Spoils of War, page 31
There was nothing left to do but wait. Feeling suddenly exhausted, he stretched out on the bunk and fell into an uncomfortable doze.
He was aroused by the sound of the bolt on the door being slammed back. The lieutenant and another MP entered the cell, the officer snapping his fingers and gesturing for Jack to accompany them. A glance at his watch told him it was a quarter past three.
He didn’t bother trying to ask where he was being taken. The two men marched briskly beside him, back down the corridor and up a flight of concrete stairs. They stopped at the first of a row of unmarked doors and the lieutenant rapped on it. A voice invited him to enter.
The room into which Jack was led smelt of dust and looked as though it wasn’t regularly used as anything but a storeroom. Boxes full of papers were stacked on wooden shelves that rose to the ceiling against two walls. The window had no curtains or blinds and overlooked a vehicle park. The only furnishings were a plain deal table and two metal-framed chairs.
The man who sat behind the table was young and slim, with silky black hair, a carefully trimmed moustache and watchful brown eyes. He wore a khaki uniform with a red armband, and there were three stars on his shoulderboards. A captain, one step up from the lieutenant, which Jack supposed was an improvement.
He spoke briefly to Jack’s escort. The lieutenant clicked his heels and left the room. The other MP took up a position by the door. Without expression, the captain gestured to Jack to take the chair facing him.
The briefcase he had dropped in the ditch at Yildiz Fort stood beside the table. The documents removed from it lay in front of the officer, with the photocopies made in Zunckel’s office at the top. Next to them the passport and the other possessions that had been taken from Jack were arranged. There was also a thin green file cover, a portable tape recorder, a notepad, a metal ashtray, a Zippo lighter and an open packet of Maltepe cigarettes. These the captain pushed across the table towards Jack.
‘Smoke if you wish.’
‘No.’ The offer sounded more like a concession than an invitation. ‘Let’s get down to business. I want to know where I am, and where my friend Miss Griggs is. I want to know why we’ve been arrested, and who you are.’
‘This is the Kisla barracks. I am Jandarma Captain Yekta. Your American friend is at the Selimiye barracks, across the straits. You have both been detained for questioning about a serious terrorist incident.’ The captain rattled this off with an easy assurance, lighting a cigarette for himself. Then he opened the passport, glanced at the photograph and compared it with Jack’s face. ‘And your name is Rushton?’
‘That’s what it says, doesn’t it?’ Jack replied testily. ‘I assume you’ve been given the job of questioning me because you speak English, Captain, so please understand this: I realize I have some explaining to do, but I object to being treated like a criminal. I was a witness to that incident, not a perpetrator.’
‘Only a witness?’ Yekta raised an eyebrow. ‘You told the lieutenant somebody had tried to kill you. If that is so, perhaps they will try again. You should be glad to have our protection.’
So the military policeman had understood him after all. ‘Protection isn’t what it feels like. You have no right to lock me up against my will.’
‘Under the Turkish penal code we have every right.’
‘Did the lieutenant also tell you that I want to see a doctor? And someone from the British Consulate?’
‘A doctor will attend to you shortly. The request for consular assistance has been passed to the appropriate authorities,’ Yekta said blandly, ‘but of course these things take time to arrange. I was hoping we might clear this up before any outside intervention becomes necessary. For the moment I would like us to have an informal discussion. Why not start by telling me your view of what happened this afternoon?’
‘It’s not my view. It’s what did happen. Those men in the car tried to run me over. They did the same to Miss Griggs. After that the shooting started.’
‘What’s your connection with those men?’
‘I have no connection with them. I don't believe I’ve ever seen them before.’
‘Then why do you think they were trying to kill you?’
‘I don’t think it, I know it.’
‘Who are the people in these photographs?’ The captain pointed to the papers taken from the briefcase.
‘I believe they were officers of the Mukhabarat, the Iraqi secret police. I’ve been told they’re all now dead.’
‘Dead?’ said Yekta incredulously. ‘Do you usually carry pictures of dead men around with you?’
‘You’ll have to let me start at the beginning. I –’
‘Are you familiar with a terrorist organization called Emegin Birligi?’ Yekta interrupted. ‘The Grey Wolves?’
‘I’ve heard of them,’ Jack said uneasily.
‘How have you heard? They are not much known outside Turkey.’
In the way the Turk framed his questions and jumped from one subject to another, Jack recognized a deliberate attempt to throw him off balance. What was more, it was succeeding.
‘I didn’t know they existed until I arrived here. Look, Captain, I’m not trying to be difficult, but there’s a short cut through all this. Miss Griggs and I went to Yildiz Fort this afternoon to see Mrs Delkin, the wife of General Delkin. We met her last night, and then this morning she arranged for us to talk to her husband on the phone. She was meant to meet us at the gates. Ask her. She’ll confirm it all.’
‘We have already asked her. She does confirm those details. She was walking to the gates when the shooting began.’
‘Then what’s the problem?’
‘The fact that you met her doesn’t prove anything. You were two strangers asking to talk to her husband but refusing to say why. She has no way of confirming your identity. And at present neither do I.’
‘You’ve got my passport,’ Jack protested. ‘You’ve got my credit cards and –’
‘Passports can be forged, cards can be stolen. In a matter like this we have to be quite certain who we are dealing with. We are checking the authenticity of your papers with the British authorities, but that, too, will take time. Meanwhile, you can make things easier for both of us by co-operating.’
‘I’m trying to do that,’ Jack said. ‘But General Delkin knows the background. I’d find it easier to explain to him.’
‘The general is not available.’
‘He was available at two o’clock, and he was going to talk to me on the phone. That should say something about my bona fides.’
‘I have spoken to the general too,’ the Turk said with studied casualness. ‘He knows no more about you than his wife does, except that he has already refused to talk to you once. This time he agreed to do so at her request, but only out of courtesy. He intended to advise you not to go on wasting your time as well as his. He has plenty of work to do on the border. He has asked for a report on this matter, but has left me to handle it.’
Jack gave a despondent shrug. Yekta opened the green file, extracted two photographs from it and slid them across the table. ‘I will begin by asking if you recognize either of these men.’
They were composite mug shots, full-face and profile, two youngish men of Middle Eastern appearance looking startled by the camera flash.
‘I’ve never seen them,’ Jack said.
‘Members of Emegin Birligi.’ Yekta stubbed out his cigarette and lit another. ‘Both with previous records, both wanted until today for various terrorist and criminal offences. One was arrested in a car outside Yildiz Fort shortly after the shootings and the explosion. The other, his friend and regular fellow-criminal, was killed in the car that was blown up. Of the two that were with them, one was also killed and the other captured. The Turk who survived has already identified them as two Iraqis who entered this country last night on false Egyptian papers. Now tell me why they wanted to kill you, Mr Rushton.’
‘Why not ask them? The ones who survived.’
‘We are doing so even now. But I want to hear your version.’
‘It’s a long story,’ Jack said with a sigh.
Yekta pressed a button on the tape recorder. ‘Tell it to me anyway. I have plenty of time.’
It took nearly half an hour to tell. Jack could see no way to avoid recounting any of the information he had been given, and the only detail he insisted on keeping to himself was the identity of Hamadi. Captain Yekta didn’t press him on this point. He listened mostly in silence, making notes on his pad and lighting more cigarettes, filling the room with smoke. The soldier who stood by the door was finding it hard to suppress a cough.
When Jack had finished Yekta switched off the recorder, sat back and was silent for a minute. Then he said: ‘So. You are asking me to believe that you travelled all this way in the hope of meeting someone who had already refused to talk to you, and that all you wanted to discuss with him was something that is only a theory in your own head.’
‘When you put it like that –’
‘And that for the sake of this theory the Iraqi secret police were prepared to kill you?’
‘The fact that they tried seems to prove that I’m right.’
‘Other things puzzle me,’ Yekta said. ‘After the kidnapping of this Kurd, Karim, you knew the police would want to question you, but you went ahead and left England. Why?’
‘I didn’t want to be delayed.’ Jack knew this wasn’t going to sound good. ‘Also, if I’d talked to the police they’d have wanted to know the whole background, and I was obliged not to reveal it. I didn’t think I could help them much anyway.’
‘Was that for you to judge?’
‘Perhaps not.’
‘You certainly had things to hide. When you accepted the commission from this man in Kuwait, didn’t it worry you to know that murder and blackmail had given rise to it?’
‘Yes, it did. But nothing could change what had happened. I was helping him out of an immediate difficulty.’
‘And also helping yourself out of financial trouble,’ Yekta said. ‘Another thing: I find it hard to take seriously this idea about the smuggling of gold into Turkey, but if you believed it yourself why did you not take steps to inform our authorities?’
‘What could I have told them? I don’t know anything for certain. I was hoping General Delkin might tell me something.’
‘You knew enough to go and discuss it with the phanariot, Zakarios. I have to say that I do not find your story satisfactory, Mr Rushton. What is it that you are not telling me? Were you hoping to get your hands on this gold yourself?’
‘For Christ’s sake!’ Jack exploded. He had had enough of the Turk’s self-righteousness, enough of everything. ‘I may have stuck my neck out a bit, Captain, but I’m not that stupid. I’ve told you everything I know, and I don’t bloody care whether you believe it or not. I’m not answering any more questions until someone from the consulate comes to spring me out of here. And when that happens, I’m mentioning your name as part of a formal complaint about the way I’ve been treated.’
The MP at the door had been jolted into alertness by this outburst, but Yekta sat unmoved. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I cannot force you to co-operate. But please be under no illusion that any representations from your consul will secure your release. For the present there is no question of your leaving these barracks.’
‘For the present?’ Jack said numbly. ‘How long does that mean?’
‘For as long as necessary. This is what I will tell your consul: I have a suspected Arab terrorist in my custody who may have tried to kill your citizen Mr Rushton. I am detaining Rushton firstly for his own protection, and secondly because he refuses to co-operate fully in my investigation. If I release him and return his passport, he may flee the country and be unavailable for further questioning. Alternatively, there may be another attempt on his life. It’s an argument that will be well received, I assure you.’ Yekta rapped out an order to the guard on the door, who stepped forward and put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. ‘I advise you to think matters over carefully, Mr Rushton. Perhaps we will talk again later.’
Back in his cell, Jack was visited after an hour by an army doctor who examined his arm, bandaged it up, fashioned a sling for it and gave him aspirins for the pain. He spoke only halting English but confirmed that no bones were broken. Apparently unaware of Jack’s circumstances, he advised him to get the arm X-rayed for possible muscle damage when he got home.
Nothing else happened for the rest of the afternoon. At half-past six a military policeman brought him a tray with a meal of lamb stew and rice that was surprisingly edible, though he didn’t have much appetite. Before the guard left, and again when he returned to collect the tray, Jack tried to ask him if there was news of anyone’s arriving from the British consulate. The man was not unfriendly but he shrugged uncomprehendingly.
Jack lay down on the bunk again with a creeping sense of despair. Matters were far worse than they had looked when he’d first been arrested. He saw now that coming to Istanbul on the off-chance of meeting Delkin had been a mistake. Innocent though it was, it was bound to seem unconvincing to a man like Yekta, and with Delkin refusing to intercede on Jack’s part it would appear even more so. Now that Yekta had got it into his head that he was hiding something, how was he to be persuaded otherwise? What could Jack say that he hadn’t said already? He found himself wishing he did have more information up his sleeve, and began to understand why prisoners under interrogation tried to satisfy their captors by confessing to crimes they hadn’t committed.
He fell asleep again. Just before half-past eight the cell door banged open. It was the lieutenant, accompanied by another MP. Although the officer still didn’t speak, his manner seemed a little less curt; knowing now that he did have some English, Jack said: ‘Is it someone from the consulate?’
The lieutenant made no reply. Jack felt his spirits lifting slightly as they marched him along a corridor and up the stairs again. It was possible that Yekta had been bluffing about the consul’s inability to get him out of here. At the very least the Turks couldn’t deny the consulate access to a prisoner, and once he got a chance to tell his story to a British official wheels would surely begin to turn on his behalf.
They halted at the same door as before. The lieutenant knocked and Captain Yekta answered.
It was pitch dark outside the uncurtained window and the room was lit only by a single dim bulb. Jack’s heart sank when he saw that Yekta was on his own, this time standing by the table. There was a change in his demeanour as well, though; he seemed wary rather than hostile as he looked the prisoner over.
‘You’ve had your arm attended to, I see.’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you any complaints about the conditions in which you are being detained?’
‘Only about the fact that I’m here at all. Does your sudden concern for my welfare mean that you’ve heard from my consulate?’
‘I will come to that in a moment. First I have other news for you. We have now extracted a certain amount of information from the Iraqi who was captured after the shooting today. It appears his name is Issa Shakir. He was –’
‘Shakir!’ Jack interrupted. ‘That was the name of –’
‘Yes, Ali Shakir, the man you told me had visited your British army acquaintance in England, was Issa’s brother. Ali was blown up in the car today.’ For the first time Yekta gave him a smile, a self-satisfied baring of even white teeth. ‘Issa has been too distraught with grief to put up much resistance to our interrogators. It seems the two of them had orders to kill you, although they were never told exactly why. They followed you to Zurich and then here to Istanbul, where they had the assistance of the Grey Wolves. The instructions came from their superior in London, a man who apparently is the resident head of the Mukhabarat there. It was he, too, who ordered the kidnapping and murder of the Kurd, Karim.’
Jack felt a strange blend of relief and excitement. ‘So you believe me now?’ he said triumphantly. ‘You admit I was right? My story checks out all the way, doesn’t it?’
A hundred other questions crowded his mind, but he paused. Yekta’s smile had given way to a look that warned him not to get carried away. ‘What is it, Captain? Have I missed something?’
‘You asked about the British consulate. Yes, they have been in touch with us. They have been informed that they may visit you on Wednesday if you have not been released by then.’
‘In two days’ time? But what’s to stop you letting me go now? This clears everything up, doesn’t it?’
‘Unfortunately it also creates further complications. The consulate has been told that you will not be available. You are being moved out of Istanbul.’
Now Jack saw something that he had missed while his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Beside the table stood not only his briefcase but also a travel bag, his own bag, brought here from the Pera Palace.
‘Moved to where?’ he said disbelievingly.
‘You are being taken to Hakkari,’ Yekta said. ‘You will leave at once and your American friend will join you en route. I cannot explain further, except to say that General Delkin wishes to question you both in person.’
29
He was as much a prisoner as ever but he was being treated with some deference now, almost apologetically. He was given his bag and allowed a few minutes in an adjacent washroom to clean up and change into fresh clothes. Then the lieutenant and three other military policemen hurried him back to the vehicle park at the rear of the barracks, where another van was waiting. There were no handcuffs this time, and the guards allowed him to share a bench with them, offering him unwanted cigarettes and miming their concern over the state of his bandaged arm.
He had got over his initial dismay. In fact, despite the questions that remained unanswered, he had begun to feel there was an element of bluff involved in this after all. They no longer had a pretext for holding him; and it was General Delkin who wanted to see him now, not the other way round. He suspected that if he’d complained loudly enough and again demanded to see his consul they would have given in and released him. However, he had put up only a token protest. This was almost certainly the only chance he would get of meeting Delkin, and it was worth paying the price of remaining formally in custody.
