The Sinai Secret

FIFTY

New Scotland Yard

Broadway

London

At the Same Time

Inspector Fitzwilliam was trying to control the foul mood working on weekends always produced. He recognized as irrational his feeling of guilt as he had kissed his wife, Shan- don, good-bye as he left the flat this morning. He should have been disappointed at not being able to join her on the trip to Manchester to see the new grandchild. But then, squalling, projectile-vomiting, and excreting babies were not his favorite creatures, no matter how close the kinship. Let nannies, or even the parents, do the necessary. He preferred to wait at least a year, until the child had some semblance of humanity, to make the acquaintance.

Even more illogical was the hostility he was feeling for his assistant, Patel, the author of the morning's balls-up.

Patel, eternally bright smile dividing the dark face, reeking of curry, stood behind the two chairs that faced the inspector's desk. If giving up his weekend bothered him, he didn't show it.

For the third time Fitzwilliam glanced at the report, the single paper on the faux wood of the government-issue desk. "I don't understand how you could have lost him."

Patel shrugged. "He is cunning, sah. As you know, I was one of a pair observing the barrister, Annueliwitz. We saw him come out of his residence at oh-seven-twenty-one. Or at least, a person wearing a man's overcoat drove the man's vehicle out of the car park. Naturally, sah, we followed, followed all the way to Notting Hill, sah. When the vehicle stopped in another car park, a woman later identified as Rachel Annueliwitz got out. Naturally I called in, and two more men were dispatched to watch the Annueliwitz residence, sah. So far we have not observed Mr. Annueliwitz."

Nor is it bleeding likely you will, Fitzwilliam thought, recognizing the onset of a headache. He could be out of the country with the American, Reilly, by now.

He sighed in resignation. "Very well. Keep the observers in position and let me know if anything happens."

"Sah!"

Patel did a near-military about-face and headed for the door.

"And Patel?"

He stopped in midstride and looked over his shoulder. "Sah?"

"Next time, try having one man follow the family auto and one man stay in position. Or, better yet, call for backup."

Fitzwilliam was treated to that infuriatingly good-natured smile. "Yassah!"

The inspector watched the door shut before he began the search for the aspirin bottle he kept in a desk drawer. He was not looking forward to informing his counterpart in Vienna, Rauch, that Scotland Yard had lost contact with its only lead to Reilly.

He found the bottle and took a tablet before he picked up the telephone. As he waited for the connection to be completed, he wondered just how much of a furor he would incur if he transferred Patel to one of the Yard's more remote offices in London, Wapping, for instance. If the man were white, not a word would be said.

But he wasn't, and the diversity people denied the existence of incompetence unless it was wrapped in a white skin.

The inspector took another aspirin before a voice came on the line.