you wondering where I was... especially under the circumstances.' Ferguson drank again; McAuliff held his temper and spoke simply.
'I think you'd better get to the point, Jimbo-mon.'
'I hope that name doesn't stick. It was a bad evening.'
'It'll be a worse afternoon if you don't go on.'
'Yes... Craft told me you'd be in Customs for another hour and the chap in uniform would tell the others I was taking pictures; I was to go on to the Courtleigh. I mean, it was strange. Then he changed the subject - completely. He talked about the foundation. He said they were close to a major breakthrough in the baracoa fibres; that much of the progress was due to my work. And, for reasons ranging from the legal to the moral, they wanted me to come back to Craft. I was actually to be given a percentage of the market development... Do you realize what that could mean?'
'If this is what you had to tell me, you can join them today.'
'Millions!' continued Ferguson, oblivious to Alex's interruption. 'Actually millions... over the years, of course. I've never had any money. Stony, most of the time. Had to borrow the cash for my camera equipment, did you know that?'
'It wasn't something I dwelled on. But that's all over with. You're with Craft now...'
'No. Not yet. That's the point. After the survey. I must stay with the survey - stay with you.' Ferguson finished his rum punch and looked around for the waiter.
'Merely stay with the survey? With me? I think you've left out something.'
'Yes. Actually.' The young man hunched his shoulders over the table; he avoided McAuliffs eyes. 'Craft said it was harmless, completely harmless. They only want to know the people you deal with in the government... which is just about everyone you deal with, because most everyone's in the government. I am to keep a log. That's all; simply a diary.' Ferguson looked up at Alex, his eyes pleading. 'You do see, don't you? It is harmless.'
McAuliff returned the young man's stare. 'That's why you followed me this morning?'
'Yes. But I didn't mean to do it this way. Craft suggested that I could accomplish a great deal by just... tagging along with you. Asking if I could join you when you went about survey business. He said I was embarrassingly curious and talked a lot anyway; it would be normal.'
'Two points for Craft.'
'What?'
'An obsolete American expression... Nevertheless, you followed me.'
'I didn't mean to. I rang your room. Several times. There was no answer. Then I called Alison... I'm sorry. I think she was upset.'
'What did she say?'
'That she thought she heard you leave your room only minutes ago. I ran down to the lobby. And outside. You were driving away in a taxi. Then I followed you, in another cab.'
McAuliff put his glass aside. 'Why didn't you come up to me in Victoria Park? I saw you and you turned away.'
'I was confused... and frightened. I mean, instead of asking to tag along, there I was, really following you.'
'Why did you pretend you were so drunk last night?'
Ferguson took a long nervous intake of breath. 'Because when I got to the hotel, I asked if your luggage had arrived. It hadn't. I panicked, I'm afraid... You see, before Craft left, he told me about your suitcases - '
'The bugs?' interrupted Alex angrily.
'The what?' Instantly, James understood. 'No. No! I swear to you, nothing like that. Oh, God, how awful.' Ferguson paused, his expression suddenly pensive. 'Yet, of course, it makes sense...'
No one could have rehearsed such a reversal of reactions, thought Alex. It was pointless to explode. 'What about the suitcases?'
'What?... Oh, yes, Craft. At the very end of the conversation, he said they were checking your luggage - checking, that's all he said. He suggested, if anyone asked, that I say I'd taken it upon myself to write the note; that I saw you were having trouble. But I wasn't to worry, your bags would get to the hotel. But they weren't there, you see.'
McAuliff did not see. He sighed wearily. 'So you pretended to be smashed?'
'Naturally. I realized you'd have to know about the note; you'd ask me about it, of course, and be terribly angry if the luggage was lost; blame me for it... Well, it's a bit unsporting to be hard on a fellow who's squiffed and tried to do you a good turn. I mean, it is, really.'
'You've got a very active imagination, Jimbo-mon. I'd go so far as