“She’s just had too much to drink. It’s a hard day for her.”
“You think so?” She turned to him. “It’s an odd thing, men. We know you, and you don’t know anything about us. She’s not upset. Why would she be? Oh, the inconvenience maybe.”
“Then so much for your
“Well, it’s amusing to think that. A man like that. With a woman. But of course it was political,” she said, matter of fact. “You know he was with the American-what do they call it, secret service, like the British, I suppose.”
“What?”
“Well, everybody was a little, weren’t they? During the war,” she said, waiting for Leon to respond to this.
“Not everybody.”
“No? All right. But Tommy-Hans Beckman always said so. You remember him, in the German consulate? He knew because he was in
“Lily,” he said, drawing out the sound.
“Well, but it’s interesting, no? Spies. Spying on what? Each other. But now Hans is gone, all the Germans. Tommy goes home, with the faithful Barbara. So why now? That’s the question,
“You sound as if it doesn’t matter.”
“This business? Oh, during the war, yes, everything matters then. Now maybe not so much. One death. How important, really? In the scheme of things.” She paused. “Such a look. You think I’m terrible. It matters to you so much, this death?”
He turned his head, at a loss. Barbara crying across the room, maybe more upset than Lily imagined. Something you didn’t replace. Taken away with the pull of a trigger. His.
“I know,” she said, “we’re supposed to feel that. But in a month or two? Already something in the past. Time- it’s different here. You know I came to Istanbul as a slave. A slave. I had no idea then. It was just the way things were. They gave us new names, all the girls. Poetical names. Youthful Grace. Ever Young. I was Dilruba, Captor of Hearts. Well, so they hoped. Dili, my friends called me. Then after, I changed again. Lily. Then Refik’s name. And you think, well, life, all these things that happen, it feels like yesterday. But really, a long time ago. A slave. Imagine how long ago that was. Another time.”
He was quiet for a second, then smiled. “Captor of Hearts.”
“Yes, but not the one they expected. So who knows? Maybe something unexpected here too. A
As she dropped her hand, the man against the wall started moving through the crowd.
“What Hans told me, that’s just for you,” she said. “Not that it matters now. Everyone will know soon.”
“Why?”
“It’s bound to come out. When they find who did it. Unless they keep it quiet. They always try, don’t they? Still, there’ll be something. Now don’t forget. Bring your friend to the party,” she said quickly, already moving away.
The man from the wall was making eye contact now. As he got closer, oddly, the moustache disappeared, another trick of the light. His face was dark with stubble, someone who shaved twice a day, but no moustache, the man on the tram again.
“Mr. Bauer?” he said, there at last. “May I introduce myself? Colonel Altan.”
Leon nodded.
“I thought perhaps we might have a cigarette together. Would you mind?”
“Outside, you mean?”
Altan moved his arm, after you, expecting Leon to move.
“Are you with the police?”
“No. Please.” Extending the arm again, now more than a suggestion.
They moved to the door, weaving through the crowd.
“A sad occasion,” Altan said. “A very popular man.”
Leon said nothing, waiting until they reached the street, then offered him a cigarette. “Colonel in what?” he said, lighting it.
“Emniyet,” Altan said simply.
“I thought you never announced yourselves.”
“A courtesy. To foreign guests.”
“To put us at ease. Talking to State Security.”
“Mr. Bauer, we are not Gestapo.”
“No, but not just police, either. Is this an official visit?”
“Not yet.”
Leon looked at him, trying to stay calm. Emniyet could do anything, detain you indefinitely, revoke a visa. Not Gestapo, no knocks on the door in the night, but just as privileged.
“How can I help you?”
“You had drinks with Mr. King the night before he died. What did you talk about?”
“His going home, mostly. He was looking forward to that.”
“He didn’t like Turkey?”
“No, not that. His job here was over. Now he had a new one, that’s all.”
“His job here. You worked with him?”
“No, Reynolds has had its licenses in place for years. Commercial Corp.-that was Tommy-was part of the war effort. Buy chromium. Embargo companies if they were selling to the Axis. Things like that. But now the war’s over, so’s the job.”
“I meant his other work.”
“His other work.”
“Mr. Bauer, it’s better to be candid in these matters. We know Mr. King’s work. We know you were sometimes-what, an irregular? It’s our business to know these things. We have to be the ears of Turkey.”
“Listening to Tommy King.”
“To many.”
“And now you want to know who killed him.”
“Not precisely. That’s a matter for the police.”
“Then why are you-”
“The police concern themselves with crime. Witnesses. What kind of bullet. Alibis. They do things in their way. Methodical. They will want to know about your talk at the Park too. Your movements the night of the crime. Bebek, so convenient, just down the road. A coincidence? The night before, drinks. That night, close by. They’ll be suspicious of that. They’ll think he might have been meeting you. They’ll ask when you came to the clinic, when you left. Police.”
“You think I shot Tommy?”
“I don’t care.”
Leon looked up at him.
“I’m not police. I’m not concerned with justice. My job is to protect the Republic. If you did, the police will find out. Or maybe not. They are not always successful, our police. Overwork, perhaps. I don’t care one way or the other. No Turks have been killed. If the
“And when’s that?”
Altan bowed his head, a silent “now.”
“But you don’t want to know who killed him?”
“For the record, of course. But what I want, Mr. Bauer, is the Romanian.”
They had been walking back up to Tunel and now stopped at the wall near Nergis Sok, looking down toward the Horn. A haze was forming over the shipyards, blocking the pale winter sun.
“What Romanian?”
