The Ghosts of Anatolia

by Steven E. Wilson

  “Yes, sir,” the guard replied.

  Mourad’s right eye was swollen completely shut. The left was only a slit. “Please, sir, don’t hurt my son. He’s only an innocent boy.”

  Akcam stepped across the room and chose one of the canes. He whipped the rod down on the bench with a resounding crack. “This one will do nicely,” he grunted.

  “In the name of God!” Mourad cried out. “We’ve done nothing wrong! Please, sir, have mercy.”

  “Let your Christ save you,” the major scoffed.

  The door opened and the taller guard pushed Stepannos into the room. The boy locked eyes with his father. He was trembling with terror.

  Tearing off the boy’s shirt, the guard forced him down on the bench and bound his arms and legs to the ends.

  “This is your last chance, infidel,” the major barked. “Who are your Andranik contacts?”

  “Papa!” Stepannos cried out.

  Tears streamed from Mourad’s swollen eyes. He nodded to his son in silent support, and then bowed his head. “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no...”

  The major drew his sword. “Look at him! Look at your son or I’ll chop off his head.”

  Mourad looked up at Stepannos. The tall guard arched the cane over his head and whipped it down on the boy’s back. A loud thwack echoed through the room and Stepannos screamed in pain. Droplets of blood trickled from the scarlet welts emblazoned across the boy’s shoulder blades.

  The major stepped in front of Mourad and tapped his knee with his sword. “Confess your crimes and I’ll spare the boy. If you persist with this charade, I’ll kill him.”

  Mourad dropped his head to his chest. “Lord Jesus, please have mercy.”

  Major Akcam punched Mourad in the face. “Shut up, infidel! Your God has no power here. Light the boy’s hair on fire.”

  Mourad’s face contorted with anguish. “No! In the name of God, no!”

  The guard smiled and fetched several matches from his pocket. Striking them, he yanked Stepannos’ head up off the bench and held the flaming matches in front of the boy’s face.

  “Stop it!” Mourad shrieked. “I confess. I’m an Andranik spy—a recruiter for the Andranik forces. Please don’t hurt him anymore.”

  The major waved the guard away. “You confess? You recruited fighters for the Andranik forces?”

  “Yes, yes,” Mourad moaned. “Whatever you want.”

  “Untie the boy. Mohammad, go tell the clerk to prepare the confession.”

  The tall guard hurried from the room. His partner untied Stepannos and sat him up on the bench.

  “What was you handler’s name?” Major Akcam demanded.

  “He called himself Gagik,” Mourad muttered.

  “Did you say Gagik?” the major asked.

  “Yes, Gagik.”

  “How did you make contact with this Gagik to send him recruits?”

  “He came to the farm every week or two. He always came late at night.”

  “Papa, why do you lie? There was no Gagik. Nobody came to our farm.”

  The major rushed at Stepannos “Shut up! One more word and I’ll cut out your tongue. Take him to his cell. And tell that clerk to get his worthless butt in here.”

  “Yes, sir,” the guard replied. He untied Stepannos’ legs and pulled him out the door.

  The major turned back to Mourad. “Okay, now, tell me what this Gagik looks like. Is he tall or short?”

  “Just one more block,” Kemal said encouragingly. He took a deep breath and headed down the street to the Missionary Hospital. Sirak turned to check on his mother. Kristina—haggard and dirty—staggered under Izabella’s weight. Mikael brought up the rear.

  Making their way to the hospital grounds, they wove through dozens of men loitering outside the main entrance. The stench of human waste permeated the air.

  Kemal turned up the walk. Taking Sirak’s hand, he led him through the throng to the front door. “Pardon me. Please, let us pass.”

  Sirak stared at a soldier dressed in a ragged army uniform. His eyes tracked down to the muddy rags wrapped around the man’s feet and then up to his matted hair and beard.

  The soldier spat on the ground at Kemal’s feet. “Scum! Why do you coddle these infidels?”

  “Let us pass!” Kemal snapped. Glancing back at Kristina and Mikael, he pushed past the soldier to the door.

  “What do you want?” asked an armed guard.

  “We’re here to see Dr. Charles. This woman and her children are his personal friends.”

  The guard stared at Kristina. “Is Dr. Charles expecting her?” he asked suspiciously.

  Euphoric hope swept over Kristina. Dr. Charles hasn’t left! Maybe Nurse Barton’s still here, too!

  “Yes,” Kemal lied assertively, “and they’re late.”

  “What’s the woman’s name?”

  “Kristina Kazerian. Tell the doctor she’s here with her son, Sirak.”

  “Wait right here.”

  The guard whispered something to his partner and disappeared through the door.

  Kristina was too exhausted to stand a moment longer. She led her children to a vacant spot in the yard and slumped to the ground.

  Kemal squatted beside them. He glanced back at the street. Several Ottoman soldiers were taking stock of the new arrivals. “I hope Dr. Charles maintains some authority here,” he whispered to Kristina.

  Kristina and her children passed several anxious minutes before a commotion erupted at the entrance.

  “Kristina!” a woman shouted. “Kristina, where are you?” Nurse Barton pushed her way through the throng at the door. Spotting them, she rushed across the yard and flung her arms around Kristina. “Thank God you’re safe. We’ve been so worried about you.”

  Kristina pressed her face against Elizabeth’s shoulder and lapsed into uncontrollable weeping.

  “It’s okay, Kristina, you’re safe now.”

  Sirak clutched his mother’s leg and stared up sadly at the nurse. “Some bad men came and took my papa.”

  “Oh, dear God,” Elizabeth gasped. “When?”

  “Two days ago,” Kristina sobbed. “The police came to Kemal’s farm and arrested Mourad and Stepannos. Then a group of highwaymen raided Kemal’s farm and snatched my Flora.”

  “Oh, Kristina, I knew something horrible happened. We sent Abraham to your farm two weeks ago. I’ve been so worried ever since he found your house had burned down.”

  Kristina looked up in wide-eyed shock. “Our house...it’s burned?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “No, I didn’t know. We’ve been staying with Kemal and his family for the past four months.”

  “Merciful God,” Elizabeth breathed.

  “We don’t have a place to go,” Kristina wept. Tears streamed down her face.

  “You can stay here with us,” Elizabeth reassured her. “We’ve got plenty of room.” She took Mikael’s bedding and backpack. “Poor dears, you must be starving. Ibrahim!”

  “Yes, Nurse Barton,” the guard replied.

  Kristina handed him the belongings. “I want you to deliver Mrs. Kazerian and her children to our living quarters. They’ll stay in my old bedroom. Tell Lala to prepare them something to eat and help them fill the bath.”

  “Yes, madam. Right away.”

  Kristina embraced Elizabeth again. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  She turned to Kemal and took his hand. “Where would we be without you? Thank you and Fadime and Nahid for everything. Hopefully, we’ll see you again soon.”

  Kemal smiled sorrowfully. “We’ll pray that day comes very soon.” He held out a piece of paper. “These are the directions to Fadime’s brother’s farm. If you need help with anything—anything at all—this is where you’ll find us.”

  Kristina kissed him on the cheek. “You are wonderful friends. God will reward you all for your compassion and generosity. We’ll always honor and miss you.”

  “And w
e’ll miss you. Goodbye children. Take care of your mother.”

  Kemal wove through the crowd to the street and headed back in the direction he’d come.

  Kristina awoke with a start from a nightmare. She bolted upright in the bed and found Sirak and Izabella sound asleep beside her. Mikael was lying on a pallet across the darkened room.

  Getting up quietly, she shuffled across the room and slipped out the door. Dr. Charles and Elizabeth were sitting at the table sipping tea. Neither of them sensed her presence.

  “The only chance they have is for me to appeal directly to the governor-general,” she heard Dr. Charles say.

  “What good will it do?” Elizabeth demanded. “Reshid’s a cold-blooded psychopath.”

  Dr. Charles turned at Kristina’s footsteps. He rushed to embrace her. “Kristina, my dear woman, it’s so good to see you. I’m devastated about Mourad and your children. I’ll do everything in my power to help you. In the meantime, you and your children will be safe here with us.”

  “I’m so grateful, Dr. Charles, but we don’t want to create trouble for you and Elizabeth.”

  “It’s no trouble. I’m delighted you’re here. We’ve been beside ourselves ever since we got word about your farm.”

  “Thank you. God bless you.”

  “What’s happening is terrible. So many Armenian men have been arrested, including some of my own staff.”

  “I should’ve insisted on Mourad taking us to Istanbul when that was still possible. Now, the farm is destroyed anyway, and Mourad and my children are gone. It’s my fault.”

  “You must not blame yourself, Kristina. Nobody foresaw what’s happened here in Diyarbekir. I’ll go today to make an appeal to the governor-general on Mourad’s behalf.”

  “Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Dr. Charles.”

  “It’s time you called me David. We’re all good friends now.”

  “Okay, David. I thank God you’re both still here. I feared you would be gone by now.”

  Elizabeth stepped forward and took Kristina’s hands. “We have something to tell you,” she said with a coy smile. “David and I were married on March fourteenth.”

  Kristina’s eyes widened with surprise. She gave Elizabeth a hug. “May God bless you.”

  Elizabeth took David’s arm and rested her head adoringly on his shoulder. “I’m so happy. God brought me halfway around the world to meet the man of my dreams, and to work with him to ease the suffering of the people of Anatolia.”

  “I’m happy for you. May God bless your marriage with many children.”

  Elizabeth glanced at her husband and smiled. “We’ve decided against children—at least for now. Maybe we’ll change our minds when our work here is done. But for now, we’ve decided to devote our lives to God and this hospital.”

  The door opened and a small Turkish man dressed in white, with a red fez, stepped into the room. “Dr. Charles, dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  “Thank you, Hakan. Please ask Lala to set the table for six.”

  “As you wish, sir,” Hakan replied politely.

  “I’ll help you get the children ready for dinner,” Elizabeth said. She took Kristina’s arm.

  “So how’s our brave little boy doing?” Dr. Charles asked.

  “His leg is so much better, but I’m afraid the shock of what’s happened to his papa, brothers and sister has taken a heavy toll. He’s just not himself.”

  Dr. Charles nodded understandingly. “How could he be?” He reached out and squeezed Kristina’s hand. “These are crazy times in Anatolia, but we’ll do everything we can to help you.”

  “Thank you, David. I pray for another of your miracles.”

  “Let’s go clean up for dinner,” Elizabeth said. “I think I have the perfect dress for you.”

  CHAPTER 23

  The phone rang and Dr. Charles glanced up at the pudgy assistant sitting behind the reception desk. Several men had waited two hours to see Governor-general Reshid, including his acquaintance from a small hospital in Silvan.

  She muttered a few words and hung up the phone. “Dr. Charles, Governor-General Reshid will see you now.”

  Dr. Charles glanced at the man seated next to him, and suddenly feeling anxious, rose to his feet and stepped through the door into the governor-general’s office.

  A young army officer met him in the vestibule. “Dr. Charles?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m Lieutenant Jalal, Doctor Reshid’s assistant. I’m sorry to keep you waiting, sir, but his prior appointment ran over.”

  “I appreciate him seeing me on such short notice. I realize he’s very busy.”

  “Doctor Reshid only has a few minutes. Please get right to your point.”

  Charles nodded and the assistant led him into the inner office.

  A dour-looking man sat behind the desk shuffling through a three-inch stack of papers. He had Circassian features, a heavy black mustache and a balding crown. He took a document from the stack, scanned the page and signed it. He slipped the paper into a basket before looking up over his half-eye glasses. “Dr. Charles, I received your letter. My assistant looked into the supplies and equipment requisitioned from your hospital. Unfortunately, the military hospital is short of many resources that are critical for the care of wounded and sick soldiers. Please submit an invoice and I’ll see that you are reimbursed. Have a good day, Doctor.”

  “Thank you, Doctor Reshid, but I’ve come regarding a different matter.”

  “What is it now, Doctor?” the governor-general replied impatiently.

  Charles handed the governor-general a sheet of paper. “Five workers at my hospital, including a surgeon and two nurses, were arrested last week. The names are listed there. We’re short-staffed as it is, and we won’t be able to care for our patients, including more than a hundred injured soldiers, unless they’re released.”

  Reshid glanced at the paper. “They’re all Armenians.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Doctor, are you aware Armenian forces are fighting us in Van? Hundreds of Ottoman soldiers have been killed or wounded.”

  “I can assure you, sir, none of these men had anything to do with the fighting in Van.”

  “Maybe not directly, but they must’ve been supporting the enemy in some fashion or they wouldn’t have been arrested. However, I’ll look into it. If these men were arrested in error, I’ll have them released immediately.”

  “Thank you, sir. I ask for your special consideration for Mourad Kazerian. He’s a personal friend who’s being held at Diyarbekir Central Prison, along with his son, Stepannos. Mourad’s brother is an Ottoman assemblyman and his son, Alek, serves in the Ottoman Army. I personally vouch for his loyalty to the Empire.”

  “Jalal,” the governor-general said to his assistant, “see if Mourad Kazerian is listed in this week’s prison report.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Reshid glanced at the list again. “Flora Kazerian—is she his wife?”

  “No, sir, Flora is Mourad’s fifteen year-old daughter. As I noted there, highwaymen operating near Seghir abducted her last week. I appeal to you to ask the police in the area to search for her.”

  “Dr. Charles, do you have any idea how many people go missing every week in this province? We don’t have the resources to search for a missing teenager. She probably ran away from home.”

  “She didn’t run away, sir; she was kidnapped by armed intruders.”

  “Whatever, Doctor. I hear similar stories every day.”

  “But can’t you just send a...”

  Reshid raised his hand to silence Dr. Charles. His assistant stepped back into the room and set an open file on the governor-general’s desk. Reshid—his glasses resting precariously at the tip of his nose—read down the page. “So, Doctor, you personally vouch for Mourad Kazerian’s loyal service to the Empire?”

  “Yes, I do, sir. Mourad’s a wonderful, God-fearing man.”

  “Well, according to the chief inte
rrogator at the Central Prison, he and his son confessed to spying and recruiting for the Andranik collaborators.”

  “That’s preposterous. They must’ve been forced to confess.”

  “Doctor, I’ve known Major Tezer Akcam, his interrogator at the prison, for many years. His work is beyond reproach.”

  “I don’t care what the major says; Mourad Kazerian and his son are not Andranik collaborators.”

  “Dr. Charles, I advise you to forget about these men. I signed their execution orders this morning.”

  “Dear God! These men are innocent.”

  “Dr. Charles, I have six more men waiting to speak to me. Good afternoon, sir.”

  The doctor’s anger rose to the boiling point and he glared at the governor-general. “Sir, you will be held personally responsible if these innocent men are harmed.”

  The governor-general jumped to his feet. “Remove this imbecile from my office.”

  The attendant grabbed Dr. Charles by the arm but the latter jerked out of the attendant’s grasp.

  “I’ll find my own way out, thank you.” Charles took a step toward the door, but suddenly turned. “You leave me no choice but to contact Ambassador Morgenthau and Enver Pasha about your sanctioning, if not orchestrating, the atrocities that are being committed against Armenians and Syrians in Diyarbekir Province.”

  “Go ahead and write your damned letters. I can assure you, Doctor, they’ll meet with disdain in Istanbul. The Armenian collaborators are a threat to the Empire and I’ve been given explicit orders to crush them.”

  “Clearly, Governor-general, you diligently carry out your orders—even if it means killing totally innocent people.”

  “They can all go to hell for all I care. Let me give you a little advice, Dr. Charles. Get your nose out of my office before I have it cut off. Don’t forget, sir, the capitulations have been abrogated, and I’ve now got absolute power to punish you in any way I see fit. I’ll tolerate your insolence this time because the Empire needs skilled medical professionals, but my tolerance is nearly at an end. Good afternoon.”

  Dr. Charles stormed out of the office past the governor-general’s assistant.

  Reshid shook his head. “I can’t believe the impudence of these foreigners. It’s time to teach them a lesson they’ll not soon forget.”