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`I'm involved with Nancy..

`Officially?' she pressed.

`Well, no, not yet…'

`So you come and see me…'

`You're blackmailing my emotions…'

`And I'll go on doing it,' she assured him in her soft, appealing voice.

He studied her while he finished his drink. Her blue eyes stared back at him steadily. She had beautiful bone structure, Newman reflected. A lot of character – you could see that in her chin and high cheekbones. To say nothing of her figure which was something to knock any man out.

`What do I do next for you?' she asked.

`Go home. Relax…' He saw the look in her eyes. 'Oh, hell, Blanche, all right. You still go home and rest. Get some warmer clothes and maintain the watch on Lee Foley.' He leaned forward and grasped her upper arm. 'But you be very careful. Foley is dangerous.'

`I can handle him Incidentally, when he's lying low at the Savoy he eats at a Hungarian place a few doors down the Neuengasse. The street is arcaded – so I can keep under cover. And it's perfect for parking the scooter. Anything else?'

She made it sound so everyday, Newman marvelled. Blanche was always very cool. She watched him over the rim of her glass; she couldn't take her eyes off him.

`There might be something else,' he decided. 'You've built up that register of people with unusual occupations. Check it and see if you have anything on a Manfred Seidler…'

`Will do. Maybe I'd better go before your pseudo-fiancee turns up. If I get something on this Seidler I'll type out a report and include it in the envelope with the photos. I'll head it MS. If there's an emergency I'll call your room number, let the phone ring three times, then disconnect. You call me back when you can. OK, Mr Newman?'

`OK, Miss Signer…'

She leaned forward, kissed him full on the mouth, stood up and walked away, her handbag looped over her shoulder. The bar at the Bellevue Palace is dimly lit, very much like many American bars. But as she walked erectly across the room men's heads turned to watch her. She stared straight ahead, apparently unaware of the impression she was creating. At the exit she passed Nancy Kennedy who was just entering.

Newman had moved Blanche's lipsticked glass on to the next table as she left. He stood up to greet Nancy. As she came closer he saw by her expression that something had disturbed her.

`That man phoned again,' she said as she sat down on the banquette. 'The same one I took the call from in Geneva. Seidler? Wasn't that his name? I told him you'd be back much later in the evening. He sounded very agitated. He put the phone down on me when I tried to get a message.'

`That's my strategy now, Nancy. Agitation. All round. By the time I talk to him he'll be going up the wall, which will make him more pliable. Same thing with the Berne Clinic. Agitation. Although there,' he said ruefully, 'it seems to have acted with a vengeance. They tried to kill us on that motorway…'

`Us?'

`You as well as me is my guess.' Newman's manner was forbidding. 'I'm giving it to you straight so you'll take care. You make no trips to Thun without me. Now, in the car you mentioned something missing from Jesse's room. What was it?'

`You have a good memory…'

`It's my main asset. Answer the bloody question.'

`You are in a mood. Something to tell the time by. No clock on his bedside table. No wristwatch. Jesse has no way of keeping track of the time. It's a disorientation technique. I know that from my psychiatric studies.'

`Trick-cyclists drive me round the bend…'

`You're hostile to everything medical,' she flared. 'When we were at the Clinic I saw you wrinkling your nose at the smell. They do have to keep those places hygienic. To do that they use disinfectant…'

`OK,' he said irritably. 'No clock. I've got the point. I agree it's odd.'

`And Novak told the truth when he said they used sodium amytal to sedate Jesse.' She reached into her handbag, produced a blue capsule from a zipped pocket and handed it to him. 'You can't see in here but it's a sixty-milligramme dose coded F23. Jesse slipped it to me while you were talking to Novak. That's why Jesse was still awake.'

`Maybe I'm dim, but I don't follow what you've just said.'

`Jesse has become expert at palming a capsule when he's given one to swallow. He pretends to swallow it and hides it in the palm of his hand.'

`How does he get rid of it?'

`He drops it inside that metal grille where they've hidden the tape recorder…'

`That's a laugh,' Newman commented. 'It's also clever. It doesn't suggest a sick man who's lost most of his marbles. And one absent thing I did notice. There wasn't a single mention of the fact that Jesse is supposed to be suffering from leukaemia.'

`Soon you'll be as good as me,' she said smugly. Then her expression drooped. 'But they are sedating him heavily. He showed me the fleshy part of his arm – it's riddled with punctures. The sods are pumping him full of the stuff with a hypodermic. We were just lucky it was capsule day. Can't you find out what's really going on when you meet Novak in Thun on Thursday night?'

`I intend to. If he turns up. He's getting very shaky about the situation there, so let's hope Kobler and Co. don't notice. I want you to stay inside this hotel the whole time I'm away at Thun. If you get any calls saying I've had an accident, ignore them. Anything that tempts you out of the Bellevue. You'll do that, won't you?'

`You have changed. You're getting very bossy…'

`I'm not asking you. I'm telling you.' His tone was bleak. 'I can no longer keep wondering what you're doing, looking over my shoulder.'

`You could ask me more nicely…'

She broke off as a waiter came to their table. He handed to Newman a folded sheet of paper. Inside was a sealed envelope. Taking the envelope, Newman looked at the waiter.

`Who gave you this?'

`A rather shabbily dressed individual, sir. He pointed you out and said would I be sure to hand this to you personally. I have never seen him before.'

`Thanks…'

Newman tore open the envelope and extracted a second, smaller sheet of folded paper which bore no clue as to its origins. The message was brief.

Can you come to see me at seven o'clock this evening. A crisis situation. Beck.

Newman checked his watch. 6.15 pm. He put the folded sheet back inside the envelope and slipped the envelope inside his wallet. Nancy stirred restlessly.

`What is it?'

`Things are hotting up. I have to go out. Expect me when you see me. If you're hungry start dinner without me. Choose whichever restaurant you fancy.'

`Is that all?'

`Yes. It is. Remember – stay inside this hotel…'

As he walked through the night Berne was deserted. The workers had gone home, the bright sparks hadn't come in for an evening on the town yet. He crossed over by the Casino and walked into the right-hand arcade of the Munstergasse, an arched stone tunnel with a paved walk, shop windows lit up and closed.

Newman wondered why he had been so abrupt with Nancy. A man has a habit of comparing one woman with another. Had the fact that he had been talking with Blanche so amiably before Nancy arrived influenced his attitude? Not a pleasant conclusion. But Beck's summons had decided him. With half his mind he heard the footsteps behind which synchronized with his own. He crossed the lonely street into the opposite arcade without looking back.

Yes, he had made up his mind. Before he saw Beck he was going to see Blanche – to tell her she was out of the whole business. Crisis was the word Beck had used. Beck didn't use words like that lightly. He was going to pull Blanche out of the firing line.

The footsteps synchronized with his own, the click-clack of a second pair of feet on the stones had followed him across the street. They were now following him down the same arcade. He didn't look back. It was an old trick – to mask your own footfall by pacing it with the man you were following.