Read Pulp Fiction | The Stone-Cold Dead in the Market Affair by John Oram for Free Online

eccentric."
    "Sure." Illya sounded unconvinced. "What about the other two?"
    "The guy in the cheaters is one of his strayed lambs. A simple soul called Rafferty with a list of convictions from here to Glasgow. Grievous bodily harm, shooting with intent, mugging — you name it, he's done it. He's worked as a strong-arm man in race-track protection, organized prostitution and smuggling. But now, he claims, he's seen the light. He's been in the clear since he came out of Dartmoor a year ago."
    "And Morgan?"
    "That," said Solo, "is the jackpot question. You know some of the answers. He got mixed up with politics and did three years for arson. Maybe that's how he got in touch with Price Hughes. But here's the interesting thing. Before he got into trouble he was in line for a professorship at the University of Wales. It seems he was some kind of boy genius with a special bent for electronics. According to my sources he was tinkering about with one of the first experimental computers when the blow fell."
    "Intriguing," Illya murmured.
    "Wait. It gets better. He did his time in Wakefield, where a prisoner gets a reasonable choice of studies. Morgan elected to work in the printing shop. He knew he was washed up academically and he wanted to learn a trade.
    "When he was released the Ministry of Labor found him a place with a firm that specializes in fine printing and engraving, but it didn't work out. He got restless and quit. He joined the army, volunteered for special duties, and was next heard of in one of the hush-hush outfits, forging document for the Resistance movements.
    "After the war he drifted from job to job and finally dropped out of sight. He wasn't heard of again until six years ago when Price Hughes bought his farm. Morgan was the first man he hired."
    Illya said, "Well, well! Things begin to add up."
    "They do, indeed. There's not much doubt that the farm is the center of operations. I think it's time we stopped the presses."
    "High time," said Illya. "But getting near them will be quite a trick."
    He replaced the receiver and went up to bed.
    At nine o'clock next morning he walked into the dining room for breakfast. And there, working earnestly through a plate of ham and eggs, sat Blodwen. She was wearing a suit of cheap tweed with a chain-store blouse. Her black hair was combed lankly and she wore all the wrong kinds of makeup.
    She looked up uninterestedly when Illya walked in, then resumed her assault on the ham.
    He took a chair opposite from her. The waitress brought him a bowl of cereal.
    "Nice morning," he said.
    Blodwen scowled. "Dim saesneg," she answered with her mouth full.
    "I beg your pardon?"
    "The lady do say she don't speak no English," the waitress interpreted. "A Welsh lady she is," she added unnecessarily.
    "'Lady' is right," Illya said as a heavy shoe landed on his shin. He got his revenge by making the cereal really audible.
    He had got to the toast and marmalade stage when Blodwen brought out a packet of cigarettes. She lit one, then started to transfer the others to a case. Somehow she fumbled the job. The case made a clatter on the table and the cigarettes spread over the floor.
    Illya bent down to pick them up. So did Blodwen. Her hair brushed his cheek and he liked it.
    She whispered, "The little red schoolhouse. In half an hour."
    When the cigarettes had all been retrieved she straightened up, muttering grudging thanks in Welsh and walked out. She left a threepenny piece by her plate for the waitress. Illya thought it was wonderful how quickly she had picked up the customs of the country. He didn't know then that she was born in Wrexham.
    He allowed her time to get clear of the hotel, then went down to the lobby and wasted fifteen minutes talking to the receptionist.
    There are several schools in Corwen but he thought he knew the one Blodwen meant. It stood only about a hundred yards from the Cader Idris and it wasn't red. He strolled along to it.
    She was standing outside the playground