Part 24 (1/2)

And so it was that Lewis, sitting on the edge of Frau Becker's kitchen table drinking Frau Becker's coffee and holding Frau Becker, her husband, and her husband's friend at the business end of the Beretta, was relieved of his vigil, not by the cold-eyed, tight-jawed professional men he must have been expecting, but by a peculiarly a.s.sorted gang of amateurs, two of whom were slightly hilarious, not to say lightheaded, and all of whom smelt quite distinctly of Herr Becker's brandy.

It was some four hours later.

The cocaine had been recovered, our prisoners had been delivered to the correctly tight-jawed, cold-eyed professionals, and the battered Mercedes had somehow brought us all home to the Schloss Zechstein where Timothy's foot had been fixed up by a doctor who had talked soothingly about sprains and a day in bed; and I had had a bath and (feeling genuinely fragile now) was floating in a happy dream of relief and reaction towards the bed, while Lewis dragged off his battered clothes and fished in his case for a razor.

Then I remembered something, and stopped short.

”Lee Elliott!” I said. ”That's who they'll think you are! Did you register as Lee Elliott?”

”I didn't register as anything. There was a female in the hall who bleated something at me, but I just said 'Later' and pressed the lift b.u.t.ton.” He threw his sweater into a corner and started on his s.h.i.+rt b.u.t.tons.

”Come to think of it, the porter did start in the other direction with my case, but I took it from him and came along here.”

”Lewis-no, just a minute, darling . . . Hadn't you better go down straight away and get it cleared up?”

”I've done all the clearing up I'm doing for one day. It can wait till morning.”

”It's morning now.”

”Tomorrow morning, then.”

”But-oh, darling, be serious, it's after ten. If anyone came in-”

”They can't. The door's locked.” He grinned at me and sent the s.h.i.+rt flying after the sweater. ”If we need to reopen communications we can do so later-by telephone. But for the present I think it can come off the hook. . . . There. First things first, my girl. I want a bath and a shave and-didn't you hear what the doctor said? A day in bed's what we all need.”

”You could be right,” I said.

EPILOGUE.