“Jay,” Reeve said quietly, staring at nothing beyond the smudged glaze of the window, the words “Donuts ‘n’ Best Coffee” stenciled on it in muted red.

Then he tried McCluskey again, and got through to the same woman.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Reeve. He said for you to give me your number there and he’ll get back to you.”

“No,” Reeve said, and broke the connection again. He got up to leave the coffee shop, and realized by the stiffness in his legs how long he’d been sitting there. As he passed the cash register, he saw a glass tumbler beside it, half-filled with tips, nothing bigger than a quarter. He reckoned the shifts were college kids, and pushed a dollar into the glass.

“Hey, have a nice evening,” the young woman said. She was choosing some music for the tape machine.

“You too.”

Reeve crossed at the lights with the other pedestrians and checked his reflection in the windshield of a stopped bus. He didn’t look any different from anyone else. He kept pace with a short woman in clacking high heels, so it almost looked like they were together but didn’t know each other real well. He was half a step behind her as they passed the steps up to the glass revolving door, which led into the foyer of the CWC building. Above the revolving door, the CWC symbol was etched into the glass. It looked like a child had taken a line for a walk, so that a single doodle managed to spell out the letters CWC, like the CNN logo on a bad night.

The woman scowled at him eventually, figuring he was trying to pick her up by mime alone, and at the next street crossing, he took a right as she went straight ahead. It was another half a block before he realized someone was keeping half a pace behind him. He didn’t look around, didn’t make eye contact; he kept his gaze to the pavement, and that way could watch the man’s feet: polished brown shoes with leather soles, charcoal suit trousers above them. Reeve took another right, into a quieter street. The shoes and trousers kept with him.

Must have picked me up outside the CWC building, he thought. It had to be Jay or one of his men. Thing was, they were too close for it to be mere surveillance. They didn’t just want to follow him, they wanted contact. Reeve started fast, shallow breathing, oxygenating his blood, and loosened his shoulders, tightening his fists. He walked briskly, hoping he could get his retaliation in first. A couple of pedestrians were coming towards him. He stared hard at them as though trying to see into their souls. He was seeking accomplices. But all the couple saw was an angry man, and they moved out of his way.

It was as good a time as any. Reeve stopped abruptly and swiveled on his heels.

He hadn’t noticed that the man in the charcoal suit had slowed his pace a few yards back, and was now standing still, seemingly at ease, his hands out in appeasement. He was a tall man with slick black hair, thinning at the temples. He had a sharp face and sallow cheeks, and the slightly narrowed eyes of one who sported contact lenses.

“This is just where I’d have chosen,” the man was saying, “for the showdown, the confrontation.”

“What?” Reeve was looking around upwards, looking for an assassin’s gunsight, a slow-moving car with tinted windows, looking for danger. But all there was was this tall well-dressed man, who looked like he’d be comfortable trying to sell you a spare vest to go with your suit.

“Who the fuck are you?” Reeve snarled.

“I knew you’d come back here. That’s why I flew direct, saved time. Don’t ask me how I knew, I just felt it.”

“What are you, a clairvoyant?”

“No, Mr. Reeve, I study personalities, that’s all.”

Reeve blinked. “Dulwater?”

The man made a small bow with his head. “I’ve been watching outside CWC for three hours.”

“You should’ve stopped for a coffee.”

“Ah, you were in the coffee shop?”

“What do you want?”

“Well, you seem to know who I am. I’m guessing you know what I want.”

“Indulge me.”

Dulwater took a step forwards. “I want to know what you did to my employer, Mr. Reeve.”

Reeve frowned, trying to look puzzled.

Alfred Dulwater just smiled. “Might I make a guess?” he said.

“Go ahead.”

Dulwater pouted thoughtfully. “I think it’s know as burundanga.”

Reeve tried not to look impressed.

“I’ve heard of it,” Dulwater continued, “but this is the first occasion I’ve known someone to use it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mr. Allerdyce caught up with me an hour ago, by telephone. He had a very strange story to tell. Did the two London operatives tell you my name?” Reeve said nothing, which seemed to be what Dulwater was expecting. “They told me they hadn’t, but I didn’t believe them.”

Though Reeve had been looking Dulwater in the eye, his peripheral vision had all been for the man’s clothes. Dulwater didn’t look armed, and he didn’t look particularly dangerous. He was tall, a head taller than Reeve, but while his face showed cunning and intelligence there wasn’t anything else there, nothing physical. Reeve reckoned he could take him out. He didn’t relax, but he felt a little better.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Dulwater said.

“What?”

“You’re thinking about violence. In particular, you’re thinking of violence which might be perpetrated by you upon me. I shouldn’t take that thought any further.” Dulwater smiled again. “I’ve seen the psychiatric report.”

Reeve remembered that Dulwater had been in his house. He knew what the man was talking about. He was talking about the warning. Any more fits of violence and Reeve might well be committed.

“I mean,” said Dulwater, “after the scene in the bar…”

“Your men started it. I’ve got witnesses.”

“Terrible mess those two are in-and you, Mr. Reeve, you don’t have a scratch on you. How’s the foot by the way? Kaprisky says he stomped on the intruder’s bare foot.”

Reeve stared levelly at Dulwater. “Nothing wrong with either foot,” he said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“So, what now?”

“Now? Now we go somewhere and have a talk. You see, we have a lot in common. We’re both after information on Kosigin. And more than that…”

“Yes?”

Dulwater smiled. “Neither of us much likes Jeffrey Allerdyce.”

They went to a bar. It might’ve been a bar Jim Reeve used to drink in, Gordon Reeve couldn’t remember. While Dulwater went to the men’s room, Reeve tried the Police Department again. This time he got through to Mike McCluskey, who sounded out of breath.

“Hey, Gordon,” McCluskey said as if they were old friends, “where are you?”

“Near San Diego,” Reeve told him.

“Yeah? Any reason for that?”

“I never do anything without a reason, McCluskey. I want us to talk.”

“Sure, no problem. Let me take down your-”

“Later tonight.” A waitress was advancing with the beers they’d ordered. Dulwater, rubbing his hands, was right behind her. “Say midnight.”

“Midnight? Well, that’s a funny-”

“ La Jolla, remember that place we went for a drink after you showed me where my brother was murdered?”

“Now, Gordon, you know there’s not one shred of evi-dence-”

“Outside there at midnight. If you’re not alone, I don’t show.”

Dulwater sat down as Reeve cut the call. “What was that?” he asked.

“A sideshow,” said Reeve, taking one of the glasses. He gulped an inch of liquid and licked his lips. “So why are we having this good-natured drink, Mr. Dulwater? How come you don’t have me trussed up in a crate on my way back to Washington?”

Dulwater lifted his own beer but did not drink. “I like my job, Gordon; I like it fine. But I have ambition just like anyone else.”

“You want to set up for yourself?”

Dulwater shook his head. “I want a promotion.”

“Well, if you take me back to Allerdyce, I’m sure you’d be well placed…”

“No, that’s not the way Allerdyce works. He’d only want more. Besides, what are you to him? You’re a one-night irritant, like a mild allergic reaction. You’re not the prize.”