The fireplace in Chateau Villette's drawing room was cold, but Collet paced before it nonethelessas he read the faxes from Interpol.

　　Not at all what he expected.

　　André Vernet, according to official records, was a model citizen. No police record—not even aparking ticket. Educated at prep school and the Sorbonne, he had a cum laude degree ininternational finance. Interpol said Vernet's name appeared in the newspapers from time to time,but always in a positive light. Apparently the man had helped design the security parameters thatkept the Depository Bank of Zurich a leader in the ultramodern world of electronic security.

　　Vernet's credit card records showed a penchant for art books, expensive wine, and classicalCD's—mostly Brahms—which he apparently enjoyed on an exceptionally high-end stereo systemhe had purchased several years ago.

　　Zero, Collet sighed.

　　The only red flag tonight from Interpol had been a set of fingerprints that apparently belonged toTeabing's servant. The chief PTS examiner was reading the report in a comfortable chair across theroom.

　　Collet looked over. "Anything?"The examiner shrugged. "Prints belong to Rémy Legaludec. Wanted for petty crime. Nothingserious. Looks like he got kicked out of university for rewiring phone jacks to get free service...

　　later did some petty theft. Breaking and entering. Skipped out on a hospital bill once for anemergency tracheotomy." He glanced up, chuckling. "Peanut allergy."Collet nodded, recalling a police investigation into a restaurant that had failed to notate on its menuthat the chili recipe contained peanut oil. An unsuspecting patron had died of anaphylactic shock atthe table after a single bite.

　　"Legaludec is probably a live-in here to avoid getting picked up." The examiner looked amused.

　　"His lucky night."Collet sighed. "All right, you better forward this info to Captain Fache."The examiner headed off just as another PTS agent burst into the living room. "Lieutenant! Wefound something in the barn."From the anxious look on the agent's face, Collet could only guess. "A body.""No, sir. Something more..." He hesitated. "Unexpected."Rubbing his eyes, Collet followed the agent out to the barn. As they entered the musty, cavernousspace, the agent motioned toward the center of the room, where a wooden ladder now ascendedhigh into the rafters, propped against the ledge of a hayloft suspended high above them.

　　"That ladder wasn't there earlier," Collet said.

　　"No, sir. I set that up. We were dusting for prints near the Rolls when I saw the ladder lying on thefloor. I wouldn't have given it a second thought except the rungs were worn and muddy. Thisladder gets regular use. The height of the hayloft matched the ladder, so I raised it and climbed upto have a look."Collet's eyes climbed the ladder's steep incline to the soaring hayloft. Someone goes up thereregularly? From down here, the loft appeared to be a deserted platform, and yet admittedly most ofit was invisible from this line of sight.

　　A senior PTS agent appeared at the top of the ladder, looking down. "You'll definitely want to seethis, Lieutenant," he said, waving Collet up with a latex-gloved hand.

　　Nodding t............