She nodded and took out a compact. As she added lipstick to her mouth, she looked him over, between glances in her mirror.
"You don't look like the spy type. If there is a type."
"I'm not a spy. I don't know what you're talking about."
"The innocent! Go on, take off your coat and shirt. We'll save Hafitz some time."
"I'll be glad to, just to prove this is all ridiculous. A case of mistaken identity. You've made a mistake, that's what you've done."
He stood there, hesitating.
The girl gave a burst of laughter. Then she said: "All right, Sweetheart. I'll turn my back."
She did, and he pulled his shirt out of his trousers. Then he froze. Taped to the skin of his back was a flat package.
Paul Asher made the decision. He bent forward, feeling perspiration in the palms of his hands. There was a faint click.