H. R. F. Keating

GO WEST, INSPECTOR GHOTE He turnéd his head so that his ear was as near as he could get it to the crack at the edge of the door. Could he hear anything? Was there anything to hear? No. No, he was certain. There was nothing. Not even the faintest söund of breathing. He decided suddenly to risk it....

H. R. F. Keating was born at St Leonards-on-Sea, Sussex, in 1926. From his father's prep school in Hertfordshire he went to Merchant Taylors, leaving early to work in the engineering department of the B.B.C. After a period of what he describes as 4 totally undistinguished service' in the army,...

1 Inspector Ghote had been awaiting the memo from the Commissioner for a week or more. He knew, too, what it would say almost to the exact words. Yet when the stiff white envelope was put in front of him he felt such a thud of plummeting dismay that it might have been entirely...

Chapter I Saturday a.m. It was a thin scream; the empty street and the night silence briefly nurtured it, then it was sucked up between the high-rise buildings like smoke up a flue and wafted away across a starless sky. It was a scream of anguish rather than terror, as though the woman who gave...

They were on their way. At the start of the first day of April, in the year of grace 1930. Under the Indian sun. Twelve people. Very different people, some from very different countries, all with very different ideas of the rules of the game. But on their way, in different fashions, to a meeting....