Sims shrugged. "When he took the baby from Dornhausen he could give it to her, while she got better from the wound, then leave her later."

"She'd still go back to Dornhausen. She'd go everywhere she could think of. Somebody had stolen herbaby. Are you taking this seriously?"

"Perhaps not so much."

Maxim put down his knife and fork with a clang. "All right, Mister bloody Mystery, find yourself a new errand boy for the next -"

"Yes, we believe Gustavleft her. But not alive."

Maxim peered at him through the flickering gloom. "And you don't mean The Bomber now?"

"No. Then the certificate would say she died in hospital, and she would be in the cemetery. We believe she died later, somewhere else. Because when he had got the certificate accepted, and in the file of the Standesamt, then it would be alicence to murder her, no? And he must hurry, to kill her before somebody who thinks she is dead will see her. All he must wait for is to get the papers so he may become Eismark again, who is suspected of nothing. It is a good murder, I think, to wait until you have proof of the death by accident first."

Maxim began chewing again, slowly. "The death certificate must have been pure opportunism. She really did get hurt by The Bomber." He remembered Agnes advising: '

'Keep your eye on the opportunists…"

"Oh yes. He was waiting for opportunities. He had his plans."

"It can't have been only because she didn't want to go over to the Russians with him… Christ, he must havehated her. "

"Perhaps we should forget all the war, the politics. It is not the first time a man kills his wife. It is not the first time he hates her because she got pregnant and he must marry her. And for Gustav- perhaps she would denounce him to the Gestapo if he did not marry her. But about that we cannot know. "

Maxim pushed the last stringy bit of the escalope to the side of his plate and sat back, sipping a glass of thin red wine.

"How long have you had this idea?"

"It never was probable that Brigittewould do nothing when he took the baby away. "

"But Guy Husband was still talking about bigamy on Saturday. You heard him. "

Sims shrugged again. "We had no proof. And I cannot decide what Guy will say when he tells everybody what his department is doing." The contempt in his voice was quite blatant.

So there was Husband all set to take the credit for proving Gustav Eismark a bigamist and when it suddenly turned out that he was a murderer instead, it would be horribly clear that Guy had had nothing to do with it at all.

"I'llthink about taking that job at Six," Maxim said.

"Please do." Sims grinned and canted his wristwatch to catch the candle-light. "We have time for coffee before we visit your good friend Bruno. "

Chapter 22

Bruno again had the flat door open and wore a smile, but he kept his right hand behind his back and beyond him Maxim saw the silhouette of a second man in the dark hallway. He walked in well past Bruno, keeping his hands unmistakably high so that when Sims rushed the door behind him he was close to the second man and already had his hand raised to smash him across the bridge of the nose. He heard the clatter of Bruno's Lugerhitting the floor and shuddered as he recalled the likely condition of the gun's springs. Then they all hustled through into the fragrance of Fraulein Winkelmann'sreception room.

"Is the Frauleinhere?" Sims demanded. He was holding a small automatic near Bruno's chest.

"No. No. She is out." Bruno was white and his lips were trembling, and he was clutching the point of his right shoulder where Sims had whacked it with the automatic.

"Good. Sit down. Do you want this?" Sims offered Maxim the Lugerand he took it, rather the way a vet might take an ailing tarantula, and cleared the cartridge from the breech. He wasn't going to need it as a gun; the second man was sitting back in a chair trying to stifle a nose-bleed diluted by streaming tears. He had a narrow face, big ears and a flick-knife in his jacket pocket.

Sims smiled at Bruno. "We've been here all this time and you haven't offered us a drink, yet."

"What would you like to drink?" He had trouble getting the words out.

"What would we like to drink? What have you got to drink?"

Bruno stumbled through a list; the flat was surprisingly wellstocked until you remembered what it was stocked for.

"I'll have a Scotch. What about you?" Maxim shook his head. He was having trouble enough keeping up with Sims's quick-fire German. Sims let Bruno make the drink for him, giving him a freedom of movement to rub in the realisation that he daren't exploit it, that he was completely subservient to the little gun and the constant smile.

"Cheers. You live well, for a procurer. Do you ever get a nibble at the old lady in between acts? Or do you just live out of her handbag? You should have stuck to that, not tried to make money out of my good friend here. "

"I haven't got the money now. But I can get it for you. "

"You can get it? Oh no, you meanshe can get it. Roll on her back a few more times to save your little investment schemes. How soon canshe get it?"

Bruno's eyes flickered side-to-side but he found no help in sight. "I could… at the end of the day after tomorrow."

"And how many times… ach, never mind. We can wait. Now let's talk about the papers you gave my friend. I think there was something missing. Find me that and we might not worry too much about the money. "

"But I gave him everything. "

Sims nodded, still smiling. "No trouble. Just find it. "

"But truly, I -"

Sims moved so suddenly that Maxim could never have stopped him even if he'd tried. Bruno went staggering back with Sims slashing his head with the pistol. He collapsed on a sofa, wrapping his arms around his face. Blood seeped out between his fingers.

Sims sat down again, his smile unchanged. "I do wish people would listen to what one says. It saves so much trouble."

Maxim went over to look at Bruno. He had a cut on his left cheekbone and a graze on his temple. "I do recommend you to give my colleague what he wants." Bruno spaced his fingers and one anguished eye rolled at Maxim.

"Shall I take a look around?" he asked, hoping Sims got the real message, Can I Trust You Alone With Him? The first thing he found was a bathroom and brought back a hand-towel forthe man with the nose-bleed. Then he went looking for Bruno's room.

It was as obviously masculine as the rest of the flat was feminine. Not just untidy but quite unplanned, with stacks of suitcases and old newspapers, a small refrigerator full of bottled beer and a freestanding old wardrobe too small for the number of clothes – rather expensive clothes – that Bruno had come by. There was no desk, just a table with an ultraviolet sun-tan lamp sitting among the mess. Maxim started opening drawers and suitcases at random.

He had been doing that for five minutes when Bruno screamed again.

This time he was huddled in an overstuffed chair and Sims was still beating at his head as if he really meant to destroy him. This was no act; the other man was staring horrified over his bloodstained towel.

"For Christ's sake -" Maxim grabbed Sims's arm and then with both hands as Sims turned, wild-eyed, trying to ram the pistol against Maxim's stomach. They stood for a moment in a weird pose that might have looked good in a self-defence manual, then the anger clouded over in Sims's eyes.

Maxim pushed the pistol hand carefully away. "He's not much alive but he could be a problem dead. We haven't got a certificate for him, remember?"

Sims's smile flashed on. "I don't like being cheated."

"Sure. Go and have a snoop. His room's the one with the light on."

Sims stepped into the hallway and Maxim took another look at Bruno. His head was bleeding from another cut, but Sims had been lucky or careful enough to stay clear of the thin pterion are of the temples; most of the new damage was to Bruno's hands.