The Night People

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several seconds on the advisability of calling the police and decided against it. The thing to do was to wipe off any of his fingerprints and return to the party. Perhaps he would not be missed, and if he was—if the police connected him somehow with the crime—well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. As for the tiny bit of alloy in his pocket, he could only hope to make contact with Falconi’s superior and pass it along to him.
    The streets were deserted going back, and he saw only a few wandering romantics at a distance. A youth in the uniform of the French navy sent Win’s thoughts off on another tangent. Was there still a French navy these days, when all you ever heard about were the paratroops? France itself was now little more than a pawn, placed conveniently between Russia and America, a stamping ground for spies to meet and exchange their wares. The world was contracting somehow, catching little people and second-rate nations in its squeeze, and who was to say that the contraction was not the beginning of a final death throe?
    Back at the party, he saw at once that Tonia had missed him. She found a path through the chattering groups, conversing over their drinks in a dozen languages, and headed for him. He searched the room for Martha, but she wasn’t in sight. “Win, where have you been?”
    “Just out for some air, Tonia.”
    “You want a cocktail?”
    “These English! It’s too late in the evening for cocktails, but I’ll have some Scotch.” They worked their way to the elaborate makeshift bar and ordered two drinks. The bored bartenders might almost have been imported for the occasion. Certainly they were strangers to the usual nightlife of Feru.
    “Win?”
    “What?” He was having difficulty focusing his thoughts. The memories of Falconi’s corpse were too near the surface of his mind.
    “Win,” she said, speaking softly, close to his ear so he could hear her over the babble of voices. “While you were gone, two of my people came looking for you.”
    “Who?” At first he didn’t understand her words.
    “Two of my people. They want you for something. You may be in danger, Win.”
    He sipped the Scotch casually, giving not a hint of the quickened heartbeat within him. “Why should I be in danger from the Russians?”
    “I don’t know. Win, but I have seen them operate before. One of them, in Paris, broke a man’s arm, while I watched. They are dangerous people.”
    “And they were looking for me?”
    Tonia nodded. “They asked me where you were. They will be back.”
    He felt again the bit of metal in his pocket, the cause of it all. Certainly they wouldn’t harm him, an American, and yet he knew the danger was not entirely imaginary. He remembered that Falconi too had been an American.
    He spotted Martha across the room and excused himself. “Thank you for the information, Tonia. I hate to be a cad, but could your party see you back to the hotel? It might be better if I wasn’t seen with you.”
    “Of course, Win! Be careful. I’ll see you again before I leave.”
    He rescued Martha from the clutches of a drooling Englishman who’d just about decided he could make her, and headed for the door. “Come on,” he said briefly. “I’m in a jam.”
    “What kind?”
    “Remember that guy Falconi?”
    “Yes.”
    “Somebody killed him. And I may be next on the list.”
    “Win! What are you talking about? What have you been drinking?”
    “Not enough, believe me. Look, I have to find someone here in Feru.”
    “Who?”
    “I don’t know who. A friend of Falconi’s, but I don’t know his name.”
    “Win, you’re talking in riddles.”
    “Did you tell me back in Paris that the hotels were filled up here?”
    “Yes, with people for the festival. Feru isn’t that big a place.”
    “Look, Martha, I want you to get the register of everyone attending the festival—press, judges, producers, everyone. Understand?”
    “No, but I’ll get it.”
    “You’re a doll,

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