Shadow on the Wall: Superhero | Magical Realism Novels (The SandStorm Chronicles | Magical Realism Books Book 1) (15 page)

Ali Kalkan had worked for the Osman Corporation for twenty years. He had advised Baris before his disappearance and had worked to keep the business running smoothly in the face of Baris's—then Recai's—sudden absences. Ali had always hoped that one day Baris would return. He never had much faith Recai could run things as he should.

Recai fumed and looked around the room. The familiar pain of a young boy's loss saturated the air, like everything in the home. His mother's linens shone brightly, reminding him of his solitude, and the décor remained a beautiful reminder of his misery. Recai's time at home was always painful but he could not bring himself to change anything. A portrait of his mother hung on the wall behind Kalkan's head, dwarfing him, her kind wisdom looking down on them.

"The books are in order, everything adds up, but in the end the numbers are short."

Kalkan studied his laptop intensely, hoping to find a miracle on the screen before him.

"There has to be an explanation, Ali. Money doesn't simply disappear." Recai closed his eyes in an attempt to calm himself. Nothing would come from him lashing out at Ali. The one thing he'd learned living in the desert was that only a clear mind could lead the way toward understanding.

"Your trust is still in good standing," Ali continued, hoping to appease the raging fire behind Recai's eyes. His return made as little sense as his sudden interest in the family business. His young employer had lived too many years overseas to know what was going on. And when he did return he was allowed freedoms others were denied, simply due to his name. How could he possibly understand what life was like in Elih? Ali couldn't afford to be fired or have his reputation tarnished by a rash boy playing at being a businessman.

But when called, Ali had no choice but to answer.

"That's what you think this is about? Money for me?" Recai seethed and paced along the length of the room.

The tall windows blazed with the glare of the late afternoon sun in the distance. No other homes had been built at this end of
Aydinkonak
. The nearest houses lined the opulent streets that stopped half a mile before reaching the Osman compound.

Outside the window nothing but the lush, irrigated lawn spanned before him. Recai was rich not only in lira but also in water. That lawn used more water than some communities were allotted in a week. Beyond it there was only desert until to the next city. The estate was isolated at the edge of the city, offering a view of the skyline from one side and open space from the other.

"Son…" Ali began, but swallowed his words when Recai turned on him, frustration burning in his eyes.

"The ex…executive committee hasn't changed in years," Ali stuttered, "and the Board of Directors is essentially the same as when your father ran things."

"Essentially?"

Recai ran a hand over his face, forcing himself to calm his heart. Anger only led to more anger. He needed to rein himself in.

"There's only been one new member in the last six years. Umm…" Ali scanned his document folder, looking for the most recent roster of the Board of Directors. "Dayar Yildirim," he pronounced proudly, happy to have at least one answer within his possession.

"Yildirim hasn't attended any meetings, though, and has always voted by proxy. I don't believe there is any issue with him," Ali continued.

The fan overhead moved the air in wide slow circles, creating a soft hum in the background of the conversation.

"Then what has happened? The profits remain high, rise higher every year, and the books show a profit, but the money is missing!"

"Yes…" Ali conceded.

"I want a full audit of the last five years." Recai turned to Ali and found his mouth open wide, shocked at the enormity of the project.

"I don't care who you have to hire or what you need to do, but this is a project for me directly. Do not report your findings to the executive committee or the Board. I want everything to come straight to me. And I want you to do it personally."

"Personally?"

"Yes. Ali, whatever is going on, we can't trust that others aren't involved. You knew my father. I know you aren't involved in this, but I need you to figure it out for me."

"I… I will find it." Ali's voice was soft, his emotions touched by Recai's sudden display of leadership and faith.

"Have we been giving out more loans?"

"No, the loans stopped soon after you… left."

Ali looked away, not wishing to bring up the subject of Recai's return. While mysterious, it was not out of the realm of possibility for a man of Recai's wealth and liberal views to simply decide to leave Elih for lands less conservative. Ali had known men in his youth who had done the same, left their country to study abroad and indulge in transgressions forbidden by their faith: sex, drinking, and sometimes worse. What was important was that they returned.

Recai sat back down and nodded, staring out the window again.

"I want the loans reinstated."

"The Board voted…" Ali faltered, the determination in the young man's eyes so much like his father's.

"I don't care what the Board voted." Recai's voice was steady. "Just do it, and tell anyone who questions you that it was directed by me personally."

"Bey Osman," a soft voice interrupted his thoughts. His attendant, Tamar, stood demurely in the arched doorway separating the living room from the foyer. "Would you and your guest care for something to drink?"

"No, Tamar, Ali will be leaving now."

Recai stood and walked out of the room without another word as Kalkan hurried to slip his laptop back into its case and pack the rest of his belongings into his briefcase.

"Not exactly the most delicate dismissal," Hasad derided from his place on the leather couch in Recai's private office. The large room was filled with books and oversized furniture, which made even the gruff old Jew feel out of place.

"I'm not up for election Hasad; I don't have time to be nice."

Recai sat behind the large mahogany desk in a high back leather chair, looking out the window to the field of grass that should not exist. Pride in what his family had given to the city ruled his decision to bring back the loans. It was a rash, foolish decision but he needed to do something to make life in the city better. He'd let the state of his father's legacy sit long enough. He couldn't change anything. He didn't have any real power or influence. But maybe he could help someone and that might be enough. If there was no money he would fund the loans himself. He'd ignored the conditions of the people around him long enough. He had to do something. He didn't have a business mind, but he possessed the ego necessary to force his will. With Ali there to keep track of all the many ventures and divisions perhaps he could make a difference

"Nice is not something to ration."

"I don't need a lecture right now."

"Since when do I lecture? I'm an old man who's been shoveling shit around these jihadis for the last three years while you played in the desert. What could I have to say that would matter?"

"You are lecturing," Recai moaned.

"Pointing out that you are a spoiled child is not lecturing. It's a basic truth."

"I am not… I won't be baited."

Hasad settled into his seat before speaking.

"I have no worms to offer you. There are those who could substitute though, some who might be used to capture larger fist."

"I told you, I am not going along with that."

"Why?" Hasad sat up, wishing he could get through to Recai. "You liked her, call her. Go, date or court or propose or whatever you do when you want to get closer to a muslimah. Getting closer to her will get you closer to the mayor. There's no loss!"

"What if I don't want to get closer to the mayor? What if I just want to do what I can from here and not get involved? Plus Darya is not a stepping stone, I won't use her."

"And now you're being noble," Hasad snorted his disapproval.

"Hasad…"

"There are people out there dying! Women like the one you saved in the alley, women like Rebekah. We are a city without hope and we are dying. The people in the desert are dying. The country, God, everyone has turned their backs on us. You can change things. We can…
do
something!"

"What? Lecture them?" Recai petulantly retorted.

"Child!"

Recai swiveled in his chair to glare at the older man.

"You are always such pleasant company," he mumbled before leaning back and closing his eyes. Recai's body sank into the soft leather beneath him. The old man was frustrating, but he was family none the less. Bonds of grief and common purpose held the two together tightly. No matter what happened or where Recai went, Hasad would always be his friend. Rebekah's father would always have a home with him.

Hasad huffed and leaned back on the couch, sending off a cloud of dust.

"When will you let them clean this room? You spend most of your time in here; at least make it so I can breathe the air!"

Recai sighed heavily, taking in the scent of his father's cigars that still lingered, despite the years. No, he couldn't imagine having anyone clean in here. Holding close what remained of his father kept him strong, made him focus.

When he returned after his years spent in the desert, his first matter of business was to reclaim his family's home and fortune. After visiting Ali Kalkan, the Osman Corporation's Financial Advisor, it had not taken long move back into the home which had sat in escrow since his departure. Despite Ali's insistence, Recai refused to announce his return. Instead he preferred to wait until the stage was set. He staffed his home with people who hadn't known him when he'd lived there before. The city was filled with people who kept their heads down and scurried through life hoping to avoid notice. Within days of his initial arrival, the entire house had been cleaned and aired, removing the stale odor of his abandonment.

The only room he had not allowed anyone to touch was his father's office. The room was dark with an elegant chandelier high in the middle of the ceiling and brown leather furniture. Books lined the walls along with his father's most precious collections. The treasures included the sword of the Turkish sultan who had aided Hitler, a globe from the Ottoman Empire showing the spread and influence of Islam, and the official induction documents of Pasha Talat into the Grand Lodge of Free and Accepted Masons of Turkey.

Baris Osman had eclectic tastes.

Recai had played in this room as a child. He had watched his father run the business from the very chair he sat in now. The weight of his father's legacy lay heavy upon him.

"What more can I do, old man?"

As Hasad began to speak the bells rang, indicating a visitor was at the front gate. Recai sat up and used the remote in his top drawer to turn on the outdated video surveillance screen he had installed years before. At the front door stood Maryam in scrubs and hijab holding a newspaper up to the camera.

"Masked Protector Saves Woman from Ruin," read the headline.

Recai pressed the button to open the gate and rushed out of the room.