After leaving New Zealand, they travelled to the Australian outback, then left the stark red desert for the tropics, touching only for one night in club-heavy party-frenzied tourist-drenched Bali. The next week and a half had them travelling through China and India, where Owen experienced a great deal of culture-shock. Even though he'd been taken to faraway places, Vincent had sought to give him a taste of gritty reality. They saw the other side of the coin during a stopover in Dubai, which was as rich as most of India was poor. Hotels, swimming pools, five star treatment had Vincent hoping that Owen would never take such luxuries for granted again. They went to Turkey next, in order for Owen to experience a different kind of culture once again, and also to visit the wonder of the Pamukkale natural hot springs.
Owen was to spend the latter part of the afternoon there, after having a picnic lunch among the ruins of Hierapolis - the city built at the very top of the mountain with the baths below. There was a guided tour around the ruins that Vincent thought appealing and hoped Owen would find it the same. He organised to meet with Owen after night fell, so they could lounge in the hot springs together and look down at the city lights below while enjoying the more natural lights above.
While Owen was enjoying the springs on his own, a long procession of black cars with heavily tinted windows drove up the winding road and parked at the carpark below, where Owen could see since he was in the east-most pool. Nobody stepped out of them, however, which was peculiar. They sat there - five black cars parked side by side with no hint of movement.
There were quite a lot of people enjoying the pools when Owen had , but this late in the day a lot of them were heading home with their families or partners, or in groups of friends, and cars vacated the parking lot where the black cars were. There were still a few floating around, relaxing, so Owen wouldn't feel isolated or unusual for staying. Another tour began above him, because he could hear people exclaiming over the view and the starting words of the tour before they moved away. A quick glance up and he'd see a small crowd of people begin a twilight tour.
The sun had set quite quickly, and it was once the rays were covered by the west-most jutting of the cliffside that there was movement in the carpark below. Owen would see that three car doors had opened in unison from three separate cars, and three men exited the vehicles - two dressed in uniforms fitting chauffeurs, but one wearing a full suit. It stood out because of how warm it was. It wasn't stinking hot, but it wasn't full-suit weather either.
After another minute, two more suit-wearing heavies stepped out of a car - and one opened the back passenger car-door for the middle car. A young man stepped out, wearing white cotton pants and a loose pink-coloured t-shirt, wearing shades and what appeared to be slip-on shoes. If Owen had ever seen the original Miami Vice TV show, he would've been reminded uncannily of Don Johnson, though because of his age, he didn't recognise the fashion choice to be anything other than generic 80s. The 80s dressed person looked to be Owen's age, but from his high vantage point, he wouldn't've been able to tell.
The guy who all of the security detail was around looked up at the baths. Owen couldn't see anything but shades, and he doubted that the guy would know he was looking at him particularly, instead of the strange little mob that they made. Lots of people were looking over, in fact. Some skedaddled, which Owen noticed but didn't pay much mind to, for others also went back about their business of lounging and enjoying the view.
Owen went back to that also, but after five minutes he was approached. The sky still had streaks of sunlight across the sky, but it was more dark than light, and the temperature had dropped a great deal. It was much nicer in the springs now, and Owen had found himself a pool with a natural dip in it that he was using like a lounger, his head and shoulders out of the water. The person who approached him wasn't Vincent, but a handsome young Turkish looking guy, built nicely but not anywhere near as solidly as Owen himself. He wasn't afraid of wearing tight navy bathers, though, and Owen recognised the shades on the other guy's face as belonging to Mister Eighties Fashion. Somewhere between the carpark and here, he'd lost his clothes, and his security detail.
Oh, nope, there they were, being inconspicuous.
"Good evening," the Turkish guy said in a crisp British accent, sitting down beside Owen as though they were old friends. "It will be a beautiful night. Already, a beautiful view."
He was looking at Owen as he said it, rather than out to the city they could see straight ahead and below them.
