Daniel copied the names in his notebook, just to keep his hands busy.

"They arrived from London five days before the Gaikeena homicide," said Bij Duurstede. "All of them traveled on the same flight-Pan American Airlines, number one twenty first-class passage. They were in London on a one-day stopover, arrived there on Pan American flight two, from New York, first-class passage. In London they stayed at the Hilton. In Amsterdam, at the Hotel de l'Europe. They were here a total of six days, attended a three-day United Nations conference on refugees held at The Hague. After the conference, they did some sight-seeing-canal rides, Volendam and Marken, Edam, the Anne Frank house. The tours were arranged by an agency here-I have the records."

The Anne Frank house. A street-corner Mengele would have enjoyed that.

"Over a hundred delegates attended the conference," added Bij Duurstede. "It's held every year."

"How close is the De l'Europe to where Gaikeena was found?"

"Close enough. In between is the red light district."

The narrow, cobbled streets of the district came into focus again. Bass-heavy rock music blaring from nearby bars, the night air clammy, the waters of the canals black and still. The athletes, bug-eyed at the brazenness of the place: milk-fed blondes and sloe-eyed Orientals selling themselves as easily as chocolate bars. Some working the streets, others posed, half-naked, in blue-lit window tableaux, inert as statuary.

Passive. Made to order for a fiend with control on his mind.

He visualized a late-night stroll, a solitary stroll after cocktails and small talk at a hotel lounge-the De l'Europe? A respectable-looking killer, wearing a long coat with deep pockets for the knives. Checking out the herd, eyeing the long-lashed come-hithers, then selection: a flash of thigh, the exchange of guilders. Extra money for something different-something a little kinky. Intentions camouflaged by shyness. Maybe even an embarrassed smile:

Could we-uh-go down by the docks?

What for, honey? I've got a nice warm bed.

The docks, please. I'll pay for it.

Got a thing for water, handsome?

Uh-yeah.

Plenty of water right around here.

I like the docks. Will this be enough?

Oh, sure, honey. Anjanette loves the docks loo. The tides, going back and forth

"Gaikeena was killed the day after the convention," said Bij Duurstede. "Your five left the next morning for Rome, along with twenty-three other U.N. people. Alitalia flight three seventy-one, first class. The U.N. always travels first class."

Daniel picked up the list of Amelia Catherine's volunteer staff, compiled by Shin Bet.

"I have some other names, Chief Inspector. I'd appreciate your checking if any of them attended the convention as well."

"Read them to me," said Bij Duurstede. "I have the convention roster right in front of me."

Soon Daniel had added five more names to those of the permanent Amelia Catherine staff: three doctors, two nurses. A Finn, a Swede, an Englishman, two Americans. Same arrival, same hotel, same departure.

"Any idea why they went to Rome?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Bij Duurstede. "Maybe an audience with the Pope?"

He placed a call to Passport Control at Ben Gurion Airport, pinpointed the arrival of ten U.N. staffers from Rome on a Lufthansa flight one week after the Gaikeena murder. Two more calls, to Scotland Yard and Rome police, confirmed that neither had experienced similar murders during the New York to Tel Aviv time frame. By the time he hung up, it was ten-thirty-forty-eight hours since he'd bathed; the last thing he'd eaten was a water biscuit at eight in the morning.

His head itched. He scratched it, looked at his open notebook, frustrated.

After the Amelia Catherine covert and Van Gelder's call, he'd felt the case starting to resolve. The net tightening. He'd put faith in the second Amsterdam call-too much faith-hoping for a magical intersection of geographical axes: a single name singing out its guilt. Instead the net had loosened, accommodating a large catch.

He had ten suspects to consider. Individually or in pairs, triplets-cabals. Maybe Shmeltzer had something, with his group-conspiracy theory.

All of the above. None of the above.

Ten suspects. His men and Amos Harel's undercover backups would be stretched to capacity. The chance of getting something before next Thursday's women's clinic seemed slimmer than ever.

The Sumbok wire. Bij Duurstede had sent it, but he hadn't received it. He left his office to check with Communications and, midway down the corridor, met a female officer carrying the printout.

Taking it from her, he read it in the hall, running his finger down the names of St. Ignatius students, and getting even more frustrated when he saw the size of it.

Four hundred thirty-two students, fifteen faculty, twenty "ancillary" staff. Not a single match to his ten.

Four hundred sixty-eight surnames followed by first initials. None of them identified in terms of nationality. About half the names sounded Anglo-Saxon-that could mean British, Australian, New Zealanders, and South Africans as well as Americans. And, for that matter, Argentinians-some of them had names like Eduardo Smith. And some of the Italian, French, German, and Spanish names could have belonged to Americans too.

Useless.

He scanned the list for Arabic names. Three definites: Abdallah. Ibn Azah. Malki. A few possibles that could also have been Pakistani, Iranian, Malaysian, or North African: Shah, Terrif, Zorah.

Another waste of time.

He returned to his office, suddenly exhausted, forced himself to call Gabi Weinroth, the Latam man stationed atop the law building at the Scopus Hebrew U. campus with an infrared telescope focused on the Amelia Catherine.

"Scholar," answered Weinroth, in code.

"Sharavi," said Daniel, eschewing the name game. "Anything new?"

"Nothing."

The fifth "nothing" of the day. He reiterated his home number to the undercover man, hung up, and left for the place that matched it.

He drove around Talbieh and the neighboring German Colony, looking for Dayan, seeing only the luminescent eyes of stray cats, part of nocturnal Jerusalem for centuries.