Under more favorable circumstances, I'd have been more appreciative of the pleasant armful she made, more feminine and less substantial than she looked.  I felt her straighten up, regaining control of herself with an effort.

"Okay?" I asked, releasing her.

"Yes," she breathed.  "Yes, I'm okay.  But..."

"What?"

"Jack didn't do it!  It wasn't his money in those stupid bank accounts!  To kill him...!"  Her voice broke.

"I know," I said.  I looked at the BIS character, whos arms were obviously getting tired up there, as if I cared.  "What's your name?" I asked.

"Kotis," he said.  "Gregory Kotis.  Look, Helm..."

"What did he say to you, Gregory Kotis?"

"What?"

"Jack Salter," I said.  It was beginning to add up, but there were still a few numbers missing.  "Code name Roger.  A handsome chap with theatrical inclinations and the money to indulge them.  I believe he'd actually had some Broadway experience before he found a different and more exciting outlet for his dramatic talents with us.  But old habits die hard.  Roger wouldn't have gone out without a curtain speech, if he could possibly swing it.  What was it?"

Kotis licked his lips.  "Salter said... he said we were all dead men.  Have fun, he whispered, looking up at us, particularly Mr. Euler, have fun as long as you last.  As of now you're the walking dead.  Helm will...."  Kotis licked his lips once more.  "That's all.  Then he died."

After a moment I said, "Old Roger always did have a ghoulish sense of humor.  Obviously you didn't take him seriously, or you wouldn't have ventured to tail me out of town all by yourself."

"Well, I couldn't stop to contact Mr. Euler at his hotel without losing you; and anyway, one gets hardened to melodramatic threats."  Kotis tried for a bit of brave nonchalance.  "Somebody's always going to get us if it's the last thing he does, and it never happens.  It wasn't until... until I got up into this weird crack in the hills and saw the crazy way you'd set the trap....  Just what the hell do you think you're doing, Helm?  You're a fugitive from justice.  You must know you can't possibly get away with..."

I sighed wearily.  "Mr. Kotis, the last man who told me what I couldn't get away with got a nice, sharp knife inserted into his anatomy, all the way.  Don't tempt me.  This trigger pulls real easy."  After a little, I went on:  "So you realized you weren't in a very nice spot, and those melodramatic threats came back to haunt you.  Is that why you hit the panic button?"

He didn't answer that.  He said, "Look, my arms are getting tired, can't I -"

"Any time," I said.  "Of course, when you lower them I'll blow a hole in you as big as your fist, but go right ahead if you think it's worth it."