seeing that we are both wide awake, and it's only two o'clock in the
morning I would be super ultra-grateful if you could work one of your
little miracles for me right now., It will be a great pleasure/ Nick
told her.
Nicholas was early, he saw as he came out of the American Consulate and
glanced at his Rolex, so he moderated his pace across the Place de la
Concorde, despite the gentle misty rain that settled in minute droplets
on the shoulders of his trench coat, Lazarus was at the rendezvous ahead
of him, standing under one of the statues in the corner of the square
closest to the French Naval headquarters.
He was heavily muffled against the cold, dressed all in sombre blue with
a long cashmere scarf wound around his throat and a dark blue hat pulled
down so low as to conceal the pale smooth bulge of his forehead, Let's
find a warm place/Nick suggested, without greeting the little man.
No, said Lazarus, looking up at him through the thick distorting lenses
of his spectacles. Let us walk. And he led the way through the
underpass on to the promenade above the embankment of the Seine, and set
off in the direction of the Petit Palais.
In the middle of such an inclement afternoon they were the only
strollers, and they walked in silence three or four hundred yards while
Lazarus satisfied himself absolutely of this, and while he adjusted his
mincing little steps to Nick's stride. It was like taking
Toulouse-Lautrec for a stroll, Nick smiled to himself . Even when
Lazarus began speaking, he kept glancing back over his shoulder, and
once when two bearded Algerian students in combat jackets overtook them,
he let them get well ahead before he went on.
You know there will be nothing in writing? he piped.
I have a recorder in my pocket, Nick assured him.
Very well, you are entitled to that. Thank you, murmured Nick dryly.
Lazarus paused, it was almost as though a new reel was being fitted into
the computer, and when he began talking again, his voice had a different
timbre, a monotonous almost electronic tone, as though he was indeed an
automaton.
First, there was a recital of share movements in the thirty-three
companies which make up the Christy Marine complex, every movement in
the previous eighteen months.
The little man reeled them off steadily, as though he were actually
reading from the share registers of the companies. He must have had
access, Nicholas realized, to achieve such accuracy. He had the date,
the number of the shares, the transferor and transferee, even the
transfer of shares in Ocean Salvage and Towage to Nicholas himself, and
the reciprocal transfer of Christy Marine stock, was faithfully
detailed, confirming the accuracy of Lazarus other information. It was
all an impressive exhibition of total knowledge and total recall, but
much too complicated for Nicholas to make any sense of it. He would
have to study it carefully. All that he would hazard was that somebody
was putting up a smoke-screen.
Lazarus stopped on the corner of the Champs Elyses and the rue de la
Boetie. Nicholas glanced down at him and saw his shapeless blob of a
