Deadly Web by Barbara Nadel Page A

retribution.’
    ‘Sounds weird to me,’ İkmen grumbled.
    ‘I mean, there’s days of this stuff,’ Çöktin said as he turned his attention back to the machines once again, ‘arguments, chat, information. I don’t know how long it would take me to sort through it all.’
    ‘Well, you’ll need help,’ İkmen said. ‘Inspector Süleyman will have to request assistance.’
    ‘I’m not sure that will help actually, sir.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because,’ Çöktin said, ‘it’s as I’ve said before, sir, complicated. If you want to hide your identity, there are plenty of ways in which this can be done with ease. I don’t really understand it myself, but I do know that there are ways of routing data that render it well-nigh untraceable.’
    ‘So this line of enquiry is hopeless?’
    ‘Maybe, or at least it will be unless I can find a way to contact someone,’ Çöktin said darkly.
    İkmen, leaning forward now across Süleyman’s desk, frowned. ‘Contact who, Çöktin?’
    The Kurd shrugged. ‘If I knew the answer to that, sir, I’d have contacted whoever is Mendes a long time ago.’
    ‘Jak! Jak!’
    With what Estelle Cohen felt was a very teenage-style sigh, Jak Cohen turned round to look down at his brother.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Where are you going at such a mad hour of the day?’ Balthazar said from his huddled position in his chair next to the kitchen door. He’d slept in the chair all night. Sometimes it was more comfortable for him than his bed. But as often happened these days, he’d lost track of time.
    ‘It’s nine o’clock, Balthazar,’ Estelle said. ‘Jak has a meeting in Beyoğlu.’
    ‘A meeting?’ Balthazar pushed himself up on his elbows and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. ‘Who with? When? You’re driving me to the hospital at two.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘So if you’ve got a meeting how—’
    ‘My meeting, Balthazar, is this morning,’ Jak said, his teeth gritting against the aggravation his brother was causing him – it had been pretty much constant since he’d returned to İstanbul. ‘Your appointment is this afternoon. I will take you to it, as I promised.’
    He then turned to retrieve his briefcase from the floor.
    Balthazar, mollified, lit a cigarette. ‘So who you going to see in Beyoğlu then?’ he said through a welter of coughing.
    ‘A business associate.’
    ‘Yeah, but who?’ Balthazar smiled. ‘Remember, I know a lot of men in your line of business in this city, Jak. I’ve arrested a lot of flesh traders in my time.’
    ‘And used their wares,’ Estelle put in, looking down disgustedly at her husband as she did so.
    ‘I’m not a pimp, Balthazar,’ Jak said evenly as he watched his sister-in-law retreat miserably out to the balcony. ‘I run dance clubs where beautiful women dance for men. There’s no touching, no meeting after the show . . . The men pay, the women dance. It’s perfectly legal.’
    ‘You didn’t bring one to dance for me, did you, you bastard?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘So maybe you can get me one from your business associate here?’
    Jak straightened his tie. ‘I don’t think so.’
    ‘Why not?’ Balthazar pouted. ‘Don’t you want to give your poor crippled brother a little happiness?’
    ‘I thought I’d done that when I paid for your son’s wedding.’
    ‘Oh, throw that in my face!’ Balthazar scowled. ‘Pornographer!’
    Jak leaned down and braced his hands against the arms of his brother’s chair. ‘I run legitimate clubs and shops selling sex AIDS and literature,’ he said firmly. ‘I don’t touch any weird stuff – children or animals. Ask the British police about me and they’ll tell you I’m a legitimate businessman.’
    ‘How can I ask them?’ Balthazar threw his arms theatrically into the air. ‘I’ve never been to Britain! You’ve never invited me!’
    ‘Then why don’t you ask your friend Mehmet to ask the British police to check me out? I’ve got to go!’
    Jak pushed himself away from his