Topkapi Page #2

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In Kavala, near the Turkish border.

- Yianis, give me my money.

- Tomorrow.

- Young one. No money. Nothing.

- And no groups aboard there?

- Some English.

- English? Open that bag.

Let's have the box. Come on.

Where is it?

Oh, ah, there we go.

Yes, the English lay great store

by things like this.

I hate to do it myself but, c'est la vie!

Well, wish me luck, Voula.

Ah, Simpson!

So that's Arthur Simpson.

Arthur Simon Simpson -

historian, guide, and schmo.

Morning. First time in Kavala, no doubt.

I'm Arthur Simpson,

archaeologist and historian.

I dug this up many...

Look, it's still wet.

This harbour's full of

historical connections.

Brutus spent the night here

before Philippi,

atter that unpleasant business he had

with Shakespeare... Julius Caesar.

Viens, chrie.

Je parle Belgique...

Ceramics, handmade by

the descendants of ancient heroes here.

Ah, Reverend!

My name is Simpson, sir.

Arthur Simpson.

I'm Church of England myself.

It's a very religious place.

Do you know St Paul passed through

here on his way to Samothrace?

I do.

You'd be surprised to know

the amount of people that don't, Bishop.

Mack, want to see the nightlife of Kavala?

You want the belly dancers, stripteasers?

You showed me Kavala nightlife.

Remember?

- I'm not expensive...

- No.

- Look work of art!

- I don't want any.

- Only 10 drachma.

- Go to Hell!

Nothing.

- Do I look like a tourist?

- A hustler's dream.

I like the touch of the parasol.

- Genius!

- Come, sucker.

- Genuine antique?

- Oh, madam has a very keen eye.

No, it's an imitation, but of a period

about 1000 BC. But I've got other things.

I'm Arthur Simpson,

the uncrowned king of Kavala nightlife.

- I've got some Minoan cuff links...

- Thank you!

I've got some Hellenistic ones

of the ninth dynasty...

- Hey!

- What? You want me, sir?

Come to the yacht club atter lunch.

Might have a little job for you.

Yes, sir.

Hello, Voula. Voula my doll.

I smell hard currency.

Take the plate.

Off home now, girl, and iron the tie.

- Ah, Simpson!

- Oh, yes, yes.

I know, I know, I know.

You wicked thing, you.

Here comes the schmo.

I'm sorry I'm late.

I ran into an old friend - archaeologist.

- We used to run an art publication.

- Simpson,

- how'd you like to earn a fast buck?

- Sir?

100 bucks, to be precise.

But if you are not interested...

- I am, sir.

- You live here?

Yes, well, while my own place

up there is being done up,

I'm right down...

right down there.

You see that Lincoln?

Don't see many of them in Kavala, sir.

It's been rented by a friend

to take to Turkey. He's going by sea.

- Do you know Istanbul?

- Turkey, oh, yes. Istanbul, yes.

Good. Here's what you will do.

Take the car to the Hilton Hotel, Istanbul.

- Your papers and licence in order?

- Oh yes, Mr... Yes, sir.

Here is the car key.

Leave it with the hotel porter.

Tell him the car is for Mr Plimpton.

Got it? Plimp-ton. P-l-i-m-p...

P-t-o-n. Yes.

They'll want the papers at the border.

They're in the glove department.

Glove department. Yes, sir.

Just one more little thing, Simpson.

This car is worth over $13,000.

If I don't hear from Mr Plimpton

by 5 o'clock tomorrow,

I'll report to the police here.

Understood?

That was uncalled for, sir.

Mr Simpson can be relied on.

He has a very reliable face.

- Thank you, Mrs...

- Miss.

Oh!

- Bon voyage, Mr Simpson.

- Godspeed, Arthur Simpson.

Walter, suppose they really

search the car at the border.

It could happen.

- Suppose they find...

- Finders keepers.

- What about Simpson?

- I'm afraid they will keep him, too.

- They'll ask him about us.

- So? Who is us?

We didn't rent the car,

Plimpton did, and he doesn't exist.

All our plans, all our hopes,

riding in the car with that...

what did you call him?

Schmo.

Schmo.

Istanbul, I love you.

Uh-oh.

- Morning.

- Passport.

Morning. Mind if I watch?

- Mr Arthur Simpson?

- Mr Simpson, yes.

There's nothing wrong there, I hope.

- You are English?

- Oh, yes.

Then why you have Egyptian passport?

That's a long story. My father

was a British officer - a colonel.

- Then why not a British passport?

- I'm coming to that.

Mummy - my mother -

she was Egyptian.

In fact, I was born over there, in Egypt.

Cairo. Which is in... Egypt.

Yes?

Well, there was some trouble

with the marriage documents.

Troop movements. You gentlemen

know what it's like in the army.

- I know how it is in the army.

- Yes. The army, yes.

Mr Simpson, this passport is not good.

It expired nearly three weeks ago.

This?

I'll tell you what,

as soon as we get to Istanbul...

I'm sorry, Mr Simpson.

You must go back to Greece.

Uh...

I do not speak Arabic.

Uh, officer? Officer?

May I have your ear

for a moment, please?

Now, you misunderstand entirely.

I thought that the Turks

were a hospitable people.

I know somebody who is going to have

something to say about this - me!

And another thing. I...

- Be careful!

- Don't!

- Mefkufsunuz.

- Mefkufsunuz?

- What does that mean?

- That means you're under arrest!

Mefkufsunuz.

- Uh...

- You will speak when spoken to!

- When did you join the Sigma group?

- Me?

- Who recruited you?

- Nobody.

- So you volunteered.

- No, no, please.

- I was hired to drive, to...

- Who else did the man and woman see?

I don't know.

- Did they send other arms out of Greece?

- No.

- Did they tell you?

- No.

- Then how do you know?

- I don't know...

- Why did you lie?

- I did not lie. I mean...

Simpson, be careful.

I am a victim of circumstances.

Ci...

I swear it.

Look here, I think it's time

you took me to my embassy.

- You can... you can call...

- Call which embassy?

I doubt the Egyptian authorities

will issue a passport to Arthur Simpson.

It seems there is a dossier.

The Egyptians bear me a grudge,

sir, because I claim to be British.

In 1958, he was deported from Britain

for smuggling pornographic literature.

An art magazine, sir.

Called...

Stop Press Nudes.

But may I remind you gentlemen

that not so very long ago,

James Joyce and even Lady Chatterley

herself were considered obscene.

Simpson, the penalty

for terrorism is death.

Were you going to use the roof

of the Hilton? One of the balconies?

Balconies? What for?

Where would you use

the smoke grenade?

Are they for your accomplices,

to create confusion?

Accomplices? I don't know.

Simpson, you're aware next Tuesday

is our annual Army Day parade?

I swear on the life of my fa...

of my mother.

You know our chiefs of staff

and the foreign military missions

will be together on the grandstand?

Their safety is our responsibility.

We shall be merciless with anyone

who threatens it. Merciless.

You frighten me, sir,

but atter all, that's part of your job.

But if my father could hear you now,

he'd laugh himself sick.

He wasn't no colonel, sir.

I just said that in order to make

myself seem important, you know.

He was a sergeant. Acting sergeant.

Acting, unpaid sergeant.

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