The Hidden Target

by Helen Macinnes

  “Now you’re the one who’s looking worried,” Nina challenged him.

  “I am. I’m thinking about that journey ahead of you. It’s the wrong time for it, Nina. Haven’t you been reading the news? Listening to the radio? There is trouble all along the line; if not—war, then armed revolts and—”

  “Jim says we can bypass the danger points.”

  “I suppose he’s arranged in advance for the fighting to stop as you approach?”

  “Now, Bob! The main routes must still be safe. We’ve met other campers, with wives and children on board, who are travelling to India.”

  Wrong tactics. Swallow your bitterness. “All right. But that doesn’t mean they’ll be safe from a raiding party or a bunch of guerrillas who mistake them for the enemy.” That had happened last week: a German schoolteacher, wife, two children, shot dead in Afghanistan, mistaken by the rebels for one of its hated government’s equally hated Soviet advisers. “I just don’t want to see you running these risks.”

  Nina’s eyes softened. “You really are worried. Oh, Bob—we won’t be near the danger spots. Do you think Tony is going to have his precious bus shot up?” she asked lightly.

  “Nina—how well do you know these two men?”

  She glanced away at the other tables. So many foreigners, even in this small space, so many different kinds of people.

  “Nina,” Renwick pleaded, and brought her back to him.

  “How well do we know anyone?” she asked. “How well do I even know myself?” She shook her head, tried to smile, said sadly, “Perhaps I’m the one who is at fault. Perhaps I fall in love with a man and then—just as suddenly—start falling out for no reason at all. At least, no real reason that makes any sense.”

  “In love with Kiley?” Renwick’s lips were tight, his voice almost inaudible.

  “I thought I was. Why not?” She was on the defensive now. “He’s attractive, very attractive. And he’s in love with me.” Suddenly, she was miserable. “He has never actually said it. But—but—”

  “But what?”

  “Oh, this is all so difficult, so stupid. You don’t want to listen to my—” She broke off, then said, “It’s just that I have no one to talk to. Madge—no, that’s difficult—she was ready to fall in love with Jim herself. But you, Bob—you know how men feel. If you were in love, would you never even say “I love you,” never even mention marriage, and yet tell her that you want her to meet your uncle and that you want to meet her father?”

  “To meet your father?” Renwick was startled. “When?”

  “Around Thanksgiving—we’ll be passing through America then. But what does that mean, Bob? Marriage?” She shook her head, sighed. “He isn’t shy. He isn’t one of those awkward, tongue-tied men. What does it mean?”

  He could guess what it meant: instructions. Get the girl to fall for you; it will make sure she’ll go along with you on this trip. But don’t let your emotions run away with you; keep your mind in control.

  “Bob?” She was watching him anxiously, almost regretting her confidences.

  “If you were in love with me, Nina, I’d be telling all the world. Kiley’s either a goddamned fool or a trickster.”

  “Trickster?” She was indignant. “He couldn’t be more honest.” And then she frowned. “Not altogether,” she admitted. “Oh, how I hate lies! They make you feel used—as if you were some idiot who’d believe any story. Am I an idiot, Bob?”

  He shook his head. “Only if you insist on going around the world with Kiley.”

  “But I want to go.”

  “Why? You aren’t in love with him now.”

  His words had been sharp, almost angry. Surprised, she let his eyes hold hers, felt uncertainty, bewilderment.

  “He isn’t the man for you, Nina.”

  And who is? “How do you know so much about him?” she demanded. Annoyance increased the colour in her cheeks, brightened her eyes. “You just didn’t want me to make this trip. Why? Did Father send you here, ask you to—”

  “I never saw your father. I wasn’t near Washington.”

  “No?”

  “No.” He eased his voice, added, “And that’s not a lie, either.” He glanced at his watch, signalled to the waiter. In a brisk five minutes, with silence complete from Nina, they were out of the café, into the taxi.

  Her silence still held for another long minute. And then, contritely, she said, “Bob—I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too.”

  “About what?” I was the one to blame, she thought.

  “That you won’t listen to me.”

  “Perhaps I did. In my own way.” She paused. “If I don’t rejoin the camper, where do I go? Maryland, for Beryl’s dinners and parties? Or England again, to make my apologies for being late in arriving at Lower Wallop?”

  “What about Paris? I have a friend there with an apartment on the Left Bank. He would lend it to me for September, and I’d lend it to you. That’s better than Lower Wallop or Upper Twistleton.”

  “Pronounced Twitton?”

  But in spite of the lightened mood, Renwick’s worry deepened. Was she or wasn’t she leaving with Kiley? If that guy could make love as well as he talked, Nina was lost.

  “You look so serious,” she told him as they entered the hotel. “Am I such a responsibility?” Not yours, surely.

  “Think about Paris. And let me know this evening. Will you?”

  “But I must go on this trip, Bob. Because I’m curious.”

  He didn’t quite understand, looked at her questioningly as they waited at the desk for her key.

  “Exactly half-past six,” she said delightedly. “Bob, you’re wonderful. No, don’t come any further. Look at the crowd around us, all speaking English. I won’t get lost.” Suddenly, she reached up and kissed him gently. “Just wanted to. That’s all,” she quoted.

  He caught her hand. “Nina—because you’re curious? About what?”

  “About Jim. If he isn’t in love with me, why does he pretend? Why so eager to have me along on this trip? I didn’t force myself on him, you know.”

  “I know,” Renwick said, releasing her hand. He watched her enter the elevator. Then he turned towards the bar, where Western rules prevailed and he could have a non-Islamic drink. Pierre Claudel had already found a table and ordered two tall glasses of scotch and soda.

  “How did it go?” Claudel asked.

  “She’s a hard girl to convince.” Apart from that, it had been a good afternoon—one of the best in a long time. She was easy to be with. Too damn easy, thought Renwick. And too unsettling.

  “No large green camper with British registration and plate has yet crossed the frontier from Greece. And at the campsites, no inquiries have been made in Shawfield’s name or in Kiley’s.”

  “Then they are late.” Nina might have her extra day in Istanbul after all. “That will give them something to worry about. They’ll have to juggle their timetable in Bursa.”

  “Bursa?”

  “That’s their main stopover. Not Istanbul.”

  “What scared them away? The police arrests?”

  “Could be.” In the last three weeks the Turkish authorities had been exceedingly active: the large political demonstration scheduled for this Sunday near the stadium was not, if the police could help it, going to have terrorists inciting a riot. This summer, politics were at boiling point, and both parties—the Republican socialists and the Justice conservatives—had their bands of wild extremists eager for bloody action. Renwick glanced around the placid bar, well filled with well-dressed people—some business-men still worrying over contracts; some tourists relaxing after a hard day’s pleasure. “Drink up,” he told Claudel. “We’d better get Kahraman to switch his attention from Istanbul to Bursa.”

  “Damned annoying. He had it all nicely planned here.”

  Renwick nodded. Kahraman might also have a more recent report from the Greek frontier.

  Claudel drained his glass. “Meet you back at our hot
el. Kahraman will be there at seven-fifteen.”

  “I’ll have to leave before eight-thirty.” Their hotel, Kahraman’s choice, was a bare five minutes’ walk along Cumhurijet Avenue from the Hilton. “Help me disentangle by a quarter past eight.” Kahraman, brisk when he dealt with something that was already decided upon, could become painstaking and explorative when new tactics were being discussed. Bursa would mean an entire reshaping of his plans.

  Claudel, quick in thought, quick in action, could sympathise. “I’ll do my best.” He was master of the sudden but polite departure. He nodded as he rose, and left.

  Five minutes more and Renwick could leave, too. Why does he pretend? Why so eager to have me along? Nina’s questions lingered in his mind. They were only the first of more to follow: they were bound to arise, Nina being Nina. And questions demanded answers: she’d search for them, too. Bright, intelligent Nina was something Kiley hadn’t bargained for. Nor Theo... She was placing herself in extreme jeopardy: one question too many, one sign that she had found an answer, and she became a danger to Theo’s plans. She would be dumped out, abandoned in the wilds of Afghanistan—if she lasted that long.

  Grim-faced, Renwick passed through the huge lobby, with its swirling currents of voice and movement. Outside, the light was golden, the glow of sunset spreading warmly over the wide avenue that lay beyond the hotel’s driveway. But the first hint of coolness was in the air, a first touch of night lay in the far horizons. Goddamn it, he told Nina, you just don’t know what could happen to you; you just don’t know, goddamn it.

  14

  Everything was normal. The DO NOT DISTURB notice still dangled; the door to their bedroom was locked, as it should be. After a small struggle with the cumbersome key—an ideal shape to prevent forgetful tourists from walking away with it—Nina could enter. She went in, smiles and cheerful words ready for Madge. The invalid was recovering. She was sitting on her bed, dressed in shirt and jeans.

  “Feeling better?” Nina asked. “Better enough to go out for dinner? But change into your dress. We’re driving up the Bosporus to one of those restaurants that—”

  “Going out for dinner?” a man’s voice asked, and James Kiley stepped out of the bathroom.

  Madge said quickly, “When we heard your key in the lock, Jim wanted to surprise you.”

  And when, Nina wondered, did he get here? How did he find us? She stared at him unbelievingly.

  “I hope it was a nice surprise,” Kiley said, coming forward to remove her bag from her shoulder and throw it on her bed. He looked into her eyes. “Not the kind you gave me. Oh, Nina, Nina!” His arms slid around her and drew her close. “Don’t do that ever again! Don’t do that to me, Nina.” He kissed her hard; then suddenly letting go, he turned to glance at Madge.

  “Don’t let me stop you,” Madge told him, but he walked over to the window, stood looking out, his back to the room. Madge shrugged her shoulders, said to Nina, “How was it?”

  From silence, Nina broke into a rush of words. “Fabulous. I wish you could have made it, Madge. And tomorrow Topkapi is closed. But Suleyman will take us to the Bazaar and the Blue Mosque. He’s an excellent guide. And I think he really is a poet. Flights of phrases.” She eyed Jim’s back. Am I supposed to go over to him and say I’m sorry? Or is he really so upset that he doesn’t want to face us? “As we were leaving the second courtyard, the one where the kitchens have miles of shelving with all the Ming dinnerware displayed...” She didn’t end the sentence, cutting off any reference to Bob Renwick. She could hear Madge saying, but how wonderful, how is he, was that why you were late in getting back here, what did you talk about? And if she replied that Bob had been persuading her to leave? No thank you, she decided: Jim was in a bad enough mood right now. Her fault, too, she had to admit. So she rushed on, “I was so tired and hot that I decided I wanted a seat at a café and something to drink. Tea was all I got. But it was marvellous.”

  “So that’s where you and Suleyman were,” Madge said. She spoke to Jim’s back. “See, I told you Nina was perfectly safe. There was nothing to worry about.”

  Kiley swung around to face Nina. “Wasn’t there?” he asked quietly. “First, you scare the daylights out of me when you took off in Greece. Next, you spend hours with some little tout who picked you up at the docks.”

  Madge cut in. “I told you all about that, and he isn’t a tout. I told you all about our travel in Greece, too, so you don’t have to keep worrying about Nina. You might think a little about me. I’m the one who fell ill.” Then she tried to laugh, said to Nina, “He’s been here for the last hour—almost—and nearly drove me back to bed with all his questions.”

  Kiley said, “I had every right to be anxious. Nina can’t go wandering off by herself like that in a strange city.”

  Let’s end this, Nina thought. “I’m sorry, Jim. But I really didn’t expect you here until tomorrow afternoon. Did you cut your visit short in Greece?”

  “Oh, they drove like mad all yesterday,” Madge said, “and crossed the frontier last night. No wonder he’s in a bad mood.”

  Nina was surprised. “Why all the rush, Jim?”

  He said, “No rush, actually. Just trying to get back on schedule.”

  “And where is everyone now?”

  “We found an inn on the outskirts of the city, nice little place with a courtyard. There are some gypsies around—local colour, you know—so Tony’s keeping an eye on the camper.”

  “And how is our Jolly Green Giant?”

  Kiley stared at her.

  Don’t tell me he has to have that little juke explained, thought Nina.

  Madge was smiling. “Don’t you ever watch TV commercials, Jim?”

  “Rarely.”

  “Our Jolly Green Giant is now dark brown,” Madge told Nina. “It had an accident and the paint got scarred. Nothing serious, otherwise. But you know Tony. He had to have it looking perfect.”

  “But why not keep it green? I rather liked it.”

  Kiley said, “There was only a light green available. It would have taken three coats of spraying to cover the damage.”

  Nina dropped down on her bed. “I really am tired. We must have covered miles and miles. All I want now is a hot bath and then—”

  Madge said, “You’ll have to hurry. Jim has a car waiting for us.”

  “The innkeeper’s son drove me in,” Jim explained. “He’ll drive us back.”

  “We’re leaving, Nina,” Madge said. “No dinner on the Bosporus. But there’s one at the inn—all arranged—gypsies and music and dancing.”

  “Leaving?”

  “Yes,” said Jim, “and we are late as it is.”

  Nina sat bolt upright. “Look, Jim, I’m not leaving tonight. I’m going to have—” She halted abruptly.

  “Have dinner with a guide? A young kid who just happened to appear at the docks this morning. Who sent him?”

  “Jim—”

  “Some story he laid on you! What’s his name—his full name?”

  “Jim—I wasn’t going to have dinner with Suleyman. Madge and I were going to—”

  “What’s his name?”

  “I didn’t catch all of it. Did you, Madge?”

  Madge shook her head. “He is a guide and interpreter, Jim. And we needed one. Without him, we wouldn’t even have found a hotel where I could be sick in comfort.”

  “So he steered you here? I think I’ll get the police on to this.”

  “And get him into trouble for doing nothing wrong?” Nina demanded. “You ought to thank him for making your job easy.”

  He looked at her sharply.

  “For helping you to track us down,” Nina said patiently. “There are a lot of hotels in Istanbul.”

  “And I must have ’phoned half of them.”

  “Come on, Jim. How many, really?” She was thinking, he really was worried about me.

  “Three,” he admitted and laughed and took her hands to draw her to her feet. “All those where Americans are sure to
be found. Now, have a quick bath if you must—Five minutes? Madge can pack for you.” His arms were around her. “My God, anything could have happened to you today. I’m sorry if I was uptight. But—”

  “Pack?”

  “We’re leaving. Madge told you.”

  Nina struggled free from his embrace. “Look,” she said angrily, “I’ll go to the inn for dinner. But I’m coming back here to sleep in that bed. It’s mine and I haven’t—”

  “There’s a bed at the inn, if that’s what you want. Now hurry, or you won’t even have time for that bath.”

  “But we have this room. Why waste the money?”

  “Counting your dollars?” he teased her.

  “Why can’t we stay here tonight?”

  “Because we leave at the crack of dawn for Bursa.”

  “What? We don’t even have one more morning in Istanbul?”

  “We’ve got to be in Bursa by tomorrow. That is, if you want the others to have time on the following day for that side trip to Troy. Or have you forgotten about them, Nina?”

  I’ll scream, she thought, if he reminds me that Troy is one place I’ve always wanted to see. But he didn’t. He gave her a gentle push towards the bathroom. “Five minutes,” he said.

  She reached for her bag.

  “Going to wash that, too?”

  “My make-up,” she told him and left for the quickest of showers. “Madge,” she called back, “hand me my shirt and jeans, will you?”

  And what about Bob? she was thinking as she slipped out of her Greek dress. I just can’t leave without an apology, some explanation why I cut his date. I can’t do that, not to Bob... From her bag she took out her small sketchbook and pen. She tore off a page, carefully leaving intact the ones already filled with her copies of decorations and designs. Her message had to be brief: the shower, now running, was ready; minutes were vanishing. She finished writing, folded her note, slipped it into her wallet.