by Oliver Tidy
I tried to contact you then, but you had disappeared again. I kept trying. One day I found you. It is why you are here. I am responsible for your current position and I am truly sorry for that.
By now you may know that I am the daughter of Recip Oktay. He was once a powerful man in Turkey. Owing to health problems my father has suffered, my brother, Kaan Oktay, now oversees the Oktay family business interests. Where my father was a ruthless businessman, my brother is brutal and cruel. Do not think for one moment that he intends to let you live after you have served his purpose.
My marriage was not popular with my family. When my husband died, my father exercised his right to place my children and me under his protection. We are prisoners of his will.
In an unguarded conversation about Pearl, I told my brother about her background. My brother has inherited my father’s traditional Turkish family values. He sees Pearl’s presence here as a shame on our family. I fear to let Pearl out of my sight in case she might be taken from me by my brother and sent away. In that case, I know I would never see her again. I could not bear that.
You are the price I have paid to keep Pearl with me, for now. I gave you to my brother. And in doing so I have given you an opportunity to reclaim your daughter. I do not mean by doing my brother’s dirty work; I mean by using your courage and resourcefulness to find a way to get Pearl back. If I cannot have her, I would only want her to be with her father. That, I could live with.
The woman they are sending you to kill is my sister. Her ‘crimes’ are to have a mind of her own, to want to break free of my family’s controlling influence, to live a Western life away from Turkish customs. Her Turkish name is Zeynep. She may not use that name now.
I love my sister and I miss her. I do not wish her harm. I hope you will find a way out of this for all of us: Zeynep, Pearl, you and me.
The man they have sent with you, Kemal, is a cousin of ours. Do not trust him. Like all the Oktay men, he is loyal only to my father and my brother. He will think nothing of killing you when the time comes.
It is my belief from conversations I have overheard that they do not intend to repatriate my sister’s body as you might have been told. Their plan is that you will kill my sister and then Kemal will kill you.
You are not the first man my family has sent to perform their honour killing. You are not even the second. My sister is resourceful and determined to remain alive and free. Be careful of her. She will not hesitate to kill you if she believes you are a threat to her. It might help you to win her confidence if you remind her of my childhood nickname for her: Arı – it means bee.
Do not stop thinking of your daughter, Mr Sansom.
Acer read the letter twice more, folded it and put it back in his pocket.
***
7
They arrived in Frankfurt a little after nine in the evening local time. Kemal was quickly awake and alert. Before they had left Turkey, Acer had only suspected the worst of his travelling companion. Having read the letter from Mrs Botha he realised that his suspicions had been well founded. He decided not to let the knowledge influence his outward attitude to the man until he decided what to do with him.
They filed off the plane with everyone else. Acer’s thoughts were preoccupied with how he could get rid of Kemal before the ten-hour flight to Vancouver. Nothing convincing had come to mind while he’d stared out of the cabin window at the darkening skies en route to German airspace.
Three options had occurred to him: physically incapacitating Kemal, encouraging airport security to view Kemal as a flight risk and detaining him, and having Kemal detained by the authorities in Canada.
For option one, Acer would need to attack Kemal in a secluded place. And then he believed a simple beating would not be enough. He would have to dispose of him, hiding the body so that it would not be found because if it was found and two and two were put together with airport security video he could expect to walk off the plane in Vancouver into the handcuffs of waiting police officers. In any case, Acer saw no opportunity of time or place for this and Kemal did not seem like he would be easily lured to a suitably remote place or taken without trouble in a scrap and Acer couldn’t risk losing one to him. It was also likely that Kemal had instructions to check in regularly and report on their progress. If Kemal disappeared without word, Kaan Oktay would naturally become concerned that Acer had reneged on their deal. He might be so concerned that he’d do something with Acer’s daughter.
Option two faded with every step they took towards their connecting flight. The part of Frankfurt airport they were being funnelled through to catch their next plane was virtually devoid of airport staff and Kemal was never far from Acer’s side. And it was possible that because they could be seen by a scrupulous officer who backtracked through the travel itinerary and closed-circuit television footage as travelling together, Acer would also find himself delayed by association, with explanations to make to airport security and then to Kemal, assuming they would be allowed to continue on their way. All of this would likely cause significant delay to the plane’s take-off time as the authorities assessed the full extent of the threat.
Acer thought about getting hold of a pen to scrawl a note on one of his pieces of paper, asking that Crouch of MI6 be informed of Acer Sansom’s travel plans and that Crouch ensure that Canadian immigration make a point of detaining for questioning all single men on the flight. Something similar had worked for Acer before in London. This would then give Acer an opportunity to speak with someone in authority and ask for help under cover of a blanket detention policy. Crouch’s connections could help him there. But what help would he ask for? And would the Canadian authorities be so accommodating of British interests or would they demand information and answers for themselves? Acer did not particularly want the Canadian authorities alerted to his situation or to have Kemal flagged on their system. If Acer had to deal with Kemal in Canada, it would be best that neither of them had been brought to the attention of the authorities beforehand.
There was risk and there were flaws with each option that made none of them worth considering past the hypothetical exploration stage.
They arrived in the boarding lounge of their connecting flight to learn that there would be a delay of about an hour. Acer sat and searched his thoughts and his surroundings for another option. The light bulb behind option four glowed dimly.
Kemal said, ‘I need to use the bathroom.’
Acer looked at him and said, ‘All right.’
‘You should come with me.’
‘I don’t need to use the bathroom.’
‘You should still come with me.’
‘What do you think I’m going to do, Kemal? Run away? You have my daughter. The only hope I have of getting her back is if I do this job. I’m going to Canada. I’m not going to the bathroom with you.’ To emphasise his position, Acer took out one of his magazines and started flicking through it.
Kemal did not move. Acer believed that the man would take a chance and leave him alone for a few minutes. Acer used the time until he did exploring the possibilities that being alone for five minutes could bring.
Kemal stood and said, ‘Wait here.’
Acer did not answer him. He kept his attention on his reading material. Kemal walked away in the direction of the toilets. Acer stayed in his seat and read. He looked up to see Kemal go through the door. Acer began counting slowly to ten. Using his peripheral vision, he kept an eye on any activity involving the door of the gents. On seven it opened briefly, but no one came out. When it shut again, Acer got quickly to his feet and headed towards where the ground crew were standing chatting. He asked to borrow a pen. He glanced over at the toilet door. It was still closed. A pen was handed over. Acer went back to his seat and his magazine.
Kemal came out five minutes later drying his hands on a paper towel. Acer did not look up as Kemal crossed the tiled floor towards him. Neither did he acknowledge him when he sat down.
Acer waited a couple of minute
s and said, ‘You know what, Kemal, you’ve made me want to go. You coming?’
Acer stood and dropped his magazine on the chair. Kemal shook his head. Acer left before he changed his mind.
Securing the cubicle door, Acer sat on the closed toilet seat, took out the pen and tore off the empty half of the sheet of paper with the woman’s address on it. He scribbled his note. Then he folded it down into the smallest square he could and wrapped a twenty-pound note from his wallet around it.
Acer washed his hands and came out drying them on paper towel. He went back to his seat and carried on pretending to read his magazine while watching the time and the staff.
He thought about option four: a note that simply said, I have a bomb. Acer’s thinking was that he would hand it over when he returned the pen. The flash of money would encourage the recipient to look more closely. Then probably before he’d had the chance to secure his seatbelt, he would be surrounded by armed officers, arrested and removed from the plane. His connection with Kemal would be broken. He would be taken to airport security’s holding station. He would explain himself to the authorities. He would insist they contacted Crouch of British Intelligence, who would vouch for him. The German authorities would be made to understand that Acer was simply using the bomb note as a ruse to escape from Kemal. Acer would be free to leave.
The announcement came for passengers to begin boarding. Acer worked it so that Kemal was in front of him in the queue. They edged towards the boarding gate. Acer was still taking apart option four. He had the folded paper in his hand with the pen he had to return. He thought about what would happen if Kemal got to Vancouver before him. He thought about what would happen if someone had noticed him and Kemal together – would Kemal be yanked off the plane too? Then Kemal would learn why and who was responsible. He would duly report to the Oktays at the first opportunity.
As they came to the huddle of ground staff, Acer signalled the attention of the young man he’d borrowed the pen from. Acer thought about the best result he could hope for from option four: he would be free to leave. And do what? Go where? Kemal’s attention was focussed on the other passengers in front of him. As Acer prepared to hand back the pen his thinking suffered a rush of doubt, a flurry of indecision, which his brain condensed down to one question in the time it took him to lift his arm: Would it be better for him and Kemal to arrive in Vancouver together without having drawn any attention to themselves?
Acer handed back the pen. He slipped the folded square of paper with the twenty-pound note wrapped around it into his pocket and realised that his palms were clammy with sweat. He followed Kemal onto the plane. He was on his own. Again.
*
The plane became airborne a little after eleven o’clock at night local time. Acer was tired from his early start, his travelling and his emotional expenditure. He considered the ten-hour flight and determined to sleep for as much of it as he could. He asked for a pillow and blanket. When it was brought, he asked what the time would be in Vancouver when they landed. He learned it would be the middle of the night.
He said to Kemal, ‘We have accommodation booked, right?’
‘Yes. A hotel.’
‘Separate rooms, I hope.’
‘What do you think?’
Acer hoped that meant yes and closed his eyes.
***
Day 2
8
Acer slept most of the flight. The serving of the second meal roused him – a smell thing. He woke feeling refreshed and rested. He thanked his army career for that. The narrow seat of the plane with its restricted legroom was luxurious compared to some places where he’d been forced to get his head down.
Kemal was awake. Acer didn’t ask him if he’d slept. He consumed his breakfast and coffee greedily.
*
They progressed through the various stages of the quiet and relatively empty Vancouver International Airport without incident. Acer’s reasonable mood, given the circumstances of his visit, was helped by his decision in Frankfurt to stay his hand regarding Kemal. Option five: arriving together without fuss.
Acer said, ‘How are we getting to our hotel?’
‘Taxi.’
Acer stopped. Kemal stopped and turned to face him.
‘Why don’t we rent a car? We’re going to need transport.’
Kemal stared his dull look at Acer. He looked across to the car rental desks. ‘OK. You drive.’
‘You pay. I drive.’
They got a modest saloon with a satellite navigation system.
Stepping outside the terminal to wait for it to arrive, they were met with a gust of chilly clean air, like something from the top of a snowy mountain. Acer realised he would need to buy a warmer jacket than the lightweight one he was wearing.
The car came. Acer listened to what the man had to say about it. The man asked if Acer wanted to inspect it for damage prior to driving it away. Acer said no thanks. The man seemed relieved and hurried back into the warmth of the terminal building. They stowed their luggage.
Acer said, ‘What’s the name of the hotel?’
‘The Lonsdale Quay. It’s on Vancouver’s north shore, the other side of Vancouver Harbour.’
The Sat Nav took them on Trans-Canada Highway 1, a collection of wide, well-maintained straight lines that cut through organised blocks of development. It was still a long way from dawn. There was very little traffic on the roads.
The only conversation in the car was one way – the navigation system issuing directions and encouragement in a reassuringly measured voice.
They crossed the oily-black channel of Vancouver Harbour for the north shore via the Ironworkers Memorial Bridge. Nothing stirred on the water that Acer could see. Vancouver was looking like a quiet place, at night at least.
Forty-five minutes after leaving the airport they pulled into the car park of the Lonsdale Quay Hotel.
It would have surprised an onlooker to learn that the two men were prepared to kill each other. They moved like a pair familiar and comfortable with each other, unnecessary conversation dispensed with. They got out in silence, got their bags and found the entrance and the lift that would take them up to the hotel’s reception area.
The Lonsdale Quay Hotel occupied the top level of a three-level indoor market complex. While they waited for their paperwork to be printed off and the administrative details to be completed, Acer crossed to the iron railings to look down on the open plan shopping area below. A large collection of what looked like independent food traders advertised a variety of food and drinks to eat there or take away. There were clothes and souvenir stalls, too. At the far end Acer spied a microbrewery with attached bar. Everything was closed up and quiet at the moment. The pungent smells of the previous day’s business still hung in the air, making Acer hungry again.
The tired-looking young man behind the desk came round and led them to their rooms. Acer was pleased they had separate rooms. Being on his own offered possibilities that sharing did not. Their rooms were next to each other – comfortable and functional with twin double beds, en suite bathroom and balcony that gave a view of the harbour when it wasn’t pitch black outside. The man went back to his desk.
Before they separated for what remained of the night, Kemal said, ‘Car keys.’ He held out his hand for them.
Acer smiled at him. ‘If we’re going to work together, Kemal, you’re going to have to start trusting me.’
‘We are not working together. You are working; I am watching.’
‘To make sure I keep my side of the bargain?’
Kemal nodded. His hand was still out. Acer tossed him the keys. He hadn’t planned on going anywhere and car keys were certainly not worth falling out about.
Acer checked his watch. ‘They probably serve breakfast downstairs. I need a few more hours. I’ll be down there at about eight.’
Kemal considered and then nodded his reply.
Acer shut and locked his door and dumped his suitcase on the spare bed. He unpacked a clean ch
ange of clothes and stripped off for a shower. He heard someone talking in the next room. It sounded like Kemal. Acer moved to their shared wall and listened. Kemal checking in with the Oktays. Good.
He noticed the phone on the table between the beds. He wondered about calling Susan, his one friend in London, to let her know his situation. She would be worrying about him. She’d made him promise to call. No one in his sparsely populated corner knew where he was. He did the maths of the time difference. It should be afternoon in London. She’d be at the paper, probably. He could find that number easily enough. But a call on the hotel phone would end up on the itemised bill and Acer wanted to avoid that and the questions that would probably follow.
Acer showered and got into bed. As he got his head down for another couple of hours of an operation’s most valuable commodity after good luck – good rest – the thought crossed his mind that Kemal had gone for separate rooms over shared for reasons of personal security. Maybe he didn’t want to wake up in the night to find Acer trying to throttle him.
***
9
When Kemal showed himself, Acer was nearly finished with his very good eggs Benedict breakfast and second mug of fresh filter coffee. Kemal looked down at Acer’s almost empty plate.
Acer said, ‘I can recommend the bacon.’
Kemal gave him his dull-eyed look again. Acer was beginning to wonder if Kemal had cultivated it, believing it made him look tough. Acer thought it made him look a little backward. While Kemal went to the counter to order, Acer mopped his plate with the remains of his toast and washed it down with the last of his coffee.
Kemal came back and took a seat at Acer’s table.
Acer said, ‘What can you tell me about the woman?’
‘What else do you need to know? You have her picture. You know where she lives.’
