Deep State (The Acer Sansom Novels Book 4)

by Oliver Tidy

  The property was a modest wooden-boarded home under a cedar shingle roof in the pioneer style, complete with steps up to a veranda. A chimney trickled a thin trail of smoke into the morning air.

  Acer parked well away from the building and took his time getting out. He didn’t want Kemal somewhere he could be seen from an upstairs window. He also wanted whoever was inside to be able to get a good look at him as he covered the ground between car and house, to see him not obviously armed, acting naturally – neighbourly even – in a pink coat. No apparent threat.

  Acer was halfway between car and house when the front door opened. No one was standing in plain sight.

  Acer said, ‘Hello.’

  A woman’s voice said, ‘What do you want?’

  She hadn’t said stop, so Acer kept going, smiling, arms out, hoping not to get shot, waiting until he could be sure he was far enough from the car to say what he had to without Kemal hearing him.

  He said, ‘All right if I come up to talk to you?’

  ‘Sure.’

  He still couldn’t make out anyone in the shadow of the interior. He squinted into it as he climbed the few steps to the wooden veranda. As he entered the shade of the roof above him, a lot came quickly into focus. The first thing he saw were the side-by-side barrels of a shotgun pointed at his middle. He kept his arms still and away from his body.

  The woman’s voice said, ‘What do you want?’

  Acer took a deep breath and said, ‘I haven’t come to kill you.’

  After a long moment, she said, ‘Keep your hands away from your body and come inside.’

  Stepping over the threshold – believing, hoping this was going to be OK – was the last thing Acer remembered.

  ***

  12

  The bucket of cold water thrown in his face had brought him back to consciousness. The sight of the dead body had confused him. The women’s words frightened him.

  Acer remembered where he knew the dead man from. It revived him quicker than the water. He’d had no fondness for Kemal. He’d believed he was there to kill him as soon as he’d provided a scene to satisfy the authorities. But still, Acer had hoped there could have been another way for them all without loss of life.

  And then he was thinking about his own.

  The first voice, still behind him, said, ‘How much are they paying you?’

  Acer said, ‘Nothing.’

  ‘We can play games if you like, but you won’t like them for long. I can promise you that.’

  ‘Why don’t you come where I can see you? What are you afraid of?’

  Behind him there was a snort of amusement. The two women came into view – one from each side. They stood behind Kemal’s lifeless body. Acer recognised one of them as the woman he had been sent to kill. She was as pretty as her picture, with good features that were well proportioned in a dark-skinned face. Her hair was different: shorter and aggressively styled rather than shoulder-length and straight. She was about five and a half feet tall and looked in good physical shape. Her expression was very different from her photograph. It was now hard and accusing and distinctly unsympathetic. The other woman was taller. Almost as tall as Acer. She was plainer looking but still attractive in her own way. She looked fit and capable. She had piercing blue eyes and long blonde hair and her complexion was pale. She held a pistol and seemed prepared to use it.

  Acer said, ‘Hello, Zeynep. What did you hit me with?’

  ‘A few thousand volts and then a syringe.’

  ‘Very effective. Any chance of a drink of water?’

  ‘You’ve had all the water you’re getting,’ said the local-sounding woman. ‘You need to start answering our questions.’

  ‘Fine. My memory isn’t quite there yet – did I say I wasn’t here to kill you?’

  The Canadian gave Acer a nasty smile and said, ‘That’s what they all say.’

  ‘Where are the others? Kemal said we’re not the first.’

  ‘We have a boat. Take a guess.’

  Despite his situation, Acer laughed. ‘Sleeping with the fishes? It must be a family thing. Your brother threatened me with exactly the same fate if I turned down his Hobson’s choice of an assignment.’

  Zeynep said, ‘I asked you about the letter.’

  ‘I couldn’t see it. Is it the one from. . . I only know her as Mrs Botha?’

  ‘Why are you carrying a letter from my sister? Where did you get it? Who did you take it from?’

  ‘She gave it to me. Isn’t that obvious?’

  ‘No. You are here to kill me. That’s obvious.’

  ‘I’m really not. I can explain.’

  The Canadian woman said, ‘Why are we wasting our time on this guy? He’s just a hired thug. Let’s do what we have to do.’

  Zeynep looked to be considering it.

  Acer said, ‘I’m not here to kill you, Zeynep. The Pearl in the letter is my daughter. I am here for her. The letter makes that clear. Your sister trusts me.’

  ‘My sister trusts whoever this letter belonged to before you took it.’

  ‘My wallet. Look in my wallet. You’ll see from my driver’s licence that I am Sansom. The letter is addressed to me. Your sister risked a lot to give it to me. If that’s not enough, check out the Internet. You’ll find some old news stories on there with my face in them that go with what she says in the letter.’

  Like she’d known it all along, Zeynep said, ‘OK. So you’re Sansom. The letter was for you. The letter is from my sister. It doesn’t alter the fact that you are here; you’ve come all the way to Canada to kill me for my family. You’ve even brought help.’

  Acer breathed heavily. ‘The letter says that Kemal is here to kill me when I’ve killed you. I wasn’t actually going to kill you. I was hoping we could find a way out of the mess together, like your sister says in the letter.’

  The Canadian woman said, ‘Zeynep. Tell me you’re not buying this crock of shit.’

  Acer looked at the woman. He said, ‘Was I armed? Did I creep into your home in the middle of the night?’

  ‘No. Nice and obvious. A Trojan horse. Right up the front step. Doesn’t alter things. You were dumb: that’s all.’

  Acer found himself looking at Kemal. He said, ‘What happened? After you Tazered me. How is Kemal dead?’

  The Canadian woman said, ‘Your accomplice was not a patient man. He came prowling. With this.’ She showed Acer the snub-nosed pistol. Acer’s first thought was about where the hell Kemal had got a gun from. His second was that, with the discovery of a gun, things had just got a whole lot worse for him.

  Acer cleared his dry throat and said, ‘You haven’t killed me when you could have. That means you want to know my story. Let me tell it to you. And when you decide to let me go, I promise no hard feelings for this.’

  The Canadian woman laughed – a sarcastic noise. Zeynep frowned at him.

  Zeynep said, ‘So tell it.’

  ‘Please, can I have some water? Whatever you injected me with has left my mouth as dry as cat litter.’

  ‘No.’

  Acer sighed heavily. ‘You knew we were coming, didn’t you?’

  ‘Is this part of your story?’

  ‘Just interested.’

  ‘Yes. We always know.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  The Canadian woman said, ‘Zeynep?’

  Zeynep said, ‘Maybe I should give you a time limit. Would that make you get on with things quicker?’

  Acer said, ‘It’s all in the letter. Isn’t it? About how your sister ended up with my child. About. . .’

  Zeynep cut him off. ‘Let’s discuss the bit about your coming here to do my brother’s dirty work – killing me.’

  ‘I told you. I wasn’t here for that. I had no choice but to come here. This time yesterday I’d just touched down in Istanbul. As far as I was concerned, I was there for one reason only: to get my daughter back. I was collected from the airport, driven straight to Bostancı, a fast boat to Heybeliada, an even faster mee
ting with your brother and father on the back lawn, a fast boat back for a scheduled flight. I had to make it look like I was going along with them while I tried to think a way out of it. Your brother told me I had a week. I knew from your sister’s letter that Kemal was here not to help me repatriate your dead body, as your brother told me, but to kill me and make it look like you and I killed each other. He could then take the good news home to your family. And my daughter would end up God knows where before long. I repeat: I was not here to kill you. I was here because I had no choice. As for Kemal, he wouldn’t let me out of his sight.’

  ‘What was your plan to deal with Kemal?’ said Zeynep.

  Acer believed she was thawing. ‘I hoped we could. . . neutralise him. Not kill him.’

  ‘Change his mind? Let him go? Or keep him chained up in the cellar? A prisoner? For how long?’

  Acer huffed out his genuine frustration. ‘Your brother gave me a week. I have to assume he meant it. I was hoping that you would come back to Istanbul with me. Alive.’

  Zeynep and the Canadian woman both laughed. It seemed genuine.

  Acer said, ‘I can’t think of another way, Zeynep. I want my daughter back. Do you want to spend the rest of your life wondering if the next assassin is on the ten o’clock ferry? What happens when your contact in the household misses a conversation? Gets found out? Is hit by a bus? Is let go by her employer? You won’t know when the next one is coming then.’

  The women had stopped laughing.

  Acer said, ‘Come back to Istanbul with me. Perhaps together we can clear the way to enjoying our futures. We’re both dead people walking. And we can both do something about that. Maybe together. From what I understand, you’re a resourceful woman. And I need one.’

  The Canadian woman said, ‘Zeynep? Don’t even think about it.’

  Acer said, ‘Your sister is a prisoner on that island. Her children are your nephews. Family values are supposed to be important for Turks, according to your brother.’

  Mention of her brother snapped Zeynep’s gaze up from where it’d come to rest: the dirt floor.

  Acer said, ‘Your brother compared killing you to unblocking a toilet.’

  Zeynep smiled without warmth. ‘Did he? Well maybe I’ll come back to Istanbul and use his head as a plunger.’

  The other woman said, ‘Zeynep. No.’

  Encouraged, Acer said, ‘Your contact in the household, is it two way?’

  Zeynep shook her head.

  Acer turned his gaze on the Canadian woman. ‘What are you two to each other?’

  ‘Mind your own business.’

  ‘Is this why your family wants you dead, Zeynep? Is this the dishonour that you’ve brought on them? Not another man, but another woman?’

  The Canadian woman took a step towards Acer looking like she might hit him. Acer held her stare and said, ‘Don’t you want Zeynep free of them? Do you want to live your life with her with a gun under the pillow, every creaking piece of timber in the house at night a potential footfall? I just want to get my daughter back and get on with my life. I don’t think you want to kill me. This hasn’t worked out the way I’d hoped it would, but the result is the same – I’ve spoken to you, and Kemal is no longer bothering me, reporting my every move. But now I need to hurry up and get back to Istanbul.’

  ‘Why the rush?’ said Zeynep.

  ‘Because Kemal has been checking in by phone. And the moment you killed him, the clock started ticking for my daughter. And in case you haven’t worked it out yet, it also started the clock ticking on the next assassin sent to deal with you. Who knows? Maybe next time they’ll get creative and send a clever woman, or two.’

  ***

  13

  They were sitting in the kitchen at a big wooden table scored with the marks of years of use. They were drinking good coffee and eating homemade cakes. For Acer, it was all a little surreal given the context of his visit and his day so far.

  Acer said, ‘What really happened with Kemal? I don’t believe you killed him in the chair. You’re not like your brother in the cruelty stakes.’

  Zeynep said, ‘Mo saw him sneaking out of the back of the car. We were lucky. They’ve never sent two before. He came around the back of the house with a gun in his hand. He can’t complain.’

  ‘You shot him?’

  ‘Yes. He hit his face when he pitched forward. It was Mo’s idea to put him in a chair facing you. She thought it might make you a little more inclined to cooperate.’

  ‘It did. But I was only ever here to cooperate. I’m glad you see that now. What will you do with him?’

  ‘The same as the others.’

  ‘You want a hand?’

  ‘I thought you were in a hurry to get back.’

  ‘I am. Call it an act of good faith. And I don’t think your brother will do anything immediately. Do you have a phone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I need to buy a ticket back to Istanbul on the next available flight.’

  Zeynep took a sip of her coffee and said, ‘We’d better make that two.’

  Mo said, ‘Zeynep? You can’t be serious.’

  Zeynep looked at her partner. She said, ‘He’s right. There’ll be others. There will always be others all the time my brother is alive. I don’t want to be living in fear every day of my life. One day they’ll send someone who knows what they’re doing. And like he says, my sister and her children are prisoners of those people, that mindset. I don’t want my nephews growing up to be like them.’

  It was obvious from Mo’s face that she had accepted Zeynep’s decision. She said, ‘In that case, you’d better make that three seats.’

  *

  While Mo packed for them, Zeynep contacted a travel agent in Vancouver and arranged their flights. They wouldn’t get to sit together if they took the next available plane out of Vancouver, but that wasn’t a condition high on anyone’s list. They booked seats to London’s Heathrow Airport and then another flight, an hour after touchdown, to Istanbul’s Atatürk Airport. The first flight was scheduled to leave Vancouver in ten hours’ time – the middle of the night.

  Kemal had to be dealt with. Acer offered to bury him. Neither of the women would entertain that idea. Kemal was to go like the others: to the bottom of the Salish Sea where no one would ever find him and where they wouldn’t have to be reminded of him every time they were in their garden. That would involve taking out their boat, which was in the island’s little marina at Snug Cove.

  They agreed to take two vehicles. Acer would drive down to the marina with Kemal in the boot and meet the women there. They would get Kemal aboard and head out to sea together, dump Kemal, return to the marina and go their separate ways to the airport. Acer would go back to the hotel, clear out his and Kemal’s things, settle the accounts and return the car back to the rental place.

  With Kemal wrapped in sheeting and in the boot of the rental car and the women ready to leave, Acer said, ‘I have an idea to share. I’m sure that if things had gone to plan for Kemal he would have sent mobile phone images of our dead bodies to your brother.’

  Zeynep said, ‘I’m glad to disappoint him then.’

  Acer said, ‘That’s not what I meant. Why don’t we send them anyway?’

  In answer to their confused expressions, Acer said, ‘I don’t know how often Kemal was supposed to be checking in. Let’s assume it’s at least once a day. If he doesn’t check in with a phone call today then the alarm bells might start ringing on Heybeliada. Someone might be encouraged to call him. When the phone doesn’t get answered and the call isn’t returned, they might start to wonder if Kemal met with an accident. Perhaps it might be better if we got in first.’

  ‘Explain.’

  ‘I call your brother or whoever it is Kemal has been reporting to. I tell them that Kemal is dead, that you and he killed each other and I survived. I can send them an image of Kemal’s dead body. We can fake one of yours. I’ll tell them I’m on my way back for my daughter. They won’t know that I
know that Kemal was supposed to leave me here dead.’

  While the women were considering this, Acer said, ‘If I send an image of your dead body, that’s you out of it. Finished. There’s no reason that they’ll doubt me. As far as they’re concerned, I’ve come here to do a job. Job done. Zeynep, you don’t need to come back with me. You’re free.’

  Zeynep said, ‘Maybe. Maybe he won’t believe you. Maybe he’ll check – local newspapers, local police. Maybe he’ll find out that I’m still alive and then I’ll be back to waiting. I know my brother. He is obsessive about details. Besides, my sister and her children would still be there. You were right when you said that they are my family. I must help them if I can.

  ‘We’ll stay with the original plan. But I like the idea of sending the images. That will certainly confuse him. Of course, he’ll then be expecting you to go out to the island to collect your daughter as soon as you get back to Istanbul. What’s to stop him having his own way when you arrive on your own and heavily outnumbered?’

  There was nothing any of them had to say about that. Nothing positive.

  Mo said, ‘For the little trouble it would take, I think it’s worth it. But what if his phone’s password protected?’

  ‘It is,’ said Acer, ‘and I know the password.’

  They spent fifteen minutes taking photographs of Kemal, dead, and Zeynep faking it in the dirt outside the house. The images looked hurried and amateurish – exactly as they should.

  Acer said, ‘I’ll call before I send them. I’ll let the proof be his idea.’

  Acer unlocked Kemal’s phone and dialled the number Kemal had been ringing from Canada. Acer activated the loudspeaker function.

  Kaan Oktay answered in three rings. He sounded tired, like a man woken from deep sleep. He said something in Turkish.

  Acer said, ‘You’ll need to speak in English.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Mr Sansom?’ Oktay sounded more awake.

  ‘Kemal is dead. So is your sister.’