Istanbul Express Read Online Free PDF Page B

corporal across the plaza, taking in the central fountain and the porticoes and the sculpted trellises around tall upper-floor windows. “This is nice.”
    â€œIt used to be some sultan’s palace,” the corporal said, bouncing up grand front steps to hold the door for Jake. “There’s a lot of them around here.”
    The entrance hall was grand in a seedy and ancient fashion. The ceiling curved up a full two stories, and the ancient marble-tiled floor was ribbed where eons of feet had trodshallow channels. Just inside the second set of double doors stood a waist-high desk and behind it a uniformed Marine. Corporal Bailey announced, “This is the colonel.”
    â€œThank the heavens above,” the second young man announced. “I mean, welcome to Istanbul, sir. I’ll just go and tell the chief you’re here.”
    The young man trotted down the long formal hall, then took the sweeping staircase three steps at a time. Jake turned to the corporal and asked, “The chief?”
    â€œMeester Jake!” The delighted cry turned them back around as a corpulent little man came rushing down the stairs. “Eeet ees so excellent to have you arrive, oh my, yes, so very excellent!”
    â€œI’ll just go and see to your wife and the major.” The corporal began another salute, then stopped himself, started to offer his hand, decided that was too informal, finally settled on, “Good luck, sir.”
    Jake watched the round little man come bouncing down the hall. Too much too fast. “This the chief?” he asked the corporal.
    â€œChief? What chief?” Stubby legs carried the little man up and in front of Jake. “I am Ahmet,” he announced proudly, as though that were all the explanation anyone needed.
    â€œHe’s building superintendent, but unofficially sort of chief dogsbody,” Corporal Bailey explained, sidling for the door. “Whatever you need, he’s the guy. Does some of the local hiring as well. Handles official red tape.”
    â€œExactly, yes, is so!” Ahmet waved the corporal away without turning his dark eyes from Jake. “What you need, Ahmet finds. Even before you ask.”
    â€œSounds like a quartermaster I once knew.” Jake accepted the little man’s hand, felt the damp fingers squeeze once and release.
    Ahmet looked like a little balloon balanced on top of a bigger balloon, with almost no neck between head and body. A few remaining strands of hair had been allowed to growlong, then were greased and plastered in black pencil lines across his otherwise bald scalp. His mouth seemed permanently creased into a smile that did not reach his glittering black eyes.
    â€œYou will soon see, what Ahmet says is true.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the consulate’s interior. “I have office all ready, yes, with files and papers and desk and chair and even assistant.”
    Jake stared down at the little man. “You’ve hired personnel for me?”
    â€œMr. Burnes?” Jake turned to see a woman leading the uniformed Marine across the entrance chamber. “I am Mrs. Ecevit, assistant to the political officer. Welcome to Istanbul.”
    Jake straightened, forced down his ire at this Ahmet and the sensation of being railroaded. “Thank you.”
    â€œI hope you had a pleasant trip.” The woman was as cool and official as her voice. Middle-aged, a strong face framed by dark hair disciplined into a tight bun. Dark suit, white shirt, no jewelry that he could see. Intelligent eyes. But distant. She gazed at him with calculating prudence.
    â€œNot bad.” Jake glanced back at Ahmet, saw he had frozen up in silent disapproval. The little man did not like Mrs. Ecevit, that much was clear. For this reason alone, Jake found himself drawn to the woman and her cold stare. “Sorry we were delayed.”
    â€œYes, no one has been able to fathom why Mr. Grisholm