95 The officer showed her into the sleepy suburban police station, a hub of inactivity on Sunday night except for herself and a slightly drunk woman who had been brought in for DUI. And you, Austin; and you Langley, I say the same thing to you. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. Without a word, without a sign, Enschede started toward the beach, where his proa waited. Finally she decided that even for an hotel she must look round, and that meanwhile she would “book” her luggage at Waterloo. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect.
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