She smiled, reached out to ruffle his hair, then got out and closed the door. Willie said, "Right. I'll drop you off 'ome now, Lucy."

Ten minutes later he was opening Lucy's front door for her. In that time she had not spoken and was clearly deep in thought. Willie handed her the key and said, "You don't fancy asking me in for breakfast?"

She gazed at him with large, longing eyes. "I'm sorry, Willie, but I am trying to achieve the Golden Plateau of Serenity, and I know how one thing leads to another because of my glands."

He patted her shoulder rea.s.suringly. "Sure, Lucy, that's okay. Thanks for 'elping out, you've been great."

He had started to move away when she said, "Willie, aren't you and Modesty...? I mean, well, you know. You and Modesty?"

He shook his head with mock solemnity. "Definitely not."

"But... I mean, why not, if you don't mind my asking? It seems frightfully strange."

"Not to us, Lucy. It's just not on the cards."

"Oh." She was still baffled. After a moment she said, "Well, goodnight Willie. It was all jolly exciting, and I do understand about Official Secrets and all that. I'll keep absolutely mum, honestly."

"Good girl."

He had only gone half a dozen steps when she came hurrying after him, beaming happily. "Oh gosh, I really am a bit slow sometimes, aren't I? Do come in and have a bit of breakfast with me, Willie. It's quite all right."

It was during the interval at Covent Garden two days later that Willie said, "I was a bit slow myself, Princess, and I didn't catch on till we were up in Lucy's flat. Then I realised that because of you and me, she reckoned I must be gay."

Modesty choked slightly on the gla.s.s of wine she held. "You? Oh, Willie, she didn't."

"Straight up, Princess." He gazed into s.p.a.ce with a reminiscent smile and sighed happily. "Lucy's glands didn't 'alf get a lovely surprise."

COBRA TRAP.

Professor Stephen Collier ran a hand through his greying hair and mentally cursed himself for doing so since he was trying to appear unworried. "Ease up, you stupid b.a.s.t.a.r.d," he told himself, surrept.i.tiously relaxing taut muscles.

Collier was sitting in the office provided for him in Government House, in the Central American Republic of Montelero. His Canadian wife, Dinah, blind since childhood, sat with him on the settee, holding his hand. She was listening partly to the distant sound of artillery fire, which at the moment she alone could hear, and partly to Willie Garvin speaking on the phone.

It was twenty-odd years since she had first heard that gravelly voice speaking to her out of the darkness. That was on a day in the Pearl Islands, when he had saved her from abduction and destroyed the two men who had murdered her sister in cold blood. She had heard that voice with huge affection on many occasions since, and was thankful to be hearing it now, especially as he was speaking to Modesty Blaise.

"It should be all right, Princess," Willie was saying, "but I'll keep this short because we could get cut off any minute. I'm with Steve and Dinah now. These rebels call themselves the Montelero Cobras and they're about ten miles from the capital, maybe less. The government's pulling out, using a three-carriage train and heading for the Panama border. Because of the work Steve's been doing for 'em these last few months we've got places on the train. If all goes well we'll be at the border sometime early tomorrow."

He paused, then spoke again. "Yes, the government lot reckon they'll be allowed in, but could you get through to Sagasta and tell 'im we're with the party? He'll see that we three don't 'ave any trouble at the border."

He listened, then smiled, looking at Dinah. "Of course I'll take good care of 'er. Look, she's worried about the children because she knows they'll be worrying, so could you get a message to Dan at the medical college? Steve says you've got the number. And tell Dan to call Sue, okay?"

After several seconds: "Sure. Leave it to Weng, and we'll reckon to see you-" He jerked the phone away from his ear, wincing at a blast of static, then listened warily again before dropping the instrument back on its cradle. "The line's down," he said. "Weng will organise letting Dan and Sue know, and Modesty's on 'er way."

Collier sat up straight. "On her way where?"

Dinah sighed. "Here, dumdum," she said, patting the hand she held. "You know what she's like."

"I do indeed," Collier agreed, "but my normally computerlike speed of thought ran into the buffers at the idea that she could be on her way here when she was speaking on the phone in Benildon."

Willie said, "John Dall's staying at the cottage with 'er for a few days, and he'll 'ave a private jet at Heathrow. I reckon it'll be airborne for Panama in a few hours."

"Billionaires have their uses," Collier said, "and John is my favourite of that ilk. What will she or they do when they get to Panama? I mean, apart from enlisting a little help from that admirable police chief." He remembered Sagasta well, for it was in Panama long years ago that Collier had first met Dinah, at a time when she was under threat from a criminal group of chilling power. Modesty had put Dinah in Collier's care while she and Willie, with Captain Sagasta's help, had fought a savage and b.l.o.o.d.y battle against the Gabriel group.

Willie said, "Sagasta's not a policeman now, he's Minister of Defence, so he'll be watching the situation 'ere with a very beady eye, and that could be useful."

Dinah said, "You mean if anything goes wrong, and this train with us on it doesn't get to the border." It was a statement rather than a question.

"That's right, love." Willie knew her quality too well to indulge in empty words of rea.s.surance.

Dinah stood up and moved to stand close to him, feeling for his hand. "What did Modesty sound like?" she asked.

Willie exhaled a long breath, thinking. "On top of the world," he said at last. "Sort of... eager. I don't know why."

"Eager?" said Collier, frowning. "Oh, nonsense. You're going senile, Willie. She always acts like a motherhen to Dinah, and she must undoubtedly be frantic with worry about my safety, as any woman would be, so how can she sound on top of the world when we're surrounded by hordes of triggerhappy cobras?"

"There aren't hordes and we're not surrounded," said Dinah. "This is a picnic compared to that bloodandguts Mayan affair in Guatemala-"

"I know, I know," Collier broke in hastily. "Let us not dwell on our past involvements with the Blaise/Garvin axis, it's bad for my bladder."

Dinah turned sightless eyes to Willie and pressed his hand. "At least we've been spared any information about the effect on his sphincter this time."

"I'm saving that for on the train," said her husband grimly.

John Dall leaned back on the chesterfield, watching Modesty Blaise. They were in the livingroom of her cottage in Wiltshire and she was speaking on the phone, a largescale map spread on the table in front of her. Weng, her houseboy, had sent the mapsection through by fax from her penthouse in London, where many unusual items were stored.

Ten minutes earlier Dall had been on the phone himself, giving instructions to his PA. In four hours the private jet would be ready to leave Heathrow having taken on board a parcel of equipment that Weng would deliver to the airport in good time. In three hours a helicopter would land by the cottage to take Dall and Modesty to Heathrow.

It was only a short time ago that Dall had arrived, expecting to spend ten days with the woman he had loved for more than twenty years, and now he was trying not to feel frustrated. He was glad to find that at least he felt no resentment. Her friends the Colliers were in possible danger, so she would go to them, just as she would have gone to Dall in similar circ.u.mstances.

At this moment she was talking to Miguel Sagasta in Panama, a finger on the map as she spoke and listened.

"But won't Montelero object to your sending two reconnaissance aircraft over their territory? Ah... you have a point, Miguel. Do you know why their government is getting out by train rather than by air? I see. Would it be possible to monitor the train without compromising your own interests? Well, never mind, it was just a thought. What was that? Oh, thank you, I'm truly grateful, Miguel. Yes, we should be arriving about 09.00 hours your time. Hope to see you then."

She put down the phone and stood up, gazing into nothingness with unfocused eyes, arms across her waist, holding her elbows. It was a posture Dall knew of old, and he also knew that for the moment he had ceased to exist for her, but the knowledge did not trouble him. This was an aspect of Modesty Blaise, and he would not have wished her different in any way. He was well content simply to look at her, remembering, and to marvel at how lightly the years had touched her.

She would be... about fiftytwo? Impossible to be sure, for all memory of her early childhood had been wiped clean, but today her body would have pa.s.sed handsomely for thirty, her face for the early forties. The legs were still those beautiful dancer's legs, and she still moved like a dream. There were more lines at the corners of the eyes now, and the jawline was perhaps less lean, but the column of her throat held firm and never failed to draw his eye. Not only his, for in memory he could hear Willie Garvin's voice as he gazed upon the mahogany carving Dall had commissioned, "I told Alex Hemmer just before he finished it. I could look at 'er throat for hours."

Now, as he sat watching her, Dall saw the far look fade from the dark blue eyes to be replaced by a momentary expression he could not define for it was so full of contradictions: urchin humour and troubled concern, hope tinged with regret, eagerness temnered by uncertainty. This was a blend Dall had never seen in her before, but in a moment it was gone as if it had never been, and she was looking at him with wry apology. "I'm sorry, Johnny. Really I am."

He smiled. "I know." The smile faded. "And I know you have to... do whatever there is to be done, but for G.o.d's sake don't let yourself get hooked again. Hooked on risk and danger. Comebacks are stupid, Modesty. You're too old, for Christ's sake!"

She laughed and came to sit beside him. "Don't worry. This old broad isn't aiming for a comeback, I promise."

"Okay. So what's the situation? All I know about Montelero is that it's about the size of Wales with a population of less than half a million. The only reason neither Panama nor Colombia have taken it over is that it's a pretty useless chunk of real estate, mainly scrub and jungle, and the residents are sort of Central American Sicilians, never happy unless they're killing one another."

She nodded. "That's more or less what Miguel said. They have no airforce or airline, and the government's being evacuated by train because they want to bring out all records and doc.u.ments to set up a government in exile. They can't do that using private light aircraft even if any were available. Miguel says this lot are pretty civilised, and he thinks they'll be back in control within a year as long as they get out before the other lot cut their throats."

"So he's on their side?"

"Up to a point. He knows a bit about the rebel leaders, and they're not nice. He says one or two villages have suffered total ma.s.sacre."

"How does he justify having recce aircraft over Montelero territory?"

She smiled. "He claims it's in case missions of mercy are called for. If anybody objects, he'll take note of it. I hoped he could monitor the train that Willie and Dinah and Steve will be on, but he says he couldn't get that past his government colleagues." She shrugged. "Still, he's promised to meet us when we land in Panama and he'll help in any way he can."

"Like what?"

She hesitated. "Well, he said he'd have a light aircraft available for me to hire."

" So you can go train spotting and do whatever you think needs to be done?"

"Johnny, I can't help by just sitting in Panama City."

"So how can you help?"

"I've no idea. I just have to get there and find out."

He sat remembering other times when she had gone into situations blind, relying on her skills and experience to improvise whatever action might be demanded. There had been no guarantee of a safe outcome then, there could be none now.

Dall sighed and looked at his watch. "Three hours before the chopper comes for us. Do you have things to do, or am I going to take you to the cleaners at gin rummy?"

She was silent for a few seconds. Then: "There's nothing I have to do. We've eaten, and we can eat again in flight. Weng will deliver all the gear I want to take with us, and he's fully competent to handle any and all matters for me while I'm away." She stood up, took Ball's hands and drew him to his feet. "I thought we might go to bed, Johnny."

He took her gently by the waist, his strong face with its redskin ancestry sober as he regarded her. "I didn't come here just for that."

"I know you didn't. But it would be a happy thing for us to do, wouldn't it? Unless you've given up going to bed with old broads."

John Dall laughed and gathered her into his arms, his pulse quickening as if twenty years had been wiped away.

"When I was a temple virgin in Baalbek," said Professor Stephen Collier, "in the time of Antiochus the Third, the temple priests had a rather intriguing way of testing us for virginity."

They had been on the train for several hours now, moving at a crawl, drawn by an ancient locomotive through the thin jungle that characterised the northern part of Montelero. There were twentyeight government members aboard, with three times as many relatives including some thirty children. One of the three coaches carried luggage and government files. Ten soldiers provided the armed escort, some travelling on the roofs of the coaches. Progress was slow because the single track with pa.s.sing places was in a poor state of repair and there were several long steep gradients to be overcome.

Willie and the Colliers had a compartment to themselves, with their luggage. This privilege had been secured by Willie's convincing claim that the influence of his powerful friends in the Panamanian diplomatic service could well affect the reception of the refugee government at the border.

Dinah sat in a corner with her back to the engine, facing Willie, her husband beside her. It was five in the morning, and they had been dozing through the night hours. For safety the train was showing no lights, but now the darkness was turning to grey with the coming of dawn. Because the others might be sleeping, none of them had spoken for the past few hours, but now Collier had broken the silence with his dubious reminiscence of a previous life.

Dinah lifted her head from his shoulder and said, "This temple virgin persona was one of your earlier incarnations, I guess."

Collier kissed her ear. "It's the first I can remember after spending a few brief years as Ug the Caveman before being eaten by a tyrannosaurus. There may have been other appearances in between."

"I'm going to regret asking this," said Dinah, "but what was intriguing about the way the priests tested you virgins for intacta?"

"I'm glad you asked, sweetheart," said Collier. "You never know when these sc.r.a.ps of useful information may prove to have some practical application. Once a year we virgins were required to sit on one of those large Ali Baba sort of containers half full of the local wine. Then the high priest would smell our breath, and if he could smell the wine we were fired. I mean fired like Joan of Arc. Exvirgins flambees, as you might say."

Willie said, "How did you make out?"

"Very well," said Collier. "The girls with the largest bottoms did best, because they sealed the perimeter of the container, and so prevented alcoholic fumes escaping. I was among those so blessed."

"You'd do pretty well today, porky," said his wife. Then, to Willie, "My G.o.d, where does he get these disgusting ideas?"

Willie said, "I hate to defend him, but according to legend that's just what the Baalbek priests used to do. I can't vouch for Steve being one of the virgins around at the time."

"Oh, don't you encourage him," said Dinah. "It's bad enough having Dan and Sue always egging him on."

"Our children have a lively appreciation of their father's historical expertise," said Collier. "Now, as we hurtle across northern Montelero at five miles an hour, let us devote a few golden minutes to serious discussion. Here we are, two intelligent people, three if you count Willie, threatened with hours of boredom, so let us pool our thoughts on the subject."

Dinah paused in wiping her face with a damp tissue. "What subject, honey?"

"The subject we were just talking about, dozy. What happens to one when one shuffles off this mortal coilor has it shuffled off for one? Does one return? Is one reincarnated? Or not? And if not, then what?"

Dinah blinked. "That's a bit heavy for five a.m., isn't it?"

"Quite so. It will fully engage our attention, which you may remember is highly recommended by the Blaise/Garvin consortium for the prevention of adrenalin fatigue in stressful situations. You start, Willie."

With an effort Willie drew in tendrils of attention that he had been giving to areas of possible developments he felt he might have failed to antic.i.p.ate. Throughout the night he had been uneasy about his responsibility for Dinah and Steve. There would probably be no danger to cope with, but you could never be sure, and he was realistically aware that he did not quite have the edge of years gone by.

Perhaps Steve had sensed his unease, and this had prompted him to quote the maxim he had learned long years ago from Modesty Blaise and Willie Garvin concerning adrenalin fatigue. Whether or no, it was a timely reminder, Willie decided. He had done all he could to prepare for whatever might arise, and he should now switch off until something happened.

"Let's start with a profound thought," he said cheerfully. "There's plenty of options on offer, but what 'appens next after we pop our clogs 'ere is anyone's guess. So that's the profound thought - it's anyone's guess."

Collier sniffed. "You get one and a half out of ten for that, young Garvin. But continue, lad. Name a few options."

"Well, sir, please sir, when the Grim Reaper calls your name, either you come to a dead stop or you go on. If you stop, that's it. If you go on, there's the problem that you're no longer in Time, and in our present state we're not smart enough to be able to imagine existing in some sort of eternal Now. Then there's the question, are you still you? And aware of it? Or are you just part of what someone once called a Gloomy Merging? I think it was Noel Coward of all people, but never mind. If you are still you, and aware of it, what do you do all day in your new situation? Except that without Time that's a silly question because doing something involves a sequence. So maybe you get the Baalbek option, and keep coming back as a caveman and a temple virgin and a balding statistician, or you get the Christian option, which is very nice but a bit vague, or the Islam option, which is either h.e.l.lfire or a pleasurepalace mainly for men and even that lot's just for starters. Who's next?"

"Blimey, Willie," said Collier, "you've given it a bit of thought, haven't you?"

Willie looked mildly surprised. "Not really. It's all a guess, so I figured I'd just wait and see. Or not, as the case may be."

Dinah said, "You and Modesty spent time with that old Indian guru in the Thar desert, didn't you? And he imparted a lot of... I don't know, mental abilities, yoga powers. We've seen you both do things we wouldn't have thought possible. What did he say about being dead?"

Willie shrugged. "Only that it was a foolish question. 'Can a beetle fathom the ways of the universe?' Old Sivaji never said much about anything. You used the right word, Dinah. He imparted. But he certainly reckoned he was going through a long cycle of incarnations, aiming for perfection so he could finally get off the wheel of rebirth."

"And attain Nirvana?" said Collier. "But then what? Eternal bliss? Wouldn't you get sick of it?"

Willie smiled. "I've always preferred contrast meself. But the Buddha never described Nirvana. He said it was a state of being that couldn't be expressed. I suppose that puts it with all the other heavens on offer that n.o.body can imagine."