by Jan Coffey
“Wouldn’t it be safer if you came?” she asks him again.
“You’re in good hands,” he assures her. “Christina is quite capable. I think the two of you can handle just about anything. But we can always call security if you want.”
“I don’t think we’ll need it,” I tell him, steering Elizabeth ahead of me into the hall. He mouths thank you before heading for his own room.
The hallway outside my room is deserted. I’m amazed, considering the din. The swish of the elevator around the corner is the only noise. She takes my arm, and I motion to our bare feet and matching robes.
“Twins,” I say, trying to distract her.
“Do you really think I dreamed all of it?”
“You had a few drinks last night.”
“No more than usual,” she says defensively. “And I can hold my liquor.”
The elevator door opens as soon as I press the button. We get off on her floor, and I sniff the air in the hallway, looking for any sign that what Elizabeth said might be true.
Near her door, there is a piece of clear plastic tubing about two inches long. I show it to her. “Is this what you saw?”
“I told you I didn’t dream it.” She takes it out of my hand and studies it.
“Mom, this could be from anything.” I motion to the closed doors up and down the hall. “Remember when we were going in to dinner, all the excitement when that Turkish pop star cruised through the lobby? She and her entourage—including her roadies—are staying here. This could have come from a smoke machine. Musicians use them at concerts and clubs and parties. Somebody dropped this.”
A room door closes somewhere on this floor, and Elizabeth jumps. She immediately hands me the tube and motions that she wants to go in. I unlock the door.
There are no strange smells inside, either, only the lingering scent of Elizabeth’s perfume. She switches on the light and waits by the door. “Check everything.”
I walk through, opening closet doors and going into the bathroom. Nothing is out of place. Her daytime and nighttime skin regimens are lined up on a shelf. Back in the bedroom, the covers on the bed are pushed back, and her bathrobe is draped over the back of a chair. Her purse is sitting on the desk. I already know that she received the replacement for her credit card yesterday. Liras and loose change are piled next to the purse. There’s also a bottle of Jack Daniels and an empty tumbler beside it.
To try and make light of the situation, I make a big show of checking everywhere, even the dresser drawers. “Everything looks good. No murderous clowns hiding under the bed or in the shower.”
She doesn’t look amused. “Open the windows.”
Her tone is as irritated as it is condescending. I’m sure she would have been in a much better mood if Kyle had come back here with her, but I don’t want to start an argument this early in the morning. I do as she says. As I open the windows, the sight of Hagia Sophia makes me pause. I breathe in the smells of dawn and stare at the golden spotlights illuminating the ancient walls and minarets.
I hear Elizabeth moving around the room behind me. As she ducks into the closet, checking the room safe, I think about this imagined gas attack, the declassified files I’ve seen, and what Kyle told me in the business center yesterday. Even knowing what I know, it’s still difficult for me to believe Elizabeth’s name is on some hit list. I wonder if she already knows about it. But how could she? She’s technologically literate, but hardly an expert.
The more I’ve been thinking about it, the less doubt I have that Jax planned this trip to Istanbul for a reason, and that it had nothing to do with business. He wanted to bring Elizabeth back to where she’d be faced with her past and the guilt she’d tried to bury. He was bringing her back to the scene of her crime, more or less. The Kurds consider areas in eastern Turkey to be part of Kurdistan.
Her nightmare tonight about gas being pumped into her room has to be a subconscious reminder of the wrongs she’s perpetrated in her life. The ghosts of the innocent dead, murdered with chemical weapons and nerve gas, are haunting her.
“Are you all set?” I ask, turning away from the window. “Can I go back to bed?”
She’s sitting on a chair now, her feet up on an ottoman, watching me.
“What’s going on between you and Kyle? Why two rooms? Why separate beds?”
Of course, she would have noticed it. Elizabeth sees everything. None of Kyle’s clothes were lying around in my room. Only one side of the bed was slept in.
“I’m not discussing my private life with you.” I try to keep my tone clear of any hostility.
“Christina, I’m your mother.”
You are not.
“You can talk to me,” she continues. She’s obviously gotten over her scare. “I’ve been around the block a few more times than you.”
“Good night.” I start for the door.
“I’m telling you. This is not the time to be stupid.” Her tone is sharp, and it pisses me off. “Kyle is not a guy that you walk away from. It doesn’t matter what he says. Do what you have to do. Hold on to him.”
Against my better judgment, I pause at the door and look back at her. “Spoken by the woman who has walked away from every relationship in her life.”
“Jax died.”
“The one exception. He saved you the trouble of divorcing him after the sale of Externus.”
“Don’t fool yourself. He wanted the same thing. He couldn’t wait until I wasn’t looking over his shoulder.” She points a finger at me. “But don’t confuse him with what you’ve got. Jax was nothing. He was nowhere near the man Kyle is. If those tabloids weren’t stuck with picking celebrities, he could be crowned Sexiest Man Alive.”
It makes me want to throw up when she says stuff like that. She’s done it before, more times than I care to remember. The image of Elizabeth tonight, wrapping herself around Kyle’s half-naked body, makes a bitter taste rise into my throat.
“The three of us are still going to be here for a few more days,” she continues. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll fix it for you.”
“There’s nothing that needs fixing.”
“I think there is. I know him. I know how to talk to him. And I know how you are. I can convince him to give you another chance.”
My anger is bubbling beneath the surface, hot and molten, and I’m about to explode. But in advance of the impending blast, a sickening clarity forms.
“I’m done with Kyle,” I tell her, “My relationship with him is over. But clearly you’re not.”
“What do you mean, over?”
“I mean we’re done.”
She’s looking at me, and the wheels are spinning behind her blue eyes.
I might as well say it. “I just realized something. You’re ready to jump right in, aren’t you? Well, go ahead. Be my guest. Make your move.”
“You think I won’t, if I want to?”
“Go ahead.”
“Maybe I already…”
She stops whatever she’s about to say, but she’s already said too much. Silence hangs in the air.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She pulls the belt of her robe tighter. She can’t look at me directly. “Kyle is yours. And all I care about is you. Your future. Your—”
“Stop.”
I open the door and step out. I’ve always suspected it. The way she’d look at him or let her touch linger on his shoulder or his waist. I guessed at what Elizabeth just confirmed. Still, I wonder when it happened.
Their age difference wouldn’t matter to either of them. Kyle was always a player before we got together, and I’ve seen quite a few of the women who had paraded through his life. He had his choice of all types and all ages. I suppose that only added to why I never felt secure in our relationship. And maybe, deep down, that was my excuse for becoming pregnant, knowing we’d have to end it after. What we had could never be permanent.
As I wait for the elevator, I feel lighter. My head is clearer. Little by little, the truth about my world is rev
ealing itself.
The adjoining door to Kyle’s room is open when I get back. He’s in bed, but I can’t tell if he’s sleeping. I close and latch the door before climbing into my own bed.
Lying there in the dark, I think of Tiam. First thing in the morning, I have to call her. We’ll figure something out. Between the two of us, we’ll make her meeting with Elizabeth happen.
28
Elizabeth
Elizabeth had expected they’d have to wait at the police station, but this was beyond the pale…even by Turkish standards. They’d told her at the hotel that the written report of the burglary would be ready when she got there at nine o’clock. But it was noon by the time a clerk handed her a piece of paper. At least it was signed and stamped. It was good enough for her to take to the consulate.
Elizabeth was grateful for Kyle’s calm manner and his polite interaction with the paper shufflers. She knew it was because of him that she hadn’t been given even more of a runaround. They were right on the cusp of the midday dinner hour, and they could have easily told her to come back the next day. That’s the way bureaucracy worked.
“Do you want to stop for lunch?” she asked Kyle as they left the police station.
“You have an appointment at the consulate that you don’t want to miss,” he reminded her.
She checked the time. He was right. They only had an hour to get there.
Their taxi crawled through the heavy traffic. Every light along the way went against them. People jammed the sidewalks and rushed into the crosswalks.
She looked at the faces. Ever since she’d arrived in Istanbul, she hadn’t been herself. The burglary had thrown her. Facing the cab driver’s interrogation made it worse. The child’s face she’d seen in the alleyway in the Kurdish neighborhood refused to go away. Her words continued to chip away at her conscience. Elizabeth was losing control.
And then last night, she’d awakened, thinking that her room was filled with poison gas. She needed to pull herself together. Running out of her room screaming in her nightgown was outrageous. No one was trying to murder her in her sleep. It was just a relief that she didn’t call the front desk and make a complete fool of herself.
It was this city, this country. Memories from thirty years ago were nagging at her. She thought she had been done with them, buried them deep, never allowing them to scratch the surface. And the man she’d seen yesterday—Christina’s driver to the airport—couldn’t have been who she thought he was. He was simply another product of her overloaded brain.
As they approached an intersection, she saw a woman carrying a screaming baby across the street, and an image flashed through her mind of another child and another time…
Elizabeth tried to restrain a toddler in her seat on a flight leaving the Istanbul airport. Red in the face, the little girl screamed and contorted her body to fight her.
“Maman. Maman.”
“I’m right here, Christina. I’m only putting the belt on while we take off.”
The little girl shook her dark curls, kicking the seat in front of her. “Maman.”
“Flying can be so difficult when they’re that age.” An Englishwoman sitting across the aisle leaned over to put her two cents in. “She’s a pretty little one. Your daughter?”
“Yes, my daughter,” Elizabeth responded.
“Annem değil.” The child shook her head, still screaming. “Anneeeee!”
“She speaks Turkish already?”
“Her nanny.”
The flight attendant arrived with a carton of milk and opened it for them. “Maybe this will help, ma’am.”
The child kicked hard at the milk and the hand holding it. “Maman.”
The carton splashed out onto the floor, and the attendant jumped back.
“That is bad, Christina. You’re a very bad girl.”
Large tears rolled down the round cheeks, and the hazel eyes looked up into Elizabeth’s face. “Tiam.”
“Who is Tiam?” the Englishwoman asked.
“The nanny’s daughter. Christina misses her little friend.”
Elizabeth came back to the present and turned abruptly to Kyle, sweat trickling down her spine. “I don’t want to stay in Istanbul after Friday.”
His eyes shifted from whatever he was reading on his phone. “The decision about a buyer has to be finalized before you go.”
“Why can’t we do that right after they submit their bids? Why wait until Monday?”
“The potential buyer gets a period of forty-eight hours to retract their offer. That’s why you can’t give them a decision until we know they can’t back out of it.”
“I don’t have to stay for it. You can represent me.”
“Neither Christina nor I have the power of attorney. And if you walk away prematurely, it could make the buyers nervous.” He patted her hand. “Today is Thursday. Be patient. We’re almost there.”
Elizabeth grabbed his hand before he could withdraw it. It was large and cool and strong, exactly what she needed. “Tell me you two are staying together.”
His eyes were tired when they met hers. “I don’t want to have this discussion with you.”
“Why not?” she asked. “I know Christina isn’t the easiest person to live with. And God knows, you could do better than her. But I want you to be—”
“Stop.”
“There’s nothing worse than a jealous woman. She must have said something nasty to you when you got in. Whatever it was—”
“I said stop.” He pulled his hand free. “I know what you’re doing, Elizabeth.”
“What am I doing?”
“You put her down, and then I get angry and defend her. You want me to think she needs me in her life just to stand up to you. As if that will keep us together.”
Elizabeth didn’t know why the tactic shouldn’t work. He seemed driven to protect her.
“Christina doesn’t need me. Give her a little credit.”
“Okay, maybe she doesn’t need you.” She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “But we’re family, for all intents and purposes.”
“No, we’re not.”
“It’s in your best interest that we are, though. You told me yourself a conservative estimate of what I’ll be walking away with is fifty mil after the sale.”
Four years ago, she’d arranged for loans and investors to come up with nine million dollars for Externus. After the sale on Monday, there would be taxes that had to be paid, the half-million each she’d promised to Christina and Kyle, and the loans she had to pay back. After all of it, she was still walking away with a bundle. But she wondered how long she could travel and live a life of luxury before she got tired of it. Eventually, she’d want to settle down.
“I need you in my life,” she said, latching onto Kyle’s hand again. “I want you to think of any investment you want to make. Tell me anything that you want to do, and I’ll fund it. You supply the dream, and I’ll make it happen.”
He pried his fingers out of her grip once again and looked into her eyes.
“Thank you, but I’m not interested. Once we’re done with Externus, I’m moving to Japan. The sale means the end of line for you and me.”
29
Christina
I sit up in bed at the sound of the housekeeper’s knock, and I’m shocked to find out that it’s already quarter past ten. I go to the door and open it a little.
“I need an hour. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The young woman nods politely and pushes her cart down the hallway.
I can’t remember the last time I slept this late, but Elizabeth’s 4:00 a.m. crisis might have had something to do with throwing off my schedule. Before jumping in the shower, I check my phone for any calls or messages. There are two texts from Kyle.
on the way to police station with your mother now. to consulate next. then back to hotel
The message was sent at eight thirty this morning. The second one has the time for our dinner reservation at the hotel restaurant. H
e’s made it for three people.
Before changing it to four, I decide I should send Tiam a text.
Hey soul sister. Love you. Dinner tonight?
When I come out of the shower, the light on the hotel phone is flashing, indicating a message. Tying my hair up in a towel, I cross the room and pick up the handset.
“Hi, Elizabeth. Surprised to hear from you. I’m home this morning. Call me.”
The voice belongs to an older woman whom I suspect is Patricia Nicholls. I’m surprised at getting the message. But when I think about it, I realize that she must have asked for “Ms. Hall,” and the hotel operator directed the call to my room rather than my mother’s.
The decision whether to return the call or wait for Elizabeth takes about two seconds. I call Patricia’s number. A quiet, noncommittal voice answers the phone in Turkish, and I immediately introduce myself.
“Hello, Ms. Nicholls? This is Christina Hall. I’m so excited that you returned my mother’s call.”
There’s a pause on the line before she responds. “Elizabeth’s daughter? Christina?”
“Yes. I’m in Istanbul with her.”
“Really? How nice. What are you two doing here?”
“Touristy stuff. Sightseeing.” I try to keep my tone light and decide to say nothing of the company business.
“Is Elizabeth there with you? Put her on the phone.”
“She’s getting a massage at the spa right now. But she told me if you called, I should see if you’d like to get together while we’re in Istanbul. The three of us could have lunch, maybe.”
I’ve become such a good liar.
“Today?”
“We’re only here through the weekend.”
“I see.” She pauses before continuing. “Tell me how Elizabeth is doing. I haven’t seen or heard from her in years. I didn’t even know she had my contact information.”
“It’s easy to find anyone online these days.”
“Of course, I didn’t think of that.”
“She lost her husband, you know,” I say in the soft voice of a grieving daughter. “Two months ago. It was very unexpected.”