“Hear, hear,” says Conner.
“Absolutely,” says Yasmin.
20
Julia and Leo leave the hostel and head back toward Sultanahmet Square.
“What do you think?” says Leo, sidestepping a stray cat.
Julia exhales. “I’m not sure.”
“I don’t like the look of that doctor,” says Leo, pulling a face.
“Who? Daniel Bambury?”
Leo shoots Julia a sour glance. “Huh, thought so.”
“Thought what?”
“He charmed you.”
Julia laughs. “What?”
“You couldn’t take your eyes off him.”
Julia laughs again. “That’s not true.”
“Hanging on his every word.”
Julia stops to face him. “I don’t believe it, you’re jealous.”
“Bullshit,” says Leo. “I’m just saying, don’t be so easily fooled.”
Julia carries on walking. “This is stupid. We’re here to find Toni, not fight because of your sad little ego.”
Leo looks away, jaw clenching. They fall silent and continue on up the pathway toward the mosques.
“At least we know more than we did before,” Leo says, finally. “Effectively no one has seen Toni since China.”
Julia purses her lips. “Or so they say.”
Leo frowns. “What do you mean?”
“They could be making it all up, holding the line to an agreed story.”
“What? Concocted a cover story? The whole lot of them?”
Julia nods. “It’s possible. We can’t trust them, Leo. We barely know them.”
“But what would they have against Toni?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” says Julia, sighing deeply. “God, I feel so useless.”
Leo touches her shoulder. It feels good. Reassuring. “Hey, don’t give in to that. We’re going to find her.” He taps her satchel. “Now let’s hand out these flyers and see what we can shake from the tree.”
*
They focus on the shops and hotels in the Sultanahmet district first. Most of the owners are polite. Even with the language barrier, they can tell the seriousness of the situation. A foreign girl is missing, possibly the victim of foul play. They study the photo of Toni, taking in the unconventional hair, the septum piercing, the disarming smile. But time after time, they lift their gaze to meet Julia’s expectant face and shake their heads no. Most agree to put a flyer in their windows, although a few refuse—displaying a photograph of a missing foreigner in Istanbul’s prime tourist area isn’t exactly good for business.
After five hours of exhausting leg work, Julia and Leo decide to head for the famous Grand Bazaar, an enormous covered market, before stopping for the night.
“Oh, Jesus,” says Leo, stepping through the stone-arch entrance way.
The sheer scale of the place is dizzying. Rows of cluttered little shops, possibly thousands, overflow with all manner of things. Persian rugs. Turkish ceramics. Jewelry. Leather goods. Bolts of cloth. Luggage. Beaded slippers. The bazaar is jammed packed full of people, too. Tourists. Locals. Shopkeepers. It’s overwhelming and Julia feels her energy levels sag.
“You look beat. Maybe we should hit this tomorrow,” says Leo.
Julia shakes her head. “I’m fine.” She gestures left. “Let’s start down there.”
Shouldering their way through the bustling crowds, they navigate the labyrinth by focusing on one shop at a time, taking care to note each row as they go to avoid inadvertently missing a section. But it’s impossible to cover every single one. There are simply too many. Two hours later, they’re lucky to have covered even a third of the place.
Leo suggests they take a break and grab something to drink. They find an exit and step out into darkness.
“And day becomes night…” says Leo, looking up at the sky. “You could go an entire month in that place and never know it. Hey, over there.”
Julia follows Leo’s gaze and sees the café in an alcove filled with secondhand book shops. They go inside, buy some bottled water, and take a seat by the window.
“This is a total waste of time,” says Julia, twisting off the bottle cap. “We’ve been at this all day and no one has seen her.”
“Yeah, it’s disappointing,” says Leo. “We got lots of flyers distributed, though. That’s a good thing. Someone might recognize her and get in touch.”
“It seems like such a long shot,” says Julia, glumly.
Leo gives her leg a shake. “Hang in there. We’re doing all we can.”
She looks down at her shoes. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”
“Oh, is that a challenge I hear?” says Leo, playfully. He guzzles down the last of his water and gets to his feet. “You asked for it then, Dr. Norris. One more hour and we’ll call it a night.”
21
Nearly out of flyers, they search for somewhere to print off more and manage to find a small supply shop with a lone photocopier for public use in one of the streets behind Istanbul University. Julia feeds the photocopier Turkish lire as it spits out a fresh ream of flyers. The color is slightly off, giving Toni a reddened complexion and turning her hair a nasty shade of chartreuse, but it’s better than nothing.
By the time they step outside, most of the other shops have pulled down their grates for the night.
“Looks like we’re calling it quits, whether we like it or not,” says Leo.
They head through the dark and empty streets, passing by rows of closed shops. Behind dusty picture book windows are large cardboard boxes filled with buttons, belts and zippers, and stacks of clothes bundled with string.
“Where the heck are we?” says Julia, looking around.
“Garment district? Wholesalers maybe?” says Leo. “I think the hotel is this way.”
Julia’s doubtful. “You sure?”
He flashes her a smile. “Reasonably.”
“Oh, I forgot how hilarious you are.”
“And just getting better with age…”
They turn left and try to locate the main road with the overland tram. If they could just get a fix on that, they could follow the tracks back to their hotel or at least get a cab. They continue up the road toward a slight hill and turn the corner. There are more people and cars.
“We must be close to the main center,” says Julia, encouraged.