Reap the Wind

by Iris Johansen

  Caitlin tentatively sipped the wine. “Too sweet. It’s like everything in the room. A little overpowering.”

  “Well, what do you want to talk about?”

  “What?”

  “We’ve got to do something. There aren’t many options unless you’d like to put this room to the use it was intended.”

  She had a sudden vision of the men and women in the Kafas copulating, writhing, inciting. Tonight she had not been moved at all by the performance. She had only wanted it over. “No.”

  “Neither do I,” Alex said.

  “Will Irmak be able to tell us where Ledford is?”

  “If he’s the Gypsy, and not just a front man, he may know. We’ll have to—”

  A soft knock on the door stopped Alex in midsentence.

  “Melis?” Caitlin put her wineglass down on the chest.

  “Probably.” He quickly went to open the door.

  “I have come for you.”

  “Melis?”

  “Yes.” The tiny, fine-boned child who slipped into the room seemed younger even than the eleven Kemal had told them was her actual age. Golden hair flowed past her shoulders in tight ringlets, and she was dressed in Victorian clothing—a starched white dress with a peach-colored satin sash, white stockings, and shiny black patent-leather shoes. “We must wait for a moment.” Nervous color ebbed and flowed beneath her fine skin, and the words came breathlessly. “Kemal says it must be quite safe for you. The guards have gone into Simal’s room, but we must wait until they begin.”

  “Begin?” Then Caitlin understood and felt her stomach churn with sickness. She wondered if this Simal was as young as Melis. When Caitlin had been Melis’s age, she had run through fields of flowers, playing games with her friends. She said huskily, “We have to do something, Alex. I can’t stand to see—”

  “I know. We’ll find a way,” Alex said. “The first step is to get rid of Irmak.”

  “Kemal said you would help us if we helped you,” Melis whispered, her small hands nervously smoothing her starched white skirts. “I do not like it here. I want to go away.”

  Aching sympathy tightened Caitlin’s throat. “You will go away. I understand how you must feel.”

  Melis gravely studied Caitlin’s face before she slowly shook her head. “No,” she said. “You are kind, but you do not understand.” She turned and opened the door. “I will go first. Follow me four paces behind.”

  They negotiated the deserted corridors. Melis stopped before a carved door. “Adnan,” she said softly. “I must go now. I will be missed.” She flitted away down the corridor like a tiny ghost from another age.

  “I wonder who the hell is going to miss her.” Caitlin added fiercely, “I’d like to kill Irmak.”

  “Easy.” Alex’s expression was grim in spite of his admonition as he opened the door. “All in good time. I promise you we’ll get her out. I’d like to murder him myself, but this isn’t the—”

  Adnan Irmak was already dead.

  Caitlin gazed in shock at the man slumped over the massive desk across the room. “Is that Irmak?”

  “Yes.” Alex moved quickly toward him. “Close the door.”

  Caitlin obeyed him, watching the pool of blood pouring from Irmak’s throat and spreading on the blotter of the desk. “Murder?”

  “It’s hard to slit your own throat.”

  “Shouldn’t we get out of here?”

  “In a minute.”

  She looked in morbid fascination at the pool of blood and swallowed, fighting back nausea. “Who do you suppose did it? Ledford?”

  “Possibly. He might have thought we were getting too close and wanted to silence Adnan.” Alex shifted Irmak’s body to get to the middle desk drawer. The dead man’s head wobbled. “It could have been anyone. One of his whores or one of the customers he’s been blackmailing.” He closed the desk drawer. “According to Kemal, he wasn’t the most popular man in Istanbul.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Records. Information.” Alex opened the right-hand drawer. “Jackpot.”

  Caitlin came forward, trying not to look at Irmak. “You found something?”

  “A drawer full of passports.” Alex flipped open the top one. “Excellent quality.”

  “Then Irmak was the Gypsy?”

  “So it would appear.” Alex opened the bottom drawer and drew out two long black ledgers. “Let’s see what kind of records the bastard kept.”

  He opened the first ledger, glanced inside, and then closed it again. “The Harem account books.” He opened the second ledger and flipped rapidly through the pages. Suddenly a smile lit his face. “B.L. Now, who do we know with the initials B.L.?”

  “Brian Ledford.”

  “Right.” He took out his handkerchief and carefully wiped off every surface he had touched before slipping the ledger under his white robe. “Let’s get the hell out of here”—he grabbed Caitlin’s hand—“in case Ledford has left one of his thugs who might recognize us.”

  Kemal put aside his guitar and rose to his feet when Caitlin and Alex walked into the cottage. “Just in time. The coffee’s ready. Sit down and I’ll get the tray.” He looked at Alex and shook his head. “You should have gotten rid of the robe before you left the Kafas. It doesn’t suit you. It takes a certain flair to wear such robes that you obviously don’t—”

  “Get the coffee and save the fashion critique.” Alex took the long ledger from beneath his cloak and laid it on the coffee table before shrugging out of the white robe and tossing it on the chair by the door. “Irmak’s ledgers were too bulky to hide beneath a suit coat.”

  Kemal went into the kitchenette and got the tray. “You must have been very persuasive to get him to part with them. Did you squeeze any inform—”

  “He’s dead,” Caitlin said. “Murdered.”

  Kemal stopped. “Really? Alex?” Then he strolled in with the tray.

  “Not me,” Alex said. “He was dead when we got there.”

  “Too bad. So you weren’t able to question him.” Kemal set the tray on the coffee table. “How?”

  “Knife. His throat was cut.”

  “Messy. That must have been distressing for Caitlin.” Kemal smiled gently at her. “Sit down. You look terrible.” He pushed her down in the chair and handed her one of the cups. “Drink it. It will make you feel better.” He turned to Alex. “You think the ledger will tell you what you need?”

  The hot liquid did warm Caitlin and banish a little of the cold nausea gripping her stomach. They were both so casual about it. Irmak had been a terrible man and undoubtedly had deserved to be murdered, but she couldn’t stop thinking about that pool of blood.

  “I don’t know,” Alex said. “I haven’t had a chance to look at it.”

  Kemal curled up cross-legged on the floor by Caitlin’s chair and reached for a cup of coffee. “Then look at it now. I’ll be silent as a corpse.” He pulled a face as he saw her flinch. “Sorry, Caitlin.”

  Alex was leafing through the ledger. “Christ, the man must have supplied half the mercenary units in Africa and Europe.”

  “I told you Irmak was rich.” Kemal lifted his cup to his lips. “Addresses?”

  “No. Only lists of merchandise and delivery dates.”

  “Then you’re back to square one?”

  “Maybe not.” Alex’s finger skimmed down the list of merchandise listed under B.L. “There are some odd entries here. I’ll have to study them for a while.”

  “You won’t mind if I leave you?” Kemal took a sip of coffee, put his cup back on the tray, and rose. “I have something to do.”

  “What?”

  “It just occurred to me that when the guards find Irmak, the Harem is going to be in an uproar.” He moved toward the door. “I might be able to take advantage of the confusion if I move quickly.”

  “To do what?”

  “The children,” Kemal said quietly. “Melis and the others. With luck, I can smuggle them out before someone else take
s control.”

  Caitlin asked, “Could that happen?”

  Kemal nodded. “And probably will. Irmak told me he seized power from the former owner of the Harem.”

  Alex stood up. “I’ll go with you.”

  Kemal shook his head. “You were seen there tonight. It would be more dangerous for me with you along.”

  “What will you do with the children?”

  “They can keep my cockroaches company for a day or two while I find a place—”

  “Bring them here,” Caitlin said. “We can call Jonathan and he’ll find help for them.”

  Kemal stopped at the door. “There are six. They will be trouble for you.”

  “Bring them here.”

  Kemal said solemnly, “I knew when I first saw you that you had motherly instincts.”

  “Liar. All you noticed was my breasts.”

  “It’s the same thing. I told you it was psychological.”

  He picked up the robe Alex had discarded on the chair, slipped it on, and turned toward him. He struck a pose with arms folded across his chest, his legs slightly astride. “Now, this is how you should have looked in this robe. Like a proud king of the desert, like a handsome caliph who—”

  “Go get the children.”

  Kemal grinned and swept out of the cottage, the full white robe flowing regally behind him.

  “That was Alex.” Jonathan replaced the telephone receiver and turned to Chelsea. “He said Caitlin needs our help. It seems she acquired six children last night.”

  “I assume not in the usual manner.” Chelsea straightened in her chair. “What the hell?”

  “Don’t ask me. Alex didn’t explain. Two boys, four girls, ages ranging from ten to fourteen. He did say the children had been sexually abused.”

  “By their parents?”

  “You’ll have to ask Caitlin.”

  “I will?”

  “Well, you’re the logical one to deal with the problem. You’re the chairperson of an organization that helps abused children.”

  “You’re right.” She grinned as she stood up and smoothed the skirt of her dress. “I’m damn good at solving other people’s problems. I was getting sick and tired of waiting around here for the conference to begin anyway. Let’s go.”

  He shook his head. “You go. Alex asked me to meet him at the embassy and see if I could discover the security plans for this meeting.”

  “What’s Alex’s address?”

  “Alex said by now an escort should be downstairs in the lobby waiting to take you to where Caitlin and Alex are staying. His name is Kemal Nemid.”

  “I’m not going another step. We’re running around in circles.” Chelsea fixed Kemal with a cold glare as she plopped down on the balustrade of a railing leading up to a crumbling apartment building. “I’ve seen that shop across the street twice. You’ve had me tramping around these back streets in circles for two hours.”

  “Walking is good exercise.”

  “Not when you’re wearing four-inch heels.”

  “You should not wear such shoes. Caitlin is much more practical.”

  “Caitlin is a head taller than I am.”

  Kemal smiled. “Ah, yes, such presence. She is very beautiful. You are also attractive, but personally, I’m fonder of big women.”

  “Then why are you trying to wear me down to Thumbelina size?”

  Kemal’s smile faded. “I’m not trying to exhaust you. I just want to lose anyone who might be following us, and keep Caitlin and Alex safe. I don’t have an automobile, and taxis and rental cars can be traced. Walking is best.”

  Chelsea studied his grave expression for a moment and then got reluctantly to her feet. “Hell, lead on.”

  Kemal immediately set off down the street. “Though you should thank me for the opportunity to increase your stamina. Caitlin improved immensely once I showed her how healthy walking—”

  “We’re here.” Kemal threw open the door of the cottage. “Andreas sent this lovely lady. I approve.”

  “Chelsea, I thought you’d never get here.” Caitlin gave her an affectionate hug. “I didn’t even know you were in Istanbul until Jonathan told Alex on the phone today.”

  Chelsea returned the embrace and then limped into the house. “If I’d known your friend Kemal lived here, I might never have come.”

  “She doesn’t like to walk either.” Kemal closed the door. “But she complains louder than you do. Where are the children?”

  “Still sleeping in Alex’s room.” Caitlin frowned. “Except Melis. She won’t eat and hasn’t slept since you brought her here last night. She just sits in the garden”—she shrugged—“but the others seem happy enough.”

  “She’s frightened. Changes always frighten children. She’s used to her place. I’ll go and talk to her.” Kemal went out into the tiny garden.

  Chelsea and Caitlin followed him and stood at the door, watching as he knelt beside the fair-haired child sitting on the stone bench and began to talk to her.

  “What place?” Chelsea asked.

  “A brothel.”

  “Christ!” Chelsea shook her head. “It makes you wonder what kind of world we live in.”

  “Yes.”

  “And the others?”

  “The same. Kemal got them all out.”

  Kemal’s expression was intent, a gentle smile on his lips as he reached out and touched Melis’s cheek with one finger. The golden-haired child in her white Victorian dress and the strong, dark-haired young man in his blue sweatshirt and jeans made a strangely beautiful contrast of past and present.

  Melis was smiling now, a tiny ghost of a smile, but a smile nonetheless.

  “Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought,” Chelsea said grudgingly. “At least the little girl doesn’t think so.”

  Melis stood up and put her hand in Kemal’s.

  “She’s hungry,” Kemal called out. “How can she sleep when you do not feed her?”

  “I offered—” Caitlin broke off as Kemal shook his head warningly. “I’ll fix a sandwich.”

  Melis smiled radiantly up at Kemal as they began to walk slowly back to the cottage.

  “He seems to know the charm,” Caitlin said.

  Chelsea nodded thoughtfully. “She obviously responds to him.” She moved toward the telephone on the table. “I’ll call New York and talk to the director of my safe-house organization and see if he can give me the name of someone to contact here in Istanbul. They can’t suffer a language barrier now too. The children will need to be housed and cared for by their own countrymen and they should start therapy under a psychologist immediately.” She lifted the receiver of the phone. “A feeling of security is everything in a situation like this. The first few weeks after children are removed from an unhealthy environment is a crucial period for them.” Chelsea began to dial the phone. “What are you waiting for? Make the kid her sandwich.”

  Caitlin discovered she was smiling as she entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door.

  “Your friend knows how to get things done.” Kemal watched Chelsea as she briskly shepherded the six children down the street. She had arranged to have the station wagon from the government welfare office pick up the children over two blocks away to maintain the secrecy of the cottage’s location and insisted on delivering the children to the vehicle herself. “But will they be treated as well after the American movie star leaves Istanbul?”

  “Chelsea will see that they’re protected,” Caitlin said. “She has a daughter who was abused. Believe me, no one is better at guarding the helpless than Chelsea.”

  “Her daughter? The girl at Vasaro.” Kemal’s glance flew to her face. “Ah, that is why she does not laugh. Who did this?”

  “Her father.”

  “The betrayal is always worse when it is someone you trust.” His expression hardened. “Where is he?”

  “Dead.” Caitlin smiled gently. “You can’t protect the whole world, Kemal.”

  “It’s often too late to protect
, but there are still many ways to help—and avenge.”

  “Well, it’s too late for you to avenge Marisa, and Chelsea gives Marisa all the help she needs.”

  Kemal’s gaze returned to Melis, who was hanging back, staring desperately, pleadingly, over her shoulder at Kemal. “Some people’s problems are more complicated. Sometimes no one understands or can help who hasn’t been there.”

  “What did you tell Melis in the garden?”

  “I told her she would probably be hurt again, but that she would never again be helpless to fight it.”

  “Not very reassuring.”

  “Should I have promised her that she would never be hurt again?” Kemal shook his head. “She would not have believed me. Melis already knows life is full of pain and compromises. It’s enough for people like us to have a chance to change our lives.” He lifted his hand in farewell as the little group disappeared around the corner. “That’s a great gift in itself.”

  “Kemal, I think you may be a success as a philosopher after all.”

  Kemal’s soberness was gone in an instant. “I’ve decided I will never become rich by being a philosopher. There’s much more money being a superstar. Why don’t I play my guitar for Miss Benedict? Perhaps she will discover me, take me to Hollywood, and introduce me to the extraordinary Marisa.”

  “It’s not likely. I don’t think she’s forgiven you for making her walk from the hotel.”

  “Oh.” Kemal brightened. “She is small. I have my bicycle in the garden. I’ll ride her back on the handlebars. Do you think she’d like that better?”

  Caitlin smothered a smile as she thought of the long stretch limousines to which Chelsea was accustomed.

  “Why don’t you ask her?” Caitlin asked.

  Alex didn’t arrive back at the cottage from his meeting with Jonathan until nine that evening.

  Caitlin came out of the bedroom when she heard the front door close. “You’ve been gone for a long time. Did you find out anything?”

  “It took hours to pry the schedule out of the embassy people.”

  “I can see why they wouldn’t want to reveal it to everyone who asks. What is the schedule?”