Istanbul Passage

“What do you mean, worried?” Reading his face like a map.

“Inquiet. The way people look when they’re late.”

“Running out of time,” Leon said. Hours to the border, now closed. He caught himself, and made a forced grin. “There. Better? All the time in the world.”

She smiled, indulgent, playing along, then looked at him. “And how much is that? If we knew. The Hindus think we come back as something else. A bug.”

“If you’re bad. You can also go up the scale.”

“Well, up, down, what does it matter? All nonsense. No one comes back.” She pointed up. “No garden in the sky, either. This one, that’s all there is.”

“Is that what you learned in the harem?” he said, teasing.

“No, from Refik,” she said, serious. “Who knows how much time? Better to use it, no?”

He said nothing, waiting to see where she was going.

“You know what else they believe, the Hindus? Seti. The husband dies, the wife throws herself on his cremation fire. A lot to ask, don’t you think? To follow the other one? Who would ask such a thing? Not Refik. Any of us.” She looked at him. “So why are you out here? Are you waiting for her permission? To keep living?”

Leon stood silent, feeling heat rise in his face.

“You know, I thought once, it could be me. We’re easy together. And you look. A woman always knows when a man does that. But it’s this one, I think. There’s something there.” She touched his arm. “We’re alike this way. When Refik was alive, there was only him. No one else. But life goes on.”

Leon met her look. “Anna’s not dead,” he said.

She lowered her head, a retreat. “Well, as you like.” She patted his arm. “Don’t be angry. I didn’t mean-”

“I know.”

“Come. At least get her away from Ozmen.”

But neither of them moved, not quite finished.

“It’s a kind of seti,” Lily said. “What you’re doing. You know that?”

He looked at her, a moment. Then another moment, so quiet that the sound of the crash inside seemed like an explosion. Glass breaking, splintering, voices stopping, then starting again all at once, like birds rushing to a tree.

“Oh god, the new boy. I told Mustafa he wasn’t ready. And try to find good crystal now.”

She held up her skirt to walk faster, Leon following. Voices louder, clustered around one of the serving tables in the dining room. Servants ran back and forth to the kitchen, and Leon thought of birds again, the whole room fluttering.

“Let me through, let me through.” Dr. Obstbaum shouldered his way into the crowd.

The Turkish musicians, oddly, kept playing, an undertone to all the voices, until one of the servants rushed over to stop them.

“He was just standing here and all of the sudden he grabbed the table. That fast and he’s down.”

“Careful of the glass.”

“Georg!” Lily cried, seeing him now.

He was on the ground, the edge of a tablecloth still clutched in one hand, Obstbaum leaning over, sweeping away shards of glass so he could kneel next to him, frantically opening his tie, Georg’s face a bloodless white, the forehead shiny with sweat.

“Call an ambulance,” Obstbaum said. “Give him some air.” He swung his arm in an arc as a signal for people to step back, leaning closer to check Georg’s breathing.

“What is it?” Leon said, kneeling with him, ignoring the glass.

“Heart. An ambulance!” Obstbaum said again to the crowd. Two people raced off, presumably to phone.

But now Georg was moving, shaking his head a little. “Nein, nein,” he said, barely audible, spittle in the corner of his mouth, then a rush of German. “Not here, on the Asian side. A German doctor.”

“Yes, yes, a German doctor,” Obstbaum said in German.

Georg had now opened his eyes halfway, his face still contorted with pain. “Leon,” he said, grabbing his hand and squeezing. “A German doctor.”

“Ssh. Be quiet. Everything’s going to be all right.” But how could it be? He turned to Obstbaum. “Can we get him to the clinic? Would he survive the boat?”

“I’m not a fortune teller,” Obstbaum said, impatient, feeling the pulse in Georg’s neck. “If he has another attack-”

“Bebek,” Georg said, squeezing again.

Leon turned. “Lily, would you get a boat ready?”

She nodded, leaving, so that Kay suddenly came into view, her arms folded across her chest, as if she’d caught cold, her eyes fixed on him.

“Will he be all right?” Leon said to Obstbaum.

“I don’t know. The breathing is better. He should be in the hospital. Here, there, what does it matter? I can go with him if he needs to hear German. Foolishness.”

“No, Bebek,” Georg said.

“Can I help?” Colonel Altan said, squatting next to them.

Leon shook his head. “When the ambulance gets here, we’ll use the stretcher to get him in the boat.”

“Can you make the water calm?” Obstbaum said to Altan. “A boat. It’s a risk. He needs to lie quietly.”

“It’s his risk,” Leon said, feeling Georg squeeze his hand again, a thank-you.

Altan took out a handkerchief and handed it to Obstbaum for Georg’s forehead. “Shall I call the clinic for you? To have them prepare?”

“Yes, thank you,” Obstbaum said, then turned to Leon. “I take no responsibility for this. He should go to the hospital here. A few minutes can make a difference.”

“Georg?” Leon said.

“Please. The boat. I’ll be all right.” He tried a weak smile. “Sea air.”

Leon looked at the face under the chalky skin, the one he’d always known, mischievous, hunched over his chess set, their first friend in Istanbul. What would happen to the dog? He heard his own voice earlier, baiting, hectoring. He took the handkerchief from Obstbaum and wiped Georg’s forehead, drier now, and smiled. “You always get your way,” he said.

“Ha.”

“Has this happened before?” Obstbaum said.

Georg nodded.

“What medications?”

“Ask Kosterman. In Sisli.”

“Do you know him?” Leon said to Obstbaum.

“Yes. I’ll call. Keep him quiet, yes? No dramatics. We’re not out of the woods with this.”

“The boat’s here,” Lily said, coming up to them. “You want to telephone? Oh, your knee.” She glanced down at a bloodstain from the broken glass.

Obstbaum waved this off. “When the stretcher comes-gently. Understand?” he said to Leon, then glanced over at Kay. “There’s nothing to do now,” he said in general, a kind of dismissal.

Two houseboys came over to sweep the glass so the crowd backed away, drifting across the room, talking again. Kay stood still, fixed on Leon.

“What’s happened?” Melnikov, gruff, even the sound of his voice disruptive.

“Something with the heart,” Lily said, intervening. “Oh, the ambulance. Please, we have to move.”

Georg had heard the voice and now clutched Leon’s hand tighter, drawing him down closer to his face. “You think I’m not a friend to you,” he said, almost a whisper.

“Ssh. Never mind about that. The ambulance is here.”

“No. You have to know. In case-” Georg pulled him closer. “I am your friend.”

“I know.”

“I never told him. Melnikov.”