CHAPTER FIVE

The little, ugly man was known as The Professor, because he had once worked in a university laboratory. However, after a while, he had a bad argument with the leaders of his department, because he felt that they treated him poorly. He was fired.

In fact, it would have been almost impossible for anyone to treat him the way he felt he should be treated. He thought that he was a genius and that he would one day rise to power. Whenever the smallest thing went against this idea, he would become terribly angry. In the end, he decided that it was necessary to teach society not to trust its laws and government. He believed with all of his cold heart that the best way to do this was through terrorism. The only thing he feared was that, someday, the people would no longer fear him.

He turned down a dark and narrow street and saw a man at the other end walking toward him. It was Inspector Heat, one of the highest-ranking policemen in London. As they came closer to one another the policeman suddenly stopped.

"It's not you I'm coming for," he said to the little man.

The Professor looked at him with a feeling of power deep inside himself. This person in front of him represented everything that he was against. Their meeting was a pure accident. The Chief Inspector had been very active since eleven o'clock that morning, when the first news of the bombing in Greenwich Park came to him. He felt angry and embarrassed because he had promised his boss, just last week, that there was no need to worry about any terrorist activity happening soon. He said that he could make such a promise because all of his secret agents were closely watching all of the terrorists in London. Any plans made by the enemy would be easily discovered and prevented from happening.

Earlier that morning, he had gone to the hospital to see the victim of the explosion. The doctors pulled back a couple of sheets and showed a pile of burned and bloodied body parts. It was hard to see that this pile had once been a person.

The policeman who had been in the park at the time of the explosion was also there to tell his story. According to the officer, the morning was full of fog. While he was talking with a worker on the street, a bright light flashed nearby.

"As you can see, the person cannot be identified. I had to search all over the park just; to find every part of the body. An old woman in the park told me that she had seen a yellowhaired man walking with a large can in his arms. There was another man, as well, but she didn't notice much about him, except that he was big. She said that the smaller man was wearing a dark, blue coat with a collar made of velvet. You see here," he said, picking up a piece of cloth from the table, "Velvet. Just like she said."

The Inspector grabbed the cloth from the officer, tore a piece of it off, placed it in his pocket and then left the room. He then took a train to the center of town where his office was. He was still feeling sick to his stomach when, after getting off the train and walking for a bit, he ran into The Professor in the street.

He had not once thought about The Professor that day. Instead, he had been thinking about how surprising human behavior could be. Earlier in his career, he was responsible for catching only thieves. While he did not agree with their occupation, he could understand their need to steal things. It made sense to him and it might even be considered "normal". However, the behavior of these terrorists was something he could not understand at all. And now he stood before one of them.

"One day, however, I will come for you," he said to The Professor.

"And on that day you will die," replied the ugly little man, "Don't you worry that they might bury us together?"

The dark street suddenly seemed even darker to the Inspector. "You don't frighten me with your threats. Don't worry, I'll catch you soon enough."

"Why not catch me right now? There's no one around except for these two buildings on either side of us. Wliy not give your life now to save so many other lives later on?"

"And lower myself to your level? No. Time will help the good guys to win the battle. You'll see."

"The good guys? It seems that you don't understand why we do the things we do," observed The Professor.

"You're right about that. Why don't you tell me?" he said, obviously not really wanting to stay and listen, for he had other, more important things to do.

The Professor only smiled. This gave the Inspector more strength for some reason, and he spoke again.

"There are many more police than there are terrorists like you. You'll never win. Besides, your men always seem to make too many mistakes! It's hopeless for you."

The Professor's smile suddenly disappeared as he became more and more aware of his loneliness and weakness, his powerlessness against the huge number of people out in the world against him. He could never make enough bombs to kill them all.

The two men separated and continued in opposite directions down the little street. The little ugly man felt sad and a little helpless, while the Inspector felt a renewed sense of purpose. He knew that he was the good guy and that most of the people in the world would be on his side. He even thought that the thieves might agree with him in his fight against the terrorists.

Again, the problems of dealing with these terrorists came to his mind. They were so different from the thieves he was used to hunting. There were no rules with these crazy terrorists. Neither the police nor the terrorists could understand one another's thinking. And for this reason, he did not respect the terrorists. They had no system, no real identifiable organization. It was simply madness.

When he arrived at his boss' office, he found the Assistant Commissioner bent over a large pile of papers in the middle of his desk.

"It seems that this bomb was not the work of your terrorists, after all," commented the Assistant Commissioner, "Our agents reported that none of their men were responsible. However, because we haven't identified the bomber yet, the people of London must think of us as disorganized idiots. What have you found out this morning?"

The Inspector told him about the two men the woman had seen. "One of them," he explained, "the bigger one, had left the other in the park to finish the job on his own."

The Assistant Commissioner listened quietly and carefully. He did not like the complications of his job very much. H'e liked handling things himself, not leaving the work to a bunch of unreliable officers. And he was always very sensitive to the way the people of London felt about the police force and about him.

"This is terrible. Absolutely terrible! This has been going on for the past two weeks!" he shouted while looking out of his office window. Rain was coming down hard outside. "Have you sent men to find the other man?"

"Of course, sir. The two men seem to have come from the Maze Hill station. The ticket man said that he had seen two men together that morning and that they both looked like workers, but higher-level workers. He said that the bigger man came out of the train holding the metal can first. Then he handed the can to his partner and led him to the park area before walking away. All of this totally agrees with what the woman said. I also saw pieces of metal among the parts of the body of the dead man this morning."

"Don't you find it strange that this kind of job would have required two men? It doesn't make sense."

"But it makes more sense when you know that Michaelis is livings in a small house in the same area," the Inspector answered.

The Assistant Commissioner was surprised to hear this name thrown into the conversation. And his eagerness to find the people responsible for the latest bombing suddenly became much greater.

(end of section)