Harem (40 page)

‘So I’m prepared to accept that we dealt with Zhivkov’s men,’ he said, ‘and that we both know, you by some means I don’t yet fully understand, that I was at Yıldız last night, that just leaves one question: who were the men in the Special Forces-style clothes?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh, come on!’

‘No, really, my hand on the Holy Koran.’

‘They were totally invisible until the last minute, they were armed with just about everything a person can be armed with, they spoke to each other in English—’

‘I don’t know who they were!’

‘You must do!’

Ardıç, infuriated, leaned across the table at İkmen. ‘I don’t know,’ he said tightly, ‘because I never asked! I don’t want to know and neither do you!’ As quickly as it had arisen, Ardıç’s anger subsided. ‘Now I have to know whether Hikmet Sivas spoke to you.’

Immediately İkmen’s guard came up. ‘Talked to me when?’

‘When you were hidden in that room with him last night.’

‘Oh, so you even know where in the building I was.’

‘The only reason you are still alive is because I know, İkmen.’

The two men looked at each other for a moment as the import of what had just been said sank into İkmen’s mind.

‘He told me about some photographs he’d taken of prominent people involved in this Harem thing.’ He looked directly into Ardıç’s eyes. ‘I assume you know about it.’

‘An exclusive, sexual venue for the rich and powerful, yes,’ Ardıç replied, a look of extreme distaste on his face. ‘Started by Hikmet Sivas to further his career.’

‘He told me that his brother, Vedat, effectively sold it on to Zhivkov. Is that right?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what he also sold was the promise of these photographs which, I understand, Hikmet had taken as a sort of insurance against these men should they try to get rid of him.’

Ardıç nodded. ‘Hikmet Sivas got involved with some very dangerous people in order to further his career. He had to have insurance.’

‘He only got involved with them because he was Turkish,’ İkmen responded bitterly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Sivas told me that when he first arrived in Hollywood, no one would see him. No one. He was good-looking, young, could speak English, would do anything, but no one would see him.’ İkmen picked up his cup and drained what was left of his coffee. ‘And even when one of them did, all he was interested in was our harems, or rather his conception of them. Hikmet Sivas created the Harem in order to get started. The prejudice he encountered is sickening!’

‘I agree,’ Ardıç replied. ‘But that doesn’t mean that he’s blameless. He shouldn’t have done what he did. Two women have died because of him, not to mention Tepe and . . . some others.’

‘Zhivkov.’

‘And Ali Müren and other assorted scum, yes.’

İkmen poured himself more coffee which he again loaded with sugar. ‘And Muazzez Heper,’ he added bitterly.

Ardıç sighed. ‘Yes.’

Slowly and wearily, İkmen shook his head. ‘You know, I don’t think Hikmet told me everything about Hatice’s death.’

‘And you want me to tell you?’ Ardıç asked.

‘Well, do you know?’

‘I suppose so,’ he said. ‘It was Zhivkov and his men. Unlike the Sivas brothers, Zhivkov took an active role in recruiting girls to the Harem. Ekrem Müren and his brother were directed by their father to look for suitable girls. They weren’t told why. As I understand it, Ekrem saw Hatice at the pastane when he was collecting from Şeker. It would seem that Şeker handed her over even though he was using her himself. But then one didn’t say no to Zhivkov, did one? I didn’t know this until we had actually started working on Sivas’s disappearance.’

‘When you went to Ankara?’

‘You were taken off the Sivas case precisely because of what you are doing now, İkmen.’

‘What?’

‘Asking questions.’ Ardıç re-lit his cigar and smiled.

‘I’ll tell you what I can and then maybe you’ll stop, for your own sake as well as mine. Agreed?’

‘Possibly,’ İkmen said, keeping his options open.

Ardıç sighed. ‘Zhivkov came on the scene about a year ago. He started to run the Harem with Vedat according to his own rules, which included blackmail. Hikmet’s American friends didn’t like Zhivkov’s methods, but it wasn’t until Hatice İpek died that Hikmet was forced to come to İstanbul to try and regain control of the Harem and reassure his American associates. There was another reason too Vedat had told Zhivkov about the photographs some time before. Here was a man who was powerful enough to get them and use them in a way that Vedat wanted – to gain power. Hikmet hadn’t told his Mafia and other friends in the US about the photographs – they’d have killed him if they’d known – but after Kaycee was killed and he escaped from you, he again called the man he said was his agent – Gee – and told him about the pictures. Shortly afterwards, Zhivkov captured Hikmet and, confident that he could obtain the photographs from him, got Vedat to invite some of the higher order mob bosses to what was in effect an auction at Yıldız. G, meanwhile, with the help of one of those bosses and a lot of, shall we say, influence, was planning a more permanent solution to the problem. Some armed individuals arrived from an unknown source, the Malta Kiosk staff were instructed by myself to leave the building unlocked and everything was set.’

‘But who are these people? Who is G?’

‘There you go again, asking questions.’ Ardıç topped up his coffee from the pot and offered more to İkmen, who declined. ‘I don’t know, İkmen. People. I don’t ask questions. I was put in charge of this operation, from our side, because I don’t ask questions.’

‘Sivas and all his associates are American, so—’

‘My orders came via many intermediaries, from people so exalted you cannot imagine who they might be,’ Ardıç said, ‘which is why you and I are having this conversation in a damp tourist attraction and not at the station or at my house or your apartment.’

İkmen suddenly felt several, noticeable degrees colder. His hand shook slightly as he raised his cigarette to his lips.

‘The “businessmen” these people routinely associate with are bad,’ Ardıç continued, ‘but we, the world, understand them and they understand us. They may run drugs, extort money, put their puppets into positions of power. But that is how it has always been. They may decide from time to time to blackmail people in the public eye, but they do it according to certain rules that are very well understood. Zhivkov, on the other hand, didn’t know the rules, acted in haste and was extremely greedy—’

‘Is my apartment bugged?’ İkmen interrupted.

‘Blackmail was obviously one attraction but the fear was he might not be above trying to sell those photographs to governments who are, shall we say, outside the loop, or using them to obtain weapons I don’t even want to think about. Zhivkov was an ambitious, unscrupulous psychopath.’

‘You haven’t answered my question,’ İkmen said. ‘Is my apartment—’

‘I don’t know!’ Ardıç exploded. ‘But I wasn’t prepared to take that risk! If they knew that you knew any of this they would kill us both!’

‘So why are you telling me?’

‘Because I know what you’re like! I know you’ll carry on digging until somebody somewhere blows your brains out!’ He raised a hand to his sweating brow and flicked the moisture onto the floor. ‘They knew you could be in the palace grounds and they had taken your presence into account. Everything went according to plan.’

‘What? Even Tepe? You let Tepe—’

‘Tepe wasn’t meant to die. I asked to have him handed over after the operation,’ Ardıç shook his head regretfully, ‘but they shot him.’

‘And General Pamuk?’

‘I think it is best to gloss over what the general’s connection might have been to Zhivkov and company. But let’s just say that Zhivkov wanted something from him and that was a request he couldn’t refuse. Unknown to Zhivkov, however, G had also, via sources this end, made contact with Pamuk. The general readily agreed to pass on details about the layout of the room, who was carrying weapons and so on to the forces who eventually took the kiosk.’

‘But you said that one of the foreigners knew what was going to happen?’

‘Yes. But obviously he wasn’t in the same position as Pamuk who, once he’d given Zhivkov whatever it was he wanted, could leave. All the foreigners flew safely out of the country some hours ago.’

‘So,’ İkmen began. ‘This thing Zhivkov wanted from General Pamuk?’

‘I wouldn’t think about that if I were you, İkmen,’ Ardıç put in tersely.

The two men lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

İkmen looked around at the ancient, wet columns and wondered, not for the first time, at the vast history of secrecy that had grown up in this city. Whether the Greeks, who had been famous across the world for their Byzantine spies, had started this tradition, he didn’t know. But it had certainly gone from strength to strength since. Perhaps people took their cues from structures – labyrinthine palaces, vast and impenetrable underground cisterns, places where, literally, bodies could be hidden by gangsters and, İkmen couldn’t help thinking, by generals too.

‘The Mürens put Hatice’s body in that cistern on Türbedar Sokak because they knew about it from their grandmother’s neighbour,’ İkmen said, switching back to the matter of his neighbour’s dead child. ‘Whoever did it laid her out quite carefully. I’d like to talk to Ekrem and Celal.’

‘I won’t stop you – this time,’ Ardıç said. ‘Last time you were just a little bit too close. We couldn’t afford to alarm anybody at that stage. But the Müren boys didn’t harm the girl. It was Zhivkov, that much we do know.’

‘He killed Kaycee Sivas,’ İkmen said.

‘As soon as he’d taken her off the street apparently,’ Ardıç replied. ‘Poor woman. Zhivkov liked taking heads. If we hadn’t arrived, Hikmet Sivas would have been presented with it as soon as he got to his yalı. As it was, Zhivkov had to be rather more devious about its delivery and used the old passageway you found in order to get it to him. I’m not sure whether Vedat Sivas knew that was the plan or not. But both men left through the passageway so he obviously knew it was there. He must have told Zhivkov about it.’

‘And where is Hikmet now?’

‘On his way back to the USA,’ Ardıç replied, ‘where he will no doubt be relieved by someone of the burden of those photographs.’

‘And the world will once again be safe from megalomaniacs,’ İkmen said in a voice heavy with irony. ‘And all due to those ever unfashionable Turks.’

Ardıç shrugged. ‘Look at our neighbours and ask yourself whether we could afford to have someone like Zhivkov running loose with, well, let me see anthrax, smallpox . . .’

‘Do you honestly think that those photographs are worth that much?’ İkmen said, frowning. ‘I mean if President Clinton can admit, on television, to having oral sex with some girl in the Oval Office and survive, surely those photographs aren’t going to topple governments.’

‘But we didn’t get to see Clinton doing it, did we?’ Ardıç replied with a small smile. ‘In the photographs we would be able to see princes and presidents, lots of them.’

‘I’m still not entirely convinced,’ İkmen said. ‘At first I was, but thinking about it seriously I feel that there must be more, to explain all that trouble and effort. There’s still something hidden.’

‘I don’t know,’ Ardıç said, ‘but don’t go looking for anything. After today we must draw a line under this thing.’

‘So that the civilised world can live on in its usual deluded state. So that the people who control us can carry on controlling us.’

‘Yes.’

İkmen crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair so that he was looking at the herringbone domes up above. ‘You know, sir,’ he said, ‘one day somebody isn’t going to care about what people like us or these other nameless people you speak of might think or do about their activities. One day someone is going to try and change all this and they’re going to do it in such a way that we won’t be able to do a thing about it. These people who choose to kill a young, if misguided, policeman because of fears for their own security just shouldn’t be where they are now.’

‘Are you saying that people like Zhivkov should?’

‘No.’ He looked down. ‘I’m saying that there’s no real right and wrong when it comes to power. I’m saying that I wish my country, and every other country, could be truly independent, so we can’t all be moved around by so-called businessmen and their henchmen and flunkeys.’ He laughed, suddenly and with a lot of phlegm. ‘I sound like one of those mad conspiracy theorists, don’t I?’ But then just as suddenly his face became grave. ‘But if what we’ve been talking about is true . . .’

‘I think we’d better get back to the station now,’ Ardıç said. ‘We may need to answer some questions about last night’s successful operation against the Zhivkov/Müren organisation. I’ve issued instructions for Mrs İskender and Dr Halman to be briefed upon their arrival at the Admiral Bristol.’

İkmen looked deeply sceptical. ‘And what about Inspectors Süleyman and İskender? They know—’

‘They will know only what I have instructed them to know,’ Ardıç said coldly. ‘They will repeat word for word what I told them while you were with Mrs Tepe.’

‘But Süleyman was almost in a coma!’

‘Yes, from which he was roused.’ Ardıç began the long and laborious process of standing up. ‘There are certain drugs, you know . . .’

‘Yes, I do,’ İkmen said as he rose and went over to help his superior regain a vertical position. The two men shared a brief look and then broke away from each other.

‘Don’t speak of these things with Süleyman.’

‘No, sir. I’d really rather he stayed alive.’

‘Good.’ Ardıç smiled and began to move towards the stairs. ‘You must give some thought to who you want to replace Tepe,’ he said. ‘I know you might feel it’s a little early . . .’

‘I’d like to have someone I can trust,’ İkmen said as he drew level with the commissioner. ‘I think a woman would be a good idea.’