Will pulled his Whomper round into firing position and started towards the platform’s far edge.

‘Sir, if we’re in the tunnels when a shuttle comes we’ll be spread all over the walls like pâté!’

Brian shrugged and slung his rifle over his shoulder. Holding the tracker in front of him, he followed Will down the ladder at the end and onto the trackway, leaving Cat alone on the station platform, clutching her massive Bull Thrummer and spluttering.

‘Am I the only one who sees how stupid this is?’

‘Aye,’ said Brian, ‘Looks like it.’

Will marched into the darkness, the hot green circle of his lightsight sweeping the track in front of him.

The room sparkled like a surgical blade. Harsh light bounced back off the wraparound mirror, illuminating the figure strapped to an interrogation chair. Sneaky bitch was slumped sideways, trying to pretend she was still unconscious, but the monitoring equipment told a different story. She was awake and they knew it.

The old man rested a hand against the observation suite window, staring through the glass at William Hunter’s girlfriend.

‘Have you managed to glean any information from our guest?’ His voice was soft, but Ken could hear the menace in it: like a teddy bear full of razorblades.

‘Well, sir, we had a friendly little chat and it seems Hunter knows a damn sight less than we thought he did. That or he’s not told Pocahontas here the whole story. Either way…’ Ken flexed his hand, feeling the tight pull of fresh skinpaint on his scraped knuckles. ‘She’s been very cooperative.’

‘You persuaded her?’

Ken nodded, pointing at the monitors. ‘Chemical, electrical and kinetic. She’s got nothin’ more to hide.’

The old man turned his back on the observation window and pulled the test tube from his pocket, sending it dancing between his fingers, keeping the thick, liquid contents moving. ‘You still haven’t found Mr Hunter.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘We’re lookin’ for him, sir. I got three teams sweepin’ the city as we speak.’

‘And are they going to be using the tracking beacons we implanted under his skin to find him this time? Or have you got them charging around like headless chickens again, wearing low-light goggles instead of infrared?’

Ken could feel his cheeks flushing in the darkness. ‘We couldn’t use the trackers in the park, sir, the jammer blocked the-’

‘I don’t like excuses, Ken, you know that.’

Tokumu Kikan smiled and placed a hand on the back of Ken’s neck. The old man was easily a foot taller than him-even with the Cuban heels-and Ken had to try really hard not to flinch as the long, cool fingers wrapped around.

‘I would so hate for this to come between us, Ken.’ Pause. ‘Don’t let it come to that.’

‘Yes, sir. Definitely, sir. I’ll get onto the teams and make sure they know-’

‘Find Hunter for me. Maybe we’ll forget all about your errors of judgement.’

‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’

The test tube stopped its dance and Ken watched the liquid inside slide back down the sides of the glass into a thick green pool.

‘And if you can’t…’ Kikan shrugged. ‘If you can’t, well, we always need people to help us test the formula.’ He slipped the test tube into Ken’s top pocket and patted it gently.

‘It’s not goin’ to come to that, sir, I swear it.’

‘Good lad.’ The old man smiled again and turned back to look through the window at Detective Sergeant Jo Cameron pretending to be unconscious.

Interview terminated.

Ken got the hell out of there as fast as his cowboy boots would go. If the old man was pissed at him it might be better to keep on running. Make himself disappear before an assault team broke his door down in the middle of the night and did it for him. Maybe hop a Trans-Atlantic shuttle, set up shop in one of those half-assed redneck republics. Get a new name and a new face and keep his head way down. Not even the old man could live forever…But Ken knew it wouldn’t work, the Newnited States wasn’t far enough: they’d still find him.

No choice then. Have to see this out to the end.

The control room was quiet, the bank of monitors covering one wall flickering from apartment to apartment in the building above. A mousy blonde in a headset sat behind the large, crescent-shaped desk. Ken parked himself on the edge of it and demanded a progress report.

‘Not much, sir.’ The controller hit a button and the monitors flickered, all the pictures merging into one. An aerial shot of Finneston slid past, the distinctive pug nose of a Hopper just visible on the left of the frame. ‘Team two is doing a segment sweep, but they’re not getting anything on the tracker.’

She hit another button and a Network Dragonfly shot across the wall, its navigation lights winking red and green in the rain-drenched night.

‘Team three picked up this blip fifteen minutes ago: the codes don’t match, but.’

‘That’ll be Lieutenant Brand: the one that crippled Arkwright. Forget about her, she’s…’ Ken stopped, remembering the old man’s fingers wrapping around his neck. ‘Second thoughts, stay on her: she’s wired for sound. If Hunter tries to get in touch I want to know.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What about team one?’

‘Spiral search pattern out from Network Headquarters. He was in Glasgow Royal Infirmary for a couple of hours getting his head stitched back together, but we couldn’t touch him: too much security. He took a shuttle to Network HQ an hour ago. Twenty minutes later we lost the tracking signal.’

‘God damn it.’ Forty minutes-bastard could be anywhere by now. ‘You pull in every extra man we’ve got. I want to know where this sonuvabitch is.’

‘There we go.’ Brian’s voice was little more than a whisper, but it still echoed uncomfortably loud in the dark, empty hollow of the shuttlenet tunnel. Up ahead, just visible as a faint semicircle, was an unmarked branch off the main line.

Will swept the green beam of his lightsight up the nearside wall and then snapped it off, leaving them in absolute darkness.

‘Anyone see any cameras?’ he asked.

‘No, sir.’

‘How’re we supposed to see cameras? You’ve switched the bloody light off!’

‘Stop moaning.’ Will reached out, searching for the person nearest to him and finding Constable MacDonald. ‘You grab the back of my harness, Brian’ll grab yours. Single file.’ He inched forward, feeling his way in the dark towards the private branch line.

‘Sir?’ Cat whispered. ‘Sir? What are we going to do when we get there?’

‘Grab the first person we find, ask them where Jo is. Then we rescue her and do a runner before they send in the Marines.’

‘Great.’ She sighed. ‘A well thought out plan. Nothing left to chance. How could it possibly go wrong?’

‘You want a list?’ asked Brian from the back of the line.

‘Would you two shut up!’

They crept on in silence, off the main line into the private tunnel-using the maglev track in the middle as a guide. The tunnel swept away from the Sherman House station and, after what seemed like hours sneaking along in the dark, Will shuffled to a halt. He felt his way back along Cat’s arm to where Brian was holding onto her battledress.

‘How much further?’

There was a click and a faint grey glow lit Brian’s face from beneath. The light was turned down so low it was almost off, but after the pitch black of the tunnel it was like a searchlight.

‘Two hunnerd and fifty feet…Jesus.’ He snapped the screen shut, plunging them back into darkness. ‘We’re right on top of the damn thing.’

‘Right, here’s what we…’ Will ground to a halt, staring back down the tunnel. It wasn’t much; just a faint flicker of light, but it was getting brighter. He stuck his arms out to encompass Brian and Cat and leapt for the tunnel wall. They slammed into the concrete as the light bars on either side of them burst into life, stinging their eyes. A pressure shock-wave made his ears pop and he hung on for dear life as the shuttle screamed past. It decelerated rapidly, settled into a stately glide and coasted to a halt at the research facility’s private station.