Headhunter

'Perhaps.'

'Robert, please understand. When the Headhunter throws barbs at you, he spikes me too. I'm a policeman also, albeit the civilian kind. This Force means a lot to me, just as it does to you. You mean a lot to me, you're one of my few friends. Remember all those years ago when I was totally adrift? I burned every bridge by defecting and there I was alone. Isolated. Well, you helped me though, helped me assimilate. Robert, I owe you a debt. Hell, I owe myself a debt. And I want to pay it off. So let me work this with you. And I mean really work it. I want half the load.'

For several minutes the Superintendent said nothing. It was obvious he was moved. Finally he walked over and put his hand on the other man's shoulder and pointed at the cork-board. The operations visual now covered every bit of wall-space with many overlaps.

'Okay, Joseph. You're on. What do you suggest we do?'

Avacomovitch smiled.

'First, two things,' he said, 'to help us tighten the net. One: let's request every distributor of Polaroid film in this city and the outskirts get the name from identification of customers making a purchase. If anyone balks, they take a description and call the Headhunter Squad.'

'Good idea. And the second.'

'I give you a birthday present, and you tell me what you think.'

DeClercq's brow rose. He looked at his watch and saw it was after twelve. What a memory, he thought.

'Come on,' Avacomovitch said. 'I've got it down in the lab.'

The Superintendent followed him down the stairs to the makeshift laboratory. Except for a light on the Russian's desk, the room was now in darkness. The light was shining on a large bifocal microscope and a note- covered pad beside it.

'Take a look,' the scientist said. 'Happy birthday.'

When DeClercq looked down the barrel of the instrument and adjusted it into focus, what was magnified before his eyes was a dull black sliver. Behind him Avacomovitch said, 'When I examined the bones of Liese Greiner kicked up by that little girl, I found that lodged in a hairline fracture in her front pubic bone. It could have been debris from the area and of no forensic value. But it's not. It's foreign to the scene and has some sort of significance, though what I have no idea. It took me quite a while to get it identified.'

'What is it?' DeClercq asked.

'A splinter of ebony.'

Damballah

Thursday, November 4th, 7:45 a.m.

'I don't think he looks well,' Monica Macdonald said.

'Who, DeClercq?'

'Yeah.'

'I guess the pressure's getting to him,' Katherine Spann replied.

Rick Scarlett said: 'What do you think he meant when he said to keep an eye peeled today for anything made of ebony. And why does he insist on knowing personally?'

'Beats me. Maybe it's got something to do with his fear of tunnel vision. Keep us all in the dark so we don't overlook a thing.'

'Personally,' Tipple said, 'I thought he went a little overboard on the concept of duty.'

'Perhaps,' Rusty Lewis said. 'But don't you get the feeling that man really means it when he says we have a sacred trust to 'Maintain the Right.' '

'I don't know,' the Corporal said slowly. 'This whole idea of a sweep is on pretty shaky ground. If we score with one of these guys, the lawyers will have a field day. Mark my words that Charter of Rights is going to make it as hard for us up here as the cops have it in the States.'

'Maybe the right he's talking about isn't legal right,' Lewis replied. 'Maybe it's moral right.'

'Anyway,' Monica Macdonald said, 'DeClercq moved me this morning. I say we get the job done.'

'I agree,' Lewis said. 'He moved me too.'

Macdonald opened the door and they both turned up their collars and walked out in the pouring rain. Tipple, Spann, and Scarlett were left standing in the front hall at Headhunter Headquarters.

'May I see those taps again?' Katherine Spann asked. The

Corporal passed the transcripts to her. As the woman leafed through the pages reading them one more time, Scarlett looked out at the rain and asked: 'How do you suggest we go about finding Hardy?'

'Don't know,' Tipple replied. 'I've never seen the guy. He just shows up on the tapes every now and then. Rackstraw's been my quarry, not Hardy.'

'Strange no one seems to know the telephone is tapped.'

'If you saw the setup, you'd understand why.'

Scarlett was silent for a minute. Beyond the door the skies were sodden and gray with the afterbirth of one storm while a new wave of thunderclouds shoved in from the sea. Still the rain came down.

'What about the cousin?' he asked. 'Where do we look for him?'

'I think you should leave his studio alone so he doesn't wise to the tap.'

'Studio?'

'Yeah, the man is involved in the music business. Runs it under a holding company called Damballah Enterprises Ltd.'

'Damballah is the snake god in-voodoo.'

'I know. Why don't you try to find him tonight down at the London Calling. That's a club on Pender.'

Tipple fished into his pocket and removed a small telephone-pole poster. There were rips in all four corners where staples had once secured it. It read:

Save Yourself For Thursday Night, November 4th, 1982

LIVE IN CONCERT FROM ENGLAND

RAW-T

With Special Guests VOODOO CHILE

Save Your Soles!

The London Calling Ballroom,

742 West Pender Street.

'Why do you think he'll be there?' Rick Scarlett asked.

'Voodoo Chile's his band,' Tipple said in reply.

Katherine Spann had folded the corner on one of the transcript pages. Once she had perused all the rest she turned back to that one. She held it out to Tipple.

'This tap is long distance. Bill. Where's it coming from.''

'Let's see,' Tipple said. He took the transcript from her and read:

Incoming call. Long distance.

Fox: Hey hey.

Operator: I have a collect call from Mr. Wolf. Will you accept the charge?

Fox: Yes I will.

Wolf: It's cooking on the 6th.. The pot boils over at midnight.

Fox: I'm ready… The cous will be down there to see all you.

Wolf: Ah… Right… be seein' the man then.

Fox: Okay, bye for now.

Wolf: Au revoir.