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be Vesper had given him。 The phone records matched except； as he had suspected； the Hammersmith number of Malory Enterprises was nowhere in evidence。 She had falsified the material。 Clever girl； but not； it seemed； clever enough。
He finished up his food； then took out the card Dedalus had given him； dialed the senator's office number。 The secretary told him that Dedalus had not yet arrived； but had phoned to tell her that Croaker would call。 He gave her the place where Vesper should meet him； then hung up； deep in thought。 Where had the senator gone after Croaker had left？
He stopped at the concierge's desk； asked them to have a rental car waiting for him as soon as possible。 Then he took a cab to Dupont Circle。 He walked the several blocks to the Phillips museum。 Originally the private home of Duncan Phillips； an heir to the Jones and Laughlin Steel pany； the building became a museum for impressionist and postimpressionist paintings in 1921。
Croaker stood beneath the most famous acquisition of the Phillips Collection； Renoir's The Luncheon of the Boating Party； which he had had the extreme good fortune to purchase for 125；000 in 1923。 The scene was lush and vivid； like the best of Renoir's works； saturated with sumptuous summer colors and a typically Gallic joie de vivre。 The muscled men were masculine； the women frilly； flirtatious； and round。 Everything was as it should be。
Croaker lost himself in the painting。 For him； at this moment； it became a meditation and a ment on the baffling modern life he was living； filled with chimerical people such as Margarite； Vesper； Dominic Goldoni； and Caesare Leonforte who defied traditional classification。 The old ensigns of persona with which he had grown up had changed … and more： they were mutating at such a rapid rate that he needed to form an entire new mind…set to understand them。
At length； he became aware of the passage of time。 It was well after noon； and still no sign of Vesper。 He strolled through the museum； only marginally aware now of the art hanging on the walls。 He waited ten minutes in the lobby； then another five outside on the front steps。 The sky was still dark and gloomy； but at least the mist hadn't changed to rain or； worse； snow。
He called a cab at twelve thirty…five and was back at the hotel ten minutes later。 His rental car was waiting for him and he filled out the forms hurriedly； surrendered his credit card for a moment； then took possession of the keys。
Before one； he was on his way back to Senator Dedalus's office。 He got caught in the seemingly ubiquitous traffic。 He needed another inning with the senator； and this time he did not want Dedalus to have any advance warning。 Vesper had failed to show and that could be for a number of reasons。 She might not have wanted to e； or she might not have been given the message。 Dedalus had told Croaker he'd be at his office … or had he？
Croaker； staring at the cars in front of him； thought back to their conversation。 Dedalus had merely said he'd be in conference； then had handed Croaker the card with his office number on it。 Croaker had assumed。。。 Shit！
Ten to one the good senator was still at home； deep in conference。。。 with whom？
Croaker turned off at the next light； went back out of town。 He arrived at Dedalus's McLean estate just before two。 He pulled into the granite…set driveway； then ran the car over the Belgian…block curb； across an expanse of lawn； into the trees。 There； he turned off the engine； got out； and headed toward the manor house。
The mist had thinned and the ghosts of shadows could be seen on the ground。 A moment later； the sun broke through the banks of clouds and blue sky began to appear。 Up ahead he could see the gardener in his golf cart。 Croaker automatically went behind a tree； beginning an arc to take him around the gardener。
He kept the man in view as he made his way through the trees and underbrush。 The gardener had stopped； and wiping his forehead with his sleeve； he took off his cap。
Blond hair shone like gold in the sunlight。 It was pinned up flat against the gardener's head。 Croaker； who had e up short； now melted deeper into the glade of trees。 He moved cautiously toward the golf cart。 The gardener turned his head； as if； like a deer； he had caught a whiff of an unfamiliar scent。
And Croaker's heart skipped a beat。 The intense blue eyes； the line of the nose； coalesced in his mind with that unforgettable hair color。 Unless he was hallucinating from lack of sleep and spoiled food； Senator Dedalus's gardener was Vesper Arkham。
8
Saigon/Washington
As it happened； the Russian from the Kurchatov Institute of Atomic Energy was not difficult to find。 Van Kiet； from his office； told them that he had been checked into the Cho Ray Hospital six hours before Nicholas and Tachi had returned to Saigon from Vung Tau。 Of course； they had e back with Seiko； but the chief inspector did not know this。
The Russian； whose name was V。 I。 Pavlov； had been brought into the hospital's emergency room at about the time Van Kiet； Nicholas； and Tachi were having their meeting aboard the chief inspector's ketch。 He spent seven hours in surgery before the doctors got him near to stabilized。
〃What happened to him？〃 Nicholas asked over the phone。
〃Plenty。〃 Nicholas could hear the rustling of papers and knew Van Kiet was looking at the official admission report。 〃The surgeons spent three hours picking lead out of him； they spent another three probing for the bullet that was supposed to enter the base of his brain。 Apparently； the top of his spinal cord got in the way。 He's pletely paralyzed … and he may not make it at all。 I think you'd better get over there right away。 I'll dispatch one of my men to get you through the red tape。 Keep me informed。〃
Cho Ray Hospital was on Nguyen Chi Thanh Boulevard in Cholon。 It was well…known throughout Vietnam as an excellent medical facility that employed a number of English…speaking doctors。 Though it was hardly up to Western standards； it was said one had a decent chance of walking out in good health。
The tenth floor was given over to foreign patients； and Van Kiefs sergeant met them here； guiding them past protesting nurses； doctors； and the hospital security。
The room was as stained and yellowed as sun…bleached paper。 When they entered； Nicholas thought they were too late。 V。 I。 Pavlov lay in his bed； tubed and tented； as white as paste。 His lips were purple and the rise and fall of his chest was barely discernible。 He was a big man。 Time had turned youthful muscle into a thick girdle of fat。 Those outer layers lay loosely on him like bags of suet tied to a pole。
〃They really did a number on him。〃 Tachi circled the bed like a boxer sizing up his opponent。 〃Whoever they are。〃
〃You know about Russians in this part of the world。〃
〃A bullet to the base of the skull is not the MO of a street criminal。 A knife to the belly or a sock filled with coins to the temple is more like it。〃 Nicholas pulled an old wooden chair to the side of the Russian's bed； sat on it。 〃We need some answers from Dr。 Pavlov。〃
Tachi； peering at the array of monitors； said； 〃I don't think he's in the proper frame of mind。〃