`There is something going on in the enemy camp, my friend. It is not only this attempt to get rid of me. There are comings and goings. I have few facts,’ he reached up a big index finger and laid it alongside his nose, `but I have this.’ He tapped the side of his nose as if he was patting a dog. `But this is a good friend of mine and I trust him.’ He brought his hand slowly and significantly down on to the desk and added softly, `And if the stakes were not so big, I would say to you, “Go home my friend. Go home. There is something here to get away from”.’
Kerim sat back. The tension went out of his voice. He barked out a harsh laugh. `But we are not old women. And this is our work. So let us forget my nose and get on with the job. First of all, is there anything I can tell you that you do not know? The girl has made no sign of life since my signal and I have no other information. But perhaps you would like to ask me some questions about the meeting.’
`There’s only one thing I want to know,’ said Bond flatly. `What do you think of this girl? Do you believe her story or not? Her story about me? Nothing else matters. If she hasn’t got some sort of a hysterical crush on me, the whole business falls to the ground and it’s some complicated M.G.B. plot we can’t understand. Now. Did you believe the girl?’ Bond’s voice was urgent and his eyes searched the other man’s face.
`Ah, my friend,’ Kerim shook his head. He spread his arms wide. `That is what I asked myself then, and it is what I ask myself the whole time since. But who can tell if a woman is lying about these things? Her eyes were bright–those beautiful innocent eyes. Her lips were moist and parted in that heavenly mouth. Her voice was urgent and frightened at what she was doing and saying. Her knuckles were white on the guard rail of the ship. But what was in her heart?’ Kerim raised his hands, `God alone knows.’ He brought his hands down resignedly. He placed them flat on the desk and looked straight at Bond. `There is only one way of telling if a woman really loves you, and even that way can only be read by an expert.’
`Yes,’ said Bond dubiously. `I know what you mean. In bed.’
Chapter Fifteen
Background to a Spy
Coffee came again, and then more coffee, and the big room grew thick with cigarette smoke as the two men took each shred of evidence, dissected it and put it aside. At the end of an hour they were back where they had started. It was up to Bond to solve the problem of this girl and, if he was satisfied with her story, get her and the machine out of the country.
Kerim undertook to look after the administrative problems. As a first step he picked up the telephone and spoke to his travel agent and reserved two seats on every outgoing plane for the next week–by B.E.A., Air France, S.A.S. and Turkair.
`And now you must have a passport,’ he said. `One will be sufficient. She can travel as your wife. One of my men will take your photograph and he will find a photograph of some girl who looks more or less like her. As a matter of fact, an early picture of Garbo would serve. There is a certain resemblance. He can get one from the newspaper files. I will speak to the Consul General. He’s an excellent fellow who likes my little cloak-and-dagger plots. The passport will be ready by this evening. What name would you like to have?’
`Take one out of a hat.’
`Somerset. My mother came from there. David Somerset. Profession, Company Director. That means nothing. And the girl? Let us say Caroline. She looks like a Caroline. A couple of clean-limbed young English people with a taste for travel. Finance Control Form? Leave that to me. It will show eighty pounds in travellers’ cheques, let’s say, and a receipt from the bank to show you changed fifty while you were in Turkey. Customs? They never look at anything. Only too glad if somebody has bought something in the country. You will declare some Turkish Delight–presents for your friends in London. If you have to get out quickly, leave your hotel bill and luggage to me. They know me well enough at the Palas. Anything else?’