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twenty-inch collar.’ Ryder looked at the bullet-ridden door. ‘McCafferty – the gate guard – told me there was no shooting. Termites?’
    ‘Silencer.’
    ‘Why the gun at all?’
    ‘Susan is why.’ Parker was a family friend of long standing. ‘The villains had rounded up the staff and put them in the room across the hallway there. Susan just happened to look out of the door and saw them coming so she closed the door and locked it.’
    ‘So they blasted it open. Maybe they thought she was making a dive for the nearest telephone.’
    ‘You made the security report.’
    ‘That’s so. I remember. Only Dr Jablonsky here and Mr Ferguson were permitted direct lines to the outside. All other calls have to be cleared through the switchboard. They’d have taken care of the girl there first. Maybe they thought she was leaving through a window.’
    ‘Not a chance. From all I’ve heard – I haven’t had time to take statements yet – those villains would have been perfectly at home here with blindfolds on. They’d have known there was no fire-escape outside. They’d have known thatevery room is air-conditioned and that you can’t very well jump through plate-glass windows sealed like those are.’
    ‘Then why?’
    ‘Maybe in a hurry. Maybe just the impatient type. At least he gave warning. His words were: “Stand well to one side, Mrs Ryder, I’m going to blast open that door”.’
    ‘Well, that seems to prove two things. The first is that they’re not wanton killers. But I said “seem”. A dead hostage isn’t much good as a bargaining counter or as a lever to make reluctant physicists bend to their task. Second, they knew enough to be able to identify individual members of the staff.’
    ‘That they did.’
    ‘They seem to have been very well informed.’ Jeff tried to speak calmly, to emulate the monolithic calm of his father, but a rapidly beating pulse in his neck gave him away.
    Ryder indicated the table-top strewn with scraps of torn paper. ‘Man of your age should be beyond jigsaws.’
    ‘You know me: thorough, painstaking, the conscientious detective who leaves no stone unturned.’
    ‘You’ve got all the pieces the right way up, I’ll say that for you. Make anything of it?’
    ‘No. You?’
    ‘No. Contents of Susan’s waste-paper basket, I take it?’
    ‘Yes.’ Parker looked at the tiny scraps in irritation. ‘I know secretaries and typists automatically tear up bits of papers destined for the waste-paper basket. But did she have to be so damned thorough about it?’
    ‘You know Susan. Never does things by halves. Or quarters. Or eighths.’ He pushed some of the scraps around – remnants of letters, carbons, some pieces of shorthand. ‘Sixteenths, yes. Not halves.’ He turned away. ‘Any other clues you haven’t come up with?’
    ‘Nothing on her desk, nothing in her desk. She took her handbag and umbrella with her.’
    ‘How do you know she had an umbrella?’
    ‘I asked,’ Parker said patiently. ‘Nothing but this left.’ He picked up a framed and unflattering picture of Ryder, replaced it on the desk and said à propos of nothing: ‘Some people can function efficiently under any circumstances. And that’s it, I’m afraid.’
    Dr Jablonsky escorted them to the battered Peugeot. ‘If there’s anything I can do, Sergeant –’
    ‘Two things, as a matter of fact. Without letting Ferguson know, can you get hold of the dossier on Carlton? You know, the details of his past career, references, that sort of thing.’
    ‘Jesus, man, he’s number two in security.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘Any reason to suspect him?’
    ‘None. I’m just curious why they took him as hostage. A senior security man is supposed to betough and resourceful. Not the kind of man I’d have around. His record may show some reason why. Second thing, I’m still a pilgrim lost in this nuclear desert. If I need any more information can I contact you?’
    ‘You know where my office is.’
    ‘I may