I lifted my eyes from the baffling clue to fourteen across of the New York Sunday Times crossword and rested my gaze on Harvey Sparrow, who sat opposite me, finger working away at a bogey, with a generally indifferent expression on his face to his surroundings, his task, and probably to his life. He was under instructions that we did not know each other, had never met before, and were not to speak one word to each other, except for necessary courtesies, throughout the journey. To his credit, he had been professional enough not to have disobeyed my instructions, even though he must have discovered by now that at some point, in between his arriving at Winnipeg station and his ordering of a beer in the buffet car an hour after boarding the train, an unseen hand had removed his wallet from his breast pocket and replaced it with my own.

Between Sparrow and the window sat a man who constantly ran a hand across his face, as if checking his stubble. If he was worried about his appearance, he needn’t have bothered; none of us looked too hot after a night of sleeping in our seats. There were beds in first class, but except for the one compartment I had been able to get for Yeodal, all the accommodation on the train with beds had been taken, and so we were slumming it.

The other person who didn’t appear to be slumming it was Sleder. He wasn’t in any of the open carriages, so if he was on the train, and I was damned sure he was, then he must have been behind one of the curtained windows of the first-class bedroom compartments. It hadn’t taken me long to get put through to him on the telephone on Tuesday. The girl on the switchboard had answered on the first ring, and used the current jargon popular with the switchboard operators of all go-ahead New York corporations.

‘Good morning, AtomSled, how can I help you?’

‘By putting me through to Deke Sleder, please.’

‘Just one moment. May I say who’s calling, please?’

‘My name is Max Flynn.’

‘One moment, Mr Flynn, I’ll see if he’s in.’

Click.

‘Mr Sleder’s office,’ said a new girl.

‘I’d like to speak to Mr Sleder.’

‘Oh I am sorry, Mr Sleder’s in a meeting all day. Can anyone else help you?’

‘No, this is very important. I’d like you to give him a message; I’ll hold because I think he’ll want to reply.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir – he is not to be interrupted.’

‘You’ll have to interrupt him, this is an emergency. Will you please tell him that there is a problem with his B-grade fuel.’

She sounded dubious. ‘Well, I’ll try. Will you hold the line, please, Mr Flynn.’