"'The Pride of the Turks' or something like that. I can't read it either, but I remember when it changed. These have been my brand for a long time."

"You know I started to sense something was up after Antonio brought the books down. Your bait, as you called it, seemed too much of a coincidence." I was beginning to feel much less at a disadvantage.

"You saw that coming huh?" She smiled sheepishly.

"A little bit." I returned her warm smile.

"I also had you checked out, just to be sure," she added defensively.

"What are you talking about?" A lump of concern began to rise in my throat.

"I researched your medical records for any history of mental illness. Confiding your true nature to anyone normal could easily get you diagnosed as schizophrenic, delusional or any number of other things. It wouldn't be the first time it had happened."

"What did you find?"

"Nothing, no history. Should I have found something?"

"No, I never told anyone except my family."

"And now me," she said, placing her soft hand in mine. "Tell me about Istanbul." Her eyes lit up as she squeezed my hand.

"Alright but I should go back a little farther to preface the story. Pour me some more wine would you."

She refilled my glass and prepared more crackers as I began. I was anxious to tell my story to someone, anyone and not see my own face reflected in a mirror, mouthing the words.

"It started in 1892 with Vasili Blagavich Arda in a small Bulgarian farming village North West of Varna. He was--, I was an only child of a farmer so there was never any question as to my future. I worked with my father until I was twenty-three when Bulgaria entered the war against the allies and all the single men in my village were pressed into service against the Greeks. I was in the army until the Great War ended.

"My father and I worked together for two years after the war until he died. The land was mine after that; I took a wife the following year, Vayna. She and I lived and farmed peacefully for the next twenty-five years until the end of the next war when the communists forcibly took our land and put us both in prison. She didn't survive. I was released in 1948 and managed to reach the Turkish border later that year. I lived in Istanbul for the last years of that life."

"Did you and Vanya have any children?" she asked as soon as I took a break.

"No, we were unable..."

"Hmm, what is the city like? I've never been there."