“Malik, we’ve got to get out of here, but before we do, we need to come to an agreement on something. As a result of all this,” Aryan waved his hand around the room, “things will undoubtedly get very nasty very quickly, and I’m willing to reconsider my decision to stay and partner with you. If you wish, I’ll simply disappear and leave you to sort this out on your own.” He raised a finger before Malik could speak. “Or, if you prefer, I’ll stay as your equal partner in all things, and do what I can to protect you while you try to convince your cousin’s family that you weren’t behind this.
“Whatever you decide, I suggest you take care or someday soon you’ll likely find your own head gracing a table somewhere at the hands of your family.” Aryan crossed his arms in a waiting pose. “So, what is your preference? Should I stay or should I go?”
Malik furiously rubbed at his forehead with his handkerchief, trying to avoid looking at the heads in front of him. He stood and headed for the door. “Stay,” he said. “Please stay.”
Aryan picked up his pen from the table. “Agreed.”
l l l l l
Malik drove, his eyes on the rearview as often as on the road before them. Aryan sat in the backseat, directly behind Big Boss’ former bodyguard. He gave his name as Tomislav and his origin as Serbian. Aryan spent the trip telling tales of his service at the end of the Yugoslav Wars and barraging Tomislav with questions.
As they turned off the highway onto the road leading up to Malik’s home, Aryan leaned forward and patted Tomislav on the shoulder. “Interview complete. You’ll do just fine.”
Tomislav nodded and forced a smile.
“By the way,” said Aryan. “Would you please hand me the automatic I left in the glove compartment when I went up to meet your former boss.”
Tomislav hesitated, but opened the glove compartment, picked up the gun by its barrel and handed it to Aryan.
“Well done,” said Aryan, reaching for the gun with his left hand. “And I believe this one is yours.” He reached around Tomislav’s right side and handed him the gun he’d been holding in his hand all the way from Izmir.
Tomislav quickly put it away in his shoulder holster.
The car slid to a stop at the front door to the house. Malik jumped out and ran for the door, headed straight for a bathroom. Aryan strolled into the house behind Tomislav and asked the maid to bring them coffee and something to eat.
Malik came out of the guest bathroom off the entrance foyer, his shirt damp from water he’d tossed on his face. Splashes of blood from his cousin’s beheading still stained the front of his shirt, and splotches of dried blood missed by his washing stuck to his hair.
“Deema,” he yelled.
“Yes?” came a tentative voice from upstairs.
“Don’t say yes, come here this instant.”
“Malik, we should talk about our arrangement,” said Aryan.
“Not now. I must first speak to my wife.”
Deema hurried down the stairs. “Yes, Malik, what is…my God, what’s happened to you?”
“Don’t ask questions, just bring me a new shirt.”
“You have blood in your hair.” She reached up to touch his hair and he batted her hand away.
“Just do as I say.”
“But—”
He raised his hand to strike her, but before he could, Aryan grabbed his arm.
Malik spun around to meet him. “How dare you interfere with how I deal with my wife?”
Aryan held on to Malik’s arm for another few seconds before letting go. Deema turned to leave the room.
“No, don’t go,” said Aryan. “Stay here. You should hear this.”
Aryan looked at Malik. “As I said to you, we should talk about our arrangement.”
“Later, I—”
Aryan put his finger to his lips, and Malik fell silent. “The agreement we reached in your late cousin’s office has me as your ‘equal partner in all things.’ Do you recall that?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good. Then do not harm the wife that I share with you.”
Malik’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “What are you talking about? She is my wife.”
Without taking his eyes off of Malik, Aryan said, “Tomislav, when Malik and I reached that agreement in your former employer’s office, did he say anything excluding his wife from the arrangement?”
“No,” said a firm voice.
“So, you see, Malik, if you refuse my equal rights to your wife, I shall have no choice but to treat it as a breach of our agreement and, well, you know what that will mean.”
Malik’s head lowered slightly. “But she’s my wife.”
Aryan put his hand on Malik’s shoulder, “No, my friend and partner, our wife.”
Malik started to tremble.
“Tomislav, please show my partner up to his bedroom. I think he needs to rest.”
Aryan pointed Tomislav up the stairs. “Second door to the left.”
Deema started to follow them.
“No, stay here,” Aryan said.
She stopped and looked down at the floor.
Aryan walked over and stood beside her as the two men ascended the stairs. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him.
He moved his hand to between her shoulder blades and gently ran his fingertips up and down her spine, dropping down every so often to trace the outline of her rear. “See, I told you I would protect you.”
The maid came bursting in from the kitchen with a tray of coffee and food.
“We won’t be needing that. Please take it upstairs to Mr. Malik. Mrs. Deema and I will be in the living room. We do not wish to be disturbed.”
The maid nodded and hurried up the stairs.
“Come,” said Ayran, steering her toward the living room.
She did not resist.
Once inside, he closed the doors behind them.
She did not resist.
Chapter Thirteen
“Sounds like you had a productive conversation last night with McLaughlin,” said Andreas.
Yianni smacked his hands on the arms of his chair opposite Andreas’ desk. “It took about all the patience I had, but I think she’s come around to believing she can trust us.”
“That’s a big step.”
“But I’m not sure how long that’ll keep if we don’t get this guy Aryan.”
“You mean Kennel.”
“I prefer calling him Aryan. Kennel reminds me of dogs, and I like dogs.”
Andreas shrugged. “Call him whatever you want. Maggie couldn’t come up with anything recent on him under either name. School records show he was raised in Switzerland, but he fell off the grid at seventeen and has no living next of kin.”
“Terrific.”
Maggie burst into the office. “Chief, I just got a call from my friend in Turkey.”
“Did they catch the killer?”
She gestured no. “I’d told her I wanted the video for research into potential similarities among gruesome killings in this part of the world. She called to tell me they’d just had a double murder to put at the top of my gruesome list.”
Andreas leaned forward. “What sort of murder?”
“A double beheading.”
“Terrorists?” said Yianni.
“The police don’t seem to think so. And because the country’s tourist industry is apoplectic at the thought of something like this being picked up internationally as another terrorist attack, the police are releasing a lot more details about the incident than they normally would. They’re even telling the Turkish media to discourage any suggestion of terrorism. One victim was a hugely important man, an ex-government minister and the son of a former general of the Turkish Army. The murders took place in his office, and the second victim worked for him.”
>
“When did it happen?” asked Yianni.
“According to the receptionist, a couple of hours ago. Two men showed up for an appointment with her boss. He made them wait in reception for almost an hour, they were inside for about a half-hour, and left with a third man who’d also worked for her boss.”
“Who found the bodies?” said Yianni.
“She did, about a half an hour later. The boss’ wife called to say she’d been trying to reach her husband but he hadn’t answered his phone. She asked the receptionist to tell him to call her. When she went to see what was going on, voila, she found two heads in the middle of a conference table with a bloody sword driven into the tabletop beside them. I don’t know if she called the police or they just heard her screams.”
“Where did this happen?”
“A penthouse office in one of the chicest buildings in Izmir.”
Andreas shut his eyes, then opened them. “Did the receptionist identify the visitors?”
“She’s new and didn’t recognize them. Both spoke Turkish, but only one looked Turkish, the one who said her boss was expecting them.”
“Did she give a more detailed description of the men?”
“My friend didn’t say, but I assume the police got whatever they could from her. Perhaps we should suggest to the police that they show the receptionist Aryan’s picture from the CCTV?”
Andreas picked up a pencil. “And how do we explain how we got that photo, what made us interested in it in the first place, and why we think those two events are linked, without implicitly suggesting some very bad things about one of Turkey’s most prominent, recently deceased citizens?”
“You think he’s the big guy McLaughlin had in mind?” said Yianni.
“If Aryan’s involved in this, I’ve no doubt these murders are somehow connected to refugee trafficking. As to precisely how the two dead guys are tied in, and why Aryan killed them, I’ve not a clue.”
“I’ve an idea, Chief,” said Maggie. “Why don’t you reach out to the Turkish police in sympathy? Tell them we recently had a similar horrific sword murder of a prominent citizen just across the sea from Izmir on Lesvos. Suggest that they might be able to help you solve your case if they have a description of possible suspects in their double beheading murder.”
“I like that idea,” said Yianni. “That way we don’t have to let on that we know anything more than what hit the news today. It also allows the Turks to claim they’re cooperating with us, with virtually no work required on their part.”
Andreas nodded. “I like it, too, unless they already know who’s involved, or have a damn good idea and don’t want them exposed.”
“You mean until they’re in a position to arrest them, or never because they’re protected?” said Yianni.
Andreas shrugged. “Another question to which I don’t have an answer. But, I’ll make the telephone call and see if I can get our colleagues in Izmir to cooperate.”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” agreed Maggie.
Andreas picked up his phone. “As Lila once pointed out to me, that quote happens to come from the same American who once stood out in the middle of a field in a rainstorm flying a kite trying to attract electricity.”
“Sounds like a sure-fire way to get yourself killed,” said Yianni.
Andreas dialed a number and listened to it ring. “I think that was Lila’s point.”
It took three conversations with three different Turkish cops before Andreas found a police inspector willing to speak with him about the double beheadings. Modern Turkish police served as the Turkish president’s balance to the military’s propensity for coups. That made senior police officials antsy when faced with potentially politically tinged decisions, such as exchanging information with the Greeks. Retribution was swift in Turkey.
Unlike the two other Turkish police Andreas had spoken with, this inspector seemed relatively unconcerned about possible political miscues. But, then again, he had a strong vested interest in identifying the suspects. The Izmir slaughter was his case, and that meant bosses screaming for results ASAP. For him, the upside of a break in his investigation in exchange for cooperating with Andreas far outweighed maintaining political purity.
Andreas told the inspector what he knew about the Lesvos murder, including his doubts about the guilt of the person in custody, but he left out the part about the photo at the Turkish café. No need to put a suspect in the inspector’s sights. Especially a foreigner like Aryan. The inspector might be tempted not to take aim at anyone beyond Aryan, for if a non-Turk took the fall, the inspector would be a hero without stepping on any Turkish toes, no matter how many might be dancing around him. This approach offered him not only the easiest solution, but the surest route to promotion.
The inspector said he hoped to pick something up off the building’s security cameras, but hadn’t as yet. If he did, he’d send them on straightaway to Andreas. Beyond that thin offer of assistance, he offered no more details than Maggie had obtained from her friend. Andreas felt certain the inspector hadn’t told him everything, but that was to be expected. After all, Andreas had done the same to him. Andreas thanked him profusely before hanging up.
Andreas looked to Yianni. “Well, at least we’re talking.”
“Nothing, huh?”
Andreas nodded.
“Sounds like cops protecting their turf,” said Maggie.
Andreas stretched. “Probably so. But they haven’t finished looking at the building’s security cameras. That should yield something. The question is whether they’ll actually share it.”
“By when?”
Andreas shrugged. “Soon. I hope.”
l l l l l
Aryan spent an hour alone with Deema in the living room. When he left, she did not join him. He climbed the stairs, turned, and stopped at Malik’s bedroom door. He knocked and Tomislav opened it. Malik sat across the room on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
“Oh, I thought you’d be resting,” said Aryan walking toward Malik. “All that’s happened this morning must have been quite stressful for you. After all, it’s not every day you see a cousin beheaded.”
Aryan stopped two steps in front of Malik. “He was not an honorable man. He did not wish to share. He thought only of himself. He let his ego fog his judgment. We are all better off with you as our new leader.”
Malik did not lift his gaze from the floor. Nor did he speak.
“I sense you’re still in shock. You will get over it, for I know you’re a practical man. Now, we must talk about the future. Your cousin’s men will want to come at you for revenge. If not his men, at least his family, or perhaps business rivals wanting to claim his enterprise for their own. You must act at once to stabilize the situation.”
Silence.
“Or you will die.”
Malik looked at him. “I wondered when you’d get around to that.”
Aryan sat on the bed next to him. “Me? I have no reason to kill you. This organization can never be mine. I am not of your family’s blood. I’m not even Turkish. No, as I said before, if you die because of what happened today, it will be at the hands of others.” He paused. “Unless you show them strength, and convince them that your cousin left you no choice but to defend yourself by taking his life.”
Malik swallowed. “How can I convince them of that?”
“Easily, because they probably already know your cousin intended to harm us. Isn’t that correct, Tomislav?” Aryan glanced at Tomislav.
Tomislav nodded yes.
“His death at your hands showed strength. All you need to do now is show your willingness to continue down that path if they make it necessary, while offering them a plan for a more profitable, better-run operation. Show them your willingness to use both the stick and the carrot, and they will follow you.”
“How can you sound so
certain?”
“Human nature. Those who might dare to go against you will have seen the risk of what happens to them if they try.”
“You speak of arrogance. It is yours that will get us all killed.”
“Perhaps,” said Aryan. “But if you do not act at once, your indecision will guarantee you die first. I’m certain you can think of any number of persons planning at this very moment to kill you.”
Silence.
“What are you suggesting I do?” said Malik at last.
“Call those who will come at you. Tell them you wish to meet under a flag of truce in an effort to spare further bloodshed. Tell them your cousin left you no choice but to defend your life from him, and that if, after you’ve met, they still believe you acted unjustifiably, they can do with you as they please.”
“They will never agree to meet except to try and kill me.”
Aryan shrugged. “Perhaps not at first, but once some try to kill you, and their lives end instead, the others will come around.”
“You’re mad.”
“Of course, but it is my madness that will keep you alive.” He put his arm around Malik’s shoulder. “After all, you are my partner.”
Malik cringed at the word partner.
Aryan patted Malik’s shoulder. “You make the calls. I’ll take care of the rest.”
l l l l l
Deema had dressed quickly after Aryan left, but did not leave the living room. She sat wondering what now would become of her life. She’d long ago learned to put up with abuse at the hands of men, and come to accept it as the curse of her gender. She’d also realized it would not have mattered had she been born ugly, because men did what they did to women for reasons unrelated to beauty or the lack thereof. They abused because they could, and often for purposes understood far better by their victims than by the men themselves.
An Aegean April Page 16