The Gigolo Murder

“It’s like I told you. He wouldn’t let me into his house, our home, the flat I bought and decked out for the two of us to live in. You can imagine how I felt about that. Like I told you…”

“I don’t recall your mentioning a knife,” I said. “I suppose I missed that bit.”

He was now openly and unashamedly caressing me.

“You don’t miss a thing, do you?” he leered. “With big bright eyes like that, not a thing…”

Seconds earlier he’d been blubbering over the love of his life, Volkan, declaring he’d never forget him. Now he was slobbering all over me.

I gave him a hard push as I rose to my feet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded. “Shame on you, ayol!”

“I could eat that ayol of yours!”

“I’m going,” I said, raising my voice a little.

“Where are you going? Stay a while for a bit of nookie.”

He grabbed me with one arm and clasped his free hand over my mouth to keep me quiet.

“Just a kiss,” he said.

His breath smelled of stale tobacco and cheap cognac. I gave him a little push.

“But I like you,” he said. “You’re a reminder of my Volkan!”

I had no wish to be anyone’s memento. Nor would I be.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” I was tempted to admit that I’d never even laid eyes on Volkan, and that I’d come here only to satisfy my curiosity about his family, but I thought better of it. He was emotionally unbalanced as it was, and I didn’t have the heart. I held my tongue.

“Try it one more time and I’m leaving,” I warned him. “Or I’ll yell. Don’t say I didn’t tell you. Everyone will know your little secret.”

“Don’t get so angry, dear. So much rage and grace squeezed into one little package…”

The cognac was definitely going to his head.

“You’re drunk.”

“It’s you who’s turned my head. It’d take more than cognac to get me drunk.”

“Think of Volkan!” I scolded in a last-ditch effort.

“But I’m trying to forget him!”

“The police suspect you. You do know that,” I changed the subject. “They know you threatened Volkan, pulled a knife on him. Someone at the minibus stand must have told them.”

“You’re kidding? Which of those troublemakers spilled the beans… I’m clean. I swear, I’m clean. The police know that.”

“How’s that?” I asked. “Did you tell the police what happened?”

“There’s no need for that. I pull a knife on someone about once a week. There’s not a guy in the whole apartment building I haven’t pulled a knife on. That’s different, though! I’m not out for blood. Anyone who knows me knows that. If they’re looking for a real scoundrel, why don’t they go talk to that infidel Okan! He’s the parasite who was feeding off my Volkan.”

Again, this is where his story differed from what I’d heard earlier. So Okan and Ziya didn’t get along. And judging from his squalid flat and shabby clothes, it wasn’t Ziya who’d gotten his hands on Volkan’s earnings.

“He worked for a while as a gigolo,” I said. “He told me.”

“For a while?” he snorted. “He was doing it when he was with you, too. You must have been blind with love. Where do you think he got his money? He never wore the same thing twice. He used aftershave. Stuff he paid a fortune for! He bought a brand-new minibus. Brought it to our route, just to spite me. But he knew he wouldn’t be up for it forever… knew he wouldn’t be young forever… no matter how big his tool, no matter how good in bed… he wouldn’t be getting paid for it forever. That’s why he always said he had to put something aside for later.”

I was supposed to look stunned and hurt at this revelation. I duly did. He seized the opportunity to console me with a bear hug.

“Don’t worry. I’m here to comfort you anytime you want,” he said. “I may not be as hung as Volkan, but I’m packing a pretty good one myself.”

When he pulled my hand down to his crouch I let him have it. He was shaken, but smiled.

“Wow! Looks like I’ve got a real wildcat on my hands!”

I’d heard all I needed to. I left him there, rubbing his cheek. There was one more thing left to do this morning while I was in the neighborhood.

Chapter 18

I headed off to Besiktas in the first taxi that passed, to the Akdogan Sokak address of Kemal Barutcu, otherwise known as Cihad2000. The apartment building was every bit as shabby and every bit as redolent of cooking as I’d remembered. I couldn’t help wondering what he spent his money on. He had to be pulling in a tidy sum. But he was still stuck in this run-down building with his mother and overworked, largely absent father. And that meant he was constantly under their supervision and control.

His mother answered the door, the same worn expression on her face.

“Welcome, my son,” she said. “Kemal’s expecting you. He’s a bit uptight today. Come on in…”

Showing due respect, I leaned over and kissed her hand. It reeked of onions.

“Go on in. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll make you two some sahlep. I’ve made a fresh batch of pogaca, too. Once they cool you can have some with your tea.”

If Cihad2000 let his mother have her way, he’d be the size of an elephant. It wasn’t like he got any exercise. Actually, as far as I knew he never left his chair in front of the computer.

“I’ve got a wonderful surprise for you,” I cooed as I walked into his room, all ready to tell him about leather-clad Pamir.

“We’re in trouble,” he said.

It seemed we weren’t reading from the same page.

“And I mean big trouble,” he continued gravely. “I’ve been researching since last night. The place we hacked was Turk Telekom. The phone records. If we get caught, we’re really done for. If the police find out-and they’re bound to sooner or later-we’ll have everyone from the National Security Agency to the State Security Council on our backs. We’re in deep shit!”

His mother was right; he was tense. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink all night. And what he said was truly startling and extremely serious.

“Calm down,” I said automatically. “Start from the beginning, nice and slow…”

Far from calming down, he looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Mouth twisted, lips quivering, face beet red, he began:

“Like I said, we hacked Telekom last night. The records we sifted through belong to the national telecommunications company. Don’t you get it? Turk Telekom. It’s a crime against the state. I don’t know what the punishment is, but it’s a lot more than a slap on the wrist, that much I can tell you. If we get caught, we’re done for. They’ll finish us off. We’ve been used. I swear to Allah, if I get away with it this time I’ll give up hacking completely. All those figures and numbers were nothing other than telephone numbers and records. When I realized, I almost peed my pants. It’s terrifying. We’re in trouble. They’ll all be after us. And we’re bound to get caught. Red-handed. I’ll rot to death in prison in my wheelchair. You can imagine how they’ll treat me there. I can’t face that. I’m afraid. May Allah save us.”

I couldn’t allow him to go on like this. He had to come to his senses. The sahlep would take some time to make; his mother wasn’t likely to appear at the door anytime soon. I gave him a hard smack across the face.

“Get over it; calm down!”

The slap seemed to work. He was calmer, if only a bit… But he kept jabbering in the same hysterical tone.

“Did you know about it?”

“How was I supposed to know?” I said. “We landed the job. That’s all Ali told me. There was a go-between. The money was good, so he didn’t ask questions. Anyway, since when does anyone ask a lot of questions about this kind of work?”

“Exactly. We asked no questions and now we’ve landed in the shit. Up to our necks, no less. They paid me in advance, every last cent. What idiots, I thought to myself, as I counted it. Good God, forgive me my trespasses. I repent. Do you think He hears me?”

I tried, and failed, to suppress a chuckle. Here we were in the middle of a crisis, and I still couldn’t help laughing at the religious fervor of poor Kemal.

“Do you really think it’s so easy to get hold of Telekom’s records? To access the main cache?” I asked, my mirth cut short by a chilling awareness that, as Kemal put it, we were in deep shit. “Haven’t they got all kinds of firewalls and shields in place?”

“It’s child’s play,” he said. “The system’s extremely vulnerable. Anyone determined to access can.”

“So why didn’t they do it themselves?”

“What they actually had us do-had me do-was to make a tiny fraction of the records accessible, amid all that data. Then you accessed what I’d opened up and did what you wanted.”

“I basically destroyed the records they wanted deleted…” I said.

“It’s all over! I jump every time the doorbell rings. I expect the police to come and take me away any second.”

“Don’t be silly,” I said. “We’re experts. We both took every precaution to cover our tails. At least, I did. I didn’t leave any tracks. And you’re a pro, too… I know you are.”

“That may be, but I was working at home. If they pull out all the stops, they could still trace me.”

“What are you getting so worked up about?” I continued. “We’ll destroy any traces you may have left behind. They’ll never find you.”

“I’ve already done that.”

“So what’s the problem?” I asked. “Why panic? You’ve taken care of things.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m still scared. What if something happens to me and…”