She is carrying small arms in her handbag.
But when his second victim, the fake City gent, scuttled across to the seat next to hers, it all began to look rehearsed. She smelled it: failed actor, poncing about for free.
"This is a put on, isn't it?" she growls at him. He pretends to look blank. In case there is a hidden camera, Vitrola calculates how to raise a laugh and insult him at the same time. She smiles tigerishly. "You know one of these days they'll stop giving actors benefit, and you'll have to work for a living."
Two policemen get on at her stop, and she looks back over her spectacles at the actor. She asks with her eyebrows: Are these part of the show too? He's too alarmed to notice.
That tells her: the policemen are real. As real as anything gets. She stands up to go. Her guns clank.
God, she thinks, if only we had a real Conservative government.