'Move a little to your left, Beth. We don't want to turn this into a Polish firing squad.'

Neither prisoner tried to bullshit him. Fiala seemed too upset. Fial was, apparently, busy thinking.

Segasture and Tran soon returned. 'Place is clean,' Frank said.

'You see a phone anywhere?'

'No. Why?'

'Impulse. I wanted to call Railsback. To tell him I've got her.'

'You've found her, you mean. You haven't gotten her yet. Now the legal hassles start. Extradition. Malone.'

'Malone can have this one.' He indicated Fial. 'But the bitch is mine.'

'Hey! Hello!' someone called from outside.

Cash whirled. A man in police blue leaned in the door. Norm relaxed. 'Come on in.'

'Frank Segasture?'

'Right here.'

'Okay. I'm supposed to tell you that warrants and the wagon will be out when they're available. And to treat the prisoners right. Somebody from Washington wants to see them.'

'Shit. That damned Malone again,' Cash grumbled.

'And a cabbie just spotted the man you wanted to know about. Came over the radio when I was pulling up.'

'Smiley?' Cash asked.

'Calls himself Augsberg. As in the Augsberg Pickle Company. Came in on a Lear jet with a couple other guys. Three more were here to meet him.'

'That don't sound like my man.'

'He fit the description.'

'Watch him,' Tran suggested. 'You know what Malone said about him shifting identities.'

'Good idea,' Cash replied. 'Frank, you think it'd be worth the trouble to find out where the real pickle king is?'

'We'd better. Officer, you got that?'

'I think so. Tail him. And find out if he's the real magilla.'

'Check.'

'I'll go call it in.'

'This man, he would be from St. Louis?' Fial asked.

'That's right, Pop,' Segasture told him. 'Seems to have what you'd call an abiding interest in you people.'

Fial wheeled on Fiala. 'You said you weren't followed. You swore…'

Cash laughed. 'She wasn't. Not by me. I was here waiting for her.'

Fial glared at him.

'You blew it when you changed your name. You kept your newspaper subscription under Groloch.'

'I see. And then to Colonel Neulist you sold us.'

'Never heard of him.'

Cash exchanged glances with Segasture, said, 'Looks like Malone might have been on to something.' Then he frowned.

The name Neulist agitated Miss Groloch more than ever.

The patrolman returned. 'They picked up your trunk. It's on its way to the morgue.'

Cash's stomach flopped. 'There was a body?'

'They're waiting for a warrant. But they said it's heavy enough. Oh. There's some spade out there who wants in.'

'Might as well let him. He's the Washington interest.'

Malone let himself in. 'Sergeant Cash. Miss Tavares.' He wore a broad grin. 'They don't look so terrible.' He circled the Grolochs. 'You turned up anything?'

'Not much,' Cash replied. 'This one's calling himself Koppel. He's got a couple of Krauts working for him. And he's scared shitless that somebody named Colonel Neulist is going to catch up with them.'

'Neulist? I don't know that one. Have to run it through Langley. Koppel, though… I think I've heard that one. In connection with the ODESSA. Fits having Germans working for him.'

Cash nodded. 'I'll make you a deal. We split. Down the middle. You take him, I take her. Oh. Did Smiley ever use the name Neulist?'

'It's not on the record. It might be a workname, though. We'll find out.'

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