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He opened the door to be confronted with the Manager of the hotel arguing with two very smartly dressed men - one of who was carrying what looked like Nick's jacket, the very same he wrapped the child in that afternoon. It looked as clean as new.

\"What the fucking hell's this all about?\" said an irate Nick.

\"I told them that you were not to be disturbed Mr Alum,\" retorted the perturbed Manager, \"but they insisted on talking to you.\"

One of the men spoke in a quiet cockney accent:
\"We've been instructed to return your jacket, boss, and we've got a message for you - private, like.\" Nick hesitated for a moment but his curiosity was aroused.

\"OK, but it better be good and quick.\" Then to the manager he said \"If these two gentlemen aren't down in ten minutes, Mr. George, call the police.\"

\"Yes, Sir, Mr. Alum,\" replied the Manager, relieved this matter was out of his hands for the time being.

\"Come in,\" Nick told the two men, \"and close the door behind you.\" No sooner had the door closed than Nick pulled a gun from his dressing gown pocket, a Detective Special Colt 38 snub nose revolver - his favourite small gun. He'd formed the habit of keeping a weapon near him since serving in Northern Ireland. Very abruptly he continued, \"Now what the fuck do you two want and where did you get my jacket. Talk fast, and you'd better make it good!\"

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