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"Be good, Emily," she whispered, "I don't want to have to move out." She swung open the door, only to start back.
There, sat in an armchair facing the door, was the portly form of Superintendent Madison. He frowned at the appearance of his daughter.
"Lynette," he sighed. "I heard about your latest exploit on the radio. What do you think you are - batgirl?"
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"Not with a gun," Ms. Madison crossed the floor and seated herself on the arm of her father's chair. "I've been in fights before, dad, so why the visit?"
"Your friend in green," the detective scowled. "Scotland Yard received a fresh demand from the Grey Tabby. He's got hold of five old Soviet chemical warheads and is threatening to detonate one of them in Romford unless the Metropolitan Police stands down in his selected boroughs. After that, he will detonate another until we agree to his demands."
"And will you?" she asked, voice full of foreboding.
"We may have to," came the grim reply. "If we can't find these weapons in twenty-four hours."
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