Read Online Spies of the Balkans by Alan Furst - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alan Furst
Ads: Link
three in the morning, Grazzi was driven to the home of General Metaxas, who came to the door in his dressing gown. Grazzi presented an ultimatum: Let our army march into your country and occupy the cities. Metaxas's answer wasn't complicated; it could be seen at the top of every front page of every newspaper.
"No."
When Zannis opened the office door, he saw that Sibylla was knitting. She worked feverishly; hands moving quickly, needles clicking, a ball of gray wool in her lap. "By the time I got to the store," she said, "and they had it open at six-thirty, all the khaki was gone. Imagine that! Not yet seven-thirty when I got there, and all the khaki wool bought up."
"What will it be?"
"A sweater. One has a choice, sweater or socks, but I'm good at it, so I decided to make sweaters."
All over the country, women were knitting warm clothes for the Greek boys who would be fighting in the cold mountains. A poor country, less than eight million in population, they had to improvise. So Sibylla's fingers flew and, when the phone rang, she propped the receiver between chin and shoulder and never dropped a stitch. Producing, Zannis thought, a rather curious juxtaposition. "And what time did you say he was murdered?" Click, click.
Zannis tried to telephone Vangelis but the line was busy, so he looked over at Saltiel and said, "What about you, Gabi? Are you leaving today?"
"Too old to fight. Officially. For the time being, I'm to take the place of an ambulance driver who's going up to the border with the medical corps. So I get to drive around the city at night with a siren on. So what's new."
"And days?"
"I'll be here. What about you?"
"I'm waiting for orders," Zannis said. "I'm in a reserve group, we're a communications unit, and I'm liaison with an officer of the Yugoslav General Staff. Not really sure what that means, but I guess I'll find out."
It was late in the morning when he finally got through to Vangelis. "I'm waiting," Zannis explained, "for a call or a telegram. But I could be ordered to report. Maybe even today, or tomorrow."
"Have you given any thought to what you might do if they occupy the city?"
"No, but I suppose I should."
"We wouldn't want them to have the files," Vangelis said. "After that, it will be up to you. Just remember, if you decide to work underground, be careful with your address book. Just in case." He paused, then said, "For the moment, who will run the office?"
"Saltiel and Sibylla. They'll do fine."
Vangelis didn't answer immediately, his way of saying that it wasn't true. "I'm not sure what lies ahead, Costa, but if I need you, I may have you brought back. We'll just have to see how it goes."
"We may surprise them," Zannis said.
"Yes, I think we will," Vangelis said. "If we don't run out of bullets."
Late in the afternoon, a telephone call for Zannis. Not the General Staff, but Roxanne. She sounded rattled, almost desperate. This was something new--she'd been cool and composed from the first day he'd met her. "I didn't want to call you," she said, "but I didn't know what else to do."
"What's wrong?"
"I have to get to the airport. But there isn't a taxi to be found in the whole city, and my friends with cars don't answer their phones, or they're driving somebody to Athens, or--or something!"
"Roxanne ..."
"What?"
"Calm down."
"Sorry, I've just had--"
"There's no point in going to the airport, all commercial flights are canceled; we're at war --the military has taken over out there. Now, tell me where you need to go and I'll see what I can do."
"I need to go to the airport. Please."
"Are we going to fight about this? You think I didn't tell you the truth?"
"Costa, can you borrow a car? Or get one from the police?"
After a moment, he said, in a different tone of voice, "What is this?"
"A favor. I have never asked you for a favor, not ever, but I'm asking now. And part of the favor is not trying to make me explain on the telephone, because I have to be there right
"No."
When Zannis opened the office door, he saw that Sibylla was knitting. She worked feverishly; hands moving quickly, needles clicking, a ball of gray wool in her lap. "By the time I got to the store," she said, "and they had it open at six-thirty, all the khaki was gone. Imagine that! Not yet seven-thirty when I got there, and all the khaki wool bought up."
"What will it be?"
"A sweater. One has a choice, sweater or socks, but I'm good at it, so I decided to make sweaters."
All over the country, women were knitting warm clothes for the Greek boys who would be fighting in the cold mountains. A poor country, less than eight million in population, they had to improvise. So Sibylla's fingers flew and, when the phone rang, she propped the receiver between chin and shoulder and never dropped a stitch. Producing, Zannis thought, a rather curious juxtaposition. "And what time did you say he was murdered?" Click, click.
Zannis tried to telephone Vangelis but the line was busy, so he looked over at Saltiel and said, "What about you, Gabi? Are you leaving today?"
"Too old to fight. Officially. For the time being, I'm to take the place of an ambulance driver who's going up to the border with the medical corps. So I get to drive around the city at night with a siren on. So what's new."
"And days?"
"I'll be here. What about you?"
"I'm waiting for orders," Zannis said. "I'm in a reserve group, we're a communications unit, and I'm liaison with an officer of the Yugoslav General Staff. Not really sure what that means, but I guess I'll find out."
It was late in the morning when he finally got through to Vangelis. "I'm waiting," Zannis explained, "for a call or a telegram. But I could be ordered to report. Maybe even today, or tomorrow."
"Have you given any thought to what you might do if they occupy the city?"
"No, but I suppose I should."
"We wouldn't want them to have the files," Vangelis said. "After that, it will be up to you. Just remember, if you decide to work underground, be careful with your address book. Just in case." He paused, then said, "For the moment, who will run the office?"
"Saltiel and Sibylla. They'll do fine."
Vangelis didn't answer immediately, his way of saying that it wasn't true. "I'm not sure what lies ahead, Costa, but if I need you, I may have you brought back. We'll just have to see how it goes."
"We may surprise them," Zannis said.
"Yes, I think we will," Vangelis said. "If we don't run out of bullets."
Late in the afternoon, a telephone call for Zannis. Not the General Staff, but Roxanne. She sounded rattled, almost desperate. This was something new--she'd been cool and composed from the first day he'd met her. "I didn't want to call you," she said, "but I didn't know what else to do."
"What's wrong?"
"I have to get to the airport. But there isn't a taxi to be found in the whole city, and my friends with cars don't answer their phones, or they're driving somebody to Athens, or--or something!"
"Roxanne ..."
"What?"
"Calm down."
"Sorry, I've just had--"
"There's no point in going to the airport, all commercial flights are canceled; we're at war --the military has taken over out there. Now, tell me where you need to go and I'll see what I can do."
"I need to go to the airport. Please."
"Are we going to fight about this? You think I didn't tell you the truth?"
"Costa, can you borrow a car? Or get one from the police?"
After a moment, he said, in a different tone of voice, "What is this?"
"A favor. I have never asked you for a favor, not ever, but I'm asking now. And part of the favor is not trying to make me explain on the telephone, because I have to be there right
Similar Books
