An Evil Eye

41

Fevzi Ahmet, coming into the guardroom. Pulling off a pair of gloves.

He spits.

“Nothing. A time waster.”

“Perhaps I could talk to him? I’ve been wondering-perhaps he doesn’t realize what he knows?”

Fevzi pours himself a glass of tea. “No. There’s no point, Yashim.”

“Never give up-you say that yourself, Fevzi efendi.”

The bloodshot eyes. “There’s no point. He’s already dead.”