‘I want to drink. I want to drink myself silly.’ But she was already pulling her dress up over her head.
CHAPTER 21
Next morning Hawn walked up to the American Express offices, in the shopping arcade under the Intercontinental Hotel, on Taksim Square. Anna, in a rare moment of vanity, had gone to try and get her hair done. They were to meet back at the hotel at twelve.
Hawn sent a terse telegram to the enigmatic PO number in Annecy, demanding the immediate transfer of twelve thousand US dollars, to be cabled immediately to his name and passport number, c/o Amex, Istanbul. The sum was rather more than he had agreed with Salak, but he suspected that if things went well the old scoundrel might need the odd ‘sweetener’.
He arrived back at the Pera Palace just after midday. Since his key was not on the rack, he assumed that Anna had already returned. He also noticed that the keen-eyed receptionist gave him a courtly nod, but avoided looking at him, almost as if embarrassed.
Hawn clanked up in the ancient lift, walked down the spacious mellow corridor and reached their room. The door was locked. He knocked, then called Anna’s name. There was a pause; then the door was opened, but only a few inches. Anna stood facing him; she looked taut and pale. Behind her, in one of the armchairs, was the Austrian arch-bore Otto Dietrich. He nodded to Hawn, composed, benign.
Hawn looked at him in silence. ‘Hello, Otto. You should have warned us you were coming.’
‘I was perfectly prepared to wait.’
Hawn looked across at Anna. ‘Did you invite him in?’
‘He invited himself in. About a quarter of an hour ago. He’d been waiting down in the lobby.’ Her voice was not quite steady.
Hawn turned back to Dietrich. ‘So just what the hell are you doing here? I give you exactly two minutes to explain, or I shall call downstairs and have you thrown out.’
‘I must advise you to leave the telephone alone. Nobody wants trouble. All I want is to talk to you, Mr Hawn. Or, to be more exact, I have a friend who wants to talk to you. Would you agree to accompany me to the Hilton?’
‘Supposing I’m busy?’
‘Then I would suggest that you postpone what business you have.’
‘Is that an order?’
The Austrian folded his hands in his lap, like two plump napkins. ‘I had hoped that that would not be necessary. My friend is most interested to meet you. I would advise that you accept his invitation.’
‘If he’s that keen, why didn’t he come here with you? Sorry, Otto, I’m going to call reception. Unless you prefer to leave of your own accord?’
Otto Dietrich’s dull bespectacled face had a pained expression, ‘Mr Hawn, please. Please try to be more co-operative.’
‘Not until I know what this is all about. Who is this friend of yours?’
‘I would prefer that you met him first. I have to maintain a certain discretion.’
Hawn looked again at Anna. ‘What do you think, angel?’
Her voice was small and hushed: ‘Tom, get rid of him.’
‘Has he threatened you?’
‘I don’t like him. Get him out of here. Please!’
Dietrich made a little clucking noise with his tongue. ‘Mr Hawn, the young lady is not being very polite. The other day, during our most pleasant excursion, I had thought you such a charming pair.’
‘Otto, I’m touched. I’m also puzzled. As I said, what’s so special about your friend that he couldn’t have sent a note over, or just telephoned — instead of sending an unlikely chaperon like you?’
The Austrian nodded. ‘Perhaps he should have done. But then he could not have been sure that you would have accepted. And my friend is most insistent. He has a very tight schedule. He wants to see you today — now, at once.’
‘Supposing we say no?’
‘I do hope you will not. I so dislike scenes.’
Hawn nodded towards Anna. ‘Does your friend want to see Miss Admiral as well?’
‘He wishes to see you both.’
Hawn stood thinking for a moment, then turned to Anna: ‘Let’s see what this gentleman wants. The Hilton’s a civilized place. The worst that can happen to us is to get pitched out of a window on the seventeenth floor.’
Dietrich smiled and stood up. ‘I am so happy that you are being sensible. I have a car waiting downstairs. Taxis are impossible in Istanbul.’
They left, with Dietrich walking several paces behind them. In the lobby the receptionist pretended not to notice them. Hawn wondered how soon Salak would hear of this encounter.
It was a fifteen minute drive up the edge of the Bosporus, where the Hilton stood like a freshly polished headstone with a commanding view of the city. They entered in the same formation, although Hawn sensed that Dietrich had become less at ease: when the lift did not arrive at once, he grew uncharacteristically irritable.
They rode up to the twelfth floor. Dietrich knocked gently at a door at the end of the corridor. It was opened by a man in a grey flannel suit and a short executive haircut. He held the door open, without a word.
It was a large, two-roomed suite, with the appearance more of an office: telex, several telephones, recording machine, a lot of papers and documents littered about on tables and desks. In an armchair in the centre of the room sat the American, Don Robak; his thatch of grey-blond hair looked even more rumpled than last time. He was in his shirtsleeves and smelt of aftershave. He did not rise or shake hands.
‘Sit down, Mr Hawn, Miss Admiral. We’ve all met before, haven’t we?’
Hawn and Anna sat down opposite him.
‘But I didn’t think we’d meet again so soon, Mr Hawn.’
‘It’s
