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the agent and got nothing but a blank stare。 The public defender admitted defeat to himself。 Well； there hadn't been much of a chance on this。
〃That's what I thought。〃 Shaw stood。 〃Tell your client that unless he opens up by the day after tomorrow； he's flying home to finish out a life sentence。 Make sure you tell him that。 If he wants to talk after he gets back； we'll send people to him。 They say the beer's pretty good over there； and I wouldn't mind flying over myself to find out。〃 The only thing the Bureau could use over Clark was fear。 The mission he'd been part of had hurt the Proves； and young； dumb Ned might not like the reception he got。 He'd be safer in a U。S。 penitentiary than he would be in a British one； but Shaw doubted that he understood this； or that he'd crack in any case。 Maybe after he got back； something might be arranged。
The case was not going well； not that he'd expected otherwise。 This sort of thing either cracked open immediately； or took months or years。 The people they were after were too clever to have left an immediate opening to be exploited。 What remained to him and his men was the day…by…day grind。 But that was the textbook definition of investigative police work。 Shaw knew this well enough： he had written one of the standard texts。
Chapter 18 Lights
Ashley entered the bookshop at four in the afternoon。 A true bibliophile； he paused on opening the door to appreciate the aroma。
〃Is Mr。 Cooley in today？〃 he asked the clerk。
〃No； sir；〃 Beatrix replied。 〃He's abroad on business。 May I help you？〃
〃Yes。 I understand that you've made some new acquisitions。〃
〃Ah； yes。 Have you heard about the Marlowe first folio？〃 Beatrix looked remarkably like a mouse。 Her hair was exactly the proper drab shade of brown and ill…kept。 Her face was puffy； whether from too much food or too much drink； Ashley couldn't say。 Her eyes were hidden behind thick glasses。 She dressed in a way that fitted the store exactly everything she had on was old and out of date。 Ashley remembered buying his wife the Bronte here； and wondered if those two sad； lonely sisters had looked like this girl。 It was too bad； really。 With a little effort she might actually have been attractive。
〃A Marlowe？〃 the man from 〃Five〃 asked。 〃First folio； you said？〃
〃Yes； sir； from the collection of the late Earl of Crundale。 As you know； Marlowe's plays were not actually printed until forty years after his death。〃 She went on； displaying something that her appearance didn't begin to hint at。 Ashley listened with respect。 The mouse knew her business as well as an Oxford don。
〃How do you find such things？〃 Ashley asked when she'd finished her discourse。
She smiled。 〃Mr。 Dennis can smell them。 He is always traveling； working with other dealers and lawyers and such。 He's in Ireland today； for example。 It's amazing how many books he manages to obtain over there。 Those horrid people have the most marvelous collections。〃 Beatrix did not approve of the Irish。
〃Indeed；〃 David Ashley noted。 He didn't react to this bit of news at all。 At least not physically； but a switch in the back of his head flipped on。 〃Well； that is one of the contributions our friends across the water have made。 A few rather good writers； and whiskey。〃
〃And bombers；〃 Beatrix noted。 〃I shouldn't want to travel there so much myself。〃
〃Oh； I take my holiday there quite often。 The fishing is marvelous。〃
〃That's what Lord Louis Mountbatten thought；〃 the clerk observed。
〃How often does Dennis go over？〃
〃At least once a month。〃
〃Well； on this Marlowe you have may I see it？〃 Ashley asked with an enthusiasm that was only partially feigned。
〃By all means。〃 The girl took the volume from a shelf and opened it with great care。 〃As you see； though the cover is in poor condition； the pages are in a remarkable state of preservation。〃
Ashley hovered over the book； his eyes running down the opened page。 〃Indeed they are。 How much for this one？〃
〃Mr。 Dennis hasn't set a price yet。 I believe another customer is already very interested in it； however。〃
〃Do you know who that is？〃
〃No； sir； I do not； and I would not be able to reveal his name in any case。 We respect our customers' confidentiality；〃 Beatrix said primly。
〃Quite so。 That is entirely proper；〃 Ashley agreed。 〃So when will Mr。 Cooley be back？ I want to talk to him about this myself。〃
〃He'll be back tomorrow afternoon。〃
〃Will you be here also？〃 Ashley asked with a charming smile。
〃No； I'll be at my other job。〃
〃Too bad。 Well； thank you very much for showing me this。〃 Ashley made for the door。
〃My pleasure； sir。〃
The security officer walked out of the arcade and turned right。 He waited for the afternoon traffic to clear before crossing the street。 He decided to walk back to Scotland Yard instead of taking a cab； and went downhill along St。 James's Street； turning left to go around the Palace to the east； then down Marlborough Road to The Mall。
It happened right there； he thought。 The getaway car turned here to make its escape。 The ambush was a mere hundred yards west of where I'm standing now。 He stood and looked for a few seconds； remembering。
The personality of a security officer is much the same all over the world。 They do not believe in coincidences； though they do believe in accidents。 They lack any semblance of a sense of humor where their work is concerned。 This es from the knowledge that only the most trusted of people have the ability to be traitors； before betraying their countries； they must first betray the people who trust them。 Beneath all his charm； Ashley was a man who hated traitors beyond all things； who suspected everyone and trusted no one。
Ten minutes later Ashley got past the security checkpoint at Scotland Yard and took the elevator to James Owens' office。
〃That Cooley chap；〃 he said。
〃Cooley？〃 Owens was puzzled for a moment。 〃Oh； the book dealer Watkins visited yesterday。 Is that where you were？〃
〃A fine little shop。 Its owner is in Ireland today；〃 Ashley said deadpan。
mander Owens nodded thoughtfully at that。 What had been unimportant changed with a word。 Ashley outlined what he had learned over several minutes。 It wasn't even a real lead yet； but it was something to be looked at。 Neither man said anything about how significant it might be there had been many such things to run down； all of which to date had ended at blank walls。 Many of the walls had also been checked out in every possible detail。 The investigation wasn't at a standstill。 People were still out on the street； accumulating information none of which was the least useful to the case。 This was something new to be looked at； nothing more than that； but for the moment that was enough。
It was eleven in the morning at Langley。 Ryan was not admitted to the meetings between CIA and FBI people coordinating information on the case。 Marty Cantor had explained to him that the FBI might be uneasy to have him there。 Jack didn't mind。 He'd get the information summaries after lunch； and that was enough for the moment。 Cantor would e away both with the information FBI had developed； plus the thoughts and ideas of the chief investigators。 Ryan didn't want that。 He preferred to look at the raw data。 His unprejudiced outsider's perspective had worked before and it might work again； he thought hoped。
The wonderful world of the international terrorist； Murray had said to him outside the Old Bailey。 It wasn't very wonderful； Jack thought； but it was a fairly plete world； including all of what the Greeks and Romans thought the civilized world was。 He was going over satellite reconnaissance data at the moment。 The bound report he was looking at contained no less than sixteen maps。 In addition to the cities and roads shown on them were little red triangles designating suspected terrorist training camps in four countries。 These were being photographed on almost a daily basis by the photoreconnaissance satellites （Jack was not allowed to know their number） orbiting the globe。 He concentrated on the ones in Libya。 They did have that report from an Italian agent that Sean Miller had been s