CHAPTER 70

“Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for everybody.”

Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

My first destination in the morning was Üsküdar Hospital, by the convenient ferry from Eminönü, near Galata Bridge. I nibbled a chewy, sesame-covered simit and drank strong tea on the boat. Morning tonic.

Haldun was in a fierce mood, which made me feel much better. “When are they going to let me out of here?” he growled through tobacco pieces that had fallen from a cigarette he was trying to chew.

“Well, I imagine when you can walk.” I tried to be diplomatic.

“The way I feel today, I may not want to walk ever again.”

“You will. You will. Just think: we’re both alive. What’s a little mud and a broken leg?”

The patient was not soothed, but a nurse came in and said visiting hours were over, so I was forced to leave him as grumpy as I had found him. I’m sure nicotine deprivation wasn’t helping his frame of mind.

As I opened the door, a white shadow entered. Sultana! She acted as though she were in charge, and jumped with one graceful swoop onto Haldun’s bed. He winced, then patted a place for her and smiled. She lay beside him and purred.

It was a little unorthodox having a cat in a hospital, but Turks wouldn’t care—especially in a rehab unit. They love cats and tell the story of how the Prophet Mohammed, God be merciful to his soul, had cut his own cloak to avoid disturbing a cat sleeping on it.

Haldun seemed to feel that way. “Here’s my therapy,” he said, stroking Sultana’s ears. But then he frowned. “You will keep me informed.…” A request in the form of an order.

“Haldun, I’ll call you every day. And I’ll come by whenever I have something good to share.”

I stepped on some loose tobacco on the way out the door. He must be chewing the stuff. At the little flower shop around the corner from the hospital, I placed an order for a fresh bouquet daily to Room 217. Haldun would hate that, but tough luck. Had to do something to assuage the guilt at being the one with the unbroken leg. And Ayla hanım could take the flowers home. Along with the cat.

* * * *

Bayram and I were still finishing a story at 7:00 p.m., so drinks with Andover had to be put off til the next day. Dashing as fast as possible (i.e., at a snail’s pace in rush hour traffic) from the office to the hotel, I hoped to be dressed and ready by the time Ahmet Aslan arrived for our dinner date at eight.

I’d thought about cancelling, but Haldun had said he was too tired for visitors (Ayla’s edict, I suspected) and I needed to learn all I could, on all fronts. Of course that’s why I was just a little flustered and anxious.