"I think you and I had better have a little talk, Mr. Larson,” Grayson said. "Stick around until I get this mess cleaned up. Wilkes, make sure he doesn't go off anywhere."
"Right, sir," said Wilkes. Grayson went to supervise the removal of the bodies and interview sonic of the neighbors. "You had to go and blunder in here, didn't you?" Wilkes said to Larson. "And here I'd just been complimented on how well I had things under control."
Larson held out a cigarette case to Wilkes. "Cigarette?" he said.
Wilkes looked around. "Thanks," he said, taking one.
"You're welcome, Constable-?"
"Wilkes. Brian Wilkes."
"Take it easy. Brian." Larson said. "I'm not going to cause you any trouble. Believe me something like this is bigger than just getting a good story. The maniac who did this must be stopped and it won't help you stopping him if we all start writing lurid stories about ghastly creatures lurking in the shadows of Whitechapel. Any idiot can write that sort of nonsense. I'd much rather write a story about how the police brought a deranged killer to justice than print stories criticizing you chaps and making your job that much more difficult “
Wilkes raised his eyebrows. "You having me on, mate?"
"Not in the least,” said Larson, puffing on his cigarette. "Look at it this way, Brian, I could hand you all sorts of rubbish about social responsibility and the like, and it wouldn't be entirely rubbish, mind you, but the simple fact of the matter is that I intend to make something of a name for myself as a police reporter, covering crime in the city, and I've a few ideas as to how to go about that."
"You don't say," said Wilkes. "How's that?"
"Well, there are places a reporter can go where a policeman would be too highly visible and there are people who would speak to a reporter, but would never be seen talking to police. A clever man could develop his own sources of information, information that the police might not otherwise have access to. Such a situation could benefit both that reporter and the police, if they were to work together."
"Yes, I suppose I can see that," said Wilkes. "What you're proposing is a sort of cooperation. Each scratching the other's back a bit, as it were. You let us in on a tidbit now and then and don't write anything we wouldn't like you to and in exchange, we let you in on things other reporters wouldn't have, is that it?"
"I see you grasp the concept," Larson said, smiling. "And if it would help your situation, Icould sort of mislead other reporters and then I'd have all the proper details when the whole thing was wrapped up. I'd have the best story then, you see."
Wilkes grinned. "I shouldn't think that
would make you very popular with your fellow members of the press."
"I'm not out to win any popularity contests, Brian. We're all competitors, after all. Except for myself and Tom Davis of The Daily Telegraph. We've made sort of an arrangement to get the lion's share for ourselves, a silent partnership, as it were. I'm going to speak to Grayson about it. What sort of chap is he. by the way?"
"Chief Inspector Grayson? Blade straight and steel true that one. I wouldn't try putting anything over on him if I were you. I'd present it to him straight up, like you've just done with me. If you deal straight with him, he'll deal straight with you, but Lord Help you if you cross him. He's like a ratting terrier. Once he's got his teeth into you, he never lets go until you're done."
"I'll keep that in mind," said Larson.
"You do that, mate," said Wilkes. He clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks for the smoke."
"Don't mention it," said Larson. He smiled. It was a good beginning. Now to see if he could win Inspector William Grayson's trust.
"They did what?'' said Steiger.
They clocked out." said Linda Craven. "Right there in the teashop. One minute they were sitting at the table, drinking tea and then the next, they simply disappeared. There were several couples in the shop, but nobody noticed than clock out except me. I came in after them, as if I was waiting to meet someone and I was pretending to read a magazine, but I was watching them out of the corner of my eye. I saw the man Wells was with look around quickly, to see if anyone was watching, and then suddenly they were gone. I'm sorry, sir, the man didn't match Drakov's description and it just never occurred to me that he might have a warp disc."
"Christ," said Steiger. "What did this man look like? Describe him, carefully."
Craven bit her lower lip. "A small man, about live foot five or six, thin, grey hair and beard, very animated. Maybe late forties to mid-fifties, hard to tell his age exactly. His face was thin. sharp-featured. sort of delicate-"
"Moreau!" said Steiger.
Her eyes grew wide. "The head of S.O.G.'s Project Infiltrator?" she said.
"That's the one," said Steiger. "The description matches." "Oh, God," she said. "I should have put it together, but I just didn't think — "
"Never mind," said Steiger. "Nothing we can do about it now. Get back to Wells' house. If he shows up again, contact me immediately."
"Yes, sir."
"And Craven'? One more thing If you spot Moreau again even if it's in broad daylight with a dozen witnesses around waste him. Understand?"