Free A Dead Man in Istanbul by Michael Pearce Page A

was particularly useful because it was Palace gossip.’
    ‘Palace gossip?’
    ‘The Palace positively buzzes with gossip, old boy. And it’s important for us to have an in on it because that’s where policy is made. And Lalagé had good contacts.’
    ‘With a Prince?’
    ‘Well, old boy, we won’t go into it too much. Let’s just say someone pretty high up. High enough to be really useful.’
    ‘And that’s all that Lalagé was doing? Picking up gossip?’
    ‘That’s all, old boy.’
    ‘Cunningham was twisting her arm.’
    ‘Cunningham was always a bit ruthless with women,’ said Rice-Cholmondely, a little uneasily.

Chapter Five
    A cavass brought him the letter while he was sitting outside on the terrace. Seymour had not been expecting a letter and was surprised. He was even more surprised when he looked at the letter. It had a little crest on the back and smelled of perfume. Seymour did not get letters like this.
    He opened it. It contained two scented pages in a lady’s neat, educated hand. He glanced at the signature: Sybil Cunningham.
    Lady C.!
    Dear Mr Seymour,
    I was so pleased to hear that you are already in Istanbul. At last someone is moving. You won’t believe how difficult it has been to get things started. In the end I had to go direct to Nicholas. He tried to fob me off with Lancelot. ‘Don’t try to hide behind your Foreign Secretary,’ I said. ‘You’re the man in charge and I want to see something happen.’ Of course, I did go and see Lancelot as well. In my experience of the British Government (which is extensive and a trifle unusual) it is important to Follow Up .
    ‘Lancelot,’ I said, ‘don’t you control your Ambassadors?’ He huffed and puffed, of course. ‘It’s not a question of control,’ he said. ‘You mean they’re out of control?’ I said. ‘I can well believe it, letting their staff get killed and doing nothing about it.’ ‘Something is being done about it,’ he said. ‘What?’ I said. Well, he wriggled and said something about a report. ‘Listen,’ I said, ‘if someone is murdered in England, you don’t write reports, you send for the police.’ ‘It’s not quite like that out there,’ he said. ‘I want it like that,’ I said. Well, in the end he agreed to speak to Philibert. Naturally I spoke to Philibert first.
    ‘You’re in charge of the police, aren’t you?’ I said. ‘Now send someone out there.’ ‘It’s not as easy as that,’ he said. ‘I’ll be in here tomorrow,’ I said, ‘and the next day and the next day until I find someone has gone.’
    Well, of course, you can never rely on people at the top, so I spoke to a young nephew of mine at the Foreign Office, and he mentioned your name. Apparently he had come across you over something to do with Trieste. ‘Send him,’ I said. ‘I have already,’ he said. ‘It’s just a question of getting a few people above me to sign their names.’
    Now Rupert is quite bright and I trust him. Which means that I trust you, Mr Seymour. However, just to make sure, I am thinking of coming out myself. I look forward to hearing about the progress you’ve made.
    Yours sincerely,
    Sybil Cunningham
    P.S. I have a niece in Istanbul and I have written to her and told her to give you all the help she can.
    S.C.
    ‘Do I recognize that crest?’ said Ponsonby, sitting beside him.
    ‘It’s from a Lady Cunningham.’
    ‘Oh, yes. Cunningham’s aunt.’
    ‘She says she’s coming out here.’
    ‘My God!’ said Ponsonby, going pale.
    He jumped up and hurried across to the Ambassador.
    ‘My God!’ said the Ambassador. ‘Sybil!’
    Over on the far side of the terrace Felicity Singleton-Mainwaring was clutching at a piece of paper.
    ‘Oh, crumbs!’ she said. ‘Aunt Syb!’
    The Ambassador came over to Seymour.
    ‘Seymour,’ he said, ‘how are you getting on? With this Cunningham thing, I mean.’
    ‘Well, of course, I’ve only just started –’
    ‘You don’t think you could, well,