Mrs. Pollifax companionably.
Sandor grinned. “You are a nice lady but you ask too many questions. In Ankara I have fine friends and I let you go free.”
“Free?” said Mrs. Pollifax with amusement. “I didn’t realize we’d been captured.”
He patted his pocket with meaning. “I have you under guard, beware. Now wotthehell, let’s go.”
For some moments Mrs. Pollifax had been aware of a small piper cub plane drifting lazily along the horizon at a distance; she had watched it as Sandor talked. Now with one foot on the running board of the van she said in an alarmed voice, “Colin, look!” For the plane, having momentarily disappeared behind a ridge ahead of them, had suddenly reappeared now and was flying toward them at a shockingly low altitude. Colin stood behind her carrying the camp stove and squinting at the sky. The sound of the plane’s engine grew frighteningly loud and for a moment Mrs. Pollifax wondered if they were going to be strafed: the plane passed so low that she could clearly see the face of the pilot, who in turn looked down at them; and then just as abruptly the plane’s nose lifted, it climbed and began a long circle that carried it over the ridge again and away toward Ankara.
“Damn fool,” Sandor shouted, shaking a fist at the horizon.
Colin said in a choked voice, “What the devil does that mean!”
“Reconnaissance, I think,” said Mrs. Pollifax. “But by whom?” She was rather unnerved by the incident; until now she had felt safely removed from Istanbul, but she resolutely put aside her anxiety, helped Magda back to her cot and insisted that Colin have the dubious honor of napping on the floor because he was the more tired from driving. Again she took the passenger seat, this time beside Sandor, and they set off—or rather flew off, thought Mrs. Pollifax, clinging to the sides of the leather seat, for Sandor drove with abandon, swerving gaily around the holes in the road, swearing in Turkish and English at the holes he did not miss, and frequently taking both hands off the wheel to rub dust from his eyes or to light an evil-smelling cigar which almost immediately was extinguished.
They climbed now to a ravined and arid plateau, and the dust they raised all but obscured the sun. It was hot, the van captured and retained both the heat and the dust, and their water supply was gone. Since leaving Nallihan they had passed only one car and that one had been abandoned beside the road—probably with a broken axle, thought Mrs. Pollifax ominously. Nothing moved except the mountains on the horizon, which swam in the rising heat like mirages, until far ahead of them Mrs. Pollifax saw an approaching cloud ofdust. “Dust storm?” she inquired—it was impossible to doze at all with Sandor at the wheel, and he had just finished telling her that dust storms were frequent in summer on the road to Ankara.
“Car,” he said briefly.
Mrs. Pollifax nodded; she had begun to feel that if Sandor said it was a car it would be a car—and as it drew nearer it was indeed a car, a very old dusty touring car of 1920 vintage. The sun shone across its windshield, turning it opaque, so that as it approached them it appeared to be driven by remote control. It was therefore all the more startling to Mrs. Pollifax when she saw a hand and then an arm extend full-length from the passenger side of the car. When she saw the gun in that hand she stiffened. “Watch out—a gun!” she cried, and ducked her head just as the windshield in front of her splintered.
Sandor virtually stood on the brakes. “Wotthehell,” he shouted, and fought the steering wheel to get them off the road.
Behind her Colin shouted, “Stay down, Mrs. Pollifax!”
Metal protested, tires squealed and Mrs. Pollifax’s hat fell off as the van lurched across the ridge that contained the road; they bumped uncomfortably over untilled ground. Sandor was tugging at his belt with one hand; he brought out his gun but the car had
Sandor grinned. “You are a nice lady but you ask too many questions. In Ankara I have fine friends and I let you go free.”
“Free?” said Mrs. Pollifax with amusement. “I didn’t realize we’d been captured.”
He patted his pocket with meaning. “I have you under guard, beware. Now wotthehell, let’s go.”
For some moments Mrs. Pollifax had been aware of a small piper cub plane drifting lazily along the horizon at a distance; she had watched it as Sandor talked. Now with one foot on the running board of the van she said in an alarmed voice, “Colin, look!” For the plane, having momentarily disappeared behind a ridge ahead of them, had suddenly reappeared now and was flying toward them at a shockingly low altitude. Colin stood behind her carrying the camp stove and squinting at the sky. The sound of the plane’s engine grew frighteningly loud and for a moment Mrs. Pollifax wondered if they were going to be strafed: the plane passed so low that she could clearly see the face of the pilot, who in turn looked down at them; and then just as abruptly the plane’s nose lifted, it climbed and began a long circle that carried it over the ridge again and away toward Ankara.
“Damn fool,” Sandor shouted, shaking a fist at the horizon.
Colin said in a choked voice, “What the devil does that mean!”
“Reconnaissance, I think,” said Mrs. Pollifax. “But by whom?” She was rather unnerved by the incident; until now she had felt safely removed from Istanbul, but she resolutely put aside her anxiety, helped Magda back to her cot and insisted that Colin have the dubious honor of napping on the floor because he was the more tired from driving. Again she took the passenger seat, this time beside Sandor, and they set off—or rather flew off, thought Mrs. Pollifax, clinging to the sides of the leather seat, for Sandor drove with abandon, swerving gaily around the holes in the road, swearing in Turkish and English at the holes he did not miss, and frequently taking both hands off the wheel to rub dust from his eyes or to light an evil-smelling cigar which almost immediately was extinguished.
They climbed now to a ravined and arid plateau, and the dust they raised all but obscured the sun. It was hot, the van captured and retained both the heat and the dust, and their water supply was gone. Since leaving Nallihan they had passed only one car and that one had been abandoned beside the road—probably with a broken axle, thought Mrs. Pollifax ominously. Nothing moved except the mountains on the horizon, which swam in the rising heat like mirages, until far ahead of them Mrs. Pollifax saw an approaching cloud ofdust. “Dust storm?” she inquired—it was impossible to doze at all with Sandor at the wheel, and he had just finished telling her that dust storms were frequent in summer on the road to Ankara.
“Car,” he said briefly.
Mrs. Pollifax nodded; she had begun to feel that if Sandor said it was a car it would be a car—and as it drew nearer it was indeed a car, a very old dusty touring car of 1920 vintage. The sun shone across its windshield, turning it opaque, so that as it approached them it appeared to be driven by remote control. It was therefore all the more startling to Mrs. Pollifax when she saw a hand and then an arm extend full-length from the passenger side of the car. When she saw the gun in that hand she stiffened. “Watch out—a gun!” she cried, and ducked her head just as the windshield in front of her splintered.
Sandor virtually stood on the brakes. “Wotthehell,” he shouted, and fought the steering wheel to get them off the road.
Behind her Colin shouted, “Stay down, Mrs. Pollifax!”
Metal protested, tires squealed and Mrs. Pollifax’s hat fell off as the van lurched across the ridge that contained the road; they bumped uncomfortably over untilled ground. Sandor was tugging at his belt with one hand; he brought out his gun but the car had
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