Chapter 1: A Dance of Shadows

A tourist ship was sailing in the Bosphorus Strait. Among the tourists who are busy taking photo, there's a woman in black coat sitting at the last row on the board.

It's been five years since last time she visited Istanbul, a city crossed Europe and Asia. The wind in January is still cold, Natasha felt the urge to take a cigarette, however, not even until she light up the ciggie, a waiter has already caught her, "Hanımefendi, üzgünüm ama burada sigara içemezsiniz," he told her it's not okay to smoke on the ship in Turkish.

"Tamam, benim hatam." (Okay, my bad.) Years of practice made her respond in a respectful way, even though she was already imagine the scene that she went voilent with the waiter. Not a good time, she whispered to herself. 

A tourist ship was sailing in the Bosphorus Strait. Among the tourists who are busy taking photo, there's a woman in black coat sitting at the last row on the board.

It's been five years since last time she visited Istanbul, a city crossed Europe and Asia. The wind in January is still cold, Natasha felt the urge to take a cigarette, however, not even until she light up the ciggie, a waiter has already caught her, "Hanımefendi, üzgünüm ama burada sigara içemezsiniz," he told her it's not okay to smoke on the ship in Turkish.

"Tamam, benim hatam." (Okay, my bad.) Years of practice made her respond in a respectful way, even though she was already imagine the scene that she went voilent with the waiter. Not a good time, she whispered to herself. 

Natasha tucked the cigarette back into her pack, a small, wry smile playing at the corner of her lips. The waiter nodded, seemingly appeased by her compliance, and moved away to attend to other passengers.

As the ship sliced through the waters of the Bosphorus, splitting the continents of Europe and Asia, Natasha's gaze drifted over the city's skyline. Istanbul, a city of minarets and modernity, whispered tales of ancient empires and hidden secrets. It was a city that mirrored her own life – a blend of the old and the new, the visible and the hidden.

She pulled her coat tighter around her, feeling the bite of the cold wind. Her mind, however, was not on the chill but on the task that had brought her back to this city. A dangerous game of espionage that demanded every ounce of her skill and wits. Istanbul was more than just a scenic backdrop; it was a chessboard, and she was a player.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter. A family was posing for a photo, their joyous smiles a stark contrast to the solitude that cloaked her. She watched them for a moment, a sense of longing briefly piercing her disciplined exterior. But the moment passed, and the spy in her took over once again.

She scanned the crowd, her trained eyes noting details – a man arguing on his phone, a couple lost in each other's eyes, a group of teenagers taking selfies. Ordinary people living ordinary lives, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around them.

Then, her eyes caught a figure standing alone at the bow of the ship, staring intently at the city's silhouette. There was something about him – the way he stood, the sharpness in his gaze – that piqued her interest. Is that him? Just one second, Natasha had recognized the target of this mission, who looks exactly the same with the picyure on her phone.

She was sent by MI6 for a smuggle case, it was not just about cars smuggling, according to the news, this is a multinational arms smuggling covered by cars deal.

As the ship approached the dock, Natasha made a decision. She would follow the man. Perhaps it was intuition or just professional curiosity, but she had learned to trust her instincts. They had kept her alive in this dangerous game.

She rose from her seat as the ship docked, blending into the crowd disembarking. Her steps were measured, her eyes focused. The game was afoot, and Natasha was ready to play.

The cold wind carried the sounds and scents of Istanbul – a city that was both a stranger and an old friend. As she stepped onto the dock, Natasha felt the familiar thrill of a new mission. Istanbul was not just a city of history and beauty; for her, it was the arena of espionage, where every shadow could be a hiding place and every face a mask.

But as she stepped onto the dock, another unexpected twist awaited. The man she had been following suddenly turned and locked eyes with her. In that split second, recognition flashed in his eyes – he knew he was being followed. Without a word, he turned and disappeared into the bustling crowd, leaving Natasha with the realization that this mission was going to be more challenging than she had anticipated. The hunter and the hunted had seen each other, and the game of cat and mouse had just intensified.

"Shit!" Natasha swore under her breath, her voice barely audible. The target's sudden awareness of her presence was a setback. This man had keen anti-surveillance instincts, making him a formidable adversary. She quickly assessed her options, her mind racing through scenarios.

 Natasha knew she couldn't afford to lose him in the dense crowd of Istanbul. With years of experience in covert operations, she navigated through the throng with a practiced ease, her eyes scanning for any sign of the man. Her training had prepared her for such challenges, but she couldn't help feeling a twinge of excitement. It was a high-stakes game of hide and seek, played out in the real world.

 As she moved, her senses were on high alert. The colorful bazaars, the aroma of spices and coffee, the cacophony of sounds – all of it faded into the background. Her entire being was focused on one goal: to relocate her target.

 After a few tense minutes, she spotted him again, slipping into an alleyway. She quickened her pace, her boots silent on the cobblestone streets. As she turned into the alley, she found it empty, save for a stray cat that eyed her warily. Had she lost him?

 Then she noticed a slight movement at the far end of the alley, a barely perceptible shift in the shadows. He was there, waiting, almost as if he wanted to be found. Natasha approached cautiously, her hand inching towards the concealed weapon in her coat.

 Suddenly, he stepped out of the shadows, his features coming into clear view. There was a certain calmness in his demeanor, a confidence that only those accustomed to danger possessed. His eyes met hers, a silent challenge passed between them.

 "You're good," he said in English with a heavy accent, "but not good enough to tail me without being noticed."

 Natasha kept her expression neutral. "Maybe being noticed was part of the plan," she retorted, keeping her tone even.

 A faint smile appeared on his lips. "So, what now?" he asked.

 For a moment, Natasha considered her options. Engaging him directly could blow her cover entirely, but retreating might mean losing valuable information. The stakes were high, but so were the rewards.

 "You walk with me," she said, her voice steady. "We have a lot to talk about."

 "What if I said no?" He seemed pretty confident on beating her up. 

 "Then it will get ugly." She responded in the calm voice which comes from years of training.

 To her surprise, he didn't resist. Instead, he nodded, and together they walked out of the alley, blending into the sea of people. Natasha knew that the real game had just begun. In the world of espionage, nothing was ever as simple as it seemed, and every move could be a deception.

 As Natasha and the man emerged from the alley into the bustling streets of Istanbul, she remained vigilant. The man walked beside her, his steps measured, his eyes scanning their surroundings. There was an air of caution about him, suggesting he was not fully at ease despite his outward composure.

 "Where are we going?" he asked, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

 "To a place where we can talk without interruptions," Natasha replied, her eyes never leaving the crowd. She had chosen a quaint café known for its discretion and quiet corners. Perfect for conversations that weren't meant for public ears.

 As they walked, Natasha noticed a subtle change in the crowd's dynamics. A group of men, seemingly unconnected, were subtly converging on their path. She recognized the signs of a coordinated tail – the man wasn't alone. He had backup, and they were closing in.

 Her mind raced. Was this a trap? Had he led her into a false sense of control only to turn the tables on her? Natasha couldn't take any chances. She needed to change the game.

 Without warning, she grabbed the man's arm and pulled him into a narrow side street. The sudden movement caught him off guard, but he quickly regained his composure.

 "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of irritation.

 "Changing the plan," Natasha said sharply. "You're not the only one with a tail."

 They moved quickly through the maze of streets, losing the group that was following them. Natasha was leading now, her extensive knowledge of Istanbul's labyrinthine alleys giving them an edge.

 After several minutes of weaving through the streets, they arrived at a small, secluded park. It was a quiet spot, away from the prying eyes of the city. Here, they could talk.

 "Why did you choose to follow me?" Natasha asked, her tone direct. "What's your involvement in the arms deal?"

 The man looked at her, a mixture of surprise and respect in his eyes. "You're well-informed," he conceded. "But you've got it all wrong. I'm not the one you should be after."

 Before she could press him for more information, a sudden disturbance caught their attention. A group of armed men burst into the park, their guns drawn and pointed at them.

 Natasha instinctively reached for her weapon, but the man held up his hand, signaling her to stop. "These are not my men," he said, his voice tense.

 Surrounded and outnumbered, Natasha realized that they had walked into a bigger plot, one that involved more than just the man beside her. This was no longer just about an arms deal; it was a larger conspiracy, one that had them both in its crosshairs.