I’d slept for ten hours the night before in an emergency room at a less-than-busy holding centre in the Northolt Government Airbase west of London. Isabel had suggested I stay there for security reasons. Whoever had tried to kill me could well be watching my house in Fulham, she’d said.
The next morning I woke up wondering if I’d missed the action; if they’d arrested Peter already
‘Don’t be absurd,’ she’d said, when she returned for me at nine in the morning. ‘I can’t have people arrested because of a conversation I overheard. Accusing someone of being a traitor is a very serious thing. I have to approach this carefully. I have to report what we’ve heard to the right person. There’s a right way to do these things.’
‘Did they find anything in that cavern under Hagia Sophia? There’s evidence down there, I’m sure of it.’
‘It was raided by Turkish special forces yesterday. The place was empty. Even the tables we saw were gone. Whoever was working down there must have cleared it out right after we escaped. The safe house on Buyuk Ada they were using was empty too. Our leads are drying up.’
‘We still have one,’ I’d said.
‘Yes, we do.’
Which was why we were here. Why I was here. I was a witness to what had happened with Peter.
‘You’re really up to your neck in it, old boy,’ said David Simon, turning to me.
I nodded. ‘Runs in the family, sir.’
‘I’m sorry about your colleague. Frightfully bad form about him being beheaded. Do you know why it happened?’
‘It seems his curiosity took him to the wrong place.’
‘And you have doubts about our man, Fitzgerald, isn’t that right?’
He looked at me searchingly. I wondered for a second about what I’d heard with my own ears. Perhaps there was an explanation. Then I felt sure again. Peter was working against us. I’d overheard him scheming. He couldn’t have known we could hear him talking. I wasn’t going to deny hearing him.
‘I remember every word that came out of his mouth,’ I said. ‘And I think Isabel should be listened to.’
‘That is exactly what I am doing.’ He sounded irritated.
‘If you’d been there, you wouldn’t have any doubts,’ I said. ‘This guy is involved with the people who murdered my colleague. At the very least he’s covering up what he knows. These people threatened to bring Armageddon to London, Sir David.’
‘Please, just David. And there’s a lot of people who threaten us, old boy. Most of them are delusional.’
He sniffed loudly. ‘What about this manuscript you found? What do you think about that? Is it a fake?’
Isabel’s face was blank.
‘No,’ I said. ‘It would be a very odd place to put a fake.’
He looked at me intensely, as if he was trying to figure something out about me.
‘Well, it’s quite a find, that’s for sure. I did a bit of digging after your call this morning, Ms Sharp. An old friend of mine from Cambridge filled me in on a few things.’ He looked up, stopped talking as a group of people passed us on their way out.
‘He said the Eastern Roman emperor at the time of the Prophet Mohammed was rumoured to have converted to Islam.’ He put his hands together.
‘You do know a manuscript, perhaps this one, sparked an attempt on that emperors’s life?’
I nodded.
‘That manuscript was believed to include letters from the Pope in Rome, and from Mecca. The Emperor was, supposedly, trying to mediate between the two sides. If what you’ve found is authentic, and the letters inside it are what we think they are, they could cause a sensation. So we have to be truly careful. This is not a good time to go upsetting apple carts.’ He looked around the room, nodded at a group of aged, rumple-suited men in the far corner.
‘This was the genius who lost Jerusalem to the Muslims?’ I said.
‘Indeed, Jerusalem was a Christian and a Jewish city back then. That was the golden age for Christians in Jerusalem. All that ended when the city fell to the Muslims. Heraclius, our mediating emperor, was blamed. What you’ve discovered could answer a lot of questions. But we have to wait and see what the academics say, and not just our lot either.’ He paused.
‘Do you have pictures of what you found?’ I had the feeling he wanted to know if we had access to what was in the manuscript.
‘There’s some photos on the Internet,’ I said. ‘Do you want to see them?’
Isabel looked surprised.
I leaned towards her. ‘Kaiser’s camera uploads every image it takes to a website,’ I said. ‘All you need is the camera’s serial number to be able to access the images. We used the same website at the Institute last year.’
‘You have the serial number?’ said Isabel.
I smiled, enjoying the moment.
‘You should have…’ She stopped herself.
‘Pass me your iPhone,’ I said.
She passed me her phone. I opened the web browser and went to the site.
David moved forward in his chair. The screen on the new iPhone was ideal for showing photos.
I logged in, scrolled down and looked at the images for a few seconds. Then I held the phone up for David. He stared at it. Isabel nudged me gently with her foot. Her smile said don’t-leave-me-out-of-your-show.
I put the phone down on the table so we could all see the images. Then I flicked through them with my finger.
Not only were all the photos there, some of them had been split up and then blown up. Some even had other analysis done on them, revealing lines and shapes.
There were shots of the front cover, first page, last page, a few inside pages; then, a close up of one of the letter-type pages. It had a seal at its bottom that I hadn’t paid much attention to the first time I’d been looking at it.
I stopped on that image.
‘That looks like a papal seal,’ said David. He sounded angry. ‘This material shouldn’t be so easily accessible. It has to be studied, verified, before the public gets hold of it. These could be scurrilous forgeries.’
Isabel held her hand out. I passed her the phone. She looked around, as if she wanted to verify there wasn’t anybody watching us.
‘These images won’t be made public, sir.’
‘They better not be,’ he said. ‘But I’m not exactly brimming with confidence. You didn’t even know where these photos were stored until a minute ago, young lady.’
She gave me a withering look.
‘They’re on a private site,’ I said.
‘That’s not the point. Look, I’m going to have a word with someone about your Peter Fitzgerald chap. Wait here. You’re not in a hurry, are you?’
‘No,’ I said.
Isabel nodded in agreement.
‘Good,’ he said. He stood up, ambled over to a table nearby, directly under one of the giant gothic-style windows that dominated one entire wall. Beyond the windows, blue sky beckoned.
I sat back. With sunlight streaming through the windows, the room looked more like a chapel than a bar. I wasn’t going to get too many opportunities to take in the laid back atmosphere of a place like this.
I watched David Simon. He was speaking to some people at a table in the far corner. He turned and waved us over.
‘I’d arranged to meet these people for lunch. Why don’t you wait with them until I get back,’ he said as we joined them. Sitting at the table was a shiny-faced pensioner. With him was a smiling woman with huge, bushy blonde hair. She was wearing a black-and-white houndstooth suit. It made her look like a retired Hollywood star. A whiff of spicy perfume hit me.
‘This is Lord Enniskerry,’ said David, introducing the man sitting down. Enniskerry half stood as he held out his hand. ‘How he wangled his way into this place, I’ll never know. And this is Gülsüm, the famous fortune teller. She’ll cheer you up. Did you let Enniskerry in, Gülsüm?’ He gave the lady sitting beside Lord Enniskerry a grave look. She laughed, a high-pitched friendly laugh. We shook hands.
She smiled, as if seeing me meant she’d won the lottery.
‘Delighted,’ she said. She sounded French or Egyptian.
‘Why don’t you do an old friend a favour, Gülsüm, and read these people their fortunes while they wait for me?’
‘Only for you, David,’ she purred. She waved at him as he departed.
There was an awkward silence as we sat down. Having my fortune read didn’t interest me one bit. I was about to decline the offer, but Gülsüm had already turned towards me, and before I could speak, she said, ‘Are you in trouble, Sean?’ Her tone was low, conspiratorial. Her gaze flickered over me, as if taking in every part of me.
I looked at Isabel. Her lips were pursed. Say nothing, her expression said. She was sitting as far back as she could on the leather armchair to my right. Gülsüm and Lord Enniskerry were on the opposite side of the coffee table.
‘No,’ I replied. White porcelain coffee cups and saucers emblazoned with the crowned portcullis emblem of the House of Commons sat on the table.
‘Let me order you chaps some coffee,’ said Lord Enniskerry. He waved a waiter over.
A few minutes later, Gülsüm was quizzing Isabel about her job in Istanbul. Isabel spoke at length, without giving anything away. She’d make a good politician.
I was hoping David would come back soon.
I looked out of the window. I could just about see the top of the London eye. I imagined the queue of tourists waiting to view the city from 440 feet. Despite everything, London was still full of tourists.
My reverie was interrupted when Gülsüm suddenly sniffed loudly and said, ‘Do you smell fire?’
I crinkled my nose. She was right. There was a burning smell. ‘Yep,’ I said. I looked around.
Chapter 49
Arap Anach looked out of the tinted window of his night-black Maybach 62S. The Bose sound system was playing Ride of the Valkyries low, just how he liked it. The climate control system was purring. The electro-transparent partition between the driver and the rear compartment was up. The twin-turbo V12 engine was as loud as a distant breeze. All would have been right with the world, if the speedometer in the rear compartment wasn’t reading 0 MPH.
He pressed his fist into the black pigskin seat. He was going to be late. He hated being late. It was all the fault of this new security cordon in the City.
At that moment the in-car telephone system buzzed. Arap stabbed a finger at the control button.
‘Yes.’ His tone was imperious. It displayed nothing of his desire to see the cars around him vaporised.
‘The packages have been delivered.’ Malach sounded eager.
‘Very good,’ said Arap. He closed the connection.
The final step would be easy now. He smiled. He didn’t care about the traffic any more. It was all so close, and no one had any idea what was about to happen.
Chapter 50
I hope it’s not serious,’ said Gülsüm.
I was out of my seat, looking around
An alarm rang out loudly from the corridor outside the room. As it did, David appeared in the doorway waving at us languidly. It would take a lot more than a fire alarm to make this guy panic.
‘All out,’ he called.
We trooped out of the room, everyone letting everyone else pass by in front of them with a great show of very British politeness. A lingering acrid smell drifted in from somewhere.
Like children after the Pied Piper, our little group traipsed after David. He led us into a small wood-panelled room. It looked as if it hadn’t been used since the Second World War, so old were the iron radiators and the two wooden desks that almost filled it. He led us on through a small door in the back of the room, and down a long panelled corridor of the same vintage.
My mind was racing as I brought up the rear. Was this about us, about what we were doing here, or was I just being totally paranoid?
Some people brushed past us going the other way. More alarms competed with each other. I could smell smoke at one point as we passed a grand stairwell, like something from a Gothic castle. The smell was stronger now. Lord Enniskerry called out for us to hurry up.
The sense of security I’d felt since coming back to London had evaporated.
Finally, we reached an old-fashioned elevator in a bare hallway. It looked like something the ordinary staff of the building might use. We took it to the ground floor and a few minutes later, after passing through a narrow concrete corridor, we exited through a four-inch-thick steel door into a vast steel hall, the battleship-grey lower concourse of Westminster Underground Station. Straight in front of us dull steel escalators loomed.
‘This way,’ said David. ‘I know a good spot for lunch.’
‘Don’t you want to find out what’s going on?’ I said.
‘I’m sure good people are looking after it all. Our job is to keep going,’ he said, loudly.
Lord Enniskerry declined the invitation, shook hands with us, then kissed Gulsum’s hand before disappearing into the crowd.
There were no alarms ringing in the station, but by the time we reached the eastbound Circle Line, two levels below, it was jammed full of people lining the platform five deep, elbow-to-elbow, all waiting quietly. The atmosphere was tense, but as usual on the Underground eye contact was avoided. Even after we’d boarded the train, conversations were hushed.
‘This was the Old Bank of England once upon a time,’ said David, fifteen minutes later, as he ushered us into a large high-ceilinged pub.
We’d got off the Underground at Temple Station, two stops from Westminster, and had walked along Fleet Street among the oblivious lunchtime crowds of King’s College students, city office workers, and pale-faced lawyers from the various Inns of Court. Now, the four of us were ensconced in a private alcove in the pub’s large basement restaurant.
The room had a vaulted wooden ceiling. It was decorated in burgundy upholstery, and had shiny brass handrails, rose-shaped lamps, which looked more like gaslights, and polished wooden tables and chairs as dark as a night in any of Dickens’s orphanages. Around us, waiters hovered, as well-paid business and legal types lunched with colleagues or entertained clients on expense accounts.
‘Nothing disturbs the flow of money,’ said David, passing us menus. ‘The terrorist threat level has been raised, you know, but it’s business as usual down here.’
‘They should all be given medals,’ said Gülsüm, beaming broadly. ‘Or flowers. I do love London.’
She’d been smiling at me all the way from the House of Commons. When I looked at Isabel, I got the distinct impression, from her frosty expression, that she didn’t like the woman.
‘Did you find out what happened back at the House of Commons?’ Isabel asked David.
He’d made a call while we were walking down Fleet Street. Isabel had made one too.
‘Nothing to worry about, my dear. A little problem in the kitchens,’ said David. ‘Everyone a bit twitchy today. For good reason too. You do know about the demonstration the Muslims are planning this afternoon, don’t you?’
‘I thought someone would have banned that after last Saturday,’ I interrupted.
‘The free speech lobby won out, old boy.’ He waved a hand dismissively in the air. ‘We don’t want them complaining they can march after prayers in Cairo, but not here.’
‘Even at St Paul’s?’ I said.
He nodded. Gülsüm patted David’s arm, then looked at me, her brow furrowed. ‘Should I do that reading now, Sean?’ she asked.
She was a persistent lady.
‘Do you believe in this stuff?’ I asked David, gesturing towards Gülsüm.
‘I write columns in the Evening Standard, and I hate to tell you this, but last year more people read their horoscopes than all my bloody opinion pieces put together. It’s a parlour game really, a harmless diversion.’
‘But you like it when it comes true, David, don’t you?’ Gülsüm gave him a cool stare.
‘Please, pick a card,’ she sa
id, turning to me. ‘Just one card.’
She’d spread a yellowing deck in a semi-circle face down in front of her. I could argue, and I might have done a few days ago, but what the hell, I’d come close to death. Let’s see what it says.
Without thinking much I pointed to a card. She turned it over with a flourish. It showed a woodcut image of a robed angel holding a trumpet up, with a cockerel at its feet.
‘Aah, the Judgment card,’ she said, softly. She placed two fingers over each of her eyes, as if she wanted to see something in her mind.
‘Something’s about to change,’ she said, softly. Then she removed her fingers from her eyes and looked at me solemnly.
I smiled. She was good. But if she’d told me what was going to change, I might have been more impressed.
‘I have a confession, people. I brought Gülsüm along for another reason too,’ said David.
‘Which is?’ said Isabel.
‘When I enquired about that manuscript you found, the FO sent me an image of a symbol. I sent it to Gülsüm. It’s a square with an arrow inside it. Quite a simple thing. Did you see it?’
I nodded. Isabel was staring at David.
Gülsüm shifted in her seat, put her cards away. Then she put a hand on the table, as if steadying herself. We were all waiting for her to speak.
‘The symbol has multiple meanings, David,’ she said, matter of factly. ‘First, it has mystical meaning. The square is the earth, the triangles fire. This is simple. Anyone can see that.’ She moved her hands across the table as if arranging something.
‘And it is also a Byzantine board game. You have to see what new shapes you can make when you move the pieces around.’ She stopped moving her hands.
‘And hidden beneath that is something else. A Byzantine astrological chart.’ Her hands fluttered in the air. ‘The symbols are in the right order for a reading. The only thing I cannot say is, who or what the chart was written for.’
‘Who or what?’ said David.
The Istanbul Puzzle Page 26