5

"We're sure a certain person or persons unknown murdered Tina Davis?" Sandra asked, to which I nodded my answer. "We've seen the bag, you've met Tina's landlady, and because of what we now know, we can be confident that somebody intentionally killer her. So, I'd say the likelihood that she died by suicide or accident is about the same as the prospect that she died of natural causes." I smiled grimly and let her continue. "If, as we think she was, murdered, then she was killed in the safe house on Suffolk Street or killed elsewhere, and her body was brought into the safe house, apparently by the killer or killers."

"Which do you think it was, Sandra?" I inquired.

"Killing an MI6 agent in an MI6 safe house seems an extremely daring thing to do."

"But consider the option," I replied. "How much boldness would it take to kill an MI6 woman elsewhere, then lock her body in a holdall and drop it in the bathtub of her very own flat, even if that flat were not in a safe house? It's an extremely audacious crime in either case."

We heard a ring at the door, and I went and answered the door this time. The man who stood on my front doorstep was very old and grey, with a limp. He wore a tattered checked jacket and a trilby that may have been new when I was small. The hair was very long and unkempt, his face hidden behind a scruffy beard. He remained just inside the doorway, looking nervously from me to Sandra and back to me again.

As soon as I closed the door, the older man spoke.

"Forgive me for the disguise, but no one can notice me visiting you just now."

He took off his jacket and hat with these words to which his hair and beard were connected! Then, he adjusted his back and stood before us, glancing taller, younger, and entirely respectable.

I knew him instantly. "Hector! What a pleasant surprise! Don't move!!"

I stood up quickly and traversed the room, visiting each window and closing all the curtains. Having done so, I shook our visitor vigorously by the hand. "Come in and sit down, Hector. You will be safe now, at least for a little while."

"Sandra, this is Hector Nelson," I said, "an operative with MI6 with whom I have worked on many an occasion. Not as stupid as the sort they tend to hire there these days, if I may say so. And Hector, please meet DCI Sandra Burton, who is possibly the most honest and discreet policeman to come out of Scotland Yard."

They shook hands.

"If there's one thing I do need, it's your caution," Nelson began, "and yes, I should say it's serious enough!"

"Tell me all about it," I said, and Sandra reached for her notepad once again.

"Well, you recollect the mission you assisted me on before. That was complicated, deep, and unpleasant, but you could always find a way onward, and that was what astonished me."

"The job did offer one or two characteristics of importance," I said, showing my most humble smile, but only for a tiny proportion of a second.

"That's what we need here: a way forward. Thanks to that assignment we worked on, I know your procedures, and I've been trying to apply them. One thing you're famous for among the intelligence community, or perhaps I should say infamous, is your meticulousness, your strength of mind to leave no stone unturned."

I am as receptive to smooth talk as any man but much more adept than most at not showing it. So, I nodded slightly to recognise the praise and said, "And..."

"I always try to apply that code, and it's gotten me far in one assignment after the other, even if I do say so myself. But there doesn't seem to be a stone that's not reinforced securely in position in this mission. Yet, try as I might, I cannot turn over a single one, sir, nor can I understand why."

I eyed Nelson intently and said, "What's the matter, Hector? What's going on?"

"Well, sir, it seems as though every eyewitness I want to talk to is either perpetually missing or suddenly inaccessible. I keep getting the feeling that someone high up is generating and terminating. Most of my men don't even have the sufficient security authorisation to discuss the assignment, yet I cannot get anyone else!"

"May I ask which assignment you are working on?" I inquired.

"It's murder if I'm any judge. Not everyone thinks the same, though. Some say it looks like a catastrophe or even suicide, but I don't see it that way, sir. I think someone killed the woman intentionally."

"And the name of the victim?"

"Why, it's Tina Davis, sir. The MI6 agent found it padlocked in a holdall in Pimlico."

Up and moving again, I peeked between the curtains and out across Woodside Park. "You've been shadowed, Hector," he said, "by two men who are remaining in a doorway across the street. We'll have to be careful."

"How do you know they've tailed me?" Hector Nelson asked me.

"When I shut the curtains, they looked as though they were about to enter the shop. Now they're dawdling in the entrance, smoking. They're not shopping, Hector!"

"I took all the evasive activeness I could think of," he explained.

"I have no doubt you did," I answered, gesturing toward the disguise Hector had been wearing. "But they're not going into that shop, so we can assume they're waiting for you."

"What can I do now?" the MI6 man asked me.

"Take off your shoes and put them on the table," I said, thinking back to my late wife telling me that putting shoes on the table would bring us bad luck. "I'll be back in a second or two," I continued.

Hector Nelson's face showed a measure of surprise and two of consternation. "I wouldn't question him," I heard Sandra say. "In all the years I've known Quintus Noone, I have seen him do many crazy things, and he had a good reason for all of them."

I returned with a shoeshine kit and placed it on the coffee table and said, "Your chances of giving those men the slip would be better if your shoes were black, Hector. Sandra, will you help him? I'll be back in a minute." Then, again, I hurried out the door while Hector and Sandra started work on the shoes.

"I can't understand any of this, DCI Burton. Can you?" I heard Hector ask.

"I can't say I do, Hector," Sandra replied, "but I'd be astonished if we don't find out very soon."

They cleaned and buffed, as I had asked, and before long, just as the shoes were beginning to look black, I returned carrying one of my late wife's dresses!

"I think this will fit you, Hector," I smiled.

I could see Hector and Sandra looked bemused.

"Off with your shirt and trousers, Hector!" I commanded, "and pack yourself into this dress." Then, as Hector undressed, I handed Sandra my overnight bag and said, "Put his clothes in here, Sandra, but keep the tattered jacket and the hat-wig-beard separate."

I turned to Hector. "You mustn't come here again until I tell you that it is safe to do so. We'll need other arrangements for a meeting. Do you know the Griffin in Whetstone? No? Well, you will find it easily enough, and we can meet there. The proprietor, Johnny Knight, is a former schoolmate of mine. We'll arrange to meet through the newspapers."

"When you want to meet up with me, place an ad in the Telegraph. I'll tell you what to write. Then, change each day to tell me when you want to meet, place the ad to at least 24 hours ahead, and arrive at the Griffin on the evening of the named day, as close to nine as you can. First, go to the bar and ask for the owner. Then, when you find Mr Knight, tell him I sent you, and he will know what to do. Have you got all that?"

Hector nodded. I wrote a few words on a sheet of paper, folded it up and handed it to him. "Change the day; copy the rest of the wording precisely. All right?" Hector nodded again.

"Good job squeezing into that dress, Hector!" I said. "Now, let's see how you look."

" Ludicrous!" Hector proclaimed upon seeing himself in the mirror.

"You would have looked worse with brown shoes," I said, "but with black on your feet, this spontaneous outfit may be good enough to fool them."

"Hector, you and DCI Burton are going to go for a walk. I'll give you a scarf. Cover as much of yourself as possible?"

Hector looked at me and rolled his eyes. "I guess so, whatever you say."

"That's the way, Hector," I went on. "You'll go out the door and turn left. About half a mile on your right, you'll find a coffee shop. Walk in, sit down and order a pork pie. Then take my overnight bag and go to the ladies' toilet.

"As soon as you're out of sight, change into your clothes. Put the dress and everything else in the bag and leave it under the sink, closest to the wall. Slip out the rear door, and you will find a taxi waiting there; I'll arrange the taxi. While you're doing all that, I will keep the men in the window busy. Sandra will wait for the pie, eat it, then go to the ladies' room, salvage my bag from under the sink, and bring it back here. Is that all clear?"

Hector nodded again, and I patted him on the shoulder and said, "If you do as good an acting job leaving as you did on your way in, you'll be fine."

Sandra returned from my bedroom and wrapped Hector in a long scarf, and said, "Quintus Noone , you ask the strangest of favours! But as you say it's for a good cause, I'll go out and eat a pork pie for you any day!"

"May I take my other camouflage with me?" Hector asked.

"No, Hector, we're not finished with it," I said. "I'll return it as soon as I can. Ready? Now make it convincing, and you will be all right."

I watched as DCI Burton and her frail companion made their way down the stairs and out into Woodside Park. The men in the doorway paid no attention as the two older women turned and shuffled slowly toward the coffee shop.

I slipped into Hector's tattered jacket and his hat-wig-beard and stood at the full-length mirror. "Right, Quintus. Let's take these window-shopping fuckers on a wild goose chase."