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“That’s right, lover.”

“And you’ve no intention of giving me the name?”

“For the moment, not a chance. I’ve been in touch and she’s asked me to hold you for the time being. You’ll have to take it easy and await developments.”

“So it’s another woman?”

“That’s right, lover. Surprised?”

“Nothing could surprise me any more.” His head was aching and her eyes seemed suddenly enormous like black holes in her white face. He said slowly, “What about Anne?”

“Your girl friend?” She shrugged. “Don’t worry about her. I’ve got a friend in Port Said who can always use fresh talent.”

A cold nausea seeped through him. “You’ll never get away with it,” he said.

She sounded genuinely surprised. “Oh, but I will. It’s surprising how quickly even the most stubborn girls will come to heel — especially when the right methods are applied.”

“You lousy bitch!” he said, but his voice seemed to belong to someone else.

He tried to get up, but all the strength had drained from his body.

She smiled. “Just go with the tide, lover. Have a nice, long sleep.”

Her voice seemed to come from the other side of the hill and he slumped forward across the desk.

(8)

He drifted up from a deep well of darkness and agony exploded inside his head as a hand slapped him heavily across the face. He felt no pain — no pain at all. It was as if his body no longer belonged to him. Each sound seemed to come from far away across water and yet he could hear everything with the most extraordinary clarity.

“How is he?” Soames asked.

Karl laughed harshly. “Good for another couple of hours at least.”

“I should know what they want doing with him by then,” Soames replied.

Their voices faded and the door closed. Brady opened his eyes slowly. The room was festooned with cobwebs — giant grey cobwebs that stretched from one wall to another and undulated slowly.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, fighting the panic which rose inside him. When he opened them again, the cobwebs had almost disappeared.

He was lying on a narrow, single bed against one wall of a small room. A shaded light hung down from the ceiling and curtains were drawn across the window.

He swung his legs down to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed for a while before trying to stand. There was a bad taste in his mouth and his tongue was dry and swollen. Whatever had gone into that coffee had been good — very good.

He got to his feet and lurched across the room, steadied himself against the opposite wall, then turned and moved back to the bed. After a while, the cobwebs disappeared completely and suddenly and everything clicked back into normality.

The door was securely locked and there was no transom. He sat on the edge of the bed and considered the situation. He didn’t have a great deal of time to spare.

By now, the police search had probably extended to London. He had to get out of here. And then he remembered what Soames had said about Anne. Something about a friend in Port Said who could always use fresh talent.

He had spent too much time working in the Middle East himself to consider the remark merely an idle threat and he crossed to the window quickly and pulled back the curtain. The sash lifted easily and he looked out.

He was on the top floor of the house and the gardens lay forty feet below in the darkness. The nearest window was a good ten feet away to the left and impossible to reach.

He closed the window and moved back to the bed and considered the situation for a moment and then he crossed to the door and hammered on it with his bare fists.

After a while, steps hurried along the corridor and Karl said angrily. “Stop that row, Brady, or I’ll come in and make you.”

Brady renewed his attack on the door and the German swore fluently. “All right, you asked for it.”

As the key clicked in the lock and the handle turned, Brady leaned against the door with all his weight. Karl cursed and shoved hard from the other side. Brady held him for a moment and then jumped back.

The door swung open with a crash and Karl staggered into the room and fell flat on his face, the .38 skidding across the floor.

He started to get up and Brady moved in fast and kicked him in the stomach. Karl subsided with a groan and Brady picked up the .38 and left the room, locking the door behind him.

He descended a flight of stairs to the next landing and recognized it at once. The office was at the far end and he stood outside and listened for a moment before turning the handle slowly.

She was reading some papers and a lamp cast a pool of light across the desk. Brady walked forward quietly and stood watching her from the shadows.

Some sixth sense must have warned her and she looked up sharply, looking oddly prim in hornrimmed spectacles.

“Surprise, surprise!” he said softly.

She laid down her pen and said calmly, “What have you done with Karl?”

“He felt tired,” Brady said. “So I left him to have a nice, long sleep.”

She reached casually towards a drawer and he raised the .38 threateningly. “You do, and I’ll put one right through your hand.”

When she spoke, her voice was still calm, but a couple of deep lines had appeared between her eyes. “What do you want?”

“The girl will do for a start.”

She lit a cigarette calmly and shook her head. “You’re too late, lover. She’s on board the S.S. Kontoro in the Pool of London and they go down-river in an hour.”

“What game are you playing?” he said.

She shrugged. “No game. I told you I had to get rid of her, Brady. She knew too much.”

“And this way you could make something on the transaction?”

“That’s right, and there’s nothing you can do about it — not a thing.”

“Isn’t there?” His voice was ice-cold and infinitely menacing. He reached forward and held the .38 six inches from her stomach. “If that boat goes before we can get her off, I’ll put a bullet in your guts, I promise you. You’re a big woman and you’ll take a long time to go.”

For the first time her composure broke. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I’ve got nothing to lose,” he said.

She got to her feet slowly. “I don’t think I can get her back. I’ve already been paid my end by Captain Skiros and he expects to make something on the deal when he reaches Port Said.”

“How much did you get?”

“Five hundred.”

“You’d better get it and fast,” he told her. “Time’s running out.”

She lifted a painting down from the wall and opened a small wall safe. After a moment she returned to the desk with a wad of five-pound notes held together by a rubber band.

He took the money from her and stuffed it into his pocket. “Now we go for a little drive. I’ve got a car outside. You can take the wheel.”

“What happens when we reach the ship?”

He shrugged. “We’ll play it as it comes.”

“Skiros is a pretty hard apple, lover,” she said. “He doesn’t take kindly to people who try to lean on him.”

“All you need to worry about is getting us on board,” he said. “I’ll handle the rest.”

The house was quiet as they went downstairs. She got a coat from the cloakroom and Brady helped himself to a raincoat. They left by the side entrance.

The rain was falling heavily and slanting through the lamplight as they went down the drive and turned into the street. The car was still there. Brady unlocked the door quickly and she squeezed her massive bulk behind the wheel.

As he got in beside her, she said calmly, “What happens if the law stops us?”

“You’d better pray it doesn’t,” he said. “If they get me, they get you. That’s a firm promise.”