Joseph Kanon - Istanbul Passage

“Durak,” he said, spitting it.

When the gun went off, Leon was too surprised to duck. Here? Like this? Why now? What was the point? Shooting him no more to Melnikov than stamping his foot. Then the fire exploded in his chest, literally the heat of flames, and some force, like a hand in his face, pushed him back, falling over.

“No!” Kay yelled, hitting Melnikov, but he was pointing the gun again, feet planted apart, rooted. She reached for it, trying to force it up from the ground. Melnikov knocked her away.

“Durak,” he said again to Leon, then looked up as more feet approached and raised the gun, a reflex. Some shouts in Turkish and then an explosion, so loud Leon thought it came from behind his ear. This time Melnikov didn’t make a sound, just looked down at the new hole in his tunic and dropped. Leon could make out Gülün kneeling by the body, gun in his hand. Something garbled in Turkish, orders.

“Leon,” Kay said, her face over him, her voice high-pitched, almost a keening. Kay only a shield. Dorothy. But what could she have known? Passed on? Why do it? Money? Maybe like Georg, lost in an idea she couldn’t let go. Now there’d be questions. Months of them, squeezing. A trial, if that was useful. Housecleaning. Protecting flanks. And then a new Melnikov would plant a new Dorothy and it would start again. Dorothy traded away. All Alexei was worth at the end. Leon heard more voices in the road, loud, then fainter, receding, the dusk suddenly getting darker.

And in some part of him, aware of what was happening, he was curious. Would it really be a white light, appearing from the end of a tunnel and enveloping him until he was part of it? What Alexei must just have seen. But it wasn’t light, it was faces. Hazy, like underexposed film, but moving closer, until they were right next to him. Phil in his cockpit, waving. Georg walking his dog in Yildiz. Mihai at a boat rail, the faint suggestion of a smile. And then Anna. In Lily’s garden that first spring, worried because they were happy. Before anything happened. Her face so close now he felt he could touch it. All the faces of his life. Then they went away.

“Finally,” a voice said. “I’ll get the nurse.”

Light. Not that light, the enveloping one, just daylight. White walls.

“Leon?”

A face. Mihai. Leon tried to speak, his tongue stuck. “Some water.”

“Yes, yes.”

A plastic straw, a stream of cool liquid soaking into his dry throat.

“They said you’d be dehydrated, even with the drip.”

Mihai’s face now in focus, concerned.

“Where is this?”

“Obstbaum’s. I had you moved. The hospital, there’s a risk of infection. Even Kleinman said. After an operation.”

“An operation.”

“He had to take a piece of your lung. Where the bullet hit. Take a breath. See? A little less. No more smoking, so maybe a good thing. Not so good for your business, though. Considering.”

Leon tried to smile, then wet his cracked lips with the straw.

“You’re lucky, you know that? A matter of inches, he said, and then- And now look. The man of the hour. Watch, they’ll give you a medal. Something. What for? Being lucky.” He shrugged. “But that’s what they’re always for, isn’t it?”

Leon tried to follow this, still catching up. “How are you here? You were-”

“How? The train. From Aleppo. Like always.”

“That’s days.”

“Two. You’ve been out. Maybe Rabbi Pilcer prayed for you. He has a direct line,” he said, pointing a finger up. “So he thinks. Somebody must have. You almost died.”

“Yes.”

“Yes? You knew?”

“It doesn’t feel like anything,” Leon said to the ceiling, then looked back. “I saw you.”

Mihai stopped, thrown by this, then took the water away. “Wonderful. With wings? This is what happens? A little disappointing.”

Leon reached over the sheet to cover Mihai’s hand, resting it there. Mihai looked up, surprised, not sure how to respond.

“The ship?”

Mihai nodded. “All safe. Four hundred new citizens. So thank you for that.”

Leon shook his head. “Him. Jianu. He made them let you go.”

“Why? For his sins? You think he feels something? Not that one.”

“How do you know?”

“A man tries to cut your throat, you know everything about him.”

Leon was quiet, looking toward the window, everything else too complicated.

“You don’t forget what that’s like. Ever,” Mihai said, touching his neck, as if a knife had actually been there. He looked away. “Anyway, it’s finished now. He pays. It’s what I said from the first. The first night.”

“That’s not why I killed him.”

“Why you killed him,” Mihai said slowly, looking at Leon. “No? Why?”

“He asked me.”

Mihai didn’t say anything to this.

“He wanted me to do it.”

“Leon,” Mihai said gently, “maybe it’s a little fast, all this. So much talk.” He paused. “Altan said, the Russians. People saw them. It’s still a little confusing, maybe. All the drugs-”

“Not the last shot,” Leon said. “That was me.” He lay back. As if it made any difference now. Altan already shaping the way it happened. You couldn’t fight the next war until you’d lied about the last one.

“Yes?” Mihai said, humoring him.

“It was the right thing to do,” Leon said, his voice trailing off, vague.

“Maybe you should rest now. I’ll tell the nurse-”

“No,” Leon said, gripping his hand. “Talk. I want to know. Tell me-”

“What?”

“Durak,” Leon said, the first thing that came into his mind. “You know Russian? What does durak mean?”

“Fool.”

Leon smiled. “Yes. That makes sense. He would think that.”

“Who?”

“Melnikov. He said it before he shot me. And I was. But not then. Before.” He lifted his hand slightly, brushing the air. “Wrong about Tommy. Everything. Durak .” He raised his eyes. “I’m glad about the ship. So that’s one thing. That’s why you came back? There’s another? You can get more out?”

“Not from Istanbul. It’s not so easy now. Italy.”

“More typhus?” Leon said.

“No. Getting out of Romania. It’s safer from the west. Through Vienna, away from the Russians. Istanbul’s finished for us. The office-I don’t know how long.”

“You’re going to Italy?”

“No. Palestine. Home.” He looked up, tentative, his voice casual. “You too. Why not?”

“To do what? Grow oranges?”

“Fight. The British are going to make a mess. The Arabs hate us. Like the Poles. There’ll be-”

“Another war,” Leon finished.

“But this one we don’t lose. You like all this so much.” He waved his hand over Leon’s bandages. “Come to Palestine.”

“With one lung.”

“We’re not so picky. We take anyone who’s with us.” He took a breath. “There are other ways to fight.”

Leon turned. “I’m not with anybody.”

“And that’s why you buy the Victorei out. And now who do you see when you die?” A joke to keep a door open, an exit if he needed it.

“I saw Phil too.”

Mihai cocked his head.

“My brother. Who was shot down. I used to think, sometimes, I was doing this for him. Helping. Working for Tommy. But that’s just something you tell yourself. To make it okay.” He turned to face Mihai. “How do you help somebody who’s dead? So who would I be helping this time? Anna?”

Mihai looked away, uncomfortable. “No. Four hundred, still alive. And more coming.” He hesitated. “It could be useful with the British. Not being a Jew.” Another pause. “What’s here for you?”