Leo hesitates. “Are you sure about this, Julia?”
“With you here to protect me, Leo, what have I got to worry about?”
He looks at her then gives her a playful pinch. “Funny girl.”
“Come on, we don’t want to be late.”
Julia and Leo cross the road and dip down into a street lined with pokey little hardware shops closed for the night. Julia glances at the dusty windows as they walk. There’s a huge variety of items sorted separately into individual timber crates ready to be wheeled out in front of the shops the next morning. Steel faucets. Bike pedals. Nails and screws. Hammers. Kitchen sinks. Steel tubing. Showerheads. Light sockets. Door handles.
Given it’s not a residential area and the businesses are shut, the streets are almost empty, apart from a few men talking and smoking outside on the curbs. Julia looks down at her phone. They need to make a turn somewhere ahead but Google Maps is struggling to account for the little alleyways and no-name streets.
Julia enlarges the screen and tries to get a fix on their location.
“This way,” she says.
They turn right, down what could hardly be called a road. There’s no street lighting so Julia takes care navigating the bumpy, unsealed pathway using her phone light to illuminate the ground as they go. They emerge in a tiny postage stamp of a park overlooking the old side of Istanbul. Across the water, the mosques in the old quarter are bathed in golden light, their silhouettes glimmering on the surface of Bosporus.
In contrast, the park is dark and utterly empty. Just over the squat sea wall, there’s a clutch of small fishing boats. The tide is out and the boats are half-resting on the rocks, hulls exposed, ropes creaking against their wooden moorings. The stench of discarded fish is strong.
“You sure this is it?” says Leo, looking around.
Julia points to the EXXON tanker. “He said he’d meet us over there.”
They cross the patch of dead grass and stand next to the tanker and wait.
30
“I feel like a sitting duck,” says Leo.
Julia looks at her watch. “He should be here by now.”
“Try calling the number.”
She does. No answer.
“I don’t like this,” says Leo.
Julia feels nervous, too. Considers abandoning the whole thing. Then remembers they’ve got nothing else to go on.
“A few more minutes.”
A man appears from the laneway. Tall and lanky. Dark-haired and unshaven. Younger than Julia had been expecting. He makes a beeline for them, glancing once over his shoulder before cutting across the dead grass.
“This doesn’t look kosher,” says Leo.
“Let’s see what he has to say first.”
When the man reaches them, his dull eyes land on Leo.
“You police?” he says. “I don’t like police.”
Julia shakes her head. “He’s my friend. Leo. I’m Julia. The girl in the flyer is my sister, Toni, and we’re all very worried about her. Anything you can tell us would be of great help, no matter how small.”
The man thrusts his hands into the pockets of his dirty denim jacket.
“Money first,” he says.
“Money?” says Leo. “You said nothing about money on the phone. Did he, Julia?”
The man’s eyes harden. He scratches the inside of his elbow.
“I am student,” he says. “Tuition is very expensive.”
“You’re no student,” growls Leo. He turns to Julia. “Let’s get out of here. This guy’s a scam artist.”
Julia ignores Leo. “Of course we’ll pay you for your time.”
“Julia, don’t be an idiot. He could make anything up.”
Julia gets out her wallet. “How much do you need? A hundred dollars?”
“Two hundred,” says the man, wetting his lips. “US.”
Julia counts out the bills. “Here’s two hundred fifty dollars.”
The man reaches for it. Leo grabs his wrist. “Give us something first. So we know you really saw Toni.”
The man stares at Leo, then spits on the ground.
He points to his own wrist. “Tattoo. Here.”
“That’s Toni,” says Julia, mouth instantly dry.
“What’s the tattoo?” presses Leo.
The man frowns. “I don’t know how to say.”
Leo rolls his eyes. “I bet you don’t.”
The man’s face suddenly clears and he makes the victory sign with his fingers. Julia’s heart leaps. She looks at Leo, who is also surprised. They both know that Toni had a peace sign tattoo done the day she turned eighteen. Leo releases his grip and the man slips the money into his front jeans pocket.
“Where did you see her?” says Julia.
“At a club last Saturday night.”
Saturday. Nine days ago.
“What club?”
“Asena.”
“Where’s that?”
“Istiklal Caddesi, near the mall.”
“What time was she there? Did you speak to her? How did she seem to you? What was she doing?”
The man pauses. “That’s all.”
“What do you mean—that’s all?” says Julia.
“I know nothing else.”
Julia’s throat tightens. “But if you saw her, you must remember the time.” Julia fumbles with her wallet. “Do you want more money, is that it?”
The man shifts on his feet. “No more questions.”
Julia looks at the man, alarmed. “There must be something else you can tell us.”
The man pulls out a knife.
“Wallet,” he says. “Watch. Jewelry. Everything you have.”
Julia freezes. The blade is about four inches long and as thin as a credit card. But Julia’s not fooled by its diminutive size. She knows how much damage a weapon like this can do. She’s performed heart surgery on at least twelve stabbing victims over the years, the majority of which involved small, easily concealable knives exactly like this one.
“Do what I say,” says the man, agitated.
Leo takes a step forward. The man thrusts out the knife. “Do not move!”
Julia tries to keep her voice even. “Leo, please, just do what he says.”
She kneels down and places her purse on the ground, slips off her ring, puts that there, too.
“See?” she says, standing and holding up her
