by Hodge, Sibel
So, what should I do now? I eyed the open interrogation room doorway. Make a run for it? Wait for someone to come back?
The decision was taken out of my hands by the arrival of Erol Hussein. He waltzed through the doorway, dressed for a night on the town. I didn’t know if this was a good or bad sign, but I suspected that it was probably the latter.
‘Helen, we meet again. I thought you would have left the island by now, what with Kalem no longer having a job.’ He snarled the last word at me.
‘You bastard! I knew that was all your doing,’ I fumed.
He looked at me sharply, then his face erupted in a stomach-curdling grin. ‘Tut, tut, tut. I don’t think you’re in any position to be calling people names. Do you?’ He pulled the blind down on the window, picked up the chair that Captain Beaky had vacated and sat down.
‘Why didn’t you want to look into the plot to assassinate Ibrahim Kaya and steal the statue?’ I knew the answer to this already, of course, but I actually wanted to hear him say it.
‘I already told you. Because it’s not going to happen. The statue will be in a secure and alarmed casing with guards all around it. I’ve personally overseen the security arrangements. Are you doubting my professional integrity?’ He gave me a thin excuse for a smile.
“Professional” and “integrity” weren’t exactly two words I’d use to describe Erol Hussein, but I kept my mouth shut on that point.
‘I also don’t believe anyone would want to assassinate Ibrahim Kaya,’ Erol said.
‘But I’ve found out more information now and–’
‘I don’t want to hear it.’ His voice rose, echoing in the sparse room.
‘It’s because of the money, isn’t it? You’ve kept that five hundred thousand dollars and not told anyone about it.’
He chuckled, giving me a superior smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘What money?’
So that was it. Basically, it was his admission of what I’d thought all along. He would rather keep the money than save Ibrahim Kaya’s life. I didn’t know who was worse, Ferret Face or him.
‘I have a proposition for you, Helen. If you stop all this nonsense about the statue and Ibrahim Kaya, and both you and Kalem leave the island tonight, then I’ll arrange to have all the charges against you dropped.’ He tilted his head, eyes narrowed to ruthless slits, waiting for an answer. ‘You are in some very serious trouble. I’m sure you recognize what a generous offer this is on my part.’
What? Leave? How could we leave? If we left, then Ibrahim Kaya could end up sleeping with the fishes. And what about my wedding? And my wedding dress. I was supposed to be having the perfect wedding on Sunday, and if I didn’t get married in my dress with my nan’s charm, I’d be doomed to a curse of bad luck. Our wedding might be over before it began. No, of course not. We couldn’t leave yet. But then what was the alternative? I didn’t particularly fancy the idea of getting locked up with crazy women and hookers – no offense to crazy women and hookers. I’d watched a TV show once about things that happen to people in prison, and it made my eyes water, not to mention other parts. No, that wasn’t an option either. I couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t go to prison. Absolutely not.
‘I’m waiting,’ Erol said, more insistent this time.
I chewed on my bottom lip. ‘Where’s Kalem?’
His lips pursed in distaste. ‘He’s been causing a disturbance at the front desk, looking for you.’
‘Have you told him about your proposition?’
‘No, I thought you’d like to give him the good news.’
What should I do?
‘I haven’t got all night.’ Erol stood up. ‘Since you can’t seem to make up your mind, I’ll arrange for the charges to be filed against you.’
‘No! Wait. We’ll leave. We'll leave!’
‘Good. I’m glad we see eye to eye on this.’
Well, we didn’t. But he wasn’t to know that.
****
I walked around the floor of our hotel room in circles like a caged animal, my heels slapping so hard against the marble that I thought my feet were getting friction burns. Kalem sat on the bed, staring at me with a clenched jaw, taking in what I’d just told him about my trip to the police station. My eyeballs darted from Kalem to Charlie to Ayshe to Atila.
‘Well, there’s nothing else for it,’ Charlie said, pouring out three glasses of wine and handed them out to everyone except Ayshe. ‘We’ll all just have to go back home. I’ve seen those prison films about people who smuggle drugs abroad and get caught, you know. You wouldn’t want to be stuck in some foreign prison. Don’t they cut people’s hands off and stuff?’
‘Not in Cyprus, they don’t,’ Ayshe said.
‘Well, either way, I don’t exactly want to find out.’ I glugged my drink and stopped pacing because my feet felt like they were actually on fire now.
‘We’ll just have to leave.’ Worry lines appeared on Kalem’s forehead. ‘I can’t risk you going to prison. No. There’s no other choice. We’ve done everything we can to try and warn people about this plot. If no one wants to listen, then it’s not our fault.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘This is such a mess.’
I sat down next to him and squeezed his hand. I smiled, but there was no joy in it.
‘This was supposed to be the start of a brand new life. And now it’s ruined,’ Kalem said, the hurt filtering through his voice. ‘We’ll have to go back to the UK and get married. And then pick up our old lives again.’
‘Well, look on the bright side,’ Charlie said.
We all looked at him like he’d just morphed into an alien.
‘What could that possibly be?’ Atila ran a hand through his floppy hair.
‘Well, Helen didn’t really want to stay here, anyway,’ Charlie blurted out, then slapped a hand over his mouth.
Kalem locked eyes with me, disappointment plastered all over his face. ‘What? I don’t understand. I thought you wanted the same things as me. I thought you wanted the simple life.’
Oh, shit. I didn’t want to get into this now. I wasn’t sure what the hell I wanted anymore. The only thing I knew for certain was that I didn’t want to go to prison with the possibility of bits getting chopped off.
‘Look, Kalem, I really don’t know if I’m cut out for the simple life. I’ve been confused ever since we got here, but the most important thing at the moment is to decide what to do about this mess we’re in. We can talk about whether we’re going to stay here after that.’ I couldn’t meet his eyes, so I held my empty glass out to Charlie, who quickly refilled it. ‘And I don’t think we can leave. At least not until after the opening night tomorrow. We’ve still got to try and do something to stop Ferret Face. We can’t just give up now.’
Ayshe gasped. ‘But what about Erol’s threats? Helen, you can’t be serious about it. You both have to leave tonight.’
‘Why don’t we just move out of the hotel? Kalem and I could move into your parents’ house tonight so it looks like we’ve checked out. Tomorrow we just have to try and find some way to stop Ferret Face killing Ibrahim Kaya. And then we can leave.’
‘I don’t like it,’ Atila said.
‘Me neither.’ Ayshe shook her head.
‘Nor me,’ Kalem said. ‘How are we going to stop him? Nothing we’ve come up with so far has worked.’
‘I don’t know.’ I banged my glass down on the bedside table and pulled out my suitcase, flinging my few clothes in at random. ‘But we’ll have to think of something pretty quick.’
Chapter 14
I felt bone-numbingly tired, both physically and mentally, but I still didn’t get any sleep.
It was after three a.m. by the time Kalem and I finished moving our belongings into his parents’ house. And talking of Yasmin and Deniz, we still had to tell them what was going on. They would freak when they heard about it. Luckily, they were still in isolation in their bedroom feeling ill. Although it wasn’t lucky for them, of course, but you know what I mean.
Th
e sun oozed through the cream, muslin curtains. I could tell it was a bright, sparkly day outside of the bedroom. Birds chirped away. Cicadas buzzed their funny little electric pylon noise. It was a perfect day. For a murder.
I shivered at the thought as I lay in Kalem’s arms on the bed, staring at the ceiling in silence.
I yawned hard, shaking my head to clear the fuzzy fog that had set in. ‘Do you remember exactly what was in the itinerary Ferret Face had in the suitcase?’
Kalem inhaled slowly, thinking. ‘Ibrahim Kaya is giving individual press interviews between three and five o’clock, then a press conference at five-thirty in the ballroom of the hotel before the concert starts at seven. Just before the concert on the outdoor stage, Kaya will unveil the statue to the public, which is going to be in a display case in front of the stage. Then there’ll be a Champagne toast. After the concert, there’s going to be a huge party for all the politicians, celebrities, and guests.’
I tapped my lips, deep in thought. ‘How about we go to the press conference and pose as reporters?’
‘He’ll recognize you from last night, and we’ll just get thrown out. And if he doesn’t recognize you, Erol will be there, and he’ll arrest you.’
‘Ibrahim Kaya barely glanced at me last night before he got in the limo.’ I gnawed on a thumbnail. ‘How about we pose as staff from the hotel?’
‘And do what? He’s not going to listen to anything you say if you attempt to warn him. Look what happened last night. He’ll just think you’re some crazy stalker who’s out to kill him. No, there’s no point in even trying to tell him anything about the assassination plot. It would be better to just detain him somehow to stop him going to the concert in the first place.’
‘We’ve still got some sleeping tablets.’ I sat bolt upright. ‘Yes, we could drug him instead of Ferret Face. If he doesn’t come out to give his speech and toast before the concert, they can’t shoot him and cause a distraction. And maybe it will buy us a bit more time.’
‘They’re still going to recognize us. And how are we going to get close enough to drug his drink?’
I stared at the ceiling, debating this conundrum. There had to be some way we could pull it off. ‘Well, you can’t do it. Erol will be at the opening. He’ll recognize you straight away. Ayshe can’t do it. She’s pregnant, and I don’t want anything to happen to her. For the same reason, I don’t want Atila to get involved – he’s going to be a daddy soon. I wouldn’t want him to end up in prison because of all this. And Charlie…well, as much as I love him, I don’t know if he would be able to pull it off on his own.’
‘Yes, but Kaya and Erol will recognize you too.’
‘But it’s easier for a woman to disguise herself than a man.’ I turned to him. ‘And by the time we run into Erol, I’m hoping that I will have already drugged Kaya. Think about it: Ibrahim Kaya probably wouldn’t recognize me again, especially if I wear some sort of disguise. He wasn’t exactly paying attention to me before he got in the limo. I just need to get close enough to drug him somehow, and the only way to at least have a chance is to try and get in on the press interviews. If he’s doing interviews for two hours, he’ll be doing a lot of talking. And if he’s doing loads of talking, he’ll be thirsty and we can drug his drink.’
Kalem shook his head. ‘And how are you going to disguise yourself? It’s not like we’re international espionage agents with stacks of different disguises. You can’t exactly wear your knickers over your head and hope for the best.’
I shrugged. ‘I could wear a scarf around my hair and put sunglasses on. I’ll just look like an eccentric journalist for a flashy magazine. I already work for Just for Women, don’t forget.’ I gave him a grim smile. ‘Can you think of some other way?’
‘No.’
‘Well, it looks like this is the only way then.’ I gnawed on my lip now instead.
‘And what about the wedding? We’re going to have to cancel it and leave. Go back to the rainy UK. It’s supposed to be the happiest day of our lives.’ He threw a hand in the air in a hopeless gesture.
‘And I’m never going to get my dress and lucky charm back.’ I sighed.
‘The only good thing is that we’ve still got each other.’
I snuggled into his shoulder. Well, I hoped we’d still have each other. As long as we were both alive by the end of the day and not left to rot in a prison somewhere. ‘So, where did you put the boxes from the container with my clothes in? I need to try and find a suitable disguise.’ I jumped out of bed.
‘In the small bedroom.’
‘Right.’ I drew the curtains, suddenly energized with the thought of doing something proactive. ‘Oh! Look.’ I turned to Kalem and pointed out of the patio doors. ‘There’s a cat outside.’
A small, ginger and white cat sat on the patio, staring at me with cute green eyes, its mouth moving in a meow shape.
I slid the door open and bent down to stroke its head. ‘Hello. Where did you come from?’
Meow.
It wound its way around my legs, nudging me with its head. ‘Are you hungry?’
Meeooooow.
I took that as a yes.
‘Don’t feed the cat.’ Kalem sprang naked from the bed and pulled on a pair of boxers.
‘Why not? It’s hungry.’
‘If you feed it, we’ll just get more coming around.’
I picked the cat up and kissed the top of its head. ‘But you’re hungry, aren’t you? Yes.’
Meow, meow.
‘Maybe it’s a sign,’ I said as the cat nuzzled into my neck.
‘A sign about what?’ Kalem shook his head. ‘How can a cat turning up be a sign? There are hundreds of stray cats here. We can’t feed them all.’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. The Queen Cleopatra statue had a cat carved onto the base. You said that cats were lucky in Egyptian times. Maybe it’s a good sign that we’re going to save the statue. Yes, I think it’s a lucky cat.’
‘You’re nuts.’ He kissed me on the forehead.
‘It’s hungry. I’m going to see if there’s something in the kitchen for it.’ I put the cat down, and it trotted behind me.
I flung open the cupboard doors. Hmm. Not a lot. Some coffee, a bottle of water, tea bags, and a bottle of wine. Because of our unexpected arrival at the house, the contents left a lot to be desired.
I glanced down at the cat who looked up at me expectantly.
Then I had a sudden thought. ‘Custard creams to the rescue!’ I padded back to the bedroom and rummaged around in my bag until I found the half eaten packet I’d had with me since the airplane. ‘Voila!’ Back to the kitchen to find a bowl and da-da, breakfast à la biscuit.
I stroked Ginger’s fur as she crunched on the gourmet dining like she was starving. Maybe it really was a sign. I hoped to God it was a good one.
****
We still had a few hours to kill before the press conference. On second thoughts, maybe I shouldn’t use that phrase anymore. Correction: we still had a few hours to wait until the press conference, so we took a trip to Condomsville to check on Yasmin and Deniz.
The same kind of note in Deniz’s scrawl greeted us on the floor outside their room.
‘Uh-oh.’ Kalem read it. ‘“Dear Maid, I am now conducting a survey for Cosmopolitan magazine about flavoured condoms. Do you have any other flavours available? I’m particularly interested in chilli, strawberry, and whisky flavours, but any other flavours will be carefully considered. I will have ten packets of chilli (medium to hot spiciness), five packets of strawberry (if no strawberry, any other fruit selection will be sufficient), and thirty packets of whisky flavour (preferably single malt). Thank you.”’
‘Do you think he’s got Alzheimer’s?’ I whispered. ‘I mean, I know he’s not exactly normal.’ I drew quotation marks in the air. ‘And I know I can’t exactly talk, but he’s acting even more weird than he usually does. Maybe the food poisoning has affected his brain. Can you get brain poisoning from eating dodgy fish?
Do you think we should call someone? A neurologist or something?’
‘No, I think it’s just Dad being Dad.’ Kalem banged on the door. ‘Dad? Mum?’
‘Oh, hello, Kalem.’ Deniz opened the door looking flushed. He peered around us, checking the floor to see if the note was still there. ‘Hmm. Maid hasn’t been yet, then?’
‘Are you feeling any better yet?’ I asked as he followed us back inside.
‘Not bad. Still a bit squitty, though.’ He lay back on the magazine infested bed and crossed his legs, eyeballing me.
‘I feel a bit better. Just a bit of a rumble now.’ Yasmin rubbed her stomach. ‘What’s been going on with you all? Are you getting a bit of relaxation in before the wedding?’
Kalem and I exchanged a furtive glance.
‘Yes!’ It came out a bit more high-pitched than intended.
‘I’m going to get a pec implant.’ Deniz picked up Cosmopolitan and pointed to an article with a picture of a twenty-something, fit looking guy with a six-pack, firm chest, and bleached teeth. ‘Look at this bloke. Look.’ He shook the magazine at us. ‘Look at his pecs. Fantastic!’
Yasmin tutted at him. ‘For God’s sake. He’s about twelve. You’re seventy! You can’t have pecs that look like his.’
Deniz looked a bit put out by this revelation. ‘Why not?’
‘Will you talk some sense into him?’ Yasmin shook her head at us. ‘I’m fed up with hearing about these bloody magazines giving him stupid ideas.’ She thought about that for a moment and rephrased it. ‘Well, more stupid than normal.’
‘What’s wrong with a bit of male plastic surgery? Women have it all the time. Look at her.’ Deniz picked up another glossy women’s mag with a picture of an aging actress who looked like she’d had the whole works done several times over. ‘See, if she has any more face lifts, she’ll be shaving.’ He let out a loud huff and changed the subject. ‘I’m going to apply to be an agony aunt.’ Deniz said. ‘I’ve been reading the problem page, and I think I can give some much better advice than them.’
