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for them, and where the conversation turned to lighter matters.
     
     
    Keane returned to the office in the late afternoon. It could be put off no longer. It was now a matter of scouring files and databases to try and find anything that could be even remotely associated with the circumstances of this case.
     
    Over five hours of searching brought nothing at all, so he decided to call it a day. A new day would bring a fresh approach, and it would probably be a good idea to bring Hayes in again.
     
    He had mixed feelings driving home. Somewhere at the back of his mind he knew Blinky had given him a link. He knew it, and that brought optimism. At the same time, he was frustrated because no matter how he racked his memory, he could not see any link. He resigned himself to the impasse and tried to get the case out of his head. Instantly the joy and impressions of his visit to Blinky flooded in. He would sleep well tonight.

Chapter 3
    Thursday, 17th September, morning
     
    Was it the new jar of tangerine marmalade he had opened at breakfast? Was it the green wave (that really ought to have been named the ‘blue moon wave’, but) which today rolled out the ‘green’ carpet for him all the way into the office? Or was it just plain, old-fashioned ‘something in the air’? Well, yes, there was plenty in the London rush hour air and most of it he wished wasn’t there at all.
     
    It didn’t matter what it was. This day, he knew, was going to bring him a breakthrough. Maybe he would even break the case. A completely inexplicable and unwarranted wave of optim . . . no, it wasn’t even optimism; it was a certainty of a positive development that surged over him, through him and all around him. It was just inevitable.
     
    Why it was so, he could not say, and he had no wish to speculate over it. That it was so, was so definite, that all he could think of was in which part of the case, he most needed a breakthrough.
     
    Striding into the office, he saw Hayes, about to pounce on him. Hayes might as well have had a slipper in his mouth, and be wagging his bottom from side to side, it was so obvious that he wanted to please the master, and he knew he had just what the master wanted.
     
    “We know what Russell was doing in London. Nothing to do with cricket. He’s a sales rep, working for an Aus . . . “
     
    “. . . Australian wine company.” blurted out Keane spontaneously, oblivious to the fact that he was stealing Hayes’ thunder. Instead he became mesmerised by the parade of potential conclusions that this new factor introduced. That was it! Blinky’s link had fallen into focus: Chile + Australia = wine.
     
    He looked up at the dumb-founded Hayes, who was clearly struggling to decide whether he should first express his indignation, his amazement or his question. “You could have . . . ! Did you . . . ? When . . . ? God damn it, man!”
     
    If Hayes expression hadn’t clearly conveyed a deep admiration, (which his inappropriate and incoherent bumbling had failed to express), Keane would have had to reprimand him. However, Keane felt more obliged to praise Hayes for his good work, and get more details from him, in order to confirm officially what was, after all, still only a conclusion he had jumped to.
     
    “It was just a guess. I’m sorry if I, you know . . . Alright, this is great! Tell me about it.”
     
    Hayes gathered himself and went on, “When Russell had to retire from cricket through injury Penrith Wineries saw him as an obvious choice for a front figure, an ambassador or whatever you want to call it, for driving their export efforts. He’d been working for them for about 2-3 years. It seems that both parties were happy with the arrangement. Just one thing, though.” Hayes paused to see if he was about to be pre-empted again. The coast was clear. “He was not here in England on business; at least not according to Penrith. He was here on holiday!”
     
    “That’s good work, Hayes.” smiled Keane.