Three Mind Games
Love, Life, and Loss
Blood splattered all over the wall. Large blobs and spots of the stuff spread over an area about two by three metres. Uneven, red streaks dribbled down the shiny, tiled surface. It was a shocking, ghastly sight, and Harry Fingle felt all colour drain from his face. He gagged, and put a hand up to his mouth. He hadn’t heard the gunshot, or seen the victim crumple to the floor with his head blown apart. He’d just seen the blood, and heard a woman shriek out and start to wail.
Oh my God, he thought, and jumped to his feet, and turned towards the throng of people from Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar who gathered around. He caught sight of a tall, thin man – wearing a black, casual jacket – pushing his way through the crowd, racing off down one of many passages, and disappearing into the distance. Harry turned back to face the terrified expression of the café owner and his wife as they gathered around the table where the man had been shot. He watched as the owner tried to help and comfort the woman who cradled the poor man in her lap. Her face and clothes were soaked in his blood and gore. Gruesome segments of his brain clung to her. She wept loudly and continuously.