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1081 Words
“Why didn’t you meet with him, then? You weren’t there, that I know for sure.”
She appeared nervous. “It is not easy to say why. But I couldn’t. The time for me to come passed and so he left. We adhere to an exacting schedule.”
“You’ve talked to him since then?”
She looked warily at him. “I didn’t say that.”
“Mrs. Penelope, I need to speak with him. Now.”
“I’m sure he knows nothing about any of this.”
“If that’s the truth he has nothing to fear.”
“Famous last words coming from you.
“You don’t trust me?”
“You’ve gone back in, you said so yourself. I may trust you, but not them.” She glanced once more at Anthony as though she represented “them.”
“If Turkekul had no connection to the attack he has nothing to worry about.”
Her look was clearly one of skepticism. “I saw you yesterday with the FBI agent. I will not take them to Fuat. Nothing can make me do that.”
“Your words are not assuring me as to his innocence.”
“There are many agendas out there, Oliver. And most of them have nothing to do with pure guilt or innocence. You know that.”
“All right, then take me, just me.”
She nodded at Anthony. “And what of her?”
“Just me, Mrs. Penelope. But I need to speak with him now.”
She drew a long breath. “This is not easy, Oliver.”
“We’ve known each other a long time. You can trust me. Just as I’ve trusted you. And after all, you came to me.”
“Let me make a call,” she finally said with great reluctance.
On the way Mrs. Penelope told Herbert that Fuat Turkekul was staying on the Georgetown campus at the residence of a full-time faculty member who was away on a sabbatical overseas.
Herbert looked where they were headed. “This is not the way to Georgetown,” he remarked.
“I would not take you to where he is staying,” she replied. “In case we’re being followed. He will meet us near the George Washington University campus.”
“All right.”
“Your friend did not appear pleased to be left behind,” said Mrs. Penelope as they walked along. Herbert had asked Anthony to stay back at the park.
“I wouldn’t either. Tell me more about Turkekul.”
“What do you want to know?” she asked in a cautious tone. The car horns arose from the snarled traffic as they slowly made their way west of the White House and toward GW University.
“Everything.”
“That is impossible.”
“You said he’s a scholar and a friend of this country. You said he is also far more than an academician. And that he was meeting with you at the park that night for a reason you won’t disclose.”
“See, I have already told you much.”
“You have really told me nothing,” he countered.
“I didn’t have to come to you at all,” she replied crossly.
“But you did. Don’t let it be for nothing.”
“I will let Fuat decide what to tell or not to tell. It is up to him really.”
And she would say no more. They arrived on the GW campus and Herbert followed Mrs. Penelope to the place where Turkekul would meet them.
They were let into the building after Mrs. Penelope pushed a buzzer and identified herself to a man Herbert assumed was Turkekul. They walked up one flight of stairs. Turkekul was waiting for them at the open door to an apartment. He wore a white dress shirt with a cardigan over it, and gray slacks. He was taller than Herbert had gauged, about five-ten, and bald, as Herbert had correctly remembered. Up close Herbert could now see that Turkekul was his age or slightly older.
Mrs. Penelope introduced them and Herbert showed his badge to the man. Turkekul studied the credentials and then closed the door and motioned them to take seats on the white couch in the main room of the apartment. As Herbert looked around he was intrigued by the piles of books and typewritten pages scattered everywhere. From some of the titles he was able to read it became clear that Turkekul was a man of diverse intellectual interests who was versed in at least four languages.
“From what Mrs. Penelope told me you’re not staying here, but rather at Georgetown.”
“I also maintain a flat here. Just in case. One can never be too careful,” said Turkekul.
“I’ll never argue with that.”
He offered them hot tea. Mrs. Penelope accepted. Herbert declined. Turkekul fetched the tea and settled across from them.
“Mrs. Penelope has told me some of the situation, and she let me make the decision to meet with you. For that I thank her.” Turkekul’s voice was firm, commanding. He was obviously used to lecturing. Herbert tried to diagnose the underlying accent and inflection to determine the man’s origins. Though normally quite adept at that, he came away with no definitive answer.
“Why do you thank her?” asked Herbert. “From the way she told it, you didn’t want to meet at all.”
“Then you misunderstood her. I thought it better to clear the air now, instead of having what you call the loose threads.”
“You knew the park was under video surveillance,” said Herbert. “And also where the cameras were arrayed?”
Mrs. Penelope clenched her teacup a bit more tightly while Turkekul finished a sip of his drink before setting the cup down and carefully wiping his mouth with a handkerchief pulled from his sweater pocket.
“Why do you say that?”
“You kept your back to them. You stooped over, your face pointing down. I remember that. That maneuver threw off my estimate of your height. And you were pretending to read the plaque on the statue, to give you some reason to not look toward the bank of cameras.” He glanced at Mrs. Penelope. “Did you tell him where the cameras were located?”
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