The Power of One by Jane A. Adams

through the window to find the volume she sought.
    Then she left, tiptoeing back down the stairs, silent as she had come.

SIXTEEN
    E arly the next morning, Mac drove over to see DI Kendal.Abe Jackson, the MOD liaison, was not quite what Mac had expected. Recalling Kendal’s joke about his sounding American, he was amused to find that Abe’s father had, in fact, been born in the US. He was a cheerful soul, on the surface at least, round faced and smiling, with a shock of sandy hair growing at odd angles and a complexion that belonged to an outdoorsman, tanned and slightly reddened. He asked a lot of questions, rummaged through the evidence bags that Mac had brought from Paul’s flat and then asked, frankly, what Mac and Kendal thought was going on.
    Mac sensed something odd behind the question. He glanced at Kendal looking for a clue as to what.
    â€˜Abe here has never heard of anyone called Hale,’ he said.
    Mac absorbed that. ‘So who the hell is he?’ he asked.
    Abe shrugged. ‘Beats me,’ he said. ‘Complex business you seem to have gotten into. All I do know is, your Superintendent Aims believed his credentials and gave him full access.’
    That sounded like Aims, Mac thought. Not that the man was stupid; just a little too ready to be overwhelmed by title for Mac’s taste. ‘Did anyone think to check him out?’
    â€˜Not as easy as it might sound,’ Kendal pointed out. ‘Apparently Aims called the Home Office but the wheels of enquiry turn slowly. It’s not like you can phone someone and say, look, we have one of your spooks here, can you tell me if he’s the real deal or some Walter Mitty wannabe.’
    â€˜And I’m afraid when I got involved, it seemed to just confirm this Hale’s story. Aims just assumed we were part of the same team.’
    Mac sat down and pulled his coffee mug towards him, then, finding it empty, pushed it hopefully in Kendal’s direction. ‘And I suppose you’re for real,’ he said.
    â€˜I can give you a number, you can check me out.’
    â€˜No, what I can do is call someone who says of course this man is one of ours. They could be anyone; you could be anyone. You see my problem.’
    â€˜I see your problem.’
    â€˜And this Hale, no chance he could just be from another department? Some other branch of your secret society. Different set of handshakes?’
    â€˜It’s possible, of course, but no. Hale is a phoney. A well-informed, well-prepared phoney but still not the real thing.’
    â€˜He’s a man with resources though,’ Mac said. ‘And that’s worrying.’
    â€˜No hits on his fingerprints?’ Kendal asked hopefully.
    Mac shook his head. ‘CSI dusted everything that didn’t move. Nothing but Paul’s prints and those of his brother-and sister-in-law and a couple of unknowns. One partial on the pill packet that CSI think matches others found in the flat and so is probably the girlfriend, but they noted that they only found a half-dozen in total attributable. I have to think that the relationship was over and Paul had cleaned since she left. Unknown prints on the leather chair, that almost certainly belong to Hale, but that gets us no further.’
    Kendal had taken the hint and refilled his mug. Mac sipped gratefully, lack of sleep the night before making him feel sluggish and irritable. ‘It would help, of course, if we knew why your people were involved with Paul de Freitas?’
    Abe Jackson laughed. ‘Perhaps it would,’ he said. ‘Perhaps not. But that leads me neatly on to my next point. Despite Hale’s attempts to claim him, we lost a man too on that boat, so you can expect my company, Mac. On the upside, you can also expect use of our resources.’
    â€˜And on the downside?’
    â€˜You mean, other than having me around?’ Abe laughed at his own joke. ‘On the downside, while we would never