11: Enter Lionel
THE Jaguar was doing a steady sixty-five. Callaghan noted with appreciation the moonlight on the long road, drew deeply at his cigarette, thought about Gringall. Gringall was no fool— certainly no fool.
Callaghan thought back through the years, resuscitated in his memory the times he had been up against Gringall on other and perhaps not so important matters. Those had been in the piping times of peace, when murder was merely murder, blackmail merely blackmail: when there were no other strings attached. Callaghan thought that in those days he and Gringall had spent most of their time being "clever" with each other. He thought that the score was fairly equal. But Gringall was being more clever now than he had ever been before. He was putting it up to Callaghan. He was aski
