“Let me understand this, Miss Fields. You and Stone just happened to witness a murder?” The doubt in Mr. Brown’s voice could fill the Mariana Trench.
That was my story, and I was sticking to it. “The man who died was a stranger.” Truth. “I’d never seen him before this morning.” Truth. “After he was shot, Mark tried to save him.” Truth. “Now, Mark’s disappeared into the Ankara police station. He needs our help.” Truth.
Three hours had passed as Consuela and I cooled our heels in the police station’s tiny lobby. I’d tried charm, then tears, but no one would tell me where Thor was or when he might be released. We needed Mr. Brown and his string-pulling abilities. I made the decision to call him. I had no one but myself to blame for this inquisition.
“Tell me again what happened,” he instructed.
“Mark and I went out for coffee, then we took Consuela for a walk. We were standing outside a dress shop and I was admiring a cotton—”
“Miss Fields.”
“Yes?”
“Back to the point.”
Details like the dress shop made my story believable. “A car pulled up to the curb. A man got out of the car, shot the victim, took the victim’s duffel bag, and drove away.”
“What did he look like?”
“The victim or the shooter?”
“You saw them both?”
“I did.”
“How very observant of you.” Mr. Brown’s voice was dry.
“They both had dark hair and eyes. The shooter was enormous.”
“Nothing else?”
“No.” I did not tell him the box was now in Istanbul or that Köse had been murdered or that I found a flash drive hidden in the box. “Nothing.”
“Fine. I’ll make a call. I realize this may be difficult for you, Miss Fields, but try to avoid further trouble.”
“Yes, sir.” I’d agree to anything to help Thor.
He hung up, and I settled into an uncomfortable plastic chair and pulled Consuela onto my lap. Together, we waited.
Yip. We could bust Mark out of here.
I admired her passion and courage, but getting sideways with the police wouldn’t free Thor. “Let’s see if Mr. Brown can work his magic.”
She rolled her eyes. Waiting was boring, and we’d waited long enough. Also, Mr. Brown kept a tally of the favors he granted me.
Twenty minutes later, Thor emerged from behind an intimidating steel door.
I put Consuela on the floor and stood, ready to run into his arms.
He gave a tiny shake of his head, and his eyes cut to the camera mounted in the corner near the ceiling. We were being watched.
“You’re okay?” I asked.
He nodded. “I’m fine.”
I took my first full breath since the police had shoved him in the back of a patrol car.
We exited the police station, and I turned to face him. “What happened?”
“The police accused me of murder.”
“That’s ridiculous. There were fifty witnesses. You didn’t have a gun.”
“Let’s walk.” He waited until we rounded a corner, then said, “The detective wasn’t the type to let facts interfere with closing a case.”
I reached for his hand. I needed the connection.
“You called Mr. Brown.” A statement, not a question.
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
His fingers tightened around mine. “I’m glad you did. They’d have kept me in that room until I confessed.” He rolled his shoulders, and, with his free hand, rubbed the back of his neck. “Where’s the box?”
“Istanbul.”
“That was fast.”
“I assume they flew,” I replied. “Do we follow?”
“They’re killers.” Was that a yes or a no?
“We already knew that.”
Thor looked pale beneath his tan. “We go.”
We walked to the nearest hotel, asked the doorman to call us a taxi, and rode back to our hotel. Thor packed while I checked out. Then he loaded the bags into the trunk, and we set off for Istanbul.
I settled into my seat and asked, “So, who killed the guy from the café?”
“The traffic is awful. Let’s wait until we’re out of Ankara to talk about this.”
I kept my peace as he avoided other cars. When we reached a highway, he said, “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“There are three, maybe four, people who can track that box.” Besides us.
Thor nodded his head once.
Sunlight poured through the car’s windshield, and I narrowed my eyes and dug in my handbag for my sunglasses. When they were perched on my nose, I said, “Yurgi’s friends don’t know the box is empty.”
Thor adjusted an air-conditioning vent. “Whoever is behind stealing the box doesn’t trust their henchmen to open it. Not like Yurgi trusted you.”
I grinned. “Are you calling me a henchman?”
He glanced my way. “You’re too pretty to be a henchman.”
“I might have opened the box but I didn’t steal it.” Although Yurgi’s friends might classify taking the contents as theft. Good thing they didn’t know. “Consider this, Yurgi wouldn’t bother going after an empty box. He can’t be behind this.”
“True,” Thor ceded.
I turned on the air-conditioning in my seat. “We need to talk to him.”
“To Yurgi? About?”
“The box. His friends.”
When Thor didn’t object, I dialed Yurgi’s number.
“Poppy?” Yurgi answered the phone on the first ring. He sounded worried. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “Mark’s fine. But we have questions. I’m putting you on speaker.” I didn’t wait for his permission. “When was the last time you had the box?”
“Eight months ago,” he replied.
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I was familiar with the contents and had no reason to doubt my friends.”
And everyone said I was too trusting. “How was the rotation decided?”
“The rotation?”
“Who got the box next?”
“Ah. That. Whoever had the box put four names in a hat and drew one. There was no rotation. Possession was random.”
“Who had the box before Dimitriou?”
“I’m not sure.”
Well, that was less than helpful. “Each of you has the ability to track the box?”
“Yes. Right now, it’s in Istanbul.”
I was aware. I took a deep breath. “The man who stole the box from Köse died this morning. Someone murdered him.”
Yurgi mumbled something in Russian.
“Yurgi?”
“Get out of Turkey. Now. Stone, talk sense into her. This is too dangerous.”
I glanced at Thor.
He kept his gaze on the road ahead of us.
I wished we’d brought bottled water. My throat was suddenly dry. “At some point—probably soon—someone will open the box. When they discover it’s empty, they’ll track the contents. They’ll come after me.” Again I glanced at Thor. “After us.”
Yurgi’s long sigh meant he agreed with my logic.
“Have you talked to Cho or Volkov?” I asked. “Have you heard from Dimitriou? Do they know Köse is dead?”
“There has been no news about Köse.”
I frowned. “I wonder why.”
“You’re sure he’s dead? You saw his body?”
“No. A woman who worked for him, Nehir, told me. She said he took a bullet to the head.”
“Köse is slippery. Unless you see his corpse, don’t count him out.”
“I don’t think she’d lie.”
Silence spun between us, but Yurgi (the man who failed to open the box when it was last in his possession) refrained from telling me I was an idiot for trusting a woman I barely knew.
“Perhaps he deceived her,” he said.
A rumble of frustration escaped my lips.
“You’re going to Istanbul?” Resignation tinged Yurgi’s tone.
“Yes.”
“You will find out who has the box? That is your plan?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
I hadn’t gotten that far. “I suppose that will depend on who has it.”
“Dimitriou, Cho, Volkov, even Köse—I have counted these men as my friends for decades.”
“You think they’re innocent?”
He barked a laugh. “I think they are dangerous. And at least one of them is desperate.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He knows I will not tolerate what has happened to you.”
Thor nodded as if he agreed.
Yip. What Yurgi said.
“You are determined to go to Istanbul?”
“Yes.”
“I will make reservations at my favorite hotel. I’ll text you the details. They have security. There, you will be safe.” His tone brooked no arguments.
“Thank you.”
“The best way to thank me is to stay safe. Take no unnecessary risks.”
“We’ll be careful. I’ll talk to you soon.”
I hung up the phone, and a few minutes later, a text with an address and a reservation number arrived.
Thor and I traded theories for the next four hours. Consuela napped.
“We’re close to the city,” said Thor. The land next to the highway was quickly filling with buildings. “Where are we going?”
I copied the address from Yurgi’s text into maps and navigated for Thor.
We arrived and gawked at the building in front of us. If the hotel in Ankara had been a Swiss chalet, this place was a palace.
Yip. I don’t care if this is the right hotel or not. I need out of this car. Now.
A smiling man, who wore a dark suit and an expensive tie, opened my door. “Miss Fields? I am Ali, the hotel manager. Welcome.”
I put Consuela down, and she raced to the nearest bit of grass.
I winced. “Sorry about that, Ali. We’ve been in the car too long.”
“Not a problem, Miss Fields. Your bags?”
“In the trunk.”
Thor popped the trunk, got out of the car, and stretched his legs.
“You are booked in the Sultan’s Suite. Mr. Prokorhov has also arranged the use of a boat during your stay.”
“A boat?”
“He was not sure if business would take you to the Asian side of the city.” Ali nodded toward an expanse of water.
“That’s the Bosphorus Strait?”
“Yes, miss.” Somehow, he managed not to sound condescending. “There are ferries to the other side and three bridges, but it is easiest to have a boat.”
“Thank you.” The water was sapphire blue. On its far shore, white buildings with red roofs crowded its banks. “It’s beautiful.”
He nodded. “Berat will park your car. I will show you to your rooms.”
Thor handed over the car keys to a man in a uniform that featured gold epaulettes. Presumably Berat.
“This way, please.”
I put Consuela on a leash, and we followed Ali up white marble stairs covered in a plush red carpet.
The hotel lobby was breathtaking, with inlaid marble floors, a ceiling that arched three stories above us, and chandeliers dripping with crystals.
“The hotel was built as a residence in 1860.”
By a very rich man. Maybe someone richer than Yurgi. “It’s gorgeous.”
He smiled politely at the compliment, then led us up a broad staircase to our suite, where he introduced us to our personal butler, Yusuf. “I will leave you to settle in. Yusuf will see to all your needs.”
The suite’s living room had floor to ceiling French doors (and the ceilings were easily fourteen feet high). The doors opened onto a terrace with a breathtaking view of the Bosphorus. The furnishings were gilt and damask. The rugs on the floor looked priceless.
“May I get you anything?” asked Yusuf.
“A bottle of sauvignon blanc,” I told him. “Preferably from New Zealand. Mark?”
“Scotch. Single malt. Surprise me.”
When Yusuf left, I sat on the nearest sofa. “This place.”
Thor joined me, draped his arm across my shoulders, and pulled me close. “This is a suite.”
“Yeah.” It made the suites I’d booked look like budget motel rooms.
“Where’s the box?” he asked.
I checked my phone. “Near the Hagia Sofia.”
A phone sitting on an end table inlaid with mother-of-pearl rang, and Yusuf bustled back into the room and picked up the receiver. “Miss Fields’s room.” He listened for a moment. “One moment, sir.”
He pushed a button on the phone and said, “A Mr. Cho for you, Miss Fields.”
Thor and I exchanged a loaded glance.
“I’ll take it.” I stood and accepted the receiver.
Yusuf pushed a button on the phone, then disappeared through an interior door.
I cleared my throat. “Hello.”
“Miss Fields?”
“This is she.”
“I am a friend of your step-father’s. Perhaps he’s spoken of me. My name is Dal Cho.”
My heart stuttered. How did he know where to reach me? “He’s mentioned you, Mr. Cho.”
“Wonderful. Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner?”
Where was Yusuf with that wine? I could really go for a glass. “You are nice to ask, Mr. Cho. But tonight I’m staying in. I’ve had a long day.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Breakfast tomorrow? There are some wonderful spots in the old city. If you’d like, I can arrange tours of the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sofia.”
I wrapped the phone cord around my finger. “I’d be happy to meet you for breakfast, but I don’t think I’ll have time for the tours.”
“A pity. Shall I send a car for you?”
“No, thank you. If you’ll give me the restaurant’s name, I’ll meet you there.”
“As you wish.” The words were clipped, as if he was less than pleased with the number of times I’d told him no. “Shall we say nine o’clock at Mirac’s? It’s in the Sultanahmet district.”
“Nine o’clock. I’ll be there.”
“I’ve heard so much about you, Miss Fields. I look forward to meeting you.”
“Likewise.” I hung up the phone.
Yip. You’re going? Consuela pursed her doggy lips. Yip. He might be responsible for Melia and Oscar’s deaths.
“I’m going.”
Yip. Then you’re taking me with you.
“Of course.”
“Poppy?” Thor rose from the couch, held out his, and waited until I put my fingers in his. Then he led me onto the veranda and gathered me into his arms. He pulled me against his chest, and his lips grazed my ear. “Cho has someone at the hotel.”
I stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“Yurgi wouldn’t tell him where you are.”
“You do trust Yurgi.”
His hold on me tightened. “Don’t change the subject. Someone at this hotel contacted Cho and told him you’re here.”
I rested my forehead on his shoulder. “So, what do we do?” Because I wasn’t leaving this suite.
“Arrange for the car to be ready at eight in the morning.”
“Okay?” There had to be more to his plan.
“At seven-thirty, you and Consuela will walk to the next hotel and grab a taxi. Before you leave, tell Yusuf I am not to be disturbed.”
“You’re sleeping in?”
“I’ll be at the restaurant before you get there.”
“Then what?”
“You listen to Cho. He’ll want to know about the box. Tell him the truth. It was stolen in Athens.”
“Why can’t I catch a taxi here?”
“It’s likely someone at the hotel is an informant. It’s possible there’s more than one. We know for sure there’s more than one player in this game. I don’t want any of them to track where you are when I can’t be with you.”
Yip. Smart. It’s a good plan.
Consuela was right. It was a good plan. So why did I have a sinking feeling in my stomach?