Bond laughed. `I take it all back. I’d forgotten the Balkan formula. Anyway I’m under your orders here. You tell me what to do and I’ll do it.’
Kerim waved the subject aside. `And now, since we are talking of your comfort, how is your hotel? I was surprised you chose the Palas. It is little better than a disorderly house–what the French call a baisodrome. And it’s quite a haunt of the Russians. Not that that matters.’
`It’s not too bad. I just didn’t want to stay at the Istanbul-Hilton or one of the other smart places.’
`Money?’ Kerim reached into a drawer and took out a flat packet of new green notes. `Here’s a thousand Turkish pounds. Their real value, and their rate on the black market, is about twenty to the pound. The official rate is seven. Tell me when you’ve finished them and I’ll give you as many more as you want. We can do our accounts after the game. It’s muck, anyway. Ever since Croesus, the first millionaire, invented gold coins, money has depreciated. And the face of the coin has been debased as fast as its value. First the faces of gods were on the coins. Then the faces of kings. Then of presidents. Now there’s no face at all. Look at this stuff!’ Kerim tossed the money over to Bond. `Today it’s only paper, with a picture of a public building and the signature of a cashier. Muck! The miracle is that you can still buy things with it. However. What else? Cigarettes? Smoke only these. I will have a few hundred sent up to your hotel. They’re the best. Diplomates. They’re not easy to get. Most of them go to the Ministries and the Embassies. Anything else before we get down to business? Don’t worry about your meals and your leisure. I will look after both. I shall enjoy it and, if you will forgive me, I wish to stay close to you while you are here.’
`Nothing else,’ said Bond. `Except that you must come over to London one day.’
`Never,’ said Kerim definitely. `The weather and the women are far too cold. And I am proud to have you here. It reminds me of the war. Now,’ he rang a bell on his desk. `Do you like your coffee plain or sweet? In Turkey we cannot talk seriously without coffee or raki and it is too early for raki.’
`Plain.’
The door behind Bond opened. Kerim barked an order. When the door was shut, Kerim unlocked a drawer and took out a file and put it in front of him. He smacked his hand down on it.
`My friend,’ he said grimly, `I do not know what to say about this case.’
He leant back in his chair and linked his hands behind his neck. `Has it ever occurred to you that our kind of work is rather like shooting a film? So often I have got everybody on location and I think I can start turning the handle. Then it’s the weather, and then it’s the actors, and then it’s the accidents. And there is something else that also happens in the making of a film. Love appears in some shape or form, at the very worst, as it is now, between the two stars. To me that is the most confusing factor in this case, and the most inscrutable one. Does this girl really love her idea of you? Will she love you when she sees you? Will you be able to love her enough to make her come over?’
Bond made no comment. There was a knock on the door and the head clerk put a china eggshell, enclosed in gold filigree, in front of each of them and went out. Bond sipped his coffee and put it down. It was good, but thick with grains. Kerim swallowed his at a gulp and fitted a cigarette into his holder and lit it.
`But there is nothing we can do about this love matter,’ Kerim continued, speaking half to himself. `We can only wait and see. In the meantime there are other things.’ He leant forward against the desk and looked across at Bond, his eyes suddenly very hard and shrewd.