and mischievous force.’ Max shuddered. ‘I told our American friend to go about his business in no uncertain terms,’ he laughed, ‘but not before I’d taken a small sample of hair from his jacket to work with.’
‘You cursed him?’ His mother had always used either hair or nails in her more malignant spells, İkmen recalled.
‘Not exactly,’ Max replied, ‘but I put a stop to their activities. I don’t like Satanists – all that negative energy. And anyway, people always confuse people like me with people like them, which, quite frankly, gives me the pip!’
‘That’s the only group you know of who might be involved in such activities?’
‘I’ve come across a few of you chaps, Turks, who meddle,’ Max said, ‘but if you don’t mind my saying so, Çetin, Turkish Satanists are pretty bloody useless. In fact, quite honestly, I don’t believe they exist at all in the conventional sense. I know you’ve come across it – some sick necrophiliac gets caught in a graveyard and says the Devil made him do it. But I’ve never come across one Turk in all the years I’ve been here who successfully worships and invokes Satanic forces. They get it all wrong. Maybe that’s why your Goat is so very atypical.’
‘Drawn by one of my ill-informed countrymen.’
‘Maybe. But then perhaps your assertion that it was just a kids’ prank does have some validity. There’s so much information now, what with the TV, computers and what not, people are constantly bombarded with things they barely understand. I look at all these so-called Goth kids running around in black with pentacles at their necks and it makes my blood go cold. They have no idea what they are dealing with. I mean, I know that we all live in uncertain times, what with this situation in Iraq and the possibility of war involving the Americans, but wearing black and courting Beelzebub is not the answer. Not for them.’
İkmen could only, if silently, agree. His son Bülent was due to be conscripted into the army in 2003 and so if the Americans did decide to go into Iraq, possibly with Turkish support, it would include him. İkmen knew he would, if he could, do anything to change that situation – even maybe invoke ‘dark’ forces – assuming he knew how to do that and indeed felt desperate enough to do so. Though currently calm, these were anxious times. ‘You say that this image is incorrect,’ he said.
‘In my experience yes,’ the Englishman replied, ‘but I’ll check it out anyway, Çetin; speak to a few magical “faces”, as we say back home.’
‘I would appreciate it, Max.’
‘Oh, it’s no bother, old boy.’ Max’s eyes twinkled. ‘I’ll just add it to the list of favours I’ve done you over the years.’
‘It hasn’t all been one way, you know,’ İkmen said gravely as he sipped some of his coffee and lit up a cigarette. ‘I’ve done things for you . . .’
‘Yes, except where women are concerned,’ Max responded acidly. ‘If that girl—’
‘My daughter Çiçek is a big girl now with concerns quite outside what you call “spooky stuff”, Max. Above everything, she wants a man at the moment.’ İkmen’s face resolved into a grim expression. ‘If I’m right the man currently in question is somebody she shouldn’t even be looking at.’
‘You should let me train her in the arts,’ Max said with a dismissive wave. ‘She’d soon forget about men. I’ve only ever met one truly natural adept before and she was—’
‘As I’ve said before, Max,’ İkmen said firmly, ‘my daughter for good or ill will stay as she is.’
‘Oh, well . . .’
And that, temporarily at least, was that. For the remainder of their time together the policeman and the magician spoke of ‘un-spooky’ things and eventually parted company at just before eight.
As İkmen watched Max go he experienced that uneasy feeling the man always seemed to evoke within him. He liked Max. They’d met many years before when
‘You cursed him?’ His mother had always used either hair or nails in her more malignant spells, İkmen recalled.
‘Not exactly,’ Max replied, ‘but I put a stop to their activities. I don’t like Satanists – all that negative energy. And anyway, people always confuse people like me with people like them, which, quite frankly, gives me the pip!’
‘That’s the only group you know of who might be involved in such activities?’
‘I’ve come across a few of you chaps, Turks, who meddle,’ Max said, ‘but if you don’t mind my saying so, Çetin, Turkish Satanists are pretty bloody useless. In fact, quite honestly, I don’t believe they exist at all in the conventional sense. I know you’ve come across it – some sick necrophiliac gets caught in a graveyard and says the Devil made him do it. But I’ve never come across one Turk in all the years I’ve been here who successfully worships and invokes Satanic forces. They get it all wrong. Maybe that’s why your Goat is so very atypical.’
‘Drawn by one of my ill-informed countrymen.’
‘Maybe. But then perhaps your assertion that it was just a kids’ prank does have some validity. There’s so much information now, what with the TV, computers and what not, people are constantly bombarded with things they barely understand. I look at all these so-called Goth kids running around in black with pentacles at their necks and it makes my blood go cold. They have no idea what they are dealing with. I mean, I know that we all live in uncertain times, what with this situation in Iraq and the possibility of war involving the Americans, but wearing black and courting Beelzebub is not the answer. Not for them.’
İkmen could only, if silently, agree. His son Bülent was due to be conscripted into the army in 2003 and so if the Americans did decide to go into Iraq, possibly with Turkish support, it would include him. İkmen knew he would, if he could, do anything to change that situation – even maybe invoke ‘dark’ forces – assuming he knew how to do that and indeed felt desperate enough to do so. Though currently calm, these were anxious times. ‘You say that this image is incorrect,’ he said.
‘In my experience yes,’ the Englishman replied, ‘but I’ll check it out anyway, Çetin; speak to a few magical “faces”, as we say back home.’
‘I would appreciate it, Max.’
‘Oh, it’s no bother, old boy.’ Max’s eyes twinkled. ‘I’ll just add it to the list of favours I’ve done you over the years.’
‘It hasn’t all been one way, you know,’ İkmen said gravely as he sipped some of his coffee and lit up a cigarette. ‘I’ve done things for you . . .’
‘Yes, except where women are concerned,’ Max responded acidly. ‘If that girl—’
‘My daughter Çiçek is a big girl now with concerns quite outside what you call “spooky stuff”, Max. Above everything, she wants a man at the moment.’ İkmen’s face resolved into a grim expression. ‘If I’m right the man currently in question is somebody she shouldn’t even be looking at.’
‘You should let me train her in the arts,’ Max said with a dismissive wave. ‘She’d soon forget about men. I’ve only ever met one truly natural adept before and she was—’
‘As I’ve said before, Max,’ İkmen said firmly, ‘my daughter for good or ill will stay as she is.’
‘Oh, well . . .’
And that, temporarily at least, was that. For the remainder of their time together the policeman and the magician spoke of ‘un-spooky’ things and eventually parted company at just before eight.
As İkmen watched Max go he experienced that uneasy feeling the man always seemed to evoke within him. He liked Max. They’d met many years before when
Similar Books
