Read Online The Winter Thief by Jenny White - Free Book Online Page B

nodded her assent, and Kamil slipped the medal into his pocket.
    Omar followed him out into the cold. “Do you want me to go to Eyüp with you?”
    Kamil shook his head no. They waited for the stableboy to bring their horses.
    Omar tucked his hands under his arms and stamped his feet against the cold. His breath formed a white cloud before his face. “Swyndon either went along with the robbery and took off, or he was coerced and then eliminated. But then where’s his body?”
    Kamil tried to focus on what Omar was saying, but his mind was full of Feride’s anguish if she learned that Huseyin was either dead or so terribly injured that he had been unable to tell anyone who he was. “We couldn’t get into the second strong room,” Kamil suggested.
    “You mean you think the manager might be in there?” Omar was skeptical. “That makes no sense.”
    “Why not? What better way to get rid of a witness?”
    “For all the thieves knew, the bank would just unlock the door the next day and let him out. And if he’s dead, why bother locking him up?”
    “You have a point,” Kamil admitted.
    “Better to check, though. Thieves aren’t always the smartest of Allah’s creations.”
     
     
    T HE A USTRIAN infirmary was just a few blocks above the bank, so they instructed the stableboy to follow with their horses and waded down the hill through ankle-deep snow. Kamil saw movement behind the windowpanes as residents peered into the street. The air felt scrubbed clean by the storm. The stove fires had died out during the night, so the noxious smog had dissipated. Istanbul’s chilled inhabitants, fresh from sleep, were stacking kindling and smudging their hands with coal and ash, shivering until the new fires caught, and gazing in wonderment out their windows at the accumulated snow. Snowstorms weren’t unknown in Istanbul, but they were rare.
    When they reached the bank, Kamil shouted at the gendarme captain to bring some men to the vault. Kamil picked up a brass weight from a scale, pushed it through the bars of the gate, and banged on the door of the locked strong room. “Hello,” he called out in English. “If you’re in there, make a sound.” He waited but heard nothing. He knocked again and repeated his message. Again they waited, and again there was only silence.
    Omar shrugged ostentatiously. “He’s long gone. We give the Franks salaries the size of Mount Ararat and still they rob us blind. Europeans are about as trustworthy as weasels in a larder.” Seeing Rejep come down the stairs, he asked, “Have you got the addresses?”
    “Yes, Chief.” He handed Omar a piece of paper. “I found out about the keys too. The central cashier has the key to the main vault and the barred gates. The assistant director and the comptroller each have one key to the double locks on the strong room doors. You need all three keys at the same time to get into the strong rooms.”
    “Fine,” Omar grumped. “but have you got anything useful?”
    “There’s only one set of keys,” Rejep added triumphantly.
    “Well, fuck a donkey,” Omar exclaimed. “Can you imagine? One of the managers wanders out the door with his key and falls into the Bosphorus and suddenly the entire gold reserves of the empire and half a dozen countries are unavailable.” His voice was thick with incredulity. “If that’s not crazy, then call me a donkey’s whore.”
    They contemplated the locked strong room. “What do you think?” Kamil asked the gendarme captain.
    “It would take a long time to break through that door by force,” the captain concluded. “It would practically take a military operation. It would be better to get a locksmith, although I don’t know anyone with experience in opening doors like this.”
    “Or a safecracker,” Omar said, smiling broadly. “I know just the man.” He sent Rejep to fetch him.
    Within half an hour, Rejep returned, leading a man who reached only up to Kamil’s chest. Despite his short legs and