Chief Accountant, said Hoyland. Can you get on the blower and straighten him out? Hes not taking much notice of me.
Hell get straightened out, I said grimly. Lets get back to Billson what do you mean when you say hes vanished?
He didnt turn up last week and he sent in no word. When we made enquiries we found hed left his digs without explanation. Hoyland paused. Thats no crime, Mr Stafford.
Not unless he took something with him. You say he isnt critical?
Definitely not. Hes been a fixture in the accounting department for fifteen years. No access to anything that matters.
Not that we know of. I thought about it for a few moments. All right, Mr Hoyland; Ill have a word with Isaacson. In the meantime check back on Billson; you never know what you might find.
Ill do that, Mr Stafford. Hoyland seemed relieved. Bucking top management was something hed rather not do himself.
I put down the telephone and grinned at Charlie. See what I mean. How would you handle a thing like that?
Franklin Engineering, he said reflectively. Defence contractors, arent they?
They do a bit for the army. Suspension systems for tanks nothing serious.
What are you going to do about it?
Im going to blow hell out of this joker, Isaacson. No money-pusher is going to tell one of my security officers what concerns security and what doesnt.
Charlie tilted back his chair and regarded me speculatively. Why dont you do it personally face to face? Youve been complaining about being tied to your desk, so why dont you pop over to Luton and do some legwork? You can easily get back in time for the board meeting. Get out of the office, Max; it might take that sour look off your face.
Is it as bad as that? But the idea was attractive, all the same. All right, Charlie; to hell with the desk! I rang Joyce. Get on to Hoyland at Franklin Engineering tell him Im on my way to Luton and to hold himself available. I cut off her wail of protest. Yes, I know the state of the intray itll get done tomorrow.
As I put down the telephone Charlie said, I dont suppose it is really important.
I shouldnt think so. The mans either gone on a toot or been knocked down by a car or something like that. No, Charlie; this is a days holiday, expenses paid by the firm.
TWO
I should have remembered Hoylands name because I remembered his competent, square face when I saw it. He was a reliable type and an ex-copper like so many of our security officers. He was surprised to see me; it wasnt often that the top brass of Stafford Security appeared in the front line, mores the pity.
His surprise was mingled with nervousness as he tried to assess why I had come personally. Nothing to worry about, I assured him. Only too glad to get away from the desk. Tell me about Billson.
Hoyland rubbed his chin. I dont know much about him. You know Ive only been here three months; I was transferred here when Laird retired.
I didnt know there was too damned much about my own firm I didnt know. It had grown too big and depersonalized. Yes, I said.
I took over Lairds files and checked his gradings. Billson came well into the green scale as safe as houses. He was at the bottom of my priorities.
But youve rechecked since he disappeared?
Hoyland nodded. Forty-four years old, worked here fifteen years. As much personality as a castrated rabbit. Lodges with a Mrs Harrison in the town. Shes a widow.
Anything between him and Mrs Harrison?
Hoyland grinned. Shes seventy.
That didnt mean much; Ninon de LEnclos was a whore at eighty. What about girl-friends?
Not Billson the girls didnt go for him from what Ive heard.
All right boy-friends?
Not that, either. I dont think he was the type.
He doesnt seem much of anything, I said caustically.
And thats a fact, said Hoyland. Hes so insignificant he hardly exists. Youd walk past him and not know he was there.
The original invisible man, I commented. All the qualifications for a sleeper.
Isnt fifteen years too long? queried Hoyland. Besides, he left everything in order.
As far as we know, thats all. Do the Special Branch boys know about this?
Theyve been poking around and come to the same conclusion as me.
Yes, I said. Billson is probably in some hospital, having lost his means of identification. But there is a mystery; why was he overpaid and why is management being coy about it?
Hoyland nodded. I talked to Stewart about it first hes Billsons immediate boss and he pushed me on to Isaacson. I got nowhere with him.
Ill see what I can do, I said, and went to find Stewart, who proved to be a sandy Scotsman, one of the new breed of bookkeepers. No dusty ledgers for him; figures were something which danced electronically in the guts of a computer.
No, he had no idea where Billson might have gone. In fact, he knew nothing about Billson, full stop.
Isnt that a little odd for a department head? Surely you know something about your subordinates?
Hes a very strange man, said Stewart. Reserved most of the time but capable of the most frantic outbursts occasionally. Sometimes he can be very difficult.
In what way?
Stewart shrugged. He goes on about injustice; about people not being given the proper credit for achievement. Hes very bitter about it.
Meaning himself?
No; it was always about others being repressed or cheated.
Any political implications?
Not at all, said Stewart positively. Politics mean nothing to him.
Did he do his work well?
Stewart offered me a wary look and said over-carefully, He did the work we asked of him to our satisfaction.
Would you say he was an achiever himself? I smiled. Was he in line for promotion, or anything like that?
Nothing like that. Stewart seemed aware that he had spoken too quickly and emphatically. Hes not a dynamic man.
I said, When did you join the firm, Mr Stewart?
Four years ago. I was brought down from Glasgow when the office was computerized.
At that time did you make any attempt to have Billson fired or transferred to another department?
Stewart jerked. I er I did something like that, yes. It was decided to keep him on.
By Mr Isaacson, I take it.
Yes. Youll have to ask him about that, he said with an air of relief.
So I did. Isaacson was a more rarefied breed of accountant than Stewart. Stewart knew how to make figures jump through hoops; Isaacson selected the hoops they jumped through. He was an expert on company law, especially that affecting taxation.
Billson! he said, and smiled. Theres a word in Yiddish which describes a man like Billson. Hes a nebbish.
Whats that?
A person of less than no account. Let me put it this way; if a man walks out of a room and it feels as though someone has just come in, then hes a nebbish.
Billson! he said, and smiled. Theres a word in Yiddish which describes a man like Billson. Hes a nebbish.
Whats that?
A person of less than no account. Let me put it this way; if a man walks out of a room and it feels as though someone has just come in, then hes a nebbish.
I leaned back in my chair and stared at Isaacson. So here we have a nebbish who draws £8000 for a job worth £2000, if that. How do you account for it?
I dont have to, he said easily. You can take that up with our managing director, Mr Grayson.
And where will I find Mr Grayson?
I regret that will be difficult, said Isaacson in a most unregretful manner. Hes in Switzerland for the skiing.
He looked so damned smug that I wanted to hit him, but I kept my temper and said deliberately, Mr Isaacson, my firm is solely responsible for security at Franklin Engineering. A man has disappeared and I find this lack of cooperation very strange. Dont you find it odd yourself?
He spread his hands. I repeat, Mr Stafford, that any questions concerning Mr Billson can be answered only by my managing director.
Who is sliding down hills on a couple of planks. I held Isaacsons eye. Stewart wanted to fire Billson but you vetoed it. Why?
I didnt. Mr Grayson did. He said Billson must stay.
Surely you asked his reasons.
Of course. Isaacson shook his head. He gave none. He paused. I know nothing of Billson, Mr Stafford, other than that he was protected, shall we say.
I thought about that. Why should Grayson be Billsons fairy godfather? Did you know that Billson was protected when Stewart wanted to fire him?
Oh yes. Isaacson smiled a little sadly. I wanted to fire him myself ten years ago. When Stewart brought up the suggestion I thought Id test it again with Mr Grayson. He shrugged. But the situation was still the same.
I said, Maybe Id better take this up at a higher level; perhaps with your Chairman.
As you wish, said Isaacson in a cold voice.
I decided to lower the temperature myself. Just one more thing, Mr Isaacson. When Mr Hoyland asks you for information you do not repeat not tell him that what he wants to know is no concern of security. You give him all the information you have, as you have given it to me. I hope I make myself clear?
Very clear. Isaacsons lips had gone very thin.
Very well; you will allow Mr Hoyland access to everything concerning Billson, especially his salary record. Ill have a word with him before I leave. I stood up. Good morning, Mr Isaacson.
I checked back with Hoyland and told him what I wanted, then went in search of the Widow Harrison and found her to be a comfortable motherly old soul, supplementing her old age pension by taking in a lodger. According to her, Billson was a very nice gentleman who was no trouble about the house and who caused her no heart-searching about fancy women. She had no idea why he had left and was perturbed about what she was going to do about Billsons room which still contained a lot of his possessions.
After all, I have me living to make, she said. The pension doesnt go far these days.
I paid her a month in advance for the room and marked it up to the Franklin Engineering account. If Isaacson queried it hed get a mouthful from me.
She had not noticed anything unusual about Billson before he walked out No, he wasnt any different. Of course, there were times he could get very angry, but that was just his way. I let him go on and didnt take much notice.
He was supposed to go to work last Monday, but he didnt. When did you see him last, Mrs Harrison?
It was Monday night. I thought hed been to work as usual. He didnt say he hadnt.
Was he in any way angry then?
A bit. He was talking about there being no justice, not even in the law. He said rich newspapers could afford expensive lawyers so that poor men like him didnt stand a chance. She laughed. He was that upset he overturned the glue-pot. But it was just his way, Mr Stafford.
Oh! What was he doing with the glue-pot?
Pasting something into that scrapbook of his. The one that had all the stuff in it about his father. He thought a lot of his father although I dont think he could have remembered him. Stands to reason, doesnt it? He was only a little boy when his father was killed.
Did he ever show you the scrapbook?
Oh yes; it was one of the first things he did when he came here eight years ago. That was the year after my late husband died. It was full of pictures cut out of newspapers and magazines all about his father. Lots of aeroplanes the old-fashioned kind like they had in the First World War.
Biplanes?
Lots of wings, she said vaguely. I dont know much about aeroplanes. They werent like the jets we have now. He told me all about his father lots of times; about how he was some kind of hero. After a while I just stopped listening and let it pass over me head. He seemed to think his dad had been cheated or something.
Do you mind if I see his room? Id like to have a look at that scrapbook.
Her brow wrinkled. I dont mind you seeing the room but, come to think of it, I dont think the books there. It stays on his dressing-table and I didnt see it when I cleaned up.
Id still like to see the room.
It was not much of a place for a man to live. Not uncomfortable but decidedly bleak. The furniture was Edwardian oversize or 1930s angular and the carpet was clean but threadbare. I sat on the bed and the springs protested. As I looked at the garish reproduction of Holman Hunts The Light of the World I wondered why an £8000-a-year man should live in a dump like this. The scrapbook, I said.
Its gone. He must have taken it with him.
Is anything else missing?
He took his razor and shaving brush, said Mrs Harrison. And his toothbrush. A couple of clean shirts and some socks and other things. Not more than would fill a small suitcase. The police made a list.
Do the police know about the scrapbook?
It never entered me head. She was suddenly nervous. Do you think I should tell them, sir?
Dont worry, I said. Ill tell them.
I do hope you can find Mr Billson, sir, she said, and hesitated. I wouldnt want to think hes come to any harm. He really should be married with someone to look after him. His sister came every month but that really wasnt enough.
He has a sister?
Not a real sister a half-sister, I think. The names different and shes not married. A funny foreign name it is I never can remember it. She comes and keeps him company in the evening about twice a month.
Does she know hes gone?
I dont know how she can, unless the police told her. I dont know her address but she lives in London.
Ill ask them, I said. Did Mr Billson have any girl-friends?
Oh no, sir. She shook her head. The problem is, you see, whod want to marry him? Not that theres anything wrong with him, she added hastily. But he just didnt seem to appeal to the ladies, sir.