For the second time that night a fist lifted into his stomach. As he lay with his face in the wet grass, his arms were jerked behind him, steel bracelets snapped into place with a cold finality and fear moved in his very bowels.

Lazer had got out of the passenger seat and stood beside the open door of the Mini-Cooper staring through the darkness towards the Jaguar. He was aware of a sudden movement inside and turned quickly. Ben Garvald was sliding behind the wheel.

He grinned as he reached for the starter. ‘I’ve got things to do, Chuck. Maybe I’ll be seeing you, but it isn’t likely. Give Miller my respects. In other circumstances, I’d have enjoyed hating him.’

As the engine roared into life he pushed hard, catching Lazer full in the face, sending him staggering backwards. As the American recovered his balance, the door slammed and the Mini-Cooper faded into the night.

19

It was just after three and for at least twenty or thirty of the guests who refused to go home, the party was still going strong. Harry Faulkner had taken over the barman’s duties in the Long Room and half a dozen couples danced to a record player.

Bella had long since reached the stage when the gin was beginning to stick in her throat and all at once a strange thing happened. Every face she looked into seemed weak and evil and selfish and when she turned quickly to a mirror, what she saw there repelled her most of all.

Too much to drink, that’s what it was. What she needed was a good soak in a hot tub and about twelve solid hours of sleep. She crossed the hall, went into the library and locked the door.

The bathroom was in black-veined marble and gold, the bath itself half-set into the tiled floor. She turned on the water, then returned to the bedroom and undressed quickly, throwing her dress and underclothes carelessly on the bed.

She stood in front of the dressing-table mirror for a full minute, examining her magnificent body in detail. The breasts were still high and firm, her flesh unmarked, but there was a perceptible thickening around the waist and the way the skin was starting to bulge beneath her chin boded ill.

She went into the bathroom and stepped down into the hot water, revelling in the sense of physical release it always gave her. She lay there looking up at the ceiling, going over the evening’s events in her mind, thinking about Ben. The strange thing was that she could form no clear mental picture of how he looked. Still, it had been a long time. She sat up and reached for the soap and was immediately conscious of a slight draught as if the door was open. When she turned, Ben was standing there smiling down at her.