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at joke when he undid her dress and loosened her bra。 Those nipples were as large and firm as Coyle had expected。
She giggled again when he felt up her skirt； and squeezed a couple of fingers between the tight…fitting elastic of her pants。 They began kissing…she clearly had never had a tongue thrust into her mouth before； but she liked it。 AH the time he rubbed with his exploring fingers； then used his free hand to guide her fingers on to the hard bulge in his trousers。 Five minutes later she was shuddering violently； clutching at him； sobbing…and then she was sober again； and asking to be taken home。
He wondered if she would turn up at the office next morning； and his stomach muscles grew taut when at ten minutes past nine there was still no sign of her。 At twenty…five past he sighed with relief as she came trotting in； and later he could have shouted his joy to the whole world when； amidst blushes and stammers； she thanked him for a wonderful evening。
So he had asked her out again。 It required more ingenuity this time； in order to allay any suspicions growing in the minds of her parents。 He admired her for the convincing manner in which she lied to them over the telephone about going to the cinema with Margaret from the type…setting department。 Had Anne's parents known Margaret they would have been far more concerned； for Margaret was a self…confessed lesbian。
Jane had not appeared the' least concerned that Bob Coyle would be home late。 Recently he had the impression that she preferred to have the house to herself in the evenings。 If she suspected he had taken a mistress； she did not seem to care。
Coyle drove out to that same place again； there did not seem any reason to go elsewhere。 By this time surely Anne was fully aware of his intentions。 The fact that she lifted herself up so that he could slide her pants down； confirmed this。 She was only too eager to clamber over on to the more spacious back seat。
That was how it had all begun。 Coyle drained the last of his whisky； his gaze still fixed on the wallpaper； only dimly aware that he had an erection。 He pondered over the problems involved in divorcing Jane。 She certainly did not want him sexually nowadays。
Yet Anne had never once suggested a break…up of his marriage。 His greatest fear was that one day she would find herself a boyfriend； a younger man； acceptable to her parents； who had a damned sight more to offer her than a married newspaperman fast approaching middle…age。 Sometimes he contemplated getting her pregnant。 He wondered what she would do if that happened。 She would either have to demand a secure relationship or an abortion。 Maybe he ought to try it and see。 At least he would know where he stood。
Plutonium was to blame。 He crushed the empty glass fiercely between his fingers。 Pluto。 And Balzur。
'Bob！'
He started； unaware that the office door had opened； and Anne stood there smiling； her gaze focused on the protrusion in his trousers。
'Sorry； I was miles away；' he swung his feet to the floor； and she advanced on him； perching delicately on his knee； one arm around his neck； the fingers of the other starting to caress his hardness almost immediately。
'I trust you were thinking about me。' Her eyebrows were raised mockingly。
'I was；' he admitted truthfully。 'I was just thinking about how it all happened； how we got together 。 。 。 and how you've been transformed from a sweet little innocent teenager into the most beautiful； sexually desirable woman imaginable。'
'And your journalistic training enables you to put it all so delightfully into words；' she continued to stroke him。 'That's something which an awful lot of women miss out on。 You haven't forgotten we're going out tomorrow night？'
'I can hardly wait。'
'Perhaps your wife will oblige you tonight。'
'I shan't ask her。'
'Oh； by the way； Winston Dyne rang while you were out。 He was a bit shirty。 He didn't like your article in last week's edition； the reference to the Balzur legend and the link between Pluto and plutonium。 He says you're playing on sensationalism which could have a detrimental psychological effect on the people of this town。 He wants to see you； so I've arranged for you to be up there at ten in the morning。'
'Darling；' Coyle craned his neck up so that their lips brushed。 'You are Britain's number…one secretary； most definitely。 Twice over the past few months I have been refused an interview with Dyne。 Barbed wire； armed guards； and Christ knows what else； and now I'm actually going inside the devil's stronghold itself。 And it took you to fix it。'
'He's having your pass delivered here later today；' she purred。 'My Bob's making quite a name for himself； isn't he？ Even the Boffins are sitting up and taking notice of him。'
Trying to shut me up； you mean；' he laughed； and stiffened as he felt his zip being slowly pulled down。 'We'd better lock the door；' he signed。
Chapter 3
Coyle experienced an acute sense of uneasiness as he eased his foot off the Avenger's accelerator some twenty yards from the huge twenty…foot…high steel…barred barrier。 An elevated enclosed platform was strategically positioned above the entrance to the nuclear waste disposal and recycling centre。 He noticed a face behind a small aperture； eyes that watched him unwaveringly。 Without a doubt the man was holding a rifle； possibly a submachine…gun； with his thumb positioned on the safety…catch。
The Avenger rolled forward until it was barely five yards from the checkpoint。 A sentry…box stood to the right； outside the barbed…wire fencing。
Coyle wound the window down and held up the green card so that it was visible to the man on checkpoint。 The newspaperman cursed beneath his breath； more to boost his own morale than from anger。 All part of the process； he decided。 Another Berlin Wall。 Playing on my nerves…or trying to。 He pitied the workers who had to pass to and fro daily。 Just like a Siberian labour camp。
Perhaps both these guys watching him from their sentry positions had read his article in last week's Herald。 Maybe Dyne had had it distributed amongst the men。 'This is the guy who is starting all the rumours； using a legend to help cause mass hysteria。 Give him the treatment。 One visit； and he won't want to e back again'。 No； that wasn't right。 It would all get in the paper； and that wouldn't be good publicity。
Nevertheless； nobody was in a hurry。 Coyle lit a cigarette； carefully and deliberately； nonchalantly tossing the spent match in the direction of the lower checkpoint。 He was genuinely angry now； and felt like sounding his horn； or calling out 'Hey you！' Instead he flicked cigarette ash into the wind； and wished that a spark would hit this gateway dictator in the eye。
At last the man advanced slowly towards him。 He was heavily built； a tightly…buttoned uniform holding back rolls of fat。 Slav features； too； or was that his imagination？ Just plain flat…faced and ugly。 He carried a revolver in a holster； the flap…type which prevented a fast draw。 Coyle guessed that in the event of trouble； the upper man would do the shooting。
The guard held out his hand for the pass。 Co》le handed it over； intending to meet his gaze； but the other seemed interested only in the writing on the thin card。 He certainly took his time over it； and Coyle considered perhaps the fellow was illiterate； but again decided it was all part of the demoralising process。 Neither spoke； and there was no need to。 Everything was written on that pass。 Name。 Date。 Reason for visit。 Time of admittance 。 。 。 The big man glanced at his watch。 The card stated 9。55。a。m。 It was now 9。50。 He handed the card back； and returned to his post without a word。 Everything had been conducted in total silence。 Not even a grunt。
Coyle revved up his engine； expecting the gates to open automatically。 Nothing happened。 He was on the point of attracting the man's attention again； when he noticed the hands of his wristwatch： 9。54 a。m。
At 9。55 the gates swung back smoothly； and he drove slowly through。 A black tarmac track headed directly across the red shale pound towards the giant towers； with 5 mph speed…limit signs spaced at intervals of a hundred yards。 Several hundred cars were parked diagonally to his right； obviously belonging to the local labour…force。 He kept going until he reached the second barrier。
Here the uniformed Atomic Energy Authority policeman almost smiled。 Almost。 Coyle had the impression that the man nearly forgot his orders； and then remembered them just in time。 Again the revolver was worn in a covered holster； but the flap was undone。
The man took the green card； read it through minutely； and then pointed in the direction of a squat； one…storied building standing on its own beside what were obviously offices and laboratories。
'Park over there； sir。 The man on duty will escort you to the HOR's office。'
Coyle did as directed。 The uniformed officer inside the glass doors watched him closely as he clim