Last Train to Istanbul (46 page)

“This is a private carriage; as you can see, it is totally full,” Ferit insisted, but eventually had to give in and make room for them in one of the compartments. The soldiers were guarding some war equipment that had been loaded onto the freight train. Obviously they had decided to enjoy the comfort of a luxurious carriage. They thought they’d be able to stretch their legs on the opposite seat and sleep for a while.

It was morning when Monsieur Asseo opened his eyes. He was glad to be with his fellow passengers, who had become like a family to him. It soothed him to feel the warmth of being together. He was going to Istanbul and would find out how to get to Palestine from there—to die in the Promised Land. But now, having met these people, he began to feel different. He wished it was possible to continue this journey forever, as though he were snuggled up in some long black cradle…
Clickety-clack…clickety-clack.

They were traveling again through gorgeous countryside: pretty villages with houses made of sun-dried bricks, vegetable gardens, green fields with cows happily chewing their cud, towns with little domed churches, streams cascading down mountains, lush green valleys. The view from the windows was ever changing, all reminiscent of postcards people send with affectionate notes scribbled on the back.

Fazıl, playing with Samuel, was gurgling away happily. The women got down their food baskets and were offering everyone cheese, jam, pickles, cold meat, and fruit. Siegfried played backgammon with Marcel. The train continued its journey, rattling through scenery that was like a kaleidoscope. Not only was the train carrying its passengers through different geographical features, but it was exposing them to life itself, transporting them through different countries and different cultures.

Through conversations in the compartment, fellow passengers had learned that Monsieur Asseo and Samuel and his sister would be continuing their journey to Palestine. Margot would try her luck in Istanbul, hoping that if this turmoil in Europe ever ended, she could return to her own country. Marcel and Constance would stay in Istanbul until they could arrange their passage to America. They had a friend working in the American consulate whom they were counting on to help them. David’s journey would also end in Istanbul, just like Rafo’s, Selva’s, and Fazıl’s.

What about Monsieur Kohen? Siegfried had said nothing about his plans. Whenever anyone asked his destination, he gave a vague answer such as, “I’m happy as long as we keep on the move.” He was fully aware, always frightened, that if the Gestapo should board the train and recognize him, they would take him back to Germany.

If the Germans should get hold of him, they might use his God-given genius to carry out projects that would exterminate his people. Like thousands of other Jews, he had had to give up his job,
his fortune, his family, and finally his name. He was running away with a passport bearing a false name, a name he hadn’t been able to get used to. He couldn’t even answer the question, “What’s your destination?” Perhaps he avoided it because he didn’t know if he was going to his death. He had decided to terminate his life if he was caught and had already taken the necessary precautions. But what if he should be saved? He would first of all have to keep the promise he had given to someone dear, a promise he considered sacred. And after keeping that promise, he might eventually be able to devote his knowledge, his experience, and his findings to the benefit of humanity.

The train rattled on through forests of oak and beech, rumbling over narrow bridges connecting high slopes, curving around hills and through deep valleys.

The evening set in. The occupants of the compartment brought down their food baskets, and since supplies were diminishing, they shared what was left. They opened one of David’s bottles of Rhine wine.

“Isn’t there any red wine left?” asked Marcel.

“I’m afraid not. We’ve only got white. If there are many more delays, we’ll have to do without wine with our dinner,” replied David.

“Dinner? You call this just dinner? For someone who had to hide away crouched in the rafters of a house for twelve days, this is a banquet,” Monsieur Asseo said.

Marcel felt embarrassed. True, he and Constance had had to keep on the move from place to place, from one house to another, but they certainly hadn’t had to hide in a cramped loft. He realized they had been lucky. At least they had leftover dry cake, a bit of cheese, and stale bread to eat.

They had been eating dry food, and Fazıl, like everyone else, had become constipated. He kept crying from the discomfort.

“If we do stop in a town or village, we should get some fresh vegetables and fruit,” Selva said to her husband.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to cook spinach!”

“Don’t make fun of me, Rafo. I’m serious. We should get some salad, fresh eggs, and some tomatoes at least.”

“I don’t know that the soldiers on this train would let us do that.”

“Why not? We can offer them some as well.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll talk to one of them. The dark one appears to be in charge.”

The passengers were getting tired and bored as the train continued its journey, shaking them around. The clouds were rather low in the sky.

“I think it’s going to rain,” said Margot. “It’s getting darker.”

“It’s getting dark because it’s late, not because it’s going to rain,” said David.

“How lovely! Another day over,” said Selva.

They had been traveling for nine days. Sometimes, they had to wait for hours; sometimes they stopped overnight. They’d changed route: south, north, then south again. They’d even had to change engines. Sometimes, they didn’t know where or when the next stop would be. One thing was certain: slowly but surely, at the pace of a tortoise, they were heading toward their destination.

“This is just like playing blind man’s bluff,” David said. “It’s as if they’re blindfolding us: we move on, and then we remove the blindfolds, and presto! We’re in an unexpected town or city.”

“Well, it’s time for me to say good night,” Asseo said, closing the backgammon board. “Let’s see where we’ll be in the morning.”

“We must be very near Bucharest now. If there are no diversions, we should be crossing the Bulgarian frontier by the morning,” said Margot.

“Thank God. This torment is coming to an end!”

“Don’t be too optimistic,” Margot said. “Don’t you remember that night when we thought we’d wake up in Leipzig and found ourselves God knows where?”

“Yes, and I also remember that night when we went to sleep thinking we would wake up in Romania. You were so happy when you woke up and realized that we were still in Hungary. You burst into tears of joy.”

“Since there’s no possibility of going back to Hungary, let’s hope all this is over pretty soon. Aaagh…” moaned Monsieur Asseo. He was clutching at his left side.

Siegfried jumped out of his seat, got his bag down from the rack, and took out some medicine.

“What’s that?” asked Margot.

“I have the same problem sometimes. Can I have some water, please?” He added a few drops of medicine to half a glass of water, and offered it to his friend.

“Why don’t you lie down, Monsieur Asseo?” proposed Selva. “I’ll sit the children somewhere else.”

“Please don’t. I’m fine. It’s just wind, I suppose, right here, that’s all.”

“I just hope to God the wind inside me doesn’t come out. If it does it’ll stink like hell,” David whispered in Marcel’s ear.

“The toilet stinks as well. We’ve all had enough of this,” Marcel said.

On Selva’s insistence, they stretched Asseo out on the seat with his head in his friend’s lap and his legs on Perla and Samuel.

“Please don’t worry about anything. Try to get some sleep. I’ve got the medicine in my pocket in case you have more pain,” said Siegfried.

The rest of the passengers were finally lulled to sleep as the train continued through the night.

Constance was woken in the middle of the night by the sound of snoring. All her fellow passengers seemed to be in a deep sleep induced by the
clickety-clack
’s lullaby. She quietly jumped over her husband’s feet and crept outside. She decided to use the toilet while everyone was asleep and there was no line. She entered it and held her head briefly under the dripping tap water that smelled of rust. When she came out, her hands and face were still wet. The corridor was dark, and she could see the yellow, melon-colored moon in the sky. It looked like a loaf of bread that had been bitten into. Oh, how she longed to bite into a fresh loaf of bread. She opened the window for a breath of fresh air, but when she realized how icy cold it was, she closed it again. She pressed her forehead against the window and looked at the pointed, flat silhouettes of the mountains. Backlit by the moon, they formed dark-blue shadows. How lovely, she thought to herself. I’m just standing here as nature is parading herself outside.

The heat in the carriage seemed to envelop her whole body: the palms of her hands were burning, and she lifted her arms, resting them on the window to feel the cold dampness. She remained in that position for a while until she felt someone breathing on the back of her neck. A pair of hands held her hips tightly and a body pressed against her.

“Marcel,” she said. “Oh, Marcel…”

She tried to turn her head, but Marcel held her head with one hand and held her arms up with the other against the window. Constance had missed her husband very much; she loved him kissing the back of her neck, his tongue caressing her neck, feeling his breathing all over her hair. She resisted when he tried to go further.

“Marcel, don’t. Not here. Please don’t—someone might want to go to the toilet.”

Marcel forcefully lifted her skirt with his knee. Constance wanted her husband both to stop and to continue. What if someone should come out into the corridor?

“Don’t, I said!”

But deep inside, she wanted him to continue, not to stop at all. When her husband let go of her hands to pull her underwear down, she tried to turn her head toward him, but she was pushed violently against the window. My God! she thought. My God! This isn’t Marcel. This isn’t my husband!

They struggled madly in front of the window; while holding her head tightly with one hand, the stranger put his other hand over her mouth to stifle her screams. She tried to bite the hand over her mouth without success. Her panties were around her knees, and the buttons of his pants were already undone. She realized that he must have followed her, fully prepared…

“My God!” she screamed with all her might—“Aaagh!”—but the muffled sound disappeared in the noise of the train. She moved her hips from side to side trying to escape his clutches, but she was getting weaker.

David, meanwhile, was in a cell, asleep on the straw among smelly feet. It was pitch-dark. Everywhere was covered in a blanket of darkness. He was just like an animal in a pen. The straw smelled of dampness and dried dung.

David opened his eyes; the darkness around him was like a wall. He jumped from his seat, tripped on Fazıl’s toy train, and fell on Selva.

“Oops!”

“Shush, Fazıl’s asleep. Everyone’s asleep. It’s all right, you can get through.”

David felt his way to the door and stepped into the corridor. He was breathing heavily and went to open the window. He needed the cold air to wake him up and bring him back to his senses, to save him from the nightmare he had just had.

He walked toward the window. What was that? A voice. Was someone groaning? He smiled to himself. Obviously basic instincts overcame these circumstances. Then, as he started to
walk back to his compartment, he realized that the groaning had an edge to it.

“Help, please help me…”

The muffled sound obviously came from a woman. He moved toward it. In the moonlit corridor, he could see a heavily built man running away. He began to run after him, but he tripped over something. A woman was lying on the floor. He knelt down.

“My God! Constance!”

She was trembling under the window, her knees to her chest and her arms around her legs.

“What happened?”

Constance tried to explain, but she was sobbing. David couldn’t understand what she said.

“Did that man do something to you?”

Constance nodded yes.

“Who was it? Did you recognize him?”

Constance shook her head no.

She was now pitifully sobbing her heart out. David put his arms around her and stroked her hair. “Now, now, it’s over, it’s all over. Please calm down. Let’s wash your face. Please don’t cry.”

They heard a noise and both looked up. Marcel was standing right there, looking at them, dumbfounded.

The train continued its journey. All the passengers in the compartment except Constance woke up one by one to a new day. Constance slept by the window with her knees pulled up to her chest and her raincoat over her. Asseo felt fine this morning, but not Marcel. He couldn’t settle at all. He went back and forth to the toilet, up and down the corridor, smoking. Siegfried was quiet as usual, and so was David.

Selva and Margot got the food baskets down again and prepared a breakfast of bitter coffee that had been left at the bottom of the thermos, boiled eggs, bread, and some honey they’d purchased from local peasants the previous day.