"Good. Well, thank you very much for your time. Don't all
rush to get out. You might wake Jim over there."
"I wasn't asleep," said Jim, eyes tightly closed. "I heard
"Even the bit about the bears escaping into the Oracle Center
and eating a balloon seller?"
"Of course," he murmured, beginning to snore again.
Jack picked up his notes and disappeared through a side door.
"Are there usually this few people for his press
conferences?" asked Mary, horrified at the prospect of the career black hole
into which she was about to descend like a suicidal rabbit.
"Good Lord, no," replied Briggs in a shocked tone. "Often he
has no press at all."
He looked at his watch. "Goodness, is that the time? Check in
with me first thing tomorrow, and I'll introduce you to Jack. You'll like him.
Not exactly charismatic, but diligent and generally correct in most ....
some of his assumptions."
"Sir, I was wondering"
Briggs stopped her midsentence, divining precisely
what she was about to say. The reason was simple: All the detective sergeants he
had ever allocated to Jack said the same thing.
"Look upon it as a baptism of fire. The NCD is good
Briggs had to think for a moment. "Unconventional policing.
Your time won't be wasted. Oh, and one other thing."
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...