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167

children, babies too. Scared, desperate and invariably poor.

Thank God they were always skinny enough not to capsize

the boat. Last time, which was only a week ago, the Coast

Guard had pushed them back into Turkish waters. He only

hoped that the seven he left out there in the sea were now

safe in a prison. Naturally, he received no payment for that

job. He shook his head to push these thoughts off his mind

and focus instead on his wife and toddlers. And the stack in

his back pocket. He downed his warming beer.

“OK,” he said as he slammed the mug on the counter.

“Daybreak at east pier. Tell Faruk I’ll be there.”

Another lifeless nod from the middle-man.

Kaan waved a banknote at the bartender and told him to

keep the change. He then left the Hut without another

word.

The air outside was chilly. A storm was looming in the

distance.