He brushed past her and went out through the steam, past the cubicles and into the corridor beyond, his feet sinking into the thick carpet. Strangely enough, he felt no regret. In fact, already his mind was on his next move.

It was curiosity more than anything else that took him up the steps of the Flamingo. Manton would certainly deny having had any part in the attack on Garvald outside Wandsworth. Would probably deny having seen Garvald even if he had. Still, it might be worth having a look at him.

Manton was in the bedroom of his private suite, hurriedly changing out of his wet clothes, when the phone rang. He listened to what the man on the door had to say and nodded.

‘Put him in the front office. I’ll be five minutes.’

He dressed quickly in a clean white shirt and dark lounge suit, his mind racing. Detective Sergeant Miller? A new boy. Certainly no one he’d ever heard of round Central Division. But what did he want, that was the thing? The one comforting thought he carried with him when he left the room was that it couldn’t have anything to do with Brady – there simply hadn’t been enough time.

Nick was examining a framed historical map of the North of England on the wall when Manton came in and he turned and smiled pleasantly.

‘Mr Manton – sorry to trouble you, sir. My name’s Miller. Detective Sergeant, Central Division. I’m trying to locate an old acquaintance of yours, Ben Garvald. I’ve reason to believe he arrived in town today and I thought he might have contacted you.’

Manton decided to play the honest but puzzled businessman. ‘Everybody wants Ben Garvald. What is all this, Sergeant? As I told Mr Brady earlier I didn’t even know Ben was out.’

Nick frowned. ‘Jack Brady’s been here?’

‘About an hour or so ago.’ Manton hesitated. ‘I hope I haven’t said anything out of turn, but he came in through the front door just like you. Everybody saw him.’

‘That’s all right, Mr Manton,’ Nick said. ‘A misunderstanding, that’s all. So you can’t help me with Ben?’

‘As I told Brady, I didn’t even know he was out.’

‘Fair enough. I won’t trouble you any more then.’ Nick moved to the door, hesitated and turned. ‘Just one more thing. Does Sammy Rosco work for you?’

Manton frowned. ‘That’s right, just along the street from here. Why, what’s Sammy been up to?’

‘Nothing really,’ Nick said pleasantly. ‘But I’d get rid of him if I were you.’

‘Why should I do that?’

‘He tells lies, Mr Manton, mainly about you.’

Nick smiled and the door closed behind him. Manton stood there behind the desk for a moment, eyes narrowed, and then he picked up the telephone and dialled a number.

14