Istanbul Passage (9 page)

“He’s not the enemy anymore.”

Mihai looked at him, then down at his glass. “So I wondered, is he a fool? Now I know. Sit down.”

“You’ve got something on your mind?” Leon said, taking a chair.

“My mind, yes. Not on my conscience. Yet. I thought, he doesn’t know. He should know.”

“Know what?”

“Who he is. Your Alexei. Shall I guess what you think? The Romanians. Well, they sided with the Germans. How could they not? The expedient thing. Our friend too. What choice? Then Stalingrad, the Russians push back. And push.
Into
Romania. Now Germany’s losing and who’s coming? So why not make a deal with them? Throw out the fascists. Fight with the Russians instead. The new expedient thing. But meanwhile some people get caught in between. Our friend, for example. The Russians don’t forgive him. They’re going to put him on trial. Like Antonescu. So he runs. And he has something to sell. Things he knows. I’m right so far, yes?”

Leon nodded.

“Only one bidder in this deal. And better not to ask too many questions. The whole Romanian army was fascist, so, yes, he was a fascist, but now the Communists are after him, a recommendation in itself. In such a situation you take what you can. All right. An opportunist. But our opportunist. That’s what you think, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t thought. I don’t know.”

“But I do. I recognized him. Before I took a bullet for him. You think he’s someone—not so good, maybe, but Romanian politics were like that. Who can blame him for wanting to save himself?”

“You, it seems.”

“Yes, me. I know what he is, Jianu. That’s his name. A butcher. But you don’t know, I think. So what do I do? Keep my mouth shut? Somebody this close to me? Anna I used to trust with my life. We killed a man tonight—you, me. And you don’t even know.”

“Tell me, then,” Leon said quietly.

Mihai nodded to his hand. “Get me another. It hurts.”

“It’s not infected, is it?”

“Such concern. So where to start? King Carol with his hand in everybody’s pockets? The wolf at the door. But still, thank God, the Jews to hate. So, the Legion of Archangel Michael. You know it? The Iron Guard.”

“Yes.”

“A wonderful group. Pouches with Romanian earth around their necks. Little ceremonies where they drink each other’s blood. Like savages. My countrymen. Well, not by then. I’m in Palestine. My family said, how can you be a Zionist? Jassy is a Jewish city. Well, it was. So I’m in Palestine and things get worse for the Jews. Mossad sends me to Bucharest, to get them out. The Athénée Palace, everyone in the same place. You go to dinner at Capşa and bribe someone, then back to the Palace and bribe someone else. You could still do that then. But how many Jews listen? Then Carol runs away with
Lupescu, the mistress—and the treasury. For them, at least, the happy ending. No one else. Now Michael is king, but really General Antonescu, the army. And meanwhile the Iron Guard are running wild. Killing people. Government people even. Pogroms naturally, what else? Terrible excesses. Finally, it’s too much even for Antonescu. He sends the tanks out—the army fighting the Iron Guard, fascist against fascist. But Hitler prefers Antonescu. Not so crazy. He sides with him. And so does our friend Jianu. Your Alexei.”

“He was in the Iron Guard?”

“But now he helps Antonescu break them. So Antonescu joins the Axis and the army goes off to invade Russia. A reign of terror in Odessa—that you know from the trials this summer. Deportations from Bessarabia. All the Jews. The Romanians set up extermination camps—the only ones the Germans didn’t run themselves. They killed almost two hundred thousand, we think. Quite a record. My countrymen.”

“And Alexei?”

“Now a right hand to Antonescu. Antonescu liked him. Someone who would betray the Guard? Who better for intelligence work? He knew how to get Russians to come over. The Romanians had good intelligence, right up to Stalingrad. But he had to know about the Jews too. The army carried out the deportations. It was the Guard all over again. Jassy they emptied out in ’forty-one.”

“Your family.”

“Everyone. Then bigger things. Until they started to lose. After Stalingrad, they knew. Antonescu was so desperate he put out feelers—this time to save the Jews, help them get to Palestine. Sell them. I was here then. We bought some out. The Americans more. They had the money. Already Antonescu must have been thinking about the end, making some friends for after. He should have looked closer to home. When he was deposed, ’forty-four, where was loyal Alexei? Nowhere to be found.” He paused. “Until you found him.”

“So he knew. That’s not the same as—”

“Who pulls the trigger? Is that what you mean?”

Leon looked away, flustered.

“Maybe I’ve been going too fast for you.”

“I get the picture. He’d sell his mother. What am I supposed to do?”

“Not let him sell her again. Antonescu goes on trial soon. But not Alexei. Why not?”

“Because he made a deal.” Leon looked up. “He didn’t make it with me.”

“So it’s not your responsibility. Nobody’s.” He took a drink, letting the air settle a little. “Let the Communists have him. Put him on trial. With Antonescu.”

“A show trial. They don’t try people. They shoot them.”

“In this case, well deserved.”

“Maybe he’s more valuable this way. I don’t know. I don’t know what he knows.”

“I know what he is. I said before a butcher. I didn’t tell you why.”

Leon held up his hand. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not up to me—”

“One more thing. Then you decide. The Guard. You remember I said there were excesses. But what’s in a word? Excesses. You know Bucharest?”

“No.”

“Dudeşti was the main Jewish district. Three days they went crazy there. First Strada Lipscani, a killing spree, looting. Then out in the Băneasa forest, making them dig pits before they shot them. The reason for this, by the way? No one said. Enough they were Jews. But the second day, before Antonescu decided to send the tanks, the Guard went even crazier. Maybe they drank each other’s blood again, who knows. For courage. What courage? Who was fighting them? Terrified Jews, begging for their lives? That was the day they got two hundred of them—men, women—and took them to Străuleşti.” He
stopped, then tossed back the rest of the drink. “The slaughterhouse. South of town. An abattoir.”

Leon waited, not moving.

“They put the Jews on the conveyor belts. Stripped, on all fours. They made them bleat, like the animals. Crying, I suppose, maybe screaming, but also bleating like they were ordered. Then through the assembly line, the same treatment the animals got. Heads sliced off, then limbs, then hung up on hooks. Carcasses. And then they stamped them, the carcasses.” He said something in Romanian, then translated. “Fit for human consumption. The inspector’s stamp.” He paused. “You decide.”

Leon said nothing, staring, as if the belt were moving through the room before them, blood spurting, running into gutters.

“And Alexei was there?” Leon said, marking time, his stomach queasy.

“There were no witnesses. Among the Jews. Just the Guard. But he’s still with the Guard then. He was seen. Ask him.”

“He sold the Guard out, you said.”

“When it was convenient. A fine point.” He paused again. “You decide.”

Leon was quiet. “I can’t,” he said finally. “It’s not my decision.”

“It’s somebody’s.”

“Not yours, either.”

“No, I just speak Romanian and drive the car. And keep my mouth shut. That was before. Help a man like this escape? I won’t be part of that. Whoever sent you—maybe he doesn’t know, either. He needs to know. So somebody can decide.”

“You’re not part of it. They don’t even know you were there.”

“That’s not so easy now. Maybe you didn’t think about this, either, what it means for me, what this is now.”

Leon looked at him, waiting.

“So more thinking. I had this time,” he said, waving to the room,
“while you were having your drink. Who were they tonight? Russians? All right. Who else would have such an interest? Stop him before— So they send a unit, three, four men. In which case they’ve already cleaned up the mess, got rid of the body. But no one followed us. It’s more important to get Jianu than worry about the fallen comrade. But no one follows. So he must have been alone. Think what that means.”

“I know what it means.”

“Yes? You have thought about this too? No one moves the body. It lies there to be found. And it will be found. Now something for the police, even Emniyet. And what are they looking for? My gun. My car. Who protects me now? The boss you can’t tell me about? Who wants me to help the butcher? I’m working for him now too. I have a right to know.”

“I never meant—”

“It’s too late for that. Do we want to tell the police it was self-defense? Then we have to tell them what we were doing there.”

Leon stared at his drink for a minute. “Can they trace the car to you?”

“This is your response?”

“They can’t, can they? Where is it?”

“The garage.”

“Where it’s been all night, as far as anyone knows. There’s nothing special about the car, if they saw it from the café. Unless they got the plate number. It could be anybody’s.”

“So I have nothing to worry about.”

“There’s nothing to connect you to this.”

Mihai looked over. “Except you.”

“If it comes to that, we’ll protect you. I promise you that. I’ll talk to—”

“Protect me. A Palestinian helping the Americans, killing Russians. I’d be out of the country in a day.”

“At least you wouldn’t be in jail.”

“Those are my choices. And my work here? Who does that?”

“You were never there,” Leon said, his voice level. “Nobody knows except Alexei and he’ll be gone.”

“The butcher goes free. And we protect ourselves. So we protect him. That’s what I’m doing now, protecting someone like that. A knot,” he said, twisting his fingers, “not so easy to pull apart.”

“I didn’t know.”

“That’s what the Germans say,” Mihai said wryly. “Every one.” He put down the glass, ready to go. “So, a good night’s work. He’s safe and so are we. Only the Turks have this problem. This body. One thing, though, still to think about. How did they know, the Russians? The arrangements? Where he’d be? Just you. No guns. So easy they could send one man. If they knew all that, what else do they know? So maybe we’re not so safe. And neither is he,” he said, getting up.

The phone rang, twice as loud this late, startling them, like an unexpected hand on the shoulder. Leon glanced at his watch, then looked at Mihai, who shook his head, a tic response. Another clang filling the room, waves of sound. He picked up the receiver, snatching it.

“Leon? I’ve been trying to reach you.” Ed Burke. At this hour.

“I was at the Park.” Accounting for himself to Ed Burke, already making alibis. “Do you know what time—”

“It’s about Tommy,” Ed said quickly. “I thought maybe you’d know something.”

“Know something?”

“Since you were in Bebek. With your wife. We couldn’t get past the police.”

“Police?” Just an echo.

“You haven’t heard? He’s dead. Killed.”

“What?” A first wave of heat rushing through him. Tommy hit too, the one who was supposed to meet the boat, not a freelance.
They’d known where he was. He looked over at Mihai, who was watching him.

“Leon, you there?”

Say something. “Killed? In a crash?” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

“No, that’s the thing. Shot. In Bebek. That’s why I called. I thought you might have heard something before they blocked the whole place off. By the water, just down from that fort.”

“Rumeli Hisari,” Leon said, an automatic response, not hearing himself. “Shot?” His mind racing now, his blood seeming to travel in two directions. “By the water?”

“The boat landing. That’s what I wondered too. Hell of a place to be, that hour. Tommy leaves his own party, I figure he must have something going on. But, Christ, you never know, do you. Maybe somebody saw the car and said, there’s money there. So if he hadn’t left then. But maybe something else.”

“God,” Leon said blankly. “Shot?”

“You don’t expect that here.”

“No,” Leon said. “You don’t.” Fire into the dark and wait for a thud, the crack of a head on the pavement.

“Well, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“No, no, I’m glad you called. Thanks.” Police cars and lights, questioning people in the café. His head filling with blood, face hot.

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything about the arrangements.”

“Arrangements?”

“Well, Barbara will want to bury him here, don’t you think? I mean, shipping a body home—”

“Barbara,” Leon said vaguely. The widow, a bottle blonde who flirted after the second drink.

“She had to identify the body,” Ed said, in the know. Who else had he called? “It’s a hell of a thing. One minute you’re at a party, the next you’re—”

“I can’t believe it,” Leon said. What you were supposed to say.

“You never saw anything? They must have had half the force out.”

“Not while I was there.” He waited a second. “When did it happen?”

“Right after he left the party, I guess.”

“I must have already gone. Jesus, shot.”

“Well, I’ll let you go,” Ed said, slightly disappointed, hoping for details. “I still say, it’s a funny place to be, that hour.” Fishing.

“Thanks again, Ed,” Leon said, not responding.

He put down the receiver, moving slowly, and turned to Mihai.

“What?” Mihai said, looking at his face.

“You have to think some more. It wasn’t a Russian.”

2

LALELI

H
E SPENT ALL MORNING
waiting for a call—somebody from Tommy’s office at the consulate, maybe even the Consul himself. The account in
Hürriyet
had been skimpy, a businessman shot, but the details were already racing through the foreign community. Why hadn’t Barbara been invited to the party at the college? Why had Tommy left early? Heading away from town? Suspicions percolated up and down the phone lines, but no one believed Tommy was seeing another woman, certainly not one who would shoot him. Which left robbery. Except, according to Barbara, his wallet had been in his pocket when the police found him. His gun had been fired, so he must have scared them off. But why was he carrying a gun?