Arthur Hailey - Overload

"All right," Nim said, "let's go on to talk about North Castle, the part of town where that 'Fire Protection Service' truck was found abandoned."

"With the radiator still warm," Van Buren reminded them. "And he was seen to go on foot from there, which makes it likely he couldn't have gone far."

"Maybe not," Harry London said, "but that whole North Castle area is a rabbit warren. The police have combed it and got nothing. If anybody wanted to choose a place in this city where they could disappear, that's the district."

"And from what I've read or heard," Nim added, "it's a reasonable guess that Archambault had a second hideaway prepared, to fall back on, and is now in it. We know he wasn't short of money, so lie could have arranged everything well ahead of time."

"Using a pbony name, of course," Van Buren said. “The same way he did to buy the truck."

Nim smiled. "I doubt if the phone company has him listed in 'Directory Assistance."'

"About that truck registration," London said. "It's been checked on, and it's a dead end."

"Harry," O'Brien queried, "has anyone estimated the size of the area in which Archambault has apparently been swallowed up? In other words, if you drew a circle on a map, and stated 'the man is probably hiding somewhere in there, “how big would the circle be?"

"I believe the police have made an estimate," London said. "But of course it's only a guess."

"Tell us," Nim prompted.

"Well, the thinking goes something like this: When Archambault abandoned that truck, he was in one belluva burry. So, assuming be was heading for a hideaway, while he wouldn't have left the truck close to it, it would not have been too far either. Say a mile and a half at the most. So if you take the truck as the center, that means a circle with a one-and-a-half-mile radius."

"If I remember my high school geometry," O'Brien mused, "the area of a circle is pi times the radius squared." He crossed to a small desk and picked up an electronic calculator. After a moment he announced, "That's a bit over seven square miles."

Nim said, "Which means you're talking about roughly twelve thousand homes and small businesses, with probably thirty thousand people living within that circle."

"I know that's a lot of territory," O'Brien said, "and looking for Archambault in there would be like searching for the proverbial needle. Just the same, we might smoke him out, and here's a thought for the rest of you to kick around."

Nim, London and Van Buren were listening carefully. As all of them knew, it was the lawyer's ideas which had led to most of the conclusions at their earlier sessions.

O'Brien continued, "Harry says Archambault has a compulsion to write things. Taken with the other information we have about the man, it adds up to him being an exhibitionist with a need to 'sound off' constantly, even in small ways. So my thought is this: If we could get some kind of public questionnaire circulating in that seven -square-m ile areaI mean the kind of thing with a string of questions to which people write in answers-our man might not be able to resist answering too."

There was a puzzled silence, then Van Buren asked, "What would the actual questions be about?"

"Oh, electric power, of course-something to arouse Archambault's interest, if possible, to make him angry. Like: How do you rate the service which GSP & L gives the public? Do you agree that continued good service will require higher rates soon? Do you favor a public utility remaining under private enterprise? That sort of thing. Of course, those are rough. The real questions would have to be thought out carefully."

Nim said thoughtfully, "I suppose your idea, Oscar, is that as the questionnaires came back, you'd look for some handwriting matching the sample in that journal."

"Right."

"But supposing Archambault used a typewriter?"

“Then we couldn't identify," the lawyer said. "Look, this isn't a foolproof scheme. If you're looking for that, you won't find one."

"If you did get a returned questionnaire where the handwriting matched,"

Teresa Van Buren objected, "I don't see what good it would do you. How would you know where it came from? Even if Archam-3bault was dumb enough to answer, you can be sure he wouldn't give his address."

O'Brien shrugged. "I already admitted it was a half-baked notion, Tess."

"Wait a minute," London said. “There is one way a thing like that could be traceable. Invisible ink."

Nim told him, "Explain that."

"Invisible ink isn't just a trick for kids; it's used more often than you'd think," the Property Protection chief said. "Here's the way it works: On every questionnaire would be a number, but it wouldn't be visible. You print it with a luminescent powder dissolved in glycol; the liquid's absorbed into the paper so there's no trace of it in view. But when you find the questionnaire you want, you hold it under a black light scanner and the number shows up clearly. Take it away from the scanner, the number disappears."

Van Buren exclaimed, "I'll be damned!"

Harry London told her, "It's done often. On lottery tickets is one example; it proves a lottery ticket is genuine and not a fake which some crook printed. Also, half the so-called anonymous questionnaires floating around are done that way. Never trust any piece of paper which says you can't be identified."

"This begins to get interesting," O'Brien said.

“The big problem, though," Nim cautioned, "is how to distribute those questionnaires widely, yet keep a record of where each one went. I don't see how you'd do it."

Van Buren sat up straight. "I do. The answer is under our noses. Our own Billing Department."

The others stared at her.

"Look at it this way," the PR director said. "Every house, every building, in that seven-square-mile area is a customer of GSP & L, and all that information is stored in our billing computers."

"I get it," Nim said; he was thinking aloud. "You'd program the computer to print out the addresses in that area, and no more."

"We could do even better," O'Brien put in; he sounded excited. “The computer could produce the questionnaires ready for mailing the portion with a customer's name and address could be detached so only the non-identifiable part would be sent back."

"Apparently non-identifiable," Harry London reminded him. "But while the regular printing was being done, that invisible ink number would be added. Don't forget that."

O'Brien slapped a thigh enthusiastically. "By Jupiter, we're onto something!"

"It's a good idea," Nim said, "and worth trying, But let's be realistic about two things. First, even if the questionnaire reaches Archambault, he might be smart and throw it away, so what we're backing is a long shot."

O'Brien nodded. "I agree."

“The other thing," Nim continued, "is that Archambault-under whatever name he's using in his hideaway-may not be on our direct billing system. He could be renting a room. In that case someone else would get the electricity and gas bills-and the questionnaire."

"That's a possibility," Van Buren conceded, "though I don't believe it's likely. Think of it from Archambault's point of view. For any hideaway to be effective, it has to be self-contained and private. A rented room wouldn't be. Therefore chances are, he has a house or apartment, the way he did before. Which means separate metering with separate billing. So he would get the questionnaire."

O'Brien nodded again. "Makes sense."

They continued talking for another hour, refining their idea, their interest and eagerness growing.

GSP & L's Computer Center, Nim thought, bore a striking resemblance to a movie set of Star Wars.

Everything on the three floors of the company's headquarters building which the center occupied was futuristic, ciinic and functional.