He nodded to a door at the far end of the passage. “There it is,” he said. “Can you open it?”
Shep said, “I can open any door. Watch me.” Moving very quietly, he went to the door, examined the lock, then turned his head and beamed. “It’s a cinch,” he said.
“Get going,” Duffy murmured.
Shep felt in his pocket, took out a little tool, fitted it in the lock and turned. Duffy heard the lock slip with a faint click. He said in Shep’s ear, “Give me two minutes, then come on in.”
Shep nodded and stood aside. Duffy gently turned the handle, pushed open the door, and walked in. He found himself in a small hall, about twelve feet by sixteen. Facing him were two doors. He trod quietly over and listened. He thought he heard someone talking behind the right-hand door. Holding his gun waist-high, he pushed open the door, stepped in quickly. Then he said in a cold voice, “You seduced him yet?”
Annabel spun round. She was standing by a divan, on which Clive was lying. Clive’s face was beautifully bandaged with plaster. Someone had made a very neat job of it. All Duffy could see of Clive’s face was two eyes that hated him.
Duffy said very sharply, “Don’t start anything. Keep still.”
Clive said in a curiously adenoidal voice, “Get out of here.”
Annabel ran her fingers through her hair. She smiled at Duffy. “I think you’re cute,” she said.
Duffy said, “Sit down.”