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legs but certainly emphasised trim hips and waist.
    McCulloch took off his eyeglasses, folded back the newspaper he was reading, dropped it on his lap. He had been judging their surroundings too. “We can talk,” he said quietly, and tucked his glasses into his breast pocket.
    David made a small gesture to the seat in front. “That’s Jo.”
    For several moments David was wordless. Jo Corelli. Well, well, well. Neatly positioned too. He looked at McCulloch. “I wouldn’t like to play you at chess.” Then he had a reservation about Jo. “Is she up to this job?”
    McCulloch’s serious face rounded into his genial smile. He dealt with that question by leaving it unanswered. Dave would find out soon enough. “She’s leaving this flight at Amsterdam, along with me. Before then you’ll have a chance to see her and hear her. Listen to her voice carefully: make sure you can recognise it over a telephone. Memorise her face too. The same goes for Walter Krieger. When he walks past on his way to the lounge. I’ll tip you off. You can follow him five minutes or so later. See him and hear him, that’s all.”
    “And where’s Bohn? I thought he’d be hanging in.”
    “He’s done his part of the job. No need to have him around.”
    “He’ll be in at the finish, though. You can’t keep him away from a good story.”
    “No doubt.”
    “So this is all of us?” Jo Corelli, Krieger, McCulloch, and myself.
    That’s it. I’ll be in the background, in contact with all of you. Krieger will keep within reach, if you need him. Jo will be with you most of the time.”
    “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”
    “Jo is capable.”
    “I wasn’t thinking of Jo. I was wondering who is in charge?” I don’t want any arguments on that trip west, he told himself.
    “You. You have to make the decisions, choose the safest routes. And you’ll be there, all the time, until you make our—our special delivery into the right hands.”
    “Where?”
    “To be arranged. You’ll learn your destination as soon as I do. And on that journey, let me know your progress; or tell Jo. She’ll keep me informed if you can’t. Here’s my number”—he slipped a card into David’s hand along with an envelope of cash—“and that’s your expense account. Keep in touch with me. There will be someone by that telephone day or night. And why Geneva?” he asked, forestalling another question. “It’s central. Good telephone service, good airport, roads and trains. And I have two members of my staff there, who are completely discreet and absolutely honest.”
    David resisted looking at either the card or the envelope, stashed them safely in a deep pocket, and brought out his cigarettes as an excuse for reaching into his jacket. “Can you give me a rough idea how long we have to wait before I start making the delivery?” That would be the worrying time, just dawdling around Vienna waiting in uncertainty.
    “That depends on your last concert in Salzburg.”
    “A week from tomorrow—Wednesday. Eight o’clock that evening.”
    “Where is it being held?”
    “The Grosses Festspielhaus.”
    “Ah, the big theatre. Black tie? And supper to follow, no doubt?”
    “Yes, I’ve arranged to meet some friends—”
    “Then we’ll skip my idea and you can leave Salzburg in the morning.”
    “I could cancel the supper date.”
    “No, no. Keep everything as it is, and raise no one’s curiosity. But next morning, take only necessary clothes—travel light—and leave the rest in Salzburg for later pickup. Or have them sent to London or Paris, or wherever suits you. You’d better hire a car in Salzburg for a week; and once you reach Vienna, stay at the Sacher. We’ll have a room reserved in advance. In your name. Then Jo will know where to find you. She’ll be able to give you more details on the arrangements we’ve managed to make. We’ll have quite a week, getting it all squared away.” McCulloch gave that surprising smile of