by Sewell, Ron
Colonel Ahmed Mustapha, wearing a well-pressed dark blue uniform and smoking a cigarette, stood when they entered. The colonel closed a document folder on his desk and in Turkish said, “Please, sit,” indicating the two hard wooden chairs in front of his desk. “You are Cypriot?” He stared straight at Nitsa. “Which language, Turkish, Greek or English. I’m proficient in each.”
“We are Greek Cypriots. I am Nitsa Charalambous and this is my fiancé, Pavlo Neophytou.”
The colonel gave a cold smile and in Greek said, “My sergeant tells me you want to discuss matters of importance.” He pointed to Pavlo. “You tell me.”
Pavlo shivered. “We hoped there might be a reward if we told you something important.”
The colonel gave a look that froze the blood in their veins.
“Rewards are given when something is disclosed. Tell me what you know and I’ll decide if a payment is justified.”
Nitsa shrugged, well aware that the colonel played with words. Controlling her emotions, she thought fast as a player in a game where there were no rules. “It’s the location of forty priceless icons. We know that a few Greek Cypriots intend to remove them from their hiding place in Varosha.”
The colonel let a prolonged moment of silence pass before he lit another cigarette. “For information to be worth money I need to know where and when?”
The hostility of distrust grew.
Nitsa returned his gaze and leaned on the edge of the desk. “At this moment the icons are in the basement of an abandoned church. The deacon, now Bishop Costas Protopapas of Paphos, hid them when you invaded.” She paused. “How much will be the reward? I’ll tell you no more until I have the money.”
The colonel cleared his throat and glared at her. “We did not invade. We restored law and order and gave our people hope,” he shouted, hatred showing in his eyes. “Our forces merely claimed what the British stole. You Greeks ruled our brothers with an iron fist, allowing them nothing and taxing them to the hilt. If our president had not stopped us we would rule the whole of Cyprus, not just this little bit.”
Pavlo swallowed and did his utmost to sound brave. “Nitsa, we should go.”
Her eyes swept back to Pavlo. “Are you stupid? We have come this far and I have no intention of leaving.”
The colonel hesitated. “You wish to stay?”
Nitsa glared at the colonel, aware of a surge of irritation rising. “I can sit here all day. No money. No information.”
“Is there any way I can persuade you to be more reasonable?” He shrugged. “How can I estimate a reward if I don’t know the facts?”
Pavlo turned to Nitsa. “This is useless. I think we should go. The sooner I’m across the Green Line the better.”
“Oh, shut up, you wimp.” Nitsa considered her options, Pavlo might be right. Speaking in a manner that concealed her true feeling she said, “Colonel, we will leave now.”
The colonel picked up his telephone. “Captain Asker Yilmaz, will you and Sergeant Celik come to my office.”
Nitsa had the sense to keep her mouth shut. Pavlo had lost the plot but she remained firm. The door opened and two men marched in, saluted and stood at ease.
“Captain Yilmaz,” said the colonel. He pointed at Nitsa and Pavlo. “These two unfortunate creatures have information that might be of value to our national security. Place them in the holding cell, give them something to eat and I’ll see how talkative they are in the morning.”
The captain turned. “Sergeant Celik, you will take care of them in your usual manner.”
“You can’t do this,” screamed Nitsa. “I’ll report you.”
The sergeant’s thin, cruel mouth twisted in a sadistic grin as he stood alongside her.
Something disquieting shaped in her mind. The sergeant frightened her.
The colonel grinned, his eyes empty of warmth. “That’s possible but hardly relevant. I have the advantage and no thanks are necessary. You are in my country and have, in my opinion, broken our laws. Sleep well and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Sergeant Celik reached out and grabbed Nitsa by the hair. She swore in Greek as he tightened his hold. The captain placed his hand on his holster and nodded to Pavlo. In a state of shock, they walked out of the office and descended the stairs. At the end of a long passage, the captain unlocked a metal-clad door. Sparsely lit steps led into the darkness and stale air wafted around them.
The sergeant dragged a shouting Nitsa to the bottom. His strong grip relaxed and she begged him to let her go. Pavlo, prodded by the captain, followed meekly.
Still holding Nitsa’s hair, the sergeant began laughing as he yanked her head back and forth a few times before it made contact with the wall. Blood oozed from the cuts on her forehead. He kicked Pavlo in the stomach. Nitsa saw him double over before he collapsed to the floor. In pain he attempted to crawl into a corner. At a cell door the sergeant paused, opened it and shoved Nitsa into the dank interior. “I’ll be back,” he sneered.
Pavlo tried to hide in the shadows but received another kicking for his troubles. The sergeant grabbed him by the hair and hauled him along the cold, stone floor. Fear tightened Pavlo’s gut.
“Tell me,” the sergeant asked. “What is it that dragged your sorry arse into my clutches?”
“We wanted to collect a reward for information.”
The sergeant threw him into the cell next to Nitsa’s. Before slamming the door he said, “You’re a pretty boy. I have a few friends who will want to make your acquaintance. Sleep well.”
The captain and the sergeant climbed the stairs and once back in the passage, slammed home the bolts. “Okay, Sergeant, it’s back to the paperwork. Carry on and keep me informed of any progress.”
* * *
Nitsa realised escape was impossible from this place. In the meagre light she took note of her surroundings. To her left a stone slab served as a bed. There were no windows, and only a single guarded light in the ceiling. She wondered what the four steel rings in the floor signified. Stunned, she sat on the stone slab.
“Pavlo, can you hear me?”
“Nitsa, are you all right?”
“They want to scare us. Whatever happens do not tell them a thing. If you do we’re in trouble.”
A scraping noise indicated the bolt being withdrawn. Nitsa remained upright and waited. When the door opened, Sergeant Celik, his dark eyes lustful, stood with two armed soldiers on either side.
“I told you she has a good body. As my men tell me, when you’re poking the fire, you never notice the ornate mantelpiece.”
She didn’t understand what he said but sensed their intentions. She shrank back into the corner until the wall stopped her. The two soldiers entered. The sergeant closed the door. One soldier placed his arms around her, pulling her towards him. The cruel smile on his face and the stench of alcohol on his breath forced her to turn her face away. He lifted her skirt and she screamed.
She struggled, clawing at his eyes. With both hands, he slammed her back against the wall. “You callous bastard,” she screamed, at the same time lifting her right knee to aim for his groin.
Sensing her movement he turned and deflected her knee with his thigh. With a closed fist he struck her a savage blow across the face that snapped her head back. Before she had a chance to recover, he swung back again. This blow sent her tumbling across the cell. The men laughed, grabbed her and threw her to the floor. Like mad men they ripped off her clothes. Nitsa shrieked, the sound filled with rage. Fear gave her strength as she struggled but they laughed all the more as they kicked and beat her. She tried to speak. She wanted to tell them the location of the icons but the words would not come.
They dragged her to the centre of the cell under the light. She tore one arm free and dug her fingernails hard into soft flesh. With venom, she clawed, drawing blood.
“Bitch,” the man shouted. He laughed as he smashed his clenched fist into her face.
“She’ll soon learn her manners,” said Sergeant Celik.
He tossed a bunch of cable ties at them. “Secure her to the floor. I’m going to enjoy this.”
Spread-eagled, she watched Celik remove his trousers, fold and place them on the side.
“Now, Bitch, let’s see how good a ride you are.”
“Get on with it,” shouted the other two.
Nitsa attempted to scream but terror silenced her. The sergeant tore into her, laughing as he did so. The others sat, smoked, urged him on, and waited their turn.
She lay still and bleeding.
Their lust sated, the men dressed and left.
“I’ll bring a few more friends next time,” said the sergeant.
* * *
Pavlo lay on the floor of his cell, waiting, listening, and shaking. Nitsa’s agonised screams and the quiet which followed frightened him. He trembled, aware of footsteps. The door bolt slid across and he feared for his life.
Captain Yilmaz stood over him. Sergeant Celik leant against the doorframe, smoking. “We have brought you food and water. Enjoy it,” said Yilmaz.
“You’re not going to beat me?”
“Why should we?” said Yilmaz. “You have my word as an officer I’ll not touch you. Obviously, you are an intelligent man. After you’ve eaten we can chat.”
“I listened while you raped Nitsa.”
“That nymphomaniac got what she wanted. She begged for more but my men tired of her,” said the sergeant. “Eat your food and we’ll talk when you’re ready.”
Pavlo ate the tasteless mush, started to relax and waited. An hour came and went but no one appeared. Shivering, he wrapped the rough blanket from the bed around his shoulders. His eyes closed and his head rested on his chest, he was thankful to be alone.
“Pavlo.”
He rubbed his face. “I’m awake. What do you want?”
“Come, let’s go to another room where you can speak freely without that whore next door listening.”
Pavlo started to rise. The man slapped him twice on either side of his face. The shock blinded him as clenched fists smashed his nose. He lurched back trying to orientate himself but strong hands grabbed him. Panic and bewilderment filled his mind. More blows came as he passed out.
Someone called his name, but it was far away.
“Wake up, Pavlo,” uttered the voice of the captain. “I told you to wake up.”
Pavlo heard the voice again, but this time clearer. At the same moment a flood of ice-cold water engulfed him.
He coughed, spluttered, and attempted to concentrate his thoughts. His eyes opened; his hands were bound to a metal rail suspended from the ceiling. Nothing made sense. Why were they doing this? A damp cloth wiped his face.
“Refreshing, Pavlo?”
His mouth hurt and he remembered being beaten. “Don’t hit me. Please don’t hit me.”
“Are you going to be reasonable and not waste my time?” said the captain, in Greek.
The sergeant grabbed Pavlo's hair and yanked his head back.
Pavlo screamed, “No more. Please no more.”
“Tell me where the icons are and you can leave,” said the captain.
“I don’t know. Nitsa overheard the plan.”
The captain checked the time. “Pavlo, I have to leave. If you think of anything, tell the sergeant.”
The sergeant strolled from one side of the cell to the other. “You are a pretty boy, Pavlo. My friends are on their way. They should be here soon.”
The door burst open and two brutish men entered. One began to stroke and kiss Pavlo. He struggled and attempted to kick out.
The other man punched Pavlo hard in the stomach and removed his trousers.
“Please, I’m not like that, please.”
“How do you know until you’ve tried it,” said one as the other forced Pavlo’s legs apart.
“If you have something to tell me, tell me now or I’ll leave you to have fun.”
“Sergeant. Let me convince him.”
The sergeant paced out the length of the room and returned.
“Last chance, Pavlo. My men want to fuck you.”
A brutal punch to the stomach made Pavlo scream and gasp for air. His mouth opened and someone shoved a rag into it.
With his eyes wide open, Pavlo struggled in vain as the men buggered him. They left him bloodied, still tied to the beam.
* * *
A deluge of ice-cold water revived Pavlo, allowing him to relive the pain. The same rough stone floor met his eyes. He tried to make sense of it all. Dazed, he lifted his head.
The captain stood staring at him in silence. “Enjoy your sleep? You’re a greedy bastard who wanted to make easy money. I bet she put you up to it.”
Pavlo’s head rocked back as a punch struck the side of his face. Blood trickled from his nose and his split lips. Without stopping to think the words spewed out. “Yes, she did. She talked me into it. I wanted nothing to do with it.”
“You see, I understand.” He removed a notebook from his jacket pocket. “Please tell me everything and then you can go. We will speak with the woman afterwards.”
Pavlo told them everything and embellished the number of icons and their estimated value.
When he had finished, Captain Yilmaz released the manacles and let him sit.
“Now that wasn’t difficult. Why do you resist so much? My sergeant will arrive soon and show you where you can wash and make yourself presentable. Excuse me, are you hungry? Ah, Sergeant Celik, take this gentleman for a good hot meal and make sure he leaves the barracks unmolested.”
The sergeant saluted. “Yes, sir.”
Captain Yilmaz turned on his heel and walked out.
* * *
Nitsa’s arms and legs lacked any sense of feeling. Spread-eagled, a strange warmth wrapped itself around her. She tried to raise her head. Pinpricks of light danced before her eyes. She laughed hysterically; those bastards had gone. She prayed they wouldn’t come back. In her delirium, she didn’t appreciate what they wanted.
The light was dim. Above her loomed a big man. He closed the door. One by one he cut and removed the cable ties. With tenderness he massaged her bloody wrists and ankles, took her hands and pulled her towards him. He stroked her breasts, and then held her close.
She trembled and her eyes opened wide. She remained silent. This one acted differently, tenderly, and she wondered why he bothered, since nothing remained to be taken.
He smoothed her hair from her face. Barely conscious, she succumbed to the warmth of his hands as they encircled her throat. Dark filled her mind as she tried to scream.
The big man checked for a pulse and found nothing. Satisfied, he went outside the cell and returned with a large canvas sack. It took him a few minutes to place her corpse into the bag. The task completed, he tied the sack at its top and with a grunt heaved it onto his shoulder and walked out.
* * *
Pavlo followed Sergeant Celik, limping as he supported his shaking body with a hand against the wall. He wondered what next. With a sideways glance, he noted the door to Nitsa’s cell was closed and bolted.
In a bathroom, Sergeant Celik threw him a towel and a bar of soap. “Have a hot shower. When you’re finished I’ll take you to my mess and you can enjoy a good plate of stew. I’ll get you clean clothes. You don’t want to be seen in those.”
Pavlo washed, dried, and dressed. Anxious, he expected the sergeant to return and for it to start again.
The sergeant escorted him to the mess, sat him at a table, and served him. The beef stew tasted wonderful and when he asked for more, Celik obliged. A large brandy followed, stinging the raw flesh in his mouth.
“There’s more brandy if you want. Drink up, it’s free.”
“No, thank you.” Pavlo relaxed as he considered how lucky he had been to escape with his life.
“Please follow me,” said Sergeant Celik with a grin as he escorted Pavlo into the barrack square. “Wouldn’t want you to get lost.”
His muscles aching and his hands shaking, Pavlo walked pa
infully to his car. It took two attempts to insert the key. He stopped and breathed deeply, once, twice, three times. What a relief, he thought. He could go home and try to forget it ever happened. Once inside, and with the doors locked, he fastened his seatbelt. He wondered if Nitsa was okay. When he got back to the south, he would inform the world how she suffered in their hands. He started the engine and pulled away. In his rear view mirror, he noticed the sergeant waving. A shiver raced up his spine.
At the exit he turned into the one-way system towards Nicosia and safety. The road appeared deserted. He pressed the accelerator and roared along the main road, reaching sixty kilometres an hour in a few seconds. He gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could to stop his body from shaking. What man would leave his girlfriend and run away? In defence he assured himself there was nothing he could have achieved. They were prepared to kill him and he could never prove to anyone what they had done to him.
Pavlo’s heart rate gradually returned to normal. The digital clock on the dashboard indicated ten in the evening. On nearing the Turkish Border post he slowed the car. Powerful lights illuminated the compulsory stopping place. Pavlo sat back, glanced at the surroundings and waited his turn. None of the Turkish guards paid any attention to him. He handed his visa over and drove to the Cypriot crossing point.
A solitary sentry held up his hand. “Did you obtain any goods in the north?” Neglect surrounded him as if he had been on duty too long or didn’t care.
“Nothing. I bought nothing.”
The guard smiled. “What happened to your face?”
Pavlo remained silent for a few seconds, his mind confused. He didn’t know what to say. “I got into a fight with a couple of drunks.”
The young man peered at Pavlo for a few seconds. “You obviously lost. A few of those cuts are bleeding. Come into the office, we have a first aid kit. Park your car and we can tidy you up before your girlfriend sees you.”