Free The Schirmer Inheritance by Eric Ambler Page A

I really liked was that old Sergeant Franz. I imagine that he was quite a tough proposition. What happens to blood like that? Oh yes, I know that only certain physical characteristics get transmitted, and that it’s all a matter of genes and chromosomes; but if you do happen to run across a Schirmer with a beard like Franz’s, let me know. Good luck anyway
.
    Sincerely
,
                                      R OBERT L. M ORETON
    George refolded the letter and looked at the accompanying sheet of paper with the answer to his questions. As he did so, the telephone by his bed buzzed harshly and he turned to answer it.
    “Mademoiselle Kolin to see you, sir.”
    “All right. I’ll come down.”
    This was the interpreter who had been recommended to him by the Embassy.
    “Miss Kolin?” George had said. “A woman?”
    “Sure, she’s a woman.”
    “I assumed you’d get a man. You know I’ve got to travel all over the place staying at hotels. It’s going to be awkward if—”
    “Why? You don’t have to sleep with her.”
    “Isn’t there a man available?”
    “Not as good as Miss Kolin. You said you wanted someone we could vouch for if it came to getting the interpreter’s testimony accepted in an American court. We could vouch forKolin all right. We always use her or Miss Harle for important rogatory commissions, and so do the British. Harle’s on another job in Geneva right now, so we got Kolin. You’re lucky she’s available.”
    “All right. How old is she?”
    “Early thirties and quite attractive.”
    “For God’s sake.”
    “You don’t have to worry.” The Embassy man had chuckled in an odd way.
    George had ignored the chuckle and asked about Miss Kolin’s history.
    She had been born in one of the Serbian towns of Yugoslavia and was a graduate of the University of Belgrade. She had an almost phenomenal talent for languages. A British Major working with a relief organization had found her in a displaced-persons camp in 1945 and employed her as a secretary. Later she had worked as an interpreter for an American legal team doing preparatory work for the Nuremberg trials. When the team’s work had ended, one of the lawyers, impressed as much by her secretarial ability as by the fact that she was multi-lingual, had given her introductions to the International Standards Organization and the American Embassy in Paris and advised her to try to work up a connection as an interpreter and verbatim reporter. She had soon established herself. She now had a solid reputation at international trade conferences for the speed and reliability of her work. Her services were much in demand.
    There were several women waiting in the foyer of the hotel and George had to ask the concierge to point his visitor out to him.
    Maria Kolin was indeed attractive. She had the sort of figure and posture that makes inexpensive clothes look good. The face and features were broad, the complexion brown against sleek straw-coloured hair. Her eyes were prominent and heavy-lidded. The only make-up she wore was lipstick,but this was boldly applied. She looked as if she had just returned from a ski-ing holiday.
    Although she had obviously seen the concierge point her out to him, she remained staring blankly into the middle distance as George approached, and gave an unreal start of surprise when he spoke.
    “Miss Kolin? I’m George Carey.”
    “How do you do?” She touched the hand he held out to her as if it were a rolled-up newspaper.
    “I’m very glad you could come along,” George said.
    She shrugged stiffly. “Naturally, you would wish to interview me before deciding to employ me.” Her English was very clear and precise, with only the faintest trace of an accent.
    “They told me at the Embassy that you were a busy person and that I was lucky you were available.” He put as much friendliness as he could into his smile.
    She looked past him vaguely. “Ah, yes?”
    George felt himself