Murder in Focus by Medora Sale Page B

to be in your shoes right now.”
    â€œNot security, no, not at all,” said Metcalfe in confusion. “Just, shall we say, logistics. Moving them around and making sure they get to the right place at the right time. Security’s being done by the usual specialist types, you know. I’m not qualified for that.” He grabbed another glass from the next tray going by.
    â€œWell, I intend to stay as far away as possible from the Chateau Laurier and the Conference Centre when that thing is on.” Lang smiled comfortably. “I don’t want to get blown up when the crazies decide to get rid of some prime minister or other.”
    â€œThe prime ministers and assorted bigwigs aren’t going to be downtown, are they, Hal?” said Toni. “We heard that they will all be in the Gatineau.”
    â€œOld rumor, my boy. Very old. You’re losing your touch. They’re all being whisked off to a meeting room in the airport.” This voice came from the group next to them, which, by the strange chemistry of parties, had suddenly opened up to include the three men.
    â€œDon’t be silly,” said a tall, pretty girl. “They’re not going to be at the airport.”
    â€œAha,” said the man next to her. “Here speaks one with the voice of authority. Come on, what do you know? No fair keeping secrets. Anyone in this group from the press?” They looked around at each other. “See? I thought not. Out with it.”
    She blushed furiously. “I don’t know anything—anything at all. I just think it’s a stupid place to hold a meeting, don’t you? Besides, if I knew anything, do you think I’d tell you?”
    Karl Lang executed a sideways shuffle and planted himself beside the blushing girl. “Here,” he said, “let me get you a fresh drink.” Within seconds one was in his hand.
    â€œHey, how did you do that?” she asked.
    â€œThe waiter’s Viennese,” Lang replied. “You just have to know how to signal them. Are you fond of music?”
    â€œOh, yes, especially violin music,” she said. “I play a bit myself. I was thrilled to be invited this evening.”
    â€œHas anyone introduced you to Fräulein Strelitsch yet?” The girl shook her head. “Then come with me,” he said, “and I will. She speaks excellent English and is always delighted to meet fellow musicians.”
    â€œOh, thank you,” she breathed. “I’ve never met anyone that famous. I wouldn’t even be here, except that my boss wangled this invitation for me.”
    â€œWhere do you work?” he asked as he gently steered her in the direction of the violinist.
    â€œExternal Affairs,” she said. “But I’m just a typist.”
    â€œNever mind about that,” he said. “Anna Maria, I have a great fan of yours here,” and he drew the girl into the little circle that had clustered around the violinist, almost hiding her from sight.
    A significant hush descended over the crowd; something was happening. Even the drunken undersecretaries had stopped whatever they were doing and had turned toward the door. Hal Metcalfe sighed in relief. That meant that the prime minister had arrived, and with a certain amount of luck, it would be possible to get out of the place in an hour or so. That arrogant son of a bitch from the RCMP, Higgs, had suddenly materialized in the crowd close to the Austrian P.M., no doubt keeping tabs on everyone. Probably counting drinks, too. In fact, most of the revelers seemed to be bozos from Security awkwardly pretending to be partygoers. Was anyone here just to meet the man? Probably not. He looked over at the gorgeous violinist, wondering if he might carve out some time with her, but she was surrounded by the apes who were surrounding the P.M. He grabbed another glass from a passing tray and decided to get very, very drunk.

Chapter 4
    Tuesday, May