Dmitri studied the item more closely. It was leathery and had been stuffed deep inside the man’s mouth to form a thick seal over his windpipe and esophagus. He slowly pulled at it until it came out. It was made of vellum, the old animal skin paper used for parchment writing.
A moment later — about the time it took him to take a single breath — the deceased man’s mouth started to open on its own like some sort of evil incarnation of the dead coming back to life, as hundreds of tiny red locusts filled the room.
Dmitri ignored the insects as they scattered throughout the living room, but their symbolism was hardly refutable. Instead, he focused on the words written on the vellum scroll.
A quart of wheat for a day's wages, and three quarts of barley for a day's wages, and do not damage the oil and the wine.
Ismet glanced over his shoulder and said, “What the hell does that mean?”
Dmitri removed his aviator glasses, revealing deep purple eyes that fixed on the detective’s rapt expression of horror. He swallowed hard. “It means there’s a famine coming.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine — Dardanelles Strait, Turkey
At 9:30 a.m. the day was already shaping up to be pristine. There were no clouds and no wind at all. The tide was slack and the normally fast flowing entrance to the Dardanelles appeared calm with the dark blue of aquamarine. The Maria Helena motored up the Aegean Sea, through the Dardanelles — the narrow and natural strait that separates Europe and Asia Minor in what was once known in Classical Antiquity as Hellespont, or the Sea of Helle — and into the Sea of Marmara. Once there, the ship motored slowly to the other end where the city of Istanbul lay nestled on the edge of the Bosphorus Strait and entrance to the Black Sea. It was dark before the Maria Helena finally came to rest at her anchor, off the coast of Istanbul.
Tom Bower stared at the seemingly millions of lights which illuminated the shores of Istanbul. His eyes followed the ancient castles which spread out along the foreshore of the Bosphorus Strait, up to the ancient walls of Constantinople, erected in the 5th Century by the Emperor Theodosius II to protect the city from invasion, and standing strong even today. Massive domed buildings glowed golden in the lights. He was taken in by the city’s rich architecture which came from a melting pot of Byzantine, Genoese, Ottoman, Roman, Greek and modern Turkish sources.
There was no doubt why the city was known worldwide as one of the greatest cultural and ethnic melting pots. Haggia Sophia, once the largest masonry dome in the world, and the Topkapı Palace — once the main headquarters of the Ottoman Sultans — stood proudly near the Bosphorus Strait, while the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, known as the Blue Mosque, rose grandly over the skyline.
Matthew, the skipper of the Maria Helena approached and interrupted his momentary thoughts. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Tom said.
“Good. We’ve been given approval to cross the Bosphorus Strait at first light tomorrow morning. Make certain you’re back here by then, will you?”
“Of course,” Tom said.
Genevieve took Tom to the shore on a small Zodiac inflatable tender. Neither spoke during the short trip. She motored the Zodiac gently up to the shore. Tom shuffled his position so that he could climb out.
Genevieve stopped him with a firm and affectionate grip on his left hand. “Tom. Whatever happens, you know I want to get Billie back as much as you do?”
Tom nodded and smiled. There was more than a little relief in his heart, too. He’d been surreptitiously dating Genevieve for nearly six months now, but Billie had once been the woman he was going to marry. He’d been uncertain how Genevieve would take the news that Billie might be back in their lives soon.
He squeezed her hand affectionately and kissed her lips. “Thank you.”
A moment later he climbed up onto the foreshore and began walking toward the Blue Mosque. The Sultan Ahmed Mosque had five main domes, six minarets, and eight secondary domes. From what he’d read before arriving, Tom knew the design was the culmination of over two centuries of Ottoman mosque development. It incorporated some Byzantine Christian elements of the neighboring Hagia Sophia with traditional Islamic architecture and was considered to be the last great mosque of the classical period. Its architect aimed for overwhelming size, majesty, and splendor.
At its lower levels and at every pier, the interior of the mosque was lined with more than 20,000 handmade Iznik style ceramic tiles in more than fifty different tulip designs. The tiles at lower levels are traditional in design, while at gallery level their design becomes flamboyant with representations of flowers, fruit and cypresses. The tiles were made under the supervision of the Iznik master. The price to be paid for each tile was fixed by the sultan's decree, while tile prices in general increased over time. As a result, the quality of the tiles used in the building decreased gradually.
The upper levels of the interior were dominated by blue paint. More than 200 stained glass windows with intricate designs admit natural light, today assisted by chandeliers. On the chandeliers, ostrich eggs are found that were meant to avoid cobwebs inside the mosque by repelling spiders. The decorations included verses from the Qur'an, many of them made by Seyyid Kasim Gubari, regarded as the greatest calligrapher of his time. The floors are covered with carpets, which are donated by the faithful and are regularly replaced as they wear out. The many vast translucent windows confer a spacious impression. The casements at floor level are decorated with opus sectile — stone mosaic scenes. Each exedra — curved seating nooks for the faithful — had five windows, some of which are blind. Each semi-dome has fourteen windows and the central dome twenty-eight. The colored glass for the windows was a gift of the Signoria of Venice to the sultan.
Tom removed his shoes and entered the building from the hippodrome in the west side. The Blue Mosque was open to the public twenty-four hours a day and constantly filled with tourists and people in worship, making it an easy place to meet Peter Smyth who had spent the last two years trying to blend in and disappear from those who hunted him. Tom stopped and waited at the southern end of the mosque, where three of the blue traditional tiles had been recently repaired, showing a slightly lighter color. He studied the motifs on the tiles which included cypress trees, tulips, roses, and fruits designed to evoke visions of a bountiful paradise. Of the three recently repaired, the tulips were of a different shade of red.
A man next to him spoke quietly. “They were unable to match the tulip’s color with repair.”
“They should have used purple,” Tom said, repeating the phrase Elise had told him to say.
The man glanced furtively around the room, before quietly completing the secret words. “No. I think they should have used yellow.”
Tom smiled. “Peter Smyth?”
“Not here.”
“Where?”
“Just follow me.”
Tom followed the man out of the mosque, leaving a small donation. The man in front of him was sweating profusely. Despite the warmth of the summer’s night, he wore a thick jacket with its hood pulled partially over his face and his head turned downward. Peter’s gait was awkward and furtive, looking over his shoulder as though someone was watching him, ready to take him at any minute.
It was more than twenty minutes before Peter turned a final corner, and entered a small stone building. It looked like not much more than a dilapidated hovel. Tom followed him inside. The place looked barely livable. It was dark, the only window covered with a black sheet.
Tom asked, “You’ve been hiding here?”
Peter Smyth placed his finger to his lips to shush him and mouthed the words — They’re listening to us.