Istanbul Passage Read Free Page B

On the Asian side?”
    Leon smiled. “How long have you been here?”
    Tommy shrugged this off. “And what do we do with it after we move him?”
    “You could take your women there. Nice and private.”
    “Yeah, just us and the fleas. Ah, here we are,” he said as the drinks arrived. “Thank you, Mehmet.” He raised his glass. “Blue skies and clear sailing.”
    Leon raised his glass and took a sip. Cold and crisp, a whiff of juniper. Mehmet put down a silver bowl of pistachios and backed away.
    “Christ, imagine what he’s heard,” Tommy said, watching him go. “All these years.”
    “Maybe he doesn’t listen.”
    “They all listen. The question is, who for?”
    “Besides us?”
    Tommy ignored this. “They used to say every waiter in this room got paid twice. And sometimes more. At the same time. Remember the one used to send little love notes to von Papen, then turn around and feed the same thing to the Brits?” He shook his head, amused. “Six months he pulls this off. You have to hand it to him.”
    “What good did it do? Anybody ever say anything at the Park that you wanted to know?”
    Tommy smiled. “You live in hope. You live in hope. Anyway, that wasn’t the point, was it? Point was to know. What they were saying, what they weren’t saying. Might be useful to somebody. Who could put the pieces together.”
    “You think there was somebody like that?”
    “Christ, I hope so. Otherwise—” He let it go. “I’ll tell you something, though. It was fun too, this place. Goddam three-ring circus. Everybody. Same room. Packy Macfarland over there and that Kraut who kept pretending he was in the navy right next to him. Navy. And the Jap, Tashima, remember him, with the glasses, a spit of fucking Tojo. At first I thought it was him. And Mehmet’s listening to all of them.”
    “The good old days.”
    Tommy looked up, caught by his tone.
    “Come on, Tommy. It’s a little early for last rites at the Park. Mehmet’s still listening. God knows who else. For what it’s worth.”
    Tommy shook his head. “It’s finished, this place.”
    Leon looked around, feeling the drink a little. “Well, the Germans are gone. And Tojo. That’s what we wanted to happen, right?”
    “I mean the whole place. Neutral city in a war—everybody’s got an interest. Turks coming in? Staying out? What’s everybody up to? Now what? Now it’s just going to be Turks.”
    “You’ve still got me meeting boats,” Leon said, finishing his glass. “We’re still here.”
    “Not for long.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Tommy looked away, then raised his hand to signal for another round.
    “You’re going home?” Leon guessed.
    “We need to talk.”
    “That’s why we’re having the drink?” Not a new job.
    Tommy nodded. “They’re rolling up the operation.”
    Don’t react. “Which operation?”
    “Here. All of us. Well, most.”
    “You?”
    “Washington. You know, September they handed us over to the War Department. Couldn’t get rid of Bill fast enough, I guess. What G-2 wanted all along. R&A went to State. Whole unit. Now they’re Research Intelligence. Office of. But the field? What’s the War Department going to do with field officers? War’s over.”
    “Tell that to the Russians,” Leon said.
    “That’s Europe. Not here. Christ, Leon, you didn’t think we’d just keep going here forever, did you? After the war?” he said, his tone slightly defensive. “Ah, Mehmet.” Making room for the new drinks, some banter Leon didn’t hear as he watched Tommy’s face, the red cheeks moving as he talked. Knowing it was coming, arranging his own transfer, taking care of business. A desk at the War Department? Or something closer to the Mayflower bar? He looked down at the fresh drink, his stomach queasy. Now what? Back to the desk at Reynolds, days without edge.
    “When does this happen?”
    “End of the month.”
    Just like that.
    “What about me?”
    “You? I thought you’d be glad it’s over.