It was almost four o’clock when Simon sighed, rubbed his eyes wearily, and stretched his arms, signalling a break in the labour.
“Time for your walk?” Amity asked with only a glimmer of sarcasm.
“It’s pretty obvious that the only way to the vault is the ventilation shaft,” he said, ignoring the remark.
“But we’re still stuck with those damn infra-red beams,” Amity sighed. “If only we could see them or something, then we could...”
“Wonderful!” Simon said.
“What?” she inquired blankly.
“Wonderful. See them. You’ve got it. With the right equipment we could see the beams. Something as simple as a pair of Polaroid glasses with a coating of... what would it be?”
“Something sensitive to infra-red light, you mean?” exclaimed Amity. “Exactly. But what?”
Simon looked up towards the ceiling and pressed his palms together in a prayerful attitude.
“Oh mighty Warlock,” he intoned. “Hast thou some elixir sensitive to infra-red light lying about the place?”
With an answering buzz the panel which covered the television screen was already drawing back. The screen flickered to life with the image of Warlock’s eager round face.
“It might really work!” came his excited voice from the loudspeaker.
Simon stood and salaamed.
“Thou hast heard, oh All Knowing!”
“I’ll get to work on it immediately,” Warlock said. “I’ll have you brought down as soon as we’re ready for a test.”
Warlock was on his way out of the picture even before the screen had become completely blank. There was a knock at the door of Simon’s room.
“So soon?” Amity said.
“It is time for my walk,” Simon said. “Why don’t you get some rest?”
“I’d much rather join the fun and games out on the greensward,” Amity said as Galaxy walked in.
“You can’t both go out at the same time,” Galaxy said promptly. “Anyway, three’s a crowd.”
“Better a crowd than your company,” Amity retorted. She had gone to the open door of her room. “Well, Amos darling, bring ’em back alive... the clichés, I mean.”
“What is she talking about?” Galaxy asked.
The Saint walked with her down the corridor.
“Don’t worry about it. Amity has a very intricate mind.”
“And I’m stupid, I suppose?”
“If you sometimes give that impression — which you don’t, of course — I’m sure it’s because nobody can believe anybody with your beauty could also have a brilliant mind — which you do, of course.”
“Well, I never had the chances she did. That’s obvious.”
“It’s a good excuse, anyway.”
Galaxy looked at him with sudden irritation. They had just come out on to the front steps of S.W.O.R.D. headquarters. Simon continued walking until he and Galaxy were out of range of the microphones which were hidden all over the building. He didn’t doubt that there were other means of monitoring his conversation even out in the garden, but he knew that in moving about constantly in the open he was at least interfering with the clarity of reception.
“What do you mean — excuse?” Galaxy asked him.
“I mean that saying you never had a chance is just a way of evading responsibility for yourself. When you can blame everything on bad luck or whatever you want to call it, you’ve got a perfect excuse for just floating with the tide. There’s nothing Amity can do that you can’t do. I’m sure of that.”
She slipped her arm under his and walked close beside him as he strolled towards the relative privacy of a few beeches near the wall that surrounded Warlock’s property. The sun was low, reddening as it descended towards the horizon through a cloudless sky, and shadows were long on the carefully tended grass. In such pleasant circumstances, the Saint felt almost guilty for lying to Galaxy about her limited intellectual potential.
“I haven’t done so bad,” she said cosily. “I’ve got lots of nice things, and I’ll have lots more after tomorrow night. And look who I’m with.”
“And look where we are,” Simon said wryly.
He made a sweeping gesture to indicate the wall. Galaxy pressed against him reassuringly as they stopped beneath the beech trees.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Everything will be all right after tomorrow night.”
“At least I won’t have to worry,” the Saint said grimly. “I’ll be dead.”
“Dead?” she exclaimed.
“You don’t think Warlock will let me or Amity stay alive to tell the world what he’s done, do you?”
“I don’t care about Amity. I wish he would kill her. But he won’t hurt you. I’m sure he won’t.”
She sounded more hopeful than convinced, and Simon seized the opportunity.
“You know as well as I do that he’ll have to kill me,” he said urgently.
“No! He’s... he’s not the type.”
He took her in his arms and whispered in her ear.
“I’m sure they can hear what we’re saying even now, so don’t talk out loud. Pretend I’m kissing you.”
She shivered and clung to him.
“Why pretend?” she whispered.
Her lips were suddenly against his, and it was several minutes before either of them spoke again.
“Galaxy,” he said in ardent tones which would have quickened the pulse of a Hollywood film director, “if we ever get out of this thing, I’m going to take you away someplace and spend about six months making sure we both forget it.”
“Oh, Amos, I’m so glad... You can write your books, and I’ll... I’ll...”
“Do what you’re best at,” he suggested.
She giggled against his shoulder.
“Yes.”
Simon straightened and assumed a tragic expression.
“But there’s no use talking about it. I won’t be alive, and Warlock would never let you go.”
“I could go,” she said indignantly. “I’m not his slave.”
The Saint looked her in the eye.
“Are you sure? I have a feeling none of you are here just out of sheer love and loyalty to dear old Warlock. And I don’t think it’s just the profit motive, either. What’s he got on you?”
“Got on me?” she asked nervously.
“Yes, got on you. What’s the hook he’s holding you with? I’ve got to know that before I can risk too much. Were you in prison?”
“No! There wasn’t enough evidence.”
“But there would be enough evidence to convict you if Warlock spoke up to the police? Is that the idea?”
“Something like that,” she said coldly. “Does it matter? Lots of people get killed in wars all the time, and nobody thinks a thing about it, but just let one person get rid of somebody’s nagging bitch of a wife in a way that doesn’t even hurt at all and you’d think the world was coming to an end!”
Simon’s aplomb was put to the test which, of course, it passed nobly.
“You performed this good deed, I take it, with the husband’s permission?”
“I...” Galaxy caught herself and looked at him wisely. “I never said I performed anything,” she went on. “But this husband — the way he acted when she was dead — you never would have known the whole idea was his.” Galaxy disgustedly broke a twig from a bush next to her. “Men are such cowards.”
“What happened to him?” Simon asked.
“He died too. Not long after.” Galaxy smirked. “Of a broken heart.”
“More likely of a highly spiced steak and kidney pie,” said the Saint. “And Warlock is going to share your old family recipe with the police if you don’t co-operate?”
“Even if you’re right, it doesn’t matter,” Galaxy insisted. “I’m glad I’m here anyway. Who wouldn’t be, for the money I’m going to get?”