Fifty-fifty – a toss of a coin as to whether a man lived or died. ‘I know you’ll do your best, doctor.’ I looked down at Ogilvie. ‘He’s a friend.’

II

A blind man has no trouble finding his way about his own house because he knows from experience where the furniture is placed. Put him in a strange house and he’ll stumble around, barking his shins. I was a blind man in a strange house and I needed a seeing-eye dog. So I went to see Mr Black.

I told him of Ogilvie and of my session with Hanna. He heard me out, then said disagreeably, ‘So you put me in the middle.’

‘You are in the middle. If Hanna checks on me and Ogilvie, he’s certain to find out I talked to you last night. I just cut a corner by telling him before he asked.’

Negrini nodded gloomily. ‘Is Hanna reopening the investigation on Salton?’

‘I don’t know. But if I have anything to do with it, the investigation into the assault on Ogilvie won’t have a soft core, and if it leads to Salton then the chips will have to fall where they may. I need help. I need someone who knows Campanilla, who knows where the bodies are buried. I need information.’

Negrini was sour. ‘And you’ve elected me.’

‘I could have gone to Jackson at the Chronicle,’ I said. ‘But I don’t like him and I don’t trust him.’

‘And you trust me?’ Negrini laughed. ‘That’s one for the books. All right – what do you want to know?’

‘I could stand knowing where Mrs Salton is.’

Negrini looked faintly alarmed. ‘She’s missing?’

‘She flew the coop early this morning. Hanna said the plane would have to put into Benning before proceeding. Could you check and find out the destination?’

‘I can do that. Anything else?’

‘When Haslam and Philips took the plane to be serviced, they’d have to do the same. Maybe check on that flight, too.’

‘That was a while ago, but it should be on record.’ Negrini looked at me curiously. ‘You think there’s something funny about it?’

‘I don’t know. The devil about this kind of business is that you don’t know which questions to ask, so you have to ask them all.’

I stood up and he said, ‘What are you going to do now?’

‘Report back to London, tell the boss that fifty per cent of the Campanillan task force is out of action.’

‘Yes,’ said Negrini. ‘Break the news that they might have to pay out on his insurance, too.’

‘That’s not funny,’ I said. ‘Owen Ogilvie has a young wife and a one-year-old son.’

‘I guess it wasn’t funny at that,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’

III