CHAPTER 1

"Come, my dear, I'm sure Lizzie doesn't want to be bothered with our chit chat whilst she's doing the dishes." Without waiting for a reply, Jack hustled the young, beautiful but not very bright blonde out of the kitchen and into the late summer sunshine of the farm yard. They would stroll together through the trees of the farm-that-wasn't-farmed, with Jack expounding about the theatre in general and his current play in particular, with empty-headed Marlyn clinging to his arm and treating his every utterance with reverential awe.

His wife ground her teeth in frustration and glowered after them. 'Lizzie doesn't want to be bothered with our chit chat!' she mimicked her husband's avuncular tones. Dead right she doesn't - but she would be more than happy to accept some help with the washing up! Four children, Jack, the bevy of aspiring starlets that seemed to drift through the house as if they and Jack were on a higher plane, and a farm yard full of chickens, ducks and, above all, muck. Muck everywhere - dust in the summer and mud in the winter - because Jack insisted that tarring or concreting the yard would spoil the age-old patina of the place. And even more important, would make him seem to his myriad friends to be a mere ordinary commuter, instead of the born-and-bred countryman he chose to emulate. No wonder she looked like a worn out middle-aged slut. They wandered in for meals when they felt like it, and wandered out again leaving the mess to her. Oh, she could have had domestic help if she had wanted it, and she did sometimes have a neighbour in to help when they were entertaining Jack's friends, but she prized what little privacy she still had too much to have anything more permanent.

When Jack had decided that a small farm was just what he needed to get the peace and inspiration for his work as a playwright she had been more than happy to agree. She'd met Jack when her life was at a particularly low ebb and had been grateful, excited, amused, when the three-times married, distinguished man old enough to be her father had taken an interest in her. Three weeks of whirlwind dissipation and he had popped the question. A month later they were married.

She supposed she still loved him, but after fifteen years of marriage she was able to look back wryly from a historical perspective. Her hands slowed to a stop, a dishcloth in one and a plate in the other. She knew it was happening, knew it had happened a lot lately. This drifting into reverie, musing about the past, dreaming about the future, feeling and fighting the impatient longing to be up and doing, feeling the old feelings that she'd thought had died when....

Enough! She jerked her eyes back into focus and attacked the plate with a new vigour. Her life might seem boring, she might feel like a scullery maid, working in drudgery whilst her husband - randy old goat that he was - bedded every young hopeful he could find, and imagined that she didn't know. Know? She'd known for years! And had often wondered why she put up with it. Yes, life might be all these things, but it was better than the memories she'd just fought back into the closed corners of her mind.

She paused again and turned to look at herself in the old mirror hanging from the high picture rail, and saw what she conceded to be an unattractive dowd with little hope of attracting another man. She wasn't sure why that was important, whether she wanted an affair, a last fling, a divorce, or what. She had no money of her own and whilst she could get alimony she knew that without her hard-headed grip on his finances Jack would let his money run through his fingers like water through a sieve. She'd be lucky to get more than the occasional part payment from him, despite his huge earnings.

But what her mind interpreted from her eye's images wasn't entirely the truth. Certainly her hair was a mess, she wore no makeup and the blouse and cardigan did nothing to cover the shapelessness of a bust supported by a sagging bra. But her dark red hair was thick and strong and unblemished by grey. Her face had always been interesting rather than beautiful, but it was high-cheeked and fine-boned enough to only just miss the accolade of beauty. A face that most men would call attractive, and most women would call strong. But her finest feature, finer even than her hair, was her eyes. Great, green, intelligent orbs of light and life. Whilst her face was of ordinary mobility, those eyes gave it a capacity for expressiveness that transcended any mere shaping of skin by muscles. They were windows to her soul and had infinite capacity to transmit any human emotion - or to become opaque and lock her every emotion to herself.

Her body too, under the nondescript blouse and jeans, was far from being as unattractive as she was wont to imagine. She was very tall for a woman, just over five feet eleven in her bare feet. And she had nothing of the stoop that so many tall women adopt to disguise what they regard as their unattractive inches. She held herself straight and well, not exactly proud of her height but ready to spit in the eye of anyone criticising it. She was no sylphan maiden to be sure, but she had the solid, capable look of an outdoor person. Athletic in the 'field', rather than 'track' mould, there was nothing even faintly manly about her, but there was nothing fragile either. In social company she was usually an unobtrusive wallflower from choice, but when real solid action was required she was ... capable.

There had been a time when she had had a passion for physical fitness and her body had been hard and lean. Now, with four children and a wayward husband to guide through the practicalities of life, she had little time for such personal things. But she tried, and when the children were at school and Jack was away on business - or hanky-panky - she would go for long, gruelling runs, brutally driving herself to the point of collapse. And, of course, in the season she would play tennis. At other times her only recourse was to practice yoga, mostly in the quiet privacy of her room but sometimes, on rainy days, she would amuse the children by guiding them playfully through simple routines. Jack scoffed at anything suggestive of exercise - he was only too aware of his own corpulent midriff, highlighted by his five foot six height - but her need to stretch her body was almost an obsession.

When fashionably dressed in evening wear at the many social functions that Jack's fame condemned her to she was frequently referred to as 'arresting' or 'statuesque'. They also referred to her - and they were the sort of frivolous people who said it disparagingly - as quiet, intelligent, sharp witted, self-deprecating, shy and most damning of all, a dreamy thinker. All were true, and most of her detractors suffered twinges of jealousy from time to time. None of them, in their wildest dreams, had ever imagined the real Lizzie who dwelt in the secret depths of the dutiful wife and mother.

She sighed unhappily and turned back to the sink. When she'd married she'd felt so lucky. Not just to be in love and be loved, but because she'd be cared for, provided for, when she had for so long been a pillar for others to lean on. Of course, it hadn't been long before Jack and the children were leaning on her too, but Jack's macho, head-of-the-household self-image still lent the illusion of being cared for. Now the illusion was wearing thin and she wasn't sure whether she still felt lucky - or whether she just felt sad that she couldn't even feel lucky any more. Where had it all gone? That great zest for life that people had always seen in her, but which she had taken so much for granted that she had never even thought to value.

She sighed - she'd been doing a lot of that lately, too .... She jerked to attention. Was she bored - or was she uneasy? To most people it would have been a question of little importance, but her dreaming had dredged up a memory of a younger self, of times and places when her feelings were famous in her small world. Where an uneasy Lizzie would have had the people around her feeling worried enough to fear for their very lives.

Now she felt confused. She tried to remember what her premonitions had felt like - not what they had been about, but how they had impinged upon her consciousness. They certainly hadn't been visions or anything like that, more just feelings of unease, or alertness, or anticipation, or even feelings that she hadn't even noticed herself. Like suddenly finding her colleagues staring intently at her, and blankly asking them what was the matter. And being told that she had been behaving like an animal sensing an impending storm, prowling, or skulking, or just being so hyper alert that there was no room in her brain for anything else.

Her mind drifted to when she had first realised she had this strange gift - or curse. It had been at boarding school, an old fashioned place with large dormitories. Like all healthy young people confined and separated from real life by school gates and rules, they had forever been testing their bonds. Times without number they had got up to mischief after lights-out and had attracted the attention of a duty mistress. But always, without fail, Lizzie would warn that a mistress was on her way - and the dormitory would be found to contain nothing but sleeping girls. The girls had always put it down to Lizzie having extraordinarily sensitive ears - for a long time the nickname 'Ears' vied with 'Lizzie'.

It was Marie who had first started to question the assumption. Dark, elfin Marie, whose mother's family were Celtic Scots from the West Highlands. Marie, whose Celtic blood thought that seeing into the future was as natural for some as remembering the past. She had suspected, but had said nothing to anyone. Instead, she set about gathering evidence.

Lizzie started to notice Marie staring at her at odd moments, and soon learnt that when horseplay at night had been going on long enough to attract attention, that Marie would somehow cease to be a ringleader and become a quiet observer.

Then one day they had been walking together across the extensive grounds on an errand, and Marie had suddenly abandoned the usual girlish small talk and said in her quiet, confident way. "Lizzie, your ears are no better than anybody else's. You've got the Sight."

Lizzie still remembered being nonplussed by the remark, and asking in bewilderment. "What do you mean? Of course I've got sight, I'm not blind."

"No, no. Not that kind of sight. you've got the Second Sight. You can see into the future."

Lizzie shivered at the memory, even after all those years the chilled feeling was as clear as it had been that day. She had tried to laugh it off, but had known on the instant that it was true. But she'd argued, as if by convincing Marie she could change the truth. "Don't be silly! See into the future? What do you think I am? A Prophet? Or some nutcase at Lourdes?"

"No, of course I don't mean that. But you have the Sight, I know because I've tested you."

"What do you mean?" Lizzie remembered the fear of proof.

"All right, when you go from the dorm to the games room, which way do you go?"

"You know that. I always go the same way we all do, along the edge of the playing field, through the trees by the tennis court, and over the rattling bridge."

"Always? And what about a week last Wednesday, and last Sunday, and yesterday?"

"Well, okay I went by the music room. So what, I felt like a change." She said it defiantly but could feel her arguments withering as the cold hand of logic started to squeeze her heart.

Marie had laughed. "So you say! But you didn't just feel like it, you knew something would happen to you if you went the other way. You see, I arranged with Cynthia Garbert that her dorm would lie in wait for you to pay you back for that raid we made on their dorm. I told them you planned it." Marie had been the ringleader, as she usually was. Her voice continued remorselessly. "I've set a total of seven traps for you over the last month, and never once have you fallen into one. You know the spate of practical jokes lately? Well, that was me, I was trying to catch out a few people to see if you were different. I got the others every time."

Lizzie had been near to panic. "No, no. It's all lies - or just chance!" Her temper had flared. "I thought you were my friend, and now you're telling me I'm a witch or something."

Marie had been contrite, but hadn't quite stopped smiling. "Oh Lizzie! What a song and dance about nothing. I'm not accusing you of anything, I'm just telling you how you manage to do these unusual things. It's nothing to be ashamed of - I know because my mother's mother had the Sight." Her young face looked suddenly sad. "We always used to joke that Granny was a witch because she always seemed to know what was going to happen. Oh, nothing dramatic, just things like telling us to come in because Daddy would soon be arriving, things like that. We always sort of thought that he'd told her when he would arrive and that she was just playing a game with us. But she wasn't."

Marie was silent for so long that Lizzie gave in and asked the question. "Well, how do you know she wasn't?"

"We were out shopping one day. Granny, Mum and me had left early in the morning to get in a whole day’s shopping in Glasgow. We got there about ten in the morning and were going to catch the six o'clock train home. But we'd hardly got started, it wasn't much after ten thirty, when Granny suddenly said that we should be getting home. I didn't really understand it, but I remember that my mother didn't ask any questions, she just went sort of pale and turned back to the station without a word. We got home to find that my mother's brother had been killed in a car crash just before ten thirty."

Lizzie remembered the crawling horror that she might be like that, foretelling death, but Marie, seeing how her friend had reacted, brightened up and continued. "But don't worry about that. The point is that my Granny was a wonderful person. We all loved her very much and used to tease her about where she had hidden her broomstick, and things like that. She always said that the Sight was more of a burden than a gift, but that if you had it all you could do was recognise the fact and make the most of it."

That had happened just after the last lesson of the week, and Lizzie had spent the rest of the weekend as much on her own as she could in a crowded school. She could still recall the anguish as she had tried to come to terms with being different. It seemed a bit silly now, it was every girl's dream to be a little bit different by being slightly better or wilder than the others in some way, but only a little different because being one of the gang was the most important thing of all. Being a weird witch was just the worst thing that could happen - worse even than having spots. She had sworn Marie to secrecy, and felt a wave of love for the friend who had never breathed a word to a soul. Much later, when her gift had become an asset of great importance, others had come to respect it, but Marie had never done more than smile gently when others had raised the subject.

With a sigh, Lizzie came back to the present. She'd never been able to explain or understand the strange power - only that it had never been wrong. But these last fifteen years since her marriage had been strangely protected years. Jack was about as wayward as a husband could be, but the world he created wasn't dangerous, just topsy turvy - secure and safe but topsy turvy. She supposed that she had often gone to intercept her children in play to head them off from danger, but that was the trouble with her gift, she rarely felt 'something is going to happen' she simply guided herself through life with a little extra input from a sixth sense. Only when the avoidance of danger wasn't that easy did she feel the future pressing in on her.

Now she couldn't remember the feelings well enough to compare them with her present feeling, couldn't even be sure that her unease wasn't just fear of feeling the old unease. Perhaps her behaviour was a better guide. Had she been behaving strangely of late? Jack had certainly given her some funny looks and had been unusually conscientious about keeping himself and his lady love out of her sight. But that could be just the stage of this particular affair.

Then she caught her breath. There had been something. For the past week, for the entire period of her unease, she had risen early and gone for a walk. Nothing unusual in that, she often went for walks - except, looking back, they weren't ordinary walks. She flushed at the thought of what her neighbours might have thought had they seen her - then paled as the reasons for her behaviour snapped into sharp focus.

In her mind's eye she could see herself every morning, follow her apparently aimless wanderings around their fifty acres of wooded, hedged, hilly farm. Aimless ...? Aimless as a wild animal checking it's territory - or a soldier scouting in enemy-held territory. Somehow she must have sensed danger and had been driven by some inner compulsion to check her territory. She'd felt no fear - but then she never did - but she knew now that her stealth hadn't been to avoid disturbing the wildlife, and her listening hadn't been to savour the birdsong. And her heart chilled with the certainty that her safe, cocooned existence was drawing to an end.

She finished the washing up and tidying in a dazed fever of thought. Never before had she questioned her premonitions, somehow they'd always excited her and made her eager to face their inevitable reality. But now was different. Was it just that she was growing old? Or was it that she feared that her sense of impending danger foretold danger to the children rather then to herself? Could it even be that Jack was going to leave her for some starlet? No, she didn't believe that. Always, without fail, strong feelings had foretold of real physical danger, never mere emotional upsets.

Lizzie was brought back to the present by her youngest child, six year old Jemma, bursting into the kitchen. "Mummy, Mummy, there's a great big pink car coming down our road." She positively shrieked the pink part and tugged her Mother's hand. "Come and see, Mummy, it's really pink. I'd like a pink car, a big one."

Lizzie found herself half running out into the yard, and had a fleeting moment to realise that she had no premonition about this car. A wry smile flitted across her face, a pink car was hardly likely to be dangerous - unless, which was likely, it contained some tasteless floozy of an aspiring actress come to seduce Jack away from her!

The car was pink all right, and big too, as befits a Rolls Royce. For that was surely what it was. Well, that settled it, it had to be one of Jack's show biz friends. Who else, she thought, all her own friends had long since disappeared, now all she had were Jack and the children, and decidedly second-hand relationships with Jack's friends.

Just for a moment she quailed. Please God, don't let it be some brainless junkie of a pop star. The last time one of those had come it had taken weeks to get the children back on the straight and narrow, and she still wasn't entirely sure that unwholesome seeds hadn't been planted in fertile young minds.

The Rolls lurched ponderously through the ruts and pot holes, travelling faster than anyone ought to drive a car of such breeding on such roads. The chickens squawked belatedly and fluttered for safety as the Rolls locked it's wheels in the dried mud and slid to a halt. The drivers door was flung open and a pair of dainty shoes swung out on the ends of slim, pink clad legs - hovered as if in dismay at the prospect of standing on bare earth, then resolutely continued. A small slim woman, elegantly clad in a bright pink one-piece jump suit, emerged. Many of Jack's starlets had looked out of place in the farm yard, but this one was, as the saying goes, something else. She stood out as a flawless diamond in the midst of dross, her long blonde hair gleaming like fire in the morning sun. Even Lizzie caught her breath and was sufficiently impressed to think, "My God, Jack's gone a long way up market this time!"

The children crowded round Lizzie, open eyed, like the Dalmatian puppies surveying Cruella de Vil. But Lizzie suddenly frowned, this woman was familiar. Her brow furrowed in concentration. She must be a well known actress or something. No, not an actress - but familiar from somewhere. From somewhere ... the light was just starting to dawn when the apparition spoke. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Elizabeth Caldwell, her maiden name was Smythe and she used to often be called Lizzie - she's married to Jack Caldwell the playwright. Can you help me?"

The children were uncharacteristically quiet and Lizzie found that she had to clear her throat before she could speak. "Yes, of course. But who are you?" Somehow she didn't want to reveal her identity just yet.

"I'm Tiffany Walters, but when I knew Lizzie my name was Summers."

Before Lizzie could speak her eldest daughter burst into chattering life. "My name is Tiffany too. Mummy says I was named after her very best friend." The last statement was uttered defiantly, she'd had more than one school fight with children who thought her name funny.

Lizzie came alive. "Tiffy, is it really you?" She was moving forward, pushing past the children. Now the veil of doubt had been lifted from her eyes and she could see that it was indeed Tiffany. The years had been so kind to her that the ravages of fifteen years were no more than the etchings of maturity on her beautiful face. But she had changed in more subtle ways, this sophisticated, wealthy creature with her calculated poise was a far cry from the harum-scarum Tiffy she'd known.

Tiffany blinked uncertainly. Could this middle aged frump in the denim jeans, old cardigan and apron really be the vivacious Lizzie? Typically, she spoke her mind. "Good God, Lizzie I wouldn't have recognised you. What have you been doing, letting yourself run to seed like that?"

Lizzie self-consciously brushed her hands over her hair, more hurt than she could admit that her old friend had found her like this. They drew close and Lizzie put her hands out tentatively, then withdrew them as if afraid that she might soil this glowing creature, afraid too that it was all a dream that was going to bring back cruel memories that she had thought locked away.

Tiffany stared hard at her friend's face, seeing the tiny wrinkles brought about more by uncaring neglect than by age, hell, they were the same age and forty wasn't old at all. Then she looked into the eyes and saw that the soul inside this unfashionable bundle of clothes was that of the old Lizzie. Those liquid, bottomless pools of green that seemed to swallow you up, and could flash with emerald fire in the face of danger. Witches' eyes, they used to call them. Impulsively she flung her arms around her friend. "Lizzie, Lizzie, it's so  GOOD to see you."

Lizzie had to struggle to release her arms from the embrace to be able to return the hug. "Tiffy, Tiffy. It's been so long. I never enquired about you. I was afraid that if I did I'd find you were dead." She suddenly sobbed, tears running down her face. "I wanted you to stay alive in my memory and was afraid that if I found you were dead the memory would die too."

Neither knew how long they stood there locked in embrace, but they gradually became aware through their tears that the children and Jack, with Marlyn at his side, had formed a staring circle around them. They reluctantly pushed apart, still with tears streaming down their faces. Lizzie choked back a sob. "Everybody, this is my best friend, Tiffany." Then hurriedly to forestall questions and loose talk, "We were at boarding school together." Then, "Tiffany, this is my husband Jack, his friend" she hesitated trying to remember, "Marlyn, and this is our children, Tiffany, Marie, James, and Jemma." She was maliciously pleased to see that Jack had moved away from Marlyn and couldn't take his eyes off Tiffy.

Tiffy shook hands with each in turn, even with little Jemma who was extraordinarily pleased and kept hold of Tiffy's hand as they shuffled as a body towards the house. Lizzie moved naturally towards the kitchen, thinking wryly that she was indeed far gone in domesticity to take a friend she hadn't seen for fifteen years straight to the kitchen. She should have gone to the elegant drawing room and poured drinks. Instead she continued resolutely into the kitchen and moved the kettle onto the middle of the Rayburn hotplate. She gestured to the kitchen chairs scattered around the big scrubbed table. "Sit down, Tiffy. I want every bit of your news." Then she stiffened, remembering her earlier unease.

Tiffy looked at her with that long-ago questioning look on her face. "You know, don't you, Lizzie?" She was looking deep into those green eyes, seeing that nameless thread that led by some strange path to the future.

Lizzie nodded once. "But what is it?"

"They need Gemini." She answered softly, and the disquiet in the green eyes turned to apprehension. There was a long silence as their eyes locked, then Lizzie slowly and with a great effort, relaxed. "Well, let's have a cup of tea and a good gossip, then I'll take you for a walk round our grand country estate." She smiled for the sake of the others, but it was an effort.

Jack broke in, he could never be silent for long in the presence of beautiful women. "What are you two talking about? What's all this that Lizzie knows, and what's this about Gemini?"

His eyes were on Tiffy but it was Lizzie who answered, half smiling. "Oh, we're just reliving our school days." She said no more, and it was obvious that Jack wasn't interested in anything but Tiffy anyway. Lizzie's smile broadened as she saw that Marlyn was in a huff.

Tiffy knew all about Jack, he was a famous playwright and she'd followed his career in the papers over the years, partly from natural interest in what sort of a man her friend had married, and partly to be in a position to keep track of Lizzie in case one of Jack's public peccadilloes should cause a divorce. Now, after she had dried her eyes, she subjected him to a hard scrutiny, which he mistakenly thought was admiration, and thereafter dismissed him from her mind. A poseur, definitely not good enough for Lizzie!

"Well, Lizzie, what have you been doing all these years?" She was careful to leave her friend to make the running, unsure of how much her family knew of her past.

"Me? Oh, you know. Not much, raising a family, that sort of thing." Lizzie gestured vaguely around the room, embracing Jack, the children, Jack's extra-marital activities, and the domesticity of the kitchen, all with a flutter of her hand. "We lived in London for a few months after we were married, then when Tiffany was on the way we moved out here. Been here ever since." Her shrug showed that there was nothing in her life that could remotely interest her vivacious friend. "What about you? Are you still in the same job?"

"Good Lord no. I left that years ago and got married." Seeing Lizzie's surprise at the thought of her friend being a wife she continued. "We've got two children, both girls. The eldest is seven, her name's Elizabeth, and the other is five, she's Marie." Their eyes locked as they considered the strength of the ties that had resulted in their eldest children having each other's names, and the fact that both their second children were called Marie.

The significance of the names wasn't lost on the sharp witted Tiffany. "Who was Marie named after, Mummy?"

"She was a very good friend of ours, a special friend. We were at school together."

"Why do you say was, Mummy? Is she not your friend any more, or is she dead or something?"

"Yes, she's dead. She died in a terrible ... accident when we were all working together years ago. Just before Daddy and I got married."

Lizzie turned back to her friend. "But what do you and your husband do now? It must be something terribly important to be able to run a Rolls Royce?" She smiled at the thought of Tiffy ever driving an ordinary car or having an ordinary life.

"Oh, when we got married Wallace was an executive with a big company making electrical fittings. It was just about the time that electronics were creeping into household things - you know, light dimmer switches, touch-control cookers, that sort of thing - so we decided to get in at the start and set up our own firm. We started right from scratch and worked eighteen hours a day for the first ten years. Really worked, I mean. We both spent most of our time in overalls doing real work with our hands." She smiled at the memory. "Oh it was hard work, but we had good times and lots of fun, too. We used to keep decent clothes in a cupboard in the only toilet in the place. When an important customer arrived we'd dash into the loo and come out as if we were different people."

She saw Lizzie smiling at her enthusiasm.

"You can laugh, Lizzie, but it was a good time, it was FUN. We were often teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, moving money and materials around to make it look as if we were solvent when we were in debt up to our eyebrows." She became more serious. "And it was all worth it. Gradually the firm became established and gradually we started spending more and more of our time with clean hands and wearing decent clothes. We even started to make money. Now we could sell up and live in luxury for the rest of our lives on the proceeds." She sighed and looked a little sad. "Maybe we'll do that. It's not so much fun now it's a business instead of a battle."

This time Lizzie couldn't suppress a little chortle of laughter. "You haven't changed, Tiffy! You never did have any interest in ordinary things, you always had to be where the excitement was. You know what you are, don't you? You're an incorrigible gambler and an excitement addict!."

"Maybe so, but there must be hope for me. After all, you seem to have settled down alright." She continued, almost inconsequentially, "I've kept an eye on you, mostly through the achievements of your famous husband," she smiled sweetly at Jack, "but I couldn't visit until I'd got it made and could hold up my head among you wealthy showbiz folks. A few months ago we took stock and found that we had indeed made it - so Wallace got his Porsche and I got my Rolls, and here I am!"

Lizzie smiled at the deceit, and set down her empty cup. "Come on, I'll show you our rolling acres." She continued quickly to forestall any moves to accompany them. "Tiffany, clear the table and then take the children and get them to clean themselves up for lunch." Jack had also risen so she hurried on. "We won't be long, Jack. We'll be back in less than half an hour. Lunch will be ready in about an hour so we'll be back in time to put on the vegetables."

As the door shut behind them, Tiffy started to speak but Lizzie quickly held a finger to her lips and led the way past the old barn in silence. Finally, when they were well away from the buildings she turned to her old friend. "Sorry about that, but none of them know anything about my murky past -and I want it to stay that way. Now, what exactly is going on?"

Tiffy pursed her lips and hesitated before speaking. "Dimitriov has been seen, the word is that he's back in business and looking for us." Her voice was flat.

"What? There must be a mistake. He can't have survived. Even if the explosion didn't kill him it would have been days, even weeks, before they could have found him. He'd never have survived. Good God, even if he'd been completely uninjured he couldn't have survived for more than a day or two without shelter at that time of year, and it was more than a week before the weather cleared enough to get a helicopter in to rescue him." Lizzie had stopped and her voice was urgent, she didn't want to believe.

"Sorry, Lizzie, but there's no mistake. The people who have seen him knew him in the old days - there are photos too. I've seen them and there's no doubt that the bastard is still alive."

"Okay, so he was lucky and survived. So, what's it got to do with us? We're past it now, they've got younger ones to deal with him, what could they want us for?"

"They don't want us."

Lizzie laughed with a mixture of relief and exasperation. "Tiffy, I could strangle you. You've been winding me up, haven't you? You said in the house that they wanted Gemini."

"No, Lizzie. Your memory has gone the same way as your dress sense. I didn't say that they wanted us - I said that they needed us." She paused to let the words sink in.

"Needed us? Why would they need us?" Lizzie looked blank.

Tiffy's sigh spoke eloquently of her frustration. "I don't know, I don't think anybody does for sure. All I know is that the word is out that Dimitriov is back on operations and that he's out to get us - you and me, that is." She shook her head. "Nobody seems to know why he wants us, but the assumption is that it's something more than just personal revenge for screwing up that last operation."

"But, dammitall Tiffy, it's been fifteen years! Surely he can't have been out of commission all that time and has only now got fit enough to look for us. What the hell has he been doing all this time? Doesn't the Department have any clues?"

"Not as far as I know. Look, all I know is this. Early this morning I got a ‘phone call, I'm always an early riser, even at weekends, but I was just up. I answered it and said who I was, you know 'Hello, this is Tiffany Walters', like you do. It was Duncan Lawson, but I didn't realise that 'till afterwards. All he said was, 'It is urgent that Andromeda see Castor. Be in his office by oh ten hundred hours today. Try not to be seen.' Then he rang off before I could ask questions. I woke my husband and spun him a tale, then got in the car and drove straight up to town and spent half an hour dodging around the shops before going to the Firm. I went straight to Duncan's office - did you know he's Section Controller now? - well he is. He thinks that we must know something that we shouldn't and that Dimitriov has been put onto us because he knows us. Anyway, I was told to go straight back home and prepare my family for a surprise holiday at the Government's expense, then come on here to get you." She chuckled. "My Wallace has gradually learned something of my past over the years, so he took it all philosophically - said he'd always known that no good would come of marrying me! I'm looking forward to seeing how you break the news to your husband!"

"Thank you for those few kind words of support!" But Lizzie's answering smile faded quickly. "What on earth could we know that matters now but hasn't for the past fifteen years?"

"How the Hell would I know? You're the brains of this team! Dammit, I've been cudgelling my brains ever since I left Duncan's office and I still haven't a clue. Maybe something that didn't matter fifteen years ago has become important now. Who knows, we may hold the secret to the Star Wars Strategic Defence Initiative in our tiny minds! I don't know - but I do know this, little old Alexi Dimitriov is a very nasty man and I'm not about to take any chances."

Lizzie walked the next fifty yards deep in thought. "The question is, does he want us to interrogate us, or does he just want to kill us?"

"I don't know, what does it matter anyway?" 

"It matters a lot. If he just wants to kill us he'll have every incentive to do it quietly without involving anyone else. On the other hand, if he wants to squeeze us, he's quite capable of using our families to apply the pressure."

"Damn, you're right, I hadn't thought of that." She smiled a little weakly. "Same old Lizzie, an absolute bugger for thinking! Well, the Department have arranged to get our families out of harm's way until it blows over."

"We need to get the Department to get us ALL out of harm's way until it blows over! For God's sake, Tiffy, surely you can't seriously be suggesting that we go back on active service! We're FORTY years old, remember, not wild twenty year olds any more!" She realised she was shouting and calmed down with an effort.

"I'm just telling you what the Department want. Their attitude is that if Dimitriov wants something it must be important, so they want it too. The only way is for us to take an active part - at least, that's what they think." She could see her friend was unconvinced and her tone became wheedling. "Come on, Lizzie, we can't just stand back and wait like goats staked out to attract tigers. Not us, who were once tigers ourselves. Let's get in there." Her eyes sparkled. "Please, Lizzie, just one more time. Let's show these young whippersnappers in the Department what Gemini were really like!"

Despite herself, Lizzie laughed. "See, I told you, you're an excitement addict. Now you've got your business on its feet you crave some new madcap adventure. I, on the other hand, am a respectable married lady, a quiet house frau, a middle aged coward!"

"Lizzie Smythe! You ... you are ... I know what you are, you are a wolf in sheep's clothing, that's what you are." She wrinkled her nose. "And the sheep whose clothing it was had absolutely no dress sense!"

Lizzie became thoughtful again. "The point is, do we have a choice? If we hide out with our families, and this thing is important enough, will Dimitriov keep on looking until he finds us? Jack's a public figure, he'd die if he had to fade into obscurity. Sooner or later we'd be found." She sighed. "Dammit, Tiffy. I hate to admit it but you're right. The only thing we can do to protect our families is to get the Department to put them somewhere safe for a few weeks whilst we try to bring things to a head. If the worst comes to the worst, we can come into the open and let him have a crack at us. Once he'd got us I don't suppose he'd have any further interest in our families."

"Very noble, old friend, but I hope you aren't thinking of giving yourself up. Not only would the Department not like that, I wouldn't either!"

"Of course not! But we'd have to clear it up quick. Sooner or later they'd get hold of one of our children. How long would you hold out if you got a message saying that Dimitriov had got his hands on Elizabeth or Marie?"

Tiffy shivered visibly. "Please! Don't say things like that! You're right, we must get the kids away to safety. The Department know that and they're going to have a car down here early in the afternoon to get your family away. Mine will have been picked up by now." She brightened as if with that settled they could get on with the exciting work. "So you agree? Gemini is back in business?"

They would soon be in sight of the buildings so Lizzie stopped and grinned as she held out her hand. "I agree. Gemini rides again! Shake on it, Partner." They were laughing as they shook hands but the intensity of the clasp belied the levity. Both knew that they might never see their loved ones again after this day.

When they arrived back, the others were all in the kitchen. The children had actually showered and dressed, and were a far cry from the urchins who had met Tiffy in the yard. Normally dinner would call for getting properly cleaned up but lunch usually merited no more than washed hands and the most obvious marks dabbed off faces. Lizzie thought wryly that it was an indication of how few friends she had that a visit from one was so special as to cause her children to shower and put on clean clothes for lunch.

Lizzie sat her friend down where they could continue to chat, and set the children to work setting the table. She quickly put the vegetables on the Rayburn and put the finishing touches to the main dishes. Jack tried to chat up Tiffy, and Marlyn sank even further into a fit of sulks.

CHAPTER 2

Lunch started as a pleasant, cheerful meal. Even Marlyn emerged from her sulks far enough to be almost normal. That was thanks to Tiffy, who drew her out and made it clear that she envied Marlyn her youth and beauty. This quite cheered Marlyn up, and only Lizzie, knowing Tiffy as she did, recognised the heavy irony in her friend's words. If there was one thing that Tiffy couldn't stand it was a weak-willed wimp who wasn't prepared to fight for what she wanted.

Jack continued to try to capture Tiffy's attention, and at first thought he was having his usual success. Gradually, though, he became aware that Tiffy's attention was wandering, and his eyes followed her gaze to see what was attracting her. To his surprise, he saw that she was watching Lizzie intently, and he kept glancing from one to the other to try to deduce what was going on. Lizzie seemed to be completely oblivious of the scrutiny, but she did seem to be a bit preoccupied - mind you, she had been like that a lot lately. It crossed his mind to wonder whether Lizzie and her friend were perhaps lesbians - but immediately dismissed the thought, he knew Lizzie to be normal, and Tiffy exuded sexiness.

Tiffy had started the meal feeling in the position of a guest who had to be communicative with her hosts. This she was very practised at, and she had them all eating out of her hand - until the moment when she met Lizzie's eyes. The dreamy, faraway look sent her nerves jangling, and her interest in Jack's, and everybody else's’, conversation became peripheral.

With uncharacteristic clumsiness she allowed a drop of gravy to trickle over her lip and onto her chin. With similarly uncharacteristic forgetfulness she ignored her napkin and instead hoisted her small handbag onto her knees beneath the table. A small piece of fumbling and she had a tissue in one hand and the handbag was back on the floor.

Nobody noticed that a small automatic pistol now nestled between her upper thighs.

They had just finished eating, and Lizzie had risen to get the coffee pot from the Rayburn, when the door crashed open. Everyone except Lizzie and Tiffy stared open mouthed as two men burst in with levelled handguns. "Still! Don't move and you won't get hurt!"

Their eyes swept the room, dismissing the children and Jack as of no interest. Tiffy they immediately singled out as a target, but they were obviously confused by Lizzie and Marlyn. Lizzie's dreaminess evaporated on the instant and she took in the situation, and the visitors' uncertainty about her, in a single glance.

She was immediately frightened, flustered, even distraught. Wringing her hands and screwing up her face in pathetic terror, she fumbled with words. "What, what ... what's the matter? What do you want? Who are you?"

Far from answering her, every word she uttered made them less interested in her. Their answer was directed primarily at Tiffy. "We're looking for Tiffany Walters and Elizabeth Caldwell." They were both concentrating on Tiffy. "You're Walt..."

The thing that stopped them short was the frightened sobbing woman suddenly starting to move with bewildering speed and purpose. Even as they dragged their eyes from Tiffy they couldn't believe what they were seeing. The drab, distraught figure was actually ATTACKING them!

Lizzie had been standing when they entered, and whilst talking she had shuffled forward until she was a but a step from the right side of the nearest man. She'd have liked the angle to be better so that she could have side-kicked him somewhere vital. But he was positioned badly - and she doubted that her jeans would have allowed her to raise her leg far enough anyway.

Her left leg lashed upwards and caught the arm just behind the wrist. The gun flew upwards and the man instinctively tried to retrieve it in mid air. His eyes followed it upwards and his head tilted back slightly in unison. As her leg came down she was already twisting and her left hand was accelerating upwards from near her right hip. Edge upwards, and with all the energy of her legs, hips, torso and arm behind it, it smashed into the underside of the exposed nose.

She felt the fragile skull bones and gristle surrounding the nose break and push smoothly upwards. Felt the travel that pushed the broken ends into the brain. In that instant he ceased to be a threat and she was already turning to engage the second man.

But there was no need. When the men had burst in, Tiffy's left hand had clutched dramatically to her breast, and then slid innocently down to her groin. The instant Lizzy's move attracted their attention she shot the man nearest her - two throaty coughs and the small 0.22 calibre bullets, fired with the pistol still resting on her legs under the table, punched into him just above the frontal bone of the pelvic girdle. They lacked the smashing power of a .38 or .45 but, taken together with Lizzie's distraction, they confused him for just long enough for her to get the pistol from under the table and shoot him neatly in the head.

Lizzie recognised that the two men had ceased to be a threat, but she knew that where there was two their might be more. Her movement towards the second man checked and diverted to scoop up the gun the first man had dropped. Without conscious thought she recognised it as a Czech Auto Pistol, and without a further glance, checked that the safety was off.

Jack was still sitting open mouthed, his theatrical background perhaps blunting his response by leading him to believe that the men were acting. More likely it was simply that it was all so far beyond his experience that he didn't know what to do, and did nothing. He had been mesmerised by the men when Lizzie first started to move, and everything had then happened so quickly that his brain didn't catch up until he saw her pick up the gun. He became even more confused. When they had married he had owned a number of sporting guns. Lizzie had asked him to get rid of them, and at first he had refused. Then he had seen the strength of her feeling, her dislike bordering on a sickened revulsion of all firearms. It wasn't just that she hated them, she had a genuine phobia and would shiver and sweat if there was a gun in the room. Now she was handling the heavy automatic as if it was second nature.

Tiffy was on her feet and quickly checked the two men and picked up the other pistol before speaking. Despite, or perhaps because of, the danger her eyes were sparkling with excitement. "Same old Lizzie, I see! You never did learn to hit them and leave them alive!"

Lizzie had an animal alertness about her, and she spoke as if they were alone in the room. "Both dead?"

"Yes."

"There'll be more. We'll go out the back way, there's old pens that'll give plenty of cover." She seemed to see the others for the first time, and her voice as she spoke to them owed nothing to the domesticated Lizzie they knew so well. It was soft, but it compelled total obedience. "Jack, take them all through into the pantry and close the door. There might be more out there and they might have grenades." The pantry had no outside windows and the walls were two feet thick.

Before Jack could speak, she had led Tiffy through the house to the back door. It was standing open on this late summer's day, and they could avoid that dangerous instant of attracting an enemy by the movement of an opening door. They hesitated briefly and Lizzie explained the situation with just a few words and gestures from their never-to-be-forgotten past.

They burst out and separated, running crouched and silent to the cover of the broken down walls of the old outbuildings. Nothing. With a minute gesture, Lizzie sent Tiffy round the far corner, whilst she herself took the shorter route round the other way. She knew every nook and cranny intimately, and could guess where a professional would choose to hole up to back up the intruders.

She was right, crouched in a niche between a building and a wall, almost invisible in the shadow, she saw the figure. Cautious that he might not be alone, she hesitated just out of his sight and carefully quartered every possible hiding place for a companion. She could see none, and she had to move fast to take out the man before Tiffy ran into danger. With one swift movement she stepped round the corner, brought up the pistol in both hands, and squeezed off three swift shots, then ducked back to cover. She didn't need to wait to see whether she had hit her target, the meaty thud of bullets striking flesh was unlike any other sound in the world.

Peeking round the corner she saw Tiffy sidling towards her close to the wall, the captured pistol held poised in her right hand. Covering each other's moves in turn they quickly and efficiently searched the farmstead until Tiffy stepped out of the last building. "Well, there seems to have been just the three of them." She peered down the road. "They must have left their car down by the main road, I suppose." For a moment she stood with her face up to the sun enjoying the glad-to-be-alive feeling that accompanied surviving, then she broke the moment by striding towards the Rolls Royce and opening the boot. "Come on, there's a lot to be done before the Department arrives." She heaved out a large khaki holdall and dumped it at Lizzie's feet, "Here, cop that," and then lugged out another one for herself. "I picked them up at the Department, Duncan had arranged for full kit to be ready for both of us."

They dumped the bags on the kitchen floor. "Come on, give me a hand to get the bodies out to the shed before the children come back in." Lizzie grabbed an arm of one of the dead men and started to haul him towards the door. Tiffy grabbed the other arm and together they hauled him to an outbuilding and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor. They returned to the kitchen for the other one, and then collected the one Lizzie had shot outside. Lizzie carefully shut and bolted the door. "I'm going to let the dogs out and I don't want them messing about with the bodies. They'll bark if anything comes near the place. If I'd had any sense I'd have let them out before, then none of this might have happened."

"Don't you believe it, all it would have done would have been to warn them too. Now, come on, we've got less than an hour before we must be going."

They entered the kitchen, quickly wiped up the small amount of blood, and then Lizzie called out, "Okay everybody, it's safe to come out now." And waited whilst they slowly emerged.

Jack had clearly got his wits back and was not pleased at being left out of things. "Lizzie, just what the hell is going on? Your old school friend arrives and you immediately start communicating by some sort of mumbo jumbo. Then, less than a couple of hours later, two men burst into our kitchen and start waving guns about. You kill one of them with your bare hands as if it's all in a normal day's work, and your dear old friend shoots the other dead with the sort of gun you need a good reason to get a Firearms Certificate for in England. Then you both dash outside and do some more shooting. Christ! For someone with a phobia about guns and violence you seem to have gone off your rocker!" He opened a cupboard door, removed a bottle of whisky and slopped a generous measure into a tumbler. Gulping down most of the contents, he refilled it and turned back to face his wife. "I hope I've been a fair and open husband to you, Lizzie - whilst you have obviously deceived me all along! So what have the pair of you got to say for yourselves? Are you just common murderers or do you excuse your barbaric behaviour by being in some way legal?"

Lizzie's flinching from his verbal attack was in stark contrast to her decisiveness in dealing with the intruders. Her voice was almost plaintive as she tried to calm him. "I'm sorry, Jack. I will try to explain but there isn't much time. Some men will be arriving within the hour to take you all to somewhere safe whilst Tiffy and I try to sort this out. Before then we must get all our stuff packed." She turned to Marlyn. "I'm afraid you're involved as well for the moment. Tiffy and I have things to do here so will you take the children upstairs and get everything packed for a holiday lasting, say, two or three weeks?

Marlyn was still pale and shaken but she was obviously of sterner stuff underneath because she rose and nodded calmly. "Of course. Where will I find everything?"

Jack tried to take over again. "Wait a minute, ..."

"No time, Jack." Lizzie cut in with her gaze still on Marlyn. "Tiffany knows where everybodys’ stuff is kept. You'll find the suitcases in the big cupboard on the landing, pack a small one for each of the children - just their day to day play things - and a big one with dress clothes for all the children. Then pack another big one for Jack. Oh, he won't be needing formal clothes, you'll be lying low out of the public eye so public functions are emphatically out. Okay?"

"Yes, okay. What about you? Shall I pack for you as well?"

Lizzie shook her head. "No, I'll be travelling light. I'll throw a few things into a bag before I go."

"Alright." Marlyn collected up the four children and ushered them towards the stairs. She might not have the finest brain in Christendom but she was the eldest of a large family and could handle children with practised ease.

The children took it all remarkably well and seemed to be less afraid than simply excited and proud of their Mum. "What's happening, auntie Marlyn? Why did Mummy hit that man in the kitchen?" Little James' voice was steady and his eyes serious.

"Don't be silly, Jimmy. They were going to burgle us and Mummy and Tiffy stopped them" Tiffany believed that she should always act as a knowledgeable intermediary between adults and her siblings.

"Shush, children! I want you to be very good and help me to pack. We're all going to go away on a surprise holiday. Marie, you go with Tiffany and get the suitcases from the big cupboard. Bring the two big cases and a small one for each of you."

"You two come with me and help me to get your clothes ready for packing." Marlyn led James and Jemma towards their bedrooms.

Back in the kitchen, Jack set down his glass with an angry thud. "Okay, enough shilly shallying, what the hell is going on?"

Lizzie hesitated a moment, then silently cleared the remnants of lunch off the table and wiped it down with a cloth. Then she pulled the bag that Tiffy had given her over to a chair by the table and sat down. Tiffy mirrored her movements and sat down opposite her. "Right, Jack, pull over your chair by the table and I'll tell you what I know."

As she waited for Jack to pick up the bottle and glass, and slide the chair to the table using his knee, she reached down and unzipped the bag. The first thing she drew out was a package wrapped in oiled cloth. She laid it on the table and reached down to rummage for a little canvas bag. Opening it she extracted a small can of oil and an assortment of rags. Then she unrolled the oiled cloth to reveal two knives, one in a sheath and the other a big pocket knife.

Extracting the finely balanced throwing knife from its sheath, she ran a finger along its edge to test its sharpness, and then started to speak quietly and soothingly. "As I said earlier, Tiffy and I, and a girl called Marie, all went to boarding school together. We were the very best of friends and did everything together." She smiled disarmingly at her still-truculant husband. "I think we must have been rather mischievous children because we always seemed to be getting into scrapes - rather like our Tiffany does now."

Jack refilled his glass and took another swallow. "Okay, okay, never mind the ancient history, just get to the point." His words were a coarse sneer.

Lizzie saw a shadow of disgust flit across Tiffy's face, and spoke quickly to forestall her volatile friend. "I will, I will, but the background is relevant." Her voice hardened perceptibly. "But before I go on, you must stop drinking. A car will be here to escort you to safety soon, but it would be best if you were in a fit state to drive your own car with the children and luggage. I don't know how many men the Department will send but there won't be any to spare for driving you around when you're too drunk to do it yourself." As she spoke she smeared some oil on the blade and carefully wiped over the whole knife with a rag. Then she reached for the other knife and pressed a switch in its brass handle. There was a sharp click as a slim, evil looking blade flicked forward.

Jack leaned forward and crashed his glass on the table, splashing whisky over her hands. "Don't you tell me about getting drunk, wife. So I might be under the influence and might, just might mind you, be involved in an accident. And in that accident I just might kill somebody. But at least it would be an ACCIDENT! Not like you two bloody murderous bitches who kill people deliberately in cold blood!" His face was a snarling mask of fury.

Before Lizzie could unlock her eyes from his and mouth a reply, Tiffy broke in. She picked up the intruder's pistol from near her elbow, tore out the magazine, ejected the round from the breech and threw the pistol across the table so that it landed with a crash in front of Jack. Her voice was shaking with suppressed fury as his eyes and hands moved involuntarily towards it. "That's right, pick it up! What the hell do you think it is?" Not pausing for him to reply, she continued. "I'll tell you what it is. It's a Czech CZ75 Auto Pistol." She flung the round she'd removed from the breech down in front of him so that it bounced off the table and hit him on the chest. "And that's what it fires, a 9 millimetre Parabellum cartridge."

He had been jarred by her action but his drink-induced truculence refused to be cowed. "So the little lady knows something about guns, so what?"

She ground her teeth in fury, but deliberately softened her voice. "Did National Service did you?"

"Yes I did, just after the War. So what?"

"What in?"

"The army - the Educational Corp if you must know - but we were still soldiers." He was less sure of himself now, more on the defensive.

Her voice was silky, and her lips parted slightly in a smile. "I'm sure you were - and you would have fired the Lee Enfield 303 and the Webley revolver. Right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"At targets - bullseye ones for the rifle and life-sized ones of men in German helmets for the revolver?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

Her lips straightened. "But you never fired at real men, did you? Never heard the smack of a round hitting flesh? Never saw living people being torn apart and turned into dead meat?"

He was quieter now, less comfortable. "No, of course not. It was peace-time when I was in."

"Ah, peace-time." Her voice was rising and her eyes were flashing fire. "It was peace-time when we were in too - at least, that's what the papers and the politicians said. But, believe me, friend, that was all a front. The Cold War was a bloody hot war where we were. We didn't use Lee Enfield rifles that you could think of as sporting rifles provided by the Army for your amusement. And we didn't use revolvers that could transport you back to the cowboys and Indians of your childhood. And we didn't finish our two year stint and buy matched Purdys for the grouse, or a nice walnut-stocked Mannlicker for the Roe deer. We used things like these." She stabbed her finger at the pistol in his hand.

He looked at it dumbly. "Look at it, man! It won't bite you, and it's no delicate target pistol so you don't have to treat it like fine porcelain. It's a heavy calibre military pistol with a fifteen-round magazine - and it's made for just one thing, killing and maiming men! It's not the sort of thing you can buy in your nice, air-conditioned, carpeted gun shop either - it's the sort of thing that's bought by the thousand by shadowy figures working for duly elected governments. And then they're given away free to young men and women, along with an owners manual that tells them how to use them to kill people."

His truculence was draining away and he waggled the pistol back and forth vaguely.

Her voice continued with inexorable fury. "The men who burst in here, and the one in the yard, weren't here to sweet-talk us. When men point pistols like that at you they mean business - and the business is kill or be killed. Your sheltered life may have led you to believe that violence is a punch-up in the pub, and death is being written out of a script. But not for us, pal, not for us. For us it's the smell of nitro-cellulose, blood and shit when you tear open the guts and bowels of somebody you don't even know well enough to dislike - but who you fear to the bottom of your very soul because you know he intends to do the same to you."

Jack laid the pistol down and pushed it away from him. Keeping his eyes downcast, he mumbled, "Killing human beings can never be justified."

Tiffy's hand slapped palm-downwards on the table with an explosive crack. "The hell it can't! Listen to me, my friend. The civilised world you live in is just a paper-thin veneer - one that's denied most of the population of this planet. You think that because there is literature and art in the world that peace and democracy are assured for ever and ever. Like hell they are! Democracy, yes and peace too, have to be protected continuously - fought for too if necessary. There's no end to the would-be tyrants of the world who think, for one reason or another, that they would be justified in taking us all back to the Dark Ages - and that's just what they'll do if they aren't fought every inch of the way. Grow up, man! People like us don't fight for political systems like capitalism, socialism or communism - all of them can be good, bad or indifferent. We fight for democracy - and that's a universal concept."

The anger started to leave her and she sighed heavily before continuing in a softer voice. "Believe me, Jack, the best we can hope for in the way of democracy and peace is that the vast majority of the populace will believe that they're theirs by right - and that the fighting for it will be done by as few people as possible. A handful, Jack, just a handful - people like Lizzie and me. Almost always, the people we hurt are the denizens of our own little clandestine world." She shook her head sadly at the knowledge that he would never really understand. "We're like the mechanics who get dirty repairing your car, or the undertakers who bury your dead. We're seldom seen, and few people with any sense would want our job, but we are essential, Jack, believe me, we are essential."

The white-hot intensity of her words had sobered him, and their obvious sincerity had impressed him more than he could bring himself to admit. He lifted his head slowly, almost fearfully, and looked from one woman to the other. "Yes, well, maybe you're right - and maybe if there were fewer secretive bastards stirring things up all around the world we'd all have a better chance of peace. Anyway, quite apart from whether the cause is just or not, did you have to kill these people? Couldn't Lizzie have knocked her one out just as easily as killing him? And couldn't you have just wounded the other one?"

"For God's sake, Jack." Tiffy spoke as if to a backward child. "This isn't the Roy Rogers, or the Lone Ranger of old-time kids’ films. This is for real and for keeps. Sure Lizzie could have hit to stun - but to do that she'd have had to pull her punch, and that would have slowed her down and made her more likely to fail. By putting everything she had into it she wasn't deliberately trying to kill, she was simply maximising her chances of stopping him - and maximising all our chances of survival. Remember, she didn't know I had a gun. Oh, she knew I'd have a go whenever she attracted their attention - but she knew that there was a high probability that the second one would shoot me before I could get him, and that she'd have to take him out too." She saw understanding start to dawn in his eyes, and waited for the realisation to strike home. "Yes, Jack, think about that. Lizzie was prepared to sacrifice me because she knew that if we didn't take out these men they probably wouldn't leave any witnesses behind. And don't think that I'd have got away with a neat flesh wound. When a nine mil Parabellum hits you at close range it NEVER makes a neat wound."

He knew he was beaten. "I ... I just thought you could have done it without killing." 

She shook her head sadly. "I wish we could have - the old cowboy thing of knocking someone out with a quick punch, or shooting the gun from their hand, or shooting them neatly in the shoulder so that they drop their gun unfired. I'm afraid life isn't like that. A well-trained man is bloody difficult to put down with a single blow, and if he has a gun in his hand one blow is all you get time for. Same with shooting guns out of people's hands. I've known some excellent shots - Lizzie for one - and some of them could do it if they weren't in a hurry, but none could do it in the heat of combat. As for a nice clean shoulder wound - a myth if ever their was one. Even if you could fire that accurately, all sorts of muck gets carried into the wound. Besides, a shot from that little peashooter of mine wouldn't have upset his aim one little bit unless it hit something immediately vital. Sorry, Jack, but if you are fighting for something important, like your life or the life of someone dear to you, you go for as fast a kill as you can possibly get. Nothing else makes any sense."

He was stung by the simple logic of her words, and by the fatalistic sadness of their delivery. "A council of despair if ever I heard one." He saw her hackles start to rise again and waved a placatory hand. "Okay, okay, I know. This isn't the time nor the place to discuss such things so, please, go on with your story."

Lizzie took up her story as if the outburst had never happened. "Later, when we left school, the three of us wanted to stay together and, like many young people, wanted to do something exciting. We didn't know what exactly, but this was in the swinging sixties and excitement was in the air so we wanted to see the world and have fun.

Of course, we had not the slightest notion of becoming spies or anything like that, rather the opposite in fact. We didn't want to be poking around in dark corners, we wanted to be out in the sun having fun."

She smiled softly at the memory of their innocence. "As it happened, Marie's father was something high up in the Naval side of the Ministry of Defence, I forget what exactly, and he suggested that we might like a job with a Government Department he knew. He said we could learn to become couriers and carry special government papers and things like that all over the world."

She finished the second knife and folded its wicked looking blade back into place, wiping over the haft before setting it aside. Then she reached for another bundle and started to unwrap it. "We started doing small jobs, taking small packages between Departments in London, then to other places in Britain. Sometimes we went together and sometimes alone. Then gradually we started going further afield, to the rest of Europe, the Middle East, America, Australia -anywhere where Britain had interests. It was marvellous, and in our naivety it never occurred to us that the stuff we were carrying must have been worth a lot to justify our swanning about all over the place."

She sighed wistfully. "But it all had to come to an end. Gradually we started to put two and two together, and eventually came to realise that we weren't really ordinary government couriers at all."

She spread the piece of cloth to reveal a Walther Model P5 Auto Pistol in a shoulder holster, before continuing. Jack stared at the guns - Tiffy had one too - but forbore to comment. "We realised that we were working for one of the Security Departments, I won't tell you which. Having found this out, we didn't know whether to be excited or angry. Excited to be in what we supposed to be a James Bond world, but angry because we'd been used without our knowing it. Once the penny dropped, we realised that we'd been used in dangerous situations - completely untrained and with only our innocence as a cloak. Of course, being pretty wild in those days, the excitement won and we went straight to our boss and asked to be given something more exciting to do. And that was really the start of things."

Her fingers moved as if they had minds of their own, stripping the pistol, checking it, oiling it, reassembling it, testing the action. She reached down and rummaged for a moment, and emerged with a box of 9mm pistol ammunition. Checking the box, she slit open the seal with a nail and started to thumb cartridges into the three magazines on the table. All the time she kept talking. "We were accepted and started training proper. And what training it was! Physical stuff with the SAS where we were hounded to exhaustion and trained to fire just about every weapon known to man - Warsaw Pact as well as NATO. School work too, learning the craft and science of espionage."

"Then we moved into the Department proper, and started working. At first we just did little jobs, spying I suppose you'd call it, but more like private detective work really. Keeping an eye on the National Front, the far Left and any other potentially anti-social fringe groups, that kind of thing."

She snapped a magazine into place, cocked the pistol, put on the safety catch and placed the gun near her right hand. There was another pause as she reached into the bag and pulled out another package. "At first all three of us worked together, but three isn't really a very good number for that kind of work. Anyway, Marie had spent some of her childhood in the Middle East - her father had been stationed there for a while - and could speak Arabic. Besides, she had a hankering for the sun so she was transferred to the Middle East section. Tiffy and I had been good at languages at school, and were pretty fluent in French, German and Russian. So we became a permanent team in the North European Section."

At this point Tiffy chipped in, trying to lighten the atmosphere after her outburst. "Believe me, Jack, we were the greatest. We were inseparable, and so beautiful that our nickname became the Heavenly Twins. Well, it was inevitable that the Heavenly Twins should become Gemini. The name stuck and became our official code name. Individually, I was Castor and Lizzie was Pollux. Together we were Gemini."

Lizzie flipped back the last fold of cloth and uttered a whoop of surprise. "Tiffy! Look, it's Ivan!"

Jack had been silent for an uncharacteristically long time and, despite being intrigued, felt sufficiently out of his depth that he was unwilling to stick his neck out again. Nonetheless, he was spurred into exclaiming, "What on Earth are you talking about now, woman?"

Tiffy was laughing. "What she means, Jack, is that she's got her favourite weapon back. You wouldn't think it to look at her, but she likes that great butch monster. I, being a lady, prefer something more ladylike." She held up an Uzi sub-machine gun that she was just starting to strip.

Lizzie chuckled. "Ladylike it is! Little, fickle and dainty!. This, now is a real killing weapon, a Russian Kalashnikov AK-47 Assault Rifle. Hard hitting, accurate, and reliable from the Gobi Desert to the high Arctic. That thing" she nodded at the Uzi "can barely puncture a can of beans, but this", she slapped the Kalashnikov with her hand, "this can punch through three eighths of an inch of steel or nine inches of solid brick. And it's accurate enough to kill reliably at six hundred yards." She was unaware of the steel in her voice as she spoke. Unaware that what had started almost as a children's story had pulled her back into a past when times, and words, had been harsher.

Jack looked aghast at the crudely built, vicious-looking Kalashnikov. Then swivelled his eyes to take in the lethal little Uzi. "Good God, what the hell are you doing? Pistols are one thing - I can just about accept that you need them to protect yourselves. But these ... these things are ... are for open warfare! God Almighty, I don't know much about these things but that," he gestured at the Uzi, "is a submachine gun. What the hell do you need one of those for? And that thing," he pointed at the Kalashnikov, "what in hell's name do you need a rifle for?" As an almost plaintive afterthought he added, "And when did our Secret Service start issuing Russian guns anyway?'

Again Tiffy answered. "They use a wide variety of weapons, sometimes it makes sense to use a weapon that's common in the country you're operating in. It's less conspicuous in sight and sound, and it's easier to pick up ammunition if you run short - NATO and Warsaw Pact ammo is not interchangeable."

She chuckled suddenly. "Anyway, the Department didn't issue that gun, Lizzie took it off a Red Army Arctic Patrol Lieutenant. We were on a job near one of their bases in the north and were trying to creep out after a mission - nothing very dangerous, just getting information from a contact. But things went wrong and that Lieutenant and his six-man patrol followed us for three days and nights. We only had pistols and had to keep out of range of their rifles. It was pretty tense, I can tell you. Anyway, by the third night it was getting pretty clear that they were going to get us. What with the journey in, then the mission, and then the trek out, we were just about done. We only saw them occasionally in the distance, but they had a clear trail to follow."

She shivered as she recalled the bitter cold of that Arctic winter, and her eyes had a faraway look as she spoke. "The weather had been pretty foul all along, but then a bit of a blizzard got up. I was for making the best time possible to try to get away before the weather cleared, hoping it would wipe out our tracks. But not Lizzie! She argued that with the blizzard blowing straight into our face we'd just exhaust ourselves for little gain in distance. So she insisted that we use the blizzard to our advantage by turning around and stalking the patrol. We were dead beat and it took endless hours to make contact, but we came on them out of the eye of an Arctic blizzard and were lucky enough to get the Lieutenant on his own. God alone knows why he was out of sight of his men - but he was young and it's likely that he was unsure of his command and was minimising his contact with his men as much as possible. Whatever the reason, he was pitching his one-man tent maybe twenty yards from them - not far, but in the blizzard, and with just the moon and the Aurora Borealis filtering through the snow, you couldn't see half that distance. Anyway, Lizzie went for him whilst I covered her against the appearance of the rest of the patrol. She didn't dare use a gun because of the noise, so she went for him with a knife. He'd set down his rifle but he had a pistol in a holster on his belt. But he didn't go for it - perhaps the cold and his arctic gloves made it difficult to get the pistol out, or perhaps he thought she'd be easy meat. Maybe it was just that he'd already been using the knife to hack bits of ice clear to pitch his tent and knew it wasn't frozen in its sheath so he could get it out quickly. Anyway, he grabbed his knife and went for her. He was good - but Lizzie was better and she killed him and took that gun."

Despite himself, Jack was drawn into the story. "And what about the rest of the patrol? How did you get away from them?'

"Oh, we dumped the Lieutanant's body in his tent in the hope that they wouldn't notice he was dead until morning. Then we left them and pushed on as fast as we could all through the night - it was winter so the days were short." She stopped for so long that Jack wasn't sure whether she had finished. She was sitting with her body perfectly still and her eyes staring sightlessly ahead, but every now and then her eyebrows and cheeks twitched as her mind replayed the events of that terrible night. "It was so cold, and we were so exhausted that we just couldn't generate enough heat to keep warm, even the exercise didn't help. I was dead beat and wanted to stop but Lizzie knew that if we stopped before sunrise the cold would kill us, so she dragged me on by brute force for hours and hours ..." Her voice trailed away into silence and she was back again in the bone-chilling cold of that pre-dawn day.

A brief shivery spasm gripped her, then she continued speaking. "Gradually the wind dropped and the snow died away to nearly nothing - but the going was terribly hard and the moon had disappeared. Just before dawn the ground stopped rising, so we stopped on the crest so that we would be able to see if they were still following us when it got light." She laughed harshly. "Still coming? As if there was ever any doubt - Red Army Arctic Patrols are not noted for giving up! Come first light, there they were, away at the far end of the long valley we'd come through." Her eyes squeezed shut as if to cut off the image. "God, I was scared! We had struggled for hours to come up that valley, and there they were, all rested and fresh and fit, and coming up the slope like they were superhuman. I was for turning and running till I dropped - but not Lizzie. I can just see her now, taking off her parka and starting doing exercises to warm herself up and ease her muscles so she could shoot accurately."

Tiffy spoke in the quiet monotone of a Medium communicating with the dead. "When they were just a couple of hundred yards away, and had no cover to hide behind, she lay down on her parka so that she could see them between rocks. I can see her now, her breath like smoke in the cold, and freezing where it hit the rifle breech so that there was a long streak of white hoar frost along the side. She seemed to take an age to get ready, and all the time they were getting closer and looking like men instead of just dots. Then she started firing, just six unhurried shots and it was all over. Lizzie always was a crack shot - she'd done a snipers course for assassination jobs - so in that open territory they just had no chance at all." Tiffy sat for a long time staring into space, then she slowly came back to the present and finished almost inconsequentally, "After that she always preferred that gun."

Jack furrowed his brow as he tried to take it all in. Shaking his head in disbelief, he avoided the touchy ground of the killing, and asked the question, "Why do you call it Ivan? Is it just because it's Russian?"

Again Tiffy answered, making a deliberate attempt to lighten the mood. "Oh there was an element of that, of course, but the main reason was that Lizzie became a real virtuoso with that gun. When we had to go on the shooting range we'd all complain if we were selected to shoot against her. We knew we'd lose and we'd always say, 'It's not fair, we have to shoot against two, Lizzie and her Ivan the Terrible'. From then on we always used to refer to them as Lizzie and her Ivan."

Lizzie scarcely listened as she lovingly stripped the rifle down, cleaned, oiled and reassembled it. Then she loaded five long, curved magazines with the heavy Russian 7.62x39mm rounds, and smacked one magazine into place. Whether it was the sight of it or the story Tiffy had told, there seemed to be something immeasurably sinister about the oily metallic sound as she cocked the action and flicked on the safety catch.

Jack leaned forward and ran a tentative finger along the folding stock. "It's a crude looking brute."

Although Lizzie had seemed to be oblivious to Tiffy's story telling it had affected her and another layer of domesticity had sloughed off. Now she answered in a voice that was crisp and uncompromising. "It's not a fancy sporting rifle with gilt scroll work and carved stock, that's for sure. It's a military Assault Rifle, mass-produced by the million and more widely used than any other single weapon ever made." She ran a hand along its rough frame. "Like all military weapons, it's built down to a price - but only where it doesn't matter. Inside it's superbly built and will stand up to the sort of usage that would reduce a sporting rifle to scrap in no time flat. And it fires heavy slugs at a rate of six hundred and fifty rounds a minute. In fact, the mechanism is so good it's been copied by a number of other manufacturers."

Tiffy chuckled, seeing the Lizzie she remembered so well. "Okay, okay, we're not arguing - but it is a bit long in the tooth. When I picked them up, old Jerry Withers offered me more modern stuff, but I knew you'd want Ivan. He offered me one of the new Heckler Koch MP5s, like the SAS use, instead of my old Uzi. I was sorely tempted, I can tell you - but there wasn't time to get used to it so I knew you'd chew me out something rotten if I accepted."

"You're right!" Lizzie looked at Jack, and spoke more to offer the olive branch than from any need to explain further. "The modern Assault Rifles are of smaller calibre, just a little bigger than .22, so they're lighter and easier to use. To some extent they compensate for their small calibre by having a higher muzzle velocity, but for a long time the military thinking has been that a 7.62 is simply more powerful than the average infantryman needs." She nodded towards the Uzi. "When it comes to close-in stuff the Uzi is superb, it's designed for handiness and fast firing. But at longer ranges it just doesn't have the clout. It's hard pushed to punch holes in the mudguard of a military truck, whilst this," she slapped the Kalashnikov, "will reduce the whole vehicle to a heap of smoking scrap."

Tiffy broke in. "It is a hefty brute, Jack, but she's big enough to handle it. We make a pretty effective team, my Uzi can take care of most things at close range, and anything less than a properly armed infantry squad is dead meat if it comes up against Lizzie at longer range."

Jack looked at his wife for a long moment, then filled the growing silence. "You never told me any of this. You said you'd been a courier, but you led me to believe it was with a Holiday Travel firm."

She shrugged. "Well, I was bound by the Official Secrets Act. Later, when my secrets had become old hat, it didn't seem to matter any more. It was all behind me and I just wanted to forget about it. Never in my wildest nightmares did I think I'd be recalled to duty unless there was a war on."

"But why were you so against guns all these years."

The silence drew out, until Lizzie suddenly sighed. "I suppose I'd better tell you." She broke off. "Look, this sounds all very cloak and dagger, but it wasn't like that at all. Nearly all the seven or eight years we were in the Department we were doing very mundane things. Oh, we did a lot of training, of course, because you could never tell when things might go wrong. But on all but a tiny handful of missions," she tried not to notice Tiffy's raised eyebrows, "we just swanned around as holiday makers or business people and picked up bits of information from the real spies. Even if we'd been caught we'd probably have got away with it - it would have been the people on the spot who got it in the neck."

She shrugged. "But sometimes two women - two young, carefree women - can do things that men can't, so just a few times we got nearer to the centre of things." She had to avert her eyes to avoid Tiffy's admiring look. "Anyway, we were on a mission just inside Russia, near the Finnish border. The Russians had stolen some NATO gadget and we were the only team in the office at the time so we were sent to get it back or destroy it. It was thought that they might have it in one of their border posts and that we'd need explosives to blow our way in, so we took an explosives expert - it was Marie, she'd specialised in explosives in the Middle East and was the only flash bang merchant available."

She had the Kalashnikov lying on the table in front of her and was gripping it with both hands, so tightly that her fingers shone white. "We found the place okay. It was just an ordinary army building in the wilds. They must have smuggled the gadget across the border and were waiting to be picked up by helicopter. There was a dozen or so of them and there was little chance that we could get the ... thing away from them. Anyway, we realised from the notices on the walls that an adjacent building was used to store land mines for planting in the border area, so we thought that if we could get someone in there to set a time bomb amongst the mines we could blow the whole place sky high."

Her eyes were moist and distant as she remembered. "Marie was the expert so she took all the explosives she had, a lump of plastic explosive and two time pencils. We covered her as she ran towards the back window of the building, carrying the two time pencils in her left hand. One of the Ruskies got a shot at her, just one burst before I took him out, but it hit her left arm, shattered the hand and arm and destroyed the pencils." By now the tears were running down Lizzie's face as she remembered the flopping arm and the spurting blood.

"Marie kept going and dived in through a window that I'd cleared with a quick burst, even although without the pencils she had no way of setting off a timed explosion. I guess we hoped she'd find some more in there with the mines. The Ruskies suddenly woke up to what we were doing and rushed through the buildings to get across to her. She must have heard them coming because she appeared at the window holding up a big landmine with her dollop of plastic explosives stuck in the middle of it." She was sobbing uncontrollably now. "She could hardly hold it with one hand, and it was all slippery with blood. The mines weren't primed so she had no way of setting them off. She shouted for us to fire at it to set it off with gunfire - she hadn't taken a gun in with her."

She controlled her sobbing and forced herself to go on. "We were well back and Tiffy's Uzi didn't have the range so it was up to me. I couldn't squeeze the trigger and Marie kept shouting at me to fire because they were coming. So I gave it one long burst and the whole place disappeared in a huge explosion."

She wiped her eyes and sniffed. "And our best friend died with them." she finished simply as she got up, picked up the khaki suit and stumbled out of the room.

Jack glanced at Tiffy, but said nothing when he saw that tears were carving rivers through her makeup. Somehow the anguish served to reassure him that his wife and her friend were not blood-thirsty psychopaths but sensitive people who paid a high personal price for their beliefs. It was a few minutes before Lizzie returned, washed, changed and wearing the jump suit. Although it had a military air about it, it could easily have been mistaken for a trendy leisure suit - an impression accentuated by the khaki coloured trainers on her feet. In any case, it had transformed Lizzie. She had left the room dowdy, middle-aged, straggly-haired and bulging with loose jersey and sagging bra. She returned looking slim and hard and with her coppery hair tied up in a severe knot. Her face was set and her eyes were like green arctic ice as the newly awakened memories refused to leave her.

Jack cleared his throat. "Lizzie, I'm sorry for sounding off like I did. I guess I was surprised - I still can't quite take it all in. Look, I've got the story so far - and you might have told me it years ago - but what has that to do with what happened here today?" He had clearly been doing some deep thinking.

She drew a deep breath and forced herself back to the present. "We don't know really. Tiffy got a call from the Department this morning to tell her that a KGB agent called Alexi Dimitrov was after us. Nobody seems to know why, but Dimitrov was the officer in charge of the team we blew up on that last mission." She shook her head in bewilderment. "How he can have escaped I just don't know - there was nothing bigger than a man's head left in the area when the smoke cleared. I suppose he must have left the building before the explosion -probably trying to sneak round behind us - and was in good cover."

"Anyway, everybody in the Department thought he was dead, until he popped up recently in East Germany and was recognised by an agent who had seen him in the old days. At first it just caused mild interest - people wondered what he'd been up to all those years. Then word started to filter in that he was trying to locate us - he only knew us by our code names and we've been out of circulation for a long time. Why he should want us we just don't know - but you can bet it isn't just revenge. He either wants to get something out of us, something that we don't know we have, or he wants us killed for some reason. Fortunately Tiffy got here in time."

The story telling was clearly over and it was time to move. "Look, Jack, I'm sorry about all this. I never for a moment thought my past would catch up with me and put you and the children in danger as well." Her eyes were pleading now. "Please, Jack, you must understand that the one thing that must be avoided at all costs is allowing you and the children to fall into Dimitrov's hands."

He looked dubious and started to demur, but Lizzie held up her hand. "Please Jack, trust me. Tiffy and me can't hide from this, the KGB would find us no matter where we hid. But we must get you and the children into hiding -if the KGB got their hands on you as hostages we'd just have to give ourselves up. I know you don't want to go into hiding, Jack, but it's not just for the safety of you and the children, it's for our's as well."

He hesitated, torn between the feeling that he couldn't hide whilst his wife was in danger, and the knowledge that what Lizzie was saying made solid sense. "Well, alright. But where will we go, and for how long?"

She breathed a sigh of relief. "The Department has it all arranged. You, Marlyn and the children will be taken to join Tiffy's family somewhere. I don't know where, it's better that we don't know in case either of us is taken. All I can promise is that it won't be for long. Whatever the outcome of all this, it can't last longer than a few weeks at the most. You have no public engagements booked for more than a month, and the stage you're at with your current play you can work just as well at the back of beyond as here."

He smiled for the first time since the intruders had burst in. "Alright, alright, I'll be good! I don't mind the holiday but I don't like the thought of you two being in danger." His face was suddenly sombre. "I guess I've sometimes taken you a bit for granted, but, well, I'd miss you if anything happened to you." Never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, that was as near to a protestation of love as she was ever likely to get.

She smiled back at him. "Thanks, dear. The people from the Department should be here soon so Tiffy and I will go out to keep an eye on things until they arrive." As she spoke she slipped one knife inside her suit at the back of her neck and pressed it onto a Velcro strip. The flick knife she dropped into a pocket and carefully fastened its Velcroed flap. Unzipping the front of the suit she slipped her left arm out of the sleeve and quickly donned the shoulder holster. Then she checked the pistol again before slipping it into its holster and zipping herself up. Finally, she picked up the Kalashnikov, flipped the sling over her shoulder with an easy, practised movement and flicked off the safety. "Stay inside until we call you. Okay?"

Jack's head described a peculiar circling motion, partly a nod of agreement and partly a shake of disbelief at how the quiet, gentle wife he had thought he knew to the point of boredom could pick up a Russian Assault Rifle and make it an ordinary gesture.

Waiting only for Jack's nod, Lizzie led Tiffy outside, where they spoke briefly before moving to conceal themselves in positions to cover the house. The dogs ran to Lizzie but she ignored them and they eventually moved away. For what seemed a long time they leant silently against the walls, seeing nothing moving but the dogs, and hearing nothing but the soporific hum of the insects.

The dogs heard it first, and stopped their aimless mooching to stand looking towards the main road. Then the women heard it, the low hum of a slow moving car. Without revealing themselves they watched it pick its way through the potholes. As it drew to a stop, Tiffy recognised the two occupants as men from the Department - Duncan had shown her their photographs that morning. She called softly to Lizzie whilst the murmur of the engine was still masking her words. "It's the men from the Department." Then she stepped forward to greet them.

Lizzie started forward, then stepped back, filled with a sense of dark foreboding. At first she scanned around looking for anything threatening, but always her eyes came back to the car. It looked completely normal and Tiffy recognized the two occupants, but it seemed to be overlaid by a darkness that centred around the rear door. Suddenly she sprang forward and brought the Kalashnikov up to the firing position, its butt jammed into her shoulder. She squeezed the rather heavy trigger and the still of the farm yard was torn asunder by its alien belch. Two brief seconds of fire saw twenty heavy rounds tear through the back door of the car as if it was tissue paper.

Tiffy's brain was long programmed to react to certain stimuli, and the snarl of a Kalashnikov screamed just one thing - COVER! She accelerated like an Olympic sprinter and went round the corner of the house in a flying dive. Rolling over she was immediately on her feet with the deadly Uzi at the ready. Peering round the corner, she saw Lizzie approaching the car in a tense crouch, and heard her call. "Out! Both of you. Out with your hands up."

The two men made a great show of keeping their hands in sight as they edged out of the car and shuffled forward to stand together. They turned to Tiffy and started to speak, but she silenced them with an eloquent twitch of the Uzi. Lizzie stepped quietly towards the car, and suddenly jerked open the back door. A quick glance inside, then she returned to cover the men and indicated with a jerk of her head that Tiffy should have a look.

Tiffy walked to the car and looked inside. The heavy slugs had smashed through the door, and ploughed into the top of the head immediately behind it, ending up in the body. The head wasn't a pretty sight, but there was enough face left for Tiffy to be sure she'd never seen it before. She returned to stand beside Lizzie and said quietly. "I was shown photographs of these two when I was at the Department this morning, Duncan identified them as the ones he was sending here. I've never seen anything on the one in the car."

"Explain yourselves." Lizzie's voice was as cold as ice. The older man spoke quickly. "We were ordered to come down here to escort your family to a safe place. We were having some difficulty finding the place so we pulled up in a layby a mile or so west of the road end - the big one that seemed to be a loop of old road left when the road was re-aligned." Lizzie nodded but said nothing. "Well, we were looking at the map and trying to work out where we were when we saw a driver sitting in another car. We opened the window, thinking he might be a local and would be able to give us directions, and asked if he knew this place. I guess that gave the game away because he climbed out of his car with a map in his hand and came towards us. Then he produced a gun he'd been hiding behind his map, took our guns and made us drive up here." He finished rather lamely.

Lizzie and Tiffy exchanged a barely perceptible nod, then Tiffy said. "Okay, put your hands down and get your guns from your erstwhile passenger." Turning to Lizzie, she added. "So there were four of them. Either we're very valuable or our reputation has gone before us." She grinned mischievously.

Jack and the others had heard the voices and emerged to see Lizzie changing the magazine on the Kalashnikov. "What on earth happened this time?" Jack's voice betrayed exasperation, but Lizzie was pleased to see that he was getting used to the situation and was looking almost cheerful. In his younger day he had been a bit of a hell raiser in theatrical circles, and was still inclined to belligerence when he'd had a few drinks.

"Oh, just another one. He was the driver of their car and tried to get a ride up here with these gentlemen from the Department."

The younger of the two men was recovering fast. "Gee, I owe you ladies an apology. I've often heard of you - Gemini - the Heavenly Twins! Gee, I thought the stories were mostly just apocryphal fokelore but, Phew! You two are really something else!" He spoke to Lizzie. "But how did you know he was in the back?"

Lizzie just shrugged, wondering who in the Department had been telling the youngsters such guff. Ten to one it had been Jerry Withers from the armoury section. He'd been crippled whilst working in the field and had been transferred to the armoury, but his heart had remained with the agents in the field. He liked nothing better than to tell embellished tales of agents long gone to the fresh faced youngsters who joined the Department. Although women had always been employed as spies of a sort, Lizzie, Tiffy and Marie had been the start of a new trend, women who could use their special attributes to advantage but could also stand shoulder to shoulder with the men when the going got rough. Jerry had taken them under his wing and taught them everything he knew, had been the father figure they needed at times. Afterwards he had followed their careers with great pride.

Even when they were present, he used to proclaim to everyone who would listen that Gemini was a partnership made in Heaven. Tiffy, with her volatile intuition and quicksilver reactions, to win the battles, and the cool, thoughtful Lizzie to win the wars. Tiny Tiffy, who always seemed so much larger than life that people were constantly surprised when she stood close to them and they found how diminutive she really was. And the tall, big boned Lizzie who, like so many tall women, had learned to switch off her charisma and fade into the background in even the meanest of circumstances. Always the introverted thinker, her occasional metamorphosis into blazing action had frequently frozen opponents into fleeting moments of fatal immobility.

Tiffy saw the young man becoming uncomfortable as he waited for Lizzie to reply, and she laughed as she answered for her. "Didn't the stories tell she was a Witch? She can foretell the future and see through closed doors, even car doors." The young man started to laugh, then caught Lizzy's cool gaze and the laughter trailed off into uncertainty.

The older man broke in and quietly relayed their instructions. They were to travel with the others for the first sixty miles and then branch off and head for an address north of London. They'd be expected and would receive a full briefing. The two women merely nodded.

It was time to move out. The body was dumped with the others - the Department would be back to clean up and occupy the farm later. The luggage was stacked in the back of the Volvo estate and the children strapped into the back seats. Lizzie dashed upstairs and rifled her wardrobe and drawers to shove a small bundle of essentials - underwear, trousers and blouses, skirts, summer dresses - into the khaki bag and carried it to the Rolls. She surveyed the gleaming limousine with growing dismay "My God, Tiffy, couldn't you have brought something a little less conspicuous? This thing is too big to hide and too slow to run away!" Tiffy just smiled.

As she went to throw the holdall into the back seat Lizzie again noticed the big cylindrical object pushing out the side of the bag. "Tiffy, I meant to ask you earlier, what's in the big tube in the bottom of the bag?"

Tiffy smiled. "Dunno. It's a present of some sort from Jerry Withers, he said you'd like it."

Intrigued, Lizzie unzipped the bag, groped in it and pulled out a large plastic cylinder. "I suppose it's a telescopic sight."

"Probably, Jerry didn't say what was in the bags, just that everything was in first-class condition."

Lizzie opened the cap of the cylinder and pulled out a telescope with a massive, four-inch diameter object lens. A handwritten note fell out, and she picked it up and read aloud. 'Dear Elizabeth. I've looked after Ivan for you and thought you might like a bit of an upgrade. This is a combined image-intensifier/imaging infra-red night sight and laser ranging/marking sight. The image intensifier will give you a clear daylight image under starlight. The imaging infra-red function will work in complete darkness and will show a man clearly by detecting his body heat. The laser sight fires an infra-red laser at the target and automatically adjusts the aiming point to correct for range. When you activate the laser sight the infra-red sight will also activate and you will be able to see a bright spot on the target where the laser beam is striking - and that's where the round will hit. I've zeroed it in roughly on Ivan but you will need to do the final adjustments yourself. When you zero it in it will automatically compute the correct ballistic trajectory corresponding to your rifle and ammunition, and will store the information in its micro chip. To compensate for wind, just use the knobs to set the wind speed and direction - after that the sight will compensate automatically. I enclose the instruction booklet. Good luck, Elizabeth, give 'em hell!' It was signed 'Jerry Withers'.

Lizzie looked up. "Good old Jerry, he always did look after us as if we were his favourite kids." She handed the note to Tiffy and rummaged in the plastic tube until she found the small booklet. After a quick scan through it she commented, "It seems simple enough." Glancing at her watch she made up her mind. "I think five minutes zeroing it in would be well spent, don't you?"

Tiffy nodded. "I guess so. I don't suppose we'll get another chance before we need it."

Lizzie clipped the sight onto the rifle and walked out of the farm yard whilst Tiffy settled herself against the Rolls's boot and waited. Lizzie looked around, searching for a suitable target, and her eye fell on the broken stump of a victim of Dutch Elm disease. Lying down on the warm grass she took her time adjusting her position, then raised the rifle to her shoulder and flicked the sight between its image-intensifing and imaging infra-red modes, adjusting the brightness to suit her taste. Then she lined up on a mark on the bole of the tree and flicked on the sighting switch. Immediately a bright dot appeared on the tree and she shifted aim slightly to position it on the target. Then she took a deep breath, expelled half of it, and squeezed gently.

The flat crack of the Kalashnikov echoed sharply off the buildings. She made a small adjustment and fired again. Seven more times she fired before she was satisfied. Then she got up and raised the rifle to her shoulder, sighted and swung back and forth. When she lowered it she was frowning thoughtfully at the way the image and dot had slurred as she swung the rifle.

Tiffy watched through narrowed eyes, reading Lizzie's actions and deducing the reason for the frown. Their kind of shooting was likely to be snap shooting, and Lizzie was clearly unhappy about the performance of the sight in this mode. As she watched she saw Lizzie turn as if to walk back into the yard, then suddenly spin round, bring the rifle up to her shoulder, sight and fire, all in one fluid movement. This time the Kalashnikov was set to rapid fire and Tiffy was delighted to see the target suddenly erupt in a flurry of splinters. As the echos from the firing died away, Lizzie walked towards the Rolls, unclipping the sight as she did so.

Tiffy stood up. "Well, how was it?"

"Pretty good. I was a bit worried about the way the picture slurs if you move the point of aim too quickly but I guess it's as good for snap shooting as a telescope ever is. It certainly makes sniping very easy." She grinned at her friend. "Even you could hit a barn door at fifty yards with it." Nodding towards the Uzi she asked, "When did you last fire one of those?"

"Oh, fifteen years ago if it's a day. But don't worry, I never do any aiming anyway, just get in close and spray around a bit."

Lizzie started to turn casually away, then suddenly turned back, gestured towards the far side of the farm yard and shouted, "The three barrels! Go, go, go!"

As Tiffy pivoted on her heel the Uzi was already at waist level, then she was rolling forward onto the ball of her foot as she started to accelerate towards the three old wooden barrels set about ten feet apart. Lizzie had used them as flower pots but they were falling apart and she had already ordered replacements. Before Tiffy's first pace was complete she was already triggering off the first burst and the right-hand barrel was erupting in a welter of splinters and earth. Then she was gathering speed, ducking and weaving as she went, and two more bursts ripped out without pause. Slowing to a walk she turned towards Lizzie and gestured over her shoulder at the shattered barrels. "See, the old eyes haven't lost their sharpness nor the hands their cunning!"

Lizzie slapped her on the shoulder, and suddenly they were both laughing like children. Another ghost had been laid. Until this day neither of them had ever questioned their competence, in their youth their place in their world had never been in doubt. But today they had both been prey to doubts. Had the hard-won lessons of yester-year evaporated, leaving them just two middle-aged women with vague memories of their youth? Now they knew that their indoctrination had been so thorough that it would all be as natural as breathing for the rest of their lives.

Lizzie replaced the sight in its case, and turned to walk towards Jack, thumbing a handful of bullets into the depleted magazine as she did so. Jack had stood and watched the two women, but his attention had really been on his wife. He couldn't believe that the hard, competent, commanding woman in front of him could be the quiet, introverted wife who'd bored him with her lack of fire. He wondered which was the real Lizzie. Was it the gentle wife and mother, who did this dangerous work from a sense of duty? Or was it the tough combatant, who had sunk into bored inactivity as a result of her duty to him and the children? Suddenly he hoped that when this was all over he'd have time to find out.

He handed the house keys to the Department men, then walked to meet Lizzie who had stopped and was standing slightly apart from the others. He reached out and took her hand. "I don't know what this is really all about, Darling, but I think you're going to do your own thing regardless of what I say." He stopped and looked searchingly at her. "God! I had no idea what you were really like but lately I'd been thinking that you used to be much more exciting than of late." He smiled with sudden warmth. "Just wait 'till this is all over. I'm going to enjoy getting to know the real Lizzie!"

She pulled him closer and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "Won't you be worried I'll come after you with Ivan if you stray in future?" she whispered with a twinkle in her eye.

"If you promise to leave the guns behind I'll undertake to teach you a few holds of my own!" He hugged her suddenly, then they walked together to the big Volvo.

She bent down to look in the open window at the children in the back. "Bye, children. Have a good holiday and be good - and remember to do exactly as your father and Marlyn say."

She was answered by a chorus of promises, then the Volvo lurched away across the yard.

The Department car took the lead, then the Volvo, then the Rolls. Tiffy drove and Lizzie rode shotgun with the windows rolled down and the Kalashnikov across her lap. She needn't have worried, the journey was uneventful up to the point where the road they had to take branched off to the left. They waved to the children, Tiffy gaily but Lizzie with sadness.

Then Tiffy shouted. "Hi ho, Silver. Away!" and slammed the accelerator to the floor. The great brute of a car growled deep in its throat, sat down on its haunches and left rubber on the road from the ferocity of its acceleration. Lizzie quickly punched the buttons to shut the windows, and then pressed back into the plush seat for what she fully expected to be a terrifying ride. She remembered Tiffy's driving of old, her speed was always what Lizzie regarded as ten miles per hour past suicide. "Tiffy! What on earth is the hurry?"

Tiffy laughed gaily. "You cast aspersions on my car back there, so I just thought I'd show you how wrong you were! This is a Rolls Royce sure enough, but under the skin the engine and suspension is pure Bently Turbo R. It may be a trifle conspicuous, but there are damn few cars on the road that it won't trample underfoot."

"Okay, great, great, I've got the message. Now slow down in case we get caught by the Police, I don't fancy explaining our artillery to the friendly British Bobby."

Tiffy sighed ostentatiously, but slowed down to less than twenty over the limit. "Okay, Grandma, I'll be a good little girl. Now, you've had time to do some thinking so what's your verdict?"

Lizzie pursed her lips and gathered her thoughts. "I can't make sense of it at all. It doesn't make any sense to come at us after fifteen years. God knows, the KGB has its little foibles, but fifteen year old spite isn't one of them. There must be some good up-to-date reason for it." Her voice was soft and musing, speaking her thoughts aloud. Tiffy concentrated on her driving and said nothing.

"I wonder where Dimitrov has been all this time. Surely he couldn't have been in an office job and has just returned to the field where he left off - in a sort of time warp." Another long silence whilst she dissected her own arguments. "No. It must be something official. If we've got wind of it the KGB have, even if he didn't want them to. But what possible use could we be to anybody after all this time?" She didn't expect an answer, and Tiffy didn't offer one.

Fifty miles sped by with Tiffy revelling in the driving and in a restored sense of freedom and purpose. Lizzie sat with her head sunk in her shoulders, her eyes hooded and unseeing. Finally she sighed and stirred. "It's no use, Tiffy, I just can't see any sense in it. We certainly didn't bring back anything from that last mission, we didn't have any close contact with them at all. Even if we had brought something - micro film or something - it would be long since out of date by now. I can't even think of any other mission, or anything else for that matter, where we might have picked up something. No, if we've got anything at all it surely must be in our heads, we must know something. But what?"

"No idea. If it's in our minds I can't think why they'd bother with me. It must be known to everybody in the business that my memory is like a sieve, and that your's is photographic. Why wouldn't they just grab you?"

"I don't know, maybe they thought they could use you to put pressure on me. But that would pre-suppose that they didn't know I was married and had children - the kids would be a much better lever to get me to tell them whatever it is they want to know." She sighed. "But that doesn't make any sense either. I've never made any attempt to hide and Jack's so well known the KGB could have pinpointed my whereabouts in no time at all."

They travelled in silence for a while, each lost in her own thoughts. Then Lizzie suddenly turned to look at her companion. "Tiffy, how did the Department find out that Dimitrov was looking for us?"

"Dunno. Duncan didn't say and I didn't think to ask. Why, what does it matter anyway?"

"It seems odd that the KGB should have been so careless when they could have found us both and picked us up without any fuss at all. Very strange, but I suppose we could have a mole in the KGB somewhere and he stumbled across it -although it would seem to be a damned lucky chance with the KGB being so compartmentalised. Very odd, very odd." She nibbled reflectively at a ragged fingernail.

Tiffy shrugged. "Well, never mind, Pal. We'll soon be there and all will be revealed - maybe!" She slowed the big car slightly and made the tyres screech in protest as she hauled it onto a narrow side road. After a couple of miles there was another fork, and a military gatehouse. They held up the passes they'd been given by the Department men, and after a careful scrutiny the guard nodded silently and signalled to his colleague in the gatehouse to open the heavy metal gates. They clanked open, and the massive tyres sprayed chippings from the broken surface as they accelerated hard up the drive.

They came to a large country house, still well maintained and with tended gardens, but lacking the intimate personal feel of a house owned by its occupants. They had seen many like it in the past, secluded places that could be guarded without seeming to be fortified. To demonstrate her wild independence for all to see, Tiffy performed a flawless handbrake turn on the gravelled carpark by the front steps - and deposited a hundredweight of chippings on the flower bed.

More guards met them at the door and led them to a small briefing room without so much as raising an eyebrow at the Kalashnikov and Uzi slung carelessly over their shoulders.

They entered the room and were met coolly by an army Major. "Good afternoon, my name is Lombard, I will be briefing you." His voice was high pitched and nasal, a caricature of the chinless wonder army officer. They shook hands and gave their names.

"Right, gels. Take a seat. My orders are to brief you immediately and have you on your way by evening." Tiffy caught Lizzie's eye and winked. It said louder than words 'We've got a right one here!'

The Major waited until they had clattered their weapons onto a pair of desks and sat down, then he puffed out his chest, swished his cane against his leg, clutched it in both hands behind his back and cleared his throat. "Ah hem. You have been recalled to the Service because it is believed that some of the work you were involved in has come to the fore again. We're not, ah hem, exactly sure what the connection is but we feel it might be important. So you have been recalled." He seemed to be rubbing in the recalled bit to make it clear they were under his command.

"A certain Alexi Dimitrov has recently risen to prominence in the Berlin sector of the KGB. In the couple of weeks since he has, ah hem, risen to prominence, he has come to our, uh, attention on a number of occasions." He was looking over their heads. "We have heard on a number of, uh, occasions that he is seeking Gemini. It was some time before we realised the significance of that."

He turned sharply to the left and started pacing back and forth before them, hands clasped tightly behind his back. "We became aware of its implications when an agent, a rather elderly operative from your era," Tiffy caught Lizzie's eye and made a rude face at his back, "happened to see a routine photograph taken in Berlin and recognised him as your, um, erstwhile adversary."

He stopped in the middle of the floor, turned sharply towards them and executed a couple of stiff little bows as he pushed his clasped hands back and up from his waist. "At that, um, juncture, we started paying attention, and soon came to the conclusion that it was indeed you, um, lovely ladies he was looking for." He restarted his pacing. "We were, um, intrigued by this and tried to learn more. We drafted in two agents unknown in that, um, theatre to do some, um, intelligence gathering." His eyes were focused about a yard in front of his shoes. "We, um, unfortunately haven't heard from them since."

Lizzie and Tiffy were finding the words uttered by this funny man to be growing less funny by the minute. They waited in silence for him to continue.

"Ah hum, since then we have been in the midst of an upsurge of KGB activity in the UK, and have had word only this afternoon that a team of four, um, diplomats from their Embassy have been seen heading towards the vicinity of your country residence." He looked at Lizzie. "I am pleased to see that they were too late to, um, intercept you."

Tiffy chipped in cheerfully. "Oh they arrived in time alright. They're dead now."

"Ah hem, I'm pleased you were unharmed, but the men from the Department shouldn't have harmed them, diplomatic immunity, y' know."

"Don't worry, it wasn't the men from the Department, we did it."

He was confused for a moment. "Ah hem, extraordinary. Most extraordinary."

"Not at all, Major, that's what we field agents are trained to do." She put slight stress on the 'field'.

"Ah hem, quite so, quite so. It is clear that this Dimitrov wants to either capture or kill you, so it must be for something important. We must learn what it is. A plan has therefore been prepared. You are to, um, report to the Department office in Berlin and start working there openly as if you'd been recalled to normal duty - which, of course, you have. You will, naturally, be protected but the intention is that you will be bait to lure Dimitrov into the open."

He executed another neat ninety degree turn and stopped in front of them. "That is all, you will find all your papers in that envelope." He pointed with his cane at a large envelope lying on a table near the door, then turned on his heel and strode towards the door as if anxious to leave.

"Hey! Just a moment, there are a few things we need to know." Tiffy's voice was showing the first signs of anger.

"I'm sorry, I have no more to tell you at this stage." Again he started for the door.

Lizzie's quiet voice had him stopped in his tracks before he was even aware of it. "Major! Who made this plan?"

"Your Section Controller."

"I see. Well, please call him and ask for an explanation." She could see him swelling with indignation at the suggestion, but she continued in the same quiet voice. "To send us to work openly in Berlin will get us killed or snatched to no purpose. Dimitrov won't come out himself, he'll send others to do the job whilst he stays safely hidden, probably in East Berlin. We need a better plan than that if we're going to flush him out, and we're not going anywhere until we have one."

He was spluttering now. "Madam, you are under my orders and will do exactly as you are told."

Tiffy's short fuze burned out and she pushed herself to her feet, toppling her chair in the process. "You shit! You jumped-up, never-come-down son of a Mongolian brothel-bred bastard! You scraped off the brothel wall and hatched in the sun piece of crud!" Her voice had risen to a shout. "If you try to step out of that door I'll tear your goddam head off!"

His dignity was fast disappearing. "That's enough! By God, if you weren't a woman I'd, I'd ... ."

"You'd what, you desk-bound turd? I'd have your guts spread out on the floor before you could say 'Marquis of Queensbury's rules!" She was standing between him and the door, her diminutive body taut with fury.

Lizzie had remained seated, and her quiet words cut across their anger. "Major, please telephone our Control and ask for further instructions." She could see him hesitating, feeling his outraged pomposity to be inappropriate in the face of her quiet words.

He turned on his heel and strode to the dais. "Very well, but my instructions were explicit." He picked up the handset of the scrambler 'phone and dialled quickly. "Hello. This is Major Lombard, I wish to speak to the North European Controller."

Lizzie and Tiffy closed up on him as the connection at the other end was being made. "Sir? Lombard here. I have carried out the briefing as instructed, but they request more information." A pause, then, "Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir. I'll tell them, Sir."

Lizzie reached out and plucked the 'phone from his hand. "Hello, remember me? I think we should see you. Do you remember the time we dined together and a waiter spilt a glass of red wine down my front? Good. We'll be at the same place at eight o'clock tonight. Be there, you can buy us dinner." She put the 'phone down and walked to her desk, picked up the Kalashnikov and headed for the door. "Come on, Tiffy, we're finished here and we have things to do. Good day, Major, it's been a pleasure." Without a backward glance she strode out.

As they accelerated out the gate, Tiffy asked. "Where to now?"

"We need to change into something less conspicuous and then get rid of this car. Let's find a loo where we can change into normal clothes - nothing fancy mind, we don't want anybody remembering us. Then we'll drive to Heathrow Airport and put this car in a long-term lockup and hire something less vulgar."

"How dare you! Rolls Royces can be all sorts of things but they are absolutely never vulgar. The trouble with you country bumkins is that you think that anything with a colour that would stand out against a dung heap must be vulgar."

"True. But have patience with me, you can't expect everybody to be as aristocratic as you and Major Lombard."

"Ow, that hurt! What a funny little man he was. Am I just getting old or has the Service gone down hill? I'm sure we didn't have types like that in our day."

"Oh, I'm sure he's a very nice man really - especially now that you have explained his ancestry to him so clearly and sympathetically."

Tiffy chortled. "I did too, didn't I. Serves the silly bugger right. He must think we're far gone in senile dementia to fall for something like that."

Lizzie's smile faded. "Yes, very strange. It was more like a charade than a briefing. I wonder where the gallant Major fits in - indeed I wonder whether he's a Major at all. Ah well, maybe Duncan will do better."

They stopped at a motorway service area to change, tucking the guns out of sight in the holdalls and taking it in turns to slip into the loo to change into trousers and blouses. Then they headed for Heathrow and drove straight to a lock-up garage. "I suppose I'd better do the business." Tiffy opened her handbag and flashed a driving licence in front of Lizzie. "When I left the Department I hung onto the last driving licence they gave me. Lucky they don't go out of date any more."

She dashed off to the car-hire desk whilst Lizzie waited in the car. Fifteen minutes later a white Escort XR3i drew up in front and reversed to the door. They quickly transferred everything to the Escort, locked the garage door and drove off. The time was now six thirty.

"Where to now, Liz? Where's this place where you and Duncan spent the dirty weekend?"

"No such luck - just one night." Lizzie smiled at the memory. "It's a pub up near Letchworth. We were returning from some meeting or other, I forget what exactly, Police or Customs or something. It went on lateish so we stopped for the night at this pub. We were having dinner and this fantastic waiter, really gorgeous he was, was putting vegetables on my plate. And the woman at the next table, a real old hag, forty if she was a day ... good Heavens, just about our age now! Anyway, this lady in early middle age, pinched his bum. True, she did. He jumped a foot in the air and knocked my full glass of wine - red, of course - right down my front." She chuckled. "Mind you, it was worth it to get my front wiped down by that Adonis!"

"But did Duncan seduce you?"

"No he did not! He didn't even try."

"No? Funny that. He often used to flirt a bit but he never followed through. You don't suppose he's queer do you? Half these ex public schoolboy types seem to be a bit lefthanded."

"Could be, he never married as far as I know. Of course, he might just be married to his job, he always was a bit serious about 'my country right or wrong' sort of stuff." The traffic was quite heavy and served to keep Tiffy's speed down to modest breakneck, which was about as much as Lizzie could hope for, and it absorbed most of Tiffy's attention. Lizzie twisted round in her seat and settled herself comfortably so that she could look at her old friend. She scrutinised her carefully, seeing the relaxed concentration that was the mark of a good, fast driver. She marvelled that the diminutive figure had hardly changed since she last saw her. The body was still slim and petite, Tiffy ate like a horse and never had the slightest suggestion of a weight problem. The head, too, was just as she remembered it. Maybe slightly large for the compact body, but with a lovely, heart-shaped face, noticable freckles from the hot summer sun, a snub, upturned nose, and that gorgeous crowning glory, a whole wheatsheaf of blonde hair. From a distance these were the things that caught the eye and attracted men like flies to a honeypot. Closer to, it was the bright blue, sparkling eyes that held the attention. Wild, unbridled, devil-may-care, madcap eyes that still shone with the same tomboyish gleam and joyous zest for life that had been their hallmark all those years ago at school.

"Tiffy, tell me about this courageous idiot who trapped you into marriage." Lizzie still found it hard to believe that the irrepressible will-o'-the-wisp Tiffy was a wife and mother.

That drew a quick glance and a chuckle. "Well, I'm not sure who trapped who. After you left the Department things were never quite the same. I kept on the old flat but I never did get around to getting anybody else to share it. At work I did a few more jobs in the field, some solo and some with whoever happened to be handy at the time. Nothing much, just sort of walk-on parts. I think the Department thought I was burned out or something. They were right in a way, I just never took to it again and I guess I got pretty depressed." She was becoming steadily more melancholic. "Eventually they stopped sending me into the field at all, and assigned me more or less permanently to Analysis."

"Yuch, how awful." Lizzie just couldn't imagine the volatile, intuitive Tiffy amongst the eggheads of Analysis.

"Yes, it was pretty bad. Anyway, one Friday night I finished about nine and was feeling a bit low." She flashed Lizzie a sudden grin. "Low? Hell, I was pissed off to the eyebrows! I can still remember walking to the car park thinking, 'Come on, you women molesters. Come and try me tonight!'. But molesters are like policemen, you can never find them when you want them."

Lizzie chuckled delightedly, this was pure Tiffy.

"I didn't know what to do, I didn't want to go back to the empty flat and cook myself one of these ghastly TV suppers - they're not up to much now but they were really horrible then. I just got in the car and drove for a while. Then, somewhere between ten and eleven I started to feel hungry and came to this big, flash-looking hotel south of the river. There were lots of cars and coaches there so I thought I might get something to eat."

She broke off to negotiate a chaotic mess where the police were directing traffic round an accident. Then she continued. "Well, I went in and found the place pretty packed, it was this big firm's night out. Eventually I caught a waiter and got him to find me a table and take my order. Whilst I was waiting I was lonelier than ever - and not in my best of moods."

Lizzie nodded, knowing full well that whilst her friend normally had the sunniest temperament imaginable, just occasionally she got the blue megrims and was as unpleasant as the most truculent drunk imaginable. Not at all someone to take liberties with.

Tiffy shrugged her shoulders fatalistically. "This big, fat, balding guy came and grabbed my arm and tried to pull me up for a dance. I suppose he thought I was one of the party but I wasn't in any mood to mince words so I told him to sod off, and some other things to that effect. Needless to say, that stopped all conversation dead, and everybody was gawping at us. He'd had a few and was a bit persistent, but I'd have sent him packing with no harm done - if it hadn't been for this tall, dark and handsome guy sticking his nose in. He came over, all solicitous, to take the other guy away. You know, 'Don't bother the little lady. I'll take care of him, don't you worry your pretty head.' That kind of thing."

Lizzie was grinning hugely, she could easily visualise the scene.

"Well, that did it. I'd been buggered about all day and had had enough. So I told this new guy to peddle his solicitude elsewhere, that I could look after myself. The first guy started crowing that 'the little lady had just been playing hard to get', so I taught him a trick or two." She chuckled reminiscently. "I beat the shit out of him - tossed him over my head and onto the stage, he broke two ribs on the edge of the stage and concussed himself on the piano. Then I took him to the hospital, accompanied by the handsome guy. I never did get my meal, by the time we'd finished at the hospital they were all in the busses ready to leave and the hotel was shut. Al - that was the fat guy's name - was in hospital for a week, and I had to keep in touch with the handsome one afterwards to make sure there were no complications. And that was how I met my husband." She finished with a flourish.

"Ah em, which one?"

"The handsome one, of course, you idiot!" She smiled dreamily. "You'd like him, Liz. We're so alike in many ways, but he's the stable, down to earth one." She glanced at her friend as if suddenly struck by a new thought. "A bit like you, I suppose. You know, always ready to take a chance but always weighs up the odds first."

Lizzie shook her head in wonder. "Tiffy, I'm so glad you found someone. When I think of some of those characters that used to chase you around, well, I just couldn't imagine them being able to keep up with you let alone make you happy."

Tiffy chuckled. "I know what you mean, what a load of wimps we knew in those days! What about you, though, I never thought you'd go for an older guy." She chose her words with care lest her quick tongue say the wrong thing. "I'm not surprised you went for an intellectual, you're that way inclined yourself, but I somehow can't visualise you with all these limp-wristed men and frivolous women from the theatre."

"Oh Tiffy, they're not all like that." Lizzie laughed. "Mind you, some of them are!" She sobered a little. "You're right, though, I don't really go much of a bundle on Jack's friends. I'm not sure what it is, maybe it's just that they're all theatre and film people and I'm on the outside. Maybe - but I somehow can't quite shake off the feeling that they're a bunch of time-wasting dilettantes who don't live in the real world." She sighed and shrugged helplessly. "I suppose their world is pretty tough at times, but they just seem to play about and ignore the dirty world that we used to know. The one we're back in now." she added bleakly, and the cosy confidences were over.

The area had changed out of all recognition in the past fifteen years and they had some difficulty finding their way to the village, but when they arrived they found the pub unchanged. They parked the car, carried their bags inside and booked a double room for the night. They had an hour and a half to spare before they were due to meet Duncan so they telephoned to book a meal for three and then showered and changed.

They were just ordering drinks in the lounge bar when Duncan walked in. Lizzie scarcely recognised him, he had aged so much, and even Tiffy thought he looked more worn than when she'd seen him that same morning. They exchanged brief pleasantries then went to the dining room and selected a secluded table.

They chatted about personal things until the waiter took their order, then Duncan abruptly changed the subject. "Sorry about all this but I think it was necessary."

"What do you mean, necessary? I thought you wanted us to be over the sea to die by now!" Tiffy quipped without humour.

"Well, Tiffy, I know it seemed like that but knowing you two as I do I was pretty sure that you'd rebel and do something like you did." He smiled. "I promise I'd have intercepted you myself before you got onto the ferry."

Lizzie sat silently, leaving Tiffy to do the talking. "Okay, Duncan, so what the hell is going on? Is the Department reduced to a bunch of prats like that Major bloody Lombard nowadays? Christ, even that pair you sent to pick up our families got themselves held up."

"No, it isn't quite as bad as that, but we are in some trouble." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Look, the story you've got so far is pretty much the truth as we know it. However, somehow it stinks." He flashed a momentary smile at Lizzie. "I may not have your kind of direct line to tomorrow but I get premonitions too. Hunches, if you like. And something tells me that we're all being set up. Unfortunately I don't know what for or who by."

"So - why have you been buggering us about?" Tiffy asked.

"Well, as you know, plans for missions are prepared by the Planning Section. The Controller can make changes, of course, but basically all he does is approve them. I didn't smell a rat until they came to me with a plan for you two - they wanted us to find out where you were living and then tip off the KGB about where you could be found, anonymously of course. We were to watch you and nab Dimitrov when he came to get you. It didn't make any kind of sense because it seemed more likely that Dimitrov would stay put in Berlin and let his minions deal with you. So I vetoed it, and we sent two good men to Berlin to try to get more information. They were picked up within hours of arriving, and haven't been seen since. Now, that operation was known to very few people, yet the pickup had all the earmarks of a sell out."

He paused to spoon up some prawn cocktail. "I began to wonder whether we had a mole - and when you start thinking like that you soon get that you don't trust anybody. When it became clear that we'd lost two agents, the planners came up with a new plan - the one your friend the Major told to you about. That didn't make much more sense than the last one but I played along to get in touch with you both on the quiet." He paused to eat some more and looked again at Tiffy. "You probably wondered why we gave you so little notice when I 'phoned you this morning. Well, we had just that instant got your address so I called you myself and made sure that you had to leave immediately to get to my office on time. I sent two young, and hopefully uncorrupted, agents to pick up your family before anybody from the KGB could be tipped off and get there."

She looked at Lizzie, clearly puzzled about the continuing references to how difficult it was to find them both. Lizzie caught her drift and shook her head slightly so she contented herself with saying lamely "Yes, it did seem a bit rushed."

He had been looking at his plate and had missed the brief interchange. "The only other two agents I felt pretty sure of were up north so I ordered them to get to Lizzie's place as fast as possible. In the meantime I sent you to warn Lizzie." He smiled. "I thought that you two, warned and armed, would be able to take care of things until my men arrived. I hear I was right!"

Lizzie was nodding slowly. "That explains a lot. And I suppose you predicted that we would do exactly what we did, tell the Major to get lost and contact you."

"Well, something like that - although I would have preferred to have seen you without letting the Major know you weren't going to play the game. Hopefully, if there is something underhand going on he won't be party to it. With luck he'll think he's handed the hot potato to me and will quietly put the whole thing out of his mind."

Tiffy chuckled. "If Dimitrov has sunk low enough to recruit Major Lombard I don't think we have a thing to worry about, they'll all be so inept they'll probably shoot each other."

Lizzie interjected quietly. "So we have done what you intended and we're all together. Now what do you have in mind?"

"Ah yes. Well, it's like this. Other than the four junior grade agents who are looking after your families - they've already arrived at a safe house on an estate just north of the Border, by the way - I just don't know who in the Department I can trust anymore. But I need to trust somebody because I think this thing, whatever it is, is damned important. So I decided that if I couldn't trust anyone in the Department I would have to find somebody else." He grinned. "And who better than a pair of old friends that I know were completely trustworthy in the old days and have been out of the Department long enough to have escaped any recent infections. In a word - Gemini! Besides, you are somehow involved already so you might as well do the whole job."

"Well, that's a fine compliment, Duncan. But what exactly do you have in mind?" Lizzie swirled some wine around in her glass as she spoke.

"Ah, well, actually I want you to do much the same as Major Lombard did." He held up a hand to stop Tiffy breaking in. "Please, hear me out first." Tiffy closed her mouth and nodded obligingly. Lizzie just continued to stare at him with her disconcertingly brilliant eyes.

They waited in silence whilst the waiter brought the main course and fussed around them. Then, the moment he left them, Duncan started to speak. He kept his eyes on his plate and ate steadily as he spoke. Tiffy ate hungrily - it had been a long day - but gave him her full attention, nodding and making 'uh huh' noises every now and then. Lizzie's eyes scarcely left Duncan's face, watching him intently as if looking for something. Her appetite seemed to have left her and she chewed slowly and absentmindedly.

Duncan's voice was, as always, hypnotically convincing. "As I said, I have a bad feeling about this. I can't believe that either Dimitrov or the KGB would waste any effort on you just to get even for something that happened a decade and a half ago - and the KGB certainly wouldn't let him do it on his own. So I think we can forget about any suggestion that he just wants to assassinate you. No, you must be of some real value to him."

"The problem is, I just can't think of anything from fifteen years ago that could possibly be of any use to him now. I've gone through your files with a fine tooth comb, and I can't find anything remotely connected with any of your missions that could conceivably justify all this." He sighed heavily. "Still, there must be some reason. Maybe you know something that has somehow become important and he wants you to forget it, permanently. But that's unlikely, hell, there's nothing more likely to jog your memories than to start something like this. Much better to leave well alone -unless, of course, something is about to become big news and would jog your memories anyway."

"No, for my money the most likely explanation is that you two know something that he needs. I'd guess that it's not so much that you have some deadly secret hidden away in your minds, but rather that you know some innocent snippet that he needs." He gestured helplessly with his knife. "You know, something like which drop off point you used at some time, or who did something or other. Perhaps they have a long-term mole and they're trying to add up little bits of evidence and need something from you to identify the guy." He shrugged. "I don't know, but that's the only thing I can think of that makes any sort of sense."

He chewed silently for a while, apparently lost in a brown study. Then he waved his knife again and continued. "The snag is, why does he need both of you? I suppose two's better than one - he might be able to use one to crack the other - but that doesn't hang together either." He chuckled. "Of course, he might think it safer to grab both of you, if he snatched just one the other might go on the warpath and take him apart. I've no doubt his records show you two to be as mad as hatters when it comes to protecting each other!"

He looked up suddenly and fixed them both with a fierce scowl. "I know it's asking a lot but I want you to go to Berlin and winkle him out. I feel in my bones that this thing is of enormous importance and that the only way we're going to get to the bottom of it is to get the three of you in a room together. Well, what do you say?" He paused. "Obviously you know that I can't order you to do any of this. If you say so I'll have you taken to join your families, I'll even arrange new identities for you all and settle you anywhere in the world you chose." He shrugged as if such things were all routine. "It's the least the Department can do for two loyal servants who've had enough."

Lizzie broke the long, heavy silence. "If it's all so important, and if it's all aimed at getting us together with Dimitrov, it's taking a dreadful gamble to put us somewhere like Berlin. The place is deep inside East Germany, and it's always absolutely moving with agents from all the controlling powers. If we get into any sort of trouble we're as likely to shoot friends as enemies. Regardless of whether we're in the Western or Communist parts of the city, we'd be rats in a trap." Then she added with sharp emphasis, "And why Berlin, anyway? Why should Dimitrov go to Berlin, other than as bait for a trap? As I remember it, he's a real crafty so and so - a bit like yourself for planning ahead, in fact - so it's quite likely he has all this planned out and we're just doing exactly as he intends."

"I know that, Lizzie. But what else is even half as good a gamble?" He beat his fist softly on the table in deep frustration. "Look! What else can we do? If we try to hide you, and it's as important as I think it is, he'll just keep looking. Where in the world do you think you could keep your families secret from the KGB for more than a few months? I'll tell you where - nowhere! Christ, the KGB were pretty thick on the ground in your day, but they're a damn sight worse now - and we don't have anything like enough manpower to match them."

His eyes were blazing. "So what else could we do? Put some other agents on the job - ours, the Yanks, the Germans - and try to grab Dimitrov? They'd match us agent for agent, and even if we got him they'd never let us get him out of Berlin - you said yourself how much of a trap it can become. It's not so much the danger whilst you're in there, it's the fact that you have to cross a hundred and odd miles of East Germany to get out. Anyway, if I'm right about having a mole in the Department, we'd be screwed up before we could even start!"

"No, ladies, here's what I think. I think you two should go to Berlin and use all your old wiles to grab Dimitrov. If he really is in West Berlin, you should manage that. The trick is, you don't have to get him out." The two women were looking at him with a mixture of horror and disbelief.

Tiffy spoke their thoughts. "Okay! Okay! I guess we can get in there, provided of course that they don't know we're coming - it's as easy to grab people on the way in as it is on the way out. When we're in, well, yes, I suppose that with a lot of luck and a lot of help we might, just might, be able to outsmart him. The bit you haven't explained is how the hell we do this and get us all out again." Suddenly the import of his last few words came home to her. "What do you mean, we don't have to get him out?"

"I mean just that. We don't need Dimitrov, we just need to know what he knows. You go in there, grab him and find out what he knows - then eliminate him. I don't suppose he's the only one in Russia who knows what it's about but it would be foolish to let him go." He grinned suddenly. "I guess you wouldn't baulk at terminating him after him being responsible for Marie's death."

Lizzie still watched him in contemplative silence and it was left to Tiffy to answer. "No indeed! We wouldn't actually go after him for revenge, but he wouldn't get away alive if he ever crossed our path. But that's by the way, having dealt with Dimitrov how do we get out with this information?"

Lizzie spoke quietly. "I think what he means, Tiffy, is that we get Dimitrov's secret, add it to our own bit of knowledge - whatever it is - and then get the information to the Department. By telephone, diplomatic bag, or whatever."

"And what about us? Are we supposed to accept being knocked off for Queen and Country? Well, thank you, but no thank you!"

"No. Don't you see? Once the information is out we're of no importance. At that point we won't know anything more than the Department." Lizzie smiled slightly.

"Oh, yes, I hadn't thought of that. But I still don't see why it needs us to go. Surely it would be safer to keep us out of harms way and send somebody else to interrogate Dimitrov."

Lizzie shook her head sadly. "'Fraid not, Tiffy. What would these agents ask him about? Just say, 'Come on, Dimitrov old pal, tell us what the secret is?' No, it needs someone there who can recognise the important things when they hear them. Even if we were back here and in direct contact with the agents, priming them with questions to ask, it would all take far too long. The KGB would be certain to catch them before we got what we want. Much as I regret it, I have to agree with Duncan, we need to grab Dimitrov and then grill him in secret until he cracks." She smiled grimly. "At least he won't doubt that we'd do some really nasty things to him if necessary - after Marie."

Tiffy looked chastened. "Yes, I see what you mean. But do you really think we can do it? It's a hellish big city to go looking for just one man." She looked at Duncan. "I take it that you'll have an army of agents in there to find him and grab him, and then bring him to us for interrogation." She saw him start to shake his head and continued in alarm. "We are going to have a lot of help, aren't we?"

He shook his head again and held up both hands in a placating gesture. "I'm afraid not, we just haven't got enough trustworthy agents available. You'll operate on your own, unless, of course, you're in extreme danger. You'll have a contact to fix you up with essentials and information when you go in, but after that you must contact him only in an emergency. For anything else - and certainly when you get Dimitrov's secret - you contact only me. In Berlin, more than most places, you never know who's side anyone's on. Anyway, if this thing is as important as I think it is we don't want to go sharing it with the Yanks, French, Germans or whoever else might feel kindly towards us."

They ate the rest of the meal in thoughtful silence. Then, when the coffee was poured, Tiffy fingered an ear ring absently and looked from one to the other. "So, what now? Is it agreed that we go?" She looked at Lizzie with a questioning eyebrow raised.

Lizzie shrugged as she poured some cream into her cup. "I don't think we have much option, Tiffy. So I suppose we'd better discuss the ways and means." She looked at Duncan. "I suppose you knew all along that it would come to this, so what have you got planned?"

He smiled with what might have been relief. "Well, let's just say that it seemed like the only logical thing to do." He reached for the briefcase at his feet, opened it, pulled out a bulky envelope and reached over to lay it on the table between them. "It's the standard pack. Identity documents and passports, the genuine article but with false names and addresses, of course. Money -Pounds, Francs and Marks - plus, something new since your day, credit cards to genuine bank accounts. Also Cash Cards and cheque books - you'll see that there's ample money available in case you should find bribery to be the best way to unearth Dimitrov. There's also air tickets from Heathrow to Berlin leaving at about eleven o'clock tomorrow morning." He looked from one to the other. "Okay?"

They both nodded.

"You won't, of course, be able to take any weapons with you but they will be provided as required at the other end. You'll be met at Berlin Airport by a uniformed chauffeur holding up a sign with your assumed names on it. He'll take you to a contact who will supply your needs and brief you on the local situation. Okay, hmm?"

They nodded again, and Lizzie answered. "Okay, Duncan, it's been a long time since we last did this but I can't think of anything you've missed." She gave him a hard look tinged with distrust. "I don't like any of this, though. It's not just that nobody seems to know what's going on, the Department's handling of the whole thing seems to, shall we say, lack its old polish. Would you not agree, Duncan?"

He looked distinctly uncomfortable under her steady gaze. "Well, yes, I guess it does look a bit bad.The Department's going through a bad patch just now, what with this mole business and the fact that the Old Man is due to retire soon and everybody's jockying for position." He tried to smile but it came out as an embarrassed grin. "The mole story is a good excuse for all the individual sections to behave secretively and unco-operatively, but the real reason is that all the Section Heads are vying for the top job."

Lizzie's eyes bored into him for a long moment, then she looked at her watch and pushed back her chair. "I see. Well, it's getting late and we've had a busy day so I think we should get to bed. Are you staying the night or going back to London?"

He seemed relieved at the change of topic, and shook his head ruefully. "Back to London, I regret to say." He stood up and walked over to pay the bill. The women accompanied him out to his car, shook hands and watched him drive off.

"Come on, Lizzie, one for the road before we hit the sack." Tiffy pulled Lizzie's arm and started her walking towards the door.

"No, no more to drink tonight, Tiffy." Her voice was preoccupied but sharply uncompromising.

"Oh come on, we don't have to be at Heathrow until about half past ten so we can have a nice long lie."

Lizzie shook her head and replied in an abstracted voice. "No, I don't think we should go to Heathrow. Let's go to our room and think of something else."

Tiffy looked at her narrowly but didn't argue as she followed Lizzie up the stair. Lizzie walked straight to her bed and sat down on it, whilst Tiffy stood in front of her and looked at her carefully. "What is it, Lizzie? Are you getting one of your premonitions?"

Lizzie shrugged and ran both hands, fingers spread, up through her thick hair. "I don't know really, but there's something about all this I ... ." Her voice tailed off, then picked up again. "Yes, I suppose I am a bit uneasy. I might be being silly but I think we'd be better to run wild on this. I don't think Duncan's contacts can help us much, and they might be dangerous. I say we go it alone, what do you think?" She looked questioningly at Tiffy.

Tiffy grinned widely. "Lizzie my friend, going against your hunches is like walking under a ladder. It might be safe enough - but I wouldn't care to risk it. But, if we're going to avoid Duncan's arrangements, how are we going to get to Berlin - and how are we going to get the kit and contacts we'll need once we're there?"

"I'm not sure. We could take a different flight, or we could drive, I suppose. You're right though, we'd have to get hold of handguns at least when we get there." She stared into space for a moment. "I suppose some of the people we used to know are still around. Herman the German, for instance, and Axel Meyer, are probably still in business. We might be able to get guns through them." Her speech gradually slowed and she finished with a shake of her head. "No. It's too risky. Either of them would sell us down the river in an instant if they thought we had so little back up that we had to get guns from them."

Tiffy sat on her own bed and flopped over backwards, cupping her hands under her head and waggling her legs over the edge of the bed as she stared morosely at the ceiling. "Yes. It's a hellish place to get into. You can't get in without passing through at least a couple of sets of check points." The silence dragged on, then she continued. "What we need is to be able to hitch a ride with the military. That way we could avoid the check points and, with a bit of help, avoid the Customs as well. We'd be able to take our own guns in with us."

"Yes ... but how could we arrange that." It was a rhetorical question. "It would be the Air Force that would fly that route. I wonder if we know anybody in the RAF."

"I've seen the day when we could have turned the head of any brylcreme boy and got him to fly us anywhere but now I'm afraid the pilots would be more likely to offer to help us across the road." Tiffy smiled wryly.

Lizzie wasn't listening, her agile brain was working feverishly, leafing through all the people who might be able to help. "I can't think of anybody who would be able to help for sure, but there must be some still in the service. The problem is finding them, and then talking them into arranging a flight for us. And doing it all tonight if possible. To do that we need someone pretty high up."

"What we need is somebody like Marie's father - but I suppose he'll be long since retired, or dead."

Lizzie sat bolt upright. "That's it! I'll bet he isn't retired. He looked old to us fifteen years ago, but when you're that age anybody over thirty looks decrepit. Marie was our age and she was an only child. But she wasn't a late child. I remember her once saying something about her parents trying for more children but her mother kept having miscarriages." She did some quick calculating. "We're forty so her father is probably somewhere around sixty or sixty five. Anyway, it's worth a try."

She stretched over the bedside table and pulled the phone towards her. As she picked up the handset the number sprang obediently into her remarkable memory. She dialled and listened to the ringing tone, then it stopped and a man's voice answered. "Hello. Symonds speaking."

"Hello Sir. This is Lizzie Smyth speaking. Do you remember me, I was a friend of Marie's?" There was a long pause and Lizzie could imagine the unpleasant shock of being reminded of his dead daughter.

"Yes, of course I remember you. How very nice it is to hear from you."

"Sir, I need some help. Are you still with the MOD?"

"Yes, how can I help you?"

"Well, may I come and see you? I can be there in a couple of hours."

"Yes, of course. We'd be delighted to see you. Will you be able to stay overnight?"

"I'm not sure yet, Sir, it depends on whether you can help me."

"Very well, we'll see you about one am."

"Thank you. Just one thing, Sir. It would be better if we could put our car out of sight and see you without showing any lights or anything."

There was a perceptible pause, then. "No problem. Janet has given up driving so we have just one car now. I'll leave the right hand door of the garage open so that you can drive straight in."

She was smiling broadly as she rang off and turned to Tiffy. "He's still with the MOD! Come on, you pack whilst I go down and settle our bill. I'll tell the hotel we want to leave early in the morning and would like to pay tonight." She was gone only a few minutes but by the time she returned the bags were packed and Tiffy was ready to leave. They crept quietly out to the car, threw in the bags and eased out of the car park. Once out of the village Tiffy put her foot down.

Lizzie flicked on the interior light and rummaged in her handbag. "Drive carefully, I don't want to get lipstick on my eyebrows."

Tiffy looked at her curiously but forbore to answer. She did moderate her pace, however. Lizzie pulled down her sun visor and adjusted the mirror, then started to make up her face and adjust her hair. Five minutes later she was satisfied, and turned to Tiffy. "That should do, now find us an all-night chemists."

Tiffy glanced at her in surprise, then did a double take. "Good God, Lizzie, you look awful! Are you thinking of setting up in business as a tart? Take it from me, pal, you'll be lucky to earn enough to keep you in shoe leather!"

"Good, that's just what I want. Now find that chemists - preferably a big one." Tiffy knew better than to try to question Lizzie, so she shrugged and picked up speed again. A quarter of an hour later they came on a Motorway Service Centre, and Tiffy started to slow down. "We need to fill up. Will this place have what you want?"

"It might, drop me off at the shop and go on to the pumps. When you've finished, hang on until you see me come out and then cruise by and pick me up as if you were picking up a prostitute. Okay?"

"As you like." She drew up in a dark corner of the car park in front on the shop and restaurant, waited until Lizzie had got out and shut the door, then continued quietly to the brightly lit filling station. Lizzie hitched up her dress to a tarty level and walked into the light, swinging her handbag in what she hoped was a sexy manner. Entering the shop, she picked up a basket and moved around the shelves, picking up a few packets of sweets before lingering casually in the makeup section and making apparently impulsive selections from the shelves. Finally, she picked up a couple of packs of condoms before going to the checkout. The young woman at the till looked at her with obvious distaste and was barely civil as she thrust the change towards Lizzie, then dropped it on the counter to avoid touching hands. Lizzie smiled inwardly, perfect! She nodded casually. "Ta, Dearie." and went out.

She strolled slowly towards the outgoing slip road as if looking for a lift, and raised a thumb as the Escort approached and stopped beside her. She opened the door and hesitated as if in conversation with the driver before climbing in. "Well, what was that all about?"

"We'll need some disguises and it was just as well to make sure that nobody would be able to trace us buying the stuff we need." She shrugged. "It's maybe a bit over-cautious but it was no great trouble, and every little helps." Her voice trailed of lamely. "I just don't seem to be able to decide who are friends and who are enemies this time."

Tiffy made no reply but looked at her friend sharply for a moment, then reached down to her handbag lying at Lizzie's feet, pulled out her Walther P5 automatic and laid it on her lap. She looked again at Lizzie, who was combing her hair and wiping her face, to see if she would pooh pooh her action - then chewed a lip when there was no reaction.

It was just coming up one o'clock when they turned quietly into the affluent street they remembered so well from the weekends spent with Marie all those years ago. The Symond's house was an imposing residence set well back from the street and surrounded by trees and shrubs. Tiffy drove up the drive and straight into the open garage. As she switched off the lights and engine a figure detached itself from the shadows near the other car. They were both keyed up enough to reach for their pistols, and Tiffy hissed, "Damn, I forgot to wreck the courtesy lights, if we open the doors we'll be lit up like a Christmas tree!"

The figure pulled open Lizzie's door - and stopped abruptly when her Walther bored into his stomach. He had been bending down to speak and the light caught his face. "Sorry, Sir." Lizzie removed the gun from his abdomen but there was no apology in her voice, it didn't pay to take chances.

"That's okay, ladies. Hang on, I'll shut the door and put on the light. He went to the wall and pressed a button. The up-and-over door whirred shut and, when it had clunked home, he switched on the light. By the time he'd done that the women had got out of the car and were hauling out their khaki holdalls.

He led them through an internal door that opened into the kitchen of the house. There Mrs Symonds welcomed them with the warm smile they remembered from their school days. "Come in my dears. It's so nice to see you after all this time." She hugged them both to her ample bosom before ushering them into the drawing room. They entered the large room and then turned towards their host. They saw an elderly man with grey hair, but he had the sharp decisive manner that went with command. He stood for a moment just looking at them - perhaps seeing his daughter, if she had lived - then nodded abruptly and held out his hand. "Welcome, ladies, please take a seat." He offered them a drink, which they refused, and waited until Mrs Symonds left the room to make coffee. He didn't beat around the bush. "Well, ladies, how might I help you?"

"Sir, we need a flight to Berlin in a military aircraft so that we can enter secretly and with our guns. And, if possible, we need false papers. We'd prefer to go to Berlin tomorrow night if that can be arranged." Lizzie spoke crisply.

He scrutinised them silently for a long moment. "Are you still with the Department?" Lizzie nodded. "We've been recalled for this one mission."

"Why have the Department not organised your transport?"

Lizzie looked him straight in the eye and handed him the unopened envelope Duncan had given them. "They have, you will find our tickets in there. But we've decided that it would be better if we avoided the planned route." Her voice was flat and uncompromising.

He riffled through the contents of the envelope, then smiled at them both. "I see. Is this some of your famous foresight then?"

"Something like that, Sir." Lizzie nodded and Tiffy grinned at them both, in the old days Marie's father had often teased them about Lizzie's premonitions, calling them mere feminine intuition.

He nodded slowly. "Very well. I won't ask any more questions. Just tell me exactly what you need"

"Well, Sir, we need new passports. Could you get that tomorrow without raising any eyebrows?"

"Oh yes." He smiled. "We are quite practised at arranging such things. And don't worry about your Department finding out, we keep our secrets from them even more carefully than we keep them from the KGB!"

"Right, Sir, you'll need photographs of us for the passports. Have you got a camera and film?"

"Yes, but if you just give me the passports your Department gave you our people can transfer the photographs."

Lizzie shook her head. "No, we want to change our appearance a bit before we go. We'll do that and then take new pictures. You can have your Lab staff develop and print them in the morning."

He nodded, then hesitated. "Ladies, I'll do whatever I can but you must realise that you're asking a lot. I certainly can't lay on a special aircraft -not in the timescale you want anyway. The only hope is to try to get you onto a scheduled RAF flight - but even that I can't do officially without a lot of planning and paperwork. However, I do know one or two people who sometimes find it useful to have a friend in the MOD, so I'll call in a favour or two and see what I can arrange. Do realise, though, that this will all be very unofficial and if anything goes wrong I, and some of my friends, will get it in the neck."

The women nodded, deeply touched at the risk he was taking. They both murmured 'thank you' and then fell into an awkward silence. They were all glad when Mrs Symonds bustled in carrying a large tray, which she set on the coffee table. "Business all finished?" Her husband nodded. "Good, now we can have a little chat. Tell me, what have you been doing since we last saw you, since Marie ... ." Her voice tailed off uncertainly, unwilling to cause pain by opening old wounds but wanting to refresh her memory about her only child.

Tiffy was silent and Lizzie cleared her throat uncertainly. The Symonds had never been told precisely how their daughter had died, only that she'd been killed in a massive explosion and that there would be no body to bury. "Ah humph. I'm not sure that we should tell you this but the mission we're going on concerns Marie in a way. You see, the man who was leader of the Russian team when Marie was killed has just popped up again after all this time. We'd all thought that he'd died in the same explosion as Marie but it seems that we were wrong. Nobody in the building could possibly have survived, so we can only suppose that he must have sneaked out to try to outflank us. Anyway, he hasn't been heard of for fifteen years." She saw a little flare of hope in the older woman's eyes, and hurried to add, "I'm sorry to say that whilst Dimitrov seems to have survived, Marie couldn't have. I'm afraid we were looking right at her when the explosion took place."

The tiny flame of hope flickered and died, and she felt the tears pricking in her eyes as she continued. "We don't really know what's going on but the word is that he's out to get Tiffy and me." She shrugged eloquently. "We don't know what he wants with us but the Department thinks we might have some snippet of information the KGB needs - perhaps to identify a traitor or something. Whatever it is, it might be important to the West so it has been decided that it would be better if we went and tried to winkle him out in Berlin rather than just wait for him to find us."

She was silent for a long time, but obviously lost in thought rather than waiting for a reply, Then she continued, avoiding their eyes. "As I said earlier, Sir, there's something doesn't feel right about this one. Duncan Lawson - he's head of the Department's North European Section - is dealing with the mission personally, he thinks there might be a mole somewhere in the Department so he's keeping the number of people involved to a minimum. He's given us a contact name in Berlin but we can't count on much practical help there." She looked at Marie's father. "It's going to be difficult to find Dimitrov without any help but I think we'd be better with none rather than risk any contact with Department agents. If you have any unimpeachable contacts out there we'd be grateful if you could give us their names, just in case we need some backup."

He was clearly torn between wanting to help them and putting his Service contacts in compromising situations. "Uh hem. Yes, well it's most irregular, you know. However, if you promise to contact him only if you are really stuck, and if you exercise the utmost circumspection when you do it, I'll give you his telephone number. When I get into my office tomorrow I'll contact him and warn him that you may call. If you like I'll ask him to put some feelers out about this Dimitrov fellow. Alright?"

"Thank you, Sir, but make sure that he knows that the opposition mustn't know he's interested." Lizzie nodded, then continued. "There's just one more thing you might do for us. You see, it is accepted that we would have very little chance of getting Dimitrov out of Berlin, it's just too easy for the Soviets to infiltrate the place and to all exits. It has therefore been decided that we should capture Dimitrov, interrogate him, and then, when we've got the information we need, send it out by telephone or in writing. That way there would be no point in the KGB trying to prevent us getting out."

"I see, and what about this Dimitrov?"

Lizzie's voice was hard and uncompromising. "We'd kill him of course. It would be the sensible thing to do in any case, but we've long since sworn that if he ever crosses our path he won't get away alive. We owe that to Marie."

Mrs Symonds gasped audibly. "My Dears! It hurt us terribly when Marie died, of course, but you mustn't ruin your lives by carrying on a vendetta."

"I know what you mean, now I have children of my own I'm painfully aware of the futility of such things, and neither of us would deliberately go out to hunt down Dimitrov for that reason alone. However, if we came up against him and just walked away as if the past was merely a game, we could never forgive ourselves - and I don't think Marie would forgive us either." Lizzie spoke with gentle sadness.

"Yes, well, that's a decision you'll have to make when the time comes." The roughness of Symonds' voice masked the lump that had risen in his throat. "Now, what was it you were going to say?"

Lizzie was grateful to get back to business. "It's just that we would like to be able to pass anything we find to you rather than to the Department. If there's a mole there it would be very silly to pass what they're looking for to them on a plate. Would you be willing for us to contact you instead?" Before he could answer she rushed on. "I cannot deny that such information might make you - both of you, in fact - prime targets. If this thing is important, the KGB will stop at nothing to chop out every link in the chain."

"Of course you may use me. You remember my work number?"

"Yes, of course. We don't know what this thing is about yet and we'll have to relay it to you as cryptically as we can. You will have to use your own judgement on what to do with it. It might be best to spread it around to ensure that it gets to the right destination no matter what happens. Or it might be best to destroy it rather than let it fall into the wrong hands. Anyway, that will be up to you. All I ask is that you don't send it to the Department, I've a feeling that would be the wrong thing to do. If all goes well we'll get back here safely and can handle it ourselves, but just having got the word out to somebody will be our best insurance."

"Yes, alright, I'll do what I can. Have you got any idea of the timescales involved, I mean, do you expect it to take days or weeks?"

"We don't know, but I doubt that we could stay out of Dimitrov's hands for more than a few days in Berlin."

"Very well, I'll ensure that I'm near a 'phone day and night for the next few days."

They sat and chatted for a while longer, but Mrs Symonds and Tiffy did most of the talking, Captain Symonds and Lizzie had sunk into introspection as they mulled over what had to be done. It was 2:30am when Lizzie suddenly stood up. "Sir, could you bring your camera and show us how to work it, and, Janet, could we go somewhere to cut our hair."

"Well, yes Dear, I suppose the kitchen would be best, it isn't carpeted." She looked at Tiffy. "But surely you're not going to cut off those beautiful tresses."

Tiffy looked at Lizzie pugnaciously. "No, I wasn't planning to get a haircut! I don't mind a trim or a bit of tinting, but this hair took a long time to grow and I'm hanging on to it." She was extremely proud of her long blonde hair.

Lizzie ignored her and turned to the older couple. "There's no point in you staying up. We'll change our appearances a bit and take the photos, then we'll leave the camera on the kitchen table for you to take with you in the morning."

"Very well, dears. You'll be in the same rooms as you always used to have. What time would you like me to bring you breakfast?"

"No, no. Don't do that. We'll probably sleep late, we'll likely do most of our work at night out there so we might as well take this opportunity to reset our internal clocks. When we eventually surface we'll just have some cereal." Lizzie smiled at the plump little woman.

When the older couple had gone off to bed, the two friends carried their luggage to the kitchen and Lizzie dumped her shopping on the table. "Right, Tiffy, I'll go first. Cut my hair short and tarty, then streak it with blonde bits."

"Okay, but what exactly did you have in mind for mine?" Tiffy's voice still held a heavy measure of truculence.

"Well, it's up to you - but you'll have to do something, that long blonde hair stands out like a sore thumb." She saw her friend's bottom lip jut a little. "Look, Tiffy, I know how you feel about your hair," her voice hardened, "but you're an unnecessary danger like that - to me as well as to you."

"Okay, okay, I know! But can't we do something without cutting it all off?" Her eyes were pleading.

Lizzie smiled. "Okay, start doing mine and we'll think about yours." She chuckled. "How about cutting six inches off it, dyeing it black and tying it in a pony tail?" She knew that such unsophisticated style was anathema to her fashion-concious friend.

"No way! You may want me to play a tart, but at least I'll be a high-class one. You're not going to make me into a country yokel who gets her thrills in hayricks." She brightened. "How about dyeing it and then piling it up sort of scruffy with wings hanging down each side?"

Lizzie sighed in defeat. "Okay, okay. My God, you're the only woman I know who thinks that a fate worse than death means getting a haircut!"

An hour later they were unrecognisable. Lizzie's shoulder-length bronze hair had been chopped back to about three inches all over, had been lightened a little and had silver streaks running indiscriminatly through it. Tiffy had resisted any advances with the scissors but had gritted her teeth and allowed Lizzie to dye her hair jet black. Then she had piled it up in a deliberately inexpert way so that she looked like a traditional bee hive that had been pulled through a hedge backwards. They returned to the lounge and stood side by side in front of a the large mirror and looked at each other. Tiffy burst out laughing. "My God, Lizzie, you look a fright! If we are accosted as prostitutes there's no doubt about who will have to do all the work!"

"Huh, I may look a bit unsuccessful, but you look as if you've been on the game since Methuzela was a lad! Now, come on and have your picture taken."

The sky was just starting to lighten when they finished clearing up and climbed wearily up the stairs to bed.

CHAPTER 3

They woke when the late summer sun moved from behind the trees and flooded their rooms with light. It was mid afternoon and they felt completely rested. They showered slowly and luxuriously, remembering without realising it that this might be the last safe shower they'd have until everything was over.

Mrs Symonds heard them moving about and had a solid mixed grill and a pot of freshly made coffee waiting for them. This was heaven - Lizzie thought wryly about what she'd have been doing if she'd been at home, not sitting and being waited on, that was for sure.

They whiled away the remainder of the afternoon helping Mrs Symonds prepare the evening meal, but as six o'clock drew near the conversation dwindled and they became more and more attuned to the sound of Captain Symonds' car turning into the drive.

When he arrived he kissed his wife lightly, then looked at the two younger women - and blinked without comment as he took in their changed appearance. It was even more startling in the flesh than in the photographs. "Alright, it's all fixed." He opened his briefcase and drew out two passports. "I think these will stand up to any scrutiny, the women they refer to are genuine but at this moment they're out of harms way in one of Her Majesty's prisons," he grinned, "for prostitution. You'll see from the passports that they've been to Germany a few times over the years - although not to Berlin." He held out an envelope. "Here's a run-down on their backgrounds. I suggest you learn them well and then destroy them."

Lizzie nodded approvingly. "Thank you, Sir. Now, what about transport and contacts?"

He grimaced and blew out his cheeks in a gesture of doubt. "We...el, it's all arranged but it's on a grace and favour basis from an old friend. If things go wrong you could be bumped off the flight without warning. If that happens, please go without any fuss or we'll all have our heads on the block." He reached for the telephone. "There's just one thing to be settled." He dialled a number and spoke briefly to someone he obviously knew very well, then held the handset out to Tiffy, who was standing nearest him. "Tell him your sizes in clothes so that he can arrange uniforms for you. They'll make you less conspicuous during the flight." Tiffy spoke briefly and concisely, then handed back the phone.

Returning the handset to its stand he turned to the two women. "There's a Hercules leaving RAF Snetrup Magna at 03:00 hours taking out a load of garrison troops and freight to Berlin. You go straight to the Station Commander's house, it's in the married quarters." He reached for the telephone pad and scribbled an address and a sketch map. Handing it to them he continued. "He'll personally get you kitted out in uniform so that you're less conspicuous, and will escort you onto the 'plane. You'll be met by a senior officer at the other end and driven to your hotel. Does that suit?"

They both nodded, delighted with their luck. "Yes. Thank you very much, Sir. And did you manage to arrange a contact for us?" Lizzie reminded him gently.

"Yes," he wrote a name and telephone number on the pad, "I'd rather you memorised that and destroyed the note, if you can."

Lizzie looked at it for a moment, nodded, and handed it to Tiffy who read it over and over, closed her eyes and repeated it to herself a few times before handing it back to Captain Symonds. She knew that she'd probably forget it, but was certain that Lizzie wouldn't.

Dinner took a long time, with good food, warm friendship, and even warmer memories. It was past ten o'clock by the time they finished coffee. "Well, I think we'd better finish our packing and get ready to go. It should take no more than two hours to drive to Snetrup Magna but we'd better allow three in case of problems. Then, I guess, we'll need about an hour to change and get out to the aircraft. That means we'll have to be away from here by eleven." Lizzie stood up and moved towards the door, closely followed by Tiffy.

Mrs Symonds watched them go, her eyes moist with memories of how her daughter used to show the same impatience to be finished with waiting and be off. Turning to her husband, she asked. "Will they be alright, do you think, Dear?"

He shrugged helplessly. "I hope so, I hope so. I'll do all I can to help them but I think they're well able to take care of themselves." His voice dropped as if talking to himself. "I just hope that family life hasn't made them soft, taken the edge off them. They'll need all their old cunning and ruthlessness out there."

"Do you think it's going to be really dangerous?" Her voice showed her anxiety.

He shook his head, unable to tell his wife what the day's reports had shown about KGB activity in Berlin. "I don't know, but I don't think they'd be going if they didn't believe they could pull it off."

The two women came into the room and stood looking ill at ease now it was time for the small-talk prior to leaving. Captain Symonds caught Lizzie's eye over his wife's shoulder, and indicated with a slight jerk of his head that he wanted to talk to her alone. Lizzie took the hint. "I'll just take the bags out, Tiffy. Be back in a minute."

"Here, let me help you." Captain Symonds picked up Tiffy's bag and led the way out. They entered the garage and deposited the bags in the back of the car, then he turned to Lizzie. "I pulled some reports on the Berlin sector today. No," he saw the flare of alarm in her eyes, "I didn't let anyone else know I was interested. Things are unusually busy there. The KGB and their minions -official and unofficial - are on the move, and everybody else is on edge trying to work out what's going on. I think you should be very careful."

"Don't worry, we will be."

He hesitated. "Look Lizzie, maybe I'm teaching my grandmother to suck eggs but there are indications that the underworld there is mixed up in things. The interpretation being put on it is that the KGB are spreading around a lot of money to buy the help of characters on both sides of the law." He gestured helplessly. "What I'm trying to say is, be careful, even of old friends, they might sell you down the river."

Lizzie smiled slightly, finding with surprise that her domesticated fears were gradually receding and the old excitement breaking through. "Thank you, Sir." Her brow furrowed. "I don't see how that can fit in with the story Duncan told us - unless they already know we're coming and want to pick us up when we contact old acquaintances." Her brow cleared and she smiled again. "It will give me something to think about during the journey. Thanks, you have warned us not to do exactly what we were aiming to!"

They joined the others and Lizzie looked at her watch. "Well, if you'll excuse us, I think we'd better be going."

The elderly couple escorted them out to the car and hugged them goodbye, Mrs Symonds with urgent strength and her husband with courteous decorum. Tiffy settled behind the wheel and smoked the tyres just a little as she accelerated away. The journey to Snetrup Magna was driven with consummate skill, fast enough to make any pursuit extremely difficult but not so wild as to attract the attention of the Law - a Department mole would have no trouble looking up police records.

During the journey Lizzie told Tiffy about Captain Symonds' news, and then spent the rest of the time sunk deep in thought.

As they neared the main entrance to the airfield they turned off towards the Officers' Married Quarters, then turned off again towards the Station Commander's house which stood alone in a small copse of trees. A car stood in front of the house but the garage door was open and the garage was empty. After a moments indecision, Tiffy drove straight in and turned off the engine. "I don't suppose anybody is onto this car yet but it's better off the street."

They where just climbing out when a middle-aged man in Group Captain's uniform stepped in the door. "Are you the two ladies Tommy told me to expect?"

Lizzie noted the careful use of the first name. "Yes, Sir." She stepped around the back of the car and held out her hand. "I take it that you're the Station Commander."

He shook hands gravely, and then turned to do the same with Tiffy, noting the wicked looking Uzi in her hand but smiling in answer to her infectious grin. "Yes, I'm he, Ron Winn is my name. I suppose you want me to leave your car in here and out of sight until you return?" They nodded and he continued. "Well, you're welcome, we only have one car anyway and I usually leave it outside if the weather's fine. If necessary I can get it in the other side if I shift the lawnmower a bit. Never mind that just now, come in the house, I've got uniforms for you to change into."

They hauled their bags from the car and followed him into the house, waiting whilst he closed the garage door. He led them up the stairs and into a bedroom. "I hope these fit you okay." He gestured towards a pair of uniforms lying on the bed. "Change and come downstairs, we don't have much time to spare." He hesitated. "I'd be grateful if you'd make as little noise as possible, my wife's asleep across the way." Closing the door quietly behind him he went downstairs.

"Wow! I've worn uniforms before but never that of the glamour service. What's the female equivalent of a Brylcreme Boy?"

"Shush, Tiffy, and get dressed. You're not going to a fashion parade, just deadheading in the middle of the night in a noisy, draughty military freighter. Chuck it on, you're going to be sleeping in it." As she spoke, Lizzie was stripping to bra and panties. When they'd dressed they quickly brushed their hair into more-or-less respectable shape before putting on their caps.

They transferred their pistols to their Air Force handbags and packed everything else in their holdalls. Then they joined the Group Captain in the lounge. He looked at them critically, then with approval. "Good, very good. Now, do you know enough about Air Force and Army ranks to know who to salute?"

Tiffy reeled off the ranks of both services and assured him that they knew how to behave among servicemen. He nodded as if he would have liked them to tell him more about how they came to learn such things, but when they said no more he just nodded again and changed the subject. "The aircraft is parked on the far side of the airfield, I'll drive you around there and get you aboard. There will be a couple of dozen other people aboard, mostly non-coms, no officers other than the crew. The senior rank aboard will be the captain, a Flight Lieutenant like yourselves, so you won't have any senior person forcing his attention on you." He smiled knowingly. "I'm assuming that you will want to be left in peace." The smile faded when he was met with blank stares. "Humph! Well, I think we'd better be moving."

The car stopped only briefly at the gate, and was waved hurriedly on when the driver was recognised. He grunted. "Handy tonight, but that security is too lax."

The big, bluff Hercules looked huge in the orange glare of the sodium lights, its drab matt camouflage making it seem too solid to fly. A dim light glowed from the flight deck windows, and shadowy heads could be seen moving and nodding inside. Outside, the ground crew were just finishing off and were moving to take up positions by the big fire extinguishers.

The Group Captain brought the car to a halt and switched off the engine. "The crew are just finishing their checks and the other passengers are already aboard. Do you want to get in now?"

"Might as well." Lizzie pushed open her door and stepped out into the still, cool night air. Tiffy joined her by the boot of the car and together they hauled out the big holdalls. They stood in a black shadow cast by the huge tailfin, and Lizzie held out her hand. "Thanks for everything, Sir. Our car will be collected within a couple of weeks, either by us or by someone from our outfit."

He shook hands with them both, and walked with them towards the door. Then he returned their punctilious salutes and watched them climb aboard.

The seats, vestigial fold-down canvas affairs, were inward-facing along the sides and looked far from comfortable. Those in the front were occupied by a party of soldiers who obviously knew each other and were making ribald conversation. Lizzie led the way to the back and dumped her holdall in the seat nearest one of the few windows. Tiffy did the same at the other side. Then they both slumped into the adjacent seats and fidgeted with the bags until they formed comfortable pillows. "Right, we'd better get all the sleep we can, there's not much of the night left." Lizzie snuggled down and closed her eyes.

The young soldiers saw the women come aboard and eyed each other suggestively. One, Corporal Alwyn Jones, winked at his companions. "Just what we need, boyos. A bit of female company to pass the night away. What say we invite them forward for a bit of a sing song, hey?"

"Och, forget it you Welsh ram, they're officers and old enough to be your mother." The words of the big hulking Sergeant carried to Tiffy's ears and caused her to smile ruefully.

"Aye, more your age, like. Well I'm going to chat them up a bit." He started down the aisle towards the women.

As he approached her, Tiffy opened one eye. "Your mate's right, Taffy. Now, be a good lad and let a couple of old women get some sleep." She smiled to lessen the power of the bars on her shoulders.

He nodded wordlessly and shambled off forward. Tiffy's smile broadened when she heard him say in a hoarse whisper. "By Christ, I don't know exactly how old she is but she is one good looker!"

Then the engines started and any further conversation was lost. Both women slept soundly for the whole trip, waking only when the wheels thumped heavily on the ground. Tiffy groaned, stretched, groaned louder as her aching muscles protested, then rubbed her eyes. Lizzie had shed her civilian ways when the shooting started. Now she came fully awake without moving a muscle or altering her breathing. Very slowly she opened an eye then, convinced that all was well, she sat up and, catching Tiffy's eye, grimaced at the aches from the uncomfortable bed. "Oh! I'm getting too old for this kind of thing." She looked out of the window at the lights of the taxiway. "Well, the weather seems fine and we should be well away before it gets light."

When the aircraft drew to a halt and the door opened they were standing ready to be first out. As they climbed out a grizzled looking Squadron Leader stepped forward. Quickly saluting, Lizzie said. "Brown and Carruthers, Sir."

"Ah yes, I've been expecting you. I'm Jim Blakey, Intelligence Officer and general factotum." He grinned as he shook hands. "Tommy Symonds an' me go back a long way together and he's asked me to see you on your way. He led them to a waiting car. "Do you want to go straight into town or have you time for an early breakfast in the mess?"

Lizzie shook her head regretfully, she felt ravenously hungry and had to thrust the thought of breakfast aside. "I don't think we can hang around, Sir. What we really need is to get changed into civvies and then get hold of a car that can't easily be traced to us. Could you suggest where we might do that?"

He chewed his bottom lip for a moment before saying slowly. "The changing is no problem, you can do it in my house. I'll take care of the uniforms as well if you want. I'm not so sure about the car, though. If Tommy had mentioned it earlier I could have had one ready but if you're in a hurry ..." His voice trailed off. "I can sign you out a Service one, or you can borrow my own private one if you like, but I guess that neither of them are as anonomous as you'd like."

"No, not a Service one, that would be known. Not your own one either, someone in your position would be known and your car marked. Thank you for the offer though, it was very generous." Lizzie's voice was warm with gratitude.

He looked slightly embarrassed. "Think nothing of it. Tommy asked that I give you all the help I can - unoffically, of course."

"I see." Her mind was already racing ahead. "We need a car that can't be traced to anyone officially recognised as linked to the British Government." She hesitated, then continued hopefully. "I don't suppose there's a car that some civilian has left here when flying out to somewhere. We can easily break in and hot wire it."

He looked momentarily startled at their blatant readiness to steal a car. "Well, I'm sure there are such cars but I don't know them off-hand - nor how long their owners will be away." He brightened suddenly. "Wait a minute! I might have just the thing you need. My son and his family have just arrived to spend a holiday with us. His wife is German and they live in Stuttgart so his car is German registered. They arrived last night after dark so no one has seen them in the car yet. Do you think it would do?"

"Perfect! Just perfect - but do you think he would lend it to a pair of strangers?"

"Oh I think so. It's an oldish Citroen BX, and he really fancies my pride and joy, an Audi Quattro. If I let him use the Quattro instead, he'll jump at the chance - and I'll make sure that nobody mentions their own car. Their children are just two years and three months so they won't give the game away."

"That's terrific, Sir. Look, we might not bring it back in one piece - or at all, for that matter. If that happens, will you promise to ask Tommy Symonds to arrange for my estate to buy your son a brand new Audi Quattro as a replacement?"

He was caught off guard again and was nonplussed by the two women apparently expecting that they might be going to their deaths. He replied gruffly. "No need for that, I'm sure. It's not worth much and it is insured."

"Nonetheless, please tell Tommy what I said."

He shrugged his agreement. "Well, I'm sure it won't come to that anyway." He looked up at the eastern sky. "We'd better be going, it will be light soon."

They drove quickly to the Squardon Leader's house and the women changed from their uniforms into civilian clothes and reasserted their tarty guise in the darkened living room, whilst he spoke briefly to his sleep-soaked son. Returning with the keys he held them out. "It's all yours, ladies."

They quickly checked that nothing important had been left in the car, threw their own bags in the back and settled in. As Tiffy started the engine, Lizzie wound down her window and called softly. "Thanks a million, Sir. One last favour - if anyone other than Tommy Symonds, ANYONE AT ALL, mentions us, you've never heard of us. Okay?"

He nodded grimly. "Yes okay."

She smiled warmly at him. "Thank you. Good morning." They drove for a while in silence, then Tiffy observed. "It's a long time since we were here last, I can't remember much about the place, can you?"

"Well, no, not exactly. It must be, what, seventeen years since we were here and I suppose everything will have changed out of all recognition. Not to worry, I suppose all our old contacts will be in the telephone book even if they've moved house. Anyway, first things first. Let's look for a middling hotel, not too far off this road and fairly close to the centre."

They continued in silence until they sighted a large hotel that looked neither plush nor decrepit. "This looks as good as any." Tiffy swung into the street that led to a large car park behind the hotel. They climbed out, retrieved their bags and climbed up the steps to the foyer.

They booked a pair of adjoining rooms with a shared bathroom. "Right, let's change and grab a quick breakfast. Then I think we should lie low here all day to catch up on our sleep. There's not much we can do during the day anyway." As she spoke, Lizzie was racing to strip off her clothes, trying to beat Tiffy to the shower. She made it - just.

CHAPTER 4

They had eaten a typical German breakfast of cheese and cold meats, and had then slept the whole day through. The sun was just setting when they woke, and they dressed, did their hair and put on make-up to go with their new image. As they did so they discussed their options.

"Well, how are we going to start?" Tiffy had long allocated the planning to Lizzie.

"I'm not sure. We certainly can't just wander around hoping to trip over Dimitrov. What we need is a contact to give us a lead. The question is, do we go to Tommy's contact man to see if he can point us in the direction of any unusual KGB activity? Tommy said to use him only in an emergency, but I think we're pretty clean yet so we wouldn't be a danger to him. On the other hand, he could well be a danger to us. If he's been here a while it's almost certain that the KGB will know about him and have him staked out to see if we try to contact him."

"The alternative is to try to get in touch with one of our old acquaintances. The snag there is that, if what Tommy said is true, we probably can't trust them."

"Good God, we never could trust them very far, they always were crooks of one sort or another - and if the KGB are throwing their money about they'll be even worse!" Tiffy retorted.

"True, but do you have a better idea?"

"No, but when we last knew these guys they were at least part patriots, and the cold war was a pretty serious business. But they were crooks too, and nowadays glasnost means it's okay to do a bit for the Russians. Not only that, we used to be here with the heavy mob to back us up if anybody crossed us, now we're here on our own." Tiffy was unusually serious. "I tell you, I think that if people like Axel and Herman know where Dimitrov is they'll also know enough about what's going on to sell us for a good price."

Lizzie betrayed her tension with a flare of impatience. "Yes, yes. That's all true, but it doesn't change the fact that we need to talk to someone who either knows where Dimitrov is, or who can put out feelers and find him quick. We just don't have the time to pussyfoot around waiting for things to happen." She rested her elbows on the dressing table and sank her chin into her hands before continuing in the dreamy voice that Tiffy knew denoted deep thought. "The thing is, how can we approach them so that they'll help us to reach Dimitrov and get away with him?"

Tiffy sat on the bed with a small mirror in one hand and a lipstick in the other, trying to create a tarty but nice effect. She silently ignored her friend, knowing that she would come to a conclusion and that's what they would do.

"I don't think there's anything we can do to stop them selling us out to Dimitrov, so let's try to think of how to get them to put us in touch with him and then get off the hook before they can catch us." The dreamy voice mused on. "How about ... How about if we went to Axel and asked him to put out some feelers to get us a lead on Dimitrov, then hinted casually that the Department would have his guts if he harmed us - that would probably stop him from making any direct move against us, he would just inform the KGB and then keep his head down. Suppose we then went and did the same to Herman. There's no doubt that they'd each know we'd been to see the other - and the KGB would only pay out to one of them. So ... can we count on them to get in each other's way to protect their own interests?"

Tiffy had stopped messing about with her makeup and was watching Lizzie expectantly, knowing that a decision was imminent.

"Probably, probably." Lizzie answered herself. "If one seemed to have the inside track with the KGB the other might just try to make things go wrong to discredit the opposition and leave the field clear." Her voice strengthened and became decisive. "Okay, here's what I think we should do. We'll first try to find where Axel and Herman live. Then we'll go and pay them a visit and stir things up a bit. Okay?"

Tiffy knew that it wasn't really a question, so she stood up and slipped on her jacket. Then she reached for her handbag to check the Walther and to transfer the tiny 0.22 automatic pistol to the capacious pocket of her jacket. "Ready when you are, Squire."

"Right. Let's just try the telephone book to see whether Axel and Herman are listed." Both men had been in the club and casino business - lucrative in themselves and also serving as legitimate all-night HQs. Lizzie quickly found them and memorised their addresses and telephone numbers. "I don't think we'll 'phone them first, they might be tempted to tip off Dimitrov to catch us on the way in."

They put the Kalashnikov and Uzi into one of the khaki bags and took it with them. If their rooms were turned over by anyone the guns could cause all sorts of questions to be asked. They would be safer in the car - and just might be needed. Avoiding the hotel staff, they slipped out to the car. Lizzie had thought long and hard about whether to appear as prostitutes to the hotel staff and risk being thrown out, or to live a dual existence and perhaps tip off any pursuers who might wonder about this deception. Eventually she had decided that the relative safety of staying in a large, respectable hotel was worth it. People running sleazy hotels for prostitutes were likely to consider a bribe to be better than a reputation. It wouldn't be all that weird for a pair of mature pro's to want to stay at a hotel with 'normal' folks, so they decided to appear and behave as a pair of women who were tarty but reasonably respectable. Out on the street it would require only a change in manner for them to fall into the role of cheap prostitutes..

Driving quickly to downtown Berlin, they parked in a heavily populated, well lit thoroughfare and walked a couple of hundred metres before picking up a taxi to take them to the other side of the city centre. Then they took a different taxi back to Axel's casino.

A very large bouncer barred their way. "Out, we don't want none of your sort in here."

"Just call Axel and tell him that Gemini are here to see him." He opened his mouth to speak, but something in Lizzie's voice stopped him. Flipping out a small two-way radio he punched a few buttons and spoke briefly. The background noise from the casino and the street drowned the reply but he stood aside and gestured them in. "Go up the stairs, you'll be met."

The stairs led off behind some offices so they got only a brief glimpse of a large, opulent room crowded with gaming tables and well-dressed people. A beautiful young woman with an arrogant expression met them on the landing and eyed them from top to toe with a studied expression of distaste. Lizzie felt Tiffy stiffen and spoke quickly to forestall her. "We're expected, take us to Axel." Her tone was hard and cold.

Without a word the woman gestured for them to follow her and led the way into a large office. A big, heavy man in late middle age rose from behind a massive desk and came towards them, smiling broadly. "Ladies, this is an unexpected pleasure!" He enveloped them in turn in a bear hug and then stood back to survey them. "Ladies, I don't want to seem rude but I hope those are disguises you're wearing!"

They laughed dutifully and Tiffy reached forward to prod his protruding belly. "Of course it is, but not nearly as good a one as you're wearing."

"Hey, hey. Same old Tiffany I see." He caught her hand and pulled her into another hug. "Still as beautiful and funny as ever, eh?" He looked at Lizzie. "And how is the Professor?" He had always had a profound respect for Lizzie's intellect.

"Never better, Axel, and it's great to see you after all these years." She looked around the room with its expensive furniture and drapes. "I don't have to ask how you are, you're obviously the huge success you always said you would be."

"Hey, I did, didn't I?" He waved his hand around the room, "But this is nothing, just one of three casinos and eleven clubs," He was clearly proud of his success. "But I'm forgetting my manners. Come on, sit down and tell me what you'd like to drink."

They sank into plush arm chairs. "Nothing just yet, Axel. Thing is, we need a favour."

He waved expansively. "Anything within my power is yours, I owe you a few favours, so just name it."

"Well, Axel, we're trying to find somebody who is supposed to be hiding out somewhere in West Berlin. He's a Russian called Alexi Dimitrov and he's a member of the KGB."

There was a slight change in the tinkle of whisky going into his glass at the mention of the name, but no more than that. "I see, and can I ask why you want this man?"

"We want him because the word is that he's out to get us. We don't know why, or whether he wants to grab us or kill us, but the Firm seems to think it's important." Lizzie's gesture took in her disguise. "We've been sent in more or less openly to winkle him out into the open so that the heavy mob can deal with him." She looked at him unblinkingly. "It really is important, Axel, and we'd be grateful if you'd pass the word that anyone helping us will be very well rewarded - and that anyone shopping us will be dealt with most severely." The quaint wording was not lost on Axel, he knew from past experience that such typically English understatement meant that there would be no reprieve from execution.

He nodded slowly and with transparent sincerity. "I see. Well, I haven't heard of the man but there has been a lot of KGB activity recently, with a lot of new faces appearing. I'll put the word around and see what I can dig up. Where can I contact you if I hear anything?"

"Oh, we'll be moving around quite a bit I expect. We'll give you a call early tomorrow evening from wherever we happen to be at the time." She sounded off-hand but he knew she was telling him to mind his own business - and he wasn't offended, it showed a healthy professional attitude.

"Okay, now, can I offer you a drink?"

"Thanks, Axel, but we've a few things to do tonight so we'll just take a rain check, eh?"

He saw them out to the door and helped them into a taxi, waiting until they had told the driver where to take them. As soon as they had started moving, Lizzie called the driver and gave him new instructions. They had gone only a short distance when Tiffy whispered. "Oh, oh, I think we've got a tail!"

Lizzie grinned with satisfaction. "Good-o, that will be dear old Axel keeping an eye on us. Just what we need to get him watching Herman as well as us."

Herman ran his considerable empire from a small but exclusive night club. They gave him the same story as they had given Axel, and then took a taxi back to Axel's casino. They chuckled delightedly when they were followed again - and this time took the opportunity to let Herman know that they'd approached Axel. As an excuse to enter Axel's casino, they left a note with the doorman. It told Axel that they might be tied up for a few days but that if he found out anything he should 'phone Duncan's office number. It wouldn't do any harm if he did 'phone - but if he was out to double-cross them he wouldn't be talking to any outsiders.

Having finished the real work of the night, they spent an hour dodging around on foot and in taxis until they were sure that they'd shaken off their tails. Then they picked up the car and spent the rest of the night driving around the city trying to refresh their minds as much as possible of its geography. It was just after six am when they returned to the hotel and slipped up to their rooms. It would be another two hours before breakfast started so they discussed the night's happenings whilst they showered and changed.

Lizzie sat on the toilet seat and watched Tiffy lathering her hair. "Axel seemed a bit surprised when I mentioned Dimitrov, did you notice that?"

"Yeah, I thought he did but I can't think why he should. If he hadn't heard what was going on there would have been nothing to be surprised about. On the other hand, if he does know what's going on you would have thought he'd have guessed what we were after whenever he heard our names."

"My sentiments exactly. I can only think that he does know about Dimitrov being in the area but doesn't know about his connection with us. I suppose that would be reasonable, after all it might not have occurred to anyone, even the KGB, that we'd actually come here looking for him."

"No, it wouldn't occur to anyone with any sense to expect us to come here!" answered Tiffy with some warmth. "Well, nothing we can do about it now so hurry up with that shower and let's get down to breakfast."

 

It was late evening when they left the hotel in tight fitting blouse and trousers and drove towards the city centre. Stopping at a 'phone box, Lizzie got out and telephoned Axel. It was answered by a secretary. Lizzie's voice was crisp. "I wish to speak to Axel. Tell him it's Miss Smythe."

There was only a very brief pause, then Axel's gutteral voice. "Hullo, Lizzie. So nice to hear from you again."

"Hello, Axel. Have you got anything for me yet?"

"Well, nothing too precise I fear. A man who might answer your description was mixed up in an incident on the north side of the city four days ago. I haven't been able to get the full details but a friend in the police department says there was shooting and a man was found dead from gunshot wounds. It is thought that at least some of those involved escaped across the Wall, but the one who might be Dimitrov was reported as leaving the scene on foot and heading for the north west." He paused before continuing apologetically. "Not much, I'm afraid. Does it help?"

"I don't know, but your report of a fracas fits in with our information." She lied easily. "Have you any idea what there is at that side of the city that might interest him?"

"Who can tell what interests the KGB? All there is over there is factories, industrial estates, workshops, that kind of thing. Of course, it's quite possible that the KGB runs some of these places as cover." Another pause. "You could try the old Krill Engineering factory up here." He turned in his swivel chair to look speculatively at the map on the wall. "The firm filed for bankruptcy about a month ago but there have been a few reports recently of clandestine comings and goings. Of course, it might just be some clever fellows trying their hand at practical asset stripping before the firm is wound up."

"Thanks, we'll run a check on the area, but I'd be grateful if you'd continue to keep your ear to the ground. We'll try to keep in touch but if we're tied up you can 'phone any messages to the number I left with your doorman."

A call to Herman followed so closely on the same lines that either the story was true or they had both got it from the same source. If it was true, Krill Engineering would have to be checked out. If it was nothing more than a lure being cast by the KGB, what could it mean? Just a method of getting them out to a relatively open area? Well, perhaps. Lizzie returned to the car and told Tiffy what had been said, then sank into deep thought whilst Tiffy drove towards the north west of the city.

When they had left the bustling night life of the city centre behind, Lizzie called a halt at the side of a poorly lit road running through a large park. Switching on the interior lights they spent a few minutes poring over a street map of the area surrounding Krill Engineering. Tiffy traced a finger from the factory to the city centre via wide, well lit streets. "We can dodge up these narrow lanes if necessary but they're too easy to block off for my liking. I suggest we stick to the main streets if we can. Um?"

"Yes, you're right, they could have enough men to seal off all the lanes in the area but they can't easily seal the main roads without attracting police attention." She spoke absently, absorbed in comparing the street map with the German equivalent of an Ordinance Survey map of the area. Both maps were about two years old and a lot of changes could have taken place in that time. She tapped a finger nail on a small shopping centre in a wooded hollow. "We could leave the car there, it's about a quarter of mile from the factory and there seems to be a lot of cover from buildings and vegetation on the way. What do you think."

Tiffy took her time, absorbing the detail of the street layout and the land shape. "Yes, it looks about as good as we're likely to find. What time do you reckon we should go in?" She looked at her watch. "We can be at the parking place about eleven. If we do a thorough circling recce that would mean going in to the factory itself at somewhere between one and half past. That should be okay, shouldn't it?"

"Yes, as good as any." She folded the maps. "Okay, let's get changed and blacked up, we'll just have to hope we're not stopped on the way." Rummaging in the holdall on the back seat, she handed Tiffy her khaki one-piece suit and a pair of khaki track shoes. Then she strapped on the Walther automatic before kicking off her shoes and opening the car door for just long enough to step out and pull on her suit. Then she pulled on a pair of black ankle socks before lacing on the trainers. She ran her hands quickly over her pockets, checking that nothing had been forgotten, then checked that the throwing knife was free in its sheath at the back of her neck. Tiffy silently mimicked Lizzie's movements with practised assurance.

The bag yielded up a tin of camouflage cream and they carefully applied it to break up the shape of the exposed skin. Eyelids, ears and wrists were assiduously smeared with rough patterns to ensure that no bit of regular white skin would signal their position.

They checked that one breast pocket contained maps and compass to find their way in emergencies, and the other contained a sizeable wad of money. Coins for telephone boxes were packed tight in small drawstringed bags to ensure that they didn't chink at an inopportune moment.

Finally they checked the pistols, Kalashnikov and Uzi, and slipped spare magazines into their capacious pockets, carefully shutting the velcro fasteners to ensure that nothing would rattle or be lost if they had to resort to violent action.

Satisfied, Tiffy ran her eyes over her friend, looking for any omissions. Seeing none she grinned. "Right. Into the Valley of Death, eh?"

Lizzie grinned back, pleased to find that all her fears at being called back to duty had evaporated with as little trace as dew evaporated by the morning sun. It was as if the fifteen year gap had ceased to exist, everything had come back, brain and body slipping into the old patterns without effort or hesitation. She could feel the adrenalin starting to flow, feel the growing clarity of thought as everything but the job in hand faded into insignificance, feel the devil-may-care excitement that would make normal the things that in everyday life would seem abhorrently brutal. "Lay on MacDuff, lay on!"

As Tiffy drove, Lizzie pulled the bulky plastic cylinder from the holdall, opened it and eased out the combined image-intensifier/infra-red night sight and laser sight. These had been in their infancy when she had left the service and she marvelled at the compactness of the modern instrument that lay in her hands. Raising it to her eye she flicked on the image-intensifier to try it for the first time in genuine darkness. Aiming it into the darkened park she was delighted to see with a clarity akin to a black and white TV picture taken in daylight. Next she switched to infra-red, and was presented with a similar picture, but one based on the heat being radiated by objects rather than on visible light. This would show a perfectly camouflaged man simply by the body heat he was radiating. Finally, she flicked on the laser sight. It fired a thin, infra-red beam of laser light and, by measuring the time taken for the pulses of light to be reflected from a target, measured the exact range. Furthermore, in daylight or using the image-intensifier or infra-red, it would show a bright dot on the target to indicate where the bullet would strike. Gone was the need to estimate the range and set the sight, now the micro-chip would do it all in an instant and, barring things like winds or ammunition imperfections, every shot would be a kill.

She chuckled with delight as she clipped the sight onto the Kalashnikov. "Jerry Withers, I love you! The opposition had better watch it tonight."

"Ivan with a turbocharger now, is it?" Tiffy's grin showed the same charged excitement as Lizzie was feeling. "You look like a kid with a new toy."

They drove in companionable silence, alert but each comfortable with her own thoughts. When they arrived at the darkened shopping centre Tiffy swung the car round in a U-turn and parked facing in the most likely direction for escape.

They got out and pulled on khaki Commando cap comforters, Tiffy piling her hair up underneath her's. When she had locked the car, Tiffy crouched down and placed the keys on the inside rim of the front wheel. "Just in case we get separated, eh?" Then, hefting their weapons they slipped silently through the deep shadows towards their target. The area was badly served by street lights and the stars were hidden by the diffused back glare of the city centre lights reflecting from the thin mist and smoke in the air. It didn't so much provide illumination as suffuse the area with an unearthly uniform greyness.

They walked in silence, in no great hurry to reach their destination. Half a dozen times they waited in deep shadow as vehicles or walkers passed by. At a couple of hundred yards from the factory they veered right and crept forward, stopping every twenty paces for Lizzie to scrutinise the area with the night sight. Tiffy had always had unusually good night vision and it was undimmed by the passing years. She was by nature something of a nocturnal animal, feeling the cover of darkness to present targets for her predatory instincts rather than as something to be feared. Now she padded softly along on the opposite side of the lane from Lizzie, the wicked Uzi held loosely at the alert position.

They completed the circle at two hundred metres radius, and then moved softly in another hundred metres before circling again. Still they saw nothing suspicious, so they moved in another fifty yards. Now the factory was in more or less continuous sight and they moved very slowly, one flitting forward whilst the other watched. Each time they stopped they'd look at each other and communicate with small hand or head movements.

Lizzie started to move forward, then stopped abruptly after half a dozen paces. She had seen and heard nothing but suddenly she was certain that there was danger ahead. She waited until Tiffy's head turned towards her, then signalled her hunch. Both sank slowly down on their knees, hoping to outline a watcher against the lighter sky. Nothing. They moved forward a few more paces and tried again.

The ground ahead of them was rising, with a steep, wooded slope facing the factory and curving from the north east right round to the west. A lane and more buildings ran along just beyond the crest. They suddenly realised that no buildings or roads, other than the road passing the factory itself, overlooked the factory. It was obviously well suited to clandestine operations, and the two women settled down to scan the area with a military eye.

Lizzie slowly scanned the night sight through the positions that she'd have chosen herself if she'd been staking the place out. She was about to move on when something flickered in the infra-red sight. A man had been completely hidden from her by a thick tree as he watched the factory, but now he moved into view as he turned to scan the wider area with a pair of binoculars. She quickly switched to image-intensifying mode and scrutinised him intently, turning up the magnification, balancing magnification against brightness as she tried to discern whether he was using ordinary binoculars or a sophisticated night sight like her own. She breathed a sigh of relief when she identified them as binoculars.

Waiting until he was looking the other way, she slipped over to Tiffy and silently handed her the Kalashnikov and guided it onto the target. Tiffy nodded and handed back the rifle. Now she knew where he was, she could just see the blur of his unblackened face.

They settled down and patiently watched for ten more minutes before they spotted another watcher further along the slope. Twenty more minutes showed nothing more, so they started to circle round to the right to try to spot any other watchers. They spent more than an hour slowly inching around, and in that time spotted six more figures.

Putting her mouth close to Tiffy's ear, Lizzie breathed. "I think that's them all. Eight." Tiffy nodded, and Lizzie continued. "The two on the slope can probably see all the others but I doubt that the others can see the ones on the slope through the trees." Again Tiffy nodded. "Right, let's take the ones on the slope and try to get one of them to talk." Nod, nod.

They slithered off on their bellies, keeping to the grass and shrubs that led nearly all the way to the end of the ridge. The vegetation finished at a large low building surrounded by a high wire fence. They approached it with great care, but confident in the fact that Lizzie seemed to feel no immediate danger. Putting the building between them and the watchers, they flitted like black ghosts along the darkened lane.

From the end of the building to the start of the trees on the ridge was a narrow road and a few yards of short grass. A deadly chasm if the watchers were alert. Lizzie lay on her stomach and inched her head and the Kalashnikov forward to peer around the corner of the building, scanning all the while as she tried to pick out the watchers. Some vehicles - fork-lift trucks and articulated trailers - were parked by the building and she peered under them. It took nearly twenty minutes for her to convince herself that only three of the watchers could actually see the gap, and only two of them were positioned such that it was more or less in their line of sight as they watched the factory.

She slithered back to where Tiffy had been patiently waiting, and whispered in her ear. "Only numbers three, four and five can see us as we cross, and five is badly positioned to see. I'll watch them, and wave you forward when they're looking the other way. Okay?" A single nod, and Tiffy rose silently to her feet and held out a hand for the Kalashnikov. Switching on the image-intensifier she carefully scanned the terrain she would have to cross. Tripping over a bit of wire, or kicking a discarded tin can could spell disaster. Satisfied, she handed the rifle back to Lizzie and took up her starting position.

Lizzie watched intently for a few minutes, then gestured quickly with her right hand. Without a moments hesitation, Tiffy sprinted lightly for the safety of the trees. None of the watchers seemed to have noticed anything so Lizzie watched for a few minutes then, timing their rhythmic scan, jumped to her feet and sprinted towards Tiffy.

When she reached cover she aimed the sight at each of the watchers in turn, looking for any sign of agitation. She saw none, so they started to pick their way up and along the ridge. At the top side of the trees the fallen twigs gave way to grass and they could move more confidently. They would use the night sight to carefully scan the way ahead, then one would move forward a few yards. Another scan, then the other would move. Painstakingly and with unvarying care they repeated the sequence as they moved towards their targets.

Slowly they inched forward until they judged they were directly above the first watcher. Now came the tricky part, could they take one out without his partner noticing? With only one night sight they couldn't take one each, so they started slowly down the slope. Now they were moving at a snails pace, every sense quivering. Lizzie kept switching to infra-red to try to pick out the watcher by his body heat. Suddenly she had him. He had moved slightly and the sight momentarily picked up a thin line of heat between two trees. She gestured to Tiffy and continued forward.

The pair of watchers would be within sight of each other, that was standard practice, so they had to freeze the first one until the other could be taken care of. They both knew what had to be done so no words were necessary. Tiffy had him in sight now and carefully laid the Uzi behind a tree. Then, slipping the knife from behind her neck, she started forward. Lizzie pulled out her pistol and silently screwed on its silencer. Then she wedged herself behind a tree and used her left hand to line up the night sight on the second watcher whilst her right hand held the pistol. It was a long shot for the pistol, and it was awkward to look through the sight of one gun whilst aiming the other. She shrugged mentally, it was the best they could do.

Tiffy crept forward like a wraith. She had some difficulty in making out what was man and what was tree, then she realised that he sitting straddle-legged in the vee formed by a large double-trunked tree. He was leaning comfortably back against one trunk and watching from behind the other. The split in the tree was only two or three feet off the ground so his head was about level with her own.

Slipping forward, she placed the rearward trunk between herself and the second watcher, and raised the stiletto in her left hand. Her right rose to grasp his shoulder at the same instant that the razor sharp tip of the blade pricked gently against the carotid artery on the side of his neck. He froze instantly and there was little need for her hissed. "Still!" When she felt his muscles relax slightly as the shock wore off, she whispered menacingly. "If you move a muscle you're dead." He sat as if carved from stone, the binoculars still held up in front of his face. She hissed again. "Keep looking, same as before." Like an automaton he put the glasses to his eyes and started to scan very gently.

Lizzie waited until she was sure that Tiffy must have made her move, then turned to look. Seeing that all was well she removed the silencer, holstered the pistol and then moved slightly up the hill to get well clear of the other watcher's line of sight when he checked his partner. Her slow approach mirrored Tiffy's, and when she had got close enough to see him against the glow of the city sky she stooped to place Ivan on the ground.

Easing the knife from its sheath she crept forward. He was standing behind a thick tree, leaning the front of his left shoulder against it to help steady his binoculars. Approaching from behind he was a childishly easy target. With Tiffy's one alive and in the bag there was no need for great finesse this time. Her left hand slipped over his mouth as the right slipped the blade smoothly in between the ribs. So gently did it slide in that she felt the moment when the tip entered the muscle of the heart. Felt the twitch as the pulsating muscle pulled the tip back and forth. Felt the dying movement as the pulsations of the great organ sliced itself to shreds against the stationary blade.

Without a sound he started to fall and she lowered him gently to the ground, turning him slightly as he fell so that he came to rest on his side. Only then did she withdraw the blade, knowing that there would be no spurt of blood over her hand. She carefully and unhurriedly wiped the blade clean before returning it to its sheath. Then she retrieved the Kalashnikov and returned to Tiffy.

Letting the assault rifle dangle from her shoulder by its sling, Lizzie hissed at the figure to draw his attention, then ostentatiously drew her pistol and screwed on its silencer. Now he would be in no doubt that he would be up against a firearm that could be fired silently and, since they were going away from his fellows, no muzzle flash would give the game away.

They hustled their captive up the slope and over the road to a small building standing on its own amongst the trees and bushes. Pushing him round the corner, they ordered him to sit. Then they crouched before him, Lizzie holding the pistol aimed unwaveringly at his heart, and Tiffy with the shining blade an inch from his throat.

"What are you?" Lizzie's voice was as cold as an arctic winter.

He answered in German. "I'm police, we'd had a tip-off about that building."

For a moment Lizzie shivered, she'd killed a policeman. Then reason reasserted itself and her voice chilled further. "If you lie to me again you will die. We don't have time for games. Now, one last time. What are you?"

They heard him gulp, then he answered. "KGB."

"That's better. Now, what were you doing?"

"We were told to stake out that factory building and follow any visitors when they left."

"Is that all? Just follow them?"

"Yes."

"How many of you are there?"

"Eight. Seven and myself."

"Is Colonel Dimitrov among them?"

"I ... I don't know a Colonel Dimitrov. I saw no Colonel, our team leader was a Captain."

Tiffy suddenly pressed the razor sharp blade against his Adam's apple. "Don't lie, boy, or I'll cut your throat!" Her voice was angrily impatient. His head was pressed hard back against the wall trying to escape from the knife, and he had difficulty speaking. Tiffy eased the pressure slightly and he gasped. "I've never heard of Dimitrov. Honest!"

Lizzie looked at Tiffy and spoke in English. "What do you think? Is he speaking the truth? If he can't tell us any more we'd better cut his throat and get the hell out of here." She watched him closely to try to detect whether he understood English, but although he looked rapidly from one to the other there was no sign that he had understood what she had said.

Tiffy shrugged. "I think he's too scared to lie. Shall we kill him?"

Lizzie hesitated, then reverting to German she spoke to their trembling captive. "We're going to let you live because we want you to carry a message to Dimitrov. When you get back, pass this message. Tell him that he'd better make his peace with his Maker because he has little time left to live. Tell him that Gemini are hunting him and they'll never give up until he's dead. Have you got that?"

He had difficulty speaking and had to try a few times before he could croak,"Yes."

"Right. Lie face down with your arms behind your back, we're going to tie and gag you. We'll tie you loosely so you should be able to wriggle free in time to get away before dawn."

Tiffy pulled a roll of thin nylon cord from a pocket and deftly tied his hands and feet. Then she unbuttoned his shirt and used her knife to cut off a strip to use as a gag. Satisfied, she stood up and looked down at him. "Your partner is dead. It would be better for all of us if your friends disposed of him where he wouldn't cause a fuss."

They described a wide, careful circle back to the car and drove quietly away. Tiffy breathed out gustily. "Whew! What do you make of all that, then?"

"God alone knows! This whole thing is getting beyond me. Why on earth would they want to follow us when they could just as easily have grabbed us?" She thought for a moment. "Hey! You don't suppose we stumbled on something that was nothing to do with us, do you? I mean, maybe that wasn't Dimitrov's mob at all, maybe they weren't looking for us."

"Bloody hell! That would be a turn up for the books." Tiffy suddenly started to laugh. "If you're right the KGB will be going bananas before morning. When we went to Axel and Herman we were trying to sow a bit of confusion - hells teeth, this won't be confusion, it'll be chaos!"

The release of tension was making them a bit light headed, and Lizzie started to chuckle. "If there are two KGB teams in the area the lines to Moscow will be melting when they try to work out who did what. It might not have turned out as we intended but, either way, I think we've done a good job tonight. Busy hands are happy hands, and there's nothing like a bit of panic to keep people busy."

"Lizzie, why did you give that agent a message for Dimitrov? I mean, won't it just give him proof that we're here?" Tiffy's voice held no censure, only curiosity.

"I don't really know, I didn't think much about it at the time." She hesitated a moment. "I guess I just think that our only chance is to keep pushing, you know, try to put them off balance. If the story is as the Department believes, we should be on the defensive - so if we keep the pressure on by being aggressive they just might start to wonder whether there's something going on that they know nothing about. Maybe they'll even become as confused as we are!"

"Fat chance!" Tiffy chuckled, content as always to leave strategy to Lizzie.

They stopped in a deserted spot, stripped off their jump suits and did their best to get rid of the worst of the camouflage cream. Then they drove back to their hotel and slipped in unnoticed. As they padded quietly up the last flight of stairs leading to their rooms Lizzie's steps slowed and she started to hang back and tense up. "Hsst, let's just make sure we haven't any visitors." She retrieved the pistol from her handbag and fitted the silencer before proceeding.

Tiffy looked at her for a moment, then shrugged and followed suit. It might be no more than undue caution or a deliberate attempt at excessive caution to counteract the euphoria of returning from a dangerous encounter. Might be -but Tiffy had long since learned that Lizzie rarely took precautions without a good reason.

They padded silently along the corridor to their room doors and soundlessly set the holdall on the floor. A thread of light showed under Lizzie's door, but Tiffy's was in darkness. The question was, did the intruder know that they had adjoining rooms. If not, they could get in that way and try to surprise him -or them. But it was a helluva risk, bursting into rooms containing reception committees was not regarded as good practice in the Department.

They withdrew quietly around the corner, taking the holdall with them. "I wonder who the hell that is." Lizzie's voice was a bare whisper.

"God knows, but I wish he'd bugger off, I've had enough excitement for one night."

"Well, let's see if we can find somewhere that overlooks our rooms and see who it is." The hotel was H-shaped and their rooms were on the inside of one of the arms of the H. With a bit of luck they might be able to get into one of the mirror-image rooms in the facing arm.

Counting doors carefully they found the ones directly across from theirs. The doors had electrical locks operated by small plastic cards with a coded array of holes punched in them. Tiffy pulled a slim wallet from her handbag and extracted a credit card. It was a constant source of amazement to her that despite everyone knowing how easy it was to open many spring locks using a plastic strip, firms still fitted locks without proper guard strips. She had no doubt that she could open this one - one of her first actions when they had moved in was to check the locks - provided the manual latch on the inside wasn't on. She slipped in the card and pushed gently on the door. It gave without a sound.

They entered stealthily and checked for occupation, then breathed a sigh of relief when they found it empty. Lizzie pulled Ivan from the holdall and lined up the night sight on the lit window, turning down the intensity and increasing the magnification. There was a figure in the room sitting in the arm chair. She scanned along to Tiffy's room, increasing the intensity to see into the darkened room. As far as she could see the room was empty. Switching back to the figure she stared long and hard, there was something vaguely familiar about him. She handed the rifle to Tiffy. "Just one, in my room. See if you recognise him."

Tiffy scrutinised both rooms, then handed Ivan back. "Yes, just the one." Her brow furrowed. "He looks a bit familiar but I can't quite place him."

"Same here. Look, you go round, make plenty of noise so he hears you coming, and walk in as if you haven't noticed anything amiss. I'll cover you from here."

"Okay, I'm on my way." Tiffy took the small .22 pistol in the palm of her left hand as she approached Lizzie's room. Slipping her plastic key into the lock she pushed open the door, then feigned surprise at finding the light on and an elderly man sitting waiting for her. "Ooh, I say, who are you?"

"Don't you recognise me? I'd know you anywhere, girl." He grinned toothlessly at her.

"Good God! Gimpy Gunnar, what are you doing here?"

"I came to see you of course, but where's your friend Lizzie?"

Tiffy smiled and gestured towards the window. "Across there - with a gun on you." She waved for Lizzie to join them.

"Heh heh, I might have known it. Same old Gemini, eh?"

She sank onto the bed. "Old's the word, Gimpy. We're none of us quite what we used to be."

Lizzie entered. "Hullo, Gimpy, long time no see." She shook hands with the man she hadn't seen for seventeen years. "And what brings you here?" As she spoke she was switching on the kettle. "Excuse us but we're dying for a coffee."

"Oh oh, been up to mischief out there have you?"

Tiffy laughed. "What ever can you mean? We're just two respectable ladies returning from taking in the night life of this great city."

His eyes flicked over the Kalashnokov as he grinned and shook his head but said no more.

Lizzie turned to face him. "Gimpy, it is good to see you again, but how did you find us?"

"Axel sent out the word that you were in town and that there was money in it for anyone who could get a line on you. So I kept my eyes open and saw you filling up with petrol just up the road last night. Then I did a bit of snooping around and found where you park your car." He shrugged. "The night porter is an old friend of mine and he told me your room number, so here I am."

"I see, and have you passed the word to Axel yet?"

"No, not yet. I do the odd job or two for Axel but he's as devious a bugger as ever walked this earth, so I thought I'd just have a chat with you before I took it any further." He smiled his toothless smile. "I owe you, don't I?"

Lizzie waved a hand. "No you don't, you've helped us more than once in the past. But we're glad you haven't told Axel yet, we think he might be working with our friends across the Wall."

"Probably. It's changed days now you know, he's not a German patriot any more - that kind of thing has gone out of fashion - so he takes money from anybody, even the KGB."

"Yes, well, as you say, times change." Lizzie's agile mind was already racing ahead as it tried to work out how to turn this chance encounter to good advantage. She busied herself with the coffee things and listened with only half an ear to Tiffy and Gimpy.

"Gosh, Gimpy, it is nice to see you again, it's quite like old times with the three of us together. Tell me, what have you been doing with yourself since we last saw you?"

"Oh this and that. You know I used to do a lot of little jobs for your mob. When I lost my foot in the Schultz affair they were very decent and gave me a good pension, so I just do odds and sods when I feel like it."

Tiffy knew that this hunched little man had been a good, reliable agent for many years -not a top line man but a solid member of the chorus. When she had last been in Berlin it was at least ten years after he had lost his foot in a welter of bullets, and she had never known him as anything other than a cripple. At first she had been fooled by his story about being retired on a disability pension, just helping out to stay in contact with his old colleagues, and similar tales. Then one day, years later, she had been in the Department Records Section and, on impulse, had pulled his file. She had found that the disability was just a good front and that he was as active as ever. Now she wondered whether he had been contaminated by the Department mole. Abruptly she excused herself and went through the bathroom to her own room. Then she called. "Lizzie, could you come and give me a hand for a moment?"

Lizzie appeared in the doorway. "Yes?"

Tiffy's whisper was low and urgent. "Lizzie, I've seen Gimpy's file, he works for the Department. We'd better watch what we say to him in case he's bent. Even if he's okay his report might be seen by the mole."

Lizzie merely nodded and led the way back to her own room. "It's okay, Gimpy, just a stuck zip." She poured the coffee and handed him a cup, then took her own and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Look, Gimpy, we'd be grateful if you didn't say anything to anybody about us until after lunch time."

He glanced up as Tiffy entered, noting that she had changed into a loose track suit but realising without rancour that the stuck zip had been just a ploy and that they'd been discussing him. "No problem. Axel doesn't get up until then anyway."

She hesitated as if making up her mind. "We'll keep on this room as a sort of accommodation address with an Ansafone so that people can contact us. But we'll move to another hotel, just in case Axel is up to something."

Gimpy smiled. "Very wise, I'm sure." "Another thing, we're here to locate a KGB Colonel called Alexis Dimitrov. You haven't heard of him have you?"

He shook his head. "No, I've never heard the name - but the KGB have been a bit active around here of late."

"Do you think you could pass the word around that we're trying to find him and that if he would like to contact us he can leave a message at this number?"

"Certainly. I'll pass the word into the underworld." He hesitated. "Can I ask why you want to make contact with the KGB?" His voice was as diffident as usual, but Lizzie thought she detected a thin thread of steel behind the words. Perhaps a man has a long memory when it comes to consorting with an organisation that has previously shot his foot off.

She settled herself on the edge of the bed, using the time to marshal her thoughts. "Oh, the word is out that this Dimitrov is out to get us - get Gemini, I mean. Nobody seems to know exactly why but he's supposed to be masterminding his search from Berlin." She shrugged in answer to his unasked question. "I know, a strange place to work from. Nonetheless, that's where he's reported to be. The Department found out about him looking for us and pulled us back onto duty. The thinking was that we couldn't evade the KGB for ever so we might as well come here and try to bring things to a head."

He frowned and his eyes nearly disappeared into the wrinkles of his face. "Um. I've never heard of such a thing before. It all sounds a bit improbable to me." He opened his eyes and stared full at them for a moment. "Are you sure you're not being used as pawns by somebody?"

"We're not sure of anything, Gimpy. We haven't even got any specific information about where in Berlin he's supposed to be. As you might imagine, we're not very keen on crossing into East Berlin. What we need is to somehow induce Dimitrov to come to the West." She shrugged fatalistically. "After that, we'll just have to play it by ear."

"Humph. Well, there's no doubt that the KGB has a lot of informers in the underworld, so if I drop the odd word around it will get to them for sure." He put on his best retired-old-man act. "Of course, it's not for a retired old buffer like me to offer advice to fit young agents like yourselves, but I think you'd be wise to be very careful." Just for a moment his mask slipped and the real man showed through. "Trust NO ONE! Your old contacts in the underworld, the various security agencies, even the police. ALL can be bought for the sort of money the KGB can throw around." The mask went back on. "It all smells a bit you know. The KGB are not normally so sloppy as to let their intentions be known beforehand. I think you should wonder whether your real enemies are the KGB - or somebody else who wants you as sacrificial goats."

Lizzie's face remained deadpan, but her brain was in furious motion. If Gimpy was on their side, his warning had to be taken seriously - he was the man on the ground and probably knew Berlin better than any agent. If, on the other hand, he was lying, all he was doing was suggesting that they should trust no one - and that they were already committed to.

"Thanks, Gimpy, we'll bear that in mind. We contacted Axel and Herman to try to get things moving, but we're not so stupid as to trust either of them out of our sight."

He nodded but said no more, then got stiffly to his feet and reached for his hat and walking stick. Lizzie stood and smiled down at him. "I know it's unnecessary but I'd like to give you a suggestion in return. I suggest that you don't tell Axel that you've spread the word for Dimitrov to contact us. If he's in this for the money he might not like it if you get us in contact without him getting his share."

He grinned up into her eyes and cackled as if at a private joke. "No, I don't suppose he would like it. But don't worry, I'll spread the word very discreetly." Then, offhandedly, "But why do you want Dimitrov to know your telephone number?"

"There's just a chance that all he wants from us is some bit of information that's of use to the KGB but of no consequence to us. If that's the case we might be able to sort things out without it getting dangerous. Even if that's not what he wants, any communication from him must help us more than him - on the principle that he's the only one who knows what the hell is going on."

His unblinking eyes bored into her's for a long time, then finding them as opaque as the eyes of the dead, he shrugged. "I see. Well, let me add another word of advice, don't try to do any deals with the KGB, they're not to be trusted." The harshness of his voice could have caused by the memory of past betrayals by the KGB - or it could have been a veiled warning that they shouldn't sell their knowledge.

"Don't worry, we know what the KGB are like." But she smiled her thanks at the advice. As he hobbled towards the door, Lizzie added. "Oh, and don't tell anyone about our car will you, we want to be able to travel incognito."

"Okay, Lizzie. I'll go to see Axel in the middle of the afternoon and tell him that I've seen you and found where you live - no more than that. I won't tell him we've spoken, and I'd be grateful if you didn't tell him either. Okay?"

"Yes, that suits us exactly." They both shook hands with him. "Thanks, Gimpy. When this is over I hope you'll let us take you out for a wild night on the town." Lizzie smiled down into the innocent blue eyes of the bent little man.

When he had gone, Lizzie looked at her watch. "It's after four AM and we've got lots to do. First, check your 'phone in case Gimpy bugged it. I'll do the same here."

Tiffy returned a couple of minutes later. "Mine's clean."

"So's mine." She picked up the 'phone and dialled the number Tommy had given her.

It rang for a long time before a sleepy voice answered. "Yes."

"Hello, this is the girl with the blue hat." The code that Tommy had given her was innocuous enough.

There was a long pause, presumably for the man to gather his sleep-soaked wits together. "Oh hello! This is the man with the spotted blue tie." It was the correct rejoinder.

"We need some help right away. We need a secure Ansafone, can you get us one within the hour?"

The reply was immediate and unequivocal. "Yes, where do you want it delivered to?"

"We'll meet you in the car. Where do you suggest?" Any meeting would be a risk, the KGB probably had a permanent watch on him, but there was nothing they could do but be careful.

"I'll drive to the multi-storey car park by the Congress Hall in the Tiergarten and leave my car on the floor immediately above ground level." The different ways of counting floors in buildings could lead to real confusion so she was glad that he'd spelled it out. "If anybody tails me they'll follow me on foot so you should be in the clear. The car is a grey BMW estate." He used the phonetic alphabet to spell out its number. "It will be there by four thirty, give me ten minutes to get clear before you arrive. The doors will be unlocked and the package will be just inside the tailgate."

"Thanks." They rang off without sentiment. If his 'phone was tapped it would hopefully be recorded and not analysed for at least a few hours.

The drive to the car park was uneventful and the package was there as promised. There didn't seem to be any loiterers in the vicinity, and, as far as they could tell, they didn't pick up a tail, but there was just too little time left before dawn to do a really thorough job of making sure. They crept back into the hotel - more carefully now that dawn was fast approaching and the kitchens were coming to life. With practised ease they connected the 'phone answering device to the 'phone in Lizzie's room and recorded a welcome message. Then they went to the 'phone in Tiffy's room and called Lizzie's number. After a few rings, the machine answered the call and Lizzie recorded a short message. Then she laid down the 'phone, picked it up again and dialled the same number. This time when the machine answered, Lizzie placed a disc that looked like a ten pence coin into the mouthpiece and pressed it. The disc transmitted a complicated sequence of bleeps to the machine and it responded by replaying all recorded messages. By reversing the disc and pressing it she could wipe the messages clean away.

Now they could call up from anywhere and listen to any messages that had been recorded - hopefully including one leading to Dimitrov. If anyone entered the room and found the machine they could remove the tape and listen to it, but all they would hear would be an unintelligible jumble. If they put the tape back on and called the machine it would appear to operate correctly, but the message recorded would be garbage. With luck they would conclude that the machine was faulty and leave it alone - not realising that the real recording was taking place inside. If they took the machine apart the tiny tape would disintegrate when air entered the sealed box.

By the time they were satisfied, and had showered, changed and packed, it was six o'clock. The hotel would now be functioning to cater for the early leavers. They picked up their baggage and went for breakfast, feeling ravenously hungry after their long night. They ate quickly and then went to reception where Lizzie smiled at the Receptionist. "Good morning. We're going to have to go away on business and we're not sure how long we'll be so we'd like to keep our rooms. We expect to be staying two weeks altogether so can we pay for the whole period now to show how honest we are?" Her warm smile showed that she didn't really believe that such a fine hotel would stoop to question their integrity.

"Certainly, Madam." He punched keys on his computer terminal and waited whilst it printed out the bill. "Here you are, Madam."

Lizzie paid, and then added. "Oh, we're expecting some business calls so we've left our Ansafone machine in our room. I hope that's alright."

"Of course, Madam. We'll ensure that it is not tampered with." Was he dropping a hint? He clearly took them for prostitutes and believed that they were going away with clients for a few days, but his words were as smooth and professional as if he'd been addressing a pair of genuine businesswomen.

Lizzie smiled again, "Thank you so much." and handed him a generous tip.

They drove out of the car park and immediately took to the side streets, driving about three miles as the crow flies before parking in a secluded corner of the car park of a large, anonymous hotel. They booked in as Germans and used false names, then they went to their small suite, put a 'Don't Disturb' notice on the door and went to bed. With a bit of luck their trail would once again be cold.

Lizzie lay for a long time staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep even although she felt drained and weary. She thought of Jack and the children and wondered what they were doing at that instant. The children would probably be awake and wanting to get up. As for Jack, she wondered briefly whether he would be sharing a bed with the willing Marlyn, whilst she was alone and lonely in this hotel room. Then discarded the thought as of little importance compared with the danger they might all be in.

Eventually she drifted off to sleep, and it was hours later that Tiffy was woken by the sound of subdued thrashing from Lizzie's room. Her bare feet hit the floor running and she was half way to the adjoining bathroom before she came fully awake and found she had the Uzi clamped to her side and pointing towards the door.

Both bathroom doors were sprung hinged and could open either way. She slowed slightly to pass through the first door as silently as possible. Then her bare feet pounded the ceramic floor tiles as she accelerated hard, handed Lizzie's door aside and entered the room in a rolling, twisting dive. She hit the floor about a third of the way across and rolled and twisted to come to a crashing stop, belly down, as her feet hit the skirting board at the far side of the room. Her body was braced and the Uzi was at her shoulder before the shock wave had travelled from her feet up through her tiny frame. But if her body was small her voice wasn't. She bawled just one word. "STILL!"

The only movement in the room came from the bed and for a moment Tiffy was confused until it dawned on her that Lizzie had been alone in the room. She blew out a long breath and rose carefully to her feet, still not entirely ready to let her guard down. Then she shook loose her nightdress which had been pushed up into a tangle just under her armpits. As the light material fell into place she winced and snatched it up again, then ruefully surveyed the abrasions on her stomach and breasts caused by sliding across the floor.

Dropping the nightdress again she went to Lizzie's bed and looked down at her friend, then grasped her shoulder and shook it with increasing violence. "Wake up, Lizzie! Come on, Pal, wake up, you're having a nightmare."

Lizzie woke in a muck sweat of hysterical terror and heard Tiffy's voice as if from a great distance. "... wake up, you're having a nightmare!"

Gradually reality seeped into Lizzie's sleep befuddled mind and the dark clouds in her mind slowly cleared. She saw that Tiffy, clad in her skimpy nightdress and cradling the Uzi in one hand, was standing over her and grasping her shoulder painfully with the other. Tiffy saw the light dawning in Lizzie's eyes and she removed her hand from the shaking shoulder and patted it gently. "Okay now?'

Lizzie nodded dumbly.

"Good. You must have been dreaming. I heard this thrashing about and thought you were being attacked so I came through to see what was going on." She looked sheepishly at the Uzi and then stooped to lay it on the floor at her feet. Then she sat on the bed and put an arm around the still shaken Lizzie. "Want to talk about it, mate?"

"No, I'm okay now." Lizzie shook her head and started to swing her feet out of bed. With a great effort she raised a small smile. "Whew! I can't remember when I last had a nightmare, either all this is getting too much for me or I'm just not used to sleeping alone any more."

The incorrigible Tiffy grinned and quipped, "If what the papers say is half true, you should be used to that with Jack!" Then she bit her tongue and hurried on. "What was the dream about?"

Lizzie appreared not to notice her gaff and was silent for a long moment. "I'm not sure, maybe about Marie - I think ... ." She pulled off her sodden nightdress and headed for the bathroom, saying over her shoulder, "I must have a shower before going back to bed."

Tiffy watched her with narrowed eyes, then shrugged and wandered back to her own room carrying the Uzi by its muzzle like a sleepy child carrying a teddy bear by its leg.

The moment Lizzie shut the bathroom door her composure left her and she leant against the door, shaking violently. She had never before experienced anything remotely like that. Even as a child she'd rarely had nightmares, and what few she'd had had been quite innocuous. This had been quite simply the most terrifying experience of her life. Oh, she'd often been afraid - sometimes she'd have said terrified - but always her thinking brain had been in control. This time the fear had totally enveloped her and had permeated every shred of her being.

She forced herself to walk towards the shower and turn it on, all the while striving to keep her mind blank. Then as she stood beneath the healing flood of warm water she experimentally allowed herself to remember. They'd been out at night, Tiffy and herself. Something had gone badly wrong, she didn't know what, and they were being pursued by a host of armed men. They were amongst trees and shrubs with only a few buildings, and they had become separated. The men were shooting and she could clearly recall the sound of the bullets slashing through the foliage.

Then one of them had been hit in the back and had gone down in the boneless flop of the instantly dead. The other had been only an indistinct shadow on the periphery and she couldn't tell which was which. The pursuers had ran up and formed a circle around the fallen figure, then one had briefly flicked on a small torch and just for an instant she had seen the glint of hair where the cap had fallen off and had recognised that it was Tiffy lying there.

She fought back a sob and leaned against the cold tiling of the shower. Somehow the most horrifying thing of all had been the total inertness of the body. The thought of the exhuberently larger-than-life, effervescent Tiffy forever stilled in death was more than she could bear - and she had not the slightest doubt that dead was what she was.

With a supreme effort she forced herself to think rationally. She had never before experienced any sort of premonition in the form of a dream so this might have been just a common or garden nightmare with no message for the future. But deep in her heart she knew that she was grasping at straws, never in her life had she been more sure that what she had seen would indeed happen.

Gradually she calmed down but she was still sobbing quietly when she climbed naked into bed and fell into an exhausted sleep.

CHAPTER 5

Lizzie's alarm watch woke her at seven pm and for a moment she remembered the events of a few hours ago. But it all seemed much less real now, and with a surge of relief she put the memories aside.

She sat up in bed, reached for the 'phone and dialled her old number. When the machine answered, she pressed the disc in the mouthpiece. There was just one message, but it was the one she wanted to hear - from Dimitrov. She would probably have recognised his voice - she hadn't heard him say much but the words were forever burned in her brain - but there was no need, he identified himself by name. "Hello Gemini, this is Alexi Dimitrov. I must meet you. This is what you must do. Be at the Schiller Warehouse just north of the Fritz-Schloss Park at zero one hundred hours. Come by car, we must be out of the city by dawn." That was all.

Lizzie called Tiffy, who came through in her barely decent short night dress, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Have a listen to this, Tiffy." She held out the 'phone and then watched as the sleepiness fled from Tiffy's eyes as she heard the voice. Then watched with interest as another expression, one of puzzlement, spread across her face.

She put down the 'phone and sank onto the bed. "Well, how about that then." She shook her head as if to clear it. "That was Dimitrov's voice alright, and he knew he was speaking to Gemini, but he seemed to think that we were here to help him. What do you make of it?" As usual, Tiffy was only too happy to leave the thinking and the decisions to Lizzie.

"I don't know. I'm beginning to think that this isn't a proper mission at all, just some sort of initiative test where they try to confuse us."

"Well, it works! Half the time I don't know whether to clean my teeth or my gun!" She chuckled suddenly. "If it is an initiative test, last night's corpse will take a bit of explaining away!"

But the humour was lost on Lizzie, she had slumped back onto her pillows and was lost in thought. Tiffy made to speak, then shrugged and yawned off to have a shower. When she returned, stark naked and with her long hair held around her face like a yashmak, she looked at her friend. "Well Professor, how do I dress tonight? Shall I be a respectable lady or a whore?"

"Eh, what? Oh dress decent and we'll go down for dinner. We'll have plenty of time to come back and change before going to see Dimitrov." She spoke absently, her mind still teasing at the puzzle.

"Oh, do you deduce that it isn't a trap, then?"

Lizzie shook her head. "I don't know, I just can't figure it out." She threw back the bedclothes and came to life. "Never mind, perhaps it will start to make sense once I've freshened up and eaten." She absently mindedly reached for her automatic pistol and carried it negligently with her into the bathroom. Tiffy's pupils contracted for a moment as she tried to decide whether Lizzie's radar was working, then remembered that when in the field Lizzie was always like that, never taking chances. She shrugged and wandered off to dress.

It was ten o'clock when they left the hotel and drove towards the city centre. As before, they stopped in a secluded spot and quickly donned their camouflage gear before driving by a roundabout route towards the warehouse. Tiffy, as usual, had the radio playing softly on an all-night German music station. It was mere background, with neither of them paying much attention when the music stopped and the routine hourly news broadcast started.

The announcer started to say something about a man's body being found, and Lizzie reached out to turn the volume up, expecting to hear that the man they'd killed last night had been found. She was mentally cursing the KGB for not clearing up after the incident, when the announcer returned to give a more detailed description of the circumstances. 'Early this afternoon the badly mutilated body of a man was found in a sewer to the south of the city centre. The man has been named as Klaus Gunnar, otherwise known as Gimpy. It has been suggested that the man lived on the fringes of underworld crime and it is assumed that the murder was a gangland killing.'

Their eyes met for a long moment as they both absorbed the news. Tiffy turned her eyes back to the road and broke the silence. "Shit! The bastards have killed poor old Gimpy. Where the hell does that leave us?"

"I don't know." Lizzie spoke slowly. "If he was mutilated before he was killed they must have been questioning him - and that would be more Axel's mark, the KGB would use more subtle methods. Assuming they were wringing him about us, what could he have told them?"

"Dunno. That he'd spoken to us, what we'd talked about, nothing that would help them." Tiffy was silent for a moment. "Of course, they weren't to know that he didn't know anything. They probably went on torturing him just in case."

Lizzie looked at her and shook her head. "No. There was one other thing he could tell them. He'd seen this car, and knowing Gimpy he'd have had it's number and every other detail down pat."

"Oh bugger!" Tiffy's voice was filled with dismay. They were almost at the point where they had planned to leave the car, and must have led the KGB right to the area where Dimitrov was hiding.

Lizzie's mind was racing. "Okay, we'll drop the car as planned, but we won't return to it. We'll scout the area and then hole up until just before the rendezvous time. If we see nothing we'll go ahead and try to contact Dimitrov. If there's any sign that we've been rumbled we'll pull out and hope he contacts us again."

They dumped the car and took everything with them. If necessary they'd stash the bag where they could pick it up later - it wasn't that the bag itself mattered, but it was the only thing they had that could conceal the bulky Kalashnikov. Quickly and expertly folding it up, Tiffy converted it into a small rucksack and slung it onto her back using the handles as straps.

Moving quickly, they circled widely to the north and then started to creep in closer. They were looking for a vantage point to overlook the warehouse, but Berlin was built on a plain and had little in the way of hills. Eventually they came within sight of the warehouse, and found that it wasn't just a single building. As far as they could see from working their way slowly round to the west, keeping in cover and stopping every few yards to use the night sight, it consisted of a sprawling jumble of old buildings surrounded by a high barbed wire fence. They could see nothing to indicate whether the buildings were in frequent use or were abandoned.

At last they found what they were looking for, a low, flat-roofed building partly screened by trees from the warehouse but offering a commanding view of most of the surrounding area. Lizzie cupped her hands for Tiffy's foot and hoisted her up so that she could climb onto the small shelter sticking out over the only door. Then she handed up the Kalashnikov with its night sight. Tiffy swarmed up onto the roof like a black cat, and quickly scanned the area with the sight. Seeing nothing untoward, she dropped back down onto the shelter, lay flat and stretched down her arms towards Lizzie. The holdall came first, and was tossed onto the roof, then the Uzi was handed up and deposited with more care. Then Lizzie jumped and grasped the shelter and, with Tiffy hauling on her belt, swung her legs up and scrambled onto the roof.

The roof was completely flat with no protrusions of any kind. There were trees and other buildings all around to screen them from prying eyes, but they also impeded their own view. They lay flat on their stomachs, nose to tail so that between them they could cover the whole 360 degrees, and passed the Kalashnikov back and forth periodically to use its night sight.

Since they had left the car they had seen no one and were beginning to hope that either Gimpy hadn't told about the car or that they had managed to slip through the inevitable net. For a long hour they lay there like Indians, scarcely moving except for a slow, steady scan of the surrounding area. The biggest danger was that the opposition had spotted them without being seen and were waiting patiently for them to make a move. For a moment Lizzie cursed Dimitriov for making the rendezvous so early in the night, if he'd chosen 4am the KGB might have become restless and shown themselves. Then she conceded that he'd had little choice, if they were going to get out during the hours of darkness the first contact had to be early.

Eventually it was the stillness of the night that saved them. The weather had been becoming steadily more still and muggy for hours and the air had the feel of an impending storm. In was into this crypt-like quietness that the sound intruded, a sharp, carrying 'Nein!' It came from their left, to the north, and almost exactly at the point where they had crept in from their wide circling approach.

Lizzie inched herself round using her elbows and toes until she could comfortably bring the Kalashnikov to her shoulder and point it in the direction of the sound. At first she could see nothing, then when she switched to infra-red the picture was a confusing collection of small blobs, some still and some moving. With infinite patience she adjusted the magnification and focus -then the picture suddenly coalesced in her mind. It was a group of figures, some moving and some just standing, behind a row of stacks of fork lift truck pallets. The uneven open structure of the stacks allowed her to see her quarry only as an incomplete jigsaw of small pieces.

Without taking her eye from the sight, she reached out her left hand and tugged at Tiffy's ankle. Even as Tiffy was shuffling round to see what she wanted, Lizzie caught her breath. Two of the figures had moved away from the main group and, in passing behind a low stack of pallets, had given her a clear view of their heads. Flicking quickly to the image intensifier to get a more realistic picture she felt a surge of satisfaction when she recognised first one and then the other.

Tiffy was at her shoulder now and she passed over the rifle to her, whispering. "The two men whose heads are just showing above the low stack."

Tiffy took a long, steady look, and then put her lips close to Lizzie's ear. "Axel and Herman! I thought these two bastards hated each other's guts."

"Yes." Looking at her watch she came to a quick decision. "It's nearly rendezvous time. We'll never get him out with this mob around. We'd better do something to let him know that it's blown or he might bump into them. You get down and be ready to go, I'll fire one shot then join you." Without looking to see that Tiffy had gone, she put her eye back to the night sight.

Axel and Herman were still in the same place, and close together as if arguing in whispers. They were still moving slightly, they had been side on to her when she had first seen them but now they had turned a little so that Axel had more of his back towards her and Herman was nearly full frontal. She was hesitating about where to put her shot, whether to shoot towards them and risk the muzzle flash being seen, or to shoot away and perhaps have it seen by another party in the direction of their intended escape. Then she realised that the slow circling was continuing and that Herman's head was bobbing out from behinds Axel's, first on one side and then the other as if he was shifting his weight alternately from one foot to the other.

Suddenly making up her mind she flicked on the laser sight and the targetting spot flickered like a firefly around the bobbing heads. She took a deep breath and then slowly expelled half of it. Then she brought the bright dot onto the back of Axel's head. The tiny numbers at the top right of the image told her that the range was 510 meters - long, but well within the killing range of the Kalashnikov. The still air meant that the sight's computer could do a perfect job of computing the aiming point, now it was up to the steadiness of her hand, and the accuracy of some munitions plant in the Soviet Union. Her whole being was concentrated on the tiny dot that glowed like a window in Axel's head, then her forefinger slowly tightened on the trigger.

The flat slam of the shot was dispersed and confused by the trees, and the stillness of the night lent its own confusion by making the echoes from the buildings mix and interfere with each other. Lizzie remained still for just a moment, and noted with cold satisfaction that both figures seemed to reel from the blow. Then she was scuttling over the side of the building and dropping onto the shelter, and from there to the ground. Tiffy had been covering the area from the depths of a large bush, but now she moved forward with the Uzi at the ready and the bag slung on her back.

Without a word they faded into the bushes and trees that were so much a feature of Berlin. It took another half hour before they felt that they were beyond the KGB net and could start to make better time. There was no hurry, there was plenty of time before dawn, but they fell into the mile-eating infantryman's dog trot, padding silently along on their soft-soled trainers.

Breathing easily, Tiffy broke the long silence. "Did you shoot at anything in particular back there?"

"Yes, I got Axel's and Herman's heads lined up, I think I killed them both." Lizzie was jogging along easily enough but was having some difficulty controlling her breathing to trot and speak at the same time. She'd tried to keep herself in reasonable trim with running and yoga, helped by the odd game of tennis in season and a bit of swimming when on holiday. It helped, but it was a far cry from the gruelling, push-to-the-limit training she'd endured in her previous incarnation with the Department. She glanced at her companion, envying her compact, athletic body that never seemed to need any deliberate training yet exuded energy and drive from every pore. The Mighty Atom, they'd called her at school.

Tiffy blinked at Lizzie's matter-of-fact statement and looked towards her in time to catch her glance. "Bloody hell! What did you do that for? I know they were a bit out of order in helping the KGB, but unless they knew more about what's going on than we do, it was hardly a hanging offence."

Lizzie shrugged as best she could, her breathing easier now that she was settling down to a steady rhythm. "They were there - and I thought that it would probably mess up the co-ordination of the gangs and give us a better chance." She paused to get her breathing back in shape again before continuing. "I'll bet neither Axel nor Herman had an heir apparent all trained up and ready to take over. There will be a lot of jockying for position for the next few days, and even if the KGB try to run the whole show directly the ringleaders will be more concerned about taking over the businesses than looking for us. Besides, every time they've gone for us they've ended up with dead men on their hands. A guy hoping to take over from Axel or Gunner won't be too keen to stick his neck out looking for us if he thinks we'll shoot it off for him and let him die a pauper."

Tiffy shook her head wryly, admiring her friend's mental agility that allowed her to think ahead even when in a dangerous situation. "Oh well, I suppose you're right." She sounded a bit doubtful. "Still, they weren't such a bad pair really, we had some good times in the past."

"Come off it, Tiffy! They were a pair of crooks, racketeers, black marketeers. They only helped us because it suited them to be in our good books at the time. And don't forget, a lot of the people they helped us to clean up weren't just working against we Brits, they were elbowing into the same rackets that Axel and Herman were squabbling over." Her voice was sharp. She didn't like killing people and didn't want to be criticised for it until the pressure was off.

"Sorry. You're right, I guess that in those days I got a bit of a kick from having real live racketeers for friends - well, sort of friends." She finished lamely.

Lizzie grunted and concentrated on her jogging. They were coming to a more brightly lit area and couldn't continue as like this - two women dressed as they were and carrying guns would have the police down on them just two minutes after the first good citizen saw them. "We need a car. See if you can spot a pinchable one."

As they neared the lights they slowed to a walk and started to see into the drives of the houses they were passing. Tiffy suddenly stopped. "Psst. In that drive over there. It's a Citreon 2CV. That's the sort of thing we want, dead easy to break into and hot wire, and if it has a burglar alarm fitted it must be the only one in existence."

"Good, go to it. Here, give me the bag and the gun, I'll cover you from this side." She took the Uzi and slipped its sling over her left shoulder, then waited whilst Tiffy shrugged out of the makeshift rucksack. She had no doubts that if some innocent householder should try to apprehend Tiffy she would have them tied up but unhurt in no time flat. Tiffy ran lightly across the road and edged up the drive in the black shadows cast by the bushes. There was no sign of life so she crept up to the little Citreon, pulling the knife from the sheath behind her neck as she did so. All 2CVs have a canvas strip as their roof, and she sliced a foot-long cut in it. Straining her diminutive form, she reached inside and unlocked the door. Checking it was in neutral, she released the handbrake and pulled gently to set the little car moving backwards down the gently sloping drive. When it reached the road, she turned it to face back the way they'd come.

Lizzie joined her and together they pushed the car away from the lights and into the darkness. When Tiffy was satisfied that they were out of earshot of the house, they stopped and she got to work under the dashboard. It took only a minute or so for the ignition warning light to come on. "Get in, we're ready to go."

Lizzie climbed in, dumping the bag and Uzi on the back seat and then closing the door. "Okay, let's go."

Tiffy reached under the dash and touched two wires together to activate the starter motor. The little twin cylinder engine chugged into life and they moved quietly away. Doubling back to give the bereft house a wide berth, they stopped briefly to clean themselves up and change, then drove to their hotel. Lizzie got out with the laden holdall and Tiffy drove away to dump the car a mile or so from the hotel. Then she walked smartly back, her handbag slung over her shoulder and her hand inside it clutching the pistol. Lizzie stood in the darkened stairwell of the hotel with the Kalashnikov and watched Tiffy for most of her double journey.

When Tiffy arrived she flung herself bodily on Lizzie's bed. "God, I'm absolutely knackered!" She pulled the front of her sweat stained blouse away from her skin. "This running about is bad enough but the thing that's really killing me is this bloody weather. If it's going to be a storm I wish it would get a move on and get it over with."

Lizzie held up a bundle of sweat soaked underclothes. "Phew, dead right! I don't know what to do with this lot." Suddenly making up her mind she went to the bathroom and shoved them into the Allah Baba basket in the corner. "If they're not back from the laundry before we finish here, too bad. I'm not taking them home with me in that state."

"Good! You smell like me - and I smell like a pig." She headed for the shower.

When she climbed into bed, Lizzie reached for the 'phone and interrogated the Ansafone machine. Only one new message had been recorded, and it was from Dimitrov. He must have escaped the KGB - always assuming that he wasn't one of them. His harsh voice was accusing, 'Gemini, you led them straight to me! However, you did at least fire a shot to warn me. Incidentally, that shot killed Axel Meyer and Herman Schultz, two criminals who were working with the KGB - but your records show that you knew them. We'll try once more, then I go to the Americans. Tomorrow night at zero one hundred hours at the Walther Wood Yard - it's about two kilometres north west of last night's rendezvous point, and DON'T BE FOLLOWED THIS TIME!' He ended up shouting.

Tiffy returned from her shower. "Another message?"

"Yes, Dimitrov again. Have a listen and then wipe it."

She did. "Hm, I think he's getting a bit up-tight. He sounds worried so maybe he really is wanting to get out."

"Yes." Lizzie had a street map spread out in front of her and was tracing the route from the hotel to the timber yard. It was just over a mile from tonight's abortive rendezvous. "We'll have to get another car from somewhere. We could steal one, but it's always a risk. The only alternative is to hire one, and that's a bit dodgy too." She hesitated, weighing the risks, then turned to her friend. "Tiffy, let's have a look at that driving licence you used at Heathrow. Tiffy rummaged in her handbag and handed it over.

"Ah ha, what luck! A licence made out to Vivian Rosenberg - and Vivian can be a man's or a woman's name." She looked up gleefully.

"Yes, that's right. What of it?"

"This afternoon I'm going to dress up as a man and forge your signature to hire us a car." Lizzie grinned triumphantly.

"And what are you going to use for clothes?"

"I've got a pair of jeans, track shoes, and a plain shirtwaister blouse that looks like a shirt. On the way to the car-hire place I'll buy a gents hat and raincoat. By the feel of the weather, it will either be raining by then or it will feel so much like it that nobody will think anything of a man wearing a hat and coat with jeans and trainers."

"Yuch! Not exactly elegant - but I'll grant that you'll probably get away with it okay. Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, I should be okay on my own. You look a lot more distinctive than I do, and two of us together, even if one is dressed as a man, would be too easy to spot."

"Yes, okay. If something goes wrong and you don't come back what do you want me to do?"

"Steal a car and go for Dimitrov like we did last night." Lizzie's voice was sharp. "Don't even think about looking for me! Whatever Dimitrov is up to it must be important. After you've got him sorted out you can call in Tommy's friend and come looking for me. But the mission comes first - promise me that, Tiffy!"

"Yes, sure." But her laid-back answer was too quick to give Lizzie much comfort. She sighed, knowing only too well that her friend was better endowed with a sense of adventure and personal loyalty than with anything resembling a sense of duty.

Tiffy sat down on the edge of Lizzie's bed and pushed her friend's legs out of the way so that she could roll over on her side and rest her head on her hand. She smiled mischeavously "Hey, it's great to be back on the job, isn't it?"

Lizzie pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them. "No it isn't! It's wearing me to a frazzle."

Tiffy snuggled down more comfortably and looked around the room. "This is a bit like being back at school, isn't it? Remember how we used to crowd together on one bed and talk and talk until the early hours of the morning?"

"Yes, I wonder where they all are now." Lizzie's expression softened a little and her eyes took on a faraway look. "Have you ever met up with any of them?"

"One or two." She chuckled suddenly. "I met Cynthia Garbert a couple of years ago at a business junket in Birmingham. Remember Gruesome Garbert the Godmother of Honeysuckle dorm?"

Lizzie nodded. "Indeed I do. What's she doing now? A prison warder, a slaughterhouse worker, a vivisectionist, an embalmer, a mortuary attendant ? It must be something pretty horrible."

"Ha ha, you'll never guess. Not in a million years you won't."

"What? Don't tell me she's reformed."

"Well, I'm not sure. I met her at this party sort of thing that was supposed to be selling Birmingham as a place to set up business. She saw me first and came over, although I'd have recognised her straight away if I'd seen her first. She's still as hefty - as Wallace would describe it, 'she's built like an outside facility of brick construction,' or words to that effect. Anyway, she says she's a Social Worker!" She gave a hoot of laughter. "Imagine that, Grusome Garbert as a Social Worker! By Christ, I always knew those Brummies were a tough bunch but I didn't realise just how tough until I found out that Cynthia counts as a member of their Caring Profession."

"The mind boggles, but maybe she's turned over a new leaf."

"Uh uh." Tiffy shook her head vigorously. "She's as tough as ever. To hear her speak you would think she was keeping the lid on a den of thieves, murderers and malingerers single handed. She hasn't married, either. She boasted that she used live-in lovers and changed them frequently, just to show the superiority of women!"

"I don't suppose she had one of them with her, did she?" Lizzie asked hopefully.

"No such luck. Imagine anyone wanting to sleep with Gruesome! Yuuch! The local police PR man was there, though, and I asked him about her to check that she really was a Social Worker. He confirmed it, but other than that he was a bit tight lipped and just said that to call her the Iron Maiden was to give iron a quite unjustified reputation for hardness."

Lizzie shook her head in wonderment. "Amazing! You just never can tell how people will turn out, can you? Take Rosemary Rimmer, for instance. Remember her?"

"Yeah, a nice kid, everybody liked her, but as thick as mince. She always wanted to be part of the gang when we were up to tricks and we always tried to lose her because the teachers would always get the truth out of her. She couldn't lie for toffee."

"Well, I'm not so sure she was thick, I think she was maybe just a late developer. Anyway, about five years ago I was over in New York with Jack to attend the premier of one of his plays. I try to avoid going to these things but I was dragged along to this one. After the show lots of people come back stage if they can dredge up any sort of connection to get them past the doorman and I got a call from him saying that there was a Rosemary Rimmer to see me and should she be admitted. Of course, I said yes and Rosie and her husband appeared. She's a bit grey now and wears glasses but she's the same old Rosie really."

"Let me guess. She married an American as a childhood bride and has now got twenty five kids."

"No, she became a nurse and went to the States to work in some fancy private hospital when they were recruiting English nurses like mad. She must have been good because she's now the head of nursing there and is married to a consulting neuro surgeon. Oh, and they have two children, a boy and a girl."

Tiffy was silent for a long moment. "Well, how about that. I guess that nursing is what Rosie was made for but I'm surprised that she had the nouse to get through all the exams. Either she was a late developer or she was just good at the things she was interested in. I suppose we're all a bit like that, after all, we were good at languages but I never could understand maths and science and things like that. I know you could but you were always the egghead of the class." She rolled over on her back and cupped her hands behind her head. "Tell you somebody else I met at a business dinner a while back. Remember Specky Macleod, the tall skinny girl?"

"Gosh yes, I'd forgotten all about her. Poor kid, shoved to school because her parents were always travelling abroad, and too serious and short-sighted to ever get into the fun of things."

Tiffy laughed suddenly. "Remember how hopeless she was with jokes? We always had to spell out the punch line to her until there was no joke left any more. Well, she had come to this dinner with her husband - who was even skinnier and more studious looking than herself. She had never worked, she left school and just joined her parents on their travels until she met her Ron and got married. They don't have any kids, I think she found her own childhood so rotten that she didn't want to inflict it on anybody else."

"Oh well, I suppose she's not so much of a surprise. If you're as rich as her family was there's not much point in finding a job."

"No, I suppose not. She was quite nice really, I suppose but she was just so exasperating. Remember her at sports? She was always so keen but, by God, there were times when you could have sworn that all her joints could swivel either way. When she played netball she was like a wooden puppet being shaken vigorously." She chuckled again. "Remember the time we went scrumping apples at the Big House and Specky insisted on coming with us? Old Lady Thingy suddenly appeared and you and me and Marie dived through the hedge and crawled all the way back to school through a field of ripe corn or something. They had spiky things on them and they got into our clothes and itched like blazes."

"Barley, it was barley. Yes, I remember - Specky got caught but she didn't give us away. She told Lady Achison that she had met up with some kids from the village and it was them that had taken her there and had told her that it was okay to pick the apples. Not only did she get away with it but it turned out that the Achisons knew her parents so she was given tea and cakes."

Tiffy swung her legs back and forth as she stared at the ceiling. "Yes, we had some fun, didn't we? I wonder what they'd all think of us if they knew what we did, eh?"

Lizzie was silent for so long that Tiffy twisted round to look up at her friend. She saw that Lizzie had her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin on her knees and a faraway look in her eyes. "Where have you wandered off to now, Pal?"

"Just thinking. Wondering how two respectable, well brought up, well educated young ladies could have got into the dirty business we did." Lizzie raised her head and looked around the room, her eyes resting briefly on the holstered pistol on the bedside table, the Kalashnikov propped against the wall within easy reach, and the Uzi lying with Tiffy's discarded towel beside the bed. "Look at us, two forty year old wives and mothers cooped up in a hotel room with guns and knives and fresh blood on our hands. How did it all happen?"

"Oh come on. You know very well that nobody forced us into anything. We did it for the excitement and because we thought we were doing something useful for our country."

"That's just it. We were all idealistic, thinking that we were keeping the peace and saving the world. But look at what's happened. Instead of a war we've got world wide destruction of the environment, pollution everywhere, global warming, you name it, we've got it. And largely because the poor old planet is overburdened with population. Maybe the best thing that could have happened was a nuclear holocaust to thin out the population and put a stop to the superpower's technological advances."

"Aw come on, Lizzie, this is just mission nerves talking. You know you're always like this when there's a lull in the action and you've time to think and get all doubtful and gloomy. C'mon, snap out of it, we've had loads of good times, haven't we?"

But Lizzie in her morbid mood wasn't to be deflected. "That's not the point. Dammit, don't you see, it's getting worse and worse, and we're all guilty. We exhort people to increase production, and then reward them with more pay so that they can consume more. How do we reverse that cycle? Ask them to produce less, and then pay them less so that it's easier for them to decide to consume less? And we're all guilty. Look at your Rolls and our Volvo, both big, expensive cars with all sorts of expensive frills we don't need. Is it really worth depleting the worlds resources so that we can have heated seats, electric windows, electric seat adjusters, electric mirror adjusters and God knows what all else - and all on cars that can go two or three times as fast as speed limits allow. Can't we understand that an expensive car that costs five times as much as an ordinary car also consumes about five times as much energy and materials to make it?" Her voice was tinged with anger and despair.

Tiffy swung lithely to her feet, scooped up her towel and gun and smiled down at her sombre friend. "Oh go to sleep you old misery-guts, you'll feel better when you wake up. Nighty night." She yawned as she strolled off to her own room.

 

They slept until mid-afternoon, then Lizzie rose and dressed. "I'm going now, Tiffy. I should be back in about an hour," she called through the open adjoining door. A sleepy grunt told her that she'd been heard.

She left the hotel openly and walked to the bus stop, arriving just ahead of the bus. A short journey took her to the large stores just outside the city centre. She bought a long, loose raincoat and a Bavarian style hat - pretending that they were for a friend.

Another bus ride took her to the south side of the city where she hired a car without difficulty and apparently without arousing suspicion. She chose a Volkswagen Golf GTI on the principle that it was common enough not to arouse any particular interest, but fast enough to give anything a run for its money around the crowded streets of Berlin.

That evening they once again went through the now-familiar ritual of quietly departing the hotel with their bulky holdall and driving by a circuitous route to the general vicinity of the rendezvous point. Then they changed and blackened-up before driving quietly to a secluded spot about quarter of a mile from the wood yard. It was a compromise position, on the one hand they needed to be close to get Dimitrov out in a hurry, but on the other there was a danger of giving the game away too early if the KGB were on the ball again and the yard was being watched.

They spent two hours checking out the area with the care of a surgeon doing brain surgery. Nothing was moving in the whole area and, even more important, nothing twanged Lizzie's sensitive antenna. The weather started still and oppressive but as they crept around the area like black wraiths they became aware that it was going to break soon. The stillness became palpable and the electricity in the air charged their hair so that it stood on end and crackled if touched.

As the time edged towards 12:30 they moved in on the timber yard itself. It was surrounded by a high chain-link fence topped by intricate whorls of barbed wire. Presumably wood was valuable enough to steal. There was just one gate, and it was secured by two heavy chains individually padlocked. Lizzie faded from sight in deep shadow whilst Tiffy ran lightly towards the gate, slinging her Uzi to free both hands to pick the locks. If Dimitrov was in here he must have locked the gate after he entered. In less than a minute she had picked the two locks, their heavy, rusty actions giving more trouble than their complexity. Opening the gate just enough to slip inside she flitted through and covered Lizzie until she too was enveloped in the shadows of the yard.

They started to search amongst the stacks of timber, seeking out any hidden watchers. At first all was silence but gradually they became aware that the wind was rising. Initially spasmodic zephyrs stirred the sawdust, then over a period of about ten minutes the gusts strengthened and grew closer together until they were rattling the lighter slabs of timber and swirling clouds of sawdust everywhere. More importantly, it robbed them of their aural senses. In the quiet, one could move around the yard whilst the other listened intently for any sounds indicating that someone had been flushed out and was moving to another place of concealment. Now the sound of the rising wind and the distant grumbling of thunder made such delicate operations impossible.

They flitted through the stacks towards the only building, a sturdy wooden hut housing a small sawmill, situated in the middle of the yard. A road led from the gate and circled all the way around the hut. They stopped opposite the front corner of the building and moved silently together to confer.

Lizzie looked at her watch and saw that it was time to make contact. "Go in, I'll cover you from here." She had to raise her voice against the sighing of the wind and the rumbling of the thunder.

Tiffy nodded and glided forward, the stubby Uzi in its element in the close confines of the yard. She slid along the windowless wall towards the door and stood with her back against the heavy doorpost as she reached out her hand and tapped lightly on the door. Rat tat tat. Nothing happened and she reached out and rapped harder. This time the door moved slowly, she couldn't tell whether it was her knocking, the wind, or unseen hands that propelled it. As it swung silently ajar she called out softly. "Dimitrov? This is Gemini."

The hoarse whisper barely reached her. "Move into the light where I can see you."

Tiffy signalled towards the unseen Lizzie, hoping that she was watching her and the figure in the building with the night sight. She whispered, "Alright, I'm coming" and, with the hairs on the back of her neck prickling, edged carefully away from the door post and into the faint sky glow, leaving Lizzie as clear a view as she could.

The whisper reached her again. "Come in here so I can see you." Unable to see anything in the pitch black darkness, she aimed the Uzi by sound alone and edged forward. Suddenly a thin pencil of light stabbed out, steadied on her face for a moment and then flicked out. "Good! I'm Alexi Dimitrov. Have you made the arrangements?"

"Yes, we have a car about four hundred metres away so let's go."

"Are you sure you haven't brought our KGB friends this time?"

"We haven't seen any sign of them and we don't think we were followed. What about you? Does anybody know you're here?"

"Only one, an old friend who's well away by now." There was no time for discussion so Tiffy started towards the door. "Let's go, the sooner we're out of here the better." He followed her out and together they crept towards the gate. Tiffy gave no sign of Lizzie's whereabouts, if Dimitrov was up to any tricks he would be very circumspect knowing that she was stalking the darkness behind them.

They had nearly reached the gate when a new sound made itself heard above the rising storm. Lizzie's senses jerked her to hyper alertness and she heard it first. "Cars! Run for it. Go right." She shouted to make herself heard and at the same instant started to run. They were out the gate and nearly at the corner of the fence when the cars came screaming down the road and swung into the drive to the yard. Three large cars. They screeched to a stop and shadowy figures flung themselves out. Gunfire sparkled from the extending line of pursuers, the storm swept away most of the sound but the sparkles of fire differentiated the weapons, single stabs for pistols and flickering flames for automatic weapons.

Lizzie caught up with the others as they rounded the corner of the fence and hustled them on. Dimitrov had put on a lot of weight since she had last seen him and he was clearly no longer athletic enough for this work. He stumbled suddenly and the two women grabbed his arms to steady him, thinking he'd missed a step on the uneven ground. He grunted through clenched teeth. "I've been hit! I can't run."

"Keep going towards the car, I'll hold them off and lead them away. If you get to the car don't wait for me, go like hell for the airport. If he can't make it to the car, hole up somewhere. I'll try to lose them and come back." Lizzie didn't wait for an answer, she spun round and dropped flat, bringing the Kalashnikov up to her shoulder. The night sight showed at least a dozen men blundering towards her in an extended skirmishing line. She flicked the Single/Rapid selector to Single to save ammunition and lined up on the leader. The flat slam of the Kalashnikov crashed out and a brilliant flash of lightening showed the man fling up his hands and crash over backwards as the heavy slug took him in the chest. The others saw the frozen tableau of death and flung themselves flat.

Lizzie jumped to her feet and raced off, bent double and zig zagging rapidly. When she judged that the chase would be on again she repeated the manoeuvre, knocking over a second target. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks that none of them seemed to be equipped with a night sight, the difference might not change the final outcome but she would take a few with her.

For the next half hour she played a desperately dangerous game of hide and seek, trying to stay far enough ahead for the heavy Kalashnikov and its night sight to give her an edge, but not so far as to induce them to give up the chase. Periodically she would dash off sideways and then fire a few shots from her pistol before sprinting ahead again. With luck it would lead them to believe that Tiffy or Dimitrov was taking a hand occasionally.

She was tiring badly when salvation arrived in the shape of the rain. The skies suddenly opened and the deluge started. She picked herself up and started to run, intending to give them the slip, when a long drawn out flicker of lightning bathed the world in light. She had just started to throw herself down again when a fierce blow to the back threw her flat.

CHAPTER 6

When Lizzie stopped to stem the first rush, Tiffy half helped, half dragged Dimitrov around the corner of the yard and into the deep shadows of tall bushes. She hustled him as hard as she could but she knew that he was giving his all. Gradually, as the sounds of pursuit were lost in the noise of the storm, she slowed down until they were barely at a stumbling walk. She knew they'd never make it to the car like this and started looking for a sanctuary.

She came to a small, two-storey building standing forlornly at the side of the narrow road. The vegetation around it was unkempt and the whole place had an air of disuse. She helped Dimitrov to the doorway and let him sink onto the single step. It took her less than a minute to pick the lock, and as it creaked open the smell of disuse washed over her. Perfect! She helped and cajoled Dimitrove to his feet and half carried him inside, then let him sink to the floor whilst she shut and locked the door. The ground floor consisted of a single large room with windows all the way round, and was too exposed to the eyes of any snooper to suit her purpose. She ran upstairs, trying to leave as little sign as possible. A row of small offices ran along each side, and just by the top of the stairway was a small, windowless store room.

She dropped the Uzi to the floor and hurried back downstairs. "Come on, Dimitrov, we have to get out of sight so you've got to make the effort to get upstairs. Come on, up!" She heaved on his plump arm and waited for him to respond. He rose like a wounded elephant and she was soon sweating profusely in the stuffy heat of the building as she tried to steady, guide and support him.

They heard the rain start, its noise combining with that of the thunder and wind to make conversation difficult. They struggled up the stair in silence save for his rasping breath and her grunts of effort. Finally reaching the landing, she manoeuvred him into the store room and lowered him to the floor. "Okay, let's have a look at you." She shut the door before switching on a small penlight torch and starting to check him over. He was lying face up and there was no sign of any damage there.

"It's my back, left side." His face was deathly pale and shining with sweat. His breathing was ragged and although he was obviously in some discomfort the most ominous sign was that he was sinking into torpor.

She rolled him gently onto his right side and pulled up his jacket and shirt. There was very little blood, a large patch on his shirt and a smaller one on his jacket, but that was all. She breathed a silent prayer, at least there would be no trail of blood to betray them. The bullet hole was small and black edged, oozing thick blood only very slowly. She pulled a small field dressing from a pocket, ripped it open and pressed it to the wound. "Do you want to stay like that or would you be more comfortable on your back?"

"Like this ... thanks." He seemed to he drifting.

"Listen to me, Dimitrov!" She deliberately made her voice harsh to cut through his torpor. "The bullet entered your back just under your left shoulder blade, and it didn't come out the front. There's very little blood on the outside but I think you're bleeding internally. There's nothing I can do for you except get you a doctor."

"No! No doctor. Too risky. Get me out of here." His words came in short gasps.

"Look, I think the bullet has gone in at a tangent and then skated around the inside of the chest cavity. If it did, it probably did a helluva lot of damage. If you don't get attention quickly I don't think you'll be going anywhere."

"No doctor!"

"Okay, but I can't go for the car yet, my partner is still leading your friends away. Look, whilst we're waiting, how about giving me some answers?"

"No. I'll talk only when I'm safe in England."

"Okay, okay, but you can at least tell me why you wanted us."

"You were the only ones I thought I could trust." He seemed a bit stronger now that he was resting.

"Are you defecting?"

"Yes - didn't you know that? Why did you come looking for me, then?"

Alarm bells started to clamour in Tiffy's mind, and she bit off her reply and changed it to, "Yes, of course, but I still can't quite believe it. And I still don't understand why you couldn't have made contact with some active operative, after all Lizzie and I have been retired for fifteen years."

"I know, I know. But my price for a new life is information about an important mole in your Department. I couldn't be sure that the route I was taking wouldn't get to him from inside your Department if I used active agents, so I made the use of Gemini a condition of my coming over." He was gasping again, but hurried on as if anxious to convince her of the importance of getting him to England. "Besides, I knew you both by sight and sound, and I didn't believe that you'd been turned."

Tiffy was silent for a long time whilst she digested this and tried to reshuffle her mental jigsaw puzzle. She wished that Lizzie was here, it would all make much more sense to her. "So who is this mole, then?" She tried to keep her voice casual.

He was sinking into torpor again but he parried unhesitatingly. "No, only when I'm out."

"Okay, I'll go out for a scout around, and if the coast seems to be clear I'll bring the car." She got up and waited a moment to see if he was going to respond. When he didn't she shrugged, picked up the Uzi and slipped out of the room and down the stairs. The rain was still falling in torrents, destroying any chance there might have been of anyone being able to follow their trail - she didn't think Dimitrov had been dripping blood but it didn't matter now. In any case, all the street lights in the area were dead, presumably a lightening strike had put an electricity sub-station out of action. Mentally giving thanks to Thor the God of Thunder, she slipped out and pulled the door shut behind her, relying on its rusty hinges and warped frame to keep it firmly closed. The first priority was to cast around the local area to ensure that no snoopers had been left behind when Lizzie led the main group away. She found no sign of life at all, the flicker-lit landscape might have been that of a ghost town.

Satisfied, she decided to extend her search in the direction of Lizzie's departure. She didn't really expect to find her but if they had caught up with Lizzie she might meet them returning to their cars. She padded on quietly at a dog trot, keeping close to buildings and trees and with every sense at animal alertness. She was just about to turn back when the wind in her face brought her the faint sound of a pistol shot.

CHAPTER 7

The blow that flung Lizzie flat momentarily stunned her with its force, and by the time she had gathered her wits together again she was surrounded by men with guns. One flashed a torch briefly at her, then a foot prodded her and a guttural voice ordered. "Get up!"

She knew she'd been shot but was unsure how bad the wound was. As her head cleared she came to the quick decision that it would do no harm to insist that she was badly hit. "I can't. I've been shot in the back." Her voice turned plaintive. "Help me, please. Get me to a doctor, I'm bleeding to death."

One of them stooped and ran his hands over her, removing her pistol on the way and tossing it carelessly aside. As his hand brushed down the left side of her back it suddenly stopped and came away wet with sticky blood. "She's telling the truth, Boss. She's bleeding badly."

There was a pause, then the first voice spoke in a more conciliatory tone "Okay we'll take you to a doctor - after you have told us where your partner and Dimitrov are."

She was silent.

"All of you, stand well back, I'm going to show a light." He waited until his men had withdrawn to avoid being silhouetted against the light, then switched on a small torch and directed it at Lizzie. "Answer me or I will shoot you in an ankle - then the other ankle - then the knees - then the arms - and so on until you talk or die." To emphasise his words he fired his pistol, placing the shot between her feet so that she felt the spatter of dirt thrown onto her legs.

Her side was numb but she felt very little pain and her head was clear, but she spoke in short gasps as if in agony. "Okay - I'll tell you - just get me to a doctor. They've gone - I led you away - we had a car beside the yard -they'll be well away by now."

"Where? Where are they heading for?"

"The - Air Force base - at Tempelhof." There was no point in lying, it was the only logical thing to do.

"What sort of car?"

"An Opel Manta." She lied. They probably wouldn't believe her but they'd know there was no point in pursuing the matter further. All they could do was to rely on her being too frightened to think, let alone lie.

The leader thought for a moment, then made his decision. "Okay, Shultz and Muller, you take her back to the car and then to the safe house." He spoke again to Lizzie. "And you, woman. You'll be given medical treatment and then you'll be interrogated with drugs. If you have told the truth you'll be no more use to us and you'll be sent to a hospital. But if you've lied you will die." With that, he turned and, using torches to light their way, the five men departed at a rapid jog trot.

Tiffy pressed back into some bushes as the men passed her. She tried to see whether they had Lizzie with them but it was too dark and the light from the torches showed them only as a jumble of silhouettes. Gauging their pace, she decided that Lizzie would have been unco-operative enough to have held them back to a slower speed. So she hurried forward, fearing that she would find the lifeless body of her friend.

She would have stumbled into the remaining duo if one of them hadn't spoken. "Right, get up. Move it!" She swerved aside and crept forward cautiously, her heart lifting at the words that indicated that they had a live prisoner. She cursed the obscuring darkness, the storm centre had moved away and the lightning flashes were too distant to provide sufficient illumination, and the city lights were still dead. She looked up at the sky and saw that the heavy clouds were breaking up and that their edges were being lit by the dim light of the new moon. She hung back, waiting for the moon to appear between the scudding clouds. As she did so she heard the two men argue in low voices, then one said in a loud voice tinged with anger. "Alright! I'll help her - but you take a turn later."

Then she heard them move away. As she crept after them she stubbed her toe on something heavy, and paused to reach down and feel it with her hand. It was the Kalashnikov complete with its night sight, and she smiled in the darkness at the find. She lifted it to her shoulder and aimed it at the receding shuffling noises, seeing the two men, one carrying some sort of sub-machine gun at the ready whilst his companion supported the nearly limp body of her friend. Her first impulse was to pick them off and rush to Lizzie's aid but two things stopped her - the joggers would hear the shots, and the men were taking Lizzie in the direction she wanted to go. They could move her quicker and more easily than the lightweight Tiffy could.

Before moving off she scanned the area with the night sight and picked up Lizzie's discarded Walther P5 and the cap that had been jolted off her head. Then she padded along behind them, using the night sight to follow their stumbling un-lit progress, and keeping an eye on the sky.

Lizzie could feel the slow trickle of warm blood down her back and tried to judge how fast she was losing blood. A ball of hot pain was starting to spread from the wound and an aching stiffness was clawing through her side and hip, but her head was clear and that was the best indication that she wasn't losing much blood. She could have walked quite well by herself, and they could certainly have made better progress if she had co-operated. But she didn't believe that her life was in imminent danger from the wound so she dragged along limply, slowing them to a snail's pace and causing her helper's breath to come in the short gasps of the exhausted.

As they neared the timber yard, Lizzie hung more and more of her weight on the man, hoping that Tiffy would have come back to look for her but gathering her strength to escape unaided if necessary. Eventually he could take no more and came to a staggering stop. Tiffy heard him call angrily to his companion. "Look, mate, I've had it! Take her or I'm going to drop her and put a bullet in her head." His voice held such suppressed fury that the other, who was obviously the more senior, caved in.

"Alright, I'll take a turn, but you're a useless bugger, Muller." With ill grace he walked over to the two of them and held out the sub-machine gun. With a grunt of relief Lizzie's helper shook off her arm from around his neck and let her slump to the ground. It was a Heaven-sent opportunity with the two of them standing clear above the prostrate Lizzie. Tiffy sent up a short prayer, hoping that Lizzie hadn't stuffed Ivan's muzzle full of dirt when she fell, then she flicked the selector switch to 'rapid' and squeezed off a murderous burst. It caught the two men at chest height and flung them aside like rag dolls. Then she ran forward with the night sight glued to her eye. Satisfied that the tattered corpses were no longer a threat, she ran to Lizzie.

"Lizzie, are you okay?" Her voice was so anxious that Lizzie started to laugh, then gasped as the pain caught her.

"Yes, I took one in the left side of my back but I don't think I'm badly damaged. A bit sore and stiff, that's all." She got cautiously to her feet, swaying slightly in the dying gusts of wind. "I see you found Ivan."

"Yes, I didn't want to spend the rest of the night searching for your bloody gun." Tiffy's flippant words showed her relief at finding her friend relatively lightly wounded. "Now, come on, I've got Dimitrov stashed in a building over there."

Lizzie insisted on hobbling along on her own, leaving Tiffy free to range ahead and provide cover. They entered the building as quietly as the creaky door would allow, and Tiffy padded silently up the stairs whilst Lizzie took up the rear using the thin banister rail for support.

Tiffy had left the store room door slightly ajar, and now she noted that it was still in the same position. Reaching out a foot she swung it open, the black snout of the Uzi scenting around in the gloom. "Dimitrov, can you hear me?"

A liquid cough sounded from the bundle on the floor. "Yes. So you've come back at last."

She slipped into the room, still alert for danger, and found him alone and where she had left him. Lizzie joined her, and Dimitrov tried to turn his head when he heard her. "Hello, Dimitrov. I'm Lizzie - perhaps you know me as Pollux." Tiffy hesitated whilst the two made first contact, then faded away in the gloom to check out the building.

"I know you as both. Now, when are you going to get me out of here?" His breathing was shallow and ragged.

"Soon, I've taken a hit myself and need a bit of patching up, then Tiffy will go for the car and we'll get you away." She unzipped her suit and started on the painful process of exposing her wound. Tiffy returned in time to help her peel the blood-soaked part away from the skin.

"Hang on, I'll shut the door and show a light." She set the little pencil torch on one of the dust-laden shelves and adjusted the beam to illuminate Lizzie's back. "Hmm. It's gone all the way through, entered about half way between your side and your spine, and came out at the side - you must have been turned about quarter away from the firer." She wiped the area with a handkerchief and prodded gently. "You were lucky, it entered and exited between ribs - it must have chipped them but I don't think they're broken. It's not bleeding much now but, by the look of your clothes, you've lost a lot of blood. I'll put a dressing on it, but other than that there's nothing I can do but get you to a hospital as soon as possible."

Lizzie looked down at her suit. "It looks bad but a little blood goes a long way, especially when its been washed all over the place by the rain. I doubt I've lost more than a quarter of a pint, half at most - I give a pint every six months at Blood Doning."

"Yes, but you haven't been running then, and you can go home and have an early night!" Her friend observed drily. She fumbled in one of Lizzie's pockets for her large field dressing, and deftly stuck it in place.

As Tiffy helped her to dress, Lizzie took over command again. "Now, Dimitrov, what's all this about?"

Tiffy answered for him. "He's been hit, I think badly. The bullet entered at the back left of his chest and didn't come out. There's not much external bleeding but I think the bullet must have skittered around the inside of the chest cavity and done a bit of damage. I can't be sure, but I think he's been bleeding a lot internally. He says he can name the Department mole, but he won't speak until we get him to England."

Lizzie took the torch and examined Dimitrov's face closely. She didn't like what she saw, the pallor indicated massive blood loss that they could do nothing to stem. "Listen, Dimitrov. We've risked our lives to come here, what do you want us for?"

"To get me out. Didn't your Director or Deputy Director tell you that?"

"No, we didn't see either of them. All we know is that Duncan Lawson, our Section Controller, briefed us and said you'd put out a KGB contract on us. Some of your people tried to get us in my home, but they were low-grade specimens and we got them instead." Her voice was flat and cold. "He told us you were in West Berlin so we came to meet you head on instead of trying to run. Now, come on, what's it all about?"

He seemed very agitated and fought weakly to turn to see them both, his voice strengthening with anger and despair. "How did Lawson know? I tried to call the Director but he was out and I got the Deputy Director instead. I told him I wanted out and that I'd trade the name of his mole for a new life. I told him to tell no one but the Director and you two!"

Lizzie shrugged. "I don't know, maybe Duncan was standing in for them both that day, or maybe they told him because the European sector of the Soviet Block is his territory."

"But it was stupid bad practice! How can you catch a mole if you tell everybody?" His hoarse whisper trailed off in despair.

Lizzie stared at him thoughtfully for a long moment, then answered lightly. "Well, never mind, I don't suppose they've told anyone else about it." The picture of the pompous briefing Major floated in her mind. "We're here and we've made contact. Now we'll get you in the car and stop at the first 'phone to call Duncan, he'll get us some support and get us all out of here."

"No!" The word was torn from him, then his voice sank to a whisper. "Don't call that bastard, he's the mole!" The despair in his voice showed that he'd been forced to reveal his highest card. Oh, there was still much that he could tell them, and he'd still get his new life, but his best bargaining counter had turned to ashes.

"You can't be serious! Not Duncan. He's been in the Department for donkey's years and has had an excellent record." Tiffy broke in impulsively. "Good God, that mission with the inertial platform, it was Duncan who planned and controlled that."

His strength had been squandered by his outburst and his tired whisper was barely audible. "The platform didn't matter too much - oh, we wanted it but it was just a development of one we already knew about. No, the real purpose was to kill your friend Symonds. She had stumbled on the fact that I was Lawson's controller - she hadn't realised it but she was due to go back to the UK for routine debriefing and it would all have come out then. We had to get rid of her, so Lawson planned the theft and response, and sent her along on the excuse that she was the only explosives expert he had. He sent you two in case she had talked to you - you three being old friends. We were supposed to get you all, but you two slipped through the net."

"But how did you escape, the whole place was blown to smithereens?" It was irrelevant now but she was curious.

"A tunnel ran through the mountain to another post in the next valley. I was half way through the tunnel when the explosion occurred. It saved you - blocked the tunnel and prevented the back-up troops getting through to you."

He lapsed into silence and they thought he might have slipped away from life. But he had just been resting, and started whispering again. They had to crouch close to him to hear the faltering words. He rallied for a moment. "And now you know it all. You're right, I'm not going to make it to my new life." He moved his hand feebly, and Tiffy caught and pressed it. "See that Lawson doesn't get away with it. Promise me that."

Lizzie stood up and her voice was as cold as ice. "We promise, Dimitrov. You have our word that the only way that Lawson will live is if we die first."

Tiffy laid a finger on his neck, then released her hand from his clasp and stood up. "He's gone. Poor bugger, he was fighting both sides and didn't even know it." She looked at Lizzie. "So ... what do we do now?"

"We leave him here and hope he isn't discovered until after we're safely back in the UK. We get to the car and go to a 'phone box to get the word to Tommy, then we get the hell out of Berlin." Lizzie's voice seethed with fury at their betrayal - not their betrayal here, but the one fifteen years before.

They left the building and carefully locked the door behind them. Then, with Tiffy ranging ahead and Lizzie hobbling painfully along, they made their way back to the car. Tiffy circled it twice before approaching it and examined it carefully, including its underside, before unlocking the door. Then she opened the bonnet and boot and did a quick search for things that might go bang in the night. Satisfied, she beckoned Lizzie forward and opened the passenger door for her. "Right, back to Tempelhof I presume?"

"Yes, and be careful, I told the bunch that shot me that you'd gone out that way. I thought you'd be well away by then." She added apologetically. "First though, find a telephone so we can pass the word to Tommy Symonds."

Tiffy moved off before speaking. "Okay,and don't worry about telling them about the airport, they'd have expected us to head for there anyway."

"Yes, but they may have staked out the road to be sure - they might even have contacts at the Base to tell them you didn't arrive."

As they drove through the deserted streets Lizzie slumped in her seat and drifted into the vague world between consciousness and unconsciousness. Then suddenly she came awake and started giggling with a trace of hysteria. Tiffy glanced quickly at her and saw tears glinting on her cheeks. "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

Lizzie choked off her giggles and wiped a hand over her eyes. "Yes, I'm okay. I was just thinking - you remember that nightmare I had?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I told you that I'd dreamt that one of us had been hit, but what I didn't tell you was that her cap was knocked off and I saw a flash of blonde hair. Naturally I thought it was you. But it's all happened exactly as I saw it and I've just realised that you don't have blonde hair anymore - it's me that has the blonde streak! Phew! There I've been worrying about how I was going to explain your demise to your loving family, and all the time I'd got it all wrong."

Tiffy looked at her in blank astonishment. "Are you telling me that all that carry on was because you thought I'd been hit, and that it would have been alright if you'd realised it was going to be you?"

"No, of course not. It's just that ... well, I thought you were dead. But now it's okay because it's all happened and the only damage is a minor wound in my side." She slapped Tiffy's knee. "Don't you see, old pal? You've been under a sentence of death, but now it's over and you're going to live!" Her voice trembled with relief.

"Oh well, that's okay then." Tiffy's voice was subdued as she absorbed what her friend had been going through.

The streets were still in darkness when they found a telephone kiosk. Lizzie started to open her door. "Won't be a moment."

"Hey, I'll do it, you sit and rest that wound."

"I tell you, I'm alright." Lizzie rose stiffly to her feet and walked to the box. She dialled Tommy's home number, and let it ring for what seemed an age before hanging up and trying his office number instead. Still nothing, so she tried his home number again. Still nothing, so on an impulse she dialled the number of a neighbour at home. When it was answered, she replaced the handset without saying anything.

Returning to the car she climbed in and said, "No reply, I tried both numbers but got no answer, I hope Duncan and his friends haven't harmed them."

"Maybe the power cut has affected the 'phones."

Lizzie shook her head. "No, I thought of that and rang a neighbour at home. They answered immediately. We'll just have to try again later, if there's still no reply we'll just have to 'phone somebody else." Then added. "I've got a feeling we're not in the clear yet."

They drove in silence, apart from the radio that Tiffy had turned on low to catch any news bulletins. If the shooting had been heard the police might have road blocks out. Later they stopped at another 'phone box, but with no more success.

Now they were on the final stretch of road to the airport and Lizzie's head was nodding as the reaction to her wound took effect. Suddenly she jerked awake as the car started to slow. "Where are we? What's happening?"

"Something's happening up ahead. Road block, I think."

The spot had been well chosen, they were only a couple of miles from the airport and the sides of the Autobahn were vertical walls flanking slip roads, with a pair of bridges serving a roundabout over the Autobahn. Tiffy started to slow with the traffic. "What do you think? Nothing to do with us, or has somebody reported our schemozzle to the police?"

"I don't know, but I don't like it. Even our Department passes won't get us far if Duncan is the only one in the Department who knows we're here. At best, we'll be held until the Department bales us out - and the KGB will know exactly where to get us."

They were moving only at a trickle now, and Lizzie's hackles were starting to rise. "It could be a put-up job! The KGB probably has contacts in the police department, but even if they haven't they could easily set up a false road block if they were desperate enough." Her voice was suddenly urgent. "Try to pull over to the side and pretend to stall, just a few spurts and jerks and then stop dead. When we stop, you dive over me and out, I'll continue on my own."

"No, you get out, I'll stay." "Don't argue, Tiffy. If it's the KGB and they catch me they'll think I got away from their clowns and am following you. If they catch you they'll have us by the short and curlies. Now, do as I say!" Her voice had the snap of someone who sees clearly, and is impatient with others whose mental processes lag at vital moments.

"Okay, okay, I'm going." She switched off and on the ignition a few times whilst keeping her foot well down on the throttle. Then she came to a jerky stop right against the narrow, grassy verge. Lizzie had slid her seat right back and released her seat belt. Now, as the car came to a halt she flung the door open and passed the Uzi to Tiffy as she catapulted over her knees and out the door. She slammed the door shut, slid across to the driving seat and started the engine. It had all been done so quickly that she had only a couple of car lengths to close up. She sat sweating with the pain where Tiffy's knee had crashed into her side.

It was unlikely that the figures at the road block had seen anything, there were too many cars with their headlights pointing straight in their eyes for that. The car behind had only the driver in it, and he had courteously switched to side lights when they had slowed to a crawl. With luck, he had seen nothing - in any case, he didn't appear to be making any attempt to raise the alarm. The queue moved slowly until the GTI crept into the pool of light from the flood lights that had been set up at the road block. Lizzie eased forward and stopped. A man in police uniform gestured for her to open her window, and shone a bright light in her face. For a moment he took in the blackened face, commando cap and khaki jump suit, then he gestured urgently to three other figures holding sub-machine guns. "All right, lady. Keep your hands in sight and get out of the car." He waited until her hands were showing, and then opened the door.

The team closed around her and hustled her to a black Opel Senator parked with two wheels up on the verge. The right-hand rear window was down, and the policeman who had stopped her lowered his head and spoke deferentially to a figure in the back of the car. "I think this is the one called Pollux, Sir."

He stepped back and shone the torch in Lizzie's face whilst the man in the car craned his neck round to get a better look at her. "Well, well, so it is. Put her in the other side. Oh, and tell them to remove the road block and go."

She was unceremoniously bundled into the left rear seat next to the shadowy figure. The interior lights were switched on and she could see that two other men occupied the front seats, the driver in front of Lizzie, and a small, sharp-featured man in the other. The small man held a pistol pointed at Lizzie. The voice of the man in the back continued as if he was mildly amused. "So these idiots let you go, did they? Tch, tch, good help is so hard to find these days." He reached out casually and plucked her pistol from its holster.

"Not 'let' exactly, I had to kill them first." Lizzie's voice was hard and emotionless.

"Ah well, never mind that. Now, where is Dimitrov and your friend?"

"I told your men earlier. They went to the airport whilst I led your monkeys astray. They're probably half way to England by now."

"Possibly ... but perhaps not. We have a lot of friends in the airports, and none of them has seen Dimitrov or your little friend. Now, tell me exactly what they were going to do." The times for games was over and his voice was like a whiplash.

"I told you, they went to the airport where an aircraft was waiting for them. They're well away by now." Her voice trailed off as the effects of the night pressed down on her but she rallied enough to add maliciously, "They'll have telephoned out the news about Dimitrov and Duncan Lawson anyway so the game is over and you've lost." She deliberately let herself sink into a faint and hardly felt the wrench at her hair nor heard the savage expletives.

 

Tiffy had sprinted from the car and wedged herself in the small niche formed by a buttress of the wall. It shielded her from the lights of the cars, and the flood lights cast no more than a dim glow in her direction. She sought in vain for a way out that might enable her to climb the wall and get the drop on the road block. She saw the GTI get to the barrier, and saw Lizzie being led to the big car. Then she suddenly realised that the barriers and police cars were being moved aside and the traffic waved on. The flood lights were doused and the equipment loaded into the vehicles by the light of hand torches. Then the police cars moved away, leaving the GTI on its own some way behind the Senator.

She ran forward lightly, hoping the car wouldn't drive off, and hoping that she wouldn't be seen against the headlights. Then she stopped abruptly and flattened herself against the wall. The front right-hand door of the Senator had opened and a man was getting out. He started to walk towards her and she stiffened in anticipation, there was no way he could miss seeing her if he came on. She let the Uzi drop on its sling, grabbed the flick knife from her pocket and held the blade against its spring as she pressed the release button and then let the blade quietly unfold. If she was lucky she might be able to kill him quietly and get to the Senator in time to extricate Lizzie.

She was tensing her muscles ready to spring when a voice bellowed from the open window of the Senator. "Schultz! No racing with that car! We don't want any attention from the police so just follow us and park it out of sight behind the house. Return it anonymously to the car-hire firm early in the morning. Got that?"

Tiffy breathed a sigh of relief when the man turned his head away from her to answer. He passed within two feet of her, if he'd even weaved slightly he'd have bumped into her. She heard the Senator's engine start up and hesitated an instant, wondering whether to try to take the Senator before it could start up, or to follow it in the GTI. The question was academic, the Senator started to pull slowly away, obviously intending to give the other man time to catch up.

The man in the back of the car was obviously the leader, and his words had made it clear that they weren't genuine police officers so she need pull no punches. She reached the driver just as his hand found the door handle of the GTI, and the slim blade slipped between his ribs and into his heart with only the smallest of resistance. He crumpled without a sound, and she pulled gently to topple him backwards and away from the car lights. As he fell, his Tyrollean hat slipped from his head and she caught it with her free hand. Then she dived into the car, flung the hat and blood-wet knife onto the front passenger seat and started the engine.

It never occurred to her to follow Lizzie's instructions to give priority to getting Dimitrov's message to London. If it came to the choice of leaving Lizzie in the KGB's hands or fingering a traitor it was no contest, Lizzie was her friend but what was one traitor more or less? Hell, all branches of the British, and most other Western Secret Service organisations had been finding traitors in their midst with monotonous regularity for years.

She had no trouble catching up with the Senator, and before getting too close she pulled off her Commando Cap Comforter and replaced it with the Tyrollean hat. Then she closed up to a discreet distance and flashed her lights briefly - hoping that such an 'I'm here' signal would be more or less what was expected.

They drove into the city and then turned south. Gradually the bustling all-night city centre fell behind them and they entered the sleeping suburbs. Then the Senator slowed and turned into the drive leading to a large house set well back from the road. Tiffy had fallen further and further back as the traffic had cleared, and now she slowed still more to let the Senator get well clear.

She entered the drive cautiously and was just in time to see the house door shut behind Lizzie and her captors. The Senator had been left parked close to the steps leading up to the door. She followed the drive past the other car and around the far side of the house. There she found a group of outbuildings surrounding a small square - probably the remains of stables from fifty years before when Berlin was a city of horses. She turned the car in the square and drove back the way she had come, then pulled into the side under the trees.

'Now what?' she wondered. The instructions to the dead man had indicated that they didn't expect to see him again before morning, so he would probably not be missed by anyone tonight. She poked the barrel of the Uzi at each of the interior lights in turn, carefully breaking the bulbs. Then she opened the door and stepped cautiously and quietly onto the gravelled drive. The night was dark, and the street lights penetrated the trees and bushes only fitfully. The storm's winds had withered to fitful gusts but they were still enough to caress the trees and fill the night with movement. It was a good night for her purpose, a predators night.

She ran a practised eye over the house as she crept quietly all the way around it. It was just an ordinary town house and lacked the tell-tale signs of security that would indicate that it was a KGB stronghold. She didn't know whether the KGB would have permanent quarters in Berlin, but she doubted it. More likely this was just a house leased openly for a few weeks to provide a hideaway and meeting place for the KGB and their friends whilst they sought Dimitrov. If she was wrong the alarm bells would soon cry her mistake for all to hear.

A number of rooms were lit on both the ground and first floors but all their windows were obscured by curtains or blinds. Those at the front and the side where she had parked the car, had been lit when she came in. Now, as she completed her circle, she realised that two first-floor windows that had been in darkness were now lit and a man was briefly silhouetted as he closed the curtains. She couldn't see his face but he was wearing a jacket so it was a fair bet that he had just come in from outdoors. With nothing else to go on, it was reasonable to assume that Lizzie was in that room.

She toyed for a moment with the possibility of waiting to see whether at least some of them would go to bed, then discarded the thought. If they believed that Dimitrov and Tiffy were still on the loose and within reach, they wouldn't waste any time squeezing Lizzie dry. She was a long way out of date with developments in interrogation techniques but she doubted that the basic form would have changed much. When in a hurry the first thing to do was use physical violence. Nothing too dangerous in case you rendered your canary incapable of singing, but ugly enough to cause many people to come unglued in quick order. If a few broken limbs, a ruptured spleen and damaged kidneys didn't bring quick results, they would resort to slower but surer methods. Drugs would crack anybody in time - and probably leave them a physical and mental wreck. If Lizzie was still going to be capable of moving under her own power when she got out of here, she had to be got out quickly.

She circled the house again, this time looking for a way in. A narrow door at the side, and a stable-type door to the kitchen were both locked. All the unlit ground-floor windows were firmly shut - she suspected they were more likely to be jammed from disuse than securely locked. Any noise would almost certainly bring a sharp response so she reluctantly returned to the front door and studied it carefully from behind a bush. It was flanked by full-height, narrow windows on either side, and she moved carefully to try to see into the lit interior. At first she could see no one, but as she edged closer she realised that a long corridor ran from the front door towards the back of the house, and that a man was sitting with his back to another door at the far end. There was no way she could enter by the front door and take out that man without raising the alarm.

Again she padded round to the back and examined the door more carefully, forcing herself to be methodical despite feeling a welling fever of impatience at what was probably happening to Lizzie. There was a huge keyhole in the top half of the door, but a quick look with a shaded penlight torch showed no signs of recent scratches on its rusted lock plate. More likely the door halves would be secured from the inside by bolts. Like the front door it had windows up each side, but more niggardly affairs made up of panes only three or four inches wide and perhaps nine inches high.

Suddenly she made up her mind and started working quickly. She pulled her small first-aid kit from her pocket and extracted all the sticking plasters. Then she peeled off their backing strips one by one and stuck the plasters onto the small pane near where she judged the top bolt would be. There weren't enough to cover the pane completely but she spread them out to try to ensure that no unsupported sliver would be big enough to make much noise as it fell. Then she wrapped her Cap Comforter around the barrel of the Uzi and used it to give the window a solid thump.

It broke easily and only faint tinkles were heard as some tiny splinters fell to the floor. Carefully pulling out the bulk of the pane, she paused a moment to pick out the largest teeth sticking out from the sides, this was no time to slash her wrist. Then she reached through and felt for the bolt.

The top half of the door swung open silently, and she reached in to unfasten the bottom part. It was pitch dark inside and she shut the door behind her before using her shaded penlight to get her bearings. It was a sort of laundry room cum scullery, and a door led off it to the darkened kitchen. Another door led from the kitchen to the interior of the house but she could see a thin line of light shining under it. She tried to visualise the plan of the house to estimate whether this door was the one with the guard behind it. She thought it probably was.

Her nerves were bowstring taught as she took her flick knife in her right hand and slowly turned the knob with her left. She had considered risking using the silenced pistol, but whilst it made little noise in general terms, it would still seem loud in this silent, echoing house. Especially to people whose senses were conditioned to hear and recognise the strangled cough of a silenced firearm.

As she eased the door open she put her eye to the slit. She'd been right, a man was sitting in a chair about six feet from where she stood. He was facing the front door but had angled his chair against a door so that he could prop his head against the door jamb. Perhaps he was asleep. No, she discarded the thought immediately, the KGB didn't deal lightly with guards who fell asleep on the job.

She slipped through the door and started to pad silently towards his unsuspecting back. Then the fickle wind, presumably blowing through the broken pane and the ill-fitting internal doors, gently closed the door behind her. It wasn't enough to close it completely, but the small click made by the tongue of the lock hitting the striker plate broke the stillness like a shot.

The guard swung round, more curious than alarmed, but alert for all that. His reactions were so fast that she was nearly caught flat footed. He came lithely to his feet and was turning towards her and raising his gun before she started moving. But when she started to move she did so with devastating effect. Her only thought was that she had to stop him from shouting or shooting, and she took a terrible risk to do it. A slashing knife attack against a trained opponent was acknowledged to be suicide, but perhaps its very stupidity bought her vital milliseconds. She stepped forward and slashed the knife across his throat with bewildering speed, severing both carotid arteries and the windpipe before he could get his mouth open or his gun up.

Blood spurted from the severed arteries, and as he toppled forward the gush of bright, warm blood washed over her head, face and torso. She paid no attention, and grabbed quickly to catch his body and gun and lower them silently to the floor. There was little point in trying to move the body, the mess of blood was every bit as visible. She scrubbed her sleeve across her face, spitting silently and trying to wipe the sticky blood from her eyelids. Then she stood on the guard's chair and, using her cap to insulate her hands from the heat, removed the light bulb at that end of the corridor. With a bit of luck, if anyone chanced by they wouldn't give a thought to the pool of deeper shadow.

Speed was now of the essence, and she ran swiftly and silently up the stairs. She heard loud, hectoring, demanding voices coming from a large double door, and crept close to it. There were no door knobs, the doors were held closed by their spring hinges. A thin strip of light showed between the halves and she put her eye to it, but the small slice of room visible to her was empty. The voices seemed to be coming from the left so she pushed gently on the right-hand door to try to get a better view.

She had just started to get a man into her line of sight when there came a sharp double sound, as if someone had slapped a face with a quick forehand and backhand one-two. It was exactly what she needed. She knew that every eye and ear in the room would be focussed only on the effects of the slap, and she instantly grasped the opportunity and burst into the room.

The door swung shut behind her and she had taken three fast steps towards them before the three men sensed her presence and swung towards her. In other circumstances they might have moved quicker, but her blood-soaked appearance presented them with the image of a person dying on her feet. Before their brains could discard the blood and concentrate on the women, she had them cold. She had the Uzi lined up on them with her right hand, and her left, holding the silenced pistol, was up to her lips with her forefinger eloquently commanding silence. Just for a moment her eyes met Lizzie's, and she mouthed, 'Speak, there might be microphones'. It was certain that the KGB would be recording everything that was said, but they might also have a listener by the recorder.

Lizzie's face was a swollen mess of bruises and blood, and she was obviously groggy from the battering she'd been taking. She looked vacantly at Tiffy for a moment and then took her cue. "Please! Please, no more! I'll talk, I'll talk." She started to ramble, almost incoherent in her rush to pour words through her battered lips. She started at the beginning, telling them the truth, confirming what they already knew, but taking so long about it that any listener would be on tenterhooks waiting for her to tell what they needed to know.

Tiffy gestured for their hands to be raised, and then slipped behind Lizzie to free her from the bonds that tied her to her chair. She let the Uzi dangle from its sling and used her right hand to pull the knife from the sheath behind her neck. Her eyes never left the three men as she felt her way down Lizzie's arms to bring the blade in contact with the ropes that bound Lizzie's hands together. She was just sawing downwards, part of her mind concentrating on doing the cutting and avoiding Lizzie's wrists, when one of the men took his chance.

He shielded his movement behind the shoulder of one of his companions, and grabbed for his gun with the speed of a striking snake. His hand was actually on the butt and the gun was coming clear of the holster when Tiffy woke up to the danger. She snapped off a quick shot but, shooting left-handed, she failed to get an instant kill. Her first shot took him in the left shoulder and spun him away from his companions. There was no mistake about the second, it took him in the head and killed him instantly. But it was too late, he managed to squeeze the trigger and the unsilenced shot crashed out. Worse, the bullet hit a large pane of glass in one of the windows and shattered it, and the largest fragments smashed noisily onto the drive below.

The need for silence was now over and Tiffy thrust the knife and pistol into Lizzie's numbed hands. Then she had the Uzi at the ready and any hopes that the men might have cherished died stillborn. "C'mon, Lizzie! Let's get the hell out of here!"

Lizzie lurched to her feet, stiff, sore, dazed, but with the hardened agent's ability to put everything from her mind but the job in hand. Countless times in the past the instructors, with what she had always regarded as sadistic relish, had shouted, pleaded, cajoled, insisted, demanded, 'Nothing! Nothing, must get in the way of the job. Nothing, even if all you have left in you is one squeeze of the trigger, SQUEEZE IT! Don't think of wounds, don't think of pain, don't think of dying, don't even get angry - DO THE JOB! If you do anything less you'll fail and you'll die!' But that instructor hadn't been torn from the bosom of his family, lied to, cheated, betrayed, shot at, wounded, captured, beaten, and rescued by a friend who looked like the living dead. Now that training took over and she started moving - but she was angry and without mercy. The pistol swung up and spat once, dropping one of the men with a bullet in the chest. "Take that one with us. He's the boss, we'll use him for cover." Even in her anger her mind was clear and there was nothing callous or sadistic about her actions or words, they simply couldn't handle more than one prisoner and there wasn't time for anything more humanitarian - but in a less stressed frame of mind she might possibly have tried.

Tiffy manhandled the KGB boss with one hand whilst Lizzie brought up the rear, a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other. As they started down the stairs they were confronted by two big, competent-looking men starting up. They flung up their pistols, but hesitated when they saw their leader in their line of fire. A short burst from the Uzi toppled them downstairs in a welter of blood. They were nearly at the front door when a shot smashed into the wood inches from Tiffy's head. Lizzie whirled round to find a big man, clad only in pyjama bottoms, bounding down the stairs. Probably only his own speed had spoiled his shot, and Lizzie twisted and fired as he hurtled down the last few steps towards her. The bullet took him in the stomach, folding him double and causing him to career past her, sweeping the pistol from her hand and cannoning into the partly open door, snatching it from Tiffy's hand and crashing it shut.

Tiffy had the Uzi jammed against the KGB man's spine as she heaved at the door to pull it open against the obstruction of the body. Lizzie bent to help drag the body clear, then snatched back as a bullet whanged past her head. She spun round to find another man starting down the stairs, steadying his pistol for another shot. The knife was still in her hand and she threw it in a fast underhand motion, scarcely expecting to do much damage but hoping to spoil his aim for long enough for Tiffy to take him out.

But even after all those years her touch hadn't deserted her. The knife struck him in the solar plexus and sank to the hilt, but it entered obliquely, slicing as much as stabbing. It was a dangerous blow but not an immediately fatal one. Unlike a bullet, a knife has no smashing power to shock the target, it slides in with little impact. His gun hand wobbled slightly but he continued to advance down the stairs, correcting his aim as he moved. Lizzie was frozen in terror, realising too late that Tiffy didn't know that she'd dropped her gun and was defenceless. She braced herself for the impact of the bullet, seeing the pistol foreshorten as it lined up on her, and seeing the bright red of his arterial blood as it poured from his gaping wound.

Then his foot came down on the polished wooden tread that was slick with his own blood, and his foot slipped just a little. But it was enough, the strength that was sufficient to keep him upright was woefully inadequate to correct his balance and he started to topple forward. With appalling concentration he continued to fight for his aim as he toppled in slow motion. Then he was falling full-length down the stair, starting to slide, the haft of the knife catching on a tread and pivoting the knife to slice the tip through the lungs and into the bottom of the heart.

Lizzie dragged her eyes from the body and scanned frantically for her fallen gun, saw it by the skirting board and snatched it up. Tiffy had the door open and was thrusting the KGB man through and following him on the run. Lizzie darted through, knocking up the Yale lock catch and pulling the door shut behind her. That might win them vital seconds if anyone was following.

Three men were running towards them from the direction of the street - they must have been on guard somewhere out there. Tiffy fired a quick burst. She missed but the bullets struck the drive in front of them and showered them with chippings. Whether they thought the chippings were bullets, or whether they suddenly realised that they were badly exposed to the deadly Uzi, she didn't know, but they diverged and dived for cover. She let them go and pushed the KGB man to the left and towards the car.

They were swept by a sudden fusillade of pistol fire from an upstairs window, and the KGB man suddenly staggered and lurched to one side. Perhaps he had been hit, or perhaps he was just taking the opportunity to fake it. It didn't matter, he had served his purpose and was now slowing them down, so they ignored him and sprinted for the corner of the house.

The car was there and the drive was devoid of danger. Tiffy swerved round the front of the car and dived into the driving seat, slamming her door and flinging the Uzi to Lizzie as she hurtled in through the other door. Tiffy reached for the ignition key with one hand and a spare magazine with the other. As the engine sprang into life she tossed the magazine towards Lizzie and rammed the car into gear. The acceleration slammed Lizzie's door shut, jarring her elbow painfully as she smacked the new magazine into place. Then she cursed all electric window winders to hell and damnation as she pressed the button and waited in a frenzy of anxiety as it descended with agonising slowness.

Neither of the women had any illusions about what lay in wait for them around the corner. Just one man with a sub-machine gun, his feet on firm ground and cued by the sound of the engine, could tear them to shreds before they could get any speed up on the loose gravel.

The GTI turned the corner, throwing up a bow wave of gravel like a destroyer at full speed. They had expected the men to be lined up and ready for their approach, but instead they found them piling into the Senator. It flashed through Tiffy's mind that there must be another way out round the back, and that the KGB had expected them to take it. Now they were in confusion as the GTI bore down on them. Gravel was flying from the rear wheels of the Senator as it tried to accelerate. The passengers were trying to get a clear shot, and the driver was swinging the wheel and placing himself in their line of fire.

Lizzie swept up the Uzi as the two cars raced towards each other. There was no time for finesse, she simply aimed at chest height and fired. The Uzi screamed its hysterical chatter and the first part of the burst tore into the driver and front-seat passenger at chest height. Then Tiffy twitched the steering wheel and Lizzie was fighting to keep the barrel down. It took the two men in the back at head height and the remaining glass in the windows went opaque as blood and gore flew everywhere. Then they were away and the confined quarters of the elegant Senator had become a bijou slaughterhouse.

They hit the street at an impossible speed and Tiffy fought the car over the kerb and all the way across the street before she got it under control and travelling in the right direction.

Lizzie craned round, looking for pursuit, and saw that the Kalashnikov was still lying on the back seat. She snatched it up and quickly checked it, smiling grimly now that she had a weapon that could tear any pursuing car apart.

But no pursuit came, obviously there had been only the one car. As she turned round she met Tiffy's eyes in the mirror and blew out her cheeks. Tiffy grinned widely. "Yahoo! That fixed their wagon!" Then she calmed down. "Hey, are you alright, what did they do to you?"

"I'm fine. They had only got as far as the face slapping and kidney punching." She blew out her breath. "But thank God you came when you did, they were just about to start on the drugs." She had a horror of truth drugs and the permanent damage they could inflict on the brain.

Tiffy glanced again in the mirror. "Well, all's well that ends well. They seem to have run out of cars so we're clean away. Airport first stop, eh?"

"No, we must get rid of this car and get another one."

"What for? There's damn little chance they'll catch us now."

Lizzie shook her head sadly. "Tut, tut, Tiffy. What would you do now if you were in their position?"

She considered for a moment. "I'd call any units with transport to try to head us off from the airport, I guess. But they don't have much chance, and I reckon our best bet is to go like the clappers and try to stay ahead of them."

"No, Tiffy. What they'll do is 'phone the police. One quick 'phone call about the carnage we caused back there and we won't have a cat in hell's chance of getting through to the airport. The mess we're in, even our papers won't set us free immediately. They'll drag us back to some police station whilst they try to sort out what's going on. They might mean well, and I've no doubt we'd be released pretty soon, but it wouldn't be quick enough. The KGB would have time to get their act together and they'd kill us no matter where the police held us. No, get off the main road and get us another car."

Tiffy swung right at the next junction and headed for the back streets. After a few twists and turns, they came to a residential street with cars parked along both sides, and a small, dark carpark holding an assortment of cars, lorries, buses and vans. She turned quietly into the carpark and drove towards the back, looking for an empty place, found one between two articulated lorries, and quickly parked. They grabbed their weapons and piled out.

Lizzie spotted a telephone booth along the street. "Try to find something inconspicuous, I'm going to try to 'phone Tommy." She hobbled stiffly down the street, carrying the Kalashnikov and keeping well into the shadows. Picking up the 'phone, she tried Tommy Symonds' home and work numbers, but there was no reply. Then she dialled the number of the Tempelhouf C.O. It rang twice, then a voice answered, "Hello, Falconer here."

"Hello, sorry to call you at this time of night but this is Tommy's friends. We'll be in your vicinity inside the hour and thought we'd look you up if you didn't mind." Her voice was apologetic, as if she really was the friend of a friend who had arrived at an inconvenient time. "If you prefer, we could stop off at a hotel and call in later in the day."

He caught on quickly, despite his broken sleep. "Well, hello, we've been expecting to hear from you. It's no problem at all, I assure you. You come along as fast as you can and we'll have coffee and something to eat ready for you."

"Well, thank you very much, it's very kind of you. We'd certainly appreciate a snack, we're a bit peckish after the drive. I wonder if it would be possible to find a doctor too, one of the children is a bit poorly."

He wouldn't know how many of them to expect, but he'd know that one needed medical attention. He promised to see what he could do to find a doctor, then after a little more polite chat she rang off.

Lizzie was just about to leave the booth when she heard a vehicle approaching and slowing down. At first she thought it was Tiffy, and went to step out. Then she realised it was a Mercedes mini bus with a uniformed driver, and she cursed under her breath as she pressed back into the booth.

The bus stopped right at the booth, and she damned her luck - what were the odds of some bus driver or passenger wanting to use this very booth at this exact time? Then a voice called softly, "Come on, Lizzie, what's keeping you?" and she turned to see Tiffy's face peering at her from under a bus drivers cap.

She dashed in the open door. "Hell's teeth, Tiffy, you nearly gave me a heart attack! What do we need a bloody bus for?" Her voice was sharp with exhaustion and strain.

Tiffy grinned incorrigibly. "Well, it was unlocked - the lock's broken -it had a uniform to cover my mess, it was easy to hot wire and, besides, who would suspect a bus going to the airport?" The cap was much too large but she had brought her piled-up hair forward so that it supported the cap at a jaunty angle.

Lizzie slumped into a seat across from Tiffy and behind her. "Okay, point taken. Now, let's go." She felt the weariness wash through her and made a massive effort to stay alert. "Thanks, Tiffy. That's twice in one night you've saved my bacon. My God, if we get out of this one there is no way the Department will ever get me to go on a job again. Never in my life have I spent so long being so tired and so scared! By Christ, I thought I was for the chop back there with the KGB." The memory came back to her and her voice rose an octave. "Dammit, Tiffy, why the hell did you come back for me? I TOLD you that the first priority was to get the information back to the UK!"

Tiffy grinned without a trace of repentance. "Did you? I must have forgot in all the rush. Anyway, moles are ten a penny, but I only have one mate left. Besides, for all your gabbing on about it, you know as well as I do that you'd have done exactly the same thing." Her tone closed the discussion and Lizzie was too weary to argue further.

Tiffy swung the bus expertly onto the main road and eased her speed up a little "Straight to the COs house?"

"Yes, there's not much point in doing any dodging now, so just go straight there as if we're a normal bus doing a normal run." She paused until a wave of faintness passed. "The sooner we're on an aircraft the better I'll like it -all this is getting too much for me!"

"Me too, pal, me too!" But Tiffy smiled as she said it.

They saw a lot of police activity, and twice they passed through police traps. First there'd be a couple of police cars with armed policemen standing by them with walkie talkie radios in their hands. Then, further down the road would be three or four cars arranged so that they could be used to quickly block the road. Tiffy had tried to rub her face clean using a handkerchief and spit, but all she did was mix the blood and camouflage cream into an unholy mess. Lizzie watched lethargically for a moment, then called, "Forget it, Tiffy. If they stop us we've had it anyway. We're both a mess, and the guns would give us away anyway."

As far as they could see, the police paid no attention to them at all. They had probably sealed off the civil airport itself and were counting on it being so difficult to escape from Berlin that they could move with methodical police precision.

As they approached the turn-off to the Station Commander's house, Tiffy slowed down and looked over her shoulder at Lizzie. "How're you feeling, Pal? D'you think you could make it alone on foot from here? I think it would be better if we didn't take anything as conspicuous as this to the house, somebody might remember it if the police start asking questions about a stolen bus. If you can make it on foot I'll dump it somewhere and hike back."

"I'm okay, just a bit weary, that's all. It's only a couple of hundred yards from the road end anyway."

"Weary my foot! You're suffering from loss of blood, shock and probably damaged kidneys and spleen as well if I know these KGB bastards. You just take your time and I'll be as quick as I can." She slowed the bus to a stop and waited whilst Lizzie alighted stiffly. Then she pulled away and accelerated down the road towards the airport public entrance.

Lizzie walked down the darkened road with the Kalashnikov at the ready and her tiredness-slackened nerves wound up as tight as they would go. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks for the storm that had cut the power to such effect that this area was still in darkness. But even as she thought about it the street lights suddenly switched on as power was restored. Thankfully they were high-pressure sodium lights and would take a while to warm up, in the meantime their pink glow did little to illuminate the street.

As she approached the house, her first impression was that it was in darkness. Then she saw a faint glow through the glass of the door. Someone had probably opened an internal door and let light spill from a lighted room into the dark corridor. She looked carefully around, then rang the bell briefly.

She pressed back into the shadow of the wall as the door opened and the Squadron Leader's quiet voice said. "Hello, where are you?"

Lizzie stepped forward. "I'm here, let's go inside." Then hurried inside and shut the door behind her.

They entered the house and were met by a young man in a dressing gown. "What's going on, Dad?"

"Just business, son, go back to bed." He turned to Lizzie. "Come this way."

He led her into the softly lit living room. "Well, you've returned - now, what can I do for you." He turned towards her and for the first time took in her appearance. Her blackened, battered, blood-stained features, stained clothes and tired appearance made him pause. In particular, the Kalashnikov with its massive night sight captured his gaze for a moment. His eyes returned to her face and for the first time read the pain and weariness in them. "Come, sit down, I have coffee and a meal just about ready. It's just a fry-up but I didn't want to wake the others and get them involved." He turned to his son. "Roland, if you're going to stay up could you go to the kitchen and take over the cooking?"

Returning his attention to Lizzie he hesitated, then asked, "Where's your friend? I thought from what you said on the 'phone that there was at least two of you. She is alright is she?"

"Oh yes, she's fine. She's just dumping the vehicle. We had to steal it so we thought it wouldn't be very nice to leave it parked outside your front door." She smiled with a visible effort.

"So it's you who needs the medical attention. I've called the Senior Medical Officer and he should be here soon. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?"

She shook her head, then realised that the son, Roland, hadn't moved, and was staring at her open mouthed. "Hello, was it your car we borrowed?"

"Yes, yes it was."

"Well, I think it's okay and parked just north of the Fritz-Schloss Park." She turned to look at the IO. "I suggest you get your bomb disposal boys to look it over first, just in case our friends from the East have booby trapped it." Turning back to the young man, she continued, "We are eternally in your debt for the loan, it probably saved our lives." She smiled warmly at him.

He seemed flustered for a moment, them murmured, "My pleasure," and almost ran to the kitchen in his hurry to help.

As he shut the door behind him, she turned to the Intelligence Officer and spoke in a low, urgent voice. "We need to get out of here - fast. What can you do for us tonight?"

"Well, there's a Hercules going out at about nine am, but nothing else I'm afraid."

She looked at her watch. "It's not quite five, that's a long time to wait." Seeing his doubt, she continued in a tone laden with tension. "I speak no more than the truth when I say that national security of the highest level is at stake. Is there any other aircraft on the station that could be used?"

He rubbed his chin. "Well, there's the AOC's Dominie, I could try to get in touch with him but it might not be easy."

"What's a Dominie?"

"A business jet - what's called a British Aerospace 125 in civilian guise. The Air Force uses them in a number of roles, this one is used to ferry senior officers around - in this case the Air Officer Commanding."

"Does he fly it himself, or is there a pilot hanging around somewhere?"

"There's a crew, pilot and co-pilot. They're probably in the Mess."

"Roust them out and get the aircraft ready to go, it's just been commandeered."

"I can't do that! I'd probably be cashiered, and anyway I don't have the authority to do that kind of thing."

Lizzie's voice lost all warmth and her green eyes blazed at him from her dirty, ashen face. "If you don't, and we survive or the word gets back to the Authorities, you won't PROBABLY be cashiered - you will CERTAINLY be cashiered! Believe me, the information we're carrying is worth a lot more than that - more than a squadron of any aircraft on your inventory. Now, who do you need to get to authorise it?"

He held her eyes for a long moment, then nodded abruptly. "Alright, I'll try to find out where the AOC himself is, but he may not be staying in the Mess tonight. If I can't find him I'll try the CO, but he might have to get permission from someone higher up."

"Alright, but they must not contact our outfit in the UK. Make sure that's crystal clear."

He went out into the hallway to use the telephone and returned a few minutes later. "The AOC is going to get his crew out to get the aircraft ready for flight but he wants to see you in his suite in the Mess before he gives permission for takeoff. The aircraft will be ready for takeoff well inside the hour so we'd better hurry."

She breathed out noisily. "Thank you. Now, can I use your 'phone to call Tommy Symonds?"

"No point, Tommy was involved in a serious car accident a couple of days ago, he's still in hospital, but out of intensive care, thank God."

She flinched visibly. "Was it a genuine accident, or is foul play suspected?"

"As far as I know it was a genuine accident. The driver of the other car was killed so Tommy wasn't just driven off the road or anything like that."

"I see." She leaned back and shut her eyes for a moment. She was just about to continue when the door bell rang.

 

Tiffy found a quiet spot just off the main road and about a mile and a half from the COs house. She was just stripping off the borrowed uniform when the street lights came on. She cursed softly and hurriedly stuffed her cap in her pocket, if she was seen jogging her jump suit would look enough like a track suit to excite no comment - perhaps. Enough people went jogging in the quiet of the night for her to be regarded as no more than mildly fanatical. She carried the Uzi tucked up under forearm and broke into what she hoped would look like an athletic lope.

As she approached the house she slowed to a walk, and then drifted silently off the road and did a complete and thorough check of the whole surrounding area. Nothing stirred, so she went to the door and pressed briefly on the bell three times, then two longer prods. The IO answered, but Lizzie was right behind him and ready for trouble.

She stepped into the living room and, elevating her nose, sniffed the air. "Do I smell coffee and food? Gee, I'm starving and could drink a lake dry."

Roland backed through the kitchen door carrying a large tray loaded with two plates of steak, sausage, beans, chips and mushrooms. "I hope you'll find these alright, ladies. I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook."

Tiffy's eyes lit up. "How could you say such a thing! This looks just marvellous." She picked a cup of coffee from the tray before he could even lay it on the coffee table, took a long swig and breathed out gustily. "Whew, pure nectar, Jeeves!"

The Squadron Leader and his son looked at Tiffy in amazement, her face was a horrible, blotchy mess of blood and camouflage cream, her hair where it hadn't been covered by the woollen cap was caked solid with hardened blood, and the whole front of her jump suit was stiff and flaking. She caught their gaze and grinned, her teeth startlingly white in the gruesome face. "Don't worry, the blood's not mine! When I've eaten I could do with a quick wash though, the damned stuff keeps sticking my eyelashes together."

She dumped her bottom into a convenient chair, grabbed a plate and fork, and started eating rapidly. Lizzie followed suit but picked at her food as if too tired to eat. Gradually, though, as the taste got through to her, her appetite recovered and she started to eat with reasonable relish.

Tiffy poured herself a second cup of coffee, cooled it with a large gush of milk, and downed it in one long swallow. Wiping her lips with her sleeve, she got to her feet and hitched up the sling of the Uzi. "Could one of you show me to a sink so that I can get rid of the worst of this mess?"

Roland was immediately on his feet. "This way, please."

She returned a few minutes later, with her face scrubbed clean and then re-blackened with camouflage cream. She put on her cap over hair she had carefully avoided getting wet, she hadn't time to wash it properly and if she'd got it wet she'd have had blood dripping down her face. She made for the door, calling,"Lizzie, I'll just go out and have another check around."

Lizzie nodded. "Right. Oh, before you go, let's have what money you have left." Without a word, Tiffy unzipped a pocket and handed over a bundle of notes. Lizzie separated out a small bundle of East German Marks and handed them back. "You'd better keep them in case we go down in East Germany on the way out." She turned back to the Squadron Leader, but before she could speak she was pre-empted by Roland.

"Shall I go out and give her a hand? If you lend me your rifle I'll give her some support." When Lizzie shook her head he burst out, "But it might be dangerous for her out there on her own."

Lizzie smiled gently at the thought of this gauche young man, out there in his dressing gown protecting Tiffy. "No, she'll be fine. Believe me, if anybody is in danger out there it's the opposition." Seeing his doubt she explained. "Tiffy is a nocturnal creature and likes nothing better than to prowl around alone at night, most people think of darkness as presenting a threat, she thinks of it as presenting opportunities. Take my word for it, we've worked together for a long time and Tiffy with an Uzi is not the sort of combination that anybody wants to come up against on a dark night. Nobody is less in need of help than she is. If you went out her efficiency would be impaired by having to look after you." It was cruel, but the flat certainty of her words must have carried conviction because he swallowed and said nothing. She continued, "Besides, we're already deeply in your debt for the loan of the car." She extracted a bundle of money from her own pocket and added it to that she'd received from Tiffy. Leafing through it quickly she proffered the bundle. "I'm a bit rusty with exchange rates but I think that will just about cover the price of an Audie Quattro."

"No! No need at all."

"Don't worry, it's a gift from a grateful country. We were given it to pay our way and, if necessary, to do a bit of bribary. As it happened, we didn't need to do any bribary so we have plenty left to pay our debts." She smiled and thrust the bundle into his hand. "Go on, take it. It will save us all the bother of filling in forms for its return when we get back."

"Well ... well, thank you but I was pleased to be of help."

"I know, and that makes your action all the more laudable. Now, do you think you could make another pot of coffee, Tiffy will fancy another cup when she gets back?"

He nodded, hesitated looking from one to the other, then divined correctly that Lizzie had something private to say to his father. Lizzie waited until the door shut behind him, then still hesitated as she weighed up the risks. Suddenly coming to a decision, she asked "Could you let me have a sheet of writing paper, an envelope and a pencil?"

"Certainly." He went to a small bureau in the corner and opened it. "Would you like to use them here?"

"Thanks." She sat down stiffly on the hard wooden chair and selected a pencil from a small pile of them. Looking critically at its point, she picked up a small penknife and sharpened the pencil to a chisel point. Then she commenced to fill the page with peculiar heiroglyphics. When she'd finished, she folded the paper, sealed it in the envelope and addressed it. Standing up, she handed the envelope to him. "If we don't make it, you must ensure that this envelope gets to this address. I cannot emphasise highly enough how important it is. I suggest you arrange to be picked up by a high performance military aircraft, preferably with an escort so that you don't disappear on the way, and that you take an escort from your RAF Regiment with you when you deliver it. I stress that I am NOT over-reacting. The man you want is an elderly, aristocratic gentleman, almost completely bald, with a little grey moustache and wearing glasses. Give it to no one else at that address. If anything has befallen him, take it to the Prime Minister. Okay?"

"Well, yes, if you say so."

"If we get through okay, I'll 'phone you and tell you to destroy the envelope and its contents without opening it. If you don't, you will be guilty of treason." She felt mildly guilty about overstating the point, she could 'phone any number of people about Duncan Lawson and he would be dealt with - indeed, the surest way would be to 'phone the night desk of one of the tabloid newspapers. But the danger didn't just lie in Duncan being a double agent in a crucially sensitive job. Equally damaging could be the aftermath of yet another spy scandal. Britain would be excluded from the club of Secret Service agencies of the Free World, and the lack of shared information could conceivably lead the country into desperate danger. No, the gamble of either she, Tiffy or the Squadron Leader getting the message through was worth taking.

Roland returned with the coffee pot in one hand and four mugs in the other. As he set them on the table, his father turned to Lizzie. "Do sit down and help yourself."

She hesitated and looked at the armchair she'd occupied before. A dirty stain disfigured part of the cushion cover. Now that the tension was ebbing away, her wound was throbbing unmercifully and her movements were stiff and clumsy. The mess in the chair suddenly seemed the final straw, and she felt tears well up in her eyes. "Oh, I am sorry! I've made a mess of your chair." She stood looking at the stain with a helpless expression on her face.

It was only then that the two men realised that it was not just her face that was wounded, and that the black stain down her left side and thigh was dried blood. "Good Lord, you're hurt! Can we do something to help?"

She shook her head wearily. "No, it's alright. It's just a nick, the bullet passed right through without touching anything important. It can wait for the doctor to arrive - or failing that I can get it attended to when we get back to the UK."

"A bullet wound! You should have said, I would have told the SMO it was urgent."

"No need, honestly, it's a bit stiff, that's all." She straightened her back with an effort, pulled over the wooden chair from the bureau and sat down. The pain brought on another wave of faintness and she felt the prickling of sweat running between her breasts. She knew that her wounds and her tiredness were catching up on her and she would have to give in soon, but she steeled herself and spoke in a voice that was nearly normal. "More important, bend your mind to how this Dominie can get us to the UK with least risk. Assume that the Soviets and the East Germans will know we're on it and will want to stop us enough to take almost any measures, even to the point of shooting us down." She grimaced wryly. "It would all be a most regrettable accident, of course."

"Good Lord, they'd never do that!"

Her lips twitched into a tired smile. "You think not? Well, perhaps you're right - but I would in their position so let's take every precaution, just in case. All I'm trying to say is that you should minimise any such risks, even if it means breaking any rules on any statute book. Okay?"

"Well, yes. I'll have to talk to the pilot and try to work something out."

"Oh, and can you arrange for us all to have parachutes?"

They were interrupted by Tiffy returning. "No problem, all is peace and tranquillity out there." She sniffed the air. "Do I smell more coffee? I'd love another cup. Her eyes fell on the coffee pot and she reached out hands as black as any urchin's to take the cup handed her by the attentive Roland. She sighed with contentment as she took a long swallow, then looked around the three faces. "Well, what's been decided?"

"We've commandeered the personal jet of the Air Officer Commanding and will be taking off in about thirty minutes, I hope. Drink up, it's time we were going." Lizzie had just decided to give the doctor a miss when the sound of a car was heard. Tiffy dropped her cup and headed for the back door. "Hold the fort, Lizzie. I'll just make sure it's only the MO."

A couple of minutes later the front door opened and an elderly man entered carrying a medical bag. Tiffy was right behind him.

The IO welcomed him. "Hello, Sam. It's good of you to come at this time of night." He stood aside as they reached the living room, and indicated Lizzie. "There's your patient. Would you like somewhere private to examine her?"

Before the doctor could reply Lizzie broke in. "No need for that, we haven't much time left and all I need is strapping up."

"I'll be the judge of that, my lady. Now, let's have a look at you."

Tiffy helped her gently ease off the top of the jump suit and expose the sodden field dressings. Then she stood back and watched expressionlessly as the doctor peeled away the dressings to reveal the angry wounds.

He bent down and prodded gently around the entry and exit wounds. "Humph. You were very lucky. It seems to have been a small calibre, low velocity bullet. It entered between two ribs, just nicking them on the way, and then slid around the inside of the rib cage and exited near the front of the short ribs. It'll have done a fair bit of tearing on the way round but since you're still on your feet it probably didn't touch anything vital. You should be in hospital but I suppose I'd be wasting my breath to insist on that so I'll just clean it up and strap you up. Get to a hospital as soon as you can, and don't waste any time if the discomfort increases."

Lizzie stood like a statue, jaw clamped and her face chalky white and shining with sweat as he cleansed the wound and strapped her up. When he had finished she shook her head at his offer to fix her facial bruises and to give her painkillers. "Thank you, Doctor, but no, the pain isn't too bad and I still have things to do tonight." With Tiffy's help she laboriously re-dressed.

Lizzie took the Kalashnikov that Tiffy was holding out to her and, looking at the doctor who was repacking his bag, spoke with a visible effort. "Thanks, doc, I'm much obliged to you." Turning to Roland, she held out her hand. "Thank you for all that you've done, we're most grateful." Then, swaying slightly on rubbery legs she started for the door. "Now, if you'll all excuse us we'd better be going."

Tiffy gulped down the last of her coffee and shook hands with Roland. "Thanks for everything, and I hope your car is okay - you'll just love that Quattro anyway!" She smiled the innocent smile of a naive young maiden, and then broke the illusion by letting her hand fall to the Uzi and heading for the door, saying, "I'll just check that the coast is clear."

They gave her a few moments, and then followed her out to the Squadron Leader's official car. Five minutes later they stopped at the side of the Officer's Mess. "We'll go in the side door to avoid the staff." He led them up a dimly lit stair to the top floor and knocked on a door.

It was opened by a grey haired man in a dressing gown. "Ah, it's you, Blakey. Come in, come in." He shut the door and turned to them. "Now, what's all this about wanting to borrow my aircraft?"

"These two ladies are with the Security Services, Sir, and must get back to the UK tonight." He gestured towards the two women standing in the shadows cast by the single standard lamp.

"Humph! And what is the reason for this urgency? And come over here where I can get a good look at you."

They stepped forward into the pool of light and Lizzie answered."I cannot reveal the nature of our business, but we had a brush with the KGB a few hours ago and left a number of them dead. The KGB want us stopped and the German police are looking for us. It is therefore imperitive that we get out immediately."

He looked at them for a long moment. "You look more like terrorists than Security people. How do I know that you are who you say you are?"

"A terrorist or a freedom fighter is just a matter of whose side you are on, Sir." Lizzie answered wearily. "But Squadron Leader Blakey can vouch for us."

"That's correct, Sir. My instructions to help them came directly from the MOD."

"I see. Very well, take them to my aircraft. I'll call my crew and Operations and give them their orders." He turned to the two women and added gruffly, "Good luck, ladies, I hope you have a safe journey."

They were out in the car before the Squadron Leader spoke. "Whew, thank God for that! He has a reputation for being a bit of an old woman and I half expected him to want to 'phone the MOD to check my story. If I read Tommy correctly this is all a bit unofficial. Right?"

"The mission is official but there was some fear of a mole in our outfit so we got Captain Symonds to arrange our travel unofficially." Lizzie extemporised.

"Hah. Well, whatever the reason, if he'd 'phoned the MOD the old fertiliser/fan interspace would have dropped to zero pretty bloody quick and we'd all have been in it up to our necks."

"I know, and we're grateful for all you've done for us."

They drew up alongside a sleek twin-jet aircraft and climbed out. The entry door was open so the Squadron Leader led them straight aboard and turned forward towards the Flight Deck. He introduced the two women to the startled crew, and then suggested that they take a seat whilst he discussed their flight path with the pilot. The women sank into the soft seats and, for the first time since this thing had started, felt that matters were out of their hands, for a while at least. Tiffy pulled off her cap and shook out her hair. "I hate to count our chickens before they're hatched, or what ever you country bumkins do with them, but I think we just might have got away with it. I do confess that I've had the odd doubt along the way."

Lizzie was lying back with her eyes closed and the pallor of her skin showing through the camouflage cream. "I hope you're right, if this thing gets shot down and we end up creeping about through East Germany I'll just scream. God, Tiffy! I'm too old for this game, I'm completely and utterly clapped out."

Squadron Leader Blakey returned and stopped in front of them. "We've talked it over and have decided that you'll stay low through the middle corridor and go flat out. I'll contact one of our bases in West Germany and get you an escort for the rest of the way to the UK. On balance, I don't think it would be a good idea to have the escort come along the corridor to meet you. Alright?"

Lizzie nodded wanly. "Yes, that's fine." She held out her hand. "Thank you for all you've done - and please take good care of yourself until this is all over. If they get rid of us on the way, it's quite possible that they might try to eliminate all our contacts in case we've passed the word."

"Don't worry, I'll take good care." He shook hands with Tiffy and strode towards the door. A moment later he was back with a parachute harness and pack in each hand. "Sorry, I nearly forgot about these. Do you know how to use them or would you like some instruction?"

"Thanks." Tiffy took both from him. "It's alright, we're a bit rusty but we've jumped before." She helped Lizzie into her harness, then clipped the pack onto the hooks so that it was held in front of her chest. Then she quickly donned her own. The Squadron Leader stood and watched for a moment, little realising that by noon he'd be reading of the nights carnage, and would be putting two and two together to come to the conclusion that the mayhem was probably the work of the tall, gaunt-faced Lizzie and the tiny, cheerful Tiffy.

The little jet took off into the darkness without any lights, and stayed low. The two women sank back into their seats and the exhausted Lizzie dropped off to sleep. Tiffy relaxed and watched the lights flicker by.

After about fifteen minutes in the air, she felt the nose tilt up and wondered for a brief instant whether they were being attacked. Then she realised that they had left the Berlin corridor and were climbing over West Germany. She saw the navigation lights flick on, and then saw the lights of another aircraft close by.

As they climbed, they soared into the rays of the morning sun and she was enchanted to see the dim shape of their companion suddenly solidify into a missile-hung Tornado ADV fighter. Peering past Lizzie she saw that another one rode out to their right. Smiling contentedly she leant back and went to sleep, waking only when the wheels thumped concrete at Snetrup Magna.

The Station Commander met them at the bottom of the steps and drove them straight to his house, where they picked up the white XR3. Lizzie sank stiffly into her seat and, unclipping the night sight from the Kalashnikov tossed it onto the back seat. There was still the possibility of danger but at least it was daylight for a change.

Their journey back to London was a devious one and they saw no sign of danger of any kind - apart, as Lizzie later observed, from Tiffy's maniacal driving.

CHAPTER 8

They drove slowly past the guards and into the car park under the Department, their feelings a mixture of weary relief at nearing the end of their mission, and a smouldering desire for vengeance. They stopped briefly at the office of the Deputy Director and Lizzie pushed open the door and stood swaying in the aperture like a Frankenstien cast-off. The Personal Assistant's eyes widened but before she could speak, Lizzie asked. "Could you just tell me whether the Deputy Director was in the building on the first and second of the month?"

The PA flipped open a large desk diary. "No, he was not. We were decimated by the flu that week. Both the Director and the Deputy Director were bedridden. Mr Lawson, the Western Europe Controller, stood in for him - although even he was so ill he could hardly talk. He just sat in the DDs office as a kind of token official presence, didn't leave the place all day."

"Thank you." Lizzie and Tiffy exchanged glances, the final bit in the jigsaw puzzle of evidence had fallen into place.

They continued along the corridor to the office of the Director, and knocked briefly before walking into the outer office. They immediately recognised the Personal Assistant, Miss Green who had occupied this same post when they were on active service. Her hair was now grey and her face more lined but she had lost none of her freezing glare and incisive speech.

"Is the Director in?" Lizzie was polite but clearly not in the mood for procrastination.

Miss Green took her time surveying them, noting the crumpled jump suits, the unwashed appearance and the guns. "Yes. But he sees visitors only by appointment." She was so sure of her authority that she scorned any subterfuge like denying his presence.

When Lizzie immediately strode towards the heavy oak door of the inner office, Miss Green jumped to her feet to head her off, clearly taken aback at such an affront to her authority. "Stop this minute! Take a seat and give me your names, then I will ask if he will see you."

But she was too late, Tiffy had deftly stepped between her and Lizzie. "Oh I think he'll see us. We're old friends." Miss Green stopped abruptly, furious at the inferred taunt but too well educated in the hair-trigger ways of field agents to try to push her way past.

Lizzie rapped on the door and opened it in the same movement. The elderly man sitting behind the vast desk looked up. "Yes, what is it." His voice was curt.

"Hullo, Sir Hector. I don't suppose you remember us. We were active in the field fifteen years ago. We're Gemini."

There was a long silence as he scrutinised them. "My God, so you are. The Heavenly Twins!" He got up and came round the desk, hand outstretched in greeting. "Elizabeth, Tiffany, it's wonderful to see you again." He shook hands warmly with them both. "But what's all this? You look as if you have just returned from a tough one, have you rejoined the Firm?"

"Only temporarily, Sir. We've just arrived back from Berlin and would like you to be present when we report to Duncan Lawson. First, though, we'd like to fill you in on the mission."

"Well, of course, but wouldn't you prefer me to ask Miss Green to telephone Duncan and ask him to join us. It would save you the trouble of reporting twice."

"Please don't do that, Sir Hector. You see, we have evidence that Duncan is a KGB agent."

For a moment he was shocked, but he recovered quickly. "I see. We have suspected a mole for some time, but Duncan... ." He returned to his desk and sat down. "Please be seated, ladies, and tell me all about it."

Tiffy took over as spokeswoman and for the next ten minutes gave a clear, concise report of all that had happened. He listened intently and asked few questions, then when she had finished he lapsed into silence. They could see his astute mind sifting and weighing the words. Eventually he said. "Most convincing, ladies, but it wouldn't stand up in court. It's largely circumstantial, and that's hardly likely to improve without Dimitrov to back you up. Duncan will be removed, of course, but there's little more that could be done without washing too much dirty linen in public."

Tiffy started to speak but Lizzie silenced her with a frown. "Perhaps not, Sir. Come with us to Duncan's office and we'll confront him with it, he might condemn himself." Lizzie and Tiffy got up and walked towards the door, giving him little chance to refuse.

They walked past Duncan's secretary without a glance. She started to protest but saw the Director and subsided into silence. Duncan looked up sharply as they entered, saw the Director and got quickly to his feet. "Sir, ladies, do come in, take a seat."

Lizzie ignored the invitation and stood four-square in front of him, swaying slightly. "We've come to report, Duncan, and we've brought Sir Hector along to hear the story. "We went to Berlin as instructed, and we found Dimitrov. We also discovered the secret of why we were recalled." A momentary panic flashed across his face. "Yes, Duncan, we know you're a Soviet agent and that Dimitrov was your Controller."

Her voice was soft, unhurried, unemotional, but it had the certainty of a judge passing sentence. "You have been a KGB agent for many years, more than fifteen anyway. That last job we went on before we retired was your doing. Marie was working in the Middle East at the time and she had come across something that could tie you to Dimitrov. She didn't realise it, but you and Dimitrov realised that, given time and a proper debriefing, she probably would. So you had to get rid of her."

"You trumped up the theft of the missile inertial platform to have a reason to mount a raid into Russian territory, and you whisked Marie straight from the Middle East to join us in Finland on the excuse that she was the only explosives expert available and was due home for debriefing anyway. You included us on the job because you knew that we kept in close touch with Marie and you thought she might have told us something. So what better way to get rid of us all than in a sell-out inside Russia?"

"Dimitrov and his team holed up in a remote outpost that looked like a reasonably easy nut to crack. What we didn't know was that a mine shaft ran from it through the mountain to a similar post on the other side. That's how Dimitrov slipped away when we blew the place up. He never was a field agent, he was a desk-bound man, a Controller, and he got out before the crud started flying."

"What was supposed to happen was that we'd be held off for a while and then be overwhelmed by back-up troops from the other post."

"Unfortunately for them, we moved faster than predicted and, thanks to Marie, had the place blown up and were on our way out before they could spring the trap. Marie was killed and I quit immediately and Tiffy not long afterwards, so you decided that we probably didn't know anything and left us alone."

Duncan's face was white but his voice remained firm. "Balls! You both quit because of combat fatigue - shell shock - and you've obviously flipped your lids. The job was exactly what it was supposed to be."

Lizzie waited for him to stop and then continued implacably. "Your secret stayed safe for another fifteen years - until recently, when Dimitrov decided to defect. He knew that Sir Hector would soon be retiring and that you, one of the most capable men in the business, must be in line for a top job in the ensuing reshuffle. So he decided that the time was ripe, he would come over to us and use his information on you as his bargaining counter for a better life."

"He had to go to a conference in East Berlin so he took the chance and skipped across to West Berlin. Unfortunately, he didn't manage to get clean away, and the KGB were onto him before he could get out of Berlin. He knew that the KGB would stop at nothing to silence him, you were too valuable to give up without a hard fight. So he didn't dare give himself up in Berlin, he knew the Authorities couldn't guarantee to protect him long enough to get him to the UK and then onwards to his new life. So he went into hiding in West Berlin, where it was very difficult for the KGB to search for him, and sent a message to British Intelligence."

"That was when you had a real stroke of luck. Through you, Dimitrov knew exactly how the Department functioned and who did what. So, when he started to defect, the first thing he did was to send a message to the Deputy Director to offer himself in a deal. Of course, he didn't say anything about you, but he knew that news of a defection by someone of his status would be passed upwards, not downwards to you. What he couldn't know was that the Deputy Director was away all that week, and you were standing in for him. Of course, as your controller for many years, he would normally have recognised your voice - but that week you had a stinking cold and could hardly speak. So you managed to intercept the message, and you didn't tell anyone in the Department, just made your plans accordingly."

"Of course, the KGB informed you as well, but the point was that, in standing in for the Deputy Director, you were able to prevent all knowledge of the defection from reaching anyone else in the Department. You could see disaster staring you in the face, so you decided to send a team to Berlin. After all, a British team could do what the KGB couldn't, it could search openly for Dimitrov in West Berlin. You told us that you had sent a pair of agents and that they had disappeared, but that was a lie. You didn't dare send in agents officially in case they actually got Dimitrov out instead of killing him. But Dimitrov had specifically asked for us - because he knew us by sight and reputation - and that was another stroke of luck for you. You knew that we hated Dimitrov for Marie's death, and you thought you could manipulate us so that we'd either kill him on sight or lead the KGB to him."

Duncan said nothing, so Lizzie continued, her quiet voice like Chinese water torture. "You knew where Tiffy lived so you telephoned her early in the morning and told her to report to you immediately. You knew she would get to your office without being seen, and you gave her a tale about Dimitrov having returned to active service and being on the hunt for both of us. You could have telephoned me as well, but you knew that I would be a much more reluctant recruit than Tiffy, and that I'd probably ask awkward questions and insist on seeing the Director - which would have screwed up your plan."

"So you arranged to have genuine agents collect our families and take them to a safe house - as far as we know that's genuine enough but, if necessary, you could easily have got them to your KGB friends to put pressure on us."

"You instructed Tiffy to contact me, and you arranged for a KGB squad to go for us to make it appear that what you were saying was true and that Dimitrov was getting so close that the only thing we could do was agree. When we met you at the pub near Letchworth you had no trouble convincing us that we should tackle Dimitrov ourselves."

She glanced fleetingly at the Director. "That KGB hit team really threw us off the scent. Even after we'd talked to Dimitrov we still had difficulty believing him because the KGB squad had been real. It took a long time for the penny to drop. Duncan always was a long-term thinker - I remember how we used to admire the way he'd plan a job many steps ahead and people would almost always do as he'd predicted as if they were actors. That was when we realised the true significance of that squad." She paused and looked hard at Duncan. "Oh they did make it easy for you to convince us to take on the job, but you could have done that a lot more easily. If you'd just called us in and told us your story we'd have believed you - just to get our hands on Dimitrov. But you knew, even then, that we might start to wonder about the job - wonder why you'd really called back a pair of has-beens when you could have used your own men if everything had been kosher. But you, being devious Duncan, foresaw that, and you arranged the KGB team primarily to confuse our thinking if we started to have doubts about you. You knew we'd think, 'if there was any contact with the KGB they'd have had no reason for the hit team'."

"Of course, it was quite brilliant. If, as you suspected, we'd be good enough to take care of them - and they were pretty low-grade characters - that would just have made us more certain that Dimitrov was genuine KGB. Not only that, it would have made us believe that we were still the tops, and would have made us more likely to agree wih you when you told us to go to Berlin. I suppose that if they'd captured us you'd have engineered our escape in some way so that we could continue with the mission. Clever, but not clever enough."

"You convinced us that we should go to Berlin - and then briefed the KGB that we were on our way. They couldn't actually search for Dimitrov, but they could easily keep an eye on us. If we'd killed Dimitrov, well, that would have been fine, the KGB would just have drifted back home with a job well done. On the other hand, if we'd taken him alive they'd just have stepped in and eliminated us all. Even if they couldn't kill us in Berlin they could make sure we didn't get him out. The real beauty of the whole plan was that we didn't actually have to be any good at all. Nobody was out to get us, in fact all sides were actively helping us to find Dimitrov. Of course, after we'd found him, things would have been different. Unfortunately for you, we weren't quite as decrepit as you had thought, and we managed to get Dimitrov away from them alive."

"But our real stroke of luck was that they wounded Dimitrov before we could get him away. If they'd killed him outright we'd never have heard his story, and if the wound had been less severe he'd have kept his mouth shut until we got him back here - and, of course, your friends would have made sure we didn't do that. But he knew his wound was fatal, and when we told him our story he worked out who had put us on the job - so he told us everything."

Lizzie smiled quietly. "So you see, Duncan, we know it all so you might as well admit it and turn State's evidence. If you tell them all about what you've been up to they might just swap you for one of ours."

But Duncan was far too astute to fall for that, even when in severe shock his analytical mind continued to work. He laughed harshly. "Sorry, Lizzie, you were a good agent but you don't understand Law or politics. Whether your story is true or not doesn't matter a tinker's cuss because all your evidence is just circumstantial. Oh, I'll have to resign, of course. But they won't charge me - even if they could make it stick, which I doubt, there'd be too many things aired in public for them to risk it. Can't you just see the headlines! Britain's Security Services are the laughing stock already, nobody in Britain or abroad would touch them with a barge pole for at least a generation. No, Lizzie, I'll have to resign but they won't even stop my pension."

Sir Hector cleared his throat. "Hum hum, I'm afraid he's right. He's a despicable slug without honour, but all we can do is keep him here for a few days until we can check out his house etc, and then accept his resignation."

Lizzie had been standing with the Kalashnikov dangling, muzzle down, from her shoulder. Now she seemed to merely twitch and it was in her big, capable hands, with the muzzle lined unwaveringly on Duncan. "I'm afraid not, Sir Hector. You see, Marie was our friend and he didn't just engineer her death, he made me kill her. She knew she was going to die for minutes before she actually did, but she did at least die quickly. Now he is going to get exactly the same treatment, he's going to die but I'll make it quick."

She stood quite still for a moment, watching the realisation dawn on Duncan's face, seeing him recognise the death in her eyes. Then she moved slightly, spreading her feet and twisting her body as she adopted the firm stance needed to control a powerful weapon. Then she squeezed the trigger and the Kalashnikov breathed fire and death. The heavy slugs started at the groin and stitched a neat row of small holes from there to his throat. Each slug entered at supersonic speed and ploughed through tissue and bone, giving up kinetic energy as heat as it slowed down. The heat boiled the body fluids at explosive speed and the expanding shock wave of vapour formed a supersonic shock cone that tore tissue asunder as if from an exploding charge. The exit holes at the back were fist sized, tearing the spine to shreds. Then the heavy slugs continued onwards, and ended their flight by smashing the heavy oak panelling to matchwood.

Even as the Kalashnikov started it's basso profundo drum roll of death, the Uzi joined in with its hysterical soprano giggle and Duncan's handsome, scheming head dissolved in a whirling welter of splintered bone and liquidised brain.

The body was hurled back against the wall, and in the time-compressed atmosphere of the instant, seemed to take an eternity to slide to the floor. The three stood in frozen silence for a long moment, and then Lizzie turned to the Director. "Sir, I think it would be best if we went and left this in your hands. Perhaps you could get our families returned to us, and call the Firm's Nursing Home to let them know I'll be with them in a couple of hours."

"Yes, of course. It's better this way, a most regrettable accident, of course, but really the best way." His face was ashen and his voice had a slight tremor as he dragged his eyes from the oozing mass and turned towards them. "Thank you, ladies. You've done your country a great service."

As they turned to leave, Lizzie said. "Stay alert, Sir. We will from now on." He nodded silently and she knew that he understood that their comfortable life was over. They'd return to their families but they could never again be complacent. They wouldn't be handing in the Kalashnikov nor the Uzi.

They walked silently to the car and climbed in. "Okay, Tiffy old friend. Wind up this little bitty car and take us to our fine civilian limousine." Lizzy sighed with relief. She was weary, but dark thoughts that had accompanied her for years were gone. Marie had been avenged, and it was as if the tortured soul that had been plucking at the edge of her powers for years had finally found peace.

The End