CHAPTER THIRTEEN

                                            

                                                            CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It was a pleasure to write this chapter. I love being in the company of a nasty man who has a brilliant mind. Ahmet is a loner really. He hates Hrisacopolis but works for the man for reasons that become apparent later on, yet he has no problem killing anyone no matter what nationality or religion if they get in the way. His plot to gain Hrisacopolis wealth and help to ruin the man's political aspirations over Cyprus is nothing short of masterful. Here we see him meeting his creation, the grandson who will help him achieve his goal. Ahmet does not look like a villain or sound like one, just a little man who doesn't look as though he would harm a fly. Really?

The editor liked this one and, although there were a few alterations, I think I caught the atmosphere and a little tension just right.

Ahmet Zeki sat in the shade of a red awning that covered half the tables outside the restaurant. A white straw trilby covered his bald head. Small in stature, his rounded shoulders made him appear smaller than he really was. His white summer suit was creased, especially the jacket, which suggested he spent most of the day wearing it despite the heat. The square was packed and noisy with tourists and shoppers taking lunch.

       He picked up a glass of tea and sipped while fingering a cream baba sitting on a plate in front of him. A gentle breeze blowing off the Bosporus helped to soothe a growing headache. Anthony was late, but then the young man was always late.

       Ahmet thought about his trip to Cyprus and was under no illusion as to the enormity of the task ahead. It was all very well for Hrisacopolis to issue orders from Athens but if anything went wrong it wouldn’t be that man’s neck in the noose. Ahmet pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead. As soon as the letter had arrived, Hrisacopolis chose to ignore his warning that there was only one solution to the problem. Now there was a mess to clean up. The day he predicted would come, had arrived.   

       He looked at his watch again. High up in the clear blue sky a jetliner screamed in on its final approach to Ataturk airport, sixteen miles to the west. He watched it pass behind minarets standing like sentries across the city skyline. It eventually disappeared behind the large dome of a mosque.

       A hand touched his shoulder and he jerked.

       “Ahmet, did I catch you asleep?”

       Anthony grinned and sat in the chair opposite. Crossing his legs casually, he leaned back nonchalantly with one hand in a trouser pocket. Short black curly hair atop a handsome face and large hazel eyes set into olive skin complemented a light gray suit over a black polo shirt and highly polished black leather shoes. He looked like one of the new rich young technocrats growing up in the world of future technologies, high fashion and fast cars.

       Ahmet surveyed his creation and smiled. The suit was perfect and the image complete. “You are late again.”

       “Only fifteen minutes. The suit was not ready, I had to wait.” Anthony reached across the table and pulled the cream baba toward him. “Not hungry?” he asked, taking a bite out of the sweetmeat.      

       Ahmet glared at Anthony.

       “You want me to act like a westerner,” retorted Anthony, flicking a crumb from the sleeve of his jacket, “but how do I do that if I can’t behave like one in front of you?”

         Ahmet knew he was right. The new young society suffered from the influence of western propaganda. Old values of loyalty and family respect were being cast aside for the new materialistic world. Even so, bad manners were not acceptable in any society. Anthony’s grandfather would expect a well-mannered young man trained in all aspects of Greek society as well as a graduate in business studies. That was what Hrisacopolis had charged him to do and he would expect nothing less.

       “I won’t let you down. Didn’t I graduate well?”

       Ahmet thought for a moment and asked Anthony if he had been to church.

       Anthony sighed with frustration and looked across the square.

       A waiter came to the table and Ahmet waved him away. He sent Anthony an intense look. “Well?”

       “Not yet. I don’t like it. My faith -”

       Ahmed leaned forward and spoke in a whisper. “You know how important being familiar with the Greek Orthodox teachings and service is.” He touched Anthony’s hand. He knew what the boy’s Muslim faith meant to him and how hard it had been to accept his new role. The faith he felt inside was strong and the almighty knew it, Ahmet told him.

       Anthony beckoned for some tea. “I know.”

       Ahmet reassured him that when the time came, all Turkey and their cousins on Cyprus would forgive him any sins committed in the name of the cause.

     Anthony watched as the waiter poured the tea. “You think I’m ready, don’t you?”

        Ahmet took a small box from his jacket pocket and pushed it across the table.  “Wear this at all times. It’s your grandfather’s signet ring. He wants you to wear it.”

       They both grinned. Ahmet reminded Anthony that wearing the ring meant acceptance into the Hrisacopolis family.

       Ahmet raised a finger and held it steady, pointed at Anthony. He was not to allow new found wealth to steer him away from his goal. He would also need to be cautious about women.

       Anthony grinned. “I have never had trouble with women.”

       “You will if you get involved with a woman, especially a Greek woman.”

        Ahmet knew Hrisacopolis wanted his grandson married by the time he was thirty two. That was the following year. Another Hrisacopolis generation would keep the shipping empire intact. Anthony had to resist the pressure at all costs. It was the only danger he faced.

       “Is the Sea Empress still leaving London in three weeks?” Anthony took another mouthful of the baba. Newspaper headlines stated that the British government was close to a decision over the marbles.

       Ahmet reassured him. The ship was leaving with the marbles aboard. As far as Anthony’s worries were concerned he only needed to know a little more about his parents and what appeared in the press statement. It was important that nothing was leaked prior to his grandfather’s announcement on board ship. His past would be important to the press. He had to portray the image of a slightly bewildered man suddenly thrust into the limelight.

       Anthony nodded. “You will be aboard?”

       “Yes, I will be right at your side but remember when the cruise ends I will be back here and you will be in Athens.” He paused, seeing the worried look on Anthony’s face. “Is there anything wrong?”

       “Not really, I keep wondering about my face though.”

       “Don’t,” replied Ahmet.

       Hrisacopolis knew his grandson had Turkish blood and he expected some features of the mother in Anthony’s face. Having the nose cosmetically changed and a few other little alterations as well, Anthony would pass. He was Greek and that is what Paul Hrisacopolis would tell the press. Ahmet waved for the lunch he’d ordered earlier.       

       Anthony reached inside his jacket and pulled out a wallet. Opening it, he removed a small piece of folded paper and handed it to Ahmet. “I was given this and told to give it to you today.”

       Ahmet took the folded paper and put it unopened into his pocket. “KKA?” he whispered.

        “They asked me to tell you that it should be read at once.”

       Ahmet took the paper from his pocket and scrutinized the contents. The message was not urgent but the hidden warning was clear. Two British reporters were asking questions about George. Hrisacopolis had invited them on the cruise and granted them an exclusive interview with Anthony.

       Anthony looked startled. “No, you have to change that. What if they start digging into my past? I can’t go through with that. I can’t.”

       “You will do as you are told!” snapped Ahmet.

       Ahmet could hear tension in Anthony’s voice. There was too much at stake to pull out just because a couple of reporters wanted to question him. That’s if they made the cruise anyway.

       “What do you mean?” said Anthony.

       Ahmet shook his head. “Never mind, concentrate and focus on the things I have taught you. I will be with you…”

       The waiter arrived with some fried Borek and two glasses of water.

       Ahmet picked up a fork and pierced the top of the flaky pastry. Hot cheese oozed out. He bent over the dish and smelled the spicy aroma rising from the crust.

       Looking up, he repeated himself, “I will be with you at all times.” He smiled and touched Anthony’s arm.

       Hrisacopolis entrusted him to accompany the grandson and make sure he didn’t let the family down. Anthony would be alright. He was a little nervous but that was to be expected.  Once he had met his grandfather he would be fine. With his background checked thoroughly, the name Hrisacopolis never appeared in medical or army personnel records. For the last three years he’d lived in isolation, taught in business by private tuition so no-one in the city who knew him would recognize his picture in the newspapers after surgery.

       “Come now, let’s have lunch,” coaxed Ahmet.

       Anthony snapped his fingers at the waiter and ordered.

       As they sat eating, Ahmet contemplated his visit to Cyprus. He was wrong. The woman would be easier to deal with than Anthony.