“More candor. A Romanian Mr. King arranged to meet. Of great interest to you. To the Russians too. A prize of war, so to speak.”
“And you think he killed Tommy?”
Altan shrugged. “It’s not important. What’s important is where he is.”
“Maybe he’s with the Russians.”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I do.”
Leon looked at him. “The ears of Turkey?”
Another tip of his head.
“Everywhere.” A new thought. “With us too. That’s how you know Tommy was meeting someone.”
Altan stared at him, not saying anything.
“Did Tommy ever suspect?” Leon said.
Altan rubbed out his cigarette. “We can’t be everywhere. We have to choose carefully. Where there is likely to be mischief.”
“Mischief.”
“Look down there,” Altan said, nodding to the Horn. “Once the hinge of the world. Now all we can do is listen. To protect ourselves. The Russian bear would swallow us so we don’t offend. America is rich.” He turned to Leon. “They embargo industries. Their war, our industries. So we don’t offend them, either. A balancing act. Do you know what it was like for us, this war? The first one was a catastrophe. The Ottomans finished. Istanbul occupied. Greece invades. Only Ataturk saved us. Well, and the Greek soldiers being-Greek. Then a new one. Both sides say, come in. Maybe another catastrophe. So we walked a tightrope. One step, another step, always watching to see if someone might push, trip us. And now we’re still watching. A man is shot in our streets. The police have a crime. But we may have an incident, something that gets worse. Both of you pulling at us. So we want this man. Before you tear us apart to get him.”
“You mean the Russians have asked for him? They’re accusing-”
Altan shook his head. “They can’t do that. Officially such a man can’t exist.” He looked over. “For either of you. There is no Romanian. But what will you both do to get him? Already a man here from Ankara. The Russians offering money. Battle lines. And who’s in the middle?”
Russians offering. Ears everywhere.
“But if everybody’s still looking, then nobody has him.”
“That point has not escaped me.”
“What would you do if you got him?”
Altan smiled to himself. “A valuable thing to have.”
“You mean you’d sell him to the highest bidder.”
“No. We would advance our interests. Of course, it’s not for me to decide how to do that. Only to find him.” He paused. “It would be a good thing for Turkey, to stop this. Move the war somewhere else. We would be grateful for that, someone who helps.”
Leon looked at him. “I’m an American.”
“With interests here. A good life, I think. Your wife-you’re satisfied with her care?”
“I can’t help you, even if I wanted to. I never heard of your Romanian.”
“No? I’m sorry to hear it.” He reached for cigarettes, then stopped as Leon offered his again.
“And if you really know as much as you say you do, you know that I was nothing to Tommy. An errand boy when I happened to be going to the right place.”
Altan nodded. “Karpic’s.”
Leon said nothing, taking this in. How long had they been watching?
“You could have been deported for that, you know.”
“We were fighting Germany, not Turkey.”
“In Turkey.”
“I’m just a businessman. You’ve got somebody inside, from the sound of it. Ask him. I wasn’t part of anything.”
“Just an irregular. But that’s what makes you so interesting. We don’t know you.”
“That’s what this talk is all about?”
“No, I would say it’s to warn you. Not to get involved.” He turned. “Unless of course you are. This is excellent,” he said, looking at the cigarette. “It’s superior, American tobacco? And yet you’re in Turkey.”
“It’s the blend. Virginia Bright is cheaper. But Turkish Latakia has a stronger flavor. It brings the blend up. And there’s a certain cachet to Turkish. People associate it with the rich. Custom blends.”
“Then it’s lucky for us.”
“Your real competition is Kentucky Burley Leaf. You can flue cure and flavor it.”
Altan drew on the cigarette. “So you know tobacco.”
Leon looked at him. “It’s my business. That’s what I do here.”
“Yes. You know,” Altan said, as if something had just occurred to him, “you see people and you think you’ve seen them before but you can’t remember where. And then it comes to you. I think I saw you yesterday on a tram. Maybe not. The hat, it’s hard to tell.”
“Where was this?”
“Beyazit. Was it you?” Not really a question.
“It may have been. I went to see a friend. At the university.”
“Yes? Who?”
“Georg Ritter.”
“Ah, our Marxist philosopher. There? I thought he was in Nisantasi now.”
“His office. He still keeps one there.”
“He’s well?” The rhythm of conversation, eyes watching carefully.
“Actually, he wasn’t in. Stupid, I suppose, just stopping by like that but it gave me an excuse to go to the book market. You know, by Beyazit Camii.”
“You pronounce it correctly. The
“I prefer the tobacco business.”
Altan raised his eyebrows. “On that we agree. We prefer you in it too.” He began to walk, Leon following. “The book market. We had some dealings there once. You know the German bookseller? The corner with the old tree? Not just selling books. The Germans denied it, of course, but they stopped. It’s always better that way, to arrange things quietly.”
“Quite a coincidence, you being on the tram.”
“Yes. Oh, I see, you think on purpose? What would be the reason for that?”
“None.”
“No, I was out in Laleli. A hotel. The police, you know, it’s routine with them to check hotels. After a crime. So we wanted to know, is the Romanian somewhere. Maybe an assumed name, but a
“And was he?”
“Two men at this one. On a drunk, the clerk said. Sailors, he thought.”
“But he could identify them if he saw them again?”
“Oh, easily, I think. Both,” he said, looking at Leon. “Of course, the clerk, sometimes these types are not reliable. An unusual drinking party. The room was clean.”
“Sailors are usually neat.”
“Mr. Bauer, have you ever been drunk? Look at your room the next morning.”
“The police could show him a picture. Of the Romanian. Then you’d know for sure.”
“If they had one.”
“Don’t you?”
“Mr. Bauer,” he said, not answering, “the police have their own methods. We don’t interfere.”
“Interfere? Emniyet? You can do-”
