The Bellini Card

72

Vosper stood stiffly in front of the stadtmeister’s desk and repeated what he had said.

“The pasha’s servant, sir. His very words.”

The stadtmeister spread his papers across his desk, in a gesture of despair. “I have nothing about this. Nothing! And you say he was wearing a turban? My God!”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Sorry? ja, ja, we will all be sorry, Vosper. What are we to do? Tomorrow, you say?”

“That’s what he told me, sir.”

“Did he say how many? Any names?”

“I–I don’t think so, sir. He thought I knew all about it. I assumed you had been informed.”

“Der Teufel! I work with idiots!” The stadtmeister began opening drawers, pulling out sheaves of yellow imperial paper, all embossed with the K. u. K. double-eagle crest. “Go back, Vosper, and find this man, this pasha’s servant, and bring him to me immediately. Be tactful of course. You will say that the stadtmeister wishes to run through a few items on the reception program and would be pleased to discuss them this afternoon.”

Vosper’s heels clicked. “If I can find him, sir.”

“Find him? Of course you must find him! Isn’t he staying in the American’s old apartment?”

“Yes, sir. He was just moving in.”

“There you are, then. And Vosper”-the stadtmeister chewed his mustache-”send Brunelli to me, right away.”