“I’m sorry about that. All I asked him was to put me in touch with someone who was in the Phengaros band in 1944. I told him there was nothing political about my business.”
The Captain sighed elaborately. “Mr. Carey,” he said, “if I were to come to you in America and ask you to put me in touch with a gangster wanted by the police, would you be prepared to help me?”
“Is that a true comparison?”
“Certainly. I do not think you quite understand our problems here. You are a foreigner, of course, and that excuses you, but it is very indiscreet to inquire into matters of this kind.”
“Do you mind telling me why?”
“These men are Communists-outlaws. Do you know that Phengaros himself is in prison on a criminal charge?”
“Yes. I interviewed him two days ago.”
“Pardon?”
“Colonel Chrysantos in Salonika was kind enough to arrange for me to see Phengaros in prison.”
The Captain’s smile faded. He took his elbows off the back of the chair.