Chapter Four

Ali woke up toward morning with a start, slightly disoriented with the strange room, light filtering in through unfamiliar curtains, a bed larger than the one he normally slept on, a strange female body next to him, naked, soft, and very much familiar to the touch, now that he touched her and Lily turned to him and smoothly glided into his arms, her thigh resting comfortably on his, her hand brushing the hair on his chest, her mouth melting into his. And so the morning started as the night ended and Ali stopped thinking and just enjoyed the beginning of a new day.

The Greek had not slept in the night, but sat up in his den quietly smoking his pipe while finishing a bottle of raki to ease the thoughts in his mind. There were too many memories associated with the people he now must see, too much bad blood, debts honored and paid, loyalties conflicted, grudges outstanding, love and hatred still simmering in pots long neglected. It was a world he walked away from years ago, and though there were still contacts kept, and some current business still transacted, there were some people he must see now who he swore never to see again. There were just too many wounds that could be reopened and the peace he had found in his twilight years, the peace he enjoyed with Irina, could be irrevocably altered. And he knew she knew this, and yet she said nothing. And he did not know if that was a blessing or not, for he feared nothing in life except the loss of her company. He could face whatever life chose to throw in his way, but he could not bear to lose the home he had created with the last love of his life. Yet he must reenter that world of shadows and shifting loyalties for the sake of his commitment to the one family that represented the good part of his past.
So though he longed for his bed and the warmth that awaited him there, he sat with smoke around his head and fire in his gut instead, and let the toughness that he had so diligently smoothed over resurface.

Lily wished she could make him breakfast. “I am a very good cook,” she said. “But here, in this hotel room, I do not have a kitchen.”
Ali smiled, thinking, she was breakfast enough, but did not say it. Instead he marveled at how quickly things changed, how a little scare like last night by those two men had frightened her enough to open her bed to him, her protector. And how much he enjoyed playing that role, especially for her.
“I was so frightened last night,” she said, “but now that you’re here, I’m not afraid anymore.”
And then she crawled into the safety of his arms and told her life story. “There is a fourteen year difference between my sister and me,” she said. “She was a surprise child for my parents and because she was unexpected, she has always been showered with attention by both them and me. And when our parents died several years ago in a car accident, she has been my responsibility. A kind of younger sister who is like a daughter to me, too.”
She grew silent then and Ali thought she had fallen asleep until he felt the tears she was crying wet his chest. He cradled her then, rocked her gently in his arms until the sobbing stopped and she drifted off into sleep. Ali laid there then, thinking. He was connected to her now, in the most primitive ways, and he would not only protect her, but would go out soon to search again for her sister. And as she restlessly stirred against him, he held her tighter, and soon slipped off to sleep himself.

There were Kurds in Tarlabaşi that The Greek needed to see. He was never very popular with them, even in the old days when he had dealings with them, there always being a feeling of distrust coloring any business they conducted, but he knew at least if he asked a question of the right Kurd, he would get an honest answer. And though they always suspected he sided with the Russians, there were some who knew him well enough to know it was only with some Russians, and they knew he had killed a few himself once, so they showed him the proper respect that they would show someone, who although not an ally, was also not a competitor.
Emre was small, wiry, intense. His mouth seemed to be in a perpetual frown, and his eyes burned holes in whatever he looked at. With The Greek he wore tinted sunglasses, out of respect, for he knew The Greek had once saved his father’s business, and thus he was honor bound to call him uncle, so when The Greek showed up at the social club he held court in, he rose to give a proper greeting, and put the sunglasses on so his eyes would not offend unintentionally. They retired to a back room, leaving the men who looked up with suspicion to their cards and their cigarette smoke.
“We have not seen you here in a long time, uncle,” he said after they both were seated and cay was brought in by one of the boys in training.
“I am not in business anymore,” The Greek said. “Just asking this as a favor.”
“And this favor involves us?”
“I’m not sure,” The Greek said and sipped his tea. “But whether it does or not, hopefully you can help direct me to those who can.”
“Any service, uncle, that I can provide, I will provide.”
The Greek nodded, sipped some more, watched Emre stir sugar into his tea and waited until the spoon was replaced on the saucer to continue. “I am looking for a Chinese girl,” he said. “A girl brought here along the old Silk Road for trade.”
“Chinese?” Emre asked. “I know of people who trade in women but Russians mainly, and Eastern Europeans. No one I know trades in Chinese.”
“I was told the Kurds traded them.”
“And who told you that, uncle?” His eyes started to burn behind the glasses but he lowered them instead of looking directly at The Greek. “Could it be Russians who said that?”
“Yes,” The Greek said.
“They are lying.”
“These are liable Russians.”
“Then they are mistaken,” and Emre blew on his tea before sipping.
“Could it be some Kurds you do not know?”
Emre sat back in his chair and looked at his glass thoughtfully, as if it might contain the answer to this question. He stared at it for a long moment, then shrugged. “Maybe,” he said finally. “I do not know every Kurd, but I do know we have no business with the Chinese. The Arabs, of course, and some export women there, but not any Chinese that I know of.” He looked at The Greek then and tried to smile. “I will ask around for you, uncle, but I do not expect any answer other than the Russians. It sounds like something they would do. They have a long association with the Chinese, after all. Do they not, uncle?”
“Perhaps my source is misinformed,” The Greek conceded.
“Maybe you should see that bunch in Selamsiz, uncle,” Emre said. And though he did not make any reference to it, he knew The Greek knew that bunch very well. He was, though, not surprised to see no change in The Greek’s features on mentioning that gang. “But I will ask on your behalf here.”
“Thank you,” The Greek said and drained his tea in one long swallow. “That is all I ask.”

Ali decided to go back to the hotel alone and was not surprised when Lily did not ask to join him. She has had a scare, he thought, and needs time to recover. But he held her before he left and thought how pleasurable it would be to return. “Hurry back,” she breathed into his ear. “I miss you already.”

It took him almost an hour to get across the bridge and then another half hour to get to Taksim. His frustration at the traffic, though, did not compare to the frustration that awaited him at the hotel when he inquired about the assistant clerk.
“He doesn’t work here anymore,” a new clerk told him.
“But he was here yesterday,” Ali said.
“What was true yesterday, cousin, is not true today.”
“And his supervisor? When does he get in?”
“He doesn’t work here anymore, either. I’m the new head at the front desk.”
“All this since yesterday?”
“All this starting today.”
“Could you give me their addresses? I need to speak to them about some business we discussed yesterday.”
“Sorry, cousin, but we don’t have records of where they live.”
“Their names then?”
“Sorry, cousin, but no one here remembers.”
Ali looked at him in disbelief. He had dealt with uncooperative people before, especially when navigating the bureaucratic maze of government offices, but this blatant lying was a new high in mid-level arrogance. He wanted to reach across the front desk and smack this smug little man but knew that would get him nowhere. Instead he leaned across and said, “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, do you, cousin?”
“Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t know,” said a voice that sounded all too familiar behind him. Ali turned to see the two from last night blocking his exit through the lobby. The shorter one smirked and said mockingly, “Do you, cousin?” Then he looked at the new head clerk and said, “He bothering you, bro?”
“I do have work to do,” the clerk said.
“You want us to remove him?” and he sneered as the bigger one moved next to Ali and put his arm around his shoulder, tightening his grip. Ali tried to shrug it off but the grip was too tight and only made the bigger one grin.
“I think he’s leaving now anyway,” the clerk said.
“You leaving, cousin?” the smaller one asked.
“Yes,” Ali nodded.
“You need help finding your way?” the smaller one asked, his smirk growing broader.
“No,” Ali said.
“And you got all questions answered? No need to come back anymore, right, cousin?”
“Right,” Ali said, his teeth clenched against the pain in his shoulder as the bigger one tightened his grip even harder.
“Then be on your way, cousin,” and the smaller one nodded his head to the bigger one who released him. “Insallah.”
Ali nodded, walked a little stiffly to the front entrance, and, without looking back, was gone.

The Greek was in Selamsiz where the word Natasha meant prostitute and the choice appeared limitless. It saddened him, remembering Irina on these same streets over a decade ago but he had no time for any emotions that could get in the way of what he must do. There were Russians here he had to see, and as much as he did not relish the thought of seeing them again, he knew the feelings would be reciprocal. For there was bad blood between these Russians and him and even though years have passed, the feelings remained.
He found the social club just as he remembered it: dark, filled with smoke, men in dark suit jackets, no ties, gold chains around their necks, their shirts open three buttons, hunched over their card games oblivious to everything until he walked through the door. Then suddenly the room was deathly quiet and the smoke seemed to part. They all looked at him with blank faces, though he could, if he looked closely enough, catch a glimmer of hatred in those dead, dark eyes, but he was too busy looking into the eyes of a younger man, in his early thirties, sitting at a table toward the front of the room. Those eyes were not expressionless, and The Greek knew the years did not erase the stain on either of their hearts.
“Well look who comes here,” the younger man said. “And what can we do for you, grandfather? Looking for another girlfriend at your age?”
“I’m looking for Ivan,” The Greek said.
“You’re out of touch, grandfather,” the younger man said and laughed. “Ivan is no longer here. He’s dead,” and he smirked, “like you should be.”
“Surely,” The Greek said, smirking himself, “he didn’t leave a boy in his place.” And he looked around at the mostly younger men sitting at the tables. “Who’s in charge now of this…” and his lips curled as he spoke the word “…establishment.”
“I’m no boy, grandfather” said the younger man standing.
“And I’m no grandfather,” said The Greek. “Now tell me who’s in charge before I lose my patience and teach you how to respect your elders.”
“Teach me?” and the younger man started to advance, his fists clenched, the hair up on his back.
But before he crossed more than three steps a voice called out from the corner, “I’m in charge now, uncle. And Vitaly, you can sit down.”
The Greek looked over to see an even older, more familiar face, but one that still knew how to listen before he spoke, and who knew The Greek long before the younger Vitaly was born.
“So,” Andrei said, “you have come for a reason, uncle? Or do you just want a glass of cay?”
“For information,” The Greek said, “but a glass of cay would be good.”
“Then come sit here, uncle. I have a nice spot just for you,” and he indicated the chair next to him with its back to the wall. “You’d be comfortable here, don’t you think?”
The Greek nodded, crossed slowly to the corner passing Vitaly without even looking at him. And when he was settled, Andrei turned to the room and said, “Vitaly, go bring our uncle some cay.”
“Why me?” he said, his eyes flashing hot, his body tense.
“Why not?” Andrei said and his look could freeze the blood in any man who dared oppose him. So Vitaly got up, knocking his chair back as he stood, and stomped out to the back room to get the tea, and Andrei smiled The Greek’s way as he said in a voice loud enough for Vitaly to hear, “I’ll drink some, too.”
They stared at each other, both with the traces of a smile on their lips, in their eyes, while waiting for the tea. And once it arrived, they sipped, rubbed their fingertips together, sipped some more. The Greek could not help noticing that Andrei had aged considerably since he last saw him a decade ago. He was still handsome, though his eyes seemed deeper inside his skull and there were more lines on his face. His body, though, was still lean and muscular, but his shoulders sloped a bit, The Greek thought, from the weight of taking on the mantle of boss of his uncle’s former family. He was not Ivan, The Greek knew, who could control his businesses and still looked rested and carefree. Andrei seemed to bear the burden more visibly than his uncle had.
Finally Andrei said, “So, uncle, what information do you seek from us?”
“I am looking for a Chinese girl,” The Greek said.
“Oh?” Andrei said, his eyebrow rising. “Is this for you personally?”
“It’s for a friend,” The Greek said. “He’s trying to find her. We believe she is here to work in an occupation other than the one she applied for.”
“A common dilemma many young girls find themselves in.”
“And I wonder if you know anything about who is working in the Chinese trade,”
He shook his head. “No, uncle. We only specialize in natashas who are mostly Russian, or Eastern European. They are very popular with our local customers and I, personally, see no profit in diversifying.”
“I was told someone here on this side might be, though.”
“And who told you that, uncle?” And he gazed pensively at The Greek. “Could it have been our Kurdish friends? Surely you don’t believe the things they say about us?”
“It seems everyone says the same thing,” The Greek said. “And everyone points fingers at everyone else.”
“Then someone is lying, uncle,” and he smiled. “But who could that be?”
“I don’t know,” The Greek said, “but I will have to find out.”
“I wish you luck, uncle. But as a word of advice, which I am sure you don’t need,” and his smile was almost cordial, “be careful where you ask the questions. People get sensitive here about the kind of work they do.”
The Greek nodded, finished his tea and placed the glass carefully back on its saucer. “Thanks for the cay and the hospitality.”
“Any time, uncle. It’s always pleasant to see an old timer who still knows his way around.”
The Greek stood, turned, and began his slow walk out. As he passed Vitaly, though, the young Russian spoke loudly enough for him to hear, “Tell Irina if she still wants work, I can always find it for her.” He said it in Russian, knowing The Greek knew it, and hoping he would pretend he didn’t.
The Greek stopped, turned to face him, tilted his head quizzically, a half smile on his lips, and asked, “Pardon?”
Vitaly laughed, and some others, too, joined him, but Andrei just sat still as stone. “What’s the matter, grandfather? Hard of hearing?”
And The Greek stepped one step closer, his right ear inclined toward Vitaly, his right hand halfway to his ear, cupping it as if to hear better. “Pardon?” he said again.
And Vitaly started to rise, to shout in his ear so he could not pretend to not hear, but when he was halfway up, The Greek suddenly pivoted on his right foot, brought his left leg up and kicked Vitaly sharply in the groin, then, as he started to double over, grabbed his hair with his left hand, pulled him up against him, turning him as he did, and magically produced a knife in his right hand which he held against his throat. Some of the others started to rise from their seats but stopped as The Greek said, “I’ll slit his throat if anyone comes near.”
Everyone froze, except for Andrei who said in Russian, “Stay.”
Then The Greek hissed into Vitaly’s ear, “Pardon? You said something to me?”
Vitaly muttered, “No.”
“Nothing?” The Greek asked. “You said nothing?”
“Yes,” Vitaly said. “Nothing.”
“That’s good,” The Greek said. “Make sure you always say nothing to me.” Then he lowered the knife and pushed Vitaly away. “Anyone else have nothing to say to me?”
Andrei laughed then, and he stood. “You made your point, uncle. No one here has nothing to say to you.” And he nodded in appreciation. “It is always good to see an old timer who knows his way around.”
And The Greek left the same way he came in: slowly, deliberately, with dignity.