Istanbul Express (10 page)

“Just trying to get on with my job,” Jake replied.

“Which brings us to the matter of this little gathering. Sit down, Colonel. I'm afraid I have a meeting scheduled to
begin in less than ten minutes, so we will need to come right to the point.”

“That should not take long.” The Frenchman's moustache writhed like a captured caterpillar as he spoke. “This morning I have received a strongly worded protest from the Turkish government. It appears that funds they have been expecting to receive have not yet arrived.”

“I regret to report that just such a protest has arrived at my office as well,” Dimitri reported apologetically.

“To my office as well, the third this week,” Fernwhistle said smugly. “And the British. Their adjunct was on the phone to me this morning, wondering what the holdup was.”

“That is simple enough,” Jake replied. “I have not yet authorized payment.”

“And why not, pray tell?” the Frenchman demanded.

“Because I need to make sure the money is being spent correctly,” Jake replied. “And could somebody tell me why the Turkish government is taking such an interest in payments to local companies?”

“Because companies and the government,” Dimitri replied smoothly, “are one and the same.”

“Come again?” Jake looked from one face to the next. “You mean we're dealing with government-owned companies?”

“Bravo,” Fernwhistle said. “I do believe he is finally catching on.”

“That will do,” Consul General Knowles interjected. “You see, Colonel, before the war, the Ataturk regime took on the monumental task of propelling this country from what amounted to medieval serfdom into the twentieth century. They did so by using government funds to establish modern companies in a variety of industries.”

Jake looked from one man to the next. “So no alternate bidders are available for our projects?”

“None that matter,” the Frenchman sniffed.

“My dear Colonel, the other companies are privately owned,” Dimitri Kolonov said, false regret oozing from his
voice. “And private ownership is being pushed forward by the opposition party.”

“Everything is becoming clear,” Jake said. “The party preferred by Russia, I take it, is the one in power.”

A glint of something beneath the polished surface flashed into Kolonov's gaze. “The party in power is
everyone's
friend.”

“Right.” Jake turned and spoke to the group as a whole. “My orders are explicit. I am to obtain tenders from three companies for each project, then assign the project to the lowest bidder.”

“Preposterous!” Fernwhistle almost bounced from his chair. “This is absolutely outrageous.”

“I agree wholeheartedly with my colleague.” The Frenchman's moustache threatened to crawl right off his face. “To delay payment any longer would be absurd!”

“I'm afraid our gallant ally has a point, Colonel,” Kolonov purred. “There is no time for such a search. Nor would we want to offend our hosts.”

“Those are my orders,” Jake said, biting down hard on each word.

“Well, not for long,” Fernwhistle announced with grim satisfaction. “I have just received word that a dispatch that promises to rectify this ridiculous setup once and for all is due from Washington in three days.”

Tom Knowles turned a cold eye onto his assistant. “Why was I not informed of this?”

Fernwhistle gave his bow tie a nervous tug. “It just came over the wire as we were gathering for this meeting, sir.”

“Well, that changes matters, then.” Tom Knowles showed a weary resignation as he rose to his feet. “I suggest we postpone any further discussion until this dispatch arrives. Good day, gentlemen.”

In the corridor outside the consul general's office, Dimitri Kolonov patted Jake on the back. “I would urge you to come to our reception tomorrow night, Colonel. Enjoy the splendor
which your position offers you.” The steely glint resurfaced. “While there is still time.”

Jake walked slowly and watched the others pull away in a tight cluster, leaving him and Pierre momentarily isolated. Pierre murmured, “Three days.”

“Not much time.” Jake shook his head.

“We must act fast,” Pierre said grimly.

“What we need,” Jake agreed, “is something that points to genuine wrongdoing. I sense in my gut that corruption is rife. We've got to locate a lever that will pull the lid off this mess and expose the need for something other than political shenanigans to be in control here.”

Pierre's face folded into deep furrows. “I did not know you spoke Turkish.”

“What?”

“These shenanigans, they are the party in power, yes?”

Jake had to smile. “It's good to have you on my side in this.”

“Yes, you do indeed need me,” Pierre agreed.

“I better get back to digging,” Jake said. Three days.

“On that, my hands are tied,” Pierre said. “But find something, my friend, anything that needs tracking down, and then together we shall spring into action.”

Jake nodded, distracted by a tiny thread of thought that came and went so fast he almost lost it. Then it returned, gathering strands.

Pierre saw it happen and declared, “You have a plan.”

“Sort of.”

“I know that look,” Pierre insisted, and clapped his friend on the back. “Suddenly I am eager for the days to come.”

Chapter Seven

Jake bounded down the stairs from the consul general's meeting, and he entered Mrs. Ecevit's office with such force that he almost startled her from her seat.

“Sorry,” he said, breathless from the chance that there might truly be something to do. “Can you arrange a meeting with the opposition party?”

She settled back, but the startled expression did not leave her face. Instead, it deepened to outright consternation. “What?”

“The opposition party,” Jake said, unable to contain his impatience. Three days. “And fast. I need to talk with them immediately.”

“But,” she glanced at her watch, “it is after four o'clock.”

“Tomorrow morning, then. Early as possible.”

Her impeccable English slipped a notch. “This meeting, it is most important?”

Jake let his desperation show through. “If anything has ever been urgent, it is this.”

“Very well,” she said carefully. As though in his demand he had uncovered something. “I can do this.”

“Outstanding.” He felt the tension ease a fraction. “And could you come with me as translator? I'd be happy to clear it with your boss.”

“The man I have in mind speaks excellent English,” she said, finally gathering herself. “But yes, I would like to come.”

“I do not like this,” Jasmyn declared.

“It's too late in the afternoon to start playing tourist,” Sally agreed. “But Phyllis said this tour guide might have something important.”

“
Could
have information that
might
be important,”
Jasmyn repeated. “And we have a thousand things waiting for us to do at our new home.”

Sally stopped to smile at her friend, amused but pleased at her transformation from freedom fighter and desert princess to doting bride. “You are happy being married.”

Jasmyn nodded shyly. “And Pierre has been so worried. I do not like him coming back to the hotel and finding our room empty.”

“He is a very lucky man,” Sally said quietly.

“He has made me very happy,” Jasmyn replied simply. “I want to do the same for him.”

“If there is something truly important here,” Sally said, “we should find it out.”

Jasmyn hesitated, then decided, “Not a moment longer than necessary.”

Beyond the square and the mosques stood the Topkapi Palace. From a distance, the buildings were lost within the surrounding park. Only the corner peaks rose higher than the trees, shadows of the past looming above the leafy green. Jasmyn and Sally followed the throng down the broad passage, slowed with the others at the entrance gates, and searched. Almost all the faces around them were Turkish.

Suddenly a smiling face in a blue tour-guide uniform appeared and announced, “Welcome to Topkapi. I am Jana. Come, we must hurry in order to visit the important chambers before the palace closes for the night.”

As she led them through the main gates and down an ancient cobblestone lane, Jana went on, “The Topkapi Palace was home to sultans for more than six hundred years.”

“I did not come here for a history lesson,” Jasmyn murmured.

The guide gave no sign of hearing. “Come, we must inspect the treasury.”

“I have no—”

A hand fastened upon her arm. “Come, I said.”

They entered the inner courtyard, passed between the
hulking guards, and entered a low-ceilinged dungeon full of museum-style display cases. Despite their impatience, the first case drew an appreciative gasp.

“Yes, there, now this is better,” the young woman said quietly. “Just another pair of Western tourists viewing some of Istanbul's many treasures.” When a group moved up alongside, the woman's voice became brisk. “This eighty-six carat diamond is the fifth largest in the world. And the gold sheath beyond it contains the Topkapi dagger, handled only by the ruling sultan. The largest of those three emeralds you see there at the crest is hollowed out and opens to reveal a watch inside.”

Sally waited until they had moved away from the tourists, then demanded quietly, “Why are we here?”

“Look, see here, one throne after another, all covered with gold and studded with precious stones. There is a saying that here in this one room is enough gold to make copper seem rare.”

“If we were not going to be able to talk,” Jasmyn insisted, “why did you ask us to come?”

“Because you are being followed and closely watched,” the woman said, swinging around. “Now, please, for all our sakes, play the politely interested tourist.

“You have to remember, of course,” the woman went on more loudly, “that a fifth of all the spoils of war were the sultans' due. And the Ottomans won many wars. They conquered and ruled all of Greece, much of Eastern Europe, all of North Africa, Egypt, and the Middle East.” She pointed toward the stairs rising from the chamber's far end. “Come, we must visit the harem.”

They allowed themselves to be led up a winding set of steep stone stairs. Just as Sally's head rose above the treasure vaults, she glanced back to see who if anyone was watching her way.

“Don't turn around, that's a good dear,” the woman hummed lightly, her words swiftly lost to tight echoes and the scraping of their shoes.

“I wonder if anyone is actually following us at all,” Jasmyn whispered back.

The woman waited until they had reached the rise and entered a grandly decorated chamber to say, “Let us hope you never have to meet them face-to-face.” Then, as others crowded in behind them, she steered them over to one corner and continued in a louder voice, “This grand chamber was the central parlor of the harem, the forbidden court of the imperial wives and their children. It was guarded over by eunuchs and elder women, their lives as shrouded in mystery then as now.”

Sally glanced about the lofty hall, with its rose-marble pillars, its gleaming balustrades and chandeliers and deep covering of carpets. “It looks like a gilded cage.”

“And indeed it was. It was often a lonely and degrading existence, especially for those out of favor with the sultan or the senior wives. These rooms harbored intrigue and vicious conflict, the women vying to become the power behind the throne. At the peak of Ottoman rule, these chambers were home to more than a thousand women.”

“So sad,” Jasmyn murmured.

“Come.” The guide led them down a narrow passage, showing the chambers where the women lived their quarantined existence. “The Topkapi is more than just a palace,” she told them. “It was known as the Forbidden City of the Sultans, and for many of these women it was the only world they ever saw.”

The rooms grew cramped and dingy as they continued down the passage toward the chambers occupied by the most junior of wives. Pressed by passing time and by other, more lustrous sights, the crowds did not follow. Jana stopped and listened for a full minute, one hand upraised to hold them to stillness.

Once she was certain they were truly alone, the professional smile fell away. “We have only a moment,” she whispered.
“A friend works within the Russian consulate. She has heard them speak of your husbands.”

Jasmyn's voice had a catch which even the echoes and the whispers could not erase. “They are in danger?”

“There is great concern that they are going to uncover something. What, we have not been able to determine. But whatever it is, the Russians are most concerned that it remain a secret.”

“That's not much to go on,” Sally murmured.

“Listen, then. The Russians have prepared a subterfuge. You have heard of the dolls called
matrioshka?
”

“The painted wooden dolls, one inside the other,” Sally said. “I had one when I was a child.”

“We use them to describe how the Russian mind attacks a problem,” Jana said, her voice a pressing hiss. “Your husbands must not be taken in by what
appears
to be the problem. There is something else. Something deeper. Something the Russians are determined to keep hidden at all cost.”

“But how—”

Footsteps scraped along the corridor. Instantly Jana straightened and became the smiling tour guide once more. “Yes, I agree, this is a most fascinating set of chambers. But, please follow me, there is so much more to see, and so little time.”

Daniel Levy rushed over as Jake climbed from the taxi. “It is so good of you to come, Mr. Burnes.”

“My pleasure.” Jake tried to shake off the distraction of having found neither Sally nor a note when he had returned to their hotel. He had shrugged off his disappointment with the thought that she and Jasmyn were probably working at the apartment, where they were scheduled to move in two days. If, Jake amended his thoughts, they were not moved out of Turkey entirely by that time. He glanced up at the crumbling building that fronted the noisy street and asked Daniel Levy, “You live here?”