by Steve Cash
Both men turned and stared at Opari.
“What the hell—” one man said.
“I knew it, I knew it,” the man with the scalpel said. “I knew it was true.”
“Ahaztu!” Opari said, holding the Stone in front of her. “Lo geltitu, Giza, lo geltitu! Go to sleep now, my lambs. You will forget.”
Both men collapsed where they were, dropping to the floor and staring into space. The scalpel tumbled loose. Opari looked around the room, which had been converted from a ranch outbuilding into a small laboratory. There were vials, beakers, blood samples, skin samples, microscopes, and other assorted instruments, including syringes, needles, and scalpels. Not only had they been studying Zuriaa, they had been experimenting on her. Opari walked over and looked closely at Zuriaa lying back in the chair. Though it went against everything in her nature to do so, she knew in an instant what she must do. Zuriaa’s heart was beating at a steady and even pace, but it was beating in a body that no longer cared, with a mind that was no longer there. Being Meq, she had somehow survived the nuclear blast, yet she had been burned and blown to a place from which she never came back. Zuriaa was most likely insane long before Nagasaki, and she had committed many heinous acts in her lifetime; however, Opari could not let her continue to exist as she was and be used and abused like a laboratory rat. Kanporurrike was the only answer. Opari bent down and picked up the scalpel from the floor. She whispered “Please forgive me” into Zuriaa’s ear, then sliced her throat as quickly and cleanly as she could. She watched the blood pooling on the floor and held Zuriaa’s hand until her heartbeat weakened and fell silent. Opari closed her eyes and kissed her once on the lips. She turned and stepped over the two men and walked out of the building. When she was clear of the oak trees, she broke into a run and within seconds was over the fence. Sam Liang was waiting with the engine running and they headed off in darkness toward San Diego and the train station. Early the next day, he was on his way back to San Francisco and Opari was on board a train bound for St. Louis.
When she finished her story, total silence filled the room. There was one fact that none of us could deny or avoid, and it was on everyone’s mind. Zuriaa, with all her madness and misconduct, was still Ray’s sister. Meq brothers and sisters are rare, and the bond between them is much stronger than the bond between Giza siblings, even if one of them has gone astray. I watched Ray carefully. He sat staring straight ahead without any expression, but I knew in his mind he was reliving those long-ago moments and events that only he and Zuriaa had shared. For a full minute no one said a word. Then Ray was the first to speak. He cleared his throat and said, “You did right, Opari. You did what needed to be done. I’d have done the same thing if I’d been there. I never heard of Kanporurrike, but I’d have done the same thing.”
“Ray is correct,” Sailor added. “Now you must let it go, Opari. There is no shame or guilt in your actions.” Sailor turned to face Jack. “I am concerned about this Blaine Harrington.”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck and said, “You should be more concerned about Valery, Sailor. All of you should. He is much more dangerous than Blaine Harrington.”
“In what respect?”
“He is smart, he is unpredictable, and he has a network of agents worldwide.” Jack paused and looked at me. “This is an alarm bell, Z. I think all of you need to disappear for a while. Tell me how I can help and Cardinal and I will arrange it.”
I glanced around the kitchen at each of the others, then Sailor said, “Get us to Istanbul, Jack. From there, we shall ‘disappear.’ ”
One week later Jack called from Washington to say we’d hit the jackpot in lucky timing. A cultural exchange sponsored by the State Department and involving nearly a hundred children was leaving the United States for Turkey in less than three days. Jack said he could insert us into the group. Blending in with a hundred children would enable the six of us to travel together without arousing suspicion. And by coincidence, Cardinal was in Tel Aviv attending an international medical symposium, which also served as cover for his other activities. Cardinal could easily meet us in Istanbul and supply us with anything we might need. It was an excellent plan and we all agreed immediately.
“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little good luck,” Ray said.
Carolina protested and complained about our leaving, especially mine, but I knew that would pass soon enough. She had a baby in the house again. Nothing had ever made her happier than the sound of babies and children in her home. This time, she could even think of her sister whenever she whispered the baby’s beautiful name, “Georgia.”
Willie Croft did us a big favor and volunteered to fly us to Washington, D.C., in his de Havilland, and we left St. Louis the next day. Jack was waiting for us at the airport. He escorted us to New York by train, where we boarded our ship in plenty of time. Before wishing us farewell, Jack made all the proper arrangements and introductions, and that evening, accompanied by several loud blows of the horn, we set sail at 9:00 P.M. sharp.
Opari and I had not seen each other in eighteen years, yet during the voyage we spoke very little, although we were never outside each other’s presence for more than a few minutes. When we were able to be on our own, we walked the decks of the ship, smelling the salty air, watching the ocean and the stars at night, oblivious to everything but the moment. I kissed her eyelids and she kissed the palms of my hands. I slept well, dreamed little, and woke each morning to find her next to me. My Ameq — my love, Opari.
On the morning of April 13, 1954, we entered the harbor of Istanbul, sailing slowly past the Hagia Sophia. High on the hill, surrounded by minarets and spires, and framed against a cloudless blue sky, it was majestic and magnificent, exactly as the Emperor Justinian wanted it to appear fourteen centuries earlier.
“There lies our letter box, with directions from Geaxi inside, no doubt,” Sailor said.
“Letter box?” I asked.
“Designed and installed secretly for our use in 537 by Isidore of Miletus.”
“Who was he?”
“A friend of ours, and also one of the two designers of the Hagia Sophia.”
We disembarked along with all the children in the entourage, staying on the back edge of the group and keeping a close watch for Cardinal. He appeared almost at once. He was talking with a Turkish customs agent and showing him a clutch of papers in his hand. Now in his sixties, Cardinal wore a dark business suit, and his thick black hair was streaked with silver, but he still reminded me a great deal of his brother, Sak. Once he saw us approaching, he pointed to us, and within minutes we were separated from the others and led through the crowd by the customs agent. Cardinal looked at me as we were walking out. He winked and said, “Welcome to Istanbul, Zianno.”
Waiting for us in his tour bus was Kerem, a gap-toothed man with deep creases in his face and large brown eyes that seemed to smile even when he wasn’t smiling. Cardinal referred to him as “my man in the street.” Kerem’s tour bus was painted bright blue and gold outside and lined inside with multicolored fringe and tassels, tiny hanging brass bells and cymbals, and dozens of faded portraits of the founder of modern Turkey, Mustafa Kemal, better known as Ataturk.
We were driven through crowded and chaotic streets to a small hotel only a few blocks from the Tokapi Palace called the Empress Zoe. It was quiet and clean and easily within walking distance of the Hagia Sophia. Sailor decided to wait until the next day before checking on the “letter box.” In the evening, Kerem took us to his favorite restaurant, where we ate a long and delicious meal and listened to his stories in broken English about the mysteries of Istanbul, and there were many. Cardinal said Kerem seemed to know everyone in the city, if not personally, then through a friend, a cousin, or an uncle. At one point, he suddenly stopped talking and stared hard into Ray’s eyes. He looked concerned and slightly afraid. “Your eyes are much green,” he said. “Do you possess the nazar?”
Ray glanced around the table at each of us. “I don’t think so. What is
it?”
“The evil eye,” Kerem said. “In Turkey, green eyes are much dangerous for the nazar.”
Ray told Kerem he had nothing to worry about and turned to me. He winked. “Did you hear that, Z? You better be on your best behavior or I just might zap you with the evil eye.” Everyone laughed out loud, even Kerem, after he realized it was a joke. Finally, we returned to the hotel and our rooms. It felt good to lie down and spend the night in a comfortable bed curled up next to Opari.
Sailor woke me the next morning and the two of us left for the Hagia Sophia while the others waited at the hotel. He led the way through narrow, noisy alleys, past open windows and the smell of mutton and vinegar. I heard at least three different languages being spoken in the streets. Sailor never said a word, and we arrived at the southwestern entrance only minutes after they had opened the doors. Visitors and tourists were already spread throughout the cavernous old church and mosque. As we walked in, Sailor said, “The last time I was here, the air was filled with incense and smoke.”
“When was that?” I asked.
“A thousand years ago,” he said, glancing in all directions.
“Exactly a thousand?”
“Exactly.”
Sailor said the letter box was in an upper enclosure, a central gallery called the “Loge of the Empress.” It was where the Empress and her ladies of the court gathered to observe the proceedings below. The letter box was hidden in a wall directly behind where the Empress once stood. On the third step of the marble stairs leading up to the gallery, Sailor and I suddenly stopped and stared at each other. We both felt the same thing at once — the unmistakable presence of Meq.
Side by side, Sailor and I entered the upper gallery. The long, wide room was much larger than I had expected. At least twenty people were scattered throughout and it still seemed empty. We kept walking. In the central gallery, a few were peering over the balcony, staring into the vast space of the great dome. A round, green stone marked the position of the throne of the Empress.
Sailor saw them first. “Over there,” he said, nodding to the right.
Forty feet away, directly behind the green stone, there appeared to be three children standing near the wall. Of course, they were anything but children, and they were waiting for us. It was Geaxi, Mowsel, and Zeru-Meq.
As we approached, I smiled to myself. For disguise, Mowsel and Zeru-Meq were dressed like any other kid in the streets of modern Istanbul and could blend in easily, but Geaxi defied all trends or fashions and didn’t seem worried about any disguise. She was dressed as always — black leather leggings and a black vest held together with strips of leather attached to bone, a black beret, and ballet shoes. “There is only one Geaxi,” I whispered. “Indeed,” Sailor said.
Even though we hadn’t seen the three of them in eighteen years, Sailor ignored traditional greetings and walked straight to Geaxi while acknowledging all three with a single nod. “Quite a surprise,” he said. “I was anticipating finding only directions. I do not suppose this is a coincidence.”
“The letter box is no longer in the wall,” Geaxi said.
Sailor looked perplexed. “I do not understand. That is impossible. Where is it?”
“Gone.”
Geaxi gracefully stepped to one side, letting Sailor see for himself. He reached out and touched the area in the wall where the letter box had been concealed. “The secret stones have been replaced!”
“Centuries ago, Umla-Meq. It is true,” Mowsel said with a half smile, barely exposing the gap of his missing front tooth. He was standing next to Geaxi with his head leaning back, as if he was staring at the ceiling.
“We have been away too long, old one,” Zeru-Meq added. His black hair was longer now, curling around his ears and over his collar. His green eyes flashed when he spoke.
“None of us have used this building since the Ottomans came to power,” Geaxi said.
Sailor let the truth sink in for several moments. He seemed to be remembering or realizing something. He looked over his shoulder toward the balcony and the green stone marking the throne of the Empress. Then Sailor laughed, twice. He asked Geaxi, “How did you know we would be here today?”
“We felt your arrival yesterday. It was thunderous.”
“Yes, Sailor,” Zeru-Meq said. “Just how many are with you and Zianno?”
“Everyone,” I answered. “That is, everyone except the Fleur-du-Mal.”
“Zianno, my friend, it is good to see you,” Zeru-Meq said, “but, if you please, let us leave him out of this.”
Geaxi turned to me. “Hello, young Zezen. You look well,” she said casually, as if she’d only been gone a week or two.
“So do you, Geaxi,” I said, trying not to smile.
She went on. “We have much to discuss and this is not the place.”
“Agreed,” Sailor said. “We have rooms in a hotel not far from here, all provided by Cardinal. The others are there waiting.”
“I will be glad to finally meet this ‘Cardinal,’ ” Geaxi replied.
“He has been more than helpful. He is resourceful and reliable and truly wants to protect us.”
“Is that so?” Geaxi said, raising her eyebrows slightly and glancing at me. We both knew Sailor rarely, if ever, praised a Giza.
Sailor motioned toward the marble stairs. “Shall we go?”
“Yes, yes, yes. Lead the way,” Mowsel said, angling his head up and to the left. “I have been in here too long as it is. I abhor it.”
Sailor walked over to Mowsel and gazed into his eyes. “What do you not like about being here, Trumoi-Meq?”
“I abhor the emptiness.”
“But you cannot see.”
“I can see the emptiness, old friend. I can see the emptiness.”
We returned to the hotel just as the third call to prayer of the day echoed across the city. Zeru-Meq said he thought the calls themselves were one of the most beautiful aspects of Islam. Inside, the lobby of the Empress Zoe was nearly empty. The desk clerk and his assistant were playing dominoes and smoking cigarettes. The heavy, pungent aroma of Turkish tobacco swam through the air. Cardinal was the only other person in the lobby. He sat in a chair reading the newspaper. He stood up and his eyes widened as we approached. He had not expected to see three more Meq.
“This is quite a surprise, Zianno,” he said, “but a pleasant one, a pleasant one.” He looked at the three new faces. He seemed instantly enchanted by Geaxi and her attire, and he studied Mowsel for a few extra moments.
“Dr. Bikki Birnbaum,” I said, “I would like you to meet Geaxi, Zeru-Meq, and Trumoi-Meq, also known as Mowsel.”
“It is an honor and a great pleasure,” Cardinal said, nodding to each one of them.
“The pleasure is ours,” Geaxi replied, then added bluntly, “You are Ainu, no?”
Cardinal laughed. “Ainu-American,” he said, “thanks to Solomon J. Birnbaum … and Owen Bramley.”
Geaxi glanced away for a second, then put it together. “Ah!” she said, “you are the missing Hiramura brother.”
Cardinal laughed again. “Guilty.”
Sailor had been scanning the lobby. He turned to Cardinal. “Are you alone?”
“No,” he answered, then looked over his shoulder and nodded toward an arch and a corridor leading off the lobby. Everyone’s head turned except Mowsel’s. Cardinal seemed to take notice. “They are in a small courtyard and flower garden waiting for you. I have a few errands, but I will return in time for dinner. I have information to share with all of you concerning Blaine Harrington, Valery, and the Russians.”
“Good,” Sailor replied. “We shall welcome it.”
Sailor motioned for us to follow him. Cardinal watched the five of us as we walked by, especially Mowsel, who never hesitated or got closer than five feet from Geaxi, yet never missed a step. “Excuse me … excuse me, please,” Cardinal said. Everyone stopped and turned. “Mowsel, if I may call you that, I have a personal question. I do not mean to pry or offend, and
you do not have to answer.”
“That is quite all right,” Mowsel said, leaning toward Cardinal’s voice. “Yes, you may call me Mowsel, and by all means, ask your question.”
Cardinal paused a moment. “How long have you been blind?”
Mowsel stood motionless. Geaxi looked stunned. Mowsel’s blindness was virtually undetectable to most Giza.
Sailor seemed amused. “Answer him, Trumoi-Meq.”
“Since Guernica,” Mowsel said, “1937. I was hit by flying debris when the bombs dropped.”
“But there is no noticeable scarring,” Cardinal said.
“All else … healed.” Mowsel angled his head up slightly and grinned wide, fully revealing his gap. “Why do you ask, Doctor?”
“Have you ever heard of an ophthalmoscope?”
Geaxi broke in. “Yes, of course. I believe it is the instrument with a mirror centrally perforated for use in viewing the interior of the eye, especially the retina.”
Cardinal smiled. “That’s correct,” he said. “Before dinner, I would like to examine your eyes, Mowsel. I may be able to help.”
No one moved. Geaxi, Sailor, Zeru-Meq, and I all stared at Mowsel, awaiting his response. Being examined by a Giza, any Giza, for an old one like Trumoi-Meq was a difficult decision. For thousands of years old ones had only survived by never allowing such things to happen. Mowsel’s grin faded, and even though he was blind he looked directly at us, one by one. In his mind, he knew exactly where we were standing. Then his grin began to return. He laughed suddenly and found Geaxi, winding his arm inside of hers. He looked in Cardinal’s direction. “Hail, Hadrian!” Mowsel said and laughed again. “Why not, Doctor, why not?”
“Excellent,” Cardinal said, picking up his newspaper and turning to go. “I will see you then.”
After he left, we walked single file past the desk clerk and his assistant. They never looked up from their domino game. A blue haze of tobacco smoke surrounded them. To no one in particular, Geaxi said, “I think I like this ‘Cardinal.’ ”
