Olympia crossed her arms and glared at Cleena. ‘If you’re looking for some sort of profit, you’re going to be sadly mistaken.’
Cleena sipped her water. ‘I know you and I don’t hang out in the same social circles, but I can tell you one thing I’ve learnt, and that is that people don’t kill each other for nothing. Whatever this thing is you’re looking for, somebody plans to profit from it. Money will be involved. Eventually.’
That, she knew, was inarguable.
Lourds followed Olympia through the narrow streets. Many of the older buildings were in their original unaltered state and dated back several centuries despite the times the city had been conquered. Street vendors occupied corners and hawked their wares.
Galata had been colonized by the Republic of Genoa in 1273. According to legend, the name had been taken from Calata, which roughly translated as ‘downward slope’. The city had also been called Pera, taken from an old Greek name that meant ‘the fig field on the other side’, referring to the Bosphorus between the two halves of the city. Most of the walls of the medieval city had been torn down first during the Fourth Crusade, when Christians fought Christians and the line had been drawn between the Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church. The remaining walls had nearly all been destroyed under Muslim rule in the nineteenth century to allow further urban expansion.
Glancing over his shoulder, he checked on Cleena. The young woman trailed him by a couple of strides and looked alert. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail.
‘Have you been to Istanbul before?’ he asked.
She glanced at him. ‘Making conversation?’
Lourds shrugged.
‘Yes, I have,’ she acknowledged after a moment. ‘A few times.’
‘I love the older parts. This city has a lot of history written into it.’
‘Is that what this hunt is all about? History?’
‘Yes.’
Cleena smiled at him. ‘But you’re not saying which history. The Greeks, the Romans or the Ottoman Empire.’
‘Many other cultures have lived here,’ Lourds replied.
‘But those are the big three.’
‘So they are.’
They paused at the ruins of the Palace of the Genoese, which was called the Palazzo del Commune, the Palace of the Municipality behind Bankalar Caddesi on Banks Street, which featured several Ottoman-era finance structures.
‘What have you learned from the book?’
Lourds stepped round a small group of children playing at the curb. ‘Maybe this isn’t the time to talk about it.’
‘Really? I was thinking this was the perfect time. You know, before we get to wherever we’re going?’
Lourds resettled his hat on his head and shifted his backpack over his shoulders. He didn’t say anything.
‘You do know where we’re going, don’t you?’ Cleena asked. ‘Your girlfriend did tell you, didn’t she?’
‘Somewhere safe,’ Lourds replied. ‘I’m also quite sure that Professor Adnan wouldn’t appreciate being referred to as my girlfriend.’
‘I think main squeeze would be less appreciated, don’t you?’ Cleena smiled sweetly.
Lourds chose not to respond.
‘This place we’re heading, is it somewhere you think is safe? Or somewhere she thinks is safe?’ Cleena asked.
Lourds was certain that no matter what he answered, it was going to lead to an argument.
At that moment, six men gathered round a cart of melons turned towards the trio. Lourds caught sight of them from the corner of his eye. Cleena spotted the men as well and reached under the lightweight shirt she had hanging outside her jeans.
‘Don’t!’ Olympia ordered. She walked back towards Lourds and Cleena.
Adrenaline cascaded through Lourds’ bloodstream at the men’s approach. He sought the quickest avenue of escape, but the street was packed.
Cleena had her pistol in hand out of sight beside her thigh.
‘They’re friends.’ Olympia stepped between the men and Cleena.
Personally, Lourds thought that an extremely foolish move. Cleena probably wouldn’t hesitate to shoot Olympia first. Before he could stop himself, Lourds stepped between Olympia and Cleena. Now this – this is stupid.
‘Perhaps,’ he suggested while mentally chastising himself, ‘you could introduce us to your friends…’ His voice trailed off as he recognized one of the young men in front of them from the catacombs. It was the man who had been dressed in monk’s robes and who had led him to safety. Today there was no robe. Instead, he wore khaki cargo pants, white and navy Chuck Taylors and a Coldplay concert T-shirt.
‘Thomas,’ Olympia said almost brightly, ‘I suppose you’ve already met Joachim.’
‘Not formally, no.’ Lourds didn’t know whether to extend a hand in greeting or take a step back. Only that would have made him an even bigger target for Cleena.
Joachim kept his face sombre and nodded. ‘Good afternoon, Professor Lourds. You have been highly spoken of.’
‘Thank you. I wish I could say the same of you.’
Olympia took the young man by the arm and smiled. For a brief instant, something close to jealousy flared through Lourds.
‘I know you’ve never met,’ Olympia said. ‘But I’m glad the two of you do have this chance. I just wish it had been under better circumstances.’
‘What does he have to do with this?’ Lourds asked.
‘Joachim is going to help us,’ Olympia explained.
‘How do you know that you can trust him?’ Cleena asked.
‘Because Joachim is my brother.’
Now that he was given more time and wasn’t as stressed out, Lourds could see the family resemblance between Olympia and Joachim. Her brother was younger than she was, although older than Lourds had first thought in the catacombs, but surely no more than late thirties.
After meeting them in the street, Joachim had guided them to an apartment building. He had rooms set up on the third floor. In addition to sleeping quarters for Lourds, Olympia, Cleena and the men, there was a sizeable kitchen and dining room, as well as a large room equipped with a conference table and computer hardware, including a satellite uplink.
‘Have you eaten, Professor Lourds?’ Joachim asked politely.
‘Not since breakfast with your sister,’ Lourds answered. ‘I had planned to take her to dinner before we were interrupted at the university.’ He put his backpack on the floor next to one of the chairs at the conference table.
‘The gunmen,’ Joachim said.
‘That would be the reason.’ Lourds sat at the table and took out the book from his backpack.
Joachim sat across from Lourds. ‘Olympia said you had no idea who the men were.’
Lourds shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Nor for whom they might be working?’
‘They were Americans. Is there any reason why the American government would be interested in this manuscript?’
‘If they knew what it represented, perhaps. If someone there ascribed to the same beliefs you and Olympia have.’ When no further explanation was forthcoming, Lourds said, ‘Because the fate of the world depends on what’s in these pages.’ He raked the ball of his thumb along the book’s pages.
Olympia sat across the table next to her brother. She frowned a little. ‘Thomas is having a little trouble believing that.’
Cleena sat with a chair between herself and Lourds. She sipped from a bottle of water, remaining quiet and watchful.
Joachim rubbed his hands together, and for the first time Lourds realized how heavily calloused they were. ‘Let me assure you, Professor, you don’t need to be a believer to help us. If you can translate that manuscript that’s all the assistance we need.’
‘You expect this to tell you where the Joy Scroll is?’
‘It will.’ Joachim’s voice carried conviction. ‘You will see.’ He took a minute to ask one of the men to prepare a meal, then turned back to Lourds. ‘We can’t very well work on empty stomachs.’
Within minutes, the smell of spices and cooking lamb filled the rooms. Lourds’ stomach growled in anticipation. He nursed a cold beer as the conversation continued.