Amazing Mrs. Pollifax by Dorothy Gilman Read Free Book Online Page B

arranged Magda Ferenci-Sabo’s abduction from the British consulate? For thefirst time she realized how important a defecting Communist agent must be to
them
. Russia was Turkey’s next-door neighbor, their frontiers met and their guards faced each other for several hundred miles in the east. A great deal of practical information could be extracted from a knowledgeable Communist defector, and why should they share her when it was they who lived virtually under Russia’s guns?
    “Well?” demanded the police officer. “Is that the woman?”
    “There’s a resemblance certainly but beyond that—she left so suddenly! Who is she?” Mrs. Pollifax inquired again. When he ignored this she said quietly, “I really think I must refuse to answer your questions until I am told precisely why I am here, or am allowed to telephone someone who can inform me why I am here.” She added severely, “I had understood Turkey was a country friendly to Americans—”
    “To Americans, yes,” the man said flatly.
    She was surprised. “You don’t believe that I’m American?”
    The officer turned and exchanged a swift glance with the civilian behind him. “That is a possibility,” he said.
    “But my passport—”
    He looked at her pityingly. “Passports can be forged.” He hesitated and then leaned forward, frankly watching her face as he said with deliberation, “The woman to whom you were speaking is a woman wanted by the Turkish police, and one whom Officer Bey almost captured this evening. Her friends are of much interest to us—they may be our enemies. You arrived in Istanbul several hours ago, flying here directly without any tourist stops in between, and you meet this woman. A coincidence? We shall see.” He touched her passport with a finger. “In the meantime—while we very thoroughly investigate your identity—we shall keep your passport.”
    She said indignantly, “I really must protest—”
    He interrupted with a shrug. “You will, of course, notify your consul—we shall do this as well—but you are not to leave Istanbul, or the Hotel Itep, until you have been cleared to the satisfaction of all concerned.” His expression lightened. “We should be able to return to you the passport by late tomorrow afternoon—if your credentials, how do you call it, check out. You may return now to your hotel, please.” He didnot shake hands; the other man, Mr. Piskopos, nodded curtly, and Mrs. Pollifax left.
    In the police car, as it carried her back to her hotel, Mrs. Pollifax experienced something of the loneliness of the outcast. She had successfully met Ferenci-Sabo—this much was now obvious—only to see the woman frightened away; and now she had ignominiously lost her passport for twenty-four hours. What did she do next? What
could
she do? Did she go again tomorrow night to the lobby at the same hour? She could imagine Officer Bey’s face should he see her there a second time at the same hour and clutching the same copy of
Gone with the Wind
. She did not concede failure as yet but she did admit to a deep discouragement and a certain amount of frustration.
    She saw the hotel ahead, its exterior no longer nondescript at night under a blaze of neon color; somewhere along the pavement that other, nameless American agent had been pinned to a wall by an automobile. Mrs. Pollifax leaned forward. The taxi ahead of them slowed, turned, and pulled into the only empty space in front of the Itep to discharge Henry Miles—dear Henry, she thought fondly, and wondered what significance he had attached to her visit to police headquarters. His taxi drove away and as the police car in which she rode headed into the narrow opening another taxi suddenly cut in ahead of them, almost sideswiping them; a man leaped from it in a great hurry, pulled bills from his pockets, shoved them at the driver through the window and turned to run into the hotel. But something arrested him; he stopped, put his hands into his pockets and very