Текст книги "Black Dog"

Автор книги: Stephen Booth

Соавторы: Stephen Booth
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22

The three old men had met at Moorhay post office' where they had collected their pensions. The post office had been busy' not just with the regular Thursday pension queue' but with hikers emptying the cold drinks cabinet and the little freezer where the choc ices and the strawberry-flavoured iced lollies were kept. There was barely room inside the shop to manoeuvre round the displays of postcards of Ladybower Reservoir and Chatsworth House. Bulging rucksacks were piled outside while their owners flicked through the guidebooks and the sets of National Park place mats.

Soon the hikers would be moving on through the village to the tea rooms and craft centre at the Old Mill, or the picnic site at Quith Holes; then they would head for the Eden Valley Trail, aiming to reach the Limestone Way to the south or the Pennine Way to the north. Within half an hour, they would have forgotten Moorhay.

Harry Dickinson had picked a small frozen chicken out of the freezer for Gwen. It was solid and heavy in his hand' and the frost bit painfully into his palm' numbing his fingers. But queueing at the counter to pay for it, he found himself marooned in a sea of young people' who bumped against him and elbowed him carelessly in the ribs. They seemed regardless of his presence, as if he was just another obstacle that had come between their grasping hands and the next Diet Coke.

A small vein began to throb in Harry's temple as a girl pushed in front of him in the queue. She was wearing a crop top that left her midriff bare and striped leggings that made her hips and backside look enormous. Her dyed blonde hair exploded from the top of her head like badly baled straw' and when she opened her mouth to call to her friends' he saw a silver stud thrust through her tongue.

Jostling for position, she trod hard on Harry's toes with her Doc Marten's' and when he looked down there were dirty scuff marks and indentations in the shiny leather of his boots. If she had apologized' he would never have said anything. But she turned away without even seeing him. She might as well have trodden on a piece of litter that she could wipe off later.

Harry tapped the girl on the shoulder' and she stared up at him incredulously. Her lip turned back in a sneer, revealing a grey wad of chewing gum squashed between her teeth. He noticed there was a stud through her bare navel that matched the one in her tongue.

‘Haven't you been taught any manners?' he said. She looked at him as if he was speaking a different language.

‘What's up with you, granddad?’

Her accent was local' and Harry thought he might actually have seen her around the village before. It made no difference.

‘If you shove in front of me and tread on my feet, you might at least apologize.'

‘I've as much right to be in here as you.’

As much. But not more. You'll have to learn, lass.'

‘Oh' get lost'' she said. She pushed her chewing gum forward through her teeth so that it smeared across her lips. Then she wriggled out her tongue and dragged it all back into her mouth again, staring insolently at Harry. But she quickly lost interest in him and turned away as the queue moved forward.

Harry hefted the solid weight of the frozen chicken in his left hand' staring at the back of the girl's head. The tight breast of the chicken was smooth and hard, and coated in a thick layer of ice. He grasped the legs of the bird and let it begin to swing.

The girl screamed and cannoned forward into a youth in front of her in the queue. Everyone in the post office turned to look as she snarled and cursed at the old man. She was rubbing the place on her back where the biting cold of the chicken had touched her warm' naked flesh like a branding iron.

‘Sorry' said Harry.

*

Outside the shop' by the swinging Wall's ice cream sign' Sam Beeley slipped on a discarded Coke can and hit the pavement with a painful thump' his ivory-headed stick clattering into the gutter. There was a flutter of consternation until two tall young men with Australian accents helped him to his feet and picked up his stick. Three girls who had leaned their hired mountain bikes against the shop window made a great fuss of asking the old man if he was all right and dusting him down' eyeing the Australians. They all circled round Sam in a kaleidoscope of colourful shirts and brown limbs' like butterflies momentarily attracted to a dry' leafless plant before passing on to seek new scents elsewhere.

Finally' they left him to Harry and Wilford' who assured them he only lived a few yards away. Though supported by his friends' Sam didn't get very far before he had to stop and rest on a wall' gasping with the pain from his legs. He lit a cigarette and squinted at the churchyard across the road' where the gravestones gleamed white in the sunlight.

‘You'll be carrying me over yonder soon'' he said' without self-pity.

‘We're all heading that way'' said Wilford.

‘I'll not race you. It'll happen soon enough.'

‘You have to accept the fact'' said Harry’

‘that when you get to our age' death is always just around the corner.’

`Do you remember that time in the mine' when I nearly got killed'' said Sam.

‘That was a good few years ago.’

Sam looked down at his legs. 'Aye, but it left me a memento.’

The three men were silent' staring at the houses opposite' not seeing the cars that went past, or the young hikers who had to step off the pavement to get round them.

It had been over twenty years since the accident had happened at Glory Stone Mine. They had been in a six-foot-wide worked-out vein' nearly a hundred feethigh. The face sloped upwards in a bank of calcite like scree, with a miner drilling at the top' fifty feet up, silhouetted against the speck of his light. The sloping face was dimly lit' and the air was smoky from the blasting' with the roof nothing but a dusky darkness way beyond the reach of the lights. It was a vast and misty cavern of greys and blacks' thick with the acrid stink of explosives and dust.

Sam had been the miner at the top of the face. He had been in his fifties then' an experienced man who had spent most of his working life in the mines. When his drill split the brittle rock and the face had opened under his feet, his body had been thrown instantly backwards, his arms and legs tumbling among their own thrashing shadows until he hit the foot of the slope and had been buried by an avalanche of calcite. Wilford had found Harry in the darkness' and together they had dug Sam out with their bare hands and dragged him to safety. They hadn't realized his legs were broken until he started to scream.

‘If the pain got too much,' said Wilford' to nobody in particular. 'Would you think of doing away with yourself ?’

Sam looked thoughtful. 'Aye' I suppose so.’

Harry nodded. 'If there was nothing left for you. No hope. I reckon you'd have to.'

‘Depends on what you believe in' though'' said Wilford. 'Doesn't it?'

‘How do you mean?'

‘Some folk don't believe it's right to do away with yourself.'

‘Ah' religion.' Sam smiled.

‘Well' it's a sin' suicide'' said Wilford. 'Isn't it, Harry?’

Then Harry lit his pipe. The others waited' sensing an impending judgement or decision. They knew Harry did his best thinking when his pipe was lit.

‘It seems to me'' he said. 'There's different sorts of sin. Sin isn't the same as evil. God would forgive you a sin.’

They nodded. It sounded right and reasonable. None of them had got through almost eight decades without committing the odd sin.

‘It'd take a bit of courage' though. There aren't any easy ways.'

‘There's sleeping pills.’

Harry cleared his throat contemptuously. 'That's a woman's way out' Sam.'

‘You could throw yourself off somewhere high. Raven's Side cliff,' suggested Wilford.

‘Messy. And you wouldn't necessarily kill yourself.' They shuddered. 'You wouldn't want that.'

‘I can't stand heights anyway. They make me dizzy.’

‘That's a point.'

‘There's hanging'' said Harry. 'If you know how to tie a knot right.’

And you have to get the drop just right' else.' Wilford pursed his lips' ran his fingers through his white hair. 'Else what?'

‘You don't die quick' you strangle yourself. Slowly.'

‘I've read somewhere that blokes pretend to hang themselves'' said Sam. 'They almost hang themselves' but not quite. For a bit of fun' like.'

‘Bloody hell' why would they do that?'

‘Sex'' said Sam solemnly. 'They say it gives you a bloody great hard-on.’

Ah. Well' that'd be a novelty' all right.'

‘You never know. It might be worth it' for once.'

‘There was a bloke in the paper'' said Sam. 'Seventy-four years old' he was. He had fastened his nipples and his testicles up to electrical terminals. They called it an autoerotic experiment.’

Aye? What happened?'

‘He had the charge too strong. It killed him. Blew his balls off' for all I know.'

‘Old age doesn't stop you wanting it. It just stops you doing it properly'' said Harry.

They nodded wisely, watching the three young girls from the post office cycle past' long legs whirling as their spinning spokes flickered in the sun.

‘That lass in the shop'' said Sam. 'The one with the big bum and the bolt through her tongue. That was Sheila Kelk's girl, from Wye Close.'

‘Oh aye?' said Harry' uninterested.

‘They live near the Sherratts.’

The council dustbin wagon rumbled and hissed somewhere on Howe Lane. The wheelie bins still stood on the pavement waiting for it' painted with white numbers or the names of houses. Inside the bins was the accumulated debris that could tell the whole story of people's lives.

‘You could do it with a car,' said Wilford. 'They do that all the time round here. Blokes from Sheffield and that. They drive out somewhere on the hills where no one'll find them and gas themselves with the exhaust.'

‘You're right' Wilford. They do. Bloody nuisance' they are' littering the place.'

‘I haven't had a car for years,' said Sam. 'So that's a waste of time.' – He pushed himself to his feet' leaning painfully on his ivory-headed stick as Harry supported his elbow. They only had a few more yards to go to Sam's house' but it might as well have been miles away.

‘But I've got a car'' said Wilford.

*

Cooper waited until Rennie and the other DC were out of the office before he phoned Helen Milner. Despite the events of the day' his brother's comments had been preying on his mind' and they had re-emerged as soon as he sat at his desk. He needed to know what Helen was holding back.

She sounded cautious when she answered' but surprised him by how readily she began to tell him about the parties at the Mount' as if she had already rehearsed what she would say.

‘They go to the Vernons for the food' plenty of alcohol and plenty of sex'' she said. 'A bit of soft drugs too' probably. There was no pretence about it. Everyone seemed to know what to expect when they went to the Mount. All except me' that is.’

Are we talking a bit of old-fashioned wife swapping?'

‘I guess so. Graham and Charlotte Vernon certainly seemed to swap with anyone who was available. It became their hobby' I think. Some people take up trainspotting or line dancing'' she said sourly.

Her description of the sexual activities which the guests expected went a long way towards justifying Matt's reference to orgies' as far as Cooper was concerned. There had been no old people at the Mount parties' only those of the Vernons' age or younger. Graham' it seemed' chose most of the guests personally; some came by recommendation from friends. Listening to Helen's account' though, it struck Cooper that the parties weren't just a bit of fun for Graham Vernon. They also helped his business. All the guests were clients or potential clients' and attendance at the parties tied them together in what Vernon would no doubt have called a mutually beneficial relationship. It put a whole new slant on the idea of corporate entertainment.

‘Oh yes' it was business as well as pleasure'' said Helen when he suggested it. 'He probably claims back the VAT on the booze.'

‘Was Laura Vernon at these parties?'

‘Yes' but only at the beginning. They made sure they had her there on show when people arrived. But before the action started' they packed her off to the home of some pony-club friend in Edendale' where they let her stay the night. Out of sight' out of mind' as Grandma would say.'

‘We know she was sexually experienced. Do you think she might have got involved with any of her father's friends?'

‘One of the perks for daddy's best clients? Maybe. It sounds about right.’

Helen sounded very bitter, but it was more than just distaste at the casual treatment of a teenage girl. You didn't have to be a police officer to know that far worse exploitation was an all too familiar story these days. Cooper thought about his nieces' Josie and Amy' and clenched his fists. He dreaded to think what he would do if anyone came near those two.

‘She enjoyed every minute of the attention while she was there'' said Helen. 'But my feeling was that it was mostly a performance for daddy. She was daddy's girl' all right. Though Charlotte Vernon would tell you differently' I think. Charlotte thought Laura was as good as gold' and really believed that she had no idea what went on at those parties. I'm sure that provided an extra spice for Laura. The excitement of living dangerously, enjoying a big secret.’

Cooper wondered what she based this judgement on' but had too many other questions piling up in his mind to go down a side track.

‘Daddy's girl?'

‘You can take that how you like. Imagine the worst' if you want. As far as I'm concerned' Graham Vernon is capable of anything.'

‘You really dislike him' don't you?'

‘Dislike him? Hate him' you mean.’

He frowned. He thought that the word 'hate' didn't sit too comfortably in Helen's mouth.

And you' Helen?' he asked cautiously. 'How did you get involved in these parties?'

‘I was invited because I had met Graham Vernon at my parents' house a few weeks before.'

‘I suppose he took a fancy to you.’

She sighed. 'I can't believe how naive I was. Dad really didn't want me to go' but he wouldn't say why. I thought it would be exciting' you see. A bit more glamorous than the staff room of a primary school' anyway. When I arrived it all seemed good fun at first. Everybody was very friendly. Attentive, even.' There was a strange vibration of the phone' as if she were shuddering at the recollection. 'I had a bit too much to drink, but everybody else was the same. I sobered up pretty quickly when Graham Vernon got me in one of the bedrooms.’

Ben Cooper thought at first he must have misheard her. Helen's last words didn't seem to conjure up a rational picture in his mind. The picture he had was completely wrong. Completely.

‘Hold on. Are you telling me —?’

But Helen wasn't listening. She was absorbed in her own memories. 'He's a big man' you know. He was far too strong for me. Before I knew what was happening' he had pushed me down among the expensive coats on the bed' and his whole weight was on top of me so I could barely breathe. He was laughing all the time' as if it was some sort of joke that I was struggling. I can remember now the smell of the wine on his breath' the feel of his fingers digging into my arms' the sight of his face so close to mine that I had to shut my eyes . .

Cooper waited in silence. He wanted to ask her to stop now' to tell her that he had enough information' that there were times when you could know too much. But her words continued to spill down the phone line' cold and fast' like a stream loosened from its winter ice.

‘The worst thing was that somehow I couldn't force myself to shout for help. It was because I was in his house' Ben. I was too embarrassed to cry out or scream. Too embarrassed! It sounds ridiculous' doesn't it? Totally pathetic. I didn't want to make a fuss.’

Finally' there was a crack in Helen's voice' a single' painful flaw that betrayed the truth behind the unemotional delivery. Cooper had never felt so helpless, never so lacking in the right things to say.

‘I think about all those women who have ever been raped'' said Helen’

‘and who have then had to explain in court why they didn't fight back or shout for help. I never understood it before that night' Ben. I understand it now.’

Cooper remembered reading a report of a court case, the trial of a notorious American serial killer who had been convicted of the brutal rape and murder of several women. Sentencing the killer to the electric chair' the judge had made a famous comment: 'The male sexual urge has a strength out of all proportion to any useful purpose that it serves.' But for some people, it did serve a purpose. The purpose of domination.

‘I was saved in the end' when somebody started knocking on the bedroom door. There seemed to be a group of them out there' and something was causing them great hilarity. Of course' I was convinced that it was me they were all laughing at. Stupid, isn't it? And when Graham Vernon finally let me go' I had to walk past them downstairs as if nothing had happened. I couldn't bear the thought of all those people looking at me, seeing the state I was in, all messed up' with my best dress crumpled and my hair all over the place. That was all I could think about at the time. But they wouldn't have cared what I'd been doing' would they? Because they were all the same as him. Graham Vernon. Don't ask me why I hate him' Ben.’

Cooper wished he could reach out and touch her' to reassure her that everything was OK. But maybe it wouldn't have been the right thing to do' even if he had actually been there with her, instead of on the end of an impersonal phone line.

‘Thanks for telling me, Helen'' he said' knowing it sounded totally inadequate.

As a matter of fact' it helps to tell somebody. And you're not difficult to talk to, Ben.'

‘I'm glad.’

She paused. 'Ben —'

‘Yes?'

‘Do you go off duty sometime?'

‘Of course. Tonight.' He hesitated' a fateful hesitation. 'But – well' I've got something that I have to do.’

‘I see.’

He hadn't forgotten his promise to Diane Fry' and he hated to let people down. But there were times when, no matter what you did' no matter how you tried' there was always someone that you were letting down. And it was usually yourself.

23

The Way of the Eagle Martial Arts Centre was tucked away in the basement of a former textile warehouse in Stone Bottom' at the end of Bargate. The ground floor of the warehouse was occupied by a computer software company' and above it' on three more floors' were craft workshops' creative designers, a small-scale publisher of countryside books and an employment agency. The steps down to the dojo were always bathed in the smell of freshly baked bread from the ventilators in the back wall of the baker's in Hollowgate.

Diane Fry followed Ben Cooper's Toyota as it turned off Bargate and bounced down the carefully relaid stone setts between a corner pub and three-storey terraced houses whose front doors were reached by short flights of steps lined with iron railings. On the left' a steep alley ran back up towards the Market Square and Edendale's main shopping streets.

The daytime car park for the craftspeople and office workers was closed by a barrier' but a small patch of derelict land had been partially cleared next to the old warehouse. They parked their cars in the middle of an area of mud-filled potholes fringed by broken bricks and shoulder-high thistles. There were several other vehicles there already' and the sound of dull thumps and hoarse screams filtered through the steel grilles of windows set near ground level.

The buildings were clustered so close together in Stone Bottom that they seemed grotesquely out of proportion from the ground as they leaned towards each other' dark and shadowy against the sky' set with long' blank rows of tiny windows. The slamming of their car doors echoed loudly against the walls and reverberated down the stone setts to the narrow bridge over the River Eden.

Fry collected her sports bag from her boot and joined Cooper at the door. Though the baker's had stopped work for the evening' they could still smell the warm, yeasty scent of the bread lingering around the basement steps and in the dark corners between the buildings.

‘That's making me feel hungry. I haven't had anything since lunchtime' and I only managed to grab a sandwich between interviews.’

Cooper shrugged. He had been at the hospital at lunchtime and he hadn't eaten any lunch at all. In fact' he hadn't even thought about food. The hunger that was gnawing at his belly now wasn't caused by the smell of baking' but by the need to prove that there was something he could do right. Something he could do better than Diane Fry.

‘What have you been doing today then, Diane?'

‘I interviewed Charlotte Vernon this morning. You wouldn't believe that woman' Ben. She tried to put on an act for me. Wanted me to believe that she was some sort of hard-faced' sex-mad bitch who didn't care about anything' let alone her daughter. Anybody could have seen through it. The woman is broken up inside. But why would someone put on an act like that?’

He paused' regarding Fry curiously. 'I could think of several reasons.'

‘Such as?'

‘She may feel she has to play the part that's expected of her. People do that all the time. They try to live up to an image they've created for themselves, or meet the expectations that other people have of them' as if they have no real personality of their own. Or she may have been diverting your attention from something else. On the other hand, it could have been a double-bluff. She may have been hiding the truth by pushing it in your face so hard that you would refuse to accept it.’

Amazing' Ben. You make people sound really complicated. In my experience' their motivations are usually very simple and boring.'

‘Motivations like ambition and greed? The old favourites? They can certainly make people ruthless and selfish' can't they?’

Fry bridled at his tone of voice' though she didn't know what he was getting at. And sex' of course'' she said.

‘Oh yes' let's not forget sex.' Cooper collected two locker keys and signed Fry into the visitors' book' stabbing the page with the point of the pen. 'But sex isn't so simple either' is it?'

‘For some of us it's very simple' I can assure you. But not for the Vernons and Milners' apparently.’

Cooper paused to greet another dojo member passing through towards the changing rooms. He was a tall young man' a fellow brown-belt student. All the students and instructors here knew Ben Cooper – he often thought of them as a second family' united by a common attitude and purpose. The chief instructor' the sensei, was the closest thing he had to a father now.

‘Why do you include the Milners?' he asked.

‘Oh yes. Charlotte Vernon named Andrew Milner as one of her many lovers. He and his wife have denied it. But his daughter had some very interesting things to say. Did you know Simeon Holmes is her cousin?'

‘You've talked to Helen Milner today?'

‘That's right. What's the matter?’

Cooper had his mobile phone in his bag' since it wasn't safe to leave it in the car. And his memory was quite good enough to remember Helen's phone number.

‘You go ahead, Diane'' he said. 'I've told Sensei Hughes you're coming. You go and get warmed up. I've got a phone call to make first. I may be a few minutes.’

Fry looked surprised. 'Well' OK. Whatever.’

The atmosphere in the changing room was the familiar one of sweat and soap. At one side were three rows of metal lockers for members' valuables. A thick makiwara practice punching board had been left against the wall by the door.

Cooper started to get undressed while he listened to the phone ringing. With one hand he unbuttoned his shirt and began to unroll his gi' the loose white suit that was obligatory in the training hall. It was tied up in his brown cloth belt' the mark of a successful fourth-grade student' just one level below the various tiers of dans' the black-belt masters. The ringing went on for so long that he nearly pressed the button to stop the call.

‘Hello?'

‘Helen?'

‘Ben? What a surprise – twice in one day. You only just caught me' I was about to go out.'

‘Oh. Anywhere interesting?’

She laughed. 'Parent-Teacher Association darts night' would you believe? We take a team round local pubs and clubs to raise money for the school.'

‘I never knew you could play darts.'

‘I can't. I think I'm supposed to be the comic turn.’

‘I won't keep you. There's something else I wanted to ask you. About the Vernons.'

‘Yes?'

‘These parties you described at the Mount. You said your father knew about them?'

‘Oh yes' he'd been there himself. Vernon thought it was a huge joke' inviting him and Mum along. Dad was totally shocked. He really freaked out over it when he got home. He said it was the most embarrassing night of his life' the biggest insult he could imagine' all that sort of stuff. Yes' I thought you might ask about that. It was the cause of what happened afterwards, really.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Well' I'm sure that was the reason Graham Vernon invited me later. It was aimed at Dad' of course. To annoy him even more. I think that was the worst thing of all. He was taunting Dad through me.'

'But your father let you go?'

‘He didn't dare say anything. Vernon invited me in front of him' don't forget. Poor Dad. He was always such a coward. It may have been the biggest insult he could imagine' but still he couldn't make a stand over it.'

‘Did you tell your father what happened when you went to the Mount?'

‘Oh yes. I told them both. I was angry, you see. So it all came out.'

‘What did he do?’

`Do? He protested to Graham Vernon.'

‘Protested? Is that all?’

A mild protest' no doubt. He's never been allowed to forget that. Not by my mother' or by my grandparents. Certainly not by Granddad' who despises him for it. He thinks Dad's a complete wimp. So the poor man has been taunted with it ever since. I feel very sorry for him.’

Are you saying that he simply didn't want to jeopardize his job by falling out with Vernon – even over something like that?'

‘Of course. You obviously don't realize' Ben' but it's terrible what the fear of losing a job can do to a man of that age. Dad thinks if Vernon sacks him' he'll never work again. And that's all he lives for' his job. None of us would want him to become another suicide statistic. It happens to so many men now. When they lose their jobs, they lose their self-respect' and there's nothing left.’

And your grandfather? What did he say?' asked Cooper. 'He doesn't seem to me to be the sort of man who would be content with a mild protest.'

‘No' not Granddad. He was furious. He said that he would have killed Graham Vernon, if he'd been there.’

Her voice faded then' and he could picture the sudden concern in her eyes as she remembered who she was talking to and what he was. For a few minutes' she had forgotten he was a policeman and had thought of him only as Ben Cooper' as a friend. A warm flood of gratitude ran through him.

‘I know' I know'' he said. 'It's just an expression. Just something that people say. It doesn't mean they really will kill anybody.'

‘Oh no'' said Helen faintly. 'I think he would have done it.’

Cooper listened to Helen's breathing at the other end of the line. The sound reminded him of the afternoon at Moorhay, when he had stood so near her in the narrow hallway of Dial Cottage. He remembered being able to feel the heat from her body, and being aware of the way her breasts lifted and moved beneath her halter top as she had turned to close the front door.

Apparently Cousin Simeon had been seeing Laura Vernon'' she said. 'I didn't know that.'

‘It meant he was bound to come into the enquiry.'

‘Of course. We don't see a lot of his parents' you know.' Helen paused' and her tone softened and became more hesitant. 'It was kind of you to visit Grandma yesterday' Ben. I didn't really think you would do it. But I remember now that you were always very thoughtful. You were never quite like the other boys I knew.’

Cooper felt himself blushing. 'To be honest, I was there looking for your grandfather.'

‘Oh. You were on duty then. She didn't say that.'

‘Yes.'

‘Does that mean you've been questioning Grandma?’

‘Not . . . exactly.’

Helen sounded desperately disappointed in him. He cast around for something to say that would make things better. He needed to know exactly where he stood with Helen. What Matt had said had left him confused. Could there possibly be a bit of light at the end of the dark tunnel, a light that Helen could provide? He needed that gleam of hope' and he needed it now. But in his present state of mind' the subtleties of the situation were beyond his grasp. He had only two options – ring off now, or take the bull by the horns.

Before he could make the decision, the door of the changing room banged open and the tall brown-belt student came in from the hall' sweating and grinning.

‘Hey' Ben' I thought that friend of yours was just a novice. You never said she was so good.'

‘What?'

‘Sensei Hughes is very impressed.'

‘Ben – are you still there?'

‘Yeah – sorry' Helen' I'm on a mobile. Just a second.’

Cooper eased the door open and peered through the big windows into the training hall. There was some kind of distorting effect of the glass that magnified the scene in the hall' exaggerating the size of the figures moving around there. He could see Diane Fry in her gi, going through her kata sequences' the formal exercises used to limber the body up for action. She performed a downward block' the cat stance' straddle stance and rising block. Every movement was poised and perfectly balanced' the result of well-trained muscles flowing with precision and power' like an animal's. Around her waist' she was wearing the black belt of the top-grade karatekas.

‘A fourth dan too'' said the student over his shoulder. 'She's terrific' Ben. Where did you find her?'

‘Helen —'

‘Was there something else' Ben? Only I'm on my way out' remember?'

‘I was wondering'' he said’

‘if you'd like to meet up sometime' perhaps go for a drink or a meal. What do you think?’