condensed master

The Reluctant Agent
A Compelling Story of Espionage
feet looking down at the pavement.
"No."
Will thought for a moment. "One thing that I am grateful for is that you haven't
come knocking on my door at home, or tried to contact me at the workshops."
There was no response from Ed. "You can't phone me any more and I want my
private life left alone. To save me any embarrassment you can always see me
during the lunch hour at the workshops. There's a small reception room in the main
entrance. The girl at the desk can phone up a message to the department prior to
12 o'clock, and I'll come down."
"Can't you occasionally phone the number I gave you, say once every week
or two?" Ed's last statement was like waving a red rag to a bull and Will raised his
voice.
"The organization doesn't own me, and I don't work for you. I only do favours
for you because I'm always under the threat of the very people back in the U.K.
who give you your orders. You must be crazy if you think I'm going to make
things easy for you!" Ed turned to leave with a parting remark.
"I'll contact you soon at the workshops."
Will watched him as he walked up Toorak Road but he had hardly gone a
hundred paces before a car passed him and drew up alongside, Ed got inside. It
wouldn't be Gerry, probably another of Ed's associates, and he no doubt knew
about Will.
As Will walked up Hawksburn Road his thoughts were filled with insecurity.
Things could get really out of hand if they started to put the pressure on, but what
could he do? How could he turn the tables and give Ed something to worry about
for a change? Any information he had gleaned about the organization seemed to
have little worth, but there was one tiny piece that may be significant, and Ed had
reminded him of it only a few minutes ago.
It was the phone number Ed had given him and as luck would have it he was
now working in the very place that could help him. The following morning Will
wasted no time. Amongst the people that he associated with in the department
was a man by the name of Don Hardiman. A bouncing little fellow with bags of
confidence which partially shrouded his inability to pronounce his "th's." Will
produced the piece of paper with the number on it. "Is there anyway I can find out
the address belonging to this number?"
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