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and then we’ll know to which country he’s gone. From there standard investigative police work should be enough to locate him.’
    I’d given my sales pitch and I waited. Young Miss Marple was thinking. The seconds dragged while she deliberated. At last, she said, ‘Yes, okay, let’s do it. How long will it take?’
    Here was the rub. This was the hard part.
    ‘That all depends.’ I said. ‘The computer at Lyon will have to search through dozens of countries and thousands of entry lists. Once the parameters have been set on our computer and the online search has begun it could take several days, it just depends.’
    ‘I see; but it could be much quicker.’
    ‘Yes, it could be.’
    There was a pause. I said, ‘In the meantime we don’t want to spook the suspect.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Well, if we’re going to do the search and then look for him in which ever country he’s run to, then we don’t want him moving again. We need him to stay where he is.’
    There was silence again while Hannah Foley thought. This was where I kept my fingers crossed.
    Finally, she said, ‘We had planned on releasing his details to the press in an attempt to locate him that way.’
    I interrupted and said, ‘That’s a good idea if he’s still in the country but if he’s fled and he hears the police are on to him then he’s likely to hide even deeper. It could take years to find him and just as long again to extradite him, depending on which country he ends up in.’
    Again, there was more thinking and then she said, ‘Okay, we’ll delay our press release while you carry out your search.’
    I almost smiled, but I maintained my seriousness and suggested, ‘Can you give us thirty-six hours?’
    I heard her breathe in deeply before she replied, ‘Yes, okay, I’ll hold off for thirty-six hours.’
    I allowed myself to smile.
    D.S. Hannah Foley then ran through all the details she thought I would need to undertake the internet database search. I played along and wrote them down to ensure credibility. Once we had both agreed that I had all the necessary information, she prepared to end the call.
    ‘Will you keep me regularly up-to-date with your progress?’
    ‘Yes, of course. As soon as I hear from Lyon I’ll call you.’
    ‘Call me anytime, day or night.’
    ‘Okay, don’t worry I’ll call you; and if you find him in the meantime be sure to let me know.’
    Her voice lightened and she said, ‘That would be nice, but I’ve got a feeling I’m going to have to wait for you.’
    Immediately after the call was finished with D.S. Foley I called Meriwether.
    ‘We’ve got thirty-six hours.’
    ‘Thirty-six,’ he repeated. ‘Well done my boy. That should be plenty.’
    Plenty for what I wondered. Why did I always have the feeling Meriwether knew more than I did and had a plan, of which I didn’t know the details? Before I could ask him to explain, he was talking again.
    ‘You better call in on me on your way.’
    ‘Call in on you on my way?’
    ‘Yes, as we’re a bit tight on time. I’ll brief you when you get here. Come straight away, your flight leaves in less than three hours.’
     
    I threw some travel essentials into my holdall bag, the one that had the good shoulder strap, put my pay as you go phone, passport, driving licence and wallet containing my Interpol ID in my jacket pocket, the one with the thick lining, and left my apartment.
    I took a cab to St. James’s Square.
    Inside the club, Meriwether was waiting for me in the small study type room with the paintings on the wall and the worn leather chairs.
    ‘Ah good you’re here,’ he said, standing up and leaving behind an indentation in the leather cushion. Sitting beside him was a young man. He also stood and ran his hand through his foppish fair hair and smoothed the creases from the front of his jacket.
    ‘This is Carmichael,’ Meriwether said by way of introduction.
    The young man extended his hand, smiled with a good show of straight