by Rik Stone
“That bit went smoothly enough,” Yuri said, weighing up the area as they returned to the gulet. “And not a witness in sight.”
“Good, I need to get my head down. I’m done.”
*
Later that morning, they went to the Yenikapi Embassy and found the general waiting for them in an office nearly as big as the building’s main conference room. Everything in there, other than the deep-pile carpet, was either glossy polished woodwork or buttoned, blue, leather-bound furniture. They’d barely sat when a tray of tea and small cakes was brought in. A young man poured three cups of coffee, not tea, gazed around sternly and left – Russians.
“Right, can you tell me whether the girls were damaged in any way?” General Petrichova began, throwing the question to both men. Yuri shrugged his shoulders and made a half-turn towards Mehmet.
“Ahem, yes, well,” Mehmet said, “when I coaxed the barman into letting me make use of a Russian girl, he told me they were still untouched, so I can’t be sure. But Olga, the girl who was shot, well, she cried too much, was terrified of men and came away covered in bruises. We had watched Beyrek’s people go into the club with photographic equipment earlier that day. I believe she was abused.”
“Yuri?” asked the general.
Yuri’s head moved from side to side, pondering, but then he nodded in agreement.
The general’s face became solemn. “I’ll have some female staff follow it up,” he said. “Okay, the task; the fire in the bellies of Soviet officialdom will be quenched after what you’ve done here. As you will appreciate, I’ve had to manipulate my report to Moscow with regard to who rescued the girls – because I want to keep you low profile. You’ll have to be satisfied with a commendation from me.”
Mehmet could have laughed seeing Yuri stick his chest out.
“During the time you were working in Icmeler, we’ve managed to halt the procreation of girls in the Soviet Union. The success behind that operation was Jez Kord, Anna’s man.” The general coughed, uncomfortable for some reason. “He had an unfortunate finale to his quest, but if he lives you might well be working with him in future… Okay, the business at hand: the flesh pedalling, as much as we know about it to date, has been brought to an end.”
But? Mehmet sensed a ‘but’ and was about to protest about his own quest and the promise of help. However, the general continued with him having said nothing.
“Of course, Mehmet, you still have Beyrek to deal with and as luck has it, something has cropped up that might make him Soviet business again. While you were in Icmeler, an agent in Marmaris was shadowing his movements. I know I said our interest was sated, but that was for the sake of officialdom. The agent has determined there are two more nightclubs in Icmeler. And guess what? They’re not being used as nightclubs.”
“And that’s of Soviet interest because…?” Yuri asked.
“There could be more Russian girls there. The agent found out that one of the clubs is known as The Sugar Depot and the other The Refinery.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe that’s how they term the processing of the girls. The agent is still there – Alik Ishild; he’s Russian but speaks fluent Turkish. You’ll be working alongside him. This time I want you to finish Beyrek and his operations once and for all.”
General Petrichova turned to Mehmet. “Taking your lack of shooting skills into account, I have something more to your liking for you.”
He handed him a throwing knife. Mehmet levelled it on his finger, perfectly balanced. “Thanks, Michel,” he said to the general. He was good with any sort of blade, but with this knife he would be accurate as far as it could be thrown.
“Oh, a couple more things; Anna Kord is currently making her way to Dalaman Airport. She’ll meet you in Marmaris Marina. Second, we’ve arranged for you to take possession of a cabin cruiser. It’ll be faster.”
Mehmet flipped the knife, caught it by the blade and imagined throwing it and spearing Beyrek. He felt lightheaded, not quite able to believe his time had come. He would at last have his vengeance. The excitement was too much. He needed a toilet, and quickly.
Chapter 49
Mehmet and Yuri found General Petrichova’s eleven-metre, fly bridge motor cruiser, Great White, at the jetty. They had spent a lot of the day at the meeting with him at the embassy, but when they arrived at the boat they decided that there was enough time to make a start on the journey to Icmeler. Mehmet was delighted; he didn’t trust that he would sleep, not when facing the chance of putting an end to the man singularly responsible for the pollution of his life.
As they travelled, pronged lightning flashed and danced on the horizon. The air thickened and the clouds dropped, blanketing the sea in an eerie silence. A storm blew up and it took several days for it to run its course; that meant several days extra on top of what should have been a two or three day journey because they were driven into a safe bay on the coast of Canakkale for shelter. Even when the calm returned, the skies continued to look unpredictable.
As they approached the mainland along from Icmeler, bare rock faces shared space with pine-clad hills. At the base of cliffs, the waters reflected clear in a turquoise sea. The small cruiser hugged the coast until entering the inlet where they bypassed Icmeler in favour of Marmaris and moored up in the marina there. By now, a blue hue filled the sky and the sun spread its warmth.
Mehmet went up on the fly bridge, got comfortable under the protective hood and hooked his feet onto the ship’s wheel, lazily enjoyed the warm sea breeze as it drifted by. Eyes half-open, he watched the comings and goings of marina life, but then the clouds came back with a vengeance. The gentle wind cooled and he rousted himself; he was about to move inside until he saw the woman come through the main entrance.
She glided down onto the pontoon, every movement making her look like sex on legs. She wore a knee-length, black pencil skirt that hugged hips and thighs greedily and a close-fit, yellow blouse with capped sleeves revealing bared brown arms appearing firm and muscular. She was so slim he thought he could probably have wrapped a hand around her waist, but she was also voluptuous.
His stomach lurched. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. And he wasn’t the only one. As she whispered by, sailors seemed to find reasons to leave their boats and step off onto the pontoon to watch her transit. One of them spoke as she went by. She shook her head and laughed. Her blue-black hair rippled, the long tresses flaring out with the movement. She’d been too far away to make out facial features, but the closer she came, the prettier she got. She looked up, smiled and waved. Mehmet waved back. It was Anna; he was suddenly consumed with embarrassment.
“It’s good to see you, Mehmet,” she shouted up to him. “I see by that tan of yours you’ve been making the most of your sea time.”
“Yes,” he replied into his chest. “I didn’t recognise you. You had blond hair when I saw you last.”
She changed to speaking Russian. “Oh, right, I thought you were looking at me rather oddly.” Damn. “I coloured my hair because too many Turkish men stare at blondes.” She had to be kidding; as if that would make a difference.
She climbed aboard and went into the lower level. Mehmet heard her greet Yuri. He wondered if her comment about Turkish men staring at her had been double-edged. He felt his toes curl, but pulled on his T-shirt, gritted his teeth and went down from the fly bridge.
The bridge deck below was open-planned: it had a helm with a galley to the side and a comfortable-size seating space and eating area to the rear of them. Anna stood next to the sofa that ran half the length of the port bulk head. She turned from looking out of the side window when Mehmet went in.
“Hello, Mehmet. Feeling better now?” she asked, her serious expression turning to a grin. Was she laughing at him? He cleared his throat without answering.
She smoothed back her hair and Mehmet sighed, wondered if everything this woman did had sexual connotations.
Yuri came from the galley
and sat near to where Anna stood. “Do you know Alik Ishild?” she asked of him.
“Only from the general mentioning his name,” he answered.
Anna raised her eyebrows. “Oh, I thought with him being stationed in Turkey, you might have… Never mind. I spoke with him after getting in from Dalaman, but this is the first operation I’ve been on with him. The general tells me he’s a good man.”
The kettle whistled. “Would you, please, Mehmet?” Yuri asked.
“Sure.” Mehmet went into the galley and began making coffee.
“Here he is now,” Anna said, pointing back up the pontoon.
“Make it four coffees,” Yuri said.
Mehmet was putting the tray of drinks on the table just as Alik got to the boat. Being a Russian agent, Mehmet thought he would have been tall, well made, but he was actually pocket-sized.
“Alik,” Anna beckoned, after sliding a window across.
He lifted his gaze and smiled. Like the natural Anna, he was blond, so much so that he could easily be Scandinavian. Mehmet caught a glance from his clear blue eyes and thought they could probably be frightening if the circumstances were different: piercing, murderously unfriendly. That aside, he had handsome features, if not a little delicate.
The unsettled weather had turned warm again, sticky even, but Alik wore a black suit with a dark-grey line running through it. His shirt was buttoned up to the neck and he’d sealed it with a black tie. If he was happy dressed like that, fine, but Mehmet felt that he would have been sweating like a horse had it been him.
No room for small talk, Alik came aboard, took a mouthful of coffee and went straight to business.
“Beyrek Ozel’s house is on the top edge of the cliff on the right-hand side of the cove … over there,” he said. “You see the two-storey house, between the dip in the island, high above?”
“I see it,” Mehmet said, in tune with Anna and Yuri.
“The mansion sits within walled grounds. The walls are only a metre and a half high, but the scrubland around the property has been cleared, so those within can see anything approaching. The plot is square and each wall is about two hundred metres in length. While they should have total vision of the surrounding area from the house, they’ve limited themselves by covering one half of the grounds in olive trees and the rest with oranges. There are guards in the grounds and at the gate. If we can get inside peacefully, it’ll be easier to take them on their own turf. The perimeter walls are possibly alarmed, so, as I said, we need to go in invited.”
“I know the general told us the two clubs were the main target here, but after talking it over with Alik, we thought it best to cut off the head first,” Anna said. “We also think with this cloud cover it might be more prudent to go for it tonight. Any problems with that?”
Alik nodded knowingly. Mehmet looked at Yuri. “No problems,” they said in unison.
*
The taxi reversed into Beyrek’s driveway, crunching on the gravel. Anna got out and the driver clunked into forward shift, floored the accelerator and pulled away at speed. She brushed her skirt straight and looked at her watch – nine o’clock, probably as dark as it would get tonight. As she climbed from the cab, a guard left his shelter to check her out. “Fucking taxis,” he muttered and shook his head as if his hair were full of dust.
Iron gates stood a short distance back from the road and spanned the four-metre-wide drive. A small sentry box was behind them and to the side. The emerging guard wore a tight, black T-shirt that accentuated his bulging biceps, and his close-fit, blue jeans stretched out against bulky thighs. Holding a sub-machinegun across his body, he pulled his stomach in and stuck his chest out, bracing himself in pose. Anna noted the gun was an Uzi. He had folded the hinged metallic shoulder stock forward and held it as a pistol. Watching from under the defused white lighting fitted high above the gates, he moved the barrel so it rested on his forearm, nodded his head and asked, “What do you want?” His facial muscles twitched around a wide, scored nose. “If you’re looking for work at the club, you’ll have to go there and apply at the door… Sorry.” Sarcasm personified.
“No need to be. I’m here to see Beyrek. He’s a friend of mine. So, assuming your hamster cage has a phone, I suggest you take your little dick over there and tell him the Russian woman, Anna, is here.”
His face contorted and he held his arm out straight, pointing the gun at her. But it wasn’t long before he folded and did as she had said; he moved to his cubby-hole, picked up a phone and pushed a single button. Half a minute passed and then he exhaled a heavy breath; he was running out of patience.
“Oh, you’re still here then. There’s a woman at the gate, seems to think Mister Ozel would want to see her… Appointment? No, I don’t think so, but she says she knows him…”
Silence hung in the air, Anna heard a whispered drone and then the goon answered.
“Yes, Mister Ozel, as I said to Mahmud, there’s a woman here says she knows you… Her name is Anna.”
“Tell him I picked up the two Russian girls for Otto,” she said.
He looked over, venom in his eyes. “…You heard that? Oh … okay, yes, sir.”
He put the phone on the hook and his face surprised Anna; the misery had gone and a wide grin had stepped into its place. He pulled the gate open half a metre.
“Come through. Stand there.” He gestured her a little way in and made her stop when he was able to close the gate. Stashing the gun in the sentry box, he came to stand before Anna. “Mister Ozel said I should make a thorough search. Put your arms out straight and spread your legs.” He looked at her tight skirt and chuckled. “As far as they’ll spread.”
Anna decided to change approach. “Make sure you’re gentle,” she whispered.
“After what you said?” he snarled and ran his hands roughly along the length of her bare arms, patted her down to her buttocks, squeezed. Taking half a step back, he frisked her from waist to shoulders, but then going behind her, he pressed against her and caressed her breasts.
“Ooo, you’re not such a little dick after all,” she mewed.
He laughed and without answering, squatted and smoothed his hands up the backs of her legs and buttocks. “Come on, you can get your legs further open than that.”
He applied pressure on her inner knees and Anna eased her legs further apart. His large, sweaty palms disgusted her as he fumbled at her thighs, hands stopping at the top of her legs, knuckles brushing the crease in her panties.
“Hmm, warm,” he said.
“And getting warmer. Better stop there; I’ve got business with Beyrek. But I’ll be back.”
He laughed. “Okay, straight down the drive to the main doors. Hurry, I tend to get a bit rough when women keep me waiting.”
“You can be as rough as you want,” she said, voice full of promise. “That’s how I like it.”
Still laughing, he went back to the guardhouse.
Anna trembled with distaste as she strolled up the drive, but veered her thoughts to her part in this task. What she had to do was straightforward enough: hold Beyrek’s interest, feed him a story and sit it out until the cavalry arrived. She was there as a distraction and nothing more.
A couple of guards wandered the groves while another one waited outside the doors of the main house: another overgrown gorilla. Anna stopped. The guard walked around her, looked her up and down and smirked lecherously. He then nodded and pushed the double doors open. As she walked into the huge atrium, the main light glared and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. A chandelier hung deep and wide and looked as if it would take a small power station to keep it fuelled. The hall was split by a marble staircase that looked broad enough to drive a car up and Beyrek had taken centre stage on the steps, holding his head high, posturing like Rudolph Valentino.
He drew deeply on a cigarette. “Anna, I would like to say how nice it is to see you again, but my memory tells me it wasn’t such a pleasant experience the first time.” He blew the inhaled smoke
at the ceiling.
“Things change, Mister Ozel. I need to discuss some of those changes with you. Give me five minutes of your time. If you don’t think we can be of mutual benefit, I’ll be on my way and there’ll be nothing lost.”
He deliberated… “Five minutes it is then, and for that time you can call me Beyrek.” He smiled welcomingly. “Come upstairs. The house was built with the living rooms on the upper level to give us a better view of the inlet.”
Anna had tied her hair in a chignon before leaving the marina. Now, she fiddled with the large bow in it while weighing up the situation. Upstairs living was unforeseen. The atrium was too bright. The unit would have to navigate around a house they were unfamiliar with. And now she wasn’t sure if there were guards in the house as well as the grounds. If the others were left wanting, it could be the death of them.
Chapter 50
Anna slid a hand along the banister and her heels clipped the marble steps as she hurried up the stairway after Beyrek. He had disappeared into a room and she had no idea how many more there might be before getting to where he was going. But the first entrance he had gone through led to the main lounge and he had already made himself comfortable by the time she got in. She looked around and appraised her surroundings: a white, cuddler love seat, gold-leaf chaise longue, white-top, marble coffee table surrounded by a camel-back sofa with matching club chairs, paintings galore, clearly expensive furnishings, so why did it look so tacky?
The outer wall was almost entirely glass and as much as she could make out under the kerosene lamps, the balcony was furnished as a typical Mediterranean coastal mansion. Anna walked over to look out, but her breath caught when a woman on the veranda rose from a wicker sofa. She appeared to notice Anna’s disquiet and her mouth turned up slightly.
