Belshazzar's Daughter Read Online Free Page B

sections of the brain tissue.
    After that came the acid.’
    ‘Acid?’
    ‘Yes. Sulphuric would be my guess. Poured over the body and, interestingly, down the victim’s gullet. It’s possible he was still alive when that occurred.’
    ‘I told you it was unpleasant, sir,’ Suleyman muttered as the doctor related his findings. Avci fanned his livid face with his left hand. Trying to push the nauseating smell away, ikmen supposed.
    ‘What about this swastika?’
    ‘Drawn in the victim’s blood, I should say.’ Sarkissian crossed his strong arms across his chest. ‘The murderer used a cloth, rag, something like that. From the condition of the corpse, its rigor, I’d put time of death at around four, five, maybe five-thirty yesterday afternoon. Come and have a look.’
    Suleyman visibly whitened at the invitation. He looked at the doctor and smiled weakly. ‘Dr Sarkissian, if you don’t mind …’
    The doctor laughed loudly and punched one gross palm with his other fisted hand. ‘No, not you, Suleyman, I know you’ve seen it already,’ he said. ‘Come on, Cetin.’ He turned and bustled merrily back into the apartment.
    ikmen took one last swig from his bottle and issued his orders to his deputy. ‘All right, Suleyman, while I’m in there there’s some things you can be getting on with. First, I want a complete press blackout on the acid and the swastika, understand? We don’t want panic or this city’s lunatic fringe getting new and interesting ideas. That means silencing the neighbours, everything. Give no details to anybody, do you understand?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘Also, speaking of the neighbours - in this block and across the street - I want our men talking to them. I want to know where they all were and what they were doing around the time of the murder. I want to know if they saw anything, heard anything, any odd people about the place. And I want background. Anything and everything that they know about Meyer.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’ Suleyman turned and made his way back down the stairs.
     
    The swastika was larger than he had imagined. Really quite huge. It dominated the tiny, litter-strewn apartment, making it look even more like a cell or one of those awful concentration camp barrack rooms in old documentaries about World War II.
    ‘Bit of a shock, isn’t it?’ chirped Sarkissian as he removed a bloodstained sheet from the ancient iron bedstead. ‘Here’s your victim. He was in bed when he was attacked.’
    ikmen could see that it had once been human. It had arms, legs, eyes, hair. But from the mouth to the groin it was like looking in a butcher’s shop window. Blood, offal, misshapen lumps of meat, even at places bones sticking through torn and twisted ribbons of flesh. Now he was actually next to the thing the smell was overpowering. And those eyes! The horror in them! Was that why Sarkissian reckoned that Meyer was still alive when the acid was poured down his throat?
    He couldn’t speak, and silently indicated to the doctor that he should recover the corpse. He’d seen enough. As Sarkissian replaced the sheet over Meyer, ikmen tried to come to terms with what he had just seen. He felt sick. Not enough to vomit, but distinctly unwell. Suleyman had been right. It was impossible to put that thing, an obscenity on that scale, into words. And the swastika - it was so personal somehow. As if it justified the act.
    ‘Your man Suleyman’s a very professional officer,’ the doctor said lightly. ‘There were two others with him when he arrived on the scene. Youngsters, younger than him.
    You can imagine how they were when they saw all this.
    Poor Suleyman admitted to going quite green himself. But he took charge, got them out, assigned tasks to them straight away. Tried to take their minds off it.’
    ikmen found his voice. “I wish someone would take my mind off it.’ His shaking hand brought the bottle of brandy up to his lips.
    ‘Like I say,’ the doctor continued, suddenly grave and