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The man there took her boarding pass and urgently pointed at the plane。 Everybody else was aboard。 But the Countess Krak turned。 She seized me by the shoulders and right through her veil gave me a kiss on the cheek。
〃Thank you； Soltan；〃 she said。 〃I appreciate what you have done。 You are a good man； Soltan。〃
She turned and raced over to the plane； and sped up the steps。 At the top she turned and waved back to me。 Then she vanished inside。
I stood there； very uneasy indeed。 On the surface of it； getting her here； getting her scars removed and getting her on her way to see the man she loved would seem to merit appreciation。 But looking only at the surface could get one into deep trouble in dealing with the Countess Krak。 She had been up to something。 That burst of affection was so unlike her； I knew down to the roots of my soul that it boded no good。 Yes； the more I thought of it； the more certain I became。 Some horrible trick was involved！ I knew her too well！ And to my sorrow！
The plane rumbled away to the takeoff area and then； with a roar； rushed down the runway and into the sky。
I was not out of the woods yet。 She might not transfer to the international flight at Istanbul。 She might have second thoughts and e back。
The taxi rushed me back to the hospital。 I entered the interview room and locked the door behind me。 I unlocked the cabinet and got out the viewer。
Chapter 4
There she was in the Turkish Airlines plane。 She had taken off the veil。 The stewardess was giving her coffee and a small； dried…out roll。 She took the little tray and examined it minutely； feeling the paper； trying to read the label on the sugar cube…which was in Turkish。 She didn't know that she was supposed to put the sugar cube in the coffee。 A taste of the beverage did not meet with her approval。 She saw a passenger ring a buzzer and get the stewardess so she tried it。 The stewardess came over。
〃This is awfully bitter；〃 the Countess said in English。 〃Do you have some hot jolt？〃
Oh； Gods。 Code break！ But it wouldn't have done any good to brief her。 She would just have said； I'm not in the military！
The stewardess looked shocked。 〃We usually don't serve hard liquor on the early morning flight； ma'am。〃
〃But this is so bitter！〃
〃Ah；〃 said the stewardess； 〃you haven't put the sugar in。〃 She opened a couple of cubes and dropped them in the cup。 She must have thought the Countess Krak was feebleminded。
The Countess Krak studied the blunt； odd…shaped knife。 She must have decided you could stir with it； for that is how she used it。 Then she found the spoon still wrapped up in the napkin。 She studied that。 There was a pat of butter for the roll。 She took some of it with the spoon and tasted it cautiously。 She sipped at the coffee。 Then she put everything back down on the tray。 She muttered； in Voltarian； 〃Jettero must be starving to death on this planet！〃
That was the most cheerful thought I had heard all day！ I took off my cap and got out of my bearskin coat。 I put the viewer on the examination couch and sat down in a chair。 I might as well make myself fortable。 I was going to make very sure this lepertige got out of Turkey。
I reached up to fondle my 〃rank locket〃 as one will。 My hand met empty air！
I looked。
GONE！
I must have dropped it！
A sick feeling coursed through me。 I had intended just to borrow Utanc's emerald locket to give myself the necessary air of authority when I couldn't find mine。 I had intended； before this day was out； to sneak it back into her wardrobe jewel drawer。 Oh； my Gods； her rage at me would make the villa utterly uninhabitable！
Wait。 Where had I felt it last？ I couldn't recall。
I raced out into the hall。 I almost collided head…on with Prahd。 〃Have you found a locket？〃 I screamed at him。
He said； 〃Sssh； sssh！〃 He pushed me back into his office。 〃Don't yell so。 And you've taken off your fur coat。 You can't run around in public in a Voltar uniform！ Here。〃 He grabbed a white doctor's coat out of a drawer and shoved it at me。
I steadied myself down long enough to put it on。 The skirt and sleeves were much too long。 〃The locket
I was wearing to show my rank；〃 I said。 〃It's gone。 Please help me look for it。〃
〃I'm sorry；〃 he said。 〃I have an operation scheduled。 Just remember the places you have been and go look。〃
That was wise advice。 I went to the operating room we had used last night。 A cleaning team was in there。 No； they hadn't seen a green locket。
I went to where I had stood looking through the oneway window。 No； no locket on the floor。
Bright idea： I called the taxi driver on the phone。 I held on while he went and looked in his cab。 No； no locket。
Pleadingly； I told him to drive out to the airport and look around the floor and call back。 He said he would。
I paced。 Oh； Gods； Utanc would scream and rage and throw things in absolute hurricanes for days； weeks； months！ It was the biggest stone in that drawer。 It must be worth fifty thousand dollars at least！
That called to mind the state of my finances。 Very soon those credit…card vultures would be back。 I hadn't any notion how much I still owed from my trip to the U。 S。； but it would not be less than another half a million。 No possible chance existed of getting it from the hospital or Faht Bey。 As it stood now； maybe they would be satisfied just by selling off the villa and the staff。 But if I bought another locket for replacement and ran up even more bills than I had； maybe they would sell me； too！
No； buying another locket was out of the question！ The very thought of more bills turned my blood cold。
An hour went by。 The taxi driver called back。 No； there was no locket on the floor of the airport and nobody had turned one in and I now owed him another fifteen dollars！ It made me feel pretty angry。 Not only had he probably tipped the scales in favor of mayhem from the collectors by buying me that new wardrobe on my credit cards； he now couldn't even do a simple thing like finding a locket！ But I didn't rage at him。 He was the only excuse for a friend I had。 I simply hung up。
Dispiritedly； I wandered back to the interview room I had been using； went in and closed the door。
The Countess had transferred at Istanbul and was on her way to Brussels for the next plane change。
Apparently； in the transit lounge； she had made some acquisitions。 They have a pretty plete snack and magazine stand there and she had invested heavily。 She had a lot of periodicals on her lap。 She was selecting one。 She had a French one called Oo La La； La Femme。
The elation I should be feeling at the realization that she was out of Turkey and that every second was taking her further away did not e。
Maybe it was the magazine which made me feel suppressed。 It was a fashion magazine。 I knew that she didn't read French but those huge color plates of clothes didn't need words。 What they were saying to her； I did not know。 But what they said to me was 〃Expensive！〃 I was a man of experience now where women's clothes were concerned！
Gradually； however； I began to cheer up。 Those gorgeous color plates of weirdly posing models draped in impossibly bizarre garments were going to cost Heller a roaring fortune！ A Parisienne designer doesn't look at his client's figure： he looks only at her checkbook。 As he expects both to be very fat； I wondered why the models in such fashion plates were always as thin as chicken bones。 Strange world； women's fashions。 The French were featuring； I could make out； Le Look Garbage。
Somebody had explained all this to me once…a man on a plane。 He had said the fashion designers were all homos and they hated women because they saw in them petition。 So they covertly dressed them as bizarrely as possible to keep men off of them。 He was probably right。 Looking at these pictures made me hate homos all the more！ To dress women strangely was one thing but to dress them so expensively was unforgivable！
The Countess Krak eventually threw it aside。 She picked up a huge American edition of a periodical called Vague。 More fashion pla