Eric Ambler - Journey Into Fear

“And you did not suspect that I was avoiding his questions?” He shrugged. “One always takes unnecessary precautions. People are so much more trusting than one supposes.”

“Why should I suspect?” Graham demanded irritably. “What I cannot understand is why you did not approach me as soon as you knew that Banat was on the ship. I suppose,” he added spitefully, “that you do know that Banat is on the ship?”

“Yes, I know,” said Mr. Kuvetli airily. “I did not approach you for three reasons.” He held up podgy fingers. “Colonel Haki instructed me in the first place that your attitude to his efforts to protect you were unsympathetic and that unless it became necessary I would do better to remain unknown to you. Secondly, Colonel Haki has a low opinion of your ability to conceal your feelings and considered that if I wished to keep my true identity secret I had better not tell you of it.”

Graham was scarlet. “And what about the third reason?”

“Thirdly,” continued Mr. Kuvetli serenely, “I wished to see what Banat and Moeller would do. You tell me that Moeller has talked to you. Excellent. I would like to hear what he had to say.”

Graham was angry now. “Before I waste my time doing that,” he said coldly, “supposing you show me your credentials. So far I have only Moeller’s word and your own that you are a Turkish agent. I’ve already made some silly mistakes on this trip. I don’t intend to make any more.”

To his surprise, Mr. Kuvetli grinned. “I am pleased to see that you are in such excellent spirits, Monsieur Graham. I was getting a little worried about you this evening. In this sort of situation, whisky does more harm to the nerves than good. Excuse me, please.” He turned to his jacket hanging on the hook behind the door and produced from the pocket of it a letter which he handed to Graham. “That was given to me by Colonel Haki to give to you. I think you will find it satisfactory.”

Graham looked at it. It was an ordinary letter of introduction written in French on notepaper embossed with the title and address of the Turkish Ministry of the Interior. It was addressed to him personally and signed “Zia Haki.” He put it in his pocket. “Yes, Monsieur Kuvetli, it is quite satisfactory. I must apologise for doubting your word.”

“It was correct of you to do so,” said Mr. Kuvetli primly. “And now, Monsieur, tell me about Moeller. I am afraid Banat’s appearance on the ship must have been a shock to you. I felt guilty about keeping you ashore in Athens. But it was for the best. As to Moeller …”

Graham looked at him quickly. “Wait a minute! Do you mean to say that you knew Banat was coming aboard? Do you mean that you hung about in Athens asking all those fool questions solely in order to prevent my finding out before we sailed that Banat was on board?”

Mr. Kuvetli looked sheepish. “It was necessary. You must see …”

“Of all the damned …!” began Graham violently.

“One moment, please,” said Mr. Kuvetli sharply. “I have said that it was necessary. At Çanakkale I received a telegram from Colonel Haki saying that Banat had left Turkey, that it was possible that he might try to join the ship at the Piræus and …”

“You knew that! And yet …”

“Please, Monsieur! I will continue. Colonel Haki added that I was to keep you here on the ship. That was intelligent. On the ship nothing could happen to you. Banat might have been going to the Piræus for the purpose of frightening you on to the land, where very unpleasant things could happen to you. Wait, please! I went to Athens with you partly to see that you were not attacked while you were ashore and partly so that if Banat did join the ship, you would not see him until we had sailed.”

“But why, in the name of goodness, didn’t Colonel Haki arrest Banat or at least delay him until it was too late for him to reach the ship?”

“Because Banat would certainly have been replaced. We know all about Banat. A strange Monsieur Mavrodopoulos would have been a new problem.”

“But you say that Banat’s, or, rather, Moeller’s idea might have been to scare me off the boat. Banat could not know that I knew him?”

“You told Colonel Haki that Banat was pointed out to you in Le Jockey Cabaret. Banat was watching you then. He would probably know that you had noticed him. He is not an amateur. You see Colonel Haki’s point of view? If they were hoping to drive you on to the land and kill you there, it would be better for them to attempt to do so and fail than for the attempt to be frustrated in time for them to make other arrangements. As it happens, however,” he went on cheerfully, “their intention was not to drive you on to the land and my precautions were wasted. Banat did join the ship, but he stayed in his cabin until the pilot had been taken off.”

“Precisely!” snarled Graham. “I could have gone ashore, taken a train and been safe in Paris by now.”

Mr. Kuvetli considered the criticism for a moment and then slowly shook his head. “I do not think so. You have forgotten Monsieur Moeller. I do not think that he and Banat would have stayed on the boat very long if you had not returned by sailing time.”

Graham laughed shortly. “Did you know that then?”

Mr. Kuvetli contemplated dirty fingernails. “I will be very honest, Monsieur Graham. I did not know it. I knew of Monsieur Moeller, of course. I was, through an intermediary, once offered a large sum of money to work for him. I had seen a photograph of him. But photographs are mostly useless. I did not recognise him. The fact that he came aboard at Istanbul prevented my suspecting him. Banat’s behaviour made me think that I had overlooked something, and when I saw him talking to the Herr Professor I made some inquiries.”

“He says that you searched his cabin.”

“I did. I found letters addressed to him in Sofia.”

“There has,” said Graham bitterly, “been quite a lot of cabin searching. Last night Banat stole my revolver from my suitcase. This evening I went to his cabin and tried to find his gun, the gun he used on me in Istanbul. It was not there. When I returned to my cabin, Moeller was there with Banat’s gun.”

Mr. Kuvetli had been listening gloomily. “If,” he now said, “you will please tell me what Moeller had to say we shall both get to sleep much sooner.”

Graham smiled. “You know, Kuvetli, I have had several surprises on this ship. You are the first pleasant one.” And then the smile faded. “Moeller came to tell me that unless I agree to delay my return to England for six weeks I shall be murdered within five minutes of my landing in Genoa. He says that apart from Banat, he has other men waiting in Genoa to do the killing.”

Mr. Kuvetli did not seem surprised. “And where does he suggest that you should spend the six weeks?”

“In a villa near Santa Margherita. The idea is that I should be certified by a doctor as suffering from typhus and that I should stay in this villa as if it were a clinic. Moeller and Banat would be the medical staff if anyone should come out from England to see me. He proposes, you see, to involve me in the deception so that I cannot tell tales afterwards.”

Mr. Kuvetli raised his eyebrows. “And how was I concerned?”

Graham told him.

“And, believing Monsieur Moeller, you decided to ignore his advice and tell me about his suggestion?” Mr. Kuvetli beamed approvingly. “That was very courageous of you, Monsieur.”

Graham reddened. “Do you think that I might have agreed?”

Mr. Kuvetli misunderstood. “I think nothing,” he said hastily. “But”-he hesitated-“when a person’s life is in danger he is not always quite normal. He may do things which he would not do in the ordinary way. He cannot be blamed.”