‘How? Tomorrow is too late,’ Nathalie insisted, angry now. ‘His bag is still here, but not his ticket, and not his passport. I think he’s using the money to change his flight. You want to do nothing?’
Ford agreed. If they were going to do anything, then they needed to act immediately. He lifted his bag to his shoulder to prompt them into action.
* * *
Ford sat at the front of the car with Mehmet. Nathalie and Martin silent in the back. Dust billowed across the road and they squinted into the cloud with rising dissatisfaction. In the last long light before sunset, a sickly orange hue settled above the horizon.
In Birsim, Nathalie and Martin found the travel office and Ford agreed to check the coach times. Mehmet stayed with the car, and smoked, window down, uninvolved.
The terminus, such as it was, ran alongside the square — a few bays painted into the road and numbered poles mounted on the pavement. A long patch of blackened sand was the only sign that a bus had burned here two days ago. Apart from this the street appeared clean. There were, he thought, altogether too many police. Ford asked for the times of buses out of Birsim; an attendant pointed at a painted board listing the schedule for Narapi, Ankara, Kopeckale. These were the main routes, with only one late departure. Ford checked and double-checked the times and even though he had no choice now but to wait, he felt some reassurance in knowing that a coach was already on its way.
Nathalie and Martin came out of the office visibly frustrated. He guessed their news before he heard it. No one matching Eric’s description had made enquiries or bought tickets or attempted to change a flight, either yesterday or today. Plenty of coach tickets had been sold for the coastal resorts, and a few for Ankara/Istanbul, but none, as far as the clerk could recall, were sold to an American. Many of the coaches had already departed. As far as Martin could see, there was little point coming to Birsim, and no point staying without evidence that Eric had even come here in the first place.
They found a tea house and sat silently together. When the cay arrived, Ford paid and suggested that they order something to eat, but neither Martin nor Nathalie had any appetite and Martin decided to take a walk by himself. Apologizing, he kissed Nathalie’s forehead and said that he needed to think. He would not be long.
‘We can take you back to Narapi.’
‘Another coach leaves from here. I’m sure I can buy a supplement.’
‘But you have a ticket already from Narapi?’ Nathalie watched Martin wander away. ‘No, we can take you back.’ She shook her head and would not hear of any further disagreement. ‘The project is almost over, except for this one last interview. But without the money it won’t be possible to complete.’ It made no sense that Eric would be so selfish. ‘We each brought money. As much as we could. Eric’s money was to help someone leave the country.’ Nathalie looked across the square. ‘In exchange for an interview, we give money to help a family leave the country. These are Sunni Kurds living in Alevi villages, and Martin wanted one of these men to speak in his project. It’s taken a year to organize this interview.’ For the first time, as a conclusion to the series, Martin was to present an entire family, one at a time, each speaking about their experience. ‘But without the money the family won’t give their consent. Everything’s so complicated. It isn’t just Martin. Did Eric speak to you? You know that he likes you? You know this?’
Ford cleared his throat. ‘Sorry?’
‘He likes you, you know. He likes you very much.’
‘I think he’s hiding.’
Nathalie shook her head, weary, this did not make sense.
‘When we parted he—’
‘What?’
‘It wasn’t anything, but he was embarrassed.’
‘He said something?’
‘No. It was a gesture.’
‘A gesture?’ Incredulous, Nathalie leaned forward. ‘What are you saying? He kissed you?’
‘It wasn’t quite that.’
‘I don’t understand. Are you saying he approached you?’
‘I was — surprised. I didn’t react well. He left. He walked up to the fort. I think he might be hiding.’
Nathalie settled slowly back into her seat, a different scenario beginning to form.
* * *
On the journey back, Martin discussed Eric’s disappearance. They should check the bus station at Narapi to see if anyone matching Eric’s description had tried to leave while they were in Birsim. If not, they needed to consider other options. Unsurprised by Eric’s crude farewell to Ford, Martin pictured darker forces and motives at play. It was possible that Eric’s disappearance wasn’t voluntary. They must consider this. They needed to think carefully about what to do.
Nathalie shut her eyes, exhausted. They should contact Eric’s mother, she would be in Malta by now, and see if he had spoken with her about any change in plans. But how would they find her address? Martin sat back and wiped his hands down his face. Nothing about this was easy. He didn’t have an address, they would have to wait until the morning to contact the university? Or no, he could call as soon as they returned? None of them were sure about the time difference.
As they drew into Narapi, Ford suggested that Nathalie take a walk to the fort. ‘My coach departs in an hour.’
‘I’ll wait with you.’
‘Take a break,’ he whispered, ‘he’ll be back before long.’
Nathalie shook her head. There would be no result from any further search, she was certain. ‘You know, maybe this isn’t so strange. This is what his father did. When he was a boy his father walked away. He just left.’ She convinced herself.
Martin said he’d return with Mehmet to the pension to make his calls, she might as well continue looking if she wanted. Perhaps there would be some news. Nathalie hung her head, unable to make a decision. Ford opened the passenger door to say goodbye and leaned into the car unsure of the most suitable farewell. Nathalie wrapped her arms about him in a lethargic gesture, oddly mismeasured, and patted his shoulder. Maybe he was right and Eric would just return. Ford didn’t doubt it, and guessed, privately, that this kind of drama was not rare between them.
* * *
As the coach drew away from the square, Ford looked back at the town. His eyes ran along the broken outline of the fortifying walls above the market. None of this mattered, he told himself. It wasn’t important.
The coach moved softly, as if through water. Wind struck the bus and Ford imagined the coach winding slowly and steadily away from the town.
3.15
Heida argued with herself for four long hours, persuading herself out of love, or rather, out of the relationship, as she was not in love — clearly not at this moment. At Birsim a student took the seat beside her. Pleased to have someone to talk with, Heida began to share what was on her mind. The student appeared keen to listen.
Their problem, Heida began, was that they worked together, day and night. Grüner came with the job. More or less. Theirs was a partnership built on travel, long working nights, deadlines, which encouraged a kind of intimacy. The practicalities which destroyed other relationships made theirs viable, regardless of other attachments which she did not mention (Grüner’s wife, Heida’s long-term partner), so even if their couplings had become distastefully mechanical they were couplings nevertheless, they were something. At the very least Grüner was company. If she broke off the physical side of their relationship she couldn’t guarantee that they’d return to their former working relationship. Did this make sense? While they depended on each other for work their physical relationship had corrupted this. It really was that simple.