Last Train to Istanbul (30 page)

They walked all the way to Kızılay without speaking. From there they walked up the road alongside Güven Park. At one point Sabiha’s foot slipped and Sahir held on to her tightly.

“This way,” Sabiha said when they reached her street. When they got nearer to her home, she slipped her arm from Sahir’s, walked unsteadily to the gate in front of her building, and waited for Sahir to catch up.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to invite you in.”

“I understand.”

“I won’t be able to make Wednesday’s appointment either.”

“That’s something you shouldn’t do. You must be aware of how near we are to successfully concluding our sessions.”

“Yes, Doctor, I’m aware of that, but as I said earlier, winning my daughter back shouldn’t be at the cost of losing my husband.” She extended her hand to him. “Good-bye.”

Sahir took Sabiha’s hand and removed her glove. He lifted her hand, touching her fingertips to his lips; in the cold night air, they still felt as hot as fire.

“Good-bye, Sabiha.”

Suddenly Sabiha held onto his lapels with both hands, stood on tiptoe, and placed a little kiss on the corner of his mouth, then she turned away swiftly and walked in through the gate.

Sahir was once again aware of a faint hint of chocolate on Sabiha’s breath. He touched his fingers to the spot where Sabiha had kissed him and, without looking back, walked along the snow-covered street.

Sabiha watched Sahir walk through the steadily falling snow. Just then she felt an intense yearning for her husband.

CAIRO 1943

Macit was taken aback when he saw his reflection in the mirror as he was tying his tie. The big black bags under his eyes were the result of many sleepless nights. He felt deflated.

It was as though he had aged five years in the past five days. Since the fourth of the month, they had been attending meetings without a break. President Inönü, his private secretary, the foreign minister, the general secretary of the foreign ministry, and Macit had been flown to Cairo in two private planes, which had been sent to Adana by American president Roosevelt and British prime minister Churchill. There were many summit meetings and numerous smaller meetings in twos and threes. On top of this, they also had to attend dinners where very important issues were discussed. The whole Turkish delegation—from the president to the most junior member—had to make do with only three hours’ sleep a night. Macit couldn’t understand how a man of Inönü’s advanced years could cope with such pressure and could still be so clear-headed.

Thinking of the day he left Ankara, he couldn’t help feeling Sabiha had made a malicious joke remarking that he was lucky to be leaving the bitter cold of Ankara for sunnier climes. All they’d seen of Cairo were long corridors, vast conference rooms, and round
tables. Not to mention all the grim-looking men with tired eyes who were each desperately vying for his national interests.

In comparison to Roosevelt, who seemed extremely tall, even though he was in a wheelchair, and Churchill, who was as wide as he was high, Inönü looked like a scrawny fox, struggling to outmaneuver these wolves and come through without a scratch. He was juggling ideas in his mind and trying to avoid stepping on anyone’s toes.

“Keep your wits about you,” he had said to the members of his delegation. “You must be ready to pick up on any point that might escape me. We will be treading a very fine line. You must all be extremely alert.”

Macit had come to Cairo with the foreign minister about a month ago. They had had endless talks to lay the foundations for this political chess game. That had been a tiring trip, but it was nothing compared to this one. Now they were finally reaching the crucial point of the past four days of these intense talks.

Britain was not only forcing Turkey to invade the Aegean Islands without offering support (they were attempting to turn their defeat in the Islands into a triumphant victory), but they also expected to be allowed to have bases in the southern provinces of Turkey. Behind the scenes, Russia was also pulling strings with all her might. She desperately wanted Turkey to declare that she was joining the war and closing the Bosphorus to all German ships, both military and commercial. Russia also insisted that all airports should be used by the Allied Forces immediately; believing that if Turkey took such action, the Germans would invade and Russia would be let off the hook.

This latter condition worried Inönü most. He thought if Germany was to invade Turkey, the Russians, on the pretext of giving support, would be able to send in their troops. Inönü, wearing old patent-leather shoes, was waltzing dangerously on a very
slippery floor with three great prima donnas. While Britain put her arms around his waist, trying to make him turn toward her, Germany grabbed his hands, trying to make him sway her way, and Russia was stepping on his toes in her huge combat boots.

Macit had kept a record of the British and Turkish foreign ministers’ meeting in Cairo on the fifth of November. Numan Menemencioğlu, the foreign minister, attended the emergency meeting in a well-prepared state, because just before he had left for Cairo, the German ambassador, Von Papen, had visited and warned him that he knew what the British and Russians would be asking.

“Your Excellency, the British are under pressure from the Russians and will be asking you to join the war immediately. That’s their sole reason for inviting you to the Cairo summit.”

“How can you be so sure, Ambassador?” Menemencioğlu asked. “I haven’t even been there yet.”

Von Papen laughed; he hadn’t told him that a spy called Cicero, who worked in the British embassy, had photographed a coded message from London and sold it to them.

“You don’t have to be clairvoyant to know this,” Von Papen said. “It will be to your advantage to make sure you refuse the
Allies
’ requests. My government expects you to answer them accordingly,” he added, without a smile.

Numan Menemencioğlu had kept that in mind at the Cairo meeting with the British foreign minister, Anthony Eden.

We’re caught between a rock and a hard place! thought Macit outside the conference room. After everyone entered the room and took their places, Macit watched this verbal duel between the Turkish and British foreign ministers with undisguised admiration. It was like watching a brilliant tennis match. He couldn’t help admiring Numan Menemencioğlu’s ability to return every volley no matter the speed of delivery.

From the start, Mr. Eden didn’t mince his words.

“Your joining the war before the year is out would be a tremendous help to Russia. They are obsessed with the idea that this war should end as soon as possible. Your participation would pave the way to friendly ties with Russia, and that will be to your advantage.”

“But wouldn’t that mean Russia could invade the Balkans?” Menemencioğlu asked.

“If the Russians had designs on the Balkans, they wouldn’t want Turkey to join the war,” Eden replied unconvincingly.

“But couldn’t you argue that they want Turkey to join the war to wear herself out? That would mean that we would leave ourselves open to a German invasion. We’d have to fight, leading to a second war of liberation. Surely that wouldn’t be a wise move.”

“It isn’t possible any longer for the Germans to invade Turkey. They are left with only fifty bombers. They can’t cope with the British fighter planes. They’re in no position to deal with yet another front.”

“If the Germans are so depleted, why doesn’t Britain consider an operation in that area, then?”

“That’s a matter concerning our military operations. I’m afraid I can’t comment,” the British foreign minister replied.

“I fully understand, Your Excellency, but you must try to understand our position. It isn’t possible for Turkey to join the war without knowing your plans for the Balkans.”

With this, Mr. Eden changed his tune.

“My dear colleague, Turkey could be of help without even joining the war.”

“How is that?”

“By allowing Britain to use the airfields in the southern provinces.”

“But surely you are aware that if Turkey allowed that, it would be an open invitation for the Germans to attack us.”

“I’m afraid I don’t agree. When the air bases were used in the Azores, the Germans didn’t attack Portugal. Furthermore, during our operations in the Aegean Islands, they turned a blind eye to the facilities you offered us—like storage in your depots and food supplies, not to mention the withdrawal of our troops through Turkey. You know that.”

“Of course I do, Your Excellency, but you must know, if you should use our air bases against the Islands, the Germans would instantly attack us.”

“Your Excellency, I’m under the impression that you don’t want us to use your airfields because you are scared of the Russians and don’t want to join the war.”

“There is no need to interpret it that way, Your Excellency. We can certainly discuss the subject of Turkey joining the war, but only after having established the guarantees you’re willing to give.”

“Let’s look at it this way. If Turkey joins the war today, it will have a great effect; if she joins in three months’ time, that effect will be reduced, and if she should join in six months’ time, there will be no effect. And there’s another thing to consider. If you don’t accept our request—which would be a great help to us—our relationship will change.”

“In what way?”

“In a negative one, I am afraid.”

“Sir, we’re the first country you have approached. You have made no such demands on Russia, America, or even Yugoslavia. Are you telling me that if we refuse, our relationship might reach a breaking point?”

“I’d better clarify: if Turkey doesn’t cooperate with the three Allies, our relationship will suffer now and after the war.”

Numan Menemencioğlu’s face turned gray. Mr. Eden was making threats about their relationship even after the war.

“As I understand it,” the Turkish foreign minister said, “the decision made in Moscow was for us to join the war.”

“Yes, that’s right. The three Allies have come to the conclusion that Turkey’s participation in the war will shorten it. The airfield request is a different issue.”

“Minister, I am authorized to deal with your request for airfields, and it is with that authority that I am refusing your request right here and now. As for Turkey joining the war, I shall relay that to my government. This decision can only be made by the Assembly in Ankara.”

Numan Menemencioğlu finished his sentence, got up, shook Mr. Eden’s hand, and left the room.

The Turkish diplomats held countless meetings in their rooms during the following two days. Coded messages were sent back and forth between Cairo and Ankara, cigarettes were chain-smoked, and many cups of coffee were drunk. Various details were scrutinized and evaluated. Three days later, Eden and Menemencioğlu met again.

The Turks were tense. They suspected the British might have been pressured by Russia to stop providing supplies.

“This time I might not be able to abide by diplomatic courtesies, although that could actually be a useful tactic,” Numan said to Macit before going in for the meeting.

Even later, thinking about that meeting, Macit’s palms couldn’t stop sweating.

Eden gave an ultimatum, saying, “You have to join the war!”

Numan replied softly but with hard words. “Honorable colleague, you have tried to influence us twice so far, and had we acted hastily on either of those occasions, we would have both stood to lose.”

“For instance?” Eden asked mockingly, with a wry smile.

“Let me remind you,” replied Menemencioğlu, “when Italy declared war back in 1940, you asked us to join then. What would have happened to us if we had listened to you? Furthermore, you did the same thing in 1941 in respect to Yugoslavia.”

“No, I’m sorry, sir, we didn’t ask you to join the war,” the British ambassador, Hugessen, interjected.

“So what did you do?”

“We asked you to bluff, in order to encourage the Yugoslav government to resist.”

Numan started to laugh. “My dear friend, thank you for confirming what I just said. How else could that bluff be interpreted, with Germany at her strongest and already moving south?”