Yasemın Aydinoğlu - Istanbul Noir

Privileged, that’s what I am. I walk over to the living room, where my assistant is keeping an eye on Zekeriya. The door is wide open. Poor Zekeriya. He has more blood on his face and chest than when I left him. Actually, there’s quite a puddle around him. He doesn’t look too happy. In fact, I’m not sure he’s conscious. My assistant has found another rope in his bag to tie him to the chair, so he stays upright, but his head is hanging to one side. I sit down at a distance on the sofa. I feel good. Look, Zekeriya is coming to. His head jolts back and forth, and he opens his eyes. They’re swollen. Did my assistant punch them? Well, our friend asked for it. He’ll think twice about leaving us again. I’d be surprised if he doesn’t show up at our next meeting. I’ve raised his contribution a little too. That’ll teach him.

Oh look! I can’t believe it. Is my young assistant getting a hammer out of that bag of his? Yes, yes, look at him. He puts a nail on the middle of Zekeriya’s head. Right on the top. Zekeriya is not quite aware yet of what’s going to hit him. Ha ha, that’s a funny pun. One, two, three, bang! Now he knows. I think I’d better stop my assistant. The nail is for the next time. We must give him a chance to repent.

I sense reluctance, but my assistant puts his tools away. He’s a reliable fellow. Someday I’ll show him what else can be done with a hammer and nail. Amazingly effective tools, actually. My hand still hurts from that time my father nailed me to the doorpost, and how many years has it been? But I’ll keep that for later.

Before we shut the door behind us I hear blubbering from the bathroom. I tell my assistant to get the elevator. He presses the button. He likes that.

Author’s note: In the year 2000, the Turkish police carried out a major operation in Istanbul, raiding cells of an illegal organization and killing their leader at the end of a four-hour armed clash. The organization called itself Hezbollah, which means Party of God. Buried in safe houses scattered throughout the country, the police found nearly a hundred bodies of Hezbollah’s victims, including women. Most of them were small businessmen who had been supporting the organization, but had lost faith in its cause. All victims had been severely tortured.

Şaşkınbakkal

By the time he reached the Marmara shore, his lungs were about to explode. He darted across all four lanes of the coastal road, its white stripes shining beneath the orange glow of towering streetlamps, the cars racing by as if speeding were some kind of prerequisite for driving in the wee hours of the night. He had neither the time nor the courage to look back. And rightly so, for just a few yards later he heard someone yell out, telling him to stop. He’d heard it the first time, as he began hightailing it down from Baghdad Avenue, and he knew well and good what the third time meant. Back in the day, he wouldn’t have had to run at all. But these guys were new to the job, they didn’t know how to grease their palms. Yet. Right? Or maybe they were just idealistic kids who refused. Once upon a time, I would’ve refused too. Once upon a time, money wasn’t everything. Once upon a time. But Teoman was no slacker, he had his boys’ backs. Right? Or maybe these guys aren’t idealists, just a little slicker than their predecessors? A little too greedy, pushing for five instead of three? Run. Run, goddamnit. Then again, what the hell if I get caught? I’ll just get roughed up, grin and bear a couple days of questioning, and be out before you know it. Nothing new to me. Besides, it’s not really me they’re after. They know who I am, the shit I’m up to. I’m a little fish. It’s only been two years since I started, though I’m no rookie. I’m not falling for it; I know exactly what those guys dish out, and how much. And those laws that are changing as Turkey tries to get its eager little foot in the door to the European Union, well, they’re in my favor. Their beef is really with Teoman, not me. And damned if they’ll ever catch him. None of you guys have ever even seen him, let alone know where he is! That man’s got your daddies on a leash!

Should I ditch the bags? Ditch ’em, get rid of ’em, then plead your case before that asshole Teoman. Right! “You know how much that shit’s worth, huh?” “Of course, boss.” Fucking heartless dwarf! No way you can explain. The man won’t listen. Better to risk it.

I nearly stumble. Not far now. The lights over on that side are out. What luck! And right at the breakwater too. C’mon, Tufan! Run. Keep it up, boy. Dude, if you go and fill up a shore with sand, then you doll it up with some fucking fast growing trees! That’s what you’re supposed to do. Damn city... Now I’m just a sitting duck. It’s all in the legs. My lungs are gonna explode. I can’t breathe.

The third warning came just a few steps from his destination.

I don’t know how, but I feel it; these guys don’t give a shit about the law; they’re not gonna just fire into the air. Fucking rookies! Into the air, dudes, into the air!

A shot rings out. He thrusts himself between two high-speed boats docked inside the breakwater. Man, that hurt. Knee, elbow, pain from head to toe. But don’t move. This place is dark enough. Maybe they won’t see you.

He waited, his breath bated. He didn’t budge. The pain, it would pass. It was all about not getting caught. Actually, it wasn’t so much about not getting caught as it was about not getting caught right now . Because tomorrow is Sunday. And that means Yeliz is coming over. The girl’s only got one day off a week as it is, and I can’t spend that day in custody. Keep it up, just a little longer. I’m wearing black, and I’m surrounded by darkness. And there’s no moon. Lie down flat. Hide your face, don’t let it shine. Maybe they won’t see you. They might think you’ve escaped.

Damn it, quit prancing around! Fuck off already! Go look for me somewhere else!

Wait! Best to crawl between the boats. I learned this crawling thing back in the military. Don’t raise your ass; keep your knees to the ground, go easy on the cartilage. On your knees, that’s right. Just like they got you doing in civilian life too. Well, damned if I can’t crawl with the best of ’em. Oh yeah, that’s it. Slowly. Right there, between the boats.

Tufan, a dealer on Baghdad Avenue, slithered his way between two canvas-clad boats, and continued on all fours.

Just a little further. That’s it, right there. There are more than twenty boats here. And it’s dark. They’ll never find you. Ha! They’re not even coming. Stupid rookies. Wait a minute. Let me just stick my head out here a bit. Aha. They’re gone. Idiots! Wait, maybe they’ve gone down below?

He leaned over and looked down at the concrete path along the coast. All clear. Well fuck me! Those guys really are rookies. Man, it’s not like I disappeared into thin air, the least you could do is come down and take a look.

I can’t believe it! I lost them! The suckers are gone. Yes! Tufan, my man, just wait a little bit, and then go home and reward yourself. You deserve it. Seems I ain’t such a bad sprinter after all!

What? Wait a second. What’s that? Hold on, there’s someone there. Over there, way at the end of the breakwater. Holy shit! They’re not gone after all.

Tufan quickly crouched back down, his heart racing once again.

How did I miss them? They must have slipped by me, hurried all the way down there. Impossible, but... Wait a second.

He held his breath, poked his head out, slowly.

There were two of them. But this guy’s alone. And he’s just sitting there. What the...? At this hour? Maybe he’s one of those winos. Or some guy with the blues, got himself a bottle of wine, swinging his legs over the sea. Maybe he’s about to drown himself. Maybe he’s trying to decide, right now. But then that’s everyone’s predicament in this country, right? Sucked the life out of every damn one of us. Wait! Maybe he’s got some money on him. A swift kick to the head, take the money, and run. Better than showing up at Teoman’s empty-handed.