by Hodge, Sibel
I put my elbows on my knees and sank forward, rocking back and forth, ignoring the pain in my hip where she’d slammed on top of me. ‘No, no, no.’ Tears sprang into my eyes. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. This was all wrong. Probably my one and only chance to drug him, and I couldn’t even do that.
‘Did you eat one? Are you having an allergic reaction? Shall I get a doctor?’
I carried on rocking. ‘No. I’m fine, thanks.’ I stopped rocking abruptly. Oh, God. Where was my mobile phone? I leaped up, searching for it. Kalem would probably be on his way down here right now and might bump into Ferret Face scuttling away.
My eyes frantically scanned the area. Floor? No. Table? No. There! Down the side cushion of the marshmallow sofa.
I grabbed it. ‘Kalem? Hello? Are you there?’
‘Helen!’ A breathless Kalem answered. ‘What the hell happened? I’m nearly there. I’ll be with you in a minute.’
‘No! Go back to the entrance and lose yourself in the paparazzi. I’m fine. Ferret Face has disappeared.
‘Are you sure? Are you sure everything’s OK?’ Kalem said.
‘Yes,’ I insisted. ‘I’ll meet you there in a minute.’
The receptionist stared at me, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I’d almost forgotten she was there.
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ She gave me a puzzled look.
‘I’m fine, really.’ I got to my feet and stumbled back out to the foyer, leaving her pulling down her skirt and smoothing out her hair with a confused expression.
The paparazzi were still in full force when I got back outside. A line of policemen kept them away from the entrance. I stood for ten minutes, searching out Kalem in amongst everyone. Finally, I spotted him at the back and wound around the crowd to meet him.
‘What happened then? I heard a big noise and then just muffled sounds. Are you sure you’re OK? What happened to Ferret Face?’ His words came out in a garbled rush.
Once I started shaking my head, I couldn’t stop.
Kalem pulled me towards him, squashing me in his heavy-duty arms. ‘What happened? Tell me!’
‘I didn’t manage to drug him. It didn’t work.’ I flopped my head on his shoulder and told him what had happened.
The paparazzi behind us got louder. Cameras flashed and TV crews rushed to the front doors.
I lifted my head and saw Ibrahim Kaya emerge in the night air, hand waving to the crowd.
I stepped out of Kalem’s arms.
‘Where’s Jayde?’ one of the photographers said to Kaya.
‘She’s relaxing for the evening.’ He smiled and waved at them all.
A couple of policemen walked either side of him, trying to keep the paparazzi away, as Ibrahim Kaya made his way through the flashing throng and towards the limo.
The limo that we were standing next to.
The limo driver exited the driver’s seat and made his way around to the back, opening the passenger door, ready in waiting.
The paparazzi swarmed around him, pushing and shoving to get a quote. ‘What’s she doing? Does she like her suite? Which colour M&Ms did she refuse to eat?’
The police officers pushed them back. Ibrahim Kaya was lost in the middle of the crowd as they came closer to us. Kalem got driven away from me in the crush of people, and I could no longer see him. I held my ground, leaning against the limo, so I couldn’t get swept away.
‘What demands did she ask for? How many numbers is she singing tomorrow? Are her lips Botoxed? Has she got a nipple tweaker on hand?’
And suddenly, Ibrahim Kaya was directly in front of me, about to get in the limo. He ducked his head down and climbed in.
‘Mr. Kaya, I have to talk to you urgently,’ I said, as he began pulling the door shut.
‘No more pictures tonight.’ The door clicked shut on his last word.
One of the police officers put a hand on my shoulder and tried to pull me away. I shrugged it off.
‘I need to talk to you. It’s urgent. Your life is at risk.’ I banged on the window. ‘YOU’RE GOING TO DIE! YOU’RE GOING TO DIE!’ I yelled as loud as I could to the limo as it pulled away.
I don’t know if he heard me or not, but the next thing I knew, the policeman yanked my arm, dragging me into the back of a nearby police car.
‘No! He’s in danger. You have to tell him. Get him back here. I need to talk to him.’
He slammed the door on my cries.
I wriggled around in the seat, trying to search out Kalem in the crowd. Was he out there? I couldn’t see him.
‘I haven’t done anything!’ I tried the door handle. Locked.
And that’s when I really did explode into tears.
Chapter 13
‘But I haven’t done anything!’ I yelled as the door clanked shut on the communal cell.
I clung to the bars and rattled them, hoping they’d miraculously give way. They didn’t. I pressed my forehead against the cold metal. What was I going to do now?
A wave of panic clawed at my insides, sending stabbing pains through my stomach and chest.
Where was Kalem? Did he see what happened? Yes, he must have done. He’d get me out. Wouldn’t he?
I wiped my wet face with the heel of my hand and looked around. A noisy mix of women stared back at me. A couple of young ones huddled together glared at me, whispering and giggling to each other. An old woman sat on a metal bench in the corner, muttering to herself. A few others strutted around in miniskirts and halterneck tops.
I slouched down next to the old woman and leaned my head back against the cold wall, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible.
‘Blah!’ the woman said, although I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or herself.
Probably best to ignore her. Maybe if I shut my eyes, I could just pretend I wasn’t here. Beam me up, Scotty.
One of the halterneck brigade sat next to me and eyed me up. ‘What are you here for?’ She put her face up close to mine. An overpowering smell of perfume assaulted my nostrils.
I sniffed and eased away from her. ‘I don’t know.’
‘That’s what they all say, honey. Are you a hooker?’
‘No!’
She fiddled with an earring so big that it could have doubled as a lampshade. ‘Hmm. You look like a hooker.’
‘Blah,’ the old woman said again. Was that a term of agreement?
A young policeman unlocked the doors with a loud click. ‘Helen Grey,’ he shouted.
I leaped up. ‘That’s me. Oh, thank you. You’ve come to let me out.’
‘No letting out for you. Come with me.’ He beckoned me forward.
I followed him down a corridor into an interrogation room. It had white walls, a bright strip light overhead, a single window where I could see into an office full of other police officers on the other side, and three wooden chairs. One of them was already occupied by a police captain of about fifty with a beaky nose and grey hair. He fingered through a folder on the desk in front of him, sipping a cup of Turkish coffee. The policeman I’d followed sat down next to him and folded his arms. It looked like the other chair was meant for me.
Captain Beaky put down his coffee. ‘Sit,’ he barked at me.
I sat, pretty sharpish.
He slid a photo across the desk. ‘Is this you?’
I felt my forehead go clammy as I stared at a picture of me at the airport in the burka. It wasn’t very flattering. I was lying on the floor, half on top of Ferret Face, with the drugs dog’s snout pretty much buried in my crutch. Not a photo I’d like to repeat any time soon, and it certainly wouldn’t be making its way into my album.
‘Yes.’ I ran the back of my hand across my forehead.
‘Why were you wearing a burka?’ Captain Beaky shouted.
‘Well, it’s like this–’
‘Like what?’ the younger one interrupted me.
‘I’m just trying to tell you.’ I sighed. ‘My fiancé played a practical joke on me. That's all.’
&nbs
p; ‘What sort of joke?’ Captain Beaky didn’t look enthralled by my answer.
‘I’m getting married here in three days, and he said it was an ancient tradition that when a bride arrived to get married in North Cyprus, she had to wear a burka.’ I bit my lower lip, knowing how ridiculous it all sounded now after the event.
Captain Beaky exchanged a disbelieving look with the younger one. ‘And you believed him?’
‘Well, yes. I know it sounds a bit peculiar, but I did believe it. My fiancé is a bit of a practical joker.’
Captain Beaky stared at me like he thought I must be a complete idiot. ‘Are you an idiot? Or a good liar? Hmm?’ Before I could answer that he slapped a hand on the desk. ‘Why were you interfering with our sniffer dog? Are you a drug smuggler?’
‘Of course I’m not!’
‘What did you force feed the dog?’ Captain Beaky asked.
‘What? I didn’t force feed it anything.’
‘You will only make things worse if you lie to us.’ He nodded gravely, ramming the point home.
I wasn’t really sure how things could actually get any worse. ‘I’m not lying. The dog just took my sandwiches.’
‘And what was in them?’ Captain Beaky growled.
‘Er…bacon.’
They both gasped.
‘You told the customs officer that it was cheese. So you did lie!’ Captain Beaky leaned his elbows on the desk. ‘Do you want to know what I think?’
Not really, no. I didn’t think I wanted to hear any of this. I didn’t tell him that, though. I had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to give me a vast range of thoughts on the matter anyway.
‘I think you wanted to entice the sniffer dog with your bacon sandwiches so you could smuggle in drugs. And I think you were wearing a burka so you wouldn’t be recognized.’
‘But I didn’t give the sandwiches to the dog. It just stole them. I told you,’ I cried.
He tutted at me. ‘It is a Muslim dog. It doesn’t even eat bacon. You must have forced the poor animal.’
‘Well, it seemed pretty happy to me when it ran off with them,’ I said.
‘The dog was very ill for days. You tried to poison it so that you wouldn’t be detected carrying drugs.’
My jaw nearly fell off. I wrapped my arms tightly around me and tried to stave off a nauseous feeling in my stomach.
He slapped a hand on the desk again. ‘You are a drug smuggler and an animal abuser.’
The younger policemen nodded to himself.
‘It couldn’t have been my sandwich that made it ill. And how does the dog know it’s Muslim?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it knows.’ He tutted again, like I should know that. ‘What about the cat?’
‘I definitely didn’t feed the dog a cat.’
‘There was a cat in your household container, along with custard creams. Not only are you smuggling drugs, you are also smuggling animals and contraband food items.’
‘No, no, no. You’ve got it all wrong. OK, I admit to having a few packets of custard creams in my container, but–’
‘Twenty-eight packets are not a few,’ the younger one pointed out in a gruff voice, probably trying to score brownie points with his boss.
‘Well, OK. Slightly more than a few. And I didn’t know the cat was in there. It was our neighbour’s cat from the UK.’
‘Ah ha! So you stole the cat and smuggled it!’ Captain Beaky said.
‘No, no, no. You’ve got it all wrong. I–’
Captain Beaky turned to the younger one. ‘I think we’ve got a prolific smuggler here.’
The younger one nodded his agreement.
‘No, there’s been some kind of really horribly horrible misunderstanding.’ I stood up. ‘Can I go now?’
‘NO!’ Captain Beaky shouted.
I sat down again.
‘You also match the description of someone throwing weapons at the President,’ Captain Beaky said.
‘What?’ I shrieked.
He picked up a phone on the desk. ‘Bring him in,’ he whispered into it.
A minute later, someone knocked on the door so loud that I jumped and nearly fell off the chair.
‘Come in,’ Captain Beaky said to the door.
I twisted around and saw the President’s bodyguard from the festival, with a swollen, bloodshot eye, enter the room.
Uh-oh.
Captain Beaky pointed to me and said to the bodyguard, ‘Is this the woman who threw a weapon at you?’
He peered at me through his good eye. ‘Yes.’
‘Thank you. You can go.’
The bodyguard gave me a one-eyed death glare on his way out.
‘And if all that wasn’t enough, you also threatened to kill Ibrahim Kaya tonight.’ Captain Beaky glared at me.
I gasped. ‘I didn’t.’ I shook my head so hard that I thought I could feel my brain rattling around.
He glanced down at his file and read a handwritten note. ‘“You’re going to die. You’re going to die.”’ He looked up at me. ‘Did you say that?’
If my hair wasn’t in a ponytail, I’m sure it would’ve actually stood on end with fright at that point. ‘Er…yes, but there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.’ A nervous giggle involuntarily escaped from my lips.
‘Issuing death threats, interfering with drugs dogs; smuggling drugs, smuggling animals, smuggling food, animal cruelty, disguises, attacking the President’s bodyguards and threatening his safety.’ He ticked off the list on his fingers. ‘You are a seriously deranged individual and a dangerous criminal. You will be locked up for a very, very long time.’
‘Deranged,’ the younger one agreed, nodding again.
‘But I can explain,’ I cried.
They both leaned back in their chairs and crossed their arms, giving me a this-should-be-good expression.
Captain Beaky raised a palm in the air, indicating that I should continue.
I glanced around the room, ready to tell him the whole horrible story and wondering where to begin, when I noticed movement through the window in the office beyond. It was the same policeman I’d seen before. The one who was talking to Ferret Face. The one who must be involved in all of this.
Oh, Goddy God. I couldn’t tell them now, could I? I didn’t have a clue who else in the station was involved in all of this. What if they tried to kill me to shut me up? I could be chopped up into little pieces and no one would ever know what had happened to me. No, better to keep quiet and not tell them anything. Silence trumped spilling my guts (in more ways than one).
I clamped my mouth closed.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Captain Beaky sat watching me, tight-lipped.
‘Er…well…um.’ Thoughts whirled through my head in a high-speed chase. One after the other, tumbling around. ‘Well, everyone’s going to die, aren’t they? Even you. I was just stating the obvious, really. It wasn’t a death threat at all.’ I let out another nervous laugh.
They didn’t look particularly satisfied with that.
‘That’s it? That’s your explanation?’ Captain Beaky said.
I looked at the floor, hoping something miraculous would pop into my brain. I looked at the walls, but I still couldn’t think of what to say. I looked at the desk with the file and the Turkish coffee cup.
‘Well, no…I…I had a vision. Yes, that’s it. I had a vision about Ibrahim Kaya, and I just wanted to tell him about it.’
He snorted. ‘I suppose next you’ll be telling me you’re some sort of fortune teller. That you can predict the future!’
‘Actually, yes. I can read Turkish coffee cups. I won the UK Turkish Coffee Cup Readers’ Award last year.’
A disbelieving look passed between the two policemen.
‘Have you ever heard of that?’ Captain Beaky asked the younger one.
The younger one shook his head.
‘Oh, it’s huge. Lots of very well known coffee cup readers go to it.’ I gave them my best convincing smile.
The captain turned his coffee cup upside down. ‘OK, you can read mine.’ He pushed it towards me and crossed his arms, waiting.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress. OK, I could do this. I’d just copy what I’d seen Osman’s mum do. Easy peasy.
I took hold of the cup, turned it upright again and stared into it. I couldn’t see anything. All it contained was sludgy, blackish brown coffee granules.
‘Well?’ Captain Beaky’s voice took on an impatient tone.
I rotated the cup around slowly clockwise. Hang on a minute, though. I could actually see something. I brought the cup closer to my face.
‘Well?’ he said again, a bit more gruffly.
‘These things can’t be rushed, you know.’ I scrutinized it carefully.
He sighed. ‘Enough of this nonsense.’
I took a deep breath. ‘I can see a woman with long, curly hair. I think she’s wearing high heels. She’s got…a really big nose, like Pinocchio. I think she’s been telling a lot of lies lately. She’s got a tattoo of…ooh, what is it?’ I squinted. ‘A flower. Yes, a tattoo of a flower on her ankle. I think…’ I brought the cup closer. ‘Yes, that’s better. The tattoo is a rose. And she’s holding hands with a tall man who’s got glasses on.’
Captain Beaky made a high-pitched sound in the back of his throat.
I looked up. He’d gone a funny yellow colour too. Maybe he had a bit of a liver problem.
‘That description sounds like your wife.’ The young one elbowed him.
‘I knew it! I knew she was having an affair! What else?’ Captain Beaky said. ‘What else can you see? What about the man?’
I got back to work. ‘Well, he looks quite muscly.’ I snuck a quick peek at his puny arms. ‘I can see three stars on his shoulder. And–’
Captain Beaky leaped up, sending his chair clattering to the floor. And then the next minute, he’d run out of the interrogation room, and I saw him through the window, charging into the office next door, closely pursued by the younger one.
I watched on, agog, as Captain Beaky grabbed hold of the policeman I’d seen talking to Ferret Face and pushed him up against the wall, shouting at him.
Oops. What had I done now?
The younger policemen and several others tried to drag the two men apart, but Captain Beaky held his ground with a firm grasp on the other guy’s shirt collar.