"It will take the snowplow five or six minutes to clear the lane-and you'll get me out of your hair. And my mother."

"Tempting though that is, I'm not willing to hold up the search for five minutes."

"Stanley may be able to assist the investigation in some way. After all, he is the victim."

"The answer's no," Frank said, and he hung up.

Osborne had heard both sides of the conversation. "This is my car," he said. "I'm not going to Steepfall-I want to stay with the snowplow. I might miss something."

"You can stay with it. You'll leave me and my mother at the house and follow the plow back to the main road. When I've briefed Stanley, I'll borrow a car and catch you up."

"Well, Frank has nixed that scheme."

"I haven't played my ace yet." She dialed Frank again.

This time, his answer was abrupt. "What?"

"Remember Farmer Johnny."

"Go to hell."

"I'm using a hands-free phone, and Carl Osborne is beside me, listening to us both. Where did you tell me to go, again?"

"Pick up the fucking phone."

Toni detached the handset from its cradle and put it to her ear, so that Carl could not hear Frank. "Call the snowplow driver, Frank, please."

"You bitch, you've always held the Farmer Johnny case over my head. You know he was guilty."

"Everyone knows that. But only you and I know what you did to get a conviction."

"You wouldn't tell Carl."

"He's listening to everything I say."

Frank's voice took on a sanctimonious note. "I suppose there's no point in talking to you about loyalty."

"Not since the moment you told Carl about Fluffy the hamster."

That shot went home. Frank began to sound defensive. "Carl wouldn't do the Farmer Johnny story. He's a mate."

"Your trust is deeply touching-him being a journalist, and all."

There was a long silence.

Toni said, "Make up your mind, Frank-the turning is just ahead. Either the snowplow diverts, or I spend the next hour briefing Carl on Farmer Johnny."

There was a click and a hum as Frank hung up.

Toni cradled the phone.

Carl said, "What was that all about?"

"If we drive past the next left turn, I'll tell you."

A few moments later, the snowplow turned onto the side road leading to Steepfall.

7 AM

HUGO lay bleeding on the tiled floor, unconscious but breathing.

Olga was weeping. Her chest heaved as she was wracked with uncontrollable sobbing. She was close to hysterics.

Stanley Oxenford was gray with shock. He looked like a man who has been told he is dying. He stared at Kit, his face showing despair and bewilderment and suppressed rage. His expression said, How could you do this to us? Kit tried not to look at him.

Kit was in a rage. Everything was going wrong. His family now knew he was in league with the thieves, and there was no way they would lie about it, which meant the police would eventually know the whole story. He was doomed to a life on the run from the law. He could hardly contain his anger.

He was also afraid. The virus sample in its perfume bottle lay on the kitchen table, protected only by two transparent plastic bags. Kit's fear heated his wrath.

Nigel ordered Stanley and Olga to lie face down beside Hugo, threatening them with his gun. He was so angry at the beating he had taken from Hugo that he might have welcomed an excuse to pull the trigger. Kit would not have tried to stop him. The way he felt, he could have killed someone himself.

Elton searched out improvised ropes-appliance cords, a length of clothesline, and a ball of twine.

Daisy tied up Olga, the unconscious Hugo, and Stanley, binding their feet together and their hands behind their backs. She pulled the cords tight, so that they cut into the flesh, and yanked at the knots to make sure there was no looseness. Her face wore the ugly little smile she showed when she was hurting people.

Kit said to Nigel, "I need my phone."

Nigel said, "Why?"

Kit said, "In case there's a call to the Kremlin that I need to intercept."

Nigel hesitated.

Kit said, "For Christ's sake, I gave you your gun!"

Nigel shrugged and handed over the phone.

"How can you do this, Kit?" Olga said, as Daisy knelt on their father's back. "How can you watch your family being treated this way?"

"It's not my fault!" he rejoined angrily. "If you'd behaved decently to me, none of this would have happened."

"Not your fault?" his father said in bewilderment.

"First you fired me, then you refused to help me financially, so I ended up owing money to gangsters."

"I fired you because you stole!"

"I'm your son-you should have forgiven me!"

"I did forgive you."

"Too late."

"Oh, God."

"I was forced into this!"

Stanley spoke in a voice of authoritative contempt that was familiar to Kit from childhood: "No one is forced into something like this."

Kit hated that tone: it used to be a sign that he had done something particularly stupid. "You don't understand."

"I fear I understand all too well."

That was just typical of him, Kit thought. He always thought he knew best. Well, he looked pretty stupid now, with Daisy tying his hands behind his back.

"What is this about, anyway?" Stanley said.

"Shut your gob," Daisy said.

He ignored her. "What in God's name are you up to with these people, Kit? And what's in the perfume bottle?"

"I said shut up!" Daisy kicked Stanley in the face.

He grunted with pain, and blood came out of his mouth.

That will teach you, Kit thought with savage satisfaction.

Nigel said, "Turn on the TV, Kit. Let's see when this bloody snow is going to stop."

They watched advertisements: January sales, summer holidays, cheap loans. Elton took Nellie by the collar and shut her in the dining room. Hugo stirred and appeared to be coming round, and Olga spoke to him in a low voice. A newscaster appeared wearing a Santa hat. Kit thought bitterly of other families waking up to normal Christmas celebrations. "A freak blizzard hit Scotland last night, bringing a surprise white Christmas to most of the country this morning," the newscaster said.

"Shit," Nigel said with feeling. "How long are we going to be stuck here?"

"The storm, which left dozens of drivers stranded overnight, is expected to ease around daybreak, and the thaw should set in by mid-morning."

Kit was cheered. They could still make it to the rendezvous.

Nigel had the same thought. "How far away is that four-wheel drive, Kit?"

"A mile."

"We'll leave here at first light. Have you got yesterday's paper?"

"There must be one somewhere-why?"

"Check what time sunrise is."

Kit went into his father's study and found The Scotsman in a magazine rack. He brought it into the kitchen. "Four minutes past eight," he said.

Nigel checked his watch. "Less than an hour." He looked worried. "But then we have to walk a mile in the snow, and drive another ten. We're going to be cutting it fine." He took a phone out of his pocket. He began to dial, then stopped. "Dead battery," he said. "Elton, give me your phone." He took Elton's phone and dialed. "Yeah, it's me, what about this weather, then?" Kit guessed he was speaking to the customer's pilot. "Yeah, should ease up in an hour or so… I can get there, but can you?" Nigel was pretending to be more confident than he really felt. Once the snow stopped, a helicopter could take off and go anywhere, but it was not so easy for the gang, traveling by road. "Good. So I'll see you at the appointed time." He pocketed the phone.

The newscaster said, "At the height of the blizzard, thieves raided the laboratories of Oxenford Medical, near Inverburn."

The kitchen went silent. That's it, Kit thought; the truth is out.