One day, that would have to be done, he decided. He would have to see the man, to find out who he was and what he looked like. Another day, another time, he reflected. After all, there would plenty of empty hours to fill. Almost by accident, his hand brushed against the CD player, switching the machine to play. Noise, he thought. Any kind of noise would be better than this endless, empty silence.
The opening bars of a Julie London song started to hum through the room; a mellow, torched jazz, both sentimental and bitter at the same time. "Take care of everything/I'm leaving my wedding ring/Don't look for me, I'll get ahead/Remember darling, don't smoke in bed."
Tom listened, enjoying the lushness of the strings that soared on each successive upbeat, before a thought began to burrow forwards in his mind. He started to scan the shelves, looking for the CD cover. Pulling the box from pile, he glanced down at the listing. He was right: 'Don't Smoke in Bed' was track seven of the 1960 album 'Around Midnight'. If the disc just happened to be lying in the player, the last thing played, it would start at track one. He looked down at the machine. It had been programmed; track seven selected to run in a continuous loop as soon as anyone pressed play. The song had been deliberately chosen, for his ears only, to fill the room after she had departed. Maybe she was worried I might start smoking again, thought Tom. Even though it is more than two years now since I gave up.
A Man Called Intrepid author dies aged 89(Dec 03 2013) William Stevenson, a journalist and author who drew on his close ties with intelligence sources to write two best-selling books in the 1970s, A Man Called...