Page 77 of At the Crossroads

Dragging myself out of my funk, I break in. “I don’t get it. I can envision the other bombings as a decoy, but if Faez wants to kill Max, isn’t this whole scheme inefficient?”

“The goal is to kill him, but this cat-and-mouse business heightens the tension. I’m certain Faez wants to draw you to Turkey, so he can kill you face to face.”

“Why wouldn’t he want a quick result?” Frank looks a bit confused.

Allan gives a short, humorless snort. “He’s spent the last ten years in prison, probably thinking about how he will take revenge on his brother’s killer. He can afford to be patient.”

Our waiter comes back, and we fall silent. “Sunrise is in about two hours. Do you want to go to the terrace and watch?”

“We’ll go out if you fetch us,“ Brian tells him.

“Right. I’ll be back for you in”—the waiter looks at his watch—“about an hour and three-quarters. Your food will be up soon.”

Brian turns his attention back to the table and does a double take. “Cressie. You’re white as a sheet.”

“I think I’ll just sit here.” My words come out in a feeble stream and Max strokes my palm reassuringly.

“We’ll just sit here together, Dad. The rest of you can go watch.”

JL has been quiet throughout, but now he throws Allan a pointed look. “To go back to Allan’s assessment, how do you explain the attack?”

Allan tents his fingers, obviously moving into lecture mode. I give him the side-eye. He’s so bloodless. This is Max’s life we’re talking about, not some school lesson on terrorism.

“His terrorist contacts would have been able to pull this off.” His voice is dry and brittle as bone. “And, who knows, this attack could have been in the works for a while and Faez might have been able to ride the coattails of an existing terror cell.”

Food arrives. After our huge dinner, I’m astounded at how quickly the plates empty. Frank and Les are quite the trenchermen and even Allan, Meggy, and Brian make inroads. Viktoria takes dainty bites of bacon-wrapped dates and Max samples grilled octopus, while I ignore my favorite things and crumble some of the house bread. Food seems to be the drug of choice, but for me everything tastes like brick dust and ashes. Like the ruins on Max’s street.

ChapterTwenty-Three

Scotland

Cress

We’re standing just outside the entrance to King’s Cross Station. Traveling with the Grant family reminds me of photos from the golden age of travel with heaps of luggage everywhere.

“Max! Max!” A man runs toward us, waving his arms. Yavuz, turning up like a bad penny. Out of breath, he skids to a stop as he reaches us, unfortunately colliding with the teetering mountain just as the passenger assist people turn up. A younger man comes up next to him.

He grabs Max in a hug. “I didn’t expect you to be here. Sometimes I think you’re following us.” His joking chuckle seems strained. “What a terrible thing, last night. I had just gotten to Victoria when I heard.” He puts a hand on Max’s arm.

“Yes. Especially the people injured…” Max stops and regards Yavuz carefully. “And the ones who died.”

By this time, JL is standing next to Max.

“Ah, JL, my friend. I suppose this is au revoir.” He reaches out a hand for JL to shake before answering Max. “A terrible shame. London is no safer than Istanbul these days.”

“Why are you here, Yavuz?”

“My brother and I. Max, you remember my brother, Tanik?” Yavuz grins. “JL, this is my brother, Tanik. He went to lycée in Istanbul, so his French is very good.”

“Enchanté de faire votre connaissance.” JL shakes hands with Tanik as well.

“Ravi de te rencontrer également.”

“Tanik.” Max smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Max. Yavuz told me you were in London.” His air is casual.

“You have another brother, too, don’t you, Yavuz?”

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