by Parker Bilal
‘It makes as much sense as anything I suppose,’ said Makana. His throat was sore and the words were barely audible. ‘Tell me about the explosion.’
‘Ah, yes, of course.’ Serkan nodded. ‘It appears you have managed to embarrass our secret intelligence services to such an extent that nobody wants anything to do with you.’ He produced a newspaper that was folded into his jacket pocket and dropped it on Makana’s chest. The front page was dominated by a photograph of the schoolhouse in ruins. Men in overalls covered in dust, their faces covered by masks, were sifting through the rubble. ‘The MIT are denying this had anything to do with foreign powers or mysterious Englishmen being murdered in one of the city’s finest hotels. There are articles all over the press calling for more safety regulations to be implemented in the matter of household gas supplies.’
‘They’re calling it an accident?’ Makana croaked.
‘Oh yes. Questions are being asked in parliament as we speak. New legislation is being drawn up. So perhaps you have achieved something in your short stay in our country.’
‘A domestic explosion?’
‘These things happen.’ Serkan shrugged as he retrieved the paper. ‘Whatever else happened in that house is being kept from me. I was asked to accompany you to the airport, to see you out of the country. On condition that I do not ask too many questions.’
‘What about survivors?’
‘Apart from yourself?’ Serkan frowned. ‘None so far. How much do you remember?’
‘Not much. I was on the roof when the bomb went off.’
‘That explains it. You must have missed the force of the explosion. You suffered cuts and bruises. A couple of cracked ribs. As I said, you live a charmed life. I would very much like to know what you have been doing in Istanbul, but as I told you, I am not permitted to ask my questions. Frankly, I’m not sure I want to know.’
Makana struggled to sit up. ‘I need to know if she was in there.’
‘She?’
‘My daughter. Did they find any women in the ruins?’
‘No.’ Serkan frowned. ‘But it’s slow work and in a case like this one has to proceed cautiously, for fear of provoking another explosion. Nobody knows what is underneath that rubble.’
‘But no women have been found? You’re sure?’
‘So far only three men have been found.’
The two Bosnians and Nizari. Makana slumped back down on the cot. Despite his exhaustion he felt something like elation.
‘Where does your daughter fit into this?’ Serkan asked.
‘It’s a long story.’
‘Well, if she was in the building it would seem she was very lucky.’
Two uniformed men were making their way down the corridor towards them, their boots ringing out loudly in the confined space. In the other direction an air-bridge led down towards the waiting aircraft. Inspector Serkan glanced at his watch.
‘I’m afraid our time is coming to an end.’
‘If you hear anything, you’ll let me know?’ said Makana. ‘It’s important.’
‘I promise you.’ Inspector Serkan patted Makana on the shoulder. ‘Try to stay out of trouble, at least for a time.’ He nodded at the two uniformed officers. ‘They are here to escort you to the plane.’
‘That’s it, no questions? No charges?’
‘My orders are to get you out of the country as quickly and as quietly as possible – before you cause any further embarrassment.’ Inspector Serkan paused. He leaned forward to undo the handcuffs. One of the officers stepped forward, but Serkan raised a hand to stop him. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘He’s not going to make a run for it.’ He reached out to help Makana to his feet. ‘Can you stand?’
Makana tried, and found to his surprise that he actually could. He was wearing some kind of tracksuit. His own clothes would have been left in shreds. On his feet were a pair of white sports shoes of a kind that he would normally not have been seen dead in. Still, they were soft and cushioned his feet, which ached. Standing was not so bad.
‘Do you think you can make it?’
‘I think so.’
Serkan let go and stepped back. Not falling over felt like something of a miracle to Makana.
‘Consider yourself a very fortunate man. If you’d been in the main building when the charges went off, you’d have been plastered across the neighbourhood. We would be lucky to be able to identify you. But maybe that was the plan. What do I know?’ Serkan held out a hand. ‘I’d like to think that under other circumstances we might have been friends.’
‘Or colleagues,’ said Makana as he shook the other man’s hand. ‘Thank you for everything.’
‘Don’t thank me, just make sure you never come back.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ said Makana. He tried to take a tentative step forwards. His whole body seemed to scream in agony. His ankles and knees hurt. The two large policemen stood to one side, unsure what to do. Serkan held out an unopened packet of Samsun and a lighter with a picture of the city on the side.
‘A souvenir.’
‘Goodbye, Inspector.’
Makana tucked the present into his pocket, then he turned and hobbled down the incline towards the aircraft. Oddly enough, he found that he was smiling. There was only one thought running through his head: Nasra was alive. Somehow she had managed to get out of the building. He was sure of it. He could feel it, the way he’d believed for years that she had survived. The way he had never lost hope. Ahead of him, in the open hatch, he could see the flight attendants staring at him curiously, as if wondering who this strange passenger might be.
A Note on the Author
Parker Bilal is the author of the critically acclaimed Makana Mystery series. Dark Water is the sixth novel in the series, the third of which, The Ghost Runner, was long-listed for the Theakstons Old Peculier Crime Novel of the Year Award. Born in London, he has lived at various times in the UK, Sudan, Cairo and Denmark. He currently lives in Amsterdam.
parkerbilal.com
Also available by Parker Bilal
DON’T MISS OUT ON THE COMPLETE MAKANA MYSTERY SERIES
“[An] excellent series.” —The New York Times Book Review
“Sharp, witty, politically astute.” —Al Jazeera America
“[Bilal] gets better and better.” —The Times
THE GOLDEN SCALES
ISBN: 978-1-60819-796-5
eISBN: 978-1-60819-795-8
Former police inspector Makana receives a call out of the blue and accepts a case for the corrupt owner of a soccer team, setting him on a treacherous course toward an encounter with an enemy from his past.
DOGSTAR RISING
ISBN: 978-1-62040-531-4
eISBN: 978-1-62040-130-9
Set in summer 2001, against a backdrop of religious mistrust. Makana’s case seems like no more than a family feud, until he discovers links to a series of murders—and becomes the sole witness to another.
THE GHOST RUNNER
ISBN: 978-1-62040-340-2
eISBN: 978-1-62040-341-9
It is 2002 and the reverberations of 9/11 are felt around the globe. Makana investigates the possible honor killing of a girl, following her family history to an insular and perilous oasis town.
THE BURNING GATES
ISBN: 978-1-62040-886-5
eISBN: 978-1-62040-896-4
A powerful art dealer hires Makana to track down a painting gone missing in the U.S. invasion of Baghdad. As those involved in the case begin to die in horrific ways, Makana finds himself on a winding trail back into the dark days of the war.
CITY OF JACKALS
ISBN: 978-1-63286-329-4
eISBN: 978-1-63286-328-7
Makana is engaged by the Hafiz family to find their son who mysteriously dropped out of university in Egypt in December 2005. President Mubarak has just been re-elected and there are early stirrings of organized political opposition to the regime. Change is afoot and Makana is in danger of being swept away in the seismic shifts of
his adopted nation.
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BLOOMSBURY and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
First published in Great Britain 2017
First U.S. edition 2017
© Jamal Mahjoub, 2017
Every reasonable effort has been made to trace copyright holders of material reproduced in this book, but if any have been inadvertently overlooked the publishers would be glad to hear from them.
This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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ISBN: HB: 978-1-63286-652-3
ePub: 978-1-63286-654-7
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