WHEN RAFFERTY AND LLEWELLYN reached Aimhurst’s offices it was about 5.45 pm. Rafferty had thought Albert Smith would be the only one there, but, as they walked up the side of the drive, having left the car on the road, he was surprised to see Marian Steadman through the reception window.
She and Smith appeared to be having an argument. Their dark heads were thrust forward either side of the reception desk, and their waving hands made the same emphatic gestures. This silent, apparently mimed argument looked curiously comical. They reminded Rafferty of a particular bonus television zappers conferred; the ability to play the more pompous politicians in reverse so they looked like marionettes gone mad. It never failed to give him a good belly laugh. In her heyday, Maggie Thatcher had been a f
