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Silver Publishing - Rik Stone

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186 pages

English

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Extrait

Description

Mehmet battles for daily survival in the murky Istanbul of 1951 while being forced to learn the craft of theft and violence alongside the other street children. Come evening he curls up under a stinking jetty in a waterway off the Bosporus Strait. Desperation fills him as he yearns to break free from the life inflicted on him by his drunken, womanizing father, little knowing that his rotting body lies at the bottom of those same waters.Adulthood comes before Mehmet finds out that it wasn't fate that had taken control when he was a boy, but a very real nemesis. But is it too late? Can he yet turn things around and get his life back?

Sujets

Thriller

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Publié par	Silver Publishing
Date de parution	28 mai 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781783017164
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

The Turkish Connection
A Birth of an Assassin Novel
Rik Stone
For my Mum-in-law, Lily, who championed my every thought, no matter how scatterbrained
2015 Rik Stone
Rik Stone has asserted his rights in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in eBook format in 2015
ISBN: 9781783017164
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the Publisher.
All names, characters, places, organisations, businesses and events are either the product of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Prologue
Galata, Istanbul, 1951
Levent Pasha gazed mournfully over the Golden Horn, a natural waterway off the Bosporus Strait. Time had moved on but nothing could ease the pain of losing Emel. On the opposite bank, minarets surrounded the Suleymaniye Mosque and a blue haze shrouded the domes and towers in mystique. The mainstream carried ferryboats and light freighters between Asia and Europe, cries wailed out tunefully as the muezzin called the faithful to prayer, boats blew klaxons or horns and bells rang out along jetties. A myriad of activity, but neither the mayhem nor the exotic vistas made an impression on him. His wife was dead.
In his heart, Levent believed Emel had died because he d taken contaminated water from the fountain instead of the standpipe, only a few steps beyond. Images of the funeral flashed through his mind: bearers lifting Emel from her coffin, lowering her shrouded body into the sandy, sterile ground. His breath caught and he dropped his head, sobbing. When Emel died, Levent became lost in despair, but then Beyrek Ozel told him something and an idea centring on Beyrek s apartment in the Sultanahmet Quarter grew into a plan. If the idea was successful, Levent could leave Istanbul and start a new life with his eight-year-old son, Mehmet, look after him the way he always should have.
Levent had sat on the bank for hours without moving; the chill of the northeast wind - or nervousness - shook his body. He should go. Buttoning his jacket, he pulled on the peak of his cap, pushed his hands into his pockets and wandered towards the Galata floating bridge. He d walk to the other side and hopefully find his friend Yuri Aleksii. If everything went to plan, Yuri would be his escape route. Arriving at the opposite bank, he saw people on the lower jetty gathering around vendors grilling kebabs or peddlers roasting chestnuts and, of course, there was the normal glut of fish stalls. Small ferries had rafted up against the landing upstream and ferrymen sat under tattered awnings near a bar.
A bar. Levent had always allowed alcohol to control his actions: unfulfilled promises, women, gambling. But today thoughts of alcohol had been far from his mind So why the sudden urge? His throat became parched and his mouth dry. He could do with a drink, just the one to calm his nerves. Coming from the bar holding a glass of Raki, he sat amongst the ferrymen and pondered his decision. Beyrek Ozel had always taken Levent for a fool, always showed off and told him things. But this time he d told him too much. Apparently, Beyrek had struck up a relationship with a Russian and they were about to open a club together. Yesterday, he d gone to Icmeler on the Aegean Coast to set up the deal.
Thoughts of the man who had once been his best friend caused Levent s mind to drift to when they were boys. I tell you, Levent, one day I ll be the richest man in Istanbul. You watch, you ll see, Beyrek had told him.
Beyrek, we live in the shittiest part of Galata. I don t think so, Levent answered.
Beyrek stopped at a nearby stall, grabbed an orange from it, chewed off a bit of peel and spat it at the vendor. The man reached over and tried to grab him, but Beyrek turned aggressively, pulling a knife. The stallholder cowered back while grumbling into his chest. Levent laughed and Beyrek said, See, there are ways And he had been right. He became rich in a very short time.
Levent s thoughts moved on to when he turned twenty and Beyrek took him to a nightclub.
Tonight, the place is yours, he said, but his attention was taken elsewhere before he finished talking. Oh, will you look at that.
Three young girls had sidled up to the bar on the opposite side of the dance floor. All attractive, but only one grabbed Levent s attention. Shorter than her friends, her head was covered with a pale-blue chiffon scarf that she d pulled together with a hand at chest level. She looked so demure. But then she stared at Levent across the dance floor and he was absorbed by her eyes: dark yet with a bright twinkle that enchanted him. He had to meet her. He left Beyrek standing and walked across the hall towards the girl, only to be caught by his friend who soon matched him stride for stride. They looked at each other, grinned and broke into a race.
Beyrek got to the girls first and introduced himself. I was just saying to my friend Levent here, if three beautiful women happen to wander in, I ll buy drinks for them all evening. So, what are you having, girls? he said, slightly out of breath. Levent came alongside and Beyrek put a hand on his shoulder to steady himself. Surprisingly to Levent, it was the smallest of the three that Beyrek centred his attention on, but she just smiled modestly at him before turning her gaze to Levent. I ll have a Pepsi Cola, thank you.
Beyrek looked a bit put out, but he forced a smile and ordered the drinks. As he did, the girl spoke to Levent. Hello, my name is Emel At the end of the evening, Levent walked Emel home and a relationship began, but Beyrek couldn t accept it. The competition had seemed friendly enough to Levent, but in winning Emel s heart, he won Beyrek s hatred.
Yuri Aleksii pulled Levent away from the memories as he motored under the bridge and pulled in against the pier. Levent! the big man shouted. Get me vodka while I secure the boat.
Levent gave a weak smile and went to the bar.
He liked Yuri, but he was a bit of a mystery: supposedly, a Russian dissident disenchanted with the inequality of the so-called federation of equality, but Levent couldn t picture Yuri as a dissident. He had more of a military bearing: tall, heavy physique, broad shoulders tapering to slender hips, muscles that bulged out all over the place and a rugged face that gave the impression that anyone entering his space did so at their own risk. A military man, maybe a deserter, but why ? Levent stopped in mid-thought. Nearly everybody he knew had something to hide; why should Yuri be different? Levent left the bar with the vodka and another Raki, and found Yuri at the small wooden table, idly swilling the last of Levent s drink around the bottom of the glass.
I don t know how you drink this shit, he said. The smell of aniseed alone makes me want to vomit.
Levent gave him a feeble smile. To each his own, he said and handed him the vodka.
Yuri took a small gulp - Ah, that s better - and gave his attention to Levent. How re you coping with life now, my friend?
It goes on.
Have you been waiting for me?
I wanted to speak with you, yes, Levent said. I have a job for you.
No, no, I don t think so, Levent, Yuri answered, hands up defensively. Sorry, but I can t be caught doing anything illegal.
The offer couldn t get you in trouble. I have something to do and when it s done, I need transport for me and Mehmet.
Yuri sighed heavily. What is it you want?
Beyrek s safe is stacked to bursting with money. I know. I ve seen it. And I also know he won t be at his apartment for days.
And he just told you that?
I know, he hates me, but he tells me about his success to rub my nose in it. You see, he s gone to Icmeler to meet with a Russian, a man who s part of some kind of military unit. Anyway, they re going into business together, setting up a club on the coast.
Yuri s eyes narrowed and he sat back, linked hands over the back of his head.
Military unit, you say. How d you know that?
I told you, Beyrek likes nothing better than to show me what a big man he is.
Exactly what is it you re hoping I ll do?
You wouldn t be part of the robbery, Yuri. All I need is for you to stay here and when the job s done, we ll cross the Golden Horn in the boat, pick Mehmet up and then you can take us across the Marmara Sea to Tekirdag; Beyrek won t be able to track me that way. If I m caught, I swear to God I ll tell no one about you. Yuri, I ask you because you re my friend. There was a pause. I ll pay you well.
Yuri grinned. Pay me? Why didn t you say that in the first place? He roared out a belly laugh and held up a hand. No, I don t want your money. But I would be interested if you were to make an extra search o