by Rik Stone
“I didn’t … yes, err, no. But over the years they’ve grown in power and still nobody touches them. They seem to have a free run of the city, but something will have to be done – they’re spreading like wildfire. I … I haven’t seen you for years. Where have you been? I was sure somebody said you’d gone back to Russia. What are you doing here anyway?” He babbled like a fool and then silence ruled for a moment. Suddenly, his breath caught in his throat. “Oh, err, and what do mean, perversions? I was having a drink with a friend,” he replied.
Yuri let loose a deep breath. “I’m not here to argue with you about what you’ve been up to, Hasim. I already have enough to blow you to hell, so I’ll get straight to the point. I need to know the forthcoming movements of General Murat Volkan.”
“Volkan, you say? I know of him, of course I do, but he’s too high up the tree to have anything to do with the likes of me. I–”
Mehmet saw another side to Yuri when, without warning, he grabbed Hasim by the lapels and slammed him against the wall. “Stop right there, you little shit, and let me start again. There will be no discussion here. I ask questions and for each one you refuse to answer or fuck me about with, I break a bone. Should that fail, I will make sure you will be reading about your little foibles in one of the city’s bigger newspapers. And, if you do answer my questions and tell someone about it later, I will kill you. Do we understand each other, loser?”
Yuri let go and Hasim’s body slid down the wall until his feet touched terra firma. He brushed at his suit nervously as if he’d spilled something on it and tried to grab at some dignity by standing upright and holding his head back. Not a sound could be heard as Yuri gave him time to mull over the options.
Hasim folded when it sunk in that he had none. “What was it you wanted to know?” he asked sullenly.
“Simple enough: when will Volkan be in the city and what will his movements be?”
“Friday. I happen to know he’s arranged a meeting with the manager of a club in Galata – The Sultan’s Choice.”
“Meet with the manager? What is the manager’s name and what time is he meeting Volkan?”
“He’s called Zeki,” Hasim replied. “And he’s meeting with him at the club late evening.”
“His name’s Zeki, you say – is that it?” Yuri asked.
“Yes. I know the decree was made that everyone should take a second name, but he never did. You know the type.”
Oh yes, I know the type, Mehmet thought. “What does he look like?” he asked, and Yuri gave him a withering look for interrupting. But Mehmet didn’t care. Suddenly, the game had changed.
The description Hasim gave made Zeki sound like a city gent, so maybe it wasn’t the Zeki that he knew. Yuri continued questioning Hasim until sending him on his way, but not before reminding him that any discussion about the chat would cost his life.
With Hasim gone, Yuri leant against the wall in the alley for five minutes without speaking before standing straight and abruptly walking off. Mehmet quickened his pace to keep abreast.
“Okay, we know enough to make a move. Remember, there can’t be any loose ends,” Yuri said. “We must make a clean sweep and leave things so there’s no way anyone can trace the job back to Soviet soil.”
*
For two days they watched the places that Mehmet knew Zeki would haunt, but there was no sign of him.
“It would have been easier if it had been your Zeki,” Yuri said, “with all the dark alleys you say he wandered through, but … never mind, we’ll stake out The Sultan’s Choice.”
However, when Zeki came strutting out from the main door of his club, it was clear to Mehmet that it was the same Zeki who’d run the Little Dogs, even with the smart suit and fancy hairstyle. No longer the skinny urchin Mehmet knew, Zeki had filled out, looked like he worked out; in fact, he was a similar size and build to Mehmet. And his face wasn’t dissimilar either. That observation alone turned Mehmet’s stomach.
“Look, it is him,” Mehmet said. “I can’t believe it.”
Zeki hurried down the avenue. They followed at a safe distance. Zeki picked up a bodyguard who appeared to be waiting for him and they went from one club to another. Zeki carried some sort of hand bag that seemed to swell a little after each venue. They finished, not at a club, but at the same building where Rifkin Ertug worked. When he came out, Zeki was alone – and without the bag. Walking alongside the Golden Horn, he came to the Sultanahmet Quarter and disappeared into an apartment block.
“That block contains an apartment belonging to Beyrek Ozel. Remember, the man Michel told us about?” Yuri studied Mehmet as he spoke, as though he might know Beyrek Ozel.
Mehmet shook his head. “I remember the discussion, but I’d never heard of Beyrek before Michel mentioned him.”
Two minutes of watching from across the street and they went into the foyer. Yuri spoke to a man sitting at a desk against the back wall. “I saw a man come in a couple of minutes ago, an old friend. But I haven’t seen him for some years, so I can’t be sure. His name is Hasim.”
The man looked up and shook his head. “No, the only person who’s come in here in the past hour was Mister Zeki.”
“Oh, that’s disappointing… Thanks for your help.”
The man smiled and Mehmet and Yuri went back out into the street.
“Good, he lives there. Come on, we’ll go back to the boat and bring it along to the floating bridge.”
*
The next morning they stood outside Zeki’s apartment block, still without a plan.
“The situation could be better,” Yuri said. “I’ve told you in training, Mehmet, never go into action blind. But here we are, sorely in need of a strategy. We haven’t time to do anything elaborate with Zeki, but we have to be sure of the setup for Volkan. I’m thinking that somehow Zeki will have to be the tool to set him up.”
“How?” Mehmet asked.
“We grab him off the street. If Volkan has similar sexual tastes to Hasim Ediz then Zeki is his conduit to satisfaction. But I can’t just grab him like with Hasim. We need to get him to the boat.”
The discussion ended when Zeki swaggered out onto the street. “He’s coming now,” Mehmet said and pushed behind Yuri.
Yuri’s face strained in concentration. “And he’s heading for the Galata Bridge. Yes, of course, his club is on the other side, so he’ll need to cross the bridge.”
“And that’s a help?”
“Yes, Mehmet, that’s a help. To get to the bridge he’ll have to pass by the quayside, so if we can overpower him near the boat… Right, okay, get down to the pier and bring back one of the small tarpaulins and a short rope. Take the quickest route and come back the same way to meet me.”
Mehmet ran down to the boat, picked up what Yuri had asked for and was halfway back when he was pulled into an alley. His heart jumped into his mouth.
“I pressed on ahead,” Yuri explained. “We have plenty of time. He doesn’t seem to be a man to hurry anywhere.”
It was a busy main street and people were everywhere, but as Zeki strolled aimlessly past the alley, Yuri clasped a hand around his neck and pulled him in.
“Wha–!”
Mehmet watched people pass and no one so much as changed step.
“I… What do you want?” Zeki cried out, but Yuri clumped him on the side of the head and Zeki’s feet buckled under him.
Yuri dropped Zeki’s almost unconscious body to the cobbles, tied his hands and legs, pulled an oily rag from his waistband and stuffed it in his mouth. Within seconds Zeki was rolled up in the tarpaulin, Yuri had slung him over his shoulder and was walking towards the quay.
Chapter 14
“Yuri, he’s in trouble!” Mehmet shouted from the wheelhouse.
Mehmet could clearly hear the howls of distress, even from within the cabin’s confines, although Zeki was wrapped up in tarpaulin with an oily rag stuffed in his mouth. Yuri came from aft and punched the bag where the head would be. Moaning and then silence. Mehmet hadn’t exp
ected such a response from Yuri and couldn’t but laugh at the slapstick impressions that jumped into his mind. Shaking off the mirth, he carried on, motoring out towards a part of the strait that was away from the traffic lanes where only distant sounds could be heard.
Yuri shouted, “This will do,” and threw an anchor aft and moved fore. “Your friend can make all the noise he wants now.”
Friend? Mehmet slatted his eyes in response before pulling the throttle into reverse, stilling the craft. He shut down the engine and the cries of the Muezzin calling the faithful to prayer echoed eerily over the sound.
“Right, give me a hand,” Yuri said, having thrown another anchor fore and coming back to Zeki.
Mehmet took one end of the tarpaulin and helped unroll the captive. Zeki squinted at being exposed to stark light and raised his arms to block the glare of the sun; his face had already swelled and heavy bruising covered his cheek. Yuri grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to his feet. The moaning was pitiful and it sent a twinge of humanity through Mehmet. But the thought of how Zeki had assisted in turning his life to shit came to mind and he dismissed the sympathy in the blink of an eye.
Yuri pushed Zeki on and past the wheelhouse. Mehmet followed.
“Now then,” Yuri said, forcing Zeki to sit on the aft benching. “I don’t expect you’ll remember me after so long, but I have vivid recollections of you.”
Zeki’s eyes narrowed and Mehmet could tell he’d recognised Yuri, but he said, “I think you’ve mixed me up with someone else, sir. I don’t know you.”
Yuri filled a mug with water, took a sip and then threw the rest into Zeki’s face. Zeki shook his head like a wet dog.
“Oh, but…” Yuri began. “No, who I am doesn’t matter. You’re here to tell me about General Volkan’s visit to your club tonight. And before you reply, be aware: I won’t be messed around by silly answers. Are we clear?”
“Who is General Volkan?”
Yuri shook his head. “Seems I wasn’t clear,” he said then took a handful of Zeki’s hair and threw a short punch. A scrunching sound was followed by a screech. Zeki’s nose had broken and blood gushed over his mouth and chin.
“Okay, let’s start again. We know something is happening tonight and we know you are the contact. So, last chance…”
Zeki shook his head arrogantly. “No, I don’t know him I tell you.”
He looked at Mehmet and his face contorted. His brow furrowed in sudden recognition.
“Mehmet… Mehmet, is that you? But what’re you doing with him? He was with them when your father…”
Yuri stopped Zeki going any further by slapping him about the face. But Mehmet had only been half-listening and his appetite for inflicting further pain had dwindled as he watched Zeki defiantly hold his own. A different situation and he might have admired him. Yuri showed no such emotion and Mehmet was mesmerised listening to the thudding of bones and flesh as they collided in anger. Mehmet knew Zeki was tough, but he wasn’t in Yuri’s league. Already, his face looked like tenderised meat.
Yuri pushed Zeki back and stood tall. “Save yourself from the real pain when you start saying goodbye to your fingers and toes. Give me what I want and you’ll be out of the loop.”
Suddenly, Zeki’s spirit caved and his head fell forward to hide the tears Mehmet had seen break from his eyes. “Yes, all right, all right. I don’t owe anyone any loyalty here. I’ll tell you what you want if you stop hurting me.”
“Good … like I said, we know what is happening tonight and we know you are the contact. So, Volkan is going to the club. What time will he arrive?”
Zeki sniffed blood back through his nose. “I don’t know, he gets there when he gets there, but it won’t be before nine o’clock.”
“What is it you supply him with?”
Zeki lifted his head sharply, a surprised expression crossed his face. “What, you don’t know anything about what is going on, do you?”
Yuri sighed before giving Zeki a thudding backhand that lashed across his face and knocked him from the seating. He pulled him back into sitting position. “Do not enter debate with me. I ask the questions, you answer them, and it all happens without further discussion.”
Zeki lifted his tethered hands to soothe the latest blow and sobbed. “Little Dogs, I get an attractive Little Dog to come to the club.”
“Girls or boys?” Mehmet asked.
“Boys are Volkan’s only interest. I tell them I have a special job that will move them up the ranks. The boy I choose arrives early evening, we dress him up in new clothes and tell him to wait in the office for his new benefactor.”
Mehmet couldn’t control himself, as he stepped forward and punched Zeki in the nose. Zeki screamed when the injured nose squelched once more. Mehmet had always known Zeki was a bastard, but what he was doing here was a new low even for him; he sacrificed Little Dogs in exchange for – for what? – a higher place in a nightclub chain.
Yuri pulled Mehmet back and then continued. “If you’re not there, will the plan still go ahead?”
A new fear crossed Zeki’s face. “Not there, why? What are you going to do with me?”
Yuri laughed. “Don’t be stupid. I said you’d be out the loop, and you will, but I can hardly let you go running free before I’ve done what I have to do, can I?”
Zeki’s shoulders relaxed and he nodded, warily. “Suppose not… yes, the evening will go ahead without me. I’m not always available, so there are people at the club who will take up the job.”
Mehmet watched in silence, hardly able to believe what he was listening to.
Yuri threw a few more questions, but they began going in circles. “You’re sure that’s everything?” he asked.
“Yes, I swear,” Zeki said as he sniffed more blood and snot back.
“Okay, only move from that bench if you want the pain to start again,” Yuri said and went to the wheelhouse. He came out holding the Welrod silent pistol.
“What? Are you going to shoot him?” Mehmet asked, not sure whether he was feeling pleased or unnerved.
“No, of course not – you are,” he answered and handed Mehmet the gun.
“No…” Zeki mumbled softly, as if he already knew he’d met his kismet but thought he should pay lip service to his predicament anyway.
Yuri ignored him. “Rotate the bolt and pull-push like I’ve shown you. Squeeze the trigger and follow the routine until you’ve put enough bullets in him to satisfy your revenge.”
Mehmet looked down at his hand and saw the weapon quivering uncontrollably. He turned his eyes on Zeki and felt the pain and fear that he was clearly suffering. The venom in him weakened. “No, Yuri. I don’t care what he was or what he’s done; I can’t do it. I’ve never killed anyone and I won’t start like this.”
Mehmet handed the gun to Yuri and stepped back.
“Good. This line of work is not about vengeance.”
Yuri pushed the Welrod into his waistband and went to the prow of the boat. He opened a rope locker and pulled out a small, cast-iron anchor and a rope. Mehmet watched Zeki’s face turn to stark fear. His eyes popped wide, his eyebrows aimed skyward and his mouth gaped. He’d sat on the bench, tamed, spirit broken, but when Yuri tied one end of the rope to the anchor and got hold of his legs, he screamed and tried to get up, lashing out.
“What’re you doing? Please! You said I would be out of the loop,” he shouted, his broken nose making him sound almost comical.
“And this is what takes you out,” Yuri said, punching Zeki in the side of the head and getting back to the task of winding the rope around his arms and legs.
Only half-conscious, Zeki pleaded to Mehmet. “No… no, please, Mehmet! Please! Stop him!”
He cried, he begged, but the words went unheeded. Mehmet hardened himself by thinking of how Senturk’s body had almost been blown in half. He thought of his shoulder and the pain that seared through it when he was shot. He thought of himself floundering in the water on the brink of death. And it had al
l been down to Zeki betraying them.
Yuri lifted the anchor and chucked it over the aft side. A splash and the slack of the rope snaked over the gunwale. Zeki screeched as Yuri took hold of him to make sure his transition followed smoothly. Mehmet watched Zeki belly-flop into the water and disappear from sight. He leaned over the side and saw the ever-increasing circles weaken in growth.
He hated to admit it, but apart from a little guilt, the only thing that really filled him was satisfaction.
*
They upped anchor, carried on over the strait and berthed at Uskudar before going to the Ottoman house.
“Things have just improved. We have a plan,” Yuri said.
“Do you want to share it?” Mehmet asked as he sat up at the table, drinking coffee and chewing pita bread.
“Not right now. I want you to stay here while I get some stuff in town.” Yuri took a last swig of coffee and left Mehmet with a parting shot. “I hadn’t noticed before, but your eyebrows seem to have come down to rest on your top lip. I expect them to be gone by the time I get back.”
Mehmet had just finished shaving off the moustache when Yuri returned.
“That’s better. Now with that pretty little face of yours, you look just like a girl.” He laughed as he threw Mehmet a parcel. “And by the time you put on some makeup and change into this clothing, that’s exactly what I hope you’ll pass for.”
Chapter 15
General Murat Volkan preened at his reflection in the mirror, proudly held his head back and pulled in his stomach while smoothing the sides of his salt and pepper hair. If he wanted he knew he could have any woman he chose, but women had never been of interest to him, so … well, why even think of it. Now, a score was imminent and, as always, his mind wandered back to how it had all begun.
Stationed in Elazig in the southwest province of Eastern Anatolia, it was 1937 and he’d volunteered to go to the Turkish front during the latest Kurdish revolt. But things weren’t going according to plan. Murat’s family had been well placed on the social side of politics in Istanbul and he had gone into the land army as an officer. While serving, he dreamt of being part of the vanguard – for no particular reason other than it had caused a strange sensation that warmed his stomach when he visualised it. The Kurdish uprising had moved him so close to the action he wanted, but he ended up overseeing a team of provisions clerks: the placement just wasn’t good enough and he made sure everyone knew his feelings.