Chapter 10 Spy and Healing Elixir

Rand and his wife, Layla, had promised to visit Hastings since he retired from the British Intelligence Service and moved to Scotland.Thinking about it now, three full months have passed, and he still hasn't fulfilled his promise, and Rand can't help but feel a little ashamed.One night, after dinner, he said to Layla, "The weather seems to be fine this weekend. How about we drive to Scotland and see old Hastings?" She put down the archeology lecture she was reading and said, "I thought you wouldn't go." "I know I'm dragging my feet," Rand admitted. "I'm afraid he won't be comfortable with retirement."

A few months earlier, Hastings had been suspected of being the top Russian mole in Army Intelligence.It was Rand who helped him clear his name, but his former boss could not bear such a painful test.Hastings felt that even though everyone had apologized to him, he would no longer be able to do the job.He quit his job and lived in peace in the small house he had kept on the Firth of Forth, east of Edinburgh. "He must be lonely there," Leila guessed. "Being single all the time sucks." "I think he was married once in college, but divorced not long after. Since I've known him, he's dedicated himself to his work. When I became the director of the Covert Communications Bureau, he also worked every day. Involved in the affairs of the bureau in every detail, and that was just one of the many responsibilities he took on."

So, on a Friday morning in May, Rand and his wife, Leila, headed for the east coast of Scotland. They had phoned ahead of time to inform Hastings of their visit, the bald man who had apparently been keeping watch at the windows of the cottage.As soon as they turned into the gravel path, he went out to meet him, smiled, and extended his hand to greet Rand. "It's very kind of you two to come all the way to see me!" Just three weeks into his retirement, Hastings has aged considerably, walking slowly and looking down at the ground, as if afraid of falling.In his office overlooking the Thames, he is always confident.

"What a beautiful house!" Layla exclaimed as he showed them around four small rooms. "Just small. Too small." "It's enough for you to live alone." "You see," returned Hastings, "I have my books, and all my gear. It's such a pleasure fishing around here. My niece lives in Edinburgh, and she visits me every fortnight Once. Had a good time." On their drive here, Layla promised that despite the fact that she hated Hastings more and more in the years leading up to his retirement, she would always be happy here. "At least he won't come to you with his problems two or three times a year."

"No, those days are over." Rand was surprised to find that this thought actually made him feel a little sad, both for Hastings and himself. At this time, seeing Hastings in this pension cottage, Rand felt much better.His former boss had been introducing the situation in this area in detail. It wasn't until Leila left to go to the bathroom that he asked, "After I left, have you been to the Secret Communications Bureau or other departments?" "No, I have nothing to do with them." "I thought Parkinson would ask you for help." "Nor has he ever been before. You're the only one I've ever helped." Parkinson had been promoted to director of Covert Communications after Rand retired more than a decade ago.The bureau chief, who played by the book and was highly professional, rarely asked others for help.But Rand didn't hate him.That's when Parkinson hinted that he had Hastings taken to a hiding place for interrogation on charges of treason.

Hastings sighed and looked out over the water as if following a large yacht going at full speed. "After all these years, I think we're both finally retired." "Don't talk about business, you two!" Layla warned when she came back, overhearing their conversation. "Have you decided how to spend the weekend with us?" Rand hadn't seen the playful look on Hastings' face for years. "We'll drive to Forshart tomorrow. Not far from here, there's another wonder there—a spring whose waters are said to heal wounds and diseases." Layla and Rand slept soundly on the spacious double bed in the guest room.Rand suspected they were the first people to sleep in this bed, at least not after he retired.While Hastings has been cleared of suspicion, it remains doubtful whether his former colleagues would want to be seen visiting him.This is the philosophy of life in intelligence work.

Hastings made his own breakfast, more relaxed than at any time since their arrival.They drove Rand's car and headed for Forest Hart.On the way, Hastings reminded: "I heard that although this place has not been advertised in China so far, it is still crowded with people every weekend." "If there are too many tourists, we'll go along the coast," Leila suggested. Towards noon they reached Forsheart.The traffic turned to a meadow.A local sheriff keeps everything in order and directs vehicles onto a road leading to the holy spring, which is the heart of the tourist attraction.The path is crowded with tourists coming and going.Some were devoutly silent, while others talked and laughed loudly like ordinary tourists.For them, Forshart was just a stop on a tour.

At the edge of the stream, Rand was surprised to see a tall, dark-haired man in priestly attire facing tourists like a tour guide. "Come, put your hands in the Well of Healing," he told them. "Miracle happens once, and it will happen again. Don't be afraid! Come, Granny, I will help you." "Is he real?" Leila whispered in Rand's ear. "Let's see if he calls for donations first." Most people put their hands into the fast-flowing stream, and an elderly man even took off his shoes and socks and soaked his feet in the water.The pastor said again, "I am Pastor Joshua Fowler. When you leave, you will find bottles of healing holy water available for you to buy. All proceeds from the sale will be used to continue the cause of my Lord. Thank you, thank you. Please Go ahead. There are still many pilgrims eager to bathe in the holy water."

Rand noticed that Hastings was no longer paying attention to the priest, but turned his eyes to a beautiful woman standing at the edge of the crowd.She was wearing a stylish tanned leather raincoat, and a scarf wrapped her hair to keep it from being ruffled by the wind.Brown hair, tall, about thirty-five years old.Rand surmised that she was a merchant, and wondered what she was doing here.Hastings must have wondered, too, for he suddenly moved away from Rand and walked toward her through the crowd.Rand followed, and no one would shy away from the beauty. "Hello, Clen," said Hastings, coming up to her.

She glanced at him and said, "My name is Monica. You must have misunderstood the person." She spoke with a thick American accent. She immediately blended into the crowd, hurried up the path, and headed for the parking lot. "Who do you take her for?" Rand asked. "A young woman I met in London last year. Karen Hayes." "But you've got the wrong person." "No. That's her." "Is she one of us?" "A CIA, actually. One of their specialists." "Oh?" This made Rand very interested.During his tenure, he had some personal contacts with the United States.

At this moment Leila came over, "What are you two doing, sneaking around like two thieves! Are you planning to steal the holy water sale receipt?" "Hastings thought he saw someone he knew," Rand explained. "Should we go?" "I'm sorry to have brought you here," Hastings muttered apologetically. "There's nothing to see." As they passed a small glass counter, Layla decided to buy a souvenir. "You guys go first," she said. "Never buy back a bottle of water," Rand warned her. He and Hastings strolled toward the parking lot, which seemed to be a bit of a traffic jam. "I guess she might be on a mission." Hastings seemed to be talking to himself. "what?" "The woman we saw. Karen Hayes." "You miss your job, don't you?" "After retiring from the Covert Communications Agency, don't you want to?" "But, I have Layla, and I'm still writing books. Of course, you didn't let me idle in those years." "Rand, I'm not alone, if that's what you mean. I just want to know what's going on every day." "Of course you can still be reinstated. At the beginning, they accused you of crimes for no reason, and now they cannot refuse your application for reinstatement." "I would also feel uncomfortable going back. Although Parkinson and the others were friendly and cared for me, there was still something in their eyes that wasn't there before. Anyway, I still have two years until the mandatory Retirement age, I find that I can retire now with both a termination benefit and a full pension. It seems like a wise choice.” Layla came running down the path, a small plastic bag in her hand. "That water sold for three pounds a bottle! Can you believe it? I finally bought a laminated color photo of the creek, and Reverend Fowler standing next to it." "I hope you didn't mean to hang it in our living room," Rand said to her. Many departing vehicles lined up in the parking lot.Rand heard the sheriff blowing his whistle when he heard another, equally sharp sound coming from his left. It was a woman's scream. They ran to her with many others.She was a gray-haired woman who looked like someone's mother.A woman in a raincoat crouches at her feet.Blood oozed from the cut beneath her clothes and had soaked her coat. It was the woman Hastings thought was Karen Hayes. Rand and Hastings had never been in the business of tipping the police, so they stood by as onlookers when a brief commotion ensued.Sheriff Stebbins, who had been directing traffic in the parking lot, was approached by some locals.After a general inspection, he lifted the raincoat to reveal the wound under the left chest.He then hurried over to the patrol car and used a police pager to call for backup. "Everyone, back off," he urged, holding a traffic baton and extending his arms, "There's nothing to see here. Get out of here, please!" Layla tugged at Rand's sleeve, "We won't get involved, will we?" "Hastings thinks he knows her," he replied softly. "We'll wait until the scouting party arrives." That's when Pastor Joshua Fowler walked into the crowd, exhorting believers to remain calm. "A woman in her prime was attacked! Join me in praying for her, and for the murderer who attacked her. My Lord will show mercy to him and refuse to take in the soul of the attacked man." Rand pulled Hastings aside. "You said she was a CIA specialist. What's her specialty?" "If she's Karen Hayes, which I think she is anyway, she's an expert in disguise. Washington sent her to help us with a special mission last year. I thought she'd come home." "What mission?" "That's top secret, Rand. You know I can't—" Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of two police cars.If Rand thought they could still stay out of it, he was dead wrong.The second police car had no lights, and the first detective who stepped out of it recognized Hastings at a glance and walked straight towards him. "Well, Mr. Hastings, have you anything to do with the case?" "Not at all. I'm just showing my friend around. Geoffrey Rand, this is Captain Scooby Winston." They shook hands, and Winston said: "Don't go. I'll talk to you two about the case in a moment." Then they hurried off to examine the body. "What now?" Layla asked. "He's a friend of Hastings'. He wants to talk to us." Hastings came up. "I've known Captain Winston since I bought the house. I go to see him every time I come here to fish. He's a good man, and the case will probably go to him, unless he asks." assistance." "Don't the local police often ask Scotland Yard to help solve murder cases?" Leila looked at the policemen surrounding the corpse. "I don't think she committed suicide." Hastings snorted, "Don't think it's called Scotland Yard, but under normal circumstances, the Scottish area is outside its jurisdiction. The Scottish courts and legal system are in their own line, which is different from ours." Rand noticed that Reverend Fowler was gesturing with both hands and talking with Captain Winston.Probably troubled by the impact on his business. "Tell me about the place again," he demanded of Hastings, "and Fowler." "Well, it's my first time here, but I've read about it in the local paper, of course. Fowler is said to have rented the place from the property owner about a year ago. Within a few months , a young woman who had been lame for many years with a crotch problem claimed to have been cured of her affliction by daily bathing in the stream. Then an elderly man reported that his arthritis was cured as well. And then Fowler set up a souvenir counter and sold bottled holy water." "The world is full of charlatans," Rand commented. "What would bring a CIA technician here?" "I can't imagine that." Leila, who had been listening to their conversation, chimed in with her own opinion: "Maybe she's got tennis elbow or something. She's probably here for the holy water." "Then why did she deny her identity when I greeted her?" Hastings questioned. Leila shrugged. "She's embarrassed," she said, "or you've got the wrong person." After the body was removed, Captain Winston asked the Sheriff to send them over. "I've lived here for forty years since I was born. Nothing like this has ever happened to Forshart," grumbled Sheriff Stebbins muffled. Once there are too many, troubles will follow. Misfortunes follow people." No one objected.Winston's words were much the same. "The man who did it must have come from the city," he argued. "Country people never stab strangers for no reason." "How do you know there is no reason?" Hastings demanded. "The woman was an American and was traveling alone. We found her hire car in the car park. A road map was spread out in the passenger seat. She had apparently toured England and Scotland. This morning she just Here. In her bag we found a bill for a single room at a hotel in Edinburgh last night." Rand nodded, "She lives alone in the hotel, and the map on the passenger seat shows that she is also driving alone." "That's right," the captain confirmed, "The stranger was murdered in a foreign land." "What is the murder weapon?" "I presume it was a thin-bladed dagger. The details won't be known until after the dissection," he turned his attention to Hastings. "Now tell me what you see." "Actually, nothing. I noticed this woman earlier, by the stream, when Fowler was talking. I thought I noticed her because she was younger and more attractive than most of the other visitors. force." The sheriff agreed. "I also noticed that there are a lot of elderly people here. Did you notice anyone staring at her or following her?" "There's no one like that," said Hastings.From his disturbed face, Rand could read his mind.He realized that speaking to Karen Hayes and calling her name may have caused her murder. "What about Fowler? Know anything about him?" "Nothing. I just read a little in the papers. About healing." "Yes," murmured Captain Winston, "but he did not treat the woman." They were about to leave, and Rand asked again: "Have you confirmed her identity?" "She carried a lot of documents with her, including an American passport, registered as Monica Campbell, and an MI5 privilege card, issued to people who need to travel on special missions." "Interesting." Rand muttered. On the way back to Hastings' cottage, Rand offered a more plausible explanation. "Maybe you're mistaken. She said her name was Monica, not Karen. She might be telling the truth. I once read in a book that everyone in the world has someone who looks like you people. Maybe she and Karen are a similar couple." "If she was just a simple American tourist, why was she killed?" "Untargeted violence, as the police infer." "Nonsense!" burst Hastings. "I always thought I caused her to be killed." "So you're sure she's Karen Hayes?" "One hundred percent sure. Last year, I spent two full days with her, and my memory is very good." "what are you planning to do?" He sighed.During particularly tricky operations, Rand could often hear him sigh like this. "I think I should ask London to send a message to America." "It's none of your business anymore." Rand reminded him. "This woman is dead, for God's sake! Someone cares about her - not just the people who hired her to work, but her family and friends." "Through that MI5 travel privilege card, they'll be able to identify her." Hastings was silent for a moment, then said: "No, I must inform them now. Otherwise they won't hear until Monday." Once they got back to the cabin, he made a beeline for the phone.Rand knew he was calling an internal number from London headquarters.The call is answered even on weekends.After he hung up the phone, he said, "Okay, I left a message for Parkinson and asked for it to be conveyed first. Although it is not within the scope of the Secret Communications Bureau's responsibility, he has always been good to me." They waited, expecting the phone to ring at any moment, but there was no call.Finally, Layla went to the window and admired the green countryside. "It's beautiful and peaceful. Why would the CIA be interested in this place?" "I can't think of one," says Hastings, "there's a decommissioned RAF base near here, but it was abandoned years ago. Europe is peaceful now, and it's unlikely to be operational again. The Cold War is over. " "The spies are all retired, too," Rand said with a smile. "No kidding. You know how many of our jobs are taken over by spy satellites. If Russia becomes a fully open society, even these satellites will be obsolete." "There will always be spies, Hastings. There will always be petty wars and state-sponsored terrorism." Layla became more and more restless.Today, her black hair has been mixed with gray, but she is still the lovely girl Rand first met on the banks of the Nile at the height of the Cold War.The Russian army was stationed in Egypt at the time, and he remembered the first time he saw her petite figure and beautiful face with high cheekbones.Has it really been eighteen years?Yes.Leila is forty-two years old this year. "Well, this fountain of healing is exciting indeed," she said to Hastings. "What are you going to show us next? Preferably somewhere where there are no dead bodies." "Would you like something to eat? It's still hours before dinner." They decided to grab some sandwiches before driving to dinner at a specialty restaurant in Edinburgh, where Rand treated them.On the way they will stop at another tourist attraction, the Invesque Chalet. As a result, their plans have changed.Just as they were going out to the car, a black sedan pulled up in front of the cabin.Rand recognized Parkinson at a glance, and there were two slightly obese Americans with him. "Glad to have found you!" said Parkinson. "We flew here after hearing from you, Hastings. This Mr. Campbell is worried about his daughter." In this way, the game is far from over.Rand secretly guessed.Americans love games, but they pale in comparison to the British. "My name is Rand, Mr. Campbell. Haven't we met before?" The American frowned at him. "I don't think so, unless it's in Richmond. I'm Hoff Campbell, Monica's father. I have a construction company here." "You saw his daughter?" Parkinson asked Hastings. Rand and Layla both looked at Hastings, who sighed again and said, "I think we'd better go back in and talk." After everyone was seated in Hastings' tiny living room, he looked at Campbell and said, "The woman I saw in Forest Hart this morning was Karen Hayes, a CIA expert in disguise. As far as I know, she's never out on the field. She's young and pretty, and has a knack for disguises. Whoever sent her to Forest Hart sent her to her death. Which of you is going to take responsibility for that?" The American shifted nervously, "I think you must be mistaken—" "Damn me if I'm wrong! You're a CIA, everyone in this room knows that. Parkinson isn't going to sacrifice his weekend off to fly to Scotland with a father worried about his daughter." The man who had just identified himself as Hof Campbell stood up. "Please tell us everything you know." He softened his voice slightly and said. "What's your name?" "Campor's all right. Tell me." Hastings seemed to have made up his mind.He nodded and began to tell, telling them everything that happened.When he finished speaking, Rand took up the conversation. "Now it's your turn, Mr. Campbell." The American glanced at him displeasedly, "Is there any problem with this person?" "He's the former head of the Covert Communications Agency," Parkinson explained. "I can vouch for him." "This woman too?" Layla got up to leave, but Rand pulled her back into the chair. "My wife stays here." Campbell decided not to insist. "Fine. Have any of you heard the name Oleg Bankwer?" Rand has been out of service for too long to remember the name.But Hastings immediately added: "Cripple." "That's right. A master disguise. Some say he can be anything but he's crippled." He showed them a picture of a gray-haired man. "He's in Forsheart?" "We think he came to London two weeks ago with some sort of mission." Rand interrupted the conversation between Campbell and Hastings. "I think the Cold War is over. Why is Moscow still sending people here?" "The Cold War will not end as long as industrial espionage exists. They want all the information they can get their hands on." "Forshart doesn't have so many industries and spies." Hastings said coldly. Campbell ignored him and continued: "We sent—" "Hayes." "Well, yes. Miss Hayes is better than any other specialist in disguise London can offer. She knows what to look for, and we're sure she'll see through even if Bankwall is pretending to be an old lady. He She has been following him since he left London ten days ago." "Has he been in contact with anyone?" "Yes. A teacher in Bath, a magistrate in Newcastle, and a postman in Blackpool. No one of importance, and no one who might be a spy." "Maybe he's selling magazine subscriptions," Rand offered a suggestion. Campbell shot him a disapproving look. "Mr. Rand, please don't. I'm trying to keep things short." "Sorry." "She called London this morning and told us she was in Falls Hart. Bankwall seemed interested in the Well of Healing, and she was sure he'd be in touch again. That's the last word we got." "I spoke to her," Hastings admitted. "I called her name. Possibly gave away his identity." Parkinson pursed his lips, "I doubt he's ever heard of her name, unless the person he's in contact with knows her." "But within minutes she was killed." "Probably just a coincidence," Hof Campbell said. Rand could see that Hastings was still troubled.Though not intentional, the thought that he might be responsible for the woman's death lingered in his mind. "She's not a secret agent, you know," he argued more to himself, "how could I have thought she was on a field trip here—by Reverend Fowler's healing fountain, or somewhere else!" "It's kind of weird," Campbell agreed. Parkinson walked to the phone, "They promised that the initial autopsy report will be available right now. Can I use your phone?" "As you please." Parkinson chatted briskly with the person on the other end of the phone, asked a question or two, and hung up.He came back to report, "Karen Hayes was stabbed to death by a thin-bladed sharp object, a single fatal wound, about seven inches deep, through the left breast and straight to the heart. She died within seconds." "A thin-edged weapon," Rand muttered. "What do we know about Oleg Bankwall's appearance? The one thing he can't hide?" "Lame!" Rand nodded. "If he's crippled, he's likely to be on crutches. We'll naturally think of swords and sticks." Parkinson shrugged, "He's probably on his way back to Moscow with his sword and staff by now." "Not necessarily," retorted Rand, "his limp would give him away, especially if he tried to abscond. I think it must have helped Miss Hayes a lot when she followed him. To him , the safest place is in Forsheart, at Fowler's magical spring." "You think he's going back?" Campbell asked. "Maybe he never left." It was past six o'clock when they came to the Holy Spring of Healing again, but it was in the north, and it was the end of May, and the sun still had several hours to go down.There were few trees by the spring, but the crowd continued unabated, and there was no doubt that some of them were curious hunters who were attracted by the news of the murder.The two teenagers behind the souvenir counter were selling bottles of holy water, too busy to put money in the register.And Sheriff Stebbins is still dutifully directing traffic, waving his baton, pointing this way, waving that.As soon as they entered the grounds, they saw Joshua Fowler standing on the path leading the crowd towards the holy spring. "We want to ask you a few questions," Parkinson told him.Layla, standing beside Rand, searched the faces of passers-by, trying to spot faces she had seen before. "I've talked to the local police," Fowler said, identifying them as out-of-towners from the South.Unfamiliar with the legal system, he presumably took them for Scotland Yard investigators. "I have nothing more to say." "It's not directly related to the murder," Rand explained. "You've been here all day. We're looking for a lame man, on crutches, who may have wandered here all afternoon, or left and then Back." He temporarily ruled out the possibility of Bankworth posing as a woman. "I don't notice people like that," he said. While others doubted his claims, Rand believed him.Oleg Bankwer's reputation as an expert on disguises would not be earned if he was capable of low-level mistakes.He might be seen once, and only once.If he needs to come here again, he'll change his outfit. Suddenly he felt Layla tugging at his sleeve. "That man!" "What happened to him?" Rand followed her gaze and saw a white-haired gentleman with outstanding temperament, leaning on a cane, walking along the path to the holy spring. "Didn't you see that? That picture we just looked at! It's Oleg Bankwer without makeup!" "My goodness!" He moved forward, blending in with the line of pilgrims, cutting in front of a blind man and his guide dog.Now the gentleman walked more quickly, with only a slight limp.When he was almost at the spring, Rand stopped him. "Excuse me, Mr Bankwall?" He turned to face him, grinning, and Rand barely noticed the cane being swung at him.Fortunately, Leila's shout from behind alerted him in time, he raised his right arm, blocked the heavy blow that was so fast that he couldn't see clearly, and snatched the walking stick.Then, the two of them twisted together, overturned on the path, and rolled into the healing fountain. Campbell and Parkinson separated the two of them, overpowered the Russians, and pulled them ashore from the water.Hastings, who always prioritized management, quickly negotiated with Fowler to borrow a small warehouse behind the souvenir counter.Inside they tried to dry off while waiting for Captain Winston's backup and a change of clothes. "You Brits are crazy!" protested Oleg Bankwall. "What do you want?" Hof Campbell glared at him, "Your Führer keeps talking about peace and a new beginning, but sends you here for espionage." "No, no! You don't understand. My mission is to dismantle a covert network of spies. Some of the spies have been here for twenty years or more. I visit each of them and tell them we don't need them any more." "Sounds like that!" Campbell snapped. "What about that young woman? Why did you kill her?" "I didn't do it." The American angrily picked up the cane, pressed it to his knee and broke it. Just wood.There are no thin-edged metal weapons inside. Hastings and Rand exchanged a look.Parkinson tried to keep his voice calm and said, "Give me the names of the spies you have contacted." The Russian body shivered under the wet clothes. "It's not fair, is it? They haven't done anything against your country before, and they won't. Most of them were recruited while they were in college, but never put to use. Why would they To be punished for something you might have done but didn't do?" "Who killed Karen Hayes?" Campbell asked. "I don't know. I don't know that woman." "She's been following you since London." The Russian's eyes widened slightly. "Oh?" "Who are you here to see?" Rand asked. "No one. I'm going to Edinburgh, just a stopover." "Pilgrimage to holy water." "my leg--" "I know." Rand sighed, and went outside, hoping that the afterglow of the setting sun would help dry his clothes.They couldn't get results out of Oleg Bankwer. Of course, he may be telling the truth about the purpose of his mission.The cold war is over.However, only Campbell, Parkinson, and the man with the sword staff have not heard the news. Hastings followed him outside the house. "how do you want to do it?" "It's up to me. Parkinson and the American have the final say." "They need you, Rand. They've got nowhere to go. If they let Captain Winston arrest the Russian, he'll do it, and we'll have an international incident." He watched the stream of people moving towards the holy spring, they were looking for their faith.Probably everyone is looking, and the Russians are no exception.He didn't know why, but he thought he knew who had killed Karen Hayes. "I'll go back to the car," Rand decided, "stay with Layla and cooperate with me." "What do you want us to do?" "You will know when the time comes." Rand walked briskly across the busy parking lot and got into the car.He backed the car out of the parking space, took the exit, and headed toward the highway.At this time, Campbell and Parkinson also came out to watch.Finally, ahead of the highway, he saw flashing police lights.Captain Winston arrived. Sheriff Stebbins commanded the traffic to stop with a sly air, letting the police car drive in first.Then he turned to face the traffic leaving the parking lot and motioned for Rand to follow a car ahead.Rand's car almost brushed the sheriff's body, and Rand took the opportunity to stretch his hand out of the driver's window and snatched the baton held in his right hand. He saw the color fade from the sheriff's face, and Stebbins turned and bolted away through the traffic. Hastings and Parkinson caught him before he ran onto the highway. Later, at the local police station, Captain Winston explained the charges against him to him. "You know, Stebbins, we're on the hunt for the murderer of that American woman, Karen Hayes. These gentlemen have other concerns. We found blood in the groove of your baton, and we're just waiting for a blood test." It worked out." "I understand, sir," said the sheriff, staring at his hands. Winston nodded and began to fill out the form. "But I'm sure we'd all like to hear how Mr. Rand deduced that the murder weapon was concealed in your baton." "It's just a guess," Rand admitted, "but it's also based. We have no reason to doubt Bankwall's words, so let's believe that he came here to contact some secret spies. There are men and women among these people.隐藏得很深，一旦英俄两国交恶，那么他们就浮出水面，展开行动。这些间谍不属于任何组织，独立行事。克伦·海斯跟踪班克沃，记录下了其他城市中与他有过接触的人。他都见了谁了？一个老师，一个地方官员，一个邮递员——都是公务员或者某种形式的公共雇员。接下来，他来到福斯哈特，特意跑来乔舒亚·福勒的疗伤圣泉，为的是通知名单上的下一个人。今天在福斯哈特，谁可以被算做公务员？一个在圣泉工作，只能在这里会面的人？一定不是福勒，也不会是他雇来卖瓶装圣水的两个青年。只有在这里站岗执勤，疏导交通的斯坦宾斯治安官符合条件。” 帕金森仍然难以置信地摇着头。“如果爆发战争，俄国要这地方的治安官做什么？这想法很荒谬。” “是吗？早前，黑斯廷斯告诉我说，这附近有个废弃多年的皇家空军基地。一旦战争爆发，基地可能重新投入使用。一个拥有长期良好记录的治安官，这想法很荒谬吗？他可能正是俄国需要安插在这里的那种间谍。” “但你仍然没有证据证明是他杀害了海斯。” “开始的时候没有证据，只是一个模糊的猜想。中午的时候，我们与福勒谈了一会儿，正要离开时，我注意到停车场里有些拥堵。当时我没太在意，尤其是刚刚发现了尸体，但是是什么导致了车流拥堵？我们都看到斯坦宾斯指挥交通时效率多高。有没有可能他离开工作岗位一会儿，在那些树木的遮挡下，杀了克伦·海斯。我想这大有可能。凶器不一定像剑杖那么长。毕竟，只刺入了七英寸左右。英国治安官是不配枪的，但我们看到斯坦宾斯拿着一根短小的交通警棍。假设这警棍可以旋开，里面藏着一把薄刃匕首，就像一根削尖的毛衣针一样。他可以走到克伦·海斯身边，神不知鬼不觉地刺她一刀。于是我决定查看一下那根警棍。对于斯坦宾斯这样的隐秘间谍来说，这是绝好的武器。他可能用不到，但却永不离身。” “他是怎么知道克伦·海斯的身份的？”黑斯廷斯轻声问道，“我叫她名字的时候，他不在附近。” 最后还是斯坦宾斯治安官自己给出了答案，语气中透出屈服。“她紧跟着班克沃开进来，想把车停在他旁边。当我引导她将车停在另一个地方时，她向我出示了军情五处签发给她的一张特别优待卡，准许她在英国境内一路畅通地旅行。我便知道了她在跟踪他，也知道了她会追查到我。我必须杀了她。” “你和班克沃的会面呢？” “我收到他要来的消息，但是我今天要执勤。每个周末，他们都派一个治安官在福勒那里指挥交通。我休息的时候，班克沃过来和我说话。我杀了她以后，他也离开了。但后来又回来了。你们也就认出了他。” “他回来时没有化装。”坎波尔说。 “他曾经说过，有时候不乔装就是最好的乔装。” “可能是这样，”兰德赞同道，“只是我妻子从来没读过乔装指南。她只是看了照片，认出了他。”