Kılıç has a tremor, a brittle edge, in his voice. “Those battles were merely temporary setbacks. Our troops have, as an interim measure, backed off from the so-called Republic of Armenia, so that we can concentrate our resources on Baku. What has happened today in Baku will soon be repeated all over this region.
So don’t listen to rumors, General. Instead, look around you. Take note of how we have dealt with the vermin of this city. You Russian Slavs could learn some lessons from our Turkish race and the way we have cleaned our ethnic purity—”
There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and I hear the soldier’s rasped whisper. “Finish up in there, quick!”
“All right, all right, I’m coming…”
Back in the cell, I look at Mariam, and whisper. “Is she asleep?”
The professor, Yuri and Rufus all nod.
“Then I’ll explain. Kılıç and Aristarkhov have done a deal.” I tell them the details; Yuri’s face is impassive as he hears what Aristarkhov is planning for him. Then I tell them that Kılıç intends to kill us all. Axelson strokes his chin in thought.
“Sadly, this may actually be the end for us. Perhaps we should resign ourselves to death. I can’t see how we can possibly escape. Even if we could get out of this building, Baku is full of Kılıç’s men, who literally have an open mandate to murder.”
I touch the professor’s arm. “Let’s think about facts. I learnt something else, too, in Kılıç’s room. I saw, on his desk, a map, and some lists. The map was torn, and so curled by rolling that Kılıç had put books on each corner to stop it rolling up again. So he’s been using that map while travelling, on his army’s campaign, and now he’s brought it to Baku with him. It’s a military map.”
“What was on the map, Miss Agnes?”
“I can’t read Turkish script, of course. But, Professor – when we came through the streets this morning, what were those words daubed on so many of the doors?”
“The graffiti said ‘Armenian swine’.”
“Well, the same word – that script, meaning ‘Armenian’ – was written on that map, six times, in a cluster. Putting that information together with what Kılıç said to Aristarkhov, I think he is planning another operation like the one which killed Mariam’s family.”
I explain to them more of what I heard Kılıç say to the general about ‘ethnic cleaning’. The professor looks grave; his face becomes ashen. He speaks slowly, as if each word is hard for him to say.
“Five years ago, I read an article written by a Swedish explorer. The writer subsequently committed suicide, haunted by what he had seen.”
We wait for Axelson’s next words.
“The explorer was travelling through the most arid part of the Namib Desert in Africa. He came to a dried-up waterhole. It was surrounded by thousands of human skeletons. He found out that, in 1904, the German rulers of Namibia had driven all the local people out into the desert to die of hunger and thirst. It was a concerted plan to kill an entire race. Down all the centuries, not even the cruellest tyrants had killed on such a scale, so systematically. Until, that is, we reach the twentieth century. It was a new sort of crime.”
We’re all silent, listening. The professor’s voice has an edge of despair. “Sometimes, I wonder if the human race is in fact going backwards.”
He puts his head in his hands for a while, then looks at each of us in turn, glancing to check that Mariam is still sleeping, before going on.
“Clearly, the Ottomans are copying the German tactics in Namibia. Talaat, Kılıç and their cronies have orchestrated the extermination of entire races.”
Rufus interrupts. “It’s terrible, I agree – but we can do nothing to save Kılıç’s victims. It will be a miracle if we can save our own lives.”
But the professor and Yuri look thoughtful. After a few minutes, Axelson breaks the silence.
“There was nothing else you could read on Kılıç’s map, Miss Agnes? Nothing to give you a clue as to the locations of the Armenian settlements it showed? Even if we ourselves are to be executed, we could get a final message to the British, or the Iranians, somehow? Or to the American embassy in Istanbul?…”
I try to picture the desk and the map. “The cluster of writing was in the bottom right hand corner – looking from Kılıç’s side of the desk. So that might be the south-east corner of the region it showed. The only other thing I could see was lots of contour lines, in the top left-hand corner of the map.”
“Contour lines… a deep valley, perhaps? Could you see any rivers marked?”
“No, it didn’t look like that at all. The contours were in a circle – like concentric rings.”
“A mountain?”
There’s a faint edge of life again in Axelson’s voice, and a tiny spark of light in his eyes. He’s thinking aloud. “Most mountains are in long chains. Circular, concentric contours, on the other hand, mean a solitary conical peak. A volcano.”
Rufus snorts. “Bloody hell, Prof! This isn’t a geology lesson! We’re locked in a cell, at the mercy of a murdering maniac. Look at that little girl.” He points at Mariam’s sleeping form. “Let’s concentrate on saving ourselves – and her.”
I see the scared whites of Rufus’s eyes, but his voice calms a little. “I’m sorry. The truth is, I’m not coping well with this. Agnes…”
Rufus’s words trail away, his voice shaking, dwindling to an unheard whisper. Axelson looks around at the heavy door, the cell walls and the tiny grille of the window onto the courtyard, as if checking for a final time that there really is no escape for us. Then he grins grimly at Rufus.
“It’s quite all right, Mr du Pavey. None of us are coping well with this. Now, were you about to ask Miss Agnes something?
“I’m clutching at straws. But did you learn anything else, anything at all, when you were with Kılıç, Agnes? Anything that might help us?”
“I found out one more thing, Rufus. Not about Kılıç, but about that soldier who’s guarding us. He’s open to bribery.”
Mariam is snuggled up to Rufus’s large form; his arm is around her. They are both asleep. She stirs: then she wakes and looks around the cell, her eyes like saucers. It’s nearly dark now. She looks at the shadowed face of the professor, then at Yuri, then at me. Her lip trembles, but she doesn’t cry out. Axelson goes gently over, and sits beside her and the unconscious Rufus. For five minutes, the professor just looks quietly at her: then, he speaks.
“Mariam, do you know of a big mountain – maybe near your home, when you were a little girl?”
“There is only one really big mountain. I’ve never seen it, but of course I know about it, because it’s in the Bible.” She seems suddenly troubled, and looks at each of us in turn. “You are all Christians like me, aren’t you? You know the Bible stories?”
It’s Yuri who answers her. “Yes, of course.”
She almost smiles. “Then you will know about the big mountain. When God sent the flood, it was the only land sticking up above the sea. The place where Noah landed his Ark, and all the animals were saved. The mountain was called Ararat.”
Yuri’s voice is soft. “You must sleep again now, Mariam. We’ll wake you, when we need to go. Because tonight, we’re getting out of this place.”
Mariam is sleeping again. Yuri looks around at the rest of us; somehow, I feel just a tiny bit better. He starts to speak; his voice is low, but distinct and strong.
“You know, when they first brought me here, my Bolshevik prison guards were actually kind and helpful. I gave them a little flattery, of course, about how famous their city is, the ‘Texas of Russia’. They liked hearing that. Then I said I was bored in my cell, could they bring me reading material, maybe something about Baku? And they did. A map would have been best; they didn’t give me one, but I found out what I needed to know about the layout of the city and its surroundings from the books and magazines they gave me.