The result had thrown him back into chaos, forcing him to re-cover old ground, review discarded ideas, question everything he’d accepted as true. He’d tried the internet again, but the same conclusions had presented themselves. He glared at the laptop, mocking him from the far side of the room.

At that point, he had begun looking elsewhere, seeking older, more established theories. His sources became printed books, works that required authority and diligence to produce. Still there was little accord on a unified solution, but the ideas were far more lucid, their arguments better defined.

Stronger theories to guide him next time.

And, as he imagined the words unfolding, perfectly addressing his needs, the text in front of him seemed to respond, almost as if the long-deceased author had pictured him here, now, seeking answers. He hunched over the book, absorbing the concepts described there, tentative confidence growing within him once more.

He read the chapter three times, pausing at intervals to absorb the writer’s philosophy, mentally adapting it to his predicament. Feeling the two coalesce.

The ideas weren’t so different from the others, but now it seemed that success or failure wasn’t decided purely by the symphony of detail. Each element required perfect calibration, of course; faultless timing; absolute precision. But maybe his lack of success with the three men in Brixton hadn’t been down to insufficient knowledge or poor execution.

Maybe he just needed some assistance.

He closed the book, its ideas now etched in his mind. Even if none of the remaining texts advanced his knowledge, his approach would be different enough to give his next attempt a greater chance of success.

His thoughts returned briefly to the gathering; to the young man he met two nights ago. Target and theory, presenting themselves simultaneously.

It had to be a sign.

Which meant he needed to act fast: set things up before opportunity passed him by.

He left the remaining books on the desk and sat once more, closing his eyes, mentally refining his strategy. He took the phone from his pocket, found the number and took a deep breath as it started to ring.

He kept the conversation as brief as possible, his calm voice growing in confidence as the call unfolded exactly the way he’d envisaged, then hung up, trying to regulate his racing pulse, conscious that excess adrenalin would wreck his plans before anything else had a chance. But everything was in place. This time he was more knowledgeable, more skilful, better prepared.

If he could harness the ideas in this latest book, enlist the appropriate help, he had a much better chance of making the definitive breakthrough.

There were still potential pitfalls, but it was time to try again.

15