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datatime: 2022-10-07 02:11:51 Author:ZnVGzhRb

Lovi shrugged. 'I have never put in there. A tourist trap, I think. A holiday place. But Marcello will know. He was born in these parts.' He put a hand to his mouth and bellowed, 'Hey, Marcello'

'My dream, no,' Garrison replied thoughtfully. 'It's a feeling from inside that tells me that. The place is... there,' he pointed uncertainly towards the shore lights. 'Is that the right direction?'

'I'll decide that,' Garrison answered, his patience wearing thin. 'Now please, what's the name of the place?'

'About your dream?' The other looked at him sideways. 'I thought there might be.'

Lovi shrugged. 'I have never put in there. A tourist trap, I think. A holiday place. But Marcello will know. He was born in these parts.' He put a hand to his mouth and bellowed, 'Hey, Marcello'

'About your dream?' The other looked at him sideways. 'I thought there might be.'

When the captain went back to his duties and they were alone again, Garrison asked Koenig to sit beside him and said, 'Willy, there's something I still have to tell you.'

Lovi berthed La Ligurienne at the end of a jutting concrete quay, and with Garrison's permission he and the four members of his crew went ashore. Left to their own devices, Garrison and Koenig prepared for the night's business and half an hour later, clad in open-necked, lightweight evening suits, made their way from the motor-yacht to the seafront.

'When we find Terri,' Garrison began, 'it may well be that-'

'She holiday town,' Marcello rumbled. 'Little place. Not good for rich man. Savona better.'

'She holiday town,' Marcello rumbled. 'Little place. Not good for rich man. Savona better.'

'How much violence?'

A huge bearded man came out from the cabin, spoke briefly to Lovi, turned to Garrison and nodded in a friendly fashion. His hairy face split in a smile.

For once Garrison was astonished. 'Now how in hell... ?'

'I'll decide that,' Garrison answered, his patience wearing thin. 'Now please, what's the name of the place?'

'How much violence?'

Garrison turned his head to stare directly at the other, his lenses silver now in the twilight on the sea. 'Yes, I think so,' he finally said. 'Tonight...'

'Four men, a knife - I'm not sure. But your walking stick was in it, too. And I notice that you brought it with you.' The stick he mentioned was one that Koenig had used ever since Garrison first knew him. An ordinary stick with a crook, the German walked with it in the country and when exercising Suzy, flicked leaves with it, used it to gesture and to point things out. A casual, comfortable sort of stick, time and use had polished it black. But Garrison knew that his friend never left it lying around where idle hands might pick it up.

'How much violence?'

Lovi shrugged. 'I have never put in there. A tourist trap, I think. A holiday place. But Marcello will know. He was born in these parts.' He put a hand to his mouth and bellowed, 'Hey, Marcello'

'You're a remarkable and valuable man, Willy Koenig,' said Garrison slowly. 'And you're right - there was violence in my dream.'

'-We also find trouble,' Koenig finished it for him. 'She's in danger, eh?'

'How much violence?'

'Again, I'm not sure,' said Garrison, the frown back on his face. 'But I don't think I should want you to use it... fully.'

'My dream, no,' Garrison replied thoughtfully. 'It's a feeling from inside that tells me that. The place is... there,' he pointed uncertainly towards the shore lights. 'Is that the right direction?'

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