Toxic agent 

Every October during two Saturdays Silbury High Street is transformed into a fairground, as the Statute Fairs are held. Originally these had been events during which farm workers, labourers, domestic servants and some craftsmen would be hired by new employers. Their employment would, by statute of an Act of Parliament of 1677, last for one year. At the end of the year many would either be let go or would leave voluntarily; conditions of employment were never good, as any farm hand employed in 1966 would still attest, so often for the labourer herself or himself moving to a new employer was at least a change from the unfortunately familiar grind of the past year.  

The sale of food and drink was always a feature of the Statute Fairs, and there were always concerns about public drunkenness at these events. Over time other entertainments were added, which eventually became the main feature of the fairs, as their use for the arrangement of casual labour declined and eventually disappeared. The drunkenness remained, along with incidences of petty crime. Policing the Statute Fairs was a major annual exercise for Inspector Fatima Dieng and the other officers at Silbury police station. 

It was though one that Fatima always looked forward to and enjoyed, unlike her predecessor. The difference between them was their approach to the people that organized the fair, the carnies as they were known to local Silburians, though they called themselves travellers. The old inspector was supremely suspicious of them. She believed that they were all criminals, even if she was never able to identify any crime they may have committed. The fact that the travellers all spoke a common foreign language among themselves made them, in the old inspector’s view, a potential threat to national security. The other police officers had gone along with the approach of suspicion, and, therefore, non-cooperation, all except for Constable Nguyen Chi Man. She had such an innate curiosity for different people that every year she made sure to get to know the travellers and their own rules and hierarchy.  

When Fatima was preparing for her first fair in Silbury, Nguyen had spoken privately to her about how she thought the police’s approach could change and improve. She had taken Fatima to meet the person that was in charge of the travellers’ own security operation, a woman probably in her seventies whom everyone referred to as the General. Fatima soon learned that no one among the travellers was ever referred to by a name. In traveller security everyone had a military style rank, and that was how they were known. Others used their particular ride as a label, or they might be named Driver or Porter. Fatima made collaboration with the General and her people a centrepiece of her approach to policing the fair. In the course of the last couple of years that had resulted in a much more peaceful and enjoyable experience for everyone concerned. Fatima also found that the travellers themselves had a strict moral code, which forbade, for instance, any alcohol consumption whilst they were working on a fair or carnival or otherwise in the presence of non-traveller people. They were also scrupulously honest in their dealings with their clients. 

Today was the Thursday before the day of the first of the year’s Statute Fairs. The General and her most senior officers had just arrived in town for their own preparations and were paying a courtesy call on Inspector Dieng at the police station in Mabel Lane. They sat in Fatima’s office. Her desk had been cleared of papers. Instead there was a generous tea spread to which everyone was helping themselves. Fatima and Nguyen made easy small talk with the traveller security officers. Sergeant Joyce Banda was also in the room but sat silent and uncomfortable. 

There was one important, and delicate, matter that Fatima needed to communicate to the General. 

“General, I have to bring up an issue that is sensitive. I know that you will be discreet about it. I should like nothing more this year than to continue with the very successful cooperation and operating protocols that we have evolved over the past couple of years. There is, however, a complication. 

“This is not in the news. The government has an atomic, biological and chemical warfare establishment at Manton Down just outside of Silbury. People know that it is there but are not aware of all that it does, because that is secret. Well one of the senior scientists working at Manton Down, the country’s leading specialist in chemical nerve agents, has disappeared. Because of the nature of her work, and because of the heightened tensions caused by the cold war with the Soviet Union and the other countries within its sphere of interest, there are a number of MI5 operatives here in Silbury to see what they can find out. I have been ordered to cooperate closely with them. 

“The point is, General, that you and your people all come originally from places that are presently within the Soviet sphere of influence. There may, therefore, be a tendency among some in MI5 to suspect some collaboration with Soviet agents that may be operating in the country. They have different rules of engagement than we do in the police. I’ll do my best to prevent any mishaps. It will help if your people can inform us immediately of any approaches to you by MI5 officers, so we can intervene as appropriate.” 

The General, as Fatima knew well now, never spoke in haste but always thought through what she had to say. Fatima had initially supposed this was because she was thinking in one language and speaking in another. Over the years, however, she came to the view that the General was simply an extremely thoughtful person, in addition to being highly intelligent. 

“I am very grateful for your candour, Inspector.” The General never referred to Fatima by name, even though she had often been invited to do so. “We shall be especially careful in how we conduct ourselves this year, and, as far as possible, we shall seek guidance from you in how to deal with these other authorities. I think that you have some personal experience of them, though I don’t quite recall where I had heard that.” 

Fatima did indeed have personal experience of working with army intelligence during her national service. Though she had left at the end of it, army intelligence never truly let anyone go, which meant that she did still have a number of active contacts in the intelligence world. There is no way in which the General should have known any of this, but Fatima had long since given up wondering how she did acquire her considerable body of knowledge. She just knew, and Fatima also knew that there was nothing sinister in that knowledge. 

The General went on. “Does the missing scientist have a name? I just ask in case any of us might hear it mentioned, so that we may then alert you.” 

“Yes,” Fatima responded, “her name is Marlene Perera. That and her field of work are all that I know about her. We don’t even have a photograph or physical description.” 

Once the General and her colleagues had left the police station, Fatima also left accompanied by Sergeant Banda and Constable Nguyen. Their destination was not very far, so they walked taking the footpath opposite the police station that ran between Mabel Lane and Kabeya Square via a footbridge across the River Forge. They then continued in the same northerly direction along School Lane, passing the Red Cow Inn on their right. When they reached the High Street, they turned left and came almost immediately to the Bourne Arms Hotel, where they were to meet the team sent by MI5 to look into the disappearance of Miss Perera. 

Normally, when asked by any other branch of the services coordinated by the Home Office, such as MI5, the local police station would have provided office accommodation and other services to such a visiting team. In this case, however, Fatima had had to refuse due to the burden of policing the upcoming statute fairs for which she had a temporary influx of police officers from nearby towns. Her refusal had not been popular either with MI5, or with the Chief Constable. She had written to Fatima saying that this just demonstrated her well known reluctance to collaborate with others, although, in fact, this was the first instance of any such refusal of collaboration. And Fatima had herself located alternative accommodation for the MI5 personnel, along with a substantial discount. They were housed in a very convenient suite of rooms that afforded them a central working space, one private office-cum-interview room, and three bedrooms, all interconnected but also separated from the rest of the hotel. A dumb waiter in one corner of the central working space allowed for the carriage of food and drink without disturbance. 

In MI5’s interview room, which the hotel, at Fatima’s request, had furnished with a rectangular dining table and eight chairs, they began with introductions. The MI5 team was led by Mrs Miriam Barré, formerly a Colonel in army intelligence. She had never worked there with Fatima, but the two had heard of each other. One could see that there was some mutual understanding between the two women, that they had a world in common. One might also have noted that there was a degree of wariness.  

Mrs Barré was accompanied by two young women, who were never named. Fatima was amused by the similarities of the approaches of MI5, representing all that was British establishment, and traveller security, definitely quite the opposite. 

Fatima felt that things would get off to the best start if she made an effort at apology. “I’m really sorry, Colonel, that we have not been able to accommodate you at the police station on this particular occasion. You are aware, I’m sure, that at this time of year we have some major events in the town that bring in many visitors. This obliges us to request help from some of the neighbouring police forces, and they have taken up any spare space we may have had. I do hope though that the accommodation we have arranged here at the Bourne Arms is convenient for you, and we shall certainly be happy to provide any other cooperation.” 

Mrs Barré was clearly pleased at the use of her former army rank. She beamed. 

“Yes, Inspector, it would have been more convenient for us to have worked out of the police station, though I think that’s more a problem for the accountants than it is for me. We shall be grateful for your help in seeing if we can locate the missing scientist, or any clues as to her present whereabouts, assuming nothing untoward may have happened to her. I have two specific requests to make of you and your officers. 

“Firstly, we are only three from MI5. We need some additional eyes and ears. I’ll give you shortly a photograph and brief description of Miss Marlene Perera. In confidence - and I’d be grateful if you could remind all of your officers that they are bound by the Official Secrets Act - I should like you to show this to your officers so that they can watch for any sign of Miss Perera and listen out for any mention that may be made of her. I specifically do not want them to go around asking questions. Also, should they spot her, they should do no more than immediately report the sighting. On no account are they to apprehend her. That is our responsibility. As you can see, this is something they can all do in the course of their regular duties, including their policing of the upcoming fairs. 

“Secondly, if it is at all possible, I should appreciate your assigning one officer to be our permanent liaison. That should be the person who receives any and all information, including any sightings, that your officers may gather in the course of their duties. I should like, again if it’s possible, that person to be billeted here with us.” 

Fatima could see Banda begin to get agitated. “Yes, Sergeant, did you want to say something?” 

“Ma’am,” Banda began nervously, speaking quietly only to Fatima, “I don’t have so much of a role in the policing of the fairs, since Constable Nguyen is your main liaison with the carnies. If it’s OK with you, I think I could make a contribution here with the MI5 people, and I would learn a lot from it.” 

“That’s settled then,” said Fatima out loud. “Sergeant Banda will be your permanent liaison, and she will be located here with you, Colonel. She can start straight away.” 

Secretly Fatima was pleased that Banda would be working with the MI5 team and not distract the police in their collaboration, more important in Fatima’s eyes, with traveller security. 

“Just a couple of questions before Constable Nguyen and I leave then, Colonel,” Fatima continued. “What was the reason for Miss Perera’s disappearance, and why is this of such importance to MI5?” 

“On the first count, Inspector, we are still trying to determine why Miss Perera disappeared. We are actually more focused at the moment on trying to locate her. If we can do that, we can ask her what may have happened. 

“As for your second question, again I need to remind everyone present that you are bound by the Official Secrets Act. Miss Perera has been working on chemical nerve agents. Everyone that knows about Manton Down, and this is public information, assumes that its scientists are protecting the British people against weapons that could be deployed by our enemies, especially the Soviet Union and its minions. What the general populace does not know is that some of these boffins have also been developing improvements and refinements on atomic, biological and chemical weapons so that we can be prepared for what our enemies may be able to deploy in the future. Unfortunately our enemies are undoubtedly aware of this secret work, and they would be more than delighted to get their hands on one of the people leading such work.” 

Fatima inwardly considered the folly of developing new weapons just for the purpose of protecting against them. She was actually not convinced at all that Mrs Barré had told them anywhere near the full story. However, she kept her thoughts to herself. She thanked Mrs Barré and signed a receipt for the photograph and description of Miss Perera. Then they took their leave. 

At the police station, Fatima had Nguyen surreptitiously take her own snaps of the photograph of Miss Perera using a new instant camera she had just acquired. They would quietly give some copies to fellow police officers, though Sergeant Banda didn’t need to know. They also decided confidentially to pass one on to the General.  

That evening Fatima had a rendezvous with her two best friends: Kamala Peiris, manager of the Western Provincial Bank, and Anna Kaboré, proprietor of the Red Cow Inn. They would see one another often in the course of their workaday and family lives, but they also always reserved a couple of evenings each month to spend personal time together without their husbands and children. Fatima was pleased to have this opportunity to spend time away from the major issues that were preoccupying her at present, notably how to avoid any clash, if possible any contact, between MI5 and the travellers. She could not see it going well. 

On these occasions, they never talked about work and family. They also never met in any of their respective homes. This evening they gathered at the Sun Inn at the far western end of the High Street. This historic public house also served some of the best simple food to be had at any establishment in Silbury (of course, if one discounted the meals prepared at the Red Cow by Anna’s husband, Paramanga). Anna had ordered their famous savoury sausages, where the local Shoatshire sausages were filled with sage cheese and baked. Kamala and Fatima both had Cornish pasties, made fresh by the husband of the Sun’s owner. As usual their conversation was a mix of local gossip, books they had been reading, television shows they had been watching, and especially the progress of the Didi Bahini opera company on its tour of London and the provinces; they had plans to go and see one of their favourite operettas performed by the company once it reached the west of England. 

Fatima was interested to learn how Anna was enjoying her new role as a Borough Councillor. She had been elected to the position in the summer replacing a former councillor, and cousin of the Chief Constable, who had been convicted and imprisoned for counterfeiting bank notes. 

“Mostly it’s extremely tedious and frustrating,” said Anna. “There is so much that I would like to change, especially to expand the recreational opportunities for young people and keep them away from mischief. But I keep running up against procedural problems. There are apparently correct ways of doing things, and everything has to be examined by the appropriate committee, and so on. And budget is always an issue. I don’t have the patience for all of that, especially when some other councillor tells me we have to refer a particular aspect to this or that committee, of which we are all exactly the same members! 

“My overall impression is that the Council doesn’t actually want to do anything. The point is just for a group of self-important women to have a puffed up title to put in front of their names.” 

“What do you think, Kamala?” Fatima asked. “You’ve probably known a lot more people associated with local government than have we. Did any of them ever let you into a secret about how to get things done?” 

Kamala seemed not to have heard. She sat silently pushing pieces of pastie around her plate as if she were playing some elaborate game of draughts with herself. Fatima nudged her and repeated her question. Kamala sighed. 

“I’m sorry, you two. There’s a problem preoccupying me at work and, of course, that’s not something I should raise here. It’s against the rules we’ve set ourselves for the advancement of our friendship. And, in any case, everything to do with my work is confidential, just as it is for you, Fatima. 

“I should go. I’m not good company this evening. I promise to be in touch. Have fun without me.” 

With that, Kamala stood up and abruptly left the Sun with Anna and Fatima looking aghast. 

“Should I go after her?” asked Anna. 

“No,” Fatima replied, “my guess is that she has something to work out, and she needs to do it by herself.” 

Left to themselves, Fatima and Anna still had plenty to talk about, and they remained at the Sun for another hour, before they too decided to call it a night. 

Fatima had told Anna she thought Kamala should be left alone, but she was actually not convinced that was the case. As she would have done to return to her home, she turned right on exiting the Sun and walked in the direction of Silbury College. Then she turned left into Vale Road. At the corner of Vale Road and Mabel Lane she came to the house where Kamala lived with her family. She went to the front door and rang the bell. Kamala came almost immediately to let her in. They went and sat in the kitchen, whilst Kamala’s husband, Gamini, watched a show on the television in the living room. 

“I know you, Kamala, and I don’t believe there is a work problem that is distracting you to the extent that I saw this evening. You have always been the calmest manager I have ever known. And, if it is a work problem that is genuinely worrying you, I should probably be informed about it as a police officer.” 

Kamala poured cups of tea for them both and took a sip before responding to Fatima. 

“You’re right, of course. I’m worried sick. It’s a personal, family matter, but it’s also a legal issue. I’m guessing you will have heard about the scientist who’s gone missing from Manton Down. Well that scientist is my niece, Marlene Perera. She came here two days ago and asked if she could stay with us for a bit, while she sorted out what she was going to do with her life. I didn’t know then that she had simply walked out of her job without telling anyone. 

“Yesterday she explained that was what she had done. She said she didn’t want to tell me any more, because that might get me into even more trouble than I risked simply by providing her a place to stay. In the afternoon, just after I had got back from work but before we sat down for tea, she went out for a walk. About half an hour after she had left there was a ring at the door, and three women were there showing me warrant cards from MI5. They wanted to talk to me about Marlene. 

“I let them in, and they asked me if I had seen her recently. I said, truthfully, that we are not that close. She’s Gamini’s elder brother’s daughter. The two brothers have never got on and hardly ever speak except if they should happen to see each other at rare family gatherings. Marlene did come and see us, when she moved into the area, and we had given her our telephone number in case she should ever need it. But we never heard from her until she came the other day asking to stay. 

“Then I told them a lie. I said that we had not seen Marlene since that first visit a year and half ago. I don’t know why I did that. I was just concerned that someone who’s a relative, even one we hardly ever saw, might be in trouble with the government, and I panicked. I was so worried that she might come back from her walk whilst the MI5 people were here, but that didn’t happen. 

“In fact, she hasn’t come back at all, and now I’m really worried for her, as well as for Gamini and myself.” 

“Do you remember the names of the MI5 officers who came here?” Fatima asked. 

“There was an older woman who was in charge. She said her name was Mrs Barré. The other two were young women, I thought, in their twenties. They never said their names, and I saw their warrant cards too briefly to see exactly who they were.” 

“Actually, the senior officer is Colonel Miriam Barré,” said Fatima, “or at least she was a Colonel when she was in army intelligence. This is a secret, but you’ve already met them. They have indeed been sent by MI5 to find Miss Marlene Perera and to ascertain why she left Manton Down so abruptly. I met Colonel Barré this afternoon, when she asked for police help in their investigation; we’ve given them Sergeant Banda to be their permanent liaison with us. No one then said they knew that Miss Perera was your niece or that they had already paid you a visit. As often happens in these matters, they seem to be asking for a level of cooperation they are not willing to extend in return. 

“Sorry, Kamala, that doesn’t help you. I just had to vent a bit to ease my own frustrations. Now you’ve shared your problem, and I’m going to help you. My police officers have all seen a photograph of Miss Perera and have a description of her. We’ll keep an eye out. There are also some other friends I think might be able to assist us and who will do so discreetly. You leave this to us. If we do find your niece, we shall make sure she is protected, including from MI5. Meanwhile, if you hear again from Colonel Barré or her associates, let me know immediately.” 

Fatima remained at Kamala’s home for another twenty minutes or so. She wanted to be sure that she had allayed her friend’s worries, at least in some good measure. Then she continued along Mabel Lane to her own home nearby the police station. She had the impression, as she walked, that someone might be following her, though she took no steps to verify that until she had reached her house. Once inside, she turned out the light in the front room and lifted a curtain. Indeed she could see a shadow across the street. Who might that be? 

The next morning Fatima met with the team of police officers from her own and neighbouring stations that had been assigned to patrol the following day’s Statute Fair. Once they had gone through each officer’s individual assignment, they left the police station to familiarize those not from Silbury with the layout of the town. The fair itself would take place in the High Street, but they needed to keep adjoining areas under surveillance, as there would be visitors parking their cars and revellers drinking in the various pubs around the town. In previous years there had also been the odd break in at businesses outside the High Street. 

Fatima walked in turn with a number of the visiting police officers, as did Constable Nguyen. Sergeant Banda would normally also have been with them, but she had clearly decided that her new liaison role did not entail actually liaising with her own colleagues. 

After a while, Fatima decided to take a walk up Jekyll Lane, which leads from the High Street to the downs above the town. She was convinced, as she had been the previous evening, that someone was tailing her. After walking for a hundred yards or so, she turned right into Front Lane, which runs parallel to the High Street. She started walking faster and soon reached one of the narrow footpaths that follow twisting routes down to the High Street. Her plan was to wait at the exit of the footpath to see who came out. As she walked down though, she suddenly heard a loud noise behind her and retraced her steps. What she found was one of the young MI5 officers, whom she had seen earlier with Colonel Barré, sitting on ground with her hands tied behind her. 

“What’s happened to you then?” Fatima asked her. 

Suddenly there was someone else there, one of the women from traveller security that had accompanied the General to her meeting with Fatima. 

“This woman was following you, Inspector,” she said. “I know she’s not a police officer, because we’ve already clocked all of them. I thought you wouldn’t want to have a tail, so I stopped her.” 

 “Well that was kind of you, but it’s not necessary,” Fatima responded. “This person is indeed not a police officer, but she is one of our collaborators. You can tell the General that she and her colleagues should be left to carry out their business, even if that should involve following me or one of my officers. 

“By the way, what is your name?” 

“I’m Major, Ma’am,” the woman answered. She stood very close to the MI5 officer as if she were memorizing all her features and then abruptly walked away downhill toward the High Street. 

Fatima helped the MI5 officer out of the ropes that were binding her and then asked: “Why were you following me? Why have I been followed since yesterday evening?” 

“You are a friend of Mrs Kamala Peiris, Inspector, and she is the aunt of Marlene Perera. You were with Mrs Peiris yesterday evening at the Sun Inn and then at her home. We thought she might have told you something about Miss Perera and that we might learn something from your movements.” 

“And why did you not tell me about the connection between Miss Perera and Mrs Peiris when we met yesterday?” Fatima asked. “You don’t seem to be very committed to the basic principles of cooperation.” 

“You’ll have to ask the chief about that,” the young MI5 officer responded. “Who was that who tied me up?” 

“Ask Sergeant Banda,” Fatima said brusquely and walked away uphill back the way she had come. As she passed a cross path that runs parallel to the High Street, she heard footsteps going rapidly away from her. She thought momentarily about pursuing them but had had enough of chasing phantoms for one day. 

Instead she continued on turning right into Front Lane until she came, through another narrow footpath, to Downs Hill Street. She then went down the hill past Khan Antiques and Curios, round the back of the Town Hall, and on to the police station via School Lane, Kabeya Square and the footbridge across the River Forge. 

When she arrived at the police station, Fatima found that Constables Nguyen and Senanayake had also returned. She asked them to join her in her office telling them what had happened that morning. 

“I’m worried that MI5’s search for Miss Perera may somehow interfere with our operation to assure public order and safety during tomorrow’s fair. If we could find her before the fair starts in earnest we might be able to get the spies off of our backs. Any ideas, Ladies?” 

Senanayake sat quietly looking pensive. Nguyen raised her hand. 

“Ma’am, we was told by MI5 not to ask any questions about Miss Perera, and that do limit our potential courses of action. But she have to have somewhere to spend the night. If she be still in Silbury most likely she do be at a hotel or inn or bed and breakfast, and they all has registers. We can look at them without letting on who it is we do want to find. There don’t be so many of them, so it needn’t take too much time away from other things. Three or four of us could do it in a couple of hours.” 

Fatima was often surprised by Nguyen. She was used to her having useful and productive suggestions at all times. It was her mix of atrocious grammar allied to sometimes complex concepts that was particularly astounding. 

“That is an excellent idea, Constable. Could you please organize the inquiry and bring me the results before the end of the day?” 

Nguyen was delighted to be given the responsibility. She and Senanayake left Fatima’s office, whilst Fatima herself sat quietly thinking what, if anything, she should do about being tailed and lied to by MI5. She did not have long to reflect. A quarter of an hour later, Miriam Barré walked through her door accompanied by Sergeant Banda. Banda looked uncomfortable. Mrs Barré was clearly very angry. 

“Inspector Dieng, I expect arrests. One of my agents was assaulted this morning, as you know well. I want the perpetrator brought into custody. And I want her apparent superior officer, this so called General, apprehended for me to question. I am extremely suspicious of these carnies. They all have origins in Soviet territories, and I firmly believe that some, if not all, of them are Soviet agents, or at least sympathisers. 

“Sergeant Banda here tells me that you regularly collaborate with the carnies own security apparatus. I do not understand how you can justify that. At best you are abdicating your own responsibilities as the duly constituted police force for this area. At worst you are consorting with the enemy. 

“Now I want to know what you are going to do about this.” 

But before Fatima could answer this outburst from Mrs Barré, one of the constables temporarily assigned from a neighbouring police force put her head around the door. 

“I’m very sorry to interrupt, Ma’am, but there is a telephone call for you. The caller says it is urgent. I’m afraid I’m not familiar with your switchboard, so I wasn’t able to connect the call to your office.” 

“I’ll come to the switchboard,” Fatima said to the Constable. Then she addressed Mrs Barré and Sergeant Banda. “Please excuse me. I should only be about five minutes. The constable here will bring you some tea.” 

It was actually fifteen minutes before Fatima returned to her office. Tea cups were empty, and Mrs Barré’s blood pressure had clearly taken the opportunity of this pause to rise. 

“Inspector, I am waiting for an answer, or do I have to go straight to the Chief Constable?” she screamed. 

Fatima seemed to have profited from her absence to compose herself. 

“Colonel, I think we need to start by taking stock of how we are collaborating on what I had thought was a common objective. 

“You have been far from candid with me. Whilst you were asking for my collaboration, you had already been at the house of one of our most prominent citizens, Mrs Kamala Peiris, who also happens to be one of my closest friends. You did not tell me about that, or that the person we are seeking is her niece. You have further had me followed both yesterday evening and this morning, which hardly speaks to a relationship of trust and cooperation. 

“It makes me wonder if it is worth my while continuing our supposed collaboration. However, I do recognize where my duty lies, and we shall continue to work with you, Colonel. But we shall do so in our own way.” 

She paused, allowing Mrs Barré to interject: “I am still waiting for an answer to my demands, Inspector.” 

“Yes, Colonel,” Fatima continued, “you’ve made two demands, haven’t you? Let’s deal with them one at a time.” 

Sergeant Banda looked on aghast. Her boss, a police inspector in a small town in an unimportant part of England, was being deliberately rude and provocative to a senior officer in the country’s domestic intelligence service. It did not look like it was going to go well, and Banda worried that it might particularly hurt her. 

Fatima went on. “You’ve asked that I arrest a member of the traveller security apparatus. I wonder if you have a name for the person I’m supposed to arrest. And what is the crime with which I’m to charge her, and on what evidence? It may be inconvenient to you, Colonel, but the police are required to follow due process. 

“No, you don’t need to answer me yet. I’d like to address your second demand, as you say. 

“You want me to apprehend the General, so that you may question her. I don’t believe we have grounds for her detention. You certainly have not cited any. 

“Nevertheless, I have arranged for you to meet the General. I think it may be edifying on both sides. She will not be coming here, but she is happy to receive us at her local residence. Shall we go?” 

Fatima did not wait for an answer. She just opened the door and ushered an open mouthed Mrs Barré through. 

“Do join us, Sergeant,” said Fatima, as Banda seemed still rooted to her chair. “This is all part of your opportunity to gain useful experience.” 

Mabel Lane, where Silbury police station is situated, runs from Vale Road at its eastern end to Sarum Road at its western end. The three ladies proceeded in the direction of Sarum Road and then turned right. Almost immediately they came to a road that goes sharply uphill in the direction of Silbury Grammar School. About ten yards along this road a footpath forks off to the left. Following the footpath the ladies came to a cluster of small prefabricated bungalows. They entered the garden of the second of these, and the front door opened almost immediately. 

The front door gave directly onto a medium sized living room modestly furnished with a three seat sofa and two armchairs with a low coffee table between them. In one corner was a dark wooden dining table and four chairs, and in the opposite corner was an open cabinet containing books and records, with a record player and wireless on the top. The one window was small, so the room itself remained dark. 

From one of the armchairs the General rose to shake hands with her visitors and invite them to take seats on the sofa. Two other travellers entered from the kitchen bearing cups of tea and a couple of plates with sandwiches and cakes, which they placed on the coffee table. Then they brought two dining chairs over to the centre of the room and also sat down. 

“Colonel,” the General began, “I’m very glad that you came, as it gives me the opportunity to apologize in person for the embarrassment  your agent must have suffered at the hands of the Major here. As I understand it, she was concerned about the safety our good friend, Inspector Dieng. She wasn’t aware in the moment that the person surreptitiously following the Inspector was also an official of the government’s security service. I do hope that your agent is in good health now.” 

The General went on to indicate that everyone should help themselves to food and drink and waited for Mrs Barré to say what was on her mind. She clearly was not mollified by the General’s apology. 

“Madam, first of all I would like to know what gives you the right to call yourself a general. I doubt very much that you have ever been employed by the armed services of this country. I suspect indeed that you are a charlatan.” 

The General was not provoked at all by Mrs Barré’s outburst. As was her habit, she sat silently for a minute or so, and then she said: “Colonel, you are completely correct that I have not served in the British armed forces. I came to this country twenty years ago when I was already past the age of fifty. But before I came to Britain I was indeed a soldier and served throughout what you call the Second World War and what was known to my comrades and myself as the Great Patriotic War. 

“Yes, before you ask, I was a general in the Red Army fighting fascism in Europe as an ally of your own armed forces. At the end of the war my people, who are a minority in the territories controlled by the Soviet Union, came under suspicion due to our close contacts with allied forces. I and others had to flee before we may have faced arrest and worse. I am eternally grateful that this country has welcomed us and provided a safe place for us to live, even though we still face some difficulties due to our, let’s say, difference. 

“No, Colonel, I am no more a charlatan than you are. I was a real general, just as you were a real colonel in British Army Intelligence, where Inspector Dieng also served. Today, since it is our custom to refer to ourselves by function rather than name, I am known as General, since I head our traveller security organization.” 

Mrs Barré sat fuming. This exchange was not going as she had hoped or intended. Fatima filled the silence that had enveloped the room. 

“General, Colonel Barré was also interested to know about the collaboration between the Silbury police and your organization during the Statute Fairs.” 

There was another moment of silence, and then the General said: “Oh that’s very simple really. We travellers have a very strict moral code, especially when we come into contact with other people, as we do during fairs and carnivals. My officers are responsible for enforcing our codes among our people. The Inspector and her officers take responsibility for the members of the public who come to the fair to enjoy the rides and our other offerings, as well as the businesses in the town. We try not to overlap. At the same time we work closely together. It has worked very well, wouldn’t you say, Inspector?” 

“Yes, I would,” Fatima responded. “Was there anything else you wanted to ask, Colonel? I know that the General has work to do now in preparation for tomorrow’s fair.” 

“No thank you, Inspector. That will do, at least for the present.” Mrs Barré stood up and immediately proceeded toward the front door, followed by the ever silent Sergeant Banda. Fatima stayed for a while to pay her respects to the General, and to apologise for the rudeness of the others, before joining Barré and Banda outside. As they now walked back in the direction of the police station, Mrs Barré decided to share her thoughts with Fatima. 

“By her own admission this General was a senior officer in the service of our enemy. I have strong suspicions that this is still the case and that it is no coincidence that a former Soviet General should arrive in this town at the very same time as a scientist disappears from a nearby highly sensitive government research facility. I shall be doing some further investigation into this General. You, Inspector, can begin by telling me her real name.” 

“I should be happy, Colonel, to tell you the General’s name, if I knew it myself,” Fatima answered, “but the travellers never tell any outsider their names, only their functions, and that is how we know them. I hope too that you noted the General’s service in the Red Army occurred at a time when the Soviets were our allies, and that she left at the time that the Cold War first began. I would not say that fits the profile of a Soviet agent or sympathiser.” 

“That, Inspector, is what we are supposed to believe.” 

Back at the police station, Fatima sought out Constables Nguyen and Senanayake to see what they had found from their visits to the town’s hotels and inns. Senanayake was as usual reticent to offer her own thoughts and looked to Nguyen to manage the report back to their inspector. 

“Ma’am,” Nguyen began, “we did get almost everyone involved. It were good training for our visitors from the other police stations especially to know the pubs in the town, what with the amount of drinking we is going to see tomorrow and the next Saturday. 

“Obviously we did not ask directly if there were a Miss Marlene Perera staying at each place. Instead we asks to look at the registers. Also I did tell everyone to look for possible aliases, as Miss Perera were unlikely to register in her own name. Then, if there were any possible matches, we did ask about the guest to the receptionist or manager or owner or whoever were there. We was able this way to identify all the people registered at the town’s hotels and inns. I do be convinced she is not in any of them.” 

Nguyen looked at Senanayake, who nodded. 

“Well you’ve done your best, and I certainly commend your thorough methods, but that’s discouraging,” said Fatima in response.  “Do you have any other ideas?” 

Nguyen looked again at the silent Senanayake and then said: “Miss Perera would be needing somewhere to stay. She do be used to being comfortable, so she won’t be sleeping rough on the streets or in the forest. She aren’t in any hotel. She did have a place to stay with a relative, as you did tell us, Ma’am, but she’ve left that place. We reckon she have left the town completely and gone somewhere else.” 

“I wish that were the case, Constable,” Fatima replied, “but, if that were so, I believe our friends from MI5 would also have left, that there would have been a sighting of her somewhere. No, there’s another possibility that we haven’t yet thought of, and I worry that Miss Perera is going to complicate our lives just when we need to be focusing on potential public order issues during the Statute Fair. 

“Anyway, thank you once again for a job very well done.” Fatima signalled the meeting was at an end. The two constables stood up and left her office. 

Once they had gone, Fatima telephoned Kamala to see if she might have seen or heard from her niece since she had left her house, but she had no news. The mystery remained very annoyingly mysterious. 

That evening the travellers arrived in large numbers, and during the night they set up most of their rides and positioned their wagons selling food and drink. The police blocked off the High Street diverting all traffic along Vale Road, Mabel Lane and Sarum Road. As she did every year, Fatima personally inspected all of the diversion signs and barriers, and the travellers’ preparations in the High Street before going home for the night. She had frequent sightings of the General and her officers in the course of her peregrinations. This evening she did not notice anyone following her. Either they were very good, or they were just not there. 

The next morning, the morning of the fair itself, the sky was clear, and the temperature was relatively warm for the time of year. Good weather would mean a very profitable fair with big crowds coming into the town, and bigger headaches for the police as everyone drank more than normal. Added to that was the complication of Miss Marlene Perera’s continued disappearance and the potential for continued tension between the MI5 agents and the travellers. Fatima inwardly prepared for the many problems she might have to face that day, and secretly wished it were already over. 

As she and other officers walked along the High Street, she could see that the usual variety of amusement rides had been set out. There were bumper cars, carousels, big wheel, octopus and many others. Fatima thought about what makes the rides such an attraction, which is the forces one’s body experiences when one is on them: the turns, twists, and rapid acceleration, quite different from what one experiences on a daily basis. It is precisely these unusual sensations of having one’s body pushed and pulled in different directions that keeps people coming back for more.  

One new addition this year was the Rotor, which, though the fair was not yet open, had already drawn quite a crowd of onlookers. The Rotor is in effect a large, upright cylinder, rotated at 33 revolutions per minute, roughly the same speed as a long playing record. This rotation creates a centrifugal effect equivalent to almost three times Earth’s gravity, somewhat similar to the experiences of astronauts and cosmonauts to which the public was becoming accustomed through the popular broadcasts on space flights conducted by the United States of America and the Soviet Union. Once the cylinder has attained full speed, the floor is retracted, leaving the riders stuck to the wall of the drum. At the end of the ride, the drum slows down and gravity takes over. The riders slide down the wall slowly. Rides on this new attraction were apparently to be sold at a premium such was the expected demand. 

The fair began at noon and would run until midnight. When it opened, there were few people queueing for most of the rides, except the new Rotor. Numbers gradually increased with a significant leap at around seven o’clock, by which time the pubs had been open for a full hour. 

With the fair in full swing at ten o’clock, and one hour left till the pubs would need to be helped to close for the night, Fatima was stationed at the eastern end of the High Street close to the Town Hall and Bourne Arms Hotel. Suddenly she saw a uniformed police constable running in her direction. 

“Ma’am, there’s a big problem with the new ride, the Rotor. Can you come there immediately?” 

Fatima and the constable, one of those visiting from nearby towns, made their way as quickly as they could through the crowds to the Rotor, which was just in the western half of the High Street roughly directly between the Longbarrow Tea Rooms, still not yet reconstructed after that summer’s fire there, and its erstwhile rival, the Regency Hotel. They had to push through a considerable group of onlookers and prospective customers to get to the ride itself. The constable just kept repeating loudly “police business” as she moved people aside. 

When she got there, Fatima could see that Constable Nguyen was already on the spot. 

“What seems to be the trouble, Constable?” 

Nguyen appeared to smile, and then she said: “Ma’am, this ride have got stuck on full speed. The travellers responsible for it has tried everything, but they do not be able to slow it down. They don’t want to cut the power in case it do slow too precipitately, which run the risk that the riders do fall too quickly to the ground and possibly injure theirselves.” 

“How many people are talking about here, Nguyen?” Fatima asked. 

“Come and see,” Nguyen responded and led Fatima to an observation platform above the ride. She could see that the cylinder was rotating at quite a speed, and there were four individuals, all women by the look of it, stuck to the wall screaming. It was difficult to make them out with all the movement, but Fatima thought she recognised all of them. 

“Constable, isn’t that Sergeant Banda and that Colonel Barré and those the two young agents accompanying Barré?” 

“Exactly, and they have been in there for about twenty minutes for a ride that supposed to last no more than five,” said Nguyen grinning broadly. 

“Well we’ve got to…” Fatima started to say something but then noticed that the cylinder’s rotation had started to slow and that the riders were sliding down the wall of the drum. When it had stopped completely, Nguyen and another constable ran into the cylinder through a door that opened in the side and got the four riders out. Once outside they all collapsed onto the ground, two of them vomiting violently. 

Fatima got hold of one of the constables. “Quickly. Go to a telephone box and dial 999. Get an ambulance sent here straight away.” 

She then went back to see how the MI5 agents and their police liaison were faring when she felt a presence next her. It was Major from traveller security. 

“Inspector,” she said very quietly but completely audibly, at least to Fatima, over all of the noise of the fairground and shouting of bystanders at what had just happened on the Rotor, “the General requests your company urgently. Can you please come with me? What’s happened here is actually not that important. The General will explain. And meanwhile your Constable Nguyen will have everything in hand. She is very capable, isn’t she?” 

And Fatima felt herself being pressed gently but purposefully down the High Street in a westerly direction until they came to a caravan sited between a ride and food truck. The door opened, and she went in, followed by Major. 

Inside the caravan was initially pitch dark, but a lantern was soon illuminated. She could see that there were five other people in the room: the General, one of her senior officers from traveller security, Kamala, and next to her a woman she hadn’t met before but who clearly knew her friend. And seated next to the General was someone she certainly never expected to see in this context but who was well known to her. This was Brigadier Bintou Konté, an officer of army intelligence with whom Fatima had served during her national service and with whom she had since remained in touch. 

The General spoke first. “Inspector, before we get into what has just happened, and what may happen next, I believe you know everyone present, except one. Let me introduce you to Miss Marlene Perera.” 

The woman sat next to Kamala stood up and extended a thin hand toward Fatima, which she shook. Kamala also came over and embraced her. Brigadier Konté too left her seat to come and slap Fatima on the back. 

“Now,” the General continued, “let me tell you what happened at one of our fairground attractions this evening. Those tiresome women from MI5, who have been causing so many problems for you, Inspector, as they have for us, were dangerously close to discovering the whereabouts of Miss Perera here. We could not let that happen, so I had Major escort Colonel Barré and her associates to the Rotor for a free VIP ride. This was done on the pretence that Major had information for them, which she would provide secretly inside the ride. Actually, once inside, Major abandoned them. We also arranged for the ride to malfunction just long enough to cause some disorientation and nausea but not to harm the ladies in any serious way. We then tipped off the nearest police officer to get you to the scene and eventually here. 

“I hope that is an adequate explanation of what you have just witnessed.” 

“General, that is no doubt a factually accurate description of what happened, but it doesn’t begin to describe why that was so,” Fatima responded, choosing her words carefully so as not to be disrespectful. At the same time she was very confused. 

“But why was it necessary to keep MI5 away from Miss Perera? What is she doing here along with Mrs Peiris? And, Brigadier, what is your part in all of this?” 

It was Brigadier Konté who spoke next. Miss Perera seemed content to sit silently in Kamala’s company. 

“My dear Fatima, first of all let me say what a pleasure it is to see you after all these years. I know we’ve been in touch by mail, and we’ve spoken on the telephone a few times, but it is so nice to be face to face again. 

“The first thing I suppose I should explain to you is my relationship with the General here. She and I are, in fact, old comrades in arms. We fought together in the war, when I was parachuted into eastern Europe to work undercover with the General’s unit in the Red Army. There’s a whole story behind that, but it will have to be for another day. 

“After the war, I got to know of the General’s troubles with the security apparatus in the Soviet Union. Through my contacts in the British government, all also old comrades in arms, I was able to arrange for the General and a number of her associates to immigrate to Britain. They naturally gravitated to their compatriots living here and gradually formed a security organization for the fairs and carnivals run by the travellers. 

“They also work very closely with me and a small group of people that I coordinate, which carries out highly sensitive espionage missions for the Prime Minister herself. It is in that context that you find me here today making sure that one of our country’s most important secrets does not end up in the wrong hands.” 

Brigadier Konté looked pointedly at Miss Marlene Perera. “Madam, I think it is time you told your story.” 

Miss Perera was clearly still reluctant to speak but knew that now she had to. When she did, she spoke quietly but precisely. 

“I believe you already know, Inspector, that I work, or worked, at Manton Down specialising in chemical nerve agents. Publicly my work involves their detection, treatment of their effects and decontamination in the event of their deployment. Secretly I have been charged with devising new agents that might be used by our armed forces in the event that another world war should break out. Previous Conservative governments determined that Britain stood to lose any war fought by conventional means and, therefore, sought to have non-conventional capabilities. Our present Labour government says it is against the use of atomic, biological and chemical weapons, but it sanctioned the continuation of my work. 

“Actually, in the ten years that I have been in my position, I have never been able to devise a new weapon that could be used in warfare. Secretly I was happy about that. I really do enjoy the other parts of my job, which I think are of great benefit to society. However, I have had to keep up the pretence of working on new nerve agents, and I realised during the last year that I was on the verge of a breakthrough. I could not in all conscience allow that to happen, so I decided to leave my position and disappear. 

“In the course of my work I had come into contact with a woman working at MI5: Mrs Miriam Barré. She had often spoken with me about her own misgivings concerning the direction in which our work at Manton Down was going. I decided to take a risk and ask her for help to set myself up with a new identity and remake my life. I had thought of returning to teaching perhaps at a provincial university well away from the public eye. What I didn’t know was that Mrs Barré is actually a mole inside MI5 selling secrets to our enemies. In short her plan for me was to trade me to a hostile government; I don’t know which one. 

“I panicked and ran going to the only nearby place I knew I could hide out at least for a couple of days.” 

“And that is how Marlene came to be with me,” Kamala said providing a welcome break to Miss Perera, who was not enjoying the spotlight. “As you already know, Fatima, she was with us only for two days. Then, when she had gone out for a walk, she saw and recognised Mrs Barré calling at my house. She did not dare come back to us. Since then I’ve not seen her until tonight when one of the General’s very persuasive officers came to bring me here.” 

Now the General again took up the story. 

“Inspector, you had been so kind as to provide us with information regarding Miss Perera, including a photograph and description. I took the liberty of consulting my friend, the Brigadier, also telling her about what we had witnessed of the activities of Colonel Barré and her agents. The Brigadier warned me about her own suspicions concerning Colonel Barré, so I decided that we needed to take Miss Perera under our own wing and provide her the protection she needed. My officers are very good at what they do, so it did not take us long to locate Miss Perera and assure her that her safety could only be guaranteed if she stayed with us. We have since then hidden her in this very caravan, which was originally stationed up on the downs and then brought here to the High Street last night. 

“And now, with the Brigadier’s blessing, we are going to move Miss Perera to another location far from Silbury and Manton Down, where she will be provided with a new identity, a new home and a new job. About that is all you need to know, Inspector. I hope you will not mind. I’m afraid it will also be a secret to Mrs Peiris, who will tonight need to say goodbye to her relative forever.” 

“The fact is, Fatima,” Brigadier Conté explained, “the Prime Minister has for some time wanted to end this facet of Manton Down’s research activities, and she has asked me to help make that happen. Miss Perera’s disappearance has actually been, and will be, a godsend for the government. 

“One other thing we must do though is to root out the blight that is Colonel Miriam Barré. We have all the evidence we now need to arrest and try her for treason. Would you kindly agree to accompany me to Forest Hospital, where she is now being kept for medical observation following her unfortunate accident this evening, and be the arresting officer?” 

Fatima smiled and said: “Yes, Brigadier, I’ll be delighted to go with you to the hospital. But I shall not be arresting officer. I’d like to give that honour to Sergeant Banda, who is already at the hospital, along with Colonel Barré. I know she’ll be eager to learn from the experience.”