"Who is this man? What's happening to us, Tom?"

Good questions; unfortunately I had no answers. Debbie looked scared and I did not blame her. That character with the automatic shotgun had nearly scared the jeans off me and I had just arrived. Debbie had been here at least three days.

I said gently, "Have they ill-treated you?"

She shook her head miserably.

"Not physically. But it's the way some of them look at me." She shivered again.

"I'm scared, Tom. I'm scared half to death."

I sat down and put my arm around her.

"Not to worry. How many are there?"

"I've seen four."

"Including a man whose name isn't Robinson? An English smoothie with a plummy voice?"

"He's the one who asks the questions. The others don't say much not to me. They just look."

"Let's get back to these questions. Was there anything specific he wanted to know?"

Debbie frowned.

"No. He asked general questions in a roundabout way.

It's as though he wants to find out something without letting me know what it is. Just endless questions about you. He wanted to know what you'd told the police. He said you seemed to spend a lot of time in the company of Commissioner Perigord. I said I didn't know about anything you might have told Perigord, and that I'd only met Perigord once, before we were married. " She paused.

"There was one thing. He asked when I'd left you, and I told him. He then commented that it would be the day after you'd found Kayles."

I sat upright.

"Kayles'. He mentioned him by name?"

"Yes. I thought he'd ask me about Kayles, but he didn't. He went off on another track, asking when we were married. He asked if I'd known Julie."

"Did he, by God! What did you say?"

"I told him the truth; that I'd met her briefly but hadn't known her well."

"What was his reaction to that?"

"He seemed to lose interest. You call him Robinson is that his name?"

"I doubt it; and I don't think he's English, either." I was thinking of the connection between Robinson and Kayles and sorting out possible relationships. Was Robinson the boss of a drug-running syndicate? If so then why should he kidnap Debbie and me? It did not make much sense.

Debbie said, "I don't like him, and I don't like the way he talks.

The others frighten me, but he frightens me in a different way. "

"What way?"

"The others are ignorant white trash corn-crackers but they look at me as a woman. Robinson looks at me as an object, as though I'm not a human being at all." She broke down into sobs.

"For God's sake, Tom; who are these people? What have you been doing to get mixed up in this?"

"Take it easy, my love," I said.

"Hush, now."

She quietened again and after a while said in a small voice, "It's a long time since you've called me that."

"What^' " Your love. "

I was silent for a moment, then said heavily, "A pity. I ought to have remembered to do it more often." I was thinking of a divorce lawyer who had told me that in a breaking marriage there were invariably faults on both sides. I would say he was right.

Presently Debbie sat up and dried her eyes on the hem of her dress.

"I must look a mess."

"You look as beautiful as ever. Cheer up, there's still hope. Your folks will be skinning Texas to find us. I wouldn't like to be anyone who gets on the wrong side of Billy One."

"It's a big state," she said sombrely.

The biggest barring Alaska and I could not see the Cunninghams finding us in a hurry. The thought that chilled me was that Robinson had made no attempt at disguise. True, his face was not memorable in the normal way, but I would certainly remember it from now on, and so would Debbie. The rationale behind that sent a grue up my spine the only way he could prevent future identification was by killing us. We were never intended to be released.

It was cold comfort to know that the Cunninghams were roused and that sooner or later, with the backing of the Cunningham Corporation, Robinson would eventually be run down and due vengeance taken. Debbie and I would know nothing of that.

Debbie said, "I'm sorry about the way I behaved."

"Skip it," I said.

"It doesn't matter now."

"But you could be a son of a bitch at times a real cold bastard.

Sometimes you'd act as though I wasn't there at all I began to think I was the invisible woman. "

"There was no one else," I said.

"There never was."

"No one human."

"Nor a ghost, Debbie," I said.

"I accepted Julie's death a long time ago."

"I didn't mean that I meant your goddamn job." She looked up.

"But I ought to have known because I'm a Cunningham." She smiled slightly. "

"For men must work and women must weep." And the Cunningham men do work I thought it might be different with you. "

"And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep." I completed the quotation, but only in my mind; it was too damned apposite to say aloud.

"Why should it have been different? The Cunningham men haven't taken out a patent on hard work. But maybe I did go at it too hard."

"No," she said thoughtfully.

"You did what you had to, as all men do.

The pity is that I didn't see it. Looking back, I know there's a lot I didn't see. Myself, for one thing. My God, you married an empty-headed ninny. "

That was a statement it would be politic not to answer. I said, "You had your problems."

"And piled them on your back. I swear to God, Tom, that things will be different. I'll make an effort to change if you will. We've both, in our own ways, been damned fools."

I managed a smile. The likelihood that we would have a future together was minima' "It's a bargain," I said.

She held out her hand and drew me down to her.

"So seal it." I put my hands on her and discovered that, indeed, she wore nothing beneath the shift. She said softly, "It won't hurt him."

So we made love, and it was not just having sex. There is quite a difference.

'53 Robinson gave us about three hours together. It was difficult to judge time because neither of us had a watch and all I could do was to estimate the hour by the angle of the sun. I think we had three hours before there was a rattle at the door and the Texan came in, gun first.

He stepped sideways, as before, and Robinson came in with another man who could have been the Texan's brother and possibly was. He was armed with a pistol. Robinson surveyed us and said benignly, "So nice to see young people getting together again. I hope you have acquainted your husband with the issue at hand, Mrs. Mangan."

"She doesn't know what the hell you want," I said.

"And neither do I. This is bloody ridiculous."

"Well, we'll talk about that later," he said.

"I'm afraid I must part you lovebirds. Come along, Mrs. Mangan."

Debbie looked appealingly at me, but I shook my head gently.

"You'd better go." I could see the man's finger tightening on the trigger of the shotgun.

And so she was taken from me and escorted from the room by the man with the pistol.

"We won't starve you," said Robinson.

"That should be an earnest of my good intentions should you doubt them."

He stood aside and a woman came in with a tray which she exchanged for the breakfast tray. She was a worn woman with sagging breasts and hands gnarled and twisted with rheumatics. I pointed to the pitcher and basin on the other side of the room.

"What about some fresh water?"

"I see no reason why not. What about it, Leroy?"

The Texan said, "Belle, git th' water."

She took the pitcher and basin outside, and I had a couple more names, for what they were worth. Robinson looked at the tray from which steam rose gently.

"Not the best of cuisine, I'm afraid, but edible… edible. And it's very much a case of fingers being made before forks. I think you'll need the water."