The Secret Fear

by Solomon Carter

  “Bloody hell – Atacan’s seen him too,” said Hogarth. At the left side wall, Devirim Atacan started his own move towards the back. “I’ll take the front exit and follow Izmir. You keep watch this end – and check what the old man just dumped in that basket.”

  Palmer nodded, her attention already fixed to Atacan’s back. Hogarth bolted through the front door, almost knocking one of the raisin-faced old dears flying. She shot him a word in Turkish as Hogarth raced down the street. He turned onto Annerley Road, his heart already thudding at an alarming rate. Too many microwaved pies and single malts, but it was too late for regrets. But any cardiac failure would have to wait. From the corner of Annerley and Hamlet Court Road Hogarth watched Ahsen hurrying down the road. He turned away from Hogarth, his eyes stuck on his phone screen. A figure stepped out from the nearby alley on the other side of the street. Izmir Yuksel, still dressed in black, tie discarded, shirt collar undone. He seemed in an equal hurry. Ahsen looked to his side and greeted Izmir in Turkish. They joined one another and walked side by side, picking up pace as they went. Hogarth gritted his teeth and looked back to the pub. He heard the back door opening. Devirim Atacan, it had to be. Up ahead, at the end of Annerley, he saw the large casually dressed man hovering at the other end of the street, pulling out of sight as Hogarth peered at him. Unless he did something, he knew a tragedy was about to unfold. Potentially the biggest daylight murders the town had ever seen. Where were DC Simmons and the backup? There was no time to wait for them. Hogarth had to act.

  “Oi! You two!” called Hogarth.

  Izmir looked back over his shoulder. The moment he saw Hogarth, his eyes flared with panic. He said something to Ahsen. The young man looked back and saw him. They turned away and broke into a run. “Stop! I’m here to help you! You’re in danger!”

  Hogarth’s words finally sank in as the big man peered out from the far corner. Izmir called to Ahsen again and they stopped in their tracks. Hogarth called again.

  “Come with me – now!”

  The big man at the end of the street stepped out from his hiding place. He was still a way off, but Hogarth saw him dip his hand into his pocket, and his chest tightened.

  “This way!” he called. Ahsen nodded. Down the street, the big man broke into a lumbering run. Hogarth heard another movement behind him. He turned to see Devirim Atacan emerge from the pub’s back exit, and their eyes met.

  “Move yourselves!” said Hogarth. He crossed the street and beckoned towards another side street – Ceylon – a road of tall houses which branched off Annerley and ran parallel behind the shops of Hamlet Court. He shoved the men in their backs and barked. “Run for it!” They did as they were told. Izmir ran hard. Ahsen did his best to keep up, looking back over his shoulder. Hogarth shook his head as he followed, pushing hard to keep by their side. A deep stitch burned into his ribs and gut. He grimaced and kept running. He pointed to the narrow entrance to a public car park which was tucked between several of the ramshackle buildings on one side. “This way!”

  Hogarth cut a diagonal across the street. Izmir and Ahsen followed. As they were swallowed into the mouth of the car park, Atacan and his man regrouped at the end of Ceylon. Atacan pointed after Hogarth and they set off again.

  “Where now?” said Ahsen. They paused for a second, peering around at the almost empty car park. There was nowhere good to hide, at least not for long. Hogarth eyed the backs of the nearest shop buildings and bit his lip. They were going to have to make a run for the alley which led back to the shops – but if Atacan and his man made it before they reached the alley, they would be cannon fodder. The alleyway gambit was their only choice.

  “We’ll go that way. That’s our best bet.”

  “But they’ll kill us before we get there,” said Izmir.

  “And Daddy would do that, would he? Order this man to kill you in cold blood?”

  “He’s furious that I would even talk to Ahsen! This is your fault.”

  “Is it? Maybe you shouldn’t have told him what you were going to do!”

  Izmir blinked at him, dumb and emotional. Hogarth shoved them in their backs as the sound of footsteps grew louder behind them. Chests heaving, breath loud, they ran without looking back. The narrow archway of the alley was coming closer. The sound of loud running feet behind them slowed, and one of the chasing pack shouted something in Turkish. Hogarth felt a sudden pang of fear. He moved, darting across Ahsen’s back, blocking any chance of a clear shot with his own body. It was a lousy strategy for survival, but Hogarth hoped it was enough to make them think twice. Maybe not. A thunderous crack split the air. The echo ricocheted around the walls and the face of one dirty brick dropped away from the wall right beside the alleyway. A moment later, Hogarth, Ahsen, and Izmir were absorbed into the darkness of the alleyway arch. Izmir slowed, gasping.

  “Don’t you bloody dare,” said Hogarth, and shoved him again.

  Lungs screaming, they broke out into Hamlet Court Road, but they still weren’t safe. He steered them on to the outside of Boots the chemist. There were cafes all around them, women and children, and CCTV cameras on every lamp post, and traffic streaming past with intrigued drivers and passengers rubbernecking, as their sweat slicked down their foreheads.

  “We’ll be safer here,” gasped Hogarth. The men stopped but pressed themselves against the big white window and looked down the street. Sirens sounded somewhere along the nearby London Road. Palmer must have called them in.

  “What do you intend to do with us?” said Ahsen. “You see, we had no choice but to run.” Hogarth shook his head.

  “You said you’d come forward, Ahsen... You knew Izmir needed you to come forward to vouch for him,” said Hogarth in between snatched breaths. “And then you bailed. You both did.” His eyes were fixed on Ahsen. “You were going to run. What do you think that tells me, eh?”

  “It should tell you we were scared,” said Ahsen, still carrying his pubescent chip on his shoulder.

  “Oh, it tells me a lot bloody more than that. But whatever we do with you, it’ll be better than whatever they had in mind.”

  Hogarth nodded as Devirim Atacan and his man appeared from the alleyway to stare at them down the street. Atacan drew a line across his throat with his finger. He looked around and saw the faces of the public watching them, and quickly withdrew.

  “All these secrets, all those lies, Izmir? For what... And then there’s Miray... You’ve been playing with fire, Izmir. It’s time to tell us everything before you get burnt...”

  Izmir looked on the verge of tears, but Ahsen still had it together. The arrogant young man looked defiant.

  The traffic at the crossroads halted and made way for a trio of police cars – Simmons’ glossy Ford hatchback followed by two squad cars. Simmons saw Hogarth and pulled over across the street. The two squad cars pulled up in front of him. Simmons jumped out and PCSO Kaplan followed from the passenger seat. “Lookie here,” wheezed Hogarth. “Bodie and Doyle eat your hearts out.” Kaplan didn’t seem to get the joke at all.

  “What happened?” said Simmons.

  “I haven’t got puff to speak yet,” said Hogarth. “But these two have promised to tell all. Haven’t you, lads?”

  The men looked at one another as the uniforms began to close in. This time there was no way out. Hogarth saw Palmer was approaching from halfway back up the street. She waved at him but Hogarth was too exhausted to respond. Palmer waited until she was near before she spoke.

  “Guv? You okay?”

  “We’re alive. Kind of,” he said. “That’s a start.”

  “I got it,” she added.

  “Eh? Got what?”

  “Old man Yuksel put a Turkish banknote in the collection. Nothing too sinister after all. Although the tight sod only stuck in one Turkish lira. You couldn’t by a glass of water with this.”

  “Such a sentimental touch,” said Hogarth.

  “And look at this,” said Palmer. She lifted the note towards Hogarth and held it flat so
he could read the handwritten note scrawled across the surface. Four simple letters.

  “KIRO? Eh? What does that mean?”

  Kaplan stepped closer and took the note. “Kiro? It means fool, idiot – someone who doesn’t have any manners. Basically, a very vulgar person.”

  Hogarth frowned and looked at Izmir. “Your father goes to a funeral to insult a dead man?”

  Izmir shrugged. “They hated one another. You met my father. What do you want me to say?”

  “Only everything, Izmir. Everything. That’s what you owe me for all those damned bloody lies.” Hogarth took a pair of cuffs from his jacket pocket and reached for Izmir Yuksel’s wrist.

  “Izmir Yuksel, I am arresting you on the suspicion of the murder of Bulut Sen, also known as Baba Sen. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence—”

  Ahsen interrupted. “You can’t do this! Izmir is nothing like his father. And he’s innocent!”

  “Don’t fret, Mr Sen. You won’t be getting left out. In a moment, I’ll be arresting you too...”

  Hogarth glanced at Palmer. She nodded and walked over to attend to the young man.

  “On what charge, guv?”

  “Until we know otherwise, murder. But I’m not expecting otherwise. And don’t look so disappointed boys. You should be thanking me. I just saved your lives.”

  As the cuffs were put on, Orcun Sen spilled out from Fauntleroy’s with the rest of the crowd. He peered towards the melee outside Boots. As the situation became clear, his expression changed to a deep frown.

  “Okay,” said Hogarth. “Let’s get these two out of here before we have another bloody Turkish drama to deal with.”

  Simmons, Kaplan and the attending PCs escorted Ahsen Sen and Izmir Yuksel across the street and ducked them into the police cars for the journey back to the station. Hogarth turned his back on the watching crowds and stepped close to Palmer.

  “You think it was them?” said Palmer.

  “Izmir was always in this up to his neck. Ahsen is a more complicated one. I don’t know why the lad would want to kill his grandad, but he does seem a bit twisted.”

  “I know a bit about that, guv. I think they might have been as twisted as each other. They weren’t each other’s biggest fans...”

  “The way I see it, they both went after the old man. It doesn’t make sense but it has to be true. But however this plays out, they’re both safer with us from now on. And this isn’t over yet. Not in the least.”

  “What do you mean, guv?”

  “Baba Sen’s mysterious payments to Fada and Duzeltme. Dev Atacan running around Southend like we’re back in East London. Old man Yuksel acting like a cut-price Don Corleone. I’m not in the mood to let him off lightly. So now I want to make sure he knows his son is in trouble. He won’t be sleeping easy tonight in case his son’s got a loose tongue.”

  “Guv, is that wise?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. But we have to turn the tables on him somehow. Let those two sweat in the cells. I won’t be long.”

  “Dev Atacan might be there. That’s too dangerous. I’ll come along?”

  “No, thanks all the same. But if you don’t get out of here soon, Sue, I think you and Orcun might experience your first lover’s tiff.”

  Palmer watched Orcun staring after them as he talked with one of the old women in the crowd. She looked away. Orcun looked ready for another emotional outburst. It was definitely time to go.

  Twenty-five

  Fada...Or maybe FADA. Hogarth turned the word over in his mind on the drive to West Road. Hogarth let the lights turn red whenever he could. He was still exhausted, wrung out from the confrontation. He needed to work things through before he saw Ahsen and Izmir. And after the confrontation at Hamlet Court Road, some things were beginning to make sense. It was interesting how a life or death experience could shift perspective, how it could seem to change the facts. As Hogarth drove, he took a slow loop around Westcliff and toyed with the notion of the Sen family’s involvement in Baba’s demise. How was it even possible? Ahsen Sen and Izmir Yuksel were in cahoots in their political games, that was a fact. They believed themselves to be heroes in a kind of war happening beneath the surface in Turkey. Heroes or villains, their game was simply one level of inter-family bullshit. And the way Hogarth saw it, for these second-generation English Turks, it was little more than a high-stake role-playing game. They rolled the dice and someone in Turkey moved. Maybe they lived. Maybe they didn’t. The consequences didn’t affect either man directly. Not until now. Then there was the highest level – the feud between Baba Sen and old man Yusuf Yuksel. Seen with his shell-shocked, post-gunfight perspective, Hogarth began to test new theories. Ahsen and Izmir linked the families at one level. Check. Baba and Yusuf were linked by their feud. Check. Orcun Sen and Ahsen had already hinted, in their different ways, that Baba Sen was no saint. So then, what if... what if Baba Sen was far less than a saint and a lot more than a hard-line zealot. Some zealots were able to justify any action by looking up the right words in their book. Orcun Sen had mentioned just a few. “An eye for an eye,” and all that. What if the deep bitterness of the feud went both ways? Was it possible that Baba Sen was just as angry, just as dark as Yusuf Yuksel? And that simple question opened the door. What if. And the question started to shed a little light in the darkness. If the old man was as bitter as Yusuf, then all bets were off. FADA – the unknown man receiving his monthly payments could have been a loan shark. Or FADA could have been something much, much more obvious. The idea made his skin almost prickle with nervous excitement. No. But it couldn’t be... could it? The idea opened a whole new can of worms. The idea of Baba Sen as villain changed everything. Damn it, Hogarth needed a drink to calm his nerves. But he was on work time and suddenly the whole case was coming to a head. The shark’s fin was rising above the waves – and Hogarth hoped this time that he was the shark.

  He had just evaded a bullet. If he couldn’t have a single malt to help him now, when could he? But there wasn’t time. So venting at Yusuf Yuksel seemed the next best bet. But if his new sense of the case was no more than a hunch, could he dare risk using it? In some ways, the hunch was all he had. But he could only use it if it was true. And if it was true, it was life changing. Explosive. Potentially deadly, too. Before he knew it, Hogarth had arrived. He pulled his car up onto the pavement right outside the window of the cash and carry, the front bumper almost touching the wooden steps, and took a last, long deep breath. He slammed his car door and walked into the shop, the door creaking behind him. The shop was eerily quiet. Most of their customers had probably been at Baba Sen’s strange mock-funeral service. But from the sound of shouting behind the office door, Hogarth guessed Yuksel was back at home. Miray was the only member of staff on hand. He looked at her, standing behind the front counter, stiff as a board. As soon as she saw him, Miray walked through the counter gate and moved quickly down the length of the shop. She was extremely agitated, upset, and yet somehow still as pretty as ever. He’d always been a sucker for a damsel in distress. Not this time.

  “What’s going on, Joe?” she said.

  “You know,” said Hogarth. “Maybe that’s a question I should be asking you.” He teetered on the edge of his hunch, looking for signs of panic in her eyes. But he didn’t see the ones he wanted. Only the silent fear of discovery.

  “I’m sorry?” she mumbled.

  “Apology accepted,” said Hogarth. He slipped his deepest suspicion away, like an ace card, into the rest of his hand. “Your latest fiancé just took another pot-shot at my back. He missed. And your boss, the ever-delightful Mr Yuksel just left this donation at Baba Sen’s memorial service.”

  Hogarth held up the defaced banknote. Miray read the word and frowned. She shook her head. “But why are you so angry with me? You always knew I was never in charge of these awful men. Ferkan did whatever he liked. Devirim is the same.”

  “Is he?” said Hogarth. “Do you only think he’s exactly the same? Or do you know
for sure?”

  “Why do you speak like that?” she said, frowning. “They are both Atacans. Of course, they are the same. Cruel, cold, violent...”

  “You never had any preference?”

  “Joe, what kind of a question is that?”

  “It’s simply a question I had to ask.”

  “You’re confusing me. And remember, Yuksel is in charge here. I answer to him as well.”

  Hogarth kept his face cool and even. “Ferkan came here, didn’t he? He worked with Yuksel first. Setting up his getaway with Yuksel when the family was under assault.”

  “You know that already.”

  “Then when he died, Devirim came here and replaced him. It all happened two years, ago, right? Ferkan died. Dev came here. And then he wanted you as well.”

  “You knew that family, those Atacan men, did what they liked.”

  Hogarth nodded.

  “I know they were brutal, but they protected their own. They punished anyone who hurt their interests.”

  Miray seemed bamboozled by his questions, so Hogarth decided not to play his power card. If he was wrong, the card was absurd. And a dangerous joke. He had to be sure.

  “I’m not angry, Miray. Not with you. But I am disappointed. I’m disappointed because I know you’re having an affair with Izmir Yuksel. Which virtually made him a dead man walking. And what he did after that shows how stupid he is. But it also makes me wonder how much you knew – how much you knew all along about Izmir’s involvement in this case. Lovers talk to one another, don’t they? They say a good many things.”

  The woman turned a deep shade of scarlet. Tears filled her eyes but she blinked them away and looked at him with a clear gaze.

  “Joe, you don’t understand. Izmir was kind to me. He was the only one here who showed any kindness. Yusuf is a brute, Devirim stalks around like a beast. And what happened between me and Izmir happened before I saw you again. If things had been different – if I saw you first – do you not think I’d have wanted to be with you instead?”