“Every word, sir.”
“‘Juan’ or ‘coach.’ That’s what I’m called here.”
“Ok, coach.”
“Do you want to learn more about this sport?”
“Of course. I’m ready to fight.”
“That’s not what I meant. You’ve still got a long way to go before your first fight.”
4
Istanbul
September 28, 2008
4:47 p.m.
In the bar at the Hilton, Luiz is suddenly awakened by the receptionist telling him that Mercedes is arriving. How long has he been out? He gets up, drops a bill on the counter to pay for his drinks, gives another to the receptionist to thank her and heads towards the lobby. This time the receptionist accepts Luiz’ generosity. In the lobby, Hurricane is met by a growing clamor from outside the hotel. It consists of innumerable voices, some trying to overcome others, a dissonant chorus echoing through the air. A group of security guards, easily identifiable by their tall solid stature, jacket and tie, earphones plugged into their ears and brusque movements, approaches the door, plowing through the multitude. The air is rent by a series of pale flashes from a number of cameras. And suddenly, to Luiz’ delight, in the midst of the guards, stepping into the broad glow of the hotel lobby, here she is: Mercedes Soler. She bears no resemblance to the woman in the poster at the entrance to the Kurucesme Arena. She looks much more like the Mercedes he remembers. She exhibits an air of weariness, underscored by the complete absence of a smile and small wrinkles on her face. She wears a cool dress with a short hem in shades that are predominantly blue. She arrives at the reception desk flanked by security guards. She stops at the reception desk, gets her key and walks slowly towards the elevator, without looking at anyone or anything, except for what stands directly in her path. Just before she reaches the elevator, appearing out of nothing as though he has just taken a monkey’s leap from some hidden branch of a tree inside the Hilton, a journalist and a photographer approach her. Before a single word is spoken, the incandescent flash of a camera erupts, immediately followed by the journalist’s question. The security guards respond immediately with conspicuous actions. They immobilize the journalist and photographer, dragging them out of the hotel. The diva, meanwhile, escapes alone into the elevator, but before the doors can close, at the last second Luiz manages to slip in. The diva is all set to scream but Luiz plants a hand over her mouth and, as soon as her eyes come to rest on him, she herself unexpectedly presses the button of the top floor where she is staying, closing the door and putting the elevator in motion before the security guards can stop her.
“Luiz.”
“Mercedes.”
The elevator bears the two of them off into the past. Although he has been there all day, evidently she has only just arrived. Now it is just the two of them ascending in the elevator which, if we wish to be justly poetic at such a moment, must be ascending to the stars or into the seventh heaven. As he impulsively moved to cover her mouth with his hand, at that moment he was pressed against her, with both their faces hovering very close to each other. The only sound is their heavy breathing. She removes his hand but does it slowly, brushing her fingers over the contours and texture of his lips. She remains motionless and in response, on an impulse, he presses against her a little more, enough for his own lips to brush hers in a kiss that traverses time and space. Rising together with their lips fastened in the hotel elevator, they start out in Istanbul in 2008, and set out for from there for Ciénaga in the 1990’s, where they loved and kissed each other in acts that they evidently wish to repeat. And between kisses once again they repeat the same words, the only ones they’ve spoken so far.
“Mercedes.”
“Luiz.”
There is no talk of feelings. Their gestures abbreviate and enhance what words would render difficult to explain. Her arms go around his neck as his encircle her hips, he feels them under the dress that covers them. Their breathing is speeding up, and so is their heartbeat. He kisses her neck, she closes her eyes, leaning her head back slightly, and just then, preceded by a loud hiss, the elevator doors open. She breaks loose, grabs his hand and pulls him out of the elevator. Guided by her, he moves down the hallway towards her suite. She opens the door. They kiss, he lifts her in his arms and carries her to the bed to drown and sate all the desire and passion that is blasting through them. Their clothes fly to the floor as desire takes hold of every movement, all that is alive, where for a few minutes time and space must be absent with only two bodies surrendering and feeling one another, journeying across numerous plains, mountains and valleys of sensation.
5
The Marmaray tunnel[19] connects the European and Asian continents through a submerged tube 1.8 kilometers long. The eighteen sections of which it is made have been successively placed on the bottom of the sea, precisely and carefully, so that the tunnel would lie fifty-five meters below sea level. Its construction not only faced complex engineering and logistical problems natural for a work of this magnitude, but also other less common factors such as the possibility of earthquakes and the unexpected and extraordinarily valuable archeological discovery of an ancient Byzantine harbor established in the 4th century by the emperor Theodosius, the largest in the city at that time. According to archeologists, the excavations at Marmaray ultimately brought to light the largest ancient fleet ever discovered. It is believed that a 6th century tsunami must have been responsible for the disappearance from view for nearly 1500 years of all the generations of men and women who lived and died throughout this period in this great Byzantine port plied by Bulgarian, Romanian, Russian and Egyptian vessels.
According to the Marmaray Project in its complete form, the nearly two kilometers of tunnel submerged in the Bosporus connect to a total length of some 13 kilometers of underground highway that, once complete, will provide a link between the historic districts of Fatih and Üsküdar, on the coast of Anatolia. On the Fatih side, Yousef and Nefise entered at the Sirkeci station, along with Sheik Omar accompanied by a single faithful companion whose sole job was to keep Nefise constantly in his line of fire, to make sure Yousef behaved and obeyed. From the Sirkeci station they descended to the gloomy and deserted Marmaray tunnel, and once inside, walked along the underground concrete gallery stepping directly on the railroad tracks where one day (in 2010, according to the most recent projections) the first train cars jammed with Turks caught up in the day-to-day routine of the metropolis were expected to pass. Yousef and the Sheik went first, about ten meters ahead of the assistant and Nefise. The Sheik carried a flashlight pointed at the roadway and a pistol pointed at Yousef who remained one step ahead. Yousef had nothing but a flashlight and the pack on his back. And so the two of them advanced, leading the way in the darkness to the spot where they would find several cases left there by accomplices of the Sheik containing the explosives that Yousef was to decide where to place and detonate. Along the way, Yousef struck up a conversation.
“Why the hell did all of us have to come down here? Why not just the two of us?”
“Aren’t you enjoying this chance to go sightseeing? Suffice it to say I don’t trust you at all right now, so I prefer to oversee your work down here first-hand.”
“Well in that case, just the two of us could have come.”
“And once you had control of the explosives what would stop you from blowing everything up, killing us both? I haven’t the slightest doubt that you’d be capable of killing yourself to kill me... Is it possible I’m being too paranoid? It’s plain to me that I’m not, all I have to do is look at you. You are completely dominated by your emotions. You’re just aching to put an end to my life. It’s so unfair, such ingratitude… Ah, but with her down here, you’d never have the courage to blow me to pieces, otherwise, farewell Nefise. So no reckless actions.”
It was true that Yousef was desperately hoping for any opening to save Nefise, and the idea that kept occurring to him was that it really would be necessary to do away with his former men
tor. It was not something that he could do lightly, by any means, but it was something he was mentally prepared to do. It was unfair, it was ungrateful, but he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of trying to keep his conscience clean at this moment at the expense of Nefise’s life.
“It is unfair, it is ungrateful... but what about the innocent lives I took for our extremist cause? Weren’t their deaths unfair? Weren’t they in vain?”
“No. Those lives were taken for the sake of the right cause. For the sake of the struggle against the dreadful and putrid American imperialism. I don’t need to explain that to you. You’re no longer giving your life for the greater good of the Muslim world but only for your own selfish little world. You’ve become one of them.”
“Them? Do you have even the faintest idea who they are? The people we murdered?”
“Ah, so then you have become one of them.”
“Has it ever dawned on you even for a second that if you behave contemptibly in the Prophet’s name, you might lead decent people to look upon the Prophet with contempt?”
“Decent people! It’s worse than I feared. You are one of them.”
“No, you’re wrong. I’m not one of them. I’ve only realized that I can’t fight evil with more evil. It’s like a doctor trying to drive out one virus by injecting another in the same patient. Now you’ve got two diseases to fight and no improvement.”
“At least you will agree that the first virus was the guilty party responsible for all the evil.”
“All the evil? You can’t be serious. But I’m not interested in who’s guilty, I’m interested in driving out the virus, and to do this I believe what’s needed now is to inject something different into the world, like justice, truth, peace and love.”
“Love? Is that what you believe you feel for Nefise?”
“I know it’s what I feel.”
“Just as you felt for Nadia?”
“Exactly.”
“I see what’s going on with you. Nadia died, but you think that by saving Nefise, you will save Nadia and somehow you’re in need of this, because you feel guilty about her death in New York.”
“Me, guilty? Why would I think any of this?”
“Because you’ve been over it all in your mind and reached the conclusion that Nadia’s death could not just have been a mere accident. Perhaps she died because of all that you did, the lives you decided to take. Perhaps she died at the hands of some enemy of yours, someone who knew of the deaths and attacks you perpetrated and came looking for vengeance. That’s why, deep inside, you are doing penance for Nadia’s death.”
“I’ve never heard such nonsense.”
“Oh, really?”
Yousef said nothing further until a stack of crates appeared in the misty yellow glare of the flashlight.
“It looks like we’ve arrived.”
“So it does. Open the crates.”
Yousef did as ordered. The Sheik trained the flashlight on the open crate and smiled with satisfaction.
“Now to work! I’m going to enjoy watching you go back to your life’s true vocation: blowing things up.”
6
“We haven’t even said a word to each other.”
“Is there any need?” Mercedes asked. “I’ve always liked the fact that you were more a man of action than of words.”
Mercedes’s naked body lay beside him wrapped in the bedspread, Luiz running his fingertips slowly down her back. She gazed out the immense window of her hotel room.
“What a magnificent city this is! I’ll have to come back here someday, but completely anonymous so I can enjoy it in a reasonable fashion. One day would you show me all the beauties and hidden mysteries of this town?”
Luiz remained silent, equivocating between saying what he thought and what’s best to say at such a moment.
“This silence means you don’t intend to answer me with total sincerity.”
“I’m enchanted at the thought of showing you all the beauties of this magnificent city, but I hate myself for betraying Nefise.”
“So that’s her name, then?”
“Yes.”
Mercedes turned her body and looked Luiz straight in the eye. Her head rested on the white pillow. He lay beside her leaning on his elbow.
“Do you love her?”
Luiz hesitated again at this abrupt question.
“Don’t you see how ridiculous it is for you to hesitate to speak to me frankly?”
“If I hesitate, it’s because I’m afraid of what you might think, and that means that I love you. What difference does it make if I also love another woman? It’s just the two of us here now. As long as I’m here there’s nobody else, and that should be enough for you.”
“It’ll be enough for me if you really feel it’s true. That you’re not just saying what you feel you’re supposed to say.”
“Ok, I love Nefise. That’s what you want to hear.” Luiz let his neck sink into the pillow and stared at the ceiling with glassy eyes. Mercedes laid her head on his chest affectionately.
“That is indeed what I want to hear. Your sincerity. Reality stopped scaring me a long time ago. I don’t fear it. No one should fear it.”
“Nefise was kidnapped this morning.”
Mercedes raised her head from his chest and looked at him in astonishment.
“And you’re here with me, while she’s in danger?”
“She was kidnapped this morning. Afterward, I was with the police in the place where it all happened, and I went over the only clues they had, but we arrived too late for a big chase at the Great Bazaar where she tried to escape but was recaptured by her abductors. I no longer know what to do to help her. I know that it’s crazy to be here now. In any case, I’m keeping my cell phone on so the police can call me if there’s any news.”
Mercedes rested her head again on Luiz’ nude torso.
“If you love her you must do anything for her. You shouldn’t be here.”
“You’re right.” He made as if to get up abruptly but she grabbed him.
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to leave like that. I’m very happy that you’ve come here. I was hoping you would.”
“Hoping I would?”
“Yes. I knew you had an important fight today, and I made a point of scheduling a concert here in Istanbul on the same day. I had vain hopes that you would hear of my concert and come to my hotel to see me. Besides that, I wanted to come see your fight. I thought I might provide some inspiration. I wanted to see you.”
“And that’s why you spent the afternoon out of the hotel, making me wait for hours in the bar.”
“I went looking for you at your gym.”
It was Luiz’ turn to be astonished.
“It’s true. You can ask Juan. He told me he’s worried about you. He confided in me that maybe you shouldn’t fight today because your head’s not right, you can’t concentrate on anything.”
“Well he can rest easy because I’m going to give it my best. As I always do, by the way. I realize you didn’t tell me you’d been there looking for me just so my head wouldn’t get even more twisted before the fight. You sly old fox...”
“Luiz can I go see your fight?”
“I don’t know if that would be a good idea.”
“I’ll go anonymously. In disguise. But I’ll be in the front row and you’ll recognize me. I’ll wear dark glasses and a black hat that will cover my face. I’ve already bought the ticket. Then I’ll go do my show.”
“Meanwhile at the Kurucesme Arena, your audience will be waiting for you like a bride at the altar.”
“Exactly. Today my priority is you.”
“Today? And then what?”
“It doesn’t matter that much to me what’s next; if you really want to know, I’ll go back to Colombia, to my husband and my daughter. That’s what’s planned, though really no one can predict the future. Who could have said we’d be here today, like this, the way we are, after not setting eyes on each other for mo
re than five years? Who could have said that boy and girl whose eyes happened to meet one day at the Alligator Festival in Ciénaga, would be here today, still in love and stoking the feelings of that same Caribbean night, soaked in that tropical heat? Are you all that interested in the future? Come here.” Mercedes made Luiz turn towards her, placed her naked body on top of his and kissed his lips. “Enough talk. Let’s make the most of the minutes we’ve got left.”
Vile surprise, Luiz’ cell phone rang in the depths of the pocket of his trousers flung any which way on the floor. Like someone waking from a dream with difficulty, he reached for the device and examined the screen.
“It’s Juan, I won’t answer.”
“You have to. It might be important.”
The phone rang on insistently.
“No. If it’s important he’ll call back later.”
Luiz set the device to silence, turned back towards Mercedes and, seething with desire, they kissed and made love as though they were at the gateway to the very end of the world.
Twenty minutes later, conscience-stricken, Luiz reached out and checked his phone.
“Oh my God! I have ten calls from Juan.”
“You’d better call back. It must be really important,” she advised.
Luiz picked up the phone and called his coach.
“Juan.”
“Luiz, it’s about time! A kid came here and left you a message. He says it’s from Nefise.” Juan spoke quickly.
“From Nefise? What does it say?”
“It says if you want to save her, go down into the Marmaray Tunnel, and don’t get the police involved. She’s with Arab terrorists who don’t play around.”
The Miracle of Yousef: Historical and political thriller Page 33
