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Brady stood in the doorway, one eye on the catwalk outside in case a screw turned up. "Who put her up to it?" he demanded urgently.

"I don't know," Sutton replied. "She wouldn't tell me."

"He's lying," Brady said. "It doesn't make sense."

Evans pulled Sutton upright and held the torch so that the heat started to singe the gipsy's black hair. "It's the truth," Sutton screamed. "I asked her who was behind it, but she wouldn't tell me."

Evans glanced up at Brady. "Satisfied?"

The American nodded and Evans pulled Sutton to his feet and held him close for a moment. "You put a foot wrong from now on, boy, and I'll see you get sliced from here to Christmas."

He shoved Sutton away from him and the gipsy twisted like an eel under Brady's arm and out of the door. Evans turned off the torch and took a couple of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. "Can you make any sense of it?"

Brady shook his head. "Do you know anything about his wife?"

"Keeps a drinking club down by the river," Evans told him. "It's called Twenty-One, and anything goes, believe me. She's been on the game since she was fourteen."

Brady lit his cigarette and stood by the door, a frown on his face. After a while, Evans said, "What's running through your mind now, son?"

"A lot of things," Brady said. "For example, the fact that somebody's got a vested interest in seeing me dead. I'd like to know why. If I can find out, I think it'll give me the answer to a lot of things including who killed Marie Duclos."

"And what are you going to do about it?" Evans said shrewdly.

Brady turned and grinned. "You've got a nose like a ferret." He went across to a pile of rubble and bricks in one corner and pushed a hand down the back and pulled out a coil of manilla rope. "There's forty foot there," he said. "And a six-foot sling that fastens with spring links. I've had them here for a week now and there's a pair of wire-cutters hidden in my mattress. That's all I need."

"All you need for what?" Evans said, frowning.

"I'm crashing-out," Brady said. "I've got a lead now--Wilma Sutton. I'll find out who put her up to this business if I have to beat it out of her."

"You're crazy," Evans said. "It can't be done."

"Anything can be done if you put your mind to it," Brady said. "Come up top and I'll show you."

They went out on to the catwalk, climbed up the scaffolding and squatted in an angle of the steel framework. "You were right when you said that getting out of the cell didn't achieve anything," Brady said. "Nobody could ever hope to get through all those gates and guards. I've decided to cut them all out."

"How the hell do you plan to do that?" Evans demanded.

Brady nodded towards the glass dome of the central tower. "Have you ever noticed the screw turning a handle by the entrance to our cell block in the central hall? A system of wire pulleys goes right up into the dome and opens a ventilating window there. That's the way I'm going."

"You must be crazy!" Evans said. "That central tower is all of 150 feet."

"It can be done," Brady told him. "I'm going to cut my way through the steel mesh at the end of the landing. From there I can reach part of the iron framework which supports the tower. It goes right up into the dome."

"Nobody could climb that lot," Evans said. "Those beams are nearly perpendicular. It can't be done."

"It can by someone with specialized experience," Brady told him. "Don't forget I was a structural engineer. I've worked on bridges and tall buildings all over the world. I'll wear rubber shoes and use the sling with the spring links as a safety belt."

"Let's say you get out through the dome," Evans said. "Then what?"

"There's a fall pipe drops down to the roof of D Block." Brady nodded across. "I can crawl along the roof ridge to the chimney of the laundry. From there, I'll rope down to an iron pipe that runs across to the perimeter wall. It's the one really weak link in this place, but I figure they must think it's harmless. Nobody could