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get.”
    “Lorna, too, of course. But later.” Renwick glanced at Moore’s bag. Travelling light and all ready to leave. “When you call Lorna from the airport, tell her to include a statement of Brimmer’s hidden profits for the last year. The income-tax boys could add fifteen years to his sentence.”
    “Airport? Who the hell mentioned calling—”
    “But you will. She’s probably sitting near a telephone right now, waiting for your report.” Renwick rose, folding the sheet of paper, slipping it into an inside pocket. He picked up his cigarette case. “Now it’s my turn to do you a favour. Avoid any country where there’s no extradition. For that’s where Brimmer will run, if he skips bail. Also, don’t forget Klingfeld & Sons. They will know you have the Plus List as soon as you start making use of it.”
    Moore’s eyes were disbelieving. “They’ve never seen it. No one has.”
    “But they’ll assume Brimmer had one—just as they must have a list of their own. Don’t underestimate their interest in your disappearance. And Lorna’s.” Especially Lorna’s.
    Something amused Moore. “We’ll make no move for a year. We’ve got enough money to tide us over until then. And by that time, who knows? You’ll have nabbed Klingfeld, too.” He pulled on his jacket, buttoned his collar and tie. “I leave first. Room is paid in advance. Take five minutes before you leave.”
    Renwick tried once more. “That Plus List is as dangerous as any nitro you’ve ever handled. As soon as Klingfeld starts looking for it, there will be whispers, rumours. There isn’t an Intelligence agency that wouldn’t join the search. You’ll have plenty of people on your trail.”
    Moore, unheeding, was drawing on his raincoat. The allusion to Intelligence agencies baffled him. “Why them? Are they into blackmail? Wouldn’t be surprised,” he said, shaking his head.
    “It’s a ready-made list of men who could be manipulated or threatened into betraying their countries. They are half-way there already, poor devils.”
    “What would you do with the Plus List?” Moore was enjoying this moment.
    “Destroy it. Saves trouble all around.”
    “You’re crazy.”
    “Crazy enough to think Lorna didn’t need to make a copy of that list. It’s in book form, small, easily carried. How many pages, one to each name—thirty, forty? She’ll bring the book out with her, complete.”
    That stopped Moore. Briefly. “That’s wild,” he said, and lifted his bag.
    “It’s obvious. If you were Brimmer, how would you plan an escape if you ever had to make a run for it? Destroy the secret accounts with a fire or a bomb, but take the Plus List for future use. So it’s a book, small enough to be pocketed, lying right now beside a false passport and a bundle of dollar bills.”
    Moore had reached the door. “You know all the tricks, don’t you? Too smart for your own good.”
    “For Brimmer’s good, I hope,” Renwick said, and won a brief nod from Moore. The door closed, and Renwick could safely stow away his cigarette case.
    As he turned off the music, he checked the room. The almost empty bottle of Scotch was in keeping with Moore, and so was one glass. The half-smoked English cigarette was not, so he carried it into the bathroom, along with the tumbler he had used, and flushed it down the toilet. His coat was half dry, his hat still sodden. Three minutes had passed. Quite enough, he decided, allowing for his call downstairs from one of the public phones. He wondered, as he closed the door quietly behind him, if Moore had been idiot enough to use that room phone today.
    The lobby was less crowded at this hour—it was nine forty, he saw by his watch—but with enough stragglers to keep him unnoticed. He dialled his number, heard Nina’s voice. “Darling,” he told her, “I’ll be home in an hour. Yes, everything’s okay. Are you all right?”
    “Ron and Gemma came round to have supper with me, so I wasn’t alone. And