The Innocent Bystanders

Late that afternoon, Angelos came back. Omar was watching the window and called out to Craig, who brought the rifle, held the MGB in its sights until Angelos stopped the car and walked up the path, a wad of newspapers under his arm. Craig left Omar on duty by the window, and let Angelos in. The rifle made Mm smile.

'I expected a Bren gun at least,' he said.

'I could use it,' said Craig, and led him to the kitchen. 'What's happening?' he asked.

'Nothing. The two Israelis got very drunk, but they made love to my girls first.'

'Nobody followed you here?'

'Nobody as far as I know. I haven't your skill in these matters. I brought you your papers. And came for my instructions.'

'I'll have to read the papers first,' said Craig.

He began to read through the small ad columns of the Herald Tribune, the Christian Science Monitor, the continental Daily Mail, the London Times, and the London Daily Telegraph. It was a long and boring process, but in the end he found what he wanted.

'Tell the girl to come here,' he asked.

Angelos stiffened to attention, the parody of a soldier.

'Jawohl, Herr Oberst,' he said.

He went out, and Miriam came in.

'There are a lot of messages for you. I've marked them,' said Craig. 'Look.'

He handed her the European edition of the Herald Tribune. An advertisement read, 'Darling, Won't you listen to Stardust just once more? Marcus misses you.' A box number in Paris followed.

'It's in every paper,' Craig said. 'Crude—but they're in a hurry—and worried about you. So they make you worry about Marcus.'

'They shouldn't have mentioned him,' she said. 'That gave it away.'

'Only to me,' said Craig. 'And they know you're with me anyway. So they mention Marcus—and tell it to me too. Stardust was your code name, I suppose?'

'Yes,' she said.

'How many times did they reach you?'

'Only once. In Istanbul. Our people aren't too strong in Turkey. They were blown—that's the word isn't it?— six months ago.'

'That's why they hired Loomis,' said Craig.

'What do we do now?'

'Write to the box number. Tell them our terms.' 'Our terms?'

'Mine, then. They can have him for me—if they'll get Department K off my back. Otherwise he goes to the Russians.'

'Can they get Department K off your back?' 'If they want Kaplan badly enough, yes. But with the Yanks it's easier.'

'You can trust us, you mean?'

'Of course not,' said Craig. 'But you spend more money.'

He found a piece of paper and an envelope, wrote an answer to the box number in the Herald Tribune, and gave it to Angelos to post, watched the MGB back down the path to the road, then went to bed and slept for four hours.

That night, he and Omar took it in turns to watch the road, patrol the grounds. He trusted Angelos—all his instincts told him that he was right to do so, but he had no faith in his competence. For this kind of operation he needed a Royce and a Benson; what he'd got was a moralist, a female idealist, and an old man.

Next day, Angelos came back at dusk. Again Craig followed the drill in admitting him, and again Angelos grinned at the sight of the rifle, this time in Omar's hands.

'I have some news you should know,' he said. 'There are two English people in Famagusta asking for you. Or at least for someone who could be you. They are asking for a tall, well-built Englishman and his American wife, believed to be traveling with the girl's uncle and an elderly Turkish servant. The Turk is causing a great deal of excitement.'

'I believe you,' said Craig.

'They are saying the Englishman has come into a great deal of money, that is why he must be found.' 'Who are they?'

'A solicitor and his secretary. The secretary is very beautiful. The solicitor has a limp.' 'Benson and Royce,' Craig said. 'They say the senior partner is flying out today.' 'Who are they saying it to?'

'Anyone who'll listen. They want the word to get around, it seems.' Craig thought hard for a minute. 'Where are they staying?' 'The Esperia Tower.'

'I want you to sit here for a while,' Craig said. 'Keep an eye on my guests.' 'Very well.'

Craig hesitated, then took out the Smith and Wesson, offered it to the other. 'Are they such reluctant guests?' Angelos asked. 'They have enemies,' said Craig.

'And so have you, no doubt. I have a gun, John. It's in the car.'

'I won't be gone long,' Craig said. 'You shouldn't have any trouble.'

He called for Omar then and gave him precise instructions. When the old man agreed, Craig took out ten more hundred-dollar bills, tore them in half and gave one half to him. That left Miriam. He called her into the kitchen.

'Department K's caught up with us,' he said.

'But how could they?'

'By knowing their job,' said Craig. 'I told you they're good. They're offering a deal.'

'What kind of a deal?'

'That's what I've got to go and find out.'

'Go to them? That's crazy.'

'No,' he said. 'It's sane enough. I've got Kaplan. They won't hurt me if I can hurt him.' She winced. 'This could be the end of it,' he said. 'You should be glad.'

'I want my people to have him,' Miriam said. 'They're the ones who'll help him do what he should be doing.'

'We'll listen to their offer too,' said Craig.

Angelos walked back with him to his MGB, and took from the trunk an old Webley .45 revolver.

'Who are you going to shoot?' Craig asked. 'Elephants?'

'I hope nothing,' said Angelos. 'But if I use this, I make sure the man I hit stays down.'

'If you hit anything at all. That damn thing kicks like a mule.'

'How much you forget,' said Angelos. 'In the old days I always used one of these. I didn't miss very often.'

Craig drove the MGB back that night. It was fast, and he didn't have to use the mountain tracks. The new road from Troodos to Nicosia was finished now, a well-paved highway that seemed especially designed for testing out an MGB. It was an eager, thrusting little car, and Craig enjoyed it as he swung into the road's wide, planing curves, easing down at last as he came into Nicosia. The town was noisy with people promenading in the wisp of a breeze that sometimes stirred at evening. There were taxis and buses with vast overhangs and donkeys pulling carts, and pedestrians who walked as if the internal-combustion engine had yet to be invented. He was glad to thread his way through the town and get on to the highway to Famagusta.

This is a curious road. Once it had been a railway line, and when the railway was abandoned the track was pulled up, the road put in its place. It ran arrow-straight for almost all of its fifty miles, and the MGB liked this one too: rev-counter and speedometer climbed up and over in steady power. He kept going at speed till the last possible moment. If the senior partner of Royce's firm had arrived he would try anything, and the best way to combat him on a lonely highway was to keep moving fast. At last the lights of Famagusta grew bigger and brighter, and Craig eased off his speed and drove with finicking care through the old town to Varosha suburb. He drove past the hotel and found space to park. This seemed to be one of the few places left in the world where you could still find space to park, Craig thought.