of comprehension came over Denison’s face. ‘I heard Diana’s voice on the tape. She was threatening Lyn, too.’
McCready grinned. ‘When this character was foiled he went away, and Diana and Lyn had a row. The bug was still there so that, too, was picked up on the tape. It seems that your daughter is trying to protect her father against the wiles of a wicked woman of the world.’
‘Oh, no!’ moaned Denison.
‘You’ll have to come the heavy father,’ McCready advised.
‘Does Lyn know what happened?’
Carey grunted and glanced at his watch. ‘Six in the morning – she’ll still be asleep. When you went missing I had Mrs Hansen tell her that the two of you were going on the town and you’d be late back. I didn’t want her alarmed.’
‘She’s certain to find out,’ said McCready. ‘This is too good a story to suppress – the eminent Dr Meyrick capering in the lobby of the city’s best hotel as naked as the day he was born and waving a gun. Impossible to keep out of the papers.’
‘Why in hell did you do it?’ demanded Carey. ‘You were bawling for the police, too.’
‘I thought I could catch the chap,’ said Denison. ‘When I didn’t I thought of what Meyrick would have done – the real Meyrick. If an innocent man is threatened with a gun the first thing he does is to yell for the coppers. An innocent Meyrick would be bloody outraged – so I blew my top in the hotel lobby.’
‘Still logical,’ muttered Carey. He raised his voice. ‘All right; the man in the sauna. Description?’
‘He was hairy – he had a pelt like a bear.’
‘I don’t care if he was as hairy as Esau,’ said Carey caustically. ‘We can’t go stripping the clothes off suspects to find how hairy they are. His face, man!’
‘Brown eyes,’ said Denison tiredly. ‘Square face – a bit battered. Nose on one side. Dimple in chin.’
‘That’s the bloke who was quizzing Lyn Meyrick,’ said McCready.
‘The other man – the one with the gun.’
‘I never saw him,’ said Denison. ‘The room was darkened and when I got my hands on him I found he was wearing some kind of a mask. But I …’ He stopped on a doubtful note.
‘Carry on,’ said Carey encouragingly.
‘He spoke English but with an accent.’
‘What sort of accent?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Denison desperately. ‘Call it a generalized middle-European accent. The thing is that I think I’ve heard the voice before.’
At that, Carey proceeded to put Denison through the wringer. Fifteen minutes later Denison yelled, ‘I tell you I don’t know.’ He put his head in his hands. ‘I’m tired.’
Carey stood up. ‘All right; you can go to bed. We’ll let you sleep, but I can’t answer for the local cops – they’ll want to see you again. Got your story ready?’
‘Just the truth.’
‘I’d leave out that bit about the decoder you invented,’ advised Carey. ‘It’s a bit too much.’ He jerked his head at McCready. ‘Come on, George.’
They left Denison to his bed. In the lift Carey passed his hand over his face. ‘I didn’t think this job would call for so many sleepless nights.’
‘Let’s find some coffee,’ proposed McCready. ‘There’s sure to be an early morning place open by now.’
They left the hotel in silence and walked along Manner-heimintie. The street was quiet with only the occasional taxi and the odd cyclist on his way to an early start at work. Carey said suddenly, ‘Denison worries me.’
‘You mean that stuff he came out with?’
‘What the hell else?’ The corners of Carey’s mouth turned down. ‘And more – but principally that. A man like Meyrick might design just such a contraption – but where did Denison get it from?’
‘I’ve been thinking about it,’ said McCready. His voice was careful. ‘Have you considered the possibility of a double shuffle?’
Carey broke stride. ‘Speak plainly.’
‘Well, here we have a man whom we think is Denison. His past is blocked out and every time he tries to probe it he breaks into a muck sweat. You saw that.’
‘Well?’
‘But supposing he really is Meyrick – also with the past blocked out – who only thinks he’s Denison. Harding said it was possible. Then anything brought out of the past in an emergency would be pure Meyrick.’
Carey groaned. ‘What a bloody roundabout to be on.’ He shook his head decisively. ‘That won’t wear. Iredale said he wasn’t Meyrick.’
‘No, he didn’t,’ said McCready softly. ‘I can quote his exact words. Iredale said, “He’s not Meyrick – not unless Meyrick has had plastic surgery recently.”’
Carey thought that out. ‘Stop trying to confuse me. That would mean that the man we had in the hotel in Oslo for three weeks was not Meyrick – that the ringer was the other way round.’
He stopped dead on the pavement. ‘Look, George; let’s get one thing quite clear.’ He stabbed a finger back at the hotel. ‘That man there is not Meyrick. I know Meyrick – he fights with his tongue and uses sarcasm as a weapon, but if you put him in a real fight he’d collapse. Denison is a quiet-spoken, civil man who, in an emergency, seems to have the instincts of a born killer. He’s the antithesis of Meyrick. Ram that into your mind and hold on to it fast.’
McCready shrugged. ‘It leaves a lot to be explained.’
‘It will be explained. I want Giles Denison sorted out once and for all back in London. I want his life sifted day by day and minute by minute, if necessary, to find out how he knows that mathematical jargon. And I want Harding brought here tout de suite.’
‘He’ll like that,’ said McCready sardonically. ‘I’ll pass the word on.’
They walked for another hundred yards and McCready said, ‘Denison is quite a boy. Who else would think of handcuffs as a weapon?’ He chuckled. ‘I think he’s neither Meyrick nor Denison – I think he’s Clark Kent.’
Carey’s jaw dropped. ‘And who the blazes is that?’
‘Superman,’ said McCready blandly.
Denison slept, was interviewed by the police, and slept again. He got up at four, bathed and dressed, and went downstairs. Crossing the lobby he saw the receptionist stare at him, then turn
