 

Twenty dollars.  Five times what the normal charge should be.  Could he
refuse? Of course not. “Okay, let's go, but quickly please. I need to 
get there as soon as possible.” 

The softness of the seat engulfed him as the driver smoothly moved the
vehicle forward.  He felt like a thousand pounds lifted from his chest 
and gratefully closed his eyes.  Unfortunately with closed eyes he 
didn't see a man step from the shadows quietly talking into a mobile 
phone. 

*** 

The taxi came to a stop and Jason's eyes popped open. He could see a
barrier placed across the street.  What is this, he thought. 

“This is as far as I can go, my friend,” the cab driver said.  “All
streets to the Consulates have been blocked off.  We can no longer 
drive to the entrance gates.  You will have to walk from here.” 

The driver sensed Jason's confusion and continued. “The American
Consulate is straight ahead, two blocks.” 

He looked where the driver pointed and could see a walled compound. He
handed the driver a twenty-dollar bill, thanked him and quickly exited 
the vehicle. 

His purposeful stride lasted only half a block. He unexpectedly felt a
strange sensation when the hairs on the back of his neck tingled. He 
wasn't sure why but the feeling wasn't exactly right.  He slowed, 
glanced around then quickly entered a nearby alley.  Maybe he should 
circle around and come in from another direction.  No good, the alley 
had also been completely blocked off. 

Jason slowly edged back to front of the building. He had never had a
sensation quite like he was feeling and wasn't sure what to expect. He 
figured he had better not ignore it. 

Bending down he sneaked a peak around the corner. In the near distance
he could see the beckoning gates of the Consulate with its Marine guard 
post. He eased around the corner but hugged the side of the building 
and quickly scanned the area. Just down the street in the entrance of 
another alley he saw a silhouette of someone hiding in the shadows.  
This can't be good he thought. 

While he hesitated an old man came around the building and moved to pass
him by. Brick chips from the building façade stung his face. With a 
grunt the old man toppled forward and was still. Only then did a sound 
register to his fatigue-laden mind. He quickly fell to the ground and 
squeezed behind a large concrete trash receptacle. The old man was 
still down. A pool of dark red blood was running into the trash filled 
gutter. With a shake of his head he thought, I'm sorry old man, wrong 
place at the wrong time. 

Splat. There was the sound again. He felt something strike his concrete
hiding place. Silenced gunshots. But how had they found him? The 
watcher at the Bazaar had been asleep or he would not have been able to 
get away. Realization dawned on him. Of course someone would be 
watching the Consulate. 

He mentally kicked himself for making such a foolish mistake. He should
have seen that coming.  His thoughts raged like wild fire. Where was 
the shooter? He had to go, couldn't stay here. Way too dangerous. The 
gunman might just get lucky with the next one. 

With rapidly pumping legs he started a sprint toward the waiting
Consulate gates.  A chanced glance over his shoulder verified that a 
man carrying a long barreled handgun was furiously running after him.  
Oh no, he thought, it's Ahmed; I'm not going to make it.  A whiz of air 
blasted past his face. Another splat. A burning pain jabbed him in the 
side. He stumbled. Sheer effort kept him from a headfirst dive into the 
pavement. 

He slowly righted himself then looked to his front at the tall wrought
iron fence around the edge of the Consulate foreground. He could be 
there in just a few more seconds. Only problem was the gate. It was 
still a couple of hundred yards down the block. His breath came in 
ragged gasps and he again faltered. Ahmed had to be close now. How 
could he possibly miss again? 

Fatalistically he realized that he wasn't going to make it. Crap, he
thought, twenty years is the Army without a scratch and now only two 
weeks retired and I'm going to die in a dirty Istanbul street. Well, I 
may not make it but the information somehow must. Stumbling again and 
almost done in he pulled the disc from his pocket. Holding it by the 
edge and with a backhand motion he gave it a throw, Frisbee style. 

The disc flew into the air smoothly topping the fence and landing safely
inside the compound. A Marine Guard rushed forward down the fence line 
to intercept it. Jason could see another guard intently watching from 
behind the iron fence. He tried to shout for help but had no air left 
in his lungs. He saw the first Marine making for the Consulate 
entrance. At least the disc made it, he thought. I hope it was worth 
the costs. 

Thoroughly mentally and physically exhausted, he fell to his knees
waiting for the final shot. Seconds went by, nothing. Chancing another 
glance behind he couldn't believe what he saw. Or, more aptly what he 
didn't see. The street was empty. He looked back to the front to where 
to two heavily armed Marines were running toward him. I guess my old 
friend Ahmed didn't want any part of them, he thought. 

He felt a sticky dripping wetness and a wave of pain engulfed him. He
made a stumbling attempt to get to his feet then pitched face forward 
to the pavement. 

Blackness tried to overtake him as two sets of very strong hands lifted
him. Through his pain induced brain fog he heard one Marine tell the 
other that he should be okay, his injury didn't appear to be too 
serious, only a flesh wound. For the first time he was happy to be in 
the company of Marines. Semper Fi, Mac. 

As the Marine Security Team gently carried him through the consulate
gate his thoughts returned to the disc. He may never know what it 
contained. He may never know the significance or meaning of 9-11.  He 
would though have the satisfaction of knowing that his efforts just may 
have made a difference. If for nothing more than the events he had 
experienced today, September 11, 2001 would always be an important 
date, a date to remember. With a soft sigh he slowly closed his eyes 
and let the blackness come. 

End 


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