The Collectors Book Two: Full Circle (The Collectors Series 2) (17 page)

“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 painfully 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.”

Pavlo
swallowed hard and shook his head. “Thank you, but I’m in a hurry to get home.”

“We should at least file a report, sir.”

“It’s not a problem. I must get home.”

“Sir, park your car over there.”

Agitated, he shifted the select lever to drive and parked the car.

“In here, it won’t take long.”

“Move that car, it’s in an officer’s parking place,” came a shout from an officer.

“I’ll move it,” said the guard.
“Your key, sir.”

Pavlo
handed over a bunch of keys and the man jumped in and drove to an alternative parking place. If he was hoping to check for smuggling he was out of luck, he thought. In the orange glow of the car park lights, he lifted the boot lid and peered in, spun around and vomited. Stunned, the guard staggered back into the office. “Sergeant, there’s the head of a woman protruding from the boot of his car.” 

Pavlo
, his thoughts elsewhere, didn’t look up until a guard poked at his head with a pistol.

“
Don’t move or you’ll have a few more bruises.”

“What in God’s name are you saying?” said
Pavlo.

“You two bring him to his car.”

Two men grabbed Pavlo and frog-marched him to the car park. With the boot still open, he couldn’t fail to see the dark bruises on Nitsa’s neck, conclusive evidence of her murder. His knees buckled and he sobbed. “They told me she’d be released. Not this, never this. The bastards.”

A voice interrupted. “Take him inside and don’t let him out of your sight. You both go with him if he wants a piss. Suicidal prisoners I don’t need.”

“I didn’t kill her. She’s my girlfriend. A Turkish sergeant and his bastard friends did this.”

“You haven’t grasped the seriousness of this. Your girlfriend’s dead in the boot of the car you’re driving.”

“Listen to me,” shouted Pavlo. “I don’t know what to tell you except I did not kill her. I loved her.”

In the distance, the ebb and flow of a police siren wailed. 

Chapter Twenty-Three

With thoughts of the collection filling his mind, the local news on television interested Bear.
Elini interpreted but his eyes never left the screen. The images of rivers overflowing their banks which, according to Elini, were dry six weeks before, excited the newscaster. Gangs of workmen cleared accumulated debris from storm drains. During the night a build up of fallen trees and rubbish resulted in a road flooding and washing away. The local news reporter commented that the deluge of mud and water took several cars with it. According to the report, the police still searched for bodies.

The commentary changed and became monotonous.

“Elini, I must go and have a chat with George,” said Bear.

“Dinner will be at seven. Don’t be late.”

“Me, late for good home cooking? Never.”

Elini
chuckled. Bear grabbed his coat and left.

It took him longer than he anticipated
to locate George’s garage.

“George,” shouted Bear. “
How’s our alterations?”

“Come see,” said George. “What Petros suggested became impossible. The plastic covers are brittle and when cut shattered. Tell me what you think?”

Bear clambered into the back of one truck and then the other. To satisfy his own curiosity, he searched over and under them both again.

“Okay, George, where do we hide our spoils?”

George called two of his mechanics over and they lifted out the plastic insert. Next they removed a precision fitted false bottom.

Bear’s eyes opened wide when he inspected their handiwork. “What made you think of this?” He pointed to the sunken compartment in the rear of the truck.

George introduced him to one of his men. “Ramon is an engineer from Israel.”

Bear shook his hand. “First-rate, better than I expected.”

“Not my idea, my father’s. When the world turned its back on Israel and we needed weapons to defend ourselves, my father transported guns and ammunition from everywhere and anywhere. He told me that no one ever sees what’s in front of their noses.”

Bear nodded. “You’re right. Thanks for a great job, Ramon.”

“You’re welcome. And George, when you’ve got a moment I need you to check the diagnostics on the Audi.”

“Tomorrow, Ramon,” said George. “We’ll have more time.”

Ramon shrugged as he strolled towards the red Audi.

“Ramon deserves a bonus,” said Bear

“He’s been paid,” said George. “I’ve told him we are smuggling cigarettes from the north.”

“And he accepts that?”

“It’s not his problem.”

“What about the hydraulic jacks, ropes and uniforms?”

“Ready and waiting. I’ve included a few crowbars and rolls of duck tape for binding our army friends. It’s good and strong but apart from tearing the hairs off their arms will do no damage.”

“You’ve done an excellent job, George. Let us know the cost and PK will give you the money.”

“No charge, Bear. I am my sister’s brother. I do it for her because she asks.”

“Yeah, she’s one hell of a woman.”

“She certainly is. I had to take care of her when as a small tornado she ran around screaming and causing havoc.”

“It’s hard to believe.”

“Tell that to her brothers. In the early days, the four of us slept in one bedroom and she had one to herself. Our mother told us it wasn’t right for girls and boys to be together. Thanks to us she grew up streetwise, as Petros well knows.”

“She holds every card. Good looking and a brain.”

They laughed.

“Bear, how about you buy my boys a drink for all their hard work?” George closed the doors to his garage and followed Bear and his men to a nearby taverna.

Holidaymakers and the local men smoked pipes and cigarettes, contaminating the air with tobacco smog. Those who were lucky enough, hunched over the few tables drinking beer and shouting abuse at the large flat-screen television, bolted to the far wall.

“Who's playing who?” shouted Bear.

“Arsenal and Man U,” bellowed George. “This is an Arsenal bar. Man U is a few doors along the street.”

Suddenly, the bar erupted in cheers when Arsenal scored a goal. Men hugged women and jumped with excitement. The local beer,
Keo and Zivania flowed freely.

George and his men found space at the far end of the room but could no longer see the screen.

Bear waved at the barman. “Drinks for my friends.

*  *  *

Petros hung up the phone in the kitchen. “Maria, your brothers are here.”

Dressed in a short-sleeved white shirt and dark blue jeans, Petros drank his third cup of coffee of the morning. He smiled as the four men entered the kitchen. They hugged and kissed everybody in the traditional manner, a custom Bear accepted.

Petros spoke to Elini. “Can I turn your room into my operation centre? It’s cold outside.”

She smiled, nodded her approval and strolled head held high into the lounge.

Petros ran up the stairs, reappearing in moments with two large sheets of paper. These he placed on the table. “This is the plan and it stays in this room. You can argue every point, but once we agree there’ll be no changes. Stop me if there’s something you don’t understand.”

The five men and Maria indicated agreement but remained silent.

“George and Maria are the drivers in and out of the occupied zone. Kyriacos and Bear in George’s truck. Takis, Andreas, you’re with me and Maria. Any comments so far?”

They nodded in agreement.

“Good. Now here’s my idea.” He went on to explain in detail how they intended to approach the patrol, secure the area and lift the altar.

“What happens if it doesn’t move?” said
Takis.

“Pray it does,” said Petros.

He studied the attentive faces in front of him. “Any ideas, tell me sooner rather than later. I’ll agree or say no. When’s the full moon, Bear?”

Bear stood up and walked to the window. “Moonlight will be at its peak for the next three days. I’ve checked the weather and the local met office says it will be showery and chilly.”

Petros beamed. “We go tomorrow at midday, but be here by nine. Comparable to condemned men, you will at least eat a hearty breakfast. In any case, it beats sitting around waiting.”

*  *  *

Petros stood in front of the bedroom window. Through it he observed red tiled roofs over whitewashed walls. His eyes traversed across ploughed fields and vineyards that surrounded the village. Life must have been so peaceful long ago, before the island hurtled into the twentieth century, he thought.

Maria joined him and placed her arms around his waist. The tranquillity of it shaped their thoughts, drawing them close.

The last remnants of the sun dropped below the horizon and the twilight sky blushed a bright orange that dimmed into darkness.

He turned to face her and kissed lips that were moist and soft. He lifted her and she clung to him as they tumbled onto the bed.

Their love making went above the physical. Every time she left him satisfied but wanting more.

She snuggled close and he smelt the scent of her body. He silently swore when Bear’s voice bellowed, “Dinner’s ready, and Alysa wants her mum.”

Any thoughts of remaining in bed vanished. “In a minute,” Petros shouted. “I needed forty winks.” He listened to Bear’s footsteps padding along the hall, and his laughter.

“Come on, Maria. You go to the bathroom and I’ll freshen up later.”

Turning on the light he smiled a self-satisfied smile. He lay there until she returned, and while she brushed her hair he stood behind her wrapping his arms around her neat waist. She pressed back, placing her hands over his.

A quick adjustment of clothes and they joined the others.

*  *  *

Petros slept fitfully and woke long before dawn. He tumbled out of the bed, waking Maria. Her eyes quivered and opened wide.

“It’s time, Maria. You can stay here if you want, no one will think any the less of you.”

“You can’t get rid of me. Someone has to take care of my man.”

He bent and kissed her as she pulled him onto the bed.

“No, my love, not that I don’t want to, but there’s a time and place.”

Her eyes slanted and her cheeks glowed. “Can’t give it away. I’ll see you when you’re ready.”

At breakfast, everyone’s nerves were on edge and no one took more than a cup of coffee and a thick slice of toast.

Petros waited until their coffee cups remained on the table. He assembled the whole party for a final chat and placed a map of Varosha for everyone to see, detailing positions and times. Each eventuality discussed, no fact overlooked, nothing left to luck. “Any questions?” he said. “Speak now, because if we get it wrong, God help us.”

They remained silent.

Taking a deep breath, he walked out of the house and over to the modified trucks. George’s people had done an excellent job. His eye for detail missed nothing.

*  *  *

Maria dressed modestly, covering her arms and head. Satisfied, she went into the courtyard to find Petros checking the equipment for the umpteenth time.

“PK, I must go and ask that our Lord protect us.”

“Go, but don’t take too long.”

She held and kissed him full on the lips, which caused her brothers to cheer and whistle.

The village church set high on the hill among pine trees was empty. Candle flames danced when Maria opened the door. She kneeled on one knee and gave the sign of the cross before moving closer to the golden cross. Her eyes focused on the most important icon, the Virgin with Child. The Christ Child appeared to beckon her. She kissed with reverence every icon.

Her prayers said, she walked to the entrance, turned, gave the sign of the cross and left.

*  *  *

“Okay, as I told you, George and Maria are the drivers in and out of the occupied zone,” said Petros.

The afternoon sun shone bright, the sky sprinkled with clouds that resembled wisps of hair.

They left on the stroke of twelve. Zena and
Elini stayed inside but Jack waved as they drove away.  

The two trucks motored along the
Limassol highway and onto the motorway.

The guards at the border crossing point were more of a pain in the backside than on the prior excursion. They checked every vehicle, passport and visa before allowing them to continue.

Maria manoeuvred into the car park at the Palm Beach Hotel and braked.

“My favourite dump.”
She unbuckled her seat belt and descended from the truck.

Petros shook his head.
“Cheap and cheerful, my love. Cheap and cheerful.”

George parked next to Maria.

At reception they waited over ten minutes before an unshaven young man wearing a ruffled grey suit appeared. He showed no interest on seeing Petros and his group.

“Six rooms on the ground floor please, for two nights.”

He handed over six sets of keys, grasped Petros’s Visa card, and swiped it through the electronic payment machine. Petros punched in his PIN number, waited and seized the receipt. He waved their passports but the young man ignored him.

“Meal times are detailed in your room folder,” said the man before he returned into his office.

“The man’s a buffoon,” muttered Petros. “He couldn’t be bothered to examine our passports.”

“Turkish efficiency,” said George with contempt.

Petros paused and grasped Maria’s hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it.

“Stop it,” she said, pushing him away
             

“Okay guys,” said Petros. “We meet,” he checked the time, “in room four in half an hour.” He passed a key to each of them.

*  *  *

Colonel Ahmed Mustafa yawned. For a few moments, he sat back in his chair staring out of the window. He turned, took a sip of coffee, stood and stretched. “Captain
Yilmaz and Sergeant Celik, we are aware that a group of Greek Cypriots intend to steal hidden religious artefacts from a church located in Varosha. Your plan to stop this theft?”

The captain’s eyes flashed with unease. “Colonel, if we swamp
Varosha with men, whoever comes for the icons will spot them and vanish. I have installed battery-operated movement detectors in the four chapels. Once triggered, an alarm activates in the guards’ house. On being informed, Sergeant Celik and I, and a group of selected soldiers, will make our move. Furthermore, I have doubled the patrol along the perimeter fence. They report directly to me.”

The colonel passed his hand over his eyes. “Anything else I should know?”