âDinner in twenty minutes, Joe,â Cole said.
âYes, Mr. Cole,â Joe said and trundled the movable bar across the thick carpet and through the sliding door which again closed silently behind him.
âWell, Mr. Cauthorne,â Cole said, âshall we drink to something?â
âHow about to crime?â
Cole chuckled again. I decided that it was a fairly pleasant sound. âVery well, sir, to crime.â
We drank and I lit a cigarette and then waited for Cole to get to the point, providing that there was one. I didnât have to wait long.
âYou know, Mr. Cauthorne, I debated with myself for almost six weeks about whether to invite you to Washington.â
âIf your other guests receive invitations like the one I got, you must be rather lonely.â
Cole frowned and shook his head. âYes, I heard about thatâyour young employees and the vandalism. Iâve already taken measures to compensate you for everything. It was most unfortunate.â
âIt would have been even more unfortunate if the kid had lost a hand. How much is a hand worth in your book?â
Cole brushed his mustache with the knuckles of his left hand and then sighed. âThe old methods are slow in dying, especially among the older generation. But progress is being made, I assure you, and once again I must apologize for the totally unnecessary methods of persuasion that were employed.â
âI donât know if theyâre as outdated as you claim,â I said. âThey got me here.â
Cole took another sip of his drink. âDid they really, Mr. Cauthorne? Was it the violence, and the threat of further violence, that convinced you to come, or was it the news that Angelo Sacchetti is still alive?â
âI wondered when you would get around to him,â I said. âI was betting on after dinnerâover the brandy.â
âIâve had considerable research done on you, Mr. Cauthorne.â He made a vague gesture towards the draped windows. âOver there, in my desk, is a rather thick fileâor dossier, if you prefer. Itâs all about you. Iâve been given to understand that you suffer from a mild psychological disturbance which stems from the time that Angelo disappeared in Singapore.â
âA lot of people know that,â I said.
âTrue. But also in that fileâor dossierâare copies of the notes made by the analyst that you consulted forâI believe it was nine months. A Dr. Fisher.â
âFisher didnât give them to you.â
âNo,â Cole said, smiling slightly. âHe didnât. He doesnât even know that I have them. As I said, they are copies.â
âThen you do know a lot about me.â
âMore, perhaps, than you know about yourself.â
âI see.â
âI must say, Mr. Cauthorne, you are taking all this extremely well.â
âYou want something from me, Mr. Cole. Iâm just waiting to find out what it is so I can say no.â
âWell, now, letâs not get ahead of ourselves. Letâs just go a step at a time. From your analystâs notes, I gather that you suffer from mild, periodic seizures during which you experience trembling, excessive perspiration, and a recurring hallucinatory experience which has Angelo falling into the sea and winking at you as he falls. Thatâs not exactly Dr. Fisherâs description, but rather more of a laymanâs translation of his notes.â
âAs lay translations go,â I said, âitâs not bad.â
âDr. Fisherâs notes imply that you blame yourself for Angeloâs alleged death and that this created a certain amount of deep-seated guilt which triggered the recurring hallucinatory experiences (again, I must say Iâm paraphrasing the good doctor). Iâve taken the liberty, Mr. Cauthorne, to have two other qualified medical persons go over Dr. Fisherâs notes. Your name, of