Free Mission: Earth "Black Genesis" by Ron L. Hubbard

Karagoz after a funny Turkish stage character. But the real boss was a widow named Melahat: the name means "beauty" but she was anything else but
    that, being dumpy and gimlet-eyed; she kept the rest of them hopping.
    My plan was to first find something wrong. I took a hand-light out of my bag—one I had stolen from the ship. On secretly silent feet, slipping like a ghost across the cobble-paved courtyard, I faded into the trees, not even letting my trench coat whisper.
    Suppressing the beam of the light with two fingers across it, I looked at the grass: it was cut. I looked at the shrubs: they were pruned. I looked at the fountains and pools: they were cleaned out and running.
    Disappointed, but not giving up hope, I slid into the main house. Roman dwellings are built around a court open to the sky. The fountain in the center was keeping the place cool. The marble floor was clean with no dust. The side rooms were spotless. Of course, they were kind of bare: I had not had much in the way of funds when I had been here last; the bare Romanness of the house had been Turkified by large numbers of colorful large rugs and draperies and I had sold these to passing tourists one by one—I don't much care for flummery anyway. The staff had tried to replace them here and there with grass mats, but even these were neat and clean. No, I couldn't find anything wrong with the main house. (Bleep)! It spoiled the joke I was about to play.
    My own room was at the back, chunked into the mountain for good reasons. I was about to pick its locks and enter when I suddenly remembered what Faht Bey had said about the whore stealing my clothes! That was it!
    On silent feet—I had forgotten to change my insulator boots—I crept up to the old slave quarters. I knew it was composed of two large rooms, both opening off the center front door.
    I took the Colt .45 out of my pocket and silently pulled back the slide, easing a shell under the firing pin.
    I turned my hand-light up to full flare.
    I drew my foot back.
    Then, all in one motion, I kicked the door open, pounded the glare of the light into the room and fired the gun in the air!
    Ah, you should have seen the commotion!
    Thirteen bodies went straight up and came down trying to burrow under beds, blanket and floor!
    "Jandarma!" I bellowed. It is Turkish for "police." And then, just to add to the confusion, in English I yelled, "Freeze, you (bleepards) or I'll rub you out!"
    Well, let me tell you, that was one confused staff! They couldn't see who it was against the glare of the light. They were screaming in pure terror. All kinds of Turkish words came spattering out like "innocent" and "haven't done anything!"
    And to add the sugar to the coffee, an Apparatus guard contingent, alerted by the shot, came racing up the road from the archaeological workmen's barracks, engines roaring!
    Pandemonium!
    Bedlam!
    Within a minute the guard contingent—they go by the name of security forces and are there to "protect any valuables dug up"—came rushing into the grounds and converged on my light.
    The subofficer's own torch hit me. He hauled up. He said, "It's Sultan Bey!"
    The gardener's small boy at once began to throw up.
    The staff stopped screaming.
    I started laughing.
    Somebody turned on some lights. Old Karagoz pulled his head out from under a blanket. He said, "It's Sultan Bey all right!"
    The guards started laughing at Karagoz.
    A couple of the staff started laughing.
    But Melahat wasn't laughing. She was kneeling on the floor. In Turkish, she was wailing at the wall, "I knew when he came back from America and found out that whore had stolen his clothes he'd be furious. I knew it. I knew it!"
    They thought I'd been to America.
    One of the small boys, about eight, came crawling over and started tugging at the bottom hem of my raincoat. His name was Yusuf, I recalled. "Please don't shoot Melahat," he pleaded. "Please, Sultan Bey! We all pooled our money and we bought you new clothes. And we even