Chapter VIII: Istanbul was Once Constantinople

Voicemail picked up on the fifth ring and she wanted to give Dave Nguyen enough time to alert Levenson. After the fourth one, she picked up, trying to remember how long she had to stay on the phone to trace it. "Thank you for calling Pendleton Enterprises. Join our family, where our home is a secure home. This is Therese Blair Nash. How may I help you?" She said the extended greeting as slow as possible to draw out the call as much as possible.

"'Our home is a secure home,'" the distorted voice mocked. Apparently not since my home was broken into, she thought in reply.

She recognized the voice but stalled. "That's right, sir. We specialize in state-of-the-art secure—"

"Not that state-of-the-art since I broke in," he interrupted and laughed. She had no response. "You don't find that funny?"

"I'm sorry, endangering my family and kidnapping my husband isn't exactly hilarious." Stephanie shot up from her chair, her hand still at her throat from when Therese had yelled at Nguyen. She shot over to the oak door and slammed it shut.

"No, you wouldn't think that," he derisively laughed.

"Why? Because I'm human being and you're not?"

"Oh, I'm a human being, depraved, maybe, but a human being. Why do you think I'm doing this?"

"Is Kevin and Shawn alright?" She only asked to keep the caller on the line longer but she knew that he would keep them alive as a bargaining tool. How damaged they would be was another matter.

"Still breathing."

Therese clinched her fist and then slammed it down on her desk. "What the hell do you want?" she growled.

"I guess it's time to get down to business. If you can find Nash and Michaels, you can have them," he replied, ignoring her anger.

"Yeah, terribly easy."

"You've got clues. You'll figure it out, you're smart…sort of."

"You bastard," she bit out, gritting her teeth.

"That's become your favorite word for me," he stated with what felt like a sneer.

"This is insane," she replied through an exasperated breath, slumping over. She then sat up straighter as she noticed a faint strain of music in the background.

"Not as much as you think. I know exactly how much money is in your bank account. I want eighty percent of what is in that."

"Geez, thanks for the generosity," Therese muttered, straining to hear the words to the song that sounded so familiar.

"Wait, I'm not done. I know about the McMahon-Michaels' accounts too. Note the plural on that. I want ninety percent of hers. Transfer those figures into a new account. When you find Nash and Michaels, we'll make the transfer into my numbered account for the exchange."

"Why the difference?"

"Because your brats have no fault at all besides having their mother's genes," the man answered as if his insults were praises.

"Don't you bring my girls into this!" When the caller only laughed, Therese continued, "How do I know you're not bluffing? How do I know that you really know those figures?"

"I know the account balances, Blair. Don't try me." He could hear her gritting her teeth over the phone. "Does it matter? You forget I hold all the cards, baby."

"Well, someone neglected to tell you that twos and one-eyed jacks are wild," she replied and slammed down the phone, caring less about how much more time she needed to hold the call for tracing.

"Did you just hang up on him?" Stephanie exclaimed, leaning across the desk.

Therese stared blindly at her and then realized that she had. "Damn," she muttered to herself, realizing what she had done. Hopefully, her action wouldn't impact their spouses' fates. She dropped to her leather chair and began scribbling out the transcript of the conversation before she lost anything.

Stephanie slammed her hands down on the desk in front of Therese and yelled, "What did he say?"

"Don't yell at me!"

"I asked you twice already," the brunette replied accusingly.

Therese stared at her for a moment and read aloud the transcript so far. She continued to read slowly as she scribbled as much as possible.

"Clues?" Stephanie finally asked.

"Yeah…" the blonde trailed off and then realized the song that had been playing was only instrumental. There had been no words but she knew the tune. "What's this song?" she asked and then began humming it.

"What does that have to do with this?"

"It was playing in the background," Therese replied and continued with her 'hmm—hmmm…'

Stephanie gave her a confused look but began humming with her as she too recognized the tune. "It's—it's, aw, god, I know that!"

"Istanbul was once Constantinople; now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople," Jamie sang under his breath as he entered the doorway. "That what you're looking for?"

"Exactly," Therese shouted and turned to her computer, pulling up the Web. As Levenson continued to talk, she typed in a search for the song lyrics.

"You're humming 'Istanbul (Not Constantinople)' and you get a call from Istanbul?" Jamie asked.

"Come again?" the woman queried, looking up at him.

He laid the printout down on her desk in front of her appointment book. Stephanie leaned over it to see as Therese pulled it towards her. "The Four Lads released, Irving Berlin sang it, and They Might Be Giants did it to."

"Istanbul…Turkey?" she asked, looking up at him, ignoring his blatant show of knowledge.

"Do you know of another one?" Jamie muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "Does this have to do with Kevin?"

"Yes," both women answered forcefully. He took a step back, holding his arms up defensively. Neither one of them gave him a second look.

"Istanbul…Turkey…this song…What the hell?" Therese whispered to herself.

"Is the song some type of clue?" Stephanie asked.

"Alright," the agent began in her normal voice again. "He calls from Istanbul and he plays the song during the call…I guess I'm going to Turkey with an assload of cash."

"We're going," Stephanie corrected.

Therese opened her mouth to argue but Stephanie sent her that McMahon glare. At least the trip would be less lonely. Less stressful was debatable. "Why the hell Turkey?" the blonde muttered, turning back to her computer.

"Well, it's friendly to American citizens but not the American government," Jamie spoke and continued to explain, "Tracks of unspoiled land with police that are either understaffed or don't care. Easy to run or easy to dump a body." Both women stared at him dumbfounded, doing their best to ignore his last comment. "My grandfather from my mother's side is from Istanbul and now lives in Antalya." Both of them whispered, 'oh.'

Therese then took a mental note to do a search query on Jamie Levenson. He was the only one who had a Turkish connection so far who knew her husband. What his motive was, she couldn't say. "Was the city all you got?"

"No. I've got a hotel name and the direct line to the room he was in. In other words, I know the room number he called from," he answered, pointing at a line of the paper. Traces weren't something Therese was trained to read. Maybe she would make a point of learning at a later date whether or not she would use the skill again, just to make her feel better.

Therese tapped a pen to her chin as she read over the lyrics to "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)" that she had found. If there was a connection, it wasn't jumping out at her. She hit print to take it with her. "Alright," she began, still tapping the pen on her face, "Steph, book a flight to Istanbul. Then get us that room or one close to it in this hotel. I'll start digging around for any more info I can get before we leave."

"Therese, you might want to turn this over to the police of the FBI," Levenson said in a motherly tone as he said down on the corner of her desk.

"And have them kill my husband? Are you out of your freaking mind!"

"Therese, they're trained to do this," he answered and she wanted to scream at him for the way he was saying her name, like she was a recalcitrant child.

"And if this idiot finds out, my babies are without a father."

"And if this goes wrong, your girls are without both of their parents."

"I can handle this," Therese adamantly stated, trying to end the conversation.

"The last time you handled something personally, you got shot…twice."

"Now wait, Mr. Levenson," Stephanie butted in. She had been trying to argue against him but couldn't get a word in edgewise until Therese bristled at his comment. "She saved my life. She's entirely capable of doing this." Six years ago, that comment would never have been made by that woman.

Therese was finding sense in his words but she was scared of what happened if authorities were brought in. "Alright, Jamie. How about this? When I find them, I'll call the authorities in then."

"You better hope Turkish police will be willing to attack an American citizen to rescue two other American citizens."

"What if he's not a citizen?"

"You got me there," he conceded and then took a seat in the only chair left. He leaned forward and reached across the desk to take her hand. "Listen to me, Therese, I care about you and I care about your family. I'll cover for you while you're gone. Please, don't do anything stupid." With that, he left the two women to begin planning this expedition.

"Has he got something for you?" Stephanie whispered after he had gone.

"No," she replied, waving her off. "Let's go home and do this. I don't want anyone privy to any information that could spoil this." She picked up her suitcase and added another mental note regarding Jamie Levenson. Maybe he did have a motive. Therese didn't think herself so wonderful that Jamie would remove Kevin from the picture so he could step in his place to comfort the grieving widow. But was he doing this to get Kevin out of the way? Stephanie saw something that Therese had noticed herself. Levenson went out of his way for the security agent. No matter what the situation, he was the first to offer help, quick to let her off from work, and went over and above to help with Kevin and Shawn's disappearance. But why would he take Shawn as well? Was that another cover? Who would think Jamie Levenson abducted Michaels when he had no connection to the man? That would still leave an accomplice. Dylan Bergeron would be the perfect accomplice. Jamie agreed with Pendleton in hiring the ex-agent and now he was waving off the man's absence as if it was nothing and trying to quell Therese's worries that Dylan was involved. No would really think Dylan was so childish as to come after her for something that he did to himself during his tenure at the company. He was too easy of a suspect.

It was all too frustrating. Walking in the door that morning, Therese Nash had only one potential suspect—Eric Bischoff. Now she had Dylan Bergeron and Jamie Levenson. And those two were only from her personal life. They were not even talking about Stephanie's professional and personal lives. She hadn't gotten to that list yet.

TBC…