“I can’t tell you how excited I am. I’ve dreamed about this for so long. Hurry up. We’ll wait for you outside.”
Daldry clenched his teeth as Alice walked away. “If we’re lucky, I’ll find a quiet little spot where I can strangle our guide.”
They stepped out of the tram, and Can led them toward the northern side of the Bayezid Mosque. On the other side of the square, they walked down a narrow street cluttered with the stands of second-hand booksellers and engravers’ shops and into the bazaar. Nearly an hour passed as they browsed. Daldry remained silent, while the radiant Alice listened attentively to Can’s explanations and anecdotes.
“This is the biggest and oldest covered market in the world,” Can said with pride. “‘Bazaar’ is a word that comes from Arabic. We used to be calling this bedesten, because bedes means wool in Arabic, and here was where we were selling wool.”
“And I’m the sheep following my shepherd,” grumbled Daldry.
“Did you say something, Your Excellency?” asked Can, turning around.
“Just drinking in your words.”
“The old bedesten is at the heart of the Grand Bazaar, but today this is where they are selling old firearms, bronzes, and some very exceptional porcelains. It used to be made entirely of wood, but sadly it burned in the early eighteenth century. This is like a city with one gigantic roof. It is covered by enormous domes. You can find anything here—jewelry, furs, rugs, art. There are many counterfakes, but also some very magnificent pieces for an expert’s eye who can undiscover them in the middle of—”
“This enormous, chaotic rubbish heap,” muttered Daldry.
“What’s the matter with you?” asked Alice. “This is a fascinating place. You’re in a terrible mood, aren’t you?”
“I’m just hungry, that’s all.”
“You would need at least two days to explore all of the streets in the Bazaar,” continued Can, mercilessly ignoring Daldry. “But to help you spend a few hours in leisure, you must know that the Bazaar is divided into neighborhoods, magnificently kept, as you can see. Each neighborhood is home to different items. We can even enjoy a meal in an excellent place because we are now in an area where we will find the only foods susceptible to please Your Excellency.”
Alice whispered in Daldry’s ear, “Strange how he’s started calling you that. Although ‘Excellency’ suits you somehow, when you think about it.”
“Not really, but if the two of you are having fun, I certainly don’t want to ruin it for you.”
“Did something happen? You seem to be getting on like oil and water.”
“Nothing at all.” Daldry pouted.
“You really are impossible. Can is such a devoted guide. If you’re as hungry as that, let’s find something to eat. I’ll give up my walk through the Bazaar if it means you’ll stop behaving like a child.”
Daldry shrugged and walked ahead of Alice and Can.
Alice stopped in front of a store selling musical instruments. An old brass trumpet had caught her eye. She asked the shopkeeper if she could have a closer look at it.
“Armstrong has the same model,” said the salesman. “This one is unique. I don’t know how to play, but a friend tried it and wanted to buy it. It’s an exceptional deal.”
Can looked at the trumpet and leaned over to whisper. “This is junk. If you are looking to buy a beautiful trumpet, I know where to go. Put it down and come with me.”
Daldry rolled his eyes in exasperation as he watched Alice follow Can.
Can took her to another shop selling musical instruments in a neighboring street. He asked the salesman to show his friend the best of his wares, not just the most expensive. In the meantime, Alice had already found a trumpet to her liking in a display case.
“Is this a real Selmer?” she asked, once it was out of the case and in her hands.
“Entirely authentic. Try it if you don’t believe me,” said the salesman. Alice looked over the instrument carefully. “Sterling silver and four pistons. It must be completely out of my price range.”
“That’s not how you should negotiate prices in the Bazaar, miss,” said the salesman, chuckling at Alice’s innocence. “I also have a Vincent Bach I can show you. The Stradivarius of trumpets. The only one you will find in Turkey.”
But Alice only had eyes for the Selmer. It made her think of Anton, whom she remembered had admired a model much like it. He had stood for what seemed like hours gazing through the window of a shop in Battersea like a motorcar enthusiast lusting after a Jaguar convertible. Anton had taught her a great deal about trumpets: the difference between the models, their keys, valves, and pistons, the various patinas and finishes, and the different alloys that could have an effect on the sound of the instrument.
“I can sell it to you for a reasonable price,” offered the shopkeeper.
Can said a few words in Turkish.
“A very good price,” he corrected. “Can’s friend is my friend. I will even give you a case.”
Alice paid the salesman and left the shop with her purchase.
Daldry was skeptical. “I didn’t know you were a trumpet expert,” he said, following her. “You looked like you knew what you were doing.”
“You don’t know everything about me,” said Alice teasingly.
“Well, I’ve certainly never heard you play, and Lord knows, I would if you did.”
“And you still insist that you don’t play the piano?”
“I told you, it’s the woman downstairs. So what is it? You practice under railway arches to avoid bothering the neighbors?”
“I thought you were hungry, Daldry.” She stopped in front of a restaurant. “This place doesn’t look half bad.”
Can went into the restaurant ahead of them and managed to get a table in spite of the queue of customers waiting to be seated.
“Are you a shareholder in the Bazaar, or is it that your father owns the entire place?” asked Daldry as they sat down.
“Just a guide, Your Excellency.”
“I know, I know. ‘The best in Istanbul.’”
“I’m thrilled to hear you finally say so. Let me order. Our time is limited and you have a meeting soon.”
Can approached the counter.
9
The consulate had reassumed its everyday appearance. The elaborate flower arrangements were gone, the crystal had been packed away, and the ballroom doors were closed.
Alice and Daldry showed their papers to a uniformed officer, who took them to the second floor, where they walked down a long corridor and waited for a secretary to call them.
Not long afterward, they entered the consul’s office. He had an austere appearance, but a pleasant voice.
“Miss Pendelbury, I gather you’re a friend of His Excellency’s wife.”
Alice turned and looked at Daldry quizzically.
“Not me,” said Daldry. “The real one.”
“Oh yes, quite,” said Alice to the consul.
“You must be rather close indeed for her to have asked for this appointment on such short notice. How might I be of service?”
Alice explained her request to the consul as he continued his work, signing and initialing a series of official documents in a leather portfolio.