“So there is a Haller?”
Moeller pursed his lips. “Ah, yes. I was sorry to inconvenience him and his wife, but there was no other way. When I found that you were to leave on this boat I decided that it would be helpful if I travelled with you. Obviously I could not have booked a passage at the last moment without attracting Colonel Haki’s attention; I therefore took over Haller’s tickets and passport. He and his wife were not pleased. But they are good Germans, and when it was made plain to them that their country’s interests must come before their own convenience, they gave no more trouble. In a few days their passport will be returned to them with their own photographs restored to it. My only embarrassment has been the Armenian lady who is doing duty for Frau Professor Haller. She speaks very little German and is virtually a half-wit. I have been forced to keep her out of the way. I had no time to make better arrangements, you see. As it was, the man who found her for me had quite a lot of trouble convincing her that she wasn’t being carried off to an Italian bordello. Female vanity is sometimes extraordinary.” He produced a cigarette-case. “I hope you don’t mind my telling you all these little things, Mr. Graham. It’s just that I want to be frank with you. I think that an atmosphere of frankness is essential to any business discussion.”
“Business?”
“Just so. Now do please sit down and smoke. It will do you good.” He held out the cigarette-case. “Your nerves have been a little jumpy to-day, haven’t they?”
“Say what you want to say and get out!”
Moeller chuckled. “Yes, certainly a little jumpy!” He looked suddenly solemn. “It is my fault, I’m afraid. You see, Mr. Graham, I could have had this little talk with you before, but I wanted to make sure that you would be in a receptive frame of mind.”
Graham leaned against the door. “I think that the best way I can describe my state of mind at the moment is to tell you that I have been seriously considering kicking you in the teeth. I could have done so from here before you could have used your gun.”
Moeller raised his eyebrows. “And yet you didn’t do it? Was it the thought of my white hairs that stopped you, or was it your fear of the consequences?” He paused. “No answer? You won’t mind if I draw my own conclusions, will you?” He settled himself a little more comfortably. “The instinct for self-preservation is a wonderful thing. It is so easy for people to be heroic about laying down their lives for the sake of principles when they do not expect to be called upon to do so. When, however, the smell of danger is in their nostrils they are more practical. They see alternatives not in terms of honour or dishonour, but in terms of greater or lesser evils. I wonder if I could persuade you to see my point of view.”
Graham was silent. He was trying to fight down the panic which had seized him. He knew that if he opened his mouth he would shout abuse until his throat ached.
Moeller was fitting a cigarette into a short amber holder as if he had time to waste. Obviously he had not expected any answer to his question. He had the self-contained air of a man who is early for an important appointment. When he finished with the cigarette-holder he looked up. “I like you, Mr. Graham,” he said. “I was, I have admitted, irritated when Banat made such a fool of himself in Istanbul. But now that I know you I am glad that he did so. You behaved gracefully over that awkwardness at the dinner-table the night we sailed. You listened politely to my carefully memorised recitations. You are a clever engineer, and yet you are not aggressive. I should not like to think of your being killed-murdered-by any employee of mine.” He lit his cigarette. “And yet, the demands made upon us by our life’s needs are so uncompromising. I am compelled to be offensive. I must tell you that, as things stand at present, you will be dead within a few minutes of your landing at Genoa on Saturday morning.”
Graham had himself in hand now. He said: “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Moeller nodded approval. “I am glad to see you take it so calmly. If I were in your place I should be very frightened. But then, of course”-the pale blue eyes narrowed suddenly-“I should know that there was no possible chance of my escaping. Banat, in spite of his lapse in Istanbul, is a formidable young man. And when I consider the fact that ready waiting for me in Genoa there would be reinforcements consisting of several other men quite as experienced as Banat, I should realise that there was not the remotest chance of my being able to reach any sort of sanctuary before the end came. I should be left with only one hope-that they did their work so efficiently that I should know very little about it.”
“What do you mean by ‘as things stand at present’?”
Moeller smiled triumphantly. “Ah! I am so glad. You have gone straight to the heart of the matter. I mean, Mr. Graham, that you need not necessarily die. There is an alternative.”
“I see. A lesser evil.” But his heart leaped in spite of himself.
“Scarcely an evil,” Moeller objected. “An alternative and by no means an unpleasant one.” He settled himself more comfortably. “I have already said that I liked you, Mr. Graham. Let me add that I dislike the prospect of violence quite as whole-heartedly as you do. I am lily-livered. I admit it freely. I will go out of my way to avoid seeing the results of an automobile accident. So, you see, if there is any way of settling this matter without bloodshed I should be prejudiced in favour of it. And if you are still uncertain of my personal goodwill towards you, let me put the question in another and harder light. The killing would have to be hurried, would consequently subject the killers to additional risks and would, therefore, be expensive. Don’t misunderstand me, please. I shall spare no expense if it is necessary. But, naturally enough, I hope it won’t be necessary. I can assure you that no one, with the possible exception of yourself, will be more delighted than I am if we can dispose of this whole thing in a friendly way as between business men. I hope you will at least believe that I am sincere in that.”
Graham began to get angry. “I don’t care a damn whether you’re sincere or not.”
Moeller looked crestfallen. “No, I suppose you don’t. I was forgetting that you have been under some nervous strain. You are naturally interested only in getting home safely to England. That may be possible. It just depends on how calmly and logically you can approach the situation. It is necessary, as you must have gathered, that the completion of the work you are doing should be delayed. Now, if you die before you get back to England, somebody else will be sent to Turkey to do your work over again. I understand that the work as a whole would thus be delayed for six weeks. I also understand that that delay would be sufficient for the purposes of those interested. You might, might you not, conclude from that that the simplest way of dealing with the matter would be to kidnap you in Genoa and keep you under lock and key for the requisite six weeks and then release you, eh?”
“You might.”
Moeller shook his head. “But you would be wrong. You would disappear. Your employers and, no doubt, the Turkish Government would make inquiries about you. The Italian police would be informed. The British Foreign Office would address bombastic demands for information to the Italian Government. The Italian Government, conscious that its neutrality was being compromised, would bestir itself. I might find myself in serious difficulties, especially when you were released and could tell your story. It would be most inconvenient for me to be wanted by the Italian police. You see what I mean?”