Clive called him on Monday. This was unusual. Clive did not call anyone if he could avoid it—phone calls left traces, records, a paper trail that a careful man avoided. He preferred the pub, the face-to-face conversation, the whispered exchange in a corner that could be denied afterward. But on Monday afternoon, as Ed was finishing a consulting job in his room on Grena Road, the telephone rang, and Dorothy called up the stairs, "Call for you, dear. A man who won't give his name," and Ed knew be...