Demir Gunduz? Demir, who had laughed when Chris had handed him his card? Well, wasn’t this turning into quite the evening? Chris clicks on the attachment.
Mr. Hudson,
You say my son came back to Cyprus in 2001. You have proof of this. I need to tell you that I did not see him then, and have not seen him since. Not once. I have not seen my son, I have had no letter or no call from my son.
Mr. Hudson, I am old. You have seen this with your own eyes. As you look for Johnny, you must know that I too look for him.
I will never speak to a police officer, you understand, but I ask for help today. If you can find Johnny, if you have information of any type, there is great, great reward for you. I fear Johnny is dead.
He is my son, and I want to see him before I die, or to know this is impossible and be allowed to grieve. I hope you accept this with compassion. I am asking you please.
Greetings,
Demir Gunduz
Chris reads it through a couple more times. Nice try, Demir. Is he expecting Chris to share this with the Cypriot Police? With Joe Kyprianou? Surely he is. Does this mean the Cypriot Police are getting close to Johnny? One last effort to throw them off the scent?
Or is it what he says it is? A plea from an old man to find his missing son? In his younger days, Chris might have believed this. But he’s seen too much, heard too much from people saving their own skins. Any story. And he knows where Johnny Gunduz was on June 17.
Johnny is not dead. Johnny went home, with Tony Curran’s money. He changed his name, got a nose job and whatever else his dad’s money would pay for, and has been living it up ever since. Johnny is sunning himself somewhere in Cyprus, happy with his lot. Without an enemy in the world, now that Tony Curran has been dealt with.
Demir Gunduz will not be getting a reply.
Chris shuts down his computer. He really wishes people would stop doing triathlons.
114.
Elizabeth is out late, but Bogdan and Stephen have not noticed.
Bogdan has his lower lip jutting out to one side as he thinks. He taps on the table, considering the right move. He stares across at Stephen, then back down at the board. How does this man play like this? If Bogdan isn’t very, very careful he is going to lose. And he doesn’t remember the last time he lost.
“Bogdan, can I ask you a question?” says Stephen.
“Always,” says Bogdan. “We are friends.”
“It won’t put you off? I have you in a bind here. I wonder if you need to concentrate.”
“Stephen, we play, we talk. They are both special to me.” Bogdan moves his bishop. He looks up at Stephen, who is surprised at the move but not yet concerned.
“Thank you, Bogdan, they are both special to me too.”
“So, ask me a good question.”
“It’s only this. Well, firstly, what was the name of the chap?” Stephen attacks Bogdan’s bishop, but senses he is being lured into something.
“Which chap, Stephen?” asks Bogdan, looking down at the board, grateful for the chink of light that has just appeared.
“The first one who was killed? The builder?”
“Tony,” says Bogdan. “Tony Curran.”
“That’s the one,” says Stephen. He rubs his chin as Bogdan protects his bishop, and opens the board at the same time.
“What’s the question?” asks Bogdan.
“Well, forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn, but from everything I hearabout it, I think you killed him. Elizabeth talks to me, you know.” Stephen moves a pawn but can see there’s nothing much doing.
Bogdan looks around the room for a moment, then back at Stephen.
