The Light of the Day - Eric Ambler [27]
“And then you returned to Egypt?”
“As soon as my probationary period was up, yes. I went back to Cairo, sir.”
“Where you proceeded to denounce a British businessman named Colby Evans to the Egyptian authorities as a British secret agent.”
It was like a slap in the face, but I managed to keep my head this time. “Not immediately, sir. That was later, during the Suez crisis.”
“Why did you do it?”
I didn’t know what to say. How could I explain to a man like that that I had to pay back the caning they had given me. I said nothing.
“Was it because you needed to prove somehow to the Egyptian authorities that you were anti-British, or because you didn’t like the man, or because you were sincerely anti-British?”
It was all three, I suppose; I am not really sure. I answered almost without thinking.
“My mother was Egyptian. My wife was killed by a British bomb in the attack they made on us. Why shouldn’t I feel sincerely anti-British?”
It was probably the best answer I had given so far; it sounded true, even though it wasn’t quite.
“Did you really believe this man was an agent?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And then you applied for Egyptian citizenship.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You stayed in Egypt until fifty-eight. Was that when they finally decided that Evans had not been a British agent after all and released him?”
“He was convicted at his trial. His release was an act of clemency.”
“But the Egyptians did start to investigate you at that time.” It was a statement.
“I suppose so.”
“I see.” He refilled my glass. “I think we are beginning to understand one another, Simpson. You now realize that it is neither my business nor my inclination to make moral judgments. I, on the other hand, am beginning to see how your mind works in the areas we are discussing—what holds the pieces together. So now let us go back to your story about Mr. Harper and Fräulein Lipp.” He glanced again at the file. “You see, for a man of your experience it is quite incredible. You suspect that Harper may be using you for some illegal purpose which will be highly profitable to him, yet you do as he asks for a mere hundred dollars.”
“It was the return journey I was thinking of, sir. I thought that when he realized that I had guessed what he was up to, he would have to pay me to take the risk.”
He sat back, smiling. “But you had accepted the hundred dollars before that possibility had occurred to you. You would not have searched the car outside Athens otherwise. You see the difficulty?”
I did. What I didn’t see was the way out of it.
He lit another cigarette. “Come now, Simpson, you were emerging very sensibly from the darkness a few minutes ago. Why not continue? Either your whole story is a lie, or you have left something of importance out. Which is it? I am going to find out anyway. It will be easier for both of us if you just tell me now.”
I know when I am beaten. I drank some more raki. “All right. I had no more choice with him than I have with you. He was blackmailing me.”
“How?”
“Have you got an extradition treaty with Greece?”
“Never mind about that. I am not the police.”
So I had to tell him about the traveler’s checks after all.
When I had finished, he nodded. “I see” was all he said. After a moment, he got up and went to the door. It opened the instant he knocked on it. He began to give orders.
I was quite sure that he had finished with me and was telling the guards to take me away to a cell, so I swallowed the rest of the raki in my glass and put the matches in my pocket on the off chance that I might get away with them.
I was wrong about the cell. When he had finished speaking, he shut the door and came back.
“I have sent for some eatable food,” he said.
He did not stop