Deadly Web (32 page)

‘Maybe you sacrificed someone.’

‘Oh, now this is becoming absurd.’ Sevan Avedykian stood up. ‘Come along, Mr Esterhazy.’

But Max Esterhazy didn’t move.

‘A grand ritual of some kind, that’s it, isn’t it, Max?’ İkmen stared hard into the magician’s unmoving eyes. ‘Made so much more powerful by blood. You must be working on something very big.’

‘Christ, Çetin, have I taught you nothing? I’m a good chap, I don’t do evil things. Everything I do is for the best.’ The magician stood up and joined his lawyer over by the door. They were just about to leave when İkmen spoke again.

‘I know you’ve opened the portals, Max,’ he said. ‘I also know that they can’t be left open for long. Now you must complete the work.’

But Max Esterhazy appeared to smile and shake his head as he followed his lawyer out of the room. However, a few moments later, when İkmen had gone into the adjoining room, Gonca had a slightly different take on Max Esterhazy’s last moment in Interview Room number 1.

‘Just for the smallest moment there was a look, of surprise I think it was,’ she said. ‘He had, or imagined he had, thought of everything.’

‘You still believe in the ritual theory? It, like Max’s version of events, possesses holes, Gonca,’ İkmen said. ‘Cem Ataman committed suicide.’

‘I’m going to ask Çöktin to check out this Mr Şay and Mrs Özpetek,’ Süleyman said. ‘Şay, you should know, Çetin, is an electronics magnate. First came to the city from Edirne in 1997, and by 1999 he was living in a very nice yalı in Bebek. If Max has financial worries then Mr Şay could be helping to rectify that situation.’

He took his jacket off the back of his chair and logged out of the office computer system.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Hüsnü Gunay. I still have my own work to do, Çetin.’

‘You must have the magician followed, İkmen,’ Gonca said. ‘See where he goes and what he does. If you can follow him.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that if he doesn’t want to be followed then tracking him will not be easy,’ Gonca said. ‘Great magicians have the gift of invisibility.’

He knew what she meant. When he’d found Max in the underpass he’d only just found him. Smaller and far more ‘local’ at first sight, İkmen still didn’t know quite how he’d managed to recognise him. But then maybe that had more to do with İkmen himself than with Max. Maybe that was his own ‘magic’ manifesting, as it sometimes did.

‘I’ll get on to it now,’ İkmen said, and left the room quickly.

Gonca, alone again with Süleyman, licked her lips and then smiled.

C
HAPTER
20

It took a while to organise surveillance on Max Esterhazy, and so İkmen arranged for the magician and his lawyer to be detained – Çöktin had to check out İrfan Şay and the woman Max had named – until his man was ready in position. Commissioner Ardıç, as ever the sceptic, would only give him one officer, Yıldız, for this duty, which was far from ideal. But İkmen could hardly follow the magician himself and so he grudgingly accepted what he was offered. Just before Max and Avedykian were due to leave he went out to one of the nearby kiosks in order to buy cigarettes. It could possibly be a long and tense time ahead and so he’d need all the nicotine he could get to sustain him. Max, a friend, whether guilty of murder or not, was not now the man he thought he had been and that saddened him.

Armed with sixty of his favourite Maltepe cigarettes, İkmen was just walking back to the station when he heard someone call his name. Looking back towards the small amount of tourist activity around the Hippodrome, İkmen saw Jak Cohen waving rather wildly at him.

Ten minutes later, İkmen was sitting in front of a TV and video recorder, smoking cigarette after cigarette.

‘Balthazar says he thinks it’s real,’ Jak said.

‘I would agree with him,’ İkmen replied.

The girl, the only figure in the scene with an uncovered face, seemed at first to be enjoying what was happening. Only when the largest of the masked figures entered her, from behind, did the fear and pain begin to show. And although what was happening didn’t seem to be part of a ritual, there were ritualistic elements to it. The masks, the robes, the way the man having sex with the girl kissed the knife just before it was plunged into her chest. It was only a fragment, four minutes at the most, but that, as İkmen knew only too well, was quite enough time to kill another human being.

‘Where did you get this, Jak?’ İkmen asked.

Jak told İkmen about Demir Sandal and he, like Balthazar, knew the man of old. Not that Demir had ever been involved in anything like this before. As far as İkmen was concerned Demir Sandal was just a grubby little pornographer with a reputation for employing girls with large breasts. Serious stuff, like this, was surely out of his league.

‘I’ll have to get Inspector Süleymen in here,’ İkmen said. ‘He may be able to identify the girl.’

It was unusual to request that an officer interrupt an interview, but in this case İkmen felt fully justified.

‘If I didn’t think it was imperative that you see this, then I wouldn’t have interrupted you,’ İkmen said as he walked along the corridor with Çöktin and an annoyed Süleyman in his wake. ‘This may well change the way you proceed with your hacker.’

‘I hope so,’ Süleyman replied. The handwriting expert was taking his time analysing Hüsnü Gunay’s artwork and comparing it to that of the supposedly elusive Mendes. Adnan Öz was becoming impatient.

As soon as they entered the room, Jak, who had now rewound the tape again, nodded in recognition of Süleyman and then played the video. After about thirty seconds, Süleyman moved closer to the screen.

‘What is this?’ he said.

‘I think it’s what they call a “snuff movie”,’ İkmen replied. ‘Do you recognise the girl?’

Süleyman, eyes widened by what he was seeing on the screen, just stared.

‘Isn’t a snuff movie one where people actually get killed on screen?’ Çöktin said.

‘Yes.’

They all watched in silence until the final act took place. Jak, who had, some time ago, stopped feeling sick at the sight of it, looked up at the ashen faces that surrounded him. For several minutes nobody said a word. İkmen and Süleyman lit cigarettes while Çöktin just sat down and stared at the now blank television screen.

Eventually, Süleyman cleared his throat and then spoke. ‘I think the girl is Gülay Arat,’ he said. ‘You can see that the action takes place out in the open – Lale Tekeli was killed indoors – and it certainly isn’t the gypsy Gülizar.’

‘So all this business with the Goths, the hacker and that Englishman is irrelevant,’ Çöktin said. ‘The youngsters were killed to make these snuff movies.’

‘I don’t know whether that is the full story,’ İkmen replied. ‘My own feelings are that there is a certain ritualism to the proceedings. However, if Inspector Süleyman has identified one of his victims in the film then he will have to decide whether to pursue this matter on that basis. Whatever happens we must find out who is producing this material and put a stop to it.’ He turned to Jak. ‘I know Demir Sandal hasn’t got an office as such, but I assume you have a mobile number for him.’

‘Yes.’

Süleyman shook his head. ‘I can’t believe this is Sandal’s work,’ he said.

‘Jak got it from him.’

‘
Women with Sea Snakes
is what he gave me,’ Jak said miserably. ‘Free! Said it was the most remarkable work of pornography I would ever see – the next big thing!’

‘Well, he was right about that,’ İkmen said.

‘Yes, but I don’t think it’s for the reason he thinks,’ Jak said. ‘Like you, Çetin, I don’t think that Mr Sandal would do anything like this.’

‘We’ll have to start with Sandal, though, won’t we?’ Süleyman sighed, and then he looked across at İkmen and said, ‘I’ll wrap this interview up as quickly as I can and then İsak and myself will get on to it. Thank you, Çetin.’

İkmen shrugged. ‘Yıldız is following Max Esterhazy so I have to be around. Jak, can you call Sandal and tell him you want to meet in, what?’ He looked across at Süleyman.

‘Depends where you usually meet,’ Süleyman said, looking down at Jak.

‘İstiklal Caddesi.’

‘In an hour?’ Süleyman suggested.

‘OK.’ Then Jak frowned. ‘But what if he won’t come?’ he said. ‘I supposedly bade him goodbye yesterday.’

‘Well, whatever you bought from him, say you need some more,’ İkmen said. ‘I imagine Demir treated you like a foreigner and therefore ripped you off. I can’t see him not jumping at the chance to lighten your wallet still further.’

Jak took his mobile phone out of his pocket and then called up Demir Sandal’s number.

Maximillian Esterhazy said goodbye to his lawyer just outside the station and then proceeded to walk towards his apartment. For a man who had recently been questioned in connection with serial killings he seemed very relaxed. But then maybe he was innocent. Apparently when Sergeant Çöktin had checked out his alibis they had held up. Yıldız didn’t really know why İkmen was persisting with this. But then he was just a constable so what did he know?

After buying a pouch of tobacco and some water from a small local shop, Esterhazy entered his block and disappeared up the stairs. Because the building had a fire escape at the back, this was where things became tricky. How to watch the man now that he’d gone inside was a problem, and one that having an extra body on the operation, particularly one that Esterhazy hadn’t seen before, would have rectified. But there was only him and so Yıldız went up to the first floor where Esterhazy lived and looked around for any possible vantage points, which seemed to be zero. It was very frustrating. If he stood outside the building he’d have to choose whether to watch the front or the back – he couldn’t possibly do both. Here on the landing he could only watch the front, unless, of course, he tried to hear whether or not Esterhazy was still inside. He was just about to put his ear to the door when it swung open sharply and Esterhazy, complete with a small suitcase, walked out on to the landing. Yıldız, his face pressed against the door of one of Esterhazy’s neighbours, pushed the bell as casually as he thought he could and then watched the magician descend the staircase. As soon as he could no longer see Esterhazy’s head, Yıldız followed. Fortunately no one came to answer the neighbour’s bell.

‘Don’t fuck with me, Demir,’ Süleyman said as he watched the pornographer sweat amid the lush green plants outside the KaVe. ‘Tell me where you got this video here and now or I’ll take you in and force the issue.’

‘But, Inspector, I don’t understand,’ Demir Sandal, his face red with tension, replied. ‘The women are just playing with rubber snakes, anyone can see that!’

‘I’m not talking about the women with the snakes, Demir.’

‘Then . . .’

‘Look, I haven’t got time to explain,’ Süleyman said. ‘Just tell me where you got this tape and I’ll be on my way.’

‘But, Inspector, for a man in my position, suppliers and distributors need to know they can trust me.’

‘Then how about I don’t mention your name, Demir?’ Süleyman smiled unpleasantly at the large heap of man in front of him. ‘How about I stop myself from beating you senseless where you sit too!’

‘The inspector isn’t playing games, Demir,’ Çöktin put in over his boss’s shoulder.

‘But that doesn’t give me any choice!’

‘Correct.’

For a few moments the pornographer wrung his hands and appeared to wrestle with various thoughts in his head until finally he said, ‘My name, you won’t mention it?’

‘No.’

‘But my friend will know it was me! How else would you have got this tape? Where else will you have got his name?’

‘Depends how many tapes there are, doesn’t it, Demir?’ Çöktin said.

‘Yes, but—’

Süleyman, finally driven half insane by this prevaricating blob of a man, grabbed him by his large, slack throat.

‘Tell me.’

Although known by almost everyone as a handsome man given to the finer things in life, like art, music and poetry, those who really knew Mehmet Süleyman knew that he also possessed a capacity for violence. It wasn’t something that, in general, he was proud of, but it was a fact of his life and it did sometimes come in rather useful.

Demir Sandal looked down into the fierce eyes of his tormenter and said, ‘Erol Burak.’

‘Who is?’

‘He works at Edirne Fotoğraf on Ankara Caddesi.’

‘Sirkeci?’

‘Yes.’

Süleyman pulled his hand away from the man’s throat and took a deep breath in order to calm himself.

‘They sell photographic equipment and electrical goods,’ Demir Sandal said. And then unable, even under these circumstances, to stop himself selling, he added, ‘If you want a VCD player, Erol will give you a very good price.’

İkmen had, for some reason that he could now no longer remember, assumed that Gonca had left the building. And so, when she wandered into his office carrying a mobile telephone, he got quite a shock.

‘Put that down!’ he said as he rose from his chair, waving his own phone as he did so.

‘Why?’

‘Well . . .’

She laughed. ‘You think I’ve stolen it, don’t you? But then why wouldn’t you think that?’

‘Gonca . . .’

‘Actually, though, it is mine,’ she said. ‘I just called one of my daughters to tell her I’d be a while yet. A gypsy without a mobile phone, İkmen, is like a kapıcı without eyes – an entirely useless waste of flesh. You know you let the magician go far too soon, don’t you?’

İkmen sat down in his chair again and nervously fingered his phone. ‘I couldn’t keep him. I don’t know that anything we talked about is true.’

Gonca reached inside her voluminous plastic handbag and retrieved a packet of cigars. ‘You know that sigil thing your İskender said he saw just before he was shot?’

‘Yes . . .’

‘You know I asked a few people about that?’