Chapters (38)
- Cover
- Also by Philip Kerr
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
“It just makes it easier to replace a partner if you can find out why the previous one was killed. No one likes to take the seat of someone who’s been shot.”
“I can imagine.”
“What I’m saying is that if your friend in the PJ finds out any more about what happened to Spinola, then I’d like to know about it. You know? For old times’ sake. Italy and Germany. The Axis.”
“And perhaps to even the score?”
“That was yesterday. Today, I’d just like to help, if I can. But to help, I need more information.”
He nodded. “This I can understand. Sure. I’ll ask him.”
“Discreetly. I wouldn’t like his answers to turn into awkward questions for you or me, or anyone else for that matter.”
“Of course. And you can trust me. During the war we used to say that deliberation is the work of many, but action of one man alone.”
“It’s been a while since I saw myself in that light. But I am qualified in one respect. I am a man alone.”
THIRTEEN
I took the stairs and walked along the thickly carpeted hall to room 28, where I knocked and waited patiently, although anyone observing the scene might have thought differently because of the gun I was holding in my hand—Hebel’s gun. It was pointed straight at the door handle, a last-minute decision that was calculated to try and put an end to the blackmail right then and there.
The smile he was wearing as he opened up flickered for a moment as he backed away with his hands rising slowly behind his neatly combed head.
“No need for guns. What is this?”
“It’s your gun. That’s what this is.” I kicked the room door shut behind me and tossed the Pan Am flight bag on the bed. “I thought you might recognize it.”
“My gun?”
“Yes. It was in your drawer next to the note for me.”
“Did you read it?”
“No. There’s nothing you have to say that’s of any interest to me.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t. This is not what you think, at all. I intend to search your room and make sure that I get the negative and all the prints—not to mention any other items you might be saving so you can squeeze the lemon again. That’s just good business.” I pointed the hole in the end of the gun at the carpet. “On your knees. It’s been a while since I shot anyone just to wound them and I certainly wouldn’t like to answer for the present state of my marksmanship, so you’d better not try anything.”
Hebel knelt down at the edge of the bed and started to relax a little.