'He isn't on the unemployed register.'
'Got on his bike and looked for work, I expect,' Diamond murmured. He heard someone enter the room behind him and noticed a change in the posture of the civilian computer operator, a definite bracing of the neck and shoulders.
Without turning, he said, 'Morning, Mr McGarvie.'
'Peter. Is this a courtesy call, or have you remembered something?' asked the Senior Investigating Officer with a touch of sarcasm. There was a distinct gleam in the bloodshot eyes this morning.
'Just comparing notes with Keith on Dixon-Bligh,' Diamond said. 'He's proving elusive.'
'Rather.' But McGarvie had something more urgent on his mind. 'Seen the papers?'
'Not yet.'
He had the
Diamond skimmed through the report of the grisly find by the railway at Woking. 'Nasty.'
'Is that all you've got to say?'
'Shocking, then.'
'This woman was killed by two shots to the head.'
'I spotted that.'
'And you can't find anything more to say than 'shocking'? Doesn't it strike you as a remarkable coincidence? A middle-aged woman?'
'Actually, no,' Diamond said in the bored voice of a man who has heard nothing new. 'I don't think it's a coincidence at all. This is another shooting by the same gunman. I'd put money on it.'
McGarvie glared. 'My point exactly. I've just been with the ACC, and she agrees. We've contacted Surrey Headquarters and I'm going up to the crime scene this afternoon. It could be the breakthrough I've . . .' His voice faltered.
'Been waiting for?'
He'd laid himself wide open, and he knew it. 'I'll remind you that this case has twice been reviewed, and each time I've been confirmed as the SIO.'
'They must think highly of you. Enjoy your trip to Woking.' He managed to resist adding, 'Been there, done that.' He'd asked that bright young detective Billy Bowers to play dumb with McGarvie, and he probably would.
About the time McGarvie was motoring along the M4 to Woking, Diamond boarded the train to London. Whoever wrote the slogan about letting the train take the strain could have had the big detective in mind. Travel by motorway was on a par with ordeal by fire. In the comfort of the InterCity Express, he could review a case and decide on the next move. That was the theory, anyway. He read the report in the
He was fully alert when he entered the Fox and Pheasant in Fulham. Louis Voss came in soon after with a briefcase under his arm.
'I feel like a character in a le Carre novel.'
'In your dreams, Louis. Inspector Clouseau, more like. Is it a lager for you?'
'Scotch.'
When Diamond returned with the drinks, he came straight to the point. 'You've got something in the briefcase?'
'I thought it would be simple accessing the old files through the computer system, but of course you were pre- computer. I had to go downstairs to Records and talk my way in there. Then it was a matter of sorting through any number of dusty old packets tied with string.'
'And . . . ?'
'My clothes are filthy. I've a good mind to send you the dry-cleaning bill, but I think I found your main cases - except for Missendale.'
'That went to a board of inquiry. It wouldn't be down there. Doesn't matter. It wouldn't have any bearing. You found the protection case, I hope? Joe Florida?'
'That's there. And the Brook Green shooting. Two or three others.'
'Great work, Louis.'
'What you've got here are photocopies of the main documents. I couldn't copy everything.'
'Understood.'
Louis eyed him speculatively. 'Does a le Carre character ever ask George Smiley what the hell he's up to?'
Diamond shook his head. 'They skirt around it. That's why the books are so long.'
'Would it have anything to do with the body found at Woking yesterday?'
'You read the papers, too.'
'Couldn't miss it. You want to be careful, Peter. There's a professional gunman out there. You may think you're on his tail, but he's on yours.'
'Thanks, Louis. I'll sleep better for knowing that.'
