The caller informed them that a fishing-boat had radioed for help from the north-east tip of Long Island. There seemed to have been an accident near Montauk, probably involving a sperm whale. In any case, there was no guarantee that the mayday would be genuine. Already the climate of hysteria was such that false alarms flooded in. A larger vessel was said to be on its way to help, but there was no way of knowing if that was true either. Contact with the crew had broken off only seconds into the exchange.

KH-12-1-, a Keyhole-class satellite, was approaching Long Island from the south-east. It was in a good position to begin the search. Buckley Field's instructions were to focus the telescope on the relevant section of coast.

One of the men typed in a string of commands.

A hundred and ninety-five kilometres above the Atlantic coast, KH-12-4 was racing across the sky; a cylindrical telescope, 15 metres long and 4.5 metres in diameter, with a total weight of 20 tonnes including fuel. Large solar sails extended on either side. The command from Buckley Field activated the rotating mirror, through which the satellite could scan an area of a thousand kilometres in any direction. In this instance, it required only the smallest adjustment. Evening was drawing in, so the image intensifiers came on, brightening the picture as though it were midday. Every five seconds KH-12-\ took another photo and transmitted the data to a relay satellite, which beamed the information down to Buckley Field.

The men stared at the screen.

Montauk appeared in the distance, a picturesque old town with a world-famous lighthouse. But from a height of 195 kilometres, Montauk's charms were no more evident than they would have been on a map. Thin lines representing roads wiggled through a landscape scattered with light dots, which was all that could be seen of the buildings. Even the lighthouse was just a faint white dot at the tip of the headland.

Beyond that, the Atlantic stretched towards the horizon.

The man guiding the satellite pinpointed the area where the boat had supposedly been attacked, punched in the co-ordinates and zoomed closer. The coast disappeared from view as the screen filled with water. There were no boats in sight.

The other man watched. He reached into his paper bag of fish nuggets. 'Well, get looking, then,' he said.

'Cool it, man.'

'Cool it? They said they need that data now.'

'Well, they can kiss my ass.' The operator tilted the telescope's mirror by another fraction of a degree. 'Don't you get it, Mike? It's going to take forever. This whole thing sucks. They always want everything yesterday, and this time they're going to have to wait. Thanks to that shitty little boat, we'll be searching the whole damn ocean.'

'We don't have to search the ocean: that boat can only be here. The distress call came via NOAA. It must've sunk, if we can't see it.'

'You're making my day.'

'Yep.' The guy licked his fingers. 'Poor bastards.'

'Screw them. We're the poor bastards. If that damn boat's gone down, we're going to have to look for debris.'

'You're just lazy, you know that, Cody?'

'Yeah.'

'Have some fish – Hey, what's that?' Mike jabbed a greasy finger towards the screen. There was a long dark smudge in the water.

'We'll soon find out.'

The telescope zoomed in until the silhouette of a whale emerged among the waves. Still no sign of a boat, though. More whales appeared on the screen, with faint white spots above them – vapour clouds from the blow. Then they dived.

'I guess that's that, then,' said Mike.

Cody zoomed in again. Now the image was at maximum resolution. They saw a seagull riding on the waves. Technically, it was just a collection of two dozen quadratic pixels, but it looked like a bird.

They scanned the area, but they couldn't see the boat or any wreckage.

'Maybe we're in the wrong spot,' said Cody.

'We can't be. According to the information, the boat must be here – unless they sailed on.' Mike yawned, screwed the paper bag into a ball and aimed at the wastepaper basket. He missed. 'Must be a false alarm. I'd sure like to be down there, though.'

'Down where?'

'In Montauk. It's a neat town. Took a trip there last year with the buddies, right after me and Sandy broke up. We were mostly drunk or stoned or whatever, but it was cool just lying there on the bluff, watching the sunset. The third night I made out with the waitress from the bar. Man, that was some trip.'

'Your wish is my command.'

'Meaning?'

Cody grinned at him. 'You want to visit Montauk? We're in charge of this celestial flicking army. And seeing as we're here and all…'

Mike's face lit up. 'We'll go to the lighthouse,' he said. 'I'll show you where we screwed.'

'Aye-aye, Cap'n.'

'Uh, actually… maybe we shouldn't. We could get in a lot of trouble for-'

'For what? I figure we're supposed to be here. We're looking for debris, remember?'

His fingers danced over the keyboard. The telescope zoomed out again. The headland appeared on the screen. Cody picked out the white dot and closed in on the lighthouse until it loomed up in front of them. The bluff was bathed in reddish light. The sun was going down on Montauk. A couple strolled past the lighthouse, arms round each other's waist.

'It's the best time of day,' Mike said. 'Romantic as hell.'

'Aw, you didn't screw her in front of the lighthouse, did you?'

'You've got to be kidding. No, it was further down… Look, right there! Where those two are going. That place has a reputation, I'm telling you. Every evening it's pants-down time on the beach.'

'Hey, maybe we'll get to see something.'

Cody swung the telescope round so that it raced ahead of the couple. There didn't seem to be anyone else on the black rocks. Seagulls soared overhead, swooping down to peck at scraps.

Then something else appeared on the screen. Something flat. Cody frowned. Mike leaned forward. They waited for the next image.

The picture had changed.

'What's that-'

'Don't ask me. Can you get any closer?'

'Nope.'

The next image arrived from KH-12-. The scene had changed again.

'Holy shit,' whispered Cody.

'What the hell is that?' Mike screwed his eyes up. 'It's spreading. It's crawling up the fucking cliff.'

'Shit,' said Cody again. This time he sounded scared.

MONTAUK, USA

Linda and Darryl Hooper had been married for three weeks, and were spending their honeymoon on Long Island. Ever since film stars had supplanted fishermen as the region's main residents, Long Island had been a pricey place to stay. Now hundreds of classy fish restaurants looked out on to kilometres of sandy beaches. Fashionable New Yorkers holidayed there with all their customary style. In fact, with America's seriously rich industrialists, they had colonised the exclusive neighbourhood of East Hampton, a pristine and picture-perfect town that was practically unaffordable for its working population. Southampton, further to the south-west, wasn't cheap either, but Darryl Hooper had made a name for himself as an ambitious young attorney. It was no secret that he was being groomed for partnership at his downtown Manhattan law firm. The big bucks weren't flowing yet, but Hooper was undoubtedly on the make. Besides, he'd married a cute chick. Linda had been the darling of law school, but in the end she'd chosen him, despite his thinning hair and thick-lensed glasses.

Hooper was happy with his lot, and – in the knowledge that his star was rising – had decided to treat himself and Linda to a taste of things to come. On the face of it they couldn't afford the hotel in Southampton, and eating out at fancy restaurants cost them a hundred bucks a night. But that was OK. They'd worked their butts off and they deserved a little luxury. Besides, it wouldn't be long before the Hoopers could visit the most fashionable places as often as they liked.