Istanbul Affair Read online

  Amy muttered something totally incoherent under her breath, bolted into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind her.

  This was getting completely out of hand, she told herself in pure panic. What on earth was she going to do? Another couple of days of this and men in white coats were going to have to come and take her away!

  She pulled off her nightshirt and got under the shower. The hot water beating down on her calmed her just a little. Try and work out what's happened, she instructed herself. Once you understand it, perhaps you can do something about it.

  But how could she possibly understand something that was so inexplicable? Here was a man whom she actively disliked, and yet every time he looked at her, something inside of her began to shake. He only had to come near, and she wanted to reach out and touch him. None of it made the slightest sense—but it certainly scared her half to death!

  She spent ages under the shower. Her skin was beginning to wrinkle by the time she reluctantly turned it off and began to dry herself.

  Very, very slowly, she pulled on her clothes. She wanted to put off for as long as possible the moment when she was going to have to go back out there and see him; speak to him; try to act normal, when the way she felt inside wasn't normal at all!

  When she finally left the bathroom, her feet dragging as she forced them to carry her back into the bedroom, Benedict shot a dry look at her.

  'Do you always spend this much time in the bathroom? Every time you disappear in there, you seem to stay there longer and longer. If you carry on like this, you're not going to come out at all in a couple of days!'

  'I—I just felt like a long shower,' she mumbled. She edged her way over to the window and looked out. She really longed to be out there in those hot, crowded streets. She could get lost in the throng of people—try to forget for a short time that a man called Benedict Kane even existed.

  'I think I need to go out for a while,' she said in a rush. 'Just for a walk—to get some fresh air.'

  'You need to stay here,' he said at once. 'In case Angeline tries to get in touch.'

  'You went out this morning,' Amy reminded him, her voice taking on a sharp edge because she really was quite desperate to get out of this room, even if it were only for half an hour.

  'I'm not the one that Angeline sent that letter to,' he reminded her.

  'Damn Angeline!' she said with sudden vehemence. 'I wish she were a thousand miles away from here.'

  Benedict's mouth immediately set into a hard, grim line. 'You've already made it perfectly clear how you feel about your cousin. Thank God I turned up at your shop on the same morning that her letter arrived. If I hadn't been there, you'd probably have torn it up, thrown it away, and just forgotten about it.'

  'I would not!' Amy denied indignantly. 'And perhaps you wouldn't be so eager to help my cousin if you knew her a little better.'

  'What exactly do you mean by that?' he said tightly. But before she had a chance to reply, the telephone rang.

  Amy jumped violently. The shrill sound echoed through the room, and she stared at the phone nervously.

  'Answer it,' Benedict instructed in a taut voice. When she didn't move, he strode over to her and gave her an impatient shake. 'Pick it up and answer it!' he repeated, his dark eyes blazing down at her.

  Her hand visibly trembling, she reached out and picked up the receiver.

  'Hello?' she said in almost a whisper.

  A man's voice, slightly muffled, echoed down the line.

  'Is that Amy Stewart?'

  'Yes, it is.'

  'Then listen very carefully if you want to see your cousin again. We have her and she's safe at the moment, but she might very well get hurt if you do anything stupid, like going to the police. Understand?'

  Amy had to cough to clear her constricted throat before she could answer him. 'Yes,' she finally got out, in a cracked tone.

  'It's very important that no one becomes suspicious,' the man's voice went on. 'So we want you to act as if you're here on holiday. Go and see the sights. Take snapshots, buy postcards and souvenirs. When we're satisfied that you're behaving sensibly, and that you haven't involved any of the authorities, we'll be in touch again.'

  'How?' she said quickly. 'Will you ring me here, at the hotel?'

  'We might telephone, or we might find some other way of getting a message to you. Just remember that we'll be watching you all the time; so make sure that you follow our instructions exactly.'

  'Is Angeline all right?' Amy asked urgently.

  'She's fine—for now.'

  'Can I see her? Speak to her?'

  The line went dead in her hand. She stared at the phone for several moments, and then slowly put it down.

  'What did they say?' Benedict demanded tautly.

  She had almost forgotten that he was there. With an effort, she pulled herself together and then repeated the conversation, almost word for word.

  Benedict's face darkened. 'So I was right,' he said grimly. 'Someone has snatched Angeline.'

  'What are we going to do?' Amy asked numbly. She was still finding it incredibly hard to take all of this in. Right up until the moment when the phone had rung, she had believed that Angeline would cheerfully bounce in and apologise for sending such a frantic letter. Her cousin loved being over-dramatic and exaggerating everything that happened to her. Only, this time, she hadn't exaggerated at all. She was in deadly serious trouble, and relying on Amy to get her safely out of it.

  'For now, we do exactly as they've instructed,' Benedict said, his features setting into a black expression. She guessed that he hated being so helpless, being able to do nothing except go along with the kidnapper's demands.

  Amy gave a small shiver. Suddenly, everything had changed, become much more dangerous.

  She didn't even feel relieved that she didn't have to cope with it on her own—that she had Benedict Kane to give help and advice. Somehow, that only added to the aura of danger that surrounded this whole affair.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Amy paced restlessly over to the window, and stared out. Somewhere out there was her cousin, Angeline. She was alone, certainly very frightened, and probably wondering if anyone was ever going to rescue her.

  She swung back to face Benedict. She found that she could look at him quite easily now, with no more than a slightly faster-than-usual thumping of her pulses.

  'I think that we ought to go to the police,' she said in a very clear voice. 'This is more than we can handle. We need someone who knows how to deal with this kind of thing.'

  'No,' Benedict said flatly. 'I'm not going to do anything that will put Angeline in any kind of danger. And I won't allow you to do it, either.'

  'I think we're putting her in more danger by not going to the police,' Amy argued stubbornly. 'They've got experience of this kind of thing. They'll be able to advise us; they'll know what to do.'

  'They might also get Angeline killed, if the kidnappers find out that the very first thing we've done is to disobey their instructions,' he said in a grim voice. 'I'm not willing to risk that.'

  'We might be putting her even more at risk by trying to deal with this alone. I'm no good at this sort of thing. I don't like intrigue and I hate danger.' Amy brushed quickly at her eyes, which were suddenly prickling ominously. 'If I mess this up and something happens to Angeline, then it's all going to be my fault. I couldn't live with that. I really couldn't.'

  Benedict looked at her without much sympathy. 'And that's why you want to involve the police? So you can blame them if something goes wrong? You think that that'll let you walk away with a clear conscience? You can tell yourself that you weren't the one who messed it up? Well, it doesn't work like that, Amy,' he said, fixing his dark gaze on her. 'You're involved, and you're going to stay involved. If things look like getting out of hand then we might have to call in the police, but only as a very last resort. Angeline's relying on you to get her out of this safely, and that's exactly what you're going to do.'

  'I do
n't think I can,' she said, a frightened tremor in her voice. 'Look, I thought Angeline sent me that letter because she was going through some sort of emotional crisis, and she couldn't face it on her own. She has them quite regularly, and she always wants someone to hold her hand and see her through them. Or I thought that it might even be a hoax. She likes playing tricks on people, she gets a real kick out of it. But this—' She gave a huge shiver. 'This is different. This is for real. And I can't handle it.'

  Benedict walked over until he was standing only inches in front of her. His hands gripped the top of her arms and she was starkly aware of the warmth of his body, the light fanning of his breath against her face, and the too-fast beating of his own pulses.

  'You're going to handle it,' he told her in a harsh tone. 'You're not running out on Angeline, you little coward.'

  His words hit her hard. They were more effective than a physical blow. Amy stopped shivering, and her eyes changed, their colour becoming darker and more intense.

  'Let go of me,' she said in a low voice.

  He instantly released her. She rubbed her arms, as if trying to get rid of the imprint of his fingers. Then, very gradually, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her head.

  'I still think we should go to the police. But all right, we'll try and tackle this on our own, if you really think Angeline will be safer that way. Remember this, though. I'm going to the authorities straight away, if things look as if they're going wrong. And I'm not going to take orders from you; not any more. We'll do things my way, or not at all.'

  Benedict growled something under his breath, obviously not liking this sudden change in her.

  Amy found that she felt much better now that she was actually standing up to him. She seemed to have been falling further and further under this man's influence ever since he had first walked into her shop, with everything threatening to get completely out of hand. Well, things were going to change! He kept telling her that she was responsible for Angeline's safety, and so she was going to be responsible. That meant taking decisions on her own, and sticking to them. It also meant not being over-awed by him in any way, or letting him get to her. She took a deep breath. That definitely wouldn't be easy! But perhaps she could manage it if she kept telling herself that she was doing it for Angeline—that her cousin's safety, perhaps even her life, was at stake.

  'Right,' she said in a much crisper voice, 'I've already decided what we're going to do today.'

  Benedict looked as if he definitely didn't like this change in her, but he didn't interrupt her, although his eyes began to gleam with a warning light. Amy ignored it, though.

  'We're going to follow the kidnappers' instructions as far as we can. I'm going to act like a tourist, visit some of the sights of Istanbul, and let them see that I'm not acting suspiciously in any way. I hope that'll make them get in touch again fairly soon. When they do that, I'll decide what I'm going to do next.' She picked up her bag and rummaged through it. 'I'll go to the bank first and change some money,' she went on. 'Then I'll pick up a guide-book and try to find my way to a couple of the more popular tourist spots. A lot of people should be heading for the same places, so I shouldn't get lost.'

  'No, you won't get lost, because I'm coming with you,' Benedict told her. 'And I've an excellent sense of direction.'

  'I'm going on my own,' Amy said at once.

  He shook his head. 'You're not going anywhere on your own.'

  'These people, whoever they are, are expecting to see just me. If they catch sight of you, then everything could go wrong. You could be putting Angeline in real danger, and you keep saying that's the one thing you don't want to do!'

  'And if I don't go with you, then you could be in danger,' Benedict pointed out. 'We don't know who these people are or how much we can trust them. I brought you here, which unfortunately makes me responsible for you. I'm staying close to you until this is all over.'

  'You did not bring me here,' Amy said angrily. 'You booked my ticket on the plane, that was all. I'd have come even if I'd never met you.'

  'So you keep telling me,' he said coolly, his tone telling her very clearly that he didn't believe her. 'But the fact remains that I have to get you, as well as Angeline, safely back home. And that means, like it or not, that you don't go anywhere without me.'

  'Oh, this is ridiculous!' she said furiously, stamping her foot in frustration. 'I'm over twenty-one, and you don't have any kind of legal hold over me. That means I can go where I please and do whatever I want.'

  'You certainly can—once this is all over. Until then, wherever you go, I go.'

  Her green eyes flashed at him. 'You still don't trust me, do you?' she accused. 'You think I'm going to run off, abandon Angeline just when she needs me.'

  His own gaze rested on her assessingly. 'I think that's perfectly possible,' he replied calmly, outraging her still further. 'That's one more reason why I don't intend to let you out of my sight.'

  Green and dark eyes locked together for a few more seconds, one pair blazing angrily, the other more composed but still glinting with an unexpectedly dangerous light.

  Amy was the first one to look away. 'This is stupid,' she muttered. 'Why are we behaving like this, when we ought to be thinking about Angeline?'

  'I don't know,' he said with unexpected honesty. 'But perhaps we should try to keep the fighting down to a minimum over the next couple of days. It's simply making everything much more difficult.'

  'That's fine by me. But I think it would help if you made an effort to be less overbearing.'

  Benedict looked genuinely surprised. 'I don't think I'm overbearing.'

  She let out a huge snort. 'Then I'd be interested to hear how you would describe the way you've behaved over the last couple of days!'

  He gave a slightly impatient shrug. 'We're beginning to argue again, and it's getting us nowhere. There are far more important things we ought to be discussing.'

  'Such as?'

  'Exactly where we're going today. You've told me that you want to go to the bank. I suggest that, after that, we head for the Topkapi Palace. We've been told to act like genuine tourists, and that's the place that most tourists head for first when they arrive in Istanbul.'

  'I've been told to behave like a tourist,' Amy reminded him. 'The kidnappers don't even know that you're here. If they're watching me, though, they'll soon see you. What excuse are you going to give for being here?'

  'I'll think of something,' Benedict promised vaguely. He glanced at his watch. 'Let's get going. Quite apart from anything else, I've had more than enough of this hotel-room.'

  Amy was quite willing to agree with him on that! She slung her bag over her shoulder and followed him out of the room.

  A hot blast of sunshine hit them as they left the hotel. The streets were as noisy and crowded as ever, as Benedict shouldered his way through the crowds, heading towards the bank and leaving Amy to trudge along in his wake. Voices chattered all around them in a dozen different languages; cars, trucks and taxis toiled slowly along the jammed roads, horns blaring and engines revving up, although without any real hope of moving any faster; shopkeepers haggled over their prices with customers, and perspiring groups of tourists tried to work out in which direction they should be heading.

  When Amy finally reached the bank, there was a long queue, and it was nearly three quarters of an hour later before she finally emerged with a wad of Turkish lira stuffed into her bag. She felt slightly better now that she had some money of her own. Not quite so dependent on Benedict. And she was going to insist on paying for her share of their room as soon as they got back to the hotel.

  'Where now?' she asked.

  'The Topkapi Palace,' he replied briefly. 'It's the obvious place to visit first, if we're pretending to be tourists.'

  Amy glanced round at the confusing maze of streets. 'Do you have any idea which way to go?'

  'Just follow me,' Benedict instructed, and set off at a brisk pace.

  Since he seemed to know where he
was going, Amy gave a short sigh and then hurried after him. She nearly lost him several times as he disappeared in the great mass of people that thronged the streets. Then she would catch sight of his dark head again, the shape of it somehow completely distinctive, and she would scurry to catch up with him.

  'How do you know where the Topkapi Palace is?' she demanded rather breathlessly, as she fell into step beside him.

  'I looked at a map of Istanbul before we left the hotel.'

  'Most people who come here spend hours poring over maps, but they still get lost,' she pointed out.

  'I never get lost,' Benedict replied calmly.

  Amy gave a brief scowl. She almost wished that they would end up miles from the palace so that, just for once, he would have to admit that he had been wrong about something.

  She could already see the great bulk of the church of Haghia Sophia, though, flanked by its four tall minarets, and with its massive dome solidly dominating the skyline. She knew that the church was close to the palace, which meant that Benedict's sense of direction had been annoyingly accurate.

  A short while later, they reached the Topkapi Palace and walked through the first courtyard towards the Middle Gate, which was the main entrance. Just before they reached it, Benedict pointed out the fountain to the right of the gate.

  'That's known as the executioner's fountain,' he told Amy, flicking through the guide book. 'The chief executioner used to wash his sword and his hands there, after he'd dispatched anyone whom the sultan considered to be a traitor.'

  Amy raised her eyebrows. 'I can see this is going to be a really cheerful tour. Do you have any more interesting pieces of information like that?'

  They walked through the arched entrance of the Middle Gate, and into the second courtyard. It was surrounded by porticoes, and crossed by footpaths that led in between bushes smothered with bright roses.

  'The palace kitchens are over there,' Benedict said, pointing to the right. 'You might be interested in seeing them, if you like oriental porcelain.'