In the back of the room, the officers convened a sometimes heated debate. I didn’t understand anything but hand gestures. The lawyer, not part of the coven, used his own hand gestures to tell me to be quiet and wait. It dragged on. The lawyer loosened his tie. The stuffy room stank of cigarette smoke and sweat. What felt like an eternity later, the officers walked out. One stayed behind to talk to the lawyer in Turkish.
Ceremoniously buttoning his suit jacket, the lawyer explained that I would get my possessions back in a few hours and that I was free to go.
It was late afternoon by the time I got back to Shadow. Anna was down below, pounding out something on the laptop. A glass of Raki — Turkish hard liquor on ice — sweated beside her. “How did it go with the police?” She didn’t look up.
“Fine. They’re going to get our stuff back.” I hated Raki and poured myself several fingers of Jameson — neat.
“Really? Did you have to pay them?” She still didn’t look up.
“No, I didn’t have to pay them. We have a valid claim. There’s been a crime.”
“You are not in Russia!” Anna typed some more, then stopped and finally looked up. “Really? I can not believe they would do anything. Even not in Russia. Something is not right.”
“Whatever…” I started telling her about the lawyer
A hesitant knock on Shadow’s hull killed the conversation. Anna snorted, closed the laptop and stomped into her cabin.
“Not in the mood for company?” I said to her closed door.
“Not now. Email from Mother.”
I stuck my head above deck. Erdem stood a polite distance away on the dock. “I come to offer storage for your parts at my uncle’s place of business. If you agree, I shall instruct officers to leave it there to be safe and secure until you need it.”
“The police are here?”
“Soon, they will be.”
I thanked him, put my whiskey in the fridge, and headed out with Anna to find a good spot from which to watch the ensuing action. A procession of police vehicles converged on the gulet. “Wow, this is amazing.” I nudged Anna. “Wouldn’t see this in Canada.”
“In Russia this happens only when there is a big shishka — pine cone — in town.”
Several police officers rushed up the gangplank onto Harvey’s gulet. Vocal eruptions of Turkish, English, and Russian followed. More police poured onto the boat, and several men cursing in Russian were hustled down the gangplank into a van.
“Ha! That boat’s full of Russians.” I said.
“Shut up. You want those Russians to see us?” Anna pressed her body closer to the grass.
Harvey was screaming in English about being the captain of his ship and maritime law. It didn’t do him any good. Before long, he too was brought out in handcuffs and loaded into the van with the Russians.
“Oye, poor Harvey.” Anna whispered. “Those Russians may not be kind to him.”
I felt a pang of remorse, but mostly incredulity.
The van left, heading slowly toward town along the sea wall.
The chief of police I’d seen earlier got out of an unmarked car, nonchalantly lit up and climbed the gangplank onto the gulet. All we heard for a few minutes was Turkish squawked from police radios until, from a door near the rear mast of the boat, an officer appeared carrying a shotgun across his chest. He was followed by Harvey’s girlfriend in handcuffs, head bent low, blonde hair hiding her face. Several more officers followed her, walking single file along the narrow promenade toward the gangplank.
Standing near the car, surrounded by cops with guns at the ready, Harvey’s girlfriend raised her head, tossed back her hair, locked eyes with Anna and screamed, “Zavtra tebya neh zheet!” — Tomorrow you die!
TWENTY-SEVEN
Bang, bang, bang! Half an hour after the Russian girlfriend’s death threat, and someone was knocking — hard. Anna nearly jumped from her skin. I froze.
Bang, thump, whump… “Hey! What’s going on, you two in there?”
“Oh geeze, it’s only Tom.” Through a port light, I saw his long legs, worn blue jeans, military green rubber boots.
Tom was an American who’d made his fortune in the technology bubble, walked away from it all, bought a sailboat and went wherever the winds and the currents took him. Although that much about him was likely true, I was pretty sure there was a lot more to Tom than met the eye.
“What was that all about?” He asked, climbing below. “You know, that’s no angel you crossed back there.”
“I did what you suggested. I fired Harvey. He stole my stuff and maxed out my credit card, so what else? I went to the cops.”
“Fine and dandy if it was just Harvey, but that girlfriend’s another matter.” Tom ran a weathered hand through his bristly gray hair. “Look, I’ve been doing some poking around. Harvey’s small potatoes, but the woman with him ain’t. So, what did you do to piss her off?”
“Nothing!”
Silence.
“Well almost nothing. The police showed me her picture…”
“I just bet they did. Tell you what I think. Those cops have been itching to get hold of her and your little dispute with Harvey was just the excuse they needed. Did they get your gear back at least?”
“I don’t know. Erdem said they were going to leave it at his uncle’s office.”
“Well then, find out. You know, Harvey’s girlfriend has been running some kind of brothel from that big old gulet? Yup, with an exclusive client list that just reeks of Russian Mafia — white slavery… likely. Rumor has it she took a bullet in a fight, dragged herself back to the boat then pulled out the slug all on her own. Those Keystone Cops may not give a rat’s ass about your equipment, but the madam on that boat’s been a burr under their saddle for months. What was it she shouted back there, anyhow?”
I dug for the glass of whiskey I’d stashed before the raid. “‘Tomorrow you die’, presumably meaning Anna. Believe-you-me, it wasn’t my intention to put the cops on to her. But that bastard stole everything you saw here then robbed my credit card.” I looked up from my glass. “Want some? It’s Irish whiskey. I even have some in a bottle.”
“Wish I could, but the ole ticker damn near quit on me a while back, so I’m off the juice. You know, I’d have called the cops too if it’d only been that Harvey fellow. But I wouldn’t go screwing around with the Russian mob and who knows what else! Fact is, that goddamned gulet isn’t even his.”
“What do you mean?” I sipped, then gulped.
“Just what I said: it’s not his! Not the madam’s either. Ran into your broker, Erdem, on the way here. He tells me the boat’s stolen. Belongs to a Greek family. He and his uncle figure Harvey’d been hired to look after it or something and then just fired it up and took off.”
“It’s been here how long, and they just figure that out now?”
“Jess, this is Turkey. Anyhow, that uncle of Erdem’s, Omar, is looking to move this yacht of yours to their own dock. Sounds like they want you two right in front of their building so they can keep an eye on you. I’d wager they’ve got some pretty good security over there.”
“You knew this all along?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
I sipped. “Nobody tells me anything.”
“I figure Erdem told his uncle the cops were raiding that gulet because of you and Omar’d know there might be some seriously pissed off folks after you gals.”
“Makes sense. Deal on the boat hasn’t closed yet. Can’t have the clients getting killed off before it does.”