Free Istanbul by Colin Falconer Page B

government could quickly discover the identity of the MI6 station head by applying for a British visa.
    The cover role also turned out to be an onerous duty. One of the functions of the Chief Passport Control Officer was to issue visas to Jews wishing to emigrate to Palestine. In Bucharest the trickle of applications had now become a flood and Abrams was overrun with desperate Romanian Jews seeking visas to escape the pogroms.
    This morning Abrams was unusually fractious. His budget did not extend to employing more local officials, and although few of the applications on his desk would be successful, they were still required to be processed. He spent ten minutes complaining to Nick on the futile nature of his cover before he finally subsided.
    ‘But this particular problem is not the reason I wished to see you,’ he said. ‘It’s about this proposition you made to the Haganah agent.’
    ‘You’ve heard from Whitehall?’ Nick said, eagerly.
    Abrams shook his head.
    ‘No? They said no? But why?’
    ‘We do what we’re told, Davis. There are wiser and cooler heads in Whitehall.’
    ‘Wiser?’
    ‘While Romania remains neutral, the British Government is unwilling to violate the sovereignty of a friendly government.’
    ‘Really? We’ve been doing it to France and Spain for centuries.’
    ‘That’s a very cynical point of view, Davis. Let me also remind you that I am responsible for the issuing of visas to foreign nationals, and the question of Jewish immigration into Palestine is a particularly difficult one right now.’
    ‘What do I tell Ben-Arazi?’
    ‘You tell him the truth, if it suits you.’
    Nick could barely contain himself. But it wasn’t Abrams’s fault, this was a Foreign Office decision. Germany was dropping thousands of bombs on their cities every night and Whitehall was still worried about upsetting the Romanians.
    We have no money and no resources and so we just sit here watching the Germans do as they please, and men like Maier laugh at us.
    He had come to hate this job. At least if he had a gun in his hand he would feel like he was doing something.
    ‘These stupid bastards in Whitehall are costing us the war,’ Nick said.
    There was a long silence. Abrams disapproved of strong language. ‘I want to talk to you about Maier,’ he said, finally.
    ‘Maier?’
    ‘And this other woman you’ve been seeing.’
    This took Nick off balance. His mind was still on the Iron Gates. ‘Woman?’
    ‘If you’re going to repeat everything I say, Davis, I’m going to lose my temper. You know who I’m talking about. Her name’s Daniela Simonici, correct?’
    ‘Nothing improper has occurred.’
    ‘I’m really not concerned about that. But she’s the consort of some very high-ranking German officers and your conduct might be called into question in Whitehall if not in heaven.’
    Whitehall be damned, Nick thought. ‘Are you asking me not to see her anymore?’
    ‘Of course not. Quite the opposite.’
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘Siegfried Maier is a colonel in the Abwehr,’ Abrams said.
    The Abwehr was the Wehrmacht’s counter espionage service. Unlike the Gestapo, they were unconcerned with ideology – it was an intelligence service, the same as Nick’s own SIS.
    ‘Moreover,’ Abrams went on, ‘there are certain aspects of his background that make him of particular interest to us. If she is his mistress, as seems apparent, she may become a very valuable commodity.’
    ‘What aspects?’
    ‘I can’t tell you that. But men like Maier could have a significant impact on the future of western Europe.’
    ‘I don’t think I follow you.’
    ‘You don’t have to follow this, Davis. Just do what as I ask. Find out if she’s willing to work with us.’
    ‘I’ll do my best.’
    ‘Be discreet, but don’t let her get away.’
    Don’t let her get away. Right.
    Nick got up to leave. He hesitated at the door. ‘What you said about Maier, the future of Western Europe? Really?’
    Abrams pulled his