Page 42 of Everything That Kills Me
Thomas paid in Turkish lira, left a tip—the rule was not too little, not too much, nothing to make you stand out—and they headed back to the hotel. They’d not gone more than fifty yards when a young kid who was tearing along the road barged into Thomas. The guy running after the child, stopped to straighten Thomas up and apologise…and steal his wallet. Jack had his hand around the man’s wrist before he could step away. Jack didn’t say anything, merely took Thomas’s wallet from the man’s fingers and let him go.
The guy gave a small smile and ran off. Jack handed the wallet back to Thomas.
“Thank you.”
“Were you going to let him have it?” Jack asked as they walked on.
Thomas chuckled. “Yes. Not much in it. But you didn’t make a scene, which was good. Early night tonight. It will be a long day tomorrow.”
“Are we going back tomorrow or Sunday?”
“Depends on how things go.”
Jack wondered if that meant Thomas would step in if he fucked up. Did he have a plan of his own?
Of course he did.
They went to the carpet shop in the morning. Jack’s nerves jangled knowing what the rest of the day would bring, but maybe not as much as he’d expected. He was trying not to think of the actual killing part.
“It’s a good place in which to operate,” Thomas said. “Like London, Istanbul is always busy, plenty of crowds to disappear into. Lots of alleys and side streets. Easier to spot watchers in London than here, though.”
Jack nodded. He played his role in the shop and gave his considered opinion on the craftsmanship of the knotting and colours. The salesman praised him for his Turkish. Jack hadn’t been sure Thomas intended to buy a rug, but he ended up haggling over a large one and arranged direct shipping to some address in London.
They’d brought everything with them from the hotel. If a swift departure was needed, they wouldn’t have time to return to get their things. The succinylcholine was already inside a syringe, secure in a doctored bottle of shampoo that still dispensed coconut scented liquid. Jack had calculated the timings for everything, including the trip to the carpet shop. There was a little flexibility but they needed to be in the hamam before Kubat, who usually turned up around one thirty. Jack had alternative plans if he didn’t show.
He didn’t eat much at lunch. Nor did Thomas. Finally, it was time to leave.
“Cameras!” Thomas whispered.
Jack hadn’t forgotten. Istanbul had a lot of CCTV and their arrival at the hamam would have been recorded. There shouldn’t be cameras inside, as phones had to be left in lockers, but he’d look for them. Thomas greeted the receptionist in Turkish and after a brief discussion about the weather here and in the UK, he and Jack moved through to the changing room.
They stripped and put on disposable underwear. Once they’d wrapped themselves in peshtemals, they slipped their feet into wooden sandals. Regular towels were also provided to use after bathing. Taking your own shampoo wasn’t considered unusual. Jack was happier to have the drug hidden in a bottle than in a fold of the thin towel tied around his waist. Though at some point, that would be a necessity.
They moved first into a hot steam room. Jack hadn’t liked it last year and he still didn’t. He understood the principle, the steam opened pores and got the body ready for deep cleansing, but he didn’t enjoy the sensation of inhaling warm air. There were two other guys in the room with them, though the steam was so thick, Jack wouldn’t have been surprised to find there were more. He sat by the door with Thomas at his side.
Next time the door opened, Kubat and another man walked in. Jack wished his heart rate had stayed the same but it hadn’t.
The plan was on.
Kubat was a little shorter than him, slightly overweight with a double chin, but there was something about him that exuded strength and dominance. The man with him had the physique of a boxer. Maybe his bodyguard. Kubat greeted everyone and sat next to Thomas.
No one spoke further. Thomas had told him to follow the mood of the room. If people talked, then talk. If not, stay silent.Jack wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to stand this environment for fifteen minutes. He was counting silently in his head, willing the time to pass quickly. Worse still, what would follow was five minutes in an even steamier room.
“We’re done,” Thomas finally said.
Jack heaved a sigh of relief. “I was melting.”
“English?” Kubat asked.
“Evet,” Jack answered.Yesin Turkish.
“Tatil için burada misin?”Are you here on holiday?
“Isletme babamla.”Business with my father.At least that was what Jack hoped he’d said and notI’m here to kill you.
“Enjoy your stay,” Kubat said in English.
“Thank you.” Jack shot him a smile and left the room with Thomas.
