by Rik Stone
The police said they were looking to speak with a third person; a young woman who went into the club later that evening and waited in the office for the manager.
“Shit!” Mehmet exclaimed. “What’re we going to do, Yuri? They’re looking for Nina.”
Yuri sat and took the weight of his head in his hands. “I told you that Pinar was writing this article, so I know she would have had no choice other than to write what she was given,” he said.
Nina lit up a Fatima cigarette, flopped into a couple of large cushions in the corner of the room and stared towards the window. Mehmet thought she looked resigned, probably used to being on the losing side.
Several minutes crept silently by and then Yuri jerked his head back. “Sorry, Nina, but you’re grounded until further notice. You stay here in the Ottoman. And when the time is right, you give yourself up to the police.”
Chapter 21
Nina cast her thoughts back over the two weeks she’d spent at the house, flitted about dusting as she did, wondering how long it would be before she would have to give herself up to the police. When Mehmet wasn’t out working, he was hanging around trying to amuse her so she wouldn’t get bored. And it had to be said, he was intelligent, witty and very good-looking – not that looks made much difference; she’d had good-looking before and lived to regret it. But it seemed different with Mehmet. True, she’d been a whore, but what was he, an Ottoman prince? No, they’d both been forced onto paths they wouldn’t have otherwise taken and on that basis had things in common.
There was a downside; she’d begun getting excited on seeing him, even now just thinking of him. But he was too young … although, he did come across as older, manly. She sighed. She’d tried indifference, but at the same time tantalised him without thinking, let a breast touch his arm or brushed a leg against his. Put silly thoughts aside, she told herself. Mehmet had been taken under Yuri’s wing and was carving out a good life. When the problem with Volkan was done with, she’d be sneaked off to Italy and that would be the end of it. So, forget him.
And what about Volkan anyway? The murder hunt was still ongoing but had lost its impetus. Volkan’s character had been assassinated along with his body, mostly by that newspaper Yuri always carried around, but the other rags had been quick to pick up on the story’s slant. Now, no one really cared about the killer being tracked down, except maybe the policeman in charge. On that account alone it wouldn’t be long before the dreaded day she had to go in.
She put the duster away and washed the breakfast dishes. With the chores done and Yuri and Mehmet not due back for several hours, she sat at the table in the living room and dealt the playing cards for a game of patience. She had just revealed two blackjacks in a row when the sound of someone coming in through the front door made her jump – it was Yuri.
Offering no real greeting on entry, he simply said in a matter-of fact voice, “The time has come for you to go to the police station and tell your story. I know you’ve settled in, but this has to be done – for your safety as well as ours.”
“I know,” she answered, lighting up a Fatima, drawing deep on it while letting dragon-like plumes trickle from her nostrils. Looking at the cards, she snickered: two blackjacks, bad luck, how apt. She’d been expecting Yuri’s words, so why did her heart feel like flower petals being crushed underfoot?
Yuri kept talking, oblivious to her sensitivity. “I’ve been in touch with an acquaintance of mine, Sergeant Baghatur. He’ll be waiting for you in the station foyer. But remember, it’s crucial that you only speak with him. If Captain Ahmet gets wind of what’s happening, you might not get as far as Iskander’s office.”
“When do we go?” she asked, and the walls around her spirit grew and hardened.
“As soon as you can get yourself together. Baghatur will be hanging around until early afternoon.”
Nina sighed and pulled the cards into a pile. “Well, let’s not keep him waiting.” She got to her feet, took the small jacket Yuri had bought her at a bazaar and followed him from the house while pulling it on. Mehmet was outside, scraping his foot along the kerbstone. He looked up and his big brown eyes looked sad. They walked silently together down to the quay where he helped her climb aboard, and then jumped onto the deck with her.
She was surprised. “I thought you were staying over on this side? Yuri said it might not be safe for you in Eminonu.”
“No, I’ll sail across with you. Yuri says it’s okay as long as I stay on the boat until he comes back from the police station.”
Nina nodded, smiled sadly. They chatted as the vessel crossed the strait, but the conversation was stilted. And then the boat shuddered as it bumped into the Sirkeci quayside. Mehmet grabbed her arm as she almost lost balance and they stood for a moment, staring into one another’s eyes. Mehmet let go first, jumped onto the jetty, helped her up and before she could disengage, pulled her to him and kissed her.
“Plenty of time for that later,” Yuri said, coming between them. “Let’s get this done.”
Mehmet held Nina’s hand until Yuri took her arm as if to drag her away. “Don’t worry, Nina, I’ll still be here when you get back,” he said.
She smiled weakly and held his gaze until turning off and out of sight. She got to the police station without her or Yuri having spoken. For her, thoughts were full of Mehmet. What had the kiss meant? Did he expect a relationship when this Volkan ordeal was over? They stopped at the mouth of an alley across from the police station, and Yuri re-emphasised that she should speak to Sergeant Baghatur and him alone. He squeezed her arm and gave her a reassuring wink.
Nina turned away, crossed the street and opened the door to the police station. A sergeant paced in the foyer. He saw her and without asking who she was, nodded and gestured her towards the stairway. Taking her to the first floor, he bade her wait and went into an office.
Two or three minutes went by and he came out into the corridor. “Captain Iskander will speak with you now,” he said and left.
The office wasn’t as big as she would have expected, about three-door widths one way and maybe five metres in length, a corridor really. It was barely wide enough for the desk the senior detective was sitting behind now. How he got around it to leave the office was a mystery. A large, double-door, steel cabinet stood in the corner to her left and a guest chair was stationed in front of a paint-chipped, metal desk. Other than that, Spartan was the only word that came to mind. The detective peered up from the papers he scribbled on and stood. Getting up onto tiptoes, he squeezed by the desk and approached her. He was a tall slim man and Nina was surprised when he smiled and shook her hand.
“Hello,” he said kindly, “I’m Captain Iskander. You can’t know how much I’ve been looking forward to this chat. Please, sit … Nina, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir, it is.” She sat and looked up into the captain’s face: narrow, but nice. He had a thick moustache that hung heavily, covering the whole of his top lip. The hair capping the front of his head had fallen over his dark brown eyes and it flopped around his forehead like a rogue wave. He was middle-aged, but the hair was showing no sign of weakening, unlike the charcoal pinstriped suit he wore. That was old and a bit sad: grease shines and creases dominating the fabric. He was the picture of a man with no time for anything but his work – Nina would have bet money that there was no woman in his life.
“Well, Nina” he said, shaking his head while squeezing back around the desk and sitting. “I’m ready to listen to what you have to tell me and I must say, with baited breath.”
He waited. Nina coughed into a fist to clear her throat and dropped her hands into her lap. “On the night General Volkan was killed I was in a doorway in an alley near the club. Four men came along. I knew three of them because they worked at the club, but I hadn’t known who the general was. I also knew if I’d shown myself I’d have got into trouble for sneaking off, so I hid in a doorway. The men started arguing and General Volkan walked off alone. Zeki, the club manager, pulled a pistol
and shot him in the back. Turk was scared and argued with Zeki.”
“How do you know he was scared?” Iskander asked.
“Oh, I don’t. He just sounded scared.”
“Okay, carry on.”
Gratefully, Nina smiled before composing herself. “I’m not sure why, but Turk went to check the injured man. Zeki stayed where he was and was giving orders to Arti, but then he turned to Turk and said there wasn’t a problem, that he would make it look like a political assassination. He went to the injured man and shot him in the back of the head.
“Turk moaned on, Zeki seemed unhappy, shook his head and said it wasn’t going to work if he felt like that. I had no idea what he was thinking until he followed up by shooting Turk.
“Arti charged Zeki and I know it took Zeki by surprise because he dropped the gun. Arti pinned him to the wall, but Zeki pulled a knife, cuddled his arm around him and cut his backside. When Arti eased back to check the wound, Zeki sunk the knife into his thigh. Arti made strange hissing noises and backed away.”
“He was a mute.”
“I didn’t know. He never spoke to me at the club. Oh, but he wouldn’t… Anyway, Zeki picked up the gun and shot him. I don’t remember, maybe two or three times in the chest.” Her own chest heaved as she braced herself. “Arti went to his knees and Zeki shot him in the face, I think. I’m sure the men were dead, but Zeki shot Turk and Arti in the back of the head from close up. There was blood splattered everywhere and I gasped. That was when Zeki turned the gun towards me.
“I ran. I was lucky it was dark, but I still kept jumping in and out of doorways to make myself a difficult target. When he’d shot the others, the gun hadn’t made a noise, so I’m not sure whether he fired at me. When I got out of the alley I hid across the street. Zeki came out and disappeared into the club. I slipped away, went into hiding and that’s where I’ve stayed until now.”
“And what made you decide now was the time to come in?” the captain asked, bushy eyebrows lifting.
“I don’t know. I couldn’t stay in hiding forever and I don’t have enough money to return to Italy. I thought if I came in and told you what happened, Zeki would stop looking for me.”
The captain rubbed his jaw. “How do you know he’s looking for you?”
“I don’t, but he knows I am a witness.”
“Hmm, maybe Zeki was a hired gun. A silencer was used.” He coughed into his fist. “Sorry, thinking out loud.” He cupped a hand over his mouth in contemplation. “Where exactly have you been hiding?”
“With an old friend, sir. We’ve known each other since I came to Turkey and while he does know about the case, he’s always known me as Cassandra, so he had no idea I was involved.”
“I suppose in your profession you use a lot of different names?”
Guiltily, she bowed her head.
“Very well. You’ll need to give us the details of your old friend. If they check out, I don’t imagine we’ll need to hold you for too long. But you won’t be able to return to Italy, I’m afraid. You’re a valuable witness and must remain available until this case has been closed.”
And of course there were no worries about the old friend checking out. Yuri had sorted that part of the plan before he’d even discussed it with her.
Chapter 22
Back at the Ottoman house, Mehmet felt desperate for Nina’s safety. She’d been dragged into this affair by accident and he wouldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to her. Yuri seemed to sense the anguish.
“Sergeant Baghatur has told me they’ve already contacted her alibi and said they seem satisfied. There won’t be any problems. Don’t worry,” he said, but watching him from the corner of his eye, Mehmet thought Yuri looked as bothered as he was.
Later that evening, a knock startled them. Yuri opened the door, gun tucked in the back of his waistband, hand on the grip.
“Nina,” Mehmet said as he pushed past Yuri and ushered her indoors. “You should’ve let us know you were free. We would have come for you. How did you get back?”
“I took a ferry. I just wanted to get home.”
Mehmet and Nina sat at the table and Yuri got her a brandy. She sipped it and suddenly the tears flowed. Mehmet reached for her hand and held on to it.
“Are you up to telling us how it went?” Yuri asked, also taking a seat at the table. “I need to be sure we don’t have problems.”
Nina gathered herself and told them how the interview with Iskander went and where they had held her until the alibi was verified. Once she’d finished her account she said, “I’m drained. I’m going to bed.”
Mehmet gave her a brotherly hug and she went upstairs.
The next morning, when Mehmet came downstairs, he was greeted by the pungent smell of garlic. And coming into the lounge revealed why; Nina had set a table in traditional Turkish style, Sucuklu Yumurta: fried eggs, spicy sausage, garlic and onion – and Borek: cheese folded into thin pastry. Yuri was sat in his normal seat and looked like a hungry child waiting permission to eat. Mehmet’s mouth watered as he smiled into his chest and took a place next to him. A silent moment passed, mainly because Mehmet was afraid he might laugh out loud at Yuri, and then Nina waltzed in with both hands wrapped around the handle of a copper teapot. It was then that Mehmet noticed something different about her – what? She always made him feel aroused when he looked at her, so that wasn’t it, but today her face was flushed and fresh. She looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. Perhaps she was relaxed now her ordeal with the police was over.
“Good morning, Mehmet. How are you?” she said with a voice so light and cheerful that Mehmet couldn’t believe it could be this early in the morning.
“Seems someone’s happy to have unloaded their worries about the police,” he said.
She smiled. “Oh, it’s a bit more than that.”
The words hit him like a cold shower – the kiss! It had been a spur of the moment reaction; he hadn’t been thinking straight. Of course, Nina was a girl he could fall in love with at the drop of a hat, but he couldn’t; he wouldn’t allow it. He was too much like his father. He would only let her down. He decided to leave the comment where it was and reached for the spatula laying on a plate next to the food.
Yuri slapped his hand. “I’ve had to wait for nearly half an hour for you to make an appearance. If you think you’re getting served before me, think again.”
Nina giggled and retired to the kitchen while Yuri scooped more than his fair share of the main dish onto his plate. Nina came back in holding a cup of coffee – she preferred it to tea – and sat on the sofa. Mehmet raised his eyebrows in question.
“I ate early,” she said, reading his expression.
After watching Yuri mop up the last of the breakfast, Mehmet helped Nina clear up the dishes and then they sat on the sofa, talked over life before they’d met. When Mehmet came to recent events and told her how Zeki had given them the information about Volkan, a hidden memory revealed itself. He hadn’t taken much notice of what Zeki had to say about Yuri on the boat; he’d only been half-listening, but discussing it with Nina brought it to the surface – “He was there when your papa…” What was that supposed to mean?
“Are you all right?” Nina asked, jarring him back to reality.
“What? Oh, yes. I just need a minute to sort something out in my head. Sorry.”
“Whatever it is, you’ve paled a little. Would you like a fresh cup of tea?” Mehmet nodded and she smiled, left him to his thoughts and took his cup to the table for a refill.
Mehmet’s memories swirled. Were his recollections serving him correctly? He’d have to talk to Yuri about it. But the opportunity didn’t arrive until the evening when Nina went up for her bath. After a day of biting his lip, Mehmet finally took a deep breath and said, “Yuri, I need to ask you something and it’s important.”
Yuri was sitting in his armchair reading a letter from his girlfriend. Mehmet usually laughed at the amount of times in a day he read her lette
rs – but not today. Yuri looked up and put the letter down. “Don’t worry, Mehmet,” he grinned. “I already have a girlfriend, so you have no competition from me.”
“What? Oh, no, it isn’t about Nina. I don’t know how to say this, Yuri, so I’ll come right out and ask. What did Zeki mean on the day we killed him? He got as far as saying, ‘He was there when your papa,’ but you stopped him going any further. What was he talking about?”
Yuri heaved a sigh. “I wondered if that little gem would surface,” he said. “Okay… I think Zeki thought I was working with the people who murdered your father. He was right in a way. I was ferrying them across the Golden Horn. Zeki got off the boat in Beyoglu and I took the rest of them out into the Bosporus. They decided to throw your father into the strait and held me under gunpoint while they did it. There was nothing I could do.”
“Who are these people?” Mehmet asked.
“I can’t tell you that. I know if I did you would end up putting yourself in great danger.”
Mehmet felt his blood boil; Yuri had no right to hold something like that back from him. “No! You think I would risk my life for the sake of my father?”
Yuri remained calm. “I don’t think that, no, but I do think you carry enough venom inside you to go looking for revenge.”
“And I suppose you only took me under your wing because of your guilt for not helping?” Mehmet said and regretted the words even as they spilled from his lips.
Yuri’s eyes saddened. “It wasn’t like that, Mehmet, no.”
Since fishing him out of the strait, Yuri had been like a father to him and Mehmet loved him for it. But he was mad … at everything. He didn’t want to upset or blame Yuri; he hadn’t done anything wrong but frustration was building. He had to get out of the house.
As he turned to leave, Yuri grabbed his arm and said, “Don’t go running out like this. Let it sink in. You’ll realise I bore no malice towards your papa. He was my friend.”
