I turned off my mobile with an element of relief. Harry was a magician when it came to research. He would produce all I needed in a short space of time. I finished my drink and went into my study to browse. The shelves sported many books, most of them reaching to the ceiling. Each one was stuffed with tomes of all sizes covering a wide range of subjects. After looking along the lines of titles, I came across one relating to the religions of the world. I turned to the chapter on Islam with great interest. It wasn’t long before the information on paper translated itself into my mind at which time I had learned a great deal about the Quran, the Five Pillars of Islam, the Islam calendar and the variations within Islam, as well as its festivals. I began to feel that, under the false identity of Mushtaq Hussein, I had a reasonable chance of passing muster with the Mahdi. Naturally, I would have to remember everything I had read and recall the information in the right order.
My suitcase was packed before I went to bed. According to the airport regulations, I would have to arrive at there at about six-thirty in the morning to ensure that my luggage was booked in and loaded onto the aircraft. There was little time for sleep that night… not that I would fall into a deep sleep anyway. The vision of the weaponry division and the Brigadier kept spinning around in my mind threatening to become a nightmare but never quite instilling fear. The alarm went off as the first rays of light channelled through the space where the curtains failed to meet. I opened my eyes feeling exceedingly tired, wanting to curl up and go to sleep again. Such conditions did not bode well for an international bridge player. It meant that my mental energy would seep away as the day went on. In the evening, when the competition at the bridge table intensified, I would feel drained and tired, have difficulty in concentrating, and become erratic when making important decisions in the game. It was not the ideal situation to obtain good results in a serious match let alone in an international tournament! I rose and went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. It was then that I noticed a white envelope laying on the doormat behind the front door. I picked it up and opened it slowly. There was a single sheet of paper inside on which letters cut from a newspaper had been glued. It said simply: ‘Don’t fly to Turkey if you value your life. Don’t fly to Turkey if you value your wife!’
I produced my mobile telephone and dialled the Dorchester Hotel asking to be put through to Schmuel Musaphia and I waited for the connection although I knew exactly what they would say. He had paid his bill and left the hotel after we had finished our meal. Whoever heard of a guest leaving a hotel at eleven o’clock at night. I stared at the letter again. There were no clues… Nothing! Once again, I was up the creek without a paddle. Should I risk going to Turkey or should I stay at home? That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question!
Chapter Ten
The flight from Heathrow to Istanbul took nearly four hours and it became apparent from the literature on the aircraft that the international airport was twenty-five kilometres from the city centre. After landing and passing through immigration, I gathered my suitcase from the luggage carousel and walked towards the exit. There were the usual groups of people waiting awaiting relatives or friends on arrival. However one man stood out in the crowd. He was holding a placard bearing my name in block letters. For a moment I was reminded of Chedda in a similar situation at Stansted Airport, recalling what had happened on that occasion. I made myself known to him and he threw the placard away, taking my free hand and shaking it vigorously.
‘Welcome to Turkey!’ he greeted enthusiastically. ‘Welcome to Istanbul! I’m Turgut. I’ve been appointed as your guide.’
‘Appointed?’ I riposted suspiciously. ‘Who appointed you?’
‘I received a message on my answering machine yesterday,’ he explained briefly. ‘I was told you were coming here and the caller hired me to be your guide. I accepted the assignment and received the fee in advance.’
‘How did you accept the assignment?’
‘They left me a telephone number to call in England. I rang them and they paid the fee directly into my bank account.’
He took the suitcase from my hand and I stared at him closely. He was rather short and stubby with dark hair, incredibly dark eyes, wearing an immaculate white shirt which was open at the neck, black trousers and shiny black shoes. He had been blessed with a set of perfect white teeth although he chose to exhibit one gold tooth on one side. His smile was engaging… at the same time his English was excellent.
‘I’ve arranged for a car to be waiting for you,’ he informed me, clearly intending to care for my every need. ‘If you’ve been here before, you’ll notice that many changes have taken place. Modernisation schemes include a new transport system combining and underground railway, a tram network, a railway, a rail tunnel under the Bosphorus, and a World Trade Centre close to the airport. They’ve also begun to align the commercial suburb of Levant with Taksim, the business heart of the city by means of an underground railway line.’
‘This is my first visit,’ I admitted as we walked out of the airport building. ‘I’ve not been here before.’
He led me to a black car opening the door and motioning me into the back seat after which he placed my suitcase in the boot.
‘Never been here before, eh?’ he repeated. ‘Well you have some Turkish delights ahead of you. Perhaps I ought to tell you a few things about the place… other than the belly-dancing at the leading nightclubs. You can get a boat trip along the Bosphorus which is really the best way to see the city. No hustle, no bustle! The passenger ferries zig-zag all the way along the coast. The old imperial centre of Stamboul is a colourful place where you can find many of the main sightseeing attractions. The Ottoman Topkapi Palace and archaeological museums, the Sultan Ahmet mosque, the Blue mosque, amd Aya Sofya, the Byzantine church. The area is also famous for its covered bazaar… the world’s biggest bazaar. Nearly five thousand shops covering ninety-two streets. If you get fed up with the minarets and mosques, you can always visit the sixteenth century tiled baths on Itfaiye Caddesi.’
‘Thank you,’ I replied with little enthusiasm. I had business to attend to in the city… there would be no time for sightseeing!
‘You may be interested to learn that they elected Turkey’s first woman Prime Minister way back… Tansu Ciller… an American trained economist. The whole economy’s gone screwy over the last twenty years. Crazy! Too much influence from the West. The government freed foreign exchange controls, floated the Turkish lira, reformed tax, and introduce Value Added Tax which I can tell you didn’t go down very well. Then they liberalised banking and started to privatise everything. Inflation’s gone mad… absolutely mad! Unfortunately, seven of the ten top companies are still owned by the government and they’re very inefficient. But… we survive!’
‘Fascinating!’ I returned, trying not to show my disinterest in his commentary.
‘I’ve arranged for you to stay at the Istanbul Sheraton at Taksim. You’ll like it there… it’s a really good hotel. The other bridge players are staying there too. They told me you play bridge. Practically everyone’s a Muslim here and the religion forbids gambling. Playing cards are considered to be so. Only foreigners are allowed to play roulette or cards. It seems crazy that someone has arranged for Istanbul to be the venue of an international bridge tournament. But then everyone in the world is mad except for you and me… and I’m not sure about you.’ He burst out laughing at his own joke.
‘Who’s paying for your service, Turgut?’
‘I told you. They paid the fees straight into my back account. Some company called Dandy Advanced Electronics. Do you work for them?’