"No chance, darlin'," she said comfortably, resting her chin on his head again. "I told him she was doing night ops on Salisbury Plain. It was crawling with soldiers three days ago-training for Afghanistan, I guess-so it'll be like looking for a needle in a haystack… 'ssuming the needle was ever there, of course."

Message from Mark

Emergency. Phone me ASAP

Mark had one last try to get through, then thrust his mobile into James's hand and spun the wheel to take the Lexus back onto the road. "Do you know how these things work?"

James looked at the tiny machine in his palm. The buttons glowed for a second or two in the darkness, then went out. "I'm afraid not," he confessed. "The only mobile telephone I ever used was the size of a shoe box."

"No problem. Give it back to me when it rings." Mark floored the accelerator and drove at high speed up the narrow lane, scraping the bank with his tires.

James braced himself against the dashboard. "Would you mind if I give you a few facts of my life?" he said.

"Go ahead."

"Apart from the problem of IRA terrorism-which is an ongoing alert-there is now the threat of al-Qaeda terrorism. Both these factors mean military camps are no-go areas to anyone without documents and authority… and that includes army personnel." He flinched as the hedgerow loomed dangerously close in the headlights. "The best you and I, as civilians, can hope for is that we can persuade the sergeant of the guard to phone through and ask Nancy to come to the gate. He will almost certainly refuse and suggest we apply through proper channels tomorrow. Under no circumstances will we be allowed to wander around the camp, looking for her. Our friend on the telephone will be subject to the same restrictions."

They screamed around a bend. "Are you saying there's no point going?"

"I'm certainly questioning the wisdom of dying in the attempt," the old man said dryly. "Even if we do decide to proceed, an extra fifteen minutes will make no difference to Nancy's safety."

"Sorry." Mark slowed to a manageable speed. "I just think she needs to know what's going on."

"We don't know ourselves."

"Warn her, then."

"You've already done that with your message." The old man's tone was apologetic. "We're not going to find out anything by running away, Mark. Headlong flight smacks of panic under fire. Standing our ground will at least tell us who and what we're up against."

"You've been doing that for weeks," Mark pointed out impatiently, "and it's got you precisely nowhere. Also, I don't see why you're suddenly so laid-back about him knowing her name and address. It's you who keeps describing him as a madman."

"Which is why I'd like to keep him in my sights," said James calmly. "If we know anything in this present situation, it's that he's at our door. Almost certainly with the travelers. He's obviously been watching us… may even have followed us to Mrs. Weldon's… and if he did, then he'll have seen which way we turned out of her drive. At the moment, the Manor is undefended and that may have been what his last call was intended to achieve."

Mark's headlights picked up a break in the hedgerow a hundred yards ahead where a gate led into a field. He drew into it and was preparing to do a three-point turn when James laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"You'll never make a soldier, my boy," he said with a smile in his voice, "not unless you learn to think before you act. We need to decide on some tactics before we roar back the other way. I'm no more inclined to walk into a trap than that little boy this afternoon,"

Wearily, Mark killed his engine and switched off his headlamps. "I'd be happier if we went to the police," he said. "You keep talking as if you're in a private little war that has no bearing on anyone else, but too many innocent people are being dragged into it. That woman-Bella-and the little boy. You said yourself they were probably being used, so what makes you think they aren't in danger as well?"

"Leo's not interested in them," said James. "They're just his excuse for being here."

"So Leo's this Fox character?"

"Not unless he had a child he's never told me about… or the child isn't his." He handed Mark the mobile. "The police won't be interested until somebody gets hurt," he said cynically. "These days you have to be dead or dying to get any attention, and then it's lip service only. Talk to Elizabeth. She won't pick up the receiver-calls go straight to her answer machine-but I'm fairly sure she listens. It's pointless my speaking… she hasn't answered since Ailsa died… but she might talk to you."

"What do I say to her?"

"Anything that will persuade her to give us information," said James harshly. "Find out where Leo is. You're the word-smith. Think of something. There must be some trigger point that will persuade my only daughter to behave decently for the first time in her life. Ask her about this meeting with Mrs. Bartlett. Ask her why she's been telling lies?"

Mark switched on the overhead light again, and reached into the back for his briefcase. "Is that the sort of tone you use to Elizabeth?" he asked without emphasis, pushing back his seat and opening the case on his lap. He retrieved his laptop and balanced it on the lid, booting up the screen.

"I never speak to her. She won't pick up."

"But you leave messages?"

James gave an irritable nod.

"Mm." Mark waited for the icons to appear, then brought up Elizabeth's file. "Right," he said, casting an eye over the details, most of which related to her monthly allowance. "I suggest we bribe her with another five hundred a month, and tell her it's your Christmas present to her."

The old man was outraged. "Absolutely not," he spluttered. "I shouldn't be paying anything. I certainly won't increase it. It's only a few months since she had fifty thousand from her mother's will."

Mark smiled slightly. "But that wasn't your gift, James, it was Ailsa's."

"So?"

"It's you who wants a favor. Look, I know the whole subject drives you mad-and I know we've debated it endlessly-but the fact remains, you did set up a fund for her after her marriage failed."

"Only because we thought she'd been badly treated. We wouldn't have done it if we'd known the details of the divorce. She was little better than a whore… touting herself around the clubs and selling herself to anyone who'd buy her a drink."

"Yes, well, unfortunately the result was the same." Mark raised a calming hand. "I know… I know… but if you want information, then you must give me some leverage… and, frankly, beating her about the head isn't going to produce anything. You've tried that before. The promise of an extra five hundred will make her more amenable."

"And if it doesn't?"

"It will," Mark said bluntly. "However… as I'm planning to be pleasant to her, you either get out of the car now or you give me a sworn guarantee that you'll keep your mouth shut."

James lowered his window and felt the cold night pinch at his cheeks. "I'll keep my mouth shut."

There was no answer. As James had predicted, the call went straight to the answerphone. Mark talked until the time ran out, mentioning money and his regret that, as he hadn't been able to reach Elizabeth in person, payment would inevitably be delayed. He redialed a couple of times, stressing the urgency of the matter and asking her to pick up if she was listening, but if she was there she wasn't biting. He left his mobile number and asked her to call him that evening if she was interested.

"When did you last speak to her?" he asked.

"I can't remember. The last time I saw her was at the funeral, but she came and went without saying a word."

"I remember," said Mark. He scrolled down the screen. "Her bank's acknowledging receipt of the checks. Presumably they'd inform us if nothing was being drawn against the account?"