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Thomas paid in Turkish lira, left a tip—the rule was not too little, not too much, nothing to make you stand out—and they headed back to the hotel.

They’d not gone more than fifty yards when a young kid who was tearing along the road barged into Thomas.

The guy running after the child, stopped to straighten Thomas up and apologise…

and steal his wallet. Jack had his hand around the man’s wrist before he could step away.

Jack didn’t say anything, merely took Thomas’s wallet from the man’s fingers and let him go.

The guy gave a small smile and ran off. Jack handed the wallet back to Thomas.

“Thank you.”

“Were you going to let him have it?” Jack asked as they walked on.

Thomas chuckled. “Yes. Not much in it. But you didn’t make a scene, which was good. Early night tonight. It will be a long day tomorrow.”

“Are we going back tomorrow or Sunday?”

“Depends on how things go.”

Jack wondered if that meant Thomas would step in if he fucked up. Did he have a plan of his own?

Of course he did.

They went to the carpet shop in the morning. Jack’s nerves jangled knowing what the rest of the day would bring, but maybe not as much as he’d expected. He was trying not to think of the actual killing part.

“It’s a good place in which to operate,” Thomas said. “Like London, Istanbul is always busy, plenty of crowds to disappear into. Lots of alleys and side streets. Easier to spot watchers in London than here, though.”

Jack nodded. He played his role in the shop and gave his considered opinion on the craftsmanship of the knotting and colours.

The salesman praised him for his Turkish.

Jack hadn’t been sure Thomas intended to buy a rug, but he ended up haggling over a large one and arranged direct shipping to some address in London.

They’d brought everything with them from the hotel.

If a swift departure was needed, they wouldn’t have time to return to get their things.

The succinylcholine was already inside a syringe, secure in a doctored bottle of shampoo that still dispensed coconut scented liquid.

Jack had calculated the timings for everything, including the trip to the carpet shop.

There was a little flexibility but they needed to be in the hamam before Kubat, who usually turned up around one thirty.

Jack had alternative plans if he didn’t show.

He didn’t eat much at lunch. Nor did Thomas. Finally, it was time to leave.

“Cameras!” Thomas whispered.

Jack hadn’t forgotten. Istanbul had a lot of CCTV and their arrival at the hamam would have been recorded.

There shouldn’t be cameras inside, as phones had to be left in lockers, but he’d look for them.

Thomas greeted the receptionist in Turkish and after a brief discussion about the weather here and in the UK, he and Jack moved through to the changing room.

They stripped and put on disposable underwear.

Once they’d wrapped themselves in peshtemals, they slipped their feet into wooden sandals.

Regular towels were also provided to use after bathing.

Taking your own shampoo wasn’t considered unusual.

Jack was happier to have the drug hidden in a bottle than in a fold of the thin towel tied around his waist. Though at some point, that would be a necessity.

They moved first into a hot steam room. Jack hadn’t liked it last year and he still didn’t.

He understood the principle, the steam opened pores and got the body ready for deep cleansing, but he didn’t enjoy the sensation of inhaling warm air.

There were two other guys in the room with them, though the steam was so thick, Jack wouldn’t have been surprised to find there were more.

He sat by the door with Thomas at his side.

Next time the door opened, Kubat and another man walked in. Jack wished his heart rate had stayed the same but it hadn’t.

The plan was on.

Kubat was a little shorter than him, slightly overweight with a double chin, but there was something about him that exuded strength and dominance. The man with him had the physique of a boxer. Maybe his bodyguard. Kubat greeted everyone and sat next to Thomas.

No one spoke further. Thomas had told him to follow the mood of the room.

If people talked, then talk. If not, stay silent.

Jack wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to stand this environment for fifteen minutes.

He was counting silently in his head, willing the time to pass quickly.

Worse still, what would follow was five minutes in an even steamier room.

“We’re done,” Thomas finally said.

Jack heaved a sigh of relief. “I was melting.”

“English?” Kubat asked.

“Evet,” Jack answered. Yes in Turkish.

“Tatil icin burada misin?” Are you here on holiday?

“isletme babamla.” Business with my father. At least that was what Jack hoped he’d said and not I’m here to kill you .

“Enjoy your stay,” Kubat said in English.

“Thank you.” Jack shot him a smile and left the room with Thomas.

Alone in the corridor, Thomas mouthed well done.

As Jack had expected, the next room was vile. He sat next to Thomas and muttered. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“That’s okay. I’ll do it.”

“Not that. I mean this room. I’m turning into a puddle.”

Thomas laughed. “Then wait outside.”

Jack sighed with relief once he’d emerged. He was still waiting when Kubat and the other man emerged from the first room. Jack saw the way Kubat looked at him, dragging his gaze down Jack’s body before returning to his face. That was interesting.

“Too hot for you?” Kubat spoke to him in English.

“Sitting in an oven isn’t my idea of fun.”

Kubat laughed. “Delicate English boy.”

Jack smiled. “That’s me.” It wasn’t.

“How old are you?” Kubat asked.

“Sixteen.”

He doubted that would matter to this guy.

Kubat and his companion joined Thomas. And Jack continued to wait.

When Thomas emerged, an attendant directed the pair of them to another area where they were to lie on marble blocks.

Jack put his bath towel and shampoo to one side, took off his peshtemal and lay on his back, wearing the disposable underwear.

This was the part he’d enjoyed last time.

Attendants dousing him with bucket after bucket of hot water to rinse away sweat and dead skin.

He wished his worries could be washed away as easily.

It was impossible not to be concerned about what he had to do.

No matter how much time he and Thomas had spent rehearsing, there was always the chance of the unexpected.

He decided he’d be better starting off on his front and rolled over.

Kubat and the other guy entered and settled on slabs facing them.

Kubat was on his front too, his face no more than a metre from Jack’s.

Jack met his gaze for a moment, smiled, then closed his eyes as the attendant began the body wash, scrubbing his skin with a cloth known as a kese.

The foam wash that followed was pure luxury and Jack decided a groan might go down well with Kubat.

It was like going through a car wash, so much soap and bubbles.

As it was being rinsed off, Jack became aware that Thomas had risen to his feet.

“Going to the bathroom,” he told him.

Though half-open eyes Jack spotted Kubat’s companion follow Thomas and felt a moment of concern.

There was no way anyone could know what they planned, but…

The scrubbing of Jack’s body stopped and the attendants padded out too.

Oh fuck. Now he could guess. The bottle of shampoo wasn’t within reach, though the plan wasn’t to do this now.

Still, it was an opportunity he could take.

“Can I wash your hair?” Kubat stood next to him.

“Yes.” Jack didn’t recognise his own voice.

“It’s so beautiful. I use your shampoo?”

“Please.” There was enough in there to allow this, as long as he didn’t notice the base had been tampered with. Jack stayed face down and, for one crazy moment, imagined roles reversed, that Kubat was about to inject him with a drug that would paralyse him. It was enough to make his heart race.

He felt Kubat’s strong fingers pressing into his scalp and deliberately made what might have been a groan of distress into a moan of pleasure.

“Your father? Really?” Kubat asked.

Jack knew he was wondering if Thomas was his lover. “Yes.”

“Hmm. Lucky father.”

Jack was hardly aware of how long the hair washing went on but finally, a large quantity of water was tipped over his head to run down the drain. As Kubat returned to lie on his slab, Jack spotted the large bulge in the guy’s shorts and raised his head to look at him. “Are you a hairdresser?”

Kubat roared with laughter.

“Because you are very good at that.”

“Not hairdresser,” Kubat said.

No, rather someone who was careless with lives of innocent people and supplied arms to those who shouldn’t have them.

Kubat was still chuckling when Thomas and the other guy came back.

After Thomas’s wash had finished, they were directed to another room for the massage. Jack tied his peshtemal around his hips, making sure to fold it over a couple of times before he picked up his towel and the shampoo, and followed Thomas.

“Okay?” Thomas whispered.

“Yes.” Jack looked around, then took the syringe from the shampoo bottle and slipped it into the fold at the top of his wrap.

“I’ve not seen this room before.” Thomas put his towel down. “He delayed me coming back. What happened?”

“He washed my hair.”

Thomas’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I’m going to offer to return the favour with a massage.”

“I think he wants to give you a different type of massage.” Thomas tsked in distaste.

No point in that, Kubat’s desire for Jack was the opening he needed.

They lay on the slabs facing each other.

“You need to go out again,” Jack said.

“I suspect all I’ll need to do is let myself be persuaded.”

No attendants came in until Kubat and the other man entered.