Janice took a taxi back to her Southampton flat. Not for the first time in her life was she chasing a hunch. The easy thing to do would be to take all her information to the police. It might come to that later but not for the moment.

The situation worried her. She was missing something. Why was Harman-Smith operating with misfits like Jimmy and David? Janice gave the matter serious thought and decided that another chat with Angie could prove helpful whatever the outcome. She must know David's whereabouts, and maybe this time she would tell.

The following day, she travelled to London. Waterloo Station was as always crowded. She wore a black silk dress under a long camel cashmere coat and pushed her way through the hordes. In twenty minutes, she was in Mall Road. She took a deep breath, climbed the white stone stairs and pressed the intercom button. Angie answered the intercom and opened the door a minute later.

"I suppose you'd better come up." When they were inside the flat, she faced Janice. "What do you want? Why can't you leave us alone?"

Angie did not flinch. "I need answers to questions."

"Take a seat," said Davy as he entered the room.

Angie kissed him and stood by his side. "This is Janice Porter, a journalist who appears to know a lot about you."

Janice ignored her sarcasm. "We meet at last. Is it David Jones, or is it Jenkins? For a man who's died twice and buried once, you're in excellent health. Please don't attempt to deny it. I recognise you from your picture in the papers and service documents. You've worn well!"

He shrugged. "You don't give up, do you, but before I kick your arse out of here, what do you want?"

"Well, now that you're here, perhaps I should tell you what I know." She remained standing and told her story.

Angie and Davy listened without interrupting. He smiled as he collected his thoughts." Look, Mrs, whoever you are. You can't stop me from doing a runner. I could be across the channel and miles away before you made a move."

"Do you want to hide forever? There'll always be someone chasing you: if it's not me, it'll be Harman-Smith or someone like him. You have to stop sometime. I can walk out of here, and you'll never see me again. It's not a problem."

"That's kind of you," said Davy. "So why don't you fuck off."

"Okay, before, as you so nicely put it, I fuck off, answer me one question. Who do you think gave me your address? Don't even think about it, Mr Ronald Harman-Smith. He wants me involved and will use that against me. You know he uses people, and when he's finished, he disposes of them. I can have the police onto you in five minutes, and you'd go down for a long time. If I walk away, I become an accessory. So, while you're up there on your high horse, you can tell me why I shouldn't drop you right in the shit."

Davy's expression was grim. "Your story is, at best, sketchy, but you're right. I am a deserter from the Navy. Look, that's all you have, and for me, that's two years in Colchester. As for the rest, it will never get to court. So now that you've finished telling your fairy stories, take a hike."

They both appeared frightened.

"David, how long do you think you can keep living on the run? Harman-Smith will feed you to the wolves, and he won't give a shit. Anyway, I've said what I wanted to say; I'll give you a few hours to pack your bags and get lost. I'd imagine," she thought for a moment whilst checking the time, "the police will be here sometime this evening. You have plenty to do unless you want to say something?" She waited and watched as he got up from the settee and walked across and gazed through the window at the river. Out there was another world.

He turned and stared at her. "Do you know how close I am to closing the door on my past and leading a normal life?" He held his hand up, with thumb and forefinger almost touching. "I'm that close. All right, I'm not a saint, and I've done a few things I'd rather forget. For once, my life seemed to be working out. Then you come along and shove your oar in. If you knew the truth, you can't change it. Thanks a bunch. In the best possible way, Mrs Porter, I hope I never see you again."

Janice left, not feeling sorry for either of them.

It had turned into a lovely October day; the sun shone brightly in a clear blue sky, but a cold wind blew from the north. She turned towards the river and decided on a nice long walk. Pulling up the collar of her coat, she strode purposefully along the pavement. Her dinner date with Ian Holt was not until six. One thing for sure, David and Angie should be long gone. A smile crossed her face as she changed her mind, turned around and hurried back to the corner of Mall Road. The first-floor balcony at The Rutland was the perfect vantage point to see how soon her favourite fugitive departed.

The pub was quiet at that time, so she borrowed a daily paper from the bar and ordered a fresh orange and tonic. The pub's balcony was perfect for observing any comings or goings-on Mall road.

Why her sons birthday came to mind, she did not know? She scribbled a note to remind her to buy a card. These days they seemed to be running in different directions, and time vanished. He was married with one child. She and Adrian would have to make a concerted effort to go and visit. On the other hand, perhaps they could come and stay for Christmas.

She glanced at her watch and sighed. David was on the move and was hard at it carrying suitcases. His sports car could not hold more than two, so he had called a mini-cab. Janice noted the registration, finished her drink and walked to Hammersmith Bridge. Here, she flagged down a black cab for the journey to Oxford Street. On her arrival at the restaurant, the manager took her coat and guided her to the table. She ordered a glass of spring water and waited.

On seeing Ian, Janice waved, drew herself up to full height, smoothed down her black dress, and arranged her blonde hair. She was always pleased to see this man; she thought of him like her older brother. For years, they had confided in each other. Only Adrian was closer.

They ordered and chatted away about old times until the meal arrived. Janice started to giggle.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, eat your steak, and I'll tell you later."

Ian placed his knife and fork on the plate. "Great, you expect me to eat my meal calmly whilst wondering what's going on. For Christ's sake, tell me now so that I can enjoy my food."

Janice, her eyes sparkling. "You might not remember, but a few years back, I researched a bank robbery in Scotland?"

Ian nodded.

"I've found my man." She leaned down, picked up her bag and removed two computer disks. She placed them on the table. "On those, I have all the information you need. With a bit of work on your part, you should get a conviction."

"You're a devious woman. How deep is the crap you've dropped me in this time?"

She sighed. "In truth, there's a minor problem I'd like you to fix. His name is Ronald Harman-Smith... I want him off my back."

Ian picked up the disks and put them in his jacket pocket. "I'll do what's necessary with these. Harman-Smith is more difficult. He's a law unto himself. However, I'm sure he'll get the message."

She smiled. "Enjoy your meal."