The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor

The invitation came from a most unlikely source: Donald Findlay. Findlay had been keeping a low profile ever since Lawwell, tired of his interfering in many of his lunatic schemes, had the Green Brigade send him a dangerous package in the post. When I arrived at his residence in Newlands there was no sign of nerves though and he seemed his usual jovial self, sitting in his favourite chair by the fireplace, inspecting the tobacco from the Persian slipper and throwing it absent mindedly into the flames instead of packing the empty pipe he was sucking.
'Trying to give it up,' he said.
'Smoking? That's surprising,' I ventured.
'No no Spiers, playing cat and mouse with Peter Lawwell. Smoking's harmless in comparison.'
'Yes, I heard you received something in the post.'
'A bloody knife! A knife, y'hear?' He seemed angry at the thought of it, then continued.
'The retard Lennon gets bombs and I get a bloody knife? Well, when I say bombs of course I mean bundles of rubbish designed to look like bombs, all this 'viable device' nonsense was just that, spouted by Strathclyde Police to further whatever agenda they were pursuing at the time. I suppose when I think about it, a knife could do me more damage than the detritus Lennon and his fellow comedy Catholics received; they'd have been hurt more had they received a nice paper cut off the envelopes. So I suppose I shouldn't be too upset that they didn't use any imagination or go to any great effort when it came to threatening me. Perhaps Lawwell's losing his touch?'
He relaxed in his chair after those short moments of animation and then sighed and tossed me a package.
'What's this?' I asked and he motioned for me to open it, raising one eyebrow as if to tell me to behave and not be afraid of it being a knife or a bomb. It was a return ticket, first class no less, to Edinburgh.
'And why do I want to go to Edinburgh?' I asked.
'You don't,' he said. 'But you have to. There's a chap there I'd like you to meet and believe me when I say this Spiers, it'll do you a world of good to speak to this fellow. There is evil abroad once again in this country. The voices of reason are being drowned out by the shrill screeching of those whose agenda we thought we understood but now I'm not so sure. You fancy living in a police state, Spiers? Led by a fundamentalist religion with the emphasis on mentalist?'
'Well, I don't know...' I began but he interrupted.
'These are dangerous times laddie, it's time for you to hear the truth. Oh, I know we've pointed you in this direction before and you still prattle on like some useful idiot Baptist with a Celtic scarf but I have a feeling this chap might just convince you that your enemy is not Rangers.'
'What's his name?'
'Professor Bruce,' he replied and said no more, leaning towards the fire to light his pipe as I was ushered out and plonked in a hansom cab which took me to Queen Street.
And so it began.