Charlotte rubbed her bare arms, suddenly chilly in the air-conditioned office. The disgust and contempt in Victor's voice was almost unbearable.

"Just one shot from a Strategic Defence platform," she pleaded. "That's all it needs. Pavel Kirilov is going to call me before his spaceplane docks, we'll know when he's in range."

"No, he's not going to call you," Lloyd said. "And we're not shooting anyone right now. We can't, thanks to you."

She gave him a fearful glance.

"Screen six," he said, and pointed through the glass.

The delta-wing spaceplane was inside the lip of the southern hub crater, hanging below the docking spindle. Small blue flames stabbed out of the reaction-control nozzles, lining it up for a landing on the crater wall. Two sets of doors had hinged open on either side of the dorsal ridge. Black thermal-dump panels had concertinaed out, and folded back parallel with the wings, making way for silvered dishes and framework racks to rise out of their recesses. Charlotte peered forwards. There were squat cylinders nestling in the racks, their front ends were like insect eyes, a multisegment hemisphere of black chrome lenses, a large bell-shaped nozzle protruded from the rear. Now she knew what to look for, she could see the gold-foil covered boxes of lasers on telescopic arms rising above the dishes.

"That's Kirilov?" she asked, her voice had become a croak.

"Oh no," Victor said. "Kirilov is still on his approach phase. That's Leol Reiger. You remember him? The two of you almost met on the Colonel Maitland."

She bit her lower lip, fighting the tears building behind her eyes. Nothing. Nothing she ever did turned out right.

The office's terminal bleeped. Lloyd picked up a handset and listened for a few seconds. "It's Leol Reiger," he said. "He says he wants to talk to Julia."

"Talk to him, Sean," Victor said. "Stall him if you can."

Lloyd opened up the communication circuit. The flatscreen remained blank. Charlotte edged well out of the camera's pick up field.

"This is Governor Francis," Sean said.

"Where's Julia Evans?" Leol Reiger asked.

"Unavailable. I'm all you're going to get."

"OK, Mr. Governor, you and I need to come to an arrangement."

"You have no docking clearance, Mr. Reiger, and I'm not authorized to make deals."

"Never learn, you people, do you? Your SD platforms are flicked, otherwise you would have snuffed us ten minutes ago. We're coming in. Now how much damage we cause to that very delicate biosphere of yours in the process is down to you."

"How so?"

"I want Charlotte Fielder."

Charlotte let out a soft moan, the sound of her heart pounding was very loud, all the glass walls of the office were suddenly rushing towards her. Hands clamped round her upper arms, guiding her into a chair as her legs buckled.

"Have her brought to the docking bay," Leol Reiger said.

"Never heard of her," Sean said.

"Wrong. She's been on a bit of a spending spree in your shops today. She's up here. Find her and bring her to me."

"Otherwise?"

"We come hunting for her. And you know me, that will become very messy. Guaranteed."

"What do you want her for?"

"She knows where to find something I'm looking for."

"Don't," Charlotte gulped. "I don't."

Lloyd knelt down beside her, "Shush," he said softly. "It's all right." His arm went round her shoulder.

She hated herself for being so weak, especially in front of Fabian.

"She tells me where it is, and I pick it up," said Leol Reiger, "then I leave. Nobody comes to any grief that way. Simple."

Sean looked helplessly at Victor. The security chief threw his hands in the air.

"We don't hand people over to tekmercs," Sean said. "I suggest you refer back to Clifford Jepson if you want to know where the source of atomic structuring is located, yes?"

There was a brief pause.

"Gotta hand it to you people," said Leol Reiger. "You're well plugged in. So you know what'll happen if I don't get that little fuck-dolly. Think about it. You've got five minutes."

Victor's fist came down on the desk top. "Bloody hell. Why hasn't Clifford Jepson briefed Reiger on how to contact the alien?"

"Do you want me to recall the crash team back to the airlock complex?" Lloyd asked anxiously.

"Looks like we'll have to," Victor said. "Do we know if Reiger's spaceplane has a datalink with any of the geosync communication platforms?"

"I'll get Bernie to run a check on their data traffic," Lloyd said.

"Do that. If not, we'll offer to plug him in to Jepson direct."

"He'll want to know why you're making that kind of offer, yes?" Sean said.

"Yeah," Victor growled. "Maybe we can spin him something about not being able to find Charlotte. Hell, we've got to give him something."

Lloyd picked up a handset, then frowned. "Now what?"

Charlotte turned to look into the command post. There was a commotion round one of the consoles, its operator shouting into his headset mike. Two supervisors stood behind him, leaning over his shoulders.

Lloyd raised the handset to his face. "Bernie, what's going on?"

Charlotte instinctively checked on the spaceplane. The undercarriage had unfolded. As she watched, it touched down on the crater wall. The wheels blurred with speed.

"There's someone in the docking complex," Lloyd blurted.

"Not one of my people," Sean said. "They were all taken out."

"I wonder," Victor said thoughtfully. "Lloyd, put the intruder on this screen."

Lloyd muttered into the handset. The desk terminal's flat-screen lit up. It was another of the southern endcap's interminable stone-walled corridors. Someone was walking along it, dressed in a blue maintenance division jumpsuit.

"Run an ident check on him," Victor said.

Lloyd typed hurriedly on the terminal keyboard.

The spaceplane had finished its acceleration run. Its nose began to turn in towards the southern endcap.

"Got him," Lloyd said.

Victor bent over to scan the data flowing down the flatscreen.

"His name is Talbot Lombard," Lloyd read. "Aged forty-one, got his communications technology degree from Hamburg University. Came up to New London eight years ago, employed by Globecast, worked setting up their franchise in the southern endcap. Fired seven years ago for pirating programmes. His return ticket was never used, no record of further employment in New London."

"A Celestial Apostle," Victor said. "One who'd know all about Clifford Jepson's arms trading. And how to get in contact."

"You think he's the interface?"

"Has to be," Victor said. "And he'll take Leol Reiger straight down into the caves."

"If Reiger doesn't shoot him first, yes?" Sean said.

"So cynical," Victor muttered with a grin. He straightened up, pointing two fingers at the big flatscreen outside, and shooting. "Got you, Reiger."

"What about the Dolgoprudnensky spaceplane?" Sean asked. "They're due to reach us in another ten minutes."

"I'll call Pavel Kirilov," Charlotte said. "If you want. Explain that I haven't really got the generator data." She thought of facing that cold clinical expression again, and shivered; but she desperately wanted to do something right, try and repair a little bit of the damage.

"I think it's a bit late for that," Victor said.

"That's not the answer, anyway," Fabian said. She heard the old sneer in his voice.

"No?" Victor asked.

"Course not. It's simple, stupid. This is your story: The second spaceplane is assaulting New London, it's already knocked out your defences; and the Governor officially requires assistance in dealing with it. So call Greg's Russian general friend, the one that's authorized to use the CoDefence League's Strategic Defence platforms, and explain exactly who's inside that spaceplane."