“You interrupted me!” said the young man.

“Sorry,” said Israel.

“I’m playing fucking Chariots of War here!”

“Right. Yes. It looks very-”

“It’s a fucking beast! And you’ve fucking killed me!”

“I’m sure it is a beast,” said Israel. “And I’m very sorry. But do you happen to know where I could find Colin Wilson?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh, good.”

“How about up your fucking arse! You fucking idiot!”

“Right. Well, thank you. Thank you very much,” said Israel.

“Fuck off!” said the young man, turning back to the screen.

“Charming!” said Israel as he walked away.

It took two more taps on the equally unforgiving shoulders of equally charming individuals before Israel managed to track down the person he thought was possibly Colin. He was rocking slightly backward and forward in his seat, twirling a ballpoint pen between the fingers of his left hand. He looked like a cross between a computer nerd and a bodybuilder. With dyed black hair. Israel took a deep breath and tapped again.

The young man swiveled his seat round, much as a computer-game-playing Bond villain might swivel round.

“Hello!” said Israel. “Colin? Colin Wilson?”

“Yes?”

“I wonder if I might talk to you for a few moments?”

“Are you the police?”

“No. I’m a librarian.”

“Ha!” said Colin.

“What’s funny?” said Israel.

“You’re joking, are you?”

“No.”

“You’re a librarian?”

“Yes. And I’m investigating the disappearance of Lyndsay Morris.”

“I thought you just said you were a librarian?”

“Well, I’m sort of doubling up as a-”

“Detective?”

“Sort of.”

“You’re a librarian slash private detective?”

“Yes, I suppose you could-”

“Wicked! Is this some sort of setup or what?”

“No.”

Colin punched the man sitting at the next terminal on the shoulder.

“Hey!” he said. “Is this is a prank?”

“What?” said the young man.

“Is this a prank?”

“Is what a prank? What are you talking about?”

“This bloke says he’s a librarian slash detective.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know anything about it,” said the young man, turning back to his screen.

Israel continued smiling, trying to look suitably like a librarian slash detective.

“So you’re for real, are you?” said Colin.

“Yes,” said Israel. “I am definitely for real. One hundred percent.”

“I’ve already spoken to the police,” said Colin.

“Well. I just wondered if I could have a few minutes of your time. It would be a big help to me and might help find Lyndsay.”

Colin looked Israel up and down.

“All right,” he said. “This is totally random, but.”

“Great. Thank you,” said Israel as Colin got up. “Is there somewhere quiet we can talk for a moment?”

“All right,” said Colin. “But only because you’re a librarian slash detective. You guys are an endangered species.”

“Thanks,” said Israel.

They went out through the main door and then straight out a fire door onto a narrow fire escape.

“Nice,” said Israel.

“It’s the smoking terrace,” said Colin. “Do you smoke?”

“No,” said Israel.

“Me neither,” said Colin. “I just come here for the views.”

The smoking terrace afforded unenviable views of the back of Tumdrum High Street’s various takeaway establishments and the main car park.

They stood leaning over the fire escape railing.

“So, librarian slash private detective, how can I help you?” said Colin.

“Well, I’m looking for Lyndsay.”

“Why?”

“Well…” Israel didn’t feel he could say that if he didn’t find her his name would be in the Impartial Recorder. “I know you two were…close. I just wondered what you thought had happened to her.”

“Like I told the police, I think she’s just having a benny.”

“A benny?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I quite catch your drift.”

“Catch my drift?” said Colin, mimicking Israel’s Estuary accent. “Are you for real? Where are you from?”

“Not from round here,” said Israel.

“No. I can tell that. She’ll be back soon-”

“Right,” said Israel. “Can I ask-I know it’s personal, and please don’t feel you have to…if you aren’t…-anyway, you and her, your relationship was…”

“It was just caj, you know,” said Colin.

“Casual?”

“Yeah. Like, we were going out, it was OK. It was jokes, ye know.”

“Jokes?”

“Yeah. She was all right, we were into the same music, you know.”

“Goth?”

“No, not just Goth. Grime, dubstep, gabber, crunk, nu rave.”

“Uh-huh,” said Israel, painfully realizing his youth was slipping away from him.

“But in the end, I was, like, CBA.”

“CBA?”

“Can’t be arsed?”

“Right, I see.” Israel was feeling older by the minute. “Can I ask how you got to know each other?”

“I don’t know. I think I had a mate who Facebooked her and then, well, you know…We’d cotch around at hers.”

“I see.”

“But then she was getting into this whole church thing, man, which is just dry, ye know.”

“Which church thing?”

“The whole house church thing. The happy clappies.”

“The happy clappies?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s weird. I was brought up Presbyterian, but I’m much more do what you want, you know.”

“Yes, I think I know,” said Israel.

“Why don’t you just Facebook her and ye can find out everything.”

“There’s nothing like the personal touch,” said Israel.

“Right,” said Colin. “When it comes to private investigating.”

“Yeah,” said Israel.

The fire door opened and they were joined by a man wearing a white hoodie. His hair had been shaved completely at the back and sides, and the tufty remainder bleached into blondness. It gave him the look of a ferret. He looked Israel up and down as he lit a cigarette.

“Who’s this?”

“Librarian,” said Colin.

“Yeah, right.”

“No, he is,” said Colin.

“I am,” agreed Israel.

“Hufter,” said the man. “What’s he want?”

“He’s looking for Lyndsay.”

“Is he all right?”

“Yeah. He’s a librarian. But he’s all right.”

“Thanks,” said Israel.

The man looked at him.

“I’m Rory,” he said.

“Hello, Rory,” said Israel.

“I didn’t realize there were librarians anymore,” said Rory.

“Well, yes there are.”

“I thought Google had it all sewn up.”

“We’re struggling on,” said Israel.

“You want to think about retraining, mate.”

“Yes,” said Israel, wistfully. “Probably I do.”

“Still no sign of Lynds then?” said Rory to Colin.

“No.”

“You’d already split up, mate, though, hadn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“You want the real answer or the answer I gave the police?” said Colin, who seemed momentarily to have forgotten that Israel was there.

“The real answer would be great,” said Israel, chipping in.

“She was fed up with the time I spent editing Wikipedia!” said Colin.

Rory laughed.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You edit Wikipedia?” said Israel.

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Colin.

“I’ve never met anyone who edits Wikipedia before.”

“Well, you’ve met one now.”

“Gosh. I didn’t think…Can anyone do it?”

“Doh! That’s the whole idea, isn’t it?” said Rory.

“Yes, well, I suppose,” said Israel. “Does it take long?”

“I do about fifty hours a week.”

“Fifty hours a week! Fifty? Or fifteen?”

“Fifty.”

“That’s a full-time job.”

“Yeah. I suppose.”

“Do you get paid?”

“Of course you don’t get paid.”

“Do you get paid?!” said Rory. “Doh!”

“Would I be familiar with your work?” asked Israel.

“‘Would I be familiar with your work?’” repeated Rory. “Fuck’s sake! Where d’ye get him, Colin!”

“Yeah,” said Colin, ignoring Rory’s provocations. “I’ve got a couple of Featured Articles: Saruman you might know.”

“Sorry?”

“From The Lord of the Rings?”