A Dead Man in Istanbul

by Michael Pearce

  ‘I would even have got him coming back to the theatre, you know, if I had had more time. Not that it mattered, because by then other people were taking an interest in me. Important people. Even more important than Selim. It was I who saved the theatre, you know.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘There were really big people, and they were coming to see me. And the thing was, they really appreciated me. Not like Selim. Now I’m not saying anything against Selim. He’s a friend of mine and I really value all he’s doing for me. But he doesn’t appreciate me in the way that they do. He doesn’t really understand my talent. But they do. I could restore the whole tradition of the dancing boy. That’s what they think.

  ‘And that little fool, Rudi, never gives me credit. He’d be out of a job if it wasn’t for me.’

  ‘Certainly, the world now beats a path to your door. The discriminating world, at least, if what I hear is correct.’

  ‘It is true that people of distinction are beginning to come,’ said Ahmet, admiring his fingernails.

  He returned, however, to his brooding.

  ‘But Rudi doesn’t appreciate that. He doesn’t realize what I’m doing for him. Perhaps it would be better if he did go.’

  ‘And a new manager was brought in?’

  ‘Someone who understands talent.’

  ‘Yourself, for instance?’

  ‘Well,’ said Ahmet modestly, but pleased.

  Nicole was packing. She had her back turned to him and when she heard him come in, she jumped back against the wall.

  ‘Christ!’ she said. ‘It’s you, is it? For a moment I thought –’

  ‘You weren’t at the theatre tonight.’

  ‘I’m getting out! It’s too bloody ’ot for me!’

  ‘Hotter,’ said Seymour, ‘than it was?’

  She didn’t answer him directly.

  ‘Monique’s getting out, too.’

  ‘You’re doing it together?’

  ‘She’s making ’er own arrangements,’ she said evasively.

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I’m moving in with ’Assan,’ she said, ‘for the time being.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ll look around. There’s always work in some of the places.’

  ‘Another theatre?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not another theatre.’

  ‘That’s a pity,’ said Seymour. ‘I was at the performance tonight. They missed you. They’re nothing like as good.’

  She shrugged.

  ‘Lalagé was better.’

  ‘Why are you going now?’

  ‘It’s changing,’ she said. ‘There’ll be no place for women.’

  ‘Rudi’s new tack?’

  ‘I’m not blaming ’im,’ she said. ‘’E’s ’ad to do it. With the new lot moving in.’

  ‘The new lot?’

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘you know the way it’s been. First it was Selim. Now it’s that new man, you know, the one who likes the old ways. And the old ways don’t include women. Get out before you’re pushed out. Or worse.’

  ‘Like Lalagé?’

  ‘Like Lalagé. I’ve been wondering why they picked ’er out. It’s obvious, isn’t it? She was the one who stood out. Stuck ’er neck out, you might say. Went round with ’im, with Selim. Drew attention to ’erself. I think ’e liked that. Maybe ’e even wanted it. And she liked it, too. “You silly bitch,” I said. “It won’t do you no good. They don’t like that sort of thing out ’ere.”’

  She sat down on the bed.

  ‘Well, I was right, wasn’t I? She was the one they went for. And I reckon they meant it as a kind of warning.’

  ‘Who to?’

  ‘Selim, of course. And us. Telling us we were bloody disposable and should get out of the way. Women mean nothing to them. You seen that bloody snake-pit up the road?’

  ‘What were they warning him about?’

  ‘I don’t know. Us, I suppose. To steer clear of us. Clear of the theatre, maybe. Lal said ’e was doing it deliberately. It was part of some game ’e was playing. ’E wanted people to see ’e was different. The thing was, it drew everybody’s attention. Now they didn’t like that. So I reckon they were warning ’im to back off. And Lal was the warning.

  ‘Never been in a place before where it was like that. You know, where the theatre wasn’t just a theatre, it was a bloody battleground. But that’s what it ’ad become. And now Selim ’as pulled out and the other lot ’ave moved in.’

  ‘Who are the other lot?’

  ‘The ones who don’t think like ’im, I suppose. The ones who want to go back to the old ways. But if the old ways include the Fleshmakers, you can count me out! So I’m going. And Monique is, too. If Lalagé was a warning, I’m taking it.’

  ‘You were quite right!’ said Chalmers, his voice indicating some surprise. ‘There they were!’

  He had returned from his expedition and had come at once to see Seymour.

  ‘In the water?’

  ‘No, no, back up on the beach. Tucked away under the cliffs in a little lean-to. Locked, of course, but that was no problem. They were beginning to build a more substantial concrete block nearby, with a track leading down from the new road. Judging by the block’s size it would take about twenty at a time. Of course, you wouldn’t want too many. You’d have to put a guard on them. It would probably be just a temporary store where they’d keep them before shoving them into the water. When they needed to. I must say, it had never occurred to me. Smart of you, old boy, to think of that!’

  ‘I asked myself why he needed to approach in the water.’

  ‘Pretty cool! Suppose they’d been in the water? Of course, they wouldn’t have been. Not yet. There’s an international right of passage. But on the outbreak of hostilities, they could put them out in a moment. Phew!’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Who would have thought it? Mines!’

  ‘Cunningham thought it.’

  ‘I take my hat off to him. I’ve been following things pretty closely but I’ve not picked up the slightest hint. But he obviously had. Or perhaps he’d worked it out. And to think of him taking a look at it from the sea! Under cover of that mad swim of his! I must say, he pulled a fast one there. Tricked us all.’

  ‘Not quite all. Someone shot him.’

  ‘It wasn’t an army gun, you know. I’ve been checking, as you asked. Not a standard army gun. Something lighter. Probably a sporting gun. You’d have to get it especially.’

  ‘And there weren’t soldiers there at the time,’ said Seymour. ‘Felicity’s been checking.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Somebody else, then. Which brings us back to the woman.’

  ‘Woman?’

  ‘The Hero.’

  ‘Now, look, old boy –’

  ‘There was a woman there. On that side.’

  Chalmers looked troubled.

  ‘Pretty good shot. For a woman.’

  ‘They can shoot, you know.’

  ‘Yes, but –’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Well, your business, not mine. I’ll leave that to you. But the mines are certainly my business. I’ll notify my people immediately.’

  The troubled look returned.

  ‘But suppose they know about it already? Suppose that bastard, Cunningham, has told them? I mean, it wouldn’t be proper. Lines of reporting and all that. But that wouldn’t have stopped Cunningham. All the same . . .’

  ‘My guess is that they don’t know about it. Not the people here, certainly. And my guess is, not the War Office, either. He wouldn’t have told them. He wouldn’t have bothered to have told them.’

  ‘Then . . .?’

  ‘Cunningham, you see, was cocky. He thought he knew it all. And he thought he could handle it all. Not just the mines but everything else out here. Better than the Ambassador.’

  ‘Well, old boy . . .’

  ‘I know. But he didn’t know where to stop. Better than the Ambassador, yes, but also, I’m beginning to get the feeling
, better than the Foreign Secretary back in London. Better than the Prime Minister, maybe. I don’t think he believed in leaving it to his bosses. He knew better. He thought if he left it to them, they’d probably mess it up. So he decided to take care of it himself. As I say, he was a very cocky man; arrogant man, you might say.’

  ‘Damned undisciplined, I would say,’ said Chalmers. ‘That’s the trouble with those Foreign Office types, Cambridge and all that. They think they know everything. Can do anything, can get away with anything. But if everybody starts doing what they personally think is best, where will you be? There’s got to be discipline. That’s what I’ve always said. There’s not been enough out here. The Old Man should have jumped on him. I’ve always said that.’

  ‘Felicity,’ said Seymour, ‘did Cunningham think there was going to be a war?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Felicity.

  ‘What did he say about it?’

  ‘He said it might not come for a year or two, but that it was bound to come. He would know it was coming, he said, and would tip me off. And then I was to get out at once and not muck about.

  ‘I didn’t believe him. It seemed so unlikely, somehow, I mean, when you look around you and you see everybody getting on with their ordinary lives, and all the chat and bubble in the markets, and everyone being so nice.

  ‘I said that to Peter, and he said it was like being in a boat. There’s all that sea beneath you and there’s just a thin layer of wood or metal between you and it. And at the bottom there is a volcano which is one day going to erupt. Ordinary life is like the thin bit of metal. That’s all there is between peace and war.’

  ‘I think that’s how diplomats think. It’s the way they spoke to me at the Foreign Office before I came out here. I didn’t believe them, either.’

  ‘Why are you asking?’ said Felicity.

  Seymour hesitated.

  ‘I think it’s just possible,’ he said, ‘that Cunningham believed this and thought he might do something about it.’

  Seymour went in search of Mukhtar and eventually found him: not at the theatre, where he suspected that he might be, and certainly not at Gelibolu, where he suspected he officially ought to be. Not even at the central police station, to which Seymour was sent by the police at the local station. But at the central barracks, which, in a way, figured. He looked up in surprise when Seymour came in and then jumped up from behind his desk and came towards him warmly.

  ‘But how did you find me?’

  ‘Oh, I sort of tracked you down. But I should have guessed.’

  Mukhtar looked at him quickly.

  ‘You might have guessed wrongly,’ he said. ‘I really am a terjiman. And I am really based at Gelibolu. But, as I think you have realized, yes, I do have contacts with the army. Unofficial ones, but, yes, strong ones.’

  ‘You are a soldier?’

  ‘I was a soldier. All young men are supposed to do a period in the army but, of course, a lot of them wriggle out of it. Especially the rich and more educated ones. Well, I had been to a law school and I think most people expected me to – but I didn’t want to do that. I felt it was wrong to. An abuse of privilege. So I went in and served for several years. Then I decided to leave. They wanted me to stay but I felt I was being wasted. So I decided to become a terjiman.

  ‘Well, once I had made it clear that I was going to do that, they decided to help me. The army is a powerful institution in the Ottoman Empire, Mr Seymour, and it usually gets what it wants. They secured me a posting to Gelibolu, where it was thought that I might be in a position to help them. The area, you see, is of some strategic importance. And, as the terjiman, I was able to push through some things they wanted done.’

  ‘The new road, for instance?’

  ‘Yes, the new road.’

  ‘The mines?’

  ‘Mines?’

  ‘On the beach where Cunningham was to land. They’re building a store. And a track down to it from the new road. They’ve got some there already.’

  ‘So they have,’ agreed Mukhtar, after a moment, watching Seymour warily, however.

  Seymour waited.

  ‘There is no reason why,’ said Mukhtar, ‘we should not put them there. We are a sovereign nation, you know. It is not as if they are in the water.’

  ‘I think Cunningham may have wondered if some were in the water.’

  ‘And so he swam across to see? Under cover of repeating Lord Byron’s feat?’

  ‘I think so, yes.’

  ‘That would, of course, explain why he was swimming the wrong way.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But, Mr Seymour, I am not sure you should be saying this to me. This was a very improper thing for Mr Cunningham to do.’

  ‘Cunningham was a very improper man. May I say that I am not at all sure that his superiors out here know that that was what he was doing.’

  ‘That I can believe,’ said the terjiman drily.

  ‘However,’ said Seymour, ‘the propriety of his action is no concern of mine. I am interested only in whether it contributed to his death.’

  ‘And you think it might have?’

  ‘I did think that at first, I must admit.’

  ‘I can assure you, Mr Seymour, that it was not so. There are no soldiers there. If there had been, they would not have opened unprovoked fire on swimmers. The shot that killed Cunningham was not fired from a soldier’s or a policeman’s gun. Nor – if this is what you were thinking – was it fired by anyone in some secret organization or others in the employment of the Sultan. I can say this with assurance because I have gone into the possibility. It was my first thought, too.’

  ‘But now you have changed your mind?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You think that the explanation lies elsewhere?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘In Istanbul, perhaps?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And so you have switched your enquiries.’

  ‘That is so, yes.’

  ‘Don’t you think,’ said Seymour, ‘that we should lay our cards on the table?’

  ‘Perhaps it would be better,’ said Mukhtar, ‘if we continued our discussion somewhere else.’

  They left the heavy building with its corridors and sentries and went to a restaurant underneath one of the arches of an aqueduct. It was evidently a place favoured by soldiers for there were several sitting at the tables eating kebabs.

  ‘They will not be able to understand us,’ said Mukhtar quietly; but as an additional precaution he chose a table round the side of the arch. It looked out on a fruit market and all the time they were sitting there donkeys were going by laden with peaches and cherries, and porters, bent almost double, their hands hanging round their ankles, trudged past with box upon box of fruit roped in white towers on their backs.

  ‘You switched your attention,’ said Seymour, ‘to the Theatre of Desires. Why was that?’

  Mukhtar hesitated.

  ‘Shall I tell you why I think that was?’ said Seymour. ‘You knew of Cunningham’s involvement with the theatre. And that it had become the focus of political interest, with Prince Selim using it in his political campaigning. You knew that Cunningham had brought him to the theatre in the first place and you wondered how far Cunningham was involved in his campaigning. And if that had had anything to do with his death.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Mukhtar.

  ‘But – I am guessing here – you couldn’t see why it should have anything to do with his death. It would be an improper thing for him to do, yes, but, then, as we have agreed, Cunningham was an improper man. And he surely wasn’t important enough in Selim’s campaign for anyone, on the other side, so to speak, whatever that was, to want to kill him. And why should Selim want to kill him when he was on his side? Helping him?’

  Mukhtar nodded.

  ‘I did wonder that, yes.’

  ‘And then Lalagé Kassim was murdered. Was that nothing to do with it, something quite separate? A coincidence? Well, it could be. But I think you
doubted it. At any rate, it was worth investigation.’

  ‘It was worth investigation,’ Mukhtar agreed.

  ‘But how could it be? Now, I think you knew about how Cunningham was using Miss Kassim – as a spy, you would probably say, although I think myself it was probably just information-gathering, keeping an ear open for court gossip. But what I think you then began to suspect was that she might have picked up something, some item of information, that someone – it might even have been Selim himself – wouldn’t have liked to get out. And to make sure it didn’t get out they – whoever it was – decided to silence both Miss Kassim and Cunningham, since Cunningham would perhaps now possess the information.’

  ‘My mind was running on those lines, yes.’

  ‘You hinted as much to me. Yet I think you were not very satisfied with this argument, for all kinds of reasons.’

  ‘Many reasons, yes,’ agreed Mukhtar.

  ‘But it would account for one thing: why Cunningham should have died in the way that he did. Because, you see, no one would connect it with any information that he had acquired at the theatre. Swimming the Dardanelles was a cover for him, but it was also a cover for whoever didn’t want this information to get out. Someone saw a chance to use it.’

  ‘That could be so, yes.’

  ‘Now, I think,’ said Seymour, ‘it is you who have to carry on.’

  The terjiman was silent for quite some time. Then he said:

  ‘If I hesitate, it is not because I am unwilling to carry on: it is just that I am not quite sure how to. First, yes, the investigation had become a twin-track one, with both Cunningham and Miss Kassim. That might be a mistake, but the two were connected, very strongly. Their affair had been a very intense one. Deeper on his side than one would have thought, deeper, perhaps, than he at first intended, so that he was reluctant to relinquish her to Selim; and so deep on her side that in the end she rejected Selim.’