The Light of the Day - Eric Ambler [99]
The representative from the Bureau looked like a plain-clothes policeman. He watched me carefully as I signed for the money and kept his fingers on the paper all the time in case I snatched it away. There were no flies on him. He knew how careful you had to be when dealing with crooks.
The representative from Her Britannic Majesty’s Consulate-General in Istanbul was a snotty-nosed clerk who made me sign a paper saying that I understood that the granting of the travel document did not constitute recognition of any claim I had made or might make to United Kingdom citizenship. When I had signed it, I told him what he could do with it.
But on the way back to Athens in the plane, it gave me an idea.
I had been thinking about Nicki and wondering whether I would stop on my way to the flat and buy her a stone-marten stole. She’d been hankering after one for a long while, and I thought that with the American notes I had I might get a good fur really cheap—for thirty or forty dollars perhaps. I would be “papa” for at least a month. That is, if she hadn’t moved out while I had been away. I was deciding that I had better make sure of that first when the stewardess stopped by my seat.
“Your nationality, sir?”
“British,” I said.
She handed me a passport control card to fill in and moved on to the next seat.
I had said “British” without thinking. Why? Because I consider myself British, because I am British.
I took out the travel document and looked at it carefully. It, too, said I was British. And yet they had made me sign a paper which said in effect that I wasn’t. Therefore, the travel document could be considered an admission of my claim. The paper was unimportant because I had signed that under duress. You cannot take away a man’s nationality by refusing to recognize his right to it. The 1948 Act is quite clear. The only way you can lose British nationality is by renouncing it. I haven’t renounced mine at any time. Specifically, I did not renounce it by taking that Egyptian passport. Since the Egyptians say that my Egyptian naturalization is null and void because I made false statements, then it is null and void—all of it.
The British Government can’t have it both ways. Either I am Egyptian or I am British. The Egyptians say I am not Egyptian and never have been. I say that I am not Egyptian and never have been. My father was a British officer. I am British.
That is why I have been so completely frank and open. I am not asking to be loved. I am not asking to be liked. I do not mind being loathed, if that will make some pettifogging government official happier. It is a matter of principle. If necessary, I shall take my case to the United Nations. They caned the British after Suez; they can cane them again for me. Sheep I may be; and perhaps certain persons find my breath displeasing; but I am no longer merely indignant. I am angry now.
I give the British Government fair warning. I refuse to go on being an anomaly. Is that quite clear? I refuse!
ALSO BY ERIC AMBLER
BACKGROUND TO DANGER
Kenton’s career as a journalist depended on his exceptional facility with languages, his knowledge of European politics, and his quick judgment. Where his judgment sometimes failed him was in his personal life. When he finds himself on a train bound for Austria after a bad night of gambling, he eagerly takes an opportunity to earn money helping a refugee smuggle securities across the border. He soon discovers that the documents he holds have more than monetary value, and that European politics has more twists and turns than the most convoluted newspaper account.
Fiction/Suspense
CAUSE FOR ALARM
Nicky Marlow needs a job. He’s engaged to be married and the employment market is pretty slim in Britain in 1937. So when his fiancée points out the Italian Spartacus Machine Tool notice, he jumps at the chance. After all, he speaks Italian and can endure Milan long enough to save some money. Soon after he arrives, though, he learns the sinister truth of his predecessor’s death and finds himself courted