The Light of the Day - Eric Ambler [46]
Miss Lipp was driving.
6
As I came off the pier, she got out of the car. She was wearing a light yellow cotton dress that did even less to obscure the shape of her body than the slacks and shirt I had seen her in the day before. She had the keys of the car in her hand, and, as I came up, she handed them to me with a friendly smile.
“Good morning, Arthur.”
“Good morning, madam. It’s good of you to meet me.”
“I want to do some sightseeing. Why don’t you put your bag in the trunk for now, then we won’t have to stop off at the villa.”
“Whatever you say, madam.” I put my bag down and went to hold the rear door open for her, but she was already walking round to the front passenger seat, so I had to scuttle round to get to that door ahead of her.
When she was installed, I hurriedly put my bag in the luggage compartment and got into the driver’s seat. I was sweating slightly, not only because it was a warm day but also because I was flustered. I had expected Fischer to meet me with the car; I had expected to go straight to the villa, to be told where I would sleep, to be given a moment to orient myself, a chance to think and time to plan. Instead, I was on my own with Miss Lipp, sitting where she had been sitting until a few moments ago, and smelling the scent she used. My hand shook a little as I put the ignition key in, and I felt I had to say something to cover my nerves.
“Isn’t Mr. Harper joining you, madam?”
“He had some business to attend to.” She was lighting a cigarette. “And by the way, Arthur,” she went on, “don’t call me madam. If you have to call me something, the name’s Lipp. Now, tell me what you have on the tour menu.”
“Is this your first time in Turkey, Miss Lipp?”
“First in a long time. All I remember from before is mosques. I don’t think I want to see any more mosques.”
“But you would like to begin with Istanbul?”
“Oh yes.”
“Did you see the Seraglio?”
“Is that the old palace where the Sultans’ harem used to be?”
“That’s it.” I smiled inwardly. When I had been a guide in Istanbul before, it had been the same. Every woman tourist was always interested in the harem. Miss Lipp, I thought to myself, was no different.
“All right,” she said, “let’s go see the Seraglio.”
I was regaining my composure now. “If I may make a suggestion.”
“Go ahead.”
“The Seraglio is organized as a museum now. If we go straight there we shall arrive before it opens. I suggest that I drive you first to the famous Pierre Loti café, which is high up on a hill just outside the city. There, you could have a light lunch in pleasant surroundings and I could take you to the Seraglio afterwards.”
“What time would we get there?”
“We can be there soon after one o’clock.”
“Okay, but I don’t want to be later.”
That struck me as rather odd, but I paid no attention. You do get the occasional tourist who wants to do everything by the clock. She just had not impressed me as being of that type.
I started up and drove back along the coast road. I looked for the Peugeot, but it wasn’t there that day. Instead, there was a gray Opel with three men in it. When we got to the old castle at Rumelihisari, I stopped and told her about the blockade of Constantinople by Sultan Mehmet Fatih in 1453, and how he had stretched a great chain boom across the Bosphorus there to cut off the city. I didn’t tell her that it was possible to go up to the main keep of the castle because I didn’t want to exhaust myself climbing up all those paths and stairs; but she didn’t seem very interested anyway, so, in the end, I cut the patter short and pushed on. After a while, it became pretty obvious that she wasn’t really much interested in anything in the way of ordinary sightseeing. At least that was how it seemed at the time. I don’t think she was bored, but when I pointed places out to her, she only nodded. She asked no questions.
It was different at the café. She made me sit with her at a table outside under a tree and order