"One would ruminate," Sandra said, "that after such a public show of deceitfulness, Mahesh Theekshana would have been systematically disgraced."
"But instead," I said, "he was welcomed as a hero, set up with an even larger financial plan, and sent out to grab more extremists."
"Truly?" Sandra asked, "How come I haven't learnt something about all this?"
"This case is all about distraction," I said, "and we've been led astray from the very start. Mahesh Theekshana emerged next in Claydon, a hamlet of Ipswich in Suffolk, where he began hovering around a mosque and performing in such a way that not a single person would have anything to do with him."
"What was he doing?"
"He began by going to the business office and asking for a list of followers. But the work force wouldn't give him one unless he showed a legitimate reason, and he never even tried to explain his demand. Instead, he began showing rolls of cash, proposing to buy people meals, give
I made another pot of coffee. Poured us a cup each and then continued. "Ever heard of the term, pinsetter?" "No, I haven't," Sandra replied. "The phrase comes from Ten-pin Bowling. A pinsetter is an apparatus at the far end of the lane, which gathers the pins that have been thumped down and prepares them for the next shot." "Where does this lead to?" "A terror-sting set-up agenda being approved by MI5 and MI6 is so evident it prompts the intelligence service of Ten-pin Bowling. It is called it Bowling For Terrorists and in my opinion, MI5, MI6, and the Metropolitan Police Force are recruiting pinsetters. Proficient agents whose job is to set up the guerrilla pins so that the SIS can knock them down." "I've never heard this nonsense used at New Scotland Yard," Sandra admitted. "Fairly regularly, the pins are allocated attack plans that are
"To comprehend what Tina Davis saw in the terror emails and how she understood what she saw," I said, "we ought to try to put ourselves in her shoes." "Okay." Sandra didn't look overly convinced. "And to a degree it may be conceivable, we could re-trace the order of events chronologically, as they would have developed to her." "Okay." Again, not sound that convincing. "We can begin with what we understand about the young woman who went to work at GCHQ. She was a wonderful mathematician, with a mammoth talent for lucidity. A competent recollection, and configuration- identification proficiencies far in advance of her contemporaries." "Everyone seems to agree with that." "If we merge these features, we can see, possibly, how or why she could do cerebral calculation so rapidly and precisely that her friends didn't need an adding machine when she was about. She was also extraordinarily courageous and motivated, as her cycling voca
"Tina must have found it very stress-free in reconsideration to see that the Easter Bombers were set up to be clouted. From the viewpoint of, Tell me that how is your sweety girlfriend? could mean, Send me some more self-incriminating email." "Right," Sandra said. "Once Tina saw that the Easter Bombers were not real extremists, it couldn't have taken her so long to be examining the possibility that the Liquid Bombers were set up to be bashed. The unsophisticated theory, offensive though it may be to a trustworthy government worker, satisfies so many of the problems Tina kept asking herself, it would have been obligatory to take it seriously." "Issues such as?" Sandra prompted. "Such as Why didn't the police find more implicating proof? and Why did it take so many hearings to get so few imprisonments? and Why did the prosecutions draw so little media coverage? If the Liquid Bombers conspiracy was unfeasible by purpose, all these difficulties would be r
I started work as soon as Sandra left. I had time on my hands before I met up with Hector Nelson. I had a suspicion that the response I was searching for may not be as straightforward as the problem. I was correct. I needed to learn what happened in early August to make the British Government keep it off the front pages. The short answer was Tom O'Connor. Tom O'Connor was a Labour political figure who was Shadow Deputy Prime Minister to Nick Stratton and a strong supporter of Brexit, Immigration, and the return of troops to Afghanistan. Many Labour Party supporters deliberated O'Connor was a turncoat to the political party and to the values it professes to back, and some wished he would misplace his location in the next shadow Government shake-up. One of them was Gerry Agnew, a billionaire with incomplete party-political knowledge but satisfactory individuality to take a stand slightly against the return of troops to Afghanistan. Agnew contest
When Sandra awoke Tuesday morning, I was deskbound, writing a couple of letters. “Morning darling,” I said without looking up. "What's happening?" Sandra asked, still somewhat tired. "I had a very thought-provoking chat with Hector Nelson on the Tube. Shall I tell you about it while you appreciate your breakfast?" "Why not?" she answered and started pour milk over her cornflakes. “I didn’t hear you come in, by the way?” “No, you wouldn’t have. I haven’t been home long.” I took a few minutes to finish what I was writing, then sat back in my chair and resumed speaking. "Hector handed me names and addresses," I said, "of two woman he thinks we should contact. Both, in his words, are attractive young female performers. I stated to him I didn't think you'd object." Sandra smiled and kept eating her cereal. "I have just completed transcribing to them," I continued, "demanding consultations at thei
The post arrived just as Sandra had finished making some ham and pickle sandwiches and handing me an envelope, with flowery handwriting. "Georgina Lyall will call on us at four o'clock this afternoon." "Is she one of the two good-looking blondes Hector recommended you had better get in touch with?" Sandra asked. "Certainly, she is. Unfortunately, I am not aware of anything else about her, or her association with this case, but I am sure we will find out rapidly enough." As expected, my forecast showed to be correct. Georgina Lyall appeared shortly before four and introduced herself with an astonishing declaration. "I would have come earlier had I known you were involved in the case, Mr Noone," she said. "I am so grateful for your letter." "Please sit down," I said, "and tell us, from the start, how you came to be involved in Tina's case." "It was through my job," she replied. "I'm a fashion stylist, and I teach at Homerton Coll
I poured a drink of brandy and handed it to our visitor. "Drink this and try to calm down," I said "It's delightful!" she said after her first sip. "Good, I'm glad you're liking it," I said, "now, please tell us about Tina." "The person all and sundry are talking about?" Helena Locke asked rhetorically. "I don't know her at all. She was the absolute reverse of all that has been alleged about her. It's been dreadful for each and every one of us but chiefly her family." She took another sip before continuing. "They're completely broken by this because it's not the true Tina at all. She was a lovely girl, with excellent sense of humour and, from the bottom of my heart, she was the most charming, sensitive, gorgeous person. Truly, she was one in a million. She was somebody who really had a sound judgment for life. She was very effortless as a person. Nothing was a bother to her; whether you asked her to call you a taxi or do a big deed, sh
45 "What do you propose to do now," Sandra asked when Helena Locke had left. "I just need to sit and think for a few minutes," "Do you need me?" Sandra asked. "Not at the moment," I answered. "You can stay if you wish, but if you have alternative plans?" "I need to get back to the police station," she replied. "Well, I may slip over to the Three Horseshoes and play a few frames of billiards. I'm sure Graham and Ian will be there, tonight." "Enjoy yourself, win or lose." I found my mates in the pub, and we played for several hours. After twelve midnight, when I got back, I found Sandra convening on a heap of pillows in the middle of the room. I said hello, and she became aware of me for the first time. "I'm sorry. I didn't even realise you were there. I've been deep in thought, positioned here with my eyes closed." "Have you come to any decisions?" I asked. "No," she said, "have you?"
59 Sandra raised her eyes suddenly and gave me the same sort of inspection, as if she’d never really seen me before: and I guessed that for her it was much more a radical assessment. I was no longer the man she’d tricked rather easily with her charms and feminine ways, but the man who had discovered her duplicity. I was accustomed by now to seeing this new view of me when people had tried to deceive me, and although I might often regret it, there seemed no way of going back. “They warned me you know,” she said doubtfully. “I kept hearing how good the great Quintus Noone was, and I should tread carefully. They said you’re exceptionally good…exceptionally good…at this sort of thing. But I didn’t believe them. But now I’m standing here in your North London flat banged to rights.” “Afraid so,” I said succinctly. Her eyes were red with tears, but I never fell for crocodile tears. Having three sisters had nullified that emotion. “When did you
"The three theories," I began, "are positively conceivable. Assuming what we recognise, we may deliberate them quite believable. But they are still theoretical. In extra words, they may be precise, but their correctness is by no way established. As such, they signify three areas of indecision. However, I do not regard these doubts as major flaws in our case, both because in all three examples, several reasonable replacements exist, and because these propositions are all efforts to respond consequential, or even relating, questions. We may never find acceptable responses to all these distant inquiries, but the fundamental of our case is built on solutions to other, more dominant, questions. Do you understand?" "I do," Sandra replied, "but I don't see where you're going with it." "I think Tina Davis was assassinated," I continued. "I think MI6 played a main role in her death, and I think so founded on deliberations dispassionate of these doubts. I think Tina was doing
"As we move away from the fundamentals, things get ambiguous, Sandra. There is one conceivable response to the subject of why Tina may have focused against her employers. But there are many other probabilities. For what reason did Tina make those trips to the café near the West Finchley tube station. Her recurrent chance encounters with an enigmatic duo, who may or may not be the same as the Mediterranean twosome for whom the police are hypothetically searching. Maybe Tina and the couple were convening to arrange other, less observable meetings, and for this motive, these discussions were seen by Tina's MI6 as duplicitous.""It is likely that the Mediterranean pair, and the West Finchley team may be the identical people," Sandra interjected, "and that they might have been MI6 agents who were allocated to analyse Tina, possibly to deceive her, definitely to obtain whatever she may have been attracted to reveal."
"But why?" Sandra demanded, "I cannot believe you are willing to give up, so easily.""When I said, I was going to drop it, what I meant was that the Home Secretary angle has been shut off to me, but there are more than one way to skin a cat.""Please, Quintus, tell me, what you are planning to do?""Very well. Unless I'm reading it entirely incorrect, the crime concerned as much personality elimination as bodily slaying. What could be the reason? It seems to me that Tina must have been doing something her managers found unbearable, something that made her a burden rather than an advantage, and I don't think she was very careful about it.""Go on," Sandra pressed."She was besieged for a three-branched attack: first, to quieten her forever; second, to make sure she would never be contemplated well-thought-of, though she may have been much more than that; and third, to warn her co-workers of the significances of pursuing the trail she chose."
I woke up early the following day to find that Sandra had already left, although she hadn't eaten breakfast. Instead, I found a note and a newspaper. I read the note first. Quintus There is terrible news this morning. I have gone to find out what the Commissioner knows about this. All the morning papers say the same. So here is the story in its most diminutive illegible form. I will return as soon as possible. SB Then I picked up the paper and found that Sandra had circled a headline, which read: Two Metropolitan Police Shot In Jewellery Shop Robbery Home Secretary Unharmed, Cabinet Shuffled The text was this: Two Metropolitan Police officers sustained gunshot wounds yesterday after apparently stumbling upon an attempted burglary in progress. Detectives Hector Nelson, 45, and Stewart Alderman, 32, were wounded while chasing suspe
Under arrest?" the Home Secretary cried. "Are you stupid? I am a Home Secretary! A representative of the Cabinet! I am a fragment of the Government!! Do you comprehend??""Yes!" Nelson said."I cannot be under arrest!" the Home Secretary continued. "I cannot be incarcerated! I cannot be put on trial! Don't you know anything?""I do understand," said Nelson calmly, "that no man's job designation seats him above the rules.""Ha!" the Home Secretary replied, whose pallid face was becoming more sanguine with each occurring second. "We become the law! We are the law! The directive is ours! It is not to be expended in opposition to us!"Sandra, Nelson, and I gaped in incredulity as the manacled man carried on. Alderman, progressing gradually, appeared from the bedroom and began to move toward us. The Home Secretary didn't seem to perceive; he just stormed on."We're the administration!" he bellowed. "We make the regulations. So clearly we cannot r
"Very well," said the Home Secretary. I sat in an armchair and scrutinised intently at our visitor opposite. "I can begin with the particulars of the tableau. Even though no exact reason of death has been proven, our study has left no misgiving in my mind that Tina Davis was assassinated." "Really!" exclaimed the Home Secretary. "Oh, no! She was the victim of a very strange kinky sex game gone wrong, wasn't she?" "That is not true. The state of the flat and that of her corpse propose an alternative justification completely." "I did not know," said the Home Secretary. "No, I you didn't. There is a great deal of misperception about what happened." "A resentful paramour?" the Home Secretary suggested. "No, definitely not. Offences of lust are generally chaotic; the wrongdoer gets flustered and consigns a profusion of proof. In this case, the lack of scientific verification, among other things, advocates planning." "Fuck me
52 When we had all finished eating, Sandra brought a tray of coffee. I invited the two policemen to relax on the settee, and we all paid the detective chief inspector kindly accolades as she cleared the table. "I almost forgot to tell you, Mr. Noone," Nelson said, "and it may not even matter. But a couple of interesting details came to my attention, and I would be remiss if I failed to share them." “Please do.” "We have continuously supposed that there are two unexplained couples involved in this case," said Nelson, "but that might not be true, sir." "Why’s that?" "One couple," Nelson said, "the so-called Mediterranean couple, were purportedly buzzed into Tina's residence by a neighbour, apparently after asserting to have a key to Tina’s flat. Detectives are clearly fascinated by the Mediterranean couple, and police artists have even created e-fits of them. The other couple met Tina Davis several times at the
51 After DI Brooks left, I closed all the drapery, turned on the lights, and sat in a comfy chair to read. "Aren't we going to alter the venue for this evening's events?" Sandra asked. "This is now a crime scene." "If we change it, our suspect will get suspicious." "Very well," Sandra shrugged, and this was followed by a rigorous knocking on the door. "That will be Hector and his mate," I said, standing up to respond to the thumping. But when I opened it, I discovered I was looking at a worn-down old lady. "Good afternoon," she said, in a rumbling and oddly recognisable voice. "Come on in, Stewart. Meet Quintus Noone and DI Burton." We observed an old man waddle into the flat, lugging an overnight case over which he was bowed in understandable distress. The old lady shut the door and removed her coat and then her wig, disclosing the recognisable face of Hector Nelson. "Hello, DCI Burton," he said. "It's a joy to see you