The Old Vengeful

Audley blinked vaguely at him. 'You may well ask! There's a gutter blocked above the kitchen door, and I got a face-full of water as I came in, and I can't see a thing!'

Faith Audley swept down the last of the stairs and relieved her husband of his burdens, setting them down at his feet.

'We've been very worried, David,' she said tightly.

'Oh?' Audley produced a huge silk handkerchief and began to dry off the lenses of his spectacles. 'I should have phoned, of course— yes.' He held up the spectacles to the light. 'But I'm here now.'

Faith caught Mitchell's eye. 'Not worried about you—about Elizabeth. And Mr Aske.'

'About Elizabeth?' Audley brought the spectacles down slightly, so that for an instant he was observing Mitchell through them. 'What do you know about Elizabeth?'

'We don't know anything about her.' Mitchell heard the sound of desperation, rather than righteous anger, in his voice. 'Where is she, damn it?'

'But you're worried about her?' Audley hooked the spectacles over his ears with maddening clumsiness. 'Why?'

There was no point in letting anger take over from desperation. 'When I got back from London she'd gone—

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they'd both gone. And you'd gone too . . .' Steady. 'I told Aske quite specifically that he wasn't to let her out of the house.'

'And I told Paul that you were worried when you left,' said Faith.

Audley cast a reproachful look at his wife, then came back to Mitchell. 'So what did you do?'

'I phoned the Duty Officer, of course.' Steady!

'And what did he say?'

To hell with steadiness! 'Damn it, David—you know what he said! Where the hell is she? What's happened?'

Audley's face became obstinate. 'What did the Duty Officer say?'

This time Mitchell refused to catch Faith's eye. 'The first time he said there was an all-points alarm out on her, and I was told to sit tight. And the second time he referred me to you, fairly politely . . . And the third time he told me to get the hell off the line, he was busy—okay?'

'Okay. So he told you—to go to bed, and mind your own business!' Audley was adamantine. 'So why aren't you in bed minding it?'

' Ff—Elizabeth is my business!' Is or was? he heard himself cry out in pain ' Where is she?'

Faith Audley stirred, tossing back the pale mane of her hair.

'Where is she, David?'

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Audley dropped Mitchell instantly, as though he didn't matter, frowning and pointing at his wife accusingly. 'Come on, love—we have a treaty on this—this is business—'

'But she was a guest in my house, David.' Obstinacy slammed head-on against obstinacy. 'And she wasn't— isn't—

one of your people ... So I have a right to know—I don't care what lies you tell Paul here— I want to know— right?'

There was some ancient quarrel here—something between them that Mitchell couldn't even guess at, but cared about less.

'David—'

'No, Paul!' Faith cut him off. 'Leave this to me ... David—I will have an answer.'

'All right, love.' Audley caved in directly, and so quickly that he took Mitchell by surprise. 'She's alive. And she's safe. My word on it.'

'Thank you, David.' This time Faith Audley didn't catch Mitchell's eye, she stared directly at him as though to confirm the truth of her husband's given word. 'And now I'll go back to bed again.' She gave them both a sudden tired smile, not of understanding, but of relief. 'If you two have things to discuss, the study will be warmer than out here. But don't stay up too long—you both look exhausted.'

As Mitchell followed Audley the words began to sink in: alive and safe— alive and safe— alive and safe. He was aware that they were incomplete words, and that they might have other dummy3

implications. But for that moment they were all he could handle— alive and safe was enough for this moment, that was all.

'What's all that on the desk?' said Audley. He took three steps and peered down at the papers. 'What on earth are you bothering with this for?' He frowned accusingly at Mitchell.

'You should have been watching over Elizabeth Loftus—not messing with this!'

Mitchell came back to reality. 'There was a message waiting for me at Heathrow when our plane landed.'

'About this? From whom?'

'From Del Andrew. Or ... not exactly a message—he just tipped me off that CI 6 was sniffing around, and I'd