City of the Lost. Will Adams

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Название City of the Lost
Автор произведения Will Adams
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isbn 9780007424467



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Which do you think it is?’

      ‘I think he’s a dedicated public servant doing an excellent job under extremely difficult circumstances.’

      ‘Your current Chief of the General Staff helped take down the Kurdish separatists last time it got like this. Why not put him in charge?’

      ‘Because counterterrorism is a civilian task. Besides, the Minister and the General are already in close contact. We operate a joined-up government.’ Laughter made him flush. ‘I assure you,’ he said.

      ‘You assure us?’ taunted Omari. ‘Everyone knows those two hate each other. When was the last time they even spoke?’

      ‘We have just suffered the most terrible atrocity,’ he said sharply. ‘Do you seriously expect me to reveal details of our investigation on national television?’ He shook his head as if in dismay then pushed his way through the pack and up the steps to the waiting cars. A heartfelt sigh the moment they were safely inside. ‘Get the Interior Minister and the Chief of the General Staff for me,’ he told Gonka, as they pulled away. ‘I want them in my office.’

      ‘Yes, Prime Minister,’ she said. ‘When?’

      He turned so that she could see his face. ‘When do you think?’ he asked.

      II

      Karin was on the phone when Iain finished his shower, being talked at by an American man with an abrasively loud and patrician voice. ‘… need to let me know the moment my father’s death is confirmed,’ he was saying.

      ‘Of course,’ said Karin. She glanced up at Iain. ‘But I have to go now,’ she said. ‘Again, I’m really sorry for your loss.’

      ‘I’ll bet you are,’ said the man, sounding remarkably chipper for someone who’d had such grievous news. ‘Waking up like this to find nothing on the night-stand.’ The phone clicked; there was dial-tone. Karin grimaced as she replaced it in its cradle. ‘Nathan’s eldest,’ she said.

      ‘He seemed to take it well.’

      ‘They aren’t the closest of families.’

      Iain nodded. If she wanted to talk about it, she’d bring it up herself. ‘You look exhausted,’ he said. ‘Enough with the phone calls. Have a bath. A nice cup of tea.’ He fetched an olive T-shirt from the wardrobe, tossed it to her, then fished some Turkish lira banknotes from his wallet. ‘For clothes and food and shit. Whatever you need.’

      ‘Thanks,’ she said.

      ‘My pleasure,’ he said. ‘And if there’s anything else …’

      She took a deep breath. ‘Does that extend to advice?’

      ‘Sure. About what?’

      Karin had brought her day-pack up to the room. Now she took the bulky manila envelope out from it. ‘You remember what I told that policeman? How I went out walking all morning. Then I went back to Nathan’s room only to find him still in his meeting, and how he gave me this to post.’

      Iain frowned. ‘You want me to run it down to reception?’

      ‘No. It’s nothing like that. It’s just that I’ve been thinking about something. About why we were even here.’ She bit her lower lip briefly, as though torn between discretion and the urge to share. ‘If I tell you something in confidence, will you keep it to yourself?’

      ‘Of course,’ said Iain. ‘What?’

      She showed him the package’s address label. It was made out in neat turquoise handwriting to a Professor Michael Walker at the Egyptian Institute of Archaeometry in New Cairo, Egypt. ‘The thing is,’ she said, ‘I know Mike. My boss Nathan used to sponsor his institute, you see, so I’ve dealt with him a fair bit over the phone. He’s an archaeologist, essentially, but he specializes in scientific techniques like carbon-dating, thermoluminescence testing, spectrum analysis, that kind of thing. How old is this parchment? Where was this amphora fired? What’s the mix of metals in this ingot?’

      ‘Okay,’ said Iain.

      ‘Nathan was fascinated by the ancient Greeks,’ said Karin. ‘Particularly the Mycenaeans. The ones Homer wrote about. We were in Troy a couple of days ago, for example. Then we came here. You won’t know this, but some people believe the Trojan War started in Daphne.’

      ‘Sure,’ nodded Iain. ‘Paris awarding Aphrodite the golden apple.’

      ‘Yes. Exactly.’ She looked so impressed, he decided not to confess that Mustafa had told him this that same morning. ‘But you saw the place. It’s not exactly Ephesus, is it? Though, to be fair, Nathan also co-sponsors excavations at an old Hittite city called Tell Tayinat, which is only a few miles from here, by the Syrian border. But that’s off-season right now. There’s no one there.’

      ‘Am I supposed to be following this?’

      ‘Sorry. I’m thinking out loud. You see, when I was arranging our itinerary, this was the only leg of the trip that Nathan insisted on, even though there was nothing for us to do here. We had to arrive last night, we had to stay at the Daphne International Hotel, and we couldn’t leave for Cyprus until the day after tomorrow.’

      ‘Ah,’ said Iain.

      ‘And Nathan only decided to make this trip two weeks ago. You don’t know him, but that’s completely out of character. He likes to have everything just so.’ She gave a little grimace. ‘He liked to, I should say. Spontaneity was never his thing. Yet suddenly he decides to come here. And you should have seen how excited he’s been these past few days. And that hotel! It was nice enough, yes, but Nathan was rich. I mean really, really rich. I could easily have found us something far nicer, like the place we had in Istanbul, you should have seen it. But no, he insisted on that specific hotel. And then this morning he tells me that he and Rick have a meeting, and that I should go out and not come back for at least two hours.’

      Iain nodded. ‘So you think your whole trip here was in fact cover for this meeting?’

      ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’

      ‘Do you know who it was with?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘But you suspect someone was offering him artefacts for sale, right? And that this package for your friend Mike in New Cairo contains samples he wanted tested? To authenticate the pieces before he handed over any cash?’

      Karin grimaced. ‘Nathan never cared too much about provenance,’ she said. ‘At least, that’s not fair, he did care, he cared a lot. But he thought it worth pushing the boundaries a little if it meant getting important pieces back into the public domain. He donated all those sorts of acquisitions to museums, you see. The black market’s still illegal, though, however honourable your intentions. And he told me once that he almost got caught here in Turkey several years ago. So what do I do? I can’t see how telling the police would help the investigation, but what if it could? Yet if I tell them about it, and they use it to trash his reputation, I’d hate myself. Or what if they accuse me of being his accomplice? I wasn’t, I swear I wasn’t. It never even occurred to me until a moment ago. But how could I possibly prove that?’

      ‘So post it to this Walker guy,’ suggested Iain. ‘You’d have done it anyway.’

      ‘But they’re bound to be keeping an eye on those sorts of places, aren’t they? What with the bomb, I mean. Or what if Mike notifies them himself after he receives it? It’ll look like I was trying to hide it. And I showed it to that policeman, remember? What if he asks for it?’

      ‘Why would he?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ She sounded a little close to the edge suddenly; shock often got to people in unexpected ways. ‘Maybe to find out who Nathan was meeting. To identify his body or something. What would I do then?’

      He