‘Really?’ I tried to look impressed.
He put his hands face down on the table and leaned forward as if he was about to say something important.
‘I will pray for you,’ he started, shaking his head mournfully.
‘Why will you do that?’
‘You have no security guard.’ His hands were in the air now.
‘I don’t need one.’
He tutted and waved. ‘If they catch the dogs who killed your friend, you know what they will do?’
I shook my head.
‘Send them all to hell.’ He pointed a finger at his forehead and imitated a gun going off. Was this why he’d followed me, to tell me that Alek would be avenged?
A waiter approached. I ordered coffee, and an invitingly thick slice of chocolate cake I’d seen on the way in.
‘You came from London?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘There are problems there, yes?’
‘A few.’
‘Tolerance is dying,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘When Mehmed the Conqueror ruled this city, almost half its population was Christian. We all lived in peace. He said the different peoples in his empire should live as one.’
I’d heard about Mehmed’s tolerance after he’d captured Istanbul.
‘These days, we are going backwards,’ he went on. ‘When Islam first appeared, it reduced taxes, banned usury and slavery too. Did you know that?’
‘No.’
‘Well, it’s true.
I studied him. The skin on his face was deeply grooved. He looked kind, but worried. His red T-shirt was pristine, as if it had come out of its packaging only that morning.
The coffee arrived. My cake tasted even better than it had looked in the glass case. It was silky soft, with a crisp layer of chocolate on top. Irene had always liked chocolate cake. She would have enjoyed this one.
‘Your friend, he met a most terrible death. It is hard even to imagine such a thing,’ said Bulent.
My imagination had had no trouble in serving up bloody images of Alek’s death since I’d seen his body. Those images were ghosts haunting me, becoming clearer if I tried to escape them, as if my mind wasn’t under my control.
I looked at my cake. I’d eaten enough.
‘Did Alek say anything to you about his interest in other places, like the Blue Mosque or Hagia Eirene or anywhere else?’ I asked.
‘He said nothing about the Blue Mosque. I told him Hagia Eirene is closed. It opens only for concerts, recitals, things like that. There are pictures of the interior in our Archaeological Museum. I told him all this. He did ask about Hagia Eirene.’
At last, we were getting somewhere. ‘Did he ask about any other place?’ I picked up my coffee, pushed the remains of the cake away.
‘He wanted to know about the old Imperial Palace, Con-stantine’s Palace – everyone does these days – and how the Senate project is progressing. He had lots of questions.’
‘He had an idea that there was a temple to Aphrodite on the site of Hagia Eirene, before Constantine turned it into a Christian Church,’ I said. ‘Did he ask you if you’d found any proof that it existed?’ It was a theory Alek had spoken about only once, and it was hard to see how it could have led to his death, but I had to ask about it.
‘We have been studying everything,’ said Bulent. He looked around the room, as if he was looking for someone.
‘Might there be crypts under Hagia Eirene?’
He put his coffee down and waited. The buzz of conversation in the room got louder.
‘There are underground areas on most sites near here, the old Palace, the Senate building, the Hippodrome, everywhere.’
Which one Alek had decided to investigate was the question.
‘It was not unusual for early Christians to take over temple sites. St Paul’s in London was a temple to Diana, was it not?’ he said.
‘I don’t know.’
He smiled briefly, then looked pensive again. His bushy black eyebrows hooded his eyes.
‘Some of the Greek temples were centres of prostitution.’
‘Really?’ I replied. ‘That must have been a sight.’
‘It was a disaster, Mr Ryan. I wrote a paper on the subject.’ He paused. His expression darkened. ‘It hasn’t been published, yet.’
‘I’m sure it will be,’ I said.
‘Hagia Eirene was my project. Mine. The wrong people are working there these days.’ He looked around. He seemed afraid.
‘They are better connected than me, effendi.’ He examined the dregs of his coffee. ‘Us researchers on the Hagia Sophia project, we know nothing about their excavation plans, nothing. Can you believe that? It’s crazy! We don’t even talk to each other!’ He stopped, pressed his lips together, as if he’d said too much already.
‘When did that project start?’
‘I’m sorry, Sean.’ He shook his head.
‘What’s wrong?’
He bit his lip. His eyelids drooped further. ‘I cannot say any more.’ He was closing down on me.
‘My Institute could support your work, Professor.’ It was true. I could get good projects onto the Institute’s agenda. Our grants weren’t that big, but often a little went a long way. ‘Perhaps we can help each other.’
He eyed me suspiciously.
‘Why don’t you tell me what’s going on in Hagia Eirene? I’ll owe you.’
He looked at me for a minute before he responded. I could see him thinking, going through the benefits of having a director of an Oxford Institute in his debt, wondering what I really wanted.
‘Alek didn’t tell you anything?’ he said.
I shrugged. ‘Nothing would surprise me about Alek.’
‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘I cannot talk any more about this.’
I sat forward. I was close to finding out something important. I could feel it. But my chance was slipping away.
‘Alek was up to something and he told you all about it. You’ve just confirmed it.’ I looked around. ‘Maybe I should tell Abdal Gokan about this. He might be able to help me.’
I stood. He looked shocked. Then he glanced around.
‘No,’ he said.
‘Tell me more then.’
He looked up at me.
‘You must not tell people you got anything from me,’ he said quickly.
‘I don’t want to get you into trouble, but I have to find out what happened to Alek. I need to know what he was up to.’ I sat back down. ‘Tell me what’s going on in Hagia Eirene.’
He sighed, like a ball deflating. ‘Not in Hagia Eirene. Under it. Since Alek’s death they’ve been working there every day, every night for all I know.’ He was speaking in a whisper. ‘You know what I think, Sean?’
I shook my head.
‘They want to steal my idea.’ His voice rose an octave. ‘I was the one who found the doorway. But they got the permission to open it.’ His hands held the air, as if he was holding a weight up. His fingers were spread wide, his frustration clear. ‘My life’s work is being stolen.’
He shook his fist in front of him. ‘It is wrong. Whoever publishes this find will have a triumph, medals, awards, everything. They are thieves.’ He spat the word out.
‘Did you take Alek to Hagia Eirene?’
His head moved up and down, a nodding dog in the back window of a car. ‘Can you show me where you took him?’ This could explain everything. Alek had interrupted someone on a secret dig.
Bulent looked away. He rubbed his forehead unhappily.
‘No, no. I can’t get involved.’
‘How did this group get permission to work there?’
‘They have people with the best credentials.’ He waved his hands. ‘That is what I was told.’ He leaned forward. ‘I asked them not to let a private dig take place in Hagia Eirene. But they say the people have all the proper letters, permissions, that they were doing a simple site survey for a larger project. I don’t know, maybe it’s true.’
‘You can
take me there?’
He shook his head fast. ‘No. No. I have a wife, two children.’ He pulled out his wallet, showed me a photo of a plump woman with black hair pulled back, her arms tight around two smiling children, a black-haired boy and girl.
‘They are beautiful,’ I said.
We looked at the picture. Bulent was nodding sadly. I knew what he was trying to tell me.
‘I go now,’ he said softly.
‘Why can’t you at least tell me where you took Alek?’
His expression hardened. ‘I can’t help you any more. I answered your questions. You must leave me alone.’
‘You can explain where you took him.’ My voice rose. I wasn’t going to give up.
He patted the air between us, trying to get me to quieten down. ‘You have to forget all this. Where I took him is guarded, effendi. They’ve put a security camera on the door. I will not take you there.’ He clamped his mouth shut.
‘Give me something more.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Effendi, I will tell you one more thing. Then you will stop all this.’ He leaned close to me. ‘The people who are working there, they come and go through a side door in the courtyard in front of our office. That’s all I can tell you.’
He stood. I got the impression he wanted to get away quickly. That he’d decided meeting me hadn’t been a good idea. I stood as well.
He held out his hand. ‘I’m sorry, I cannot help any more.’
We shook hands. He headed for the door. I sat back down for a split second, then raced after him. He turned as he reached the doorway and looked at me enquiringly as I came up to him.
‘One last question.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘No, no more, please.’
I took my chance. ‘What hours do these people work under Hagia Eirene?’
He shook his head. I stood my ground. His eyes darted towards the street. His attitude had changed. He looked really scared.
‘It’s a small request. Tell me for Alek’s sake, if nothing else.’
He closed his eyes for a few seconds, opened them, then pushed his face towards mine.
‘OK, effendi, friend of Alek who won’t give up, if you want to see them, to see what I say is true, I will tell you this.’
He gripped my arm. ‘At four every afternoon two men exit into the courtyard. That’s when they finish their shift under Hagia Eirene.’
‘How will I recognise them?’
He snorted dismissively. ‘Their overalls are covered in dust. You will know them. They are the only ones who use that exit. So now you know this and you can see with your own eyes that what I say is the truth. And you know what I think?’ His hand gripped my shoulder. ‘Why Alek died?’
‘Why?’
‘He was mixed up in something before he even came here. I don’t think it had anything to do with all this.’
And then he was gone.
I went back into the café. Two waiters, young men with slicked-back hair, and an old, grey-haired man behind the counter, were staring at me. I took my seat. A party of tourists at one of the other tables was looking at me too. I’d attracted a lot of attention. It was time to go.
Within minutes I was in a taxi, heading for Peter’s house.
I wanted to find out what had happened to Isabel. Why hadn’t she turned up? The lack of anyone following me had made me think again about what her and Peter were up to. Was I supposed to let them know what I’d found out?
The taxi driver looked at me in his mirror, as we shunted through the late morning traffic.
If Isabel was at Peter’s villa, I might tell her I was going to Hagia Eirene at four. And if she insisted, she could come along too. It would probably be a good idea to have her with me. At the very least I’d be sticking to the deal I’d done with her and Peter.
As I waited for someone to open the gate at Peter’s villa I walked up and down. When at last it opened, the first thing I did was ask Peter’s man if Isabel had come round. I surprised myself at how quickly that question came out.
‘No, sir, but Mr Fitzgerald is back,’ was his reply.
He led me through the house to a small courtyard. It had a froth of pink rose bushes climbing up three of its whitewashed walls. Peter was sitting at a coffee table, talking on a phone. He waved at me to sit down on a thickly-cushioned high-backed chair near him. It took him a couple of minutes to finish his call. Arrogance came off him like heat from a fire. It wasn’t just the way he sat, or the expression on his face, it was everything put together. I stood up and started pacing.
‘Sean, what have you been up to?’ he said, a moment later.
I told him about Isabel not showing up, about Bulent and about Hagia Eirene. Almost everything, in fact. I only kept one piece of information to myself, and even that I nearly told him, but something held me back.
Isabel not showing up was still annoying me, but he didn’t seem worried about it at all.
‘We can take it from here, Sean,’ he said condescendingly, when I finished my story.
I stared back at him, glad I hadn’t told him everything. What a total dick. I’d figured out where Alek had taken those photos, and it seemed like all this guy wanted to do was get rid of me.
Then, abruptly, he excused himself. As I waited for him to come back, I thought about what I should do next.
‘You weren’t thinking of going to Hagia Eirene by yourself, were you?’ he said, when he rejoined me a few minutes later.
Going to Hagia Eirene was exactly what I’d been planning to do.
‘I thought Isabel might like to come along.’
‘We’ve a lot of experienced people out here, Sean. They’re trained for this sort of thing. You really don’t have to get involved with this. If these are the buggers who killed your colleague, we’ll find them. Be sure of that.’ He put his hands together, turned his fingers into a steeple, then touched his forefingers to his lips and stared at me. ‘You’ve done enough.’
‘What’s happened to Isabel?’ I said.
‘Don’t worry about Isabel. She’ll be alright.’ His expression remained unreadable.
He just wanted me to walk away from it all.
‘Do you know anything else that might be useful to us, Sean?’ Had he guessed I was holding something back?
‘No.’ I kept my voice flat.
He didn’t break eye contact. ‘Then leave this to us. I’ll organise your flight home.’ He folded his arms as if he’d made my decision for me. Then he gave me one of his perfect fake smiles.
‘You’re not getting rid of me that easy,’ I replied. ‘I came here to find out what happened to Alek, and I still don’t know. If I go back to London, you guys will never tell me anything.’
‘You really must think of your safety first, Sean. You’ve found out a lot already. You’ve done well. There’s really nothing more you can do now. It’s time for the professionals to take over.’
‘You can’t stop me from going to Hagia Eirene. I want to see these people for myself. And you can’t change my mind, so don’t even try.’
There was no way I was going to give up. All that sorry sir, we’ll keep you informed sir bullshit. I knew the routine. I’d hear nothing for weeks. Then months. Then before I knew it a year would have passed and the case would be ancient history. If I was lucky, I’d receive the odd letter regretting things, telling me they were still working on the case. Maybe I’d get a brief meeting, if I pressed hard for it, with the same end result.
I had nothing to lose any more – no family, and my best friend was dead. ‘I’ll be going to Hagia Eirene this afternoon. I’ll see you there, if you can make it.’ I forced a smile.
He looked surprised, or maybe he was faking it. I didn’t give a damn.
‘I suppose I should credit you for perseverance,’ he said. ‘What do you plan to do?’
I kept my voice level. The heat was getting to me. This was the hottest day by far since I’d arrived. It felt almost as hot as northern Iraq had been.
&nbs
p; ‘I want to see these people for myself. That’s it.’
‘Well, if you insist, we’ll take you there, no problem at all.’
‘But,’ he paused. The catch was coming, ‘you’ll do what you’re told, no more, no less, or we will not be responsible for what happens to you. Don’t forget how your colleague died.’ His tone was measured, his words cold.
He turned his head. His man was standing by the door to the corridor that led to the outside world. He nodded at him.
‘I think it’s time for lunch,’ he said.
Chapter 21
‘Stupid bloody demonstrators. They’ve got a cheek,’ said Lord Bidoner, as he wobbled up the wet granite steps leading to the shiny black door. ‘We’re at war. Don’t they know it?’ He sniffed. ‘Good to see you could make it, Arap. Just in time too.’
‘Good to see you too, sir,’ said Arap Anach. His limousine driver was holding a cavernous black umbrella above his head. He waited for Lord Bidoner to move up the steps.
The pavement was deserted. At the end of the street, traffic inched past along Haymarket heading towards Trafalgar Square.
Above them, monsoon-like August rain streamed down the creamy plaster frontage of the elegant London mansion. When Bidoner reached the top of the stairs the gleaming door set between white pillars opened. The red eye of a security camera stared down at them from a bronze lion’s head, set above the door. An expanse of hall, floored in white marble, beckoned beyond the doorway.
Gilt-framed portraits of people in wigs or top hats dominated the walls. A black marble staircase, which would not have been out of place in an old Hollywood musical with Fred Astaire, led up to the gallery level.
You could smell tradition and money. It wasn’t just the lavender perfumed polish, like a whiff of expensive aftershave, or the scrubbed servants or the hush that descended as the front door closed behind them, it was everything together. And Arap liked it. This was his world.
The double doors on the far side of the entrance hall creaked as they opened. A head peeked out, then pushed the doors wide. They passed inside.
The room was a long hall with white pillars along each side. Well-dressed people in dark suits filled rows of plush, red-upholstered chairs facing a podium. Beside the podium, on a stand, stood a large, thin LCD TV. The room buzzed with chatter. Arap moved to a free seat near the front and sat down.
The Istanbul Puzzle Page 12