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datatime: 2022-09-27 10:24:22 Author:vaYmvUwM

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

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?'

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

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

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

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

'How much violence?'

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

'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.'

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.'

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

'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.'

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.

'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.

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...'

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

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

'Yes,' Koenig nodded, 'Arenzano. And the time?'

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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