I spotted a lurking shadow on the roof — Mr. Crepsley. Harkat was behind Debbie's building. Both would rush to my rescue at the first sign of trouble. That was the plan we'd hatched. Mr. Crepsley had suggested beating a hasty retreat — things were getting too complicated for his liking — but when I pulled rank, he'd agreed to make the most of the situation and attempt to turn the tables on our opponents — if they showed.

"If a fight develops," he warned me before setting out, "it may not be possible to choose targets. You are not prepared to raise a hand against your friend, but I am, if she is working with the enemy. Do not get in my way if that happens."

I nodded grimly. I wasn't sure I could stand by and let him harm Debbie, even if it turned out that she was conspiring against us — but I'd try.

Trotting up the stairs, I was painfully aware of the two knives I was carrying, strapped to my calves so as not to show. I hoped I wouldn't have to use them, but it was good to know they were there if needed.

The door to 3c was open, but I knocked before entering. "Come in," Debbie called. "I'm in the kitchen."

I closed the door but didn't lock it. Quickly scanned the apartment. Very tidy. Several bookcases, overflowing with books. A CD player and stand; lots of CDs. A portable TV set. A cover poster of The Lord of the Rings on one wall, a picture of Debbie with her parents on another.

Debbie stepped in from the kitchen. She was wearing a long red apron and there was flour in her hair. "I got bored waiting for you," she said, "so I started to make scones. Do you like yours with currants or without?"

"Without," I said and smiled as she ducked back into the kitchen — killers and their cohorts don't greet you with flour in their hair! Any half-doubts I had about Debbie quickly vanished and I knew I'd nothing to fear from her. But I didn't drop my guard — Debbie didn't pose a threat, but there might be vampaneze in the room next door or hovering on the fire escape.