But of course Gagik did not know about Sirarpi. Was her story and her fate being repeated here, in the newly liberated homeland, thirty years later? Laurian’s personal recurring nightmare was hearing one day that Lara’s bruised and mutilated body was discovered somewhere. For him, saving Lara, a girl he had never met, had become tantamount to avenging Sirarpi; as if, if the same fate befell Lara, Sirarpi’s death would be in vain.
He called Avo every day, asked Gagik to drop in once in a while and invited both of them to Vardahovit, where he thought he could keep an eye on Avo. Avo promised to revisit, but had not managed to.
So Laurian buried himself in his books and writing. He still sat on the front terrace during sunny days, even though the evenings now were too cold to sit outside even to watch the sunsets. The mountains still talked to him in ways that he had never been able to express; they stared back at him in expectation, almost as if they meant to hold him accountable for something.
Do not be surprised, he said aloud looking at them in the distance, from the beginning I have searched for you…
“So good to finally meet you,” said Apo, shaking Viktor’s hand with gusto. “I trust your flight was comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you,” replied Viktor, but he was unable to return Apo’s polite enthusiasm.
“Is everything settling down in Dubai?” asked Apo, and offered him a seat facing the window with the view of the Bosporus.
“It will be sorted out, thanks,” said Viktor, anxious to finish his business and head out. He was tired, irritable and didn’t care for Apo’s highly refined and totally false Istanbul manners. “My uncle has a good proposal for you.”
“First, can I offer you anything? Do you need to freshen up, rest a bit, have something to eat?”
“Thank you, Abo jan. But I’d like to catch the next flight this evening. I think it leaves for Tbilisi around eleven-thirty.”
“Oh,” said Apo, surprised, “you’re taking her to Tbilisi?”
“Yes, then on to Yerevan.”
That was far too easy, thought Apo. In the first few minutes the information that he thought he’d have to coax out of Viktor was volunteered. Either he’s so tired that he has become careless or he just doesn’t care that I know.
“I understand,” said Apo, wondering why they were not taking Lara back to Dubai as he had assumed, but deciding not to ask further. It was not his business. “In that case, I’ll let you run the meeting,” he added with a chuckle.
“We would be happy to help you set up an operation in Dubai,” said Viktor. “We will also provide advice and network support until you get organized.”
“Thank you,” said Apo, somewhat on guard, as he expected caveats and conditions.
“You can start with up to twenty girls,” continued Viktor, “and you can use our organization to receive the necessary facilitation with visas, security and police. Over time, in say three years or so, you can build up to forty women, and if in that period you need to establish your own network of local support, you can, or if you want to continue using ours, you can also do that.”
“And what happens after I have forty girls and my own setup?” asked Apo, even though he was happy with the offer so far, assuming of course that it could be enforced.
“After that, God is great, as they say,” smiled Viktor reluctantly. “You’ll eventually have the means to break the forty women limit, but we hope that you stick to it, so as not to overcrowd the market.”
“Understood, Viktor jan. We’ll have to trust each other, just like I have to trust that you’ll keep your word once I hand the girl over to you.”
“You have my uncle’s word. If you’re not sure, you can call him and he’ll confirm.”
“Oh, no need for that. I know you speak for him. But your own word matters to me as much as his.”
“You have my word as well as his.”
“How do you propose we proceed?” asked Apo.
“I suggest that you come to Dubai for a visit first, preferably sometime when I can be there as well; I’ll show you around, you know, our apartments, the hotels that we have arrangements with, the main nightclubs, and so on. It is important that you form a firsthand feel for the place before you start.” Viktor hoped that the more specific he became the more confidence he’d inspire in Apo. “One more thing,” he added, as if he had forgotten a very important point. “It is best to appoint a manager there early on, to get used to the system. Dubai is very different from Istanbul in almost everything, customs, traditions, rules, ways around the rules, the competition, security, you name it. The manager should speak good English, and a little Arabic wouldn’t hurt. Let me also say that we’ve been happier with female managers.”
“Interesting,” said Apo. “In that respect at least Dubai sounds similar to Istanbul; I have been happier with woman managers here also.”
“They understand the girls and have a way with the police,” agreed Viktor. “And most importantly, they don’t try to take over.”
“Thank you for the advice,” said Apo. “This is a very interesting proposal indeed. But what do you say we stop the conversation now, and continue sorting out the details over a light dinner? It is only six o’clock. You have five hours before your flight, and I cannot just send you on your way without some hospitality.”
“We still have a lot to talk about,” said Viktor. “One of my uncle’s conditions is that we find out exactly what happened; I mean how she escaped and how she ended up with you. I’m afraid that part is not negotiable.”
“And I won’t make it part of any negotiation,” smiled Apo. “I’ll tell you everything I know over dinner. Everything.”
Viktor was anxious to confront Lara; he imagined that she’d squirm when she saw him. He was looking forward to reprimanding and abusing her before their flight. But he did not want to show that side of his personality to Apo. He accepted the dinner invitation.
“Great,” said Apo. “Timur will take you to one of our special guestrooms to freshen up. I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes. I promise to have you back and ready to leave for the airport in plenty of time.”
Apo watched as Viktor reluctantly followed Timur and then left to visit Lara.
The atmosphere at the Al Barmaka estate had become much tenser. Regardless of who had helped Lara escape, the staff was responsible. The guard at the gate was supposed to record the license plate number of every car entering and leaving the compound, along with the exact time of entry and exit. He had not done so for weeks with any car that he recognized. There was only one entry in his registry, which happened to be a new delivery vehicle from a catering company. There was no excuse for this lapse, and the guard knew it. He had tried to remember all the cars that came in on the night Lara disappeared, but could generate neither license plate information nor drivers’ names. The several security personnel posted around the property claimed that they had not noticed anything unusual. The fact is, with Al Barmaka traveling, they had all taken the evening off.
Sumaya’s explanation of how Lara got hold of her passport was lame at best. Farah was nervous because she would clearly be at center stage of the whole drama as soon as Al Barmaka found out about Apo; she had been the only one in touch with him. She was convinced he’d have no problem telling anyone that. Only Natalia seemed to be out of the limelight for now, assuming that the others didn’t drag her down along with them.
To everyone’s relief, Al Barmaka had not cut his trip short as they had feared. He had trusted the investigation to Manoj, and was following it from China through daily phone calls. He had discovered the sensual traditions of oriental aristocracy and their concubines, and was already planning significant changes in his own domain. Even though he had been going to the Far East for many years, this was the first time that he had encountered the unfailing Asian discipline in all things. Their engrained sense of duty transcended normal everyday concerns. He saw many Middle Eastern values in Asia, but he also saw a dedication and devotion to perfect
ion, which had not yet appeared in the Middle East.
Lara’s escape and the exposure of how pathetic his staff was had revealed an ominous weakness in his setup in Dubai. It was time for a complete overhaul; he was going through with the investigation simply to know the truth; but he did not need the truth to make decisions; he had already made up his mind to replace much of his staff with new faces from China.
But Al Barmaka knew that while the investigation might reveal what had happened, it would not reveal why. The affection that he felt toward Leila was genuine. Why had she opted to escape? He felt a sense of loss much more strongly than he admitted on the phone to Sumaya. He knew Leila’s absence would trouble him even more once he returned home. He vowed to figure out the why later, when he had more time to focus on the situation after he returned to Dubai. He also knew deep in his heart that he would seek her out.
The phone call came around 8:15 in the evening in Saralandj, which was two hours ahead of Istanbul. Avo was at home in the kitchen, repairing a crack in the old, rusty stovepipe. His siblings were in their bedroom, the boys busy with homework and the girls mending clothes and embroidering.
“Avo, listen well,” she said quietly as soon as she heard his voice. “I cannot talk long. I’ll be in Armenia tomorrow morning. But I am not free.”
“Kurig, what do you mean you’re not free? Where will you be in Armenia?” Avo almost screamed in a panic.
“Listen,” said Lara in the same low voice, without repeating his name; she had already regretted saying his name out loud the first time. “I’m not alone, and I’m not free. And I can’t talk. Be very careful of the people we talked about before. Now I have to go.”
“Wait!” shouted Avo. “When will you call back?”
“I don’t know. Just be very careful.” The connection was abruptly lost.
“Sorry,” said Apo as he snatched the cell phone from her hand. “That is all I can allow. I believe I have now granted both of your last requests, Lara khanum. They will bring you some food soon, and in a few hours you will leave. I wish we had met under different circumstances; and I wish you well.”
“Thank you, Paron Abo,” said Lara.
But somehow Apo felt so small at that moment that he wished he had never called Ayvazian.
While Lara was calling Avo, Viktor was on the phone with Ayvazian.
“So far so good,” he said. “I’ll get the details of the escape story over supper. But we need to check something back home.”
“Are you sure it’s safe to talk?” asked Ayvazian.
“What I have to say is fine,” said Viktor. “Check the brother. She wired him a lot of money recently. I’m guessing our money. I’m not sure what he knows.”
“Understood, and enough said. I’ll take care of that. And how is our friend in Istanbul?” Ayvazian changed the tone of his voice, giving it a friendly ring, just in case Apo had a way to listen in on the conversation. Viktor understood what Ayvazian was doing.
“Oh, he’s very well,” he said, taking on the same happy tone as his uncle. “I think we’ll enjoy working with him in Dubai.”
Avo sat down on the stool in front of the stove, deep in thought. He had the strongest feeling yet that something was about to unfold that would bring together all the risks and dangers he had been worrying about; and yet he was unusually calm. She’ll be back in the country tomorrow, she’s not free, and there is a danger from the Ayvazians, he thought, as if pondering a math problem from his school days.
He was about to call Laurian to tell him about Lara’s call when he heard footsteps on the front stairs. It was Ruben, Martha’s husband.
“Avo jan, good evening,” he said as he walked into the kitchen. “Come sit, we need to talk.”
Avo was surprised by the visit. It was approaching nine o’clock in the evening, and Ruben usually didn’t pay visits at this hour.
“Rubo, is everything okay at home?” he asked. “Is Martha doing well?”
“All is fine at home. Listen, I was at the post office in Aparan earlier. They got a phone call that scared Paron Artiom. I could tell he was not happy with the call, or with the caller. You know the old telephone in the post office; sometimes the voice of the caller kind of echoes and you can hear it if you’re standing close. All I could hear was a very rude voice, like a thug threatening Artiom.”
Avo was intrigued by the story, even though he didn’t quite understand what this had to do with them.
“At first Artiom said that he could not disclose that type of information because it would be against the rules of the post office. But I could hear the heavy echo of what sounded like yelling from the other end. Anyway, this went on for a while, and then I heard Artiom say your name.”
“My name?”
“Your name. He told the man on the phone your name.”
“What do you mean? He just said ‘Avo’?”
“No, he gave them your full name. He said, ‘It was sent to Avetis Galian.’ No, sorry, he said ‘Avetis Samveli Galian’.”
The only place where Avo had seen his full name recently was on the blue slip of paper of the wire transfer from Lara.
“I think I know what this is,” he told Ruben. “Ayvazian was asking the postman about the wire transfer. I received some money from Lara the day Mama died. It was a large amount. They’re asking about that.”
“How did they know?” asked Ruben.
“It was wired from their office.”
“Then why question poor Artiom?”
“They’re probably confirming it, that’s all. The office gets instructions and just makes the transfers; Ayvazian doesn’t always know every detail when these things happen. But sooner or later he finds out, and the amount was much larger this time. So he got curious, or angry, I guess. Did they ask him anything else?”
“I’m not sure what all the questions were, but at the end Artiom was answering ‘yes’ and ‘no’ to many different questions. It was not a short call. They may have asked what you did with the money, because Artiom said something about a bank. Did you put the money in the bank?”
“Yes. It was too much to carry around.”
“Just how much money was it?” asked Ruben, now curious.
“Eight thousand American dollars.”
“Wow, that is a lot.”
“I’m surprised he took the call in your presence,” said Avo.
“He was very scared; he was shaking, and his voice was shaking. I think he wanted me to hear as much as possible, so I could warn you. Whoever called didn’t know I was there, and didn’t even bother asking Artiom if he was alone. He started with the interrogation the minute Artiom answered. But when I left, Artiom gave me this look, it is hard to explain, it was almost as if he wanted me to warn you. He was probably warned by the caller not to talk to anyone. But I got this very strong feeling that he wanted you to know; it was the way he looked at me and gently nodded, almost like saying, ‘Go tell Avo’.”
“He is a good man,” said Avo. “Papa used to work for him, and he told me his wife and Mama were childhood friends.”
“Avo, listen. Artiom had good reason to be scared. Ayvazian is very dangerous. You cannot be careless with him. We all have to be careful, because he goes after entire families. What is the problem between you and Ayvazian?”
“I have not even met him,” said Avo. “There is no problem with me that I know of. Mainly, I think he fooled Mama, and Lara did not end up where he had promised. I know she’s not in Greece, so God knows what else he has lied about. And on this money transfer business, I bet it is the amount that’s pissing him off.”
“We just cannot sit here and wait, especially if he’s upset about something,” said Ruben. “Maybe we should talk to him, or maybe we should talk to the police.”
Ruben was ten years older than Avo, but Avo still felt a huge responsibility not only to guide him through this thought process, but also to protect him. His sister was pregnant, and with both of his parents now diseased, Avo had alrea
dy started thinking of his sister’s family as an extension of his own.
“Rubo, listen. Ayvazian cannot be handled either by talking to the police or by talking to him directly. We have no high level connections anywhere, and he has them everywhere. He has connections with politicians, government Ministers, judges and especially the police. He also has Lara, and I think Lara has been caught trying to escape. She’ll be in Armenia tomorrow.”
Ruben was surprised not only by Avo’s calm and calculating style, but also by his wealth of information. For the first time he saw him differently than the kid brother of his wife. Physically, Avo was slightly taller than Ruben, muscular, handsome, with high cheekbones accentuated by a genetically stubborn eagle nose and thick curly hair. For someone who did not know his age, it wouldn’t be easy to guess that he had just turned sixteen. He could easily pass for eighteen or nineteen. And now his physical features were being further enhanced by his demeanor and mature calm.
“So what do we do?” asked Ruben, feeling uncomfortable about asking direction from his kid brother-in-law, but also curious to hear the rest of what Avo was thinking.
“First,” said Avo, “I agree with you that the whole family could be in danger. So we need to treat this situation as a family threat, and not just something that happened to Lara or that may happen to me. Second, we need to assemble a small group of people that we fully trust who can help us. Rubo jan, whether we like it or not, you and I are now the core of this small group of people. Are you with me so far?”
“I’m with you. Go on.”
“There are two others that I trust. One is Gago from Ashtarak. He was a close friend of Papa, and he’s been here a few times recently. He’s a good guy, and he’s not scared like Artiom. He can help us.”
“Okay,” said Ruben, feeling the need to give his approval, even though Avo had not asked for it.
“The second is Paron Edik. You may have met him also. In fact, it was Edik who first came here, and later brought Gago with him. He lives in Vayots Dzor. Ayvazian is from the same region. Paron Edik probably knows more about Ayvazian than any of us.”
A Place Far Away Page 33
