The Amazing Mrs. Pollifax

by Dorothy Gilman

  "Good God, yes," murmured Uncle Hu, and stepped forward. He began to speak in Turkish, and had produced several sentences when Stefan calmly walked up to him and hit him with his fist, sending him unconscious to the ground. At the same moment Mrs. Pollifax heard a startled grunt from Sandor on her right—he ducked his head and ran.

  The wall of gypsies shattered. With shouts the men took off after Sandor into the darkness while the women tightened the circle around Mrs. Pollifax, presumably to prevent her bolting too. "No no nol" cried Mrs. Pollifax, impatiently stamping her foot. "Do understand! Magda is our friend, that man lies!"

  One of the women spat contemptuously.

  "Inglis," said Mrs. Pollifax in case her baggy pants and shawls confused them. "You must listen to me! We're all in danger from that man!"

  Half a dozen women climbed into the rear of the van. There were murmurs and gasps at the sight of Magda, and then little crooning sounds as she was lifted and brought out. Gently they carried her toward the more distant camp-fire, with Dr. Belleaux following and speaking to them, obviously pointing out each bruise and cut to them in an effort to whip them into a new fury of hatred.

  Mrs. Pollifax looked at Stefan, who looked at her mockingly. She turned and looked at Colin, who was leaning over his uncle. She wondered if Sandor had been caught yet. She wondered how she could possibly make the gypsies understand that if they didn't act quickly they would all be killed, and their beloved Magda too. She wondered how long it would be before Magda regained consciousness. That was something only Dr. Belleaux knew, and he seemed very confident that Magda's ability to speak was not an imminent threat.

  He was shouting to Stefan now, and to complete the irony he was shouting in English. "Tie them up," he called. "We can use the helicopter radio to contact the police. They can be here by dawn."

  Police—dawn; what was he planning, she wondered as Stefan pushed them forward. Could Dr. Belleaux really afford to call in the police, or didn't he plan to be here when they came, or would they all be dead when the police arrived? Certainly by dawn he must expect to retrieve whatever document Magda had stolen from the Communists; if he already had this he would not be here. Now that he had established himself to the gypsies as Magda's protector was he counting on this to provide him with the gypsies' confidence? She was growing too tired to think.

  Stefan led them past the second campfire where Magda had been placed between blankets. A dark, tousle-headed boy of nine or ten sat cross-legged beside Magda, watching a woman apply ointment to Magda's face wounds. The woman looked up at Mrs. Pollifax as she passed and hissed, "Baulo-moosh!" Clearly it was an epithet of the worst kind.

  At some distance from the fires their bandaged hands were tied behind them again, and then to the trunk of a stunted, low-flying tree that looked curiously Japanese in its distortion. From here they could no longer see the van or Uncle Hu lying in the dust beside it. They could see one gypsy wagon and the silhouette of a horse grazing behind it in the shadows. They could see the fire and Magda's blanket-shrouded body, the woman and the boy. Beyond this circle of light the far-away cliffs were etched sharply against the deep blue night sky. The silence of the plain was almost complete except for the sound of the wind and an occasional muffled shout from the men who searched for Sandor.

  "Well," said Mrs. Pollifax dispiritedly.

  "Well," said Colin.

  Stefan had disappeared. The boy who had been sitting beside Magda at the campfire arose and walked across the open space toward Mrs. Pollifax and Colin. He chose a position a few yards from them and sat down, cross-legged, to watch them now. He watched without expression, his face impassive. Two young men suddenly appeared and began to search Mrs. Pollifax and Colin. Their faces were dark, swarthy and leanly handsome, their hands expertly light. When they came upon Mrs. Pollifax's wad of money and unpinned it they shouted and held it high to show the boy, who laughed delightedly. The two young men added Colin's watch and pen to their treasure and happily walked away.

  "A pretty kettle of fish," said Colin savagely.

  Mrs. Pollifax said wearily, "I don't know how to make them understand. Surely someone here must have heard English spoken once or twice?"

  Colin said doggedly, "They undoubtedly speak Bulgarian—no mean accomplishment—since they came from across the border. Of course they speak Romany, and probably some Hungarian as well, and a little Turkish. But even if they understood some English our dear old friend Dr. Belleaux got here first."

  "But why would we come here to the gypsies at all—with Magda—if we'd beaten and drugged her?"

  "For the same reason Dr. Belleaux came here: to get from the gypsies what Magda left here with them. In his case before she wakes up and calls him a bloody liar."

  "If only she would—right now!" said Mrs. Pollifax with feeling. "She'd give one long loud scream at sight of him, and tell these people who he is in their own language, and —but will Dr. Belleaux allow her to wake up?"

  "No, but he can't very well kill her in plain sight of her friends." He added wryly, "At the moment I'm more worried about us. Nobody here would mind seeing us killed, and we haven't one single state secret up our sleeves to prolong our living. He can keep Magda drugged while he goes to work on the gypsies but we're only nuisances. I keep remembering Sebastien. He was going to hitch up his wagon, feed his dancing bear and follow us, remember?"

  Mrs. Pollifax said gloomily, "But he didn't expect to find us before dawn, and it can't be midnight yet, can it? And it's more likely he fed his bear and then decided to curl up and sleep for a while. I'd rather put my money on Sandor, who at least—"

  She stopped. The gypsies were bringing Sandor back into camp. One large and muscular gypsy carried him slung across his back like a slab of venison. In a long procession the men crossed their line of vision, passed the campfire and disappeared. "Unconscious," she said despairingly. "Not even capable of explaining in Turkish to the gypsies who we arel"

  Colin said soberly, "What do you think Dr. Belleaux has in mind—that is, if you can enter that mind of his at all?"

  Mrs. Pollifax considered. "I can at least guess. With Magda he has two possibilities: either he will fly her off to Russia with whatever papers he mentioned, or he will kill her and fly off to Russia himself with the mysterious papers. He has that helicopter. I daresay it's provided him by the Russians, and he need only radio ahead and cross the border at some prearranged spot with very little risk of being shot down."

  "Either possibility disposes of his pleasant life in Istanbul at least!"

  Mrs. Pollifax laughed. "Don't be naïve, my dear Colin. He can easily salvage his pleasant Istanbul life by saying that I murdered Magda."

  "And risk a trial?" asked Colin. "Or am I being naïve again?"

  "Yes, you are, really," Mrs. Pollifax told him. "Because by that time he will have seen to it that the gypsies kill me. Stone me to death, no doubt," she said tartly.

  Stefan and Assim reappeared suddenly, carrying a trussed-up but still breathing Sandor. They knotted him to the tree as well—it was becoming heavily populated. Stefan said with a grin, "The gypsies hunt well for us, eh? We'll even let them kill you soon."

  "Bring that other man here, too," said Dr. Belleaux, strolling in from the shadows. "The tall thin one. What is his name?" he asked Mrs. Pollifax.

  "I don't think 1'll tell you," she said coldly.

  He shrugged. "It scarcely matters in any case." He regarded the tree with interest. "Perhaps this tree is the best solution of all for your demise, certainly less tedious than simulating knife murders for you all by the gypsies. A little kerosene sprinkled at the base of the tree, a match, a flaming tree and there would be no embarrassing traces left at all. The Turkish police," he added, "will be here by dawn. It is so very difficult to puzzle out how to dispose of so many of you."

  Mrs. Pollifax said coldly, "You're very disappointing, Dr. Belleaux, you appear to have the mentality of a Neanderthal man—except I rather imagine I'm insulting the defenseless
Neanderthal. I had expected something a little more imaginative, discriminating and subtle from a man of your obvious taste and background. You must be growing quite desperate."

  Dr. Belleaux nodded. "It is a matter to which I must still give careful attention, Mrs. Pollifax," he admitted. 'To me also it feels unpleasantly primitive. I naturally prefer the gypsies to kill you, as I think they will. But you have to be dealt with by dawn, which accelerates the pace. In any case you may rest assured that I will evolve a way of disposing of you all that will suit my own welfare—not yours," he added with a charming, if pointed smile. "Ah, you have the fourth one, Stefan—good! He is beginning to stir, and he speaks Turkish, so gag him as well, please. Check all the knots, Assim, and then back to the helicopter."

  Mrs. Pollifax said indignantly, "You must realize that Magda will never give you what you want."

  Dr. Belleaux smiled. "Of course not, but the gypsies will. They believe what I tell them."

  "I find it rather depressing to have been right about that," Mrs. Pollifax said to Colin.

  Dr. Belleaux glanced at his watch. "I advise you to say your prayers," he concluded. "I shall be speaking again now by radio to the police in Istanbul, and by dawn the police should be rendezvousing here from all points of Anatolia."

  "And you?" asked Mrs. Pollifax.

  "I will be—elsewhere."

  The three of them walked off into the darkness and vanished. The boy guarding them also got up suddenly and ran off into the shadows, leaving them alone.

  "I'm terribly sorry, Colin," Mrs. Pollifax said with a sigh.

  "If you're going to say what I think—don't," he told her coldly. "I was never—at any point—your responsibility, and you know that. I chose to come along, and I simply won't have you going all bleary and sentimental about me now."

  She said gently, "And if I do, dear Colin, precisely what can you do about it?"

  He said stiffly, "Well, I shall certainly think the less of you. I've no complaints—it's been a bit of a romp, you know."

  She turned her head and looked at him. "I trust that you have the intelligence to realize that you're not a coward, and never have been!"

  He grinned. "That's rather choice, isn't it? And how else would I have found out?"

  The boy was returning. Again he came across the turf but this time he walked up to Mrs. Pollifax and looked into her face searchingly, and then from his pocket he drew out a small knife, leaned over her and cut the ropes at her ankles and wrists.

  Colin said in astonishment, "I say—am I imagining things, or did he just—"

  The boy fiercely shook his head, pressing one finger to his lips. As Mrs. Pollifax stared at him blankly he beckoned her to follow him.

  "But the others!" protested Mrs. Pollifax, pointing to Colin and Sandor and Mrs. Ramsey.

  The boy shook his head. His gestures grew more frantic.

  "Go with him for heaven's sake," Colin said in a low voice. "You're not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, are you? If you make a scene he'll tie you up again!"

  Torn between loyalty and curiosity Mrs. Pollifax followed him. Once she looked back, and at sight of her friends tied helplessly to the tree she would have gone back to them if the child had not tugged furiously at her baggy pants. What did he want, wondered Mrs. Pollifax and why was he doing this? She limped with him past the horses, around rocks and wagons—he was obviously hiding her from the other gypsies, and her curiosity had become almost intolerable when ahead of her she saw a tent pitched between two boulders. It was the only tent that she had seen in the camp. A light inside faintly illuminated its ragged edges and spilled out from its base. The boy pulled aside a curtain and gestured to Mrs. Pollifax to enter.

  Mrs. Pollifax walked in. A lantern hung suspended from a lent pole, and seated cross-legged on a pillow beneath it was a square-shouldered gypsy woman. Hair threaded with silver hung to her shoulders, framing a square, high-cheek-boned dark face. The eyes in the lantern light smoldered under heavy lids, and now they pierced Mrs. Pollifax like a laser beam.

  The boy spoke rapidly to the woman, and she nodded. He beckoned Mrs. Pollifax to sit down in front of the gypsy, and Mrs. Pollifax stiffly lowered herself to the hard earth.

  "Give me your hands," the woman said abruptly.

  Mrs. Pollifax gasped. "You speak English I"

  "Yes. The boy understands some but cannot speak it well."

  Mrs. Pollifax's relief was infinite. 'Thank heaven!" she cried. "I have tried—"

  The woman shook her head. "Just give me your hands, please. Everything you wish to say is written in them, without lies or concealment."

  "Without—" Mrs. Pollifax stretched out her hands, suppressing a desire to laugh hysterically. "If you insist," she said. "But there is so little time—"

  "The boy tells me he has listened to you speak, and that my people have been lied to." She was gently examining the palms of the hands. "Your wrists are bandaged?"

  "Yes. Like Magda's. The man in the white goatee did this."

  "Hush." The woman closed her eyes, holding Mrs. Pollifax's hands in silence, as if they spoke a message to her. "You speak truth," she said abruptly, and opened her eyes. To the boy she said. "Bring Goru here at once—quickly! This woman does not lie, she lives under koosti cherino, the good stars." As the boy ran out she smiled at Mrs. Pollifax. "You are skeptical, I see."

  "You can see this in a hand?"

  "But of course—lips may lie but the lines in a hand never do, and I have the gift of dukkeripen. You are a widow, are you not? Your hand tells me also that you have begun a second life—a second fate line has begun to parallel the first one."

  "All widows begin second lives," pointed out Mrs. Pollifax gently.

  The woman smiled into her eyes. "With so many marks of preservation on that second line, showing escape from dangers? And a cross on the mount of Saturn, foretelling the possibility of violent death at some future date?" She allowed Mrs. Pollifax to withdraw her hand. "But I am clairvoyant as well," she went on. "When L hold a hand 1 get pictures, as well as vibrations of good or evil. I feel that you have come to this country only days ago—by plane, I believe •—and I get a very strong picture of you tied to a chair—this is very recent, is it not?—in a room where there is straw in one corner, and a door that has been bricked-over."

  "How very astonishing!" said Mrs. Pollifax.

  The woman's smile deepened. "You see the waste of words, then. But here is Goru."

  Goru was enormous—it was he who had carried Sandor back to camp slung over his shoulder—and he was made even larger by the bulky sheepskin jacket he wore. As the woman talked to him he looked at Mrs. Pollifax with growing surprise, and then with humor. He made a magnificent shrug, snapped his fingers and grinned. With a bow to Mrs. Pollifax he hurried out.

  The woman nodded. "We shall have some sport with that gorgio," she said in contempt. 'The man descended on us like a bird in his machine, and spoke knowingly and urgently about Magda. He knew everything! How is that?"

  "He drugged her earlier tonight, with the kind of drug that produces confession," explained Mrs. Pollifax. "You will help us now?"

  The woman's lip curled. "Wars. Assassinations. Drugs that make even a Magda speak—" She shook her head. "I do not understand this civilization of yours. Do not look so anxious for your friends, my dear—trust Goru. You came to this country to help Magda?"

  Mrs. Pollifax nodded. "But I can tell you nothing that Dr. Belleaux has not already said—except," she added with dignity, "that Magda was not drugged when she spoke to me of going to Yozgat to find the Inglesáis."

  The woman smiled. "I am Anyeta Inglescu."

  "Are you?" Mrs. Pollifax was pleased, and put out her hand. "I'm Emily Pollifax."

  "The name of Inglescu was not mentioned by the man with the goatee," the gypsy added. "But I do not understand why he goes to such trouble to speak lies, to try and fool us."

  Mrs. Pollifax said bluntly, "He wants the document Magda escaped with."


  "Document?" said the woman curiously.

  Mrs. Pollifax nodded. "Whatever it is that Magda brought with her out of Bulgaria and entrusted to you." She gestured helplessly. "Microfilm. Microdots. Code. She has told ma nothing except that she preferred risking death to abandoning it."

  Anyeta Inglescu laughed. "I see." Lifting her voice she called out, and the boy who had brought Mrs. Pollifax to the tent came inside. "Come here," she told him gently, and taking his hand said to Mrs. Pollifax, "This is what Magda brought out of Bulgaria and left with us."

  "I beg your pardon?" said Mrs. Pollifax blankly.

  "You did not know that Magda has a grandchild? This is Dmitri Gurdjieff. She smuggled him out of Bulgaria, and entrusted him to us when she went to Istanbul to get help."

  "Grandchild?" faltered Mrs. Pollifax. "Dmitri?" She stared incredulously at the boy and then she began to smile and the smile spread through her like warm wine until it merged in a laugh of purest delight. She understood perfectly: she was a grandmother herself. But what exquisite irony for Dr. Belleaux, she thought, that the treasure Magda had smuggled out from the iron curtain was her grandson! "But this is marvelous!" she cried. Gesturing toward the darkness beyond the tent she explained, "Out there secret agents are fighting, bribing, even killing in their greed to learn what Magda brought our with her—and it's a small boy! Nine or ten?" she asked.

  "Actually he is eleven," Anyeta said.

  Mrs. Pollifax nodded. "I have three grandchildren myself, and you?"

  Anyeta laughed. "A dozen at least." They both regarded the boy tenderly, and he smiled at them. "His father is a high Communist official, very busy, scarcely known to the boy, and now he has remarried. Perhaps you did not know that Magda had a daughter born of her first marriage. The daughter died last year. Magda could not leave without the child."

  The, boy suddenly spoke. "Is not all so."

  "What is not all so?" asked the gypsy.

  "There is more." He had grown quite pale. Reaching inside his ragged shirt he said, "Is time maybe to speak, Anyeta. There is more."