Letter from a Stranger by Barbara Taylor Bradford Page B

international politics. And so affected the financial world.
    Now that they were entirely alone in the gardens, Michael turned to Charles. “Have you just given me some names?”
    “Yes, of three men. You’ll find a little strip of paper underneath the cigarettes. They could become dangerous men. Although not everyone knows that. You must keep them in your sights at all times.”
    “Enough said.” Michael immediately changed the subject, and asked, “How long are you staying in Istanbul?”
    “Five days, I’m here with my wife and two of our kids, Randolph and Agnes. I think you’ve met them. It’s a nice weekend break for me, and gives me a chance to spend time with the family. I’m glad our trips coincided. How long are you staying?”
    “I’m not sure. I’m here to see several top clients, so probably a week, then I have to go back to Paris for a few days. I just took on a new client there, who’s become extremely security conscious of late.”
    “A lot of people have since nine/eleven, and I can’t say I blame them. It’s a dangerous world.” Charlie grimaced, added, “Why am I telling you that? If anyone knows what it’s like out there, it’s you.”
    “A powder keg.” Michael shook his head. “The world will never be the same again. And it’s changing every day. And so fast it’s hard for the average person to keep up. We just have to live life as normally as we possibly can.”
    Charles Gordon made no comment, and the two men walked on in silence for a short while, as always at ease with each other. When they reached the old palace they turned around and walked back the way they had come, each lost in his own thoughts.
    At one moment Charles said, “I was pleased when I learned you were staying in the same hotel, Michael, it turned out to be convenient.”
    “Yes, it did. And I’ll be in and out, around if you need me for anything.”
    “I hope to God I won’t,” Charles exclaimed.
    “So do I,” Michael answered.
    *   *   *
    Once he was back in his suite Michael took the cigarettes out of the packet, then shook it until a small slip of paper finally fell out. When he read the names Charles had written on it he was truly startled, and instantly understood why Charles Gordon had preferred to pass these names to him in this way, rather than say them out loud.
    He tore the paper into small pieces, did the same with the packet and the cigarettes, and went and flushed everything down the toilet.
    Returning to the sitting room, he opened the French doors, and stepped out onto the terrace. How beautiful the Bosphorus looked at this hour. The sun was setting and the deep blue waters of the straits rippled with rafts of crimson, pink, and gold, and the sky was aflame along the rim of the far horizon. He loved it here at this time of day. They had a name for it in the movie business. The Magic Hour, they called it, and indeed it was exactly that. The world was a beautiful place. What a pity it was full of madness.
    Taking off his blazer, he put it on the back of the chair and sat down, thinking about the clients he had to see here. But soon his thoughts drifted, and he focused on the words he had said to Charles a short while before. He had called the world a powder keg, and it was the truth. Anything could happen, anywhere, at any time.
    As a historian he knew that the history of the world was actually a history of wars. Endless wars since the beginning of time. He was convinced that fighting was genetic, a compulsion man could not resist. There would always be wars because man had no choice. Making war was hardwired into the human mind. And whatever reason was given, it was to gain one thing, and one thing only. Power . He sighed under his breath. All he could do was what he was doing, and hope that sanity would prevail.
    That expression immediately reminded him of Vanessa, his former fiancée, and the last conversation they had had four months ago. She had told him she hoped sanity would