Read Spies of the Balkans for Free Online Page B

twenty, I believe. Still, a substantial sum; this kind of transaction has become very expensive in the Reich. The Nazis are vicious and criminal but, thank God, they are also venal. The ideology, for many of them, is only skin-deep--they like power, and they love money."
    "Well, I'll need the exit papers, for a day or two, maybe longer."
    As she went for her purse, Zannis rose to his feet and said, "Now I think I will have a coffee--may I pour one for you?"
    "Please."
    "Nathanial?" Zannis said. "Paula? Would you like a pastry?"
    12 October. The Club de Salonique.
    It was the place in the city, so much so that even the mighty Vangelis had had a difficult time getting Zannis a membership. "Not only did I have to put my thumb in a certain place," the old man told him, "but I had to press hard." Nonetheless, it was crucial for Zannis to belong, because some of the most important business in Salonika was done there, in the club's own building on the fancy end of the corniche. The atmosphere in the dark mahogany dining room, with its view over the sea and its hushed luncheon ritual--subdued conversation, just the barest music of china and silverware--was privilege transcendent.
    Just the setting for Celebi, the Turkish consul. Easily a film version of the diplomat, Celebi--silver hair, serene smile, ivory cigarette holder; Roxanne had once described him as debonair . The waiter arrived, they ordered indifferently--the food was too polite to be good--and Zannis was properly grateful for Celebi's seeing him on such short notice. Aperitifs were served, Zannis said he needed a favor, Celebi's expression changed only slightly-- oh? So it was to be a sophisticated sort of a luncheon, based on the most sophisticated sort of understanding about life and politics, though somewhat less sophisticated was the view out the window, where a merchant freighter, torpedoed that morning, burned while they dined. Mostly black smoke but, if one of your sideways glances came at just the right moment, you might catch a bright dot of fire.
    "She's a very cultivated woman," Zannis said. "Jewish, and a person of some standing in the social world of Berlin."
    "Really?"
    "So it seems."
    "She must be terribly rich, then. I'm afraid the rest of them ..."
    "I know."
    "She's in difficulties?"
    "In a way. She's trying to get a friend's children out of Berlin."
    "And into Turkey?"
    "Yes. Will you have another one?"
    "Oh, I don't know ..."
    "Waiter?"
    "Sir?"
    "Two more, please."
    "I shouldn't ..."
    "Let's go to hell a little, no? A nap this afternoon ..."
    "Maybe you can ..."
    "You're busy?"
    "It's frightful. Half the world trying to get in the door. I'm over January's limit now, for entry visas, and my superiors in Istanbul are becoming tiresome."
    Zannis shook his head. "Damned war."
    "We could've done without, that's certain. Why don't you just smuggle them in? Everyone else does."
    "They're kids, Ahmet. Sweet kids. I don't want them to pee their pants every time some cop looks at them in the street."
    "Oh, yes, well, you're right then. They'll need real documents."
    "Can you reason with Istanbul?"
    "Umm, yes and no. But, truth is, I may have to sweeten somebody."
    "Well, that won't be a problem."
    "No?"
    "No, I don't think so."
    Celebi took a cigarette from a silver case and twisted it into his cigarette holder.
    Zannis flicked a lighter and, as Celebi bent toward the flame, said, "What do you think, four hundred?"
    "I assume you don't mean drachmas."
    "Dollars."
    "Apiece?"
    "Yes. An adult and two children."
    "Can she get dollars?"
    "In Salonika?"
    Celebi nodded, amused, to himself: of course . "I'll send Madam Urglu along, say, tomorrow afternoon?"
    "I'll expect her. I have an envelope with me--German exit visas, you can get the information from them."
    "On the way out," Celebi said.
    Zannis nodded in agreement. So elegant, the dining room of the Club de Salonique, not a place to be passing envelopes across the table.
    Blue sky, that afternoon, sparkling air