"Drive," she told the man behind the wheel. Leaning forward, she flicked a switch on the radio.
"Ms. Madison here," she spoke swiftly. "Where am I going?"
"Canary Wharf." The unmistakable voice of the Green Man came over the airwaves.
"Let's get this stright," Ms. Madison sighed, "you call me out of a night of dancing at the Savoy so I can visit Canary Wharf? This had better be good."
"My agents at Canary Wharf have seen a group of strange characters lurking around." The Green Man spoke softly. "Yesterday, the financial heart of London was attacked and a threatening note was left. This may be the next level."
"And why send me?" Ms. Madison knitted her brows (the only knitting the glamour-girl ever did).
"You can fight, but no-one would believe it," the Green Man told her, as the taxi drew up at the glittering financial jewel. "No-one's going to see me in your presence."
"And this had better work," Ms. Madison stepped out of the taxi. "I'm getting really tired of being kidnapped everywhere. And this is London. My London." She opened her handbag to check her gun.