“They appear to have no political ends, here or in Germany,” his case officer replied. “There is – and it may not be here” – she tapped the paper with an index finger – “an involvement in espionage, with us and probably with the Russians. Perhaps just another way of buying safety by becoming useful to both sides.”
‘Which is where,” Kelly said as he resumed reading, “Gisela Romer and her line of work come in, I presume.”
Ahmed Ayyubi had called Romer “the blond whore,” but there was nothing to suggest that the statement was literally true. The woman had been dancing professionally since she was fourteen. Her background and appearance would have gained her a following in any Moslem country, but her skill level was apparently equal to that of any competitor in Turkey. At over a hundred thousand lire per performance, her legitimate earnings approximated those of an international soccer star.
So the men she slept with were chosen for position rather than wealth: high police and military officials; bank presidents and airline officials, people who could facilitate movements of one sort or another; and members of the diplomatic community in both Istanbul and Ankara.
“Why the hell would she pick up Mohammed Ayyubi?” Kelly demanded as he flapped down the last page of the printout. “He’s not in her league.” He laughed. “Figuratively, I mean. Literally, hell, maybe he was.”
“Does it say that there?” Elaine asked, picking up the sheet Kelly had just finished.
“Mohammed’s brother says it,” Kelly muttered, “more’r less. God, I’m tired. And what in blazes do either one of ’em have to do with that – thing in the freezer.”
“Ayyubi isn’t around to ask,” the woman said dryly. “But if you want to meet Gisela Romer, that can be arranged.”
Kelly stood up and stretched. Elaine waited tensely for her agent’s face to take on an expression or for him to say something. The muscles of Kelly’s shoulders bunched beneath his jacket and his eyes gave her the feeling that she was being watched over a gunsight.
“When. Where. How,” the veteran said at last. The syllables were without tone, not even of interrogation.
“She’ll be performing at a Turkish-American Friendship Society meeting tomorrow night. The file indicates her technique.” Elaine fanned the sheaf of papers again. “If you attend with the US assistant military attache” here, she’ll be interested.”
The woman paused. Kelly gestured with one hand, palm upward. “Drop the other shoe.”
“If we drop word of who you really are,” Elaine continued calmly, “she’ll hit on you for sure to learn what you’re doing in Turkey again. And that could be the opening you need.”
“Fucking brilliant,” Kelly snorted. “And who else picks me up? I’m a bit of a target, don’t you think, for what happened three years back?”
“That’s not a problem with the Dienst,” the woman said. “Quite the contrary. Nor with the Turkish government, which keeps the Israelis in line; you’re not worth dynamiting the only diplomatic relations Israel has with an Islamic state. And we’ll keep the USG off your back, now and from now on.”
She bent forward, though that meant she had to look up more steeply to meet the eyes of the standing man. “We’re already doing that, Tom. That’s the payment we’re giving you that you couldn’t buy with money.”
“Convey my thanks to Pierrard and his budget officers,” Kelly said with an ironic bow. They’d sell him to Shin Bet or for cats’ meat – which might come to about the same thing – the moment it suited their purposes.
“All right,” he continued, with a note of resignation, “she’s the best handle I see just now.” He held his fist out in front of him and stared at it as he raised his fingers one at a time. “I don’t see very much, that’s sure. What time’s the party?”
“Seven-thirty,” Elaine said, relaxing minusculely. “It’s in the casino in the Hilton, five minutes walk, so that’s not a problem. Probably better to have Commander Posner call for you here, though, so you arrive together.”
“All right,” said Kelly as he started for the door.
“What will you do till then?”