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.Also lost.Budapest? How the hell could he help inBudapest? He didn't know a soul in Hungary; why would he? Why would Emilia Krebsthink he did? What was wrong with this woman? No, calm down, he told himself.It isn'tarrogance.It is desperation.And, on second thought, there might be one possibility.Anyhow, he would try.He never really slept, that night.Staring at the ceiling gave way to fitful dozingand awful dreams which woke him, to once again stare at the ceiling, his mind racing.Finally he gave up and was at the office by seven-thirty.December weather had reachedthem: the clammy chill of the Mediterranean winter, the same grisaille, gray days, graycity, that he'd come to know in Paris.He turned on the lights in the office and set out hisbox of five-by-eight cards.Yes, his memory had not betrayed him: Sami Pal.His real--asfar as anybody knew--Hungarian name, Pal not an uncommon surname in Hungary.Or,perhaps, a permanent alias.Szamuel "Sami" Pal.Born Budapest 1904.Hungarian passport B91-427 issued 3January, 1922, possibly counterfeit or altered.Also uses Nansen passport HK33156.Resident in Salonika since 4 May, 1931 (renewable visa) at various rooming houses.Operates business at 14, Vardar Square, cellar room rented from tenant above, MadameZizi, Fortune Teller and Astrologer.Business known as Worldwide Agency--ConfidentialInquiries.Telephone Salonika 38-727.According to Salonika police records: investigated (not charged) for removal ofdocuments from office of French consul, May '33.Arrested, September '34, accused byBritish oil executive R.J.Wilson of espionage approach to valet.Released, valet refusedto testify, likely bribed.Arrested June '38, accused of selling stolen passport.Releasedwhen witness could not be found.Investigated by State Security Bureau (Spiraki)November '39.(Salonika police consulted.) No conclusion reported to this office.Previous to arrival in Salonika, Sami Pal is thought to have escaped from prison,city unknown, country said to be Switzerland by local informant, who claims Pal deals inmerchandise stolen from port storage, also in stolen passports and papers.9 December.For this interview, Zannis borrowed an interrogation room at thepolice station in the Second District--his last headquarters when he'd worked as adetective.His old friends were pleased to see him."Hey Costa, you fancy sonofabitch,come back to join the slaves?"Sami Pal was waiting on a bench in the reception area--had been waiting for along time, Zannis had made sure of that--amid the miserable crowd of victims and thugsalways to be found in police stations.For the occasion, Zannis had chosen two props: ashoulder holster bearing Saltiel's automatic--his own weapon having disappeared in thecollapse of the Trikkala school--and a badge, clipped to his belt near the buckle, whereSami Pal was sure to see it.Summoned by telephone the previous afternoon, Sami was looking his best.Buthe always was.A few years earlier, he'd been pointed out by a fellow detective in a taverna amid the bordellos of the Bara and, as the saying went, Zannis had seen himaround.Natty, he was, in the sharpest cheap suit he could buy, a metallic gray, with floridtie, trench coat folded in his lap, boutonniere--a white carnation that afternoon--worn inthe buttonhole of his jacket, a big expensive-looking watch that might have been gold, aring with what surely wasn't a diamond, and a nervous but very brave smile.As Zannisgot close to him--"Hello, Sami, we'll talk in a little while"--he realized from the near-dizzying aroma of cloves that Sami had visited the barber.To Zannis, and to the world atlarge, Sami Pal, with the face of a vicious imp, was the perfection of that old saying,"After he left, we counted the spoons."The interrogation room had a high window with a wire grille, a battered desk, andtwo hard chairs.Zannis introduced himself by saying, "I'm Captain Zannis," lowering hisrank for the interview."Yes, sir.I know who you are, sir.""Oh? Who am I, Sami?"Sami's prominent Adam's apple went up, then down."You're important, sir.""Important to you, Sami.That's the truth.""Yes, sir.I know, sir.""You like it here, in Salonika?""Um, yes.Yes, sir.A fine city.""You plan on staying here?"After a pause, Sami said, "I'd like to, sir."Zannis nodded.Who wouldn't want to stay in such a fine city? "Well, I think it'spossible.Yes, definitely possible.Do you have enough work?""Yes, sir.I keep busy.Always husbands and wives, suspecting the worst, it's theway of love, sir.""And passports, Sami? Doing any business there?"Once again, the Adam's apple rose and fell."No, sir.Never.I never did that.""Don't lie to me, you--" Zannis let Sami Pal find his own word."Not now, sir.Maybe in the past, when I needed the money, I might've, but notnow, I swear it
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