Contract

by Ty Hutchinson

  I gripped it. “I know. Mine is Sei.”

  “Yeah, I already knew your name but thought we might as well make a proper introduction. This will be fun,” he said, flashing me a smile.

  “You mind starting the car and driving?”

  He turned the ignition and gave the gas pedal a few pumps. After two whining revs, the car backfired and then settled into a low hum.

  “Yes,” Kostas said under his breath.

  I looked at him. “You say that as if each turn of the ignition is akin to playing the lottery.”

  “It is. Sometimes I win.”

  “And if we lose?”

  “You get out and push.”

  With that said, Kostas hit the gas and off we went, barely.

  37

  Kostas drove slouched with one hand resting on top of the steering wheel. He appeared to know the roads well enough to avoid driving into a checkpoint, making our flight from Siverek free of complications.

  “Where to now?” I asked.

  “We’ll stick to highways along the southern side of Turkey. They’re smaller, less traveled. We’ll have a better chance at avoiding the people who want you.”

  “And timing?”

  Kostas shrugged. “About twenty hours if all goes well. We’ll have to hunker down for one night, somewhere near the city of Konya. You know it?”

  “No.”

  “It’s pretty big, seventh most populous in Turkey. You know Hercules’ sarcophagus is located there–Konya Archeological Museum. It’s also where etli ekmek originated.”

  He paused for a moment.

  “It means bread with meat. It’s the Turkish version of pizza. I’ve never tried it myself, but I hear—”

  “Shouldn’t we avoid large cities?”

  “We’ll stay outside the city, but I was thinking we could jettison into Konya for an hour or—”

  “No.” I crossed my arms over my chest and continued to stare out the window at the countryside.

  Kostas had done most of the talking since we left Siverek. I did my best to keep the conversation to a minimum by either ignoring his questions or replying with one-word answers. After a while, he stopped asking questions and just talked, about everything: the cars we passed, the farms on either side of the highway, mostly things about Turkey in general. For a Greek, his knowledge of the country was strange and extraordinary. Sadly, it was enough to pique my interest.

  “How is it you know so much about Turkey? Aren’t you from Greece? And why is it that you speak English with no noticeable accent?”

  “I have family in the U.S. and spent almost all my summers there while growing up. I also attended an American university, but to answer your first question, I’m a history nut and I like to travel. I also easily pick up stuff. I kill at all those trivia game shows on television. I wish I could get on Jeopardy! Have you heard of that show? Anyway, Turkey is right next door to Greece. People travel back and forth all the time. The border crossing near Istanbul is easy, as is ferrying across the Aegean Sea.”

  For the next hour, Kostas continued to answer those questions. I was sorry to have asked them in the first place.

  A thin mixture of blood and saliva seeped from the Ismet’s mouth, stretching toward the cold concrete floor of the jail cell. He swayed on his knees using his hands to prevent himself from toppling. Next to him, lay his friend, unconscious, perhaps dead.

  Shortly after the Turkish police questioned Ismet and the other goat herder, Kashani’s contact had arrived. Ismet told the driver about the checkpoint, the police who questioned him, and that Sei had disappeared in the market. Anxious to get out of town, Ismet simply pointed at the market before making a hasty escape out of Siverek. Unfortunately, Demir’s men stopped them shortly after they left the car park.

  “I’m going to ask you once more,” Demir said. “Where’s the girl?”

  Ismet looked over at his motionless friend, then up at Demir. He knew his fate. If he didn’t speak, he would die in that jail cell. If he did give up information, and somehow got out of there alive, Kashani would hunt him down for his disloyalty. Neither option showed more promise. It was a matter of how he wanted to die. He feared a death by Kashani more. That is until a blowtorch appeared.

  It didn’t take long for Demir to extract the information he needed. They were looking for a silver Peugeot, heading west. Ismet swore he didn’t know what coastal town Sei was heading to, only that she planned to cross over into Greece. Unfortunately, that answer did nothing to save his life.

  38

  About nine hours into our journey west, the engine emitted a high-pitched whine. With the exception of Kostas’ excessive gabbing, everything since I’d been with him appeared to be proceeding as planned.

  “Tell me that noise isn’t the car dying a slow death.”

  Kostas pulled over to the side of the road. When he killed the engine, the lights went with it. With scattered clouds hiding the moon and miles of farmland surrounding us, it was nearly pitch black. The upside was we had the cover of darkness. The downside was I had a feeling Demir’s men wouldn’t be too far behind us. It wouldn’t take much to determine I would continue heading west.

  Kostas interrupted my thoughts when he reached over in front of me and felt around inside of the glove compartment. “Ah, got it.”

  A beat later the beam of a small flashlight appeared. Kostas popped the hood and exited the vehicle.

  As I waited for the official verdict, I began to seriously question Kashani’s judgment. Even the goat herders were a better choice than this man and his poor excuse for transport. I would have gladly traded my front seat for the foul smelling, hard steel flooring of the flatbed. At least the engine in the truck ran well.

  A few minutes later, Kostas returned. “I think we need a new serpentine belt. There’s a small town not too far from here, we should be able to get the part we need there.”

  “Will the car get us there?”

  Kostas shrugged. “Let’s hope so.”

  “How far from Konya are we?”

  “Not far. We’re not in danger of losing time, if that’s your concern. We would have stopped for the night at one of the upcoming towns anyway.”

  According to Kostas, Ismil was the closet town. From there, it was another fifty miles to the outskirts of Konya. At least his judgment of distance appeared to be trustworthy.

  It was nearly nine at night when we reached Ismil. The town wasn’t very large; it seemed to center around a sleepy main street dotted with small businesses. We drove around until we located a gas station with an auto mechanic shop attached. That’s where the serpentine belt eventually gave way, officially stranding us in Ismil.

  My hopes for a quick fix and an early morning departure the next day were quickly dashed when the mechanic informed us he didn’t have the part on hand. He would have to send one his men to Konya first thing in the morning. He estimated he could have us back on the road by noon.

  “That’s not too bad,” Kostas said as we walked away from the gas station. “Could have been worse.”

  A million replies aggregated in my head, none of them helpful to the situation.

  “I think I can make up the time. You can trust me,” he continued, this time looking at me.

  Timing wasn’t my big concern; Demir’s men were. There was one positive that came to mind: Demir didn’t know my whereabouts. Though if I continued to leave a trail of bodies, I could toss that advantage out the window.

  “I’m hungry,” I said, knowing that wasn’t the reply he expected.

  We walked to a nearby café that surprisingly had burgers and fries on the menu, along with the traditional assortment of Turkish fast food: kebaps, döner, pide, and köfte, to mention a few. It was nearly ten at night, and we were lucky enough to put our orders in before the kitchen closed. When our burgers arrived, Kostas rested his mouth and we focused on eating. I welcomed the quiet. Sadly, it didn’t last long.

  Kostas put his burger down and cleared his throa
t. “So, spill the beans.”

  “Spill?”

  “You know, why are you on the run?”

  I took my time chewing and then swallowed. “What makes you think I’m on the run?”

  “Look, I know what sort of business Basir Kashani is in. The fact that he hired me to drive you to Cesme isn’t because you’re interested in seeing the countryside.” He picked up his burger and took another large bite.

  While watching him chew, it dawned on me then that I had never actually looked at him for an extended period of time. I mean, I knew what he looked like generally but not like one would if they were getting to know someone, which I hadn’t planned on.

  Kostas had large brown eyes with a brow that was noticeable enough to give him a devilish model appearance. There were no hard lines, scars, or acne to mar his smooth olive complexion, giving him a youthful look. I didn’t know his age, but if I had to wager, I would say mid-thirties.

  When he smiled, large dimples appeared at each corner of his mouth, which softened his masculine jawline. It made him look friendly as opposed to militant. He wore a simple button-down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, which showed off his broad shoulders. The back of his hands sported thick veins that crawled up his forearms. All in all, Kostas was a good-looking man with a decent personality. Sure, he talked a lot, but I was an anomaly when it came to conversation. With that said, I still didn’t see a reason to tell Kostas why I needed to get out of Turkey. If Kashani didn’t feel the need to inform him, I certainly wasn’t about to offer up that information. “Are you always this nosy?”

  “Look, I’m not trying to pry into your business, and I don’t have a hidden agenda. But seeing that we’ll be spending a decent amount of time together, I figured why not get to know each other? How long can we keep up non-committal small talk?”

  Forever. “You’re better off not knowing the details. Leave it at that.”

  Kostas swallowed the remaining food in his mouth. “No problem. Just being friendly, that’s all. But if there’s a chance that I might get caught up in whatever you’re trying to avoid, that’s information I’d like to know.”

  “Your friendliness is duly noted, and I’ll be sure to pass that along to Basir should he ever contemplate your services once again. As for you getting involved—you’re a driver who’s been hired by an illegal arms dealer. You should already have known there would be risk involved.”

  39

  We finished the rest of our meal in silence, and were about to set off in search of a hotel when the waitress inquired whether we were looking for a place to stay.

  “My family owns the café,” she said with a friendly smile that was only heightened by her sea-green eyes. “We have three rooms on the second floor that we rent out. They’re simple, clean, and have hot water. We charge twenty dollars, American, by the night. By the way, my name is Ayla.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ayla,” Kostas quickly replied. “My name is Spiro, and this is Anise.”

  I nodded and appreciated the fact that Kostas didn’t give up our real names. Before Ayla could speak another word, a little boy ran up behind her and threw both arms around her left thigh. He wore Spider Man pajamas and looked to be about six years old.

  “This is my little brother.” She ruffled his curly brown hair. “He’s learning English and always wants to talk to native speakers.”

  He giggled and continued to hide behind Ayla’s leg.

  “Say hello to our guests,” she prompted.

  “My name is Baki,” he said before extending his hand to me. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  I bent down and took his hand. “Well, it’s nice to meet you too.”

  Kostas gave the young boy’s hand a hearty shake, which fueled Baki’s laughter.

  “If you want, I can show you the rooms, and you can decide if you want to stay,” Ayla said.

  The rooms sounded fine to me, and from the look on Kostas’ face, I didn’t get the impression he cared much about where he laid his head that night. “That won’t be necessary,” I said. “Clean rooms sold us.”

  “Okay. Will you be staying longer than one night?” she asked as she led us up a flight of stairs in the back of the café with Baki tailing us.

  “Just the night,” I said.

  She smiled. “We have one room with a double bed that’s big enough for two people—”

  “We’ll take two rooms,” I quickly interrupted.

  “Oh, okay. Wait here.” Her smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. “Come, Baki. It’s bedtime.” They both entered the single door near the stairwell, the entrance to her family’s residence.

  Only a few minutes had passed before Ayla reappeared. She had fresh bath towels tucked under one arm and, in her other hand, held two large key rings.

  She unlocked the door that had a brass “A” adhered to it. “This will be your room,” she said opening the door and extending her arm, allowing me to enter first.

  The room was tiny, maybe no bigger than fifteen square meters. It had a single bed pushed up against the wall with a bedside table next to it. A two-drawer dresser sat opposite it. The walls were bare, but the room had a small curtained window that overlooked the front of the café. I had a clear view in both directions of the main road in and out of town.

  “The bathroom is small, but the water is always hot,” she said, placing one of the towels on the bed. “Do you have any questions?”

  I turned my attention back to her. “Not at the moment. Thank you.”

  “Okay. We start serving breakfast at seven a.m.”

  I nodded.

  “Spiro, your room is just across the hall. Room B.”

  “I’ll meet your downstairs at seven,” Kostas said before following the girl out.

  I locked the door behind them and quickly stripped down. While I didn’t have a fresh change of clothing, it still felt good to cleanse the brutality of the day off of me.

  As I toweled off, the quietness became noticeably apparent. The wooden door to my room was thin, yet I couldn’t hear Kostas across the hall, nor could I hear the teen’s family through the wall we shared. Even the sound of water running through pipes was absent.

  I walked over to the window once more and peeked outside. A light fog had begun to drift into the town, not enough to obscure my view but enough to be noticeable. The few shop lights I saw on earlier had gone dark and not a single person appeared to be out. Still I worried that Demir’s men weren’t too far behind. I had to assume they would stop and check each town, no matter the size. That would slow them down and buy us distance. I hoped.

  I laid my head down on the pillow and fell asleep shortly after only to be woken by my bladder. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I peeked out the window once more. All was quiet. I looked at the clock; it was one twenty a.m. and my eyelids were feeling heavy again.

  Just as I pulled my head back from the window, a slow-moving pick-up truck appeared at the far end of the road. It was tan and the windows were tinted black. I kept an eye on it as it drove closer to my location. Was the driver lost or looking for a room for the night? When it slowed outside the café, my skin tingled. Not because it stopped and parked, but because stenciled on the door were the initials AS IZ.

  They found me.

  40

  “Shhh,” I said before removing my hand from Kostas’ mouth.

  “What? How did you get in here?” he asked, startled and confused about waking up in his bed with me leaning over him.

  “They found us.”

  “Who?” Kostas asked as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

  “The Askeri Inzibat. They’re the Turkish military police. Kashani had warned me that Demir would utilize them.” I tugged at his arm. “Get up and no more questions.”

  Kostas got up out of bed dressed only in his blue boxers, and reached over to the bedside lamp.

  “No lights,” I said.

  Kostas grumbled under his breath as he felt around the floor with his feet unti
l he found his pants. His shirt was draped over a chair. While he got dressed, I moved toward the door and pressed my ear against it. Kostas’ room had a window, but it overlooked the back of the café, leaving me blind to what the Askeri Inzibat were doing out front. Kostas was still putting his shoes on when I told him to meet me back in my room.

  Just as I was about to open the door, I heard the slow clumping of heavy boots making their way up the wooden stairs. I turned back to Kostas with my finger pressed against my lips.

  “What are you doing?” he asked in a hushed tone.

  I waved at him to be quiet and drew my knife.

  “I hope you’re not doing what I think you are,” he continued.

  By now the thumping of boots had reached the second floor.

  Kostas stood and grabbed my arm. “Don’t do it. It’s too risky. Plus we don’t know that they’ve found us.”

  I shook my arm free and continued to listen for any sign that either my assumption or his was right. We heard shuffling near the entrance to the family’s residence and then the jingling of keys, followed by the opening and closing of a door, and then nothing.

  “I told you,” Kostas said.

  I turned the knob to the door slowly and then opened it just enough to see into the dark hall. My eyes had adjusted and saw that the hall was empty. I quickly moved back into my room with Kostas right behind me. I peeked out the window—the Askeri Inzibat truck was still parked below. Of all the towns and all the families and all the rooms we could have chosen to spend the night at, we chose one that had a family member whose job was to catch me.

  “He doesn’t know we’re here,” Kostas said.

  “It’s only a matter of time before Ayla mentions they have guests. He’ll come investigating soon enough.”

  “He’s probably coming off the night shift and went straight to bed. We have until sun up, maybe even later until he wakes.”

  “We have to get out of here now,” I said.