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Garrison shrugged, the gesture uncomfortable, his shoulders hardly moving at all. 'Oh, soon.'

'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.

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

'Tonight, do you mean?'

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

'My stick, yes,' the other quietly answered. 'And did I use it, in your dream?'

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

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.

Garrison felt his blood cool in a moment, forcing an involuntary shiver down his spine. Koenig, too. They looked at each other, unsmiling. Finally Garrison turned his lenses on the captain. 'This is it, Francesco,' he said. 'This is the place. Tonight we put into Arenzano.'

Garrison shrugged, the gesture uncomfortable, his shoulders hardly moving at all. 'Oh, soon.'

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 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'

Koenig nodded. 'Then we must hope that the violence was not - will not be - too excessive. But did your dream tell you nothing of the timing of this ... trouble? Like where or when it will take place for instance?'

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

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

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

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

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

Marcello scratched his chin, shrugged, said, 'Oh, she called Arenzano.'

'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.

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

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.'

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.'

Garrison felt his blood cool in a moment, forcing an involuntary shiver down his spine. Koenig, too. They looked at each other, unsmiling. Finally Garrison turned his lenses on the captain. 'This is it, Francesco,' he said. 'This is the place. Tonight we put into Arenzano.'

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

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