Prove it. Prove you know anything about me."
The gauntlet was well and truly down now. Tony thought. Never mind singing for your supper, talk for your life. This was the proving ground, the place where he would discover if his psychology was indeed a science or just bullshit.
"Fraser Duncan? Hello, this is Detective Inspector Carol Jordan of Bradfield police," she said. Carol had never grown used to referring to herself by her full title. She felt as if, any moment, someone was going to jump out and shout, "Oh no, you're not! We found you out at last." Luckily, that didn't seem to be happening today.
"Yes?" The voice was cautious, the single syllable drawn out in a question.
"Actually, it was my brother, Michael Jordan, who suggested you might be able to help me with an enquiry we're pursuing."
"Oh, yes?" The climate was getting warmer.
"How is Michael? Is he enjoying the software?"
"I think it's absolutely his favourite toy," Carol replied.
Fraser Duncan laughed.
"An expensive toy. Inspector. Now, what can I do for you?"
"It's the Vicom 3D Commander I wanted to talk to you about. In strictest confidence, you understand. We're pursuing a major murder investigation, and one of the theories I'm looking at is that our killer might be using your software to edit his own videos, maybe even to import other material into them. That would be possible, wouldn't it?"
"More than possible. It would be perfectly straightforward."
"So, do you keep records of all your customers?" Carol asked.
"We do. We don't sell all the packages direct, obviously, but anyone who buys the Commander should register their purchase with us since that gives them access to a free customer help line and also means they get priority mailings when we develop upgrades." Duncan was positively expansive now.
"Do I detect a request for access to our customer database. Inspector?"
"You do indeed, sir. This is a murder enquiry and the information could be crucial to us. Can I stress too that it would be completely confidential? I would personally undertake to ensure that your data is removed from our system as soon as we have finished with it,"
Carol said, trying not to sound as if she was begging.
"I don't know," Duncan said hesitantly.
"I'm not sure I like the idea of you and your colleagues hammering on the doors of my customers."
"It wouldn't be like that, Mr Duncan. No way. What we would do is input the list into our Home Office Major Large Enquiry System and cross-match it against existing data. We would only act on any correlations that came up with people who are already in there."
"Is this the serial killer you're after?" Duncan asked abruptly.
What did he want to hear, Carol wondered momentarily. "Yes," she said, taking a gamble.
"Let me call you back. Inspector. Just to make sure you are who you say you are."
"No problem." She gave him the main police switchboard number.
"Ask them to put you through to me in the HOLMES room at Scargill Street."
The next five minutes passed in a fever of impatience. The phone barely chirruped before Carol had it to her ear. "Inspector Jordan?"
"You owe me, sis."
"Michael!"
"I've just been telling Eraser Duncan what an honourable little person you are and despite what he's heard about the police, he can trust you."
"I love you, bro. Now get off the phone and let the man talk to me!"
Within the hour, Vicom's data was inside the HOLMES computer network, thanks to Dave Woolcott and the miracles of modern technology. Carol had passed Eraser Duncan on to him after they had agreed the ground rules for the data use, and Carol had listened uncomprehendingly to Dave's end of a conversation which consisted of alien expressions like 'baud rate' and
"ASCII files'.
Carol sat by Dave's side as he worked on one of the terminals.
"OK,"
he said.
"We've got the list from Swansea of everyone within a twenty-mile radius of Bradfield who has one of these Discoveries. We've also got the list of names from Vicom of people who have bought their software. I hit this key, and go down this menu to this option, wild-card match, and now we sit back and let the machine talk to itself."
For an agonizing minute, nothing happened. Then the screen cleared and a message flashed up. '[z] matches found. List matches? " Dave hit the 'y' key and two names and addresses appeared on the screen.
z: Philip Crozier, 23 Broughton Crag, Sheffield Road, Bradfield 6X4
2: Christopher Thorpe [sort criterion if Angelica Thorpe [sort criterion z], 14 Gregory Street, Moorth