The first part of the journey home went as well as could be expected. Phryne daydreamed about the kiss she had shared with Jack on the airstrip and had decided she would not be staying in England very long. Much as she would love him to follow her, he had his duty to the city of Melbourne and it was unlikely he would be allowed so much leave.

She had deliberately chosen small airfields to refuel at, ones with simple accommodation and no night life. Henry constantly grumbled about this and up to a point Phryne was able to ignore him. She too would have preferred to find a hotel, a small one would do, with good food and wine, comfortable beds, but she wasn't sure she could trust her father not to find a card game and a bar so she opted to bunk in the airfield barracks.

The weather was good for flying, a light breeze and clear skies and she made good time between stops. The further into Europe they went the better the accommodation would be but their first proper stop would be somewhere outside Jodhpur. Phryne had decided to refuel there, have the plane checked over and spend a couple of nights near the city. It was about as far as she could go before tipping Henry out over the ocean became a real possibility. He whined about the cramped seating, the wind, the odd bit of turbulence completely forgetting that Phryne was in control of a piece of machinery that to all intents and purposes should not be able to get off the ground. It took a great deal of concentration to ensure the plane stayed up and headed in the right direction, but he was completely oblivious to this and couldn't understand why she should be so short with him in the evenings, when she was so tired and her neck ached. She wondered if Jack was any good at massage with those long pianist's fingers of his.

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Jack used the telegrams she sent at each stop as bookmarks. He could almost smell her French perfume, hear her laughing at something or other that had amused her. He missed her, but she was right in her supposition, he couldn't get the Commissioner to sign off on the leave he would need to meet her in London. He couldn't telegram back, she would have moved on, but, he did know about the Jodhpur stop and resolved to have a letter waiting for her when she arrived.

"Dear Phryne,

Thank you for telegramming me, to let me know you are safe. The journey seems to be going at a good pace, I pray it continues to do so. Please don't tip your father out over the ocean, the arrest paperwork would be dreadful.

I am unable, so far, to engineer enough leave to meet you in London, if that is what you truly wished. I will keep working on the Commissioner.

Hugh and Dorothy are looking for a home of their own while they keep Wardlow ticking over. Mr Butler insists I dine with them most nights and I am afraid I cannot resist even his simple omelette. Lovely company as they are, I miss sitting with you after dinner over draughts and whisky, discussing the latest case. I also find I miss you sitting on my desk or turning up at a crime scene, pinching my toast ... I miss you, Phryne, very much. Come home soon, beautiful lady detective.

Love and respect,

your Jack."

It wasn't the best of letters he could write, he'd long lost the ability to write a love letter, but perhaps she would see what he wanted to say.

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"1 MORE DAY UNTIL JODHPUR STOP WHAT WOULD I GET IF HE FELL OUT OVER THE MOUNTAINS STOP

PHRYNE"

Jack smiled. Fell out? An accident would not get her hanged though she would be responsible for checking he was strapped in correctly. Unfortunately he had already posted his letter so was unable to answer her question.

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"In you get, father," she chivvied him along, "next stop just outside Jodhpur, and we are staying for two nights. I want to get the plane checked over."

"Just outside?" he climbed stiffly into the forward seat, "why not in the city?"

"You know why, father," she followed him up and strapped her flying helmet on, "contact!" she called to the mechanic. The engine roared into life first time, as it always did, and she taxied down the runway, took off into the bright blue sky and relaxed. She couldn't hear her father grumbling over the engine noise.

Henry wondered what sort of accommodation he would have to bear for the two nights they would be staying. Probably another bunk in another airfield barracks. He shivered as the cold air whipped by.

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They landed at an airfield just below the city. Phryne jumped down and spoke to the mechanics while Henry looked on. They were all handsome young men, the type that his daughter would flirt with and more in the past, but now she seemed more interested in getting him home to Margaret. Perhaps they could persuade her to show an interest in some of the young and, more importantly, wealthy, aristocrats in England, and not high tail it back off to Melbourne and meddling in police affairs.

A youngish man, not a local Henry noticed, bounded out of the office, arms wide open.

"Phryne, you mad woman!" he bellowed and enveloped her in a tight hug.

"Hello, Septic," she grinned back, "thanks for letting me land here and for the use of your mechanics."

"Pleasure's all mine, old girl, though why you should want to fly all the way back to Blighty when an ocean liner would be far more comfortable, I don't know."

"Three, four weeks with father," she raised her eyebrows, "good god, what an awful thought."

"So why?"

Got to get him home to mother before she throws him out on his ear," she pouted, "another story that I won't bore you with."

Henry clambered stiffly out of the plane and sauntered over, keen to find his new accommodation and hopefully have a stiff whisky or two.

"Father," Phryne called him over, "come and meet Squadron Leader Terence Blandford; Septic to his friends; Septic, my father, Baron Henry George Fisher of Richmond upon Thames."

"Squadron Leader," Henry shook his hand and looked the man up and down, "why on earth 'Septic'?"

"Old school joke, initials ... TB," Septic laughed.

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Their hotel was on the lower slopes of the city, well appointed but not too flamboyant, Phryne had asked for somewhere inexpensive, but not cheap. After all, she was paying, and her father did not deserve the opulence of the grand hotels in the city. All she wanted was a comfortable bed, a long soak in the bath and good food. She arranged with Septic that the mechanics would give the plane a good service and fuel her up and she would see him at dinner for an update.

The bath was deep, fragrant and just what the doctor ordered. She had telegrammed Jack to tell him she had arrived safely and her father had not fallen out over the mountains. In return his letter had just arrived and she lay in the steaming bath reading it, keeping it well out of the way of the water so as to stop the ink from running. She smiled at his missing her and was glad Mr B had seen to it that he was fed and watered, as she had asked him to do. She would arrange to be back in Melbourne as soon as humanly possible and perch on the corner of his desk one morning, and steal his toast.

She thought she might write a short note to him, telling him she missed him too. If she got it in the post the following day it would be with him soon enough.

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Conversation over dinner revolved around Phryne's cases, the people she had left behind and her role as guardian to a young girl. She told Septic about Jack and Hugh, about how she had inveigled her way into his cases and in doing so Septic could see just what she felt for the Inspector. He in turn, told her how he had set up the airfield after retiring from the RAF, ran short commercial flights and sightseeing tours and was thinking of opening a flying school.

"I've trained up some of the men and they have enough hours to fly solo so all is good here." He sipped his drink.

Henry muttered that he still didn't see their enthusiasm for flying, good old roads and rail, with sea journeys added in, he grumbled into his dinner. He thought he'd have an early night and left the two old friends reminiscing about their earlier years, the war and later in Paris before Rene.

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Phryne didn't see her father at breakfast. Admittedly she had decided to rise later than she had on their other stops. She and Septic had parted late, he to his little bungalow and she to her room, both alone. But, she wasn't Septic's type and really she was too tired for any kind of bedroom antics, though Jack may have been able to persuade her!

She knocked on Henry's door and waited for an answer. She knew he had breakfasted because the waiter had told her so but he hadn't been seen since. She knocked again, still no answer. She took her trusty lock pick and let herself in. The bed had been made, his clothes put away and his toiletries were tidily stowed on the washbasin shelf. Perhaps the lounge, reading the paper, or at least the racing pages, but he had no money on him, unless he had some hidden about his person that she knew nothing about.

Panic began to set in when she had tried just about every public place around the hotel, the lounge, the music salon, the gardens, and still not set eyes on her father. She rang Septic to ask if he had seen him, had he wandered out to the airfield, though why he should she couldn't work out.

"No, not seen him," Septic shook his head, "want me to come and help search?"

"Where could he go, Septic?" she huffed, "he knows no-one here, and has never set foot in India before. I swear I am going to handcuff him to his bed at the next stop over."

"Is the Inspector missing some police equipment?" he laughed.

"Huh!" she puffed, "any suggestions as to where a committed gambler, fraud and drinker could go in Jodhpur?"

"He would only be able to drink in the hotels, same with gambling, though it is illegal, and what kind of fraud could he commit?"

"Damn him!"

Septic left the airfield and drove over to the hotel where they outlined how far he could have got that morning. By mid afternoon they hadn't found him, were hungry and, in Phryne's case, furious. She ran her hands through her hair and gave an exasperated sigh.

"Come on old thing," Septic hugged her, "you need to eat, can't search for an errant father on an empty stomach."

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She delayed her departure for an extra day, but when Henry was still missing she decided she would have to stay indefinitely and call in the cavalry.

"Phryne?" Jack rubbed his eyes, "god woman, you choose some time to call ... what? No?"

On the other end of the phone, a now angrily crying Phryne tried to explain what had happened and how worried she was.

"Jack, I'm sorry, but the local police are no help, we have scoured the city and I still can't find him," she sniffed, "please, I know it will not be easy but ..."

"True, but I'll be there, just don't know how long it will take."

"Go to the airfield and ask for Harris," she felt relieved, "he has a Tri-Motor, faster and longer range than the Gypsy, he'll be able to get you here sooner."

"Right, I'll get a message to you," Jack put down the phone and thought for a second. Picking up the receiver again he dialled the Commissioner's office.

"Missing man, sir," he said, "I've been asked to join the hunt."

The Commissioner listened as Jack told him it was an Australian citizen that had gone missing in India and the family had called for some help, from someone who could do the job.

"Locals not up to the task, sir," he padded out the story.

"Go on then Robinson," the Commissioner smiled, "tell Miss Fisher to keep a tighter rein on her father in future."

"Er, right, yes ..." Jack scratched his head, put the phone down and mused at how the Commissioner saw right through him, this time.

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Harris agreed to fly Jack to Jodhpur, 'any friend of Phryne Fisher's' ,he'd laughed, so the Inspector swung by his own house to pack a few essentials leaving Hugh to tell Dot and Mr Butler he wouldn't be by for dinner that night.

"Really, sir?" Hugh gasped when he heard of the mission, "well, I suppose we'll see you sometime, then."

"Oh, I'll be back, Collins," he smiled, "keep things neat and tidy, please."

"Do my best sir," Collins shrugged.

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Jack was relieved to see the plane appeared to be more substantial than the moth.

"Old mail plane," Harris hummed, "good workhorse, she is. Get you there in no time."

"Why would Miss Fisher not use something like this to fly her father to England?" Jack settled in the co-pilot's seat, just because there was no one else there and it would be more interesting than sitting back in the body of the plane.

"She's used to the Moth, don't think she's ever flown this type, it's bigger, you see."

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While Phryne and Septic had been scouring the streets of Jodhpur, the cafes and bars, clubs and dens, Henry had been having a ball. The morning he had disappeared he had simply wandered out of the hotel and headed towards the city. He wasn't usually one for a long walk but he was intrigued by the sounds and people going about their daily business. He had been standing by a statue of some Indian god when he had been hailed by another Englishman.

"Henry George Fisher, as I live and breathe!" the man clapped his hand on his shoulder, "what the devil are you doing here, in Jodhpur?"

"Clarence Jeffries?!" Henry gasped, "I might ask the same of you."

"Live here, old man," Clarence laughed his hearty laugh, "have done for years. Came over just after that little incident with the horse."

"That was a while ago," Henry smirked, as he remembered the horse he and Clarence had been encouraged to buy, a race horse supposedly, but it was universally agreed, after it had lost all its races, that it was a donkey with three legs. That being the case, in order to get their money back they sold it on, to an unsuspecting Spanish bullfighter looking for a mount. Henry had managed to disappear and Clarence left for India before they were tried for fraud. Eventually the case was deemed not worthy of being pursued and the Spaniard took the horse home for his children to ride.

"Come on over," Clarence insisted, "got a lovely hotel higher up in the city."

Henry paused then thought, 'we have another night here, before we fly home,' then smiled, "marvellous idea, Phryne'll be busy with the plane."

"Not little Phryne?" Clarence escorted him to a pony and cart, "not so little now I suppose."

"Grown woman now," Henry nodded, settling himself down on the plush cushion, "flies planes, drives far too fast. Lives back in Melbourne."

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The hotel was indeed lovely. Light and exquisitely decorated in traditional Indian style, cool inside.

"This way, old chap," Clarence tugged him towards the back of the reception area, "private rooms."

They spent the rest of the day reminiscing, drinking, they ate a hearty lunch, napped, drank some more and had a feast of a dinner. Henry had forgotten all about the reason for him being in India, why Phryne had brought him here and when Clarence suggested he stay over, as the night was wearing on, he readily agreed. Pyjamas were found for him, by a local woman who apparently 'looked after' Clarence, and he weaved his way to bed in a haze of good whisky and wine, and suspicious tobacco.

The following morning, while Phryne and Septic discussed which part of the city to search, Henry arose from his far too comfortable bed to find a young local girl had drawn him a bath and laid out his clothes, which had been cleaned, and shaving gear. Clarence had said he would show him the extent of the hotel grounds that morning, and then they'd see what other memories they could dig up. The bath was deep and wide, easily big enough for a family of four and Henry found himself drifting off. He awoke as a ewer of hot water was added to his bath and the lovely young lady who had prepared it standing there wearing nothing but a thin white shift. She stepped into the bath and as she did so the water turned the fabric transparent and he could see her fine neat figure, perfect small breasts and tidy triangle of dark at the apex of her thighs. He couldn't help his body's reaction as she leant over and lathered his chin ready to shave him. He closed his eyes as the razor was drawn over his chin and she subtly moved against him, encouraging him to harden more. He felt his heart race and his breath came in little gasps.

As the girl finished her attentions to his chin her hand slid down and cupped him, before lazily drawing her finger up his twitching erection. She positioned herself over him and slowly guided him into her. She was wet and hot and he found himself reacting to her, lifting his hips to meet her as she set the rhythm. He pushed into her harder and harder, faster and faster until they both shattered.

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On the other side of the wall Clarence smiled a little smile, and clicked the shutter on his camera. Henry Fisher could never resist something a little exotic, nor could most of the men he enticed into his private apartment. Once he had bled them dry, threatening to send the photographs to their wives and lady friends, he would burn the negatives. At least he did stick to that side of the bargain. He watched the girl step out of the bath and offer a towel to Henry. As he stepped out Clarence got a perfect full frontal picture of Henry.

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Henry didn't mention his bathing partner to Clarence and Clarence just asked if his accommodation was acceptable.

"More than acceptable, old chap," Henry chuckled, "wish I'd known about this place before."

"Well, you're welcome to stay a bit longer," Clarence could see quite a bit of mileage in having Henry to stay, the Fishers were a wealthy family, or so he thought. They had been when they had sold the horse, anyway, and if his daughter could afford to fly her own plane ... must be rolling in it.

Still a little foggy headed from the previous night, Henry agreed.

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Septic and Phryne continued searching the city, showing Henry's passport to all they met, all the hotel staff they could find but no one appeared to have seen him. He wasn't remembered at the railway station so they believed he hadn't left the city.

"The thing about my father," Phryne mused over tea, "is he is not easily ignored. He never goes unnoticed so I can't understand how he can so completely disappear." She ran her hands through her hair and Septic thought how tired she looked. It was unlikely she was sleeping properly, if at all, and the previous night she had shed tears of frustration.

"Jodhpur is a big city, Phryne," he touched her hand sympathetically, "it's easy to disappear, or get lost. Now, all the more affluent areas have been covered, as you say your father likes his comforts, so I suggest we start on the lesser areas."

"Jack will be here tomorrow," she sighed, "he knows him, too well."

"Really?" Septic raised his eyebrows.

"Father was always in the way if I wanted to have a quiet dinner with Inspector Robinson," she let her mind wander to the night of Jack's declaration, the night he had practically told her he was in love with her.

"I see," and he did.

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Sitting in the co-pilot's seat and chatting to Harris, Jack found the flight went quicker than he expected it to. They made one stop to refuel but made good use of the light and Harris showed him how to keep the plane heading straight and true and in the air, while he had the occasional nap. He wondered if Phryne would teach him to fly.

"Harris?" he watched the man start the descent to Septic's airfield, "would this plane get Phryne to England quicker than the Moth?"

"Some, why?"

"Perhaps, as a damage limitation exercise ..."

"Got you, no worries, the old crate will do it, though they are already a week behind schedule, from what you say, and I won't be able to make that time up," he nodded, "and we have to find the Baron first."

"True, just a thought," Jack hummed.

"Will you go on with them?" Harris lined up the nose of the aircraft with the runway and touched down smoothly.

"I think so, if she wants me to."

"She asked for your help, Phryne doesn't do that, ordinarily, too blasted independent."

"Quite," he turned at a shout and there she was, running towards him

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"Jack! Jack!" she screamed, "oh Jack," she flung her arms round him and he held her tight.

"Miss Fisher," he smiled, noting how tired she looked. Dark circles round her eyes, eyes that were filled with tears. He kissed her forehead, "Phryne."

"Thank you, " she sniffed, "I ... I..."

"I know, love," he murmured in her ear, "we'll find him, don't worry."

He knew less about Jodhpur than she did, but he would find Henry, or die in the attempt, for her. At least he had no preconceptions about the city and therefore would search places she and Septic hadn't thought of.

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With Jack's suitcase deposited in Phryne's room, and tea ordered they started to talk about all the places they had searched. They marked everything on a map and made a plan for the following day.

"First I would like to see his room," Jack took off his tie and undid his top two buttons. Phryne turned away to hide a smirk, now was not the time to start admiring his physique, especially when he followed that with rolling up his shirt sleeves, exposing strong forearms.

"Of course," she agreed, "though I have turned it upside down."

"I have no doubt you have done, Miss Fisher," he raised one, quizzical eyebrow, "nevertheless ..."

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Jack's search yielded no more than Phryne's, that is - nothing!

"It looks like he just decided to go for a walk and never came back," he sighed, "well, tomorrow, as we said, I think more than just showing his passport to the various hotel desks. We go in, perhaps order tea, easy to snoop around ..."

"I suppose we have to get lost on the way to the facilities, then?"

"Best excuse I know for being in the wrong place," he slipped his arm round her, "he'll be there, somewhere, love, probably having a great time with some English person he's hooked up with."

"That's what worries me," she leant her head on his shoulder and Septic thought he ought to remind them he was there, he cleared his throat.

"If that's your thinking, there's a place quite high up in the city, owned by an English ex-pat," he thought back to the visit to Clarence's hotel, "we showed his passport but the concierge denied all knowledge, and none of the staff we spoke to had seen him."

"Until then?" Phryne was itching to get started on the search.

"Phryne I dropped everything to come here, I'm afraid my wardrobe is not the best for this climate ..."

"Ooh, shopping," her eyes lit up, "now that I am good at."

"Just something a little lighter," he sighed, "I'm sure you can find something for me."

"Linen, I think, Jack."

Although he knew it would be better if she went and took a nap, this would be relaxing for her, and really, his wool suit was not good in this type of heat.

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They spent a couple of hours finding Jack some linen trousers, a jacket and cooler, looser shirts. They had the kind of soft fit his gardening trousers had, and the old shirt he used for odd jobs around his little bungalow. He encouraged Phryne to buy two new white cotton blouses and linen skirts and when he noted a pretty light blue day dress she went into the shop and bought that. She also bought herself a broad brimmed hat and Jack a panama style one.

"Most becoming, my dear Inspector," she smiled and kissed his cheek.

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Septic left them early, after dinner, not staying for coffee. Phryne and Jack headed to her room, or their room - he noted all his things were stowed there so she obviously hadn't booked a room for him. No less than he expected, and he smiled.

"What are you grinning about, Jack?" she turned and teased him.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's the fact that you haven't booked me a separate room," he squeezed her hand.

"Do you want one?" she looked surprised, but she hadn't really thought about it. Oh yes she wanted the Inspector in her bed, but what she really wanted was the comfort in his arms while she fought the nightmares, the demons that plagued her sleep. Sex, for once, was not the first thought she had.

"Not unless you want to sleep on your own."

"Jack," she opened the door to her room and stepped inside, pulling him, gently, in behind her. Her shoulders slumped, "ever since father went missing I have had 'difficult' dreams, when I do sleep, images of him lying in a gutter, or being thrown off a ledge, I love him, he's my father, but I don't like him, does that make sense?"

"It does," he pulled her close, "my mother always said her love for me and my siblings was unconditional, but if we did something wrong, she didn't have to like us."

"I think I might like your mother," she snuggled into his chest.

"I know she would like you, Phryne," he kissed the top of her head, "now, bedtime, Miss Fisher, that's an order."

"Yes sir," she stepped back and saluted, and believed that, with Jack, it would all turn out right in the end.

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Henry had had another good day with Clarence, they were all good days, in fact. He had been shown round the private gardens, dined well, napped in the afternoon, with his little bath-mate, after she had used her mouth on him and sent him to the outer reaches of the universe. He had returned the favour, then before he lost control, she had tipped him onto his back and rode him until they both released.

Clarence got as much pleasure from watching Henry and Henry did with the young girl. While he watched, his pleasure mate cupped him and stroked him then he lifted her up and thrust hard into her releasing the same time as Henry did. One of his other girls took the pictures, he would have her as her reward, later.

The bed was big enough to take all four of them, plus the girl who took the pictures. Clarence had made sure Henry had enough alcohol and hallucinogenics that he was able to perform at his best. They took turns with the girls, then the girls pleasured each other until all were exhausted and they fell asleep, sheets entangled with limbs and bodies entangled with bodies.

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Phryne and Jack curled up together and she told him all about the trip so far. It didn't sound like she had enjoyed it much. Oh yes, she enjoyed flying, but if her father had whined as much as she said it was no wonder she had considered tipping him out over the ocean or the mountains.

"He professes his gratitude," she sighed, "but it's an empty thanks. I'm useful, for money to get him out of a spot or to get him to where he needs to be, one way or the other."

"Not changed then, from what you have told me before."

"Not a bit, though he doesn't beat me anymore," she wriggled against him, "well he can't, not from England."

"I'm sure," Jack's breath caught in his throat, "that you would give as good as you got, if not better."

Phryne was feeling better now that Jack was there, and in spite of just wanting his support in finding her father and keeping the nightmares away, she was now experiencing familiar urges. It would seem that the Inspector was able to rise to the challenge.

Their first night together was more than she could have hoped for. She found Jack a generous and skilful lover as he explored her body, kissed and tasted her, stroked his hands round her bottom before slipping his fingers down through the curls finding her wet and ready for him. He moved his fingers over her and in her and she gasped.

"Jack, please," she had a brief hope that he was the reason he and Rosie didn't have children because right now she was boneless, and any hope of stopping to put her device in was lost.

He lifted himself over her and allowed her to guide him to her entrance before slowly slipping deep inside her. They found a complimentary rhythm as her hips rose to meet him and they gazed into each other's eyes. He couldn't help but notice her eyes were black with desire, then they closed as he took her out of her body and he followed her.

He didn't want to collapse on top of her, fearing he would hurt her, so he rolled to her side and pulled her to him. She put her head on his chest and slipped her leg over his and sighed with pure pleasure. She put an arm over him and closed her eyes, there would be no nightmares tonight.

Jack put his arm round her and kissed the top of her head - wherever he was in the world, this, right here with Phryne, was home.

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The following morning they met up with Septic over breakfast and confirmed their arrangements for the day. They would go up to the hotel run by the ex-pat and have morning coffee. Phryne would then head to the ladies powder room and Jack would follow a couple of minutes later to the gents. With luck they would meet up near the owner's private apartment.

"Just out of interest," Jack sat back in his chair with his arms folded, "what's the name of this man?"

"Jefferson? Jeffries? One or the other, I think," Septic scratched his head.

"Not Clarence Jeffries?" Phryne squeaked, "tall, dark hair, beady eyes."

"Could be, though his hair isn't that dark, more salt and pepper."

"This couldn't be worse," she ran her hands through her hair and bit her lip.

"What is it, Phryne?" Jack leant forward and turned her to face him.

"Clarence Jeffries, or the one I knew, was an out and out fraud, sneaky dirty dealing weasel." She proceeded to tell the two men the story of the horse, and one or two others. "Needless to say, if it is him and father is with him there will be trouble, a lot of trouble."

"So, what do you think he will do with your father?"

"Oh they'll be having a fine time," she huffed, "probably completely drunk and knowing Clarence, who had an eye for something exotic in the way of hallucinogenic drugs, completely out of it ... you know he gave me cocaine once. I was about sixteen, I have never felt so ill in my life when I came down. I was completely exhausted and horribly sick. I have never used such recreational drugs since."

"At fifteen!" Jack's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, "Phryne that is ... well I don't think I have the words. Why on earth ..?"

"I think he thought it might be a way to ... well, you know ... but he didn't. That gate had already closed," she went a little pink, "a nice young farmer on the estate, gentle and kind."

Although Jack thought she had been very young to have been having sex, he was somehow glad it had been someone gentle who had been her first lover. He had been Rosie's first and on their wedding night it had been difficult. He knew what he was doing, she had just been given the facts by her mother that morning so she was understandably scared. He had done his best to be gentle but, really, they had never got beyond the point of her accepting his attentions as a dutiful wife. He had slept with some girls in France during the war, everybody did, and they had taught him ways to please both himself and his lover. He hoped he had learned enough to keep Phryne satisfied for a very long time. Rosie had been less than receptive to his knew found confidence and 'tricks' in bed and they went back to unsatisfying lovemaking in the dark, her with her nightdress lifted just high enough. He imagined that if she and Sidney had married he would have ended up taking a mistress, he didn't look the type that would do without. Anyway, that was by the by, their current task was to find Henry and get him back to Margaret, though they would be too late to stop her formally separating from him.

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"Very overdone," Phryne hummed, as she was escorted by the two men into the hotel. Jack thought it was a little on the garish side and Septic wondered how the heck Jeffries could keep such an establishment going, as there weren't many having morning coffee or sitting around the lovely gardens. They were shown to a low table and three comfortable looking easy chairs and ordered tea and coffee.

Phryne got up and wandered to a stand where leaflets advertised activities in Jodhpur, excursions and the like. While she perused the offerings she looked surreptitiously around, checking for quiet areas, or for her father having coffee with his friend. There was a corridor behind the Reception Desk that seemed to lead to somewhere more private. She would explore that when she went to find the powder room.

The coffee was good, but not wonderful, and the little biscuits were a tad chewy but it was enough to give them reason to be there and to wander around the hotel. It was now mid morning and the place was filling up with tourists. Phryne excused herself and went in search of the powder room. Jack gave her two minutes then told Septic he would just pop to the gent's lavatory before they set off again. This was the cue for Septic to take a look at the local paper before asking for the bill. He chatted to the waiter about the weather and the state of the hotel business at the current time. He wasn't sure how Phryne or Jack would let him know they had found the Baron, but he reckoned he would know ... somehow.

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Phryne slipped unnoticed down the corridor and moments later felt Jack's hand on her arm. He nodded to one of two doors and pointed.

"That one first, then we'll try the others one by one," he whispered low.

"Right," she nodded and watched while he tried to turn the handle.

"Here, let me try," she winked and nudged him aside.

Lock pick effectively used, they pushed the door open and peered round it. Large cushions decorated the floor, ornate chaise longues sat around the walls; there were trays that held drink and smoking paraphernalia, an antique Hookah, and fabric draped all around. Against one wall, that would be between this room and the adjoining one, was a camera and spyglass.

Phryne threaded her way between the cushions and wraps noting the smell of stale hashish and sex and put her eye to the spyglass.

Jack heard her gasp.

"No!" she turned to him a look of utter horror on her face.

He was by her side in an instant and looked to see what had so unnerved her.

"Bloody hell," he whistled, then apologised, he never swore in front of a lady. "Oh Phryne," he pulled her close, "I am sorry."

"I'll kill him," she pulled from him and made to go to the door.

"Wait." He stopped her. "Wait, love. One, you are not going to kill him and two I think the camera holds the key. Here he could be photographed and then blackmailed, Jeffries knew your family years ago, he probably thinks he could make quite a killing out of your father. Septic did wonder how this place kept going, I suspect Jeffries is a serial blackmailer."

He turned to the camera, a new model that the film was easily removable from, and did so.

"But what do I tell mother?" her breath hitched as she spoke, thinking of her mother telling him how much she loved him but couldn't go on with him getting up to his old ways, "she'll be devastated."

"Nothing," he shoved the film canister in his pocket and picked up the camera, "unless she needs to know. There is no need to hurt her. If she has acted on her threat to separate from him there is no need for her to know."

"But I will know," she grunted.

"And you can let him know you know, and if he is so doped up I can have the film developed and you can remind him."

Phryne huffed and he expected she would express her indignation quite firmly.

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At the next room door, behind which Henry and Clarence and their pleasure mates slept on in blissful ignorance, Phryne used her lock pick again and slowly and silently they entered.

Everybody was splayed out over each other with little covering. Phryne picked up a glass jug of water and tiptoed over to the foot of the bed, then threw it over her father. He gasped and yelled then sat up, at which point the remaining fold of the sheet slipped off him, exposing him completely. Phryne turned away; seeing her lovers naked, well that was to be expected - but to see her father in that way was downright wrong.

He blustered and coughed, the girls squealed and Clarence sat up, blinking.

"What the ..." his sentence was cut off when he saw Phryne, "little Phryne," he grinned. That just served to make Phryne even madder, she rounded on him.

"You bastard!" she stepped to him, fist raised, he stood up and tried to cover himself with a cushion.

"Phryne, no!" Jack grabbed her arm, she wriggled but couldn't get free, so she raised the other fist, drew it back and felled Clarence where he stood. Jack was impressed, it must be said, and while he said nothing now he would also not report it to the local authorities, if they were drawn into this debacle. He hoped not.

Septic reckoned the racket was his cue to join the two detectives and arrived just as Phryne sent Clarence down with an impressive uppercut.

"Er, Phryne, dear," her father had pulled the sheet round his middle and was standing unsteadily. The room was spinning rather wildly and his head thumped, "what're you doing here?"

"I have been looking all over the city for you, you drunken sot," she glared at him and fairly spat the words, "nearly a whole week ... and here you are, drinking, taking hashish, having your way with girls young enough to be my daughter, never mind yours. You disgust me!"

"Septic," Jack decided he'd better take charge of the situation before Phryne decided to leave her father where he stood, for good. "Septic, would you mind helping the Baron dress, please?"

"Jack m'boy," Henry tried to step forward and shake his hand, but tripped on the sheet.

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Just by standing over Jeffries with his, 'you will answer my questions or else' look, Jack got him to confirm that yes, he was planning on blackmailing Henry, it was his little financial security business.

"Is this the only roll of film on him?" Jack grunted.

Clarence nodded.

"Are you sure?" He became almost menacing.

Clarence nodded even faster it must have hurt his head.

"We'll be taking Baron Fisher with us," Jack drew himself up, daring Jeffries to argue, "but if I hear anything at all about anymore of this blackmailing, I will be contacting the authorities here and you will be brought to book. Now, just to make sure you get my meaning ..." he dropped the camera on the floor and ground his heel into it, shattering the lens and splitting the case.

"Hey!" Jeffries stumbled forward, "that was expensive!"

Jack caught him by the throat and pushed him against the wall, "do you understand?" he growled.

Phryne looked on, thoroughly impressed, while Clarence just nodded, dumbly.

Septic, holding up a now dressed Henry joined them and they headed out of the door.

"I'll be contacting the police!" Clarence shouted after them, Jack just waved the film canister over his shoulder.

"Don't think so," he reminded him that he had rather a lot of damning evidence.

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Phryne sat in the back of the car with Jack, nestled against his shoulder. Henry sat next to Septic in the front, clearly not in the same universe as the others.

"So," he slurred, "where're we off to today?"

"You are going back to our hotel, where you will be cleaned up, and left to sleep off whatever intoxicants you have ingested while I sort out the flights back to mother," Phryne hissed sharply.

"Mother, how?" he hiccupped, Phryne wondered if he was going to vomit.

"By plane you, fool," she snarled. Jack tightened his hold on her and soothed her with a kiss.

"Shh, leave it, Phryne," he whispered.

"Hate planes."

Jack could see it was going to be a long journey and there was no way he could leave her to deal with her father on her own.

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"Phryne," Septic and Jack guided Henry up the stairs to his room, "it's ok, honestly. You can't do it, can you? Now why don't you go and see Harris and get the flights planned, eh?"

"Alright," her shoulders sagged. Septic threw the car keys at Jack and pushed Henry through the door to be bathed and put to bed. He was then going to guard him and ensure he didn't leave the room, under any circumstances!

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Phryne's face was a mask as Jack drove to the airfield. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the edge of the seat, and that wasn't because Jack was driving much faster than he did back home - she was boiling with anger.

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"Right," Harris nodded, "straight as an arrow should get us there in ten to fourteen days. I'll do my best to make it ten, but it will be early starts and late finishes, and the closer we get to Northern Europe the shorter the days will be."

"We need to find places to stay and be able to carry supplies for the journey," Jack noted, "some food that will not perish, and will you need some cans of fuel, in case we can't get to a scheduled stop?"

"We'll have to, I'm not carrying that amount of fuel loose in the plane," Harris huffed. "I'll call ahead to places I know and alert then to the supplies we will need each day."

"Thank you, Harris," Phryne whispered, "I've asked an awful lot of you."

"No worries, Phryne," he grinned, "good to take the old crate for a long flight occasionally. I'll fly you back too, if you want."

"I need to do something about the moth," she sighed.

"Maybe Septic could take her home for you?"

"Maybe," she shrugged.

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Septic insisted on sitting with Henry through dinner and through the night. Two trays were taken up to the room but Henry's remained uneaten.

"Coming down," Septic mused, as he watched him retch into the lavatory, shivering and sweating. He made him drink a glass of water whenever he woke and mopped his brow. He had no love for this man who had used his wife and daughter so badly, but Phryne wanted him home and he would help her get him there. He wondered what she would do when she got him there. Would she tell her mother what he had done, it was an awful tale to tell and did the Baroness really need to know - everything.

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They were up dreadfully early the next morning. Breakfasts were served in their rooms and they were at the airfield as the sun rose. Phryne hated this time in the morning, unless she were coming home from a party and getting out of bed had not been easy. Jack had nudged her, blown over her breasts and tickled her but she had just grumbled and pulled the covers higher.

"Come on, Phryne, up you get," he pulled her into a sitting position, "let's get this over with."

"Urgh! How can you be so cheerful before the sun comes up?" she opened one bleary eye.

"And the other eye, please," he teased, "right," when she obliged, "breakfast should be on its way. You go and use the bathroom, I'll go and see how Septic has fared with your father."

"Poor man," she sat on the side of the bed and sighed, "I owe him."

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Henry looked awful. Grey, sunken eyed and barely conscious. Septic had practically fed him the breakfast, sure that it would come back once they were flying. He shuffled along, his head thumped, his stomach was doing somersaults and he was cold, shivering but sweating.

"He's in withdrawal, Phryne," Septic whispered as he poured him into the passenger seat of the car.

"God help us," she muttered.

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They loaded the luggage and supplies onto the plane before loading Henry and strapping him into a seat, covering him with a blanket and providing him with something to catch anything he may need to void from his stomach.

"You sit as co-pilot, love," Jack kissed her ear, "I'll sit here, close behind."

"Jack, I ..."

"Go on, it'll take your mind off it."

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The next few days were not pleasant. The flight was easy for Phryne, Jack was right that being co-pilot would take her mind off her father's behaviour. Jack dealt with his airsickness, strapped him into his seat when he became difficult to contain and made sure he drank enough water. Harris had installed a rudimentary toilet in the back of the plane so that meant they didn't have to land for that; they ate in the air and when Harris needed a break Phryne took control and Jack became her co-pilot.

"Would you teach me to fly?" he decided to ask one morning, "when we get back. Maybe we could fly away for a few days after a case or when we need a break, you know ..." his voice tailed off.

Phryne smiled, wicked thoughts entering her mind.

"I think that sounds like a lovely idea, Jack," she reached over and squeezed his hand, "perhaps we could find a little hideaway, in the middle of nowhere, enough room for an airstrip ..."

The continued making little plans without ever mentioning if they were a partnership, lovers or would marry - though even Jack put that idea right out of his mind.

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Each stop was different, but one thing never changed - there was always enough fuel to fill the tanks, enough food for the evening meal and the following day. Clean water was left in a tank and any notes on the state of the countries they were flying over were left, usually wrapped around some bread. All too often they slept in tents round a camp fire which Henry grumbled about, until Phryne rounded on him one night, after a turbulent flight. She had a headache and his whining about the accommodation was too much.

"If you hadn't gone wandering off in Jodhpur we would be further along, and in a hotel," she stood toe to toe with him and glared up into his face, "so you will sleep in a tent and shut up!" She turned on her heel and strode off a few feet to a nearby tree that she could kick furiously.

Jack shook his head, he firmly believed Henry had no idea what he had done in Jodhpur, or how close he was to losing Margaret; and possibly Phryne as well. He decided to tackle Henry and perhaps tell him a few home truths.

"Henry," he stood quite close, "you do know what Phryne is doing for you, don't you? That really she shouldn't have to babysit you all the way back to England?"

"I don't know what's got into her," Henry grunted, "I spend a couple of days with an old friend and she comes over all righteous."

"Your wife has said she will ask for a formal separation from you, because you have gone back to your old ways, which I believe are nothing to be proud of."

"No, Margaret is only threatening, she wouldn't go through with it." Henry smiled his genial smile.

"I don't think that's true, and neither does Phryne, and it wasn't a couple of days with an old friend, it was a week, nearly. Enough time for me to fly over from Melbourne and help her find you, then when we do find you where are you?" Jack didn't expect and answer and didn't get one. "In bed with three very young girls and Clarence Jeffries after a night of debauchery, drink and drugs."

"Nonsense, I ... it was ..." he blustered, what was it he had done? What did he mean drink and drugs, debauchery? True he had strayed over the years he had been married but none of that meant anything, apart from the young girl he had fathered, that he had nothing to do with, so she didn't mean anything to him either. So the idea he had been drinking and smoking, and enjoying pleasures of the flesh for a week was surely ridiculous.

"It wasn't nonsense, we saw and we have the photographic evidence. Jeffries was planning to blackmail you, bleed you dry, which wouldn't take long, we know, but all the same ...how hurt do you think Margaret is going to be when she finds out? Phryne is doing her best to limit the damage you have done, when really she should be the one to turn to you in times of trouble."

There was a stony silence between the two men punctuated by the crackle of the burning wood.

"I suggest you turn in for the night, and no more wanderings," Jack warned, "because next time, we aren't looking for you." He shoved Henry towards his tent and turned on his heel to go and see if there was anything he could do for Phryne.

She had heard all that Jack had said and was grateful he had told her father what had happened. She wondered if she could leave him if he did wander off, but perhaps Jack was overdoing that bit, just for effect.

She felt rather than heard him stand behind her, his warmth over her back and his distinct scent.

"I thought you might be a little chilled," he murmured, turning her around in his arms and pulling her close. She shivered and nosed into his shirt, all the better to drink in his scent which grounded her and gave her strength.

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A few more days and everyone was becoming more hopeful they would be in England soon. Henry had sobered up but was far from his usual jovial self. He was quiet, still not believing what Jack had told him about Jodhpur. Phryne barely spoke to him and when she did it was through gritted teeth. Jack thought their shaky relationship was irretrievably broken.

They were approaching Czechoslovakia when Harris and Phryne both noticed the plane was not flying as well as she should. The engine coughed and spluttered and they wondered how far they could get, would they get as far as the next refuelling site. This one was at a small airfield and they were planning on staying in the barracks for the night.

"We seem to be losing airspeed," Harris tapped the instrument panel, "and fuel, look, we should have some left over tonight."

"But we won't, just enough to get us there, it could be a bumpy landing," Phryne muttered, "don't tell father, he hates planes as it is."

"Jack?"

She called him forward and they had a whispered conversation.

"Right," he thought fast, "we need an alternative - any suggestions?"

"Train?" Phryne raised an eyebrow, "the Orient Express goes from, or through Prague."

"If we can get berths," Jack nodded, "it would be more comfortable, and if you confiscate Henry's passport we should be able to relax a little."

Phryne thought that sharing a bunk with Jack on the Orient Express would be infinitely more comfortable than a bedroll in a tent, though that hadn't stopped them indulging, and it was somehow that little bit more intimate, rolled up in a blanket together.

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The landing was very bumpy, there was some coarse language from the rear of the plane as it almost nose-dived into the ground.

They piled out, Henry kissing the ground and swearing never to fly, ever again, in his life.

"Any landing you walk away from is a good one," Phryne laughed, secretly relieved that they had made it.

"I'll get her checked out by the mechanics, Phryne," Harris pulled his hat off, "but I'm not hopeful, not for the timescale we had planned, anyway."

"I think we'd better look at trains," she patted his arm. "You have done so much, Harris, let me know how much it costs and I'll see you are reimbursed."

"No need ..."

"Oh yes there is, and I won't hear another thing about it," she put her hands on her hips and stared at him.

Harris raised his hands in submission and grinned, "pax, old thing," he laughed, "I'll see you in Melbourne, one day."

Phryne flung her arms round him and kissed him - on the cheek- while Jack looked on. He was not jealous, Phryne had made her choice.