Elias tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, his cabin smelling of cold espresso and old leather. His cargo was high-stakes: specialized medical imaging equipment bound for a hospital in Istanbul. In the "Euro TR" circuit, you weren’t just a driver; you were a diplomat with a commercial driver’s license.
He pulled into the depot, killed the engine, and stepped out into the humid night air. The journey was over, but as he looked back toward the horizon, he was already thinking about the return leg.
Behind him lay three days of rain-slicked German autobahns and winding Austrian passes. Ahead of him was the Kapıkule border crossing, a sprawling labyrinth of steel and concrete where paperwork could stall a man for hours or days.
