“That’s not—” Nick stopped. “How do you know that?”

A flicker of embarrassment. “Pan Kotlar’s wife returned this morning from visiting relatives.” He looked up. “She was, by the way–visiting relatives.” Had his father suggested it, knowing? Or had he just wanted to make it easier to get on the train? Had he said goodbye? “Chief Novotný was busy, so I took the opportunity to interview her. Separately. Our usual procedure.”

“She told you about me.”

Zimmerman nodded and touched the folder. “I confess I am not so clever, even with the resemblance.” He paused. “Was there any reason for her not to mention this?”

“No.” She hadn’t known any of it.

“So you remember this discussion? She said Pan Kotlar was depressed. Is that so?” Building another case, away from the truth.

“No, he was drunk.”

Zimmerman started, surprised by the bluntness.

“An emotional time,” he said calmly. “A friend’s death. And of course seeing you. Your presence—”

“Is that what she said?”

“She said he was not himself.” The denunciations, already begun. The way his father said it would be, the standard procedure. “Was that your impression also?”

“I don’t know what he’s usually like.”

“But he was upset by his friend’s news?”

“Yes.” A pinprick of disloyalty; so easy. “Anybody would be.”

“Your visit, it was a pleasant one?”

“Yes.”

“No quarrels? Sometimes, I know, these things don’t always go smoothly. So many years. And of course the events of his life.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Yes, but often there are feelings–you think it’s over and then they come up.”

“He was happy to see me.”

“And you, were you happy to see him?”

Had he been? “Yes, very.”

“Yet you were leaving today. A short visit.”

“This time.”

“A kind of trial run?” Zimmerman said, pleased with himself for knowing the idiom.

“Yes.”

“Your father knew you were planning to return?”

“Yes.”

“But would you say he was distraught? At your leaving? With his health—”

“No, I would not say that. You would. What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m trying to understand, Mr Warren. How it was.”

“No. You just want me to say he killed himself. I don’t want any part of this. You don’t need me–you already know. Can we go now?”

Zimmerman looked at him carefully. “I’m afraid you don’t understand the situation. Miss Chisholm may go if she likes,” he said, turning toward her. “Though I must ask you to cancel your business in Vienna. It would not be advisable for you to leave Prague just now. You, Mr Warren, are another matter. It is not, of course, my decision–I’m only assisting Chief Novotný. But I suspect he would wish you to stay here.”

“Am I under arrest? What for?”

“No, you are being detained for questioning.”

“Whatever that means.”

“It means you are being detained for questioning. You see, Mr Warren, you are a spanner.”

“What?”

“A spanner in the works. It’s not correct?”

“A monkey wrench,” Nick said.

“Ah, it’s a Britishism, spanner?” Zimmerman nodded. “A wrench. It gets stuck in the machinery. A cause of industrial accidents. This is what has happened to Chief Novotný. Everything runs smoothly and then you fall in. Now he must decide what to do with you to fix it. How does he explain you? Just the fact of you raises questions. What if his idea is wrong?”

“It is.”

“Then he must find another. I have been trying to suggest to you–I hope you understand–that you should not make this difficult for him. He might–this can happen–he might find the wrong idea. He might find it in you.”

Nick stared at him. “You don’t think I did it.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I’m only an assistant now. You want him to believe this was a crime? Then it becomes a problem for him. Given the victim, perhaps a political problem. That would be serious. Me, I don’t interest myself in politics. But I am interested in you. I’m a policeman. A man is dead and I want to know why, I can’t help it.” He paused. “I would like you to help me. But Chief Novotný has other concerns. Not why. What to do. You must understand that difference. For him, the wrong solution, any solution, might become the right one. Unless, of course, I can explain you.”

“He can’t prove anything.”

“Proof can be a small thing, Mr Warren, if you want to believe it. A telephone call that isn’t made. A presence in someone’s flat, stained with blood.” He touched the folder again. “Perhaps a resentment that explodes–just like that, a kind of accident.” He looked up. “A car that isn’t broken. Many things. Which are important? Which do you believe? It’s difficult to know, until they fit. Help me, Mr Warren.”

And not Novotný. Unless they were really one person, not separate at all, like the mimes’ shadows at Laterna Magika.

“Nick, let me call your father,” Molly said, anxious.

“No,” he said quickly. The last thing he wanted, the wounded surprise on Larry’s face, then the mess that would follow, with everyone in on the act. “We can work it out here.”

“How? This is ridiculous.” He turned to Zimmerman. “Do I get a lawyer?”

“If you are officially charged. Let’s hope that won’t be necessary. We can inform your embassy, if you like, that you have been detained. Though I should warn you that that might take some time. I don’t want you to think it’s a lack of interest on their part, but there are procedures to follow.” He lowered his voice. “And of course it makes difficulties for the chief. Questions asked. Paperwork. I speak from experience. I can recommend that you be allowed to return to your hotel tonight, if we need to continue tomorrow.”

“But you can’t guarantee it.”

“No. Not if you are charged.”

“Nick—” Molly said.

“It’s all right. You go back to the hotel and wait.” He turned to Zimmerman. “Can I call her later?”

“As you wish.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Molly said.

“No.” He looked at Zimmerman. “May I talk with her privately?”

Zimmerman shook his head. “It’s not allowed.”

“Can I go to the bathroom, then?”

Zimmerman held his eyes for a second, then nodded, a faint smile. “With an escort.”

After an exchange with Novotný in Czech, one of the policemen led them out. In the hallway Nick hugged her goodbye.

“Nick, stop arguing with him.” Her voice was low, worried. “It doesn’t do any good.”

He stood still. Larry’s advice to his father, years ago, in the study. You’re not doing yourself any favors in there. Were they so alike?

“Somebody killed him, Molly.”

“But he thinks you did. You’ve got to call your father.”

“No.”

“Nick, you’ve got to get out of here. You’re only going to get in deeper. How are you going to explain—”

“Ssh. I’ll think of something. Look, go to the embassy. They won’t keep me here if someone makes a stink. Novotný doesn’t want to charge me with anything–it would be a real pain. It’s Zimmerman who can’t get enough. By the way, I told him there was something wrong with the car–that’s why we were taking the train. You heard the noise in the motor when we came back from the country, okay?”

“I don’t understand any of this. I hate it. What train? What happened?”

“Later.” The guard came over to nudge them apart. “Just go to the embassy.”

“The embassy?” Nervous, her face dismayed.

“Yes, tell them to get me out of here. They can’t keep me without a formal charge.”

“And what if they do charge you?”

“Then they were going to do it anyway.”

“What if he’s right? That it takes them forever to—”

“Molly,” he said, stopping her. But what if it did? An in-box of tourist problems? He’d have to flash their attention. A flare, someone they’d know. “Tell them I’m working for Jack Kemper. In the London embassy. They’ll move. I guarantee it.”

“Who?”

“Just do it. Please. I’ll explain it all later.” He kissed her. “Do it.”