Today two guys pulled over to offer me a ride into town.
“Thank you,” I said, “but I am walking.”
The driver jumped out of his car and crossed over to the median strip to say hello.
I too crossed over to the median. We shook hands.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“I am an American,” I replied.
“Excellent,” he said, “do you have any information?”
“Information about what?” I asked.
“Information,” he said. “I am an agent (a spy), a Turkish agent.”
My “I don’t want to hear anymore, this conversation is over” instinct kicked in and I conveniently forgot all my Turkish. The conversation quickly ground to a halt.
He handed me his business card, reminded me that he was an agent, and said that if I had any problems I was to call him. His cover: dried nuts salesman.