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Authors: Barbara Nadel
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1923.’
‘Our War of Independence.’ İkmen smiled. A lot of foreigners still failed to appreciate that, at that time, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk and all the rest of the Turkish nationalists were literally fighting for the existence of their country.
‘Yes, well, exactly. It must have been a very confused and confusing time for all concerned. Vis-à-vis the carpet, however, what happened next I don’t know for certain, but it would seem that Roberts gave the Kerman away to someone in İstanbul.’
‘Which was how Mr Uzun eventually came into possession of it, I assume,’ İkmen said.
‘Not exactly,’ the Englishman replied. ‘Yaşar is from Antalya on the Med coast. He came into possession of it there. He says he got it from some old chap in an ancient back-street antique shop in the old town. The story goes that the Kerman came into Antalya on a cruise ship sometime back in the 1980s. A member of the crew, a Turkish chap, told the tale I’ve just told you and sold it to the antique dealer who squirrelled it away for years. Somewhere along the line, or so Yaşar said, the Kerman had gained the reputation for bringing ill fortune. Maybe the bloodstains on it helped to build that reputation. Load of rot, of course.’
And yet İkmen knew how powerful the designation of something as ‘unlucky’ could be across so many levels of Turkish society. In spite of whoever had owned the carpet and whatever it might have been worth, İkmen could imagine that an elderly back-street antique dealer would be wary lest such a thing attract the attention of the Evil Eye and bring misfortune in its wake.
‘And you have proof that this Kerman carpet did indeed belong to Lawrence?’ İkmen asked as he lit up another of his cheap Maltepe cigarettes. ‘I mean, the reports of a man on a cruise ship can hardly be regarded as reliable.’
‘Yaşar found a photograph of the carpet on the Internet,’ Peter Melly replied. ‘It’s of Lawrence and Roberts with the Kerman in Cairo. When I saw it the rug came in a wooden chest, which I think Roberts, or someone, must have put it in later. But the photograph, which I have also seen in books, was taken by the American journalist, Lowell Thomas, who followed Lawrence during the latter part of his career in the desert. I’ve a copy of the picture myself if you want to see it. It shows the carpet clearly and in its entirety.’
‘You have nothing to prove to me in that regard, Mr Melly,’ İkmen said. ‘Whether this carpet is genuine or not is of no interest to me. What I do have some interest in, however, is your relationship with Mr Uzun. Had you paid for this Kerman – is that its name?’
‘Yes. From the city of Kerman or rather the nearby town of Lavar – hence Lavar Kerman – in southern Iran,’ Melly said as if by rote. ‘Yes, I had, or rather in part.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I’d paid him half and I was to get the other half. Money like that doesn’t grow on trees.’
‘How much money are we talking about?’ İkmen asked as he flicked a long sausage of ash from his cigarette into his ashtray.
Peter Melly lowered his head as if ashamed of what he was to say next. He took a deep breath. ‘A hundred and twenty thousand. Pounds. I raised it on the house I own back home.’
The Klaassens, who obviously hadn’t known about how much their friend was willing to pay for this carpet, exchanged shocked looks.
‘That was the first payment,’ Melly continued.
‘The first payment!’ İkmen, his cigarette now shaking between his fingers, nearly fell off his chair. ‘What . . .’
‘We agreed, Yaşar and myself, on an overall price of a quarter of a million pounds,’ Melly said quickly.
‘A quarter of a . . .’
‘Inspector, this is Lawrence’s valuable Lavar Kerman carpet we’re talking about here!’ Peter Melly leaned forward in order to make his point more forcefully. ‘Not only that, it’s a fabulous piece! I’ve got carpets from all over
‘Our War of Independence.’ İkmen smiled. A lot of foreigners still failed to appreciate that, at that time, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk and all the rest of the Turkish nationalists were literally fighting for the existence of their country.
‘Yes, well, exactly. It must have been a very confused and confusing time for all concerned. Vis-à-vis the carpet, however, what happened next I don’t know for certain, but it would seem that Roberts gave the Kerman away to someone in İstanbul.’
‘Which was how Mr Uzun eventually came into possession of it, I assume,’ İkmen said.
‘Not exactly,’ the Englishman replied. ‘Yaşar is from Antalya on the Med coast. He came into possession of it there. He says he got it from some old chap in an ancient back-street antique shop in the old town. The story goes that the Kerman came into Antalya on a cruise ship sometime back in the 1980s. A member of the crew, a Turkish chap, told the tale I’ve just told you and sold it to the antique dealer who squirrelled it away for years. Somewhere along the line, or so Yaşar said, the Kerman had gained the reputation for bringing ill fortune. Maybe the bloodstains on it helped to build that reputation. Load of rot, of course.’
And yet İkmen knew how powerful the designation of something as ‘unlucky’ could be across so many levels of Turkish society. In spite of whoever had owned the carpet and whatever it might have been worth, İkmen could imagine that an elderly back-street antique dealer would be wary lest such a thing attract the attention of the Evil Eye and bring misfortune in its wake.
‘And you have proof that this Kerman carpet did indeed belong to Lawrence?’ İkmen asked as he lit up another of his cheap Maltepe cigarettes. ‘I mean, the reports of a man on a cruise ship can hardly be regarded as reliable.’
‘Yaşar found a photograph of the carpet on the Internet,’ Peter Melly replied. ‘It’s of Lawrence and Roberts with the Kerman in Cairo. When I saw it the rug came in a wooden chest, which I think Roberts, or someone, must have put it in later. But the photograph, which I have also seen in books, was taken by the American journalist, Lowell Thomas, who followed Lawrence during the latter part of his career in the desert. I’ve a copy of the picture myself if you want to see it. It shows the carpet clearly and in its entirety.’
‘You have nothing to prove to me in that regard, Mr Melly,’ İkmen said. ‘Whether this carpet is genuine or not is of no interest to me. What I do have some interest in, however, is your relationship with Mr Uzun. Had you paid for this Kerman – is that its name?’
‘Yes. From the city of Kerman or rather the nearby town of Lavar – hence Lavar Kerman – in southern Iran,’ Melly said as if by rote. ‘Yes, I had, or rather in part.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I’d paid him half and I was to get the other half. Money like that doesn’t grow on trees.’
‘How much money are we talking about?’ İkmen asked as he flicked a long sausage of ash from his cigarette into his ashtray.
Peter Melly lowered his head as if ashamed of what he was to say next. He took a deep breath. ‘A hundred and twenty thousand. Pounds. I raised it on the house I own back home.’
The Klaassens, who obviously hadn’t known about how much their friend was willing to pay for this carpet, exchanged shocked looks.
‘That was the first payment,’ Melly continued.
‘The first payment!’ İkmen, his cigarette now shaking between his fingers, nearly fell off his chair. ‘What . . .’
‘We agreed, Yaşar and myself, on an overall price of a quarter of a million pounds,’ Melly said quickly.
‘A quarter of a . . .’
‘Inspector, this is Lawrence’s valuable Lavar Kerman carpet we’re talking about here!’ Peter Melly leaned forward in order to make his point more forcefully. ‘Not only that, it’s a fabulous piece! I’ve got carpets from all over
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