The Light of the Day - Eric Ambler [76]
I hesitated.
“Oh, they won’t hurt you, Arthur.” Miss Lipp gave me a fond smile. “I’ll tell you what. If you’ll be a good boy and take your pills, I’ll take one, too. We’ll all need our sleep tomorrow.”
What could I say?
9
My head felt as if it had been stuffed with steel wool. There was even a metallic taste in my mouth. It took me some time to remember where I was. I could hear a loud buzzing noise. When, at last, I managed to open my eyes, I saw Fischer. The buzzing came from an electric shaver which he was holding, awkwardly, in his right hand.
My bed consisted of a mattress on the floor and the blankets from my old room. I rolled off the mattress and got to my feet unsteadily. Fischer gave me a disagreeable look.
“You snore like a pig,” he said.
He had a shirt and slacks on, I was glad to see; Harper or Miller must have helped him. Undressing him, the night before, had been an unpleasant task. It had meant touching him, and I hate touching anyone I dislike—another man especially.
“What’s the time?” I asked.
They had taken everything from me after they had made me swallow the sleeping pills, even my watch. All I had been allowed had been my pajama coat.
“About eleven,” he answered. “Your clothes have been put in there.” He indicated a door.
I went through and found myself in one of the partly furnished rooms I had seen the day before. My things were piled on a brown cut-velvet chaise longue. I disposed of a minor anxiety first. The cigarette packet with the message inside it was still in my hip pocket and apparently undetected. I left it where it was. With any luck, I thought, I might be able to add to it. My papers were there. The radio was in its case.
From the bedroom Fischer said: “I have finished with this bathroom. You may use it.”
“I think I will go and get some coffee first.”
“Then bring all your papers and money in here.”
There was no point in arguing. I did as he said, put some trousers on, and found my way downstairs to the kitchen.
Mrs. Hamul was there. The sight of the hired driver unshaven and wearing a pajama jacket at eleven in the morning must have seemed odd to her. She looked at me as if I were raving mad. I asked her for coffee. She gave me tea, and some of the previous day’s bread toasted. The tea wasn’t bad. My head began to clear. As I ate the toast, I wondered if I could muster enough Turkish to persuade her or her husband to take a message to the surveillance people on the road. Then Miss Lipp came in, well groomed and very chic in white and yellow stripes.
“Good morning, Arthur. How do you feel?”
“Good morning, Miss Lipp. I feel terrible, thank you.”
“Yes, you look it, but I expect you’ll feel better when you’ve cleaned up a bit. What’s the Turkish for ‘eggs’?”
“Yumurta, I think.”
Mrs. Hamul heard the word and they began a sign-language conversation about eggs. I went back upstairs.
Miller was helping Fischer to pack. I slipped the empty cigarette packet and a pencil into my shaving kit and went into the bathroom. There was a lock on the door. While my bath was running, I added to the message I had written the previous night. Am forced replace injured Fischer and closely watched. Event planned for tonight. Details unknown. Miller may be key person.
The bedroom was empty when I returned to it. I dressed, packed my bag, and went back down to the kitchen.
Miss Lipp was supervising the Hamuls’ preparations for lunch. She looked up as I came in.
“The others are out on the terrace, Arthur,” she said. “Why don’t you go out there and get yourself a drink?”
“Very well.”
I went through the dining room into the main hall. There, I hesitated. I was still trying to think of a way of getting down to the road and back without their knowing. As they were on the terrace, it was, of course, hopeless to attempt to cross the courtyard. I would have to find some way round the back and down through the trees. But that might take twenty minutes or more. And supposing Miss Lipp came out to the terrace and asked