by Rob Preece
Ivy figured she could use some enlightenment. “Thank you."
He bowed. “Thank you, Ms Ivy. And thank you for bringing your artifact to our city. Islam does not worship objects the way your Catholic Church does, but I cannot deny its holiness."
"Has anyone heard word of our friend, Cejno?” Zack asked.
The imam nodded and gestured to his cell. “He is only moments away, stuck in a bit of a traffic jam that will also delay the police from following too closely. By the time you step outside, he will be in sight.” He hesitated for a moment, then blurted out his question. “It is presumptuous, but perhaps I could be given the honor of helping you carry this historical artifact of the Prophet Jesus, peace be upon him."
Zack looked at Ivy for guidance, but she could think of no reason not to let the imam help. He had thousands of followers within shouting distance. If he intended to steal the Cross, he could have done so. For that matter, since the Cross had spent nearly a thousand years under a Mosque, the Moslems might have as good a legal claim to it as anyone.
"We can use all the help we can get."
"Thank you.” He reverently lifted one end of Ivy's Cross section as she picked up the other. Another imam from his Mosque nodded to Zack and, with his permission, helped him lift the large balk of timber.
"Your young Kurdish drug smuggler should be coming now."
Sure enough, Cejno rounded the corner to the Mosque just as the imams helped Zack and Ivy carry out their Cross sections.
The Kurd gaped and practically ran into a flower cart when he saw the religious leaders helping, but he managed to brake to a stop. As Zack had suggested, the van had been transformed into a mottled brown and its license plates changed, but the irrepressible Kurd's smile was unaltered.
"I had thought to never see you again, my friends,” he shouted. “What a happy day. Let us make on our journey."
Moments later, they'd secured the Cross, and, with just a bit of discussion, Cejno turned the wheel over to Zack.
"If you feel anything, any danger at all, please let me know,” Zack told Ivy. “I promise I'll listen this time."
It turned out, though, that they only had to listen to the sound of Cejno's cell. Each morning, a different imam would call with the day's route, possible roadblocks, and friendly places to stop for food or rest.
Their trip really did seem to become a holiday as they made their way through the beautiful lake region around Isparta, to Denizli, Salihli, and Izmir, and then up the Adriatic coast.
* * * *
Zack had been in plenty of historical cities. In two tours in Iraq, he'd been to Baghdad, Mosul, and the ruins of Babylon, Nineveh, and Ur. In Europe, he'd seen London, Berlin, Paris, and the remains of the trenches that had once crossed France and Belgium. But Istanbul was different. The past seemed closer here, as if they might turn one corner and see Janissaries drilling: another corner and run into a mob of blues and greens on their way to the hippodrome for racing and riots.
The domes and minarets of the famous Blue Mosque shadowed what had been, for a thousand years, the largest and most powerful church in Christianity—the Hagia Sophia—the Church of Holy Wisdom. Only during the Renaissance had the Pope finally built today's St. Peter's Cathedral in Rome and exceeded the massive structure originally built by the Roman Emperor Justinian. The Topkapi Palace, home to the Ottoman rulers when they'd threatened Europe, conquered Africa, and dominated Asia, still stood atop the ruins of the earlier Roman Imperial palaces and government quarters.
"Wow,” Zack said.
"I have to make contact with my, uh, friends,” Cejno said. “Perhaps you would not like to be a part of this drug business."
Zack didn't want to be a part of it. He thought the U.S. laws against pot wasted a lot of resources that could be better spent on controlling terrorism and helping the poor, but he'd had enough drug-abusing soldiers under his command to know that hashish can impair judgment as badly as alcohol can.
Still, Cejno had risked his life for them. The least they could do was pay him back now.
"Do you think there's going to be trouble?"
Cejno laughed. “There are plenty of Kurds here in the old capital. They would not allow me to go unavenged if something were to happen to me."
"In that case, why don't you drop us off at one of the Mosques on our list,” Ivy said. “I have this tingle that tells me time is running short."
"A tingle that like that?” Zack gestured to the harbor where, amidst a long line of cruise ships, a U.S. Navy aircraft carrier was dropping its anchor.
"I hadn't gotten that specific,” Ivy said. “But now that you mention it..."
They exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses with Cejno, promised to stay in touch in the future and made Cejno promise to come and visit them in America if he could, but leaving his drugs back home. Then they unloaded their Cross sections and packs stuffed with food and Romanian gear, and watched him drive away.
"Think we'll see him again?"
Ivy considered. “I wouldn't be surprised. Wait a few years and we might see him on the cover of Newsweek."
"Drug smuggler of the year?"
"I was thinking, President of Turkey. Didn't you notice the way he wanted to talk to everyone, learn their names? He's a born politician."
"Could be a good thing. Having a Kurdish President might help reduce ethnic tensions in Turkey."
The local imam must have been warned that they were coming. He rushed out of the Mosque and almost dragged them into a nearby apartment that, he said, had been set aside for their use while they were in Istanbul.
"My brothers tell me that you are looking for secret wisdom while here,” he said in English. “I must warn you that there is no true or certain knowledge outside of the Koran: outside of the words of the blessed Prophet Mohammed, peace be upon him."
There didn't seem to be any way to answer that, so Zack smiled and nodded politely. He also managed to stomp on Ivy's foot when it looked like she was going to start an argument.
"Perhaps we merely follow a round-about path to that certain knowledge,” he said when it looked like Ivy was going to explode anyway.
The imam nodded as if he'd said something intelligent. “Let me show you the apartment."
The apartment was built into a building that had been old when the Turks had conquered the city. Deep inside the city walls, it was a three story stone building, retrofitted with plumbing and covered with a slate roof that Zack didn't guess had been updated since the last Sultan had been sent into exile.
"Perhaps you are fatigued after your travels,” the imam said. “I shall return after some two hours."
He bowed, then left.
"What do you think? Are you tired?"
Ivy looked exhausted. She closed her eyes and, without warning, seemed to sag.
Zack barely caught her in time to keep her from hitting the floor.
* * * *
The colors of power nearly blinded Ivy.
Their blasts physically buffeted her. Even with her eyes open, she could sense the deep resonance of the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia, both repositories of centuries or millennia of prayer and worship. Underlying them, deep and tricky, trickles of older power, some disguised, some filled with ancient evil, set her hair on edge.
She swayed, suddenly dizzy, then felt the warmth of Zack's arms as he caught her and gently set her on a chair.
"Are you all right?"
"Istanbul is tearing me apart."
"It's an old and holy place. This was the largest city in the world for hundreds of years. And under both Emperors and Sultans, it combined political with religious leadership. Both the Byzantines and the Ottomans were more than secular rulers. They tried to create real holy empires—god's kingdom on earth. Caliph as well as Sultan."
She must have looked a bit blank, because he explained that the Caliphs had been the early leaders of Islam after Mohammed, combining both secular and religious authority.
Ivy nodded
and tried to relax but she wasn't fooling anyone. “So all we have to do is explore one of the biggest and oldest cities in the world for, uh, something. Even better, we don't know whether that something is a person or an object, or whether we'll recognize it when we find it. Good thing we don't have any real challenges, isn't it?"
Zack grinned ruefully. “Considering the odds against us making it this far, I'd say we already know how to do the impossible.” He paused, thinking. “You know I've been correcting you every time you say Byzantium, but I wonder if your Priestess was really confused. Maybe she was trying to send a very specific message. Something that could help us with just that problem."
"Like?"
"Well, Istanbul is the modern city. Constantinople is the city as it existed in medieval times, from the fourth century until maybe the nineteenth. Byzantium was the name of the ancient Greek colony that Constantinople was built on."
She yawned despite herself. “How does that help? It's all the same city."
He shook his head seriously. “Think about it like tree rings. Istanbul is millions and millions of people of today. Its suburbs stretch out into Asia and Thrace, way beyond the old city walls. In Byzantine times, when it was Constantinople, there might have been a million people living here, but they had to stay inside the walls. They got invaded too often to want to build too much outside. But the early emperors built new walls to enclose a lot of what hadn't been part of Byzantium proper. The old Greek city would be deep inside the old city walls. That's a much smaller territory to cover."
"Makes sense. But it doesn't tell me what we're looking for."
Zack shook his head. “You're the saint, Ivy. I'll leave the holy stuff to you."
"But you're the history buff. I didn't even know there were multiple walls here."
"You'll find whatever we need,” he said. “Try to remember exactly what the Priestess told you to look for. In the meantime, we'll play tourist. I've always wanted to visit Istanbul."
The feeling of countless years of prayer, sacrifice, worship, good and evil bore down on her. “I don't think we have long, Zack. I think if we don't find what we're looking for in the next forty-eight hours, it's going to be too late."
They grabbed quick naps and were showered and ready to go when the imam showed up to take them to dinner. He brought along with a couple of kids who would have been alter-boys in Ivy's church growing up. She didn't know if Moslems had altar boys, but figured these kids would play a similar role, whatever they called them.
"We need to hide the Cross,” she told the imam when he tried to usher them out of their apartment.
"No one will bother it here,” he assured them. “We have people watching."
If she hadn't seen the U.S. aircraft carrier in Istanbul's huge harbor, she might have been reassured. “It needs to be hidden inside a holy place."
He looked uncomfortable. “A Mosque is not a proper place for an artifact that does not relate to Islam."
"The first imam we talked to told me that Jesus is a prophet in your faith."
"Peace be upon him,” the two altar boys piped.
The imam rubbed his hands through his greasy beard. “This does not seem right. Still, I will defer to the friend of my friends, even if he is from the country."
Since she was getting what she wanted, Ivy ignored the snobbish attitude.
"Perfect. Zack and I are starved. Where should we eat?"
The imam knew a nearby place that served great food. He led them there, then ordered for all of them.
"I brought the boys because they can show you around tomorrow,” he explained once they'd eaten enough to stave off the worst of their hunger pangs. “It is better to have someone who knows the city with you. There are some in Istanbul who prey on tourists rather than find honest work."
For just a moment, she let herself imagine a night in a bed. Unfortunately, that dream would have to be deferred again. The sense of time pressed on her like lead weights. “We're in a hurry. What about tonight?"
"I thought it best for you to sleep tonight. The city is safer during the day. There will also be many sailors from your U.S. Navy on shore leave tonight. They will be out in the bars drinking and whoring and looking for trouble."
And looking for Zack and Ivy. Ivy could only hope that their disguises would hold.
"It's hard to explain, but we're short on time."
Zack warmed her heart with his unquestioning support. “We'd understand if the young men aren't able to help us tonight, but we need to be out."
"But none of the attractions will be open,” the imam argued. “You can't see a Mosque at night. The palace complex will be closed. The museums will be closed. If you want alcohol, we can have that sent to your room. Although our religion forbids alcohol for those who follow our faith, the secular government allows it. You don't need to go out to find whatever sin you seek."
"We're not looking for that type of sin,” Ivy said. “But we need to find something quickly."
The imam shook his head, then spoke in quick Turkish to the altar-boys. “Nesip will help you tonight.” He pointed to the older of the two boys. “Tolga will help you tomorrow if you want to see any of the true sights of our wonderful city."
"We really appreciate this,” Zack said.
It was nearly sunset by the time they'd finished eating. The imam hurried off to his Mosque for the after-sundown prayers. Tolga bowed and headed for his home. Nesip, a handsome boy of maybe fourteen, took charge.
"I can take you to places where you will see extreme perversions. Woman with a snake. Much alcohol and hashish smoking.” His dark eyes flashed with delight. He thought he was in for fourteen-year-old-boy-heaven.
Chapter 11
"Places of extreme perversion wait those who come to Istanbul. Very much fun."
Ivy suppressed her laugh. Is that what the imam had told him? She'd known he hadn't bought the Saint line some of the other imams had foisted on her, but she hadn't realized that he was that much of a doubter.
"We want to go to the old section of town,” Zack said.
Nesip grinned. “Excellent thinking by the Mr. Zack. There is indeed much sinfulness here. For we already are in this old section as promised."
"The really old section,” Zack amended. “Where the city was before Constantine."
Nesip shrugged. “But that is the museum area. There will be nothing to see. All is closed for the night."
"That's still where we have to go."
Nesip rolled his eyes. “Then there is nothing for it but that it will be done. Come. We will catch such taxi."
Old Istanbul wasn't that big. Once Nesip had secured them a taxi, it took them only about ten minutes to travel from their restaurant to the old Roman center of the city, near the tip of the peninsula that, according to Zack, had once made Constantinople a nearly impregnable fortress, protected by sea on three sides.
In the harbor beyond the still-standing ancient sea walls, ships moved, their lights blazing against the dark water. As it had been for thousands of years, Istanbul was still the crossroads to trade between north and south, Asia and Europe.
Nesip argued with the taxi driver when he tried to overcharge them, got twice as much change back, and then led Zack and Ivy down a narrow footpath to a broad stone roadway.
"This is hippodrome, famous for the Nike riots that nearly overthrew the Emperor Justinian.” Nesip went into tour-guide mode. “Such riots between chariot factions much like football riots, yes? Here on one end of great hippodrome is Egyptian obelisk of Tutmosis. On the other is a stone obelisk built by Greeks. Once this Greek obelisk was covered with bronze and was very beautiful. Later, janissaries would climb it as part of their training. Now it's not so pretty."
Ivy couldn't argue the sights weren't impressive. As large as a Nascar track, but almost two thousand years old, the hippodrome glistened with remnants of power. Ancient trees that had seen the fall of the Sultan, the invasion by the Greeks in their failed attempt to create a new Gre
ek empire, and the rise of the modern Turkish state lined the broad stone track. Around the hippodrome, churches, mosques, and even older ruins of ancient temples glowed with magic.
"Some day I'd like to return and hear all of this historical details,” Ivy admitted. “But now I need quiet."
"But the imam tells me I am to be your guide. How can I guide you if I cannot speak?"
"I'll ask you questions when I need answers. Believe me, I need answers."
She closed her eyes and oriented herself by the colors of power.
Even without the distraction of mundane reality, the city was overwhelming. The close-by Hagia Sophia sent red pulses of light into the heavens like an enormous laser show. From what Zack had told her about that building, it had been a church for a thousand years and a mosque for four hundred after that. But that ancient monster of a church had been built on the site of older churches still. And underneath the Christian and Moslem constructions were remains of a temple of Apollo. Well over two thousand years of worship powered the vast dome and high-reaching columns of the church.
The Hagia Sophia was far from alone. Only a few hundred meters from the massive cathedral, the Blue Mosque rose even higher into the night sky, its red glow reminding Ivy of an open hearth furnace where molten iron is transformed into hardened steel. Ivy didn't recognize the other buildings, but the energy said that many of them had been, or still were places of worship.
All of which meant she was in trouble. She couldn't call in the Air Force the way Smith had, leveling ancient holy places so she could search the wreckage. And she suspected the really ancient churches would have guards who would stop her from just digging around.
"She said we were to find something we will need here."
"The priestess?” Zack asked.
Nesip made the sign of the evil eye. “There are no priestesses."
"There were priestesses once. I think we are supposed to find something here that will help us when we go on to the next city.” It wasn't that she didn't trust Nesip. Still, the fewer people who knew their next destination was Venice, the safer she'd feel.
