you that? Well, here’s one I made earlier.’ Elder slapped the file. ‘What I’ve been telling you so far are the facts, such as they are. This is the supposition. And it begins several years before the Hassan killing. It begins in 1982, when the Pope visited Scotland.’ Elder was reaching into the file. He drew out three large black and white photographs. ‘There was another tourist in Edinburgh that summer. Wolf Bandorff.’ Elder handed the photo over. It was a close-up of a crowd scene, picking out three or four people, focusing on two of them. A young couple. The man had a long thick mane of hair and wore circular spectacles. He was looking over the person in front of his shoulder. He looked to Barclay like a postgraduate student. Beside him was a girl with long straight black hair and dark eye make-up. In the 60s, she might have passed for a model.
‘You won’t have heard of Wolf,’ Elder was saying. But he waited until Barclay had shaken his head. ‘No, thought not. He’ll be in some computer, and that excuses us our bad memories and failure to learn. He was a West German terrorist. I say “West” because this was in the days before glorious unification, and I say “was” because he’s currently serving a sentence in a maximum security prison outside Hanover. German intelligence tipped us off that he was in the UK. There were a few false starts before we found him in Edinburgh. As soon as he knew we were on to him, he disappeared, along with his girlfriend there. These photos are the slim prize for our time and effort.’
Barclay put the photographs down and waited for more. Elder dug into the file again and produced a single photograph of similar size. ‘The girlfriend was Wolf’s acolyte. You know what acolyte means?’
‘Someone who’s learning, isn’t it?’
Elder’s eyes seemed to sparkle in the disappearing light. The garden was illuminated now chiefly by lights from inside the cottage. ‘That’s right,’ he said softly. ‘Someone who’s learning. In the early days, she attached herself to men, to the leaders of the various groups. That way she learned all the quicker, and gained power and influence too. That way, she gained contacts.’ Now he handed over the photograph. ‘This was taken just under four years ago, after the Hassan killing and the Italian kidnap. It was taken during Operation Warlock.’
Barclay looked up. ‘Warlock?’
‘Named by someone with an interest in role-playing games. And not very apt, since we soon found we were dealing not with a man but with a woman, apparently working alone. If there’s any pattern to the way she works, I’d say she joins or puts together a group, then plans something with some financial reward - a bank robbery or kidnap or paid assassination. Then she uses her share to finance her ... other activities. For example, the NATO General. No group ever claimed responsibility. There’s no information that any group wanted him dead specifically.’
‘A feminist assassin,’ mused Barclay.
‘That may not be so far from the truth.’
‘And this is her?’ Barclay waved the photograph.
‘I think so. Others aren’t convinced. I know Joyce thinks Witch is a group, and I know others think that too. Sticking to facts, this picture was taken at a rally by the opposition leader in one of the least stable South American countries.’
It was another crowd picture, focusing on a young woman with a dark tanned face but bleached and cropped blonde hair. Her cheeks were plump, her eyes small, her eyebrows almost non-existent.
‘We knew there was a plot to assassinate him. It would have been against everyone’s interests if such a plot had succeeded. There was concerted effort to stop the attempt taking place.’
‘Operation Warlock.’
‘Yes, Operation Warlock. After this rally and despite all our warnings, there was a motorcade. He died a few hours later. Poison. A pin-prick was found on the back of his hand. Among those who
‘You won’t have heard of Wolf,’ Elder was saying. But he waited until Barclay had shaken his head. ‘No, thought not. He’ll be in some computer, and that excuses us our bad memories and failure to learn. He was a West German terrorist. I say “West” because this was in the days before glorious unification, and I say “was” because he’s currently serving a sentence in a maximum security prison outside Hanover. German intelligence tipped us off that he was in the UK. There were a few false starts before we found him in Edinburgh. As soon as he knew we were on to him, he disappeared, along with his girlfriend there. These photos are the slim prize for our time and effort.’
Barclay put the photographs down and waited for more. Elder dug into the file again and produced a single photograph of similar size. ‘The girlfriend was Wolf’s acolyte. You know what acolyte means?’
‘Someone who’s learning, isn’t it?’
Elder’s eyes seemed to sparkle in the disappearing light. The garden was illuminated now chiefly by lights from inside the cottage. ‘That’s right,’ he said softly. ‘Someone who’s learning. In the early days, she attached herself to men, to the leaders of the various groups. That way she learned all the quicker, and gained power and influence too. That way, she gained contacts.’ Now he handed over the photograph. ‘This was taken just under four years ago, after the Hassan killing and the Italian kidnap. It was taken during Operation Warlock.’
Barclay looked up. ‘Warlock?’
‘Named by someone with an interest in role-playing games. And not very apt, since we soon found we were dealing not with a man but with a woman, apparently working alone. If there’s any pattern to the way she works, I’d say she joins or puts together a group, then plans something with some financial reward - a bank robbery or kidnap or paid assassination. Then she uses her share to finance her ... other activities. For example, the NATO General. No group ever claimed responsibility. There’s no information that any group wanted him dead specifically.’
‘A feminist assassin,’ mused Barclay.
‘That may not be so far from the truth.’
‘And this is her?’ Barclay waved the photograph.
‘I think so. Others aren’t convinced. I know Joyce thinks Witch is a group, and I know others think that too. Sticking to facts, this picture was taken at a rally by the opposition leader in one of the least stable South American countries.’
It was another crowd picture, focusing on a young woman with a dark tanned face but bleached and cropped blonde hair. Her cheeks were plump, her eyes small, her eyebrows almost non-existent.
‘We knew there was a plot to assassinate him. It would have been against everyone’s interests if such a plot had succeeded. There was concerted effort to stop the attempt taking place.’
‘Operation Warlock.’
‘Yes, Operation Warlock. After this rally and despite all our warnings, there was a motorcade. He died a few hours later. Poison. A pin-prick was found on the back of his hand. Among those who
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