“What was that?”
Stepping out into the deserted Grand Bazaar, Augusta could have sworn she saw the shadows move around them. She stared out into the darkness, trying to get her bearings in this oldest of shopping malls. Across the hall a shoe store was decked out in posters advertising leather loafers, and beside it an ice cream parlor tantalized non-existent passersby with a blinking fluorescent ice cream cone. In the dim, blinking light, Augusta could see only shadows. It might just be her imagination playing tricks on her.
“Did you see something?” Erol asked with concern.
“I’m not sure.” Augusta pointed vaguely down the dark corridor. “I thought I saw something move down there.”
At these words the darkness solidified into the shadowy outline of a human figure, which took off running in the opposite direction.
Augusta’s heart sank. She knew, without even seeing his face clearly, that it was the man who had followed her to the museum earlier, the man with the aviator sunglasses. He had the same trim build, light brown hair, and leather jacket as the man she had seen earlier. It had to be the same person.
Erol took a few rapid steps, as if intending to run after the man, but then grabbed his leg in pain.
“I can’t run,” he moaned, leaning against a wall.
“So much the better,” Eda said sharply. “You don’t need to go chasing after bad guys in the dark. When will you learn, Erol? You could have gotten us all killed today when you charged off by yourself looking for criminals in their secret hideout. Did you even think about that?”
It was the first time since they rescued Erol that Eda had said anything critical to her brother. In their relief at escaping from the bath in one piece, Eda seemed to have forgotten her frustration with his rashness. Now it all came out, and she switched to rapid-fire Turkish as Augusta and Mark looked away with embarrassment.
Erol, still leaning against the wall and wincing in pain, stared straight ahead for a few moments, listening. Finally, he broke into Eda’s tirade, speaking in a conciliatory tone. Whatever he said to her in Turkish seemed to calm her down. Augusta could tell he was practiced in managing his sister’s warm but volatile emotions.
Mark joined the conversation, and the three of them seemed to be discussing something—perhaps the plan, because Erol turned to Augusta and said, “Ready?”
“For what?”
“We decided Mark and Eda will look around the bazaar for the man who ran away, or any other connections to the Rumelovs. They’ll see if they can find the main entrance around here, or maybe in the mosque. You know the Beyazit mosque is right beside us here. Based on what I heard from the men who beat me up, I think the main entrance might be somewhere around the mosque.”
“I thought we needed to find Professor Meral?”
“That’s what you and I will do. We’re splitting up.”
Augusta didn’t like the sound of that at all—she couldn’t help feeling they were safer together. But apparently the decision had already been made, and she trusted that her friends knew more than she did. She felt completely out of her depth, running around the dark bowels of Istanbul at night searching for book thieves and occultists.
She and Erol said goodbye to Mark and Eda, who set off quietly down the corridor and disappeared into inky black shadows. Then the two of them turned in the other direction and made their way out of the bazaar, back into the street Augusta had walked down earlier with Eda and Mark. But Erol led her in the opposite direction, following the tree-lined avenue to a wide open square.
Augusta could see an old-fashioned mosque to their left, and to their right was a large, ornately decorated stone archway. She paused for a moment to admire the delicately pointed Islamic arches, the beautiful latticework carved into the stone, the symmetrical crenellated towers on each side. A clock at the top of one tower told her it was almost eleven—Augusta yawned and tried to forget how tired she was.
The two of them kept walking, although it was slow progress with Erol’s injured leg.
“Are you okay?” Augusta kept asking him.
“I’m fine.” Erol was limping slightly, but he brushed away all Augusta’s concerns that he should rest instead of pursuing the Rumelovs.
“No, I have to make sure Professor Meral is okay,” he said every time she gently suggested a different plan.
“Yes, but someone else can do that,” Augusta pointed out reasonably. “Let’s call the police. Or at least let Mark and Eda do it. You’re in no condition to walk.”
“I’m fine,” he said again. “I’ll rest tomorrow, after we know she’s okay. Maybe she can even help us find the lost discourses, now that they’re…” He paused and sighed. “Lost.”
Augusta smiled faintly, but she just wanted it all to be over. She was tired, worried, and sick of the uncertainty that continually surrounded her here. Not only could she not understand the language and culture, but she didn’t know where her grandfather’s book was, why it had been stolen, or how she was going to get it back. And now she had to worry about Professor Meral, and the man with the aviator sunglasses who was apparently still following her around Istanbul. She felt lost in more ways than one as they trudged slowly across the square.
Erol knew the area very well. He led her down a small side street, weaving around parked cars, the occasional tree, and what seemed to be armies of cats patrolling the neighborhood. Numerous, well-fed, and confident, the cats were everywhere: on top of trash bins, curled up in front of doors, hissing from the shadows of small alleyways. Augusta felt that this was their territory and the humans were only passing through. She bent down and stroked a beautiful jet-black kitten behind the ears, feeling its soft purr beneath her fingertips.
They passed a domed building on their right (“That’s the museum of Turkish baths,” Erol told her) and drew alongside an imposing stone façade, towering up above them.
“Here we are,” Erol said, walking up to the front gate and giving it a tug. It didn’t budge. He tried twisting and yanking a few times, but the gate was unyielding. Erol’s jaw set as he stared at the uncooperative gate. The white marble walls stared back at him coldly.
“Okay, now what?” Augusta asked, sighing. This was not a promising start to their latest rescue mission.
Erol took a few paces backward toward the street, surveying the large building. It looked impenetrable: five stories of solid stone, with the windows of the lower level all covered with iron safety bars. Through the outer gate Augusta could see a small antechamber, and then another huge metal door leading into the building itself. For a university history faculty, it was certainly built like a fortress. Then again, Augusta thought, remembering Erol’s history lessons, there had been many attempts to breach the city before. Perhaps they just wanted to protect their history.
Erol was walking slowly back and forth on the sidewalk in front of the building, checking out the walls from different angles. After a few moments he returned to Augusta looking very pleased with himself.
“I know how to get in.” He rubbed his hands together gleefully. “All we need to do is climb a tree.”
Augusta stared at him and blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Yes, it will work,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll show you. Come over here.”
He motioned for her to follow him as he stepped back toward the street, surveying the lower floors of the university building.
“You see that walkway up there.” He pointed, and Augusta could now see that the second floor above them was, in fact, an open breezeway. Through the breezeway she could see into the inner courtyard, its leafy tree branches hinting at a delightful garden within. On either side of the breezeway she saw doors leading inside the building’s second floor.
“When I went to school here, those doors were never locked. I’m betting if we can get up there, we can get inside the building.” Erol waved his hand at the two poplars framing the building’s entrance. “We just have to climb one of these trees.”
Despite Erol’s poor track record with plans, Augusta could see that this one might actually work. It was completely crazy but also completely logical. The two sturdy old trees stretched right up and past the second-floor breezeway. It was feasible that they could scramble up there and get inside the building—if Erol was right about the doors being unlocked. It was a big “if,” but she didn’t see an alternative.
Augusta pursed her lips and gave herself one final moment to consider this absurd plan. If I hadn’t agreed to meet Erol in Istanbul in the first place, none of this would be happening right now. She thought about her warm bed at home in North Carolina, her mother and grandmother probably eating a peaceful dinner at this very moment.
Grandmother. The thought hit her quickly—her grandmother had been attacked. Whether she agreed to come or not, the book would probably have been stolen, and her family would have been in danger. This wasn’t her fault at all, and it was no time for pointing fingers. This was the time to act, to make sure Professor Meral was safe, and to continue tracking down the book. It wasn’t her choice to get drawn into this situation, but it was her choice to see it through.
“Okay. Let’s do it.” Augusta flashed Erol a quick grin and couldn’t help laughing at the look of excitement on his face. His enthusiasm was contagious, just like his crazy plans. She didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing that she found his ideas so infectious, but she had a strong feeling that life with Erol was never boring.
They picked the poplar to the left of the entrance, since it looked easier to climb. The trunk split into two massive branches about four feet above the ground. Augusta thought she could get a foot into the crook of the y-shaped split, and from there shimmy over toward the second-floor breezeway. A few smaller branches led away from the massive split trunk and outward toward the railing. They looked sturdy enough to hold her. All she had to do was keep her balance as she worked her way over and flung a foot over the handrail.
“Erol,” Augusta said suddenly, all of a sudden realizing that they were bound to be seen during this risky ascent. “There are still people walking along the street. What if someone sees us? We’ll be visible from the sidewalk.”
Erol squinted into the tree branches, looked toward the street, and shook his head. “I don’t think so. The leaves are thick, and it’s dark right now. And most people never look up anyway. Sad but true.” He moved over into position at the base of the tree, glancing over his shoulder at Augusta.
“No one ever looks at the trees.”
A few moments later Augusta and Erol had landed safely on the breezeway and were testing the door to the building. It opened! Thank goodness, something finally went right, Augusta thought to herself as they scurried down the hallway to the stairwell. She could tell Erol’s leg was hurting him, but he moved steadily as they bounded up the stairs toward Professor Meral’s office.
At the third turning of the stairs Erol wrenched open the stairwell door and they exited onto the fourth floor. The hallway was dimly lit, but all the offices lining the hall were dark. Except one. Midway down the corridor, light spilled out of an open office door.
“Is that Professor Meral’s office?” Augusta whispered.
Erol nodded and put his finger to his lips to signal silence. As they walked slowly toward the brightly lit office, Augusta strained her ears to hear some indication of what was happening. Nothing. Her heart was hammering so loudly in her chest, she hoped no one else could hear it. She shot Erol a quizzical look, but he was staring intently at Professor Meral’s door, probably wondering the same thing she was.
What would they find when they reached the office? Was Professor Meral dead, or lying unconscious like Father Ephraim had been in the church? Or would she be tied up and beaten, like Erol was when they found him earlier? Would they see the sinister museum guard Hasan, or the man with the aviator sunglasses?
As they drew nearer Augusta braced herself. She could still hear nothing but the beating of her own heart, and they had almost reached the cone of bright light spilling out into the dim hallway. She looked again at Erol for some sign of what the plan was. He ignored her, focusing intensely on the pattern of light covering the floor in front of them.
Augusta could see why. Now that they had drawn even with it, she could detect a faint shadow silhouetted in the bright light from the open office door. It looked like a person, but she couldn’t tell what kind of person it was. Friend or foe? Standing or sitting? It was very hard to see.
For the fourth or fifth time that day—and what a long day it had been!—Augusta found herself, with racing heart, waiting for something unknown to happen. She was so tired and scared, and she just wanted it all to be over. But Erol needed her now more than ever, she reminded herself. And so did Professor Meral. And so did her grandmother, and her mother, and her grandfather. People were depending on her to get this job done and come back safely. No matter how hard it was, she would just have to get on with it.
Augusta tapped Erol on the shoulder, and when he glanced back at her she jerked her head toward the door. He nodded in agreement. They would move together and surprise whoever was in the office.
Wishing she had the Ottoman sword with her again, Augusta wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. Erol held up three fingers, then two, then one. They jumped together into the light.