City of the Lost. Will Adams
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I’d be easiest to get out later on.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true, Prime Minister.’
‘We’ll get on better, General, if you don’t humour or flatter me.’ Then he smiled. ‘Or not to excess, at least.’
‘Forgive me, Prime Minister,’ said Yilmaz. ‘I find it hard with politicians to know what constitutes excess.’
Baştürk laughed a little too loudly. The Chief of the General Staff made for refreshingly candid company, but he was also in mild awe of him, of his uniform and his war service, and he very much wanted him to like him. But he quickly turned serious again. ‘I’m not under any illusions, you know. I can’t fire any of my main rivals without sparking a civil war in the party. My government wouldn’t last a week. I wouldn’t last a week. I don’t have the support. Nor can I go to the people. They think I’m competent and likeable enough, but they don’t respect me, they don’t love me, they wouldn’t miss me.’ He looked up for Yilmaz’s opinion of his analysis. The General nodded fractionally. He felt himself droop a little, for it was only human to want such a bleak assessment rejected. ‘I have a few months at the most to get done the things I want done. Maybe not even that. Sometimes I think I can hear the footsteps behind me. So if you should happen to hear anything …’
‘If I hear anything, I will of course report it to the proper authorities.’
Baştürk gave a strained smile. ‘The proper authorities are the ones that scare me.’ He glanced meaningfully at the door. ‘Our recent friend is a very ambitious man. In my more suspicious moments, I can’t help but wonder if he’s not tolerating or even encouraging a certain level of disorder simply to undermine me.’
Yilmaz frowned. ‘Surely he’d only be undermining himself.’
‘Except that in every interview he gives he insists that his problem is lack of powers and men. Yet every time we give him more of either, he uses them to bed himself further in, win himself more allies. When I think of all the information he now has access to … On each one of us.’
Yilmaz pursed his lips. Then he said: ‘You are not the only person seeking to do the best they can for the institution they are privileged to lead, Prime Minister. I don’t have to remind you of the modern history of the army in Turkey. Four coups in fifty years. Five, by some measures. Over three hundred officers and their associates recently convicted of attempting another. Those incidents have tarnished our reputation badly. Some would say disgraced it. As you know, the reason I was offered my current position – and the reason I accepted – was to make sure that nothing of that nature could ever happen again. That has to be my overriding purpose. If it should be suspected for one moment that the army was once again involved in deciding who should and shouldn’t lead Turkey, that we were taking sides …’
Baştürk sighed. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You’re right. Of course you’re right.’
‘But if I can find a way to help without overstepping …’ added Yilmaz.
‘Thank you.’ He shook his head despondently. ‘You don’t know what this job is like. No one does. Not until you sit at this desk for yourself.’
‘Look on the bright side. You may not have it for much longer.’
Baştürk laughed a second time, albeit more ruefully this time. ‘Thank you, General. I needed that.’
III
Iain was on hold for the best part of a minute before Maria came on. ‘Hey,’ she said.
‘Hey yourself. What’s up?’
‘I’ve been on with Layla. Her sister can look after her daughters, but only for one day. So I’ve booked her a return flight tomorrow. She’ll be arriving really early, but I said you’d meet her at the airport. I hope that’s okay?’
‘Of course. What time?’
She read out flight details. He jotted them down. ‘There’s something else,’ she added, lowering her voice. ‘I didn’t tell Layla, but there seems to be an issue with Mustafa’s insurance.’
‘So Robyn said. What?’
‘You know how all you guys need special coverage for whenever you go on missions? Well, we changed policies for our overseas associates at the start of the year, and I’m not sure—’
‘We did what?’
‘We changed policies. And the new one is basically workplace only. I don’t think Mustafa’s covered.’
Iain didn’t speak for a moment. He didn’t trust himself. The work they did was nothing like as dangerous as serving in a war zone, but it was dangerous enough. Their regional client-list read like a Who’s Who of oil-and-gas oligarchs and other power-brokers, all engaged in fierce competition with each other, seeking information that they could use as leverage or even as weaponry to destroy; and although incidents of lethal violence were rare, they were far from unprecedented. ‘Was this Quentin?’ he asked finally.
‘I don’t know for sure,’ she said reluctantly. ‘But I think it must have been.’
‘Put me through to him.’
‘He’s left for the day.’
‘Then put me through to his mobile.’
‘Iain, I’m not sure that’s so wise right now, not until I’ve made sure—’
‘I said put me fucking through.’
She gave a sigh, put him on hold. Quentin came on a few moments later, sounding as cheerful as ever, over Mustafa already. ‘This’ll have to be quick, old chap. I’m on my way to a meeting.’
‘Is it true about the insurance?’
‘Is what true?’
‘That you downgraded our overseas offices all to workplace only?’
‘Downgraded is a very loaded word,’ said Quentin. Iain could hear someone angrily tooting a horn in the background. ‘All I did was update our policies to something more appropriate to our new structure.’
‘More appropriate,’ said Iain. ‘Cheaper, you mean.’
‘This is a business I’m running, not a charity. Income is down. We’re only profitable at all because I clamped down on unnecessary overheads.’
‘Unnecessary?’ exploded Iain. ‘Since when has insurance been unnecessary?’
‘You’ve no idea how expensive those policies were.’
‘Yes. Because this is a dangerous fucking business we’re in, particularly out in the field.’
‘Uh, oh,’ said Quentin. ‘Tunnel.’ The phone went dead in Iain’s hand. He glared at it for a moment then made to hurl it against the wall, controlling himself only just in time.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
He looked around in surprise to see Karin in the doorway. In his distraction, he hadn’t heard the door. ‘My colleague,’ he said. ‘The one who was killed this morning. There’s a problem with his insurance.’
‘Oh, hell. Does he have family?’
‘A wife. Two daughters.’
‘Oh, hell,’ she said again, coming over to touch him on his arm. ‘What will you do?’
He shook his head. He couldn’t face thinking about it tonight, not after everything else. ‘I’ll sort something out, I guess. But not right now. Right now I need something to eat. Fancy joining me?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I do.’
IV