My father! I have to find my father! Nothing must interfere! I can deal with Seth later, but right now...! To Icicle's relief, the woman urinated. They carried her back to the bed. Again she drew her knees towards her stomach. "What are you doing?" Seth barked at Icicle.

"Putting her underwear back on."

"She doesn't need them!" They stared at each other. The room compacted with tension.

Icicle reached for a corner of the bedspread, about to drape it over her. "No," Seth's eyes blazed in warning. "The drug works better if she's chilly." Icicle realized they were at the danger point. If he didn't back off, in all probability there'd be a fight. His father had to take priority. "Whatever you say."

"That's exactly correct. Whatever I say. I wouldn't want our friendship to be strained." Seth's tone was mocking. "Get on with it. Question her." While you concentrate on her nakedness. Icicle thought angrily.

He stepped to the bureau, opened a drawer, and removed a vial of

Sodium-Amytal powder. In a larger vial, he mixed five hundred milligrams of the powder with twenty milliliters of distilled water. He filled a hypodermic.

22.

Can you hear me?" The woman didn't answer. Icicle leaned close and repeated the question. The woman nodded, her voice weak. "Hear you..."

"Good. You mustn't worry. You're safe. You have nothing to fear.

You're with friends."

"Friends..."

"That's right. Now tell me your name."

"Erika..."

"And your last name?"

"Bernsteingrisman." The last name left no doubt. Icicle thought. The woman was Jewish, as Seth had suspected. Icicle's tone was gentle. "Why did you follow Father Dusseault to the Vatican gardens?"

"Three men tried to kill us..." The non sequitur made Icicle close his eyes in frustration. But he persisted with his gentle tone. "You can tell us about the three men later, Erika. What about Father Dusseault?"

Another non sequitur

"My father disappeared." The problem. Icicle decided, was whether to keep her talking about Father Dusseault or whether to follow her random associations. What Erika knew might be so complicated that he'd fail to learn vital information if he kept his questions within too narrow a range. Certainly her statement about her father, though seemingly irrelevant, was disturbing enough to merit inquiry. "Disappeared? When?"

"Two weeks ago."

"Where?"

"Vienna."

"Why did he disappear?"

"Don't know..." Even in a stupor, the woman became so agitated that

Icicle chose nonthreatening questions--to make her feel at ease, to accustom her to talking freely. 'Tell us about your father." She didn't answer. Icicle made his questions more specific. "How old is he?"

"Seventy..."

"Does he still have a job?"

"Retired..."

"From what?" Already Icicle felt bored by the unimportant questions with which he attempted to calm her. "How did he earn a living?"

"Mossad..." The unexpected response cramped Icicle's heart. He pivoted towards Seth, who jerked his surprised gaze up from the woman's legs.

Icicle turned again to the woman. "Your father was once an operative for the Mossad?"

"Yes."

"Do you work for the Mossad?"

"No." The pressure around Icicle's heart eased. "Resigned..."

"Why?"

"Wanted to be with my husband..."

"The man who was with you in the Vatican gardens? Does he work for the

Mossad?"

"No."

"Did he ever?"

"No."

"What's your husband's profession?"

"Farmer."

"Where?"

"In Israel."

"Why did the two of you leave there?"

"To look for my father." Her voice increased in strength. Her eyelids fluttered. Icicle walked to the bureau, filed a second syringe with the

Sodium-Amytal solution he'd prepared earlier, and injected a small amount into her femoral artery.

The drug worked almost instantaneously. Her body relaxed. "When you and your husband left Israel to search for your father, where did you go?"