Page 15 of The Secret of Ka


  She hesitated. "You are the master."

  "That's right, and don't forget it." I paused. "The friend I'm going to see invoked a djinn from the round temple. It came out of a lamp. Are you familiar with the djinn I'm speaking of?"

  "Yes."

  "I know its name. Do you know its name?" I asked.

  "Not his complete name, no."

  "In your society, names are important."

  "It is the same in your world."

  "Are you more powerful than the djinn who came out of the lamp?"

  "Yes." There was pride in her tone.

  "Can you destroy him if I order you to?"

  Lova hesitated. "Djinn do not prey on other djinn."

  "Answer the question."

  "Yes. But to do so will automatically cause you to be in my debt."

  "No way. I owe you nothing if it's my first wish."

  "Wishing for the murder of another djinn always causes debt."

  She was being honest; I sensed the truth in her answer. What surprised me was that she had gone out of her way to warn me. It was possible that killing a djinn was as hard for her as it would have been for me to kill another human.

  The taxi driver knew about Kumkapi. It turned out to be an extremely poor neighborhood—no surprise. Yet the depth of its poverty overwhelmed me. I wasn't able to just "ask around" for Amesh. There was the language barrier, and the people were naturally suspicious of an American looking for one of their own.

  But I paid my taxi driver extra to be my spokesman. He had grown up in the area and seemed happy to help. We eventually found where Amesh, Mira, and their Papi lived. It broke my heart. Their "house" was a ragtag collection of sheet metal and cardboard.

  I asked the taxi driver to please wait and ordered Lova to remain in the cab. I noticed that the driver turned off the meter. He was not greedy. I felt shy knocking on the Demir door. Amesh had said Mira and his Papi both spoke English. While I waited for a response, I prayed it would be Amesh.

  No such luck.

  An elderly man with thin white hair and a gray mustache answered. Or I should say, he peered at me through a cracked door. The chain was still in place.

  "Hi. Is Amesh home?" I asked.

  "Who are you?"

  "My name's Sara. I'm his friend. Did he tell you about me?"

  "No." The man was on the verge of shutting the door. "Now if you can excuse, please..."

  "You're wondering where Amesh got the money!" I blurted out.

  The man froze. Even through the crack, I saw him frown. Glancing up and down the street, he undid the chain and opened the door.

  "You come alone?" he asked in broken English.

  "Yes. Mr. Demir, right? I really am a friend of your son. We only met yesterday but we spent a lot of time together. He probably didn't mention me because I know how he got his money. But I'm not here to take it away from him."

  "Why you here?" he asked in a gentler voice.

  "I'm worried about him, just like you are. May I come in?"

  Mr. Demir nodded and stepped aside. Although the exterior looked like a box that had been erected in a dump, the interior was neat and clean. A ten-year-old girl, a head shorter than me—and with perhaps the darkest hair and eyes I had ever seen in my life—stood beside a heating pad, making porridge.

  "Hi," she said. She was beautiful.

  "Hello, Mira," I replied, offering my hand. "Amesh told me a lot about you." She shook my hand, then I shook hands with Mr. Demir. He offered me a seat on a sagging sofa and waited for me to start the conversation.

  I was surprised, amidst their poverty, that they had a TV But then I recalled all the shows Amesh had talked about, and how superb his English was. Mr. Demir must not have watched as much TV He struggled with a lot of words.

  I spoke. "I know Amesh didn't come home from work yesterday. And I know he was out all last night. But if you know about his money, then you must have seen him this morning."

  Mr. Demir nodded. "He come by for short time to say he okay. We up all night, worried. We call police. I try to scold him, but he laugh and push lira in my face. He say he find treasure and we are rich."

  I wasn't surprised that Amesh had bartered one or more of the jewels for cash so quickly. But I suspected he had made a foolish trade. From what I had seen of the djinn's treasure, there hadn't been a gem in the chest worth less than several million.

  "How long ago was he here?" I asked.

  Mr. Demir hesitated. I did not have his trust yet. "Some time."

  "Besides the money, was he acting strange?" I asked.

  "He laugh and throw lira in the air. That not my grandson. I teach him treat money with respect."

  "He did something similar to me," I muttered, thinking of the jewel he had pressed on me in the temple.

  "What did you do?" Mr. Demir asked.

  "I told him the truth. That I didn't care about the jewels. That I was just worried about him."

  Mr. Demir sucked in a breath. "He find jewels?"

  "We found them together, a whole chest of them."

  "Where?" he asked.

  Time for a little white lie. I couldn't tell him about the island; it was too unbelievable. "In the desert. My father works for the same company as Amesh. Yesterday afternoon, I found them at the job site. But Amesh was the one who sneaked them past the security guards."

  Mr. Demir paled. "Government will say jewels belong to them. Amesh will go to jail."

  "That's why I have to find him. The worst thing he can do is run around selling the jewels. The police will hear about it and come looking for him."

  "Why you not tell him about police last night?"

  "I tried, but when he saw the jewels, he started acting like a madman."

  "You say you find treasure in the day?" Mr. Demir asked.

  Darn, a mistake in my story. That was what happened when you lied.

  "We found the chest during the day," I said carefully. "But we weren't able to open it until after dark."

  "Where you do this?"

  "At the Hilton, my father's hotel. But my dad wasn't there. He was working late."

  "Amesh stay all night?"

  "No. He left as soon as he got the jewels."

  "Who is your father?"

  "Charles Wilcox. Do you know him?"

  Mr. Demir nodded, impressed. "Mr. Wilcox good man."

  Mira sat at my feet with her bowl of porridge. "Can you help Amesh?" she asked, worried.

  I smiled for her benefit. "If I can find him, I'm sure I can help him."

  "You here because you want half?" Mr. Demir asked bluntly.

  Looking him straight in the eye, I told him, "Like I said, I don't care about the jewels. I just want to make sure he's safe."

  Mr. Demir appeared to believe me. "I tell Amesh you want to talk to him when he comes home." He stood as if he was preparing for me to leave.

  "He might not come home!" I exploded. I had to struggle to control myself. "Please, listen, the longer Amesh is out there without my help, the greater the chance he'll be arrested. I need to find him now."

  "We don't know where he went," Mira said.

  My face must have fallen. Mr. Demir spoke quickly.

  "He not say where he is going," he said.

  "Damn," I whispered.

  From their shocked expressions, one would have thought I had just spray-painted obscenities on their walls.

  "I not understand why Amesh not give you half the jewels," he said.

  "My family has money. Jewels are the last thing I need." I stood. "Is there a neighborhood in Istanbul where there are lots of jewelry stores?"

  "Kapali Carsi District. Many blocks of stores. Lots of security. You not from here. You foreigner. You walk around, ask questions, people get suspicious. No good to go there without man." Mr. Demir glanced at his granddaughter. "I take Mira to friend and I go with you."

  "That's kind of you, but it's better if I go alone," I said.

  "I not understand."

  The tr
uth was, Mr. Demir could help me find Amesh. But he would get in the way once we had him. Amesh would clam up. He wouldn't talk about the island any more than I would. But he might speak against me. Chances were excellent that his djinn already had him under its control.

  If I didn't take Mr. Demir with me, the instant I left, he was going to leave Mira at his friend's house anyway and look for Amesh on his own. He could only complicate matters, but there was nothing I could do to stop him from trying to find his grandson.

  I asked my next question as gently as possible.

  "This morning, how was Amesh's arm?"

  Mr. Demir stiffened. "What you mean?"

  "I don't mean to pry. But last night I thought he hurt his ... stump."

  Mira spoke. "It was bothering him. Papi, I told you, he kept rubbing it."

  "Did you ever find out who attacked him?" I asked.

  Mr. Demir sighed. "He tell you about that night?"

  "First he told me he lost the hand in an accident at work. Later he admitted he was attacked." Besides lying, I was making a calculated guess.

  Mr. Demir shook his head. Bitterness entered his voice. "Four boys, we have their names. But we not know who pay them to do it."

  "You mean, these guys were not his enemies?" I asked.

  "They are boys he work with," Mr. Demir said.

  "Did they go to jail?"

  "They get expensive lawyers, we don't know how. There was trial but judge say they are innocent."

  "Even when Amesh identified them?" I asked, stunned.

  Mr. Demir was grim. "I pray to Allah to forgive this feeling. But one day I hope they burn for what they did to Amesh."

  I understood. Sadly, I understood much better than he could imagine. It was possible the four guys might be burning before the day was finished.

  The Demirs did have a regular phone. He gave me the number, and I said goodbye to Mira. I promised I'd do everything I could to protect her brother.

  Mr. Demir sensed another meaning in my remark.

  "Others know about treasure?" he asked.

  "It's possible," I said.

  I did not explain that they might not all be human.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  LOVA WAS WAITING in the back seat of the taxi, her eyes closed. The driver asked for directions. "Downtown, the Kapali Carsi District," I told him, before turning to Lova. "Do you know when another djinn's nearby?"

  She considered. "You want me to help you find Darbar."

  "Yes."

  "Make a wish and I'll find him for you."

  "Gimme a break. You find him and I might make a wish."

  Lova hesitated. "I can sense if he's near."

  I pointed to a building down the block. "Can you sense if he's that far away?" I asked.

  "Yes. Farther."

  "Good. Keep your antenna turned on. I'll need it soon."

  "Don't you want to keep me hidden from him?" she asked.

  I saw her point. She thought I wanted her to kill Darbar. If that was the case, naturally, I would not want to advertise her presence. It annoyed me that my djinn had thought of something I should have.

  "Can you sense him without his sensing you?" I asked.

  She nodded. "My lineage is older, more powerful. But you cannot bring me near your friend if Darbar is with him."

  "Darbar will sense you through my friend?"

  "It is possible."

  "All right. If we find my friend, you can hang out in a music store." I paused. "Do djinn listen to music?"

  "Our music was old when humans were still living in trees."

  Again, with one remark, Lova had given me an insight into djinn culture. It was a pity the situation with Amesh was so pressing. I would have loved to sit and question her at length about the djinn.

  While we circled the Kapali Carsi District and searched for Amesh, Lova sat with her eyes shut. She was not resting, she assured me. She was trying to sense Darbar.

  Mr. Demir had not exaggerated. The Kapali Carsi District was an endless array of shops that sold jewelry but also rugs and other hand-crafted goods, which I liked the most. Of course, many of the shops were not proper stores, but more like displays at a swap meet. They were temporary affairs, erected fresh each morning.

  I didn't have a photograph of Amesh. I couldn't go from store to store and ask if anyone had seen him. It was probably just as well—that would have been reckless.

  I hoped that Mr. Demir was smart enough not to do the same thing. He was obviously frantic. He knew there was something wrong with his Amesh besides the treasure. Mira had sensed it, too—that was why she had been so scared.

  After hours of circling, Lova told me she did not sense Darbar in the area. By then it was two in the afternoon, and I was hungry. The thought of food reminded me of how much Amesh had loved the steak in my hotel room. It occurred to me that if he was hungry—and rich—he would probably buy the same steak again. He would want to go to a Hilton! But not my Hilton because he would be afraid of running into me.

  "Do you know of a Hilton that's not at the beach?" I asked our driver.

  "There's one at airport."

  "How far away is that?"

  "Twenty kilometers."

  That would be twelve and a half miles. "Is there one closer?"

  "No."

  "Take me to it," I said.

  "May I ask the young lady a question?"

  "Yes?"

  "You're American, yes?"

  "Yeah"

  "Is it a custom in your country to talk to people who are not there?"

  I had not gone out of my way to disguise my conversations with Lova because I had assumed that the driver wouldn't notice what I was doing. I would have to be more careful.

  "I'm a famous actress," I said. "I'm rehearsing lines for a movie."

  That got the guy excited, and he talked my head off all the way to the hotel. When we were parked outside, I turned to Lova.

  "Is Darbar in the area?" I whispered.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded toward the hotel.

  "He's in that building," she said.

  I spoke softly. "Good. Stay out of sight in that shoe store over there. How far can you be from me and still hear my call?"

  "Far."

  "Okay. Wait for my call. I won't be long."

  I paid the driver—I owed him a small fortune—and entered the hotel. This Hilton was larger and older than the one at the beach, more conservative. I asked at the desk where lunch was being served and was pointed toward two different restaurants.

  "Which one has the best steak?" I asked.

  I was directed to the restaurant on the second floor, overlooking the pool and the harbor. It was almost deserted; apparently the other restaurant had the great lunch menu. A man with a white turban wanted to seat me but I told him I was looking for a friend. Before Amesh saw me, I saw him on the balcony eating his lunch.

  He had two hands! He was using both of them to eat!

  It should not have been a shock. I had heard him ask for the hand. But I had been so upset that night, I did not get a clear look at him after he made his wish. Now, to actually see it attached to his arm—it was like a miracle!

  Yet there was something wrong with his right hand. The skin color was ghastly. It was not dark like his normal beautiful skin, but a sick yellow. And the longer I watched, the more I saw him struggling.

  He was using it to hold the fork, to keep the meat in place, when he should have been using it to cut the meat with his knife. Amesh had told me that he was naturally right-handed. Yet here he was using his left hand to do the more difficult task.

  It broke my heart to see why. His new hand was hurting him. He tried to hide it, but every time the fork slipped from his control, he winced.

  I ran over and sat beside Amesh. He took one look at me and tried to escape. He had on new clothes. Expensive tailored clothes. Gray slacks, a white silk shirt, and a gaudy silver jacket. I grabbed him by his sleeve as he went to leave.

/>   "We have to talk," I said.

  He shook free. "I don't have to talk to you!"

  His words stung. For two weeks I had done nothing but worry about him, and now he did not want to speak to me. The only thing that kept me from bursting into tears was the pain on his face. He did not look like the Amesh I knew. He kept twitching.

  "Where's Darbar?" If the djinn was nearby, I did not sense it.

  He shook at the mention of the creature. "Don't say his name!"

  "Why not?"

  "Because I hate him, and it might make him come."

  "Fine. Talk to me, and I won't mention him again."

  It chilled me to the bone to speak of Amesh's djinn as a "him" instead of an "it." Yet I realized that I usually thought of Lova as a "her" or a "she." Was it because I felt Darbar more evil? Less human? Mentally and emotionally, there could be a danger in getting too comfortable with Lova.

  Amesh sat back down. "Is that why you're here? To threaten me?"

  "I'm here because I'm sick worrying about you. Did you happen to notice that it didn't matter how long we were on the island? When you returned, it was the next day."

  "Of course I noticed."

  "Well, I've been gone two weeks."

  He was stunned. "You're kidding."

  "It's been a very long two weeks, Amesh."

  "I'm sorry."

  "That's it? You leave me stranded on a spooky island and all you can say is you're sorry?"

  He looked ashamed. "The djinn ordered me to leave you. It was like it got inside my mind, and I lost all control. But then I thought of you and I fought it. I sent the carpet back. But I had no idea it would take so long to rescue you."

  "It came the next night." The carpet had never told me Amesh had sent it back for me. I wondered why. The information meant a lot to me.

  "But you just said—"

  "I stayed on the island on purpose to try to help you," I interrupted. "To learn how to undo the deals you've made with your djinn."

  He shook his head. "He's not my djinn. I want nothing to do with him."

  "But you can't get rid of it, can you? Do you know why? It's because of the Laws of the Djinn that I told you about before you decided you knew everything." I paused. "How many wishes have you made so far?"

  "Two."

  "Liar."

  He went to snap at me but then stopped. "What do three wishes have to do with Darbar taking control?" he asked.