“Yes,” said the man, simply. “Quite a lot.”
Although Janet had rigidly controlled any hope during the intervening days, refusing to let herself imagine they would come back with anything at all, there had always lurked in that locked-away part of her mind the supposedly ignored faith that they would, in fact, be successful. She turned the opening key now on that optimism and it engulfed her, a dizzying burst of excitement. She had to close her eyes briefly against the sensation and was glad she was sitting down because inexplicably her legs began to tremble.
“Thank God!” she said, but quietly, to herself. “Oh, thank God!”
“We had an agreement,” Stavos said, flat-voiced and unemotional.
“I have the money,” Janet said anxiously.
“All of it!”
“Please tell me: what have you found out!”
“The money,” insisted the man, monotone.
Janet began to take the bearer letter from her pocket but he raised his hand, stopping her. From the rear the waiter approached and set out the drinks. Janet remained unmoving until the man said: “All right,” and then she completed the movement, handing him the document.
Stavos stared down, frowning with incomprehension. “What is this!”
Janet leaned across, indicating the amount. “A letter of credit for?10,000,” she said.
“It is not money.”
“It becomes money.”
“How?”
Janet pointed again to the endorsement. “Once I sign it… once I’m satisfied with what you’ve got to tell me… any bank on the island will exchange it, for cash.”
The elder of the other two men, Dimitri, leaned close to the captain and spoke so softly that Janet could not detect the words. Stavos nodded and looked back at her. He said: “You didn’t trust us!”
“I was tricked before. I lost my money,” replied Janet. She wondered if the medical tests had been completed upon the Australian girl.
Stavos turned it over in his hands, examining its blank back as if expecting to find something there. He said: “All you have to do is sign it?”
“That’s all.”
This time Janet discerned the nod of agreement, between the two older men.
Stavos added water to his drink, watching it whiten, and then said: “Sheridan worked for the CIA?”
“Yes.” She hadn’t told the man that, she remembered. Premature to believe it significant: it was fairly public knowledge, not difficult for him to have discovered.
“They were extremely indiscreet, the Americans,” said the man. “It was commonly known what his position was within the embassy.”
“I don’t know about that,” Janet conceded.
“They were very stupid, after what happened before.”
Janet gauged that to be a clear reference to William Buckley. Would a Cypriot fisherman-all right, a Cypriot fishing boat captain-be that familiar with the circumstances without some informative links on the mainland? She said: “Please be honest with me! Have you found someone-anyone-who knows! ”
Stavos did not reply at once. Then he said: “People who want a message passed.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Beirut is very much divided now,” said Stavos. “In East Beirut, it is difficult to believe there is any sort of conflict: it is practically like it was before 1975. The battleground is in the West, where the Shia, the Hezbollah, fanatics are.”
Janet nodded her head in agreement, further impressed by his knowledge. “I know all this,” she said.
“There is a particular district,” continued Stavos, as if she had not interrupted. “The Basta area.”
“What about it?”
“It is in the Basta district that Sheridan is being held,” the man announced.
Once more Janet felt reality swim away from her: they could have been discussing the whereabouts of a casually met acquaintance, as she and Harriet used to talk about people after one of Harriet’s Georgetown parties. She swallowed and said: “Where in Basta?”
There was the shrug that Janet had hoped not to see. “I don’t know that,” Stavos said.
It sounded convincing but it was not information worth?10,000, Janet decided: nothing, in fact, that was positive at all. She said: “What do you mean, about meeting people who want a message passed?”
“The group that are holding him want a public statement made, by the American government.”
“What!”
“That’s what I was told,” Stavos insisted. “That if Washington publicly apologized for spying… for interfering in the area… then Sheridan would be set free.”
This was something! The sensation-the excitement and the relief-flooding through Janet now was more intense than the initial optimism. “Where is it, this statement?”
There was another shrug. “I was not given it. They thought you would need proof.”
“We talked about a photograph before,” remembered Janet.
“More than that,” said Stavos. “They are prepared to meet you. There were no promises, not undertakings, but I had the impression you might even be taken to see him. If you could bring back a photograph of the two of you together the authorities would know that you were speaking the truth, wouldn’t they? Have to react.”
Janet found it impossible initially to speak. Thoughts crowded her head and the words clogged in the back of her throat. She coughed. “See him…!” she said, incredulous. “A photograph together!”
“Nothing definite was said,” the man repeated, cautiously. “Just an impression.”
“How could I do this!” Janet demanded, recovering. “How could I get to West Beirut… meet these people!”
“With us,” the man replied, as if he were surprised by the question. “How else?”
“You would take me?”
“How otherwise would you know who they were? How to meet them?”
“When?”
“You could go today? Now?”
She could, Janet realized: she even had her passport in her handbag, although she did not imagine their entry was going to be official. “Yes,” she said, pressing her legs beneath the table in an effort to quieten their renewed trembling. “Yes, I can quite easily go now.”
Dimitri turned sideways again, for another inaudible conversation. The captain listened, nodding in agreement. He looked over the table at Janet and said: “We have kept our side of the agreement?”
“I think so,” said Janet.
“So we get the money?”
“When we get back,” said Janet. “You can keep the letter and when we get back we can go to a bank together and it will be cashed.” There was no way she could be cheated: the bearer document was non-negotiable without her signature.
Stavos looked down at the draft and then handed it sideways to Dimitri, who studied it for several moments, before returning it. Passingly Janet wondered if either of them could read English.
“Which bank?” demanded Stavos.
“Any bank,” assured Janet.
“Here in Larnaca?”
“Yes.”
The captain folded the letter carefully, so that the sides aligned, and just as carefully put it into a worn and scuffed wallet which he eased into a rear pocket of his trousers, making sure that the flap was buttoned over it. He looked up at her: “It is agreed. You are ready?”
“Yes,” said Janet. “I am ready.”
This time Stavos paid for the drinks. Janet filed out between the men, Dimitri and the younger man ahead, Stavos behind. Stavos said: “We will take your car.”
Janet had imagined their boat would be nearby and was surprised they had to drive somewhere. Stavos got authoritatively into the front passenger seat and the other two men wedged themselves into the back. The smell of their work was stronger in the confined space and Janet wound her window fully down. “Which way?” she asked.
Stavos gestured: “On towards Dhekelia.”
Janet jolted out of the car park and turned along the bay, driving with it to her right. The sweeping beach was crammed with oil-shiny tourists and technicolored umbrellas. The lowering sun was on the other side of the car and Janet was glad she had the shade. The men seemed untroubled by the heat and uninterested in anything around them: Stavos stared directly ahead, and in her rear-view mirror Janet saw the other two were doing the same. She passed the signs to Leivadie and Xylotymvou before Stavos gestured to his right and Janet saw a huddle of working boats in the fishing shelter. Closer, Janet saw, there was a public car park. Stavos said: “Leave the car there.”