At the top of the hill, Meryem turned the corner from Yeşilyurt onto Guneş. Shade trees spilled out over the pink wall surrounding the general’s palace. The sun slipped farther to the west, sinking as did her spirits. Military men thought they could live like kings, did they? She would use her wiles to fool them all.
Blood had already spilled.
And there would be more.
She could never cleanse her mind of that memory, of the blood dribbling from the Nazi’s mouth. A sweet revenge, but not enough. That bastard had deserved more than a mere death spasm crossing his face.
Since that blood-filled day, Meryem had never moved so fast again.
“Tereza! Elena! Andrei!” She’d cried that day, sprinting to the meadow. In her memory, she fell again and again where her siblings had fallen. She threw herself across their still bodies. Finally, at rest. Never, at peace. Frightened dreams carved horror in their unseeing eyes. Meryem heaved with sobs.
“Help me,” Umit had cried from behind her. “This one is still alive.”
Meryem lifted her head from her sisters’ blood, looked past the bleeding hulk of the Nazi to her older brother. With forever new eyes. Umit knelt beside their liberator. “We can do something for this one,” he urged.
And so it began. Their bond. Their destiny.
Together, they helped the wounded man, their savior, stand. In those bloody days when she still had one brother left, she would have done anything, short of giving her life, for that newcomer who had freed her.
It had not been easy.
Go back!
They could not go back for the bodies of their sisters and brother.
By the time Meryem and Umit and the wounded man—the man who freed them—had staggered to the shelter of the firs, it was too late. They heard the first cries of alarm from the Nazi camp they’d left behind. Other Nazis, roused from sleep. Alerted to the trouble the newcomer, their liberator, had stirred up. The unknown man had risked his life to save theirs. An angel, come to their rescue.
Now Meryem was the last of her brothers and sisters. At times along their difficult path of survival she wished their liberator had never appeared out of the Romanian hills. Look where fate had brought her. To this pitiful fortune. Her fingers, destined for ruin. The little ones at home, and the old ones, too, starving.
But without him, she and the rest of her family would have been dead by now, many times over. Dead, along with Tereza, Elena, and Andrei.
And now her last brother, Umit, was gone. The revenge would begin again.
Perhaps tonight... It was up to her to use her cleverness to feed the family. But she could not stop thinking of revenge. Revenge, in the form of a gun.
* * * * *
Anna clattered down the steps. Clutching Priscilla’s hand, she stepped out into the narrow street. Downhill was easier going, and they tripped and slid along the cobbles, dodging people and startling animals.
She wondered what had once filled Mrs. Alekci’s now empty box. Mention of Rainer had led the woman to seek the thing she’d apparently kept inside that box, the thing that was now missing. Rainer’s medallion.
Her head pounded with each footfall. That woman had wanted to hurt her. Perhaps her aim, hurling the box, was deliberately off target, so as not to actually hurt anyone, but the truth remained that she wanted to hurt Anna. Was it just because of grief, or was there something more? Somehow, Mrs. Alekci blamed Anna for the loss of her husband. Anna had seen the blame in her eyes as clearly as if it had been her language.
Had Mrs. Alekci blamed Anna enough that she sent her son, Mustafa, to Ozturk Bey’s shop to hit her over the head and steal her purse? If Mustafa had been the boy who’d done that, then he’d now recovered Rainer’s Saint Christopher’s medal. Perhaps that’s what had been kept in the box. Anna slowed her pace, turned, and looked over her shoulder, hesitating. Wondering. No, she wouldn’t go back there, not now.
Since Anna didn’t have language on her side, she would have to come up with a new plan. One thing was sure, there was a connection between the Alekcis and Rainer.
A woman’s voice called to them from the crowd, bringing Anna’s attention back to the present moment. “Fancy finding you here.” It was Fran. She sauntered closer, and then apparently read the consternation on Anna’s face. She said, “Everything okay?”
“I’m staaaarving,” said Priscilla.
Anna glanced at her wristwatch. “It’s late, and we’ve missed lunch. We must find a cab right away.”
“It’s never too late.” Fran grinned. “I know a place nearby that’s good. I could use a bite to eat, too. Come on, I’ll take you.”
Anna had to admit that she felt grateful to find a familiar face in the midst of her recent turmoil. Mrs. Alekci had a right to her anger, on account of her grief, but still, Anna was glad to escape its reach. This made twice in one day that Fran had rescued her.
Fran led the way to her car, parked a block away, and several minutes later, they pulled up in front of a downtown hotel. A flush rose to Anna’s cheeks, reminded of Hayati’s invitation to dinner in one of Ankara’s modern, new hotels. Maybe this one.
They chose a lunch table outside in the closed-off area of a sidewalk. Waiters moved in and out, bringing bottled mineral water, crusty rolls, balls of butter, and olives the size of walnuts. Animal smells wafted on the air, and wooden wheels of a cart creaked nearby. In the distance, a horn honked. Nothing made sense.
Priscilla tore into her bread, and Anna crunched hers more delicately. She hadn’t realized how hungry she’d been.
Fran narrowed her eyes and watched them eat. “Why’d you run off like that this morning when I told you to wait?”
“You mean from the embassy? We had things to do. Places to go. Promises to keep.” Anna smiled at Priscilla and her chipmunk cheeks.
“And you thought you could get it done by yourself?”
“Is that why you sent Hayati after me? To help me?” Or not. Anna wondered if his real purpose had been to prevent Anna from fulfilling hers. If so, it hadn’t worked. She’d found the Alekci family on her own, without his help.
“I didn’t send him after you,” Fran said.
“He said you did.”
Fran leaned back in her seat and pursed her lips. Then she dug in her bag and pulled out her leather cigarette case. “You want one?” She slid out a cigarette and tossed the case across the table.
“I still don’t smoke.”
Fran laughed.
But Anna noticed that Fran avoided her counter claim of what Hayati had said. One of them was covering up. Lying. Hayati? Or Fran?
Fran slowly lit her cigarette, as if the action gave her time to think. “So,” she said, finally blowing out a smoke ring, “did you? Did you get your tasks done that you wanted to do?”
“Indeed. In spite of the accident.”
“What accident?”
Anna told her, describing the events that led up to being hit on the head with a brass candelabrum. As she went on with the story, Fran’s cigarette burned down to a stub.
Anna finished her tale, and the waiter placed a plate in front of her. Lemony lamb smells made her mouth water.
“Yum!” Priscilla said, bouncing in her seat.
Fran jabbed the stub of her cigarette into a brass ashtray. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’ll take you to the embassy doctor as soon as we finish eating.”
“As I told Hayati, I’m fine. Really.”
“Nonetheless, that’s where we are going next. Eat up.”
Anna sighed and gave in to the savory flavors. She suspected no one argued with Fran. “Lucky for us you showed up when you did,” she said between bites. “What made you come to Ozturk Bey’s store today? Don’t you have to work?”
“I am working,” Fran said. “Does he scare you that much?”
Anna felt a flush rise. What on earth did she mean? It didn’t look as if this efficient woman, Paul Wingate’s assistant, was working. Unless... Her job was to follow Anna.
Anna took a sip of water. “So you heard?”
“Heard what?” Priscilla asked, suddenly more interested in their conversation than her lunch.
“Mr. Orhon wants to take your aunt out to dinner,” Fran said with a chuckle.
“Oh, that.” Priscilla’s attention shifted from her plate to a nearby donkey standing asleep under a tree.
“Why don’t you go with him?” Fran asked.
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know him.”
“Isn’t that the point of going out with someone? To get to know him better?”
“It’s been such a long time since I’ve done that sort of thing. I guess I’ve forgotten how.”
“Not much to it. Maybe you don’t want to remember. Maybe on account of Akers?”
“Have you found anything about him yet?” Anna didn’t think it very likely that Fran had tracked her to Ozturk Bey’s shop just to volunteer information about Rainer, but she held out hope anyway.
“Nothing, really,” Fran said. “But it’s curious. Matheson, over at JUSMAT, said that if they have anything on him it would’ve been in one certain file. And it seems that file has gone missing.”
“Someone stole it?”
Fran shrugged. “He didn’t say that. Only that it’s missing. Misfiled, probably. They’re looking.”
“Well, thanks for checking.” Anna felt her hopes sink. But then, there would be no reason for a file to exist on Rainer in an American military office. Rainer had volunteered with the Brits. And died before he’d ever had a chance to don an American uniform.
“Want some advice?” Fran said.
Anna looked up, unsure of how long she’d been lost in her gloomy thoughts. Apparently, Fran took that as an affirmative, as she went on.
“Talk to Hayati,” Fran said. “He might know a thing or two about our files. After all, he’s worked with Henry.”
Anna tipped her head sideways, trying to understand. “What does Henry have to do with it?”
“We’re a community. We all work together.” Fran motioned the waiter for the check, and then pulled crumpled lira notes from her purse. “And besides, it will help you from becoming homesick.”
“I’m not homesick.”
“Not yet. You might feel differently after you’ve been here long enough. It’s not easy to give up what’s familiar.” Fran scraped her chair back and watched Priscilla lead the way, winding past tables. “The children adapt better. Life around them, right here, today, this is what’s familiar to them. The world of their parents is as unfamiliar to the kids as this place is to their parents.”
That helped explain Priscilla, Anna thought. She was worried about her parents, traumatized about all that she’d seen that a child shouldn’t even have to know about, and worst of all, she didn’t think she could talk to Anna about any of it. “I’m a stranger to her,” she murmured to Fran.
They followed Priscilla out to the sidewalk. “My advice?” Fran said. “Find someone to talk to, someone who will make things feel familiar here for you. Then again, maybe I’m wrong.”
Anna doubted that Fran was ever wrong. Even so, she felt drawn to Fran, in spite of her suspicions. Or maybe because of them. They shared a bond of secrets.