“Now tell me everything you remember about this man Harper,” he said.
I started to tell him the whole story again from the beginning, but he wanted details now.
“You say that he spoke like a German who has lived in America for some years. When did you reach that conclusion? After you heard him speak German to the man at the garage?”
“No. Hearing him speak German only confirmed the impression I had had.”
“If you were to hear me speak German fluently could you tell whether it was my mother tongue or not?”
“No.”
“How did he pronounce the English word ‘later,’ for example?”
I tried to tell him.
“You know, the German ‘l’ is more frontal than that,” he said; “but in Turkish, before certain vowels, the ‘l’ is like the English consonant you were pronouncing. If you were told that this man had a Turkish background, would you disbelieve it?”
“Not if I were told it was true perhaps. But is Harper a Turkish name?”
“Is it a German one?”
“It could be an anglicization of Hipper.”
“It could also be an anglicization of Harbak.” He shrugged. “It could also be an alias. It most probably is. All I am trying to discover is if the man could be Turkish.”
“Because of the political aspects you mentioned?”
“Obviously. Tear-gas grenades, concussion grenades, smoke grenades, six pistols, six times twenty rounds of ammunition. Six determined men equipped with that material making a surprise attack on some important person or group of persons could accomplish a great deal. There are still many supporters of the former regime. They do not like the army’s firm hands.”
I refrained from telling him that I wasn’t so very fond of those firm hands myself.
“But, of course,” he went on, “we keep our eyes on them. If they wished to attempt anything they would need help from outside. You say he had Swiss francs and West German marks as well as dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Naturally it is possible that what we have here is only one small corner of a much larger plan. If so, there is a lot of money behind it. This man Harper went to a great deal of trouble and expense to get that material through. Perhaps…”
The telephone rang and he broke off to answer it. His call to Istanbul had come through. I understood about one word in ten of his side of the conversation. He was reporting to his boss; that much was easily gathered. My name was mentioned several times. After that he mostly listened, just putting in an occasional evet to show that he was getting the point. I could hear the faint quacking of the voice at the other end of the line. Finally it stopped. Tufan asked a question and received a brief reply. That was all. Tufan made a respectful sound, then hung up and looked across at me.
“Bad news for you, Simpson,” he said. “The Director does not feel disposed to help you in any way. He regards the charges against you as too serious.”
“I’m sorry.” There seemed nothing more to say. I downed another raki to try to settle my stomach.
“He considers that you have not been sufficiently helpful to us. I was unable to persuade him.”
“I’ve told you everything I know.”
“It is not enough. What we need to know is more about this man Harper, who his associates and contacts are, who this Fraulein Lipp is, where the arms and ammunition are going, how they are to be used. If you could supply that information or help to supply it, of course, your case might be reconsidered.”
“The only way I could possibly get information like that would be to drive on to Istanbul tomorrow as if nothing had happened, go to the Park Hotel, and wait for somebody to contact me as arranged. Is that what you’re telling me I have to do?”
He sat down facing me. “It is what we might tell you to do, if we thought that we could trust you. My Director is doubtful. Naturally, he is thinking of your past record.”
“What has that to do with it?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Supposing you warn these people that the car was searched. Perhaps they would reward you.”
“Reward me?” I laughed loudly; I think I must have been getting a bit tight. “Reward me for telling them that they are under surveillance? Are you serious? You were talking about a group of men determined enough to risk their lives. At the moment, the only contact I can identify is Harper. He may or may not be in Istanbul. Supposing he’s not. Someone has to contact me to get at the car. What do I do? Whisper ‘Fly, all is discovered’ into his ear, and expect him to tip me before he leaves? Or do I wait until I’ve made a few more contacts before I tell them the good news, so that they can pass the hat round? Don’t be ridiculous! They’d know at once that they wouldn’t get far, because you’d pick me up again and make me talk. Reward? I’d be lucky if they let me stay alive.”
He smiled. “The Director wondered if you would have the sense to see that.”
But I was too annoyed by what I thought was his stupidity to grasp the implication of what he had said. I went on in English. I didn’t care any more whether he understood me or not. I said: “In any case, what have you got to lose? If I don’t turn up in Istanbul tomorrow, they’ll know that something’s gone wrong, and all you’ll have is a couple of names that don’t mean anything to you, and a secondhand Lincoln. You’ll have me, too, of course, but you already know all I know about this, and you’re going to look damn silly standing up in court trying to prove that I was going to carry out a one-man coup d’etat. Your bloody Director may be one of these fine, upstanding, crap-packed bastards who thinks that everybody who doesn’t smell to high heaven of sweetness and roses isn’t worth a second thought, but if his brain isn’t where his arse ought to be he must know he’s got to trust me. He has no bloody alternative.”
Tufan nodded calmly and moved the raki bottle just out of my reach. “Those were more or less the Director’s own words,” he said.
4
I woke up the next morning with a hangover; and not just because of the raki. Nervous strain always has that effect on me. It was a wonder that I had been able to sleep at all.
The “eatable food” that Tufan had ordered had turned out to be yoghurt (which I detest) and some sort of sheep’s milk cheese. I had just eaten some more bread while Tufan made telephone calls.
The Lincoln had been left out at the Karaagac customs post, which was closed for the night. He had had to get the Commandant out of bed to open the place up, and arrange for an army driver to take the car to the garrison repair shop. The grenades and arms, and my bag, had been removed to the local army H.Q. for examination. That meant that more people, including the customs inspector who had searched the car, had then had to be rounded up so that the stuff could be put back inside the doors again exactly as it had been found.
Even with all the authority he had, it had taken an hour just to organize the work. Then the question of a hotel room for me had come up. I was so exhausted by then that I would not have minded sleeping in a cell. I had told him so; but, of course, it had not been my comfort he had been thinking about. I had had to listen to a lecture. Supposing Harper asked me where I had spent the night; supposing this, supposing that. An agent sometimes had to take risks, but he should never take unnecessary ones; to be caught out through carelessness over trifles was unforgivable; and so on and so on. That had been the first time he had referred to me as an “agent.” It had given me an uncomfortable feeling.
He had told me to meet him outside a new apartment building near the hotel at nine o’clock. He was already there when I arrived. His clothes were still quite neat, but he hadn’t shaved and his eyes were puffy. He looked as if he had been up all night. Without even saying “good morning” he motioned to me to follow him, and led the way down a ramp to a small garage in the basement of the building.