The Istanbul Puzzle Read Online Free PDF Page A

me stew, most likely.
    The motorway we joined a few minutes later had five lanes. The headlights streaming towards us were like strings of pearls.
    The reservations I’d had about coming to Istanbul seemed justified now. What the hell had happened to the contact from the Consulate who was supposed to meet me? And where were we going?
    ‘You were Mr Zegliwski’s manager, weren’t you?’ asked the inspector a minute later. The question had an aggressive undertone to it, as if he was trying to find someone to take responsibility for something.
    ‘Yes, I am. That’s why I’m here, to find out what happened to him.’ I’d worked hard on this project. I’d spent months on research. Alek had too. There was no way I was going to allow this guy to dump anything on me, or on the Institute.
    ‘And you haven’t been told what happened Alek?’ His eyes gleamed in the semi-darkness.
    ‘Just that he’s dead. That I’m supposed to identify his body.’ There was still a slim chance that it wasn’t Alek they’d found, that he was in a coma in some hospital. I clung to it.
    The inspector opened his window. Warm soggy air poured in. It was well after 9:00 PM, but still as hot as midday on the hottest summer day in London.
    ‘It’s a little hot,’ I said.
    ‘Not too much,’ he replied. ‘This is cool by Istanbul standards.’
    ‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’ I asked, louder than I expected to. I wiped off a rivulet of sweat running down my cheek.
    I could smell musky aftershave.
    ‘Your colleague’s been murdered, effendi ,’ he whispered. Occasional beeps and the drone of cars speeding around us almost drowned his voice out.
    I stared back at him. I felt empty, numb. I’d assumed Alek had died in an unfortunate accident.
    ‘I’m sorry for the bad news.’
    I looked at his face, waited for his nose to grow.
    ‘Why are you treating me like a criminal, when my friend’s been murdered?’
    He didn’t answer. He just kept staring at me. His eyes were bloodshot. He had a thin white scar on the side of his forehead.
    ‘Did your colleague have enemies?’
    I shook my head. ‘Are you going to tell me how it happened?’ I said.
    For a split second, I saw disdain in his expression, then it became impassive again.
    The traffic reverberations around us were like a muzzled growl. Warm air sliced menacingly through the car. Anger rose up inside me. I had to close my eyes to calm myself, start breathing deeply. I had to be careful. Letting off steam into this guy’s face would probably only see me end up in a prison cell.
    Memories of Alek flashed through my head. Why the hell had he been murdered?
    ‘Is it a secret?’ I said.
    ‘Later, effendi , later.’ His tone softened.
    We passed a conga line of minibuses. There must have been fifty of them. Each had a blue circular logo on its side, the outline of the minarets and unmistakable dome of Hagia Sophia.
    I’d been to Istanbul twice before. Alek had been even more times. The grey crust of buildings that flows to each horizon gives the city an anthill intensity. It’s what you get, I suppose, for having a population of almost fourteen million. No city in Europe has ever been bigger.
    I stared out the window, trying to take in what had happened. It was all so unreal. Anger rose up inside me again. I put my fist against the glass.
    ‘We will find out who did this, Mr Ryan. And when we do…’ I turned to look at him. He put his hands together, motioned as if he was crushing something.
    The motorway we were on soared over a valley encrusted with buildings. The scene was lit by a spider web of yellow and white street lights. Then the motorway turned to the right and a whole vista of curved steel-and-glass office blocks appeared in front of us, all lit up. TV screens flickered in one of the blocks.
    Electronic billboards flashed by. Yacht-sized, red Turkish flags were draped down the sides of some of the larger buildings. The skyscrapers we passed would not