Topkapi (14 page)

“You mean you expect me to throw them out of the window and hope they won’t notice?”

“Of course not. You will drop them whenever you find a suitable moment when you have stopped and are outside the car.”

I thought it over; that part of it might not be so bad. I would just have to make sure that I had plenty of cigarette packets. What I did not like was having to write out the reports. I said so.

“There is a slight risk, I agree,” he said; “but you will have to take it. Remember, they will only search you if you have given them reason to suspect you. You must be careful not to.”

“I still have to write the reports.”

“You can do that in the toilet. I do not imagine you will be observed there. Now, as to our communicating information and orders to you.” He opened his briefcase and took out a small portable transistor radio of the type I had seen German tourists carrying. “You will carry this in your bag. If it should be seen, or you should be heard using it, you will say that it was given to you by a German client. Normally it receives only standard broadcast frequencies, but this one has been modified. I will show you.” He slipped it out of the carrying case, took the back off, and pointed to a small switch just by the battery compartment. “If you operate that switch it will receive V.H.F. transmissions on a fixed frequency from up to half a mile away. The transmissions will be made to you from a surveillance car. It is a system we have tried out, and providing there are no large obstacles such as buildings between the two points, it works. Your listening times will be seven in the morning and eleven at night. Is that clear? For security it will be better if you use the earphone attachment.”

“I see. You say it has been modified. Does that mean that it won’t receive ordinary broadcasts? Because if so I couldn’t explain it...”

“It will work normally unless you move this switch.” He replaced the back. “Now then, I have some information for you. Both Harper and Miss Lipp are travailing on Swiss passports. We had no time at the airport to discover, without arousing suspicion, if the passports were genuine or not. The relevant particulars are as follows: Walter Karl Harper, aged thirty-eight, described as an engineer, place of birth Berne, and Elizabeth Maria Lipp, aged thirty-six, described as a student, place of birth Schaffhausen.”

“A student?”

“Anyone can be described as a student. It is meaningless. Now, as to the Kösk Sardunya.” He referred to a paper in the briefcase. “It is the property of the widow of a former minister in the government of President Inönü. She is nearly eighty now and has for some years lived quietly with her daughter in Izmir. She has from time to time tried to sell Sardunya, but nobody has wished to buy at the price she asks. For the past two years, she has leased it furnished to a NATO naval mission which had business in the zone. The mission’s work ended at the beginning of the year. Her agent here in Istanbul was unable to find another tenant until three months ago. Then he received an inquiry from an Austrian named Fischer - yes, exactly - who was staying at the Hilton Hotel. Fischer’s other names are Hans Andreas, and he gave an address in Vienna. He wanted a furnished villa for two months, not a particular villa, but one in that neighbourhood and near to the shore. He was willing to pay well for a short lease, and gave a deposit in Swiss francs. On the lease, which is in his name, his occupation is given as manufacturer. He arrived three weeks ago, when the lease began, and has not registered with the police. We have not yet traced the record of his entry, so we do not have all passport particulars about him.”

“What is he a manufacturer of?”

“We do not know. We have sent an inquiry to Interpol, but I expect a negative reply. We received negative replies on both Harper and Lipp. That increases the probability that they are politicals.”

“Or that they are using aliases.”

“Perhaps. Now, the other personnel at the villa. There are a husband and wife who live over what was the stabling. Their name is Hamul and they are old servants who have been there for some years as caretakers and who do cleaning work. Then there is the cook. Through the owner’s agent, Fischer requested a cook with experience of Italian cooking. The agent found a Turkish Cypriot named Geven who had worked in Italy. The police here have had trouble with him. He is a good cook, but he gets drunk and attacks people. He served a short prison sentence for wounding a waiter. It is believed that the agent did not know this when he recommended the man to Fischer.”

“Is there anything against the couple?”

“No. They are honest enough.” He put his papers away. “That is all we know so far, but, as you see, the shape of a conspiracy begins to unfold. One person goes ahead to establish a base of operations, a second person arranges for the purchase of weapons, a third arrives with the means of transporting them and a prepared cover story. Probably, the real leaders have not yet arrived. When they do, it will be your duty to report the fact. Meanwhile, your orders are, specifically, first to ascertain whether the weapons have been removed from the car or not, and secondly, if they have been removed, where they are cached. The first will be easy, the second may be difficult.”

“If not impossible.”

He shrugged. “Well, you must run no risks at this stage. Thirdly, you will continue to listen for any mention of names - names of persons or places - and report movements. Finally, you will listen particularly for any political content in their conversation. The smallest hint may be of importance in that connection. That is all, I think. Have you any questions?”

“Dozens,” I said; “only I don’t know what they are at the moment.”

I could see he hadn’t liked that at once. It was a bit cheeky, I suppose; but I was really tired of him.

He pursed his lips at me. “The Director is very pleased with you so far, Simpson,” he said. “He even spoke of the possibility of helping you in some way beyond the withdrawal of the charges against you, perhaps in connection with your papers, if your co-operation brought about a successful disposal of this matter. It is your chance. Why don’t you take it?”

This boy could do better. He should be encouraged to adopt a more positive attitude towards his schoolwork. Athletics: Fair. Punctuality: Fair. Conduct: Has left much to be desired this term. Signed: G.D. Brush, MA. (Oxon.), Headmaster.

I did my best. “What do you mean by ‘political context’?” I asked. “Do you mean are they in favour of democratic ideals? Or against a military dictatorship? - that’s what some people call your government, isn’t it? Do they talk about capitalist oppression or Soviet domination or the welfare of mankind? Things like that? Because, if so, I can tell you now that the only section of mankind that Harper is interested in is the bit represented by himself.”

“That could be said of a great many political conspirators. Obviously, what we are concerned with is their attitudes to the political situation here, where the army acts at present as a trustee for the Republic.” He said that stiffly; as he hadn’t liked the bit about military dictatorship either. “As I have said, Harper may be merely a hired operative, but we cannot say yet. Remember, there are six pistols and ammunition for six.”

“That’s another thing I don’t understand, sir. I know that there are all those grenades, too - but
pistols
? Is that enough for a
coup d’etat
? If they were machine guns now...”

“My dear Simpson, the head of a secret political organization in Belgrade once handed out four pistols to four rather stupid students. In the event, only one was used, but it was used to assassinate the Archduke Ferdinand of Austria and it started a European war. Pistols can be carried in the pocket. Machine guns cannot”

“You think these people are out to assassinate somebody?”

“That is for you to help us discover. Have you any more questions?”

“Is there any information yet about this business-machine company, Tekelek? Harper seemed to be using it as a cover.”

“We are still awaiting word from Switzerland. If it is of interest I will let you know.”

He handed me the portable radio; then, as I got up to go, he went to the door and gave an order to the lieutenant waiting outside about taking me back to the gate. I had started to move when he had an afterthought and stopped me.

“One more thing,” he said. “I do not wish you to take foolish risks, but I do wish you to feel confidence in yourself if you are obliged to take necessary ones. Some men have more confidence in themselves if they are armed.”

I couldn’t help glancing at the polished holster on his belt. He smiled thinly. “This pistol is part of an officer’s uniform. You may borrow it if you wish. You could put it in your bag with the radio.”

I shook my head. “No, thank you. It wouldn’t make me feel better. Worse, more likely. I’d be wondering how to explain it away if anyone happened to see it.”

“You are probably wise. Very well, that is all.”

Of course, I hadn’t the slightest intention of taking any sort of risk if I could help it. All I intended to do was to go through the motions of co-operating so as to keep Tufan happy, and somehow get my letter back from Harper before Tufan’s people pulled him in. Of course, I was quite certain that he was going to be pulled in. He
had
to be!

Tufan stayed behind telephoning. As I went back along the corridors with the lieutenant, I saw him glancing at me, wondering if it were better to make polite conversation with someone who seemed on such good terms with the powerful Major Tufan, or to say nothing and keep his nose clean. In the end, all he said was a courteous good night.

The Peugeot was still outside. The driver glanced at the radio I was carrying. I wondered if he knew about the modification, but he made no comment on it. We drove back to the hotel in silence. I thanked him and he nodded amiably, patting the wheel of his car. “Better on the narrow roads,” he said.

The terrace was closed. I went to the bar for a drink.

I had to get the taste of the Dolmabahçe out of my mouth.

“Conspiracy,” Tufan had said. Well, that much I was prepared to concede. The whole Harper-Lipp-Fischer setup was obviously a cover for something; but all this cloak-and-dagger stuff about
coups d’etat
and assassination plots I really couldn’t swallow. Even sitting in the palace with a painting about a Sultan being deposed staring down from the wall, it had bothered me. Sitting in a hotel bar with a glass of brandy - well, frankly I didn’t believe a bloody word of it. The point was that I knew the people concerned - or, anyway, I had met them - and Tufan didn’t know and hadn’t met any of them. “Political context,” for heaven’s sake! Suddenly Major Tufan appeared in my mind’s eye not as a man in charge of a firing squad, but as a military old maid always looking for secret agents and assassins under her bed - a typical counter-espionage man in fact.

For a moment or two I almost enjoyed myself. Then I remembered the doors of the car and the arms and the respirators and the grenades, and went back to zero.

If it hadn’t been for those things, I thought, I could have made two good guesses about the Harper setup, and one of them would certainly have been right. My first guess would have been narcotics. Turkey is an opium-producing country. If you had the necessary technical personnel - Fischer, the “manufacturer,” Lipp, the “student” - all you would need would be a quiet, secluded place like the Kösk Sardunya in which to set up a small processing plant to make heroin, and an organizer - Harper, of course - to handle distribution and sales.

My second guess would have been some deluxe variation of the old badger game. It begins in the romantic villa on the Bosphorus graced by the beautiful, blue-blooded Princess Lipp, whose family once owned vast estates in Rumania, her faithful servitor Andreas (Fischer), and a multimillionaire sucker enslaved by the lady’s beauty. Then, just as the millionaire is preparing to dip his wick, in comes the mad, bad, dangerous husband Prince (Harper) Lipp, who threatens to spread the whole story (with pictures, no doubt) over the front pages of every newspaper from Istanbul to Los Angeles,
unless
... The millionaire can’t wait to pay up and get out. Curtain.

On the whole, though, I would have made narcotics the first choice. Not that I didn’t see Harper as a con man, or in the role of blackmailer (I knew all too well that he could play that), but the cost and extent of the preparatory work suggested that big profits were expected. Unless the supply of gullible millionaires had suddenly increased in the Istanbul area, it seemed more likely that the expectation was based on the promise of a successful narcotics operation.

It seemed to me so obviously the right answer that I began to think again about the grenades and pistols. Supposing they did fit into the narcotics picture after all; but in a subsidiary sort of way. Supposing they had no direct relationship with Harper, but had been carried for someone
outside
the villa group - someone Turkish with political intentions of the kind in which Tufan was interested. The narcotics picture had to include a supplier of illicit raw opium. Almost certainly that supplier would be Turkish. Why shouldn’t the price for his illicit opium have included a small shipment of illicit arms? No reason at all. Or the delivery of the arms might merely have been one of those little gestures of goodwill with which businessmen sometimes like to sweeten their contractual relationships. “I’m bringing a car in anyway. Why not let me take care of that other little matter for you? Just give me a letter to your man in Athens.”

There was only one thing that I could see that was not quite right about it - the time factor. The villa had been taken on a short lease. The car had been imported on a tourist
carnet
. I didn’t know how long it took to set up a laboratory and process enough heroin to make a killing in the dope market; but, on the face of it, two months seemed a bit short. I decided in the end that, for safety, they might well want to avoid remaining for too long in any one place and intended to keep the laboratory on the move.