“Aman Allah’im, Erol!” Professor Meral screamed, starting with surprise as Augusta and Erol charged into her brightly lit office.
“Professor Meral!” Erol shouted in astonishment, looking from corner to corner around the spacious room. No one else was in sight. Through the handsome window, standing open to the summer night, Augusta could see only the tops of trees in the inner courtyard. Everything was quiet and still.
Professor Meral was at least fifty, but her iron gray hair was stylishly cut and her suit was immaculately tailored—just like her office, which was spotlessly clean and orderly, with rows of old books lining bookshelves all over the room. Augusta almost felt she was in the Hatira bookshop again, except that the bookshop had been piled high with teetering stacks of books, while Professor Meral’s office was meticulously organized.
The professor smiled politely and stood up from the desk where she had been sitting, studying an antique book under the light of a bright table lamp. Now over the initial fright of almost being pounced on by Erol and Augusta, she looked quite at ease. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary here, nothing out of place. Augusta had the distinct impression that nothing was ever allowed to be out of place in Professor Meral’s office.
Erol and his former teacher exchanged a few words in Turkish, and then he said in English, “Let me introduce my friend, Miss Augusta Carter. She is the owner of the lost discourses. She brought the book over from America, where it belonged to her grandfather, Nicolas Carter.” He paused, his eyes shining proudly.
“You were right, professor. Mehmet Ragıp Pasha must have given the book to Elizabeth Carter when he visited England. It was passed down through her family to the current owner.” He nodded toward Augusta. “I traced her when her grandfather died, and she came over to sell the lost discourses to the museum. But unfortunately…” His voice trailed off.
Professor Meral finished the sentence for him. “It was stolen by a criminal named Efendi, who believes the lost discourses contain information on divination that will assist his mission of creating a pan-Mediterranean empire.”
Erol’s jaw dropped. “Yes, but how do you know? We’ve been chasing after Efendi and his men all day!”
The older woman leaned against the side of her desk and crossed her arms in front of her. “They were here earlier, asking me to translate the discourses. They left about five minutes before you arrived. That’s why I’m still here this late. I was just checking on a few things after they left.”
“What?” Erol stared in disbelief at his professor. “They were here? But you’re not hurt are you? Did they beat you? What did they do to you?”
Professor Meral laughed and waved away Erol’s questions with one hand. “Hurt me? No, of course not. Why would they do that? They wanted my help.”
Erol described his adventure with the Rumelovs earlier: how he had located their hidden base in the Bath of Bedestan, how Efendi’s men had asked him to translate from Ottoman Turkish into English, how he had refused, and how the museum guide Hasan, left to guard Erol, had roughed him over.
“Ah, that explains your face,” Professor Meral said, nodding sagely. “But why did you refuse to give them what they wanted? Then they would have allowed you to leave unharmed.”
“Professor!” Erol now looked shocked. “How can you say that? I can’t believe you did this illegal translation for them. How could you help such bad men?”
Professor Meral gave him a severe look. “Erol, didn’t I teach you to think more carefully about things? Didn’t I teach you to use your brain?” She stared at him expectantly, but Erol just looked at her blankly.
“I didn’t say I translated it for them. I said I gave them what they wanted. That might be two different things.”
At this Augusta, who had been listening quietly, started giggling. How clever this professor was! Understanding finally dawned over Erol’s face, and he began laughing too. Even Professor Meral smiled.
“Ohh! You mean you didn’t give them the real translation. You made something up.”
“Exactly. How would they ever know? When this Efendi man came in, I recognized the book at once. I knew better than to question where he got it, but I asked what his interest was in Epictetus and the lost discourses. He wasn’t exactly polite—quite the opposite—and I didn’t want to help him. But I knew he needed to think I was helping him.”
“So what did you tell him?” Augusta asked.
“He asked me to find all the passages related to divination. Of course, you and I know that Epictetus had little interest in divination and mentions it only in passing. But the rumors persist about the lost discourses. Some people will believe anything, especially what they want to believe.” Professor Meral walked over to the open window and stared out into the velvety darkness of the courtyard.
“At least one good thing came of this—I got to hold the lost discourses in my own hands! Now we know it does exist.” The professor’s face softened as she considered the night sky. She turned to Augusta. “But you’ve spent your whole life doing that. The discourses must not seem so special to you.”
“Oh no, if only that were true,” Augusta protested. “I didn’t know they existed until three days ago, when Erol called me. My grandfather never told me anything about them. I’m afraid they’re just as mysterious to me as they are to everyone else.”
Professor Meral raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything.
Augusta took advantage of the pause. “Professor, do you mind if I ask what Efendi looked like?”
“Looked like?” The older woman sounded puzzled. “He was rather tall, a bit heavyset. He had a thick accent—Slavic, maybe. A little mean-looking, but otherwise he seemed normal. He was wearing a suit and tie. He didn’t look like a thief at all.”
Augusta thanked her, turning over this new information in her mind. Tall and heavyset, wearing a suit. That was definitely not the man in the aviator sunglasses, who was trim and wearing jeans and a leather jacket. So the man who had followed her wasn’t Efendi? It must have been one of his men. She felt goosebumps scatter over her arms.
Professor Meral continued her story.
“In order to make him leave, I decided to invent three passages. Unfortunately, I am not familiar with the types of divination practiced in ancient Rome, so I made my ‘translations’ similar to the divination practiced in the Ottoman court. I’m sure Efendi has no understanding of the difference. After I wrote down the fake translations, he left.”
Erol blinked at her. “He just…left? Where did he go?”
The professor smiled. “To the top of Camlica hill.”
“Camlica?” Erol looked alarmed. “Why? How do you know?”
“Because that’s where I told him to go. I wrote a bunch of nonsense about the highest point of each city possessing sacred energy, particularly as the moon reaches the highest point in its transit through the sky. ‘Those who seek the zenith of knowledge and foresight must seek the zenith of night upon the high ground of the city.’ He immediately asked if Camlica was the highest point in Istanbul. I said yes, even though technically it’s not. There are some higher hills farther out in the suburbs. But it seemed like that’s what he wanted to hear.”
“Very nice, Professor,” said Erol excitedly. “That means we can find them there! They should be there now.” He turned to Augusta. “Let’s go. Camlica is too far to walk, it’s on the Asian side. We’ll have to take a taxi.”
“Wait, Erol.” Augusta was getting used to reining in Erol’s enthusiasm in a bit. “What about Eda and Mark? Should we meet them first? What do you think they’ve found?”
“I don’t know, but we’ve found Efendi and the book, and that’s the most important thing right now. If I had my phone we could call them, but that idiot Hasan took my phone when he emptied my pockets earlier. Now we’re both without our phones.”
“Would you like to use mine to make a call?” Professor Meral offered.
Erol looked reluctant to lose any more time, but he took the phone and punched in a number. “Eda!” After a rapid conversation in Turkish, he handed the phone back to the professor. “Eda and Mark didn’t find anything in the bazaar or the mosque. They went back to Eda’s apartment to wait for us. I told them we’re going to Camlica.”
“Don’t you want them to meet us there?” Augusta asked.
“No, I want them waiting for us as backup. If we don’t get back there in a few hours, they will call the police.”
As Augusta and Erol moved toward the door, Professor Meral called out, “One more thing.” She reached into her handbag and pulled out a set of keys, then tossed them to Erol across the room. “Take the bike. It will be much faster than a taxi.”
Erol’s face lit up. “Are you sure, Professor?”
Professor Meral nodded. “Desperate times, you know.”
“Thank you! I promise we’ll take good care of it.” He clenched the keys in one hand and practically ran out of the office.
“I’m sure you will,” the professor called after him wryly. “Please bring it back to me in one piece.”
As Augusta followed Erol back out into the dimly lit hallway, she could have sworn she heard Professor Meral quietly laughing.