67
“Metin, my dear boy. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”
“Hello, sir.” Firat, as usual, had given him no warning. At least this time he’d been led up to an above-ground office for the midnight meeting, not down into a subbasement interrogation room.
Two-star General Kaan didn’t face him across the big desk. Instead, he led them to a deep, leather sectional sofa. Even perching on the edge of it, Metin felt he was slouching. Kaan leaned back and draped a casual arm over the back cushion. At least Firat looked as uncomfortable—also perched as if on a precipice—as he felt.
They were high in the curving facade of the AFAD Emergency Services Headquarters. AFAD was supposed to be about preparing for disasters like earthquakes and floods.
Yet it was clearly more than that—Firat had been
