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I’m going to Old Compton Street tonight, but my damned brother’s going to voice the same objections as you, and I’d as soon save time by arguing with both of you at once.”
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    The argument wasn’t much of a contest. She had logic on her side, and when Nigel turned out to be easily won over I couldn’t put up much of a fight. I’d planned on keeping the appointment for her, but there was really no reason to presume he would let me in. There was also the chance that he would have company, which would make the odds unfavorable for our side.
    With Julia running interference for me, we hedged our bets neatly. She could signal to let me know that she was alone, and I could wait in the hallway, prepared to enter when he let her out. Nor would she be in any real danger; whatever his intentions, I’d be lying doggo in the hallway ready to kick the door in if she screamed.
    Julia said, “But suppose he won’t talk?”
    We looked at her.
    â€œHe might not, you know. It would be rather like going to his office and waving pictures under his nose, wouldn’t it?”
    â€œEvan will have a gun, dear.” He turned to me. “I can pick you up one from the property department. It won’t shoot, but I don’t suppose you want to shoot anyone. I’ll guarantee that it looks menacing.”
    â€œBut if he refuses to talk, then what?”
    â€œThen Evan will make him talk, love.”
    â€œOh, come now. That’s a line out of the movies. I could believe that of Mr. Hyphen, but Evan’s not a brutal sort.” She put her hand on my arm. “Are you?”
    I remembered a man named Kotacek, a Slovak Nazi, a doddering invalid who had not wanted to tell me where he kept his lists of the worldwide membership of the Neo-Nazi movement. It took a while, but he told me. I never behaved more inhumanly before or since, but then I’d never been faced with a more inhuman man.
    â€œBrutal?” I said. “Everybody’s brutal.”
    â€œOh, Evan, for God’s sake! Everybody’s brutal and each man kills the thing he loves and life is real and life is earnest. But you know what I mean.”
    Nigel touched her shoulder. His guards’ moustache fairly bristled. “You go too much by manner, love,” he said quietly. “Brutal to him who brutal thinks. I’ve a feeling your Mr. Hyphen will tell Evan anything he wants to know.”

Chapter 3
    O ld Compton Street is no place to stand around waiting for something. It’s in that part of Soho that’s a cross between Greenwich Village and Tijuana—narrow streets jammed with Italian restaurants and strip clubs and pornography shops and prostitutes. I stood in front of a grim pub just across the street from the building where our hyphenated friend lived. I’d already determined that his apartment was in the front of the building on either the third or fourth floor, depending upon whether you looked at it from an English or American point of view. You had to climb three flights of stairs to get to it, anyway.
    An urgent little man in a houndstooth jacket buttonholed me and at once provided me with a good reason for standing on the sidewalk. I stood waiting for Julia’s taxi while he ran through his catalog of vice. “Looking for a girl, are you now, mate? Soho’s full of girls, but you got to find the right sort, you know. Nice clean girl, young, white, just started in the business not two months ago. It’s no good if you get one what ain’t clean, but this is a choice bit of brass, very young and pretty——”
    I put my hands in my pockets. I had a gun in eachpocket and neither one could do much damage. The smaller one fired blanks, while the other, somewhat more realistic in appearance, was a single piece of cast iron. Nigel had offered me my choice and I’d taken both of them.
    â€œCare to see a blue film, mate? Just five nicker for a full