Darrell Hallett had time on his hands. He had recently passed his yearly relicensing exams and continued success could mean promotion to Area Manager. Life-insurance sales was a highly competitive business and Hallett was determined to do well. Right now, however, after the exertions of the exams, he had given himself a few days’ rest. He took his rod and tackle down to the river and spent many happy hours with the latest Colin Thubron book in his lap and a straw in his mouth.
Next day, October 5, the weather precluded fishing, so he decided to pursue his other great hobby, collecting travel books. His favorite topics were sailing, mountaineering and wild river journeys, but he also collected all books by certain travel authors and, where possible, had them signed.
Hallett telephoned a number of publishers including Hodder amp; Stoughton, whose book list included more travel subjects than most of their competitors. Hallett was put through to Kate Farquhar-Thompson in the publicity department and he asked for a copy of a book about a Canadian river journey entitled Headless Valley. She disappeared, presumably to a computer.
“Sorry about the delay,” she said cheerily. “It’s odd. Someone rang not long ago about the same author. He wanted his book on some Arab war. I’m afraid it’s the same for you as it was for him. We have no copies left. Headless Valley is out of print. You will have to try the secondhand shops. You could make a start with Foyles… okay?”
She was about to hang up. He could hear her other phone.
“Wait a second,” he said.
“Yes?”
He paused, not quite certain what was niggling him.
“Listen. Thanks very much for your advice… Can you tell me who called you about the Arab war book?”
“No,” she replied after a pause. “Sorry, but it was two or three weeks ago and I get a lot of inquiries. I think he was foreign. Maybe American… I think he mentioned Amman or Oman.”
He thanked her, hung up, and reached for a brown book on his top bookshelf. It was a long shot but Hallett believed in the saying “Better safe than sorry.” He called Spike.
Three days after Hallett’s call to Kate Farquhar-Thompson, Colonel Macpherson caught the 4:15 p.m. shuttle flight from Glasgow and reached his home in Archery Close at 6:30. Spike’s Mini was parked farther down the cobbled mews.
After a dram, Macpherson led Spike through to an inner room.
“So they are back again?” he asked.
“There is that possibility, Colonel. It is a very slim lead; certainly not enough to enable us to entice the police into providing protection.”
“But enough to raise your concern or you wouldn’t have brought me south in a rush.”
Spike nodded. “I would hate to ignore it.”
“Very well,” said Macpherson. “There’s nothing to be lost, providing we have no repetition of the A49 event. Strangely enough, I met your new ‘target’ about twelve years ago on an export promotion committee onto which I was inveigled by Campbell Adamson.”
“I will check on his background right away and start to alert the Locals,” said Spike.
“How many?” asked Macpherson.
“That may depend on where the target lives, but in principle, I would like to give this high priority. Two teams of four if I can find them.”
“I agree,” said Macpherson. “Give it all you’ve got. I had stopped hoping we would ever catch these people, but I would pay a high price to run them to earth. I blame the demise of the committee largely on them.”
“If they are free, I thought Mason and Hallett could each lead a team since both have been involved in this since the beginning. Mason probably even knows, or knows of, the target. All those types who served in Oman met up at one time or another.”
Macpherson nodded.
“Anything new on Bletchley?” Spike asked.
“I was going to tell you. Jane phoned just before I went north last week. She says Bletchley sounds pretty offhand when she calls, so she doesn’t press him with too many questions. One thing she did mention was a complaint he made about his fingers. She says he is finding it increasingly difficult to type and he may hire a secretary.”
“Couldn’t Jane suggest herself for the job?”
“My thoughts precisely. I put it to her but you know how reserved the dear lady is. I left it that there would be great benefits to all concerned if she were to become his assistant. She understands.”
“What if he goes ahead with the book?”
“Since there are no libel grounds to prevent him, we will just have to grin and bear it. Most of the Locals will be safe, but Mason, Hallett and others, whose signed reports were passed to Bletchley by Jane as part of those files, might be in trouble. God knows what he intends to say.”
“So will we,” Spike said, “if Jane gets the job.”