31

All morning, I was stuck working with Mom on the database project, surrounded by lists and brochures. Mom went through my spreadsheet and called every organization I’d entered to ask who might be willing to offer a raffle prize for our party or discount rates for hotel guests.

“This Voyager Balloon company in Cappadocia is the best,” Mom said as she finished her one-billionth call. “They’re going to offer a free balloon trip for the raffle. It’s worth five hundred dollars!”

“Awesome,” I said, glancing at the brochure for the whirling dervishes. Then the address of the dervish show caught my eye: Istiklal Caddesi, the main drag in the Beyolu neighborhood. I’d heard of that street before. A new plan for tracking down Sage came to mind. I couldn’t wait to run it by Nazif.

A half hour later, I was pushing a cart with freshly laundered sheets down a hall on the second floor, and Nazif was pushing a cart with ladies’ dry-cleaned dresses hanging from it. We almost collided.

Laughing, we maneuvered our carts around each other in the narrow hallway, until we were finally standing side by side and mere inches apart.

Nazif’s eyes were shining. “He said yes!”

My mind was on the Lycian Society and my new plan. “Sorry. What?”

“My father. He said I can do the puppet show at the party! I convinced him that it would be good for tourists to experience some Turkish culture they might not often see.”

“Oh, Nazif! That’s wonderful!”

“What about you? Anything new?” Nazif asked.

“The Lycian Society,” I said. “I’ve decided I need to go there in person. Maybe I can find out something about Lazar and Vasil. Or the clients they buy artifacts for. If I can’t get to Sage myself, maybe I can find something about the smugglers that I could give to authorities at the embassy. Maybe I can get a list of the Onyx-level members and find out who might have been dealing with him, or even who was buying the Karun Treasure urn!”

Nazif nodded excitedly. “And if you find anything that links the Onyx clients to Lazar, investigators could arrest him.”

“Exactly. And then Sage might come out of hiding.”

“This plan sounds good. Except how will you get the list of Onyx members?”

“I’ll go into the office asking for tour information for our hotel,” I explained. “I have the perfect excuse. I met a tour representative on the boat cruise. I’ll go into the tour office asking for him. Mom’s looking for raffle prize donations. I’ll ask what they can offer us. And I’ll tell them we’d like to offer a special package for Onyx-level members of the Lycian Society. I’ll need their email addresses. Even though Mr. Tabak works on the tour business side, I bet he has some connection to a society staff member who could give him that information. He feels so bad about Uncle Berk dying and the guest speaker thing not working out on the cruise, he might be willing to bend a rule for us and get me a membership list.”

“It could work,” Nazif said slowly. “But will your mother let you go out again?”

I handed him the brochure I’d folded up and put in my pocket.

Nazif looked puzzled. “The sema? You wish to see the whirling dervishes? How are men spinning in white robes going to help you find Sage?”

“Stay with me, Nazif! The whirling dervishes do their performance in a hall that is practically next door to the Lycian Society.”

“Ah!” He smiled, comprehending.

“I’m not going to stay there and watch it, but it will get me close to where I need to be. And as far as my mom’s concerned, it’s the perfect evening activity to do with my pretend grandparents, Milton and Maeve.”

The Lobsters loved my idea of seeing the whirling dervish ceremony that evening. So did the entire German tour group, who overheard us talking in the hall and decided to come along.

“The more, the merrier!” I said, beaming at them. Mom would have to let me go now! And it would be easier for me to slip away unnoticed from a larger group.

Mom did let me go. But then Aunt Jackie insisted that Mom go, too. “Mustafa, Nazif, and I can hold down the fort,” she said. “Half the guests will be at the show anyway.”

Mustafa nodded. “The sema is a beautiful religious ceremony, and the dervishes are an important part of Turkish culture,” he said. “The Mevlevi Order is the oldest group. Zan should not miss this, and you should not either. We will take care of Jackie.”

My heart sank a little, and I was sure a look of disappointment crossed Nazif’s face, too. His dad wasn’t going to let him come. And I had let myself imagine, for a moment, sitting beside Nazif—close to him—in a taxi, or at the performance hall, our hands touching, legs brushing against each other.

I shook off my fantasies. In the past, I had been a master at orchestrating romantic encounters with guys in the dark. A dimly lit corner at a party? The backseat of a friend’s car? Shadows and darkness were my friends. So were guys who drank too much. If they kissed my makeup off, they weren’t likely to notice. The problem was, none of those relationships, or whatever they were, lasted too long, because they couldn’t survive in the light of day.

But I didn’t have time to swoon over Nazif. I would barely be at the whirling dervish ceremony before I’d have to duck outside and begin my mission.

Up in our room, Mom had second thoughts about the plan as we got dressed for the evening. “Did you see that file Jackie was carrying?” she said. “My God. More of those articles about crimes in Cappadocia. Plus email printouts from correspondence with lawyers and local business owners out there. I don’t know how she keeps unearthing all of this information.”

My stomach twisted.

“You see what happens the moment I turn my back? She gets obsessed with her murder theory, and then she’s agitated. It’s not good for her health or the baby.” Mom set down her purse. “I can’t do it. I won’t enjoy myself, worrying about her the whole time. You go on without me. I’d better stay here to distract her.”

Mustafa called four taxis to take the Germans, the Lobsters, and me to the performance. As I got into one of the cabs, Nazif ran up to the car and pressed a cell phone into my hand. “Here. It is mine,” he whispered. “You can use the camera app. If you see anything important, take a picture. And please. Be careful.”

“I will,” I said. “And thanks,” I added, touched by his concern for me.

He closed the taxi door, and I felt a tugging sensation inside me as I watched him go back inside the hotel. I wished he were coming with me. I was starting to get used to the idea that we were solving this mystery together. I felt like I was off to a climbing wall to use the auto belay, when it was always more fun to belay with a partner.

We arrived about fifteen minutes later at the Galata Mevlevi Lodge, a large performance hall where the dancers would do their sema ceremony. I set my plan into motion almost immediately, complaining of a stomachache. “Too much hummus,” I apologized.

“Oh, honey.” Maeve looked alarmed. “We should get you right back to the hotel.”

“No, I’ll be okay. But if I leave partway through, I’ll just be in the restroom.”

The hall was almost full now, with crowds seated in a circle, about five chairs deep, around the perimeter of the room. The lights dimmed, and a quintet of musicians appeared beneath the spotlight and began to play. I recognized the oud, and a hand drum, but I’d never seen what looked kind of like a flute or the other stringed instrument before. The music was strange to my ears and hard to follow, like a tangle of musical threads, winding and unwinding. Like the different paths to finding the seahorse urn. Lazar. Vasil. Sage. Uncle Berk. Maybe Riza, too, and the captain of the Anilar. All of them connected to the urn. An urn I was sure my uncle had died for.

The five dancers—the Mevlevi dervishes—walked slowly toward the center of the floor, arms crossed in front of them. They were dressed in long black robes and wore tall brown hats on their heads; it almost looked like a funeral procession. “They’re supposed to be from the grave,” whispered Maeve, her eyes wide. “The hats represent tombstones.”

“Guess this is someone’s idea of fun,” Milton muttered grimly. “But not mine.”

Maeve shot him a look. “This is a spiritual ceremony, not a Broadway show. It’s a meditation. They go into a trance and purify their souls.”

The dancers walked in tighter circles, stopping every few steps to bow deeply. Then they removed their robes, revealing white jackets and long white skirts. Slowly they stepped into the circle again, crossed their arms in front of their chests, closed their eyes, tipped their heads to one side, and began to pivot.

I knew it was time to feign illness and get to the Lycian Society building while it was still open. But I was transfixed by the dervishes. Their arms unfolded and extended, until each man had one hand raised, palm up, and the other extended to the side, palm down. Their faces were serene, emotionless, even as the music sped up and their whirling intensified. They seemed to carve the air with the scoops of their hands and the flare of their white skirts. Their heads were tilted, their eyes still closed, as if resting on a pillow.

I brushed aside a tear, the sudden appearance of which surprised me. This was no time for emotions to get in my way. And then, through the blur of the spinning white skirts, I glimpsed a familiar face across the room. Nazif! He had come after all!

He was standing by the back wall, not far from the main door, and clearly looking for me.

I clutched my stomach and stood up, muttering an apology to Milton and Maeve, who gave me a sympathetic look. I threaded my way through the audience, ignoring the annoyed stares, and ran out into the early evening light. A flock of pigeons scattered.

Nazif joined me a moment later on the steps of the Mevlevi Lodge.

“Wow. You actually came?” I said. “I mean, your dad let you go?”

“The hotel was quiet,” he said. “I suggested I come help everyone get taxis and return safely to the hotel afterward. My father thought that was an excellent idea. What did you think of the sema?”

“I loved it,” I said. “I have no idea how they do that without getting dizzy! And they look so peaceful. I can’t believe they’re going to keep that up for almost an hour! I wish I could stay and watch the whole thing.”

“You still could,” he said.

“No. You know I have to get this done. But if we solve this mystery? I’ll come back here and see the whole thing.”

“I’ll take you,” he said.

“Oh.” I smiled. “Thanks.”

“I thought of another plan,” he went on. “We go in together. I am still in uniform. This will leave no room for doubt that we come from a hotel.”

“Good plan,” I said, giving him a thumbs-up. “Let’s go.”

Maybe I only imagined the electrical current between us. Focus!

As we sprinted down the steps and ran down the street, I felt a twinge deep inside me, like the taut string of an oud, reminding me that at this very moment, I was deceiving the Lobsters, whom I’d blatantly lied to in order to get away. And I’d lied to Mom, too, acting exactly like she thought I would act and giving her no reason to trust me.

But this situation was different. We’d come all this way to help Aunt Jackie, and that’s exactly what I was doing.