Cambridge English Readers

Level 3

Series editor: Philip Prowse

No Place to Hide

Alan Battersby

H I C a m b r id g e
UN IV E R SIT Y PRESS
CAM BRIDGE UN IVERSITY PRESS
Cambridge, New York, Melbourne, Madrid, Cape Town, Contents
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Cambridge University Press

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Chapter 1 New York City in fall 6
© Cambridge University Press 2011 Chapter 2 Wall Street 11
Chapter 3 Brooklyn Heights 16
This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception
and to the provisions o f relevant collective licensing agreements, Chapter 4 A voice from the past 20
no reproduction o f any part may take place without the written Chapter 5 Death by the Hudson River 25
permission o f Cambridge University Press.
Chapter 6 Questions and answers 31
First published 2011 Chapter 7 Frankie’s Cocktail Lounge 34
Reprinted 2012 Chapter 8 The East Village 38
Printed in India by Replika Press Pvt. Ltd
Chapter 9 The Metro, Avenue C 42
Chapter 10 Time to fight back 46
A catalogue record o f this publication is availablefrom the British Library Chapter 11 O ’Neill’s story 51
ISBN 978-0-521-16975-2 Paperback
Chapter 12 If the price is right 55
ISBN 978-0-521-17305-6 Paperback plus audio C D Chapter 13 Battery Park 60

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Alan Battersby has asserted his right to be identified as the Author o f the Work in
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Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely accidental.

Map artwork by Malcolm Barnes

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3
Characters

N at Marley: a New York private investigator

Stella Delgado: Nat Marley’s personal assistant
Patrick O ’Neill: an accountant at Ocean Star Finance
Joyce O ’Neill: Patrick O ’Neill’s wife
Julia O ’Neill: Patrick and Joyce O ’Neills daughter
Ronald Steinmann: Patrick O ’Neill’s head o f department
Lorraine Houston: the president o f Ocean Star Finance
Ed Winchester: a reporter on the Daily News
Brett Johnson: a financial reporter on the Daily News
Captain Oldenberg: a detective with the New York Police
Department (NYPD)
Joe Blaney: a colleague o f Nat Marley, ex-NYPD
Frank Van Zandt: the owner o f Frankie’s Cocktail Lounge
Gina: a receptionist at the Metro Hotel

5
Chapter 1 New York City in fa ll other day, I walked the couple o f blocks to my office at 220,
East 43rd Street.
My personal assistant, Stella Delgado, was already at her
desk opening the mail. She’s a smart, good-looking Puerto
Rican who understands everything about computers.
Monday, October 4th. A cool, clear morning with the She’s been with me for most o f the time I’ve been a
promise o f a fine day ahead. Fall is my favorite season in this private investigator. Stella comes from Spanish Harlem,
city - the break between summer heat and winter cold. It’s on the Upper East Side of Manhattan —a part of the city
a time when you’re not trying to escape the worst o f New where tourists don’t go. On the streets there you’ll hear
York’s weather. In the city parks, leaves on the trees were just more Spanish than English. She never finished school, but
beginning to turn red and gold. later, as an adult, went to night school. She’s worked hard
The name’s Nat Marley, licensed private investigator. for what she has now - a job, comfortable home and loving
Before I became an investigator, I used to be a police family.
officer — a cop with the NYPD, the New York Police “How are you doing, Stella?” I asked. “I got coffee for
5>

Department. Since then, I’ve worked for myself. So what you.

does “private investigator” make you think of? A cool “Thanks. I’m fine,” she replied. “Could you leave it on the
handsome guy with an exciting, sometimes dangerous, desk?”
job? Think again. Some o f the time I’m looking for missing A knock at the door. Two women entered. One, a lady
persons. Or maybe I’m watching a husband to find out in her middle fifties, dressed in a dark green suit. The suit
if he’s seeing another woman. And when I look in the looked expensive, but she looked worried. The other, a
mirror, I see an ordinary guy in his forties who’s losing young woman in her twenties. I compared their faces - they
his hair. had to be mother and daughter.
As usual, I caught the number seven subway train from “Do I have the right place?” said the mother. “This is the
my home in Flushing Main Street, Queens, to Midtown Marley Detective Agency?”
Manhattan. “That’s correct, ma’am. The name’s Nat Marley. What can
Through Queens, the subway runs above the streets. I do for you?” I asked.
Below you can see different areas, each home to people “Well, it’s kind o f difficult. . . ” she started.
from around the world - Flushing: Chinese and Koreans, “Come through to my office and take a seat,” I said. “Your
Corona Heights: Central and South Americans. At Grand names, please?”
Central Station I picked up two coffees. Crowds o f New “I’m Joyce O ’Neill and this is my daughter, Julia,” said the
Yorkers were hurrying out onto 42nd Street. Then, like any mother. “It’s about my husband, Patrick. He’s disappeared

6 7
and I really need to find him. It doesn’t matter how much it I learned that Patrick O ’Neill worked as an accountant.
costs.” His employer was a firm on Wall Street called Ocean Star
“I’m very sorry to hear that, ma’am,” I said. “Let’s take it Finance. He had worked there for over ten years. His
slowly, from the beginning.” home address was Henry Street, Brooklyn Heights. His
She looked at me with large sad eyes. “I haven’t seen him photograph showed a tall, gray-haired guy with black
since Saturday night. When I woke up Sunday morning, he metal glasses, but there was nothing special about him.
was gone. He left this message on the kitchen table.” She He had been married for twenty-three years. He was just
took a postcard from her purse and read to me: an ordinary family man, with a daughter studying for her
“My dear Joyce. Don’t worry. I’m safe, but I can’t come M BA at Columbia University.
home. The thing is, I know something which puts me and “There must be a good reason why your husband asked
maybe you in danger. Don’t phone me, or my office or the you not to call his office. So tell me some more about his
NYPD. If anyone asks for me, say I’m out o f town. Trust work,” I said.
me. Stay at Julia’s place and wait for my call. All my love. “Patrick’s the second highest person in his department,”
Patrick.” Joyce O ’Neill answered. “The head o f department is Ronald
“I have an apartment in Hamilton Heights, near Steinmann.”
Columbia University,” Julia explained. “Mom has been “What kind o f guy is this Steinmann?” I asked.
staying with me there since Sunday.” “He’s good at his job - excellent in fact, though he’s not
“Mr. Marley, I’m worried sick,” Joyce O ’Neill continued. well liked. Patrick and Steinmann aren’t the best o f friends.”
“Patrick’s never done anything like this before.” “A few more questions, if you don’t mind,” I continued.
I knew it could be bad news when someone disappears. “Has your husband been acting strangely or differently in
But I didn’t want to make her any more worried than she anyway?”
was already. She thought carefully before answering. “I can’t say he has.
“There can be many reasons why someone disappears,” I His work’s really important to him. He often has to work
said. “Let’s not expect the worst. Did your husband call?” late, and he sometimes brings work home —that’s normal.”
She nodded. “He’s OK, but said he had to hide while “I’m afraid I have to ask this. Could there be another
he decided what to do. He wouldn’t tell me what was woman?” I asked her.
happening. He just said the less I knew, the safer I would She looked at me angrily, then said, “Sorry. I guess it’s
be. I just don’t know what to do.” your job to ask. My husband has never even looked at
“It sounds like he’s in immediate danger,” I said. “It another woman.”
would be useful to know as much as possible about your “One final question,” I said. “It’s useful to know how
husband.” carefully a missing person has planned to disappear. Has

9
your husband taken anything with him? Did he pack Chapter 2 Wall Street
clothes? Did he take the car?”
“The car’s gone, and he took a travel bag with a change of
clothes and some books,” she replied.
“Thanks, ma’am. You’ve been really helpful,” I said. “I’ll
do everything possible to find out what’s happened. I’ll need I told Stella what Fd learned so far. As I talked, her fingers
to visit you at your home later to look at your husband’s flew over the computer keyboard.
papers and computer. That might give me some ideas. “Take a look, Nat,” she said. “The latest information from
Could you meet me there at three o’clock?” the Ocean Star Finance website.”
After Mrs O ’Neill and her daughter had left, I looked It was an investment firm on Wall Street, the financial
out of the window. The sun was trying to make the gray center o f America. “Investment” meant lending out its
buildings o f East 43rd Street look beautiful. It would need clients’ money on international money markets to make
to try harder. So a normal, hard-working guy had suddenly more money. So their already rich clients became even
disappeared. He could be in serious trouble. I had thought richer. Also, it seemed to be one o f the best firms —a favorite
this was going to be another ordinary day. My mistake. o f many famous New Yorkers. Year after year Ocean Star
had returned excellent money to its clients. It was like a
money-making machine.
The head o f the firm was Lorraine Houston. She was well
known to the public through T V talk shows and magazine
stories about her homes on Long Island and in New
England. Her clothes only came from the best stores. She’d
lived the American Dream - the daughter o f a poor New
Jersey family who had become the president o f Ocean Star.
I decided to call O ’Neill’s office and spoke with his
personal assistant. I let her think I had some money to
invest. O f course, it wasn’t the truth - I’ve never had enough
money to save much. But after fifteen years in the NYPD,
I’d learned how to tell a good lie.
“This is Mr. Marley,” I told her. “I’d like to meet with Mr.
O ’Neill this afternoon. I just wanted to check if he could
see me at three thirty.”
10 11
 Stella. It was, o f course, going to mean telling some more
“I’m sorry,” said the personal assistant. “Mr. O ’Neill
lies.
called this morning to say he was sick.”
“When we get to Ocean Star, we check in with reception
“Really? In that case, I’ll have to speak to the head o f
and let them think were millionaires with money to invest.
department,” I said.
We’ll tell them we need financial advice and ask to meet
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she replied. “You see, Mr.
with one o f their advisors immediately. Let’s see what they
Steinmann doesn’t work here anymore. He left the firm on
can offer us. We’ll act all unsure, and ask for promises that
Friday.”
our investment will be completely safe. I’ll do most o f the
“Left the firm?” I asked. “Why? Did he find another job?”
talking and you watch the advisor.”
“I couldn’t say, sir,” replied the personal assistant.
From the subway station, we walked east, past the New
“Whose decision was this?” I asked.
York Stock Exchange. Outside the building, tourists were
“I don’t know,” she said.
busy taking pictures. Ahead o f us we could see the full
“Do you mean you don’t know or you’re not allowed to
height o f the New Century Building. Thirty floors o f glass
tell me?” I asked.
and metal, a wall o f silver in the sunshine. Ocean Star
“As I said before, sir, I really couldn’t say,” she said.
Finance used the top four floors.
Something felt wrong. Both the head guys in the
At the reception desk, you could almost smell money in
department had gone? Working at Ocean Star didn’t seem
the air. The black office furniture looked expensive and the
too good for your health. Was it Steinmann’s decision to
carpets were deep and soft. A meeting was soon organized.
leave? You know what they say when someone suddenly
Yes, they wanted to talk to the millionaires. It’s true what
leaves a job? “Did he jump or was he pushed?”
people say - money does open doors. The advisor gave
Stella was going through the mail. I picked up the phone
complete answers to my questions and seemed to be sure o f
bill.
herself. Finally I asked, “So you can promise us a return of
“Ouch! That’s going to hurt my wallet!” I said. “Did we
up to fifteen per cent on our investment by this time next
really make that many calls? Well, we’d better find Patrick
year? No problem?”
O ’Neill quickly and make ourselves some money. Come
“None at all,” she said immediately. “You don’t need to
on, Stella. We’re going to visit Wall Street. Let’s see if we can
worry. We offer the best service on Wall Street.”
find out anything more on Ocean Star.”
Afterwards, I asked Stella for her thoughts. “You know,
Some investigators take cabs everywhere. Not me. If
Nat, it was like listening to an actor who’d learned her lines
possible, I take public transportation, the New York subway.
well,” she said. “She was giving the usual message: ‘Don’t
It’s cheap, fast and much safer than it used to be when I was
worry. What could possibly go wrong?’ But you know and I
a cop. We took a train from Grand Central Station to Wall
know that’s not always the case in the world o f finance.”
Street. While traveling downtown, I described a plan to
13
12
 I told Stella I was going to take an early lunch at twenties. “Nat, I’d like to introduce Brett Johnson, a
McFadden’s Bar to talk with the people from the Daily financial reporter on the Wall Street page. Brett, Mr. Marley
News. needs anything you might have on Ocean Star Finance.”
The information I needed to know about Ocean Star “O K, Mr. Marley,” Brett began. “There are two sides to
couldn’t be found on the internet. I wanted the inside the story. Each year, Ocean Star makes excellent money for
information. McFadden’s, on the corner o f East 42nd Street its clients. How can they do it? Is it just luck? Or is Lorraine
and Second Avenue, was the second home o f Daily News Houston really a financial superwoman?
reporters. These guys often knew much more than they “Second, if Ocean Star can make such good money, then
could write about in their newspaper - the kind o f news why aren’t all the other firms on Wall Street doing the same
that could be dangerous. thing? However, I don’t have all o f the facts, so that’s why
Inside the bar, the lunchtime crowd was beginning to you haven’t read about it.”
come in. I looked around and saw a tall man with white “Thanks, Brett. You’ve given me something to think
hair among a group o f younger reporters. He was Ed about,” I said.
Winchester, a reporter who had been with the Daily News
longer than I could remember. He had helped me several
times in the past.
“Nat! Over here. And while you’re at the bar, get me
another drink,” he called, waving an empty glass.
I knew that the price o f information from Ed would be
a beer, but that was cheap enough. I ordered two beers and
went over to Ed. He had moved to an empty table and
pushed a chair toward me.
“Well, Nat, what brings you here?” he asked. “You got
that ‘I need to know something’ look on your face.”
I described what had happened during the morning and
what I already knew. “It seems kind o f strange to me. One
o f the two head guys in the department has suddenly left
and the other has disappeared on sick leave.”
Ed thought carefully. “Finance isn’t my field, but there’s
a young friend o f mine who might be able to help.” He
went over to the reporters and returned with a guy in his

14 15
Chapter 3 Brooklyn Heights “I wish I knew,” I said. “While were here, we’d like to find
out more about your husband - his interests, what kind
of person he is. You never know, any little thing could be
important. Does he have a home office?”
“Sure, it’s through here,” said Mrs. O’Neill.
After lunch I met Stella at Grand Central Station by the The room looked out onto the street. On either side of
information desk, under the big clock. We were going to the window were pictures of old New York. Under the
see Joyce O ’Neill at her home on Henry Street, Brooklyn window was a desk with nine drawers and on the desk sat a
Heights. As usual, we took the subway. computer. On the other walls were bookshelves.
Henry Street is just one block away from the subway “Ms. Delgado will look through your husband’s computer
station. On either side o f Henry Street are lines o f old files, if that’s OK with you,” I told her.
brownstone houses, built in the nineteenth century. We Stella turned on the computer, but of course, we needed
walked in the sunshine to the house. the password.
The O ’Neills opened the door before I could knock. Joyce Julia spelled it for Stella: “It’s J-U-L-I-E. That’s what my
O ’Neill looked terrible - she was crying and her eyes were father always calls me.”
red. Julia was holding her mother’s hand. “Please come in,” While Stella continued with the computer, I began my
said Mrs. O ’Neill. search through the books. They were of little interest to us.
As she was speaking, the phone rang. She picked it up Then I continued with the drawers of the desk. Again, I
and said, “Joyce O ’Neill speaking.” Then she slowly put it
discovered nothing that might help us until I tried to open
down.
the final drawer - it was locked. But a minute’s work with a
“Nobody there. That’s the third time today,” she told me.
small knife was enough to open it. It was full of books about
card games, mainly poker. I read the titles: N inety-nine Ways
“I’ll check that number if I may?” I asked. I called the
to Win a t Poker, Poker - Use Your Intelligence a n d Win, The
service to find out who last phoned. As I expected, it refused
C om plete Poker Player and so on.
to give me a number. I didn’t want to make Mrs. O ’Neill
O’Neill had read every book carefully. On most pages
any more worried. “No luck. It wouldn’t tell me anything
there were notes in pencil - the sort of notes that only a
- maybe just a wrong number. But if it happens again, tell
serious student of the game would make. Was he hiding the
me. Now, this morning I called your husband’s office at
books from his wife? I showed them to Mrs. O’Neill.
Ocean Star - I let them think I was a client. I was told he
“Could you tell me if this is your husband’s handwriting?”
was on sick leave. And another thing. Steinmann has left
I asked.
the firm. I couldn’t find out why.”
“Yes, that’s Patrick’s,” she replied.
“Really?” said Mrs. O ’Neill. “What on earth’s going on?”
17
16
 “Did you realize that your husband was interested in card “I’ve never heard the name,” she answered. “Why?”
games?” I asked her. “Well, if you look here, there have been several large
“I had no idea. It’s a complete surprise. That’s something payments to this Van Zandt over the last six months,” Stella
he never talked about. And I thought I knew everything explained.
about him,” she said sadly. Mrs. O ’Neill looked at the screen and put her hand
Stella opened O ’Neill’s email and I waited patiently as she to her mouth. “I just don’t understand,” she said. “This
checked through all the information. Finally, she was ready. last payment is $15,000! And look here. Patrick took out
“Most o f what I’ve opened here seems to be quite $10,000 this morning.”
normal,” said Stella. “Work letters mainly. But there’s “There’s more,” said Stella. “Two large payments to
something here — the last email to Steinmann, sent on Steinmann during the past three months. Over $25,000.”
Friday afternoon. It reads, ‘I didn’t think you could be so “I really can’t understand it,” said Mrs. O ’Neill.
stupid. I can’t believe what you’ve done.’” “There must be a good reason,” I said. “Van Zandt’s an
“Do you have any idea what this could be about?” I asked unusual name, so I hope it won’t be too much trouble to
Mrs. O ’Neill. find him - or her.”
“It could be some kind o f disagreement,” she replied. I had a good idea what was going on. O ’Neill could be
Stella needed Mrs. O ’Neill’s help to get into the family a secret poker player. Those payments could mean that
bank accounts. She entered the numbers and soon the he’d lost heavily at poker and was paying back the winner
information came up on the screen. There was a joint month by month. But why had he paid all that money to
account in the names o f Patrick and Joyce O ’Neill, and Steinmann?
also an account in Joyce O ’Neill’s name. The joint account
seemed normal, as did Mrs. O ’Neill’s account. But we
needed another password to open Patrick O ’Neill’s account.
Mrs. O ’Neill went straight to the kitchen and returned
with a little notebook. “Patrick said I should keep this in a
safe place. If anything happened to him, I’d be able to find
the information on the computer.” She passed the book
to Stella, who searched through it to find the necessary
numbers. New information came on the screen and Stella
now looked more serious.
“Mrs. O ’Neill, do you know someone called F. Van
Zandt?” she asked.

18 19
Chapter 4 A voice from the past I knew I might need Oldenberg’s help. I told myself to be
patient. “My client’s husband is in some kind o f trouble,” I
said. “I thought his boss could help with a few questions.”
“I get the picture,” said Oldenberg. “As usual, you can’t
tell me the full story. But let me tell you this, Marley. Don’t
Tuesday, October 5th. Stella and I were at East 43rd Street try hiding information that could help my investigation, or
early. Now we had another person to find. else I’ll have you at Police Headquarters for questioning.”
“Stella, see if you can find a phone number for this Van Message received and understood. Oldenberg was a good
Zandt,” I asked. “I’ll look for a number for Steinmann.” cop and was doing his job. But, as I knew from the old
My search was much faster than Stella’s. It was all there days with the NYPD, he was neither the friendliest nor the
in the phone book - the number and an address on West easiest guy to work with.
75 th Street, on the Upper West Side near Central Park. You As soon as I put the phone down, it rang. It was Mrs.
needed serious money to live in that part o f town. O ’Neill. She had returned home to Henry Street to pick up
I made the call. “Good morning. May I speak with Mr. a change o f clothes and she had found the front door wide
Steinmann?” I asked. open. Someone had broken into the house. I remembered
“Who are you and what’s your business with Mr. the calls that Mrs. O ’Neill had received yesterday. Now I
Steinmann?” answered a loud voice. A voice I knew very knew that someone was checking to see when the house was
well - Captain Oldenberg o f the NYPD. What was he empty.
doing there? I wondered. “Is anything missing?” I asked.
“Oldenberg! Great to hear your voice again!” I said. “I really don’t know. Please come quickly. I’m so afraid
“Remember me? Nat Marley. Why, it only seems like they’ll come back,” she said.
yesterday when we used to be cops together.” “Don’t touch anything,” I told her. “Can you wait with a
Oldenberg didn’t want to talk about old times. “Just neighbor? ... Good. I’m on my way.”
answer the question, Marley!” he shouted. I left Stella looking for phone numbers for Van Zandts.
“OK, OK. I’m making the call for a client. Mr. Steinmann I took another subway ride to Brooklyn Heights. With
is the head o f her husband’s department. It’s important that the number o f traffic lights between Midtown Manhattan
I speak with him.” and Brooklyn, the subway was always faster. I called Mrs.
“Very interesting,” replied Oldenberg. “That’s going to O ’Neill’s cellphone five minutes before I arrived. She was
be kind o f difficult. You see, Steinmann has disappeared. standing by the front door, her hands shaking.
Nobody’s seen him since Friday. How about you tell me “Mr. Marley, this is just horrible. It must be something to
what’s going on?” do with my poor Patrick,” she cried.
20 21
 She led me into the house. Someone had made a complete his work as best as he could, but there was no friendship
mess o f the home office. All the books were off the shelves, between him and Steinmann.”
with their pages open. Empty desk drawers were lying on “Thanks. That’s useful to know. Has your husband always
the carpet. The computer was still there, but when I felt lived in Brooklyn?” I went on.
around the back o f the machine, it was open. The hard drive “No. We moved here when Julia was just a kid. Patrick’s
was missing. family are Irish-American. His grandparents arrived in the
“Look here,” I said. “That’s what they were looking for - U.S. from Dublin in the 1920s. They more or less got off
information on the hard drive. But if they don’t find what the ship and moved straight to the East Village. Patrick
they’re looking for on the hard drive they could return and grew up in Alphabet City, on 10th Street.”
you’ll be in serious danger. So I don’t want you to return to Alphabet City is the part o f the East Village which gets its
this house again.” name from Avenues A, B, C and D, which cut across it. It
“I’ll stay at Julia’s until this is over,” Mrs O ’Neill said didn’t use to be a safe area. In fact, it was a center for drugs
sadly. and crime. But now things have changed. Today you can
“OK. We have to make sure this house is safe before you find cool cafes, bars and stores in the area.
leave,” I said. “I’ll call a twenty-four hour lock service. You’ll “So he didn’t come from a rich family?” I asked.
need new, stronger locks. I’ll stay here while we wait.” “Not at all. Patrick’s parents had a hard life. They never
I would probably have a couple o f hours to wait with Mrs. lived the American Dream. It wasn’t easy for Patrick, either.
O ’Neill. It was a chance to ask a few more questions and get He’s the youngest o f six children, so there was no question
a better picture o f her husband. I didn’t think she realized of the family paying for college. Patrick did it the hard way
how much danger she could be in. When would she agree and paid for everything by working nights at a 24/7 store.
to call the NYPD? He never had the advantages that I had.”
“Mrs. O ’Neill, what can you tell me about your husband’s “Where do you think he might hide to escape from
boss, Steinmann?” I started. “Yesterday you said they weren’t somebody?” I asked. “Where would he feel safest in this city?”
the best o f friends.” “I couldn’t say for sure. But the area he knows best o f all is
“A couple o f years ago, Patrick had the chance to become the East Village,” she replied.
the department head. He was the right person for the job “Right. Now, Mrs. O ’Neill, I don’t want to worry you
and he was well liked. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the more than necessary, but I think you’re in real danger. The
job, though that wasn’t his fault. Lorraine Houston, the people that broke into your house could come back. I think
president, wanted someone fresh and new from outside. we should call the NYPD.”
She preferred the kind o f guy who didn’t care if he wasn’t Mrs. O ’Neill got up from her armchair, walked over to
liked. So Steinmann got the job. Patrick continued with the window and looked out into the street.

22 23
 At last she spoke: “Mr. Marley, I know you’re offering Chapter 5 Death by the Hudson River
the best advice. But you remember what Patrick said in his
message: ‘Don’t call the N YPD .’ Those are his wishes, and I
have to follow them.”

It was midday before I got back to East 43rd Street. I picked

up a snack at Grand Central Station before returning to the
office. It hadn’t taken Stella long to find phone numbers for
Van Zandts. There were over fifty in all o f New York City.
“OK, Stella. We can share this job,” I said. “I’ll take the
first phone book and you can start on the second. Say you’re
an old friend o f O ’Neill’s and that you’re trying to find
him.”
It was slow and boring work, but I felt it would be worth
it in the end. “Good afternoon. Is this Mr. Van Zandt? If I
could have a minute o f your time? ... You see, I’m trying to
find an old friend o f mine, Patrick O ’Neill ... Would you
know him? ... No? OK. Thanks for your time.”
As the calls continued, I wasn’t feeling too hopeful. Then
I got an answering machine. I listened to the message: “I’m
sorry I can’t get to the phone right now. Leave a message or
phone 212-555-01230.”
I called the number. The phone was answered after a
couple o f rings. First the sound o f jazz music, then a voice:
“Frankie’s Cocktail Lounge.”
“Good afternoon. Is that Mr. Van Zandt?” I asked.
“Hold on . . . ” I heard the guy shout above the noise,
“Frank! Call for you.”
Could this finally be the right Van Zandt? I waited
patiently.
“Frank Van Zandt speaking.”

24 25
 “If I could have a moment o f your time, Mr. Van Zandt,” Park to the boat basin. From here you could see across the
I began. “I’ve lost the phone number and address o f an old river to New Jersey. The temperature had dropped and the
friend, Patrick O ’Neill. Would you know how I could find sky was full o f heavy gray clouds. A cold wind started to
him?” blow from the west.
“Oh yeah? I might. Who’s asking?” replied Van Zandt. All around the boat basin were houseboats. I’ve heard
Not very welcoming, I thought. Time to tell another lie. it’s the cheapest way to live in this city. Ahead I could see
“The name’s Marley. I’m an old college friend. Patrick and NYPD cars in a parking lot near the river. As I got closer,
I were at accounting school together.” an NYPD cop stopped me and said, “Sorry, sir. You can’t
“If you’re so clever, mister, look in the phone book. And enter.”
don’t call again,” he added, then put the phone down. “The name’s Marley. Captain Oldenberg’s expecting me,”
The line went dead - clearly this guy didn’t like me asking I replied.
after O ’Neill. This time I felt I was in luck. Perhaps I should “OK. Come with me and we’ll find the captain,” said the
visit Frankie’s Cocktail Lounge. Before I could organize cop.
anything, the phone rang. I picked it up and heard that Oldenberg was standing in the parking lot behind a
voice from the past again - Captain Oldenberg. Chevrolet Impala. He was smiling, which always made me
“Marley!” he shouted. “Your line’s been busy for ages. feel uncomfortable.
Could I have a minute o f your valuable time?” “Take a look at this,” said Oldenberg, waving at the car.
“Sure. Go ahead.” I replied, holding the phone away from Oldenberg moved to the back o f the car and opened the
my ear. trunk. Inside was a dead man.
“Get yourself to the 79th Street Boat Basin. I got Oldenberg called to the police doctor. “Could you show
something to show you.” He laughed. me his face again, Doc?” he asked. “O K, Marley, time for
When Oldenberg laughs, it usually means bad news. your surprise!”
“OK. But why? What’s going on?” I asked. The NYPD doctor was wearing a suit o f white material
“It’s a surprise. But I want you here now,” Oldenberg over her clothes, and white plastic gloves and shoes. She
ordered. carefully took the dead man’s head in her hands and moved
I told Stella what was happening. She gave me a smile it round so we could see the face. His skin was gray and his
and said, “Don’t get mad at Oldenberg. Remember, we may mouth was open. Between his eyes was a hole.
need his help.” “Marley, meet Ronald Steinmann. Doc, would you tell
I was back on the subway again, this time to West 79th Mr. Marley what you know?” said Oldenberg.
Street. I walked the two blocks from the subway station “I’d say he’s been dead about two or three days. A single
west toward the Hudson River, and crossed the Riverside shot to the head. You see these cuts around his face? This

26 27
guy was hit hard a number o f times before he died. Can’t account. Also, the reason why O ’Neill had sent him an
tell you much more just now,” the police doctor told me. angry email. It began, ‘I didn’t think you could be so
Heavy rain began to fall. I was feeling sick. Although stupid.’ That means I have to find him and I believe you
I’ve seen dead bodies before, I still get that same horrible know where he is. You used to be a cop, Marley, so you
feeling. know the way the police work. If you refuse to tell me, that’s
“I just checked the license plate. This car belongs to Mr. a crime.”
Patrick O ’Neill, Henry Street, Brooklyn. We need to talk, I held my head in my hands. I could only tell Oldenberg
Marley,” said Oldenberg. “And I guess you need a drink. the truth. That wouldn’t be what he wanted to hear.
Let’s go somewhere warmer.” “Believe me, Oldenberg, I’m being completely straight
Oldenberg took me to the Boat Basin Cafe, where he with you. I have no idea where O ’Neill is. Yes, my client
ordered me a double Scotch. The drink was just the right is his wife. All she knows is that her husband is hiding
medicine. somewhere.”
“Marley, I got an idea and I think I may be right. Your “OK. Another thing, Marley. I have to question Mrs.
client could be Patrick O ’Neill, an accountant with Ocean O ’Neill, but I can’t find her. I just get the answering
Star Finance? Or one o f his family?” he asked. machine every time I call. I need your help,” said
I nodded. The safest thing was to listen and see what Oldenberg.
Oldenberg wanted. “O K, Oldenberg. I’ll see what I can do,” I replied.
“Steinmann disappeared some time on Friday afternoon. On the journey back to East 43rd Street, I thought about
I’ve been asking questions at Ocean Star. On Friday the information I already knew. I took a fresh page in my
morning, people heard Steinmann and O ’Neill arguing. notebook and wrote down the facts I knew for sure and the
This was no conversation between friends. People said it was questions that needed answers.
more like a fight. It was behind closed doors so they couldn’t I knew O ’Neill had disappeared sometime between
say what they were arguing about. Today Steinmann is Saturday night and Sunday morning. He didn’t like his
found in O ’Neill’s car, murdered. At the same time nobody boss, Steinmann, and on Friday he’d argued with him.
seems to know where O ’Neill is. You see where this is Also, he had sent an angry email to Steinmann. O ’Neill had
leading?” made large payments to Steinmann and Van Zandt. He was
I understood very well. The sick feeling in my stomach interested in poker. Someone had broken into his house and
started to get stronger. stolen the hard drive o f his computer. Now the police had
“I’m talking murder, Marley. I want to question Patrick found Steinmann dead in the trunk o f O ’Neill’s car.
O ’Neill about the murder o f Ronald Steinmann. I want What was I less sure about? What did O ’Neill know
to know why O ’Neill was paying money into Steinmann’s which put him in danger? Had Steinmann known the

28 29
same thing? H ad O ’Neill lost heavily at poker? Was Ocean Chapter 6 Questions and answers
Star in difficulties? What could explain those payments to
Steinmann and Van Zandt? And finally could a guy like
O ’Neill kill? The more I thought about it, Ocean Star had
to be the key to all the questions.
I called Mrs. O ’Neill at her daughter’s apartment. “You Wednesday, October 6th. Captain Oldenberg and Mrs.
said that your husband took his car when he disappeared,” O ’Neill were in my office at nine o’clock. Mrs. O ’Neill was
I said. wearing a very fashionable black jacket and skirt with a
“That’s right. It’s not parked in the street,” she replied. white blouse. Maybe she did her shopping on Fifth Avenue.
“I’m afraid I have some terrible news. This morning, Oldenberg was dressed in an ugly brown suit with an orange
Steinmann’s body was found in the trunk o f your husband’s tie —clothes that had been in fashion sometime during the
car. last century.
I heard a scream over the phone, then nothing. Before Oldenberg started questioning Mrs. O ’Neill, I
“Are you still there?” I asked. told him what I knew about Patrick O ’Neill. I was trying to
“Yes,” she replied quietly. “This is just awful. I can’t believe show the captain that O ’Neill was just a good ordinary guy,
it. So what happens now?” not a murderer.
“The police are now looking for your husband,” I “As I see it, Patrick O ’Neill could be in the middle o f
explained. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to talk to the police.” something very dangerous,” I began. “So far, we have no
“I realize I don’t have any choice,” replied Mrs. O ’Neill. clear idea o f what that might be. We can’t be sure if the
“But there’s one condition. The meeting should be at your key to this case is Ocean Star or something that happened
office on East 43rd Street.” between O ’Neill and Steinmann - or both.
“Let’s move on to O ’Neill, the person. We have a happily-
married family man who’s worked for the same employer
for over ten years. In that time he’s risen to be second in his
department. He’s given years o f his life to the firm. Also, he
has no criminal history.”
Oldenberg started to question Mrs. O ’Neill. As I thought,
his main interest was the argument between O ’Neill and
Steinmann.
“Mrs. O ’Neill,” said Oldenberg, “I was told at Ocean Star
that your husband and Steinmann argued on Friday before

30 31
they both disappeared. We don’t know what it was about, “Patrick O ’Neill is wanted for murder,” Oldenberg said.
but people heard Mr. O ’Neill shouting. Would you say they “And if you, Marley, or you, Mrs. O ’Neill, know where he
worked well together?” is, and refuse to tell me, that’s a crime. You could both find
“It was never easy for Patrick,” she replied. “Steinmann yourselves in jail.”
pushed people hard. Second best was never good enough Mrs. O ’Neill looked angrily at Oldenberg. If looks could
for him. I can’t say Patrick liked him, but he did his work as kill, he would be a dead man.
well as he could.” After Oldenberg had left the building, Mrs. O ’Neill
“Two years ago, your husband had the chance to become started to cry.
the department head. But Lorraine Houston brought in “I’m sure Patrick has nothing to do with Steinmann’s
Steinmann. How did your husband feel about this?” asked murder,” she said. “But what if the police don’t believe
Oldenberg. me? And what if the people who killed Steinmann go after
“At the time he was angry, but he learned to accept what Patrick next?”
had happened. Life has to go on,” Mrs. O ’Neill replied. “I will find him, I promise you,” I said. “But you must be
“Could you think o f anybody who would want to kill careful. When you get back to Julia’s apartment, stay inside,
Steinmann?” Oldenberg asked her. OK? Stella, could you call a cab for Mrs. O ’Neill?”
“No,” she replied. “O K, so he’s not the nicest o f guys, but When Mrs. O ’Neill had left, I organized some help from
that’s no reason for murder.” an old friend who used to be a policeman like myself. A
“Your husband was paying money to Steinmann. Do you guy who was as useful as ten NYPD officers —Joe Blaney.
have any idea why?” Oldenberg went on. He’d taught me more about staying alive on the streets of
“None at all,” Mrs. O ’Neill replied. Manhattan than you could ever learn at Police Academy.
Oldenberg continued with questions about the angry He’s the sort o f person you needed if there was going to
email, which Mrs. O ’Neill answered patiently. At last, he be trouble and he knew how to use a gun. I last carried a
said, “One more thing, Mrs. O ’Neill. Would you agree to a gun when I was a New York cop. I haven’t carried one since
search o f your house?” and haven’t wanted to - but there are times when one is
“I guess I have to,” she replied, and handed him her keys. necessary.
“Go ahead and do it.” I picked up the phone. “Joe, I have work for you. It could
“Thanks,” he said. “If I’m going to get any further with be dangerous, so bring a gun. A missing person’s in danger,
this case, I must find him. Will you call him?” and we’re going to find him. Come to East 43rd Street with
Mrs. O ’Neill looked him straight in the eyes and your car, as soon as you can.”
said, “That’s impossible. Patrick only calls me from pay
phones.”

32 33
Chapter 7 Frankies Cocktail Lounge guessed must be the boss. He was medium height with a
short black beard, but without a single hair on his head.
“I think we’ve found Van Zandt,” I said, looking toward
the bar. “We’ll try and have a little talk.”
I walked over to the bar with Joe. Van Zandt looked up
The plan was that Joe and I would pay a visit to Van Zandt from some papers he was checking.
and see if he could lead us to O ’Neill. Meanwhile, Mrs. “Would you be Mr. Van Zandt?” I asked.
O ’Neill would come back to the office that afternoon and “That’s me,” he replied. “What can I do for you?”
stay with Stella. “Could I talk to you about Patrick O ’Neill?” I asked.
Joe Blaney arrived in his car soon after midday. He’s in “Who are you?” Van Zandt asked carefully and gave me a
his middle-sixties, but he’s tall and slim with a full head of cold, hard look.
white hair. Although he’s probably twenty years older than “Nat Marley, licensed private investigator,” I said. “I
me, I’d say he looks younger. Some guys have all the luck. spoke to you on the phone yesterday. I believe you know
In the car, Joe pulled his jacket to one side to show me the O ’Neill. His wife’s very worried about him and I think you
gun. “Let’s hope we don’t have to use this, boss,” he said. could help.”
We drove downtown on Second Avenue toward 4th Street. “I don’t have to talk to you!” he said angrily.
The traffic wasn’t too heavy and we soon arrived in the Suddenly a big strong bartender was standing in front o f
East Village. We went straight along 4th Street to Avenue me.
A. Frankie’s Cocktail Lounge was on 5th Street, between “You got a problem, boss?” he asked Van Zandt.
Avenues A and B. “It’s O K,” I said quietly. “We’re not looking for trouble.
Joe stopped the car. Above the double doors, I could read Look, take my cellphone and press ‘Call’. You’ll get my
the words: “Frankie’s - Cold Drinks, Warm People, Hot office. Ask to talk with O ’Neill’s wife.”
Sounds”. Van Zandt did as I said and spent a couple of minutes
“Let’s do it,” I said. checking facts with Mrs. O ’Neill. After a while he returned
We went into Frankie’s and sat at a table. At first, it the cellphone and said, “O K. What do you want?” He
seemed almost dark, but soon I could see better. It was a waved the bartender away and led us to a room behind
comfortable room with armchairs, sofas, red carpets and the bar. Inside, the air didn’t smell too fresh - old cigarette
the sound o f jazz guitar music. We needed clear heads so we smoke. Van Zandt found chairs and sat us at a round table.
ordered two coffees, not the Cocktail Specials. There were I introduced Joe, then began questioning Van Zandt.
no customers at the bar, so I had a look at who was working “I believe that O ’Neill has paid you a lot of money?” I
behind it. A couple of bartenders and someone who I asked. “You’re not stealing from him, I hope.”

34 35
 “It’s not robbery,” replied Van Zandt. “That’s what I won was going to check into a hotel around here. He also told
fairly in a poker game. It works both ways. Patrick’s an me to keep quiet if anyone came asking questions. And one
excellent player and I’ve paid him thousands when I lost. last thing - he told me to expect a letter from his firm. He
We’re old friends. I’ve known him since we were both kids, said it was really important and I should keep it for him.”
working nights at a 24/7 store.” “If it’s arrived, could we take a look?” I asked.
“So explain this,” I continued. “Why does a Wall Street “I guess I could show you,” he said.
accountant come to a back room in the East Village to play It was a thick envelope with the address written in
poker?” O ’Neill’s handwriting. I took out my pocket knife and cut it
“I’ve met several guys like Patrick - hard-working open. Inside, I found some papers - probably about twenty
family men who earn good money. But they want a little pages. At the top o f each page I could see the words “Ocean
more from life. Maybe they’re just bored so I give them a Star Finance” in red and gold letters. On every page, there
good time. I know organizing back-room poker games is a were lines o f numbers.
crime, but I’m not hurting anybody. These guys have the “You know what this is?” asked Van Zandt.
money - like Patrick’s boss, Steinmann. I’m just offering “I guess some sort o f accounts from Ocean Star,” I said.
them a service.” “Another guess —this information may have something to
“So O ’Neill brought Steinmann here?” I asked Van Zandt do with Steinmann’s murder. Mr. Van Zandt, I’d like to
in surprise. thank you for your help. We may be able to reach O ’Neill
“Yeah. Once or twice. I don’t think Patrick really wanted in time. I don’t think anyone else knows these papers are
to, but I guess he couldn’t refuse. One night we all lost here, so could you keep them in a safe place?”
heavily to Steinmann. He played like poker was his second Before Joe and I started searching the East Village, I
profession. I had to ask Patrick not to bring him again. It called Stella to tell her what we’d discovered so far. When
would hurt my bank account too much.” I’d finished, Stella said, “Mrs. O ’Neill wants to speak with
Van Zandt had answered two questions - why O ’Neill you.
had made payments to both himself and Steinmann. “Mr. Marley, thank you,” said Mrs. O ’Neill. “You’re
“OK. Let’s forget the money,” I said. “I’m really interested getting close to Patrick, I can feel it. Please find him and
in finding O ’Neill. You know he’s in some kind o f trouble?” make the police believe that my husband is no killer.”
“After reading about Steinmann’s murder in the morning
papers, I had a good idea what the trouble could be,” replied
Van Zandt. “Patrick got here soon after midnight, Sunday
morning. He said he was in danger, but he wouldn’t talk
about it. He needed to hide someplace for a few days and

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Chapter 8 The East Village We had no luck at the more expensive places, which were
full o f tourists and business people. After asking at a few, we
knew what sort o f answers to expect: “I’m sorry, sir. Do you
have the correct hotel? ... I wish I could help you, b u t . . . ”
Hour after hour, our search area grew wider. We had
Our search area was wide - everything between Fourth moved away from Third Avenue, deeper into the center of
Avenue and Avenue D, then everything between East the East Village, toward Alphabet City.
Houston Street and East 14th Street. Within that area are At some o f the cheaper places, the receptionists were
fourteen streets and eight avenues. Now do the math - that less patient: “We got nobody by that name staying here,
makes around eighty blocks. The good news was that if mister ... Look, mister, I just work here. It’s not my job to
O ’Neill was staying in a hotel in the area, like Van Zandt remember faces.”
said, we didn’t have too many places to check. Most o f the We continued until early evening. It was six thirty, not
hotels are either along Third Avenue or the streets off it. long before sunset, and the sky in the west was growing
There were two problems. First, what sort o f hotel would pink. We just had one or two more places to check in
O ’Neill choose? Somewhere busy, on a crowded street where Alphabet City. The next hotel, the Madigan Inn on Avenue
he wouldn’t be noticed? Or would he prefer somewhere B, looked like an ugly, dirty place, but the receptionist was
quieter and more basic, with less activity? A place where it helpful.
would be easier to watch and listen. Second, how would we I asked the usual questions and made sure that she could
find out if he was staying there? Would he check in under see O ’Neill’s photo. Then the surprise - I could see from
his own name and how could we get the hotel receptionist the look on her face that she knew something. “Sure I know
to tell us if he was there? Hotel receptionists don’t give the guy,” she said. “But not by the name o f O ’Neill. I don’t
information about their guests to complete strangers. know if I’m allowed to say . .. ”
So we had a plan - I’d say I had a business meeting with I showed her my investigator’s license and said, “The truth
O ’Neill. To help receptionists believe the story, I’d asked is, this guy’s life is in danger. I’m working for his family and
Stella to produce some company information for “Patrick we need to find him quickly, before someone else does.”
O ’Neill Accounting”. There was a photo o f O ’Neill on the She believed me and turned to check the computer.
front, which I’d hold so the receptionist could see his face. “Yeah, there he is,” she said. “He stayed for one night and
Time after time at hotels I introduced myself and spoke checked out yesterday. The name he gave was Brendan
to the receptionists. “Excuse me, the name’s Marley. I have Touhey.”
a meeting with Patrick O ’Neill. Would you call his room to “Can you tell me anything more?” I asked. “Did he have
tell him I’m at reception?” any visitors? How did he spend his time?”

38 39
 “Well, he asked for a room on the street. That seemed to Now I realized what was happening. Those guys had
be important. He didn’t have any visitors and spent most of followed us, hoping we would lead them to O ’Neill. They
the time in his room. I think he was watching the street. Or knew we were checking hotels, and the Metro was the last
that’s what I thought when I looked up at his window.” one in the area. They wanted to make sure they got there
“Thanks,” I said. “You’ve been really helpful.” first.
“You could ask at our other hotel,” she said. “I could We ran across to Avenue C, but we were losing valuable
phone ahead to tell them to expect you. It’s the Metro, on time. The Metro, like the last hotel, looked as if nobody
Avenue C between 4th and 3rd.” cared for it. The receptionist, though, was friendly and
“Please. If you would,” I replied. welcomed us with a smile.
As we left, I said to Joe, “At last we’re getting somewhere. “Hi, I’m Gina,” she said. “You guys didn’t need to hurry.
I think I know what he’s doing. Just staying a night at one We got— ”
place, then moving on.” I stopped her and said, “The receptionist at the Madigan
Joe suddenly stopped in front o f the door to the street. just phoned ahead and told you to expect us. We’re looking
“Nat, you see that car just across the street?” for Patrick O ’Neill. He’s in danger and might be using a
“The black one?” I asked. different name. Has anyone asked for him?” I showed her
“That’s it. I think I’ve seen it before. Outside your office, O ’Neill’s photograph.
but I couldn’t be too sure,” Joe went on. “Oh yes,” said Gina. “He’s staying here, but under the
I studied the car carefully. A Lexus, which costs serious name o f Bernard Delaney. Nice, quiet guy. He stays in
money. Three guys with dark glasses were inside. It was his room most o f the time. There’s something I don’t
starting to get dark and I’ve never liked guys who wear understand. You’re the second group o f people asking about
sunglasses at night. I had a horrible feeling that those people him. The others went up to his room five minutes ago, but
meant trouble. they just left.”
Then the driver looked toward us and the car quickly “What others?” I shouted.
moved along the avenue. In the poor light, I couldn’t read “Three guys in black suits and dark glasses,” she replied. “I
the license plate. thought they were the ones I was expecting.”
“What do you think, boss?” asked Joe. “Are they following “Did O ’Neill leave with them?” I asked.
us: “No,” Gina replied.
The streetlights had now come on. Under their yellow “Oh my God! Give me the room number quick!” I
light I could see the answer to Joe’s question. On the road shouted. “I hope we’re not too late!”
beside Joe’s car was a knife. There was no air in two o f the
tires so it was impossible to drive.

40 41
Chapter 9 The Metro, Avenue C Luckily, Joe was thinking more quickly than me. “Back
inside the hotel, now!” he shouted and pushed me toward
the entrance.
We turned and ran inside. Behind us I could hear the
sound o f running feet as they chased after us. “On the floor,
“Second floor, Room 219,” said Gina. behind the desk, now!” said Joe.
No time to lose. Joe and I ran upstairs to the room. The There was no time to say “If you please, ma’am” as I threw
door was open and the lock was broken. Inside, we could Gina to the ground. The front door opened with a crash,
see that someone had quickly searched the room. An empty but Joe was ready for them. I heard two shots, followed by
travel bag was lying on the floor. The blankets had been a scream, then everything was quiet. There was a cloud of
pulled off the bed, and clothes thrown around the room. smoke from the shots in the air. Joe was now at the desk.
“O ’Neill’s not here, but those other guys won’t be far “I think I hit one, but they’ll be back,” said Joe. “We have
away,” I said. “I don’t like this one bit. Let’s get back to the to hurry. Gina, you got to help us! Is there a back entrance?”
lobby.” “Through here,” replied Gina. “Follow me.”
At the desk, I made a 911 call for the police, described the She led us through a door behind the desk, then down
three guys and their car, and said, “I believe they’re looking some steps. Behind us I heard a crash as the men in black
for Patrick O ’Neill, who’s staying at this hotel.” returned. We were now hurrying through the hotel kitchen.
We walked out onto the street to wait for the police, I heard shouts and feet on the stairs. They were getting close.
who I knew ought to be here in minutes. But things now “Turn off any lights and lock doors behind us if you can,”
happened very quickly. A guy in dark glasses was standing I told Gina.
opposite us, across the road. He laughed and said, “I guess I decided to make things more difficult for the guys
you ain’t going no place fast.” following us. I pulled glasses and bottles to the floor. We
Then he began to cross the street, like he didn’t need reached the back door just as we heard the men coming
to hurry. He spoke again: “You guys. Just tell me where into the kitchen. There was a shot, which left a hole in the
O ’Neill is. Then you can go home and forget you ever saw wall beside me. That was much too close. A second later,
me. the room was in complete darkness as Gina turned off the
He wanted O ’Neill, but we had no idea where he might lights. There were shouts as one o f the guys fell over.
be. I looked left and right along the street. On either side of “Up these steps. Hurry!” said Gina.
us was a guy in a black suit walking slowly toward us. Both We were now outside in the cold night air. We went up
o f them were carrying guns. We had no place to run, no a few more steps, then out into a narrow street behind
place to hide. the hotel. In the darkness, I could just see back entrances

42 43
to buildings along Avenue C. We had passed a few doors in black suits were lying on the floor. Above them stood two
when Gina suddenly stopped. “I don’t know what to do!” NYPD cops.
she screamed. “Am I pleased to see you!” I said. “I’m Nat Marley,
“Through this door, quickly,” I ordered. “And get down!” licensed private investigator. Did you catch all three of
We hit the ground behind some boxes. It didn’t smell too them?”
clean down there, but this wasn’t the time to worry about “Yes, sir. The other one is outside with the sergeant. He’ll
the dry cleaner’s bill. Gina had started to cry, so I put my need an ambulance,” said one o f the cops.
hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. “We got here just in time,” said the other. “Captain
“Don’t make a sound,’ Joe whispered. “With luck, the Oldenberg’s on his way. He’ll need to question you.”
NYPD should arrive before they find us.” Gina was feeling better. Her suit was black with dirt and
As we hid there in the darkness, we heard feet running to oil. Mine didn’t look much cleaner, though. Now I started
the left and right along the narrow street. Then we heard the to shake. It’s always the same. It never hits me at the time,
steps returning more slowly, and voices. but later, when I realize I’m lucky to be alive.
“They got to be here someplace,” said one. “They can’t “I guess I could make everyone coffee,” said Gina.
have gotten far.” “That’d be great.” But then I had a sudden thought and
“Start with these doors,” said another. “Let’s see where shouted, “Joe, upstairs now!”
they’re hiding.” We ran back up to Room 219. The door was closed and
There was crash after crash as the doors were opened. when I knocked there was no reply. I put my ear to the door
More shots. Well, that’s one way to unlock a door if you and listened. Somebody was moving around in the room. I
don’t have the key. The noise was now getting closer. I kept tried to open the door, but there was something against it
my hand over Gina’s mouth. Her body was shaking. Finally, on the other side. However, it wasn’t strong enough for Joe’s
above the crashes and shots, a new but very welcome sound. boot and flew open. Inside we saw a man holding the travel
The scream o f a police car. bag.
“It’s the cops. Let’s get out o f here!” shouted a voice on the He threw the bag into Joe’s face and tried to push past me.
other side o f the door. But I was able to catch his coat and pull him to the floor. I
We heard them running back toward the hotel. Then all looked at him closely - a middle-aged guy with gray hair
went quiet. After waiting a few minutes, I decided it was and black metal glasses - Patrick O ’Neill.
safe to come out. “Don’t be afraid!” I said. “I’m Nat Marley, private
Back inside the hotel kitchen, it looked like the morning investigator. I’m working for your wife, Joyce. You’re going
after a wild party. We walked carefully around the broken be safe. It’s time to stop running.”
glasses and bottles on the floor. In the hotel lobby, two guys

44 45
Chapter 10 Time to fight back “It doesn’t matter now,” I said. “Van Zandt told us that
you’d checked into a hotel somewhere in the East Village.
You heard about Steinmann’s murder? The police think you
did it, but I didn’t think that could be true. So I thought
you might be in danger too. But how did you get away from
There was a hopeless look in O ’Neill’s eyes. His lips moved, the guys in black suits?”
but he couldn’t speak. I shook his shoulders and made him “I was watching the street from my window,” began
look straight at me. “Listen, we’re the good guys. You’re out O ’Neill. “I saw them arrive and thought they had to be
of danger. Your wife sent us to find you.” bad news. I ran up to the top floor and hid in a blanket
He still seemed to be unsure, so I pulled him to his feet cupboard. I’d been up there for about ten minutes when I
and tried again. “Here’s my cellphone. It’s calling my office heard the shots. So I stayed there until I heard the police car
number. As soon as my personal assistant answers, ask to arrive and came down to my floor. When I looked out of
speak to Joyce.” my window again, I could see the sergeant outside with one
We waited while he spoke to his wife. He sat down on the of them. Finally, I thought it was safe enough to escape.”
bed as he talked. Now he looked tired and weak, like a lost “That letter you sent to Van Zandt. What do all those
child. numbers mean?” I asked.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. O ’Neill, I need to talk to my “They’re the reason why Steinmann was murdered,”
personal assistant now,” I said. He returned my cellphone. replied O ’Neill.
“Stella, listen carefully,” I said. “Call a cab, and take Mrs. Suddenly, there was someone at the door. It was Captain
O ’Neill to Frankie’s Cocktail Lounge on 5th Street. We’re Oldenberg. He looked around, shook his head and asked in
going to meet you there as soon as possible. We need to a tired voice, “Would you mind telling me what’s going on,
make Oldenberg believe that O ’Neill is not Steinmann’s Marley?”
killer.” “Oldenberg, let me introduce Mr. Patrick O ’Neill. Mr.
Now O ’Neill was beginning to look more normal. “I O ’Neill was almost murdered here tonight. Thanks to the
guess I should say sorry,” he said. “How did you know sergeant and his team, we’re all still alive. Mr. O ’Neill has a
where to find me?” story to tell you. I believe that once you know all the facts, it
“I can explain that,” I replied. “Through information in will be clear that he can’t be Steinmann’s killer.”
your bank accounts, we learned that you’d made payments “I’m listening, Marley,” said Oldenberg. “But whether
to a Van Zandt. That’s how we found your old friend Frank.” he’s the killer is for the police to decide, not you.”
“So you know about the poker games,” said O ’Neill. “Mr. O ’Neill can show you all the information you
“When I told Joyce I was working late, I was actually— ” need,” I continued. “If you agree, it means a quick journey

46 47
to Frankie’s Cocktail Lounge on 5 th Street. Everything’s As soon as everybody was inside the office, O ’Neill took
there.” his wife in his arms. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Joyce,”
“Agreed,” said Oldenberg. “But for the moment, O ’Neill, he said. “I’m going to stop hiding. Now it’s time to fight
you’re still wanted for murder, and that means you’re my back.”
prisoner. Anyway, I guess Police Headquarters will be rather “Patrick, I’ve been so worried for you,” she said. “What’s
safer than this hotel.” been happening? Why all these secrets?”
We all went downstairs, back to reception, where “There’s so much to explain,” replied O ’Neill. “I’ll tell you
Oldenberg organized everyone. “Sergeant, you’re coming everything, I promise. But first, I have to make the captain
with me and O ’Neill. Have your men take away the other understand that I’m not to blame for Steinmann’s death.”
two prisoners and one officer should stay with the guy who O ’Neill turned to Oldenberg and opened the envelope.
was shot.” He took out the papers and laid them on the table. He said,
Joe had to leave and get some help with his car. Oldenberg “These are secret papers from the Ocean Star president’s
drove us through the East Village back to 5th Street. office. There’s enough information here to send Lorraine
Frankie’s Cocktail Lounge was now noisy with the evening Houston to jail.”
crowd. A jazz band was getting ready to play. I saw Stella “If you could keep it short,” said Oldenberg.
and Mrs. O ’Neill sitting at a corner table, waiting for us to “OK. Ocean Star is an investment firm. Its business is
arrive. making money for its clients,” continued O ’Neill. “How do
“Your husband’s outside, Mrs. O ’Neill,” I told her. they do this? By investing clients’ money in the international
“If you could be patient for a few more minutes, I’ll find money markets - or that’s what should happen. Look at this
somewhere less public to talk.” page. It’s organized in two halves, so let’s compare the two
I went over to the bar and shouted above the noise to sides. On the left the numbers show money that was paid
the bartender. “I need to speak to Frank. Where can I find to clients - often a fifteen per cent return. On the right we
him?” see what the firm actually made from investments. Surprise,
“In the back room,” answered the bartender. “Just go surprise! These numbers are far less. You realize what this
straight through.” means?”
I coughed as I entered because the air was heavy with “Go on, tell me,” said Oldenberg. “You’re the
cigarette smoke. “O ’Neill’s outside with the police,” I said. accountant.”
“Could we meet in here? Oh, and we’ll need that envelope.” “Ocean Star can’t possibly earn enough from its
“Sure. Let’s get some fresh air in here,” said Van Zandt as investments to pay big money to the clients and millions
he threw open a window. Oldenberg brought O ’Neill into to the president. It’s using the money from new clients
the room, and Stella followed with Mrs. O ’Neill. to pay the old clients. As long as it continues to get large

48 49
numbers o f new clients, this can work, and people think Chapter 11 O ’N eill’s story
it’s the smartest firm on Wall Street. However, it’s a serious
crime. I believe that’s why Steinmann was murdered. He
knew about it too after I showed him these accounts, and
he talked to Houston. I want to make all this public, and
now I don’t care if it destroys Ocean Star at the same time. At Police Headquarters, Oldenberg led us up to his office.
Is that clear, Captain?” I’d sent Stella home - at least one o f us should try and get a
“More or less,” replied Oldenberg. “If I could take those good night’s sleep. Mrs. O ’Neill wouldn’t leave her husband.
papers ... Thanks. But there are a lot more questions which Inside Oldenberg’s office, it couldn’t be more different
I want answered. We’ll continue at Police Headquarters. from the offices I’d seen at Ocean Star. The walls were a
Mr. O ’Neill, you’re still my prisoner.” dirty green color and there was no carpeting on the floor.
“Basic” was the best word to describe it. Oldenberg had
ordered coffee and sandwiches for everybody. At least the
NYPD coffee tasted better than it used to when I was a cop.
“You have a story to tell us, Mr. O ’Neill,” said Oldenberg.
“I want to know everything about you, Steinmann and
Ocean Star.”
“OK. Two years ago, the old department head moved to
another firm,” began O ’Neill. “I’d worked at Ocean Star
for over eight years and I thought I had a good chance of
getting the job. I was wrong - the president, Lorraine
Houston, had decided to bring in someone new. Someone
who didn’t care who he hurt.
“So I went on with my work and did what was necessary.
With Steinmann as head o f department, the firm was
making even more money than before. Houston thought
he was wonderful, but people who were working with me
thought the opposite. Steinmann loved to push people
hard.
“A year ago, I asked Steinmann how the firm could
continue paying so much money to its clients. The money

50 51
our department made from clients’ investments wasn’t addressed it to my old friend Frank Van Zandt. Then I left
that high. I did the math again and still didn’t understand. the building for five minutes and dropped the envelope in
Where was the money coming from? I was worried, but the nearest mailbox.
Steinmann promised me that there were no problems. He “Later that morning, I spoke with Steinmann, and gave
said, ‘Just do your job and don’t ask too many questions. him the copy o f the accounts. He was immediately very
She knows what she’s doing on the top floor.’ interested. He laughed and said, ‘So that’s how she does it.
“The ‘top floor’ is where Lorraine Houston has her offices. You’ve done the right thing. I’ll go straight upstairs and talk
Steinmann hoped to get his own office there some day. with Houston. With this information, I could make a lot of
It seemed impossible to talk to him, so I kept my mouth money. Maybe I’ll share some with you.’
shut. Time passed and Ocean Star went on paying out big “His plan was to ask Houston to pay him to keep quiet.
money to its clients. Then, on Friday morning last week, I became really angry with him and tried to make him
I received the information that could destroy the firm and change his mind. But he refused. He wouldn’t listen to me
send Lorraine Houston to jail. and went up to the top floor. Now I knew that I could be
“It happened by chance. I got a letter from Houston’s in real trouble because Steinmann had gotten the accounts
office. At first I didn’t understand why I’d been sent a from me. I wasn’t sure what to do, but my first move was to
hard copy o f the accounts - usually everything like that is get out o f the office quick.
sent through office email. I soon realized that it had been “I told my personal assistant that I’d had an awful
a mistake. Houston’s personal assistant had sent me an headache all day and had to go home. Back home, I waited
envelope which was meant to go to the vice-president. a couple o f hours, then made some phone calls. First I
“I knew I shouldn’t, but I continued reading. As I read, called Steinmann’s personal assistant. She told me that
I was more and more surprised. Now I understood that Steinmann’s desk was empty and his computer was gone,
the public accounts weren’t the truth. These were secret but she couldn’t tell me anything more. I sent Steinmann an
accounts, which weren’t on computer. They showed that angry email to his home computer. I wrote something like,
Ocean Star was using the money from its new clients to pay ‘I didn’t think you could be so stupid. I can’t believe what
the old ones. Now I understood how Houston had so much you’ve done.’
to spend on her cars, homes, clothes and vacations. “The next day, I felt bad about what I’d said in the email,
“I didn’t like the idea, but I thought I should talk with so I tried to phone Steinmann. His wife answered and told
Steinmann. I knew I had to be careful, so I made a copy of me that he hadn’t come home, and she was very worried.
the accounts to show him. What about the ones I’d received? That night, I stayed up late thinking about what I should
How could I get the information out o f the building safely? do. Just before midnight I got a call. Someone said, You
I had an idea - I put the accounts in an envelope and have information which belongs to the firm. Return this

52 53
information to Ms. Houston by midday tomorrow if you Chapter 12 I f the price is right
want to stay alive.’
“How could I return the accounts? They were in the U.S.
Mail. So I thought the safest thing to do was to hide. I wrote
a note for Joyce and left in the middle o f the night. Looking
back, maybe it wasn’t the most intelligent decision. I packed What if nobody knew that O ’Neill was at Police
a bag, left by the back entrance, took a cab to Frank Van Headquarters? That would give us the chance to tell some
Zandt’s place. I can promise you I left my car on Henry clever lies - lies that might give us the advantage. I shared
Street. I told Frank to expect the letter with the accounts, my ideas with the captain.
then I checked into a hotel. On Monday morning I took “We don’t know for sure, but let’s say Lorraine Houston
out $10,000 from the bank so I wouldn’t need to use any planned Steinmann’s murder,” I began. “She’s killed one
credit cards. I think you know the rest o f the story.” person and she wants O ’Neill badly enough to kill again.
“Thanks, Mr. O ’Neill,” said Oldenberg. “That’s very Why don’t we try out this plan? Give the news o f what
helpful.” happened at the Metro Hotel tonight to the newspapers,
Oldenberg led me to another office. He thought for a T V and radio stations. Some o f it can be true, but a few
few moments, then said, “Marley, I need some advice. things can be changed. We tell them that O ’Neill escaped
My problem is this - if I accept that Houston ordered and is believed to be somewhere in the East Village area.
Steinmann’s murder, how can I show that it’s true?” Houston will be very afraid. She has a lot to lose if she
“If you’ll allow me, Captain,” I said. “I got an idea that doesn’t find O ’Neill first and stop him from talking.”
just might work.” “OK, Marley. So far, so good. What next?” asked
Oldenberg.
“If you agree, I could speak with her. I’ll tell her I have
something to sell - the secret accounts.”
“Go on,” said Oldenberg. “I’m interested. But why you?
Why couldn’t an NYPD officer do it?”
“I’ll tell her I’ve found O ’Neill and am keeping him
someplace safe —where she’ll never find him. I’ll also tell
her I have the accounts, which I’ll offer to sell if the price
is right. I’ll make her an offer which she can’t refuse. For
$100,000 I’ll return the accounts to her and give O ’Neill
to the police. Houston will think she has won. The

54 55
secret accounts will be safe and O ’Neill will be in jail for the papers into Slim Pete’s Diner on Main Street to read
Steinmann’s murder. I’ll meet with her, then try and get her more carefully. The name “Slim” is a joke. Actually, he has a
to talk.” serious weight problem.
“Come on, Marley. Get real!” said Oldenberg. “You think “What’ll it be, Mr. Marley?” asked Pete with a big smile.
a hard businesswoman like Houston is just going to say, “Eggs, pancakes and bacon,” I answered. “And make that
‘Oh, by the way, I ordered Steinmann’s murder.’” coffee strong, will you?”
“I’ll let her think I’m the same sort o f person as her,” I “You got it. So what’s the famous Mr. Marley doing
continued. “A businessman who doesn’t care how he earns today?” asked Pete. “Helping New York’s Finest win the war
his money or who he hurts. If she feels comfortable with against crime?”
me, then we might get the truth.” “Something like that,” I replied.
“This had better work, Marley. I hope you’re a good “New York’s Finest” - that’s what people call the NYPD.
enough actor,” said Oldenberg. I never thought o f myself as one o f the “Finest” when I was
“Believe me, Oldenberg, on a good day I could win a cop and I never thought I was fighting a war. I was just
Oscars,” I told him. doing my job. If there was a little less crime on the streets by
“All right. We’ll do it,” replied Oldenberg. “This could be the end o f the day, that was good enough for me.
dangerous. You know that as well as I do. You’ll need a full I read through the newspapers. Oldenberg had done an
NYPD team behind you. I’ll organize that as soon as you excellent job. The O ’Neill story was on all the front pages.
and Houston have a time and a place to meet. So now I’ll The headline o f the Daily News read, “N Y PD ’s M O ST
talk to the newspapers and Houston will think that O ’Neill W ANTED ESCA PES”. The New York Post headline made
is still in hiding.” me smile: “K ILLER A C C O U N T A N T O N T H E R U N ”.
“OK. And one more thing,” I said. “Mrs. O ’Neill and There was some truth, but the rest o f the story sounded like
her daughter Julia could be in real danger. Could you move something from the movies: “This man is both intelligent
them to an NYPD safe house?” and dangerous,” said Captain Oldenberg. This wasn’t the
“Consider it done,” said Oldenberg. O ’Neill that I knew.
* * * While I ate my breakfast, I watched the T V news. Their
Wednesday had been a very long day. I got home at three reporter said, “This is Cindy Lu outside the Metro Hotel on
o’clock in the morning and I was so tired that I felt like a Avenue C. Here, last night, NYPD officers almost caught
dead man walking. I fell into bed and slept well. Patrick O ’Neill, the man wanted for the murder of Ronald
The next morning I woke up late, feeling much better. Steinmann . . . ”
After quickly getting dressed, I ran down to the nearest “Well done, Oldenberg,” I thought. Now Houston would
newsstand and picked up the morning newspapers. I took get a clear message. Neither her people nor the NYPD had

56 57
found O ’Neill, so she still had a real problem on her hands. to look after. Now I’m working for myself and I thought
I hoped she was one very worried woman. that you might like to have those papers back. I’ll make this
I got to the office by ten o’clock. Stella had already been offer even more generous. The police will be very interested
there a couple o f hours. “That was quite a day, yesterday. when I tell them where O ’Neill is. The price is $100,000.
You feeling OK, now?” she asked. Wait in your office for my call at eight o’clock tomorrow
“A lot better,” I replied. “And thank you for taking care morning.”
o f Mrs. O ’Neill all day. With luck, we’re going to send “What?” began Houston.
Lorraine Houston to jail.” “That’s it, lady!” I shouted. “Be ready in your office, eight
During the morning I agreed on a plan with Oldenberg. o’clock tomorrow with $100,000, OK? And don’t think of
I would meet with Houston in a public area, the kind of doing anything clever or every newspaper in this city will
place where it would be easy for an NYPD team to watch know the truth about Ocean Star’s accounts.”
and wait. Our choice was Battery Park, at the foot of With that, I ended the call. I felt very pleased with myself.
Manhattan, with its tall trees and green grass. This is where Would I still feel so pleased tomorrow?
New York meets the ocean. From here you can look across
Upper New York Bay to the Statue o f Liberty and Staten
Island.
I tried to get through to Houston on my cellphone, but her
personal assistant wouldn’t allow me to speak with her. “I’m
sorry, sir, but Ms. Houston isn’t taking any calls,” she said.
I wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer. “Listen carefully
and just do what I say. Your boss lost something o f great
importance. Tell her I’ve found it and want to return it to
her. I’ll call back in ten minutes and expect to speak with
her in person. Understood?”
“Careful, now,” I told myself. “No mistakes.” I waited a
full fifteen minutes before calling back. People think less
clearly when they get impatient. This time I got ahold of
Houston immediately.
“Who are you and what do you want?” she asked crossly.
“The name’s Marley. I was working for Mr. O ’Neill. He
found some interesting papers o f yours, which he gave me

58 59
Chapter 13 Battery Park “OK. That’s understood,” she replied. “How do I know
you’re telling the truth?”
“Ask yourself this question: What will happen if you don’t
believe me? I’ll need your cellphone number ... Thanks.
Now, leave the building and wait outside the front entrance.”
Friday, October 8th, 7:00 a.m. I was on my way from I let her wait a few minutes in the cold. I wanted her to
Grand Central Station to Bowling Green on a number feel angry and impatient by the time she arrived at Battery
five train. This subway station is just north o f Battery Park. Now for my next call.
Park, which was where I was going to meet Lorraine “So sorry to keep you waiting,” I lied. “You see a tall
Houston. white-haired guy in a dark green overcoat, carrying a copy
Battery Park is a public area where it would be easier for o f the Wall Street Journal?. He should be opposite you,
the NYPD team to watch and wait. I thought that Houston standing by a cab.” Houston said she could see him.
would feel uncomfortable away from the deep carpets and “That’s my assistant, Mr. Blaney. Go and talk with him,” I
expensive furniture o f her offices. continued. “He has a cab waiting for you.”
From the subway station, it was just a few minutes’ walk We had to make sure that Houston arrived alone. Joe
to Battery Park. I walked across to the Sphere, a famous Blaney’s job was to make sure that she took our cab - a cab
piece o f public art at the north end o f the park - a large gold with an NYPD driver. Houston was going to be taken on a
metal ball, as tall as a house. Oldenberg’s team was already little tour o f Lower Manhattan. We were going to take our
waiting there with hidden cameras, though you wouldn’t time and make sure she was in a very bad mood by the time
know they were police officers. Two young guys talking on she met me.
a seat. A couple standing under an umbrella. Their orders Thirty minutes later I called Houston again.
were to watch and wait. But if I waved my hat, they would “Tell the driver to drop you at the north entrance to
immediately help me. Battery Park, opposite Bowling Green. Then walk south
The sky was full o f black clouds and it was starting to rain. to the Sphere. You’ll see me holding a blue and white golf
I put up my umbrella and looked at my watch. It was eight umbrella. By the way, you don’t need to pay the driver.
o’clock, time to call Houston. Hope you enjoyed your sightseeing.”
“Ms. Houston? I’m waiting for you,” I said. “Bring the I wouldn’t like to repeat Houston’s reply - such bad
money and come alone. If there’s any trouble, my personal language! The rain was beginning to fall more heavily
assistant has a copy o f your accounts ready to email to every as I saw her. She was tall and slim and was wearing a red
newspaper in New York. If all goes to plan, she’ll destroy suit with a short skirt that showed a lot of leg. She really
that copy.” wasn’t dressed for the weather. I turned on my little secret

60 61
recorder. I waved to her and sat on a park seat under the She took the coat and put it over her shoulders. She
trees opposite the Sphere. smiled for the first time and thanked me. Now I felt I might
“This had better be good, Marley,” she said. “Do you have have the advantage.
my papers?” I quickly checked the money, then took a second envelope
“Not so fast,” I replied. “Do you have my money?” from my case and held it in front o f her.
She put her case on her knees and opened it. Inside, it was “There must be some very important information
packed with hundred-dollar bills. here. You’re one smart businesswoman, Ms. Houston,
“Count it if you like,” she said. and a good employer. I like the way you find answers to
“Don’t you think the park looks lovely in fall?” I asked. problems with your people. Like sending Steinmann on
“I don’t have all day. Hurry up and give me the papers,” his final drive in O ’Neill’s car. G ood work. The police
she said impatiently. think that O ’Neill is the killer. That way you can be
I slowly reached into my case and took out an envelope, completely sure it’s the end o f your trouble with those
which I gave to her. Then I reached into my coat pocket for two. As soon as I tell the police where O ’Neill is, you’re
my cellphone. safe.”
Houston took a single piece o f paper out o f the She smiled again. “You’re a smart guy. I’m sorry about
envelope and looked at me like a dog which was about Steinmann. He was good at his job, until he started to think
to bite. he was smarter than me. I couldn’t let him tell me what to
“Give me the rest o f the accounts, Marley, or you’re dead do. I had to get rid o f him.”
meat!” She had taken a small gun out o f her purse and was At last I had it, and everything was on the recorder. I
pressing it into my side. passed her the second envelope. She opened it quickly, took
“Not very intelligent, Ms. Houston,” I said. “Remember, out the papers and counted them.
if anything happens to me, my personal assistant will “Looks like it’s all here. It’s been good doing business with
email your accounts to every newspaper in this city. If I you,” she said, and returned my overcoat. “Now just make
press ‘Send’, my personal assistant gets that message. Also, sure the police get ahold o f O ’Neill.”
shooting people in public isn’t a good idea. You’ll get the rest As she walked away, I called to her, “Actually, Ms.
o f the papers. Just be patient. Like any good businessman, I Houston, I got a message from O ’Neill. He’d like to tell
like to count my money first.” you, ‘Smile! You’re on a police camera!”’
She gave me a cold, hard look through narrow eyes, then I waved my hat in the air. Houston screamed and
put the gun back in her purse. Now she was beginning to pulled out her gun, but in seconds the NYPD team
shake with the cold. was all around her. She dropped the gun and fell to the
“Here, take my overcoat,” I said. ground.

62 63
 A minute ago she had been the president o f Ocean Star
Finance and a very rich woman. Now she was going to
spend many years in jail.
I called Oldenberg to tell him the news. “Good work,
Marley!” he said. “O ’Neill will soon be a free man.”
The rain had stopped and the sun had begun to break
through the heavy clouds. In the sunshine, leaves were
dropping from the trees and turning in the wind. The air
from the ocean smelled fresh and clean. It felt good to be
alive. I should spend more time in this city’s parks.

ISBN : 978-0-521 -1 7305-6

64 illl lllll llllllllll ll lllllll ll

9 780521 173056