Gallery Whispers

16

'So far, Inspector, there have been seventeen sightings of this man Hawkins across Europe.' Skinner glanced at the report on his desk.

'Every one of them has been checked out, and at the end of every one there's been a wild goose.

'Fake Hawkinses have been seen in Germany, France, Poland, Italy, Switzerland, England and Spain. Oh, sorry, I forgot Luxembourg.

These have all been registered in the past twenty-four hours. The Polish contact turned out to be a tall blonde transsexual, who just happened to have a limp.' He smiled. 'I guess we'll hear about a right … few more before we fasten onto the right man — if we ever do.'

'It's not like you to sound pessimistic, sir,' McGuire remarked.

'Realistic, Mario; I'd rather you said realistic. This bloke is a professional, just like us. Let me ask you something. If you wanted to go undercover for any purpose, how easy d'you think it would be for us to find you? Yes, even us, your close colleagues?'

The swarthy detective laughed. 'You mean if I decided to do a runner from the wife? How scarce could I make myself? 'I suppose I'd do the obvious things. I'd dye my hair and eyebrows another colour, as far away from black as possible… maybe red like Maggie. I'd wear glasses, dark wherever I could, to cut down the chance of eye contact with someone who might know me or might have seen a picture. I'd try to do something with my teeth; dye them too, perhaps, to make them less white and sparkly.' He paused, thinking. 'Yes, and I'd try to do something about my mannerisms as well; to eliminate recognisable things like, for example, the way I smile.

'My ace card, though, would be to speak Italian everywhere I went.'

Skinner nodded. 'Right. Now I don't think that all of those things put together would fool Maggie, or me, or Mr Martin or Neil: not the people closest to you. But someone else, even in the force, they'd have trouble.'

'How many languages does Hawkins speak?' asked McGuire, suddenly.

'Hey,' the DCC responded, 'that's a good question. I'll get on to London and ask them. Maybe we're looking for a German, or an Italian.'

'Not an Italian, boss. Even if he dyed his hair black, like mine, it wouldn't work. His features are wrong.'

'I'll take your word for it. Anyway, it all leads into the point I was going to make. You and I, we're amateurs in the anonymity business.

Hawkins is a pro. His life depends on it. If you can come up with a few simple dodges on the spur of the moment, he's going to pull something really special out of the hat. All that artwork in the envelopes I handed out yesterday, Mario; probably none of it's worth a damn.

'We're blind, my friend, stone blind. As coppers we're used to events and people we can come to grips with, and we've got all sorts of toys to help us look for them. But in this task we're an extension of the intelligence community; groping about in the dark trying to catch a puff of smoke in our hands.

'That's the way it is in their world. They deal in rumour and suggestion, not substance; they stand sightless in some damn great gallery, picking up each and every whisper, analysing them, giving them form and putting them together until the jigsaw picture is complete; or at least recognisable.'

Skinner leaned back in his chair. 'So, inspector, what murmurings have you been picking up around your patch?'

McGuire shook his head. 'So far, boss, the silence has been deafening.'