Istanbul Passage (23 page)

The old parties had seemed more frivolous, flashbulb occasions for the newspapers, but maybe they’d always been the same, little marketplaces, people bargaining, Leon too naïve to notice. Both of them naïve, relieved to be out of Germany, the flowers and soft Bosphorus night part of a larger happiness. Inside, a skirt rushed by one of the dining room windows, and he saw Anna’s dress, the one she’d bought for that first party. “How do I look?” Pleased with herself, buoyant, thinking the dress was a success, when it was really the shiny skin, just being young.

“Everyone is so nice,” she’d said, “don’t you think?”

“They like a new face.”

They were standing by an umbrella pine, the air heavy with fresh resin.

“And you? Not so new to you.”

“No,” he said, putting his hand up to her cheek, just brushing it.

She leaned into his hand, a cat’s movement. “Oh, it’s wrong to be so happy.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Think of my parents.”

“They’ll get out.”

“Buying dresses. Going to parties. Champagne. Who gets to do these things now?”

“You do,” he said, stroking her cheek.

“Isn’t it terrible? I’m so happy.” She looked up at him. “I don’t want anything to change. And it will.”

“What?”

“Things. Everything changes.” She looked up, a smile. “Maybe not you. So stubborn. So that’s lucky, yes?” she said, her voice throaty, a German inflection, something she would always have, like a fingerprint. She looked back toward the party. “How does she know so many people?”

“Her husband’s rich. That makes you a lot of friends.”

“No, they like her. You can tell.”

Everyone charming then in their new eyes, the room dancing with light. Maybe they simply hadn’t been aware of it, the quiet introductions, the plotting, any of it. Just the sound of dresses swishing, voices spilling out, lapping at the garden.

“It’s really true? She was in the harem? To meet someone like that.”

“You could be in a harem,” he said, his face closer, already wanting to go home, those days when they couldn’t get enough of each other.

“Oh, a dancing girl. With those pants you can see through. Me, a
hausfrau
.” She looked at him, eyes shining. “Frau Bauer. What if you had never come to Germany?”

“You’d have found someone else.”

“No. I’d have waited.”

“Yes?”

She nodded. “I’d have waited.”

For an instant, the memory was so real that he felt her breath on his face. He dropped the cigarette. Before all the luck had run out. But maybe it hadn’t, not all of it. Isn’t that what Georg called it, a piece of luck, meaning something else? Turn the board around. Tommy was gone and no one knew. One word, an address to Melnikov, and Alexei would disappear and no one would know that, either. Money in the bank, a fresh start, for a man not worth saving. A fresh start for Anna. Maybe a chance for her to come back. And Leon still lucky, in the clear, while Frank turned the consulate inside out, every trail getting colder. None of them leading to Leon. He moved the men around the board in his head, looking for the flaw. A straight play, no piece lurking on the side. Except Melnikov, who would know and use that to put Leon in check, another Georg, his man now, cheap at the price.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

He turned to the house, his vision hazy, out of focus.

“All right, a Turkish lira,” Kay said. She was leaning against the doorjamb, watching him, elbow tucked in, holding a cigarette, its smoke curling up past her face. “Two liras?”

He smiled, back now. “Not worth it. How long have you been there?”

“Where do you go? When you go off like that?”

“I was just thinking about Lily’s parties. The way they used to be.”

“They were different?” she said, walking over to him.

“Not really, I guess. They just seemed different.”

“Everyone was younger,” she said, a gentle tease.

He dipped his head. “That, and the way they spent. Buckets of caviar then.”

“You could have fooled me,” Kay said, glancing back at the party.
“I had no idea she was down to her last nickel. I mean, my god, a fountain in the middle of the living room.”

“Sofa,”
he said then, seeing her expression, “the main hall.” He nodded to a seating area. “I guess that’s where we got the word. Usually there’d be a brazier in the middle, for heat. Fountain out in the garden. Whoever built this was showing off. The layout’s traditional, though. You’d be received in the
sofa
.” He gestured with his hand, a tour guide. “And mostly you stayed there. But if you were a favored guest, you’d go there, into the
selamlik
, the men’s quarters.”

“And the women?”

“The other side,” he said, pointing. “Where the dining room is now. See the alcoves around the main room? That’s where you sat. No furniture, not like this anyway. All the chairs. It’s a hodgepodge now. Like Istanbul. It can’t decide what it wants to be.”

Kay stared at the house. “I used to feel that sometimes, didn’t you?” She looked at him. “No, I guess not. Not you. Men. I used to hate it, when I was little. ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’”

“What did you say?”

“Oh, nurse, mostly. You had to say something or they wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“But what did you want?”

“What did I want?” she said. “To be married, I guess. I wanted to be safe.”

“So you got what you wanted,” he said, a question.

“Yes.” She looked up at him. “And what did you want to be?”

“I don’t know. What do kids want? Something exciting.” He looked over. “Not safe. Well, and safe at the same time.”

“Yes.” She drew on the cigarette, her eyes still on him, some conversation she was having with herself.

“You enjoying the party? Don’t let Lily wear you out.”

She shook her head. “I feel like it’s someone else, not me. Everybody making a fuss.”

“Somebody new.”

“Meaning it won’t last? I don’t care. I have to go back anyway. Put away my new dress. Not that you noticed. Just like Frank. I wear a dress like this and you don’t even notice.”

“I noticed,” he said, looking at the open neckline.

She turned her head away and dropped her cigarette. “I didn’t mean like that.” She hesitated. “Maybe I did,” she said, looking back at him. “Anyway, you’re not Frank, are you?”

“No.”

“No,” she repeated, still looking. “I can say things to you. I don’t know why. And then I can’t,” she said, her voice running out.

“What?”

“Before. I was standing there and all I could think—” She stopped, then took a breath and put her hand on his sleeve. “Do something for me.” Her eyes green again in the light from the house, darting across his face.

He looked at her, waiting, aware of her hand, the warmth of her, then felt her reach up, pulling his face down to hers. Her mouth just brushed his, a soft pressing, testing, then opened to him, a sudden urgency, as if he were going to be taken away. He put his hand behind to draw her closer, surprised at his own response, alive to her, feeling her down the length of his body. When he started to move away, she held his face to hers again, lips still open, their mouths wet now, excited. They pulled away at the same time, out of breath, staring. Not just a kiss in the garden, neither of them talking, Leon hard.

He moved first, reaching for his handkerchief and slowly wiping the lipstick from his mouth, his eyes still on hers, some line crossed. No need to do it again, neck like kids. She reached over,
taking the handkerchief, daubing a spot at the corner of his mouth, intimate, the way people were with each other after sex.

The noise of the party inside seemed farther away, the air in the garden still, broken only by night sounds, rustlings. He put away his handkerchief, glancing through the French windows. A few people passing, talking to one another, Dr. Obstbaum standing, looking straight at them. Leon felt the blood pulse through him, a rush of shame. Then Obstbaum turned away, even more embarrassed, as if he could tell, more than a kiss and now none of them safe.

“What is it?”

“Somebody I know.”

“Did he see?”

“I think so.”

“Well—” she said lightly, wanting it to pass, looking at him again.

“My wife’s doctor.”

“Oh,” she said, physically backing away, some spill spreading toward them.

“I’m sorry,” Leon said. “I mean, in public. To embarrass you like that.”

“He doesn’t know me. He knows you,” she said. “Anyway.” She came closer. “It was my idea.”

“Still.”

“Still,” she said, looking at him, eyes brown now, only flecks of green.

“We’d better go in,” he said.

“In a minute. Just stay for a minute.” Letting the air settle around them, holding on.

“Look—” he started.

“I’ve never been unfaithful to Frank,” she said, her voice flat, so that he wasn’t sure what she meant, how to respond.

“There you are.” Lily’s voice from the steps. “Don’t hide. Everyone wants to meet you.”

“Everyone
has
,” Kay said, smiling, a quicksilver moment, Leon a beat behind.

Lily came out toward them. “A tryst in the garden,” she said, teasing. “Really, Leon. Like a play.”

“My fault,” Kay said. “I wanted a cigarette. You know how people are—a woman smoking.”

“Mm, look at them,” Lily said, turning her head to the party. “Stealing husbands. The silver too. Yes, you’d be surprised. But smoke and they’re offended.” She turned back to Leon. “
Am
I interrupting something?”

“Would that stop you?” he said, smiling, but still shaken. Do something for me.

“Of course not. If I am, then it’s a reputation at stake,” she said, having fun, watching them.

“Not yet,” Kay said easily. “Just a cigarette.”

“What happened to your Russian?” Leon said, moving somewhere else. “Bringer of caviar.”

“Yes, I know, dreadful. But important now. Not very
distingué
, though, are they, the new ones? Remember the Germans? Of course, terrible people, but the consul was charming. Four languages. Not like the Japanese. You remember, Leon? Two of them. Never a word. Not one. Bowing only. Then like birds, picking at the food, making little sounds.”

Kay laughed. “And how were the Americans?”

“Oh, serious. They’re always serious.”

“Always?” Leon said, half listening.

“Always. They want to save the world. You have to be serious for that.”

“The Russians are serious,” Leon said. “What do they want to do? Or didn’t Melnikov say?”

Lily shot him a look. “Everybody knows what they want to do,” she said, then turned to Kay, light again. “You see? Even Leon. Serious. I had such hopes.”

Kay nodded, smiling. “But not as bad as they are in Ankara. Not yet,” she said to Leon.

He glanced back. Something different in her voice, private. Could anyone else hear it?

“No,” Lily was saying. “So why now at the consulate?” She poked his shoulder gently. “What does it mean?”

“Just filling in.”

“Yes? They say you’re a detective now.”

“Who says?”

“On dit,”
Lily said, brushing this a way. “And have you found him yet? The killer?”

“No.”

“No suspects?”

“Your new guest is everybody’s favorite,” he said, motioning toward the dining room. “At the consulate anyway.”

“But how could it be? He wasn’t even in Istanbul that night.”

“How do you know?”

“Oh, people say things. They think I don’t hear. You know, at Yildiz—you learned to listen. Every sound. A long time ago, but it’s a lesson you don’t forget.”

“What else are they saying?”

Lily waved her hand. “Gossip. That’s why I ask you. But you don’t tell me. So come. Before people talk. I don’t care for myself. Refik can’t hear anymore. But Mrs. Bishop—”

“Refik was your husband?” Kay said.

“Yes. And jealous too.
Ouf
. I think it amused him. Some men are like that. They think every man is—”

“Every man probably was,” Leon said.

“But was I interested in them? Never. Of course he knew that. Maybe he thought it flattered me. To be jealous.”

“You were in love with him?” Kay said.

“What a question,” Lily said, suddenly tentative, surprised at this.
“Certainly. But love—it’s not always so reliable, you know? It changes. But with us there was also a debt. I owed him everything, my life. How could there be anyone else? He rescued me.”

“Literally?”

“Oh, a long story. Not for a party. Leon, you must know this, how Refik found me. After the harem.”

“Only that he did.”

“Tell me,” Kay said. “Do you mind?”

Leon glanced at her, eager, wanting to know. A kiss he hadn’t expected. He looked over her shoulder, unsettled. In the same garden. But not the same, just a few pines. The other trees pollarded, cut back for the winter, the laburnum and chestnuts only in his head, in the past.

“Mind?” Lily was saying, delighted to have an audience. “Well, everybody wants to know about the harem. What was it like? Something romantic. But it wasn’t like that. The house in Yildiz, nothing to do. Games, with the other girls. What did we learn? How to act. How to dress. And what good was that when it was over? People don’t ask that, what happened after. Nobody thought. After they sent Abdul Hamid to Salonica, there we were and no one knew what to do with us. Hundreds of girls, some children. So they took us to Topkapi. It was the first time I’d ever been there. So damp. At least Yildiz had been warm. And then they sent messengers to all the villages where we’d been born—come and get your daughters, take them home. And some did. Farmers, and their daughters are dressed like—well, you can imagine the kind of clothes you wore for the sultan, beautiful, and now they’re going back to the farm. Useless for work. Some didn’t want to go. What would happen? Make yogurt, be married off to some ox. So they’d cry, but of course they had to go. The fathers would sell their jewelry, and that’s the last they’d see of Istanbul. Now the fields. If they were still virgin, maybe a marriage in the town, somebody who liked good manners. If not, not. Any marriage
that could be arranged. The jewelry would make a bride price. And that was the end of the harem for them.”