A Deceit to Die For (69 page)

“Where is Gary?” he asked.

“I think he stepped out to go to the restroom,” replied Gilbert. “He’ll be right back.”

Zeki moved towards the table in the middle of the room to fill his tea glass. Gary appeared at the door before the two sugar cubes he had put in the glass could dissolve. Zeki sat down in his chair and looked at the glass as he stirred the piping hot tea with a small spoon. The small white grains of sugar were spinning in the warm brown liquid. In seconds, they would disappear from sight entirely, still present, only invisible, a perfect picture of human life.
We are born into this whirlpool called the world, where the dizzying spin addles our mind and confounds our reason. We struggle to maintain our shape, our individuality. In the end, we disappear entirely, but we leave our taste in the tea.
He felt like he was standing on the edge of a huge glass, wondering why he was willing to throw himself in, but just as certain that he would. He drew himself up straight, took a drink of his tea and plunged in just as Gary walked in.

“I have a proposal for keeping the G.O.B. from being stolen that I think you might be interested in,” announced Zeki

“We’re all ears,” said Gilbert.

“We steal it ourselves,” he said simply.

Matt chuckled to himself and shook his head. Gwyn’s face remained expressionless. Gary sat down on the couch and leaned back in a sign he was ready to hear more.

“That will certainly stop them from getting it, but I’m not sure what you think makes it important enough to take the risk,” asked Matt.

“I have been considering the idea ever since I realized what they were up to, and the more I think about it, the more confident I feel that this is the right course of action. Not only will we thwart their plan, but we might be able to turn it into a situation that gives us an advantage. Something that could help us make sure the exchange goes well and that Gilbert’s family gets returned safely. Besides, I want to see whoever murdered Prof. O’Brien pay for their crime.”

Gary, Gilbert and Matt exchanged glances as they turned the idea over in their minds. Gary was the first to speak.

“Zeki, we all want to see these people punished, but avenging our father’s death is not going to help us save the lives of his grandchildren.”

“Son, revenge is not something I believe in either. I do believe in justice though, and I’m not under the illusion that corrupt governments instituted by men are the only way justice can be served.”

“Vigilantism is not our way,” replied Gary.

“Listen, you’ll have your hands full here in Istanbul with the exchange,” continued Zeki. “I don’t expect you to do anything. I’ll handle the entire thing.”

“Stealing this manuscript is not an operation you can throw together in just a few days.” said Matt. “What is your plan?”

“To beat them at their own game, to frame them for the theft they want to pin on the Vatican. I am beginning to suspect a certain organization might be behind this, so if I can take the book before they do and set it up so that when the loss is noticed, it looks like they are responsible, we will be holding the aces. Then, I can confront the man masquerading as Father Luigi Franchini at Augustinerlesesaal.

“I will convince him that we have the upper hand, and that we will return the original of the document discreetly in exchange for the safe return of Gilbert’s family. I think they will want to stay out of the papers. After all, the reason they are pursuing this so ruthlessly is because they do not want their involvement to become public. If the man refuses to cooperate when I meet him in the library, I have friends who can tail him after he leaves so that we can arrange another meeting under less cordial circumstances.”

“What friends?” asked Gwyn innocently.

“Good ones,” said Zeki with a smile. “The kind you need in times like these.”

Gilbert’s face lit up at the thought of getting a break.

“Zeki,” he said eagerly, “This is the first thing anybody’s mentioned that might help us, but . . .” he stopped and rubbed his forehead. He didn’t want to say it.

“But what?” asked Zeki

“I think you’ve put yourself in harm’s way enough already.”

“Nonsense! You’re never in harm’s way when you’re doing the right thing. Being killed in the line of duty would be an honor, not a shame, and you have no idea what a tremendous debt I owe your father. I’m sure he never told you about my own bout with cancer five years before your mother’s.”

Gwyn looked at her two brothers. They both shook their heads.

“I figured as much,” continued Zeki. “He had a funny thing about ‘the right hand not knowing what the left was doing.’ It was his way, I suppose. The long and short of it is that I had colon cancer. He arranged for me to have the best treatment in the world at a US hospital, and used his contacts in academia to get me in. More importantly, he took care of the entire bill. He said he raised the money from friends and charitable organizations, but as you can imagine in my line of work, I have a few money-sniffing friends of my own. They found out that your father transferred almost twenty thousand dollars from his retirement account to the hospital. That was money he could have left to you or used in retirement. When I told him this he simply said, ‘I must do what good I can today. None of us knows what the future holds. You, my friend, need this today. Who knows what I will need tomorrow.’”

Zeki stopped. Gwyn thought his eyes were a bit more sparkly than they had been just a moment ago.

“I want to do this,” he continued. “It is, in your father’s words, ‘the good thing that I can do today.’”

Gwyn closed her eyes. It could not stop the flood of tears that came rushing down her face. She jumped up and ran out of the room, sobs racking her body. Gary followed.

Gilbert cleared his throat.

“You are a man of surprises, Zeki. We would be honored to have your help.”

“According to the messages captured by your key-logger, the theft is scheduled for Wednesday. That means I have to be in Vienna tomorrow morning, and there is a lot to do before then.”

“But, won’t you need a reservation? I’m sure that you can’t just walk in and ask to see the manuscript,” asked Gilbert.

“I made that phone call from the airplane over Holland. Sort of ironic, isn’t it?” he said with a smile. “Anyway, I have it reserved for tomorrow. Apparently, it’s not a book people are lining up to read. I asked for Wednesday too, but that was already taken, and we know who has it reserved.”

He looked down at his watch.

“Listen, I have to meet an old friend in half an hour. Hopefully, he will be able to help. I probably won’t see you again before I leave for Vienna.” He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to Gary, “This is the name of my friend I’m meeting and his phone number. If you need anything, just let him know. Remember his phone will almost certainly be monitored by Police Intelligence so, to protect him, say that you are a mutual friend. When he asks who, say ‘Sanliurfa 1986’. I’m sorry that my hospitality has not been better. I hope when this is over I will have the honor of hosting you properly.”

CHAPTER
53

Ten minutes later, Zeki had crossed Taksim Square and was walking through the park towards the corner of the expansive grounds at the Ceylan Intercontinental. He began angling off to the right when he saw the security wall around the imposing twenty-storey hotel. He stopped in front of the building to wait for a break in the traffic. Everyone was rushing to be home to break the fast. In ten minutes, there would be almost no traffic.

He could see a fifty-meter gap in the approaching traffic, and shook his head in disgust at the difference between drivers in Dallas and Istanbul. In Dallas, traffic stopped for pedestrians in crosswalks. Here, the drivers actually sped up. It took several minutes and two false starts, before he made it to the other side and turned down a narrower street. There was no sign of Yusuf. He walked another seventy-five meters before he noticed a white sedan with tinted windows parked ahead on the right, flashing its lights. He walked over to the car, opened the door and sat down beside his friend.

“
Selam dostum
. Thanks for coming. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“
Aleyküm selam
, Zeki. It’s good to see you in one piece. Any chance that you are being followed? You know, Interpol is looking for you.”

“I suspect they’re still looking for me in Dallas, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” said Yusuf with a smile. “Where are we going?”

“Is Kopyaji still in business?” Zeki asked.

“As far as I know.”

“Then, let’s pay him a visit. But, take a scenic route.”

Yusuf started the car and pulled out into the street. Neither man spoke for several minutes. It was Zeki who broke the silence.

“The news report I saw at the airport said Bekir Kaya claimed responsibility for the bombings. Is this true or is somebody massaging the facts?’

“It’s true.”

“Any idea where he’s at?” asked Zeki.

“We believe he’s in one of the countries north of the Black Sea. Probably Ukraine or Romania, but we have no concrete leads. I doubt he’s in Russia. It’s too risky there. Bekir sent a personal message too.”

Yusuf quickly explained the blackmail tapes they had found during the raid and how they had returned the originals. Zeki’s only response was a deep sigh. Yusuf turned left onto Dolmabahçe Boulevard, and they drove by the palace in silence. Again, he waited for Zeki to continue.

“I would love to help you with Bekir, but I’m sure you don’t need me, and I have a certain debt to repay. I suppose you know about the murders in London.”

“Yes, I read the Interpol report.”

“O’Brien was a friend of mine and whoever was behind this also killed Haluk Bayram, the professor I worked with at the university. They tried to kill me and then O’Brien’s daughter in Texas. When that failed, they kidnapped his son’s wife and children from Italy and brought them here to Istanbul. They have somebody on the inside with the Metropolitan Police Service. We know they can intercept cell phone calls, and who knows what else. I’m not sure who’s involved, but Turks were part of it.”

“How do you know?” asked Yusuf

“Because I heard the two men they sent to Dallas to kill O’Brien’s daughter speaking Turkish on their approach to the house. Besides, they’re too technically sophisticated, too organized and too well-equipped for me to believe that they are Arabs.”

Yusuf grinned at Zeki’s expression of a common cultural contempt for the Arabs.

“What are they after?”

“A document that ties the Ottomans directly to a plot to hijack Christianity in the 16th century by forging a gospel. Have you ever heard of the Gospel of Barnabas?”

Yusuf kept his eyes on the road and shook his head in disbelief.

“Even an atheist like me has heard of the Gospel of Barnabas. Didn’t the TAF find a copy of that in 1986 somewhere down by Mardin?”

“That was what the military claimed initially, but it wasn’t true.”

They heard a cannon go off marking the setting of the sun and the end of the fast.

“If you like we can stop and eat something,” said Yusuf.

He had never understood Zeki’s faith. In fact, he generally had nothing but disdain for anyone who believed in God. To his mind, they were backward, uneducated or blindly traditional. Zeki was different though. Different in a way that he couldn’t explain.

“No need,” responded Zeki. “I’m not fasting.”