Hard Rain - 03 by David Rollins

Author:David Rollins
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Macmillan Publishers Australia
Published: 2008-11-01T04:00:00+00:00

Twenty-four

Masters had called ahead, and Emir and his mobile living room were waiting for us at Istanbul’s Atatürk Airport. He gave Masters a hug and then went for me. I warned him not to try it. The guy got his own back, smoking and talking all the way to the docks.

I switched off and thought about Stringer and Burnbaum. We’d called the consulate-general from Incirlik and learned that Stringer had left for CIA headquarters, Langley, Virginia, and that Burnbaum was at the US Embassy in Ankara, the capital of Turkey. Neither was contactable.

When Detective Sergeant Karli saw me walking towards him along the dock, I caught him raising his eyes to heaven, as if asking his maker what the fuck I was doing there. But I’ve been receiving that general reception for a few years now and I’m almost disappointed if I don’t get it.

He turned and walked off in another direction like he’d forgotten something. Maybe it was his desire to cooperate.

As prearranged, Rodney Cain met us on the dock. I saw him standing behind a line-up of police vehicles, deep in conversation with one of the Turkish forensics people. He gave us a wave, detached himself from the company, and came on over. ‘Morning,’ he said.

I checked my watch. He was right, it was morning. Only 11:45 and already it felt like late afternoon.

‘They just pulled the last of the bodies out,’ he reported. ‘Ten in total. All drowned. The divers found them floating around in the mess. The hatch had been dogged shut with a piece of steel shoved in the mechanism.’

‘A great way to clean house – flood it,’ I said. ‘How’d they sink her?’

‘According to some expert that Karli and Iyaz have dug up, it could have been done any number of ways. Until the divers have completed their survey, the general consensus is that someone blew off the engine cooling ducts.’

‘Have you informed Turkish homicide we were looking into the Onur as part of the Portman investigation?’ Masters asked.

‘Yeah. They’re not happy about the connection, but I told them it wasn’t exactly our fault. I think they just want the whole show to catch a flight home to the States, us included.’

‘No survivors, no witnesses,’ I said. ‘A person or persons on board met Portman’s killers – maybe even handed them towels when they came back on board. Let’s at least see how much they paid the ship’s master for the pick-up and delivery service.’

‘I’ll get the master’s bank records pulled,’ said Cain.

‘Has anyone seen or heard from Portman’s manservant yet – this Adem Fedai?’ Masters enquired.

‘No. And while I’m on the subject of bank accounts, Fedai’s hasn’t been touched. I checked yesterday. I’m starting to think that more than likely he’s out there somewhere,’ Cain said, gesturing at the rusting expanse of the port and the cold grey sea beyond it, ‘dusting Davy Jones’s locker.’

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