 |
 |
Day Three- evening
His mate, Gary, studied him as they sat opposite each other in the trendy little micropub on Smithdown Road.
“What’s bothering you, Steve?” He supped from his pint glass. “You’re here but you’re not, if you know what I mean?”
Gandalph looked apologetic. “Sorry, mate. Just something I’m working on. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Can I help?”
Gandalph shook his head.
Gary wasn’t giving up: “C’mon, give it a go. Nothing to lose. Give it to me in general terms.”
So he told him, nothing too specific, just the nub of the matter; transport connection, how to find ‘Nomad’, how to be sure, having made one mistake already, that sort of thing.
Ten minutes later they were none the wiser. Gary started repeating the name over and over. “You sure it’s actually ‘Nomad’? Sounds a bit like ‘Noman’ if you say it quick enough. Keep saying it and it turns into ‘Norman’. Anyone working for these firms called Norman? What about the fella you mentioned who runs it, day to day?”
He shook his head again, absently replying, “No, his name’s Kevin.” He tapped away on his phone. “No, nothing meaningful is coming back for Noman.” He slid the phone onto the table and drained his glass. “Same again?”
When he returned, Gary took a sip and said triumphantly, “Noman!” Gandalph gazed at him, bewildered.
“Noman,” he repeated. “No man! What if it’s not Nomad but No Man. It’s a woman! Your informant misheard or misread it. Maybe the person giving them the info misheard it. Maybe you should be looking for a woman?” He opened the peanuts.
Gandalph rested his glass on the table. “Well, it’s food for thought and it does make sense, although, to be honest, it actually makes it more difficult. I was almost happy with the other guy. Anyway, this isn’t why we came here. Your new job? Congratulations, mate!”
They raised their pints, took satisfying mouthfuls of real ale. “Thanks, Steve. Head of IT, who would ever have thought that?” Gary beamed. “It’s only the first week but it’s going well so far.”