Enlightenment (17 page)

‘No matter what happens, no matter what lies people tell?’

‘He’s not sending me home,’ she said. ‘Home is here.’

‘And if something bad happens, if they send you away, you’ll come back and find me? No matter what people say?’

‘No matter what,’ Jeannie said. ‘No matter how long it takes.’

What she did not know then was that she’d already lost him.

The next day the Martial Law Command imposed a fifteen-hour curfew and sent out 25,000 troops and police to scour the city for the kidnappers. On Sunday, they found the Israeli consul in an apartment only 500 yards from the consulate. His hands were tied behind his back and he’d been shot three times in the head.

The owner of the flat said she’d rented it out to two young men who had presented themselves as an engineer and an architect. The caretaker reported seeing five young men leave the building the previous evening. The Prime Minister spoke of his shock and revulsion and had difficulty believing the perpetrators could be ‘Turks or idealists’. Amid calls for ‘quick justice,’ the security forces plastered the walls of the city with 20,000 posters of the eight men and one woman thought to belong to the cells responsible for Elrom’s death.

There was a second list of about sixty people, mostly students, who were wanted for questioning. By Tuesday, there had been six arrests. On Friday, three men and a woman thought to be connected to the kidnapping were captured when a security team burst into a flat on the European side of the Bosphorus. They found three pistols in the flat, ammunition and a wig. There were vague reports of ‘other arrests’ in ‘other parts of the country’. The witch-hunt had begun.

‘They won’t stop until we’re all behind bars,’ Suna said. This was on Sunday afternoon, when Jeannie walked into the college cafeteria, in the nagging, fading hope of meeting Sinan. Finding Suna alone at the corner table, she told her the news: army officers had stopped two young men in the suburb of Maltepe and asked to see their identity
papers. They’d taken flight, firing submachine guns, wounding one of the policemen and a woman standing nearby. They had rushed into a building and broken into an apartment on the third floor. It happened to be the home of an army colonel, who was not at home. His wife and son had escaped, but the gunmen had seized his fourteen-
year-old
daughter hostage. Some time later, they had dropped a bag from a window in which the police found Elrom’s identity card and his passport, a pistol and ammunition.

There were now a thousand troops surrounding the building, and behind them a lynch mob. ‘What about that poor girl?’ Jeannie asked. ‘Is she safe?’

Suna shrugged her shoulder. ‘Of course, they are saying that her life is in danger. But we know these boys. They would never hurt a child. As even you must understand by now, they have been savagely manipulated. And to be sure, the person who pushed them into this terrible act is now sitting safely in Europe, with a fat bank account, and a false passport. What a service he has done for his country! In one fell swoop, he has made the entire country hate all students fighting for freedom! Now they want us behind bars! It was a pretext, Jeannie! Can’t you see?’

But Jeannie was having a harder and harder time seeing anything. Why were Suna and all the others shunning her? This was the one thing she hadn’t bargained for. To put your life on the line, to turn in your father – didn’t this rate some consideration? Or were Dutch and Sinan the only ones who knew what she had done for them?

‘One has but to ask the simple question,’ Suna continued.
‘Cui bono?
Who will benefit most from these two kidnappings? The generals with their American paymasters? Or these poor boys? It is they we must mourn now. For they have been undone by agents provocateurs. Yes, this is the age of the stoolpigeon and the informer. Even if our friends do not touch this girl, their fate is written. They will hang…’

‘But not before they’d had a trial, surely?’

Suna slapped the table. ‘What kind of question is that?’ she cried. ‘From you of all people?’ She gathered up her books. ‘God damn you, Jeannie. God damn you, and all your kind!’

So she was alone, in the Pasha’s Library – staring at the phone, waiting for some word from Sinan, who had been gone now for six days, eleven hours and fifty-five minutes, who, true to his word, had sent no word – when her father called to tell her that a second car bomb had gone off, this one under his own car. It was pure luck he’d been spared. Korkmaz the driver, having dropped his master off at a luncheon moments earlier, was standing next to a kiosk eating his lunch – a toasted cheese sandwich – when the bomb went off. Only the man in the kiosk and Korkmaz had been injured, and only Korkmaz seriously. He was still in a coma. ‘But I’ve put him into a private hospital so keep your fingers crossed.’

There followed a long pause. Was he waiting for Jeannie to say something? She was tempted, sorely tempted. If she asked him outright – perhaps his cool American had gone too far again? Perhaps the time had come to pull the plug on this whole thing, whatever that might be?

Just in time, she remembered her promise. She played her part. And everything she said about poor Korkmaz, she truly meant.

But there were too many pauses, and when her father got home that night, he still looked wary. As he sat there munching on the Caesar Salad she had made for him, he spoke only to send compliments to the chef. He did the same when she brought out a six-egg omelette. Then he asked about Sinan. Still not speaking? ‘That must have been one hell of an argument you two had. Gosh, this isn’t curtains, is it? Now that would be a real shame.’

It took seven or eight bourbons before he was ready to tell her how numb he felt. Numb because it could have been her in the car. Could have been both of them. ‘And yet here we are, alive and unscathed…’

Meanwhile, Korkmaz lay in a coma in hospital. And that poor, poor fourteen-year-old girl in Maltepe – the gunmen said they were treating her like a sister. But neighbours who could see into the apartment said she was tied to a chair. ‘It’s been more than a day since they took her hostage. It makes me sick.’

He felt sick, too, about Korkmaz, and the large family that depended on him. And then there was the fury, the fury against the people who
had done this. ‘Either I let it eat us up or I find these bastards and nail them. Nail them good.’

He gave her a beady look.

‘So tell me,’ he said. ‘Who’s next on their list?’

‘How would I know?’ she said.

‘Spoken like a true innocent.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘What does it sound like?’

She swallowed hard. ‘I can’t help thinking that you blame me somehow.’

‘Oh really? What makes you think that?’

‘I don’t know. The way you’re talking to me, maybe?’

‘Honestly, Jeannie.’ He knocked back the rest of his bourbon. ‘You really do have a one-track mind.’ He gazed out at the Bosphorus, his eyes following a tanker that was rounding the point, and then he burst into tears.

But she kept herself strong. It was a week now since she had heard from Sinan, but she could still feel his arms encircling her. It was just a question of keeping faith.

Korkmaz came out of his coma on Tuesday morning. Just after lunch, Jeannie and her father went to the Admiral Bristol Hospital to see him. There were a dozen distraught relatives in the room. They were very kind. Very warm. Very physical. Grasping Jeannie’s hands, they spoke of the wickedness of politics. She nodded. She couldn’t agree more. They told her what a good man her father was, what a kind and generous employer. She nodded, as vigorously as before. Then on to safer ground: what a good man Korkmaz was, what a good son, what a good father. When she rose to leave they drenched her hands with eau de cologne.

‘Thanks for coming’ her father said afterwards. ‘They really appreciated it. Of course, they don’t blame you.’

She had to find Sinan. At least, find out where he was! She imagined her strength draining away, until there was nothing to stop her dialling all his numbers, scouring the campus, racing down to the garçonniere,
leaning on the bell. But she held herself in. Played her part as best she could. She wasn’t losing her nerve. Her father’s barbed hints meant nothing to her. All she had to do was sit here, calmly, and wait for events to unfold.

But she couldn’t sit still. She had to find Sinan! Perhaps if she asked Chloe. Perhaps, if she dropped by and didn’t ask her outright, Chloe being Chloe would let something slip. Or even if she didn’t. It would bring some relief just to chat about nothing in particular. The isolation was getting to her. Isolation was the one thing she hadn’t bargained for.

When she walked into the Cabot kitchen at that afternoon, it was to find Chloe hacking at a piece of cheese, and her father sitting at the table.

‘You’ve heard the news, I take it,’ he said. The girl had been rescued. ‘One of the gunmen died on the way to hospital. The other joker’s still alive, though not, I’d say for long. Does the name Mahir Çayan mean anything to you?’

‘Oh for God’s sake!’ Chloe screeched.

‘What’s going on?’ Jeannie asked.

‘He’s been asking me questions about his stupid car,’ said Chloe.

‘He’s trying to pin the whole thing on me!’

‘That’s not what I said,’ said her father. ‘But the fact remains that I gave Chloe a lift to school yesterday morning. And as it happens, she left a bag in the car. That was what I was asking her about. The bag, and what was in it.’

‘There was nothing in it but the fucking
Norton Anthology
!’

‘Be that as it may, I had to ask.’

‘What were you doing with the
Norton Anthology
?’ Jeannie asked stupidly. ‘Didn’t you have that exam three days ago?’

‘What – are you your father’s second lieutenant?’

Jeannie turned to her father. ‘Are you actually accusing Chloe of planting the bomb in your car?’

And Jeannie’s father yelled, ‘She wouldn’t have the guts!’ He slammed his fist down on the table. ‘That goes for both of you! You have no idea what you’ve mixed yourselves up in. You have no idea what these people are like! Honestly!’ he said. ‘It’s like cleaning up
after a pack of fucking toddlers.’

He lit up a cigarette. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘That was uncalled for.’

They all sat still for some time after that. Then he asked Jeannie what her plans were. He and Amy were taking a deputation from Washington out for a tour of the Bosphorus on the Hiawatha. Did Jeannie want to come too?

She certainly did not.

‘Fine, then,’ he said. ‘Have it your way.’

It was while he and Amy were out on the Hiawatha, and while Jeannie was sitting with Chloe in her kitchen, eating supper, and pretending to be friends, that two polite, well-dressed men knocked on the front door and asked if they’d mind going downtown to discuss the ‘recent car bomb’. Their black sedan was waiting outside, the engine running. The well-dressed men remained vacantly courteous throughout the half-hour drive. When they pulled up outside a mustard yellow stucco building, the man who wasn’t driving jumped out to hold the door.

The corridor was long and unadorned and smelled of disinfectant. There was a man with a mop at the far end and the floor was still damp. The two girls were shown into a waiting room. Here they found Suna, Haluk, Lüset, and a uniformed man with a submachine gun.

Where was Sinan? Her voice echoed, but no one answered. Had they been arrested? There was no one else to ask. So Jeannie sat down between Chloe and Haluk. Outside in the corridor, she heard footsteps, sometimes heavy, sometimes light. The men passing by their door spoke in whispers. Now and again a door would open, and they’d hear a low moan. An anguished cry. The tail end of a curse. Then the door would slam shut.

Once, when a door shut, Suna began to sob. Lüset nudged her and she stopped. At no point did either look Jeannie in the eye.

One day, they would find out what she’d done for them. One day, they would run up to her with open arms to thank her. But for now, this was just the way it was. No justice without a price.

She had been sitting next to a stony, blank-eyed Haluk for the better part of an hour when a factotum came into the room, read out her name, and told her to follow him. When she hesitated, Haluk nudged her. ‘Go before he hurts you.’

So she went. They took her to another room, an anteroom. The sign on the door said ‘İsmet Şen’ but he didn’t seem to be at home.

‘Long time no see,’ said İsmet. It had been at least an hour. He was holding out his hand. ‘I hope you haven’t been too uncomfortable.
I’m afraid we’re a little short on the luxury front here but you don’t have long.’

He offered her tea, then made a great show of getting his assistant to call for it. When it did not appear at once, he excused himself. ‘Time to kick ass.’

He had not yet returned when her father appeared. Settling grimly into his chair, he turned to Jeannie and asked, ‘Have I missed the tea game yet? Or are we still to have the pleasure?’

‘He’s gone to get it now, I think.’

William just snorted. ‘He hates me, you know. Of course – if I were in his shoes, I’d hate me, too. So anyway. I let him play the tea game. But don’t let that fool you. If there’s anything you’d like to tell me, this is your very last chance.’

But she remained steadfast.

‘Okay then. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

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 me 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?’