Flexner appeared to give a nod.
Seeing that his Chairman was bereft of words, Professor Churchward reached for the microphone and said, "This is a scientific conference, not a police investigation. We're sorry to hear about the attack on Michael, but with all due respect it has no bearing on what we are discussing today."
Diamond said at once, "I believe you're mistaken there. You've assumed that Mr. Leapman was the victim of an attack."
"But you just described it," said Churchward.
"No, Professor, I described the scene at the house. The evidence is that the attack was faked."
There were gasps. Everyone had turned to hear what Diamond was saying.
"I was doubtful of the setup anyway, so I asked the forensic lab to check the blood spots found at the scene. I phoned to get the results a few minutes ago." Savoring the moment, he found a wicked way of prolonging it. "As mere are so many scientists present, you may care to know that they test whether it's human by diluting it and bringing it into contact with animal serum. There should be a precipitin reaction between the human protein and the animal serum. A white line forms. No white line was found in this case. The forensic people have a good stock of antisera from a variety of animals." He paused. He was as capable as Churchward of working an audience. "The blood spots in Michael Leapman's living room were bovine in origin, probably from calf liver, which is as bloody as most things one keeps in a freezer." Again he waited, allowing the facts to sink in. "So I'm bound to ask whether either of you gentlemen has any idea why Mr. Leapman should have gone missing in these suspicious circumstances at this crucial time."
Churchward was careful to switch off the mike before conferring with Flexner, who had a glass of water to his lips.
Diamond remained standing.
Without getting up, Lieutenant Eastland muttered reproachfully, "You could have told me first."
"There wasn't time."
"Was this what you were setting up this morning when I came in?"
"With the lab, yes. I called them back just now. The beef test was the first they tried."
"I thought you were ordering a sandwich."
David Flexner switched on again and did his best to sound composed: "We are not aware of any reason for the incident that has just been described. Michael Leapman has served as our Vice Chairman with honor and distinction for many years. We regret what has just been reported, but we can't see that it has any connection with our business here today. The program will resume after lunch. That is all I have to say at this time."
The press closed in on Diamond.
"Satisfied?" Eastland asked, when Diamond had finally shaken off the last of them.
"I'm not here for satisfaction. I'm here to find out how much Flexner and the professor know about Leapman's activities."
"So what did you learn?"
"Flexner, at least, was genuinely fazed. I'm less certain about the professor."
Eastland appeared to concur. "He's a different type. More mature as a personality. His mind was on damage limitation."
"That was my impression, too. A cool customer. I suspend judgment on Professor Churchward."
"His sort wouldn't be fazed if King Kong stepped into the conference."
"But that doesn't make him a guilty man."
"Want another look at him? He's taking the afternoon session."
Diamond said he had other plans. While the big shots were away, he was going to visit the Manflex Building. He meant to find out for himself whether Flexner had concealed anything of importance the evening before when he was being questioned about Yuko Masuda's file entry.
"You won't get in there without a warrant," Eastland told him. "They have security like a state pen."
"Want a bet?"
"Sure."
"I bet you the price of a meal, then," Diamond suggested.
"One of your meals? Get away."
Both men grinned. They worked better now they had the measure of each other.
Later, fortified by a sandwich (or two) he bought himself, Diamond stepped from a limousine and strutted confidently towards the front entrance of the Manflex Corporation. The security guard'-happily one he hadn't met on the previous visit-asked for his pass. Diamond admitted that he didn't possess a pass. He had something better.
"What's that?"
"A British passport"
"Mister, are you trying to be funny?"
"No, I'm giving you the chance to verify my name. I'm Peter Diamond."
"Am I supposed to have heard of you?" said the guard, a mite more cautiously.
"I'm glad you asked the question. You'd better give some thought to the answer." Diamond peered at the man's identity disc. "Officer William Pinkowitz."
Anyone who has played the power game knows that you put a man on the defensive by using his name. "Are you something in Safe Haven Security?"
Diamond repeated in a scandalized tone, "Something in it?"
"Do you work for us?"
"I wouldn't put it that way, but you're getting there." All this was an exercise in psyching out that he had used in various guises many times before.
"But you're not American."
"Didn't I just make that clear?" He left the wretched man dangling a moment longer before saying, "Safe Haven is just a subsidiary of Diamond Sharp International."
"Diamond Sharp…"
"International. Do you want to check with your superior?"
There was a certain amount of hesitation before Officer William Pinkowitz apparently decided that to cast any more doubt on the word of Peter Diamond was a risk he'd rather not take. "I'll just take a look at that passport, sir."
"Certainly."
After an interval came the inevitable, awed, "You're a Detective Superintendent?”
"You're doing a good job, Pinkowitz. Keep it up." He walked into the building. Behind him, he heard Pinkowitz's heels click in salute.
He got out of the elevator at the twenty-first floor, from which, he'd been told, Manny Flexner had jumped to his death. A woman was coming along the corridor and wasn't the sort to walk shyly past Thirtyish, with dark hair, brilliant makeup and, of all things, a kiss-curl in the center of her forehead, she couldn't wait to find out what he was doing there with his black eye and battered face. She called out when she was still fully fifteen yards away, "Can I help you?"
"Personnel records?" he said.
"They're all on computer now."
"Where could I, em…?"
"Are you Australian?"
"English."
"Oh, you can't be!" She checked the position of her curl. "I have some very dear friends in England. Which part of England?"
"London."
"Really? My friends are in Welwyn Garden City. Is that near London?"
"Tolerably near."
"Tolerably near-I love it! But what's happened to you? I hope you haven't had a bad experience in our country."
"No, just a fall. I'm fine."
"I wouldn't have said so! Are you here on vacation?"
"Research," he said, divining a way to get back on course. He wasn't sure how long he could rely on Officer Pinkowitz to keep his privileged knowledge to himself. "Family history. Mr., er, Leapman suggested I consult the records for information about a distant member of the family."
"Michael Leapman? He isn't here today. Isn't that just too bad?"
"It doesn't trouble me in the least But if I could be shown how to use a computer…"
"I don't know if there's a spare desk. Hold on-I'll think of something."
"Mr. Leapman's desk?"
"Why, yes-of course!"
Neat and simple, satisfyingly simple. At least, he told himself, I'm functioning again.
She showed him into Leapman's office, a place with signs of long occupation. A comfortable reclining chair, worn at the arms. A desk with cup stains apparently impervious to cleaning. Some far-from-new executive toys, including a Newton's cradle that Diamond couldn't resist disturbing. A poster of Stockholm, curling at the corners. Even the computer keyboard at a separate desk had the glaze chipped off some of the main keys.