The first thing Augusta noticed, on walking into the grand arrivals hall of the airport, was the bluish light streaming through the windows, casting geometric shadows below. They reminded her of the blue waves of the sea dancing beneath her window on the plane. A flickering welcome to a new continent.
The second thing she noticed was a tall, thin young man sitting on a bench off to the side, calmly eating a sandwich, his gaze wandering interestedly around the room from passengers to wall to ceiling. He seemed to be studying in detail each thing his eyes landed on. Is he watching the lights too? Augusta wondered. As she looked at him, his gaze turned toward her, and he immediately threw down his half-eaten sandwich, jumped to his feet, and picked up a small placard sitting beside him: Miss Augusta Carter. He smiled at her eagerly, swallowing his last bite, and held out her name toward her, expectantly.
Augusta stood still for a moment, sizing up Erol Yilmaz. He didn’t look like a murderer. But he also didn’t look like any kind of official museum representative. His dark hair was carelessly trimmed, and his rumpled polo shirt hung loose off his lanky frame. He reminded her of the boys who ran track back in high school, tall, angular, and permanently hungry. He couldn’t have been more than, what, about 25 years old? Erol was now wiping a hand on his jeans, holding it out as he took a few steps in her direction.
“Miss Carter? Miss Augusta Carter?” Erol pointed, unnecessarily, at the sign, as if Augusta might have needed reminding of her own name. His face and voice were full of energy, his chocolate-brown eyes beaming enthusiastically. She had the impression of a young racehorse ready to bolt out of the gate at the earliest opportunity. Not old, and not weird, she thought to herself. But maybe a little over-eager.
Smiling uncertainly, Augusta took a step toward him and held out her own hand. Erol seized her hand and shook it excitedly, saying, “I knew it was you! Miss Augusta Carter. It’s very nice to make your acquaintance.” His accent was different from any she had heard before—both hard and soft at the same time. A soft lilt to the vowels, a sharp edge to the consonants.
“Thank you for coming to Istanbul. I hope you had a good flight?”
“Yes.” She said it politely, but Augusta wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. Now that Item One from her checklist was complete, she was ready to move on to Item Two. “Can we go to the museum now? I’d like to complete the transaction as quickly as possible.”
Erol looked at her for a moment, as if translating her words in his head, and then laughed. “Right now? I’m sorry Miss Carter, but we have to wait for the directors. They don’t work on Sundays.” He shook his head at the ridiculous thought of museum directors working on a Sunday. “We’ll go first thing tomorrow morning.” Picking up her duffel bag, which Augusta had set on the floor beside them, Erol slung it over his shoulder and began walking toward the exit.
Momentarily stunned by this turn of events, Augusta stood still, weighing her options. Did this qualify as suspicious activity? It was rather logical that museum directors might only work on weekdays. And it was Sunday afternoon, after all. She decided to allow this to slide. In any case, she didn’t have much choice, since Erol was currently striding off with the book, still tucked inside her duffel bag.
“Then where are we going now?” she called, a little too loudly, fast-walking to keep up with Erol’s long gait. “To your lodgings,” he called back over his shoulder, not slowing down. “You’ll stay with my sister, Eda. She has a comfortable apartment in the city center. You can stay with her until the book has been approved. It may take several days, you know. Maybe even weeks.”
Augusta hadn’t considered this possibility. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “Why would it take weeks?”
Erol stopped walking and turned to look at her with surprise. “The book must be authenticated, of course,” he said, lowering his voice. “If it really is the lost discourses of Epictetus, it will be extremely valuable. But it must be evaluated by multiple experts. Everything must be verified. You understand?”
Augusta stared in disbelief at the lanky young man in front of her. This was going to be much more complicated than she had counted on. What if the book thieves found her here? What if they snatched the discourses while she was hanging around, waiting for it to be authenticated? She no longer thought Erol had anything to do with the attempted theft, but she wanted this to all be over as soon as possible. Watching over her shoulder for weeks in a strange, crowded city was not on her to-do list. And neither was staying in some random apartment with Erol’s sister.
“Wait a minute.” Augusta forced herself to sound much calmer than she felt. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You’re taking me not to a safely-guarded hotel but to your sister’s apartment somewhere in Istanbul, where I’ve got to wait around for a week while some old Turkish guys decide if my book is real?” She crossed her arms in front of her and knitted her eyebrows. “What if I refuse to go?”
Erol sighed, set down her bag, and held his hands out in front of him placatingly. “Look, Miss Carter,” he said in a coaxing tone. “If you don’t want to come with me, that’s fine. Take your book back to America. Or go stay in an expensive hotel.” He glanced over his shoulder.
“But it’s not good to stand here in the middle of the airport and argue about it. We are possibly being watched at this very moment.” The liquid brown of his eyes had hardened into a look of deep concern. “I promise your book will be in better hands at my sister’s apartment than in the best hotel in Istanbul. You never know who you can trust at those places. Staff are easily bribed, and safes are easily opened.”
As he spoke, Augusta felt the hairs on the back of her neck pricking up, just as she had felt at her grandmother’s house after the break-in. Were they really being watched? Had the thieves already found her in Istanbul? She glanced around the arrivals hall, suddenly suspicious of every backpack, cap, and hoodie passing by.
“The doorman of Eda’s building is an old friend,” Erol went on. “No one will get past him. Their security is high-quality. You will be safe there.” He pulled out a phone from his pocket and tapped the screen a few times, then handed his phone to Augusta. It was a picture of a pretty young woman, smiling and hugging an older woman who looked exactly like Erol.
“Look, this is my sister and mother. Do you think I would put my sister in any danger, just for a book? Don’t you think my mother would kill me if I did that?” Erol laughed grimly and put his phone back in his pocket. “Anyway, Eda is very excited to meet you. She has been cooking a special meal for your arrival. We want to welcome you to Turkey. Have you eaten Turkish food before? It’s delicious.”
Augusta could feel her defensiveness slowly ebbing away. It all made sense when he put it like that. And a home-cooked meal sounded wonderful right now. She realized, with a pang of hunger, that she hadn’t had a proper meal in almost a day. What was Turkish food like? Uncrossing her arms, she sighed and picked up her duffel bag.
“Fine. Let’s go then.”
“Thank you, Miss Carter.” Erol resumed his quick pace toward the airport exit. As they stepped outside, the warm summer air pressed itself around them, carrying with it a strange aroma that Augusta couldn’t identify. Erol inhaled with deep satisfaction. “Ah, diesel fumes and delicious baked goods. The smell of Istanbul.”
He opened the door of the nearest waiting taxi and slid in after Augusta, giving rapid instructions in Turkish to the driver. The taxi driver seemed as zealous in his driving as Erol was in his pursuit of the lost discourses. Within seconds they had zoomed out of the parking lot, weaving around cars and pedestrians, narrowly missing a few of them. As they zigzagged across lanes onto the motorway, Augusta gripped her seat with white knuckles. Erol, however, was looking more relaxed than ever. Stretching his long frame back in the seat, he turned to Augusta and smiled.
“I’m very happy you decided to come with me. You’re going to love it here.”