“Better allow forty-five, Miss Lipp,” I said, ignoring him.
She looked at her watch. “The plane gets in at four,” she said. “I tell you what, Arthur. You go get yourself a sandwich or something. I’ll meet you where you parked the car in an hour. Right?”
“As you wish, Miss Lipp. Are we meeting someone at the airport?”
“If that’s all right with you.” Her tone was curt.
“I only meant that if I knew the line and flight number I could check if the plane is going to be on time.”
“So you could, Arthur. I didn’t think of that. It’s Air France from Geneva.”
I was in the sunshine of her smile again, the bitch.
There was a restaurant of sorts near the Blue Mosque, and when I had ordered some food I telephoned Tufan.
He listened to my report without comment until I had finished. “Very well,” he said then, “I will see that the passports of the Geneva passengers are particularly noted. Is that all?”
“No.” I started to tell him my theory about the drug operation and its necessary link with a raw-opium supplier, but almost at once he began interrupting.
“Have you new facts to support this?”
“It fits the information we have.”
“Any imbecile could think of ways of interpreting the information we have. It is the information we do not have that I am interested in. Your business is to get it, and that is all you should be thinking about.”
“Nevertheless…”
“You are wasting time. Report by telephone, or as otherwise arranged, and remember your listening times. Now, if that is all, I have arrangements to make.”
The military mind at work! Whether he was right or wrong (and, as it happens, he was both right and wrong) made no difference. It was the arrogance of the man I couldn’t stand.
I ate a disgusting meal of lukewarm mutton stew and went back to the car. I was angry with myself, too.
I have to admit it; what had really exasperated me was not so much Tufan’s anxiety-bred offensiveness as my own realization that the train of thought which had seemed so logical and reasonable the previous night, was not looking as logical and reasonable in the morning. My conception of the “student” Miss Lipp as a laboratory technician was troublesome enough; but speaking again with Tufan had reminded me that the villa, which I had so blithely endowed with a clandestine heroin-manufacturing plant, also housed a elderly married couple and a cook. So that, in addition to the time-factor improbability, I now had to accept another: either the plant was to be so small that the servants would not notice it or Harper counted on buying their discretion.
Then, in sheer desperation, I did something rather silly. I felt that I had to know if the grenades and pistols were still in the car. If they had been taken out, at least one bit of my theory was still just tenable. I could assume that they had been delivered or were in process of delivery to the person who wanted them.
I had about twenty minutes to spare before Miss Lipp came out of the Seraglio; but in case she was early I drove the car to the other end of the courtyard under some trees opposite the Church of St. Irene. Then I got the Phillips screwdriver out of my bag and went to work on the door by the driver’s seat.
I wasn’t worried about anyone seeing me. After all, I was only carrying out Tufan’s orders. The men in the Opel wouldn’t interfere; and if some cab driver became inquisitive, I could always pretend that I was having trouble with a door lock. All that mattered was the time, because I had to do it carefully to avoid making marks.
I loosened all the screws carefully first, and then began to remove them. It seemed to take an age. And then a horrible thing happened. Just as I was taking out the last screw but one, I happened to glance up and saw Miss Lipp with the guide walking across the courtyard from the alleyway leading to the Archaeological Museum.
I knew at once that she had seen the car because she was walking straight towards it. She was about two hundred yards away, and on the opposite side of the car to the door I had been working on, but I knew that I couldn’t get even one of the screws back in time. Besides, I was not in the place she had told me to be. There was only one thing I could do: stuff the screws and screwdriver into my pocket, start the car, drive around the courtyard to meet her, and hope to God the two loose screws would hold the panel in place when I opened the door to get out.
I had one piece of luck. The guide practically fell over himself opening her door for her, so I didn’t have to open the one on my side. I was able to get my apology in at the same time.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Lipp. I thought you might be visiting the St. Irene Church and I wanted to save you the walk back.”
That got by all right because she couldn’t thank the guide and answer me at the same time. The guide was an unexpected help, too, as he immediately asked her if she would like to see the church, “pure Byzantine, built in the reign of Justinian, and of great historical interest.”
“I’ll leave that for another time,” she said.
“But you will be here tomorrow, madame, when the Treasury Museum is on view?”
“Well, maybe.”
“Otherwise, it must be Thursday, madame. That part and the pictures are on view only two days in the week, when all the other rooms are closed.” He was obviously panting for her to come again. I wondered how much she had tipped him.
“I’ll try and make it tomorrow. Thank you again.” She gave him the smile. To me, she said: “Let’s go.”
I drove off. As soon as we got onto the cobbles the panel started to vibrate. I immediately pressed my knee against it and the vibration stopped; but I was really scared now. I didn’t think that she would notice that the screws were out; but Fischer or Harper certainly would; and there was this unknown we were going to meet. I knew that I had somehow to replace the screws while the car was at the airport.
“Is the plane on time?” she asked.
A donkey cart came rattling out of a side street at that moment, and I made a big thing of braking and swerving out of its way. I didn’t have to pretend that the cart had shaken me up. I was shaken up all right. My call to Tufan and the argument with him had made me forget completely about calling the airline. I did the best I could.
“They didn’t know of any delay,” I said; “but the plane was making an intermediate stop. Would you like me to check again?”
“No, it’s not worth it now.”
“Did you enjoy the Seraglio, Miss Lipp?” I thought if I kept talking it might quieten my stomach down a bit.
“It was interesting.”
“The Treasury is worth seeing, too. Everything the Sultans used was covered with jewels. Of course, a great many of the things were gifts from kings and emperors who wanted to impress the Sultans with their greatness. Even Queen Victoria sent things.”
“I know.” She chuckled. “Clocks and cut glass.”
“But some of the things are really incredible, Miss Lipp. There are coffee cups sculptured out of solid amethyst, and, you know, the largest emerald in the world is there on the canopy of one of the thrones. They even did mosaic work with rubies and emeralds instead of marble.” I went on to tell her about the gem-encrusted baldrics. I gave her the full treatment. In my experience every normal woman likes talking about jewels. But she didn’t seem much interested.
“Well,” she said, “they can’t be worth much.”
“All those hundreds and thousands of jewels, Miss Lipp!” My leg was getting stiff trying to stop the panel from vibrating. I wriggled surreptitiously into a new position.
She shrugged. “The guide told me that the reason they have to close some rooms on the days they open up the others is because they’re understaffed. The reason they’re understaffed is because the government hasn’t the money to spend. That’s why the place is so shabby, too. Pretty well all of the money they have for restoration goes into the older, the Byzantine buildings. Besides, if all those stones were real gems they’d be in a strong-room not a museum. You know, Arthur, quite a lot of these old baubles turn out in the end to be just obsidian garnet.”
“Oh, these are real gems, Miss Lipp.”
“What’s the biggest emerald in the world look like, Arthur?”
“Well, it’s pear-shaped, and about the size of a pear, too.”
