The Abyssinian Proof: A Kamil Pasha Novel (Kamil Pasha Novels)

by Jenny White

  He touched a brown substance on one of the stones. Fresh mud. Kamil peered into the well. It looked deep. Something was caught on a protrusion part of the way down. He hung precariously over the edge, reached down and pulled out Elif’s hat.

  The image of Elif falling into the black pit below gave his actions the urgency of desperation. He flung his feet over the edge and lowered himself slowly, propping himself up with his arms, feeling with his feet. The stones were uneven and some had fallen in, so he found ready platforms. When he felt stable ground beneath both feet, he tested it, then crouched down to see, bracing himself against the stones.

  He stood on a small ledge. Beneath him, he could sense rather than see the well open up. If someone had snatched Elif, they would surely have had a reason and wouldn’t have simply flung her down the well. He remembered that ayazmas were often connected to underground cisterns.

  It was dark in the well, so he squatted on the ledge and felt around with his hands. Before long, he discovered an opening just wide enough to crawl through.

  He felt his way along with his hands. On the other side of the entrance, a thin object rolled under his palm. He picked it up. One end was soft. A paintbrush, still damp. He rejoiced. Elif was alive and she was leaving a trail for him to follow.

  After a while, the tunnel became higher, so he could walk upright. Fresh air circulated from somewhere, but it was pitch black. Kamil could see nothing at all, not even his hand before his eyes. His pupils created sparks and tiny spots of light that he knew weren’t really there. He took deep breaths to still the panic rising in him. Keeping one hand on the damp stone wall, he slid his feet forward, testing for holes in the floor. The tunnel seemed to be intact. It led downward. He flinched as a rat fell onto his shoulder, then leapt off.

  When he bumped into a sharp protrusion, scraping his nose, he stopped and reached both hands ahead of him. They met a wedge of stone directly in front of his face. He listened for a few moments, the blackness pressing in on his eyes like weights, but heard only a distant drip of water and the scurrying of rats. Small sounds seemed to carry from great distances.

  Guiding himself with his hands, he knelt and began to systematically test the shape of the walls. The tunnel divided here, he decided. He crawled in one direction for a few moments to gain a sense of things, then backed up and tried the other tunnel.

  A sharp object pressed into his knee. He picked it up and recognized from its shape the small wood-handled paint spatula he had seen in Elif’s kit. He was relieved that Elif had kept her head, although it didn’t surprise him. He felt around, but there was nothing else. He stood and, hands stretched before him, strode as rapidly as he could through the darkness into the tunnel she had marked. He guessed that whoever had taken Elif knew this tunnel and had used it before, so he doubted there were any collapsed areas.

  There was a glow ahead, so faint that Kamil thought his eyes had invented it. As he approached, he heard voices. They were distorted, so he couldn’t understand what they were saying, but he recognized Elif’s voice. The other was a man’s. Kamil slipped the knife from his boot.

  He crept closer, keeping his eyes on the light, knife balanced lightly in his hand. His boots made no sound.

  Something caught at his jacket. He swung around, knife raised, alert to the slightest motion. He heard scurrying, then a faint whisper.

  “It’s me. Avi.”

  He reached down and found the boy’s close-cropped head. He leaned close to Avi’s ear and whispered, “Don’t speak. There’s an echo.”

  If Avi was here, Kamil guessed the man ahead must be Amida. But what did he want with Elif? How could he even know her? He had misjudged the young man, Kamil thought with exasperation. First Malik’s pin and now this.

  As he approached, the light gained brightness. He could see Avi beside him now and gestured that the boy should stay back. Avi pressed himself against a wall.

  Kamil could hear Elif and Amida more clearly. They were arguing.

  “What do you want with this box? It contains drawings and my pens,” Elif said in a hard voice. Kamil realized that she was still keeping up her guise of being a man.

  “Of course. And you’re Rembrandt.”

  “Ah, an art lover,” she responded lightly. “Here. See for yourself. You dragged me into this hole for nothing.”

  Kamil heard a crash, the sound of a wooden box splintering. He peered around the corner. Elif and Amida faced each other in a room lit by an oil lamp on the ground by Amida’s feet.

  “Where is it?” Amida asked. He looked enormous next to Elif.

  Kamil pulled his head back. He didn’t want to be seen until he had decided on a course of action. Elif seemed to be in no immediate danger and she didn’t appear frightened. If he listened for a few moments, he might get more information.

  “Where is what?” Elif asked.

  “Don’t play dumb. I know you have it. I saw you duck out of the mosque and drop the key. You think I’m as dumb as that imam? I know you’ve found it. It was written on your faces.”

  “What is it you think we found?”

  Amida let out an expletive. “You have the Proof of God. Kamil told me he knew where it was.”

  “Well, I don’t have it, as you can see.”

  “If you don’t, then he has it.”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I plan to. I’m sure he’s wandering the streets right now looking for his friend. What are you, English?”

  “French.”

  He heard the sounds of a struggle.

  “Look at that. You’re a woman.” Amida laughed. “What a scoundrel that Kamil is. And he makes himself out to be a holy man. I’m sure he’ll trade the Proof for you. You do make a good boy,” he added admiringly.

  Kamil put his head around the corner again. He saw Elif kneeling before Amida, who had grasped the back of her neck with one hand. In the other, he held a knife. Kamil reckoned the distance and decided Amida would be able to use the knife before Kamil could reach him. He edged forward and saw Amida let go of Elif and fumble at his trousers. Then, Elif, still on her knees, jabbed something into Amida’s groin.

  “You bitch,” he howled and raised his arm to strike her. The knife glinted in his hand.

  Kamil leapt into the chamber and grabbed Amida’s arm. They struggled, but Kamil managed to pull back Amida’s thumb so hard he had to release his knife. Elif immediately picked it up. Kamil noticed she brandished it blade-down, like a street fighter. Her face was grim, somehow inhuman, and Kamil half expected her to thrust the knife into Amida’s chest while he held him. Instead, she stepped back into the shadows.

  Amida bellowed and twisted in Kamil’s arms. Kamil looked down and saw that the front of Amida’s trousers was stained with blood. He let go of one of the young man’s arms. Amida reached down and plucked out of his crotch a small knife of the kind used for sharpening pencils. Before Kamil could grab his arm again, Amida had thrust the pencil knife into Kamil’s chest. Kamil shouted and let go.

  Elif stood frozen against the wall, Amida’s large knife still poised in her hand.

  Amida grabbed the lamp and ran into the tunnel, with Kamil following right behind.

  There was a crash and the light went out. Kamil heard scuffling, then someone running. There was a loud rattle, which sounded like heavy chains, and a crash of metal against stone.

  “Elif, Avi,” Kamil called out into the darkness.

  “I’m sorry, bey.” Avi was crying. “I tried to stop him. I didn’t think about the lamp.”

  “Come over here, Avi. Follow my voice.”

  “I’m here.” It was Elif’s voice, her hand on his arm. “Avi? Come, hold my hand.”

  Kamil bent and felt around for the lamp, but couldn’t get it to light. The fumes of spilled oil filled the air.

  “We can find our way out,” Kamil said more calmly than he felt. He wondered what the noise had been. Perhaps a trap. His hand found the place over his heart where Amida had stab
bed him. There was a hole in the fabric of his jacket, through which he could feel a deep nick in the lead case that had been in his jacket pocket. “Let’s hold on to each other.”

  He stepped forward carefully, Avi’s hand tugging at his jacket, Elif to the rear. After a while, Kamil felt a difference in the direction of the air and thought they must be approaching the fork in the tunnel. Abruptly, he walked into a set of iron bars. He ran his hands along them. They felt as thick as a child’s wrist and seemed to reach from floor to ceiling.

  “What is it?” Elif whispered.

  “The bastard has shut us in. It’s a gate. Avi, can you squeeze through?”

  Avi pushed through his leg and arm, but his head and chest wouldn’t fit.

  “If we can’t go forward, we go back,” Kamil announced.

  “That room had a lot of shadowy corners,” Elif said. “I was looking for escape routes, but it was too dark to see properly.” Kamil admired her calm. He wondered, though, about the glimpse of violence he had seen earlier, a darkness he could only guess at.

  They turned and felt their way along the wall until they encountered an opening. The smell of oil was stronger here. They entered the room where Amida had held Elif. She put her hands flat against the wall.

  “We can start here and work our way around.”

  “There’s a slight breeze. Maybe it’s coming from above ground. Let me see if I can trace it. Stay where you are.” Kamil put his hands out in front of him and took five steps directly into the darkness. He stood for a few moments, turning his face slightly, trying to catch a current of moving air, but he was sweating and could discern nothing. He reached inside his jacket, pulled out the lead case, and stuck it into the waistband of his trousers. Then he took off his jacket and shirt, placed them on the ground by his feet and stood again quietly, eyes closed, this time letting his body listen to the atmosphere. The air felt good against his naked chest. He turned slowly in a circle. Like a dervish, he thought, communing with the divine harmony.

  It was barely noticeable, a fraction of a change in temperature against his skin, but the air was slightly cooler, the force of it infinitesimally stronger from one direction. He walked slowly toward the flow of air until it was right above him.

  “It’s over here. Come toward my voice.”

  “Keep talking,” Elif said from somewhere to his right.

  Kamil began to sing an Italian aria he had heard performed several times in a small establishment in Galata. He sang it badly and loudly.

  By the time Elif and Avi arrived beside him, they were laughing softly.

  Elif’s fingers settled on Kamil’s chest, grazing his nipple. Startled, Kamil stepped back and the hand withdrew.

  “I’m so sorry,” Elif said in a thick voice, her breath fluttering on his chest.

  “Don’t be.”

  He felt her step away from him, but imagined he could still hear her breathing.

  “You’re right,” she said, her voice coming from a few steps away. “The air does seem to move more here. Where is it coming from?”

  “I’ll look,” Avi offered.

  They could hear him scrabbling about, his feet bumping up against stone, scraping noises, then clambering. A falling brick landed with a soft chalky explosion.

  “Be careful,” Kamil called out.

  Suddenly, there was a shower of bricks. They jumped back and both called out Avi’s name.

  “I’m up here. I’m in a chimney, I think.”

  Most likely it was an air shaft. “How did you get up there?”

  “There’s a pile of bricks on the ground. They must have fallen out of the chimney. I was following the air and it came from up here somewhere, so I climbed up the bricks.”

  “Does the chimney have stairs?” Elif asked, still puzzled.

  “No, but there are a lot of gaps on one side where the bricks have fallen out. You can put your feet in them and hold on.”

  “How wide is it?” Kamil asked, already visualizing their escape. “Can we fit through?”

  “Sure, bey. Want me to climb up first and see where it goes?”

  “Yes, but be careful.”

  They listened as the scuffing and tapping sounds of his climb became fainter, then disappeared altogether. They settled themselves on the floor to wait. Kamil wished he had his shirt and jacket, but didn’t want to leave Elif alone while he searched for them.

  “Do you have the Proof of God?” she asked.

  “Right here.” He pulled it from his waistband and patted it with his fingers like a dull, flat drum.

  “I wonder who built this tunnel. And imagine that iron gate!” she exclaimed. “They must have had a lot of enemies to go to all that trouble.”

  After a few minutes, Kamil called Avi’s name, but received no response. “I hope that’s good news.” Kamil was more anxious than he let on.

  He searched the darkness for Elif’s hand. He was chilled to the bone. Her hand was cold too and he rubbed it between his.

  After a while, they heard scratching noises; Avi was coming back. They jumped to their feet.

  “It goes outside.” Avi’s voice announced happily. “There’s a small tunnel that crosses the chimney halfway up. We can crawl through there.”

  “Wonderful,” Kamil exclaimed. “Well done.”

  Kamil consulted with Elif. “I’m going to lift Elif up, Avi,” he called. “Can you guide her so she has something to hold on to?”

  “Sure, bey. Don’t worry, Elif Hanoum. Nothing will happen to you.”

  “I feel safe in your hands, Avi.”

  Kamil cleared a space to stand in the middle of the pile of bricks. He wrapped his arms around Elif’s legs and lifted her.

  “Stop,” she called out. “I have to find the opening first or you’ll break my neck.” She was as light as a child.

  She felt around the ceiling with her hands. “Avi, say something so I can find you.”

  Avi began to sing a lullaby. “Dandini dandini dastana. The cows are loose in the vegetable garden.”

  “To the right,” she directed Kamil. “Back a little.”

  Kamil pushed bricks aside with his feet and moved sideways.

  Avi kept singing. “O gardener, drive them away, so they don’t eat the cabbage.”

  “Here it is. I found it.” Kamil could hear the tears in her voice. “Lift me up now.”

  He put his hand under her foot and hoisted her above his head. She bounced twice in his hands, then was gone. He could hear her breath laboring as she pulled herself up through the shaft.

  “I’m in.” Her voice sounded distant. “How will you get up? I can’t reach down that far.”

  Kamil had already started stacking bricks. “I’m making a platform.” The haphazard edifice Avi had clambered up had collapsed, and Kamil had kicked most of the remaining bricks out of the way to make room while he hoisted Elif into the shaft. The opening was little more than an arm’s length above his head, but he needed a stable base to reach it. He marveled at Avi’s agility. The boy must have thought himself up into the shaft.

  As Kamil fumbled around the floor for more bricks, he sang a few lines of the operetta, but soon stopped. Building in the dark required all his concentration. Before long, he was out of bricks. When he tried to climb the platform, the loose bricks shifted beneath his weight and came apart. He stood for a moment, sweat cooling on his bare chest, wondering how to stabilize the platform. Then he took off his shoes, socks, and trousers, and tucked the Proof of God into the front of his linen drawers. He wrapped the trouser legs tightly around the pile of bricks, but there wasn’t enough material to tie the truss in place. Frustrated, he tried again to climb, barefoot this time, his toes seeking crevices among the bricks, but then one tilted under his weight and Kamil toppled backward. He cursed as he landed awkwardly, twisting his ankle.

  He had a sudden idea. “Elif, throw me your sash.”

  After a few moments, a length of soft material brushed his face. He pulled it down and meas
ured it with his hands. As he had hoped, it was a single piece of silk, more than long enough. When he had secured the sides of the platform with the sash, he climbed up and, head bowed beneath the ceiling, scraped his fingers across it until he found the opening. He put his head inside and stood up straight. The shaft ended just below his shoulders.

  He slid his fingers over the walls of the shaft until they encountered some broken brickwork, hooked his fingers into the gaps, then hoisted himself up. He swung his legs up, wedging them against the opposite wall. Back braced against one side, feet against the other, he worked his way up the shaft crabwise. He was sweating profusely and his fingers started to slip. He tried not to think about falling.

  Elif’s hands touched his shoulders. “Almost there. Here’s the ledge. Can you follow my hand?”

  Kamil pulled himself onto the ledge. He lay there for a moment, waiting for the spasms in his muscles to lessen. The skin on his back was shredded and throbbed with pain. He sat up.

  “Watch your head,” Elif warned. “It’s high enough to walk, but only if you crouch.”

  In the cramped space, he felt Elif’s hand brush against his naked leg and then the Proof of God. He heard her small cry of surprise, followed by soft laughter.

  “What’s so funny, Elif Hanoum?” Avi’s voice came from the darkness ahead.

  “You’ll see later, Avi. Why don’t you show us the way out?”

  28

  ISMAIL HODJA COULDN’T hide his excitement when Kamil placed the flat, featureless lead container on the table before him. Kamil moved stiffly, hindered by the bandages on his back and arms. He had decided it would be a waste of time to chase after Amida when they knew he was meeting the Frankish dealer tonight in Galata. Amida was only sugar water to attract the bee. Besides, Kamil had to find out what it was that so many people were hell-bent on stealing.