The Secret Fear

by Solomon Carter

  “Which problems?” said Ahsen, his brow wrinkled with speculation.

  “Why? Was there more than one problem? Of course, there was. On top of everything else, Izmir fell in love with Miray Atacan. A very dangerous game, I think you’d agree.”

  “Love happens,” said Ahsen.

  “Again, so matter of fact. Love happens. Life happens. Death happens. You know, Ahsen, I really think you’d make a great dictator yourself. You sound like a man who could wash his hands of any crime at all. Even an unthinkable one.”

  Ahsen frowned again but fought to overcome it. “But I’m not a dictator. I’m a freedom fighter. You know that. I gave you the passwords and websites to prove it.”

  “You, Ahsen? You’re a bedroom plotter. You’re no freedom fighter. There’s a very big difference. And the freedom of your fellow Turks isn’t the only thing you’ve been plotting, is it?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your grandfather didn’t approve of your radical activity, did he? You’re far too proud of all that to keep it a secret. Your father didn’t seem to take any of it too seriously. Probably a good thing, really. He seemed to hope you’ll grow out of it. But you and Baba, well, he was as fervent in his beliefs as you were in yours. He loved President Erdoĝan as much as you hated him. Your father told DS Palmer as much. We knew you argued with Baba like billy-o. You confessed it yourself. You were the two Turks on either side of the fence. There was a civil war in your home, maybe at work too, and your father only knew the half of it. You’re a stubborn lad, Ahsen. I bet you couldn’t help arguing with the old man and you knew old Baba would argue back because he loved Erdoĝan with a passion. Erdoĝan was a hardliner zealot like he was, and you were a new-wave radical, just like the worst of Erdoĝan’s enemies. And because neither of you would back down, the problem between you took on a critical mass, am I right?”

  “Baba was a misguided old fool. Erdoĝan isn’t Turkey! Turkey thrived before Erdoĝan and it will thrive again when he is gone.”

  “I’m not into the politics, Ahsen,” said Hogarth. “I’m looking at the smaller stuff. And what I see is a young man who likes to goad people, a young man who can be cool and collected and detached in the darkest circumstances. Izmir told me something along the way. He said Baba Sen was the enemy. I think Izmir was speaking for the both of you. Because Baba Sen was your enemy, wasn’t he, Ahsen? He turned into your worst nightmare. What did you do to make him snap? What did you do, Ahsen?”

  The door was knocked and Palmer walked into the interview room.

  “Has he got it yet?” said Hogarth.

  “He’s just printing it now, guv.”

  “And what about Izmir?”

  “He says he’s ready to confess,” said Palmer.

  Hogarth nodded, and smiled at Ahsen Sen. “I wonder what he wants to tell me? Do you, Ahsen? DS Palmer here. She’s the one who found the documents your grandfather kept in the downstairs cupboard. You know about them, don’t you?”

  Ahsen’s eyes flashed with alarm. But he faked a frown of confusion and shook his head.

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “Keep up. Izmir tried to kill your grandfather for a reason. He tried to cast blame left, right, and centre for his own benefit but, first and foremost, Izmir did it for you. You were his friend. Your political project was important to Izmir. It was a way to make up for all the bad he was doing in his father’s business. But he made too many mistakes. He left evidence behind. He was too violent, too slapdash, and too amateur. Izmir’s nothing on you, Ahsen. Did you tell him what a pig’s ear he’d made of it all?”

  Ahsen shook his head.

  “I never told him to kill anyone.”

  “And that’s the first time you’ve actually said something I can believe. But you certainly wanted Baba dead.”

  Ahsen blinked at Hogarth.

  “What? Why did you say that?” said Ahsen.

  “It stands to reason, Ahsen. You insulted Baba with your politics, and you argued with him until he eventually took action to have you corrected.”

  Ahsen blinked, but Hogarth saw the word corrected had hit home. “Duzeltme. Corrections. Does that ring any bells? What made Baba Sen so disgusted with you that he paid four thousand pounds to have you shipped back to Turkey for your punishment?”

  “That is just ridiculous,” said Ahsen, with a hollow laugh.

  “I’d say so, too. It’s ridiculous and it’s sick but, by then, that’s what had become of your relationship with Baba. But it’s still true nonetheless – because it’s the only reason why Baba Sen had to die. This murder had nothing to do with any Atacan and it had nothing to do with Yusuf Yuksel. In the end, it had barely anything to do with Izmir Yuksel. Izmir thinks it does. Izmir thinks he was the one to kill Baba. But, try as he might, Izmir was a failure right until the very end. The truth is that you killed your own grandfather because your differences turned your family life into a raging civil war. Your grandfather was as stubborn as you were, wasn’t he? What did you do that finally pushed him over the edge?”

  “Nothing,” said Ahsen.

  Hogarth sighed. “I bet you’ve already seen this, Ahsen,” said Hogarth. “But please, take another look.”

  Hogarth leaned back and looked to Palmer. She took the folded paper from her hand and laid it flat on the desk top. They both watched as the young man scanned it.

  “You know what duzeltme means?” said Palmer.

  “Yes. It means corrections,” said Ahsen. He had turned pale.

  “You knew that your grandfather had paid someone in Turkey to have you corrected. And I think you knew that he paid for a flight to Istanbul this Saturday coming. A one-way flight. You were supposed to be on that flight, Ahsen. That was Baba’s way of dealing with you. Now tell me why he did it.”

  Ahsen licked his lips. He shifted in his seat, looking nervous for the first time.

  “We’re checking your web accounts, remember,” said Hogarth. “I’m going to find out.”

  Ahsen winced as the words finally came. “Duzeltme. That’s what they call fixing those who betray the president’s new Turkey.”

  “Speak English, please,” said Hogarth.

  “The Corrections. The so-called Corrections are carried out by the National Intelligence Organisation. The Turkish secret police. Baba warned me what would happen unless I stopped what I was doing, but I had already heard of them. The thing is a horror.”

  “But it looks like Baba Sen paid them a large a sum of money. If it’s as bad as you describe, why would he go that far?”

  Sen’s eyes flared. He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do. Izmir battered your grandfather to stop this happening. Baba Sen died for this. Why?”

  “You’re wrong!” said Sen. “We wouldn’t have conspired like that against my grandfather. This is a total fabrication!”

  “Oh, you’re good with words, Ahsen. Very selective. I like that. And again, I believe you,” said Hogarth.

  Ahsen was under pressure. His eyes became wider with every question Hogarth threw at him.

  “There was no conspiracy between you and Izmir – I believe you. Izmir knew what Baba had planned alright – you told Izmir about it yourself – but there was no plot between you. There was just Izmir’s reaction and then yours. What a pity that you didn’t plot killing Baba together. If you had conspired together, you were smart enough to have gotten away with it. Instead, Izmir tried to kill Baba Sen for his own ends... fixing his Atacan dilemma. Whereas you only killed him to save your arse from that one-way flight to Turkey. There was no conspiracy, Ahsen, but you’re still both guilty as hell of attempting to kill Baba Sen. You both had the same motive. But you had very different priorities.”

  “It’s not... true,” muttered Ahsen. But he looked lost. His denial was unconvincing. There was a knock at the door. Simmons came in clutching a few sheets of paper in his hand. He nodded and handed them to Hogarth. Hogarth flicked through them, showed them to Palmer,
and then slid them across the table. Ahsen Sen looked at them and his hands started to shake.

  “There it is, Ahsen. Finally, the undeniable truth. A quick buy-it-now purchase of an innocuous Turkish herbal remedy, which you ordered just three weeks ago. It’s really nothing at all, is it? Except that our pathologist knows what that herbal remedy really is. Henbane, Ahsen. And that purchase shows you ordered enough henbane to ensure the job was done properly. Just like the tactician you are, you took your time to deal with your enemy. I think you even chose the poison because it was kind of poetic. A Turkish poison to end a very Turkish feud. Henbane from Turkey. Now tell me why, Ahsen.”

  The man’s lips trembled. “We argued... for a very long time. But I think one day he broke into my room. My computer was on. My phones had been messed with. I don’t know what Baba saw, but I think he must have found something which proved I was helping the freedom movement in Istanbul. Because Baba was never the same with me after that. He turned colder than ever. He never trusted me much before. But after that, it was as if he hated me.”

  “So he organised to have you fixed in Turkey.”

  “Fixed? No, no, no. He arranged to have me broken! To have me brainwashed. Maybe to have me disappeared. His own grandson – he sacrificed me to Erdoĝan.”

  Hogarth nodded.

  “How did you find out, Ahsen?”

  “Because he was cold. Because he warned me too many times. Then I started to work things out for myself. He used the word Corrections in our final few arguments. I’d heard about Corrections already by then. I knew what they were capable of. There was no way I was going to Turkey for that... But only when I saw him give the money to those two homeless men did I know for sure.”

  “Two homeless men?” Hogarth looked at Palmer.

  “Yes, two vagabonds who come for the chicken box in the morning. I saw him speaking to them sometimes. But one morning, about a month ago, I looked out of my window and I saw him giving them some money. I opened my window and listened to him. I heard him offer to give them more money if they would help him deal with a difficult problem. He had to take somebody to the airport. He asked them to be quiet about it, but to be ready when he needed their help. I think they knew it was a dark request. But of course, they agreed. They didn’t even ask what he meant. All they cared about was Baba’s money. Those two men have no morals at all. Right there, right then, I knew he meant to send me back to Erdoĝan – and I knew I had to stop him.”

  Hogarth sat up and prodded at the henbane order print-out.

  “But in the end, you won, Ahsen. Not Baba, not Izmir, you. It was the henbane that killed your grandfather, not Izmir’s violence. You found out about your grandfather’s decision, you took decisive action. You were the one who killed Baba Sen.”

  Ahsen looked at the sheets. “You trapped me. You lied to me.”

  “Tactics, Ahsen. Something you know all about. We used your email address and passwords to track down your henbane purchase. And we know you had ample daily opportunity to put that poison in Baba Sen’s ginger tea, and you did it carefully, as always. Pathology shows you upped his dosage slowly, so he wouldn’t notice the change in taste, so he even got to enjoy the high of the henbane. Then, when you knew the danger was coming you upped his dosage drastically. Pathology proves that Baba Sen had been poisoned by henbane when he died. It was a lethal dose. And your kind of murder never required an alibi in the first place, Ahsen, because you always knew your uncle would kill himself with that poisoned ginger tea. You didn’t have to be there when he died. You had set it all up in advance. The news is, Ahsen, you’ll be the one going down for murder. But don’t worry, you won’t be the only one going to prison for what happened to Baba Sen. Izmir’s in it up to his neck.”

  Hogarth stood up and looked down at Ahsen Sen.

  “You probably know, you’d have gotten away with it if Izmir hadn’t messed up your plan by enacting his own little plot. Tut-tut, eh? Prison or going to Corrections back in Turkey? If I were you, I’d be wondering which was worse. Something to ponder over the next year or ten, eh?”

  Hogarth left the interview room and took a deep breath. He ran a hand through his hair and watched as Ahsen Sen was dragged away by his shoulder. The young man cast him a stunned glance before he was moved out of sight. Stunned... Hogarth didn’t feel so different himself.

  “Guv, you look like you could do with a drink,” said Palmer.

  “Yeah. It’s about bloody time, too” said Hogarth.

  HOGARTH WAS STILL SIPPING his whisky in the bar across the street from the police station. The bar was far enough away to forget about the tension and power plays. But there were too many other police around the booth tables to feel relaxed for long. Reality slipped back in whenever Hogarth drifted too far. And every time he came back, Hogarth needed another sip to ease the burden.

  “So, guv. What are you going to do about Devirim Atacan and old man Yuksel?”

  “Me? Not too much. I think old Don Corleone and his enforcer are about to get a quickie divorce.”

  “But you’ve got enough on Yuksel’s racket to make something stick. And there were the gunshots. Then you’ve got the warehouseman and you’ve got the packing slips and the paperwork from Basildon.”

  “Come on. We had a near miss with an Atacan. Those men are like submarines, Sue. We’ll never see him again to arrest him. And do you think I’m really going to chase that old man for a fraud case? That’s not my bag. It’s not even our remit. We’ll pass it on to the paper chasers and they can fix it.”

  “But it was a serious crime,” said Palmer as she sipped her vodka tonic.

  “It’s all serious. But the defence will separate it all in court and make it seem a lot less than what we actually dealt with. They’ll make it look like Yuksel was just one sly old dog cutting through some nasty red tape to make a living. They might even make people feel sorry for him. Food re-labelling? Re-selling at a higher cost? Isn’t that what every kind of business does to a degree? I can see it now. No thanks. I’m not up for that at all.”

  “But the racketeering? The extortion?” said Palmer. Hogarth shook his head.

  “On whose word? Baba Sen’s word? He’s dead. The others paid up and none of them ever stuck their heads above the parapets, so my bet is that none of them will do it now in case it happens again. Yuksel’s racket as good as never happened. Those takeaways will just get on with life. Like people always do. If some other department wants to chase Yuksel for the fraud and the tax evasion and whatnot, they’re welcome to it. But you and me, that’s not what we’re here for.”

  “But come on, Devirim Atacan and his man? They were serious business.”

  “And they still are. But our warehouseman isn’t going to talk either. They shot him, Sue. That silences the best of people, even if they live. Devirim Atacan and his man are gone.”

  Palmer looked at Hogarth in confusion. “How can you be so confident about that?”

  “He killed his own brother, Sue. Old man Yuksel knows it, and he’s pissed off. Sooner or later the truth will come out and Devirim Atacan will be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life. The rest of the Atacans will chase him down. They’ve got no choice.”

  Palmer blinked at him.

  “But aren’t you in the least bit worried about yourself?”

  Hogarth sipped his whisky and looked across the street to the police station in the near distance.

  “What’s to worry about? I’m a single man. Not attached, not unless you count chicken pies and whisky as my next of kin.”

  Palmer snorted a laugh.

  Hogarth peered into the dregs of his drink.

  “If he comes for me, Sue, I won’t even see it coming. And if I ever do see him coming, don’t worry about me. I’ll do him first.”

  Palmer stopped laughing. Hogarth downed his whisky.

  “You meant that, didn’t you?” she said.

  “Let’s hope you never find out, eh?” Hogarth set the glass down and sto
od up. “Time to face the music. And the paperwork, eh?”

  Palmer sighed and downed her drink. Hogarth’s mobile phone rang. He smiled and put the handset to his ear.

  “Ahh, DS Liv Burns? Calling again so soon...”

  Palmer’s smile slipped and she turned her attention to her handbag.

  “Did you find what you wanted?” said Liv Burns into Hogarth’s ear. Hogarth heard the clack of her heels, the rush and chatter of the London traffic in the background.

  “In a way, yes, and in a way no,” he said.

  “You still owe me a drink, either way,” she said. He heard the smile in the woman’s voice and gestured to Palmer that he was going outside to take the call on the street. Palmer nodded and watched him go. Hogarth walked down the steps onto Victoria Avenue and kicked idly at the pavement while he talked.

  “What did you want in those emails, anyway, Joe?”

  “Let’s just say I think my boss might have been a bit creative with the truth.”

  “Boss’s prerogative, isn’t it? Carson was always the same.”

  “You’re not going to start on about Carson, are you?” said Hogarth with a grin.

  “Now, now. But seeing as you’re getting cocky, how about we fix that date this weekend.”

  A date? That was more than a drink., wasn’t it? But Hogarth wasn’t complaining. Last time he’d seen Liv she wasn’t in bad shape. Not for a CID copper anyway.

  “I’ll check my diary,” said Hogarth, smiling. “Yes. I think I’ve got a window available.”

  Burns chuckled. “I’ll want you to show me the town, Joe.”