‘Inspector Süleyman,’ the monk said in his deep, dark voice. ‘The man from İstanbul.’
‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘Brother Gabriel, I have been looking forward to meeting you.’
‘Have you?’ The monk frowned. ‘Looking forward to seeing how the snakes cannot kill me?’
‘No.’
‘I was,’ he said with yet another of his sudden glittering smiles. ‘I was telling Edibe that was what the days and weeks have been about. Preparing myself.’
And then he looked away from Süleyman and smiled up at Edibe Taner. Returning his smile, she said, ‘Gabriel prayed and fasted in the caves and the mountains. To God to give him strength and courage and to the Sharmeran to assure her that he would never harm her children.’
‘When Christ rose I knew I was ready,’ he said. ‘I gathered the serpents and I came down the mountain.’
‘OK, but why? Why do something, or rather replicate something, that Inspector Taner told me you did many years ago?’
There was a pause then while the monk looked at Süleyman as if he didn’t understand what he had been saying.
After a while it was Edibe Taner who explained. ‘Inspector Süleyman, Gabriel did what he did to clear his name. İbrahim Keser, the guard of the American woman I told you to go and try to find at the church, lives next door to Gabriel’s father. He and his family came from the plains when İbrahim was an infant. İbrahim Keser says that he saw Gabriel’s miracle of the snakes out in the desert when he was a child. He says he spied upon the attack, saw everything and then followed Gabriel as he made his way, pouring with blood and venom, back into the city.’
‘And is this true?’
‘İbrahim Keser was certainly behind Gabriel when he came into Mardin,’ Taner said. ‘But he said nothing about seeing anything untoward, either as a child or even later on in his life. But then a few months ago he went to Musa Saatçi and told him that he wanted him to do a favour for him.’
‘He asked my father to conceal some weapons for him in his house,’ Gabriel Saatçi said. ‘My father of course refused. İbrahim had never been, as far as my father knew, involved with any terrorist organisation. But there was a connection to the Kaya family and they are not people to become involved with. But then İbrahim threatened my father. He said that if my father didn’t do as he said he would tell everyone that what he saw me do with the snakes in the desert was nothing more than a parlour trick. I was, he said, a charlatan.’
‘And so your father did as he asked in order to protect you, or rather your reputation.’
‘Yes. I know that the miracle I was granted truly happened,’ Gabriel said. ‘I also know that many of my people take comfort from that proof of God’s love. These are nervous times. Our people do not need uncertainties.’
‘Uncle Musa didn’t tell Gabriel about any of this until after the arms had been discovered and he was at the police station,’ Taner said.
‘I went to the mountains to pray and to gain strength because I knew that the only way I could defeat İbrahim was to let the serpents have me again,’ the monk said. ‘My father would not countenance just going to the police and telling them about the blackmail. I had to prove myself and then reveal the story behind my actions afterwards. But . . . but I failed—’
‘You didn’t fail anything!’ Edibe Taner said as she once again gripped hard on to his arm. ‘I was trying to stop you and then you collapsed. You were very dehydrated, Gabriel.’
‘My father will be furious I didn’t manage to do what we had agreed.’ He coughed a little and then took a sip of water from a small glass beside his bed.
‘But I am glad,’ Taner said. ‘Not because I think the snakes would have harmed you, I know that they would not. But now I can release Uncle Musa.’
‘Father will say there is now a shadow over my vocation . . .’
‘No. He won’t. He won’t!’ She reached up and very tenderly touched his eyes and his lips with her fingers. ‘He will know as I do that it was the will of Allah that you collapsed and through the good offices of the Sharmeran that my father was there to take good care of her children.’
They looked into each other’s eyes as if no one else existed in the world. These two, if a long time ago, had been meant for each other. The monk had given up much to follow his God. Süleyman cleared his throat after a moment and Edibe Taner looked round.
‘So, Inspector,’ he said, ‘the arms.’
‘Whose are they? We don’t know,’ she said. ‘İbrahim Keser didn’t tell Musa Saatçi anything.’
‘But because he works for the Kaya family it would seem reasonable to assume that they are—’
‘Maybe. But Keser doesn’t work for Yusuf Kaya’s family in the city, remember. He is employed to look after the American woman.’
‘And so?’
‘And so Zeynep Kaya or even Yusuf’s own mother herself may not know anything about them,’ she said. ‘The weapons came from İbrahim Keser, remember, based out at Dara. Now I know that Zeynep knows about the American woman, but it is my belief that it is Elizabeth Smith and not Zeynep who knows where Yusuf is.’
‘Why do you think that?’
‘Because Yusuf is a man of “honour”,’ she said, rolling her eyes at the irony inherent in the term as she did so. ‘I don’t believe he would put his wife, his mother and his family in the city in harm’s way. The American woman is expendable. The arms came via one of his men in Dara, where she is.’
‘Were there many weapons?’ Süleyman asked.
Edibe Taner frowned. ‘There were ten AK-47 assault rifles, two crates of grenades and a rocket launcher. It would be a good haul from a terror organisation. From a clan it is impressive.’
‘Who were they hoping to attack with so much hardware?’
Edibe Taner sighed. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Hopefully we will find out more when we pick up İbrahim Keser. A group of our officers are joining up with the small local force in Dara right now. With luck, by the time the day is over we’ll have Keser in custody.’
İkmen really wasn’t ready to tell Sophia that he was the father of her boyfriend Aslan. He said he just wanted to help. She was pregnant and alone and he was concerned about her.
But Sophia wasn’t convinced. ‘What is it you want?’ she said when he offered to find her a clean and safe place to stay. ‘You want fuck me? What is about you Turkish men and pregnant women?’
He tried to convince her that he was not in any way after her body, but she wouldn’t believe him. And so eventually he told her the truth.
‘My wife doesn’t even know about this yet,’ he said to the girl as she sat stunned before him in his office. ‘But Sophia, when she does she will want to help as much as I do.’
‘You want my baby! Cannot have,’ Sophia growled darkly. Years on the streets had made any notion of trust absolutely alien to her.
İkmen sat on the edge of his desk next to her and sighed. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I don’t want your baby. But I do want to help. I don’t know of course precisely where you live, Sophia, but I know it is in Edirnekapi. I went to Hüseyin Altun’s place up there, just the once, some years ago and so I think I know how you might be living.’
She turned her head away.
‘Sergeant Farsakoğlu tells me you have a doctor, but I know many doctors who will really care for you.’ Junkies and those associated with them did frequently have access to doctors, some of whom were the types of practitioners only just on the right side of the law. ‘I know some very good doctors,’ he said. ‘My family will pay your costs and I can find you somewhere decent to live, at least for the moment. This isn’t charity, Sophia, this is making up in part for what my son has done to you.’
He told her to think about it while he went off to join İzzet Melik in one of the interview rooms with the hospital administrator. The man now had one of the Cerrahpaşa’s own lawyers with him, a nondescript man in a grey suit. İkmen sat down and looked at the piece of paper İzzet Melik passed to him. For several seconds he just read it in silence. Then he put the paper down and looked up into the small grey eyes of the administrator, Mr Aktar. He had a rather bruised split lip.
‘This is a letter of resignation for your employers, not me,’ İkmen said, tipping his head towards the paper on the table.
‘Now that your officer has . . . discovered my addiction, I feel that, given that my job is to do with health care, I cannot continue,’ Mr Aktar said.
His lawyer nodded his agreement.
‘So what will you do then, Mr Aktar?’ İkmen said. ‘What’s the career plan now? You’re not ready for retirement yet, I imagine. I believe you have dependents.’
‘Yes.’
‘Inspector İkmen, Mr Aktar is as you can see willing to own up to his addiction,’ the lawyer said. ‘He has not done anything criminal with regard to care of patients at the Cerrahpaşa. In addition, he is alleging that a level of police brutality was used upon him by your officer here, Sergeant Melik.’
İkmen looked briefly at Melik, knowing with certainty that what the lawyer was saying was absolutely correct. İzzet had ideas about this case and was out to prove them whatever. Back in his home city of İzmir there had been some complaints about İzzet Melik. But any discussions about that would have to come later. İkmen said, ‘The constable who was with Sergeant Melik when he was interviewing Mr Aktar at the Cerrahpaşa assures me that nothing beyond the tearing of his own shirtsleeve by your client in what I imagine must have been a fit of remorse occurred.’ He hadn’t actually spoken to the constable in question but he knew that in all probability that was what Melik had told him to say. ‘Mr Aktar, this is not about you just handing in your resignation at work and all this goes away,’ he said. He looked over at the lawyer. ‘As administrator of your hospital Mr Aktar is ultimately responsible for what happens in it. So far a prisoner has escaped from your institution, probably with the help of Cerrahpaşa nurses. The only surviving witness to that event died, in suspicious circumstances, whilst under the care of one of your doctors. We have that doctor in our custody right now.’ He leaned forward into Mr Aktar’s now lightly sweating face. ‘You know, he looks as afraid, if not more so, as you. What or who are you afraid of? Is it the escaped prisoner, Yusuf Kaya? Did he threaten to kill you if you didn’t agree to help him? Or is it much more selfish than that? Did Yusuf buy you with heroin?’
‘No! No, I—’
‘Stole it from your employers?’ İkmen said. ‘A hospital is a wonderful place for a junkie to work, isn’t it? My own drug of choice is tobacco. It would be like me working in a cigarette factory.’
‘I didn’t steal from my employers!’ Mr Aktar said. ‘Never!’
‘So where did you get your heroin from?’ İzzet Melik asked.
‘I can’t tell you that! You know I can’t tell you that!’
‘We can search your house,’ İkmen said with a shrug. ‘I know we’ll find some there, we’re bound to. As for where it came from, if you don’t tell us, we will ask around. We know a lot of people who know people . . .’
‘Ask around!’ Mr Aktar said defiantly. ‘It’ll do you no good!’
He was afraid. İkmen could see it very clearly in his face.
‘Mr Aktar,’ he said, ‘you should know that if my officers find heroin at your home, I will have the right to detain you here for further questioning.’
Aktar looked over at his lawyer who simply said, ‘He can do that.’
Mr Aktar looked back at İkmen but said nothing.
After a pause, İkmen said, ‘It’s my belief that you are probably even more afraid than I can imagine, Mr Aktar. All I can say is that I know that drug dealers, Yusuf Kaya included, are violent and dangerous people who will slaughter entire families to get what they want. But you know we can provide protection . . .’ He saw Aktar’s face briefly break into a small, thin smile. ‘But whatever you may think of that, the fact remains that unless you decide to cooperate with us, you could be here for some considerable amount of time. Note, Mr Aktar, that we don’t allow drug-taking on our premises, and think for just a moment about how long you can normally manage between fixes before you start wanting to climb up the wall.’
The administrator didn’t appear to respond at all except that when he spoke his voice was obviously strained. ‘What about my allegation of police brutality?’ he said.
‘What about it?’ İkmen replied. Then he leaned forward again and said, ‘Now, Mr Aktar, are my officers going to search your house or not?’
‘İbrahim Keser was neither in or around the house in Dara,’ Edibe Taner said with a sigh as she put her phone back in her bag. ‘The American woman told our officers she hadn’t seen him since the Easter service. They’re hiding him somewhere.’ She sat down on the low wall in front of the hospital, where Süleyman joined her. He, at least, had only been in the hospital for just over half an hour but the sky was already dark. Such a long and tiring Easter Day! In all the madness he had even forgotten to wish his wife a happy Easter. Not that Zelfa was a religious woman and cared about such things, but she was nominally a Catholic and so he should have phoned to send his good wishes anyway. But at that moment there was something else, something rather more immediate, troubling him.
‘Inspector,’ he said, ‘if the people of Mardin believe so passionately in Gabriel’s miracle, why was his father so afraid that the word of just one person could discredit his son?’
‘Inspector Süleyman,’ she replied, ‘you are a sophisticated man from İstanbul. Even the languages you speak are sophisticated. French and English! Allah, those people don’t even have a notion of clan or the power of one’s neighbours or . . .’
‘I think they do,’ Süleyman said, ‘but maybe in a way that is perhaps unfamiliar to people in a place like this. In İstanbul there are certainly clans.’
‘Inspector, here, what a man’s neighbours believe about him, about his sons and about the honour of his daughters, can affect his whole life! Sometimes men can even kill because of the opinions of others.’
‘You mean so-called “honour” killings?’