Dennis Wheatley - Traitors' Gate

'Thanks for the implied compliment that you'd have me for keeps,' he smiled. 'But I fear it can't be done. You must know from the past that I'm not a marrying type of man.'

Next moment he could have bitten out his tongue. She had given him the perfect opening to reply, 'I'm sorry, my dear, but I am married already or as good as.' He could then have explained his position to her and, although she might have been upset, she would have had no alternative but to accept it. As it was, he had now made it more difficult than ever to let her know that he had another mistress for whom he felt far more deeply than he did for her.

In blissful ignorance of his thoughts, she said, 'No; I was only drawing a bow at a venture. I didn't suppose you would want to marry. But if you mean to return to England you must take me with you.'

He made a wry grimace. 'It's all very well to say that. Naturally I should like to; but I don't see how it is to be done.'

'You'll find a way. You've got to! 'Her voice suddenly became intensely earnest. 'You can't leave me here in Turkey. If I had been able to bring my jewels out of Hungary and sell them, at least I'd be independent. But I'm not. I've only enough money to last me for a month or two, and no means of getting any more till the war is over. I've earned my living before, and I can do it again. I don't mind that. But I must have some background some security in case I am ill or get into difficulties. You say you love me; the least you can do is to provide that.'

'I'm most anxious to,' he replied; and he meant it. 'Fortunately I'm quite well off, and have ways in which I could get money to you wherever you are; but it is only fair to tell you that if I could get you back to England we wouldn't be able to live together. I am a serving officer, and it is certain that I shall be sent abroad again.'

She sighed. 'This bloody war! How damnable it is that the quarrels of governments should interfere with people’s private lives. Still, we can't alter that; and I have to face the fact that I am now an outlaw from Hitler's Europe. Italy, France, Austria, in all of which I could have made a life with friends, are barred to me. I've never been to the United States or Scandinavia, so know no one in those countries. Where else can I go but England? Even if you have to be away a lot I'd still be in touch with you. And there is dear old Sir Pellinore. I feel sure that as an old friend of my father's he would act as a sort, of guardian to me.'

For a moment Gregory had an awful vision of Sir Pellinore's sending Sabine up to live at Gwaine Meads with Erika. That would put the cat among the pigeons with a vengeance. Swiftly banishing that shattering thought, he said:

'I'm sure he would do everything possible for you; but you'll find life in London pretty grim these days, what with the blackout, air raids, and everything rationed to a point where it is next to impossible to get a good meal or nylons. And we can't ignore the fact that as you are an enemy alien you would be liable to be interned.'

'I can't think that I should be,' she gave a quick shrug. 'After all, I am a refugee from Nazi persecution. There are hundreds of thousands of them in Britain and I gather that only a very small percentage are kept behind barbed wire. Owing to the highly secret missions you are sent on, you must be in touch with people who could arrange matters. You would only have to vouch for me and everything would be all right. As for wartime conditions, the air raids on London can't be anything like as bad as those I've been used to in Berlin, and I'd manage to put up with the other inconveniences.'

Gregory's suggestion about internment had been only a last ditch argument. He knew well enough that Sir Pellinore could save her from that, and he felt himself to be playing a mean part in opposing her going to England. All along he had realized that it was the logical solution to her future, and he had only hoped against hope that she might produce some other plan for herself when they reached Turkey. That she had not threatened to provide some very nasty headaches for him when they got to London, but that was little enough to set. against the fact that by getting him out of prison she had saved him from Grauber and, as a result of that had herself been driven into exile. The very least he could do was to assist her to the best of his ability to establish herself in whichever country she chose to live for the remainder of the war. As that was England he must rely on skilful handling of the situation to prevent her meeting Erika; and as Erika rarely came to London that should not prove very difficult. Old Pellinore, if put in the picture at once, could be trusted to neutralize the only real danger ground, Carlton House Terrace, by giving orders that when one of them was there he was always 'out' to the other.

Seeing that he must accept a responsibility that for some time he had regarded as almost inevitable, Gregory did so with a good grace. He told Sabine that he had given her the blackest side of the picture only because he was not one hundred per cent certain that he would be able to get a clearance for her with the Enemy Aliens Department, and did not want her to be disappointed if he could see little of her, or miserable in a London that, compared to Budapest, had been reduced by war to such dreary straits. Then he spent the last hour before he went to sleep in considering how he could best get her back to England with him.

Next morning they woke to find the barge tied up to a wharf, and learned that she had docked near the goods yard at Haidar Pacha, on the Scutari side of the Bosphorus. As they wished to leave Turkey openly and entering it clandestinely would have made that more difficult having taken warm leave of the Szabos they went ashore and surrendered themselves to the Dock Police, who took them to the Immigration Officer.

Gregory had his fake French passport as Commandant Tavenier, and Mario's Italian passport, while Sabine had her own as a Hungarian national; but now that they were in a neutral country he had decided against using any of these. He declared himself a British subject and, in order that their cases should be dealt with as one, continued the fiction that Sabine was his wife.

At his request he was allowed to telephone to the British consulate, but could get no further than a minor official who proved anything but helpful, and would promise only that someone should be sent to take particulars of them some time during the day. That, since the Immigration Authorities would not release them until fully satisfied, meant that they would be held in the detention block for at least twenty-four hours, and Gregory had no intention of kicking his heels there that long.

As he had plenty of money he was able to make the interpreter a handsome present to arrange for a long-distance call to be put through for him to the British Ambassador in Ankara. There was a considerable delay and the call was taken by a secretary; but Gregory gambled on the Ambassador's knowing Sir Pellinore, at least by name, and said that he had a personal message from him for His Excellency. The trick worked, and Sir Hugh Knatchbull-Hugesson was brought to the line.

To him, in guarded terms, Gregory explained his situation, and requested His Excellency to telephone the Consul General, Istanbul, ordering him to give immediate aid, including the despatch of a Most Secret cypher telegram to London.

For the next few minutes there came over the wire a spate of questions about Sir Pellinore's appearance, background and habits; then, when the Ambassador had assured himself that Gregory really did know the elderly baronet personally, he agreed to do as he had been asked.

A little before midday a young man who appeared to be of Turkish extraction arrived from the British Consulate and accepted responsibility for them. When the formalities were completed he took them to a motor launch, and so across to the European side of the Bosphorus. On their way they had a lovely view of the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, Aya Sophia and the vast rambling old Palace set in the Seraglio Gardens. Then the launch turned into the Golden Horn and landed them at the steps below Pera. Half an hour later they were closeted with the Consul General.