Mrs. Pollifax Unveiled Read Free Page A

but reliable.”
    “So that’s why we’re here,” Farrell said, nodding.
    “That’s why you’re here, yes. The two prevalent questions are, why there have been no demands for ransom, and—if revenge was behind her abduction—why it appears that she may still be alive. If she’s alive we want to know how and why and where, and who abducted her, and who she is, and get her out of Syria. We feel it’s far less provocative to send a woman who happens to be related to Miss Pym in some way.” He added dryly, “More innocent, shall we say? Now hand over your passports so we can secure those visas. There are no direct flights to Syria from our country, so you’ll fly early on Sunday to London and continue your trip on their Syrian Arab Airlines. We’ll cable the embassy to reserve you rooms at the Cham Palace—adjoining rooms if they have them, so you can keep a firm eye on each other, since I’d prefer that neither of
you
be abducted. Anything else, Bishop?”
    Bishop promptly said, “Plane tickets, passports, Syrian and U.S. money …”
    “Oh yes, and a guidebook for each of you. They’ll be delivered to each of you by courier no later than Saturday, along with hotel reservations and funds.” He looked from Mrs. Pollifax to Farrell and frowned. “If I didn’t believe you experienced enough, and qualified—” He stopped and said gruffly, “Just don’t take any damn-fool risks.”
    Mrs. Pollifax smiled.
“Now
he tells us.”
    “I find it downright paternal of him,” Farrell told her with a grin.
    “So that’s it,” concluded Carstairs, “unless … any questions?”
    “Yes,” said Mrs. Pollifax quietly. “I think there’s more to this, isn’t there? You let slip the fact that you not only want to know if Amanda Pym is alive but also
who
she is.”
    Carstairs gave her a long look. “My mistake,” he admitted. “It slipped out.”
    “Well?”
    He was silent and then he said reluctantly, “We find ourselves very curious about this enigmatic Miss Pym. You saw her on film … it troubles us that we can learn almost nothing about her except for a few bare facts: she comes from a small Pennsylvania farming town, Roseville, population less than ten thousand … father owned a discount store and is dead, mother recently died, but no one in Roseville seems to have really known Amanda Pym. She’s twenty-three years old but she seems to have moved through life not being noticed at all, just the sort of person who is susceptible and easily used. We’ve begun to wonder if Amanda could be more than she appears to be.”
    “What does that mean?” asked Farrell.
    He hesitated and then, “It means that, incongruous as it may sound to you, it’s occurred to us—cynics, skeptics, and doubters that we are—that this sullen young woman you saw on film might have deliberately entered the wrong car—which she did, without hesitating. Or to put it bluntly,” he said, “we’ve wondered if she might have been expected.”
    A startled Mrs. Pollifax said, “You’re not serious!”
    “You really think that?” asked Farrell.
    Carstairs sighed. “I have to remind you,” he said patiently, “that we’re neither a Traveler’s Aid Society nor a lost-and-found department; we take no one and nothing for granted, and advise you to do the same. Whatever she may be, she’s anAmerican citizen and it’s our responsibility to get her back. Just locate her if she’s alive and the State Department can handle the rest. Unless, of course, you can bring her back yourselves.”
    With a glance at the clock on the wall he pushed back his chair and stood up. “I see that already I’m late for a conference Upstairs,” he said dismissively, and with a tight smile he shook hands with each of them. “Bishop will see you out. Happy hunting, Godspeed and good luck,” he added, and was gone.
    “Well,
that
was abrupt,” Farrell said to Bishop.
    Bishop shrugged. “It happens. He’s not as tough as people