"And that other girl was the body we put in Leslie's grave in London"

muttered Whiteside.

"We knew we weren't burying the real Leslie. We didn't have any idea where the real Leslie was. Not until just now. But back then, back in 1974, we took the chance that Sandler and Company had thought they'd executed the right girl.

We wanted as many people as possible to believe that she'd been killed "Including me," said Thomas, thinking back to the churchyard.

"Of course' said Whiteside, his eyebrows raised.

"We didn't know who you were. We only knew that you had b.l.o.o.d.y good information.

No way in the world we wanted an enlightened stranger to think the real Leslie McAdam was still alive." Whiteside pondered it for a moment, then continued.

"Similarly, Daniels, we've been following you ever since, which hasn't been easy. We wanted to look at your "Leslie' before anyone else got too close a look."

"And equally you wanted me to think my'Leslie'was an impostor,"

said Thomas.

"We didn't want you spreading the word that the real Leslie was alive,"

countered Whiteside tersely.

.I was thinking of attending the interment," Leslie backtracked sourly.

"I was curious who'd care enough to come. But Mr. La.s.siter insisted.

I left the country the night the murder was discovered. I went back to Montreal. As far as everyone was concerned," she said, "I was dead"

She reflected happily.

"It was marvelous. For once no one was looking for me. If you're already dead, no one bothers you."

"Usually. Not always said Thomas, arms folded, looking her in the eye.

He could hear the chipping downstairs. The dead would rise in more ways than one before the next sunset. He was

"Perceptive, Thomas," she answered

"You're catching on' "It's about time, don't you think?"

Intense hammering and chipping rose from below.

Leslie concluded.

"Months pa.s.sed. Mr. La.s.siter told me to live as quietly and normally as I could. What they were waiting for was a natural and infallible way to smoke out Arthur Sandler. They were waiting for-" "Victoria to die" said Thomas triumphantly.

"May I continue?"

A portrait of Victoria from forty years earlier gazed down from the wall, a tart sneer of disapproval on her lips, the usual vacuity through the eyes.

"Continue," said Whiteside, trying to calm Leslie.

"They were waiting for Victoria to die said Leslie. They had a pretty good idea where these counterfeits were coming from, who was making the flawless engravings, and who had concocted a formula to provide the perfect paper. Sandler." She paused.

"So when Victoria died, they asked me to come forward, to put in a claim against the will. That would force the Sandler estate, including this building, to be closed by the State of New York. And, they hoped, it would force Sandler to come forward' "In one form or another," said Whiteside.

"Correct," she said.

"I was to lure the fox from the thicket. That was one role. The other was to get as close to Thomas Daniels as possible' She looked at him.

"I was to discover how much collusion there'd been between him and his late father."

"And?" asked Whiteside, raising his thin white eyebrows, hoping for a revelation.

"I haven't uncovered any. Yet" Whiteside appeared modestly disappointed. So did Hunter.

The chipping downstairs intensified. Thomas was so engaged in what he was hearing that he nearly leaned forward out of his seat to push the conversation onward.

"That brings her to the present, doesn't it?" he asked.

Hammond nodded. So did Leslie. Thomas turned quickly to address Whiteside.

"And it kicks the ball into your zone, doesn't it, Whiteside?"

Again the raised eyebrows, accompanied by a nod.

"You're going to have to cough up that one bit of the story that you've withheld so far, aren't you?" pressed Thomas, trying valiantly not to gloat.

"You've got the one missing piece and you're going to have to put it in place for us now. Aren't you?"

"It won't be so painful" allowed Whiteside.

"Not if you keep your subsequent part of the bargain. I'll tell you anything you want if you provide the man were looking for." Whiteside wore the expression of a tournament bridge player about to reveal a championship hand, the cards he'd waited years to throw onto a table.

"IT provide him," said Thomas.

Whiteside eyed Hunter with amus.e.m.e.nt and looked at least once into each of the other three pairs of eyes at the table. The noisy excavation continued below them.

"In that case," said Whiteside, the elegant man with a patch of soot on his cheek, 'please listen carefully." He smiled.

"You'll like this. The story wears well."

Chapter 35 Whiteside cleared his throat. 'I've been in double-double games before, even a triple-triple ruse along the line." He shook his head and exchanged a cognizant grin with Hunter.

"This one beats them all, however."

He glanced around, seeing that he was center stage. He continued addressing Hammond, the emissary of U.S. Intelligence, as much as anyone. And, sir," he said,

"I'll supply you with your b.l.o.o.d.y missing piece, all right. Your Sandler."

"Our what?"