Topkapi (21 page)

He made me repeat it slowly. When he started to complain that there wasn’t more of it, I told him about the map. I had guessed that this would excite his interest, and it did.

“You say it looked like a map of an island?”

“I thought so. The shape was roughly triangular.”

“Was it a coloured map?”

“No, black and white.”

“Then it could have been a marine chart?”

“I suppose so.”

He said thoughtfully: “A boat, the chart of an island, grenades, respirators, guns, surrender ...”

“And something that Fischer is to do today,” I reminded him.

He ignored the interruption. “You are sure this island had a triangular shape?”

“I thought so, but the map wasn’t absolutely flat. It was hard to see. It could have been a design for a swimming pool.”

He ignored the frivolity. “Could it have been kidney-shaped?”

“Perhaps. Would that mean something?”

“That is the shape of the island of Yassiada, where certain political prisoners are held awaiting trial. It is only fifteen kilometres from Pendik. Have you heard the name Yassiada mentioned?”

“No.”

“Or Imrali?”

“No. Is that an island, too?”

“It is a town on an island sixty kilometres from Pendik. It is also the place where Menderes was hanged.”

“How is that island shaped?”

“Like the head of a dog. I must have another report from you this evening without fail, even if it is only negative.”

“I will do what I can.”

“Above all, you must search for this chart.”

“How can I?”

“You can search at night. In any case you must obtain a closer look at it.”

“I don’t see how I can do that. Even if they bring it out again. I won’t be able to get any closer.”

“With binoculars you could.”

“I have no binoculars.”

“On the way back to the villa, stop on the road. The Opel is on surveillance duty today. An agent from the car will give you binoculars.”

“Supposing Harper sees them. How do I explain them?”

“Do not let him see them. I expect a report tonight. If necessary you will make direct contact with the surveillance personnel. Is that clear?” He hung up.

I drove back towards the villa. Just outside Sariyer on the coast road I pulled up. The Opel stopped a hundred yards behind me. After a minute or two, a man got out of it and walked towards the Lincoln. He was carrying a leather binocular case. He handed it to me without a word and went back to the Opel.

I put the binoculars on the seat and drove on. They were too big to put in my pocket. I would either have to smuggle them up to my room somehow, or hide them in the garage. I was annoyed with myself. I should have known better. Any sort of map is catnip to intelligence people. I should have kept quiet about it.

Even without the binoculars, though, I would have been irritated, and I did have sense enough to realize that. The binoculars were only a nuisance. It was really the conclusion he had come to that bothered me.

What he’d wanted to see all along, and, quite evidently, what he now
did
see, was yet another conspiracy against the Committee of National Union, yet another coup in preparation. The last attempt to overthrow the Committee had been made by a group of dissident army officers
inside
the country. What more likely than that the next attempt would be made with the help of money and hired terrorists from
outside
the country? What more likely than that it would begin with a daring rescue of officer prisoners awaiting trial? As he had said: “A boat, the chart of an island, grenades, respirators, guns, surrender.” It all added up so neatly.

The trouble was, as it had been all along, that he didn’t know the people concerned. I did. I knew how vile they were, too. In fact, there was nothing I wanted more at that moment than to see them get hell. But they just didn’t strike me as the sort of people who would be hired terrorists. I could not have said why. If he had countered by asking me what sort of people
were
hired terrorists and how many I had met, I would have had no sensible answer. All I could have said would have been: “These people wouldn’t take that kind of risk.”

When I got back to the villa, Fischer was standing on the terrace at the top of the steps. He motioned to me to pull up there. As he came down the steps, I remembered, just in time, to shove the binoculars onto the floor by my feet.

“You will not be wanted today, Simpson,” he said. “We are going on a private excursion. I will drive the car.”

“Very good, sir. It is full of petrol, but I was going to dust it.” I was all smiles above, and all binoculars below.

“Very well.” He waved me off in his high handed way. “The car must be here in half an hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

I drove round the courtyard into the garage, and hid the binoculars behind an empty oil drum before I gave the car a flick-over with a wet duster.

Just before ten I drove it to the courtyard and left it there with the ignition key in. Then, I went back to the yard, through the door into the orchard, and found a place from which I could see the car without being seen. When they went out, I wanted to make sure that they had all gone - Fischer, Harper, Miss Lipp, and Miller.

After forty minutes or so, all four came out and got in the car. As soon as they had gone, I went to the kitchen. Geven was there chopping meat and sipping brandy. I had a drink myself and let him talk for a while before asking whether they were expected back for lunch. They were not. He would make an omelette
pour le personnel
.

I went upstairs to the bedroom floor. At the head of the back stairs the corridor ran left and right, parallel to the rear wall of the villa. If you turned right, you came to my room and Geven’s, among others; if you turned left, you were faced by a pair of double doors. Beyond them were the master bedrooms and guest suites.

The double doors were half open when I went up. Through the opening, I caught a glimpse of a wicker-work trolley full of dirty linen, and of old Hamul working on the floor of the corridor with a carpet sweeper. Mrs. Hamul was presumably changing the sheets on the beds.

I went to my room, waited an hour, and then strolled back along the corridor.

The door was still open and the Hamuls were still messing about in the bedrooms. I went down to the kitchen and had another drink with Geven. He was busy with the stew pot and another hour went by before he decided to make the omelette. I heard the Hamuls come down at about the same time and go through to the laundry. As soon as I had finished eating, I told Geven that I was going to have a sleep and went upstairs again.

First, I locked my room from the outside in case he looked in to see if I were there; then I went through the double doors and shut them behind me.

What I was looking for was the map, and it was difficult to know where to start. There were about eighteen rooms there, and they were of all shapes and sizes. Some were bedrooms, some sitting rooms; some were so sparsely furnished that it was hard to tell what they had been. Where there was furniture, it was all in the same bilious looking French hotel style. The only things not in short supply were mirrors and chandeliers; every room had those.

I identified Miller’s room first, because his suitcase was open on the bed, then Fischer’s because of the shirts in one of the drawers. I found no map in either room. Miss Lipp’s suite was over the centre portico, with Harper’s next to it on the corner. There was a connecting door. I looked through all the drawers and cupboards, I looked inside the suitcases, I looked above and below every piece of furniture. The only maps I found were in a copy of
Europa Touring
that was on Miss Lipp’s writing desk, along with some Italian paperback novels.

Beyond Harper’s suite, and on the side of the building overlooking the orchard, there was a room that had been fitted up as a studio. Architect’s drawers had been built along one wall. It seemed a good place to look for a large flat map, and I was carefully going through every drawer when I heard the sound of car doors slamming.

I scrambled through Harper’s bedroom, which had windows onto the courtyard, and saw the roof of the Lincoln in front of the portico. Then I panicked. I missed the door which led to the passage and got into his bathroom instead. By the time I had found the right door, I could hear Fischer’s voice from the stairs. It was hopeless to try to dodge round through the rooms. I didn’t know the way well enough. All I could do was retreat back through Harper’s bedroom into the studio and shut the door. From there, there was no other way out, except through the window; but it was the only hiding place I could find.

I heard him come into the room, then a clink of money, then a sort of slap. He was emptying his pockets onto the table. The door didn’t latch properly and I could hear every move he made. I knew that he would hear any move I made, too. I froze there.

“My God, that city’s worse than New York in August,” he said.

I heard Miss Lipp answer him. The door connecting the suites, which I had shut, must have been opened by her.

“I wonder if Hamul fixed that water. Undo me, will you,
Liebchen
?”

He moved away. I tiptoed over to the studio window and looked out. There was a small balcony outside and, a few feet below, the roof of the terrace. If I could get down there, I thought it might be possible to reach the orchard without breaking my neck. The trouble was that I would have to open the french window to get to the balcony. It had one of those long double bolts that you work by twisting a handle in the centre. They can make a clattering noise when they spring open, and this one looked as if it would. I went back to the door.

It sounded as if they were in his sitting room. I heard her give a soft chuckle.

“Too many clothes on,” she said.

He came back into the bedroom and, then, after a moment or two, went into the bathroom. Water began to run. I went to the window again and gingerly tried the handle. It moved easily enough. The bottom bolt slid out and the door sprang inward with a slight thud; but then I saw that one side of the connecting link was broken and that the top bolt hadn’t moved. I tried to pull it down by hand, but it was too stiff. I would have to push it down through the slot at the top. I put a chair against the window and looked about for something metal I could use to push with.

The noise of running water from the bathroom stopped, and I stood still again. I tried to think what I had in my pockets that might move the bolt; a key perhaps.

“I will have to do something about my tan when we get back,” said Miss Lipp. She was in the next room now.

“It’s holding up.”

“Your hair’s wet.”

Silence, then a deep sigh from her and the bed creaked.

For about two minutes I clung to the hope that they were going to have a siesta. Then movements began. After a while I could hear their breathing and it wasn’t the breathing of sleep. More minutes went by and there were other sounds. Then, the beast with two bucks was at work, and soon it was making its usual noises, panting and grunting and moaning, while I stood there like a half-wit, picturing her long legs and slim thighs and wondering how on earth I was going to get out of there without anybody seeing me. I was sweating so much that it was running into my eyes and misting my glasses. I couldn’t have seen to get the bolt open just then, even if I had dared to try.

They seemed to go on interminably; but the noisy finales arrived at last. I waited, hopefully, for them to go to their bathrooms; but they didn’t. There was just a long silence, until I heard him say: “Here,” and a lighter clicked. Another silence, until he broke it.

“Where shall we eat tonight?”

“Les Baux. I will have the
feullieté de ris de veau
. You?"

"Avallon, Moulin des Ruats, the
coq au vin
."

"With the Cuvée du Doctour?"

“Of course. Though right now, frankly, I’d settle for a ham sandwich and a glass of beer.”

“It’s not for long,
Liebchen
. I wonder who told Hans that this man could cook.”

“He can cook all right, but he’s one of those lushes who has to be wooed. If he isn’t, he gets into a white rage and says ‘The hell with you.’ Hans doesn’t know how to handle him. I’ll bet Arthur eats better than we do. In fact, I know damn well he does. Where’s the ash tray?”

“Here.” She giggled. “Careful!”

“
Merde, alors!
”

“That is not the place for an ash tray.”

Soon it began all over again. Eventually, when they were exhausted, they did have the decency to go to the bathrooms. While the water was running. I got up onto the chair and worked on the bolt with my room key. By the time he had finished in the bathroom, I had the window unlatched. I had to wait then till they were asleep; though it was not until I heard her voice again that I knew that she had returned to his bed.

“
Liebchen
” she said drowsily.

“What is it?” He was half asleep, too.

“Be careful, please, tomorrow.”

“
Entendu
.”

There was the sound of a kiss. I looked at my watch. It was twenty past three. I gave them ten minutes, then carefully edged over to the window and pulled one side open. I did it very slowly because there was a slight breeze outside and I did not want the draft to open the bedroom door while I was still there. Then I edged my way out onto the balcony.

It was a four-foot drop to the roof of the terrace and I made scarcely any noise getting down. I had more trouble at the end of the terrace. I am really not built for climbing, and I tried to use the trelliswork as a stepladder. It gave way, and I slithered to the ground clutching at the branches of an espaliered peach tree.

I managed to get to my room without anyone seeing the mess I was in. When I had cleaned up and changed my shirt, I went down to the car and put it away in the garage.

If I had noticed that the door panels had been taken off, things would have turned out very differently for Harper, Lipp, and Miller; but I didn’t notice. It didn’t even occur to me to look at them. I was still too flustered to do anything except try to behave naturally. Garaging the car was just a way of showing myself outside and on the job.