The three-day break in Italy was moderately refreshing. Murray situated them in a nice inn just outside Turin in the Piedmont region and had even arranged for a short visit to the Armeria Reale. On display in the former royal palace, now a museum, was an outstanding collection of weapons and armour, which was interesting but Richard was aware that it was Murray that wanted to see it.

Rinsing his body of the moral toxins as Nathan had called them, Richard made an honest attempt to clear his head of Agency business and found some success taking in one of Europe's best collections of Egyptian antiquities at the Academy of Sciences.

"I didn't know you were interested in such things, Mister Carstairs." Murray remarked on one of their visits to another of the public buildings. "I thought you might be more interested in seeing the Shroud."

"I'm not a religious person, Murray. In our business there is little room for moral integrity."

"We are all God's children, sir."

"Sucks to be God then."

"I think we've done Turin, sir, you only have a day and a half before returning to France."

"How about a quick turn through Asti Province and pick up some of that great wine?"

"We can manage that back near the inn, sir."

Richard knew a no when he heard it and just shrugged. They found the rental car and Richard drove the return trip under the watchful eye of Murray.The drive back was relaxing and interesting, providing a journey through a history of architecture most of which dated from the 17th and 18th centuries.

"There is a club near the inn, sir. It's in Rivoli near the foothills of the Cottian Alps. They have some very interesting entertainment."

"I think I could use something entertaining, something less intellectual and more visceral."

"I think you'll find this to your satisfaction, sir."

The Chat Noir was a basement club in a building so old it must have housed the House of Savoy at one time. Its construction was of stone, and wood weathered to an iron hard substance that had the surfaces rounded off by generational coats of paint .

A greenish moss nestled in the cracks of the stone, staining the surface a shade closer to black. A large, sloping-shouldered man stood centred in the doorway, his bald head taking on the reddish tint of the entry light. Murray spoke quietly with the man and after a moment's hesitation he beckoned Richard inside.

"What was that about?"

"This is a private club, members only."

"And you made him overlook that rule just for us."

"He was most obliging, sir."

They trod down the wide steps with an awkward rhythm due to the width of the worn tread and arrived at the bottom with a short jump. Another thug stepped from a narrow alcove and signaled them to raise their hands for a security pat down. Murray repeated his whispered message and the guard, wearing a flat, dead expression waved them inside.

"They all seem to be very obliging, Murray. You are a real charmer I think." His smile gave Richard a shiver.

They found a small table, one of many scattered about the dungeon-like room, under a burning candle that was wedged into a sconce on the wall above their heads. Richard chose the chair away from beneath it; he wasn't keen on the possibility of boiling wax dripping on his head.

A young woman in a flesh coloured body suit appeared at the table with a tiny menu printed on stiff card that stated the evening's offering. Grilled, lemon rosemary chicken with grilled green courgette and roast sweet potato wedges and a choice of one wine, Sauvignon Blanc 2007 Finca La Colonia.

"What's the point of a menu?" Richard looked at Murray.

"Your other choice is on the back." Richard turned to the back and read.

"This is a joke, right?"

"No joke, sir. The grilled chicken is excellent but if your tastes run to the more, shall we say, esoteric, then the back page offering will provide a truly unsurpassed collation." Murray's expression took on a downright evil gleam in the flickering light as he looked from Richard to the waiting woman.

"Well, sir? This opportunity won't come around again. You did mention something more visceral."

"Then I guess I'll just have to make the most of the grilled chicken." He smiled up at the woman and handed the menu back.

"For an extra fee you can be an observer from a one way window."

"How the hell do you know all this, Murray? Are you some kind of deviant tour guide when you aren't doing Nathan's dirty work?"

Murray pointed to the chicken and wagged a finger between them indicating two meals then handed his menu back, taking her hand and pulling her down while he whispered yet again. The woman's expression showed nothing.

She just left the table and moved on across the room. Richard watched as she passed another wall sconce and his eyebrows rose over the fact the body suit was only covering the front of her shapely figure... there was no back.

"What was that about?"

"Just a little business, sir."

"Yours or Agency's?"

"They have a milder form of entertainment up there during the meal." Murray said, ignoring Richard's question.

Richard turned his chair and saw the small, raised stage with artificial stained glass windows as a backdrop. The design depicted some sordid sex acts in brilliant colours and they seemed to move with the flickering candles.

"Are you sure the food is safe here? I mean, nude waitresses and I presume, judging from the décor, some unrestrained activity in the entertainment?"

"One of the better meals in this area, sir, trust me."

"Like I have a choice."

The meal was excellent but Richard found it difficult to enjoy his with the presentation taking place centre stage. Murray seemed enthralled by the action and attacked his own plate with a mounting urgency that gave Richard grave misgivings about the odd man's state of mind.

At the end, Murray called the waitress over and said something to her that Richard didn't understand and then he stood and said he would be back in a few minutes. The woman leaned against the wall by the candle and just stared at Richard.

He tried a smile, receiving nothing in return. When he mentioned the class of entertainment, she flicked her eyes to the stage then back to him.

"Am I being baby sat?" She didn't respond nor indicate that he had even spoken. "If I were to get up and leave, what would happen?"

"Our friend by the stairs would have restrained you, sir." Murray appeared from nowhere beside Richard's chair. He nodded to the woman and she sauntered off, a red mark remained on her bare flesh where she had leaned against the rough stone wall.

Murray placed a hand on Richard's shoulder, told him to follow and walked around the wall to a small hallway that sloped down to a rough wooden door covered in iron strapping.

"What's this, Murray?"

"Business, sir. Something to be handled before we return for your next interview."

It was the most information Richard had ever had from Murray in one sentence and he felt his nerves go on alert. Inside the room a man sat behind a small accountant's desk and a tall woman in one of the most overall revealing dresses Richard had ever seen, leaned on the desk next to him. As they came in she moved behind the seated man.

"This is Richard Carstairs," Murray said, guiding Richard up to the front of the desk.

The man just looked at him, his face a sheen of sweat and his hands fumbling with a pencil on the surface in front of him.

"Richard, this is Alexi Grugeris. He is one of Peter's old contacts. Alexi vouched for the quality of the merchandise Peter was collecting, and now has recently been suspected of having knowledge of an organization in which the Agency has a great interest." Murray placed his knuckles on the desk and smiled grimly. "Alexi refuses to divulge that knowledge."

The man closed his eyes and sat still for a moment then he looked up at Richard with a doleful stare. Richard looked at Murray who was giving his own stare at the trembling man.

"What knowledge?"

"Not your concern. Tell Richard what happens to people who don't cooperate with the Agency, Alexi." Tears welled up in the man's eyes and he began to blubber. "Don't want to say?" Murray stood and nodded to the woman.

The man started to move in fear but the wire around his neck appeared so quickly even Richard didn't see it. His mouth fell open as the woman flexed her arms and pulled the wire taut.

Alexi gasped aloud, his fingers clawing at the flesh of his throat, his nail tearing at it until it bled then his eyes grew wide and rolled up into his head and when she released the wire his face hit the desk with a wet smack.

"My God, Murray! What the hell . . . !"

The woman let go of the wire and came around the desk, touched Murray's arm and left the room.

"A lesson, sir. Just a lesson."

Richard grabbed his arm and spun him around, his face red with rage. "Are you telling me that you just murdered this man to show me how tough the Agency can be? You think I'm not aware of just how bloodthirsty all you bastards are?"

"Please remove your hand." Murray waited until Richard responded and then started for the door. "We need to be going, sir."

************

Lying in the bed back at the inn, Richard stared at the ceiling and let his thoughts run rampant without trying to focus on anything particular. The cold-blooded murder of the man at the club had unnerved him and made him very angry. It was quite plain to see Nathan's hand in the lesson, something to make him more pliable when the questioning started again.

He knew what the questions would entail and the killing suggested how his answers might be received. What he didn't learn was what Alexi was supposed to have been holding back.

His mind flashed on the last days with the Whycliffes. When he avoided saying goodbye to Cora it was with a steely resolve not to let any pleas and confusion deter him from his assignment. It didn't prevent his feeling cruel, dirty, and somewhat sad, having begun some real feelings for the young woman.

An imagined look of betrayal and disillusion seared his heart and he didn't know how dirty he could feel until much later when he learned of her fate. Nathan's collateral damage. Now, he had been forced to witness damage control as a lesson for his own suspected behavior.

He swung up off the bed and stripped down, padding to the bathroom and stepping into the shower stall. He turned the water tap to hot and gritted his teeth.

The pounding of water on his burning skin gradually purged the guilty thoughts from his mind and he let his body go slack allowing the toxins Nathan referred to, drain from his system. After several minutes he turned off the water, stepped out and grabbed a towel, briskly scouring his red skin.

Tomorrow Murray would be shepherding him back to Nice and another round of interrogation, referred by Nathan as debriefing. The subject would be one similar to that of the unfortunate Alexi . . . cheating and withholding information. He tossed the towel aside and pulled on some fresh clothes; bed could wait, he was going to sit on the balcony and drink and think about Monique.