He was torn between his lawyer’s respect for his client’s privacy and the cop in him who wanted to know everything. If she was guilty, did he want to know? Probably not. Yes. Finally he made his decision; he laid the briefcase on the large bed and pressed the releases on the locks. Nothing happened. Then he saw the combination locks. Frustrated, he tried changing the last digits one, then two notches in each direction, then he turned the combinations to zero on both sides. The case would still not unlock. “Shit!” he said. Well, it was none of his business anyway. He left the briefcase on the bed, returned the rubber gloves to the galley, picked up the duffel, and went on deck.

He trudged up to the Shipwright’s Arms and climbed upstairs to the room over the bar. Nobody ever seemed to lock anything in St. Marks; he walked in, tossed Allison’s duffel onto the bed, sat down at the desk, picked up the phone, and dialed Bill Eggers’s home number.

“Yeah?” Eggers said grumpily.

“It’s Stone, Bill. Wake up; I need you to pay attention.”

There was a groan as Eggers apparently sat up in bed. “What are you doing back?” he asked, awake now.

“I’m not back; I’m still in St. Marks.”

“Then you must be in jail,” Eggers chuckled. “I can’t think of any other reason you’d call me from there.”

“Close. I have a client who’s in jail, and it’s very, very serious; a murder charge.”

“Did she do it?”

“No, but what does that matter?”

“What do you want from me?”

“She needs an English barrister badly; nobody here will defend her, for political reasons, but it’s a former English colony with an English-style court system. I don’t know any English barristers; you got any ideas?”

“We deal with a firm at Gray’s Inn in London. Let’s see, it’s…six forty-five?! Jesus, Stone; you ever hear of office hours?”

“Bill, I’ve got a preliminary hearing at ten o’clock. It’s what, noon in London? You need to catch these people before they go to lunch.”

“Yeah, yeah; what’s your number there?”

Stone read it off the telephone on the desk.

“I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

Thomas knocked and walked into the room. “Everything you need here?”

“Yes, it’s fine, Thomas; I’m just waiting for a call back from New York about an English barrister.”

“How about some breakfast?”

“I’ve had something, but I’d love some coffee.”

They sat and drank their coffee together.

“Thomas,” Stone said, “there’s something I need to know.”

“What’s that?”

“Is Leslie Hewitt going to be able to get through this hearing without…you know?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Leslie is very sharp when his mind is fully engaged. He’ll manage.”