Istanbul Passage by Joseph Kanon

movement at the door, the Consul shaking hands with a Turk in a bulky suit. Cigarettes doused, orders being given, a few policemen staying behind, everyone else moving toward the gate. They passed around Leon as if he were a stick in a stream. Nobody knew. Getting into cars, writing up reports, not one of them looking at him. He stood there for a minute feeling them all around him, unable to move, invisible. Nobody knew.

    They had arranged to meet in the secondhand booksellers market, a narrow passage shaded by plane trees near the Beyazit Mosque. Mihai was waiting at an English-language stall near the end, flipping through a book.
    “You’re late. Anything on the car?”
    Leon shook his head. “Nothing. If anybody saw it, they’re not saying. No calls from the consulate, either. Nobody.”
    “You said there was a plane arranged.”
    “That was Tommy’s job.”
    “Then now it’s yours. You have to get him out. He starts to panic— Where’d you park him?”
    Leon said nothing.
    “They’ll be checking the hotels. First thing they do.”
    “He’s not there.” He picked up a book, the cover a blur.
    “As long as he’s in Istanbul, we’re— A man who’d sell out anybody. Cheap. He says what’s good for him. Not us.”
    “But we didn’t— I mean—”
    “Which explanation do you think they’ll believe? Let’s say the real one, what we were doing there. Just for the sake of argument. Your new friend can vouch for it,” he said, his voice suddenly hard. “A wonderful history of telling the truth. And then what? Your ambassador intervenes? An embarrassment for him. But let’s say he does. A deal. No prison. They deport us instead. Resident permit? Revoked. If they believe us.” He looked away. “We don’t want to explain anything.”
    “We won’t have to. I’m telling you, nobody knows. If I can get him to the consulate—”
    “The consulate. It’s police now. With a body. Murder. The Emniyet have to have at least one pair of ears over there. At least. Take him in and the police—” He let the thought finish itself. “And the Russians. If they’re watching, you wouldn’t even get him to the gate. Maybe what he deserves, but not the best thing now, an incident. More police.”
    “He has to talk to somebody eventually. Tell them.”
    Mihai made a wry face. “His American confessor. Discretion guaranteed.” He lifted a finger from his book. “But not here. If he’s gone, the Turks have nothing to use against us.” He placed the book on the barrow. “Except each other.” He looked at Leon, quiet for a second. “What are you going to do if there’s no plane?”
    “Tommy said there was.”
    “He said a lot of things. I know someone at the airport. I can have him check the manifests. Not a scheduled plane, I suppose, not for this passenger. Military?”
    Leon shrugged his shoulders.
    “Wonderful. All right, I’ll check all of them.”
    “Look, you don’t have to get involved in this. You weren’t there, remember?”
    “If everyone says so. But will they?” He looked over. “I’ll let you know about the airport.”
    “You think there is a plane, then.”
    “Probably. Your Tommy was passing him along. He’d want his end covered. It’s just that Jianu wasn’t going to be on it. Thanks to you. Given that any thought?”
    Leon met his glance. “All night.”
    “It’s something to think about,” Mihai said, turning to go, then put his hand on Leon’s upper arm, a good-bye gesture. “How long have you known me?” he said quietly. “There’s blood here. Like blood. We have to look out for each other.” He squeezed the hand tighter. “Keep your head. Everything normal. Or they’ll smell it. It’s not just for us. You know what I’m doing here. What Anna did. These people, it’s the last hope. For them I’d even help a pig like Jianu.” He dropped his hand, still looking at him. “Since you want him alive. Your new American friend.”

    He got on the tram at