knows?’
‘Of course they do,’ she said. ‘The whole town was talking about it.’
A sadness suddenly swept over me as I realised how much I cared about the people in town, and it broke my heart to think that as I chatted and joked with them, believing them to be friends, they could look me in the eye knowing that I was going to be beaten and not even tell me about it. I felt betrayed. This feeling only proved how much they meant to me. I was fond of them but they had betrayed me; they had never cared for me.
Sadly I said, ‘No one ever said a word about this to me.’
‘No one could tell you. They were afraid. One day you’ll leave, but they have to stay. I’m sure they dropped hints, though.’
‘No, they never did.’
She raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips and said, ‘Didn’t Remzi ask you if you were bored here, tell you to try somewhere a little more fun? Didn’t Centipede tell you the mountains were beautiful this time of year, that you should spend some time up there? Doesn’t Hamiyet wonder why you don’t go back to the comfort of your own home? Didn’t you ever stop to think why they were saying all these things?’
‘No.’ But I was pleased to think that they were trying to warn me, which means at least I hadn’t been betrayed. ‘But why didn’t they beat me up then?’
‘Mustafa said you were harmless and that they should leave you alone for now. That’s why.’
‘Mustafa got me off the hook?’
‘He’s got something in mind. He always does.’
‘Do you know him?’
‘I’ve known him since he was a kid,’ she said, laughing. ‘But I haven’t seen him for a while. I don’t really see much of those guys after they grow up.’
‘But then why were they planning to beat me in the first place? What was the problem with me? Is it because of the treasure?’
‘Of course. They don’t like strangers poking around here.’
‘Do you think there really is treasure there?’
‘God, I don’t know, but that’s what they say. And even if it’s true, what use is it to me?’
‘It’s like Schrödinger’s cat,’ I said, softly.
‘Whose cat?’
‘Schrödinger’s.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘He says put a cat and poison in a box, and the cat is both dead and alive until you actually open the box.’
‘So you’re saying that the treasure is either there or it isn’t?’
‘No, I’m saying that it’s both there and not there …’
She took a deep breath.
‘You’re the cleverest man in the town and now you’re saying that the treasure is both there and it’s not there. The damned thing is enough to drive even the cleverest people insane.’
She stood up and ran her hand up her inner thigh. ‘Come over here and I’ll show you Sümbül’s cat. Now, that’s definitely there.’
Sümbül’s cat was no match for Schrödinger’s and between her legs the last thing on my mind was quantum physics.
She downed the last bit of whisky-cola before she got up to go. As she was stepping through the door, I took her by the arm and said: ‘But you never warned me.’
She looked at me, a forlorn expression on her face.
‘Didn’t I tell you to come and say goodbye before you left town? I was putting the idea in your head.’
That’s when I realised that in this town certain topics were never openly discussed, and when they were you had to pay careful attention to catch innuendo and subtle signs to understand just what people meant.
Now, thinking back on it, I wonder why I didn’t just leave then. What was keeping me there? When there were so many dangers, warnings, the strange happenings, when I always had the feeling that something bad was just around the corner.
Maybe it was simply curiosity.
I was curious to see what would happen. A writer’s boundless curiosity.
And maybe a little pride.
I had the feeling that I would win over the entire town.
To somehow know the truth behind the people there without them ever suspecting me, to see what they were hiding, to let slip details to do with the dark sides of their lives, it didn’t just quench my curiosity but gave me a strange and exhilarating rush of power.
And like all forms of power, it is a pleasure that comes at a price, a pleasure for which you pay later on.
And now I know the price I had to pay.
XII
Two days after that strange conversation with Sümbül, I was sitting in the coffeehouse reading my newspapers when Mustafa’s enormous black car pulled up in front of the garden and his thickset driver, who was also the mayor’s official bodyguard, walked over to me. ‘Mustafa Bey is expecting you.’
Everyone at the tables around me seemed blown back by a sudden gust of wind; but then they were still; it was like a ring of energy had pushed them away from me. For the coffeehouse denizens I’d gone from being a friendly writer to one of the bigwigs.
They gazed at me with admiration, fear and respect.
It annoyed me that Mustafa had sent his driver to order me to come and see him. But there was nothing I could do.
It would have caused a real commotion in town if I’d refused him.
Anyone refusing a summons from the mayor would have upset the order in town, and even my good friends at the coffeehouse would have been angry with me.
This was the way things worked; it was unfair and meaningless but everyone had a place in the order of things, and they were accustomed to this. No one wanted to disturb the delicate balance. Though it was a balance full of threats, oppression and fear, it was a known element; they wouldn’t know what to do with themselves if the scales were somehow tipped.
I got up and walked over to the car.
We drove to the town hall.
I loved the building. It’s a broad, three-storey, sand-coloured stone building with oriel windows and dark blue tiles over the cornices and delicate columns at the entrance.
Mustafa’s office was on the top floor. It was a large room. Two leather armchairs sat in front of a long desk and at the far end of the room there was a round conference table. Between them was a wooden coffee
