The Old Vengeful

didn't talk shop in front of Faith Audley during the meal—

that was plain from the start, from the way Faith controlled the conversations at both ends of the table—

Why should a man she had never met hire another man she had also never met to ransack her home and threaten to do such unthinkable things to her—?

'Peckham, Mrs Audley—' Del Andrew obstinately refused to call Faith anything but 'Mrs Audley'; Elizabeth had become Elizabeth, and although Drs Audley and Mitchell remained Drs Audley and Mitchell Chief Inspector Andrew plainly wasn't overawed by either of them; but Faith he kept at arm's-length '—Peckham's the real world, all the rest is just a figment of my imagination—'pound note' country—'

Purgatory.

But in the end it came to an end, although not at all the way she expected.

'Very well.' Faith gathered them all. 'Now I'm going to stack the things, and then I'm going to bed. And Elizabeth ought to go to bed too.'

'I'll help you,' said Elizabeth dutifully, not wanting to help her, but only wanting to hear about Danny Kahn.

'I'm only going to fill the dish-washer, Elizabeth dear. Mrs Clarke will sort things out in the morning —'

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'We need Elizabeth,' said Audley. 'And in the morning you're both going to be busy—you too, love.'

'Oh yes?' Faith looked at her husband suspiciously. 'How busy, exactly?'

'You're going to Guildford—or wherever you go to waste my substance—and kit her out for travelling from top to ... ah ...

bottom—clothes, shoes, baggage to put 'em in, what she's not wearing—hair—everything, love.' Audley peered at his wife over his spectacles and the candles. 'Start at dawn, and Paul will meet you at twelve.'

'He will?' Paul sounded mutinous. 'Will he?'

'I can't possibly do that, David.'

'Cancel your engagements.'

'It's the time, not the engagements, David. And I go to London for my clothes, anyway.'

'There's a smart place in Guildford. I've seen the bills, by God!' Audley gave a snort. 'But don't worry about the money

—Her Majesty will pay—'

' I can pay,' snapped Elizabeth.

'Hold on, Elizabeth!' exclaimed Paul Mitchell. 'With Novikov on the loose—never mind . . . never mind anyone else . . . you'd better think twice about going anywhere, damn it!' He swung towards Audley. 'And where is she going? And come to that—where am I going?'

Elizabeth looked at Audley. 'Where am I going?'

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'You're not going anywhere,' said Paul. 'Because nowhere outside this house is safe.'

Audley looked at Elizabeth. 'She'll go where she wants to go

— right, Elizabeth?'

'Now you're being devious, darling,' said his wife disparagingly.

'I hope so, love—that's what I'm paid to be ... But I know if I say there isn't the slightest danger that will only offend you, even though it's true ... so Aske and Bannen will accompany you tomorrow for the sake of reassurance, if for no other useful purpose, while you make your purchases, until Mitchell arrives to take her from you.'

'And then?' Paul sounded unreassured.

'Then, all being well, you shall both go Vengeful- researching somewhere even safer, in so far as that is possible. And you can still keep Aske, if not for protection then as a chaperone.'

Audley came back to Elizabeth. 'Well, Elizabeth—are you game?'

'Don't agree,' advised Paul. 'He put the same question to me once—'

'And look at you now!' murmured Audley. 'But I'm not going to argue with you, Elizabeth. You have a mind of your own, and can make it up for yourself.'

And that was true, thought Elizabeth—true now as it had never been before, even though she was still her father's daughter . . . And, in any case, the incentives hadn't changed.

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But that, of course, was what David Audley was relying on: he knew his mark better than Faith or Paul did.

She looked from one to the other of them apologetically. 'I can't stay here for ever, can I?' she said. 'And I do need some new clothes.'

'No, it doesn't start with Danny Kahn,' said Del. 'It only finishes with him. It starts with our doing-over your place, Elizabeth—what we sniffed out as maybe of interest, after Dr Mitchell had finished with it ... which was mostly a lot of junk and dead ends that wasted our time . . . But there was this quarterly account from this taxi firm in London for journeys right across town—Victoria all the way to Whitechapel, north of the river—regular journeys, costing a small fortune . . . an'

that was when I first thought 'aye-aye—something not quite right here' ... so I got on to the firm, an' they remembered your dad—good customer an' all that—an' routed out his regular driver. And after I'd talked to him I