Evolve or Die! 9.

I got some sleep while Scruff and the Sparrow were doing their networking, googling, and whatever it is the Sparrow does. Emily went out on the prowl, looking for clues. So I was up bright and early, while Scruff and Emily were tired and irritable.
Which is particularly scary with a thirteen-year-old Outsider, believe me.
My big event that day was the re-scheduled Natural History Museum event. Me and Scruff, keeping our eyes and ears open.
My first stop was Diana Dickson. She knows people, and I wanted introductions.
Diana was pleased to see me (she usually is, except for the time with the cursed Egyptian scarab, but that's another story).
"Jane! Do you want to meet some more of my friends?"
"I need introductions, yes."
First up was a white-bearded man called Andrew Lansdale, a biochemist. He shook my hand warmly and smiled.
"Miss Jane Hill! I remember your father when he was a lad. I was so sorry when he died. And you're his eldest daughter..."
"I'm his youngest," Scruff said. Trust her to do that.
"Lilian Hill!" Scruff blushed.
"I prefer to be called Scruff."
"I see. It certainly suits you. So, Jane, what are you doing now?"
"Being very rich. I'm sort of a patron of Diana's, which is why I'm here."
"Ah. Professor Williams!"
I was hardly prepared for the attractive redhead in the expensive suit who hurried over. I say 'in', I mean it in the loosest possible sense (I can be catty if I want to be, I'd have looked horrible in the thing).
"Andrew?"
"This is Miss Jane Hill. Her father was at school with me - in a lower form."
"I'm Scruff," Scruff introduced herself. "I'm Jane's younger sister."
"Professor Coral Williams. I'm a zoologist. I'm glad to see you here."
"I support some of Diana's work," I explained. "Collecting specimens, preserving species."
"So you're not just one of the idle rich?"
"No, I'm very much one of the world's useful people," I smiled. I can be nice when I want to, even to women wearing clothes I disapprove of. "What do you do?"
"All sorts of things, Miss Hill. I'm an admirer of Professor Richard Dawkins. Evolution is such an important subject, and for ignorant religious people..."
"Not all religious people are ignorant," Lansdale interrupted her. "Jane's grandparents were very intelligent people and members of a Baptist Church..."
"Really? And you, Jane?"
"I'm a member in the same Church, despite Scruff," I joked.
"Oh, well. Dr. Flagg says she's certain religion's a delusion. Magic, religion, it's all the same sort of thing. There's no more truth to the Bible's stories of Jesus' rising from the dead than there is to the claims of Egyptian and Indian magicians!"
Diana and I exchanged significant glances. Diana's very open to belief in things beyond our reason. Ever since a mummified cat came to life and attacked her. As for me, I have a black smoky Emily at home to prove that Ghul's magic was real.
I hoped we were getting somewhere.

Evolve or Die! 8.

Emily and I left the Sparrow's lab feeling less than happy about what was going on. The killer had access to some pretty advanced technology, and probably chemical knowledge. He or she also had access to the drugs market. The question was, how much access?
The radio of the Grey Car buzzed, and Scruff's voice came over the airwaves.
"Sis, there's been another death, a beggar in Leicester Square. Same symptoms. Just listening to the police scanner made me want to throw up again."
That I could understand.
"The Sparrow came up with an identification for the poison that killed the victims. Some sort of exotic poison popular in Italy in the 16th century. Which figures, really."
"Not one used in India today," Emily added. "Or I'd know about it."
And she would. That girl knows a lot about nasty ways to kill people - which is quite handy, really.
"Where to, then?" she asked me.
"Home. There's nothing we can do at Leicester Square - too many police officers. I just have to think outside the box, as it were. Who's behind this?"
The question bothered me all the way home. I mean, this was nasty. REALLY nasty. Jack-the-Ripper nasty, but with poison rather than with knives.
Of course!
"Scruff, I think I have some sort of a lead! I was thinking about Jack the Ripper. There's a similarity here. Jack the Ripper targetted prostitutes. The way he dissected the bodies indicated that he had some surgical skill. Well, this killer has quite advanced chemical knowledge, and it seems he or she hates drug addicts."
"Jack the Ripper was never caught." Scruff pointed out.
"Jack the Ripper didn't have us and the Sparrow after him. Contact Alice, and the two of you can draw up a list of scientists in London who have the skill to make the poison that was used. Then you can find out if any of them have the underworld contacts to get the stuff 'cut' with drugs."
At last, I thought, we were getting somewhere. Perhaps.

Evolve or Die! 7.

The Sparrow is an international crime-fighter and superheroine. She's also an old school friend of mine (maybe my old school should advertise the fact?). I use her as my forensic lab when she's in town. She was born blind, but her dad, a brilliant man, made her artificial eyes that can see in practically any spectrum. Which is handy, really. The electronic eyes have a computer link to her brain, and she uses that (along with the bes virus-protection in the world) to link her brain to the internet. Again, might useful.
She knows just about everything about science. Whereas I don't kow enough to analyse the sample. So Emily and I just watched in fasination as Alice examined the blood sample. It didn't do any harm, and I'm sure Alice appreciated my expression. It was one of those moments when I wished I looked like Emily -no-one can see her expression!!
"Jane," Alice said at length. "That's the most fascinating sample you've ever brought me. There's a toxin in this blood so virulent that it kills the victim within five minutes. Where did you get it?"
"You KNOW where I got it!"
"All right, then where did the victim get it?"
"In a 'hit' of heroin, I assume."
"That's impossible. But you know nearly as much about crime as I do, so you must be right. There's no way this drug could have been administered with heroin. The reaction... unless... it might have been administered in two parts! That would have got around the reaction. Part with the heroin, and part later, with something else."
"A two-part poison?"
"Yes. The Borgias were expert at such things, and this one was used back in the 16th century as a way of getting rid of people who were unwanted. It was often administered years apart, the first part stays in the system for years, the second part can then be administered later. Both parts are quite harmless on their own..."
"Then the killer's 'cut' the first part with the drugs he's selling and he administers the second part to his victims later?"
"It could be much later," Alice affirmed.
"Alice, we're in serious trouble. Who knows how long the contaminated drugs have been circulating for? Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of drug-addicts could have been poisoned. They're carrying around half of a lethal poison in their systems, and when the second part is administered, they'll die horribly."
"You've got your motive then, Jane, someone hates drug-addicts."
I nodded. I had a probable motive. But I had no suspects at all.

Evolve or Die! 6.

The Outsider and I faced three armed police officers. The potential for misunderstanding was huge. After all, I'd broken into one their labs and stolen a blood sample, and I'm not exactly popular with the Met. If only it had been a City Police lab...
"Would you accept it if I said I got lost?" I asked.
"Let me handle it."

With a swirl of black smoke, the Outsider became visible, crossbow in hand, eyes blazing red. The police officers stared in horror at her. stange form
"The... The Outsider!"
"The Outsider," sheaffirmed. "I'm just investigating a terrible murder. The Girl in Grey is my friend!"
Her red eyes blazed up at the police officers, dangerous, challenging them to confront her.
No-one did. Emily's scary like that. I bolted, leaving her to hold off the police.
She rejoined me in the car minutes later.
"Thanks, Black and Smoky," I smiled at her. I suppose she smiled back, but you never can tell that with Emily.
We sped back across town to see my friend in her expensive penthouse. She's not much richer than I am really, but I like my home more homely. And people in expensive blocks might ask questions if they saw someone like Emily wandering around. In my block there are enough really weird people for her to be connected with THEM rather than with me.
Or that's my idea, anyhow!
Emily remained invisible as we rode up in the lift. I rang the bell and the door opened.
My friend stood there dressed in robe and dark glasses.
"The Girl in Grey!" she laughed. "Alone?"
"No." Emily became visible again in a swirl of smoke.
"Hey! That's neat! How did you do that?"
"Magic," Emily explained.
"It must be! I couldn't see you at all! Even Dr. Reflecto couldn't hide from my eyes. Alice James, also known as the Sparrow. Usually I fight the more interaional and weird criminals."
"Like Dr. Reflecto?" Emily asked.
"I know. Jerk name. But he picked it. Maybe all the good ones were taken. Did you get the sample?"
"I did. It isn't one of your villains, is it?"
"No. All the poisonous ones are out of London. The one I'm chasing right now uses electricity."
"then here it is."
We went inside to examine the sample.

Evolve or Die! 5.

As the light faded over London, I changed into my Girl in Grey costume. There was something evil menacing my city, and I determined to stop it as soon as possible. We had so little to work on, four dead drug addicts (and yes, it IS possible to become addicted to cannabis psychologically, like it's posible to become addicted to shopping), dead in the most horrible manner.
I had one goal in mind, find a sample of the poison and take it to a friend to be analysed. That meant getting into a police forensics lab. Scruff had found me the right one, but that was just the start. Now I had to get in there and get out with the sample. Although cruff could shut down the security systems for me, I'd still have to contend with dogs (the noisy sort) and foot patrols. Emily would have my back, invisible and heavily armed.
I was still VERY nervous. The police probably thought there was a terrorist motive. I didn't know what to think. It seemed odd, though, most terrorists sell drugs to finance their crimes. If they killed off drug users, they'd reduce their own income. Were they that stupid, or was it somethig else? I liked my idea of a super-scientific serial killer. But I would - it was my idea, after all!












The Grey Car, sleek high-tech vehicle, carried us quickly across London to the police lab. I parked a little way from the lab and activated the car's high-voltage security system once we were out.
"We're here," I radioed Scruff.
"Great! I'll shut down the perimeter in your area."
We hurried to the security fence. As promised, everything was shut down. Emily dissolved into smoke and passed through the wire easily. I had to climb it.
"I'm shutting down a pathway for you," Scruff's voice said in my earpiece. "Follow the path on your GPS."
In days goneby crime-fighters got by without all this junk. But then, they didn't have to contend with high-tech security in police labs. Still, high-tech security's so much easier to get around than foot patrols - and much more forgiving.
With Emily watching my back, I moved quickly through the safe corridor Scruff had made for me, to the lab itself, where the blood samples were stored. My friend needed just a small sample - but she still needed one.
The door unlocked in frot of me and I entered the lab. the sample was easy to find and to put in storage on my belt.
"Let's go!" I said.
We ran from the lab - only to find ourselves face-to-face with three armed police officers!

Evolve or Die! 4.

Scruff and I recovered from our experience quite quickly, and I got Scruff doing what she does best - hacking into police files to find out if this was truly the isolated incident we had been assured it was. After all, the police didn't want to cause panic by revealing that unexplained deaths were taking place in London.
Her first stop was MI5, the Security Service, using a very illegal way in. If the girl's death was linked to any known group, MI5 would know.
Scruff spent ten minutes searching MI5. I watched her face. It looked bad.
"Is it Al-quaeda? I asked. She shook her head.
"No, it's worse. MI5 are baffled, like us."
"Ty the Police."
"They know nothing about it either. Sis, this is really, really bad."
"I know. Were there any other smilar deaths?"
"Three, all in London, all drug addicts."
So it was targtted!
"A bad batch of heroin?"
"No, that's the really weird thing. One was addicted to crack cocaine, another to cannabis, and the third to heroin. Those drugs come from different parts of the world, by different routes. Cocaine comes from South Ameica, most heroin comes from Aghanistan, and most cannabis is grown in this country. They're all treated differently too, processed differently. It's hard to believe they could all three be contaminated by mistake."
"It's more than that," I told her. "It's impossible."
"And I remember the old Sherlock Holmes rule - once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the tuth. Sis, you're saying this is deliberate?"
"It has to be."
"Why?"
"The four victims were connected. They have to be."
" They were all drug addicts, that's..." Scruff tailed off. "Sis!"
"Exactly. We're facing a deadly serial killer who targets drug addicts. We have to stop them - before hundreds die."
Yet I was not even sure where to begin.

Evolve or Die! 3.

"You two spent fifteen minutes throwing up after you saw THAT?" Emily sounded amazed. I was rather irritated.
"Unlike you neither of us were trained as assassins by an evil Indian sorcerer," I pointed out, feeling rather annoyed with the little black smoky Outsider. "And it's not just the sight of blood. This girl was bleeding EVERYWHERE. The police doctor said that her whole vascular system disintergrated."
"Nasty. And yes, kind of icky too. Any idea what caused it?"
"None. You don't know any exotic poisons that do that?"
"No," she admitted. "That's bad. I had a three-month course on poisons as part of my training as a supernaturally-powered assassin. This has to be something new. But apart from that horrible death, how did the reception go?"
"It didn't go apart from the horrible death. BECAUSE of that death, the reception was a disaster. I'll be held again to-morrow. In the meantime I'll be looking out for more unusual and horrific deaths."
"Me too," the Outsider agreed. "you think there'll be more?"
"What killed her may have been a virus. But don't tell Scruff that, we were both very close to the body. I'm hoping it isn't."
The 'phone rang. I picked it up.
"Hello, Jane Hill's flat."
"Miss Hill. It's Dr. Steele from Scotland Yard. You'll be glad to hear that the cause of death was NOT a virus or anything infectious."
"You're right, I will. That's a weight off my mind. Any chance of finding out what it was?"
"Yes, it was poison. A chemical reaction inside her body literally dissolved the walls of her blood vessels."
"Thanks for telling me. It's a weight off my mind."
"I hoped it would be. We still don't know how the poison was administered, though of course our first suspicion is a contaminated batch of heroin. We'll keep you informed."
I smiled. If only he knew that he was keeping the notorious Girl in Grey informed of police findings.
"Thank you, Dr. Steele. I'll tell my sister. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Miss Hill."
"What?" Scruff, in a bathrobe, her hair done up in a towel, emerged from the bathroom.
"It wasn't a virus, it was some sort of poison, probably in the last dose of heroin that girl took. You know what that means?"
Yes," Scruff frowned. "Thousands of drug-addicts could die because of it."
It was a depressing and frightening thought.

Evolve or Die! 2.

The girl was very obviously dead. Though I'm popularly supposed to be a rather sheltered rich girl, you readers know better. From the state of the girl's bare forearms I could see she'd been mainlining some sort of drug. But her symptoms, blood flowing freely from her mouth, high body temperature, eyes that were rapidly beoming red orbs as blood vessels inside them burst, they weren't typical of any sort of overdose I'd ever seen.
"I'm gonna throw up," Scruff declared queasily. I let her go.
I saw skilled scientists staring at the dead girl and I worried. If they weren't sure what had killed her, there was no way I could find out.
"Jane!" Dinana looked in horror at the corpse. Blood was starting to well from every pore.
"I think I'm going to join my sister," I said, feeling rather unwell myself.
Scruff was in the ladies being very sick,
"Room for one more?" I asked. She didn't reply.
When both of us had finished throwing up, we sat down in one of the rooms of the museum to recover and wait for the police.
"That's the most horrible way I ever saw someone die," Scruff declared. I nodded.
"Me too. It got worse after you left."
"DON'T tell me the details," she warned. To be fair we weren't the only ones to be sick after seeing what happened to the dead girl. At least ten others, seven of them men, had to use the bathroom in the same way.
"I don't want to. But that wasn't an overdose."
"You're right," a tall grey-haired man sat down with us. "Morgan Steele, New Scotland Yard. I'm a forensic scientist, and I've never seen a case like it. It looks like her entire vascular system just fell apart."
"I need to use the bathroom again, " Scruff left us.
"It sounds awful," I said. "All I saw was someone stagger in and collapse. I ran to help, but she was already dead when I reached her."
"The effects seem to have started inside - that's why blood came from her mouth before it came from her skin. You're Jane Hill, the owner of Hill Industries?"
"Exactly. I was invited here by Diana Dickson - we were at university together. What do you think caused those symptoms?"
"I have no idea. Hopefully the autopsy will help."
I hoped so too - Scruff could get the results of that from the Scotland Yard database.

Evolve or Die! 1.

The Natural History Museum in Kensington is one of London's great tourist attractions. Because of the dinosaurs. I know lots of other things are there, but I also know that people go there because of the dinosaur skeletons. Well, most people do. I was there on a wet day in May because I'd been invited to a reception. Scruff was freeloading as my secretary, though her jeans and sweater were decidedly out of place in a room full of well-dressed men and women. I think they'd have turned her away at the door if someone had remembered to set a dress code for the event. They hadn't, which was all to our advantage. Of course I dressed as a wealthy young lady is expected to.
I have an architect friend who says tht the Natural History Museum is a disaster, a sort of Lombardic-Romanesque-Gothic concoction by Alfred Waterhouse, an architect whose other great London buildings, the Prudential building in Holborn and the Kings Weigh House chapel in Mayfair, are further evidence of the horrors of his style. I rather like them, but my friend's sensitive. One complaint that can be made about the Natural History Museum is that it's a real headache to floodlight because of the colour of the place.
But that day I was just glad of the great cast-iron roof above us keeping the rain out.

"You think the Deacons would approve of us being here?" Scruff asked mischeviously.
"Probably not, but we're not promoting evolution or anything, are we?" I laughed.
"I guess not," Scruff agreed. "Why can't I have champagne?"
"I don't want you falling over drunk."
"Okay. Is it really like that?"
"Especially since you've never had it before."
"So why are we here?"
"Diana Dickson, an old university friend of mine, invited me. And now I can't see her."
"Jane!"
I whirled. There behind me was Diana Dickson, well-dressed - which is why I hadn't spotted her, she's usually almost as untidy as Scruff. She's an ecologist and usually spends her time in far-flung parts of the globe.
"Diana! I was looking for your hat!"
"I was told not to wear it today. Well, you're still the same Jane. And Scruff! What do you do now, Scruff?"
"I'm Jane's secretary."
"Nice work if you can get it! Listen..."
Suddenly someone at the door screamed. I dashed over to find a young woman, apparently a homeless drug-addict, slumped on the floor. Blood flowed from her mouth and she was rather obviously dead.

Revenge of the Adventurer! Epilogue.

We returned to Barton and the house. He smiled as we arrived.
"The Girl in Grey and her brave sidekick. Tell me, is there any reason you wear that Robin costume?"
"I wore it to a fancy-dress party once and liked it," Scruff replied.
"Galliard's gone," I said. "Over a cliff. There's no way he could have survived."
"It was horrible," Barton agreed. "He'd lost his mind. As you said, he let his hatred for me destroy him. I never hated him. I tried to encourage him. I wanted to help him make a success of his film."
"You can make a success of that film for yourself," I told him. "Now Galliard's gone someone else will buy the studios and the rights to the character..."
"Someone like you?" he smiled. "I wish we could have done something for Galliard. The poor man didn't deserve this."
"Yet he brought it upon himself," I pointed out. "Have you called the police?"
"No. I watch enough of the news to know that the police aren't very keen on you."
"I know. Funny, isn't it? I'm their ally, but they won't admit it."
"Well, you came to the right man for sympathy. I take it you are Miss Jane, as the girl in the Robin costume is undoubtedly Scruff. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."
"Thanks. We have to get back to town. Call the police..."
We left Barton. The police arrived and began to search for Galliard. They found his broken body later. He had died on impact.

With Galliard dead, it was relatively easy for me to buy the character of The Adventurer from his bankrupted company. I gave the rights back to Barton, who was very grateful for them. After all, it's not every day a mysterious multi-millionairess does something like that for a writer.
The new 'Adventurer' novel almost wrote itself after what we'd been through. And Barton found those two characters he'd been looking for to help Richard Coventry in his quest for the man who killed Lana. The first of them was a scruffy teenaged girl who was a whizz with computers, the second a mysterious girl adventurer who donned a grey cat-costume to fight crime. The first character was called Scruff, of course, the second just went by the name of the Grey Kitten.
Well, I'm still persona non grata to the authorities in London, so he couldn't call her the Girl in Grey.

The novel sold like hot cakes on a cold day, and guess what - I'm backing the movie version!

THE END
of 'Revenge of the Adventurer'

But the Girl in Grey will return
In the startling mystery entitled:
'Evolve or Die!'

Revenge of the Adventurer! 27.

Hampered by my injured arm, I ran from the house after Scruff. She pulled a torch from her belt as she ran.
"You'll never catch me!" Galliard called from ahead of us. "Never! No-one can catch me!"
"Careful!" I warned Scruff. "He's mad!"
"You think so?" she joked back. "Sis, I heard him!"
"No-one's going to catch me!" I heard Galliard cry. "No-one! Not ever!"
I'm fast, and I ran after him. Suddenly I heard a shot. Galliard had another gun!
"Watch out!" I warned. "He's armed!"
"I heard him! He's going to kill someone if he's not careful!"
Guided by my torch, we ran through the dark woodland, following the disturbing sound of Galliard's laughter. I might have let him go, but he was armed and dangerous - a homicidal maniac. I hoped Barton had called the police - Surrey police are more understanding where I'm concerned, since they don't have the experience of cases where I've had to go rather a long way beyond what concerned citizens usually do. Well, not so much as the London police do, anyhow.
"Galliard!" I yelled, "be careful! You'll kill yourself!"
"No!" he cried back. "I can't die! I can't! I'll kill you! I'll kill all of you!"
We broke from the woodland to find ourselves in a clearing on the edge of a cliff. Far below a river ran. Ahead of us, facing us, his clothes torn, his eyes wild, was Galliard, a small pistol in his right hand.
"I'm going to kill you," he laughed. Scruff stared at him. She'd never faced an insane enemy before, I remembered. I hoped she wouldn't try anything stupid.
"You thought you could stop me," Galliard laughed. "No-one can stop me! I'm going to destroy John Barton and everything he ever stood for! I'll kill you. Then I'll kill him! I'll kill all of you! And everyone will think I'm a hero. I'll tell them you were all evil, that you tried to kill me. And they'll believe me. They've GOT to believe me! They have to believe me!"
As he ranted, he did not notice my left hand move behind me, to a pouch on my belt. It was designed to open easily, and it did. I took hold of something in the pouch and slowly drew it out.
"Which one shall I kill first?" Galliard mused. "Will it be the little one in the red jacket, or the one in grey? I'll kill you! I'll..."
"No!"
I threw the magnesium flare, covering my eyes as I did so. I saw the blinding flas through my eyelids, and Galliard screamed.
"Down!" I cried to Scruff. We both hit the ground as Galliard staggered, disorientated, blinded.
"My eyes!" he screamed, waving his gun in the air. "My eyes!" He staggered back, and I realised too late the danger he was in.
"No! move forward!" I yelled.
"No! I won't do what you say! I'll jump back!"
No!"
But it was too late. I jumped to my feet, but Galliard jumped backwards, and with a yell of terror he was gone. Over the cliff.

Revenge of the Adventurer! 26.

The bullet missed the bone, but it still hurt. And now I was unarmed and injured. Galliard laughed dementedly.
"I've won!" he cackled. "I've won! I'll kill both of you and I'll be a hero! Then I can do what I want!"
"Are you trying to provide evidence for an insanity plea?" Barton asked calmly as I tried to staunch the bleeding from my arm.
"They'll say YOU were insane! I'll say you killed her! That you were an insane killer! And everyone will believe me! They have to! They must!"
He was ranting now. My appearance must have triggered off a sudden mental collapse in his already unstable mind. While it made him dangerous, it might possibly give me an opening. I was glad I'd brought Emily and Scruff along.
"It was a brilliant plan," I said.
"Of course it was! I'm a genius! I bought Mr. Barton's character from him, engineered his confrontation with Stock. I planned it all! And until your friends stopped me killing my leads, I was fine! Everything was working, but you ruined it. Oh, but you'll fail. You'll all fail! I'll kill both of you! Kill both of you and be a hero!"
"You'll still be a nutcase."

Galliard whirled to face Scruff, in full Robin costume, armed with a garden rake. He stared at her.
"Who...?"
"The girl who's going to beat you," she answered. I saw my chance and, wounded as I was, I tore the pistol from Galliard's hand.
"Thanks, Grey," Scruff smiled. "Still brave without your gun?"
Still completely insane, I thought as Galliard threw himself at my sister.
Scruff's a great kid, and pretty good in a scrap. She used the rake as a fighting-pole, throwing Galliard back. He grabbed the poker and threw himself at her again.
"You've spoiled everything! he shouted madly. "You've ruined my plan! I was going to kill Barton! I was going to be a hero!"
"You were never going to be anything other than a madman," I replied.
Scruff was trained to fight in her school. They're tough places, boarding schools. I just gave her a few hints on how to fight baddies.
She used the furniture to her advantage, boucing on chairs and sofas, using tables and the mantlepiece as high ground. Galliard swang viciously with his poker, but Scruff evaded it. Finally she caught it with the prongs of the rake and tore it from Galliard's grasp.
"Sorry, Mr. Galliard, you've lost," she said.
"No! I can't have! I planned so well..."
He bolted. Scruff and I ran after him.
"Your arm..." Scruff said.
"I've been shot before."
Galliard ran out, into the night. He was making weird, inhuman noises. He was completely insane. We had to stop him.

Revenge of the Adventurer! 25.

"Galliard!" Barton exclaimed, "Is that a gun?"
"Yes. I bought it from a man in London who ships these things in. So useful for MURDER. You see, someone calling himself 'The Adventurer' has been stalking me, threatening me. He killed my script-writer and tried to kill my leading actors. Imagine the reaction when they find that it was you. That YOU were driven mad by what I did to your beloved character, so that you thought you were him and you tried to kill to keep him from being betrayed by my film. I invited you here to talk, but you came here to kill me. We fought, and your gun went off in the struggle, killing you. And then, of course, out of respect for you, I'll cancel the film. So sad, a successful author driven mad..."
"Save the speeches for the judge. Or in your case the prison psychiatrist," I said, throwng open the door.
"The Girl in Grey!" Galliard exclaimed. "I..."
"You slipped up. You see, your hired monkeys at the barge paid a whole lot more attention to me than they did to you. If they'd gone to the barge to kill you, they could have dumped me over the side and finished the job. Instead they paid a whole lot of attention to me and went no-where near you. Conclusion, they were looking for me, not you. Just one of the cluse you left that I followed right back to you.
"You're a successful film-maker, Galliard, yet the script for the film was apalling. Horrible. Beyond a joke. You must have known the film wouldn't sell, yet you were going to make it. Why? There was only one reason. Your pathalogical hatred for John Barton and everything he stands for. This was an elaborate plan to destroy him from the very beginning, not a film! You're obsessed with destroyng him! You saw him succeed in the 1960s and '70s, and your lack of success made you jealous. You let that jealousy eat you up from the inside, twist you and warp you and send you insane!" I had my whip held ready. "Drop that gun, Galliard."
"No! I will destroy John Barton!"

"With me as a witness? With the police already on their way?"
"I've won! You can't take that away from me!" Galliard protested.
"No, Galliard, you've lost," I told him sternly and bluntly. "You've destroyed yourself. You could make films, and you made them quite well, but you allowed this hatred to destroy you. Your vey obsession with John Barton ensures that, in the end, HE has won!"
"I can still kill him!" Galliard whirled on his heel, gun in hand. "I can kill you!"
I didn't have time to use me whip to disarm him. He fired, and I dodged too late. The bullet struck me in the right arm. I dropped my whip.
"You're too late!" Galliard crowed in mad triumph.

Revenge of the Adventurer! 24.

I was extremely glad of my grey Jaguar's powerful engine. True, a friend of mine souped it up a bit, but it was a good engine to begin with. I positively burned rubber all the way back to London. There we changed into action wear, and took out my Grey Car, the fastest thing on the road. There isn't a car in existence that can out-pace that! I'd tried to get Barton on my 'phone, but he was out, and I didn't have his mobile number (this was because he didn't have a mobile, as I discovered later).
That meant I had to get to Surrey fast. Scruff sat next to me, and in the back Emily was cleaning her crossbow again. I don't know how she can tell if it's clean or not (it looking black and smoky like the rest of her), but she can.
Galliard's country house was a retreat he used at times, not a full-time home. One of the Modernist houses built in Surrey, it's not really to my taste. Glass boxes. Plenty of windows to see me coming.
But lots of trees in the grounds to hide me as I moved.
It was getting dark when we arrived. I parked the Grey Car out of sight and turned to Emily.
"Careful. We don't want to alert Galliard."
I hoped that Galliard would be planning to kill Barton later rather than sooner. If not, all my insistence on stealth could be very, very counterproductive.
We moved silently through the trees. Emily was invisible, Scruff and I used our costumes to blend into the darkness of the wooded grounds of the house.
Barton's car was there, standing in the drive, close to the collection of glass boxes that were the house. Inside the house was lit up. That gave me an advantage, because it would make it more difficult for anyone inside the house to see what was going on outside.
I could see two men in the drawing-room of the house. They seemed to be talking quietly, and that encouraged me. I wasn't too late.
We moved fast, up to the front door of the house. Galliard thought I was dead, and that meant he wasn't going to be expecting me to turn up and foil his plan. I like things like that. Not that it isn't fun to get past all the traps set by a baddie who knows you're coming, but it's a whole lot easier when they don't.
The door was locked, but it took me three seconds to open it. I stepped into the hall of the mansion and padded silently over the carpet to the drawing-room door.
"Mr. Galliard," Barton was saying. "I implore you to stop this film. It's a travesty, and from what's leaked out about the script, it's going to flop at the box office. I'd be more than happy to help save the picture..."
"No." Galliard said firmly.
"Don't be a fool, man! You've got a reputation! If you release this film, you'll ruin it!"
"But I won't release the film. I WAS going to announce that after the deaths of my lead actors last night, but the Girl in Grey and her friends interfered. Still, it proved she's in the dark about my plans..."
"Great Scott, Galliard! You mean...?"
"Yes, I killed that idiot of a script-writer. He kept objecting to my revisions of the script. And now I'm going to kill you..."
It was then that I realised Galliard had lost his mind.

Revenge of the Adventurer! 23.

"Galliard!" Miss Farrow exclaimed in disbelief. I didn't blame her. Until all the pieces fitted together, I'd never have believed that Galliard was behind this. He'd recieved death-threats, after all. But death-threats can be faked, especially by a man who makes movies, a man who's used to manufacturing believable fiction!
"Of course! It all makes sense. Scruff, you've read the script. What did you think of it?"
"It sucked. It's horrid."
"And how likely is a script like that to bomb at the box office?"
"I'd say about one hundred per cent."
"Exactly. Now Galliard's not a fool. He's made successful films. So why is this one so bad?"
"Because he hates John and everything John stands for as represented by 'The Adventurer'," Molly Farrow replied to my question. She was beginning to see the light.
"Exactly! But at the same time he knows it's going to be a bad film. If he were to actually release a turkey like that it would affect his reputation as a film-maker. But if production were broken up by a series of murders, it wouldn't be his fault."
"The police are investigating," Miss Farrow objected.
"Exactly. But as Mr. Barton said, Galliard used to write crime fiction. He's been planning this very carefully. First he engineered that argument between Stock and Barton, making sure they'd be witnesses. Then he had Stock murdered. He engineered those death-threats and arranged for them to be sent to him. We already know that the killers were hired through an East End gangster..."
"You ARE an amateur sleuth," Miss Farrow said admiringly.
"Thanks. I'm a very careful investor. Well, last night Galliard must have arranged for his two leads to be killed..."
"What about the barge?" Scruff asked.
"I'm not sure," I replied. "But I know it fits in somewhere." Actually I did know. Galliard must have seen me and called a man in to deal with me. The other two had been reporting back to him that they'd failed. And with the stars still alive, Galliard had no excuse to shut down the film.
"Fortunately for them, the Girl in Gey had realised they were in danger and her friends stopped the killers. I bet she thought Galliard was threatened too, and that's why she was attacked on his barge. Miss Farrow, did you say that Barton's seeing Galliard tonight?"
"Yes," she nodded. "John's visiting him at his Surrey estate..."
"Where I bet Galliard's got a murder and a frame-up ready! Sorry, Miss Farrow, we have to go."
"Yes," she agreed, plainly agitated. "Go! Go and save John from that awful man!"
We ran from the house. Emily sat up as we jumped into the car.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Sis worked out Galliard's the killer," Scruff explained.
"Galliard!"
"Yes, he's insane, mad with Jealousy and hatred towards John Barton. He wanted to destroy Barton, and tonight he and Barton are meeting at Galliard's country estate in Surrey." I started the car. "Come on! We have to get back to London, change, and speed out again the the Grey car. Galliard has to be caught red-handed!"
I drove off at speed. I had to prevent a murder! I hoped that I wouldn't be too late.

Revenge of the Adventurer! 22.

Miss Farrow took us into a palatial drawing-room and bade us sit down, which we did. Scruff took the hearth-rug.
"We're really looking into this whole film business," I explained. "I'm a very wealthy girl, and I liked the re-runs of 'The Adventurer' on TV when I was small, so I took a look at this film. I didn't know what it was then, but we found out. Then there was that murder and these attempted murders. So... I'm sort of intrigued."
"You're an amateur sleuth, Miss Hill, admit it!" Miss Farrow laughed.
"Jane, please. I feel terribly old when anyone calls me Miss Hill."
"Jane then. Jane and Scruff. I'm guessing Scruff's a nickname, right?"
"Right," Scruff laughed. "it's really Lilian, but no-one's called me that since I was a LOT younger."
"Let me get some tea or coffee for you two."
"Tea for both of us," I said quickly. Miss Farrow went to get it.
There was no mistaking that she was a nice person. She was wealthy, but the sort of wealthy lady who invites the village and the parish church to hold events in her house and gardens, who holds garden-parties for the ordinary village folk. In short, my kind of wealthy lady.
"She's not involved," I said. But then, I'd thought that about Barton too. And Walker was far too badly injured, mentally and physically, to hire men to do the killing. No, he'd have done it himself. Something didn't add up, and I was worried. I was missing something, and I didn't know what it was.
"Tea," Miss farrow announded, handing us our cups. We thanked her (being well brought-up girls).
"I'm sorry," Miss Farrow said as she sat down. "But that film's hurt all of us, John, Norman and myself. It's a deliberate attack on everything the Adventurer stood for, and that evil man's laughing at us. He's trying to make us a joke!"
"Why?" I asked.
"He hates John and the fact that John's books sold whle his didn't. But there was a reason for it. His books were awful, sordid little books about sordid little people doing sordid little things. John had an ideal, and the Adventurer was that ideal. So now Galliard wants to drag that ideal through the mud! And now these attempted murders linked with the name of the Adventurer! Tonight John's going to have a final meeting with Galliard, at Galliard's home in Surrey."
It was then all the pieces of the puzzle dropped into place. I jumped to my feet with a yell of alarm and surprise.
"Jane?" Miss Farrow asked.
"I know who the criminal is! Oh my..."
"Who?" Scruff asked.
"It's Galliard! It's been Galliard all along!"

Revenge of the Adventurer! 21.

"Mogul sword-torture?" I asked Emily as we decended the fire-escape again. "I didn't know you'd been trained in torture techniques."
"Confidentially, I haven't. But he didn't know that."
I laughed.
"Emily, you're amazing!"
"Thanks. You're pretty good yourself. He was one of the men who tried to kill you last night, wasn't he?"
"Confidentially, yes. So, where to now? Mark Conant?"
"No," Emily shook her black smoky head. "Holding's bound to warn him. We go for our original target, Miss Molly Farrow. We might as well, after all."
We rejoined Scruff in the car. She was on some newsgroup posting rude remarks about 'The Adventurer' being a lousy script

Unless John Barton gets on this project and supplies a totally new script, this film's going to be awful. So long as Galliard's name appears on it and Barton's doesn't, stay well away.

"Are you sabotaging the film?" I asked her sweetly as I put my trouser-suit on over my Girl in Grey outfit.
"Of course. What else would I do, Sis?"
"Nothing. Do you really think that Galliard can't make this a good film?"
"It's too personal, Sis. He hates Barton, and he's set out to destroy Barton's 'Adventurer'. That means it can't ever be a good film."
"Sis, you're so right," I told her, ruffling her untidy black hair. Emily jumped in the back of the car.
"Molly Farrow's it is," I declared.
Molly Farrow lived in Essex, so in Bethnal Green we were headed in the right direction. It was a good drive, and we got there in plenty of time.
She lived in a 1920s house in the Essex countryside, a nice sort of imitation Tudor place that looked just like the real thing provided you'd never actually SEEN the real thing.
I parked outside, and this time we left Emily in the car (she might have scared Miss Farrow) and Scruff and I walked to the door. I rang the bell and waited.
The door was opened by a woman in her sixties. I recognised Molly Farrow at once. The youthful beauty of her TV years had matured, and she wasn't ashamed of her age.
"Miss Farrow?" I asked, just to be on the safe side. She laughed.
"Yes. You must be fans!"
"Jane and Scruff Hill," I said. "You can probably guess which is which."
"I think I can. So, how can I help you?"
"It's about the recent crimes committed in connection with the new film 'The Adventurer," I said. Miss Farrow's face darkened.
"Don't talk to me about that awful film. I was Lana Coll, now that Galliard man wants to destroy my character. I read it on the internet."
"I posted it," Scruff confessed.
"You did?" Miss Farrow laughed. "You little saboteur! Come on in!"
Scruff can be REALLY useful sometimes.

Revenge of the Adventurer! 20.

I drove to Bethnal Green and parked in a nice quiet alley. There I changed into my Girl in Grey outfit, while Emily checked her crossbow. Scruff remained in her day clothes. Apparently, while she has no objection to wearing her Robin outfit by night, she won't wear it by day. We left her in the car doing weird and woderful things with the computers.
James Holding lived in an old terrace that had seen better days. His flat was on an upper floor, but I know everything there is to know about getting into a building by means of the fire escape.
Emily, now visible again, and wonderfully black and smoky, climbed the fire escape ahead of me. If she was right, and Holding had been the man she'd shot, he'd be terrified when he saw her and might even consider confessing everything to us.
Chance would be a fine thing!
Emily tried the window. It was locked, but rotten, and she smashed it to pieces.
We weren't terrible subtle. All right, we weren't subtle at all. Emily vaulted in first, and I followed.
Holding was in the living-room. He'd jumped to his feet, but as we crashed through the bedroom door, he went for a gun. One of Emily's bolts stopped him, hitting his right hand and pinning it to the table. Holding yelled in pain and fear.
"You probably remember me," Emily told him. He nodded, afraid.
"The... the... the Outsider!"

"You DO remember me! I'm so glad! Now, last night you tried to kill Jackson Hughes, and I shot you. Someone hired you to do that. If you know who it is, you're going to tell me, or I'll do some more shooting. I've also got a nice big sword and a few knives that I can use imaginitively on you. How does that sound? Painful? I'm so glad it does!"
Holding was gibbering quietly now. I smiled.
"Well, Mr. Holding?"
"You... you're dead! I saw..."
"Oh," I scowled. The dirty little... He'd been one of the men who'd thrown me in the dock to drown.
"No. I don't wear a cat costume for nothing. I've got nine lives. You, on the other hand, just have one, which the Outsider here will make very uncomfortable for you if you don't 'fess up and tell us who hired you."
"I don't know," he said sullenly. Emily shot him in the left elbow.
"Bad answer," she told him. "Unless you want me to apply the Mogul sword-torture?"
I heard her draw her sword. Its point touched Holding's throat.
"It may LOOK black and smoky like me, but I assure you it's real," she told him threateningly.
"I'll talk!" he cried. "I was hired by a man called Mark Conant! He's a local gangster! I don't know any more! I swear I don't!"
"I believe you," Emily sheathed her sword. Then she retrieved the bolts that were stuck in Holding. "Now, you need to see a doctor."
We left with another link in the chain.

Revenge of the Adventurer! 19.

Once again I was glad I hadn't just given Galliard the brush-off when I'd found out how bad his film was (or when Scruff decided to sabotage it online by posting large chunks of the worst bits of the script. As Jane Hill, fantastically wealthy potential backer of the film, I could practically come and go as I pleased at the studio. And right now I wanted to come.
Scruff was with me, of course. She really is my secretary, even though she looks nothing like one. Scruff doesn't pretend to be what she isn't, and that means that she can be a little odd as a secretary (okay, VERY odd). Still, she's great, and she does a lot more than anyone who wasn't my sister would be allowed to do (like helping me as the Girl in Grey). Emily came too, though she faded from sight as we approached the studio entrance. I smiled sweetly at the guard, and he let us in. After I'd parked the car Emily went off to snoop around while Scruff and I went to see Galliard. He had added four huge minders to his staff, but otherwise seemed to be fit, healthy and not very pleasant.
"Miss Hill!" he greeted me with a smile.
"Mr. Galliard! I saw the news!"
"Yes. Of course they messed it all up. The Girl in Grey was trying to protect me, not to kill me. She got thrown in the dock for her pains, and I hope she survived."

It was nice to know someone cared.
"Three attacks, on yourself and your two stars," I said. "That means someone IS trying to destroy this film."
"But who'd do something as violent as trying to kill people to wreck THIS film?" Scruff asked. I shot her a warning look, knowing EXACTLY what she meant.
"I don't know. Neither do the police, and they're trying to get the Girl in Grey, which is a false direction," Galliard shook his head. "But I assure you, Miss Hill, the film will be going ahead. I will not bow to intimidation."
"Any ideas?" Scruff asked.
"Miss..."
"Just call me Scruff, everyone else does."
"Scruff, it's not for me to speculate."
"Okay," Scruff smiled. "You don't think Barton might be involved?"
"He hasn't the money to hire men," Galliard answered. "But then again, he DID threaten me..."
"How would he have known your address and the two hotels your stars were in?" I asked.
"I don't know..."
"I can't commit to invest in a film that might not go ahead," I told Galliard. "I want to, but I'm sure you understand my situation."
Galliard nodded.
"I think I do, Miss Hill. Well, good day. As you can imagne I'm very busy right now."
I let him be busy. We returned to the car to find Emily already there (Scruff accidentally sat on her).
"Ow!" Emily protested.
"Sorry." Scruff got off her.
"What did you find?"
"Our man's address. I have a few questions to ask him. And a sword to back them up with if he doesn't co-operate. Bethnal Green, and step on it."

Revenge of the Adventurer! 18.

I drove straight back home, where I could get out of my wet costume and take myself off to my nice warm bed while Scruff and Emily amused themselves. I had a lot to think about. Who was behind these attacks? Why had they REALLY done them? I couldn't get out of my mind a nasty little suspicion that I was missing something. I took a very long, very warm bath and actually managed to get the stagnant dock smell out of my hair. Wonderful! Cats don't like water, and my cat costume indicates the truth about me on that point as well!
While Emily went out to do whatever she does at night, Scruff and I turned in. I didn't sleep well. I kept dreaming about being thrown off the boat, and the cloaked figure appeared before me time after time. Each time it took off its mask revealing a different face.
I was so glad when morning came and I could go and make myself a huge mug of coffee and sit down to watch the morning news. Starting with the latest from Iraq, as usual. But I suppose they have to report something, and so long as it isn't Ken Livingstone calling for my capture that comes on first, I'm great with it.
It came on second, much to my disgust. My boots were displayed by a police officer (and they're such nice boots too), while an appeal was made for information. Ken Livingstone declared that I was probably in with the masked men - never mind that they'd tried very hard to drown me!
"Once again the mysterious Girl in Grey has demonstrated that she's a criminal, not the crime-fighter she wants people to think she is," Livingstone said. "It seems she was leading an attempt to murder the film-maker..."
I turned the TV off again and sighed.
"Sis?"
"Livingstone saying silly things again. Jumping to all the wrong conclusions. We have to crack this thing soon, otherwise London would get very hot for this little kitty-cat - and I don't mean maybe.
"Good morning," Emily left her room. I've never asked her what she wears - when she's black and smoky like she is it isn't easy to tell - but she looked good. Well, her eyes were nice and bright.
"Emily! Where were you last night?"
"Out. Tracking the man I shot. He managed to get onto a balcony in the hotel, then he took off his cloak and went downstairs where he was picked up by a yellow Ford Focus. I got the plate from the hotel security camera and Scruff hacked into the Police National Computer so we got the owner.
"Who is it?"
"James Holding. He works as a security guard at Galliard Studios. Only he won't be in work today. Someone shot him with a crossbow-bolt."

We had progress!