Fire & Wind

by Leo Gher

  “Did you have any wine that evening?” asked an accusatory son.

  “This was not about the wine, Conor.”

  “Sorry, Mother. Please go on.” They stepped outside and then headed upward toward the Rock Garden. There was plenty of sun above the horizon, and as before, there was a sweet scent of honeysuckle on the trail.

  “When I got to the jingling stone, I heard a door slam back in the direction of the cottage. When I turned, I saw a flash of blue, like a strobe light in the night sky. I imagined it was just Rayna and dismissed it.

  “Here is the jingling stone,” she said, pointing. “Want to hear it sing, Conor?” He agreed, naturally. Mira knelt down at the base of the rock and found two hammering rocks. A moment later, a beguiling Muğam rhythm echoed against the Gobustan hills.

  “Your music is still so wonderful, Mira,” a smiling Conor whispered.

  “I wish you could have heard Zara play. She was a gift to all of us.”

  “I just wish I had known her.”

  “I wish that too,” Mira said sadly.

  “I have no memory of Zara, you know?”

  “I know.”

  After that, Mira showed Conor the ghost dancers. She took his hand and placed it gently on one of the figures, and said, “Zara always claimed that she was a ghost dancer. From the time we were children.”

  “And you believed her?”

  “Conor, there was no arguing with your mother.”

  “I guess not.”

  Mira continued: “I decided to head back down. But about halfway to the cottage, I turned the flashlight off to admire the sky and stars. That’s when the blue glow caught my eye again. It was coming from the top floor of the cottage and seemed to be moving, like a living thing. I raced to the cottage. The door slammed behind me and startled Rayna.”

  It was already dark when Mira and Conor returned to the cottage. They were standing between the garden gravesite where Zara and Tom were buried and the two noble plane trees that stood with them. Mira gazed upward toward the top floor of the cottage, searching for the specter to appear again. But nothing happened, and she continued her story: “I asked Rayna if she had been upstairs. She said, ‘No.’ But our always-on-duty Rayna was troubled. We searched each room carefully but found nothing. Rayna thought it was a motion-detector light outside… just a bird flying by that set it off.”

  Conor meandered to the graves, looking at the freshly planted flowers. “I cannot tell which is Zara’s and which is Tom’s.”

  “It’s impossible now,” Mira replied. “Zara’s grave is more than 25 years old, Tom’s about eight. But there’s no marker to tell which is which.”

  Conor asked, “Should we buy a headstone?”

  “It’s not our way,” Mira replied. “They are with God, not here.”

  Conor turned back to face Mira. “Go on.”

  “Rayna was satisfied that there was no intruder upstairs, so she left to check below. I stayed behind. Next, I heard something outside, so I turned off the light, and walked to the window. That’s when I saw the blue presence again. In the beginning, it was only a shimmering, but almost immediately it took shape – a figure of a woman, standing near the garden. It was Zara. And then, to my horror, I witnessed the murder play out once again.”

  Conor wrapped his arms around Mira, “I’m so sad that you had to go through it again. But Mira, it was nothing, a recalled memory, perhaps.”

  “But there is more, Conor. There was another phantom nearby, a child – you! As your mother lay dying on the ground, Elshan snatched you up and stole you away. Then everything vanished.

  “The moment passed, and I was alone again. The leaves were rustling through the trees; not leaves, but Zara. Her fading voice spoke to me: ‘Protect the child… protect the child.’ That’s when I called you… Protect Conor, I thought, I must protect Conor.”

  They had gone inside and were sitting at the kitchen table when Conor said, “About this episode, I have one last question.”

  “Yes?”

  “When this voice said, ‘Protect the child,’ why did you think it

  meant me?”

  Mira was taken aback and sat up, “Who else could it be?”

  Conor responded instantly, “Well, ‘by child,’ this ghost could have meant your natural child, Tali, not me.”

  Mira was horrified at the thought. It had never crossed her mind that Tali might be the one in danger.

  “It is most likely nothing to worry about, Mira. Tomorrow, we can sort everything out.”

  The next morning, Conor rose early and made a pot of tea. That’s when he spotted a note on the table. It was from Mira: “I cannot wait on this, Conor. I must go to Istanbul and bring Tali safely home.”

  25

  Dinner at Turga’s

  Chasing after Tali was a nerve-wracking experience because protecting her daughter had never been Mira’s job. That was the duty of the men of her family. When Tali was a kid, it was her grandfather and father who protected her; and of course, in recent days, it was Conor who was her armor and shield. This was the Azeri way. It had nothing to do with Mira’s strength of character or self-reliance or even her role under Shia traditions. But somehow, this felt different – this sudden and wholly unexpected upheaval brought about by Zara’s ghost – and Mira knew she had to act. So, she woke Rayna at six the next morning and then texted David in Baku: “Get the Zümrә jet ready. This is urgent; call for pilot to meet Rayna and me at airport. We leave for Istanbul at 8 am.”

  Mira and Rayna arrived in Istanbul at 12:15 pm. It was the 10th of March, and the scheduled sessions of the Inshallah Convention L’Internationale had concluded. All that was left was the banquet that evening. When Tali received Mira’s text, she was bowled over: “Tali – Rayna & I arrived Istanbul today. Are you OK? Wanted to hear your talk this evening… so proud.”

  Tali replied: “Am fine! What are you doing, Mother?”

  “Just want to be with you tonight.”

  “Cant talk… busy. See you in morning. I’m in Golden Horne Suite.”

  Mira insisted: “I will send Rayna to check on you tonight.”

  “No need! See you in am.”

  The next morning, the three women met at the hotel coffee shop. After ordering rolls and jam, Mira said, “We were there last night, and saw you speak.”

  Tali looked at Rayna, searching her eyes for a sisterhood of sympathy. “Thank you for the praise. But why are you really here?”

  “This assignment has been such a great honor for you.”

  It was time for some straight talk. “Mother, has something happened?” Tali demanded. “Stop stalling. Did Conor come too?”

  “No, he stayed in Baku. He had much to arrange after our Gobustan strategy meeting.”

  Tali looked like thunder. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “We can go shopping today,” Mira said. “I want to pick up some things for the family at the Grand Bazaar.” She could not bring herself to say that a ghost had issued a warning and that she had freaked out over her daughter’s welfare. The white lies were easier.

  “Stop, stop, stop.”

  Not wanting to get involved in the confrontation, Rayna picked up her breakfast and stood up. “I’m going to the gym. Haven’t worked out in days.” It wasn’t true, of course, but Rayna had the good sense to know when it was time to leave mother and daughter alone.

  Mira and Tali understood and were relieved. Mira said, “I’ll text you when we’re ready.”

  “Fine.” Rayna nodded, then left.

  “You can pick up junk at the airport, Mother.”

  Mira replied snootily, “We commandeered the Zümrә jet; no trinkets at the Sabiha terminal.”

  “Okay, we’ll go to the Grand Bazaar,” Tali said. “But I have a dinner slated tonight at Turga’s with Alexandr Kazimov. We have
to be back by seven pm.”

  “Promise. But we’re coming with to you to Turga’s.”

  “Okay... So, what’s up?”

  Mira hadn’t planned on using a diversion, but at that instant, she thought it the easiest way to begin an odd chat about a ghost. “I have some worries,” she said, “about you and Conor.”

  “We are fine, Mother.”

  “You should get married.”

  Tali’s eyes widened, “You said the mullahs would come after my head.”

  “I know,” Mira replied.

  “That’s a huge change of heart,” said a surprised daughter.

  “He is so vulnerable, so breakable, you know.” There it was – blurted out and unvarnished. “Conor just cannot live without you.”

  “Conor is not breakable, Mother,” Tali replied. “He is tough, resilient and measured, not fragile.” It was evident that something had set off Mira in a strange direction, but what?

  “He worries, you know. Especially since Rufet disappeared. We have to be his anchors – you and I – his advisors and advocates.”

  “This is about the Kos, isn’t it?”

  “About them… and others. It’s hard to determine these days who is on your side and who is not.”

  “Are you worried about Secretary Kazimov?”

  “Not Kazimov, but other Houses.” Next, she added, “By the way, I sent Conor a message last night; that all is okay, and that we’d be home sometime tomorrow.”

  “Good. Tonight, I’ll tell Alexandr that I’m going home with you.”

  What followed was the intimate conversation about life and love that mothers and daughters have from time to time. What they did not talk about was Zara’s ghost, and the strange and ambiguous warning it had delivered at the cottage. Mira considered the time not right, and she decided to bring it up later, maybe at dinner that evening. If not then, then on the plane ride home the next day. She had time – or so she thought.

  At the heart of their tête-à-tête, Tali revealed that she had thought about marriage and children, but also that she and Conor had never had a serious discussion about such a commitment. It was something they both recognized would happen sooner or later, but they had never set a date or even announced the possibility of it to the family. Both women agreed that they should address the subject sometime soon, and promised that when they got home, it would be on their long agenda with Conor.

  Both night and day, the waters of the Bosporus Strait are heavily traveled. Boat traffic is large, small, and everything in between: commercial freighters and tankers, cruise ships, ferries, fishing boats, dinghies, and private yachts.

  This March evening was no different. Sightseeing cruisers were everywhere, and water taxis were exceptionally busy picking up and dropping off tourists at the elegant restaurants along the banks of the Strait. It was just after dusk, and a slight breeze carried the fresh, salty air in from the Sea of Marmara. The sky over the city of 17 million was tranquil, and the only sound that stood out was the muezzin calls from the minaret of the Blue Mosque on shore.

  It was almost nine o’clock, and Tali, Mira, and Rayna were late for dinner with the Azeri Foreign Secretary. Traffic on the street outside the Four Seasons was still busy, so they decided to take a water taxi to the Ciragan Palace. It was a short ride on the Bosporus, and the evening was exquisite.

  Halfway there, the driver chose to stop momentarily so his passengers could admire the star-filled heavens overhead. Evidently an amateur stargazer, he pointed out the constellation Gemini. “There,” he said. “The two bright stars are the twins, Castor and Pollux.”

  Tali found the image high in the night sky, nudged Mira, and said, “Like Conor and Jake.”

  Mira laughed. “Brothers, but certainly not twins.”

  Another passenger complained, “We have reservations at nine. Let’s move on.”

  But the taximan continued, “Pollux is the brighter star. It has a faint orange tinge. The other, Castor, is actually a six-star cluster, but they look like one.” After that, the driver resumed his route, dropping off the Azeri ladies a few minutes later at the Ciragan Palace Pier.

  It was only a brief walk from the landing to Turga’s restaurant. “The darkness made for perfect stargazing,” Rayna remarked.

  “Perfect indeed,” Mira replied. “I could actually see that constellation.”

  Their comments may have been trivial, but for Tali the darkness brought back anxious feelings. The last time she was here, Tali had been traveling all day and was dead-tired. The unfamiliar surroundings had frightened her, and the shadows of the night seemed to mask a menace and pose a risk. Once again, she noticed the secluded courtyards, the darkened storefronts, and that’s when the image of a stalker, lurking, crossed her mind. But there was a difference this time; she was with a crowd of tourists heading for Turga’s. Besides, Rayna was there, and she was a reckoning force.

  Tali had fallen behind, and Rayna yelled, “Let’s go, girl. Keep up.”

  A moment later, the Azeri women entered the restaurant from the patio. They immediately spotted Kazimov sitting at a large round table only a few feet away. He was holding court with friends from other embassies, and apparently hadn’t noticed that Tali and Mira were late for dinner. Tali was relieved.

  There were two men – bodyguards – standing next to the marble columns nearby. Rayna spoke with each momentarily, and afterward, one of the men went to the restaurant entrance to stand guard there, and the other to a post next to the kitchen. Rayna remained with the group, knowing that security was now tightly triangulated.

  By 10:30 that night, most of the showboat and sightseeing traffic on the Bosporus had ended, and that’s when two Turk naval boats advanced on the Ciragan pier from the Asian side of the Strait. It was not the regular patrol rounds, so the two men working at the dock that night were surprised and a little startled.

  After docking, a dozen heavily armed SWAT officers approached the workstation at the end of the pier. The captain found the headman and said, “We’ve gotten word of suspicious activity on the Ciragan Road. We’re closing down access to the Palace for the night.”

  The two men inside didn’t argue. They grabbed their jackets, turned off the beacon light, signaling that the pier was shut down, and left. In the meantime, at the Ciragan Road access point, three Turk riot vehicles closed off the front entrance to the restaurant. This activity was also out of the ordinary. It was now 10:45.

  The attack began with a tremendous explosion at the maître d’ stand. It shattered the archway entrance to Turga’s and killed two waiters and the Kazimov man who was stationed there. The other security forces immediately braced for action. One of the restaurant security men and Kazimov’s other bodyguard took cover against the assault they knew would be coming their way. The firefight broke out within seconds, killing or wounding several of the diners nearest the entrance.

  Rayna reacted instantaneously. Seeing the attack coming from street-side, she gathered Kazimov, Mira, and Tali and herded them out of the dining room and onto the restaurant patio. In the helter-skelter of the moment, it seemed the best route for escaping. Once outside, Rayna scanned the perimeter for other assailants. The way looked clear, but the bodyguard was suspicious. It seemed too easy.

  Then Rayna spied a tall, granite statue of Ataturk about 50 feet across the courtyard, and motioned for Kazimov first to make a run for it, and then afterward the two Nadirov women. Her improvised plan was to steer her little group toward the Bosporus, find a boat, and whisk them off to safety. At least, that was her intention. But when Rayna saw that the light at the pier was off, she recognized she could not send them into the darkness. In fact, all lighting between the restaurant and the dock had been extinguished. Rayna held her breath, but it was too late. Kazimov was on his way when Rayna realized the danger.

  The assailants from the bogus Turk cruisers were waitin
g. Two sharpshooters with night-vision gear were positioned just beyond the statute, hidden by the darkness. Naturally, when Aleksandr Kazimov reached the statue, he crouched behind it, waiting for the others to arrive. The Secretary didn’t have a chance. The shooters at the dock unloaded, and Kazimov fell to the ground in a pool of blood.

  Suddenly, Rayna realized they were caught in a crossfire, and now she could see others coming from Turga’s patio. So, she reasoned their only escape was to head along the street toward the Four Seasons building, hiding in the darkness of the alleys along the way. Rayna sent Tali first. “There,” she pointed, “next to the storefront. Hide in the alley. We’ll be right behind you.” Tali raced off, but another volley of bullets shattered the plate glass window at the store and diverted her away from the alley.

  Rayna turned to Mira, and yelled, “Run fast – now!” But Mira was not nearly as agile as her daughter and fell after only 20 feet. As she lay exposed, one of the sharpshooters took dead aim and fired a bullet into her left hip. It shattered bone and opened a gaping wound. Mira would not be going further, so Rayna – the loyal and ever-courageous bodyguard – raced to Mira’s side. She placed her body between the shooters and the woman she so admired and then began firing back. She was an easy target in the crossfire. First, a barrage from the landing and then another from the patio peppered her body.

  Without bothering to think about the consequences, Tali raced back to her mother and Rayna. As luck would have it, someone had ordered the attackers to stop firing. “Mother!” she cried out as she slid to Mira’s side.

  Mira responded in full distress, “I’m hit, my hip, my arm.” There was blood everywhere, but it was mostly from Rayna’s bullet-riddled body. Then Mira Nadirov passed out, her head hitting the concrete with a thud.

  As Tali had feared, there was a man in the shadows, a tall, slim man who advanced on the fallen women. His hair was combed to one side, and he wore a mustache, thick and bushy, that completely covered his upper lip. “All dead, Tali,” It was an Azeri voice, in some way familiar, but she could not place it at this moment of panic, “except for you.”