information. And he's very sober.
'You're investigating the murder of the late Mr Holgate,' he began, making it a statement.
'What on earth leads you to that conclusion?'
'Your reputation. You never give up. Like Tweed.'
'Only when we have started,' she evaded.
'Excuse me a moment,' he said looking towards the door.
He ran, and because he left the door open she saw what happened outside. He grabbed hold of Nathan Morgan by the collar of his astrakhan coat. He pushed him against the wall, twisting the collar.
'What the hell are you doing, Nathan, spying on me?'
'Lemme go,' Morgan croaked. 'Have you arrested . . .'
'Make a great headline in the press,' Black Jack shouted. 'Gestapo operating in Britain. Paris will love it. So get well away from here. Now! Don't want to see your ugly mug ever again . . .'
Paula turned round. Beyond the net-curtained windows she could see Morgan tugging at his collar, feeling his throat as he stumbled off. Black Jack was calm when he sat again in his seat.
'Special Branch do have a lot of power,' she warned.
'So does the press abroad. The Americans would lap it up. Your Bob Newman could set Whitehall alight. Now, where were we?'
'You were going to tell me something important about Adam Holgate.'
'He was getting a pile of money from somewhere. Far more than could come from his ACTIL salary.'
'How do you know that?' she asked.
'He'd roll into Templeton's, my gambling house in Mayfair. He'd buy chips worth five hundred pounds or more. Play with the lot. Win a bit, then lose the lot. He was an addict when it came to gambling. A few nights later he'd turn up with more cash, buy the chips, play the lot, lose the lot. The source of his funds must have dried up. One night he came in and asked me for a loan. I turned him down. He looked grim, said he'd get it from somewhere. That was the night before he lost his head. Excuse me - rather nasty pun.'
'I see.' Paula sipped her drink. 'Any idea what the source was?'
'None at all.' He gave her the wide grin which knocked over most women. 'Occurred to me he could be blackmailing someone. If so, maybe that's why he ended up the way he did.'
'Did you like him?'
'I did not. He could be nasty. When he lost he started using foul language. I had to tick him off, warn him that if he did that again he wouldn't be allowed into the club.'
'Anything else you can tell me about him?' she pressed.
'Nope.' He grinned again. 'When we've finished our drinks it's time you had a little relaxation. Have dinner with me at Santorini's. They have a terrace projecting out over the Thames. I'm known there. We'll get a great table.'
'I can't. I have another date,' she lied.
The grin vanished as though wiped off his face with a cloth. He finished his drink, looked around the place. He was thinking what his next move would be, she guessed.
'I'll drive you back to Park Crescent,' he decided, standing up. 'My car's parked outside.'
'That's very kind of you,' she said, thinking quickly. Car parked outside?
They walked out, turned left, went past the alley where the Shadow had vanished earlier. Entering the main street he walked over to a parked red MG which had a ticket on it. He was opening the door for her when she flagged down a cab coming down the street.
'Thank you for the drink,' she called out. 'I've changed my mind. A cab will get me there quickly.'
'Ladies have this habit,' he called back in a sneer ing tone. 'Change their minds like the cue ball on a snooker table.'
As the taxi proceeded at speed with very little traffic in the way she thought hard. Vaguely she recalled other cars parked further up the street, any one of which could have been the one she'd heard. Could Shadow have been Diamond? He might have nipped across the street, hidden in another alley, then sidled swiftly into Marino's? Seemed unlikely, but not impossible. Then there was Nathan Morgan. Was he tall enough to have thrown that sinister shadow she'd seen? She wasn't sure. It was
'You're investigating the murder of the late Mr Holgate,' he began, making it a statement.
'What on earth leads you to that conclusion?'
'Your reputation. You never give up. Like Tweed.'
'Only when we have started,' she evaded.
'Excuse me a moment,' he said looking towards the door.
He ran, and because he left the door open she saw what happened outside. He grabbed hold of Nathan Morgan by the collar of his astrakhan coat. He pushed him against the wall, twisting the collar.
'What the hell are you doing, Nathan, spying on me?'
'Lemme go,' Morgan croaked. 'Have you arrested . . .'
'Make a great headline in the press,' Black Jack shouted. 'Gestapo operating in Britain. Paris will love it. So get well away from here. Now! Don't want to see your ugly mug ever again . . .'
Paula turned round. Beyond the net-curtained windows she could see Morgan tugging at his collar, feeling his throat as he stumbled off. Black Jack was calm when he sat again in his seat.
'Special Branch do have a lot of power,' she warned.
'So does the press abroad. The Americans would lap it up. Your Bob Newman could set Whitehall alight. Now, where were we?'
'You were going to tell me something important about Adam Holgate.'
'He was getting a pile of money from somewhere. Far more than could come from his ACTIL salary.'
'How do you know that?' she asked.
'He'd roll into Templeton's, my gambling house in Mayfair. He'd buy chips worth five hundred pounds or more. Play with the lot. Win a bit, then lose the lot. He was an addict when it came to gambling. A few nights later he'd turn up with more cash, buy the chips, play the lot, lose the lot. The source of his funds must have dried up. One night he came in and asked me for a loan. I turned him down. He looked grim, said he'd get it from somewhere. That was the night before he lost his head. Excuse me - rather nasty pun.'
'I see.' Paula sipped her drink. 'Any idea what the source was?'
'None at all.' He gave her the wide grin which knocked over most women. 'Occurred to me he could be blackmailing someone. If so, maybe that's why he ended up the way he did.'
'Did you like him?'
'I did not. He could be nasty. When he lost he started using foul language. I had to tick him off, warn him that if he did that again he wouldn't be allowed into the club.'
'Anything else you can tell me about him?' she pressed.
'Nope.' He grinned again. 'When we've finished our drinks it's time you had a little relaxation. Have dinner with me at Santorini's. They have a terrace projecting out over the Thames. I'm known there. We'll get a great table.'
'I can't. I have another date,' she lied.
The grin vanished as though wiped off his face with a cloth. He finished his drink, looked around the place. He was thinking what his next move would be, she guessed.
'I'll drive you back to Park Crescent,' he decided, standing up. 'My car's parked outside.'
'That's very kind of you,' she said, thinking quickly. Car parked outside?
They walked out, turned left, went past the alley where the Shadow had vanished earlier. Entering the main street he walked over to a parked red MG which had a ticket on it. He was opening the door for her when she flagged down a cab coming down the street.
'Thank you for the drink,' she called out. 'I've changed my mind. A cab will get me there quickly.'
'Ladies have this habit,' he called back in a sneer ing tone. 'Change their minds like the cue ball on a snooker table.'
As the taxi proceeded at speed with very little traffic in the way she thought hard. Vaguely she recalled other cars parked further up the street, any one of which could have been the one she'd heard. Could Shadow have been Diamond? He might have nipped across the street, hidden in another alley, then sidled swiftly into Marino's? Seemed unlikely, but not impossible. Then there was Nathan Morgan. Was he tall enough to have thrown that sinister shadow she'd seen? She wasn't sure. It was
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