Carmichael had checked out, and from now on Carmichael was dead. But the car was signed into Austria in Carmichael’s name. Slater got back in the car and drove thirty kilometers beyond Kirchberg to Wörgl. He registered as Carmichael at a hotel near the railroad station and spent what was left of the night in a very small, but extremely comfortable, room. He was furious with himself for getting sick, but reflected that it was bad enough to have to kill one man without having to bury two corpses in the snow by the light of a waning moon. It was too bad Krüpl was a local. The police would double their efforts to find his body should the opposition decide to report him missing. Slater had no doubt that they would. He took Krüpl’s wallet from his coat pocket and emptied the contents on the bed. There were several hundred American dollars and Austrian schillings in large denominations. He didn’t bother to count them. Krüpl had obviously been the paymaster, but how did he know when and to whom to make the payments?
