Amazing Mrs. Pollifax Read Free Page B

name of a man in Istanbul who can be trusted in case of emergency. He’s lived in Istanbul for a number of years, and you can rely on him to advise and help—but only if you have absolutely no other recourse. He’s very highly placed so for God’s sake be discreet if you go to him.”
    “An agent?” inquired Mrs. Pollifax cheerfully.
    Carstairs looked pained. “My dear Mrs. Pollifax, I do wish you’d not leap to such dramatic conclusions. He’s a noted criminologist, retired now, who writes and teaches. His name is Dr. Guillaume Belleaux. You will find the name of the university with which he is connected on this slip of paper, as well as his home address. There’s no need to destroy or hide this address, Dr. Belleaux is highly respected by the Turkish government as well as ours, and any tourist might legitimately carry his name. Now.” He smiled. “Got it all?”
    Mrs. Pollifax was stuffing the envelopes into her fat purse. The book she placed under her arm. “I’m to register at the Hotel Itep,” she said, “and to present myself in the lobby at eight each evening until—hopefully—Ferenci-Sabo appears; I’m to give her passport and money, remember the name of Dr. Belleaux, and help Ferenci-Sabo in whatever way is needed.”
    “Right—and then vanish.” Carstairs glanced quickly at his watch. “Now before we wrap this up are there questions?”
    “Yes.” She said slowly, “You say there may be a leak somewhere, Mr. Carstairs. You’ve also—somehow and very mysteriously—set up a meeting with a woman who is a notorious Communist agent.” She hesitated. “Yet nobody has seen her, and your Istanbul agent was killed trying to meet her.” She looked at him. “Don’t you suspect a trap? Do you really trust this woman?”
    Carstairs smiled faintly. “Quite true, Mrs. Pollifax, and this is why I insisted on briefing you personally.” He removed a slip of yellow paper from the attaché case and handed it to her. “This is how we were advised about the rendezvous at the Hotel Itep.”
    Mrs. Pollifax took the proffered paper and read:
    ISTANBUL : ARRIVED AT SIX STOP HAVE ENJOYED EIGHT HOURS ITEP OTELI STOP WISH YOU COULD JOIN ME STOP WHY NOT SEND RED QUEEN OR BLACK JACK BEFORE FRIDAY STOP LOVE ALICE DEXTER WHITE .
    Mrs. Pollifax frowned. “Should I know what this means?”
    Carstairs laughed. “On the contrary it took the coding department a number of trips to the archives to identify it and I don’t believe they would have decoded it yet if the names ofRed Queen and Black Jack hadn’t been included. This was a code—a very simple one invented for rendezvous purposes—used by a small group of agents working in Occupied Paris during World War Two.”
    “World War Two,” echoed Mrs. Pollifax, utterly lost. “But this has the flavor of a period piece!”
    “Exactly. Code 6—this one, if you note the time of arrival—automatically stood for rendezvousing in a hotel lobby, with a copy of
Gone with the Wind
if identification was necessary. Code 5 stood for a metro station—I believe a Bible was used there—and seven, if I remember correctly, meant a church, and always the seventh pew on the left. And so on—there were eight in all. Red Queen was an agent named Agatha Simms, unfortunately killed several years ago in Hong Kong, and Black Jack was the code name of another agent in that group.”
    “And Alice Dexter White?” asked Mrs. Pollifax.
    Carstairs looked at her and then he looked down at the unlighted cigarette he held. “A very dear friend of mine which is how I come into this,” he said quietly. “A very remarkable woman to whom I twice owe my life, and with whom I worked during those war years.” He lifted his glance and regarded her with level eyes. “You are now about to join a very small and exclusive club, Mrs. Pollifax—only four living people know what I am about to tell you.” He tapped the yellow cable with a finger. “This woman is one of our most valued agents