“If you don’t mind, I’ll wait.”

“Suit yourself.”

Mothershed took the camera into the darkroom, put it into the black bag, turned out the overhead light, switched on the red light and removed the film. He would do this in a hurry. Passport pictures always looked terrible, anyway. Fifteen minutes later, as Mothershed was timing the film in the developer tanks, he began to smell smoke. He paused. Was it his imagination? No. The smell was getting stronger. He turned to open the door. It seemed to be stuck. Mothershed pushed against it. It held fast.

“Hello,” he called out. “What’s happening out there?”

There was no response.

“Hello?” He pressed his shoulder against the door, but there seemed to be something heavy on the other side of it, keeping it closed. “Mister?”

There was no answer. The only sound he could hear was a loud crackling noise. The smell of smoke was becoming overpowering. The flat was on fire. That was probably why the man had left. He must have gone to get help. Leslie Mothershed slammed his shoulder against the door, but it would not budge. “Help!” he screamed. “Get me out of here!”

Smoke was starting to pour under the door, and Mothershed could feel the heat of the flames beginning to lick at it. It was getting difficult to breathe. He was starting to choke. He tore at his collar, gasping for air. His lungs were burning. He was beginning to lose consciousness. He sank down on his knees. “Oh, God, please don’t let me die now. Not now that I’m going to be rich and famous …”

“Reggie here.”

“Was the order filled?”

“Yes, sir. A bit overcooked but delivered on time.”

“Excellent.”

When Robert arrived at Grove Road at two o’clock in the morning, to begin his surveillance, he was confronted with an enormous traffic jam. The street was filled with official vehicles, a fire engine, ambulances and three police cars. Robert pushed his way through the crowd of bystanders and hurried over to the centre of activity. The whole building had been engulfed by the fire. From the outside he could see that the first-floor flat occupied by the photographer had been completely gutted.

“How did it happen?” Robert asked a fireman.

“We don’t know yet. Stand back, please.”

“My cousin lives in that flat. Is he all right?”

“I’m afraid not.” His tone became sympathetic. “They’re just taking him out of the building now.”

Robert watched as two ambulance attendants pushed a stretcher carrying a body into the ambulance.

“I was staying with him,” Robert said. “All my clothes are in there. I’d like to go in and …”

The fireman shook his head. “It wouldn’t do you any good, sir. There’s nothing left of the flat but ashes.”

Nothing left but ashes. Including the photographs and the precious list of passengers with their names and addresses.

So much for fucking serendipity, Robert thought bitterly.

In Washington, Dustin Thornton was having lunch with his father-in-law, in Willard Stone’s offices, in his lavish private dining room. Dustin Thornton was nervous. He was always nervous in the presence of his powerful father-in-law.

Willard Stone was in a good mood. “I had dinner with the President last evening. He told me that he’s very pleased with your work, Dustin.”

“I’m very gratified.”

“You’re doing a fine job. You’re helping to protect us against the hordes.”

“The hordes?”

“Those who would try to bring this great country to its knees. But it is not just the enemy outside the walls we have to beware of. It is those who pretend to be serving our country, who fail to do their duty. Those who do not carry out their orders.”

“The mavericks.”

“That’s right, Dustin. The mavericks. They must be punished. If …”

A man walked into the room. “Excuse me, Mr Stone. The gentlemen have arrived. They’re waiting for you.”

“Yes.” Stone turned to his son-in-law. “Finish your lunch, Dustin. I have something important to take care of. One day, I may be able to tell you about it.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The streets of Zurich were filled with weird-looking creatures with odd shapes, misshapen giants with large, grotesque bodies and tiny eyes, with skin the colour of boiled fish. They were meat eaters, and she hated the fetid smells they exuded from their bodies. Some of the females wore animal skins, the remains of the creatures they had murdered. She was still stunned by the terrible accident that had taken away the life essence of her companions.

She had been on earth for four cycles of what these beings called luna, and she had not eaten in all that time. She was faint from thirst. The only water she had been able to drink was the fresh rain water in the farmer’s trough, and it had not rained since the night she arrived. The other water on earth was undrinkable. She had gone into an alien feeding place, but she had been unable to stand the stench. She had tried to eat their raw vegetables and fruit, but they were tasteless, not like the succulent food at home.

She was called the Graceful One, and she was tall and stately and beautiful, with luminous green eyes. She had adopted the appearance of an Earthling after she left the site of the crash, and she walked through the crowds unnoticed.

She was seated at a table in a hard, uncomfortable chair that had been built for the human body, and she read the minds of the creatures around her.

Two of the beings were seated at a table near her. One was speaking aloud. “It’s the chance of a lifetime, Franz! For fifty thousand francs you can get in at the start. You’ve got fifty thousand francs, haven’t you?” She read the loud thoughts in his head. Come on, you swine. I need the commission.

“Sure, but I don’t know …” I’ll have to borrow it from my wife.

“Have I ever given you bad investment advice?” Make up your mind.

“It’s a lot of money.” She’ll never give it to me.

“What about the potential? There’s a chance to make millions.” Say yes.

“All right. I’m in.” Maybe I can sell some of her jewellery.

I have him! “You’ll never regret it, Franz.” He can always take a tax loss.

The Graceful One had no idea what the conversation meant.

At the far end of the restaurant, a man and woman were seated at a table. They were talking in low voices. She stretched her mind to hear them.

“Jesus Christ!” the man said. “How the hell could you get pregnant?” You stupid bitch!

“How do you think I got pregnant?” Your cock did it!

Pregnant was how these beings gestated, procreating clumsily with their genitals, like their animals in the fields.

“What are you going to do about it, Tina?” You’ve got to get an abortion.

“What do you expect me to do? You said you were going to tell your wife about me.” You lying bastard.

“Look, honey, I am, but this is a bad time.” I was crazy to ever get involved with you. I should have known you were trouble.

“It’s a bad time for me, too, Paul. I don’t even think you love me.” Please tell me you do.

“Of course I love you. It’s just that my wife is going through a rough period right now.” I don’t intend to lose her.

“I’m going through a rough period right now, too. Don’t you understand? I’m having your baby.” And you’re damn well going to marry me. Water was coming from her eyes.

“Calm down, honey. I tell you, everything is going to be fine. I want the baby as much as you do.” I’ll have to talk her into an abortion.

At a table next to them, a male creature was seated alone.

They promised me. They said the race was fixed, that I couldn’t lose, and like a fool, I turned all my money over to them. I’ve got to find a way to put it back before the auditors come. I couldn’t stand it if they put me in jail. I’ll kill myself first. I swear to God, I’ll kill myself.

At another table, a male and female were in the middle of a discussion.