Mae still needed allies. 'Yah, sure, you want to join? Please! Why did you not say so before?'

Mrs Mack was too Christian not to be blunt. 'I didn't know you were making all that money.'

There was not much to say in reply to that.

'And they say money can't buy friendship,' said Mae.

'It can't,' replied Mrs Mack, blunt again.

Mrs Doh, who could practise tact, ballooned out her eyes at the behaviour of her two friends.

Mae paused. 'I'll take that to mean we are friends beyond the money.'

Mrs Mack paused. 'If you like. But you have not previously regarded me much. No one in this village does.' Her eyes were sad.

'We will be at work tomorrow, in my old house,' said Mae. 'Come and join us. All of you.'

'You are kind to extend such a valuable invitation,' said Mrs Doh, the fine lines on her eyes and forehead wincing at Mrs Mack's Christian manners.

There was a sudden involuntary stir amid the people. Oh! said one of the girls.

Lung had joined the dancers. He hopped in, no embarrassment, looking incredibly pleased to be there. And began to dance as a village dance should be done, broadly, happily, rolling his shoulders, hips, and arms in one great sinewy motion. It was what was needed, to finally make the party warm.

Some of the women ululated, in high warbling warrior tones. The men joined in. The slower and fatter men finally hopped into the middle. White beards mocked themselves, or showed that once, they could dance with the best. But no one could compete with Lung.

He began to clap his hands high over his head, he spun around on his heels. The other younger men in the village began to gather round him, to dance just as vigorously. In the cab, Ozer snapped off the Lectro. The flutes, the violins, the tablas of the traditional music flooded the courtyard.

Lung began to sing along. He could sing too, and his voice when lifted up was not that of a Balshang Otter, or a Karzistani Soldier. It was the voice of a happy peasant who had eaten his fill and was dancing to keep warm in the winter.

Every village had one, a Tatlises, a Sweet Voice. Lung's voice slipped around notes as if escaping them, escaping order, to follow the flow of blood of the heart.

'Gel, gel, goomooleh gel,' he sang. Come, come, to a house of welcome. They all danced, they all clapped, even the women began to dance in the snow, amid the sound of who they were.

And Mae's heart that had been starved of company was suddenly stuffed full. She could feel it strain, like a belly, with the light, the noise, her people, and her son.

Joe was a village hero, too, Mae suddenly thought. When he was young.

The air's warmer. It always is after the snow comes.

Too warm, warned Mrs Tung. That's all she could say, too warm, over and over.

Finally people left late, bustling children to bed.

Discipline drilled into them, the soldiers did all the clearing up, gathering up the basins, mugs, spoons. The women were helpless before their speed. Kwan shook their heads. 'We are surplus, ladies,' she joked.

'Why can't we have the army all the time?' Mrs Nan said.

In the kitchen the three soldiers scrubbed the cutlery and boiled water in the pans, scalding off the fats and oils and congealing beans.

'We'll sleep in the truck,' said Lung. Kwan insisted that she had spare rooms. The soldiers nodded in polite gratitude, shaking hands before going to get their bags.

'I will walk you upstairs,' said Lung to Mae.

'I am unlikely to come to harm,' said Mae, smiling. But all understood. He needed to talk.

The joy of the evening fell away behind them as they climbed the stairs. He carried a candle. Mae had to take his arm in the dark. She began to remember their recent unpleasant exchanges by voicemail.

He helped her fold away her scarf and sheepskin.

'You got my warning then,' he said.

In the dark, it was as though Mae could see the steam of her breath glowing. 'It was you?'

Her mind raced: if it was Lung, not Tunch, then the army knows. Did he send the second encryption as well? If so, was he a friend? If not, she must not tell him anything else.

Lung whispered, 'Yes, ssh.'

Mae began to calculate. 'You know about Kwan?'

'Yes,' he said simply.

'Is she in danger?' Mae asked. She began to feel sick.

Lung sighed, 'I don't think so, now. Those screens have gone. She should be all right. After all, you have made Kizuldah famous. What you might ask her to do, which would be even better, is for her to put up some new screens that tell both sides of the story.'

Like milk, the very air seemed to curdle, go sour.

Lung elaborated. 'You know. How the government houses the Eloi, gives them homes…'

'Refrigerators in Balshang,' murmured Mae.

'Yes.' He sounded pleased; she could almost see the teeth in his smile.

'That way, the world does not puzzle over where the site has gone,' Mae added.

'You are very wise,' said Lung. 'But then, you always were wise, Mama.'

She was thinking: You came here to accomplish this. To get Kwan's site to do the government's work.

No. You came here to protect your own career in the army.

Lung relaxed; he felt he had done his job. 'Who would have thought you could do all this? The site, the business? Where did you learn all this?'

Mae was narrow-eyed in the darkness. What was he trying to find out now? 'Oh,' she said airily. 'Your mother is not so stupid. It is all available on the TV.'

'And from Hikmet Tunch,' said Lung, lightly.

'Indeed.'

'How did you find him?'

'He found me.'

It was strange being interrogated by her own son, in a dark and unheated room, as if they had both died and come back as Evil Dead.

Her dead son gave a short, slightly edged laugh. 'No. I mean, what did you think of him?'

'What do you think of him?'

'I think you should stay away from him.'

Mae decided not to ask him: Is that what the army thinks? She decided to deceive him, to protect Kwan, herself, her Circle. 'Why?' she asked in innocence.

'Look. The government likes him being here, he brings in money, but he does things in that place that are illegal everywhere else. You know how he started?'

'As a computer student?'

'Oh, Mother, he was the country's biggest drug smuggler. They let him off because he runs a computer business.'

'Our government would do such a thing?' Mae sounded shocked.

'Our government does many things,' said Lung, quietly.

And you are its servant, thought Mae. You look at what you do full in the face, and you still serve it so that you can be a lieutenant. And Kwan will never put up a site to do what you want.

We could all end up looking at you, my son, from the wrong end of a gun.

Come, Air, and blow governments away.

Then her son said, 'What are you going to do about the pregnancy?'

Mae's whole face pulled back until it was as tight as a mask. 'The usual things.'

'It is not a usual pregnancy.'

Mae watched the wreathing of her icy breath. 'Who told you that?'

Lung blew out. 'That man Tunch. Well…'

'A nurse called Fatimah.'

Lung jerked with a chuckle, amused by his mother's quickness. 'Yes. She at least seems very concerned for you.'

'Yes she is. Perhaps we should both avoid that man Tunch.'

She couldn't read Lung's reaction. He shrugged and laughed and nodded. 'No disagreement there.' Then concern. 'Are you okay, well?'

Mae decided not to let him off the hook. 'No. I feel sick and as you can see I am not welcome many places in the village.'

His eyes could not meet hers. He ducked and ran a hand over his hair.

Mae asked him, 'How is your father?'

'Ugh,' said Lung, involuntarily.

'Seeing a lot of him? He visits you often?' she asked.