I ate a forkful of spiced beef. ‘Dan wants me to give the talk again. He said he could probably get me steady work.’

Glen lifted one of her dark eyebrows. ‘Interested?’

‘Shit, no. I think the novelty’d soon wear off. Then this crazy woman came up to me…’

‘Hmm, is she what you were thinking about so intently you ordered spiced beef, which you don’t like?’

‘No. Something else.’

I told her about Paula Wilberforce and her PhD, making light of it.

‘Watch her,’ Glen said. ‘The teacher-student relationship is sexual dynamite.’

‘Know all about it, do you, love?’

‘You bet. I could be having it off with two of the smartest, fittest nineteen-year-olds in Sydney. They’re both mad about me.’

‘Well?’

‘Smart and fit isn’t everything. What about you? Are you attracted?’

‘Blue eyes aren’t everything.’

‘What?’

‘She’s got these intensely blue eyes. Make her look a bit mad. She might be, in fact. I wish I hadn’t agreed to see her tomorrow. I’ve got something much more interesting on.’

‘Are you going to tell me about it?’

‘If it develops. How about swapping me some chicken with nuts for some spiced beef?’

3

At 9.45 the next morning I was sitting at my desk with a stick-on label, ballpoint pen and masking tape, rewrapping and readdressing the Lamberte ammunition package. An hour before I’d taken the bullets to a gun-freak friend who loads his own ammunition. He’d obliged me by removing the gunpowder from the. 357s.

‘Still dangerous, Cliff,’ he’d said. ‘Still got a capacity to go off pop.’

I’m no expert forger, but the block capitals on the original label weren’t difficult to copy and there were no eccentric spellings or European sevens to worry about. I’d almost finished the job to my satisfaction when Paula Wilberforce walked in without knocking.