The Living Death

V

The sky fell in. The world stopped spinning. I hadn't heard correctly, I told myself. It just couldn't be! Hawk's steel-gray eyes facing me across his desk were expressionless. Maybe I was dreaming.

"Say it again," I asked. He nodded slowly.

"Professor Caldone is a vegetable," he repeated. "His wife contacted us last night."

"I don't believe it," I said angrily. "Damn it to hell, I covered him like a wetnurse. Nothing could have happened."

Hawk shrugged. "Something did," he said quietly. I did some fast calculating. I'd left him in Rome in the early evening and caught a plane for London. Finding Denny away, I had to stay overnight because I couldn't get a flight out immediately. Then I'd come back here yesterday and this morning arrived at AXE headquarters. Altogether about thirty-six hours had elapsed between now and the time I'd left the scientist. Someone could have gotten to him in those thirty-six hours. I had to go with it. I'd stuck too close to the professor during the meeting itself.

"I'd like to go see for myself," I said, still angry.

"I figured as much," Hawk answered blandly. "I've booked passage for you on the eleven o'clock flight to Rome."

"Damn it," I said, "there's got to be some explanation for this."

Hawk's expression was all I needed. "Okay," I said. "I'll find it. But then this has got to be the weirdest bit or the cleverest one I've seen in a long time."

I stalked out, angry at myself, angry at the world, but mostly angry at the unused-to feeling of having been taken. No one likes to fail, most of all me. But to fail is one thing. To have been taken, right under my nose, that was something else. It was a new experience for me and I fumed and thought about it all the way to Rome. I was sticking with the idea that whatever happened had taken place after I'd left the professor. As I said, I had to stay with it. But I wasn't that sure of it. Hawk had cabled on ahead for the team of medical specialists to meet me at the professor's house. He wanted me to hear what they had to say with my own ears. These were the doctors who had examined each one of the stricken scientists. At the professor's home a maid admitted me and Signora Caldone greeted me with more composure than I'd expected her to have.

My anger turned into something else as I was ushered into the living room where a white-uniformed nurse sat in a straight chair beside the professor. He was seated in a deep, leather chair and suddenly I wasn't so concerned over my own anger, my own feelings. The cherubic face was now a gray, lifeless mask, the twinkling blue eyes now expressionless, staring orbs. His mouth hung slack, a small, continuous line of drool trickling down the corners which the nurse wiped off periodically with a gauze pad. I went over to him and called his name. There was absolutely no response. Every so often his throat would make small, guttural noises, sub-human sounds. I turned away, an icy band wrapping itself around my innards.

"The doctors are in the study waiting for you, Signor Carter," Signora Caldone said quietly. I followed her out into the hall and across the foyer to a book-lined study where four men stood up to greet me, their faces equally grave and tired. The iciness inside me had already crystallized into a deadly anger, a desire to want to tear something or someone apart, to see that justice was done for what I had just witnessed.

"First, gentlemen," I said crisply, "is there any hope for a recovery?"

A tall, graying, distinguished man spoke up, introducing himself as Doctor Van Duetonnze. I'd heard of him. He was an eminent Belgian neurologist.

"None whatever, Mr. Carter," he answered. "The mind is completely gone. Neurological tests we have already conducted show that the brain's organic functioning is beyond repair. In fact, testing Professor Caldone was merely a formality. Our results taken from the other men stricken in this manner were more than sufficient. You see, the brain is a delicate organ and any complete interruption of its physiological functioning results in brain damage beyond our present medical ability to repair."

Another physician spoke up. "We understand that your people are in this to discover what there is of a criminal nature involved."

Hawk, I realized quickly, had given them a half-truth regarding my interest in the case, just enough to carry it over smoothly.

"That's right," I said. "I am going to investigate your suspicions of both the destruction ray and the virus theory I was informed about."

"Yes, though now we have been considering the possibility that perhaps someone in the ISS, someone attending the meetings, could be host-carrier and be himself immune. At the same time, the electrical ray — if indeed it is that — must be applied by a fellow-guest at the meetings. Everything centers around the ISS meetings and the seemingly impeccable people at these science seminars."

I nodded. It all sounded highly logical, the way they had presented it. Someone at the meetings… Yes — but who? And, more importantly, how? But then I supposed that was my job to figure out. I knew about a few things they didn't, about a woman named Maria Doshtavenko, about a little punk with a card with the professor's name on it, about killings designed to keep everybody quiet about something. They could play along with their X-rays' and viruses' theories. I wasn't buying, though I didn't tell them that. I thanked the good doctors and returned to the living room. I heard the hard, anguished sobbing as I approached and when I entered, there was Amoretta standing beside the old man, her cheeks wet and stained with tears. She brushed them dry at once as she saw me. Signora Caldone was beside the girl. Amoretta's eyes turned black with unmistakable hatred and fury as I approached.

"You have come back to see for yourself?" she spit out, her full breasts heaving under a blue blouse. She wore tight jeans and her thighs stretched the sides of them. "You were supposed to protect him!" she added accusingly. "He was fine until you came!"

There was a brightness in her eyes that went beyond the obvious hate in them, a sudden hardness, a look of vengeance. She was angry and unhappy to see me, that was plain. Signora Caldone gave me an apologetic glance and ushered Amoretta out of the room to return in moments.

"I am sorry about the way Amoretta spoke to you," she said simply. "She was terribly fond of her Zio Enrico. We had told her how he was possibly in danger when we were on our way to meet you in Portofino and that you would be there to protect him."

I told Signora Caldone that the girl's upset was certainly understandable. And it was. Hell, in a few short days I'd grown fond of the professor. Her emotions could well explain the hatred in her eyes but then I'd detected something more. Inside me there was ice, the icy hatred of my own. I was still convinced there was nothing wrong with the professor when I left them in Rome.

"Did you have any visitors after I left?" I asked. "That night or the next day?"

"No," the woman said tiredly. "No one. Amoretta was with us through the morning, and then she left for home."

Only Amoretta. I turned the two words over in my mind, hating the thought, hating the meaning of it, yet going on with it. Again I asked myself, what the hell did I really know about the girl, other than that she was a volcano in bed? Signora Caldone of course held her niece above suspicion. Hawk had once said I wouldn't hold my own mother above suspicion if circumstances warranted it, and he was right. Especially when I was feeling as I did now, which was ugly, the angry, ugly feeling I got when I saw something dirty done. I glanced at the glob that had been a man, and it got uglier. Hawk had characterized it so well… the living dead. The nurse was starting to get him to his feet. He slipped from her grasp and I rushed over but he was on his hands and knees, crawling across the floor. "It's all right," she said to me. "I'll take care of him."

I turned to Signora Caldone again. "You called Amoretta to tell her about her uncle," I probed. The woman nodded, keeping her eyes on me, refusing to look at the pitiful form crawling past us.

"Did you tell her I was coming here this evening?"

"Yes," she answered. "I had received the cable from your superior."

"And what did Amoretta say?"

"She said she was driving up at once," the woman replied. "She thought perhaps you were going to take her uncle away and she wanted to see him again."

Or, I thought quietly, she just wanted to be here while I was. I walked to the door. If I were wrong about the girl, I wanted to find out and give her a big, fat apology. If I was on the right track, she was in big trouble. I was still convinced that someone had gotten to him from the time I'd left them in Rome, somehow, somewhere. Who and how? Those were the two key questions. I was sure that if I got the answer to either of them I'd be able to answer the other. Right now it was question time for Amoretta. But the hallway was empty. I took a quick look outside but the streets of Rome were dark and still. I found Signora Caldone.

"Amoretta's gone," I told her. "Does she have anywhere else to go here in Rome? Any other friends, relatives?"

"No, no, we were the only ones," the woman said. "She has probably run into the streets. She is so upset. Please look for her."

I'd look for her all right, I said grimly under my breath and I raced outside, pausing for a moment to let my eyes adjust to the dark. The Caldones lived just off a small piazza, and I quickly searched the circle of light under each of the street lamps dotting the edges of the square. I saw her unmistakable form as she paused under the lamp at the farthest corner of the square. I took off on the run as she moved on. She was nowhere in sight when I reached the spot, and the street leading away was a narrow, cobble-stoned one of darkened shops, bakeries, groceries, and fruitstands, with a profusion of doorways. I listened for the click of heels on the stones but there was none. She was hiding in one of the doorways. I started to move down slowly, when she stepped out and stood waiting. Even in the dark I could feel the burning hatred of her eyes.

"Why do you follow me?" she asked.

"You're going to answer a few questions," I told her, coming up to her. She took a step backward and half-turned to run. I was just going to grab her when I heard the faint scrape behind me. I whirled, but not fast enough. The blow, it felt like a billy, crashed down on the side of my temple. My head exploded in shooting lights and stars and sharp pain. I pitched forward and forced myself not to black out. I heard footsteps, a lot of them. I grabbed at a pair of legs in front of my face and yanked. The owner gave a yell in Italian and went down. I leaped forward onto him, my head still fogged, glimpsing a short, sweatered man when a sharp kick in the ribs sent me toppling from him to one side. I continued on in a hard roll, hitting hard against more legs, grabbing out at them and pulling. One figure came down over me and I got in a sharp left to his belly, hearing him grunt in pain. My head had cleared a little now, and I knew there were at least four or five of them. Pressing my heels down on the spaces between the cobblestones, I got a lift and catapulted myself forward, head-on, into someone's mid-section, carrying him backwards with me. Managing to avoid flailing arms and wild swings, I grabbed the one I had knocked backwards by the arm, lifting him in a judo move and sidearmed him through the window of a bakery. I heard his yell amid the sound of the shattering glass. Still fighting more out of training and instinct than clear-headedness, I swung at a face that appeared before me, heard the satisfying crunch of my knuckles into a cheekbone, and the face disappeared. But now it was my turn to be tackled. It was a good, hard one from behind and I went down. A hard object crashed down on my skull almost at the same instant a heavy-soled shoe got me in the temple. I heard Amoretta's voice before the lights went out, damn her black heart. She'd figured I'd go after her. She'd led me right into it. I tried to lift my head to shake it but it wouldn't respond. Another blow crashed down on me. This one didn't hurt as much. It just rang the curtain down.

I don't know how long it was before I woke up but from the condition of my head I guessed it was a good while. I moved my neck slowly in a circular motion and the fuzzy cobwebs started to tear loose in my head. A tight sharp pain in my wrists told me that my hands were tied behind my back. A terrible bouncing and jouncing wasn't helping the throb of my head any, but I managed to focus on the surroundings. I wasn't alone. Four other men sat inside what was obviously the interior of a closed panel truck. I was against the driver's partition, the others sat in pairs on each side of the truck. They were stocky, hard-faced, black-eyed men wearing work clothes and heavy, peasant's shoes, their hands heavy, gnarled, thick-fingered. I noted that three of them sported cut faces and bruised cheekbones. One of them called out to the driver in Italian.

"The Americano is awake," he said.

"Si, be careful," the voice came back. "Watch him"

Then I heard Amoretta's voice. "Take no chances " she said.

They could all relax. This wasn't the time or place to act up. Besides, I wanted to find out more about where I was being taken. From the steep incline of the truck, we were going up into the mountains. The men spoke to each other in short, curt asides but enough for me to pick up the dialect as Calabrese. It wasn't hard to figure the rest. Amoretta was taking me up into the hills of her home. If I'd been out as long as I thought, chances were we were almost there. How she and the peasants of Calabria fitted into this dirty business was something else again. It was sure as hell an unexpected turn. But then, this whole thing had been weird from the very start. The road was getting rougher and the truck bouncier. I tested my wrist bonds. They were well knotted. They had taken Wilhelmina from me, but I could feel Hugo in his sheath around my forearm. They'd been in too much of a hurry to get me off the street and into the truck, and they plainly weren't professionals. I knew that from the way they'd been falling all over each other to get at me in that narrow street. If that first blow hadn't taken the edge off my reflexes, they'd be still back there putting themselves together.

The truck slowed and my muscles tensed automatically. I counted two more curves before it stopped and the rear doors were opened. I was pulled out and exchanged glances with Amoretta, looking intense and throbbing in the blouse and the tight jeans.

"Nice friends you've got," I said casually.

"These are my brothers," she said, gesturing to three of the men. "And the other two are my cousins."

"A family enterprise," I commented.

"When I heard you were returning to make sure of your work, I brought them with me," she snapped. "Now we are going to find out what you did to Zio Enrico and why."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I said frowning. She slapped me across the face. Hard.

"Take him inside," she said. "Enough of his lies."

I was still frowning as I was hustled into a low-roofed, long house of stone and terra cotta. They took me into the kitchen, a large, spacious room, and threw me into a sturdy, straight-backed chair, keeping my hands tied behind my back. As double security, they tied my wrists to the back of the chair. Amoretta stood in front of me, supervising operations. When they finished, they formed a semicircle behind her. Her eyes, blazing in anger, bored into mine.

"When I think that…" she began, and quickly broke off, a fleeting flush of embarrassment crossing her face.

"Go on, Amoretta," I grinned. She slapped me again, harder.

"I'll kill you," she hissed. "You are a creature from hell. You're going to tell us what you did to Zio Enrico."

"I didn't do anything to him," I said, studying her eyes. She slapped me again.

"No more lies," she shouted. There was nothing but hate and anger in those eyes, I saw. This was no act, no attempt to trick me into anything.

"By God, you really mean it, don't you?" I asked, incredulously beginning to realize it.

"Yes, I mean it," she said. "I'll kill you myself if I must."

"No, I mean you really think I did it," I said.

"Let us just kill him now," one of her brothers cut in.

"No," Amoretta snapped. "I must find out what he did and why."

"It is done," said a cousin, a vacant character with big ears. "What difference does it make? Just kill him."

"Silencio!" Amoretta shouted. "I'll handle this."

I listened to them in astonishment. They weren't kidding about anything, especially about killing me. Here I'd been suspecting her, and she was convinced I had done it. It might have been funny under other circumstances, but these characters were a wild bunch, fully capable and charged up enough to do anything.

"I didn't do it, Amoretta," I said, putting every ounce of sincerity I had into my voice.

"Stop your lies," she shot back. "It had to be you. You arranged it so you'd be with him all the time.

Maybe you put something in that special water you had him drink."

"No, I tell you," I yelled back. "I was sent to protect him."

"But you did just the opposite. Maybe you're not even the real man, this Nick Carter fellow. Maybe you killed him and took his place. But we're going to find out. You're going to tell us the truth."

"I am telling you the truth."

"This is going to take a long time," one of the brothers cut in. "Can't we question him later? The pigs haven't been fed. The cows haven't been milked."

"That is right," another chimed in. "You rushed us off this morning. We had no time to do anything. Besides, I'm hungry, too."

"I say just kill him and be done with it," big ears cut in.

"No, he will talk first," Amoretta insisted. "But we'll do it later, after you finish the chores." She turned to big ears. "Glauco," she commanded. "You stay here and watch him. If he tries anything, call out at once, understand?"

Big ears — Glauco — nodded. It was probably as complicated an order as he could absorb all at once. Amoretta shot me a last, hard look and left with the others. Listening to them, I had become convinced of one thing. Their emotions were running too high to listen to logic or reason. Besides, I had to admit, from where she saw it, I did have the best chance at doing in the old man. I had to get loose. Maybe then I could make them listen. I let my eyes rove over the kitchen — big stone oven, heavy iron pots and skillets hanging from wall hooks overhead. Glauco had settled himself in a straight-backed chair, propped his feet up on a long, sturdy table, and had begun whittling on a piece of wood with a pocket-knife. If I tried moving back to the oven to scrape my wrist ropes against the stone, Glauco would see me in an instant. With my wrists tied to the chair, the chair was a part of me for the moment. I measured the distance to where Glauco sat as I considered rushing him, head-down, barrelling into him. It was no good. He'd be on his feet before I reached him. I needed something that would take only one move. I bad only one shot at the brass ring, and all I had to use were my feet and my knees. The rest of me was chairbound.

I sat back and watched Glauco. He had grown more absorbed in his whittling but he cast periodic glances up at me. Feet propped up on the table, chair tilted back on its rear legs, he was a perfect target if I could only get close enough. Suddenly, I realized I didn't have to get all that close. All I needed was to get within range. I moved one leg of my chair, a scant inch, and waited. Glauco glanced at me, and returned to his whittling. I moved the other leg, another scant inch, and waited. Glauco continued on with his periodic glances. I edged closer, timing each laborious move between his glances, scooting each leg a fraction of an inch at a time. Glauco, I was glad to find, was neither too bright nor too alert. Finally I halted, not daring to move closer. I listened for sounds from the other room but everything was quiet. The others were all still outside at their chores. I leaped, kicking out one leg, hitting the back of Glauco's chair. It shot out from under him and he fell backwards with a shout. I was on top of him instantly, chair still tied to my back, dropping one knee onto his chest, the other onto his throat. His eyes began to pop at once and I let up, lifting my knee from his throat.

"One wrong move and you'll be dead in half a second," I cautioned him. "All I have to do is press down with this knee. See?" I pressed and his tongue flopped out. His eyes were wide with more than fear. I let up on the pressure again.

"Now you do exactly what I say," I told him in careful, measured tones. The look in my eyes and the feel of my knee against his windpipe was more than enough for him. "From where you are, you can reach up one hand and loosen the knots at my wrist. Slowly, now… slowly. A wrong move could make my knee come down automatically." I gave him a moment's increased pressure again for emphasis. I felt his hand go up my back, feeling for the wrist bonds. His fingers worked on the knots while his eyes looked up at me in fear. I felt the ropes loosen a little. "Keep on," I growled, bearing down a little more with my knee. His fingers speeded up and the ropes gave enough for me to work one hand free, then the other. I heard the sounds of voices entering the house. Without removing my knee from his throat, I smashed a hard right down on Glauco's jaw. His head lolled to one side and I got up. They'd be looking in in a moment, I knew. I didn't want to use Hugo. Misguided, stubborn and stupid as they were, they were still trying to do what they thought was right. I picked up one of the iron skillets. No wonder the Italian housewife has to eat plenty of pasta, I thought to myself. These things were better than weights for muscle-building. I stepped behind the door just as Amoretta led the others in.

She let out an instant scream. "Mio dio! He is gone," she howled. The others tumbled in on her heels. I swung the iron skillet, catching two of them with one shot. They went sprawling face forward as I grabbed Amoretta, and now I had Hugo in my palm, the point of the stiletto pressed against the tip of the girl's full breast. Her brothers froze and I heard Amoretta's breath draw in sharply.

"Wake them up, first," I said, indicating the three unconscious forms. One of the others dumped a pail of water over them, and they stirred into wakefulness.

"Now you wild characters are going to listen to me," I said. "I didn't do anything to hurt your uncle. Get that through your thick skulls. I was trying to protect him. I can't prove it because I don't know what happened any more then you do."

Amoretta's breast was soft against my hand holding the stiletto, and I had a thought. If I could prove myself to them it would save me hours finding my way out of these mountains or avoid their possibly chasing after me. God knows how many other relatives she had around here. If it worked, I'd be in the clear. If it didn't, I'd have my hands full. What the hell, I decided, you have to take a chance sometimes. I stepped back from Amoretta, releasing her. As she turned, I handed the stiletto to her. Her eyes widened in surprise. The rest of her kinfolk were equally nonplused.

"Take it," I said, pushing the handle at her. She reached out tentatively.

"Now do you believe me?" I asked. "I'm giving myself over to you to prove to you I'm telling the truth."

The others were watching Amoretta, waiting to take their cue from her. I saw her eyes suddenly melt, her full lips part and she was in my arms, head buried against my chest.

"Oh, Nick," she sobbed. "Please forgive me. I was so upset. I should not have suspected you, ever."

"I suspected you," I admitted. "So I guess we're even." I could have told her it was my job to suspect everyone while she was just an overemotional, wild tomato, but I decided against it. Besides, her brothers and cousins were crowding around, slapping me on the back. Apologies and comradeship had taken over with a vengeance.

"It all worked out and nobody really got hurt," I said to Amoretta, wiping a tearstain from her cheek. "I'm glad for that, really I am. Now I've got to get back to Rome as quickly as I can. I've got to find a lead somewhere."

"Si," Amoretta agreed, quickly. "Get the truck out, Luigi. We must leave at once."

Glauco had just handed Wilhelmina back to me with a longing last look at the Luger. I heard Amoretta's remark, but it took a few seconds to sink in.

"Whoa?" I said. "What do you mean 'we'?"

"I'm going with you, Nickie," she announced, matter-of-factly."

"Oh, no, sweetheart," I said. "I'm going back alone. This is my stick."

"No, I go with you," she said, thrusting her lower lip out. I saw the frowns gathering on her kinfolk.

"This is nothing for you," I argued.

"Why not?" It was Glauco who asked, belligerence in his tone. I wanted so to give his big stupid face a clout that might knock some sense in it, but I held back.

"Because this is my work " I shouted at him.

"And it is our uncle," he returned.

"This is a matter of family honor," Luigi chimed in. They were drawing close again and I could see tempers skyrocketing and all the ingredients for another brawl in the making.

"She is not good enough to help you, Americano?" another one glowered at me. If I had the time I'd have enjoyed bashing a few thick skulls but all I wanted was to get out of there as quickly and simply as possible.

"She's fine," I said. "She can come with me. In fact, I'll be glad for her help."

The relaxation was audible. Luigi got the truck out and took the wheel with Amoretta setding down beside me. Cries of good-luck and farewell resounded as I drove off. It was as though we were taking off for the front lines. I'd said I'd be glad for her help and I meant it. She would be more than helpful directing me down out of the mountains. When I reached the main roads, passionate, luscious Amoretta and I would be parting company. I knew it wouldn't exactly be a fond farewell but she'd get over it.

As we neared the bottom of the hills, I saw the lights that indicated a main road crossing in front of me.

"Have you ever walked to your home from down here?" I asked casually.

"Oh, si," she said. "As a young girl, I often did it. It's not too bad if you know the way and don't rush."

"Glad to hear that, honey," I said, braking to a sudden stop. "Because you're walking home right now!" I jumped from the truck, pulling her with me. A large clump of pine brush lined the road. I tossed, her into it screaming. The air was turning blue with Italian curses I'd never heard and more than a few I knew. I was in gear and starting off as she struggled out of the pine bush. I looked through the rear-view mirror to see her running out into the road, shaking her fist after me and still yelling.

"Nothing personal, doll," I grinned. "But this isn't your bottle of vino, to coin a phrase."

Dawn was just starting to tint the sky, but I was already thinking of where to go from here. One thought kept coming back like a recurrent melody. If it hadn't taken place after I'd left the professor, then it had to have occurred right under my nose. It just wasn't possible, I told myself again, all the time realizing that the impossible had obviously happened. I wanted a list of every son of a bitch who had attended the last eight meetings. I'd trace the background of every last one of them. There had to be a lead in there someplace.

The little truck, while slow, was reliable. Morning brought a hot sun but I kept steadily on with it. When I reached Rome I pulled the truck over into a side street and left it there. The carabinieri would find it and trace the registration. I was dog tired, and I got a room at a modest hotel, the Rafaello, and cabled Hawk I was staying with it from here. I gave him my hotel and room and told him to wire me if he had anything important to add. It had been along day and a longer night. I took a hot bath, stretched out on the bed and fell asleep. It was late afternoon when I awoke. There'd been no cable from Hawk, which meant he hadn't anything more for me. I decided the fastest way to get a listing of everyone at the past eight meetings was through Karl Krisst I did some fancy checking, found there was a Karl Krisst in Zurich and put a call in to him. He answered and recognized my voice at once, to my surprise. I could just see his round face wreathed in an unctuous smile while those darting little eyes snapped attentively. I told him what I wanted. "I want the complete attendance list for each of those meetings," I said. "I want every person, big, little, important, unimportant.

Karl Krisst's voice was cooperatively unctuous, his words just the opposite. It's not the policy of the ISS to give out such information, Mr. Carter," he intoned. "May I ask why you make this rather unusual request?"

"I can't divulge that," I said, feeling my temper rise irritably. "The list of each meeting was publicly announced at the time. Why can't I obtain a copy now?"

"Such announcements are never really complete," he answered smoothly. "To go back and compile a complete list for the past eight meetings would be a formidable task, I'm afraid."

He was being ever so helpful while continuing to hedge. I was getting angrier by the second. "Look, cousin," I began again, hearing the edge to my voice. "I know you sure as hell have a complete list for every meeting. You'd have to have them for your own records if nothing else. If you won't send me a photostatic copy of the past eight attendance lists, I'll go to the ISS governing board and see that they order you to cooperate."

His tone changed at once. "You misunderstand me," he said. "There's absolutely no need for that. I'm always happy to cooperate with any government officer on official business even when I don't know what it's about." The ending was a bait line tossed out that I didn't snap at. He could damn well wonder what it was all about. He was typical of minor officials, I concluded, always out to make themselves more important than they were.

"Please airmail the lists to me at the Hotel Rafaello here in Rome," I said. "If they do what I hope I'll see you get your name in lights."

I hung up and went out for a stroll and dinner in Rome. I wished I could enjoy the warm, friendly city, but I was on edge, anxious, irritable. I went back to the hotel and got some more sleep. The desk woke me early. Give him credit, or maybe I'd put the fear of God into him, but Krisst had gotten the lists off at once and they had arrived. I spread them out on the floor and spent the whole morning studying them, making my own work sheets with each man's name on a sheet. When the morning was over I'd a floor full of papers and a lot of names cross-indexed with the disappointing result that not one ISS member had attended all eight meetings. That seemed to rule out my thoughts about one man being responsible for all eight of the horrible post-meeting collapses. I went over it again. I had to be sure there were no errors, no slip-ups. But I'd been right. A lot of them had attended a lot of the meetings, but none had been to every one of the past eight As my eyes roved over the work sheets spread out all over the floor before me, I let my mind race along by itself in a stream-of-association technique I'd learned years ago, delving, skipping, probing, jumping about Eventually, something began to come through. The only name that appeared at every meeting was Karl Krisst. I sat back against the couch and let that turn around in my mind for a while.

I didn't try for reasons, for any kind of motivation for anything. I was only after leads and while it seemed an unlikely one, it was a fact He had attended every one of the past eight meetings. I'd seen plenty of unlikely facts become very likely in the past. I didn't ever discount anything, no matter how weird it seemed. Certainly in this wild affair I wasn't about to do it. Glad-hand Karl could be a dead lead — and then he could be something more than he seemed. It was the only lead I'd come up with, if you could call it that. I decided to call it that. I called Rome airport for a schedule of flights to Zurich.