Istanbul Passage (33 page)

Gülün waved his hand, too annoyed to bother with words, and went over to his place, scooping up his notes. “Another time,” he said to her. “You’ll be staying on in Istanbul?”

“I hadn’t really thought—” Kay said, moving away from Leon.

“It would be advisable. You too, Mr. Bauer.”

“Until when? I may have to go to Ankara.”

Altan looked up at this, but Gülün was busying himself with his papers.

“I’m asking this of everyone who was here last night,” he said, then looked over at Kay. “Do you need someone to take you to the hotel? For your rest.” The last said with a sting he couldn’t resist.

Kay shook her head. “Are there things I’m supposed to do here? What do widows do? I mean, I don’t know—”

“Dorothy can help you,” Leon said. “With the arrangements.”

“We can’t release the body yet,” Gülün said. “The law requires an autopsy.”

“Yes,” Kay said vaguely. “The body. He’ll have to be buried somewhere, won’t he? All that.”

“Would you call extension sixty-two?” Leon said to the stenographer. “Ask Dorothy to come down?” He turned to Kay. “You don’t have to do this now. Dorothy can get the paperwork ready.”

“No. I can’t just sit. Do nothing. I’d go—”

Altan nodded. “It’s difficult, a sudden death. The shock,” he said, his voice knowing, personal.

“One more question?” Gülün said, not looking at Altan. “Your husband. He didn’t call yesterday to say he was coming?”

“No.”

“This was usual? He liked surprises?”

“I don’t know. No, not really.”

“Yet he flies here—”

“He flew? But he hated to fly. I just assumed he took the train,” Kay said, genuinely surprised at this.

“No. So something urgent, something that couldn’t wait.” He paused. “A surprise. No message to the hotel. You were out during the day?”

“Sightseeing.”

“Alone?”

“No. With—” She nodded to Leon.

“Ah,” Gülün said, as if some point had been made. He turned to the stenographer. “We’re finished for the day.” A sly look at Altan as he filled his briefcase. “By the way, Mr. Bauer, we spoke to Saydam. The guard. There may have been a cigarette, some time away from the door.”

“Yes.”

“Unfortunately no one else was there, either. So anything is possible.” He glanced over at Kay. “People coming in. People going out.”

Dorothy appeared and everybody began moving toward the door, relieved to be leaving.

“Don’t mind Gülün,” Altan said to Leon, bringing up the rear. “Your embassy in Ankara has been making calls. Two men killed now. Of course they blame the Russians, but it’s our police who get the calls. What arrests? So a difficult time for him.”

“What about the gun? Any prints?”

“Only Mr. Bishop’s.”

“It was Frank’s gun?”

“No.”

“But you’re sure he didn’t—”

“Sure. He was shot in the back of the head.”

“Then why wipe the gun? To make it look—”

Altan shrugged. “The head wound was large. Maybe he thought no one would look too closely. Examine the angle. But Lieutenant Gülün has a fondness for that. So, no, not a suicide.”

“Were there prints anywhere else?”

“Everywhere. A busy office, people in and out. Gülün will have to compile a list, see if there’s a match with someone who was here last night. A long job. There was one curiosity about the prints, though.”

“What’s that?” Leon said, stopping, letting the others move out through the door.

“They found prints everywhere except one filing cabinet. Evidently wiped, like the gun. Personnel files.”

“Like the ones in his outtray.”

Altan looked up, pleased. “Excellent. Gülün has not yet made that connection.”

“And you think someone took a file and wiped his prints off the drawer?”

“No, I think someone put a file back. Which Mr. Bishop had taken out. Not something you want to go missing, your file. Then it might be noticed. Something you want to have back with all the others. That Mr. Bishop had never taken out.”

“Somebody working here then.”

Altan nodded. “It would have to be. Poor Saydam’s not a very good guard but still, it’s unlikely a stranger could come in off the street, shoot Mr. Bishop, and then go back out again. Not even a wife,” he said, looking up. “Gülün likes magazine stories. European women, a fascination. They behave differently. A Turkish man goes
to a whore, not to a hotel with someone’s wife. It would be unthinkable. You’ll forgive me, I’m making a point only.”

“What point?”

“That Gülün could conceive such a woman slipping into the consulate to shoot her husband. An exciting solution for him. But of course it was more likely someone who belongs here, whose coming or going wouldn’t be noticed.”

“Like me.”

“Oh, you. And then down the street for a night of love? No.” He shook his head. “Anyway, you don’t have a file. You’re from outside. Brought in after Mr. King was shot. Mr. Bishop always said it was a traitor. In the consulate. You, I think, didn’t believe him, I was never sure why.” He glanced over at Leon, as if considering it again, then let it go. “But now you see he was right. There was a traitor and Mr. Bishop found him. So he had to be killed.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he called you. Think for a minute. Don’t be Gülün. The angry husband? No, I don’t think he ever suspected.” He looked over. “A small relief for your conscience.”

“You have no—”

Altan waved him silent. “Apologies. So he packs a bag and takes a plane—no time to lose—and where does he go? The hotel? No, straight to the consulate. And who does he call? His wife? No, he calls you. Gülün doesn’t appreciate this point. He called you. And who are you to him? The other man? No, his partner, the man he brought in. He calls you because he has news on the case. He was right. He’s found the leak.” Altan paused. “A pity you weren’t there to take the call. Instead of—sightseeing.” The others were still standing outside the door. “You left something, I think,” he said, picking up the file and handing it to Leon, his eyes skimming over the tab. “And how is your work going? Any ideas yet?”

“Just a question. The Romanian. You said he’d never been to Istanbul.
But he did come to Turkey. You had the dates. I assume you got this from passport control?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because he must have someone here who’s helping. Whom he knew before. Where did he go? Do you know?”

“Ankara and Edirne.”

“What was he doing in Edirne?” Leon said, looking at the file, as if he were thinking out loud.

“A visa signed by Antonescu. So, government business.”

“Government business? Last year? What kind of business would they have?”

Altan shrugged. “Maybe asking for peace. A way out. A day visa, it’s usually for a courier. Not long enough, I think, to make a friend here. Who helps.”

In the hall the group had begun to break up, Gülün rescheduling the people still waiting, Kay farther off talking to Dorothy.

“By the way,” Altan said. “Why are you going to Ankara?”

“Business.” He caught Altan’s raised eyebrow. “Tobacco business.”

“You’ll spread yourself too thin.”

“I didn’t ask to do this,” Leon said, opening a hand to indicate the consulate. “Frank asked me.”

“And now he’s gone. So naturally you feel an obligation. To help. That’s what I told Gülün. We are allies in this.”

“There he is!” A voice in Turkish down the hall. “He can tell you. He’s the one who promised me the money.”

A man in a rough jacket, holding a cap in his hand, shaved but grizzled, as if the razor hadn’t been sharp enough. He was walking fast toward Leon now, one of the consulate clerks following. Leon looked up, at first not recognizing him. People were turning to the commotion, Gülün stopping in midsentence, Altan stepping aside as the man pushed forward, everything happening as fast as a shot.

“Tell him,” the man said to Leon. “The extra day, because of the weather. You said I’d be paid for it.”

Leon stood there for a second, still not reacting, then went over to the fisherman, blocking him from Gülün’s line of sight. “Yes, yes,” he said in Turkish, low, trying not to be overheard. “You’ll be paid. Right away, if you calm down. Don’t make such a racket.”

The fisherman pointed to the clerk. “He didn’t believe me. He kept asking for a name. I don’t know, I said. How would I know a name? Work like that. They don’t give you names.” He turned to the clerk. “You see, I told you. He was there. He can vouch for me. It wasn’t my fault it rained.”

“I’ll take care of this,” Leon said quickly to the clerk, moving the man away by the elbow, feeling everyone still watching. “Dorothy, take him up to the office. Go up with her. We’ll get you the money.”

“Two hundred,” the fisherman said. “I still had the expense of the boat. Keeping him.”

A frantic look to Dorothy to get him away. He turned to the others. “Excuse me, I’d better go up.” A routine matter, nothing wrong. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said to Kay, who was looking lost, the Turkish a mystery to her.

But it wouldn’t be to Gülün. Leon turned back, avoiding him. What had anyone heard? The clerk still seemed puzzled. Not a visa applicant, someone whose presence he understood. Work like that. They don’t give you names. Just get him out of here, before he could say anything else. Leon started for the stairs.

“A moment, Mr. Bauer,” Altan said. He looked at the fisherman. “Go,” he said sharply, cocking his head to the stairs, expecting to be obeyed, a cop’s authority. The fisherman bent his head, and started backing away. “Please,” Altan said to Leon, heading back to the conference room.

“I’ll be right up,” Leon said to Dorothy. “Just keep him there.”

Altan closed the door, then slammed Leon back against it, hand
on his throat. “What do you think you’re doing?” he said, his voice rough, the way he’d talked to the fisherman. “Is it possible you think I’m Gülün?”

Leon said nothing, too shocked to respond, Altan’s hand like a vise.

“Someone else you can trick? ‘What was he doing in Edirne?’” Now using Leon’s voice. “Somebody he knew before.” He dropped his hand, Leon now gulping air. “What was the point of that little charade?”

“Not a charade,” Leon said, breathing heavily. “I wanted to know. About Edirne.”

“Then why not ask Jianu?” He jerked his head toward the conversation outside. “Since you picked him up.”

Leon touched his throat. “Is this how Emniyet does it?”

“My friend, if this were an Emniyet inquiry you’d know. A fit of temper only. Much deserved. Lying to me. How many sides do you work for? Maybe none. Just you.” He made a sound in his throat, a hint of disgust. “What does it matter? It’s over soon. How much time do you think you have left for these games?”

Leon said nothing.

“Do you think I can protect you again?” He shook his head. “Gülün is a fool, but not a complete fool. He is interested in you. And people talk. A strange little scene just now and he’ll think about that too. The minute he understands, the minute he puts you on the quay that night, he acts.”

“What do—”

“Don’t,” Altan said, cutting him off. “There’s no time. You met the boat—he has a witness now. You were there. Mr. King was killed. Now another colleague killed. The man investigating the first crime. And you’re even sleeping with his wife. Gülün makes the connection. So will any jury. I can’t protect you from that.” He took a breath. “And why would I want to? A murder solved. Two. Your ambassador will be grateful. Justice served.”

“I didn’t kill Frank.”

“I believe you,” Altan said easily. “But no one else will. You’ll hang.”

“Unless?”

“Unless we can save Gülün from himself. Change the story.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I don’t care about justice being served. Gülün hears the fisherman, he hears one thing. I hear another. You were there? Then you have our friend. Or you know where he is.”

“And I tell you or you let me hang?”

“A generous offer. Considering.”

“So you can shop him.”

“Mr. Bauer, what do you care? Scruples at such a time? Lily said you were like that. I think maybe to criticize me a little. But maybe you just don’t know the world. No matter. You’re running out of time.”

Leon stared at him.

“How long?” Altan said. “I don’t know. Hours? You can run upstairs, pay off your fisherman and get him out of Istanbul before Gülün thinks to question him. But such men aren’t hard to find. This one leaves a loud trail. So you buy a little time only. To do what? Leave the country? Gülün would have you stopped at the border. Appeal to your ambassador? Who won’t believe you, either. So what do you do with this time? Run? Wait for Gülün to come? Maybe the Pera. A tender farewell scene.”

“You’re so sure I’m going to hang for something I didn’t do.”

“Aren’t you? It’s a chance I wouldn’t want to take. Turkish justice. Sometimes not as perfect as one would like.”

“No. And people get beaten too. By Emniyet. They say. Is that next? Try to beat it out of me?”

“I could. And worse. But the Americans don’t understand these things.” He looked over. “And it’s possible you’re—the martyr type. A
long job. Anyway, not necessary. People make mistakes when they’re running. It’s hard to think. You’ll make them too. And I’ll be there.” He looked up, meeting Leon’s eyes. “But I don’t protect you then. That’s your choice.”

“Why not just call Gülün in now?”

“You haven’t made the mistakes yet. I don’t have Jianu. And it seems you don’t want to tell me. So Gülün will come in his own time.” He cocked his head. “And maybe it’s a little for the sport, a head start to give Gülün the chase.” He paused. “Before you trip. That’s what you want? To trade your life for a man like Jianu?”

“I haven’t traded it yet.”

Altan stared at him for a second, then reached for the door. “Not yet.” He turned the knob, opening it. “Your fisherman’s waiting. Better hurry,” Altan said, now to Leon’s back. “The clock is running.”