Istanbul by Colin Falconer Read Free Book Online

‘Well, the slave has prepared breakfast. I’ll go and get dressed now, if you don’t mind.’
    After he had gone they stared at each other. ‘You look wonderful,’ he said.
    ‘I don’t know how to thank you.’
    ‘I’ve been to the Prefecture again. No luck, I’m sorry.’
    She stood too close and touched his hand with hers. ‘I can’t stay here forever.’
    ‘Max loves having you here. Everyone thinks you’re his mistress. His reputation in Bucharest with other women has soared.’
    ‘What about my reputation?’
    ‘Still, you’re safe here.’
    ‘I’m a Jew, Nick. We’re not safe anywhere.’
    ‘Safer than in the Jewish Quarter.’
    She nodded, conceding that point at least. ‘Why are you helping me?’
    ‘Does everyone have to get something in return?’
    She took her hand away from his. ‘Usually. What’s going to happen to Simon?’
    ‘I don’t know.’ He could make a guess but he didn’t want to tell her what the chances were of her ever seeing her brother again.
    ‘You are so kind. You’re the kindest man I’ve ever known.’
    Nick wondered if Jennifer would agree. He looked at his watch. ‘I have to go to work. Stay here as long as you want. It’s okay.’
    She reached out a hand to touch his cheek but he just smiled and moved away. He knew if she touched him again he might not pull away a second time. He couldn’t do that. Least of all in Max’s kitchen.
     
     
     
    Later that morning Abrams walked into Nick’s office and sat down. He rarely left his own eyrie to venture this far into the building, so Nick knew this had to be important.
    ‘I want you to search Clive Allen’s flat.’
    ‘What am I looking for, sir?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    Abrams drew invisible patterns on the polished walnut of the desk with an index finger.
    ‘He betrayed us. He betrayed his country.’ Abrams hesitated, was about to say more, then got up and left as abruptly and unexpectedly as he had arrived.
    Nick had never liked Clive Allen, but he had never suspected him as a traitor. The Ploesti plan had been their one chance to affect the course of the war from inside Romania, but now - because of one traitor - the Germans were about to move two regiments of the Brandenburg division into Ploesti.
    Because of Clive Allen.
    Nick put on his jacket and went down to get a car, and to get Ionescu.
     
     
     
    Clive lived in an apartment near the Carlton building on Bratianu. Gaining entry was not difficult. Ionescu found the caretaker and, after some haggling in Romanian, a sum of lei changed hands, and a key was produced.
    Once inside, Nick made a quick inspection of the flat. Clive was a closet drinker, as Max had intimated; the apartment was full of empty bottles, they littered the floor, even the sink. Hard stuff too, whisky and tsuica .
    Nick was quick and expert. He found what he was looking for in a false drawer in the dresser in Clive’s bedroom. It was a brown paper envelope, stuffed with pounds sterling. There was a telephone number on the back. Nick used the telephone in the living room to ring the number; a voice answered in German.
    He wrote down the number, replaced the envelope in the dresser and went out again, locking the door behind him.
     
     
     

CHAPTER 13
     
    Abrams was at his desk in the Passport Control Office. A dusty portrait of King George V, looking as solemn as God, hung above his head.
    His secretary showed Nick into the room. Abrams did not look up from his papers. ‘What did you find, Davis?’
    Nick told him about the envelope and the telephone number scrawled on the back.
    ‘You rang the number?’
    ‘It’s the German Legation on the Strada Victor Emmanuel.’
    ‘I see. Have you drawn any conclusions?’
    ‘There’s only one conclusion to draw.’
    ‘I agree. Thank you, Davis. That will be all.’
    ‘There’s one other thing.’
    ‘Make it quick. I really do have visa applications to process here. It’s getting in the way of my work but the Foreign