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d his eyebrows in amazement。 'Surely one man cannot instil such fear into a following as powerful as Andre Schmid's！'
'He is cunning； this man。 Some say he has supernatural powers but I have an open mind on that。 Anyway； he must be annihilated without delay； Sabat！'
Sabat nodded； his face still impassive。 In his mind he saw Daunay again； a slim fellow in his mid…thirties whose exceedingly handsome looks were spoiled by an unfortunate hump…back。 Devilishly shrewd； with a nose for things that other detectives overlooked。 Once he got on a scent he never gave up； hunting down his prey like a bloodthirsty stoat on the trail of a rabbit。 Sabat had met him； worked with him once； and Daunay had claimed the credit。 That was fine by Sabat； but now it seemed there was a direct confrontation looming。 It was not a pleasant prospect。
'All right；' Sabat nodded slowly。 'I'll get him but I'll have to do it my own way。 Any idea where he's hanging out？'
'He's booked in at the Hotel de la Paix on Museggstrasse by the Alpenstrasse。 He checked in yesterday afternoon； and according to the information I received he has gone walking in the mountains。 Which means he knows we are hereabouts and has already begun to look for us。'
'I'll start right away。' Sabat tapped the forting weight of the ？38 in his shoulder holster。 I'll need to take the van though。'
'Of course。' A faint smile twitched the corners of Madeleine's mouth。 'Report to Andre at the mune when you have been successful； but it is imperative that Daunay is removed by Walpurgisnacht。 Good luck。。。 Quentin！'
Sabat flinched as though she had delivered him a physical blow。 Then he was walking out towards the van； feeling her eyes boring into his back； following the erratic course of the VW until it was lost to her view amongst the tall pines。 Only then did he relax slightly。
Sabat did not bother checking out the Hotel de la Paix。 It would not have served any purpose； because had Daunay been there it would only have served to warn him； and if he was gone； as appeared to be the case； then there was no point It was unlikely that an investigator of Daunay's calibre would leave his itinerary with a receptionist
In all probability the detective had already linked the mongol's disappearance with the cannibal cult； he might even have knowledge of the small disused chapel in the mountains。
Sabat parked the van just off the Zurich…Strasse。 Christ； the vehicle still stank of death like an undertakers' wagon。 He locked it up； breathed in the sweet fresh mountain air and sauntered across into the Glacier Garden。 He had no plans and at the moment he wasn't making any。 He just needed time away from the atmosphere of Louis Nevillon。 A chance to relax； to gather his thoughts。
His hand strayed to his pocket； located the yellowed…blackened meerschaum pipe and a pouch that still had some of his sweet…scented mixture left in it。 The tobacco had gone dry； crackled and burned hot when he lit it。 He drew some of the smoke down into his lungs； let it out slowly in twin streams through his nostrils。 He did not cough； it did not taste rancid； instead it gave him a faint feeling of exhilaration。 He had got the effects of the pneumonia out of his lungs。 He was getting stronger； almost ready to fight back。 Three days and it would be Walpurgisnacht。 Time was running out。
In spite of the urgency； Sabat experienced a feeling of lethargy。 Tiredness but not exhaustion。 The sun was warm and he strolled over to an ornamental seat； lowered himself down on to it。 It would have been so easy to have slept； his eyelids starting to droop。
You must find Daunay and kill him！
He jerked； heard Quentin's rasping whisper。 God； he could just walk away from here now but he'd never be free of his brother's soul； a devilish possession that would follow him to the ends of the earth。 OK； he'd kill Pieter Daunay； but not right now。 This was not a matter to be rushed。
Drowsy； idly trying to formulate some kind of plan。 It would be futile to go looking for the investigator； in which case the investigator must e to him。 Which meant a vigil in the region of the other's hotel。 Sabat could not safely kill him there； so he must lure him away。 It would not be easy because Daunay was no ordinary man。 Nerves of steel； ruthless。 The Sabat calibre； it was like hunting himself。
OK； that was settled then。 He'd tell him he'd discovered the Swiss hideout of the cannibal cult。 Which was true。 Sabat smiled to himself； felt his eyelids droop another millimetre。 Lead him up into the mountains。 One shot； or even a karate blow； so easy if his victim was unaware。
He'd be asleep in a moment。 A hazy view of tourists wandering to and fro like contented cattle over rich meadow…land。 Browsing； tired like himself。
'Sabat。'
His own name hit him like a deluge of cold water； instantly fully awake； reflexes that remembered SAS days almost throwing him flat in anticipation of raking terrorist machine…gun fire。 Tautening； seeing the man who stood before him with a faint smile on his handsome tanned face。 Springy hair that blew in the warm breeze； odd flecks of grey in it that hadn't been there the last time Sabat had seen him。 And that hump seemed to have grown bigger； spoiling the overall picture of a masculinity that most men envied。
'Daunay。' Mark Sabat expelled his breath slowly。 'Pieter Daunay！ And who the hell would have expected to find you idling the day away in the tranquillity of the Glacier Garden？'
'And the same could be said of you； my friend。' Daunay eased his body across and lowered himself down on the seat alongside Sabat； that unfortunate deformity making the movement seem ungainly。 'I knew we'd be meeting up before very long。'
'I had the same uncanny feeling myself。' Sabat stared into pale blue eyes that missed nothing； not even the faintest reaction escaped the Frenchman who was dubbed 'The Witchfinder'。 'Doubtless you are hot on the trail of this organisation the newspapers refer to as the Cannibal Cult'
'Like yourself； Sabat；' a short laugh。 'And unless I am badly mistaken you have already encountered them。'
'I have。' Sabat's expression was impassive； again waiting for the other to make the first move。
'In Interlaken where a man named Etoine was killed by a karate kick which had all the hallmarks of a British SAS attack？' Daunay laughed faintly。 'Tell me； Sabat； is this your investigation or theirs？ Are the SAS in on this？'
'D'you think I'd tell you if it was theirs？' Sabat countered。 'Nevertheless； Pieter； our trails have merged。 Teamwork would be easier than two separate attacking prongs。 We might get in each other's way。'
'True。 Tell me about Etoine。 Was it really necessary to kill him？' Eyebrows raised in a mock reprimand。 'Not that your name has been linked with it。 That was purely my own conclusion。 The fool took the bit between his teeth； as you English say； and blundered in where such as you or I； Sabat； 'would have moved more cautiously。 All the same； I did not think it