'Ronstadt? Osborne?'
'I don't want to talk about it.'
'But you do want breakfast. We can find a cafe outside. Plenty of them in Freiburg.'
'I'm ravenous, Bob.'
They were already outside in the street. She was becoming more confident about him, he sensed. They turned left and, walking fast, she almost slipped on a stretch of ice. He grasped hold of her, saved her from falling.
'Loop you arm through mine,' he said firmly.
She did so. She was trembling, and not with the cold. She was wearing a thick overcoat with a high collar. He smiled at her as they continued walking.
'People will start talking if they see us like this.' 'That's not funny.'
'Just a joke.'
'Bob.' She looked at him. 'You haven't got a coat and it's freezing. Should we go back so you can get one?' she suggested without any enthusiasm.
'The cold doesn't worry me. It's the great heat – with humidity – which I find trying.'
He was telling the truth. In this respect he was like Tweed, who also could stand any amount of cold, but he had to push himself hard in hot, humid weather. They arrived outside a large cafe-cum-restaurant. Denise tugged at his arm.
'Let's check out this place. I want to get you inside into some warmth.'
It was an old place, with huge dark wooden beams across the ceiling. There were several couples inside, dressed like locals. Denise nodded, guided him inside, made for a remote table near the back. He helped her off with her coat and felt the warmth on his face and bare hands. They sat facing each other.
'When did you last eat?' he asked, picking up the menu.
'I had a snack yesterday afternoon in my room at the Three Kings.'
'Nothing since? I see. How about a whopping great omelette?'
'Sounds wonderful. Mushroom, if they've got it. Otherwise plain would do fine. And a lot of coffee, with milk.'
The waitress, with a checked blouse and a dark skirt, appeared. He ordered a large omelette for Denise, a small one for himself. He had already had breakfast but he thought it would make her feel more comfortable if he ate with her. He didn't look at her. Instead he looked round the restaurant.
'Is Alec with you?' she asked suddenly.
'Alec?'
'Marler.'
'Of course. I was dreaming. He's in the city, but he's some way off. I'm afraid you'll have to put up with me.'
'I'm sorry, Bob. I didn't mean it like that. I feel perfectly comfortable with you.'
'Thank you. Good…'
He said no more until they were served. Then he waited until she had eaten every scrap of her huge omelette, plus quite a lot of bread, drinking her milky coffee between bites. Her face had been ashen, but now her high colour had returned. She leant back in her chair, laid a hand on her tummy.
'Not very elegant, but I do feel better.'
'You drove here from Basel?'
'Yes, I did. It was very tiring. When I appeared in the restaurant I registered, had my bag taken up to a room, was given my key.'
She produced it from her handbag. Holding it, she let him read the number, then dropped it back into her handbag. He asked her if she'd mind if he smoked one cigarette.
'Not if you give me one too. Thank you. Did Alec tell you what I'd told him? About my parents in the States?' 'Yes, he did.'
'You probably wonder what I've been doing. First I disappear, then I reappear.'
'Tell me only if you want to.'
'I didn't tell Marler. I kept it as a secret from everyone. I felt I didn't know who I could trust. I recently hired another top private investigator in Virginia to check out my parents' so-called accident at that lonely bridge. A man called Walt Banker. He's visited that retired sheriff, Jim Briscoe, the man who took me to the site of the tragedy, then was retired quickly. Banker told me Briscoe has changed his story, says it was an accident. Banker was sure he was lying. Somehow he checked his balance at the local bank. Recently he paid in fifty thousand dollars. My investigator said it had to be a bribe paid to Briscoe, which is why he now says it was an accident.'
'Did this Banker go back to see Briscoe to ask him about this big sum of money?'
'Yes, he said he did. Briscoe hit the roof. Said it was a legacy from an uncle. Banker asked for the uncle's name. Briscoe flew into a rage, threw him out. A couple of days later Banker was nearly killed. A car tried to run him down. Banker got the registration number of the car, checked it out.' She paused. 'He found it had been hired. In Washington.'
'Interesting. Very. And what are you going to do now? Go back to the hotel?'
'I'm scared, Bob. What do I tell Sharon? After I left the Three Kings I took a room in a small hotel so I could phone the investigator safely. She'll go stark raving mad if I tell her. I'll be fired and. I'll never get another job. She pays me very well.'
'Why wouldn't you get another job? There must be plenty available in Washington for someone with your experience.'
'Because it will be passed down the grapevine. I'll be blacklisted. That's how it works in Washington.'
'Just exactly how does it work in Washington?' Newman asked.
'Employers at Sharon's top level form a kind of club. They tell each other about their employees. You get blacklisted, and every door is closed to you.'
'Really. And Sharon would blow the whistle on you?' 'I know she would.'
'Then here's what you tell her.' Newman drank more coffee while he worked it out, checking to make sure it was watertight. 'You went out for a walk in the evening – to freshen up for more work. You were followed by a tall thin man with a thin bony face. Can you remember that?'
'Yes, he doesn't sound very nice.'
'He isn't. He exists. Sharon may well have caught sight of him back at the Embassy in London. The tall thin man was very close to you – he wore a black overcoat – when a cruising police car approached. You crossed the street, hurried back to the hotel. You were just going inside when you saw the same man coming towards you from the opposite direction. You rushed up to your room, packed, asked the doorman to bring your car. Then you drove off, stayed for a few hours at the small hotel in Basel, the one where you did stay. When you'd recovered you drove to the Colombi. Have you got that?'
'Every word. I was imagining it happening while you were talking. Sharon may start questioning me. She's like that.'
'Just stick to the same story. Don't embroider. No more details If necessary blow your top, tell her you were scared out of your wits. Tell her you're still thinking of phoning the police in Basel to report the incident.'
'It might work,' Denise said.
'It will work. Now go back to the Colombi on your own. When you arrive ask for Sharon's room number. Find her at once.'
I'm very grateful to you, Bob..
'Just go. Now.'
When he was alone Newman drank more coffee. He decided that he would try and contact Marler. The intense cold hit him when he left the cafe. Walking a short distance, he found a smart-looking men's clothier. Going inside, he bought a German coat, a pair of gloves. Resuming his walk, he passed locals muffled up, treading warily on the slippery pavements. Overhead a low grey bank of cloud pressed down on the city like a lid. He stopped to study a big map of Freiburg, located Konvikstrasse near the Munster.
Threading his way through a network of alleys, he was guided by the looming spire of the Munster. More people were about as he entered Mi'Every word. I was imagining it happening while you were talking. Sharon may start questioning me. She's like that.'
