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hurried over to the car park.
    At the age of twenty-five, Nona Jacey was attractive without being beautiful, tall, well built with auburn hair, sea green eyes and a retrousse nose. It was now nearly two years since she had worked for Paul Forrester. His memory had faded, although from time to time she thought of him. Her present job, secretary to an Assistant Scientist was dull, and she often thought of the excitement and interest she had experienced while working for Forrester. But all that was so much water under the bridge. She was in love. Three months ago she had met at a cocktail party a tall Gregory Peck type of young man who was the star reporter on the Paradise Herald , the leading City daily. His name was Alec Sherman. They had taken one look at each other, human chemicals had begun to work and they had known immediately they were meant for each other. This day was Alec’s birthday, and Nona had invited him to dinner. This would be the first time he had been to her two room apartment, and the first time he was to sample her cooking of which she was justly proud. It would be a rush as she had to get back to the City, ten miles from the Research Station, buy the ingredients for the meal, get back to her apartment, cook the meal, change and be ready when he arrived at half past seven.
    She slid into her Austin-Cooper, started the engine and drove to the barrier.
    Seeing her coming, the guard lifted the steel pole and gave her a dashing salute. Nona was popular at the Station. She waved back, smiling, then headed down the highway towards the City’s centre.
    At this time the traffic was heavy and Nona impatiently jumped the lanes, trying to get ahead of two cars which seemed to be in no hurry. She succeeded, then moving into the fast lane, she put her foot down hard on the gas pedal.
    She didn’t notice the black Thunderbird parked in a layby, but the driver of the car had noticed her.
    “There she goes,” Keegan said, started the engine and slid the big car into the line of traffic causing one driver to brake violently and curse at the top of his voice. With a show of expert driving, Keegan moved from one lane to the other until the Thunderbird caught up with the Cooper.
    “She’s going like a bat out of hell,” Silk said, his hat resting on the back of his head. “These kid drivers are crazy.”
    “She doesn’t drive so badly,” Keegan returned. “She’s got the knack. I can tell. I’d like to see how she would handle this job.”
    Silk grunted. He had no patience with the young.
    In a very short while Nona reached the outskirts of the City and promptly reduced speed. She had already had several lectures from traffic cops who seemed to take a delight in leaning into her tiny car, gazing at her indignant face and holding her up while they expounded on the safe limits of speed. It would be disastrous, she told herself, if she were held up now, so she drove down the main street at a sedate thirty miles an hour with the Thunderbird a few yards behind her.
    Signalling, she turned right into the parking lot of the Paradise Self-Service store. Leaving her car, she hurried into the store.
    The menu for the evening was to be fried oysters, wrapped In bacon, followed by sweet pepper stew, a Hungarian dish of lamb, paprika, potatoes, tomatoes, stock, wine, caraway seeds, onions, salt and pepper: a dish that Nona considered to be her masterpiece.
    It was while she was selecting a boned shoulder of lamb that a blond man with a small thin mouth and close set green eyes lurched into her. She staggered and turned indignantly.
    “Excuse me,” the man said, tipping his hat. “I guess I slipped,” and he moved on, disappearing into the crowd.
    Nona looked at the assistant who was serving her.
    “Well! Did you see? He nearly knocked me over!”
    The assistant, young and admiring, grinned at her.
    “What are you grumbling about, miss? You always knock me over every time I see you.”
    Nona laughed.
    “Oh, well . . .