my answers. So ... can we try to talk normally?'
Harry's throat worked up and down as he licked his lips. His face relaxed a little, and he said, 'Sure, why not?' in a perfectly ordinary speaking voice ... but his pinprick pupils remained fixed unblinkingly on the slowly mobile pendants.
B.J. was frankly astonished: at one and the same time he was difficult and he was easy! Perhaps, when these 'people' of his had trained him, they had somehow strengthened him against hypnotic suggestion. And post-hypnotic suggestion? If so, then he was a dead man. He mustn't be allowed to take any knowledge out of this room except what she desired him to know. But that was for the future, while for now:
'All right, then let's take it question by question,' she suggested. 'You wanted to know about my crossbow?'
'It's a weird weapon,' he said, attempting a shrug.
'No, it isn't,' she shook her head, despite that he wasn't looking at her. 'It's a perfectly normal weapon which I use to hunt rabbits in the Highlands. I climb, hunt, and live off the land; those are my hobbies. But I know a crossbow's power, and that it will kill men as well as rabbits. Also, it's a silent weapon! Anyway, it served its purpose admirably, and it saved your life. Does that answer your question?'
'Yes and no.'
'Yes and no? Theft let's deal with the "yes" part first. What do you mean by yes?'
'Your answer goes part of the way to explaining a coincidence.'
'Which is?'
That the man you helped to kill - the one in the van - believed he was a werewolf.'
That hit B.J. like a fist! And forgetting for the moment that she was in control here, she even tried to cover her momentary confusion, which Harry wouldn't notice anyway. But then, regaining control: 'Are you saying that you, or these "people" of yours, actually believe in werewolves?'
'No, but the man you shot in the van did believe in them. He thought he was one. If you had believed it, too, you'd use either a silver bullet, or - '
' - A silvered crossbow bolt?' (She had seen it coming).
'Yes. And you did.'
She laughed, however shakily. 'That bolt was ornamental! Both of them were. They were taken from the wall of a hunting lodge in the Grampians. They were decorations, hanging over a fireplace along with a lot of other old weaponry. The lodge was my uncle's place, and when he passed on I got one or two of his things. The heads of those bolts were silvered for easy cleaning, because silver can't rust!' It was all a lie; clever, but a lie. But she knew that because it at least sounded feasible, it would be that much more acceptable to her 'guest,' especially in his drug-induced trance. In any case, this was a 'normal' conversation and allowed for normal responses. So perhaps Harry had been looking for just such an answer; maybe he'd even hoped for one. At any rate he sighed ... a sigh of relief, it seemed to B.J.
Yet still she frowned and said: 'But if you and these . . . these "people" of yours don't believe in werewolves, what made you think I might?'
'I didn't say that we did,' Harry answered. 'It was just something that required resolution, that's all.'
'And is it resolved now?'
'Yes.'
'Very well, and now I have a question for you.'
'Oh?'
'What else are you working on? You said you weren't concerned that you'd been dropped by your people because you had other things to do. What things?'
Tm searching for my wife and child.'
Stranger by the moment! B.J. thought. But he couldn't be faking it. His eyes hadn't blinked once; they were still fixed firmly on the crystal pendants where they slowly revolved, continuing to seek their natural balance. 'Are your wife and child lost, then?'
'They ... went away,' he said. 'From me, my work. The baby ... he ... it was a difficult birth. My wife's health suffered, mental as well as physical - or rather, mental instead of physical.'
'Post-natal depression?'
'And other ... problems, yes.'
'So she ran away? With your baby?'
'Yes.'
'But in your line of work, with your experience, you'll be able to find them, right? I mean, like you found me? I'm not in the telephone book, Harry.'
'Neither is Brenda,' he answered. 'But I can't simply ask a taxi driver to take me to her ...' '
That's how you found me?'
'Yes.'
'So ... where will you look for them?'
'Abroad. Canada. Maybe America. The