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By Root 702 0

on my boots, she said, 'There is a street opposite the last pier at the other end of the waterfront from here. The house on the corner has a lion carved over the door. You want the apartment at the top of the second flight of stairs.'

I pulled on my jacket. 'And what will I find there?'

'I wouldn't dream of spoiling the surprise.'

I moved to the door, uncertain of what to say. She said, 'Will you be back?'

'I don't think it very likely.'

'Honest to the last,' she said rather bitterly, then laughed, sounding for the first time since we had left The Little Boat like the old Lola. 'And in the end, Senhor Mallory, I'm not at all certain that was what I really wanted. Don't you find that rather amusing?'

Which I didn't and did what I suspected was the best thing in the circumstances and got out of there fast.

*

I found the house with the lion above the door easily enough. It was one of those baroque monstrosities left over from the last century, probably built for some wealthy merchant and now in a state of what one might delicately term multiple occupation. The front door opened at once giving access to a large gloomy hall illuminated by a single oil lamp. There was a party going on in one of the downstairs back rooms, I heard a burst of noise and music as someone opened and closed a door.

I started up the stairs in the silence which followed. The first landing was illuminated like the hall below by a single oil lamp, but the next flight of stairs disappeared into darkness.

I went up cautiously, feeling my way along the wall, aware of the patter of tiny feet as the rats and lizards scattered out of the way. When I reached the landing, I struck a match and held it above my head. There was no name on the door opposite and the lamp on the wall was cold.

The match started to burn my fingers so I dropped it and tried the door handle with infinite caution. It was locked so I did the obvious thing and knocked gently.

After a while, a lamp was turned up, light seeping under the door, there was movement, a man's voice and then a woman. Someone shuffled towards the door, I knocked again.

'Who is it?' the woman demanded.

'Lola sent me,' I answered in Portuguese.

The door started to open, I moved back into the shadows. She said, 'Look, I've got someone with me at the moment. Can't you come back a little later?'

I didn't reply. The door opened even wider and Maria of the Angels peered out. 'Heh, where are you man?'

I took her by the throat, stifling all sound, and ran her back into the room, shutting the door quietly behind. The man in the bed, who cried out in alarm, was a mountain of flesh if ever I've seen one. A great quivering jelly more likely to die of fright than anything else.

I produced the .45 and waved it at him. 'Keep your mouth shut and you won't get hurt.'

Then I turned to Maria. 'I'd have thought you could have done better than that.'

She was calmer now, a trifle arrogant even. She pulled the old wrapper she was wearing closer around her and folded her arms. 'What do you want?'

'Answers, that's all. Tell me what I want to know and I won't bring the police into this.'

'The police?' She laughed at that one. Then shrugged. 'All right, Senhor Mallory, ask away.'

'It was a set-up our meeting that night, arranged by Hannah - am I right?'

'I'd just come up-river,' she said. 'I was new in town. Nobody knew me except Lola. We're second cousins.'

'What did he pay you?'

'He told me to take whatever money was in your wallet and get rid of anything else.'

The instant she said it, I knew that she had not done as she was told. She wasn't the sort. I said, 'You've still got them, haven't you? My wallet and the passport.'

She sighed in a kind of impatience, turned to a sideboard, opened the drawer and took out my wallet. The passport was inside together with a few other bits and pieces and a photo of my mother and father. I was caught by that for a moment then stowed it away and put the wallet in my breast pocket.

'Your parents, senhor?' I nodded. 'They look nice people. You will not go to the police?'

I shook