Istanbul Passage (13 page)

“Christ, I don’t know how the
hamals
do it,” Frank said, winded, when they reached the top.

“Hamals?”
his wife said.

“You know, stevedores, whatever you call them. Who carry things. You see some of the loads, you don’t know how they can stand up.”

“It’d be mules this far up,” Leon said.

“I don’t think you know my wife, Katherine,” Frank said.

“Kay,” she said, almost fiercely, as if she were angry about something. She was wearing dark glasses against the winter sun, her eyes no more visible that they’d been in church.

“Nice of you to come,” Leon said, taking out a cigarette. “It’s a long trip, Ankara.”

“Could I have one of those? Do you mind? Or isn’t it all right? On the street, I mean. I never know what the right thing to do is in this country.” Not anger, more a general impatience, waiting for everyone else to catch up.

“You’re among friends,” Leon said, lighting hers.

“Katherine, I wish you wouldn’t,” Frank said, her name some pointless tug-of-war between them.

“Oh, I know. Set an example. Just two puffs. Those
hymns
. Barbara carrying on. I never thought she cared two cents for him.”

“Katherine—”

“All right. Not appropriate.” She dropped the cigarette and ground it out. “Sorry,” she said to Leon. “I didn’t mean to waste it.”

Leon smiled. “I’ve got plenty. I’m in the business.”

“What business?”

“I buy tobacco. For export.”

“I thought you were with the consulate. Like everyone else,” she said, dipping her head toward the others.

“Only when I need a permit.”

“There’s Barbara,” Frank said. Her taxi had now reached the square and was waiting for the tram to turn. “At least we’ll get decent grub at the Pera. And it’s right by the consulate.”

“Convenient,” his wife said.

“Mm. Tommy’s second office. Funny to think of having his wake there.”

The tram moved and they started across.

“Ted,” Frank said to the man ahead of them. “Katherine, do you mind tagging along with the Kiernans? I need to have a word with Leon. We’ll catch up.”

She lifted her head, about to protest, but Ted had already taken her elbow, so she settled for being annoyed, not bothering to say good-bye.

“Do you have another?” Frank said, nodding to Leon’s pack. “We need to talk,” he said while he lit it. “Walk with me.” A self-satisfied boarding school voice, used to getting his way.

They started up the Istiklal Caddesi.

“This is a real mess,” Frank said.

“Tommy, you mean.”

Frank nodded. “And I don’t have a lot of time. What did you do for Tommy? Besides the courier job, I mean.”

“Just a few favors,” Leon said, hesitant. “I know a lot of people in Istanbul.”

“And speak Turkish, I know,” he said, checking off some invisible list. “Tommy liked to work outside. Now it looks like he had his reasons, but it makes it hell with the books.”

“What books?”

“Petty cash. Special funds. Tommy liked special funds. So, all right, informants, they don’t want their names floating around on check stubs, but it makes things hard to trace.”

“Are you asking if Tommy paid me? He bought me a meal once in a while,” Leon said.

“I’ll buy you more than that.”

Leon stopped. “To do what?”

“To be Tommy.”

“What?”

“You’re a businessman. You can read books, can’t you?”

Leon nodded, suddenly light-headed, a new mix of absurdity and caution.

“Maybe you can read Tommy’s. A fucking mare’s nest. Maybe you can make some sense of them.”

“You’ve already been through them,” Leon said, still stitching things together.

“We need to put somebody on his desk. Until we can get a new man. Nobody at the consulate knows you worked for him, do they? So they won’t suspect.”

“Suspect what?”

“That you’re working for me,” Frank said, a little surprised, as if Leon hadn’t been following. “I can’t use anybody inside. It’s compromised.”

The same word Alexei had used, the same world.

“You think somebody at the consulate killed him?” Leon said, his voice his own but coming from somewhere outside his body.

“Or set him up.”

“And you want me to find him?” he said carefully, slowing things down, not trusting his voice now.

“I’ll find him. But I need someone to help. From outside. You knew him, the way he worked.”

“How do you know it wasn’t me?” Trying it, irresistible.

“Because your movements are accounted for. Sorry about your wife, by the way. I never knew. Anyway, this operation, it had to be someone inside. He wouldn’t have let you in on this. Nothing personal. Just the rules.”

For a second Leon felt a rush of air in his throat, not a laugh, just an odd release of pressure. Of course they still trusted Tommy. By dying he’d become the only one they could trust.

“What operation,” Leon said, testing.

“Look, you in this? I know you guys during the war—you did it for that. Now you think it’s over. Believe me, it’s not over.” He paused. “Tommy always said you were good.”

Leon turned, focusing on a tram approaching, keeping things straight.

“Reynolds doesn’t have a problem with this. If that’s what’s bothering you.”

“You’ve already talked to them,” Leon said, surprised. He let a minute go by. “What operation?”

Frank dipped his head, plunging in. “He was bringing someone out.”

“One of ours?”

“Theirs. Knows Russian Military Intelligence. The cast list. Lots. We were going to have a nice talk.”

“And now?”

“Well, if Tommy’s dead, I’d say he’s back with the Russians, wouldn’t you? Or dead. Let’s hope so, anyway. Better for everybody now.”

“If he’s dead,” Leon said quietly. Yesterday’s friend.

Bishop nodded. “Now he knows us. Tommy wasn’t the only one in this. So let’s hope he’s dead. We want to be sure of that,” he said, almost casually, without menace, only the eyes steely. Leon looked at him. Same sandy hair, probably the same glasses he’d worn at Groton, but everything hardened now, years in the business.

“How can you do that?”

“Whoever sold out Tommy’s in touch with the Russians. Let’s start with him. Let’s find him.”

Leon took a breath, the air in his head clouding again, feeding on itself.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking. Somebody killed Tommy. Maybe they’ll try to take a shot at you.”

“No, I wasn’t thinking that. Really.” An irony almost too complicated. Move away. “What do you want me to do?”

“Start with the people he ran. Who else knew?”

Leon nodded, buying time. Think how to do this. There were no explanations. Not plausible ones. Everyone would rather believe Tommy, whom they’d believed all along.

“I have to tell you, I wouldn’t blame you, if you were thinking that,” Frank said, leading them down to Mesrutiyet. “He’ll want to protect himself.”

“Yes.”

“Nice you don’t scare easy,” Frank said, as if he were putting a note in the file.

They were passing the wrought-iron gates of the American Consulate. Tommy’s office, he remembered, was in back, facing down to the Horn. Now his, as surreal as attending the funeral of a man you’d killed.

“What was the next link?” he said, thinking. “How were you getting the guy out of Istanbul?”

“Plane. Don’t worry, we’ve canceled it,” Frank said, the sound to Leon of a door closing.

The banquet room at the Pera was crowded, spilling over with consulate staff and Turks who hadn’t been to the church and were now lined up at the buffet table, plates in hand. The food was American, chicken and potato salad and cold roast beef, not even a stuffed grape leaf to remind them where they were. Barbara stood near the door, receiving, still blotchy from crying, cheeks puffy.

“Oh, Leon,” she said, embracing him. “Thank you for coming. It still doesn’t seem real, does it? One day everything’s— And
shot
. I keep thinking, those last few minutes, what was that
like
.”

“Don’t,” Leon said, disconcerted. “Don’t think about that.”

“I know, I know, everyone says. And just when we were finally getting Washington. That’s all he could talk about. Getting our things there. You know what the boats are like. And now—what do I do?”

“Don’t do anything,” Leon said. “Take some time. You don’t want to rush into anything.”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Where’s home?”

“Boston, I guess,” she said vaguely. “But that’s years ago. You know what it’s like overseas, you take home with you. I don’t know anyone in Washington. That was for Tommy’s work. Frank,” she said, touching his arm as he joined them. “All this way. Ankara.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Everyone’s been so kind,” Barbara said, suddenly genteel, something she’d heard in the movies.

“Kay’s staying over for a few days—I promised her a break—so if you need anything—”

She nodded. “I never realized how much
paper
— Now they want a form to take him home. His ashes. I mean, who else’s would they be?”

“I’ll get Ted Kiernan to take care of it for you. That’s what he does, gets cargo out.”

“Cargo—” Barbara began, but Frank, miming apologies, was being pulled away to meet someone.

“He certainly got here fast enough, didn’t he?” Barbara said, watching them go. “Taking over the office. You’d think they could wait two minutes. Tommy’s not even cold and here’s Ankara—”

“Barbara.”

“Well, he isn’t. Oh, what does it matter? Office politics. We’re not in the government anymore, are we? Now what? Would you come by, help me sort things out? I always felt I could talk to you,” she said, looking up, oddly coquettish. “Tommy took care of everything and now—”

“Are you all right for money?”

She nodded. “Yes, fine, it’s just all the paper—” she said, leaving it open-ended, and he saw that she was misinterpreting, responding with an unexpected intimacy. Tommy’s wife.

“You should talk to Ed Burke,” he said, pulling away. “He’s a lawyer.”

“Oh, Ed. He never said five words to me, and now every time I turn around there he is. Maybe he thinks I’m a rich widow. Ha, not that rich.”

“But you’ll need a lawyer. Did Tommy leave a will?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t found one anyway. You don’t expect—at his age—” She trailed off, beginning to tear up again.

“Here you go,” Ed said, coming up from behind with a fresh drink, exchanging it for the empty glass in her hand.

“Thank you, Ed,” she said, voice quavering, a new mood. “You’ve been so wonderful.”

“Chin up,” he said, raising his glass.

“Don’t let me get tipsy. That’s all I’d need.”

“You won’t,” he said. A friend of the family, even more attentive now, wanting a seat at the table, a curiosity he couldn’t contain.

“Excuse me, Mrs. King?” The hotel manager with a question about the champagne.

“Well, I thought I said with dessert, but if people are asking for it,” she said, following him.

“You meet Frank Bishop?” Ed said.

“Just to shake hands. In Ankara.”

“He’s the sheriff, don’t you think?” Ed said, leaning forward, confiding.

“How do you mean?”

“This must have set off some pretty loud bells. The minute they hear, he’s on a plane.”

“I’m not sure I’m following, Ed.”

“For a desk holder at Commercial Corp.” He raised his eyes, a knowing look.

“Who’s that he’s talking to?” Leon said, looking across. A man he recognized but didn’t know, one of those people you saw at parties but somehow never met.

“Al Maynard. Western Electric. You don’t know Al?”

Leon shook his head. Tommy’s man.

“Too late now. He’s going to Washington.”

“Mm. Tommy mentioned it.”

“He did? Why? I mean, if you don’t know him.”

“Well, not him, the job. He thought I might be interested in his job.”

“Funny how things work. Al might get Tommy’s now. The new one, in Washington. Somebody will. Look at him sucking up to Frank.”

“What did you mean, he’s the sheriff?”

“They don’t trust the police here. They sent their own man. They know it wasn’t a robbery.”

“How do they know that?”

Ed nodded toward Frank. “Then why send him?”

“Ed.”

“I’m just saying what everybody in this room is thinking. Everybody in the room.”

Were they? Leon looked around. The indistinct hum of social conversation, but a tension too, people shooting side glances at Frank, lowering their voices when Barbara went by, speculating, buzzing with it, everybody with his own idea. But no one knew. Leon felt the tingling at the back of his neck again. No one knew.

Frank had moved on to someone else now. Another link in Tommy’s network? Maybe you could follow him like a diagram around the room, point to undercover point. But what did they all do now? It had started with watching boats, the traffic in the Bosphorus. Drinking at the Park, hoping for an indiscretion. No one got shot. But that war was over. In the new one you brought out murderers and kept them safe. So they could tell you about other murderers. With a job in Washington at the end. Now open again. Waiting for a new Tommy.

“Could I cadge one more?” Kay Bishop said, suddenly next to him. “Or don’t they like it inside, either?”