The Light of the Day - Eric Ambler [92]
Fischer borrowed a screwdriver from Enrico and we went ashore. Nobody seemed to take any notice of us, probably because we looked so scruffy. I couldn’t see the Opel or the Peugeot anywhere about, but that didn’t worry me. I knew that one or other of them would be on tap. We found the car without difficulty and I started on the door. It was an ordinary screwdriver I had to work with, but the earlier removals of the panel had eased the screws and I didn’t do any more damage to the leather. It took me ten minutes to take the panel off, five seconds for Fischer to wedge the velvet bag in clear of the window mechanism, and fifteen minutes for me to replace the panel. Then Fischer and I got into the back seat. Two minutes later, Miss Lipp came out of the restaurant and got behind the wheel. If she had slept the previous night it could only have been at the inn in Corlu; but she looked as fresh as she always did.
“Good morning, Hans. Good morning, Arthur. The others are just coming across the square now,” she said.
They arrived a moment after. Harper got in the front seat with her. Miller sat on my left. She said “good morning” to Miller, and drove off the moment she heard the door close.
From Serefli to Corlu, where we would join the main Istanbul-Edirne road, there are twelve miles of narrow secondary road. The first mile or so is winding, and I waited until we got to a straighter part before I risked a look back.
The Peugeot was there, and I caught a glimpse of another car behind it. The Opel was on the job as well.
Harper had started telling Miss Lipp about the night’s work and the size of the haul. Miller was putting in his word, too. There was a lot of mutual congratulation. It was like being in the winning team’s bus. I wasn’t needed in the conversation, and didn’t have to listen to it either. I could think.
There were several possible explanations for the two cars being there. Miss Lipp had probably driven straight to Corlu from the garage, after dropping us the previous afternoon. By the time she had left the Istanbul area, Tufan must have been told that the men were no longer in the car, and realized that his only hope of re-establishing contact lay in keeping track of the Lincoln. The Opel could have been sent to make sure that there were no further mistakes. Or it may have been to compensate for lack of radio communication outside the Istanbul area. The two cars could talk to one another; if an urgent report became necessary, one car could stop and reach Istanbul by telephone while the other continued the surveillance. Then a third possibility occurred to me. Tufan must have been told about the attack on the guard post. As soon as he heard the details—smoke, tear gas, concussion grenades, six men in respirators—he would know that the attack and the Lincoln were related. If he also knew that the Bulut had left Pendik and that the Lincoln had stopped at Corlu, he might have decided that reinforcements were necessary in that area.
The only certainty, I decided sourly, was that Tufan would not be the “big brain” who would think of checking the Treasury Museum. He would still be off on his political wild-goose chase. Well, he would have some surprises coming.
At that moment Miss Lipp said sharply: “Karl!”
Miller had been in the middle of saying something and he broke off abruptly.
“What is it?” Harper said.
“That brown car behind us. It was behind me yesterday when I drove out from Istanbul. I thought then that I’d noticed it before, earlier in the day. In fact, I was so sure that when I stopped at Corlu I waited to get a look at it. When it didn’t show up I figured it had turned off somewhere and thought no more about it.”
“Don’t look around, anyone,” Harper said. He swiveled the driving mirror so that he could look behind. After a moment, he said: “Try slowing down.”
She did so. I knew what would happen. The Peugeot would keep its distance.