Part 36 (2/2)

YAs.h.i.+M felt the savage yank on his foot. Rather than tumble to the ground, he used his outward-falling momentum to spin in the air. Akunin had stepped back, face raised. He received the full weight of Yas.h.i.+m's knee on the bridge of his nose.

The crack! of the cartilage breaking loose was lost in the sound of both men cras.h.i.+ng to the ground.

Wrestling training at the palace school had saved Yas.h.i.+m's life before. Leaving Akunin on his back instinctively cradling his broken nose, Yas.h.i.+m rolled with the fall and came up about six feet short of the running man. s.h.i.+shkin eased back, but not fast enough. His last faltering step halved the distance between the two men: Yas.h.i.+m closed the gap with his lowered head.

As s.h.i.+shkin doubled up, Yas.h.i.+m sidestepped and chopped his neck with the side of his hand. The Russian fell to his knees, coughing.

Akunin had got to his feet, but he was in no mood for fighting-one hand was clamped to his face, the other flailing drunkenly in the air.

Yas.h.i.+m placed a knee on s.h.i.+shkin's back and took hold of his chin in both hands.

”Why were you following me?”

Akunin began to back away.

”Stop. Tell me, and you can take your friend.”

Akunin hesitated. ”The Fox,” he said thickly. ”He thinks Fevzi Pasha is back-and he wants to talk to you.”

”Fevzi Pasha back?”

Akunin tilted his head. The blood was black under his hand. ”I saw him, at the Polish residency.”

s.h.i.+shkin groaned. Yas.h.i.+m said: ”Go on.”

”He went in, about an hour before you came. Galytsin guessed you were meeting him there. He told us to pick you up.”

Yas.h.i.+m released his hold on s.h.i.+shkin, who sputtered and sank to his hands and knees. ”Where's Galytsin now?”

”At the emba.s.sy, efendi.”

”Tell him I'll meet him there for breakfast.”

131.

TEN minutes later, Yas.h.i.+m heard a low whistle from the yard. He put his face to the bars.

”Yas.h.i.+m!”

He recognized the voice, even in a whisper. He thrust a hand through the bars and gripped a well-known hand.

”Incredible!” Palewski's excited whisper cut through the night like steam escaping from an engine. ”We'll have to rethink the whole story!”

”Yes. It's not Talfa-”

”Talfa?” Palewski dropped his hand. ”I'm talking about the Genoese settlement, Yas.h.i.+m, prior to the Conquest. Those tunnels? Greater continuity than anyone realizes. Gibbon, von Hammer ...” His whisper trailed off. After a moment he said: ”If this gate is locked, how the devil do we get out?”

It took almost half an hour with ropes, and m.u.f.fled curses, to bring Palewski and Marta over the wall.

She descended with solemn grace, holding her skirts tight.

”It would be better for you not to go back to the residency just yet,” Yas.h.i.+m explained as they made their way up the open lanes toward Galata Hill.

Twenty minutes later, when everyone had told their story, Preen looked at Yas.h.i.+m.

”You've been very quiet, my dear.” She turned to the others. ”Yas.h.i.+m is thinking up a plan to capture Fevzi Pasha,” she said, rolling her eyes. ”Bring the b.a.s.t.a.r.d to justice.”

Yas.h.i.+m shook his head. ”I thought that. But no. My plan is-to send him to Egypt, with his daughter.”

Preen stiffened. ”You'd do that for him-after everything?”

He caught her look: it chilled him.

”You said-you promised me-you'd seen through him, Yas.h.i.+m. And now-you work for him, like that!” She snapped her fingers.

”Do you remember, Preen, when I said there is always a gap, however tightly we try to fit the pieces together?”

”For mercy,” Preen sneered. ”For a man who would give none!”

”It's not for him. Not exactly.”

”Who, then?” Palewski said.

Marta smiled shyly. ”He means his daughter, of course.”

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