The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [235]
There was still no sign of the Scorpio and she breathed a small sigh of relief as she hobbled in the direction of the Hippodrome, keeping an eye open for a passing taxi. But the big square, usually packed with tourists, was deserted this early. She glanced around uncertainly at the shadows. She had no idea where the nearest police station might be and she thought wistfully of Cal, wishing he were there to help her. Why, oh, why had she not told him the truth earlier? She had always known she could trust him. She wondered whether if she was lucky enough to survive, Cal would ever trust her again. The only thing to do now was call Michael. Michael would come for her. Michael would save her.
Valentin watched her from across the square. He had tried to get to the Kazahn villa but the road leading to it was blocked by police cars and he had been forced to make a quick turn before they stopped him. He was driving back up the side street to the hotel when he spotted Genie in his mirror. He parked the car half a block away and followed her. He had not expected her to try to escape. He had thought she trusted him and he watched her sadly, trying to decide whether to grab her now or wait to see where she led him. She was jiggling the phone up and down but it was obviously out of order and she hobbled to the next one, but that too was out of order. She put her head in her hands, her body drooped in an attitude of defeat, and he thought how sad it was she had deceived him. Poor Genie. Poor, reckless, lovely girl.
Genie looked desperately around for help but there was no one, and she hobbled north through Sultanhamet Square, searching for an early café where she could make a call, praying for a taxi … anything … anyone…. She passed the old water tower at the top of deserted Yerebatan Street and paused outside the Sunken Palace. Through the glass entry doors she could see an office—and a telephone. After picking up an empty beer bottle from the gutter, she hurled it through the glass, watching numbly as it shattered into a thousand fragments at her feet. Then she ducked quickly inside, grabbed the telephone, and dialed Michael’s number. “Pick up, oh, please, Michael, pick up,” she begged, sobbing with fear, sagging with relief as he answered on the fourth ring. “Michael, oh, Michael,” she cried, “it’s Anna!”
He said quickly, “Don’t try to explain. Just tell me where you are.”
“The Yerebatan Sarayi. I broke the glass door to get to the phone—”
“Wait right there. I’ll come and get you. Are you all right, Anna? Were you followed?”
“Yes … no …” she answered wildly. “Oh, Michael, I’m just so scared.”
“I’m coming to get you right now. Hide in the cisterns where no one can see you. I will be there as soon as I can.”
There was a click as he put down the receiver. Glancing nervously over her shoulder, she did as he had told her. But as she pushed through the turnstile and walked down the steps to the Sunken Palace, she felt as if she had just cut off her lifeline.
Outside, Valentin leaned against the wall, his arms folded and a look of pain op his face. She had spoken in English to Michael Kazahn; he had heard every word she said. Genie was Anna. She was his cousin. Genie was the “Lady” he was looking for.
“It was her,” Michael said to Refika. “She has escaped her captors. She is waiting for me at the Yerebatan Sarayi”
A look of relief crossed her face and then she said anxiously, “You must call the police. There is no time to be lost.”
He shook his head. “No more police. This time Michael Kazahn is in charge.” He limped across the room to the display cabinet by Tariq’s portrait, unlocked it, and took out the ancient Tartar sword.
Refika stared at him, aghast. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “You are dealing with murderers, men with powerful guns, and you buckle on an antique sword as if you were going into