Last Train to Istanbul by Ayşe Kulin

Author:Ayşe Kulin [Kulin, Ayşe]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical, War, Romance
ISBN: 9781477807613
Google: RtwumwEACAAJ
Amazon: 1477807616
Goodreads: 17779550
Publisher: Amazon Pub
Published: 2001-12-31T19:00:00+00:00

As night descended, the wagon was plunged into darkness. The passengers had lost all notion of time; they had no idea how long they had been traveling. All that could be heard now were the sounds of prayer. The people continuously prayed, either aloud or to themselves, and an air of doom spread through the wagon. The consul and the kavass continually whispered to each other, trying to work out how and where their dark journey would end. Nazım Kender gave all the change in his pocket to the kavass.

“Here, take this, and if the train should stop at one of the stations, you’d better find a telephone and call our consulate in Paris while I’m arguing with the stationmaster. Explain our situation and ask him to follow it up urgently. They must contact Berlin and Vichy immediately.”

“What if we don’t stop, sir?”

“Then you will do the same in Paris.”

“But the consulate phones aren’t answered before nine in the morning.”

“Do you know Hikmet Özdoğan’s number?”

“I’m afraid I don’t. I know the consulate’s number, but as I said, they won’t be answering at this time of night.”

“I did know his number. What was it now…what was it? It might come to me. When I tell you, you must memorize that number, and then you should call him as soon as possible; I’m sure he should be able to do something. My argument with the stationmaster is bound to last for at least half an hour.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll call the consul—that is, of course, if you remember the number.”

“Does anyone in Marseilles know we’re on this train?”

“I don’t think so. Everyone at the consulate was gone.”

“I was having tea with the Italian attaché. He realized something awful had happened. Maybe he’ll make inquiries.”

“You know, sir, something tells me that Turkish lady—you know the one, she came to see you with her child once—that tall young lady, she was the first to come today. I’ll bet she’ll follow this up.”

“Were you the one who told her where I was?”

“Well, sir, I…”

Suddenly there was a terrific jolt. Those standing up fell down, and those on the floor tumbled over one another. The train screeched to a halt. Everyone tried to get near the wooden bars of the wagon to see what had happened.

“Stand back!” shouted an officer in French, but with a German accent.

He jumped inside and stood erect like a bronze statue among the fallen people. The consul too stood upright in front of him. He was a few inches taller than the German. It was rare for a Turk to be so tall. The German officer looked him over from top to bottom. He had probably come to the platform expecting to meet a short, portly, middle-aged diplomat. They must have stopped in a station. There was enough light illuminating this wagon of fear for Nazım Kender to see the surprise in the officer’s eyes.

“Are you the Turkish consul?”

“Yes, I am.”

A few more German officers boarded the wagon, pushing and stepping over the people inside.

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