Quinn tried to remember where he had seen green ink. He searched through the old correspondence on his desk until he found the card from the film production company. There it was in the top left-hand corner: Quick-Fire Quinn and guest.
He had meant to throw it away, having no intention to accept its invitation:
You are cordially invited to the world premiere of
THE EYES OF THE BEHOLDER
The main reason he discounted the possibility of going, or so he told himself, was his annoyance at being addressed as Quick-Fire Quinn. But he had found the addition of ‘and guest’ after his name troubling in a different way. Whom would he invite? Of course, he fantasized about taking Miss Latterly. But what he was really frightened of was that in a moment of weakness he would ask Miss Dillard.
But now, the mention of green ink by Lord Dunwich and the green ink on the package handed over in the barbershop … was there some connection between the film company, the barber’s and Lord Dunwich’s spies?
He scanned down the type: Written and directed by the renowned maestro KONRAD WAECHTER.
The name sounded German. Perhaps there was something here after all.
He knew that Lord Dunwich was holding something back. His sort always did. But surely it didn’t follow that his lordship was in league with foreign spies? Perhaps the question about green ink had been prompted by a completely unrelated matter. Had Lord Dunwich received an invitation to the premiere too?
He made a mental note of the date of the event before returning the card to its place in his pile of correspondence.
Could it be that the spy operation was a red herring, designed to divert the department from something even more nefarious? Quinn had noted a hunted quality to Lord Dunwich’s eyes, a way they had of simultaneously seeking out and shying away from any questioning gaze. Those were not innocent eyes. They were eyes that longed to reveal the secrets that burdened them. It was a quality he recognized. He saw it every time he looked in the mirror.
Whatever was the truth, Quinn felt a bridling of resentment. It would not be the first time he had been sent into the field without being afforded the courtesy of full disclosure.
He experienced a momentary flash of Miss Dillard’s eyes. He had to admit, he did not always tell his men everything that he knew, and sometimes his reasons for withholding information were obscure even to himself.
‘Inchball, you are the one who is most familiar with what’s going on at the German’s.’
‘Yes, guv. I’ve been keepin’ me beady eye on the place ever since I visited it last week.’
‘I trust you were not observed? Dortmunder knows you now.’
‘I’ve been very careful, guv. I’ve taken steps to … err … blend in, you might say. Even my own mother wun’ recognize me.’
Quinn’s involuntary grimace betrayed his unwillingness to know any more about the details of Inchball’s disguise. ‘What is the layout of the street? Would it be possible to set up Macadam with his camera so that he could record the comings and goings?’
‘We could get a vehicle in there from Maiden Lane, guv. If we had a van, we could put Macadam in the back, drill a hole through the side and Fritz is your uncle.’
‘What about that, Macadam? Would you be able to film successfully through a hole in the side of a van?’
‘It should be possible, sir. As soon as we get the film, I could run a test.’
‘You mean they haven’t sent you no film? Bleedin’ typical.’
‘I’m sure the film will turn up in due course, as will the other items I requested, such as the tripod. Oh, and the projector, of course. We will need that to see what we have filmed. In the meantime …’ Macadam opened up the side of the camera, revealing a series of spools and cogs and other mechanisms. There was a set of printed instructions stuck to the inside of the hinged cover. ‘I daresay I can be usefully employed in familiarizing myself with every aspect of the machine’s operation.’
Inchball snorted derisively. ‘While you’re playing with your new toy, I shall get on with some real policing.’
‘What do you have in mind, Inchball?’
‘With your permission, guv, I intend to go back to the barber’s. I have been allowing my whiskers to grow for the last few days expressly for that purpose.’ Inchball drew the fingertips of both hands down across either side of his face.
‘And what do you hope to achieve?’
‘Well, what if I was to let it be known that I’m a copper? What do you think Herr Dortmunder would say to that?’
‘Go on.’
‘So, I’m a copper, righ’. I can get in an’ out of certain highly secure premises, the sort where state secrets are kept. I have keys that can open doors. I even know the combination to some government safes.’
‘What kind of a copper are you?’ challenged Macadam, warming to the subterfuge.
‘I’m the sort what guards the Admiralty, or some of the high-ups in it, say.’
‘Interesting,’ said Quinn.
‘And what if I also let it be known that I am not a happy copper? That I am, in fact, a thoroughly disgruntled copper, ’arbourin’ a grievance against them very high-ups I is supposed to be lookin’ arfter? What if all that – and what if I was also to let slip certain warm words of admiration for the Bismarckian state? What if I were to let slip that there were days when I wished England could be more like Germany? What do you think our friend Fritz Dortmunder would say to all that, guv?’
‘It’s a dangerous game, Inchball. If these men are all that we suspect them to be, then you could be placing yourself in extreme danger.’
Inchball shrugged.
‘By all means go back there for another shave. It will be a good thing if you establish a rapport with this fellow by becoming a regular customer. But don’t, for now, mention anything about being a policeman. Let’s keep that up our sleeve. If we proceed too quickly, he may smell a rat.’
‘May I say I admire the Bismarckian state, guv?’
‘For now, confine yourself to complimenting him on his barbering skills.’
‘Ah, subtle. Very subtle.’
‘It may be enough to hook him at this stage.’
Quinn cast his gaze towards the window. It signalled either his release of Inchball, or his own desire to escape the confines of that room and soar into the pale bleak glimmering sky beyond.
TWELVE
Furled in the darkness, that was how it felt. Macadam was furled, like the film inside his precious camera. Both man and film poised, ready to spring into action.
But the operation was more difficult than he had envisaged. He could not look directly through the camera lens, and using the viewfinder was out of the question because of their concealed location. To get round this, back at the garage, he had drilled two holes in the side of the van. One for the camera to film from. Another, alongside the first, for them to look through. But essentially, he had to rely on guesswork when it came to positioning the camera. He was more or less filming blind.
Naturally, he kept his apprehensions to himself. He was reluctant to give Inchball any ammunition for his constant barrage of mockery. Neither did he want to worry the guv’nor unduly. He would make this thing work. He would justify the guv’nor’s faith in him.
He gripped the crank handle lightly, testing the sprung tension in its resistance. He murmured soothingly to the machine, as if it were an animal that he was about to unleash. At other times, in the potent darkness in the back of the van, he imagined that the camera was an extension of his own being. He almost believed it.