by Tyler, P. K.
"Your trust is still in good standing," Ali continued, hoping to appease the raging fire behind Recai's eyes. His return made as little sense as his sudden interest in the family business. His young employer had lived too many years overseas to know what was going on. And when he did return he was allowed freedoms others were denied, simply due to his name. How could he possibly understand what life was like in Elih? Ali couldn't afford to be fired or have his reputation tarnished by a rash boy playing at being a businessman.
But when called, Ali had no choice but to answer.
"That's what you think this is about? Money for me?" Recai seethed and paced along the length of the room.
The tall windows blazed with the glare of the late afternoon sun in the distance. No other homes had been built at this end of Aydinkonak. The nearest houses lined the opulent streets that stopped half a mile before reaching the Osman compound.
Outside the window nothing but the lush, irrigated lawn spanned before him. Recai was rich not only in lira but also in water. That lawn used more water than some communities were allotted in a week. Beyond it there was only desert until to the next city. The estate was isolated at the edge of the city, offering a view of the skyline from one side and open space from the other.
"Son…" Ali began, but swallowed his words when Recai turned on him, frustration burning in his eyes.
"The ex…executive committee hasn't changed in years," Ali stuttered, "and the Board of Directors is essentially the same as when your father ran things."
"Essentially?"
Recai ran a hand over his face, forcing himself to calm his heart. Anger only led to more anger. He needed to rein himself in.
"There's only been one new member in the last six years. Umm…" Ali scanned his document folder, looking for the most recent roster of the Board of Directors. "Dayar Yildirim," he pronounced proudly, happy to have at least one answer within his possession.
"Yildirim hasn't attended any meetings, though, and has always voted by proxy. I don't believe there is any issue with him," Ali continued.
The fan overhead moved the air in wide slow circles, creating a soft hum in the background of the conversation.
"Then what has happened? The profits remain high, rise higher every year, and the books show a profit, but the money is missing!"
"Yes…" Ali conceded.
"I want a full audit of the last five years." Recai turned to Ali and found his mouth open wide, shocked at the enormity of the project.
"I don't care who you have to hire or what you need to do, but this is a project for me directly. Do not report your findings to the executive committee or the Board. I want everything to come straight to me. And I want you to do it personally."
"Personally?"
"Yes. Ali, whatever is going on, we can't trust that others aren't involved. You knew my father. I know you aren't involved in this, but I need you to figure it out for me."
"I… I will find it." Ali's voice was soft, his emotions touched by Recai's sudden display of leadership and faith.
"Have we been giving out more loans?"
"No, the loans stopped soon after you… left."
Ali looked away, not wishing to bring up the subject of Recai's return. While mysterious, it was not out of the realm of possibility for a man of Recai's wealth and liberal views to simply decide to leave Elih for lands less conservative. Ali had known men in his youth who had done the same, left their country to study abroad and indulge in transgressions forbidden by their faith: sex, drinking, and sometimes worse. What was important was that they returned.
Recai sat back down and nodded, staring out the window again.
"I want the loans reinstated."
"The Board voted…" Ali faltered, the determination in the young man's eyes so much like his father's.
"I don't care what the Board voted." Recai's voice was steady. "Just do it, and tell anyone who questions you that it was directed by me personally."
"Bey Osman," a soft voice interrupted his thoughts. His attendant, Tamar, stood demurely in the arched doorway separating the living room from the foyer. "Would you and your guest care for something to drink?"
"No, Tamar, Ali will be leaving now."
Recai stood and walked out of the room without another word as Kalkan hurried to slip his laptop back into its case and pack the rest of his belongings into his briefcase.
"Not exactly the most delicate dismissal," Hasad derided from his place on the leather couch in Recai's private office. The large room was filled with books and oversized furniture, which made even the gruff old Jew feel out of place.
"I'm not up for election Hasad; I don't have time to be nice."
Recai sat behind the large mahogany desk in a high back leather chair, looking out the window to the field of grass that should not exist. Pride in what his family had given to the city ruled his decision to bring back the loans. It was a rash, foolish decision but he needed to do something to make life in the city better. He'd let the state of his father's legacy sit long enough. He couldn't change anything. He didn't have any real power or influence. But maybe he could help someone and that might be enough. If there was no money he would fund the loans himself. He'd ignored the conditions of the people around him long enough. He had to do something. He didn't have a business mind, but he possessed the ego necessary to force his will. With Ali there to keep track of all the many ventures and divisions perhaps he could make a difference
"Nice is not something to ration."
"I don't need a lecture right now."
"Since when do I lecture? I'm an old man who's been shoveling shit around these jihadis for the last three years while you played in the desert. What could I have to say that would matter?"
"You are lecturing," Recai moaned.
"Pointing out that you are a spoiled child is not lecturing. It's a basic truth."
"I am not… I won't be baited."
Hasad settled into his seat before speaking.
"I have no worms to offer you. There are those who could substitute though, some who might be used to capture larger fist."
"I told you, I am not going along with that."
"Why?" Hasad sat up, wishing he could get through to Recai. "You liked her, call her. Go, date or court or propose or whatever you do when you want to get closer to a muslimah. Getting closer to her will get you closer to the mayor. There's no loss!"
"What if I don't want to get closer to the mayor? What if I just want to do what I can from here and not get involved? Plus Darya is not a stepping stone, I won't use her."
"And now you're being noble," Hasad snorted his disapproval.
"Hasad…"
"There are people out there dying! Women like the one you saved in the alley, women like Rebekah. We are a city without hope and we are dying. The people in the desert are dying. The country, God, everyone has turned their backs on us. You can change things. We can… do something!"
"What? Lecture them?" Recai petulantly retorted.
"Child!"
Recai swiveled in his chair to glare at the older man.
"You are always such pleasant company," he mumbled before leaning back and closing his eyes. Recai's body sank into the soft leather beneath him. The old man was frustrating, but he was family none the less. Bonds of grief and common purpose held the two together tightly. No matter what happened or where Recai went, Hasad would always be his friend. Rebekah's father would always have a home with him.
Hasad huffed and leaned back on the couch, sending off a cloud of dust.
"When will you let them clean this room? You spend most of your time in here; at least make it so I can breathe the air!"
Recai sighed heavily, taking in the scent of his father's cigars that still lingered, despite the years. No, he couldn't imagine having anyone clean in here. Holding close what remained of his father kept him strong, made him focus.
When he returned after his years spent in the desert, his first matter of business was to rec
laim his family's home and fortune. After visiting Ali Kalkan, the Osman Corporation's Financial Advisor, it had not taken long move back into the home which had sat in escrow since his departure. Despite Ali's insistence, Recai refused to announce his return. Instead he preferred to wait until the stage was set. He staffed his home with people who hadn't known him when he'd lived there before. The city was filled with people who kept their heads down and scurried through life hoping to avoid notice. Within days of his initial arrival, the entire house had been cleaned and aired, removing the stale odor of his abandonment.
The only room he had not allowed anyone to touch was his father's office. The room was dark with an elegant chandelier high in the middle of the ceiling and brown leather furniture. Books lined the walls along with his father's most precious collections. The treasures included the sword of the Turkish sultan who had aided Hitler, a globe from the Ottoman Empire showing the spread and influence of Islam, and the official induction documents of Pasha Talat into the Grand Lodge of Free and Accepted Masons of Turkey.
Baris Osman had eclectic tastes.
Recai had played in this room as a child. He had watched his father run the business from the very chair he sat in now. The weight of his father's legacy lay heavy upon him.
"What more can I do, old man?"
As Hasad began to speak the bells rang, indicating a visitor was at the front gate. Recai sat up and used the remote in his top drawer to turn on the outdated video surveillance screen he had installed years before. At the front door stood Maryam in scrubs and hijab holding a newspaper up to the camera.
"Masked Protector Saves Woman from Ruin," read the headline.
Recai pressed the button to open the gate and rushed out of the room.
That night, Recai sat in his car: both hands on the steering wheel, thumbs tap-tap-tapping.
The dark had come suddenly—even the light refused to linger in this city. The streets were quiet, lending a false sense of peace. But Recai knew a man was out there with a snake wrapped around his soul. Seeing his own face in the newspaper had shocked him. He'd never imagined anyone would care what had happened in a small alley over one woman.
There had been a time when the city was safe for a woman to walk alone. He remembered skipping through the streets hand in hand with his mother, smiling and laughing. She had a way of making everyone feel at ease and could make friends with every man and woman she encountered.
"Never assume you know what's in a man's heart because of what he may look like. God shows his face in all his creations, no matter how different they may be from you."
His mother had been wise.
As the waiting began to grate on Recai's nerves and unwanted memories of his parents demanded attention, Fahri Kaya stepped out of his apartment building and headed down the street. Recai fumbled his way out of the car, his nerves frayed. He walked quickly after Fahri, following him from a safe distance.
Fahri wore his RTK uniform, a baton hung from one hip and a gun was holstered on the other. His stride was long and focused and he did not waste time looking around him—a soldier on a mission. He did not appear to be in the mood for a jovial conversation with a stranger after dark.
Swearing under his breath, Recai turned at the next block and ran, hoping to head Fahri off by approaching him from the front instead of startling him from behind. Recai jogged easily, switching automatically to the training he'd received in the Egirdir Commando.
Soon he reached the corner and peered around it, hoping to see Fahri approaching. Instead, the man had already turned and was heading away from him.
"Kahretsin!" he swore to himself, walking swiftly behind Fahri. If he surprised the officer he would have to fight him, and that was the last thing Recai wanted. He needed information from Fahri.
Recai crept forward, his steps silent upon the concrete. Fahri stepped beyond the range of the light cast by one of the few street lamps. Recai pounced. He used his advantage to overtake the officer. Pulling Fahri's arms behind his back, Recai pushed him to the ground before he could make a sound.
"Keep quiet," Recai growled, putting a knee in Fahri's back and securing a hold on the man's wrists.
"Get the fuck off of me!" Fahri yelled into the night, flailing beneath Recai's weight. Fahri struggled, not knowing that the man accosting him was only ensuring things did not become dangerous for either of them. As the RTK itself purported to believe: Sometimes, in order to keep the peace, violence was necessary.
Recai ground his knee into the struggling man's spine and at the same time he twisted Fahri's right arm clockwise and straight up, straining the flexibility of Fahri's shoulders. In this position Fahri was completely immobilized with little effort; the man's own body would cause him pain with any movement.
"Fuck you!" Fahri swore as he tried to pull himself up on his knees. Instead he only managed to push his face further into the concrete sidewalk and give Recai the chance to place his other knee strategically between his legs.
"Stop moving. I'm not going to hurt you."
Recai removed the RTK-issued baton and threw it skittering across the pavement into the night.
"What do you want?" Fahri asked, his voice strained but strong.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"Then let me go."
"I just want to ask you a question."
"Let me go, we'll get a glass of tea," Fahri sneered.
"I'm not going to let you go, but I'm not going to hurt you." Recai's voice was soft and low, forcing Fahri to strain to hear him. "I want to know how Sabiha is."
At the mention of his sister's name Fahri pitched violently, forcing Recai to rock forward so his knee cap pushed directly into his captive's spine. Fahri grunted in pain, but no one in this city would come out to help him. People barely ventured out after dark at all, let alone to investigate one of the many screams in the night.
"You leave my sister alone!"
"I just want to know if she's all right."
"Why, so you can finish what you started? Are you going to wait for her to get better and then beat her again?!"
"I didn't hurt her," Recai insisted.
"Like hell you didn't!"
"I wasn't the one who hurt her."
"Right. That's why you have me pinned to the ground in the night."
Fahri stopped struggling and laid his head down on the pavement in defeat. He knew the man above him was stronger and had the advantage. Allah, if it pleases you, don't let me die here in the street.
"How is Sabiha?"
Fahri gritted his teeth and remained silent. He would not give in to what he assumed was some kind of voyeuristic perversion. His sister's attack had awoken something in him. His usual disdain for anything he considered weakness was being overwhelmed by an overriding need to protect her. This, he was beginning to suspect, was his real role as the man in her life—not to marry her off, but to care for her.
This realization came at the expense of his sense of self. His life was one of which he was no longer proud. The RTK were charged with upholding the moral law of Islam, but more often than not they were the very ones breaking that code. He didn't know if his sister's attacker was RTK, but the possibility that he could be hung around his neck like a noose. It wouldn't be the first time they had been behind something like this. These thoughts ran through his mind even as he lay beneath his attacker.
"Please, is she all right? I only want to make sure she is safe," Recai pleaded.
"Why do you care?"
"I… I saw what was happening to her. I stopped it, but I didn't… I don't remember if she was still… Please, is she alright?"
Fahri took a deep breath. As afraid and confused as he felt—and as angry as that made him—he wanted to believe the man. There were so many lies in the world. So much evil.
"The nurse at the hospital said she is still a virgin; she is still pure. But even if she wasn't, she'd be safe. I . . . wouldn't have turned her out for something she had no control over."
Recai exhaled a breath he didn't mean to hold and uttered a prayer without thinking, his faith running deeper than he realized.
"Al-hamdu lillahi rabbil ‘alamin."
Recai's hold on Fahri loosened and the man's shoulders burned as the tension in them relaxed. Standing, Recai dropped back under a shadow. The lamp behind him glared out every feature save his outline. They were alone, but in Elih nothing is ever really private. They spoke of things the RTK would consider treason, the stakes too high to ignore.
"You're in a lot of trouble," Fahri said, standing up and cracking his back. "You shouldn't be out here doing this."
"Doing what?" Recai whispered
"Whatever the hell it is you're doing," Fahri exclaimed in frustration.
"Your sister is safe because of me."
"And I'm in your debt. Let me repay it by telling you there are people who do not like that you are out here, people who do not like for someone else to be regarded as doing the work of Allah."
"And who exactly has been doing that work these days?"
"Are you not listening to me? Allah's work is only for the RTK here. There is no room for men like you."
"Only men like you," Recai spat.
"Only men like me…. Yes, I guess that's true. I'm one of them, even now that their cruelties have been aimed at my family; I'm still one of them."
Fahri stepped back and gazed up at the sky. There were a million stars shining above, but none of them could lead him home.
"I've not been a good man," Fahri confessed. "Or a good brother, but I'd never do this . . . at least I hope I wouldn't. I don't know anymore. I thought I was following the right path. But Sabiha never did anything to anyone, she barely spoke to anyone but me and her few friends at school. How many others have had something like this happen?"
"The RTK did this to Sabiha?" Recai ventured.
"I don't know," Fahri sighed, his own suspicions difficult to articulate. "I doubt it was a direct order, but it's hard to believe no one knew about this. The city is too tightly controlled, and there have been others."