Enlightenment Page 20

  When İsmet came bounding back into the room, his first words were, ‘Don’t tell me you’re still waiting for your tea!’ He slapped his desk in disbelief. ‘Unbelievable! These guys are really out to get my goat.’ He pressed a bell. His assistant appeared at the door. ‘The tea!’ he shouted. The assistant look down at his shuffling feet as İsmet reprimanded him, telling him what a busy man Mr William Wakefield was, a man who couldn’t be kept waiting, a man who, thanks to this benighted assistant, was going to go home ‘thinking we are a nation of lazy slouches.’ The assistant scurried off. İsmet turned back to William. ‘Golly, I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘Sometimes I just don’t know what it is with these guys. Trying to get something done, sometimes it’s like wading through molasses.’

  ‘So I take it you have nothing for me.’

  ‘On the contrary, my friend! Tea is on its way! But first things first.’ He leaned across the desk to offer William a Marlboro.

  ‘No thanks, I’ll have one of my own,’ said William.

  ‘Darn it,’ İsmet replied. ‘I’m all left feet today, aren’t I? I’ll make sure to have your favourite brand next time you drop by. If you live that long!’ He lit up and then he said, ‘While we’re on the subject, I sincerely hope that you’ve been talking to the big guy about a transfer. You’re a sitting duck here, William. Especially in that house of yours. They could take you out in bed.’

  ‘Not if you’ve pulled the plug on them, they can’t.’

  ‘By which you mean…?’

  ‘Cut the crap, İsmet. You told me you were hauling them in.’

  ‘On what grounds?’ İsmet asked.

  ‘The bomb,’ William said.

  ‘You mean, the one in your car?’ İsmet put his feet on his desk. With his right foot, he rang a buzzer. The waiter walked in with a single cup of Turkish coffee. Booming with theatrical anger, İsmet asked him about the teas. The waiter scurried off, looking worried and confused.

  İsmet took a big sip of coffee. ‘So where were we? Oh, yes. The bomb.’ He grimaced. ‘Yes, perhaps we should put it like this. Imagine a flip chart. I use the word imagine because Turkey is still a poor country and its budget does not extend to luxuries like flipcharts. So where shall we begin, with our imaginary flipchart? Say we start with the enemies beyond.’

  ‘İsmet, I know all this.’

  ‘Yes, but now you must feel them in your bones! The Greeks to the south, the Arabs to the east, the Soviets to the north. To the west, allies, but how often…’

  ‘We foot the bills, don’t we?’

  ‘Perhaps, when it suits you. But now let us move on to the enemies within. These are too numerous to count, so for the purposes of this discussion perhaps we should concentrate on the student scum seeking to undermine the foundations of the motherland through subversive action.’

  ‘Finally,’ said William.

  ‘Yes, I knew you would say that. So now. Let’s flip over to a fresh sheet. Let’s set up five columns, one for bombs, one for assassinations, one for drive-by shootings, one for riots, demonstrations and general strikes, and another for the two shameless kidnappings of the past ten days. When we look at these columns together, a number of patterns emerge. One is that activity has intensified over the past few months. Another is that this growth rate is as yet unaffected by the imposition of martial law.’

  ‘Now whose fault is that?’

  ‘Who can say for sure? Our burgeoning guerrilla army can be linked with certain well-known Palestinian training camps in Syria. The methods used by the animals that murdered the Israeli consul being the most vivid proof. The true extent of the subversive networks is only now becoming evident. But already, my investigators have gathered evidence of new offensives that will make Elrom and little Sibel look like child’s play. There are plots to assassinate the Prime Minister, plots to blow up the main power station of Ankara, plots to hijack a plane here and a plane there and take an entire embassy hostage…’

  Smiling, he leaned across his desk. ‘In the course of our enquiries, we have also gleaned a fair amount of information about the little nuisance you are asking about. This footnote of a footnote, this car bomb that killed no one, in which the only one injured was an insignificant chauffeur, made even more insignificant to the people at Langley because he had the misfortune of being born a Turk.’

  ‘Cut to the chase, İsmet,’ William said.

  ‘When the time is right, we shall respond appropriately.’

  ‘I don’t need to remind you to let me know the moment this happens.’

  ‘Will do,’ says İsmet, as if they were standing around the barbecue and William had just asked him to flip the burgers.

  ‘You’ve taken statements from these friends of hers, I take it.’

  ‘Those whom we could find.’

  ‘You’ll find the others, too, I’m sure.’

  ‘I’m sure!’

  ‘Does that mean we’re done here?’ William asked. ‘I want to get home.’

  ‘Please! You’re shaming me! I can’t let you go without your tea!’

  At this moment the tea arrived. But it was cold. İsmet knew it was cold without touching it. This led to more mock apologies, and another wait. The tea was hot but this time the waiter forgot the sugar.

  ‘Never mind,’ William said. ‘That’s how I like it anyway.’

  ‘What strange customs you people have. It never ceases to amaze me.’ It was as they stood to leave that İsmet turned to Jeannie and said, ‘It was so nice to meet you. But I do wish you had been frank with us. You see, we know everything. How you heard something in the meydan. And broke the curfew. And went to a certain house. Sending all and sundry into a terrible panic. Yes, that is how bombs are made, my dear!’

  ‘But I never…’

  ‘No, of course you didn’t. But while you were there, you passed along a certain nugget of information, didn’t you.’

  ‘That’s not true. I only said…’

  ‘Jeannie. For God’s sake.’ This was her father now. ‘Let me handle this.’

  ‘But he said…’

  ‘He tricked you. The oldest trick in the book, and you fell for it. Which should tell you something. Now for God’s sake, shut up.’

  When Jeannie awoke the next morning, she found her father standing over her. ‘I’m sure you won’t be surprised to hear this. But I think even you will agree that it’s out of my hands. I’m putting you on the PanAm flight this evening.’

  She sat bolt upright. ‘But you can’t! I absolutely refuse to go!’

  ‘You have no choice in the matter.’

  ‘You can’t make me!’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, Jeannie. Get a grip. Where the hell do you think you’d go?’

  ‘To my friends!’

  ‘What friends?’

  ‘The ones you are trying so hard to throw into prison.’

  ‘For your information, no one touched their pretty little heads. Not that I expect any thanks. All I hope is that this knocked some sense in them. But you, young lady. You’re done here. Or haven’t you noticed? I have to go into the office now and I’d like you to be packed by, say, five. Understood?’

  She waited for him to leave the house and then she got dressed and went downstairs. She had to find Sinan! She got no further than the door.

  Sitting at the marble table in the garden was the devil.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ No Name said. Though he did not sound sorry at all.

  ‘I don’t care what you tell him,’ Jeannie said. ‘I’m still going out.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. He showed her his gun. ‘It’s for your own protection, I’m afraid. But I’m sure you know that. So if I were you, I’d just go upstairs and get packed.’

  While she was upstairs packing, she tried the grilles on her window. Then she tried the phone. ‘Oh,’ said Chloe’s mother when she heard Jeannie’s voice. ‘It’s you, is it? I guess you’re the one who’s been calling all morning.’

  ‘Can you tell m
e where Sinan is?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m the last person who can tell you that, young lady.’

  ‘What did I do?’

  ‘What didn’t you do?’ she said. And slammed down the phone.

  Not to lose faith. She’d find another way. After she had finished packing, she took a glass of iced tea out to the glass porch and waited. She could see No Name in the garden, on a deck chair with the New Yorker. It was a beautiful day, and not long after lunch he seemed to fall asleep. After waiting for five minutes, she reached for her father’s binoculars. All the curtains in the garçonniere were closed, but that was no reason to lose hope.

  It must have been close to three when she looked down at the path and saw him. It was only a glimpse, a silhouette vanishing around the corner, but there was something about the way he held his arms. It was him! It was Sinan! She looked out at the garden. No Name was still asleep. Again, she reached for her father’s binoculars.

  Twenty minutes later, the curtains were still closed, but when she trained the binoculars on what she knew to be the bathroom window she saw two hands pressed against the dark glass. She knew they were his the moment she saw them. Then she saw his face. His beautiful face! He was looking up at her. She was sure of it. But she knew he couldn’t see her. She thought he might see her if she waved. So she raised her hand. Another hand caught it.

  ‘If you only knew how much I didn’t want to do this,’ said No Name. When she tried to free herself, his hands clamped down on her shoulders all the more forcefully. ‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘Sit down and let’s talk this through.’

  The fury inside her wanted to kick and scream, but Sinan would have been proud of her. She remained silent, and steadfast.

  ‘Look,’ he said, when he thought he had her attention. ‘There’s been a misunderstanding and I’d like to clear it up. But first I need to level with you. Because I’ve compromised myself, too.’

  She must have let a cloud cross her face, because now he added, ‘However. This is important. It’s not as bad as you think. I’ve just been running errands for him. I kind of had to, you know! If I was going to eat. You’d hardly believe it, what with all this stuff going on. But I’ve had a hard time selling stories lately.’

  Remembering the role she’d promised to play, she tried to look puzzled.

  ‘Didn’t he tell you? I’m a stringer. For which read: trying to be a stringer. But they don’t seem to like my point of view. Maybe I know this place too well now. I guess you don’t know this either, but I came out here with the Peace Corps. That’s how I first met him. Your father, I mean. He helped me out of some trouble. That’s how we got to know each other. He really gave it his all.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘Point taken. Fair is fair. I know you must hate him right now, but he’s not all bad, you know? Only half bad. But in my experience, that can be worse than all bad. If someone’s all bad, you know where you stand.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Jeannie said.

  The smile slipped from Jordan’s face. Leaning forward, he whispered, ‘I know what you think. What you said.’

  ‘What I said to whom?’

  ‘I think you know.’

  ‘And…?’

  ‘I’m pretty pissed off about it, to tell you the truth. You know why? I’m not that person. I’m not the one you saw under that tree.’

  ‘Who do you know all this from?’

  ‘Your father.’

  ‘My father?’ She tried to keep her voice level, to conceal her surprise. ‘Who told him?’

  ‘Who do you think?’

  Jeannie sat back, to figure out what she thought. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said finally.

  ‘I didn’t think you would. But you know what? You might just have one last chance to ask him.’ Jordan reached over to the wall where her father hung his binoculars. Moving to the window, he trained them on the garçonniere. ‘Yup. Just as I thought. He’s down there with them right now. Looks like they’re all in a pretty big panic. And you know what? I bet he’s the one who sent them into it. Why don’t you go down there and find out what lie he’s spinning them, and why?’ He looked at his watch. ‘What if I dozed off for half an hour? Could you promise to be back by four?’

  ‘I saw this for what it was – my only chance. It was only after I had slammed that gate behind me and headed down the path that I looked at my feet and saw I was still wearing my slippers. When I reached the garçonniere, the door was open, and so, too, were the windows. Though nothing seemed to be burned, there was the acrid aftertaste of smoke. There were shouts coming from the bathroom, but Sinan was in the dining room, standing at the window. He, too, had a pair of binoculars. When I called his name, he shuddered, as if he had heard a ghost.

  I ran to embrace him, but his arms remained limp. I stepped back and looked into his eyes. They were great black holes brimming with tears. I asked what was wrong, and he told me I knew full well what was wrong. He’d seen it with his own eyes. “He had you in his arms!”

  It took me some time to work out that he had seen, and misunderstood, my tussle with No Name on the glass porch. I tried to explain, but he refused to accept what I had said. But I wouldn’t accept his refusal to accept it. I had run away, hadn’t I? I had tricked No Name – tricked him by listening to his pack of lies and pretending to believe them – but we only had half an hour. This was our last chance to escape! Hearing this, Sinan put his arms around me and burst into tears. “Our last chance has come and gone, Jeannie. You should have realised that last night!”

  Again, I had no idea what he meant. He was reluctant to spell it out, and we lost more valuable time. At last he told me he knew I’d spent several hours with İsmet and my father last night, and knew what I’d said to them.

  What had I said to them? Correction – what had he been told I’d said? “Jeannie, this is pointless. I know what you did. I know what you said. You turned us all in, and now…”

  Now there was the patter of stockinged feet.

  I looked up, and there, in the doorway, I spied Suna, and Lüset, and Haluk, and Rıfat of the green, green eyes.

  “There’s been a mistake,” I told them. “I didn’t turn you in. I didn’t say anything! In fact…”

  “In fact, you did,” said Suna. “And don’t think you can lie to us! We may have soft hearts, but we’re not fools!” She was wearing rubber gloves and a housecoat. Rummaging in its pocket, she retrieved what I first assumed to be a toy gun. “You and this Jordan,’ she hissed. ‘You planned this all along, didn’t you? I should have seen it. I should have understood – why else would he…” But she left her sentence hanging. It would be thirty years before I would hear the second half.

  Because now Dutch Harding stepped into the room. The first thing he did was tell Suna to put the gun down. “You have no experience with firearms. You could do something you’d regret.” Reluctantly, she set it down on the dining table. “Good girl,” he said. Was there a touch of irony there? It was hard to tell. Likewise, when he turned to me and smiled.

  “So,” he said. For one happy moment, I thought he was going to set them straight. At the very least, tell them we were all on the same side. Instead he said, “So. Let me guess. You’re flying home today. Am I right?”

  “That’s what my father thinks. But I have no…”

  “No, of course not. But let me guess. He’s sending for you at five? And until then, a certain lackey of his is babysitting?”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I make it my business. Call me sentimental, but I like to stay one step ahead of my enemies.”

  “I’m not your enemy.”

  “So you say. But anyway. It’s been nice knowing you. And listen,” Dutch said. “Thanks for leading us down the garden path. No, that’s not putting it strongly enough. Thanks for landing us in jail.”

  “You’re not in jail.”

  “We will be. Any minute now! And that’s not the half of it. If they fi
nd me guilty of espionage, I won’t be in jail long, will I? I’ll soon be swinging. And all thanks to you.”

  “How can you say that – after all I’ve done?”

  “That’s pretty funny, Jeannie. Because you’ve done a lot. At least – you tried. But then you lost your nerve, didn’t you, when that little car bomb went off beneath your father’s car. Couldn’t take the heat, could you? Couldn’t bear to think you might have said something that put your dear old Dad in danger. So you reverted to type. Just like I said you would. You told him. Him and his toadies. İsmet and that No Name. You told them it was me. Didn’t you?”

  “You know I didn’t. You know that!”

  “No, I don’t,” he said. “What’s more, you can’t prove it.” Leaning back on the wall, he folded his arms. That was that. He wasn’t going to help me. So I turned to Sinan.

  “Tell them what I did. Tell them what you know.” But before he could get two words out, Dutch had interrupted him. “There’s one thing I’d like to know. What exactly did your boyfriend No Name send you here for?”

  “He sent me down,” I said, “to find out what lie you were spinning.”

  He laughed. “Are you for real?”

  This was when my own head began to spin.

  “That’s an interesting choice of words,” I said.

  “Oh really? Pray tell.”

  “Someone used those same words with my father.”

  “And?”

  “Well – maybe I was wrong,” I said. Forgetting to think before I spoke. “Maybe I fingered the wrong person,” I said wildly. “Maybe it was you talking to him in the meydan that night!”

  “But on the other hand, maybe it wasn’t.” His voice was still cool. His eyes sparkled. As if to say, what will she say next? But sizing up the situation all the same.

  So I had to ask myself – I had to. Every grievance, every suspicion I’d entertained against this man came flooding back. What if I’d been right to hate him all these long months, and what if there was more to it than jealousy? What if I’d been wrong about the cool young American shadow in the meydan? If the man I’d seen was Dutch…