TWENTY-FOUR
When Inspector Bernard Sullivan had departed, I intended to do the same. I reckoned I needed a drink and some thinking time. And, boy, did I have something to think about. However, when I swung my legs around on the camp bed and attempted to stand up, the room began to bend and sway. With a groan, I slumped back staring at the ceiling waiting for it to settle down. Then into my field of vision appeared the face of nurse Ivana.
‘You are a naughty man,’ she said in her rich Russian voice, making it sound like an invitation to an orgy. ‘You cannot move just yet. You must rest for a couple of hours at least. Your system has had a very big shock. You lie back. I will bring you a cup of sweet tea.’
‘You couldn’t make that a double whisky, could you?’ I grinned, in spite of my disc
