The time was 23.58.Through the open window she could hear the murmur of voices. The arc lights for the television cameras made a pattern on the ceiling. The news had leaked: the jackal press had arrived, but the hotel manager had sealed off the top floor and all telephone calls were being screened.Would he die?This continual query hammered inside Helga’s head.Hinkle had been marvelously efficient. He had come within seconds, taken in in the scene: Rolfe on the floor, she backed against the far wall. He had gone immediately to Rolfe, knelt, his fat fingers finding the pulse.“Is he dead?” Helga had asked.A brief shake of the head, then Hinkle had picked up the thin body as if it were weightless and had disappeared into the bedroom. She had braced herself, going to the telephone, she had asked the hall porter to send a doctor immediately to Mr. Rolfe’s suite. The sharp intake of breath told her how startled the hall porter was. She had given him no time to ask questions. She had hung up.Hinkle had appeared from the bedroom, unflustered grave looking.
What do You think about 1975 - The Joker In The Pack?
