'I can see how that might cheer you.'
'I didn't say it cheered me. It just about stops me killing myself. I might as well save myself the bother anyway, with people like you so keen to do it for me.'
'You were my able assistant, Miss Schechter.' 'Stop doing that!' 'Stop doing what?'
'My name! Suddenly every stranger I meet knows my name. Would you guys please just quit knowing my name for one second? How can a girl be enigmatic under these conditions? The only person I met who didn't seem to know my name was the only one I actually introduced myself to. All right,' she said, pointing an accusing finger at Dirk, 'you're not supernatural, so just tell me how you knew my name. I'm not letting go of your tie till you tell me.'
'You haven't got hold of - '
'I have now, buster.'
'Unhand me!'
'Why were you following me?' insisted Kate. 'How do you know my name?'
'I was following you for exactly the reasons stated. As for your name, my dear lady, you practically told me yourself.'
'I did not.'
'I assure you, you did.'
'I'm still holding your tie.'
'If you are meant to be in Oslo but have been unconscious since Tuesday, then presumably you were at the incredible exploding check-in counter at Heathrow Terminal Two. It was widely reported in the press. I expect you missed it through being unconscious. I myself missed it through rampant apathy, but the events of today have rather forced it on my attention.'
Kate grudgingly let go of his tie, but continued to eye him with suspicion.
'Oh yeah?' she said. 'What events?'
'Disturbing ones,' said Dirk, brushing himself down. 'Even if what you had told me yourself had not been eoough to identify you, then the fact of your having also been today to visit the Woodshead clinched it for me. I gather from your mood of belligerent despondency that the man you were seeking was not thene.'
'What?'
'Please, have it,' said Dirk, rapidly pulling off his tie and handing it to her. 'By chance I ran into a nurse from your hospital earlier today. My first encounter with her was one which, for various reasons, I was anxious to terminate abruptly. It was only while I was standing on the pavement a minute or two later, fending off the local wildlife, that one of the words I had heard her say struck me, I may say, somewhat like a thunderbolt. The idea was fantastically, wildly improbable. But like most fantastically, wildly improbable ideas it was at least as worthy of consideration as a more mundane one to which the facts had been strenuously bent to fit.
'I returned to question her further, and she confirmed that a somewhat unusual patient had, in the early hours of the morning, been transferred from the hospital, apparently to the Woodshead.
'She also confided to me that another patient had been almost indecently curious to find out what had become of him. That patient was a Miss Kate Schechter, and I think you will agree, Miss Schechter, that my methods of navigation have their advantages. I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.'
Chapter 14
After about half an hour a hefty man from the local garage arrived with a pick-up truck, a tow-rope and a son. Having looked at the situation he sent his son and the pick-up truck away to deal with another job, attached the tow-rope to Kate's now defunct car and pulled it away to the garage himself.
Kate was a little quiet about this for a minute or two, and then said, 'He wouldn't have done that if I hadn't been an American.'
He had recommended to them a small local pub where he would come and look for them when he had made his diagnosis on the Citron. Since Dirk's Jaguar had only lost its front right indicator light, and Dirk insisted that he hardly ever turned right anyway, they drove the short distance there. As Kate, with some reluctance, climbed into Dirk's car she found the Howard Bell book which Dirk had purloined from Sally Mills in the caf, and pounced on it. A few minutes later, walking into the pub, she was still trying to work out if it was one she had nead or not.
The pub combined all the traditional English quatities of horse brasses, Formica and surliness. The sound of Michael Jackson in the other bar mingled with the mournful intermittence of the glass-cleaning machine in this one to create an aural ambience which perfectly matched the elderly paintwork in its dinginess.
Dirk bought himself and Kate a drink each, and then joined her at the small comer table she had found away from the fat, T-shirted hostility of the bar.
'I have read it,' she announced, having thumbed her way by now through most of Run Like the Devil. 'At least, I started it and read the first couple of chapters. A couple of months ago, in fact. I don't know why I still read his books. It's pcrfectly clear that his editor doesn't.' She looked up at Dirk. 'I wouldn't have thought it was your sort of thing. From what little I know of you.'
'It isn't,' said Dirk. 'I, er, picked it up by mistake.'
''That's what everyone says,' replied Kate. 'He used to be quite good,' she added 'if you liked that sort of thin. My brother's in publishing in New York, and he says Howard Bell's gone very strange nowadays. I get the feeling that they're all a little afraid of him and he quite likes that. Certainly no one seems to have the guts to tell
