Free Istanbul by Colin Falconer Page A

that Maier had no doubt bought for her. She shivered inside it. ‘I saw you earlier, here in the lobby. I don’t think you saw me. Was that your wife?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘She’s very beautiful. Do you love her?’
    ‘That’s a good question and one I don’t think I can answer right now.’
    ‘Is that why you’re so unhappy?’
    ‘Does it show?’
    ‘Yes, it does.’
    A long silence. ‘Why Maier?’ he asked her, finally.
    ‘He helped get my father away from the Iron Guard, persuaded them to release him.’
    ‘Is he all right?’
    ‘He’s very sick.’
    I shouldn’t wonder, he thought. A miracle that he survived six months in a Romanian prison. He knew how they treated Jews in there, especially the wealthy ones.
    ‘Siggi’s kind to me.’
    Maier: Siggi. ‘Well, that’s important.’
    ‘And I can pretend to like him. I’m a good actress. I always have been.’
    ‘Does he think he can help you get your brother out of prison?’
    ‘There are some things even Siggi cannot arrange.’
    ‘That’s a comforting thought.’
    Their eyes locked.
    ‘Aren’t you afraid?’ she said, after a while.
    ‘Of the Iron Guard? Of course.’
    ‘Isn’t it strange? The greenshirts would kill you Britishers too, if they could. Only these Germans stand between you and a massacre.’
    ‘Yes, I’ve thought about that, and well, in the circumstances – Heil Hitler.’
    Her laughter fell into the silence like breaking glass. The Gestapo man woke up and glared at them, as if they were whisperers in a public library.
    ‘How long since you have been home?’ she asked.
    ‘Eighteen months now. A long time. Wars tend to disrupt your life.’
    ‘What is England like?’
    ‘We drink a lot of tea.’ He wondered how you explained a country to someone who had never been there. ‘The people are colder somehow. There’s no passion in them. We have a saying: “keeping a stiff upper lip”. It means that no matter what you’re feeling, you don’t let it show.’
    ‘Is that what you’re like?’
    ‘I suppose. For most of my life.’
    ‘And now?’
    ‘And now?’ He took a deep breath. ‘I want to sit up all night here talking to you, I want to hold you all night and never let you go. But I have a wife and I have two sons and I cannot abandon them, and I feel sick to my stomach when I realise what a sham it has all been for so long. There. That’s not exactly stiff upper lip, and it’s not exactly Latin passion, but it’s the best I can do right now.’
    She took his hand in both of hers, held it like an injured bird. Then she pulled him towards her and kissed him softly on the lips. For the first time he allowed himself to believe.
    ‘I wish that . . .’ she began, but she never finished and he never did discover what it was that she wished.
    ‘ Liebling ,’ a voice said from the stairs. ‘There you are, I was worried about you. What are you doing down here?’
    Daniela snatched her hand away. ‘Siggi! You’re awake. Sorry. I couldn’t sleep.’
    Maier strode across the lobby, stopped when he saw Nick. ‘My Englisher friend! What are you doing here?’
    ‘Insomnia. It’s contagious.’
    ‘Come back to bed, liebling.’
    She sighed and stood up, obeying. ‘Goodnight,’ she murmured and followed Maier up the stairs. Nick thought he saw her look back once with longing, but how could he possibly have discerned such an expression in the darkness?
    He must have been mistaken.
     
     
     

CHAPTER 19
     
    At the end of World War One, MI6 took over responsibility for issuing visas to foreign nationals overseas. Someone in the Foreign Office thought it was a good idea to use the passport control system as a cover for the ministry’s intelligence gathering activities. The PCO’s were only loosely connected to the diplomatic corps but did not enjoy full diplomatic status; if necessary, the local ambassador could deny all responsibility for their activities.
    But the PCO cover was thin disguise. Any hostile