"Because he's over here now, my dear. I've been instructed to protect him but he won't submit to normal security measures."

Willie said, "Lousy job. All the initiative's with the other side. And you've no idea who wants to knock 'im off?"

"We're not even sure that anybody will try to do so."

"Jesus, you don't know a lot about this, do you, Sir G.?"

"Sadly, no. What's happened is this. Computers have come up with a pattern concerning several very odd and seemingly accidental deaths over the past year or so. They've found a common denominator, which is that the victims have all been foreign captains of industry involved in taking over British companies. In each case the person's death has aborted the takeover."

Modesty said, "I thought we were keen on investment from overseas."

"Economics baffle me, but I suppose there's a difference between investment and takeover, and I've been told to work on the theory that the deaths were in fact murder and that a group of Little Englanders feel so strongly about what they see as bits of their country being sold off that they're going to any lengths to prevent it."

"And you think this American tyc.o.o.n Keyes is a prime candidate for their attention?" Modesty asked.

"If an attempt is made, it will be very convincing confirmation of that theory."

"You're not suggesting that Willie and I should turn bodyguards?"

"Oh, good Lord, no."

"That's all right, then."

Tarrant brooded for a moment or two. Then, "We don't want Mr Howard A. Keyes dead, but he's a very difficult character. He won't agree to have bodyguards or submit to any security arrangements."

Willie said, "Then what's the point in asking if we can recommend anyone? I don't know what we're talking about, Sir G. D'you want us to come to the funeral or something?"

"I was simply hoping you could suggest someone Mr Keyes just might find acceptable as a protector. Or perhaps I should say protectors since Modesty raised the question of your partic.i.p.ation."

"What?" she said indignantly. "I did no such thing and you're a wicked old gentleman. Only the other day a good friend of mine said I should stay away from people like you because you're likely to get a girl into trouble."

Tarrant sighed and leant back in his seat, consumed by guilt. "Very true," he said gloomily, "but please don't take his advice to stay away. I promise I'll never ask you again, and as an earnest of my good intentions I..." he took out his diary and flicked over the pages, "I invite you both to dine with me at my club on Thursday next, if that's convenient?"

Modesty said, "Well, that's very contrite of you. Yes, please. Are you clear, Willie?"

"No problem. You know, Princess, for a moment there he sounded so apologetic I thought he was going to give you 'is frog."

Tarrant belonged to several clubs. The one he had chosen was not of the kind where members died quietly in deep leather armchairs without anybody noticing the change, it covered a wide spectrum of professions and agegroups. When Modesty and Willie arrived at the appointed time they were immediately greeted by a steward who apologised for Tarrant and explained that he had phoned to say he would be a few minutes late. "He hopes to join you in the lounge shortly, madam, and I am to ask if you would like an aperitif or gla.s.s of wine."

Modesty and Willie were seated in a corner of the quiet lounge, talking together as they waited for their drinks to arrive when a voice said, "Well, dang me if it ain't Miss Modesty."

She looked up in astonishment to see Gus standing there, dressed much as he had been that day by the pond. "Gus! What a nice surprise! What are you doing here?"

"Supposed to meet a feller, but I ain't too keen. He's been apestering me all week." Gus looked at Willie with a touch of suspicion. "Howdy."

She said, "Oh, this is Willie Garvin. Willie, this is my friend Gus. I told you about him."

Willie rose and put out his hand. "'Allo, Gus. You kick 'em in the belly and I'll stomp 'em."

The leathery face split in a grin as they shook hands. "Ain't no need with Miss Modesty around. You shoulda seen her, son."

"I've seen 'er. Sit down and 'ave a drink while you're waiting, Gus. We've got a generous host arriving soon."

"I'll take whisky neat, please." He sat down and looked from Modesty to Willie. "You two sparking?"

She said, "Willie and I? Oh, we've been around together too long for that."

Gus sighed and shook his head. "Sure wish I was thirty years younger."

"I'm so sorry to be late..." It was Tarrant, hurrying towards them. "Do forgive me." As he reached the table he stared in surprise. "Oh, you've met?"

Modesty said, "Met?"

Gus said, "You know this young lady?"

Tarrant looked embarra.s.sed. "Why yes, I've hoped to be here earlier so that I could explain, but in any event allow me to make formal introductions. Modesty, this is Mr Howard A. Keyes. Mr Keyes, this is Modesty Blaise and Willie Garvin."

Modesty looked blankly at the old westerner. "Gus? Howard A. Keyes?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "Augustus. My second name. Howard's kinda prissy and it don't shorten like Gus." He looked at Tarrant and tugged at one ear. "Danged if I can figure this, Miss Modesty. You something to do with this feller?"

She said, "This feller's just an old and untrustworthy friend. You said you kept a store, Gus. You've got hundreds of them, plus oil wells in Texas."

He looked at her anxiously. "Never was one for big talk. I offended you some?"

"No, of course not. But this feller Tarrant-" She stopped speaking as a steward brought a chair for Tarrant and took orders for two more drinks. When he had moved away Tarrant said, "I had the simple idea that if I brought you together you might take to one another. I could hardly know you'd already done so."

Gus said to Modesty, "He's some kinda sheriff and he's frettin' about some dirty sidewinders aiming to drygulch me."

Her eyes were troubled as she said, "Yes, I know. And he tells me you won't have any protection."

Gus gave a snort of contempt. "Bodyguards! I seen 'em on the movies. You figure I want to spend all day hidin' behind a coupla big oxes with guns under their arms? Ain't no way for a man to act."

There was a little silence. She looked at Willie for a moment or two, then at Gus again and said gently, "Willie and I wouldn't want you to hide behind us. We'd just want to be around. Would that make a difference?"

He stared at her for long seconds, then grinned suddenly as her meaning dawned on him. "You? Holy Moses, that'd make a difference, long as you was really willing. Oh, you didn't ask Willie yet, though."

She smiled. "Yes, I did. You can both stay at my place for the rest of your time here, Gus. There's plenty of room and it's fully secure, so if anyone wants to come at you they'll have to do it in the open."

Gus beamed with delight. "Then we'll git 'em!" He nodded towards Willie. "He as good as you when it comes to pickin' 'em up and bouncing 'em?"

"Every bit as good, and he does it from higher up."

Gus exploded in a gust of laughter that left him breathless. "We'll kick the G.o.ddam plums off'n 'em-" he cackled, then stopped short, contrite. "Sorry, Miss Modesty. Askin' your pardon. Bunkhouse talk ain't fitting for a lady."

She laughed. "Now now, Gus. No flattery, please."

The steward arrived with drinks, and as he set them down Willie Garvin reflected on the strange workings of chance. Modesty would never have considered doing a bodyguard job, even for Tarrant, of whom she was becoming quite fond. But chance had set Gus on the spot at the moment when she found herself in a brush with two unpleasant men. He had walked into trouble for her, and so won her friendship, which as Willie knew was boundless once given.

In the days that followed, Howard A. Keyes proved to be an undemanding guest. He was happy to talk, or to sit with a pile of newspapers and magazines to read, happy to play poker for small stakes of an evening or to spend time in his room working on what he called 'business things'. He greatly admired Weng's cooking, and would sit cheerfully in the kitchen watching him prepare and serve dinner, happy to talk but careful not to distract.

Sometimes he would go out with Modesty or Willie, sometimes with both, never alone. He enjoyed stage musicals and film comedies, but best of all for him were Laurel and Hardy videos. He also enjoyed playing what he called checkers, and was very good at it, usually beating Modesty or Willie but going down to defeat against Weng.

One long weekend was spent at Modesty's cottage in Wiltshire with the hope that this might tempt any wouldbe killers to strike if indeed they existed but there was no hint of trouble. They visited Willie's pub, The Treadmill, where they had lunch and Gus played an excruciatingly bad game of darts; and on another day they spent an hour or two on an out of town site where Gus was financing the building of a pigeonhole carpark for a shopping precinct which would include one of his supermarkets. From time to time both Modesty and Willie were certain they were under surveillance, but they were unable to pinpoint it and nothing happened.

On the tenth day of Gus's stay at the penthouse a board meeting was held in offices off Threadneedle Street. It was chaired by John Beckworth and there was only one item on the agenda. Beckworth said, "There's been a delay in the matter of dispatching Howard A. Keyes and I'll ask Sumner to give details."

Sumner looked round the table and said sourly, "Not much detail to give. We contracted with the Carter group and they've been keeping the subject under observation, seeking an opportunity for completion. However, it seems Mr Keyes is aware of his danger and has protection."

Timmins said, "How would Keyes be aware?"

Sumner frowned, and Harriet Welling said mildly, "We can hardly expect Brigadier Sumner to know that."

"Is it police protection?" Beckworth asked.

Sumner shook his head. "No. A woman called Modesty Blaise a.s.sisted by a man called Garvin. Their reputation is such that Carter has now withdrawn his tender for the job. We have to decide on an alternative."

Beckworth looked amazed. "One man and one woman? You can't be serious."

"Carter's serious enough," Sumner said bluntly. "I'm not privy to underworld reputations, but he is, and he won't touch the job now."

Harriet Welling said, "The Dark Angels, then?"

"Yes, Mrs Welling. I've placed them on standby, and I simply require the board's authority to activate them. However, I have to tell you that in this matter the Angels will not accept our standard veto against causing harm to other persons."

Beckworth frowned. "Why's that?"

"Because other persons in this context are likely to be Modesty Blaise and Willie Garvin. If they choose to place themselves between The Dark Angels and our chosen target, they will die. It may also not be possible to arrange a convincing accident. The guarantee is simply that Mr Keyes will vanish without trace, as will Blaise and Garvin if they intervene."

The others looked at each other, then Timmins said, "The Angels seem greatly impressed by this pair."

"Indeed they are, which is very sensible of them. They are also eager to match themselves against them professionally. Very eager and totally confident. They have no doubt of the outcome, and hope to complete within two days."

"Two days?" said Beckworth. "That's remarkably quick, surely?"

"It is," Sumner agreed. "But they take the view that this Modesty Blaise person, who seems to be the senior partner, will react to a challenge if it's properly presented. I am of the opinion that if we fail to agree to what the Angels ask, then we cannot hope to kill Mr Keyes. For this reason I now ask the board for authority to activate them."

Beckworth looked round the table. "Sumner proposes to use The Dark Angels under the conditions just stated." He shrugged. "Needs must, so I second. All in favour?"

In the penthouse that evening an hour after dinner Modesty was teaching Gus the rudiments of chess and Willie sat working on a circuit diagram for a new electronic gadget he had in mind.

When the phone rang, Weng answered it in the kitchen, then came through to announce, "A call for you, Mr Keyes. A Mr Smithson, who says it's urgent."

Gus looked puzzled. "Who's Smithson? He say what it's about?"

"I did not ask, sir."

Modesty said, "Better find out, Gus. Take it in your room if it's private business."

"I got nothing private from you, Miss Modesty." Gus got up, moved to a sidetable and lifted the phone. "I'm Keyes, who's this talkin'?"

He listened, frowning, and after a few moments said, "Look, feller, I don't know how you come into it, but if there's trouble at the site you jest tell the guys I pay to handle it." A pause of several moments, then, "Come down now! You crazy?"

Again he listened. Watching him, Modesty and Willie saw his expression slowly change, his eyes narrowing warily. At last he said in a voice quieter than usual, "Yeah. Okay, I got it. Hang on while I talk to my friends."

He pressed the secrecy b.u.t.ton on the unit and looked across the room. "Feller says he handles insurance on that shopping precinct. Says there's trouble, subsidence he called it, an' that big carpark's like to fall down. Wants me to go an' look at it. Now."

Willie said incredulously, "They can't expect us to fall for that. It's phoney as a gla.s.s eye."

Gus nodded. "Sure. And he knew dang well he warn't foolin' me. Talked funny, kinda insulting." He looked at Modesty. "Know what I figure? They can see we know the score and they got tired of p.u.s.s.yfooting around. They reckon maybe we got tired too, so they're sayin' come out an' get it settled."

Willie said, "For all they know we could set up a cordon of fuzz round the place, Princess. Or you and I could go and leave Gus 'ere. But they don't reckon we'll do that."

"No. They'll have eyes on the job, Willie, and if we don't play it their way they won't be there." She thought for a moment, gazing at the chessboard. "And if we just sit tight they can wait till Gus goes back to the States and try to nail him there. They don't fancy a longhaul job so they're offering a showdown."

There was a silence. Gus looked from Modesty to Willie and back again. "Then let's go get 'em," he said quietly.

It was an hour before midnight when a Cessna Skymaster moved steadily through the darkness at ten thousand feet over Surrey. Within, The Dark Angels sat in silence, ramair parachutes strapped in position, focusing their minds on the task that lay before them. Performanceenhancing drugs were at work in each bloodstream.

The aircraft banked gently, skirting the pool of light from a town below. Two miles to the west the darkness was pierced only by a red lamp on top of a tall structure, the iron skeleton of a partly built carpark.

The pilot spoke, and without a word the three blackclad figures in their skimasks rose and moved to the door, Asmodeus first, followed by Belial and Aruga, each deep in the role he was playing, each with surging confidence in his more than human powers. Seconds later they were gone, dropping in free fall and moving laterally as they fell in echelon at a speed increasing to a hundred and twenty miles an hour.

The carpark was in the shape of a capital E with the middle stroke missinga long centre span with two wings. As The Dark Angels came to within two thousand feet of the red lamp they diverged from one another and pulled the ripcords. Black ramair 'chutes blossomed into curving rectangles, easily distinguished against the starlit sky and the almost full moon, but they were in view for no more than a few seconds. The Angels had reconnoitred the site in daylight, and Asmodeus touched down beside the western wing, exactly where he intended. On the far side of the structure Belial landed gently beside a mobile crane. Aruga, to his anger, missed his chosen spot by several feet as he touched down midway between the two wings of the structure.

On a partly finished floor near the top of the building Modesty and Willie stood near the middle of the main span with Gus. Both wore black slacks and shirts, camouflage paint on their faces. Willie wore twin knives strapped on his chest, two small weighted clubs in loops on his belt. Modesty carried the kongo in a pocket near one shoulder and wore a holstered Colt .32 at her hip.

There had been some argument as to what part Gus should play. After Willie had checked carefully to make sure they were first in the field, he and Modesty had proposed finding a hideyhole for Gus until the action was over. Gus had protested vigorously, pointing out that as bodyguards they were supposed to guard his body, which they couldn't do if he wasn't around. In the end they had taken him up with them on the platform of the powerdriven hoist that rose on the outer side of the central span.

They had hardly heard the sound of the aircraft pa.s.sing a mile away, but it was enough to alert them to a possibility, and they were watching when the 'chutes opened briefly on the final approach. Gus whispered, "Three of 'em. By air. Jeesus!"

Willie said softly, "Fancy stuff, Princess. But they're good."

"Yes. I wish now we'd slipped Gus a mickey and tucked him away safe somewhere."

Gus sniffed in disapproval. "I'd be real put out if you had, Miss Modesty. What we gonna do? Wait for 'em to come at us?"

"Better them on the move than us. Easier to spot." She looked about her at the network of girders and stanchions forming the skeleton of the structure. "These stanchions throw shadows. Stand close against one, Gus, and don't move unless I tell you to."

Several floors below, Asmodeus was climbing a rope he had cast with a grapnel tipped with solid rubber, now caught over a higher girder. It had been agreed between the Dark Angels that there could be no preplanned combination moves such as those they had devised for the Kaltchas contract. They would be engaged with opponents of high reputation who were expecting attack, and in this chosen arena of the halfbuilt carpark all action would have to be improvised with each man acting on his own initiative according to the way the combat developed.