A Prospect of Vengeance by Anthony Price Page A

right! So I said: “Yes, darling—the one all your chaps are running around in circles trying to find out about, to no avail … How would you like the serial rights for our book on what really happened, darling? Or shall I go to Rupert Murdoch instead—?” And that was when he patted his cheque-book. Plus, of course, darling Clive will put his cash up front, as usual.’ The innocent face vanished. ‘So what do you say to that , then?’
    She was too damn sure of herself. ‘I’d say he’s wasting his money. And so are we—and our time, too.’
    She frowned. ‘What d’you mean?’
    The trouble was, he wasn’t at all sure of himself. ‘If what you say is true … if there is a Clinton-Butler operation of some sort, on the level you suggest … and if the man Audley was somehow involved with Masson’s death … for heaven’s sake, Jen! It’s going to be buried deeper than we’re likely to be able to dig—that for a start—‘
    ‘The hell with that!’ She snapped at him. ‘Who said we can’t? Who’s better than us—you and me?’ The Fielding bosom inflated angrily, and pointed at him. ‘Besides which, as you well know … once you know there’s a secret, there’s always a way of uncovering it—‘ She caught her anger as she observed his face. ‘We’ve done it before, Ian. We did it in Beirut—didn’t we?’
    ‘Yes.’ And it was a commentary on her that she still didn’t understand what a damned close-run thing that had been—and how much the memory of it still scared him. And how much the same memory ought to frighten her. ‘But this is different.’
    ‘How—different?’
    ‘For a start … because they won’t let us publish. Even if Dick Woodward is willing to stick his neck out. Which he won’t be.’
    ‘Oh— come on! ’ The fire kindled again. ‘Just because of Peter Wright, and all that … We haven’t signed the Official Secrets Act— we aren’t going to publish secret documents—at least, not unless we can get hold of any, that is—‘ She smiled grimly at him through the flames. The Peter Wright thing doesn’t stop us: he’s made it Open Season, more like—don’t you see, Ian?’
    ‘No. I don’t see. There’s still the law, Jen—‘
    ‘The law?’ She stopped for an instant. ‘Well, I don’t know … But I’ve talked to Simon Lovell about that. And he says that practicalities are going to come into that now—or im practicalities, where they’re dealing with people like us: he says that “acquisition” can’t be an offence, otherwise they’d have prosecuted other people long before. And then, if we’re just the teeniest bit careful … and he’ll vet every line you write, Simon says he will … then there’s a hell of a lot we can get away with, under “Public Interest”— Pro bono publico , as John Tully would say.’ The grim smile showed again, quite different from her more mischievous grin. ‘Audley won’t sue. Because they won’t let him—they never defend their own. Not like the KGB … But, if we’re right, he won’t anyway — will he?’
    They were back to one of his earliest thoughts. ‘You know him—? Do you know him, Jen?’
    ‘Never met him in my life, so far as I know.’ She frowned, as though running memories backwards. ‘Big ugly fellow, apparently.’ The frown cleared. ‘That’s a pleasure in store, darling.’
    For her, anyway: ‘big ugly fellows’ couldn’t very well thump young lady investigative-writers, certainly—not without the direst consequences. But this time, with time so short, she needed her Ian up there with her, in the forefront of the battle. And that wasn’t reassuring. ‘So why are you so hell-bent on nailing him, Jen?’
    ‘I’m not.’ No smile, no grin, now: she looked as neutral as Switzerland. Yet there was a cold glitter in her eye he’d never seen before. ‘But this is one book I really want to see published.’
    It couldn’t be avarice, surely? ‘We don’t need the money, Jen.