Death Comes for the Fat Man

5

"Hugh.”

“Bernard.”

“De Clairvaux.”

“De Payens.” one thousand two thousand three thousand

“Hugh, have you heard? Someone took a potshot at the Sheikh.”

“Yes, it was on the news. Nothing to do with us, unless of course we’ve inspired some right-thinking but inept copycat.”

“A copycat using one of Andre’s guns, from the look of it.”

“What?”

“It’s not absolutely sure. The round our persistent friend Pascoe dug out of Mill Street was very badly damaged, but what few scorings were detectable coincide precisely with those on the Sheikh’s bullet. Can Andre be freelancing?”

“Not his style. Also, if he’d decided to grandstand, the Sheikh would be dead. But I’ll check it out.”

“Do. Al-Hijazi is on our list, but after this he’s likely to take a lot more care. Another possibility is one of the Geoffreys.”

“Perhaps. But Andre’s well trained. All weapons back to the armorer. Certainly with Bisol so uptight about the wounded pig, I doubt if he’s going to go around blasting off wildly.”

“Perhaps not. Talking of pigs, anything yet on that other one?”

“Yes. Word is he’ll be going wee-wee-wee all the way home tomorrow morning.”