

# The

# Code War

## Ciaran Nagle
Copyright © 2015 Ciaran Nagle

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1507765290

ISBN-13: 978-1507765296
For Gill who has loved me twice as much as I deserve for half my life and Alex who has halved my worries and doubled my pride every year since he was born.
Cast of Characters

In alphabetical order, important characters in bold.

Very minor characters have been omitted.

Agatha - angel, specialist in code-breaking

Andy - student archaeologist

Bezejel \- beautiful high caste demoness

Chan (and Jo) - engineer angels

Chopper Kwok - triad society leader

Dan Kelly \- police inspector, Hong Kong

David - travel agency manager, Nancy's boss

Fatty Lo \- triad society boss

Habib \- Arab regional leader of crime gang

Hideki \- Colonel of Intelligence in Inferno

Holzman - demon soldier

Jabez \- angel in charge of rescue team

Jenny - triad hostess

Jo (and Chan) - engineer angels

Kodrob \- captain of military squad in Inferno

Lafarge - demon soldier

Lafi \- African drug-runner

Luke - angel and friend of Jabez

Mars Ma - triad gangster

Martin - student archaeologist

Mel - colleague of Nancy

Monkey (Fu Yip) - triad society boss

Mya Ling - 19th century Chinese princess

Nancy \- London travel agent

Nescafé Mao - triad gangster

Pete - student archaeologist

Ruth - high-ranking angel

Shai - great uncle of Nancy

Wonton Chiang - triad gangster

Zhivkin \- demon soldier

Prologue

China, 1859

Inferno's fallen angels basked in their achievement, circling the airs above the city and smirking and nudging while they watched the smoke plumes boil. Storm sprites hearkened to the crickle crackle of the burning bamboo roofs and flew in, casually whirling up a wind around a so-so fire and fanning it to a blaze. Home from home. Faces of weeping children, their tears making rivers through the grime of their cheeks gazed from the roadsides and searched the scurrying crowds for a homecoming ma or pa. They searched long. Orphans of three and four with celery-stick arms wailed beside babes in rags while table-carrying neighbours rushed for the city exits.

Still the artillery came in, arcing unseen with unpredictable destination. Lightning doesn't strike one place twice. But cannonballs do. And then don't, insolently pulverising a factory or slum that had lain unaccountably untouched as if blessed. No blessings today. Not for the poor who had not the means to leave Nanjing before now, believing their gods would yet intervene and save their starving skins. Not for the rich who fled with their gold while over their shoulders their opulent manors burned and their fountains erupted in shards of hot iron and brick.

Many stayed where they were, paralysed into inaction by the thought of worse horrors outside the city walls. They sought solace with their faith and waited for the gate of the hereafter to present its one-way arch towards them, beckoning them beneath it towards a land where rice bowls were never empty and ancestors came bearing gifts.

But the brave, the desperate and the young took their stoutest boots and headed down the blasted roads towards the river and the ocean. Talk of breakthroughs and breakouts brought men together in unlikely alliances and always there hovered in front of them the unspoken destination, the dream of dreams, the beautiful country across the seas, America. Rumours of relief ships and plucky captains sent by émigré sympathisers continued to circulate among the credulous. When all hope faded the human breast created hope anew. When that hope, too, died, the breast created more in a circle of phoenix-like perpetual motion that defied all reason.

If the infernal angels who wept in delight at the chaos beneath them had turned their misty eyes towards the south-west they would have seen a smaller procession. These few, outside the ring of uniforms that choked the city, had achieved the impossible, a landward flight. Three men, a woman and a mule. Their story should have been at an end. But it was not. It was stumbling towards its beginning.

The mule clopped slowly along the stony path below several terraces of destroyed rice paddies. Nanjing City lay behind, still on fire. Thick smoke and the smell of burning flesh filled the air for miles around. Ahead, Tsuen Liu's destination for the day, was a low farmhouse building at the centre of several pig fields. There were no pigs to be seen. The pig huts were smashed or burnt. A thick flock of magpies in a field beyond picked at some dead creature, leaping onto its ribs and jabbing inside its carcase with their hard beaks.

Tsuen looked anxiously behind. These days an enemy was anyone who was hungry. Whether they were the Qing or the rebels meant little. And since everyone was hungry it meant there were enemies everywhere.

He turned to his fellow travellers and studied them while they caught him up.

Hong Li-Zhang the merchant had either hidden or thrown away his expensive cuff-links. Good.

Mya Ling's military coat covered most of her body. But he could see some silk around her ankles and wrists. And she still wore her pretty jade earrings, a magnet for robbers. That was pure foolishness. He must speak to her about that. Their fourth companion, Li, was stretched sideways over the mule. Tsuen slapped him on the back anxiously and the old man mustered a groan. Still alive then.

'Here we sleep the night. With their approval if the owners give it. Without their approval if they don't.' He took an old western flintlock pistol from the mule's saddle, underneath Li's leg, loaded a ball and primed it with powder from his pouch.

Using the mule as cover, the three approached the farmhouse. Tsuen kept the pistol ready, but out of sight.

There was no handle on the door and it swung open easily. No lights welcomed them in. No smell of barbecued meat beckoned them. The farm was deserted.

'Choose the driest room and lay out the leathers there,' called Tsuen. He and Hong pulled Li from the back of the mule and carried him indoors. Mya Ling lit a candle and placed it in the hearth. They carefully stretched Li out on the leather rain cover and Hong put a folded coat under his head. 'I'll get some firewood,' called Hong, going out into the dark. Tsuen Liu and Mya Ling unpacked the baggage, the cooking pots and their last half jar of brown rice.

An hour later while the pot of rice was heating up in the hearth, Li raised his head a little and opened his eyes. He called the three together. They gathered around him, fearfully, respectfully.

'I've eaten all the rice, pork and cabbage that were allotted to me on the day I came into this world,' Li began. 'I can't be bothered with the banquet of crab and beef you're preparing. Nor the oysters and sweet cakes you've laid out. I've had too much rich food these last months and it's rotting my teeth. Nor do I want your new rice wine or your old imported whisky, you can put them away.'

Mya Ling peeked underneath the bandage around his side. She'd pick out the maggots later with a clean wood splinter when he'd fallen asleep. The smell of the putrefying flesh whipped their noses but none of them showed any emotion or attempted to raise their scarf over their face.

Li raised himself up jerkily on one elbow, panting with the effort and pointing a shaky hand towards Hong. The skin hung off his arm like bedsheets on drying poles. But his eyes were bright and his voice became as strong and rich as if he'd suddenly mislaid three score of his winters.

'I am the Mountain Master, the Dragon Lord, the Brother of Brothers.'

His audience bowed their heads in renewed respect and fear. These words were enough to have them all tongued, limb-amputated to the torso and chained in a rat-field if the ruling Qing should hear of them.

'But you all knew this moment would come and so it is good that you have pampered me and made me fat. But now I am going to promote you two Tsuen Liu and Hong Li-Zhang in the Fellowship of Brothers, for all my other marshals are dead, killed by one crowd of fools or the other. Who cares which? Henceforth you will both be equals and if you survive this war you will take over my contacts, my friendships, my holdings, my deals but most importantly you will take over Brother.'

The two men looked at each other.

Hong spoke for both. 'But Master Li, you must not leave us equal, that way we will be rivals.'

'Not so Ah Hong. Remember that in Brother you are now brothers. In brotherhood there is no rivalry for if one sibling prospers so does the other. You were not born with the ties of kinship. But I now bind you together as if you were flesh from flesh. In a moment you will both cut your hands and mingle your blood. As the blood is red, so will be your fraternity.'

Tsuen Liu was overtaken by the moment. 'Only give me your knife, master, and we will do this deed now.'

'Let me be the one to cut myself first, only say the word.' Hong was not to be outdone.

'Patience Ah Tsuen and Ah Hong. For I have not finished. You know that in the matter of physic, the triangle is the strongest form, moreso than a square or any other. The foreigners have embodied this in their mystical god, he with the three heads. Here in China we have our own triangle, the triad of heaven, earth and man. Conveniently, fate has arranged matters that as I prepare to leave this Earth and go to my ancestors, I also am able to hand over Brother to a triad.'

The rice was cooked and Li paused while Hong took the pan from its iron stand in the fire and placed it on the brick hearth to rest. Li's breath was rattling through his chest, the phlegm bubbling and scraping like a spade in wet gravel. His blood had become septic and the poison was spreading rapidly through his body. He began speaking again, his face composed as if he knew his time was short.

'Mya Ling, I have watched you these last few months as you have travelled with us. The emperor was cruel to expel you, princess. But his foolishness is my joy. You say little, but I know you are possessed of a fierce mind and even fiercer ambition. I cannot force this upon you but, if you will it, I would bind you to your new brothers. Give me your hand.'

Mya Ling edged forward on her knees, head low, eyes fiercely concentrated. She grasped Li's hand and held it tight.

'Mya Ling, is it your will that you take Tsuen Liu and Hong Li-Zhang as your brothers and they take you as their sister until the end of your days and that the bond you three make here will be stronger than any bond of friendship, love or marriage that you may make hereafter?'

Mya Ling answered immediately with her clear upper-class intonation. 'It is my will, Master Li. It is my most urgent will.' Li smiled, pleased at Mya Ling's emphatic reply.

'Then, Mya Ling, you are no longer a lonely butterfly, free to the air. You have tied yourself to your new brothers. You three are now family. You are triad. You are Brother. Take my knife from my side and all of you cut your hands and let your blood join and become one in symbol of what your hearts have agreed.'

The knife was passed from one to the next. Magenta droplets fell to the ground as palms were taken and pressed together and eyes met around the new-born circle of triplets.

'The deed is done. You are family. You are Brother.' Li coughed again and a glob of red-streaked phlegm oozed from his mouth and crept down his chin like a wounded slug. Mya Ling pressed her arm to his face, wiping away the phlegm with her silken cuff.

'When I am gone your new names must be named,' Li continued, wheezing. 'But by you, not by me. You must swear to each other and take the names that belong to you. You know what they are.'

Steam rose weakly from the rice. There was nothing to add to it, not even salt or a few wild grasshoppers. Outside, a wind arose and blew down the Yangtze River valley, fanning the flames in the once great city of Nanjing. Change was coming. The old order was being destroyed and a new era was awakening.

They sat back and ate the cool rice, not bothering to wash their hands. Li told tales of Old Cathay, of warriors and traitors and kings and sailors. As his mind began to ramble his stories described dragons and spirits and charms and magic. They tucked him up and wiped the droplets from his brow. And while they slept, his spirit stole away and in the morning they awoke and buried his body, deep, where neither magpie nor fox would despoil it.

Then they stood solemnly and took their new secret names and re-affirmed their oath. They resolved that the House of Brother would endure and bring prosperity so that they and their children and their childrens' children would never be poor again.

And they swore that no-one outside of Brother would ever be allowed to stand in their way.

Summer 1978

Ealing Holidays, Ealing Broadway, London

It was 11am and the sales hubbub in the travel shop was nearing its peak. Telexes came in simultaneously from Majorca and Crete, chattering their sandy promises and spilling out their urgent tapes on the floor. Families pored over brochures, wondering what unmissable holiday bargain to buy. Their fingers in their pockets were already fondling their overloaded credit cards. Agents watched their clients' delirious eyes and waited for the moment to strike. That villa in Corfu, sir? It might be gone by tomorrow. Maybe this afternoon. It's a great offer. Want to grab it while you can? Shame to let it go. All right then, let's see if it's still available, shall we?

From the rear of the shop came a slender, willowy figure, stepping over the serpentine phone lines. Nancy's skirt bounced high as she lifted her legs, daintily avoiding the telephonic trip wires and skipping her way between the two rows of desks. She cast bright smiles at the children and mums, her radiance in perfect harmony with their dreams of sun and sea. Dads noticed only the softness of her knees and the dash of her hips as she sped by. Their credit cards edged another centimetre out of their pockets as they contemplated lazy afternoons, starry nights, children in bed and the prospect of more sex in a week than they normally got in an entire school term. They breathed in deeply as they concentrated afresh on the blue pools and palmed hotels in front of them. They exchanged looks with their wives. Looks became nods as doubts began to be erased. Nods became yesses. Yesses became credit cards openly displayed in hands. Nancy had sold three holidays without saying a word. Other agents' holidays.

Her colleagues lost no time in reaping the reward of her timely sally through the shop. They beamed at their new customers like old friends as they sealed the deal with ballpoints on dotted lines. And while they slipped flexible plastic into unforgiving card machines and zik-zakked the slider back and forth, Nancy regained her desk at the front and patted her blank booking forms.

The space in front of her was empty. There was no affluent family itching to spend their winter salary on a spring break. No elderly couple celebrating retirement with a cruise. Her phone didn't ring. The noise behind her was deafening. The silence around her was even louder.

She looked sideways at Mel on the next desk and smiled.

'I'm going to get rich customers today, I can just feel it,' she called out cheerfully. 'Probably a retired couple who want a yacht in Turkey. And a millionaire who needs a villa in Tuscany. And a party of eight wanting to go skiing in Chamonix next winter.'

'Not a chance, Nance. Not with your luck,' retorted Mel in derision. 'Knowing you, you'll get a Chelsea pensioner wanting a weekend in Torquay. And that's if you're lucky. I think we should call you 'not a chance, Nance', that's your new nickname.'

'No, it's definitely millionaire week. I can feel it,' replied Nancy, stretching her hands up into the air as though she could change her fortune by reaching for the stars. 'My usual magnetic attraction to the permanently penniless is over. Done for. Consigned to the grave.' And she washed her hands in the air over her waste paper bin with a sideways grin to Mel before shaking off the imaginary water.

'Anyway, talking of luck, how's yours?' Nancy went on the offensive. 'Any sign of the boyfriend situation improving? You can't go on getting rejected by every chap you fancy. Your bad luck can't last for ever.' Nancy gave Mel a victorious smile.

Revenge was sweet.

'Oh, don't talk to me about it,' conceded Mel. 'If I show a boy I like him, it frightens him off. And if I play it cool they think I'm hard work. Then they go and chat up someone else. It's so long since I've had any male attention, it's hardly worth putting on make-up.'

'Oh, do you put on make-up?' And Nancy looked at Mel with such innocence that for a moment her workmate went pale and her face fell like a drooping ghost. But a moment later a ruler flew past Nancy's ear and as she took cover Mel called out 'Nancy Kay, I'll get you for that. I'll put chilli in your sandwiches. I'll put itching powder on the toilet seat before you go. I'll...'

But by now both girls were laughing too hard to continue the threats and they both looked behind them to see if they were being watched.

'Listen,' said Mel eventually, putting her hand to her cheek. 'Actually, I am getting some attention. Of that sort. But it's from the wrong person.'

'Oh?' said Nancy, now intrigued.

Mel looked behind her, guardedly. She turned back to Nancy and then began pointing to the back of the shop with her left hand which only Nancy could see. 'David,' she said. 'He keeps asking me out.'

Nancy's eyes opened wide. 'David,' she whispered back. 'Our manager? But he's married.'

'I don't think that's ever stopped him. Rumour has it a girl left here last year because she was pregnant. And it wasn't the fairies.' She gave a meaningful look.

'That's terrible,' agreed Nancy.

'Yeah. It is. I keep fighting him off. But he's so persistent.' Mel looked towards the door. 'Hey up, Nancy. There's some trade approaching.'

Nancy looked up to see some silhouettes outside the travel agency's front door. There were three of them, nervously hesitating before coming in.

'It's your turn Nancy and...' Mel continued to scrutinise the faces outside '...guess what, your luck hasn't changed.' She turned away with a renewed grin on her face while Nancy composed herself once again to face the public.

The door opened. Three young lads stepped into the shop and looked around. They surveyed the eight agents in front of them and glanced at the racks of brochures on the wall. They seemed to have no idea what to do. Behind Nancy, all the chatter among the older agents ceased and there was the sound of several telephones being picked up and numbers being dialled.

Nancy looked the three youths up and down, taking in the un-ironed shirts, baggy jeans and scruffy trainers. Yep, Mel was right. They were her sort of customers. The old magnetism was still working.

'Yes, can I help you?' she asked brightly.

'Thank you, well, maybe,' began one youth hesitantly. He coughed. 'We're all first-year archaeology students and next term we're doing a project on Roman temples in the Middle East. I was wondering if you could help us find a cheap flight and a place to stay in Israel for two weeks. It needs to be in or near Eilat. We've looked at Thomas Cook but everything they had was too expensive.'

Nancy drew in a breath. She loved a challenge but this could be a tough one indeed.

'Well, let's give it a whirl shall we?' she replied, flexing her fingers. 'Come over here and we'll see what the travel genie can find.'

Behind her, Nancy could feel, rather than see, her office colleagues snigger as they gave each other knowing looks. Nancy's got herself a classic this time, they winked to each other. Already they were thinking of ways to tease her later with jibes like 'You could always send them by camel, Nance' or 'Why not rent them a campervan?' followed by 'At least that won't be ruinously expensive'.

But for the moment Nancy ignored the smirk-filled silence behind her and concentrated on her new clients.

'That'll be three of you, I guess. What's your budget for the two weeks?' she asked.

'Actually four of us,' replied the speaker. 'Andy's cousin is coming with us too. That's Andy,' he indicated the young man standing nearest the door. 'I'm Martin and this is Pete,' indicating the third member of the trio.

Mel appeared pulling three chairs after her and placed them in front of Nancy's desk. She too couldn't resist a knowing look at Nancy. It was the only reason she had made the effort to bring the chairs over. Nancy grimaced back with one side of her mouth uplifted. The boys sat down. Mel departed.

Nancy smiled again and made eye contact with all three boys, in order to make them feel welcome. Martin had cropped hair and wide shoulders, Andy was freckled with red hair and Pete was tall and thin. Brawny, tawny and scrawny. Would they be treble trouble or a trio of harmless train spotters?

The boys had turned on the charm and were trying to give Nancy their most beatific smiles. But instead of looking angelic they seemed rather impish.

'Come and sit closer, all of you,' she said. 'I can see you've got big wallets. You'll clearly be wanting a private jet with a full crew, right?'

They laughed as she broke the ice, then shuffled their seats forward.

'Now let's see,' she said as she began to write onto a pad. 'Israel. Two weeks. What time of year do you want to travel?'

Thirty minutes later, Martin, Andy and Pete stood up and said goodbye to Nancy.

'Thank you,' said Martin as he shook her hand tightly, almost making her wince. 'You've been most helpful. I'm sorry we're not able to spend much but you've certainly won my loyalty for the future. When I've got more money, I mean.'

'That's great,' said Andy. 'I didn't think it was possible to get an apartment and flights on a student budget, but you've been brilliant.'

Pete was equally grateful. 'Fantastic. I'm going to send all my classmates to you. None of them have got any money either. You'll never be out of work looking after them.' He added a wicked grin. Nancy smiled.

She showed them to the door. 'Let me have your final confirmation tomorrow, once Andy's spoken to his cousin and then I'll need your payment by cheque. Good luck lads.'

She returned to her desk and awarded herself a square of chocolate as she finished logging the quotation on the triplicate booking form.

Behind her, phones were melting with over-use, typewriter carriages were returning furiously and pens were circling over villas in brochures, which meant that luckily for Nancy all her colleagues were too busy to give her any of the expected teasing. Except one.

'Those boys have got arses you could put on your toast and lick all the way to New Year,' said Mel with a wistful stare at the door.

'Mel, you're the man-hungriest woman, I've ever known,' said an exasperated but secretly pleased Nancy. 'If you were a chap I'd tell you to take a cold shower.'

'Don't tell me you didn't notice.'

'Actually, I'm a consummate professional who never mixes personal life with business. You would do well to learn from me.' They exchanged sidelong looks and burst into giggles.

Nancy looked behind her and scanned the faces of the other agents. Her face lost its smile and became purposeful. 'I'll see you in a minute,' she said.

She stood and walked slowly to the back of the shop between the two aisles of desks. Some of the agents looked up and smiled at her good-naturedly. Nancy walked even more slowly as she passed David's desk before continuing into the little kitchenette. She switched on the kettle, reached into the cupboard, casually plucked a tea bag from the caddy and placed it into a cup. She heard footsteps behind her and half-turned her head towards the door.

'Hello Nancy, how are you today?' David stood in the doorway smiling. He looked Nancy up and down slowly before closing the door behind him and pressing back on it with his weight. Nancy heard the latch click closed.

'You've been with us a couple of weeks now, haven't you?

'Yes,' replied Nancy, with a nervous smile. 'Just over two weeks actually.'

'Good. I'm sure you'll get on very well here.' David looked down quickly at Nancy's legs again.

'I want you to come out and have dinner with me, Nancy. I like to get to know all of my staff. And there's rarely a chance to chat. You know, socialise. During the day. There's an excellent restaurant not far away. It's attached to a hotel. I think you'll like it. They serve all kinds of good food. Anything you like. How about this evening, just you and me?'

Nancy looked away as her smile rapidly waned. She glanced at the coffee pot. The sugar bowl. The upturned cups. She put her hand to her head and scratched a sudden itch on her cheek. Then she breathed in and out quickly. But when she next looked back into David's eyes her gaze was direct.

'How's Elizabeth?'

'What?'

'How's Elizabeth?'

What? How do you..? How do you know Elizabeth?'

'Your wife. Elizabeth. Is she well?'

'Yes. She's fine.' David's face was all confusion. A silence ensued. Nancy continued looking at him. Waiting.

David spoke first. 'Why did you ask? How do you know about her? Do you know her?'

Nancy paused before replying, keeping her gaze steady.

'Will Elizabeth join us tonight? For dinner. It would be good to meet her too.'

'No. It wouldn't be good.' David was rushing to get his words out. 'She has no reason to meet you. She doesn't work in the business.'

'Oh, I thought she was the company bookkeeper.'

'How do you know that?'

'I make it my business to know things like that.' Another pause. 'So, will Elizabeth join us tonight?'

'No, she can't come. She's busy.'

'Oh. That's disappointing.' Nancy was anything but disappointed. She could have been interviewing a candidate for a job, such was her composure. 'Well, in that case, I can't go either. Sorry. Oh, do you have a piece of paper on you?'

'A piece of paper?'

'Yes, a piece of paper.'

'I don't know.' David began searching his pockets while Nancy waited. His smugness was gone, replaced by worry. He found a company business card in his top pocket. 'I've only got one of these.'

'That'll do. Thank you,' said Nancy holding out her hand and taking the card. There was a cheap ball-point pen lying on the kitchenette worktop. Nancy picked it up and wrote on the back of the card. Then she stepped forward purposefully towards the door, forcing David to move aside.

As she turned the handle and pulled the door open Nancy stopped and turned to her boss. Her face was only a few inches from his.

'By the way,' she said quietly. 'Mel doesn't want to go out with you either.' She slipped the business card back into his pocket and then pushed past him through the door and back into the office.

As the sound of her footsteps retreated David plucked the card from his pocket and looked at what was written on the back.

It was his own home telephone number.

As Nancy returned to her desk at the front of the shop, victory in her stride, she noticed heads turn to follow. Her close confinement with David behind locked doors in the kitchenette had not gone unremarked. They all wanted to know what had happened and, more importantly, who had come off best.

Nancy answered their unspoken question with her body language. She plucked an abandoned phone from a paper-strewn desk, heard the dial tone in the receiver and snapped it back in its cradle with a flourish. She scooped up a male agent's pencil sharpener and tapped it playfully on his desk a couple of times before returning his smile with a wink. She rescued a pair of scissors from another desk that were about to fall on the floor and handed them to their grateful owner along with a grin. Her senses were on high alert as she skipped along on her high heels noticing and enjoying all the curious glances.

But there was something Nancy didn't notice.

She didn't see the short figure with the Asiatic features that followed her, just a pace behind. She didn't see its red eyes that never left her for a moment. She didn't see the unusual curved sword that hung from its side. Or notice its military bearing.

No-one did. Even if they had looked straight in its direction they would not have seen it.

When Nancy regained her desk and sat down, the soldierly figure took station just behind her. It continued its watch. It noted her every move and word. It smelt her blood and heard her pulse. Its Leader would want a complete report.

Heaven's Shore

On an outcrop of the last shore on the fringes of Heaven, far from friends and nearly beyond the Music's reach, Jabez watched as Nancy's image faded from view. He closed his hands together and the globe reduced to the diameter of a marble. He replaced it at his side.

Jabez looked out across the divide before him to the blasted land beyond. He had not been here before. Few angels came this way. But after he had finished his mission, win or lose, this rugged, beautiful coast would forever be remembered as the outpost where the battle for Nancy took place. A contest such as this for the immortal soul of a mortal woman mattered greatly and it would matter greatly for ever.

Jabez turned to look behind him, down the long pathway he had flown. A wide prairie of dunes and emerald grasses rolled back to become meadows of beautiful wild flowers and scented forests before giving way to hills and valleys, lakes and ice caps. Far in the distance were golden villages, seaborne cities and airborne farms.

Paradise was neither flat nor round, instead it was wide and deep and there was as much bustle and light in the lands at its core as there was at its peripheries. He looked at a point a couple of seconds of light time away, deep within Heaven's interior where a huge range of snowy mountains raised their craggy peaks in praise. Lower down, below the snow line, venerable villages with marble streets and high-vaulted houses made of slow-aged timber nestled between the mountains' knees.

As his eyes searched them out, the villages grew in his sight, transporting themselves towards him. Soon he could see each and every angel going about their day's work, outside or in, planting and sawing and analysing and project managing. All of Heaven was dear to him, but one of these villages especially so for he had known its people since before he died and came to life. They were his clan.

He watched each one of them, relatives close and far. He saw them in their fields and he saw them at their globes. He knew every smile and welcome, every nod and wave.

At the same time, the Music reached him and washed over him. Jabez's lips opened and his head went back as the Music of Heaven struck every cell of his body, exciting his senses and uplifting his heart. The Music was a constantly renewing, constantly changing, soaring, falling harmony of drumbeats and voices, instruments and rhythms that delighted the soul and fed the imagination.

The Music spoke with its own voice and shouted you're special, you're wonderful, you are so welcome here. And all of this was true for every angel in Paradise had earned their place.

Some of those he watched soon began to feel his presence and raised their eyes to look for him. They missed him and yearned for news of him. They had heard that he had been given a difficult quest. Soon they would perceive him and call out to him across the vast distance in between. He didn't want that, it would only magnify the heartache he felt.

Jabez sighed heavily as he forced himself to return to the present. His home village rapidly retreated to a speck within a dot within a wisp and was gone. The Music faded to a whisper again as if someone had turned down the volume. For he was on the edge of Heaven and the Music must not go beyond its border.

Jabez's breath came shallowly and rapidly and he was afraid. He plucked the globe from his side and expanded it. The starswirl inside reached out to his mind, learning his will. Soon a face came up and looked into his eyes.

'Luke,' said Jabez, softly. 'I'm glad you're in. I've never felt so alone.'

'So you've arrived Jabez. I was wondering if you'd call.' Luke removed his Stetson in greeting before replacing it on his head. 'As for being alone, I think that's the whole point. It's to help you focus.'

'But why am I here Luke? I mean, why me? I'm a galaxy-building angel. An engineer. I'm not a guardian angel. I've spent the last few hundred years designing a planet fit for human habitation. What do I know about Infernal schemes and plans? It's not what I've trained for.'

'There's always a reason, Jabez, you know that. There's something about you that means you're right for this project, despite appearances.'

'Thanks. But I still don't see it.'

'No, really,' continued Luke, whose black face sparkled with humour. 'I mean, you're not that quick on the uptake. And you're lazy and vain. But the powers upstairs know what they're doing. You just have to trust them.'

'I knew you'd have an encouraging word for me.'

'Don't mention it. I graduated top of my Friend In Need class. My tutor said I was a natural.'

Jabez tilted his head, deciding to ignore his friend's dry wit. 'But seriously Luke, I've been arranging cosmic storms and releasing them onto the entire palette of chemical elements made by the Creator long ago. I was putting a new moon through field trials when I got this appointment. I've never intercepted a charnel imp or confronted a satyr squadron. I know as much about a storm sprite's spear-spell as a new-born deer does of a hunter's arrow. I'm in construction. Not warfare.'

'Hmmm.' Luke removed his Stetson again. His African eyes sparkled like watchfires in the night. But it was a time to listen, not talk.

Jabez's anxiety was dominant.

'Luke. You know who I'm up against, don't you? You know her reputation?'

His mind dizzied and he staggered briefly under the weight of his care, losing his balance. His right wing flared and pushed down, feathers firming, lightening him for a moment and allowing him to regain his step.

Then Jabez looked in front of him across the divide to the fire-blasted plains of Inferno. Nothing grew in that wasteland. But here and there he could just make out a soul walking in hungry pain, unable to die, lamenting that death had been such a cruel cheat.

'She's out there, somewhere, Luke. It hurts just to look at the place. But beyond that desert is the centre of Inferno and that's where she'll be.'

'Yes,' replied Luke, heavily. 'I know who you're talking about. Bezejel. I've been looking her up. She's a former chieftain of the Pecheneg tribe in Eastern Europe. She seized the crown after outwitting all the senior commanders in her kingdom. Quite a feat for a woman, in those days. Very smart. Cruel too. They called her Orphan-maker, She-spite and Queen Crusher at various times. She was extremely beautiful. She liked to taunt captured enemy soldiers by flaunting her femininity over them and then once she'd got them interested she gave the word to her men and the poor guys were tortured, cut to pieces or bouldered on great machines. If you happen to get close to her and she smiles at you, Jabez, probably best to walk on by.'

'I'll remember that. Though I wasn't planning to get anywhere near her.'

'The thing is, Jabez, what you're forgetting is you've got friends. Me among them. That's our strength. You're not alone. You're only out there on Heaven's shore so that you're not distracted.'

'Thanks Luke, I knew I could count on you.'

'Find out who you need and build a team. That's my advice. A team of specialists. Don't try to work alone. Find yourself a good crew and they'll support you as well as work for you. They'll give you encouragement when you need it, strengthen you when you're weak and stick by you even when you fail. Which you will. From time to time. Though ultimately you'll succeed.'

'I wish I had your confidence.'

'You've got all the confidence you need. It's right that you should be a little apprehensive. But you and Bezejel will fight the battle in different ways. Remember, you are not equal. She will use all the dark arts of her cunning and her knowledge of men and women's weakness. She'll play on fear, desire, greed, loneliness, lust. She knows about them. She specialises in human weakness. But you have friendships, Jabez. And you'll have many more by the time this thing is over. That's the difference between you.'

'I'm starting to get dewy-eyed.'

'Don't get sarcastic on me, now.'

'I'm not. I just think Heaven has chosen a most unlikely angel for its champion.'

'That's because you don't know what's coming. Heaven has chosen well, Jabez. You're stronger than you think. If Bezejel knew who she was facing in this battle, she'd probably throw in the towel right now.'

Jabez laughed. 'Yeah.' There was a short silence. 'Ok, Luke, I get the point. Moan over. It's time to get down to business.'

'Attaboy.'

'Nancy needs help. And I'm on the case.'

'Actually, the Earth needs help.'

'What?' Jabez was alarmed.

'I've just been asked to tell you. This isn't only about Nancy. It's not just one soul. It seems that Inferno are working on something much, much bigger.'

'Like what?'

'We don't know what it is yet. But Nancy is at the centre of it. Hold on, there's new information just coming in.'

As Luke looked away for a moment, Jabez began to walk. After a few minutes he found a dune with a few tufts of grass and sat down, gently furrowing the sand with his wingtips while he waited.

Luke came back on.

'Jabez I don't know how to tell you this.'

'Try.'

'It looks like the enemy are planning something serious. It could be the biggest assault against humanity since Earth's World War II.' As Jabez stared down at him, Luke paused, searching for the right words to explain what he had to say. Eventually he found them.

'And you're in charge of the defence.'

Husk Tower, Central Pentacurse Region, Inferno

'Who ever said Hell isn't beautiful?' asked Bezejel rhetorically of her mute bodyguards, Gog and Magog. 'That view is intoxicating.'

She took another step up the spiral walkway that wrapped itself around the outside of Husk Tower like a helter skelter. Then she paused for a moment to take in the sights below, clicking her heels together and resting her black gloved hands on the parapet. Gog and Magog, satyrs nearly twice her size, stood back respectfully and waited.

The sky was dark as it always was over Hades. But that just accentuated the fiery colours that glowed upwards from below. All possible shades of red, yellow and brown stirred themselves together in the suffocating heat and spread across the landscape.

There was Festerlode stretching out into the distance, one of the five fingers of Hell. The 'fingers' were hundred mile long promontories that each jutted out beyond the five walls that protected the central Pentacurse region. In the middle of Pentacurse, where most upper caste demons lived, Husk Tower rose up, dominating all.

In-between the five fingers of baked land, where most of Inferno's residents existed, were lakes of lava that boiled and spat. The lakes were not static but flowed under and through the fingers depositing tantalisingly small nuggets of hydrocarbon that occasionally percolated their way through the land crust to the top. There they were seized upon by the starving masses who devoured what they could, quickly, before they were beaten and dispossessed by those surrounding them.

A brown haze hung over Festerlode like a shroud over a corpse. It sparkled in places as flammable concentrations among its noxious gases were superheated from below and burst into momentary incandescence. On its craggy plain a crawling, groping mass of demonry fought and gouged each other over clods of oil or tar that occasionally churned to the surface. Hydrocarbons were the only food that demons could stomach.

Bezejel looked down proudly, silently applauding the survival instinct that inspired every lower caste troll, mawl or gurn to fight so viciously with tooth and claw. It was good. Fighting made folk strong.

The next finger around the dial was Tyrants' Fall and then Miser's Folly with its newly poor, followed by Slothmire and Desoland. Bezejel could see them all as she slowly climbed the Tower.

The long U-shaped slag walkway that followed the coastal contours of Tyrants' Fall was crammed as ever with gawking, pointing demons of all ranks and castes.

They stared at the wretched inmates of the Fall, behind the wire, and drew each other's attention to a famous name here or there that they knew personally.

Bezejel pointed to Tyrants' Fall and turned to her bodyguards. 'See that place, boys? It's a special place. A special place in Hell reserved for warlords, crime kingpins, corrupt leaders, slave traders, feuding kings and dictators. They all brought huge numbers of souls to Inferno. Lucky souls. But now the Leader keeps them in that concentration camp because they might try to band together and take over Inferno. Can you imagine how Hell would decline if any of those arrogant swine became Leader?'

They watched as a group of Fall inmates was led out in chains and tied to pillars in the centre of the walkway. Many Infernals owed their own fate to the actions of these tyrants. Now the crowds gathered around one or other of the chained figures and began to hurl abuse.

One crime boss who had ordered many killings in his community was surrounded by the families of those he had butchered. The abuse was raucous and savage, the faces of the accusers twisted with rage and hate. As the noise increased the attacks became physical. Male and female demons, formerly mothers and fathers who had later fallen into ruin, began to tear at his flesh and stab at his eyes. The ex-crime boss screamed and cried as his bones were cracked and teeth gouged at his privates. His pleas for mercy only intensified the violence. He had shown no mercy to his victims, one demoness shouted, there would be none now for him. They swarmed over him like ants around a captured beetle, slashing and biting.

All along the line it was the same as formerly proud men - and some women - once impregnable and haughty in their government palaces or hiding behind their armed stooges were faced by those they had destroyed. The mayhem and brutality intensified, one group's rage feeding off another's until the very ground shook and the air was riven with screams. Then guards came, beating back the mobs and hauling off the torn and bloodied bodies until the next day when the process would be repeated. For those who had abused their power, the final death of the soul could not come soon enough.

Even Bezejel, a stalwart believer in the value of fighting seemed moved, Gog and Magog noted. Her eyes were wide and her fingers held tight to the edge of the parapet. They shuffled their feet noisily and Gog made a sign to Bezejel reminding her she had an appointment to keep. It would not do to keep the Leader waiting. Not unless she too wanted to find herself in Tyrant's Fall.

Bezejel drew her eyes away from the scenes below and continued her helical ascent. Gog and Magog fell in behind. The mood was now sombre and she walked stiffly. Fear was growing in her eyes. She looked up to see her destination and her previous good humour evaporated further. Husk Tower was not designed to inspire or encourage. Its many windows were constructed to look like hooded eyes, watching the behaviour of Hell's citizens below. Within each window was a far-seeing jager imp, scanning the crowds and gatherings throughout the kingdom for any sign of a plot against Inferno's Leader.

As her gaze lifted to the top her blood chilled. The crown at the top of the tower was a vast, round construction that projected out many metres on every side. Black stone slabs set into the sides of the crown were so angled as to appear like angry frowns.

Bezejel could see the trap doors set into the overhanging floor of the crown, trap doors that were used all too frequently when the Leader found one of his subjects guilty of some minor offence. As she watched, one pair of trap doors flew open with a loud clatter. Nothing came out. Bezejel could see two helmeted sprites on the inside looking down at her sourly. That one was just a test. Maybe a warning.

A troop of demon soldiers led by a sergeant came marching down the walkway. As they rounded the curve their military bearing was perfect, their eyes fixed straight ahead. But the beauty of the siren Bezejel was too much for them and several slowed their pace and fell out of step. Two soldiers collided with each other. Another stumbled and walked into his own spear. Worst of all, the sergeant didn't notice his men's disorder, so intent was his stare.

Bezejel reacted in fury. 'Squad. Halt.' The troop came to an undignified stop. Bezejel approached the sergeant like a tempest. Before he could react her slap landed on the side of his face and he span away into the parapet wall. Gog and Magog came up behind Bezejel ready to protect her. There was no need. 'You soldiers are a shambles,' she shouted in a voice that rang with authority. 'Stand to attention.' The demons snapped to. They were all facing different ways. 'I know your unit,' she shouted. 'You're the Tower Guard. Report to your officer and tell him you're for a punishment detail.' Above and around her the eyes in the hooded windows watched in silence. 'When you're on duty you don't lose your concentration. For anything.' The soldiers' faces were rigid. Their terror was absolute.

'Ready. March. Left, right, left, right.' The troop tramped off to Bezejel's command leaving their sergeant behind. Bezejel turned to him. 'Come here and hold out your arms in front of you,' she commanded. As his arms came up, a puzzled expression on his face, Bezejel barked out another order. 'Hold him steady.' Gog and Magog took position to each side of the unfortunate NCO, each with an arm around his chest.

Bezejel grasped his sergeant's stripes and twisted the sleeve towards his face. 'You won't be needing these for a little while, ex-sergeant. Not till you've learned to discipline your men.' She wrenched on the tough leather with such force that the stitching ripped at the shoulder and came away in her hand. Bezejel threw the sleeve on the ground.

'Turn.' As the terrified creature turned his other arm towards her she tore off the second sleeve and threw it behind her.

'Now report to your officer and explain to him how you came to lose your stripes. Go.'

As the soldier marched away, stricken, Bezejel looked up at Gog and Magog. 'An army needs discipline. Total discipline. That's the only way we'll ever beat the angelic host.'

With that, she turned and strode away at a ferocious pace leaving Gog and Magog scrambling to keep up.

As the three of them climbed, other demons with business in the Tower passed them on the way down. All gave them plenty of room. No-one spoke to them.

Bezejel finally reached the top of the spiral walkway and approached the gate of the crown. Huge chain-mailed satyr demons scrutinised her features and checked her for weapons before raising their poleaxes to allow her to pass. Satyrs were the highest male caste in Inferno. They were demons transformed from men, but they had the strength of large beasts.

Gog and Magog were forbidden entry to the crown. Bezejel entered alone. Inside the gate a stone staircase led upwards and outwards to the external ring room. Here a line of newly-arrived beauties from Earth awaited their turn in chains to please the Leader. It would be his pleasure, not theirs. If they failed to please, the trap doors awaited.

They would have to wait a little longer this day for the Leader was keen for his meeting with Bezejel. Unusually keen, for the Leader was accustomed to keep all visitors waiting a long time. On this occasion however, Bezejel was waved through from the external ring by his personal female guard and ushered through two more concentric curved halls into his inner chamber. This was known as the Oven. Not for its heat, but for the searing intensity of the welcome that visitors received there.

She bowed low. Lucifer, Satan, the Devil. He had many names but in Inferno he was known simply as the Leader.

She waited for him to speak first, as protocol demanded.

'Look at me,' he commanded.

Bezejel raised her head and forced herself to meet his burning eyes. As a fallen angel he was still as beautiful as he was terrifying. His magnificent wings were works of art with bright, perfect plumage that shone as if they had their own light. His face was as if carved by an inspired sculptor. From any angle his arch-angelic features inspired awe and devotion.

But it was his eyes that seized the heart and stopped all hope. His stare inspired terror in every one of his subjects. There was no compartment of the mind that he could not inspect at will, scouring it for any trace of rebellion or independence. The Leader demanded complete subjection and his management tool of choice was fear.

Bezejel felt his presence inside her head, forcing her to give up all her recent memories. He inspected every thought, pored over every motivation and viewed every act of hers as though watching it through her eyes. Nothing was left hidden. She was more naked than if she had removed her skin. The Leader could see the inside of her soul as easily as others could see the outside of her garments.

For the few moments while he ransacked her mind, looking for any hidden subterfuge, Bezejel felt complete fear. The doors she had thought locked, he opened. He walked every corridor of her head, emptying the smallest cupboards of put-away ideas and throwing them behind him in disarray. He scanned every shelf of her dreams before ridiculing them with his sneers. All of her thoughts were hauled out, held up, inspected. Her high rank was not sufficient to spare her for an instant if she was found to harbour any ill will to the Leader.

Eventually, he pulled his eyes back and released her. The experience had lasted moments but its intensity was shattering. Bezejel breathed out and sank to her knees exhausted, her mind violated and bruised. While she recovered, the Leader strode the Oven in his fire-stud boots, turning every echoing step into a threat.

'You know that you have been chosen for a very special project, Bezejel.' Bezejel winced. Even ordinary words were like arrows when uttered by him.

'Yes, my Leader.'

'And you have accepted the project.'

'Yes, my Leader.' She had had no choice.

My commanders and I have selected you because of your affinity with the subject. She is a young woman and she is of great interest to us.'

'Yes, my Leader.'

'Left to herself she would do little harm. In fact she has some dangerous, though mild, charitable instincts. But she is ordinary. Uninteresting. Innocuous to the point of banal from the outside. Most observers would dismiss her as inconsequential. A dismal slider on the greasy pole of worldly success.'

Yes, my Leader.'

'But I have not seen her only from the outside, have I?'

'No, my Leader.'

'No my Leader,' he echoed. 'My intelligence agents, such as Colonel Hideki, have alerted me to her unusual make-up.'

'Hideki? The demon officer with the ceremonial sword?'

'Yes. Hideki's sword fetish may be foolish. But his mind is strong. That is why I tolerate him.' The Leader's eyes bore into Bezejel and she knew it was to warn her off questioning his judgement.

'Thank you for your insight,' she said quickly, bowing her head a little. 'I will remember that Colonel Hideki is known to be competent.' She had to change the subject. 'You were instructing me about the woman Nancy, my Leader?'

'Yes. The woman Nancy.' The Leader summoned with his thought a black and chrome Earth globe from a nearby alcove. It flew through the air into his hand and rested there, revolving on its axis as an Earth globe should. He caressed it as though it were a baby. His baby. Then he continued. 'I have looked at Nancy for myself and confirmed the truth of Hideki's suspicions. She is...interesting.'

'Yes my Leader. How may I help my Leader?'

'Stand up Bezejel. I can't talk to you down there.'

Bezejel pushed herself upright, her legs still shaking. The eyes looked inside her mind again, raking over her recent sexual encounters and their violent aftermath, forcing her to watch them again with him.

'I see you still like the slap as much as the tickle,' he concluded as her memory gave up an image of a handsome satyr lying naked and unconscious on her bed-chamber floor. 'Never been one for mercy, myself. I'm glad you seem to agree.'

'Yes, my Leader.'

He released her again and her shoulders sagged.

'How may you help, you ask. Well, since you ask so politely here's how you may help, Bezejel. I want you to command a team. Your mission will be to monitor and encourage this young woman on her journey. She has latent powers for evil that she knows nothing about. She is on a path to discover these powers and put them to great use.' The Leader was passing behind Bezejel now and he stopped still for a moment, sending her fear levels soaring again.

'She could be one of the greats,' he went on, looking again at the globe spinning in his hand. 'She could lead Earth's nations into corruption and infighting to last a thousand years. The bounty of souls she can bring to Inferno is incalculable. But she needs careful management and she needs to be protected from the other side. They know we are interested in her and they will try to stop us, understand?'

'Yes, my Leader.'

'I am giving you Captain Kodrob and his squad. Kodrob is smart and his team are competent. You may need to involve others as you go, such as Hideki, but I will leave that to you. You are the team Commander.'

'Yes, my Leader.'

'Now go and research the woman and your mission in detail.'

'Yes, my Leader.'

'Do not fail, Bezejel, or you will find out the hard way that Hell hath no fury like mine.' The eyes stabbed her again. A pain like the burn of a lightning bolt ran from the base of her spine up into her head and stunned her with a bright red flash in her eyes.

Bezejel bowed again and ran for the door on jelly legs.

Ealing Travel, London

'Nance, I've got a chap called Martin on the phone for ya,' announced Mel loudly, looking around the office at the other agents. Then she pressed her hand down on the receiver as she whispered, 'Is that the three blokes who came in yesterday? The cute ones?'

'Oh, were they cute? I didn't really notice,' replied Nancy innocently.

'Yeeeah,' said Mel with a mischievous grin. She started to hand over the phone and then suddenly pulled it back. 'So, which one did you like best?'

'They were just boys, not men. Not my type at all.' answered Nancy with a shrug of her shoulders. She pointed to the phone.

'Just handing you over,' called Mel gaily into the receiver as she passed over the phone and handset across the aisle.

Nancy took the receiver.

'Hello, Nancy here, how can I help?'

'Nancy it's Martin from yesterday. I came in with Pete and Andy. About the Israel trip?'

'Yes Martin, I recognise your voice.' Brawny. 'Do you want to go ahead and confirm the Israel booking?'

'Nancy, I can't. I'm afraid we're going to have to call the whole trip off. Andy's cousin Dan was going to come with us to make up the numbers. He's not an archaeologist, you see. But he's renewed his contract with his employer and won't be available. Without him the three of us can't afford to go ahead with the trip. And we can't find anyone else to fill the gap at such short notice. I'm really sorry to have wasted your time.'

Nancy looked down at the booking form where she had listed flights, hotels, taxis, buses and all arrival and departure times. She cradled the phone in her neck and began to slowly screw up the form.

'Don't worry Martin, it can't be helped. Best laid plans of mice and men, eh?'

'Yeah, too right,' said Martin who sounded genuinely depressed.

Nancy put down the phone and turned to Mel who had been listening.

'Well, we won't be seeing them again Mel. But I'll give you their phone numbers if you want to get in touch,' she laughed. 'You can put some toast on the grill and start counting down to New Year.' They both giggled.

Nancy turned back to the papers on her desk. 'Just not fair,' she said to herself in an undertone. 'Not fair.'

Her own phone rang. She looked at it as it rang a second time. It rang a third time. 'Answer it, Nance,' called Mel, looking at her quizzically.

As it rang for the fourth time, Nancy picked up the receiver. 'Ealing Holidays. How can I help you?'

'Hello Nancy.' Tinge of an Irish brogue. Female.

'Oh.' Nancy looked round the office, seeing who was watching. 'Aunt Mary.' She turned towards the wall and bent her neck down low. 'I'm a bit busy right now, Auntie. Can you call me back in my lunch hour...'

'It won't take long, Nancy,' came the husky, phlegm-laden voice.

'Auntie, have you been smoking again? You know the doctor said...'

'I need to talk to you Nancy. It's important.' There was a pause.

'Okay,' said Nancy in a whisper. 'Go on. I've got a few minutes.'

'I had a phone call yesterday. From someone in the family. Your family, that is, Nancy. Your side of the family.'

'Oh, you mean...'

'Yes. That side. But someone I'd barely heard of before. I don't even know how he got my number. But there. It's strange how people pop out of cupboards when you least expect them.'

'So...who was it?'

'His name is Shai. I suppose he'd be your Great Uncle. Yes, that's right. Your mother's uncle. After they died, that is. After your mum and dad died, I rather lost contact with everyone.'

'Except me, Aunt Mary. I was there. With you.'

'Yes, of course you were. Well, you had to be. There was no-one else to look after you.' There was another pause and Nancy heard her aunt try to smother a long phlegmy cough.

'Anyway, darling. How are you by the way? Are you all right?'

'Yes, Aunt Mary. I'm fine. Look can we catch up later, I'm rather...'

'Sorry, Nancy. Let me get back to the point. We can do pleasantries another time. You're right. Anyway, I had this call. And it seemed quite urgent. It was your Great Uncle Shai.'

'Who you didn't know about before?'

'No, darling. Lots of mystery in your family. Clear as a glass of stout they were. To outsiders. Like me, who only married one of them. Are, I should say. Not all boxed up yet. And this call only compounded it.'

Nancy looked surreptitiously around the office again.

'Go on, Aunt Mary. I'm sure you'll get to the point any day now.'

'Enough of that sarcasm, young lady. I always told you to mind your manners. Seems I failed there too.'

Nancy looked up at the ceiling and gripped the phone tighter.

'Anyway, your great-uncle Shai, who hasn't bothered with us all his life, is suddenly very keen to meet you. Desperate in fact. He said it was very urgent. I think he's worried he might die first. He rambled a bit I have to say. But he has something very important to tell you.'

'What is it? What does he want to tell me?'

'I've no idea. He wouldn't say.'

'So what shall we do? Ignore him? Or shall I speak to him? There's a phone in the hall where I live. I'm allowed to take calls in the evenings between 9.00 and 10.00.'

'He insisted that he meets you. In person.'

'Okay. Well, I can meet him in a pub.'

'That won't be possible.'

'Why?'

'He's very sick. Can't walk far. He wants you to go to his home.'

'And where's that.'

'In Israel. In a kibbutz. Just near Jerusalem. He wants to meet you there.'

Nancy walked down the Broadway, past the Peking Duck restaurant and Levin's jewellery shop. Outside the bakery a beggar sat with his legs crossed and a plastic bowl in his lap. A mongrel with a piece of string around its neck sat beside him. Nancy skirted around the beggar and entered the shop. The queue was short today and she placed her order within a couple of minutes. She watched while the woman sliced the ham and placed it on the bread like a mosaic.

As she left the bakery she approached the beggar. He was wishing a good day to everyone who walked past.

'Excuse me, could you help me?' asked Nancy quietly.

The beggar looked up, squinting. 'Yes, miss. Would you like me to take you to dinner?'

Nancy smiled. 'I've bought a sandwich for my colleague. Only it's got mustard on it and she doesn't like mustard. Would you like it? Only it would save me having to take it back.'

The beggar smiled appreciatively. 'It's lucky I was here. Isn't it? Otherwise you'd be in a spot of pickle.' Slight accent.

He took the brown bag she handed him. 'Thank you,' he winked, knowingly. 'Have a great day now, miss.'

Nancy hovered. The beggar was grey-haired, but neat. Respectable, almost.

'How did it happen?' she asked.

'You mean how I come here? On the street?'

'Yes.'

The beggar sighed as if experiencing pain.

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I'll go.' But before Nancy could walk away the beggar stopped her.

'No. No matter. I tell you.' He pushed himself to his feet, holding the sandwich bag in his left hand, too polite to open it while talking.

'Tadeusz,' he introduced himself, bowing slightly. 'Tadeusz Jacek. Third Carpathian Division. Conquerors of Monte Cassino. Only we Poles were stupid enough to keep going. We lost so many. We won. But we lost. Then after the war, we came here. I had a job. But then I lost heart. I became...

'Depressed?'

'Yes. That is it. Depression, they say it. And I had no-one. No-one to care for me. And I cannot go home. To my village. All contact lost. No way back for me now. I miss Poland. My family. Now my home is here. The street. Many English people very kind.'

Nancy fished in her handbag. 'No, no need,' urged Tadeusz, trying to stop her. But Nancy found a £1 note and pressed it into his hand.

'Thank you,' she said, her eyes rapidly moistening. She stared into his face for a long moment and then turned and walked briskly away.

As she departed through the crowds, Tadeusz followed her with his eyes. For a moment he thought he saw a dark figure wearing a curved blade at its side walking behind her. Very close behind her. He blinked and wiped his eye. The figure was gone. That damn war, he said to himself. It spared my body but not my mind. I'm seeing things that don't exist.

He looked down at the sandwich bag between his hands. Then he sat down on the pavement again and began to open it carefully.

'So tell me, Nance,' said Mel, when Nancy had returned. 'How is your boyfriend situation?' It was still lunchtime and Mel was in gossipy mood.

'What do you mean?' Nancy took another bite of sandwich and dabbed the corner of her mouth with a paper serviette.

'You know what I mean. Have you got a boyfriend or not?'

Nancy smiled. 'Not really. No-one special anyway.'

'How come? You're not that bad looking. On a good day.'

'Oh thanks.' Nancy took a drink of coke. 'Anyway, I've had boyfriends. There's just no-one about at the moment.'

'So come on then, what's your type? What kind of guy do you like bringing you breakfast in bed?' Mel was turned sideways towards Nancy with her elbow on her desk and a hand cupped around her cheek.

'Oh, just the usual, I suppose. Someone nice. Someone I can rely on.'

'That doesn't sound very romantic.'

'Oh, I don't know. I think reliable is romantic.'

'Reliable is boring. Reliable is, well..next thing you've got a family. Two point four kids and a mortgage.'

A faraway look came into Nancy's eyes. 'I didn't have much of a family you see. If I could, I'd have a family first. Mum and dad and brothers and so on. Love to have a brother. And then a boyfriend. In that order.'

She wiped her hands and rolled her serviette in a ball.

'Brothers aren't that special,' said Mel, determined to be helpful. 'I've got a brother. You can have him. He's rubbish.'

'Oh thanks a lot.' And Nancy threw her serviette at Mel who ducked and laughed and flicked her legs under the table.

The shop door opened. It was two of Mel's customers and she rose to greet them.

Nancy returned to her thoughts. A holiday brochure in the rack on the wall caught her attention. Israel. As she stared at it her face became serious again. She thought of Tadeusz Jacek who had lost contact with his family in Poland. She reached for the phone. The booking form on the desk in front of her surrendered Martin's details and she dialled his home number. Beside her, Mel was reaching for brochures of Greek villas while talking to her customers about island-hopping.

A woman's voice answered.

'Hello, can I speak to Martin, please. It's Nancy from the travel agents in Ealing,' Nancy announced.

'Martin,' shouted the woman at the top of her voice in the commanding way that only a mother would summon a teenager. 'Phone'.

Nancy heard the thunderous footfall of a heavy person coming slowly down the stairs.

'Hi, Martin here.' Flat monotone.

'Martin, it's Nancy. From Ealing Travel? It's about your holiday that you were hoping to book. I was just thinking about your call and reflecting that it was such a shame that Dan can't go with you.'

'Yes, what a bore,' said Martin sounding fed up. 'Some people never stop to think of others.'

'Look,' said Nancy, 'I've had an idea which would save your field study trip. Fact is, I've found someone who would like to come with you as your fourth member. It's a female. A girl, that is. I mean a woman. She'd pay her way but keep out of your way, if you know what I mean.'

Nancy's eyes were shining brightly. 'What do you think? Or shall I just tell her that it's not possible?'

'No, no, don't do that,' blurted Martin. 'Who is this mystery lady, where has she popped out from?' he asked.

'Well, actually,' said Nancy who was gripping the phone so tight she could almost feel Martin's thoughts down the phone, 'it's me. You see I haven't had a holiday in ages and I've always wanted to know more about the ancient Egyptians.'

'Er..it's actually Roman and Greek settlements we're looking for.'

'Yeah, that's right, I was just testing you. No I know that. Well OK, I didn't. But you see that's the point. I love all those camels and temples and things. Only I didn't pay attention at school. And it would just all fit quite well 'cause... But you probably wouldn't want me along. It's silly to even...'

'No, it's not silly at all,' blurted Martin for the second time. His mind was now racing.

'No, it could be good,' he continued. 'Look, if you're sure you're up for this, why not let me talk to the others and see if they're OK about it too. I certainly am. It could be a laugh and it would save our studies from going to the wall.'

Nancy put down the phone. She put her head in her hands, already suffering remorse.

'Stupid,' she said out loud to herself.

The phone rang ten minutes later.

It was Martin.

The other two boys had eagerly agreed to Nancy's proposition.

It was on.

Nancy cradled the phone and stared intently out of the window for several seconds. Then she rose and walked slowly and purposefully back down the aisle of the shop and stood by David's desk. She put her hands behind her back. A schoolgirl seeking audience with the head teacher.

'I need to take some leave,' she announced.

David turned and stared at her incredulously. 'You've only just joined us. You haven't earned any leave.'

Other agents were turning around to listen. David waved them back to their work.

'I know.'

They continued staring at each other. David wore an anxious look. Nancy was relaxed.

'How long?'

'Two weeks,' replied Nancy evenly.

'You can take unpaid leave.' David turned away.

'No.'

He looked back at her. Fear was across his face now. His hand brushed his top pocket where he still held the business card she'd written on. He looked around the office. For help, Nancy thought.

'What is it for?'

'An elderly relative of mine needs to see me.'

David's arms were flapping around his desk like kites in the wind. Nancy was holding him with her eyes, pinning him with her unblinking stare.

She decided to help him out. 'It's urgent.'

He sucked in his breath between his teeth and looked around him as if he'd been pushed to the edge. 'Well, all right then. If it's really life and death.' He raised his voice so all could hear. 'But after that, no more holidays till next year.'

'Thank you,' said Nancy quietly. Then more audibly, 'Do you want a cup of tea?'

Pentacurse Region, Inferno - one mile from Husk Tower, three levels underground.

Captain Kodrob cast his cards down on the table and stood up abruptly. A trip-alarm had sounded in the wall of the squadroom warning him that someone was approaching. His intelligent eyes looked towards the door while his brain tried to assess the threat.

The six satyr soldiers playing with him, members of the Marauders battalion, put their hands to their weapons. Just in case.

'It's probably just a dumb troll,' said Lafarge the French demon.

'Or someone trying to steal our liquor,' said Holzman the German.

Kodrob needed quiet. 'Shut up all of you, or I'll send you where the lights are bright.'

He walked to the doorway and looked down the corridor.

'It's Bezejel,' he hissed. 'She's early. Quick, get this place in order. Put those cards away. And take that cover off the face!'

Chairs were pushed back and clattered to the ground. Liquor tankards were hurriedly put away. An infantryman sprang to the wall and pulled away a leather skin which had been draped over two hooks. The eyes of the Leader, etched in charcoal on the ochre walls, again looked out.

Footsteps approached the door at a clip. Light footsteps, not boots. Clack, clack, clack. The Marauders gave each other one final nervous look and snapped to attention. Bezejel swept into the room followed by her two grim-looking satyr bodyguards, Gog and Magog. The hem of her red dress swished as she turned around and surveyed the anxious soldiers.

Only Kodrob had the courage to look at her directly. She was a high-caste siren demoness and was both beautiful and terrible in equal measure. The fear used by the Leader to control his subordinates was taken up in turn by all commanders to control their own underlings. Bezejel was adept at intimidation.

'Ma'am, Captain Kodrob and his squad at your service. We weren't expecting you till later. How may we help you?' Kodrob kept his speech and tone even.

'So, you're Kodrob,' said Bezejel through her perfect teeth and blood-red lips. 'They tell me you're less of a maggot than most of your breed.' From Bezejel, this amounted almost to praise. Kodrob maintained his composure, looking her in the eyes.

'I have a mission to accomplish on the direct order of the Leader,' she announced, surveying his face for any sign of weakness. 'This is to be my base for some time to come. You will report directly to me and make sure I have all that I need. You will not rest until we are finished and our victory is accomplished. Now, you will provide me with some quarters nearby. You will furnish them appropriately for my rank and ensure I have all listening and communication equipment for the earthly rock. We have hearts to break and souls to take.'

'Yes ma'am, thank you ma'am.' Kodrob liked a boss who knew what she wanted.

Bezejel walked around the squad room, looking closely at the faces of the other Marauders. Some of them were twice her size. But it was they who trembled.

She continued her conversation while still inspecting the room. 'Well, aren't you going to ask me something Kodrob, or are you about to drop in my estimation of you?' She was back at his side, looking up at him.

'Ma'am, may it be permitted to know something of the nature of your mission?' He braced, wondering if this was the right question.

'And why do you need to know more about my mission?' Bezejel's voice had dropped to a whisper.

'Because ma'am, I and my team can serve you better if we have a greater understanding of your destructive purpose.'

Bezejel moved back slightly.

'Destructive purpose? What does a captain like you know about destructive purpose?' There was a mixture of respect and curiosity in Bezejel's eyes.

'I listen and learn, ma'am. I know it's the phrase used to denote projects of special interest to our Leader.'

A silence ensued while Bezejel studied Kodrob's face intently. The other Marauders remained rooted to the floor, only their eyes flicking nervously as they tried to see what was going on. At last she relaxed and the ends of her full lips turned up slightly.

'Well, Kodrob,' she said, suddenly charming, though maintaining her steady gaze into his eyes. 'Maybe my sources were right and you and I will get along after all.'

Then Bezejel's mood flipped as if someone had turned a switch. Kodrob would come to see this as one of her defining characteristics. She placed her hands lightly on her hips, swishing her elegant dress and taking in the figures of his squad who were standing as still as chess pieces.

'All right, listen up all of you and pay attention. Bezejel is in a good mood today, thanks to your dashing captain. I can't be bothered with being grumpy when there's work on. It's not productive. It's time to have a fireside chat and get acquainted. We're going to do words and looks around the table, not burns and hooks on the wall. We'll be all cosy and matey-like, how does that sound?'

She walked around the room, picking up fallen chairs and patting down the collars of relieved Marauders while administering gracious smiles to all. Gone was the killer wolf-mother and in had come the drawing room princess paying court to her favourite nobles.

'So much to be done and so little time to do it,' she chatted amiably. 'I just don't know where the day has gone.'

But no-one doubted that she could switch back just as easily.

'Now sit down all of you while I explain what we're about.' She set herself in the most comfortable chair in the room and motioned them to gather round her in a semi-circle.

Gog and Magog, who had remained impassive throughout, stood guarding the door. No-one was leaving.

Kodrob and his subordinates took their seats awkwardly. They expected to be bullied by a senior red priestess like Bezejel, not seated with her as though almost equal.

'You're all under orders to keep this information absolutely secret,' she began quietly but firmly. 'You don't share this with anyone. Not your mates and not your whores.'

They all nodded in unison, 'Yes ma'am.'

Bezejel took out a knife and tumbled it through her fingers. 'Every few hundred years on Earth someone comes along who's very special. Very special indeed. In Earth's twentieth century we got lucky and had a couple of great supporters. Both took a long time to get going. One was an uneducated peasant with a drunk for a dad. The other was a homeless orphan who often slept rough.'

The Marauders nodded, knowing very well who she was speaking about. Kodrob looked around the table. This was a new experience for them. His boys were used to being treated like dogs by senior officers. But here they were being given the inside track, the full political philosophy of Hell from a female right at the top. This mission must be really important.

Bezejel continued. 'Tyrants don't start out powerful. They become that way through circumstances. The important thing is this: both of those men came from shattered beginnings. Broken-down families are our friends. They bring us many recruits. Those men set out to piece the world together. Instead they broke the world in pieces and brought us many fortunate souls in the process.' Bezejel's eyes had gone black, like a cat before the pounce. 'Sadly, they overreached themselves and burnt out too quick.'

She looked across at the wall. The charcoal Leader gazed back, inspiring her.

'Civilisation recovered quickly and they've had peace and order on an appalling scale. It's distressing to watch so many children growing up without ever having to fight for their lives. We watch them being sold the emptiness of unadventurous prosperity and being told the lie that it's good to look after the weak. Look at me closely, while I spell this out.'

The squad looked reluctantly into her intense, beautiful eyes. She held up the knife and shook it in front of them to reinforce her point.

'Charity only helps the weak survive. It's the road to decline. What does it teach the strong about survival?' Bezejel paused for effect. 'Nothing. It was millions of years of fighting, kicking and dying that taught humanity how to survive, nothing else.'

Now Kodrob understood her. None of the demons in Inferno were there by choice. If they opened the gates of Hell, every soul would choose to leave. But Bezejel was different. She was a true believer. No wonder the Leader liked her so much.

Bezejel pushed the knife deep into the table for effect. 'But now High Command have spotted someone who could re-cast Earth's social landscape and put it back the way it should be. The way it always was. A young female who has the skills and talents we need in abundance. Right now she's quite the little lady. But she also displays a promising ability to manipulate others. She knows how to use fear to achieve her aims. We've looked deep into her psychological profile and she has dark potential that's off the scale. She has an eye for detail and an organisational ability that most human leaders lack. We believe that with the right spiritual guidance and carefully-chosen experiences she can be turned. To our way of thinking. She has the power to take over and lead one of the few well-managed criminal organisations on Earth and turn it into an empire that will truly last a thousand years. It will get its claws into every government, corporation and military establishment. It will control them through fear, money and the kind of sex on demand they haven't seen since the days of the great harems. We'll have war on tap. Civil war, cold war, red hot nuclear war. We'll be able to turn them on and off whenever we like. Mostly on. Orphans will fill the Earth and grow up to become tyrants and warlords in their turn. Everything is coming nicely into place. The young woman is the last piece of the jigsaw we need. No-one suspects her and even if the angels knew of our plan, they wouldn't be able to stop it. We've run war games on this and there isn't any way they can prevent us.'

Bezejel paused, looking for reaction.

'This is very exciting, Madam Bezejel.' Kodrob looked around the table, showing he was speaking for all of them. 'It's the kind of plan we've all been yearning for since we arrived in Hades. What do we need to do?'

'We've created a trail that the young woman needs to follow. It's a code trail that will lead her naturally to us. Once she gets to the end of the trail, she's ours and we will own both her and her future. My mission. Our mission,' she corrected herself looking meaningfully around the circle, 'is to make sure she stays on the trail and picks up each sequence in the code. That is our destructive purpose.'

'Thank you ma'am we won't let you down,' said Kodrob earnestly.

'Thank you ma'am,' they all muttered. The meeting seemed to be over.

Bezejel reclaimed her knife and put it away. She stood up as if she was ready to go. Then she folded her arms across her chest and walked around the room till she stood beside the image of the Leader. She regarded it for a moment and then abruptly stepped in front of it.

'There's one more thing.'

Silence returned.

'The young woman I have been describing has no family. She, too, is an orphan. And she has lost touch with her past. We must ensure she does not rediscover it.'

Eilat, Israel

The coach transporting Martin, Andy, Pete and Nancy from Tel Aviv airport arrived at the end of the lane that led to their rented apartment in Eilat. This small coastal town lying at one end of the Red Sea with its crystal clear waters and beaches of fine sand had offered excellent value accommodation. Only 200 kilometres from Jerusalem yet effectively a part of the desert, Eilat was a new town built on an ancient seaport.

Now as they alighted from the air-conditioned vehicle into the open air, it felt like walking into a furnace. Nancy gazed at the low flat-roofed building indicated by the coach driver and compared it with the picture in the brochure she had brought with her.

At the other end of the lane, only a few hundred metres away she could see the beach promenade where vacationers could saunter in the evening heat and soak up the atmosphere. Beyond that was the sea, as sparklingly blue as sun-lit topaz and as inviting as a new lover. It called to them with forget-your-cares promises that said plunge in, explore me, let me take away your worries.

'I can't wait to get to the beach,' called Nancy. 'I'm sure you're all the same. But, first things first, we must get settled in and unpack.'

'Absolutely,' they all shouted.

The driver handed them their baggage from the belly of the coach. Then he waved goodbye and drove off in a cloud of diesel smoke.

It was a typical, hot end of summer day in the Middle East. A thin scattering of cloud did little to deflect the heat. Nancy could feel her blouse sticking to her skin.

She reached for her sunglasses while the boys looked around them, squinting and blinking in the sun before donning their own shades.

Nancy remembered the conversation she had had with Mel when she had revealed her plans.

'You and those three boys all making house together in a cramped villa,' she guffawed. 'I know your sort Nancy, you're too greedy by far.'

'Rubbish. I'll be like a big sister to them,' Nancy had retorted. 'The very idea of me seeing any one of them as boyfriend material is ridiculous. They're barely out of nappies. Anyway they'll be too busy with their studies during the day and writing up their notes in the evening. I'll be perfectly happy with my own company.'

But that was before she had worked out how she would get herself to the kibbutz where her Great Uncle Shai lived. Her plan to achieve this had changed everything.

'Come on then, let's take a look inside our palace,' she urged the others cheerily.

The boys too, were looking anxiously at the small property.

'Pete, I think you might have to sleep with your legs hanging out the window,' joked Andy. Pete was well over 6 feet tall.

'Well, I doubt if you and Martin will be able to squeeze into the shower together like you normally do at college,' Pete retorted.

Andy had to have the last word. 'He's not the problem. It's you I worry about. Just don't use it as an excuse to cuddle up to me on the sofa.'

Why did boys always tease each other about being gay, Nancy wondered to herself?

She plucked the front door key from underneath a flowerpot of blossoming bougainvillea. 'A burglar would never think of looking here,' she laughed to the boys. Then she unlocked the door and stepped back to let them enter before her.

As the last of the three passed through the entrance in front of her, Nancy fumbled in her skirt pocket. Holding her case in one hand, she produced a tiny perfume atomiser, already with its cap off.

'I'm right behind you,' she shouted as she squeezed a tiny jet of perfume behind one ear and then behind the other.

Mustn't overdo it, need to be subtle, she said to herself as she put the atomiser away and prepared to enter.

A hundred yards away, near the promenade, a man was watching Nancy and her charges while pretending to read an Arab language newspaper that he held out in front of him. He was sitting at a café table and an empty espresso cup lay before him. He stubbed out a cigarette and folded the paper twice before calling for another coffee.

He remained watching until the four had closed the door behind them. Then he got up and walked to the promenade and got into the back of a black Mercedes which moved away smoothly and joined the traffic.

Nancy stepped through the threshold into a short corridor. Andy returned and took her case from her as a gallant gentleman should. 'Let me take that for you, Nance, the corridor's a bit narrow.' He had a twinkle in his eye. Nancy watched him carefully. Maybe he was a gentleman. Or maybe it just part of the competitive ritual, to get ahead of the others.

On the right of the corridor, two doors led into identical bedrooms. There were two single beds in each room.

On the left of the corridor was a shower room and a small kitchenette and at the end was a TV lounge with a two-seater sofa and two easy chairs.

Nancy walked into the TV room. The boys preceded her, dropping their bags in the corridor and taking off their sunglasses.

They seemed reluctant to be presumptive about which beds or bedrooms should be theirs.

Nancy felt the tension in the air immediately. She decided to allow it to build. It would make her job easier.

The boys walked almost wordlessly from room to room getting their bearings and peering out of the windows. Gradually they returned from their meandering and gathered together awkwardly in the TV room. On the wall was a map of Israel. Andy was standing in front of it, tracing the route they had come with his finger.

Nancy stood beside him. 'Ooh, there must be a lot of interesting places to visit nearby,' she remarked casually. 'Have you brought your driving licence with you, Andy?'

'Yes, I brought it in case of emergencies. But I'm not planning to do any driving here. A hire car would cost a fortune. And anyway Professor Aaronovitch is going to drive us to the dig every day in his car. Why do you ask?'

'Oh, I was just wondering.' Nancy's innocent smile wouldn't have fooled a child. But the boys' minds weren't on maps or driving. They were occupied by something far more primal. One girl among three men.

The suitcases remained in the hall outside the bedrooms. Nancy noticed that the scent of her perfume had filled the room. It must be driving them crazy. She slowly inspected all the furnishings, dancing her fingers over the ornaments and swaying her hips as she went.

'Isn't this menorah lovely? Such elegant arms it has. And they've left us some fruit.' She picked up an apple and turned it in her hand.

Martin planted himself in one of the chairs. The other two boys took the sofa.

They were all waiting for Nancy to make the first move. In truth, since Nancy had organised the travel and accommodation it naturally fell to her to make the decisions about the sleeping arrangements. None of the boys showed the slightest inclination to relieve her of this responsibility.

Also she was the girl. She had to pick her roomshare companion. It couldn't be the other way round.

The silences were getting longer.

It was time. Nancy placed the apple on a sideboard then leant back against it. She knew precisely what she wanted to achieve. But she had to pitch it just right. She folded her arms and looked from one boy to the next. Poise and timing were everything. But while she had a delicate job to do, she also knew she had the time to enjoy it. The moment was delicious and she intended to squeeze every last drop from it.

Eventually her lips parted and she wet them slightly with her tongue. 'Look,' she began, flashing her eyes quickly at all three boys before looking down faux-demurely at the ground. 'These are obviously awkward times and I think we're going to have to make do and compromise as best we can.' She paused. 'What I mean is, I think we're going to have to be grown up about this.'

The boys looked at her, saying nothing.

'The thing is,' she continued slowly, 'there are only two bedrooms and I was rather hoping that we'd be able to get three beds in one room so I could have one bed in the other. But that would just make your room too cramped. Or have one person sleep in the lounge. But that seems unfair. Especially as we've all paid the same price.

So it means that we're going to have to think of something different. Something radical. We're going to have to improvise and adapt ourselves to the circumstances. That's the intelligent thing to do, isn't it?'

The boys were trying hard not to look too intently at Nancy but each one's antenna were straining to pick up any kind of a clue to confirm where she was heading. No one moved or said a word.

'So you see, one of you is going to have to sleep. With me. I mean, in my room, with me. One of you will have to sleep in the other bed in my room.' Again she flashed her eyes at them, enjoying their obvious discomfort and her own sense of control.

'But even that's not going to work because it's just going to be...awkward.'

Nancy was standing with her right foot crossed over and slightly in front of her left. She was wearing a close-fitting white lacy blouse which revealed just a hint of her small cleavage. Her plain cotton skirt halted a few inches above her knees. Now she stretched her foot forward and scraped the floor absent-mindedly, side to side, with the front of her open-toed shoe.

'So I think if you'll all promise to keep this just between us then I see no reason why it shouldn't work.' A short pause. 'OK?'

The boys were now staring openly at Nancy, all attempts at trying to look nonchalant had disappeared. They were breathing more deeply than a few minutes before.

'I don't understand,' Pete ventured at last, almost stammering.

'What are you trying to say?' chimed in Andy who wanted to encourage her where he thought she was heading.

'Oh, I'm sure you understand,' she chided. 'It just seems to me,' Nancy was speaking very slowly and deliberately now, 'that if we can all share, I mean if you can share, that is, all three of you, then we'll all get on well and there'll be no reason for fights and there'll be no tension around the place.'

She stopped, in no rush to get to the point and put them out of their misery.

'But it'll be our secret OK? I mean, I don't want the whole of London knowing about this.'

Nancy was confident, looking at the boys' faces, that her speech was going down quite well. She was increasingly sure of the response she would get when she finally made her offer.

'Look, what I'm trying to say is that sharing is good. And I think you'd continue to be good friends, better friends in fact, if you could find a way to share....'

Her voice trailed off.

'....me.'

Andy was the first to speak.

'Yeah, well, er, that sounds really fair,' he said. 'I mean, if you're absolutely sure.'

All three boys were nodding their heads slowly while maintaining very serious expressions. They could have just been listening to a wise statesman making an insightful talk at a conference on world peace. Only Martin wore a slight frown.

'Thank you Nancy, that's very kind of you,' said Pete.

'Yeah, I think that'll work well. That's really er, er, fair,' agreed Martin rather lamely.

'Fine,' said Nancy. It felt good to be fancied by 100% of the men present with no abstentions. 'In that case, so that there's no favouritism, I think we should begin in alphabetical order. Andy, could you help me with my case?'

Heaven's Shore

Jabez had his hands on his head. Inside the globe suspended in front of him was the scene inside the Eilat apartment.

'Eeeh! I never saw that coming, not in the life of a galaxy. Not from her, that was totally out of character. Wasn't it? What's going on, Luke?'

Luke had also been watching the scene unfold.

'Let me see what I can find out,' he flicked to another view within his own sphere, one that gave him more information about the environment around the Eilat apartment. 'The enemy's airwaves are all over this,' he reported. 'There are passive violations of neutrality everywhere. The atmosphere around Nancy reeks of enemy observation.'

'You don't surprise me. You know that I don't have much experience of this, Luke. But even I know this is unusual.'

Luke was still checking his scopes.

'The matter that worries me,' continued Jabez, 'is that Infernals seemed to know this was coming. Nancy has gone from carefree innocent to dedicated seductress in an instant. They saw it coming and we didn't. This should concern us. Their usual pattern is to watch someone who shows signs of going wrong and encourage them to do more. But with this girl, I mean woman, Nancy, it's different. There was no indication that she would behave like this. This means that Hell has just got a lot more sophisticated than they have ever been up to now.'

'Yes,' replied Luke. 'Also, they know we're watching. They know we can see that they're following Nancy. And they don't seem to care.'

'If their level of competence has leapt up the scale, we'll have to raise our game too,' exclaimed Jabez. 'These are no bumbling beelzebubs. Bezejel is all over this. And I still don't know how to beat her.'

Eilat

'Sure.' Andy jumped up and followed Nancy into the bedroom. He tried to look as though he was just heading off for another day of lectures at uni. Privately he felt as though he'd just won the lottery.

Martin watched him go while Pete, who had just realised the misfortune of the letter 'P' being so low down the alphabet, looked forlorn.

Nancy led Andy to the room she had chosen. As he entered carrying both their cases she shut the door behind him.

'Could you lift my case onto the chest of drawers?' she said breezily, as though talking to a husband she'd been married to for twenty years.

'Sure thing,' said Andy who was trying not to look at Nancy lest he appear over-eager.

For several minutes they worked in silence, opening drawers and wardrobes and putting clothes on hangers. Eventually Nancy pushed her empty case under her bed and stood up and turned towards him. She placed her right foot behind her left, clasped her hands behind her back and pushed her chest forward ever so slightly. She waited for him to become aware of her.

Andy closed the wardrobe door where he had hung the last of his shirts and faced her, all of four feet away. Nancy was smiling invitingly.

'Oh, er, you're there,' he said shyly.

Nancy made no move and Andy stood there awkwardly, waiting for instructions. Both knew who was in charge.

'Come closer.' Nancy.

Andy found himself taking the two steps to stand right in front of her. He looked into her eyes and then placed his left hand on her shoulder and his right hand on her hip. He moved in for the kiss.

Nancy stopped him with a finger on his chest.

'First, I need a small favour.'

'Oh?'

'I need you to drive me somewhere.'

'Oh? Where?'

'A kibbutz. Near Jerusalem. In a few days' time. When I've sorted out a car.'

'Nancy, Jerusalem's hours away,' he spluttered. 'We came past it on the way here. It must be five hours. Each way. It would mean a whole day away from the dig. I can't. I'll never get permission.'

'That's a shame.'

'Anyway, can't you drive?'

'Yes. But not legally.' Nancy shrugged. 'Long story.'

'Is that...Is that why you invited me in?' Light dawned in his eyes. 'You asked me if I had a driving licence. Of course.'

'There's something you want. And there's something I need. I think that's a fair exchange, don't you?' Nancy was looking up directly into Andy's eyes, her face just a few inches from his. 'Anyway, won't you help a maiden in distress? I'm trying to contact a long-lost relative. Before he dies.'

'You certainly know how to pull all the levers, don't you? said Andy, smiling. Then he became serious again. 'Look, it's not just about getting permission. I could probably get that. I'm sure the professor will give me a day off. It's something else. You see, I'm the first in my family to go to university. We're not educated folk. Quite humble really. I don't want people to know because it's embarrassing. That's why it's really important to my mum and dad that I succeed. They borrowed the money for me to come on this trip. Taking a day off to drive someone around Israel isn't really respecting them. All that they've given up for me. I'm sorry.'

But Nancy held him fast. She tapped again on his chest.

'Supposing,' she said slowly. 'Just supposing, I could arrange for you to have half an hour with the former Head of Israeli Antiquities. A man who knows more about archaeology in this country than just about anyone else. On your own. How would that help your studies?'

Andy's eyes opened wide. 'That would be incredible. If I could tell my tutors I'd done that, they'd be impressed. Really impressed. It would raise my profile incredibly. It would be incredible. Can you really do that?'

'I'll try and fix it.'

'The Head of Antiquities, you say?'

'Former Head.'

'How will you do it?'

'I know somebody.'

'Well that would be incredible, Nancy.'

'Well I'll try to make it happen. Then it'll be credible. Not incredible.'

Andy laughed. 'OK then, miss,' he said finally. 'I'll drive you to Jerusalem.'

'Thank you. You're a gentleman,' she said. 'Let's go and tell the others.' She unhooked herself from Andy's hands and began walking to the door.

'Hold on Nancy. Didn't we..er..didn't you want to..I mean...can you...?'

Nancy turned around. 'Aren't I doing enough for you already?' she asked with a puff of impatience that she hoped was convincing. 'I'm pulling strings to help you with your studies. And all you want to do is take advantage of me.'

'If I remember rightly, Nancy, it was your suggestion.'

She sighed and pursed her lips with an air of suffering. Impatience turned to resignation. 'Oh yes. I did say that, didn't I?' She walked slowly back until she was standing directly in front of him, her eyes raised to his. She took Andy's right hand and placed it back on her hip where it was before. Then she put her arms around his neck and pulled herself close to him. 'All right then,' she said softly. 'But it had better be incredible.'

In the TV lounge Martin and Pete looked at each other.

'Is this really happening?' Pete.

'I didn't think she...' Martin couldn't finish his sentence.

They continued in silence, both trying to be nonchalant while listening for any tell-tale sounds from the bedroom.

'Thank you, Andy,' said Nancy politely, kissing him on the cheek. 'I'm going to take myself off to the shower.'

She got up and reached for her dressing gown. Andy felt a draught of air on his cheek as the heavy cotton swirled about him. Then she reached for the door and was gone.

Nancy stood at the small sink and looked in the mirror. She turned around and opened the door to the shower cubicle behind her. Beside her was a closed window of frosted glass that was allowing plenty of early evening light into the room. She reached into the cubicle and fiddled with the controls until the shower kicked into life. She turned back and gazed again at her reflection in the mirror.

'Well, you've started something now girl. So you'll have to see it through.'

The steam from the shower was obscuring the mirror in front of her. She raised her hand and wiped a space clear till she could see herself again. Nancy liked what she saw.

She tore herself away from her reflection and entered the shower. She felt the luxury of the hot water stream over her as she sluiced away love's vestiges and thought about her next moves.

But as Nancy towelled herself down and stepped out of the shower she saw something quite startling. On the mirror in front of her the capital letter R had mysteriously appeared in the middle of the area that she had previously wiped with her hand. She checked the window. It was securely fastened on the inside. She carefully turned the door handle and pulled it. The key was still in the lock. Nothing. The door didn't move. Nancy turned back towards the mirror again. The last guest must have written on it with their finger before she came in, she mused, and the heat from the water vapour had only just revealed it. Nancy told herself that there must be a logical explanation. No-one had been in, she would have known it. She'd had her eyes open all the time and would've seen the door open. Nancy vigorously wiped the R from the mirror with the side of her fist and blocked it from her mind. She wrapped herself in her towel, unlocked the door and returned to her room. She was glad to see it was empty. Andy had thoughtfully dressed and left the bedroom free for her. She could hear the boys talking in low tones in the lounge. She opened up her case and pulled out her make-up bag.

Nancy carefully applied some black eyeliner and bright lipstick. She pursed her lips as she looked in the mirror making sure the coverage was even and neat. Then she dressed in some new underwear bought as a treat for her holidays and on top of that a short pink skirt and a pink woollen blouse with short sleeves and a low neckline. Finally she pulled on a pair of medium high heels and then paused to look at herself in the long mirror on the room's only wardrobe.

It was the same Nancy as before and yet, though nothing had changed, everything had changed. As she turned sideways left and right to regard her neat figure in profile it seemed to her that she was a different person. Her bust was just the same size as before and her legs were no longer. They were all just...working harder. She opened the bedroom door, stepped into the corridor and walked slowly down into the lounge. The boys had heard her approach and had stopped talking. As Nancy stood before them, one smooth leg carefully placed behind the other, they gaped at her, waiting for her to make the first move.

Nancy paused before speaking, enjoying the moment. She moved her front foot slightly so that her body swayed, delicate and sinewy in front of them. Her big toe traced a short arc on the rug beneath her, teasing the fibres this way and that. Was this how matadors tormented their raging prey, with small insolent movements? How could cruelty be so delicious? For a moment of exquisite pleasure she felt power and control that had never been hers before. Always too much competition. Always someone with a deeper cleavage. Not now.

Earlier Nancy had talked about calling the boys in alphabetical order. But that wouldn't meet the need. If she was going to travel five hours each way to Jerusalem she wanted to do it in style.

She looked from Pete to Martin and back again, smiling. 'Pete, my wardrobe door is stuck. Could I borrow you a minute?'

'Sure.' Pete stood up obediently. He was only human.

Nancy turned and walked back to her bedroom. The boys followed her with their eyes, their gazes fixed on her lilting hemline. Pete looked at the other two for a moment without expression and then followed Nancy down the corridor. He was walking surprisingly fast.

Nancy stood by one of the beds. The corner of the duvet was turned back, invitingly. She was smiling and had her hands behind her back, feet together. They both knew who was calling the shots.

Nancy looked gorgeous and knew it. She held out her hand. It was part invitation and part order. Pete was glad to obey. He stepped forward and took her hand and she drew him to her, surprisingly firmly. His lips bore down on hers and his hands searched for landing places on her body.

She stopped him.

'I need a small favour.'

'Oh, what's that?'

'I need you to hire me a car.'

'What? Are you kidding?' He pulled his head back.

'No. Not kidding. I want you to hire me a car. Just for one day. Can you do that for me?'

'No. Of course I can't. I'm just a poor student. I'm borassic. Skint. I can barely afford this study tour.'

'Really? Haven't you got any money?'

'No. I'm broke. Truly. Is that what this...?'

Nancy placed her finger on his chest, tapping gently. 'Because, you know, I was convinced, absolutely convinced,' she looked up earnestly into his eyes, 'that you were the son of the Duke of Buckinghamshire. First and only son. Isn't that odd? You've heard of the Duke of Buckinghamshire, haven't you? He owns half the county. Filthy rich, apparently.' She gazed at him with wide-eyed sincerity like a young daughter mesmerised by her dad.

Pete rushed his hands to the top of his head. Then he pulled them down over his ears, squashing his face. His lips puckered out like a blowfish. 'How did you find out?'

'Oh, I just keep my eyes open.'

'No-one must ever know,' he hissed. 'If they do, if they find out at uni that I'm a toff, I'll be meat. I'll lose all my friends. How did you find out?'

'Well, let's see,' said Nancy tilting her head up to the left. 'Was it your perfectly manicured finger nails that gave you away?' Pete looked down at his fingertips. 'No. Was it your upper-class accent that occasionally slips through when you forget to talk common?' She hesitated playfully. 'No.' Nancy pretended to ponder.

'Hmm. Maybe it was the..'

'Oh no, the cheque for this trip,' wailed Pete. 'My mum.'

'...the cheque. Drawn on Barings Bank of London. A bank for toffs. In the name of Sir Edmund Temple-Grenville. Your father, I believe.'

'My dad always signs a few cheques and leaves them for my mum. For shopping in Harrod's and such like. She's not supposed to use them for me.'

'And then I simply cross-checked your dad's name with Who's Who and it gave me his title and all his details. And there you were too. Pete Temple. First son.'

'Oh no, I'm ruined.'

'No-one need ever know.'

'You mean that? Can you really keep a secret?

'Mum's the word.' Nancy tapped her nose twice with her finger.

'Very funny. Oh, Nancy. Thank you so much. I'm so grateful.'

'The car, Pete.'

'Oh yes, the car. OK, no problem. Yes. I can take care of that. So long as the others don't know it's me. I'm sure I can sort you out a little Polo. For a day.'

'No.'

'What do you mean, no?'

Nancy looked at him patiently.

'OK, a Golf. But that's it. That's all I can manage.'

'No.'

'What do you want?'

'Jaguar. XJ12. Automatic. With air-conditioning and FM radio. And electric windows. And a full tank of petrol.'

'No. You're mad. They'll cut me off. My parents will cut my inheritance.'

Nancy went to the door and grasped the handle.

'All right. It's a deal.' Pete dragged her back. 'It's a deal,' he repeated. 'I'll do it.'

'Thank you,' said Nancy. 'You're a gentleman. And in your case, you're not only a gentleman, you're probably a knight. Or an earl. Or a baronet. Or something.' She smiled conspiratorially and walked to the door again. 'Won't say a word,' she whispered with a grin. She grasped the handle a second time.

'Hang on,' said Pete grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back into the middle of the room. 'What about your side of the bargain?'

'I'm fulfilling my side. I promised to keep your secret.'

'I think there was something else.'

Nancy sighed. 'Oh, very well.' She placed her hands on his shoulders and flicked her hair back. 'But you owe me, OK?'

Lev's Bistro, Eilat

Nancy swallowed a small sip of wine and reflected on the second spooky event that had happened shortly before. Was there a ghost in the apartment?

The evening was deliciously warm and the candles on the tables added a magic glow to the knots of people who had come out to dine. Barely thirty yards away the sea lapped onto the fine sandy beach and here and there upturned fishing boats awaited the next day's work. Desert cicadas chirruped away noisily on nearby trees. There was a hubbub of conversation all around that occasionally surged as people on one table or another exploded in mirthful exuberance or engaged in the type of loud discussion that Israelis so delighted in. The mood was joyful as if everyone had their own reason for celebration.

Martin was recounting an anecdote from one of his university rugby club's outings.

'So there I was in the front row of the scrum, we've locked arms and we're just about to engage with the other team. There's onIy a minute to the final whistle and we're just one point ahead. I was face to face with one-tooth Tarrant, the dinosaur of Durham, and he's seriously unchuffed that they're losing. Now bear in mind, that morning I'd washed my hair and I couldn't do a thing with it. I'd tried rollers, curlers, crimping, you name it, nothing worked.' Pete and Andy are rocking in their chairs laughing.

'Then the referee shouts 'engage' and we all crash against each other. One-tooth Tarrant sees his opportunity and he grabs my hair and starts pulling it. I shouted 'ouch, let go' and he shouts in his gritty Glaswegian accent 'your hair's a mess anyway' - a sentiment I could hardly disagree with, to be fair. Totally illegal, of course, grabbing my hair, but the referee's on the other side of the scrum watching their hooker, so he can't see what Tarrant's doing. Anyway, the ball comes out and someone kicks it into touch and then the whistle goes. We've won. So I get back in the changing room and happen to look at myself in the mirror and I see he's totally succeeded where I'd completely failed. One-tooth Tarrant has managed to make me look amazing. It's the best hairstyle I've ever had. I'm never going to wash my hair again. So I have this big dilemma, do I go into Durham's changing room to thank him or not?'

While the boys' attention was focused on Martin's story, Nancy's thoughts tumbled over the earlier events of the evening.

After Pete had finished, Nancy got up from the bed, wrapped herself in her now-damp towel, excused herself politely to Pete and slipped across the hall into the shower room.

There she soaked herself again in the shower and made sure she was ready to go out and eat with the boys.

But how was she going to disappoint Martin? He'd be bound to feel left out. Not to mention frustrated. She'd have to find a way to let him down gently.

Returning to her room she gratefully found it empty and this time dressed in a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt. She completed her relaxed look with a pair of casual seaside shoes and turned towards the mirror to check her appearance.

Then she ventured towards the lounge. And there was Martin looking at her.

Wanting to be called. And not wanting.

Part of the gang. And not part of the gang.

Smiling happily. And terrified of being found out.

In that instant, Nancy knew his secret. She had to protect him.

'Martin, I can't get the top off my deodorant. Can you come and help?'

And Martin glanced nervously at his two mates, forced a smile onto his face and walked towards her. Like a man facing the gallows.

Nancy closed the door behind them. Martin stood in the middle of the room, as nervous as a child in a haunted castle.

'Look...' he began.

'It's all right,' whispered Nancy, walking forward and putting her finger to his lips. 'I know. You're gay. I won't tell.'

Martin almost melted and sat himself on the bed. 'I know I should tell them. Just come out with it. One day I will. I'm just not ready yet. For now I just want to pretend. Is that all right?'

'Of course. Tell them when you feel ready. Look, why don't we sit here for a bit and chat? How about you tell me what it's like to be at university? I've never been.'

'OK, why not.' Martin sat back against the wall. 'Well, you've just got to hear about Professor Gibson and the striped cow...'

As Martin embarked on his story, Nancy watched him tenderly. Then she slipped off her shoes and went to sit beside him on the bed. She drew her knees up to her chest and leant her weight against the brawny scrum forward who didn't want her like that. She giggled when he reached the bit about the sudden shower of rain which exposed Professor Gibson's zebra creation. As he started to tell her about the incident with the policeman and the frozen duck she let her head fall against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

And just for a moment she felt a yawning gap in her heart as she wondered, for the millionth time, what it would be like to have a brother.

Ten minutes later, Nancy stripped off while Martin looked the other way. She wrapped the towel around her and returned to the bathroom. It was important to keep up the pretence. The mirror, she noticed, was clear and bore no marks except the faint outline of where she had rubbed it with her hands earlier.

She ran the shower for a minute and then turned it off. But as she gathered up her things and prepared to leave she had a shock. The mirror that was blank just a moment ago had something written on it once again. It was the same capital letter R that had been there before. But this time it was twice the size it had been previously and the serifs, curves, bowl and stem were as pin sharp as if they had been etched. Nancy fairly hit the mirror with her hand and wiped vigorously over the arrogant letter. It had no effect. Notice me, it seemed to say. Don't ignore me.

Nancy stared hard at the capital R. This time she knew she couldn't forget it. A shiver ran through her as another thought occurred. Was she being watched?

Martin's story and Nancy's reflections were interrupted as a waiter came and deposited some menus on their table. This would be their first meal in Israel together and they turned to concentrate on the choices awaiting them.

'Chicken, chicken or chicken, it looks like', said Pete, as he surveyed what was on offer.

'Shame, I was hoping for chicken', offered Martin who always ate the most. 'Do they really not eat pork at all in Israel?'

Nancy saw a shiny black Mercedes draw up to the kerb near where the group's table was set. Inside were three men of Arab appearance, unshaven and smoking. One of these had been staring at Nancy for some time. Now he managed to catch her eye. He smiled at her and a moment later got out of the car and approached the table.

'Good evening. English, American, German?' he asked in a voice that was accented but richly-toned.

Nancy was just about to say 'what do you want?' in her frostiest voice. But brawny Martin, who was on his second beer and clearly enjoying himself, butted in first.

'We're English, my good fellow. Archaeologists actually. Just here for a couple of weeks digging in the desert.'

'Shut up, Mart, don't tell everyone our business,' hissed Andy.

But it was too late.

'Archaeologist? You all archaeologist?' smiled the Arab, pointing in turn at all four of them.

'Yes' said Nancy.

'No' said Martin. 'We're archaeologists', indicating himself and the two other boys. 'She's our organiser. She looks after us'. He ignored the savage look from Andy.

The Arab smiled widely and turned to Nancy. 'Fixer. You're the fixer for them. You're the fixer that make things happen'. He was laughing now and leaning over the table, his hands resting on the tablecloth. But his eyes weren't smiling. They were cold. They were calculating. They were ruthless.

Nancy returned his stare evenly, saying nothing. But when he remained grinning she spoke up again.

'We're perfectly all right on our own. We don't need any help, thank you.' Nancy continued to look directly at the Arab all the while. Her words were sharp and her message was clear: go away.

But Nancy was surprised to see that her cold words were having the opposite effect. If anything, he was looking at her with increased interest. Respect even.

He turned and cast a quick glance at the doorway through which a waiter might come at any moment. Then looked back at them. He dropped his voice to a whisper.

'Look, you like some hash? I get you very good hash at very good price. You here for holiday or work, no matter. Enjoy good hash. Your first evening here?' he addressed the question to Martin who had been the most willing to talk to him.

'Yes, our first evening,' said Martin who was finishing his beer.

'OK. Look what I do for you. Because you nice people and you come to my country. I give you special price for first night. Four hash cigarette, four Israel pounds. One pound each.'

A moment later four rough looking rolled and stuffed leaves had appeared on the table.

'You have nice time tonight,' he continued. 'Nice food and nice smoke later. At your hotel. Not smoke here. Not safe. What you say, four pounds?'

The boys looked at each other. It was the perfect way to end a perfect day. Sun, sex, food, beer and now drugs. In the morning they'd go to work in the desert but tonight they were on holiday. They were young, foolish and it was the thing to do.

A five Israeli pound note came out of Pete's pocket and landed on the table beside the joints. The man snatched it up.

'OK I bring you change here tomorrow. You have good night.'

Then he was gone.

The four looked at each other.

'You three have got brains the size of peas,' exploded Nancy. 'What is the matter with you all? We don't know who that man is or what he's going to do now. We're in a effing foreign country, with not much effing money and where they jail people who do drugs and throw away the key. This isn't effing Leeds students union you three great effing idiots.'

'Calm down Nance. We're here for a good time. They've been smoking this stuff here for centuries, it's just part of the landscape,' defended Pete who was feeling guilty because he'd produced the money.

Nancy was still feeling annoyed at the risk they'd exposed themselves to.

'You boys need a drill sergeant to look after you, not a mother hen at all.'

They stared at her. So she'd thought of herself as a mother hen?

'Let's not do anything more that's stupid, OK?'

'That's quite a temper you've got there, Nancy,' said Pete. 'There's more to you than you let on. Look,' he said, glancing meaningfully at the other two boys, 'we promise to behave in future. We may have placed too much trust in people who don't deserve it, that's true. We were a bit rash, and we're very sorry. So it's time to put the incident with Mr Hash...'

'...and his four Israel pounds...' interrupted Martin.

'...behind us.' Pete pretended to throw a salt cellar at Martin. 'And get some food ordered. Come on. Let's see what's on offer.' He picked up his menu again. 'But while we're choosing, I couldn't help noticing your surname on your passport when we came through the airport. Nancy, where does the name Kay come from?'

'Oh, trying to change the subject and thought I wouldn't notice?' Nancy's good humour was restored. 'I can see you should be a diplomat, Peter Temple. Unfortunately, a career like that requires connections. Which a poor boy like you hasn't got.' She gave the future Duke of Buckinghamshire a knowing look. 'So you'd better stick with working hard.'

Pete maintained a steady smile.

'But since you ask,' she continued, 'my ancestors came to Britain a long time ago from foreign parts. And they had an unpronounceable name. So they abbreviated it to the first letter. Which was K. But K isn't a name so they expanded it to K-A-Y which is why it's Kay.'

'Fascinating.' Andy decided to join in to show he wasn't asleep. 'So you're really just an ordinary English girl through and through.'

'I suppose I am. Now.' Then with pretended nonchalance, 'But since you've asked, I may as well tell you. All my grand-parents were Russian.'

'Russian?' they all shouted at once.

People at other tables were turning around at the outburst and looking at them.

'Calm down, for goodness sake,' ordered Nancy in a whisper.

'Russian. Yes. But not communist Russian,' she answered their unspoken question.

Seconds went by, all three staring at Nancy waiting for an explanation.

She looked back and then sighed in exasperation. 'You know, for a bunch of archaeologists you three seem to know nothing about history. Look, if you need me to spell it out for you, I'm a Jew.'

A waiter came out and stood beside the table, pencil poised over notepad to take their order.

Nancy picked up her menu, smiled at the waiter and wished him shalom. She glanced down at the descriptions of the dishes, all laid out in English and Hebrew. Then with the boys' eyes still on her, she looked back at the three of them, smiling sweetly. 'It's a tough choice but I think I'll have the 'tender white breast surrounded by three thick dumplings'.' She paused for effect. 'Then I can eat and think of all of you.'

Kodrob's Squadroom, Pentacurse Region, Inferno

Kodrob watched as Bezejel strode back and forth in front of them like a tiger. Only Bezejel could give off the air of a predator when performing the role of teacher. Her gaze darted from one to the other of them constantly, ensuring their full concentration. In truth, none of them had problems keeping their attention focused on her. She was easy to look at. But she had brains as well as beauty. She was using them now.

'Nancy is hugely talented, Kodrob. She's got empathy. She can manipulate others. She's brave. She uses fear to get what she wants. She uses sex to get what she wants. She has a mind for detail plus she can see the big picture. That's very unusual. But if it wasn't for us, Nancy would have a very ordinary life.'

'How ordinary, ma'am?'

'Without us, her life path shows she gets married. Her husband is a car dealer. She has three children. One of them is disabled. She sets up a children's charity. Her husband leaves her age fifty. She works in the charity for the rest of her life. Always worried about money. Eventually her children put her in a care home where she dies.' Bezejel was smiling now. 'So ma'am,' interjected Holzman, 'she is a failure. She doesn't really achieve anything.'

'That's right, Holzman. She fails. A thousand people come to her funeral to mark her failure. Most of them are in wheelchairs. Not a warrior among them. And that is why our project is so important. To the world but also to Nancy herself. When she follows our code trail she is led to a life of power. A life of significance. A life of meaning. She pulls the strings behind many governments. She causes the implosion of entire nations. People learn how to fight again. They rediscover survival skills. She is remembered by billions, not just a few thousand here or there.' Bezejel's face glowed as she continued her prowling in silence for a moment.

'There's only one thing Nancy is missing. Do any of you have the wit to tell me what it is?'

Bezejel looked around the table from Kodrob to the others of his squad, Lafarge, Holzman. Lafarge responded first.

'An army ma'am?'

'No, Lafarge. There are lots of armies on planet Earth. Another one, even under Nancy, won't make a difference.'

'A philosophy?' suggested Kodrob.

'Explain.'

'Well, ma'am, lots of souls have been brought to us by men who found a philosophy, a political philosophy that is, and forced others to follow it. This brought conflict and war. Like communism and fascism. Maybe that's what Nancy needs. A philosophy.'

'Hocus pocus, burn and smoke us,' laughed Bezejel, slapping Kodrob on the shoulder. 'You're a smart demon, Captain Kodrob. I understand now why the Leader gave you to me. But philosophies are unpredictable. The men you're talking about pushed their philosophies too hard. And that's why they didn't last. Their enemies eventually pushed back against them and crushed them. We've learnt from that. We're steering Nancy away from politics and into good old-fashioned corruption. Corruption works for us precisely because it's almost invisible. It doesn't make enemies in the same way politics does.'

'But ma'am,' interrupted Holzman. 'Nancy is kind. She gave money to a beggar. How can she become a serious corruptor of men with behaviour like that?'

'All tyrants thought of themselves as nice people,' replied Bezejel patiently, as though talking to a child. 'That's what made them so dangerous. They set out to do good. But ambition always overwhelms kindness. Drowns it utterly. There, I've said the word. Ambition. Ambition is the one thing that Nancy's missing. She needs lots of it and she hasn't got it. Not enough, anyway. She simply doesn't want power as much as we want her to. Not yet. But we have a plan to change that.'

'But how can we give her ambition?' Kodrob asked the obvious question. 'We can't just plant it into her, can we?'

'We're going to give Nancy the lust for power that she doesn't have at the moment. A lust that will consume her so completely that it will squeeze all kindness out of her. But there's someone who knows more about that part of the project than I do. His name is Colonel Hideki.'

'Is that the Colonel Hideki who heads up HARM?' asked Kodrob.

'The same. Human Ancestor Research and Manipulation,' explained Bezejel for the benefit of the other Marauders. 'It's the department that produces background information on people who are the subjects of Destructive Purpose projects. Such as Nancy. Then they develop a plan to use that information against them. HARM projects begin with tracing someone's family history. Then if they can find a criminal ancestor they use the familial psychic back-channels to pass their septic motivations forward in time to their descendants. It's painstaking work but it can achieve powerful results. People who would not normally go dark can be corrupted from within without any obvious bad influences around them. It's genius.'

'That sounds excellent. I would like to be part of that team,' interjected Lafarge.

Kodrob gave him a hard look. 'You're in my team, Lafarge. Remember that. You don't leave without my permission.'

'No, I just think it would be good to be working with them, boss. That's all I meant.' Lafarge held his hands up submissively.

'We are going to work closely with Colonel Hideki,' said Bezejel, looking intently at Lafarge. 'He has found a criminal ancestor in Nancy's family. A very dangerous female indeed. But don't think about working for Hideki after this is over. HARM has suffered a lot of desertions recently. Their productivity has been down. And they've been missing a lot of family connections in important projects, so I've heard. Their research analysts have been leaving in droves because Hideki has been keeping a load of the department's squawhouse vouchers for himself. How would you like it if your boss kept stealing your squaw vouchers, Lafarge?'

Lafarge looked shocked. 'I couldn't work for someone like that,' admitted the French demon. 'Never.'

'I didn't think so. Well then. Stay with Captain Kodrob. He won't steal your squaws.' Kodrob nodded to Bezejel appreciatively.

'Remind me, ma'am,' asked Kodrob. 'Hideki. Is that the kamikaze squadron leader who sent all his men to their deaths? Then he refused to fly himself, instead getting run over by a car as he left his aerodrome?'

'The same,' replied Bezejel.

'Then I know him. And I believe I know where he'll be right now.'

'How so?' asked Bezejel.

'Ma'am, I believe right now we'll find him in one of the establishments which accepts the vouchers he's been embezzling.'

Bezejel looked at him knowingly. 'Which squawhouse?'

'Navaho's.'

She smiled in amusement. 'All right Kodrob. You and I will set off for Navaho's in a moment and surprise him. Any more questions?'

'Just one ma'am.' Holzman had his hand up. 'About Nancy. I can see that you like her. But when she eventually gets here to Inferno, after she's done everything you want her to do for us in the Fourth, will she become part of your team?'

Bezejel's face filled with anger. She stopped her pacing and stood still facing Holzman.

'No, Holzman. She will never be part of my team. Don't you understand anything about me yet?'

Holzman swallowed hard. He thought he'd asked a friendly question.

'When Nancy arrives in Inferno,' continued Bezejel, measuring every word, 'she will be full of herself. She will have a head so big she'll barely make it through the Gates. Within minutes of getting here she'll want my job. She will want my place, my place you understand, next to the Leader. Well, I forbid it. Her square yard of misery is already reserved for her.'

There was a pause which Holzman felt he was obliged to fill. 'Do you mean to send her to...to...'

'Yes, I do mean to send her to,' replied Bezejel sarcastically. 'That's exactly where I mean to send her. Nancy will go straight to Tyrant's Fall.'

Heaven's Shore

Jabez's globe sparked like a hundred arc welders working simultaneously. Each spark was the image of a male or female angel. As each one came and went in a scintilla of a moment he looked for a perfect match to his needs. Luke's face stayed constant to the side of the flickering faces.

'I'm going to need lots of help on this one, Luke. First I've got to find a code-breaker. They're heading somewhere with this letter game and I need to understand it. That capital letter R, it's mysterious. We also need a character reader, someone who can tell us what's going on inside Nancy's head. One moment she's an ordinary girl, quiet and shy. A face in the crowd. Then she intimidated her boss in front of the whole office. Now she's used sex to manipulate and control several men. Yet she's holding it together quite naturally. That's for starters. Luke, you've done a great job already tracking the enemy for me. But I think I'm going to need someone on this round the clock. Can you come and join my team full time and give me your insight into twentieth century human behaviour? When I last walked the Earth people didn't have so many options available. Especially options to do bad stuff. I need some support.'

Luke hesitated before responding.

'I could see that coming so I already checked with my boss. Things are a little slow in Supernova Start-ups at the moment so she says I can work with you, at least for now. But she may want your help on one of her projects in the future.'

'She may, or she may not, depending on how this goes,' replied Jabez sardonically. 'If I deliver a big 'fail' on this project she may want to wash her hands of me. Anyway thank her for me; it's good to have you on board. Meanwhile I was thinking of Agatha for the code-breaker. Do you know her?'

'Not sure I do. Tell me about her.'

'English. She worked on the Enigma thing while in the Fourth Dimension and she hasn't been assigned to a project yet. She's in Clearing. There hasn't been a big call for code-breakers recently and hopefully she's looking for her first project.'

The Creator was continually expanding and building new territories in the dimensions in which he existed. The human-inhabited universe was the Fourth Dimension. Most of Paradise was in the Fifth Dimension; as was all of Inferno. In 'the Fifth' as it was known, time had little relevance. Time didn't flow forward uniformly as it does on Earth. In the Sixth, the problem of distance had been eliminated with thought travel while in the Ninth, light could be played with in ways unimaginable on Earth. Other dimensions were just as unusual.

'Just looking her up right now,' replied Luke. 'Hmm, says here she has a flair for danger. She once went on an intelligence gathering mission into occupied territory during the Fourth's World War Two. That could be useful. I'm not saying we're going to do anything like that here. But you never know. I like the sound of her Jabez, why don't you go ahead and get in touch?'

'Good, I will, and if you happen..'

But Luke interrupted him.

'Yes, I do happen to have an idea for a shrink. Thank you for asking. Angel by the name of Ruth. Texan. Lots of experience. Worked on the Skajj interrogation. Built a great reputation there.

Jabez's brow was furrowed. 'I don't know much about the Skajj case. Tell me more.'

'Well, Skajj was a demon who approached Heaven on the sly,' continued Luke. 'He claimed to be an intelligence devil who had fallen out with his team and was eager to cut a deal with Heaven for his own benefit. He was interviewed by a mid-ranking council of angels, the Mitten Gard, who were inclined to believe him. But then Ruth produced an analysis of all Skajj's replies to the Gard. It showed inconsistencies in thought and sentence-forms which pointed to origins in lots of different sources. This meant that Skajj could not have created the plan by himself. He was being told what to say by a motley of different Crossbones centurions who hadn't bothered to confer with each other. They all had different ways of saying things and Skajj simply repeated everything they all told him. That was why he sounded like a crowd.'

'Fascinating. Go on.'

'When Ruth displayed her research, it blew Skajj's scam out of the water. In reality he was trying to identify and map an approach route to Paradise's Tenth dimension preparatory to an invasion by elements of four sprite armies. The Mitten Gard were initially sceptical of Ruth's reasoning. But in the end they were very grateful to her. They had nearly been deceived. She showed a lot of nerve to challenge their authority but luckily it paid off.'

'I remember that incident now,' said Jabez. 'But I didn't know what occasioned it. Thanks for filling in the gap in my knowledge.'

'Glad to. But it's what happened to Ruth as a result that's interesting. Her reputation ascended the heights. She was included on every panel and leadership group connected with better understanding demon thought patterns. She's now a leading authority in that area. That's why I mentioned her.'

'She's out of our league, isn't she Luke? A lady like that isn't going to want to get involved with small fry like us.'

'You may be surprised, Jabez,' Luke rejoined confidently. 'Two of Ruth's panel appointments are in recess right now, meaning she has very little to do for a while. But also, she involves herself in projects that interest her. Especially where she can be highly involved with a committed project team, not just be a player in a talking shop. I think she could be interested.'

Jabez began to suspect that Luke had already spoken to Ruth and had solicited her interest. That was why he was talking her up so confidently.

'OK,' he said, 'I'll go ahead and globe her.'

Luke wasn't finished. 'And remember, Jabez, you and I may be small fry but the project isn't. You're saving the world now. There's lots of senior people watching you.'

'Thanks Luke,' said Jabez with a heavy sigh. 'Just what I needed to hear.'

Navaho's Squawhouse, Central Pentacurse Region, Inferno

Bezejel and Kodrob crunched their way across the cinder track outside Navaho's squawhouse. Gog and Magog followed close behind, keeping a watchful eye on the gaunt figures surveying them from the shadows. Many lower-caste demons came down to Pentacurse from the fingers of Festerlode and Slothmire looking for drunken soldiers to ambush and rob. Gog and Magog pulled their cloaks aside revealing the flashing iron handles of their swords and glared at them contemptuously.

Above them towered the huge conical structure that was Navaho's, an oasis for those seeking forgetfulness. Outside the door, neon signs that read Smokin' Joe's Frankfurters, Budweiser, Cold Pepsi and Studebaker shone out brightly. They had been foraged from derelict towns in America's rustbelt. None of these were really on sale. Demons just liked their colour. 'You know how squawhouses got their shape, Kodrob?' asked Bezejel, now playing a tour guide.

'No ma'am, no-one ever told me that.'

'It's all about women, Kodrob. Not men.'

'Yes ma'am.'

'Throughout Earth's history, women with supernatural power used to wear conical headgear. Witches. Men would come to them with all types of hopes and hates. Give me a son. Poison my enemy. That sort of thing. Follow?'

'Yes ma'am.'

A crowd of eager squaddies was gathered at the door of Navaho's trying to get in. Satyr doormen were taking their weapons for safe-keeping. An argument developed over a small knife. Bezejel and Kodrob stood near a lava lamp while they waited for the fracas to blow over. Its convex mirror reflected the light coming up from the lava in the hole in the ground beneath it and bathed their faces in its glow. Lava lamps were Inferno's cheapest form of light.

'So when brothel madams set up their enterprises in Inferno,' continued Bezejel proudly, 'they made their buildings conical. It meant a certain type of female was inside.'

'But why squaws ma'am? Where does that come from?'

'Americans, Kodrob. Yanks,' exclaimed Bezejel loudly over the din. 'When Americans started coming here in huge numbers they noticed the brothels' conical shape and said it reminded them of native American teepees and wigwams.'

The doormen threw a squaddie on the ground. His knife landed beside him. His mates began to walk through into the interior, leaving him behind.

'So the madams started calling the girls 'squaws' and the demons liked it.

Bezejel nodded her head forward and they began to amble towards the door of Navaho's.

'So then,' put in Kodrob. 'Brothels became squawhouses and they started naming them after different American tribes. OK, I get it.'

Kodrob began to raise his arms to be searched but the doormen drew back in fear when they saw Bezejel. 'These three are with me,' asserted the demon princess with a smile. The doormen bowed slightly and stepped back.

Bezejel led the way as they plunged through the first doorway. To the left was a wide spiral staircase leading up and around the building. The staircase led off to dozens of small passion rooms where squaws entertained their demon clients. They walked through the next arch and then the next and the next, each separated by a staircase leading upwards. As Navaho's grew in popularity, its owners had simply added extra cones outside the first ones, each cone taller and wider than its predecessor. Now there were nine cone shells. Gas lights hung precariously off the hide walls of the corridor, almost setting the structure alight.

As they made their way inwards to the vast atrium at the heart of Navaho's, the noise of the party inside grew intense. Demons and skimpily-dressed squaws passed them walking in the opposite direction, arms around each other, heading to one of the staircases. A doom-doom drum beat reverberated through the rock beneath them and came up through their feet. Everything shook. Finally the last of the nine great doorways was behind them and they emerged into the cavernous space that many felt was the true centre of Inferno.

Bezejel led Kodrob through the noisy throng of compacted, steaming demonry to the circular bar at the centre of the atrium. Vixens, attractive demonesses, carried tankards of hot petroleum and cold diesel to tables of burping, leering upper caste males around the room. A forest of claws groped and pawed them as they walked.

The walls displayed crude paintings of male and female demons in every imaginable sexual throe and position. Braziers suspended from above burned coal and cast their red glow around.

Everywhere demons were drinking cocktails of flammable liquids while negotiating hourly prices with available squaws. After agreeing a deal with a customer, the squaw would take them by the paw and lead them up one of the spiral staircases to a room. Her tail would flick triumphantly from side to side, flaunting her conquest.

As Bezejel approached the bar, a nervous quietness descended across the room. Demons nudged each other and pointed her out. She was wearing a short red dress, its close fit revealing every contour of her figure. She looked about her and soaked up the effect she was having.

'What's the matter, boys,' she bellowed with a bewitching grin, 'seen something you want?' Then pulling up a stool she placed one foot on it.

The drumbeat stopped.

'Now that I have your attention, I'm looking for someone,' shouted Bezejel. Kodrob and the two bodyguards stayed several paces behind her. The room was now quiet.

'I'm looking for someone who...'

'You've found him.' All eyes turned to the speaker, an upper-caste demon wearing steel-framed glasses who was sitting at a table near the curved wall. A richly-engraved ceremonial sword hung from his waist. Beneath his feet was a decorative footrest and he sat back in his chair with his fingertips together staring ahead of himself contemplatively.

Bezejel walked over and stood near his table. Kodrob and the bodyguards followed at a discreet distance. It was only at this point that Kodrob realised the footrest was not an object but a female demon. She was dressed in traditional Japanese costume but was so still as to be lifeless. Her face was painted white and her upper body moved ever so slightly as she breathed.

If Bezejel had noticed the female, she did not give any indication of it. She and the bespectacled demon regarded each other for several frosty moments.

'Hideki, I see we find you in reflective mood. There are not many who come to Navaho's to meditate.'

'Madam Bezejel,' said Hideki, noticing her for the first time and half-bowing where he sat. 'It's a great pleasure to see you again. Won't you join me for a drink?'

Bezejel sat down slowly in the opposite chair and crossed her legs tightly. She looked around her at the gawking faces, which rapidly turned away. Kodrob, Gog and Magog stood respectfully three paces back.

'Now, what is your poison?' asked Hideki, rapping the table in front of him. A serving vixen in high red heels appeared and placed a bottle and two glasses on the table. 'Our best cold diesel ma'am,' she said, without making eye contact.

The drumbeat restarted. The chatter around them picked up.

Hideki poured some fuel into both glasses and pushed one across to Bezejel. He also poured some into a small bowl by his feet and pushed it towards his slavegirl. Kodrob could see the creature's eyes focus on the drink. But she was waiting for the order of command before she would imbibe.

Hideki raised his glass to Bezejel. 'I trust you are happy with the performance of my department so far, Lady Bezejel. You are here to reward and congratulate me, no doubt.'

'Hideki, you squaw-voucher thieving son of Nippon,' replied Bezejel, completely ignoring the slave footrest. 'Why shouldn't I have you sent to the incinerators for a thousand years? You didn't tell me that knicker-dropping shiksa Nancy isn't a shiksa at all. She's a Hebrew of tribe Judah. That could be important.'

Hideki smiled broadly. He was clearly familiar with Bezejel's verbal salvos and was not the least intimidated.

'Bezejel, my satyr-squeezing friend, you're a motivation to us all. But you clearly haven't looked at the notes I sent you. Remember, detail is for devils.'

'Go on.' Bezejel had relaxed a little. Nobody spoke to her like this without a very good reason.

'I have spent a lot of time in the company of the young woman Nancy. Observing her. I know her intimately. Well, almost intimately.'

Watching his expression, Kodrob could guess just how intimately Hideki would like to know Nancy. If he ever got the chance.

The Japanese demon looked up at Bezejel. 'I sent you a sheaf of information when the Leader first asked you to take the project. Maybe it got lost en route?' Hideki held his hands in front of him, fingers together, steeple-style.

'I don't read, Hideki. Everyone knows that. I expect to be told anything important.' Bezejel was trying to be fierce but it wasn't quite working.

'Ah.'

Hideki picked up his glass and took a mouthful of diesel. He swished it around his mouth for a moment. Then replacing the glass on the table he picked up a lighted candle and held it in front of his mouth. As he blew upwards, a perfect cloud of flame leapt twenty feet into the vault above.

Heads turned nervously all around the room as curious demons and squaws followed the flame cloud. They twisted in their seats to see what was going on at Hideki's table without drawing attention to themselves. Everyone had expected Hideki to be roasted by now. It hadn't happened.

'Ah so,' Hideki repeated quietly to Bezejel. 'Then let me take the opportunity now.'

The other demons turned back to their own business. It was dangerous to stare in Bezejel's direction for too long.

'We have known for a long time that Nancy is a Jew. That was a factor in her selection. But not the only factor. Here is why she excites us. We have looked back many generations into her past and there are significant character strengths in one of her ancestors which we can, with care, bring forward to poison her mind permanently. Those strengths include ambition and lust for power in impressive quantities. What you see in Nancy now is like the painted flower that conceals a hidden serpent under it. Soon you will see the serpent, dragon even, reveal itself in her and lay the foundations of the empire that will last a thousand years.'

'Dragon?' Bezejel knew that Hideki had exposed her lack of attention to detail. But her curiosity was aroused.

'Yes, dragon. Seems there is a connection to the Orient that was made by a Russian ancestor. Most interesting.' Hideki looked down at the glass in front of him, apparently lost in thought.

Few demons were able to forget they were in Bezejel's presence. But Hideki seemed determined to prove that he was not frightened by her. He removed his legs from his footrest and said something to it. The slavegirl inched forwards with her head down and began to lap from the bowl. Even by the standards of Inferno she was thin and dirty.

'I want to know more about the ancestor, Hideki. The Leader has put me in charge of the project. Is the ancestor Russian or Chinese?'

'All in good time, Bezejel,' he said patiently. He gave another command to the slavegirl who immediately ceased her drinking and returned to her former position. Hideki replaced his feet on her back.

He looked at Bezejel again. 'But for now, did you notice the start of my seed trail?'

'If you mean the capital R, yes. Of course I saw it. What comes next?'

'That is our dragon seed trail. It is our code. It will spell out the person that Nancy will become. Once she has followed the trail to its end and spelt out the entire name, eaten all the seeds, so to speak, she will be convinced that the name was meant for her. She will see it as her destiny. She will be excited by her new name and will become it. She will be ours.'

'How does it actually work Hideki?'

'It will work because we will lead her down a series of paths which will cut her dependency on others until she lives only for herself. She will be emotionally isolated. She will lose her belief in the natural goodness of humanity and sink deeper and deeper into our way of thinking. At that point she will be presented with something mysterious which she wants to believe. She will have left her old self behind and she will be ready for her new life. Then the unseen bonds that connect generations of families together will become pathways transporting the sins of the fathers to the sons and the sins of the mothers to the daughters. For seven generations. The dark qualities of her ancestor will cascade through the centuries between them and will be manifested fully in her. She will be both powerful and deadly. It is all about the timing.'

'What's the next seed in the trail, Hideki? The next letter in the code?'

But for answer, Hideki turned away and resumed his gaze into the distance. He was as obstinate as he was clever. He wasn't going to just roll over and divulge all his work to Bezejel at her whim. Not over drinks at Navaho's anyway.

Bezejel looked around her. Everywhere there were vixens scurrying from bar to table with drinks. There were demons escorting squaws to the spiral staircases. And there were satyrs and imps from many different army groups drinking to oblivion.

In one area a fight had broken out and two drunken jager imps were trying to cut each other's throats with the rusted edge of a fuel can. No-one was paying any attention to them. But the noise was intense nonetheless. In the background the doom doom beat added to the sense of frenzy. It wasn't a good place to be planning a strategy.

'Hideki, I want you to come to our next squad briefing. Captain Kodrob and his crew need to hear directly from you about your planned activities. We have to remember that we're all on the same team here. We win together or we lose together. What do you say?'

Hideki, surprised, put down his drink in front of him. He loomed his face up at hers, searching her eyes, trying to read her intent.

'Very well,' he responded finally, sitting back. 'I will come. But don't try to interfere in my scheme. And don't,' he wagged a finger at her, 'try to control me.'

Bezejel grasped his hand with the still wagging finger and shook it.

'It's a deal,' she replied instantly. 'But I'll go one better than that.'

'How so?'

'If we succeed in bringing Nancy to Inferno, I plan to send her straightaway to Tyrant's Fall. But if it would motivate you, Hideki, I will delay her departure there. I could send her to you first. She could be your plaything.' Bezejel looked down at the still-life footstool under his feet. 'You can do anything you wish with her. For as long as you want.'

Hideki removed his glasses. He looked up at Bezejel with cold eyes as a smile grew across his face.

'Thank you Bezejel,' he said. 'Consider me motivated.'

Nancy's Apartment, Eilat, Israel

The Arab walked purposefully up the narrow road towards the apartment that Nancy and her friends had hired for their holiday. The mid-morning sun was exceptionally bright and its slanted rays created a lane of two halves. Wherever the light shone in across the rooftops and poured itself over the white wall of houses on one side, everything seemed friendly, bright and cheerful. But on the other side where the shadows fell it was cold, brooding and still. The light spoke of growth and change. The dark whispered of stagnation and stolen hope.

The wooden door to Nancy's apartment was in full sun and already hot to the touch. A small hanging pot of primroses near its top corner danced lightly in the breeze coming in from the nearby Gulf of Aqaba. A bee reversed out of one of its flowers, selected another, landed, hesitated then flew off in a hurry.

The Arab slowed his pace till he stood in front of Nancy's door, casting his shadow over it. He took a last pull on his cigarette, threw the butt behind him and prepared to knock. He was looking forward to his encounter.

Habib Bourguiba was from Aqaba, just two miles away along the coast in Jordan. Though his family were too poor even to own a camel, Habib was born with one great advantage. He was raffishly handsome. Over the years his dashing good looks would turn many a veiled head - and many a non-veiled one. Indeed if the birth angel had waited just a few hours for the world to turn before he planted Habib naked upon its surface, Habib could have easily found his fortune in Hollywood's studios and made a mogul or two very rich.

Never mind, the fates were not so easily thwarted. If Habib could not go to Hollywood, they instead brought Hollywood to Habib. When he was 20 years old and whistling away his days repairing his father's nets while simultaneously avoiding the fathers of two young women he had carelessly impregnated, a warm summer evening brought into Aqaba's tiny harbour a rare sight. It was a two-masted luxury sloop with a Kenyan crew, an ancient South African captain and two slightly used Los Angeles starlets, names that had graced the screens more than 10 years before and who were now enjoying their after-fame years cruising the seas, indulging the senses and mooching the middle eastern muscle.

Habib saw the arrival of the cruise boat and word soon spread of its two minor celebrities. He sensed an opportunity immediately and acted fast. He sought out his friend Hamid, another footloose Aqaban with as many holes in his pockets as Habib had in his morals.

Rapidly coaching Hamid in etiquette, English and dress sense, Habib led the swarthy pair to the quayside an hour later just as the actresses' boat-taxi brought them to the port.

'Good evening, lovely ladies. How are you tonight? This is Hamid and I Habib and we your escorts for the evening.'

The two American women looked up at Habib with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. They were not naïve, they knew that many would see them as easy targets. But the quiet port scene looked as harmless as an oasis to thirsty travellers and surely, they figured, it would be nice to have a local to show them around?

Anyway an adventure beckoned and another night with just the two of them talking to each other would be such a bore. Besides, Habib was every bit the gentleman, helping the ladies onto the quay with his strong arms and playing the smiling romancer with the devilish composure of a dark Clark Gable. He was fun, friendly and so, so handsome.

So, so devious too.

When the two men left the sloop early the next morning after a night of eating, joking and carnal pleasure and very satisfied with their night's endeavours, one of the grateful ex-leading ladies emerged after them onto the deck. She pulled her robe around her, kissed Habib on the lips and pressed $100 into his hand saying 'That's for the two of you to share.'

But Habib was not the sharing kind. After coaxing Hamid into an almond orchard where the two could be alone and plan their next escapade together, Habib slew Hamid with a knife slipped under his ribs into his heart. Habib held his friend while he slid to the ground then buried his body and pulled the sun-dried leather carcase of a dead donkey over it to keep the dogs away.

Habib began to pursue his new career on the wrong side of the law with vigour. He was surprised at how easy it was to make money from giving people what they wanted. Sex, drugs, car radios, whatever. He found he had a natural flair for crime. But his growing ambitions meant he needed a bigger theatre to work in. It wasn't long before he had moved from the backwater of Aqaba across the border into the relative boomtown that was Israel's own Red Sea port, Eilat. Israel had access to western tourists in a way that Aqaba didn't and money and investment were flowing into Eilat like sun cream sloshing over white skin. Hotels were rising, restaurants were opening, cruise boats were multiplying and tourists were arriving by the charter-load, browning themselves on the sand and splashing in the warm water gulf.

But in the evenings tourists wanted fun. Families wanted hamburgers and innocent cartoon films. Youthful holidaymakers wanted soft drugs. And older single tourists wanted discreet sex. Habib understood these needs and set out to meet them all. Particularly the latter two.

Before long he came to the attention of the Israeli constabulary. These were on a mission to keep Eilat free from crime so that Israel could continue to earn huge amounts of foreign exchange from tourism. Habib's Arab credentials made him of more than usual interest to them. But his instinctive understanding of power and his ability to placate it meant that he worked within the system, not outside it.

Israeli officialdom was initially suspicious of this smooth, handsome bedouin but Habib was respectful towards uniforms and made sure he regularly performed favours for them.

Frequently he turned in fellow Arabs who tried to carve out their own crime niche without cutting him in. This both endeared him to the police as well as removed competitors from the field. Sometimes he informed on tourists that he had just sold drugs to (which helped the police get their conviction rates up). And once he handed in the rifle of an Israeli soldier who had left it in a bus shelter.

Habib knew how to make friends where it mattered.

But unbeknownst to Habib, or the Police, another group had become interested in him. This group were based far from Israel and were building a drug supply chain that could take illegal compounds in any direction around the globe, safely. They were impressed with Habib's unusual ability to develop a criminal enterprise whilst simultaneously working with the authorities. They valued discretion.

For months they shadowed his activities, crossing his path only to observe him more closely. In Habib they saw a natural lieutenant who shared their values and who could help them in their global endeavours. They particularly needed a reliable fixer in the Middle East, it being the nexus of Africa, Asia and Europe.

Eventually the group made contact with Habib. They sent two of their senior members to Eilat specially to interview him.

The two emissaries spelt out their society's mission of global domination and their peculiar code of honour. They highlighted the failures of European and American criminal networks and ridiculed them as short-termist and clumsy. They pointed out the material benefits of membership of their group and emphasised the power of their gathering influence in governments and boardrooms around the globe.

Habib was mesmerised. Here were friends that had no interest in whether he was Arab or Jew. They saw no ethnic or national boundaries. They would be his new family and help him succeed as he helped them. They wanted only his unswerving loyalty.

This group was Brother.

Nancy was alone inside the apartment. She swallowed the last crust of a piece of toast and sipped her instant coffee. Beside her on the sofa was the detritus of the boys' breakfast. Men's socks, jeans, a cassette player and some batteries lay scattered on the floor like a latterday Marie Celeste.

There was a knock.

Nancy put down her cup, went to the door and opened it. Outside was the Arab man who had sold them the drugs last night. He was standing alone, dressed in a very smart suit and highly polished brown shoes.

'May I come in? I need to discuss.'

'Er, what?' said Nancy, trying to recover from her surprise.

But Habib was already walking into the corridor, pushing past her. A waft of tobacco smoke combined with strong cologne assaulted her nostrils. She closed the door behind her but left it on the latch.

'Please to sit down.' Habib stood in the centre of the small living room and gestured towards the sofa.

'So kind of you to let me sit in my own room.'

'Actually, this is my room. My name is Habib, at your service. I rent out this room, and some others', he waved his hand airily 'to help out the tourist industry.'

'Oh', said Nancy momentarily taken aback.

'You like my house?'

'It's fine. Actually it's a bit small', she recovered. 'I'm used to more space. Have you got anything bigger?'

His demeanour changed sharply. 'You must come with me. Some friends of mine need help. You will be back in a day or so.'

'Day or so? But I've got Martin, Pete and Andy to look after. They're my friends. I can't just leave them.' Nancy's mind was whirring. He couldn't make her go with him, surely? But he seemed so confident.

'Oh yes, your friends.' He regarded her with a slight sneer for a few seconds.

Did he know about the sex, thought Nancy. How could he? Oh, it's his property of course. A hidden camera, a microphone?

Habib interrupted her thoughts. 'Get some paper and a pen. I'm sure you brought some with you to write home. You are going to write your friends a note.'

But Habib had pushed Nancy beyond a certain point. She was suddenly on her feet before he realised she had even moved.

'I'm not writing anyone a note and if you think I am you've got cotton wool for brains and if you don't get out of my house this instant I'll call the police. Now good day mister, close the door behind you.'

The tirade was delivered in a rising crescendo. Habib's mouth dropped open as he surveyed the transformation of nervous young female into flinty jabberwock in front of his eyes.

If Habib had been unaccompanied it would have been a victory to Nancy like a mother rabbit seeing off the weasel that invades its home. But the day was full of surprises.

A click of the latch and the door opened. A figure appeared in the threshold dressed in the uniform of the Israeli police. The policeman had his hand on his holster and spoke to Habib in a language Nancy could not understand. Habib turned his head a little and spoke back. Then another Israeli policeman appeared. They stood and waited, apparently respectful of Habib. The weasel had friends.

'You see,' said Habib. 'I am in charge here.' He waited for the evident truth of his words to sink in. 'Now enough of your womanly temper. Get the paper and pen. If you refuse I have your friends arrested. There were witnesses who saw them buy hashish last night.'

'From you,' shouted Nancy in a rising panic.

'There are photographs.' Habib raised his voice, he was used to intimidating others. 'They show you and your friends buying hashish from a man who has his back to the camera. He cannot be identified. It's a shame. For you. And I think we find remains of hashish cigarettes in your bin if we take a look?'

He indicated the policemen with a slight incline of his head. Then he returned his eyes to look intently at her and allow time for his words to take effect.

Nancy's fury faded and her shoulders slumped. Images of courtrooms and prison cells came into her mind.

'Now, if you please.' Habib had won the first battle.

Nancy alighted from Habib's car onto a large flight apron. A variety of aircraft, mostly military, were parked to left and right of her. Beyond the aerodrome was nothing but desert in all directions. It was completely secluded. She reached into her handbag for sunglasses.

Stretching away from the apron was the runway which disappeared from sight in the heat haze. It was still morning. Only an hour before Nancy had still been the little girl on holiday with three boy academics, passing the time till they returned home.

Nearby, a refuelling truck serviced a twin-engined light plane. Beside it some men were unloading boxes from the cavernous interior of a huge four-engined transport monster.

Hangars bearing logos and corporation names in both English and Israeli alphabets stood next to each other. A control tower was visible far off.

'What's this aerodrome called?' Nancy's professional interest had overridden her fear. 'It's not on the map. Do charter flights come here?'

'Now, Nancy', he began. He had discovered her name and a lot more about her as she had written the letter he'd dictated. 'There's no reason to be afraid. If you do exactly as I say you will be back in a couple of days, three at most.' He had ignored her question. 'Then you can resume your holiday and the police will forget about the drugs.' Habib was all charm now. Nancy looked at him in awe.

'You will get on an aeroplane and take a flight. Quite a long flight. When you get off you will be in West Africa. You will be met by a man called Lafi. Lafi will ask you to drive a lorry. You can drive, yes?'

His face descended aggressively on hers, forcing her to jerk her head back.

'Yes,' she replied reactively before thinking why didn't I say no? 'But I don't have a driving licence. I'm not legal. Not legal to drive.'

'Don't worry,' he smiled condescendingly, 'you won't need a driving licence where you're going. Lafi has to transport some medicines,' he continued with barely a break in his flow 'for the UN. United Nations. Medicines that will save lives, to another area away from his home. But it is, how do I say, difficult.'

He looked down at her with the face of a frustrated saint. He was just a good man trying to bring hope to the suffering and all around him were selfish people getting in the way of his and his friends' noble actions. Nancy was impressed by Habib's ability to paint himself with a halo. A natural manipulator.

'Those people, you see,' he went on with a knowing look to Nancy, 'are tribal. They are not like us.'

'Us,' exclaimed Nancy. Who are 'us'?'

'So Lafi, who is bringing medicines across a border,' Habib ignored her again, 'is being stopped because he is one tribe and the other people are another tribe.'

Nancy leant back against the car and put her head in her hands. She stared down at the tarmac in front of her and at the planes around. She could see Habib was watching her closely. He didn't pause for a moment.

'So this is where you can help, Nancy. You can drive the lorry. For the UN. And deliver the medicines. And then you come home. OK? Nice girl like you, in Africa. They will let you go through. You aid worker, OK? You pretend you aid worker, OK?'

'I don't want to do it. I can't. I'm just a girl. I'm a travel agent. On holiday.' Nancy felt she had to fight back, somehow. Plead uselessness. Play the girly card. Anything.

Habib was relentless. 'If you don't help me, your friends, I can't help them. They go to jail. Get criminal record. Go back to England with criminal record. OK? What happen to them then? What happen, Nancy? They get 'international drug dealer' stamped in passport. That's what happen. By Israel court. Then no job forever.' He stared at her until they both realised she had no answer. 'You help me and the UN. Then I help your friends. OK Nancy?'

Nancy still held her hands on the side of her head. She swayed slightly side to side, rocking against the car.

He raised his voice. 'OK Nancy?'

'OK,' she said eventually, her voice as quiet as the night. Defeated.

'Good girl, I know you come through this Nancy. You got spirit. You got...' He thought for a moment. 'True grit. I can feel it.'

Nancy didn't feel very gritty. She felt tired, forlorn and beaten.

'Look.' One last try. 'You must have someone else. You surely can't be sending a plane all the way to Timbuktu just to take me there. Isn't there someone else more local you can use? Someone who knows the area? A real aid worker maybe?'

She was clutching at straws and Habib knew it.

'The plane is already going there. It's taking a very important cargo to our friends. Israel's friends that is. In Africa. They call it the Flying Hippo. It's just there.' He indicated a 4-engined transport about 200 yards away. 'Then you came along Nancy and I saw you and it was like a gift.' Gloating filled his smile like a Barbary pirate greeting newly-captured slaves. 'You appeared at just the right moment. You were the last piece of the jigsaw and I knew you had been sent. It was an act of Providence.'

Nancy's face was expressionless. She felt like a ladybird trapped in a matchbox.

'Now walk down there,' ordered Habib pointing again at the 4-engined plane. The covers were open on two of its engines and several mechanics were inspecting them.

'Go to the plane and wait for Ilan. He will tell you where to sit. Do exactly as he says. Now go. I have matters to attend to.' But Habib was looking about him, a little nervously. Nancy set off in the direction of the plane. She scuffed her feet on the tarmac and kicked a small stone.

When she turned to look back at the bully Arab, he was talking with another man. They both glanced in her direction from time to time. She threw Habib a look of disgust. He ignored her.

Nancy arrived at the plane. Its huge loading ramp was down. The dark interior was like a vast stomach that would swallow her up. The two mechanics on the wing ignored her and passed each other spanners and wrenches. They replaced a panel and screwed it tight.

She walked up the ramp. Its immense hold was filled with a variety of military equipment. There was a field gun on wheels and a jeep and a half-track with a machine gun pointing rearwards. There were also stacks of wooden boxes piled on top of each other and roped to the plane's ribs on either side so they wouldn't topple over if it were buffeted in a storm.

A voice behind her. 'Nancy, I am Ilan.' It was the other man Habib had been talking to. 'Any friend of Habib is a friend of mine. Pleased to meet you,' he declared proudly.

Friend of mine? Is he kidding?

Ilan didn't look like an Arab. He had a pale complexion and looked like a westerner.

'Look, I'm being kidnapped,' she blurted. 'Habib, he gave us drugs. Me and my friends. He gave us drugs and then trapped us. Ilan, please call the police.'

'It's OK, I'm going to get you out of here,' smiled Ilan.

'You are?'

'Sure, in about half an hour you'll be heading out across the apron and getting ready for take-off,' he was laughing at his own clever irony. Then seeing her alarm he became serious. 'Look, Habib said you'd be a bit panicky. But it'll be fine. Habib has it all organised down to the last detail. You'll be back here in no time. You'll be back with your friends after you've helped him out. Thanks for what you're doing.'

'So who are you? Who do you work for?' pleaded Nancy.

'Let's just say I work for an organisation that fills in where government leaves off. Governments are weak. They need difficult things done but can't do them. That's where we come in. Me and my friends do things no-one else can. And sometimes we work with Habib's group. They're people I respect. They do what they say they will.' Ilan was calm and pleasantly spoken but the look in his eyes showed he was as open to persuasion as a prison door. He was not about to let Nancy go free.

'Now if you'd like to get aboard, I'll show you around the bird and you can meet the pilot. Would you like some coffee?'

Nancy knew that she was out of options and that escape was unlikely. Even if she managed to run away, the boys would be like grasshoppers in a lizard's cage. Habib was as close to a human reptile as she could imagine and the area around Eilat was his dominion. He could hurt the boys a lot. She reluctantly continued her walk up the ramp into the hold while Ilan followed her. He showed her to a pull-down seat built into the ribs of the plane, sat her in it and pulled down another seat beside her.

'Now, listen carefully,' he said, checking that she was paying attention, 'while I explain what you have to do and how you are going to get back here safely.'

Ilan took out a map of West Africa and spread it across his knees.

For the next quarter hour he explained to Nancy in detail what her mission would be when the plane arrived in Gambia.

'So in summary,' he concluded, 'Lafi will meet you at Banjul airport. You are going to help him rescue a consignment of urgent medical supplies that is stuck in Senegal because of a tribal conflict. Together you will drive an empty UN lorry on the outbound journey. There is a border crossing to pass through. But here your skin colour will help. Your pale complexion will help you pass unhindered across the border without many difficult questions being asked. When the supplies are loaded you'll drive them back into Gambia and deliver them to other people in the capital. Once that's done your mission is accomplished. They will take them and distribute them where they are needed. OK?'

'Medical supplies,' said Nancy sarcastically. 'Really?'

Ilan didn't try very hard to convince her that the aid imperative behind the mission was genuine. It was obvious that Habib and whoever else he was working with were involved in something dangerous and illegal.

'So why me?' Nancy demanded bitterly. 'Why fly me all the way across a continent just to drive a lorry a few miles?'

She had asked Habib the same question but she now asked Ilan, just to see if she got the same answer.

'You were in the right place at the right time. This plane was scheduled for Gambia anyway so it was easy to put you on it. You turned up just when Habib needed you and it sounds crazy but it was easier to fly you out there and back than to try and source someone local in the time available. These 'medical supplies', Ilan emphasised the words, all pretence at innocence long since gone, 'are extremely valuable to Habib's organisation and the short journey you'll be taking them on has been the one weak link in the chain. Once you've delivered them to Banjul the rest of the supply chain kicks into gear. Now, no more questions.' His tone had abruptly altered as though he regretted having said too much.

At that moment a man in a flight suit emerged from the cabin at the front of the plane and came towards them. He spoke briefly to Ilan and then returned where he had come.

Ilan turned towards Nancy. 'Show time, little lady,' he announced as if he'd learnt his English from watching movies. He reached across her and took hold of her seat belt buckle, pulled it back towards him and clipped it into its socket. 'You're clear for take-off. I'll see you in a day or two.'

With that he stood up and walked out and down the ramp and strode off as if he was heading for a day at the office. Seconds later Nancy heard the sounds of engines coughing and firing as the four propeller turbines kicked themselves into life, one after the other. Diesel fumes swirled into the rear of the plane. A grinding sound followed sending vibrations through the hull and up through her seat. The ramp slowly drew itself up and closed with a hollow metallic clunk. There was near darkness inside the hull. Nancy felt sudden panic and unhooked her safety belt to stand up. The plane had started to taxi but she walked around the space close to her, holding on to the vehicles and boxes to steady herself. As she walked beside a jeep she noticed wing mirrors protruding from the side and stooped down to look at herself in the reflection. It was the same old Nancy looking back at her, just a little more sweat streaked than usual. Somehow she found her own image oddly comforting. Then she looked in the jeep's door window at something that caught her eye.

'Not again,' she gasped to herself.

A large lower case letter e was clearly visible hanging in the air just the other side of the glass, a black shadow edged in white. She looked behind her for its source. Nothing. As she looked back at the e again its sharply defined edges turned slowly red, glowed hot, then seemed to burn for a few seconds and went out leaving no trace. The inside of the jeep looked back at her.

Nancy stood up, breathing deeply, holding onto the roof of the jeep. She looked about her at the shadows, at the vehicles, at the fume-laden air. 'What do you want?' she screamed 'What do you WANT?'

Heaven's Shore

All was quiet. Completely and totally quiet. Jabez picked up a stone and threw it down the shore. It hit the sand with a soft thud. The deafening silence folded back in immediately.

No wind blew the grass. No birds sang. Nothing moved. There were no distractions. There was no Music.

Across the divide Inferno was dark. No light of lava shone up from below.

There were no friends dropping in either, distracting him with talk of exciting projects or audiences with the Lamb.

The Lamb. He could solve this whole issue right now with a wave of his hand if he wanted to. Why didn't he? Why were bosses always there when they wanted to give orders but never around when there was work to be done?

One thing was sure. If Jabez didn't come to Nancy's aid, nobody would.

Painful as it was, Jabez knew that someone had to take charge of this assignment. And that someone was he.

He plucked the inch-diameter globe from his side and held it between both forefingers. Opening his arms till his hands were twelve inches apart, the globe expanded too, filling the gap between them. The face of Ruth came up and looked out at him. The eyes opened.

'Jabez, Luke said y'all might call,' she greeted with a voice that jangled of pure Texas. 'How wonderful to meet you. Sounds like you've landed a humdinger of a project there. I only get asked to join in really boring things, never anything so swashbuckling. It must be such fun.'

Ruth had blue hair, the colour of a summer sky and a pale complexion with just the faintest hint of added colour on her red lips. Her eyes were also blue and she wore earrings of liquid sapphire whose fluid elements gathered themselves in ripples that swirled this way and that within their tear-drop shape and then dashed themselves like waves on a shore. It was some of the finest micro-engineering Jabez had ever seen. The feathers at the top of her folded wings were also a pale blue which gave way at shoulder height to an ivory tone whose softness you could almost feel just by looking at it.

All angels were beautiful, Jabez thought, yet all individual. How could beauty be formed in so many different ways?

'Ruth. Thanks for your welcome. Yes, I'm having so much fun I just don't know what to do with it all. Actually the fun is so intense I think I'm going to have to give some of it away. No, I'm not going to give it away I'm going to sell it, it's just too good. Ruth what are you going to bid me for some of this fun I'm having out here all alone, out of hearing of the Music and just a few paces from the edge of the Abyss?'

'Oh Jabez, come now, it can't be that bad. You'll look back on this isolation one day and laugh.'

'Well, I look forward to that day,' said Jabez forcing himself to put aside his mordant humour.

'Look Ruth, can I come in? Or are you busy?'

Ruth looked about her in pretend surprise, then back at Jabez. 'Why, the place is a mess Jabez but sure, come right on in. I was just about to tidy up.'

Jabez placed his hands again on the sides of the globe, then opened his arms rapidly as if he was parting curtains. The globe expanded instantly to the size of a room. Jabez put his foot forward and stepped inside.

He was still on Heaven's shore but angel technology allowed him to feel as though he was right inside Ruth's mansion. He could even see all her furniture and belongings exactly as if they were around him.

Paradise was a great place for inventors and creative types. No-one was going to steal your ideas or prototypes and it felt great when people adopted your products. There was no money. Progress happened because angels loved to make others' lives easier. The economy worked because angels and non-angels alike (not all Heaven-dwellers were full-flighted angels) made things for fun and gave them away for free. If you needed bread you went to a baker who gave you the loaves you needed. If the baker needed skis for her holiday she went to a sports equipment maker who gave them to her. If the ski maker needed trees for her garden she went to a grower who helped her choose the right species and gave her as many as she wanted. Everyone lived according to their talents and contribution, no-one demanded more than they deserved.

The globe was one of those technology breakthroughs that had come about because someone realised angels needed more than a telephone. A huge industry had built up around it adding refinements, services and life-enhancing features.

Jabez's globe allowed him to walk inside Ruth's mansion and feel almost as though he was really there.

He looked around him and took in the enormous pearl and ivory-themed room with a dazzling marble and quartz floor and cushionettes that seated you as if on warm air. Behind Ruth, out through a portico of purest jet was a swimming pool with hover-fountains and fish that leapt out, flew around and dived back in. Surrounding that was a tropical garden with birds of fantastical colours and a dozen varieties of ripe fruit trees.

'Work harder, Ruth, and you'll eventually be able to move out of this depressing pad and into somewhere bright and cheerful. Don't give up. You'll look back on this destitution one day and laugh.'

Ruth looked back at Jabez with a wide smile but didn't say anything. She turned and sat down on one of her cushionettes and gestured for him to sit. Jabez moved to his side and sat on a rock. He was still on Heaven's shore.

'I'd get you a coffee Jabez but...'

'Yeah, I know, they're working on it. Probably have globe-to-globe drinks in the next release.' Some of these jokes were old but Jabez and Ruth hadn't met before so they felt like new.

'Now Jabez, tell me what's going on in your world. I'm not sure there's anything I can do to help, I'm incredibly busy. But I promised Luke I'd listen to you.'

She's just preparing the ground, Jabez told himself. If I don't sell this project well, she can easily excuse herself and back out.

'OK here goes.' And Jabez told Ruth about Nancy and Bezejel and a big letter R and a small e. And how Infernals had seen more to Nancy than they had a right to. And all the other things that didn't make sense. After an hour he concluded his presentation. 'So we think there's some kind of coded message being given to this young woman Nancy but we don't know what it is or why. And then we thought we might have a better chance of working out what the message might be if we knew how to read Nancy's ancestral makeup.'

Ruth allowed a silence to fall as she looked at Jabez for a minute.

'I've had a word,' she said quietly. 'From above.'

'How far above?'

She waited a few seconds.

'Above.'

Not that far above, surely, thought Jabez. What had he got into?

'They're up to something,' continued Ruth. 'The other side I mean.'

'That's an understatement. Look,' said Jabez suddenly, 'if 'Above' are interested in this, then maybe I'm not the right angel for the job. I'm basically still a cherub. They obviously need someone with more experience. Someone who's done this before. Look, I'm not too proud to step aside...'

'Funny thing about this Nancy,' said Ruth, ignoring him. 'She's got quite a history, did you know?'

'No, how would I?'

'I've been looking into her. Fascinating young lady. So shallow, so deep. Wouldn't hurt a fly but could destroy a civilisation.'

'Ouch. That sounds..big.' Jabez was genuinely shocked. 'OK I think I should go back and prepare to hand over to someone else...'

'You'll do nothing of the sort.' Ruth was still smiling. But a firmness had come into her speech.

'Higher Up has made a good choice. I've been assessing you as you've been speaking. You're the right one for this task. There's no doubt in my mind about it. If you're here to invite me to join your team, I'm delighted to accept. I'll help you as much as I can.'

'Whoah.' Jabez's face had fallen like an avalanche. 'This is a lot to take in. Luke already told me that the enemy are planning an assault on all of humanity, not just one woman. But I wasn't sure if he'd got that right. Now you're telling me that 'above' have had a word with you. Forgive me. I feel like I've been sent out to the store for milk and run into an armed robbery on the way. Bezejel. Now it makes sense. They wouldn't have a senior demoness like her fighting over a single girl's soul. I should have known.'

Ruth said nothing.

'You're sure there's nothing I can do to get out of this?'

'Short of turning in your wings. If that was possible. No.' Ruth's implacable features were a clear No Exit sign.

Jabez blew out a long breath. 'Well then. If Higher Up has chosen me, I don't have any problem asking for your help. Thank you, Ruth. You're hired. You know, I was afraid you'd be a hard catch to land.'

Ruth laughed. 'You might change your mind after a while. I'm known to be a little insubordinate.' She threw her head back and a blue shimmer ran across her shoulders as they shook. 'Maybe you've heard.'

'I heard. You certainly don't mind challenging authority.' But Jabez was smiling too. She was tough. But her laughter was a treeful of robins.

'I don't challenge authority for the fun of it. The facts spoke for themselves. If you're talking about the Skajj case, that is.'

'I am.'

'Well that's all in the past. This is a new page. A new story. From this moment on I report to you directly. But you're the boss. And I haven't been sent to spy on you. Now tell me what you want from me.'

'Very well,' he drew in a deep breath. 'Ruth, I want to know about Nancy. I want to know what she is capable of and under what circumstances. If she is shallow now, what is it that is going to trigger her hidden depths? How does the enemy see her? If you were them, what would you be doing now to manipulate her character and turn it to evil?' Jabez was looking directly at Ruth all the while he spoke. He felt calm and rational, not frightened. He felt power flowing through him, his authority growing even as he spoke. Confidence that had recently failed him was returning. Maybe he was the right angel for the job after all.

'When and how do you want my report?' Ruth was equally business-like.

'Good question,' replied Jabez. 'Let's say in two hours' time, if you can manage that. I'll have Luke available too. But I want to try and contact Agatha, who is a code breaker. If I can reach her in time and pull her into the team she can listen in to your briefing too.'

'Very good, Sir. I'll be ready.' Wow, thought Jabez, no-one's ever called me 'Sir' before.

He stood up and smiled at Ruth before side-stepping away from the rock and then stepping back sharply two paces. The enlarged globe was now in front of him. He had left its cosy environment behind. He clapped his hands once and the globe shrank to its 12 inch diameter.

Not far in front of him the divide crackled and spat where the jagged edge of Inferno continually looked for a weakness in Paradise's defence and was continually repelled. To each side of him small beach cobbles sat among the shingle on the shore, perforated here and there by long reeds and grasses. Small flowers topped the grass stems, with two black dots on each petal like sentinels looking out, ready to give warning of an invasion. The atmosphere on the shore was peaceful and calm enough but there was a brooding tension there too as in the moment before a hurricane strikes.

Jabez once again engaged his mind with the clouds of synthetic synapses inside the sphere in front of him.

Swiftly they arranged themselves into biographies, faces, stories and facts in the same elegant pictogramic alphabet used by the neurons in his own brain. There was no need to translate clumsy letters and words into a form that his mind could process. The globe was designed to replicate his spiritual thought patterns and act as an extension to his memory.

Luke was searching for him at the same time and beat him to it.

'Jabez, you're looking intense. You need to relax, fellow.' Luke's face peered out from beneath the Stetson, his black cheeks framing a smile filled with white corn-fed teeth.

'Ah yes, Luke. I am relaxed. Actually I'm so relaxed I'm bored. Intensely bored. I don't know what to do with my time. Why don't you come down here for a round of golf?'

Luke sipped his roasted bean drink. 'I know just the place when this is all over,' he replied. 'Eighteen holes on eighteen mountains in the Celador range. Takes about a month. It's a par 968. There are snowy greens and red-moss greens and yellow lichen greens and evergreen greens. There are fairways that go right through mountains where deep-digging prairie cats steel your golf ball if they get a chance. You drive through mile-wide cilabuk trees whose roofs have age-rings that give off a stunning, pulsing light. You soar over some astonishing canyons with thermals that fling you up to the sky and suck you down to the rocks like a ball on a rubber band. And you drive and fly right through crystal waterfalls colder than ice. It's what wings are for.'

'It's a deal. In the meantime...'

'In the meantime,' agreed Luke, 'I've spoken to Agatha. She's new to Paradise, dewy-eyed and still finding her feathers but she's as keen as a knife and sharp as mustard.'

'You're mingling your similes again.'

'Mangling them more like. Why don't we have a triangular so you can meet her with me looking on and see if you like her?'

'Enigma, huh?'

'Yeah.'

'She know Turing?'

'Certainly did. She was his understudy and followed him around, learning all his ways. Few people could keep up with him. Agatha came closest. She said he could think around corners.'

'Where's Turing now?'

'He's up in the gods with Archangel Esther. You won't get him. He's turned away from code-breaking now and working on a prototype of the parallel lives stuff in the Eighth Dimension. You know, where you can watch yourself as you make different choices and then choose the one that has the best outcome. You need a heavyweight mathematician for that kind of thing.'

'OK. Let's get back to Agatha. I've arranged with Ruth that she's going to brief me on Nancy in a short while. Why don't you and Agatha join us for that? That can be where Agatha makes her entrance to the team. I don't think I'll have time to make her acquaintance properly before then. She'll have to hit the ground running and we'll all get to know each other as we go forward.'

'Sure if that's what you want. I'll make sure we're both there.'

'Done.'

Serrekunda, Gambia, West Africa.

Lafi Touray gunned the engine on the ten-ton troop truck one more time and swore loudly in dialect. The huge vehicle lunged forward out of the hole in the dirt road that had virtually swallowed his front wheel.

'Ah bah raka' - 'Thank you,' he shouted through the open window in Mandinka to the three young men who had come to his aid, pushing the rear of the vehicle with all their might. Lafi threw a few coins out of the window in parting. Not too many that they would talk about him to others and not too few that they might harbour a grievance against him. It didn't do to make unnecessary enemies in his line of business. He had enough enemies already.

He checked his wing mirror and was relieved to see that the three men were casually walking back to their compound-cum-drink store, a hundred yards back down the road. They showed no body language that might indicate they had discovered what cargo he was carrying and were rushing to call the police.

A hundred yards later and the dirt road became tarmac, a huge relief after the constant lurching of the last forty miles.

Up ahead Lafi could see lights. Within minutes he found himself approaching Serrekunda market, only a couple of miles from Banjul. It was Friday evening and the market was closed and virtually deserted. That suited him perfectly.

He pulled into the dusty lorry park that was used by all the meat and produce sellers, found himself a spot in the shadows and reversed the lorry into it. Then he killed the lights and switched off the engine. So far so good, but the next few hours would be critical. Would Brother deliver?

Lafi opened the door of his cab, swung himself out onto the metal step and descended to the ground. He shook his arms out and arched his back, using the stretching exercise as a cover to look around and see if anyone was watching him. When he was sure he was not being observed he moved slowly to the rear. The canvas sides of the vehicle bore the huge logo of the tour company, GambiSafari.

The truck was designed to carry soldiers. This was an old model and had been sold off by the country's military to the tourist trade. Now it mostly carried visiting westerners such as birdwatchers and wildlife photographers, eager to explore the lush forests in the east of the country with their startling rollers, hornbills and jacanas. Today however, Lafi's truck had a different cargo.

He pulled at the four tie ropes that secured the canvas cover to the rear tailboard, still looking about him as he did so. Then pulling back the cover just a little he brought his head up close to the opening. He recoiled immediately and turned his head away, coughing and screwing up his eyes. When he had recovered he took a deep breath of fresh air and held it while he returned and pulled the canvas back again. As he peered in cautiously thirty-five pairs of eyes gazed back at him. They barely moved as Lafi looked left to right and front to back, counting the heads. The thirty-five children were clearly terrified and their frozen attitudes betrayed their fear. One little girl held another in her arms who sobbed and wiped her face with a tiny hand. Lafi breathed out through his nose..

'Give me the bucket,' he ordered. A boy stood and lifted the handle of a large plastic bucket. The handle was soiled with human waste but Lafi couldn't worry about that now. He would wash his hands later. It was more important to keep his charges where they were than to worry about minor matters like child shit.

Lafi took the bucket and swung it over the tailboard and placed it by his feet.
'Stay where you are,' he ordered roughly. 'I'll be back in a minute and then we'll see about some food.'

As he took the waste bucket away to empty it, Lafi contemplated his next major challenge.

Westerners could be gullible and credulous. But they could also be sceptical and savvy. He might have to use all of his powers of persuasion to convince the man - for a man it would surely be - that his southward mission was noble and humanitarian. If persuasion failed, what then?

Lafi's nostrils picked up the delicious aroma of spiced meat roasting over a barbecue at an eating-house on the road nearby. He walked over.

'Hey,' he called. 'You got steak? How much for a steak?'

A middle-aged man turning the meat on the rack looked at him cautiously, eyeing the bucket. 'Yeah, we got steak. And hot rice and peas. And cold beer. How many for?'

'One,' replied Lafi with a winning smile. 'Just one. I'm by myself.'

'When?'

'About quarter hour. Just got to get myself a wash.' He held up the bucket.

The man nodded and Lafi continued on towards the public latrine.

Further along, a gate in a stone wall opened and a young woman came out onto the pot-holed road and looked at him. She leant against the wall and remained there, showing that she had no other errand. She continued to hold his eyes. Lafi nodded at her, acknowledging her offer.

What would he have first? The woman? Or his dinner? Difficult choice. At least he could afford both.

He smiled at her. 'Don't you go away, now. I'll be back for you. See you in an hour.'

He continued on, smiling to himself. Good decision. Eat first. Then relax with the woman. Got to pass the time somehow.

Another thought intruded and Lafi glanced back anxiously at the lorry he could still see behind him. Brother had better bring that driver. And he'd better do exactly as Lafi told him. Or else he might have to ditch the children. In a ditch. That would be bloody. And unprofitable.

Near Kodrob's Squadroom, Pentacurse, Inferno. 4 levels underground.

The corridor walls were hot and glowed slightly red. There was no other light source this far underground so the overall effect was like being on the inside of a coal furnace. Kodrob and Lafarge picked their way along in the semi-darkness towards Bezejel's temporary private quarters.

A siren demoness of Bezejel's rank demanded - and got - the best rooms in any part of Inferno that she visited. Even demons needed to rest and it was known that Bezejel loved her bed, though not always for sleeping.

Kodrob approached her room, a large hollowed-out cavern. Strings of amber were hung around the doorway and mother-of-pearl shells had been recently pressed into the lintel. Femininity continued beyond the grave.

He stepped over the first satyr husk slumped in the passageway. The demon's bare feet were clearly visible protruding from one end of the husk and the top of the head from the other. Then he saw the second husk and then a third. Scattered items of uniform lay strewn around, some intact and some torn. Unit badges and stripes were visible on some of the battleshirts. A fourth satyr lay in the threshold of her open door, its back broken and its neck twisted at a wrong angle. This one was a recent kill. The husk bonds - reed-like fibres as tough as flax - were still growing. He could see them stretching out from the skin and tightening as they wrapped around the body, cocooning it.

Kodrob felt a tap on the shoulder. 'Four, guv'nor,' whispered Lafarge throatily. 'Four good lads. Done for. She's doing the angels' job for them.'

'Shut up,' hissed Kodrob. 'If she or her shadows hear you, you'll be a husk too. And so will I. So shut yer gob.'

'So what happened?' persisted Lafarge, cupping his hand over his mouth and leaning in to Kodrob's ear.

'I recognise the unit,' replied Kodrob heavily, pulling Lafarge back into an alcove in the corridor wall. 'They're from the 5th Ambush Regiment. It's an all-satyr outfit. Been away for years. Just got back. I reckon Bezejel met this lot when they'd just been let out on leave and heading for a squawhouse. She'd have promised them lots of drink and as much action with her as they could manage. Too tempting by far, offer like that.'

'So the Ambushers got ambushed.'

'Something like that,' sighed Kodrob. 'Dropped their guard. They see a pretty female like Bezejel and their brains sink three feet. She takes them home and charms them one by one while the others play cards with GogMagog. She's done it before. Got form. She dulls them with diesel then settles them in between her knees and they think it's happy hour in Hades. They've no idea how deadly she is. Once she's used them she gets all nervy and agitated. Then she crushes them.'

'And now they're husks.'

'Yep. They've taken one step on the long slide to final death. This lot will probably come back as jager imps. Hunters. Time after that they'll be charnel imps. Then sprites, gremlins, trolls, mawls, pixies and finally gurns.

You been to many gurn burns?'

'No, never been to one.'

'You've never been to a gurn burn? You're kidding me? How come? You've been in Inferno a couple of hundred years or more, haven't you?'

'Well..not exactly.' The French demon was suddenly reticent. 'OK, I admit I pretended I had more experience when I joined your unit. In fact I only arrived in Inferno a short time before.'

'That's a sackable offence, Lafarge. What were you doing between dying and arriving here?'

'Oh, the usual.'

'Go on.'

'Well, after I died, I knew I was destined for Hell. Only I didn't want to come. So I hung around my chateau for a long time, resisting the pull.'

'Haunting.'

'That's what they call it. But I was just frightened. I hung on. Then one day I lost my concentration and the pull took me unexpectedly. I lost my grip. Next moment I was here. Then I met your guys and they persuaded you to hire me.'

'Because of your way with the ladies.'

'Yeah. The boys have had a lot more fun since I joined. The vixen fixer, they call me. But so have you, Captain. You've got to admit that.'

Kodrob was silent, staring at the opposite wall. 'Quiet a moment.' He lifted a finger to his lips and strained his ears towards Bezejel's door.

'What?'

'If Bezejel is sleeping off her killing spree I don't really want to disturb her till she's ready.'

'How did she manage to kill guys? Soldiers like that? They're much bigger than her.'

'She's a lot stronger than she looks. The Leader gave her special strength. He likes her.' Kodrob paused, thinking. 'Come on Lafarge, let's get us a brew. We'll come back for Bezejel a bit later. It's too dangerous to go in now.'

He pulled Lafarge by the shoulder and the two demons walked back down the corridor. Kodrob led them further underground to the soldiers' canteen, a large square hall with a continuous stone seat all around its walls.

'Barman, get my tab,' he ordered. 'Two regular diesels.' Around the room twenty or so uniformed soldiers of different castes were gathered in dour groups, talking in hushed tones. A few acknowledged Kodrob with a nod. He was a captain and they might need his help some day.

Kodrob and Lafarge found themselves a length of seat away from others and installed themselves.

'Are you going to sack me Guv'nor?'

Kodrob gave him a long hard look. 'Not now, Lafarge. Not in the middle of a major project. But if you want to stay part of the team you'd better work hard. It's not enough to pull cheap vixens. You need to pull your weight. Understand?'

'Yes Guv. I'll work harder Guv. Thank you. I really appreciate the opportunity...'

'Shut up.'

'Yes Guv.'

The drinks arrived and Kodrob drank deep on his diesel. Its volatile fluids immediately sent his brain spinning, relaxing him. 'So, you never been to a gurn burn?'

'No, Guv.'

'Well, it's probably the most fun you can have in Inferno. Apart from being the steak in a siren sandwich.'

'I've done that a few times,' grinned Lafarge. He caught Kodrob's look. That wasn't what his captain wanted to talk about.

'So, how do gurns catch fire, Captain?'

'They don't just catch fire, Lafarge. They burn because other demons catch them and set fire to them.'

'Why? Just because they're ugly?'

'Because they're ugly. Because they gang up like rats. Because they attack others in packs. Because of their twisted faces. Because they're the size of footballs and you just want to kick them. All of those. But mostly, Lafarge, because it's fun. No-one likes gurns and when some clean-up squad or Finger Force corners a group of them and captures them without losing too many of their own in the process, it makes for a great spectacle.'

'So what do they do with them?'

'First they hunt down a sewer-full of gurns and throw them into wire cages. The gurns stare out, snarling and twisting their faces into a rendition of whoever is looking at them. This causes hilarity, naturally, among the guys watching. Sometimes they goad them to see which one can make the ugliest face. You should be careful, Lafarge, when you go to a gurn burn. Your handsome face will make them go wild. They always try to take down the good-looking ones.'

'I don't see how they could impersonate me in an ugly way. Impossible.'

'Anyway,' Kodrob continued, 'when their captors get bored of that game they pluck them from the cage one by one, holding them between tongs. Then they impale them onto barbed spikes in the ground and set them alight.'

'That sounds more fun than getting drunk.'

'They squeal like wild pigs. Tortures your ears. But the thing is, the gurns become squinting squibs. The ugly beasts burn furiously. They burn like petrol and hot fat combined. For hours. Then just at the end, as the flesh is burning out, the gurn's soul shoots up into the sky. It pulses out all its energy in all directions, like a lighthouse. Purples, mauves, violets. A stroboscopic firework display. When that goes out the soul is finally dead. Extinct. No husk. No coming back. Nothing. Then they get the next gurn and burn him too. And the next and so on until they're all gone. Gurn burns can go on for days.'

'I hope that never happens to me,' said Lafarge, contemplatively.

Kodrob turned his head to look sideways at him. 'Lafarge, are you stupid or something?'

'What? I don't want to be a gurn!'

'You don't get a choice.' Kodrob stared at Lafarge incredulously. 'Everyone becomes a gurn in the end. It's inevitable. There's nothing you can do about it. Sooner or later you'll get husked. You'll get in a fight or something and someone'll knife you. Your body changes inside the husk. Like a butterfly. Only you don't come out prettier than you went in. You come out dumber and uglier. A lower form. A lower caste. Less brains every time. So it goes on all the way down the caste ladder until you become a gurn too. We all will. Get used to it.'

Kodrob emptied his tankard and stood up. Lafarge was staring at his feet. He put his hand to his handsome face and stroked his cheek. Then he looked at his fingers. 'So I'm going to burn,' said the French demon. 'Burn like a gurn. Squeal and spin and burn. With lots of guys watching, laughing.' He raised his head to look at his captain.

'Come on,' said Kodrob, brusquely. 'It won't happen just yet. And it's time to go see Lady Bezejel. Get her out of bed. If she's in a foul mood we just might get husked today and begin our journey down the ladder. Only one way to find out. Let's go.'

They left the canteen and returned to the corridor outside Bezejel's quarters.

The four bodies were in the same place.

'Hunks they went in and husks they came out,' said Kodrob grimly as he stepped carefully over the straw bale-like forms.

'Why does she do it?' whispered Lafarge.

'Can't help herself. Though some say it's to avoid having to remember a guy's name in the morning.'

Kodrob pulled a small flask of liquid from his pocket, unscrewed the cap and put it to his mouth. He swallowed hard and then after putting it back in his tunic, stood astride over the fourth husk and knocked on Bezejel's door which was slightly ajar.

Inside he could see signs of destruction all around the room. Broken tankards, smashed chairs and more shredded uniforms spoke of Bezejel's evening of delight.

'Ma'am, the second letter has been delivered to the Earth woman. You asked me to let you know.' Kodrob was as formal as he could be.

'Get out,' came the throaty reply. 'Stand outside the door.' Kodrob moved out of sight and stood to attention in the corridor. Lafarge stood beside him, staring upwards at the arched ceiling.

'Guards.' Bezejel summoned her two protectors, Gog and Magog. They were waiting in the nearby drinks storeroom counting their spoil. The husked satyrs would have no further need of their diesel vouchers.

Sound of stiletto heels on rock as Bezejel fastened the straps on her shoes. Moments later she emerged from her room and stepped daintily into the corridor. At her feet were the four prostrate husks. She looked down at them as if wondering what they were doing there. One of them had doubled up in his death agonies and was now causing an obstruction. His body filled the gap between the walls. Bezejel, in her tight fitting red dress, could not step over him. She held out a slender bare arm to Kodrob. He took her hand and she leant on his weight and hopped lightly over the cocoon, clacking her heels as she landed and steadied herself on the other side.

She looked back at the husks and then up again at Gog and Magog. They knew what she wanted and signalled their understanding with a nod.

Then Bezejel tossed her head and set off down the corridor at a lick while Kodrob and Lafarge fell in behind her.

'What's the letter?' barked Bezejel.

'Er, eh e.' Kodrob had almost forgotten why he was there.

'e ma'am,' he repeated.

'I heard you the first time.'

Bezejel reached the spiral stairs to the next level and tip-tapped rapidly upwards. The two males followed, struggling to keep pace. Another length of gloomy corridor and then Bezejel entered Kodrob's squad room which had now become her campaign headquarters.

Kodrob's other squad members were already in place. There were Holzman, Van Diemen, Ologu and Pu Gash, the orderly. They had heard Bezejel's approach and were dressed in full Marauder uniform and standing to attention. As she entered they saluted.

Bezejel did not return the salute. Instead she surveyed the room and waited while Kodrob and Lafarge entered after her and also stood still. A silence followed.

Bezejel fixed her gaze on the charcoal image of the Leader on the wall. The cold eyes stared back at her. And at everyone else. Soon she relaxed and her eyes became less fierce, more focused.

'We have work to do.' Bezejel's soft whisper came in a change of mood that Kodrob was slowly getting used to.

'You, get some drinks. Hades coffees all round,' said Bezejel almost smiling at Pu Gash, Kodrob's only imp soldier who went off to his petrol station to make the brews.

Bezejel stood near the table and waited till Lafarge, the only demon there versed in etiquette, attentively pushed in her chair beneath her. Kodrob sat beside her, followed by his squad.

As they settled into their seats he cast a hasty eye over Bezejel's upper body. Killer princess. He took in the perfect shape, the intelligent eyes and the coquettish look and tried not to think about the four satyrs.

He turned his attention back to the matter in hand. This was his squadroom, his squad and he needed to observe the formalities.

'Ma'am, you've met my boys before. Now may I introduce them. First off, Holzman the cruel, a former gladiator, now a weapons master.' Each Marauder stood up as their name was mentioned and bowed to Bezejel. Holzman's smile was a little too familiar. 'Lafarge, former layabout,' everyone laughed at the French womaniser, 'and now an ace forager. Van Diemen, former poisoner and now an assassin. You'd better watch your coffee ma'am,' Kodrob whispered to Bezejel, as laughter broke out again. 'Don't let him near it.' He slapped Van Diemen on the shoulder. 'Ologu, former slave trader, now an angel trapper. And Pu Gash, who did nothing notable in the Fourth but now makes mouth-watering drinks in the Fifth thus proving that only in Inferno are people's talents developed to the full.'

Kodrob finished his introduction with a theatrical flourish. He watched how Bezejel's face glowed and her eyes sparkled like scintillas in a smithy as she learnt about her new team. He was proud of them. They were custom built for a Destructive Purpose project. When Kodrob had finished, Bezejel clapped her hands and gave him a playful puck on the cheek. It felt like being stroked by a bench vice. He acknowledged her gesture with a polite tilt of his head.

Bezejel now took command of the room. Kodrob sat down and watched his boss. She narrowed her eyes and regarded the half dozen Marauders sitting nervously around the table like a mother eagle surveying her chicks. 'I am expecting a visitor shortly who is going to work alongside us and assist us. Captain Kodrob has met him already. He is Colonel Hideki and he has won a formidable reputation for his pioneering work in bringing humans back to the true path.' As she spoke she produced a short hunting knife from her belt and pushed the tip of its blade into the wooden table in front of her. They had seen this before.

'The Leader has spoken favourably of him,' she continued. 'We will work closely with him and he with us. But do not forget that Captain Kodrob is your boss and I am Captain Kodrob's boss. Colonel Hideki is an adviser, not your commander.'

All eyes in the room were flitting from the knife to Bezejel's face and back again. They were serious now, Kodrob noted, except for Holzman who was transfixed.

Footsteps sounded outside the room and Kodrob leapt to his feet. He ran to the door and craned his neck to peer into the gloom. It was Hideki. Not walking, but marching. The former Divine Wind commander entered the room and snapped to a halt, his hands stiffly at his sides. He looked at Bezejel and made a bold effort at a smile.

Keeping one hand on the curved ceremonial blade hanging from his belt, he looked around him and took in his surroundings before giving a slight bow to the image of the Leader on the wall. 'So honoured, so honoured.' Hideki bowed also to Bezejel and took a seat that was held out for him.

He sat down stiffly, turned to Bezejel and nodded curtly. Only now did he drop the military clip and sit at ease.

Bezejel placed her hands casually at either side of the knife. 'Now boys, this is Colonel Hideki. He has proved his ability to lead men into battle so you would be advised to listen to him carefully and learn. He is also one of the smartest demons in the kingdom. He has studied the human psyche. The colonel knows how to extract and recycle ambition and lust for power from one generation of humans to the next. He is a practitioner of the Arts of Lucifer. It was he who identified the hidden talents of the girl Nancy and showed how her few shortcomings could be fixed. In other words, how she could be made whole. He is going to tell us about some exciting operational developments in the project.'

Pu Gash entered bearing a tray of stone beakers filled with dark steaming liquid. The little imp walked around the table placing a beaker in front of each demon, starting with Bezejel and Hideki. When he had placed each drink down he went around a second time, lighting the drinks with a taper as he went. Blue flames took hold and hovered over the drinks like jack o'lanterns over a swamp. They made a colour contrast to the various shades of red of almost everything else in the room. The whiff of kerosene was noticeable immediately and several Marauders inhaled deeply, approving the pungent aroma.

As they paused to enjoy their drinks Bezejel chatted gaily for a few moments with the Marauders sitting opposite her. Holzman rolled up the sleeves of his combat fatigues to show off the girth of his upper arm. He was not the best-looking of demons. Not that smart either. Kodrob saw a dangerous situation developing and moved to intercept. By the time he had taken the four paces around the table to where Holzman was sitting the German demon had encouraged Bezejel to reach across and place her hand around his bulging biceps. She was playing up to him, gazing helplessly into his eyes like a seal pup. The softest of hums broke her lips as she squeezed her fingers.

'Excuse me ma'am.' Kodrob placed a friendly arm on Holzman's shoulder, pulling him back. 'Marauder Holzman missed out on finishing school. He forgets himself.'

'Nonsense,' Bezejel purred. 'We're not doing any harm. Just getting to know each other. Isn't that right Holzman?'

The ex-gladiator was oblivious to his boss who was trying to save him. He looked down at Bezejel's knife. 'That's a mighty fine little blade, Miss. I mean Ma'am. A real angel tickler, knife like that.' Kodrob cringed. Even his chat up lines were all wrong. But grunt soldiers don't just come on romantically to siren princesses. Not unless they want a very limited future.

'Well, it's yours,' declared Bezejel earnestly, to the astonishment of the rest. 'At the end of the meeting you can have it if you want it.'

'We should get started again,' said Kodrob quickly. 'We all have a lot to do.' He glanced at Ologu, pleading with his eyes for help. Ologu shook his head. Van Diemen shrugged and smiled thinly, watching the fun. Lafarge held back. He'd seen all too recently what Bezejel was capable of.

As Bezejel regained her seat she pressed down lightly on the knife. A further inch of the blade sank into the table. Holzman hadn't noticed. His dopy grin was fixed on Bezejel's face.

Kodrob, with a worried frown, sat down too. 'Colonel Hideki, are you ready to talk to us? We'd all really like to hear about the operation you've come to talk about. Really like to hear about that, right now.'

Holzman finally tore his gaze away from Bezejel. He looked at Hideki for the first time in minutes as though surprised there was anyone else in the room.

The Japanese colonel cleared his throat.

'We have delivered the second of a set of code-letters to the young human female, Nancy,' he began, speaking over their heads to the wall.

'I cannot tell you how many letters there are. Spies are everywhere.' He checked each demon's face as though he might find signs of betrayal written in any one of them.

'But it is important that Nancy receives every letter that we send her. The code sequence must not be broken, or else the mission is in danger.' He paused to take a solemn sip of his smoking coffee. 'Your mission, Captain Kodrob, will be to guard the communication filaments that I have set up between Inferno and Nancy and ensure that they are not interrupted or tapped into. Filaments are not Fourth Dimension materials. They are our own devilish thought-lines. They carry a short message to an endpoint on Earth and manifest that message through a medium such as a reflection. The filaments are our means of delivering the code letters where they can be seen by Nancy. Our feathered enemy may try to discover our filament endpoints and sever them or obscure them. Only you Marauders know Earth well enough to be able to protect them. You must follow Nancy wherever she goes and intercept any attempted strike. Captain Kodrob, you will control the mission from this room.'

'You can count on me and my men, Colonel. We're entirely dedicated to serve our Leader in any way we can.' Kodrob was looking sternly at Holzman as he spoke.

'That is not all.' Hideki was back to addressing the wall. 'Later on some of you will have to accompany me to the Fourth. I have a delicate operation to perform on one of Nancy's ancestors in the Fourth's nineteenth century. You will guard me so that I can concentrate on my spiritual surgery. I will tell you more about this soon.'

Bezejel sipped her flaming coffee. 'Marauders, Colonel Hideki has provided you with all you need to know concerning his area of this very important task. Kodrob, I want you to draw up a shift schedule so that we have the right amount of boots on the ground in the Fourth when and where we need them. Nancy is on her way to Africa so make sure everyone knows the territory down there. I don't want anyone turning up for work drunk or leaving early to go to a squawhouse. There'll be plenty of time for drinking and pleasure when Nancy is safely in the bag.'

She turned to Hideki who was nodding his approval at her every word.

'And the next letter is due to be sent soon,' he said coldly. 'You have not much time to get organised. The Angelic command will be aware of our strategy by now. They will act. But they will not risk a spiritual confrontation on Earth so your presence alone should deter them. It's against their rules to interfere directly unless requested by humans on their knees. And with Nancy, that's not going to happen.'

Hideki stood up abruptly and nodded formally to the middle of the table. Stepping around his chair he turned to his side and began to march off. The rest of the group watched him depart in silence.

Bezejel tapped a finger gently on the table. 'Well, Kodrob. You heard him. Filaments. You'd better get to it. And maybe you should look into growing your team. You may need more bodies than you have right now.'

'Ma'am.'

Holzman had resumed his babyface adulation. Bezejel turned to him. 'Marauder. The knife,' she said simply. 'Take it and own it.'

Holzman looked at her uncertainly. 'Thank you, madam Bezejel.'

She smiled back. He looked around the table as if he couldn't believe his luck. He stood up and reached forward for the knife. Only now did he notice how deep in the table it was sunk. A frown crossed his face. He took the handle and pulled upwards. Nothing happened. He pulled again, this time with all his strength. And again.

No-one moved. No-one laughed. They were watching a tragicomedy play itself out right in front of their eyes.

'It's stuck,' he said sheepishly.

'Well. Maybe it's not for you after all,' said Bezejel quietly. She bent her hourglass shape over the table, grasped the knife's handle and pulled upwards. For a moment the table left the ground. Bezejel pushed down on it with her other hand and the knife came free. As she stood up and straightened her dress the knife vanished back into her belt.

There sat Holzman staring up at Bezejel and no words came from his mouth. Now he was the one with the seal pup eyes, looking up adoringly at the hunter who could snuff him with a blow. But only for a moment. Realisation dawned, its fingers stretching across his warted face and pulling away his laughter lines. 'Oh,' he said with feeling, looking anew at Bezejel as if waking from sleep. 'Uh...Oh.' He sat back in his chair with a lurch.

Kodrob was seeing a new side to Bezejel that he didn't know existed. She was showing patience, tolerance and self-control towards enlisted men. This was unexpected. No-one would blame her if she'd husked Holzman for showing such public disrespect. But she'd allowed him to make a fool of himself - and her - and then come back to his senses. On his own. That made Bezejel a very formidable leader indeed. Maybe, just maybe, she'd pull this whole thing off after all.

Bezejel regarded Kodrob with a look that said nothing and everything. 'I'll be back soon, Captain. Try to keep an eye on your boys. I wouldn't like to see them hurt.' She clacked briskly out of the room into the dimly-glowing corridor, swirling her hair and leaving her Marauders gazing at her ember-like form as it retreated and was swallowed up by the darkness.

Flying Hippo transport plane above Gambia, West Africa

Nancy raised her head from her make-do pillow of vehicle covers and dust sheets. She pulled aside the tarpaulin that covered her and listened again. The tone of the engines had definitely changed. They sounded softer and quieter as though the aircraft's speed had dropped.

The cabin door opened and a figure came through into the hold. Probably the co-pilot who had brought her sandwiches and coffee earlier and shown her where to find the lavatory. Sound of a switch being flicked and a glow permeated the hold from a dozen low intensity bulbs arranged along both sides of the hull's interior.

Nancy lifted herself up on one arm and bumped her head immediately. She looked up at the malevolent machine gun barrel pointing backwards from the vehicle she had chosen to sleep in. Death, it whispered. I do death. The smiling co-pilot, who had declined to tell her his name so far, approached. He was African and wore a blue flight suit over his large frame.

'Time to shiny up and wake, missy,' he announced cheerily. 'Got some fresh coffee if you want, just come up when you ready.' His good humour seemed out of place with their surroundings.

Nancy wanted coffee desperately but more than anything else she wanted a shower. Her body was sweat-sticky inside her clothes and her mouth felt like she had smoked 40 cigarettes. What was her hair like? She decided not to look in the mirror again. e.

The memories of yesterday came surging back into her mind like beery gatecrashers. Africa? Drive a lorry? Charm people from different tribes? Right now she felt barely able to hold a cup without spilling it. Anything beyond that was asking too much.

She pulled herself onto her knees, avoiding the death whisperer above her, then slowly stood up and climbed over the side of the jeep and onto the floor. Fifteen hours she'd been in this wretched smelly plane she realised, looking at her watch. They'd stopped once to refuel, God knows where, just as the light was fading. All she'd been able to see was sand and wilderness and a few dusty shacks around an uneven tarmac. Who had built an aerodrome here in the desert? Why?

The plane was banking gently now as she made her way unsteadily forward toward the cabin door. The co-pilot was sitting on the right of the cabin. The pilot on the left, also in a blue flight suit, was speaking through his microphone, presumably to air traffic control. Through the windscreen ahead Nancy could see a few small lights in the distance. Co-pilot turned towards her and offered her a thermos and a cup.

'Fresh made,' he grinned through amazingly white teeth.

Nancy gratefully took the cup. Whoever these two were, they weren't clandestine agents or spies. They were just functionaries. They probably knew nothing about Nancy or why they were flying her to Gambia. They were just doing their job flying Israel's obsolete munitions to her ally in the west African continent.

Nancy felt homesick. She wanted to be back in Ealing, joshing with Mel again and selling cruises. Or was this all happening because she'd slept with two boys and might have tumbled the third if he hadn't been gay?

'I'm sorry,' she said.

'What you say?' Co-pilot

'Oh nothing, just thinking out loud.' Nancy took another sip of coffee and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Her blouse was crumpled and smelt of oil. Her hair felt like matted dog fur. What a mess.

'Final approach, tower.' Pilot.

'You better sit down now missy in case of bump.' Co-pilot was looking after her. Not much of that from the rest of humankind recently.

Nancy stepped back and swung herself into the navigator's seat. She put her coffee on the floor and buckled herself in.

A few moments later she could see the runway lights coming up to meet them and then a light thump from the wheels and the deceleration as the pilot cut the power back.

The plane slowed after a few hundred yards then taxied off the runway and came to rest not far from the two-storey control tower. The engines gave a final cough as the propeller discs ended their long shift and came to rest. Noughts became crosses.

The runway lights went out and, a second later, so did the control tower's. One solitary perimeter light remained on in the distance casting a glow in their direction. Silence enveloped the aircraft. No airport vehicles sped to meet them. No customs officials appeared. No passport control beckoned. Nancy suddenly thought about her passport. Was she supposed to bring it? No, Habib never mentioned it. She realised she didn't officially exist.

This was truly illegal. What if they just decided to kill her? Who would know she was ever there?

Co-pilot peered back at her. 'Who meeting you, missy?'

Darned if I know, thought Nancy. If no-one came to claim her, her mission would be over. Maybe she could just stay on the plane and wait for it to go back to Israel. She'd tell Habib his plans fell through and there was nothing she could do about it.

'I was hoping you'd tell me. Do you really not know?'

'Some times different people. Brother is big organisation.' But it seemed co-pilot was now starting to realise that Nancy was in the dark. 'Well,' he said 'we go back Israel midnight tomorrow. Maybe see you then.' He was smiling encouragingly and Nancy warmed to him. She wished she could pour out her heart to him. She also knew that he could not help her.

'Brother. What sort of an...Where is Brother based?'

Co-pilot's smile drooped. He turned away with a shrug and a mutter that could have been 'if you don't know, I don't know'.

Pilot and co-pilot both finished their post-flight checks. They flicked lots of switches and shoved papers into plastic envelopes. Satisfied that everything was off, they clambered through into the hold and opened the forward door which folded out to reveal some metal steps to the ground.

'After you.' Co-pilot was smiling, ever-polite. But they weren't going to leave Nancy on the plane.

She went to the front and walked down the steps. A light breeze blew across her face. That felt good, really good.

An anxious-looking African man came from behind the steps and looked up into the plane, ignoring her.

Pilot and co-pilot were coming down the steps behind Nancy. They stopped, one on each side of Anxious who spoke to them in what Nancy assumed was a local dialect.

Co-pilot gestured towards Nancy and said something in reply.

Anxious turned to Nancy in wide-eyed shock. He looked back at co-pilot and said something that must have been 'Really?' and then returned his eyes to Nancy, looking her up and down for several seconds and staring in horror at her breasts. 'You. Woman,' he shouted. It was like an early moment in the Garden of Eden.

'Well, I'm glad you can tell,' replied Nancy who was beginning to feel like the last piece of meat on a shambles table. Nancy had her back to the light, the others were facing it.

Anxious remained staring at her for several moments, wearing the outraged aspect of an alcoholic who'd paid for a cider and been handed an apple juice.

Pilot and co-pilot continued standing on either side of Anxious, their small bags in their hands, watching the encounter with wry amusement on their faces.

They spoke to him again in dialect and he answered them, but without taking his eyes off Nancy.

'You, drive?' he almost spat out the question. Habib had asked that.

Nancy considered him for a moment. Things were going too far. Her tiredness and temper joined forces.

'Thank you. Yes, I'd love a room for the night. And a cold shower. And some food with a cold glass of wine. And when I've had all that PERHAPS YOU CAN TELL ME WHO YOU ARE AND WHAT I'M DOING HERE.'

All three were now staring at Nancy. Their faces glowed like lampposts in the reflected light.

After a long half-minute, Anxious drew in a deep breath. He looked down at the ground apparently in deep thought and then back to Nancy, repeated this several times and finally regained some composure.

'Lafi,' he held his hand out. Nancy took it.

'Nancy,' she said as though she had just met him at a ball.

Lafi took a last look at pilot and co-pilot and muttered something to them. Then he turned furiously on his heel. 'Come Nancy,' he called imperiously and was gone into the night.

Nancy looked at pilot and co-pilot. 'See you boys,' she said quietly and followed Lafi even though she had no idea where she was or where she was going.

Lafi led Nancy through a hole in a chicken-wire gate at the edge of the airfield to where a small taxi-cab was waiting with a driver. He opened the back door for her to get in and himself climbed in the front. The car moved off and sped away into the darkness.

Nancy was a young woman alone in a car with an angry stranger in a foreign country in the middle of the night without any money or proof of identity. She had no idea where she was or how to get home.

'You and I have much work to do before sun come up,' said Lafi coldly without turning round.

And now she was heading into danger.

Heaven's Shore

There was a knock. Jabez looked up.

'Yep?'

'It's Ruth, may I come in?'

'Of course, pull up a rock.'

Another knock. Agatha.

'Agatha. Sit down and come in.'

Agatha took her seat and settled herself in. The globe wall readjusted itself to include her within its circumference.

Both female angels appeared just a few feet away from where Jabez was sitting on a grassy dune, grilling some fish over an open fire.

Politely, they had arranged for rough-hewn stone and tree-trunk seats to be in their apartments for the globe meeting. They sat and looked around them at the sparse landscape.

Luke was already there. He was perched on a rope-swing and gently pushing himself forward and back. He took his Stetson from his head and waved it to Ruth and Agatha.

'Hope you don't mind if I grab a bite while we talk,' continued Jabez while turning the fish. 'Just as well I brought my fishing rod with me, being on the shoreline and all,' he indicated the edge of Heaven just a few feet away and the raw wilderness just visible on the other side of the schism. It may have been called a shoreline but there was no sea to lap at its edge. An open box at his feet hinted at the true origin of his dinner.

The other three shivered slightly as they contemplated the view. On the other side of the divide was the beginning of Desoland. Of all the fingers of Inferno it was the most scorched. Even so, a few squat creatures could be seen darting about, scurrying from hole to hole.

All angels had been to some part of the shoreline before. A trip to this region was part of the induction into Paradise when they first arrived. Even then, they'd viewed it from a distance without actually landing. But for all of them, bar Jabez, this was the first time they'd seen it so close.

Jabez looked across at Agatha. Her brown hair, some of it threaded through ivory beads, cascaded down to her hips. She was wearing a blue-hooped T shirt, calf length jeans and pumps on her feet. Her wings were slightly open and revealed a tartan inlay that perfectly accompanied her dressed-down denim.

So that's the fashion for student angels, thought Jabez. Fetching.

Ruth as ever was immaculate, this time with her wing tops gold-dusted and wearing a shimmering yellow knee-length dress and matching shoes all topped with a golden tiara inlaid with those same liquid sapphire stones. 'Class act,' he whispered to himself.

Luke as usual was wearing a check shirt, blue jeans and cowboy boots. The Black Frontiersman. Jabez had not bothered to dress up for this important meeting and was still clad in traditional angel white pants and white sweater.

'Angels, thank you for coming.' While Jabez was eating the salmon freshly sent in from Ocean Rapids on the other side of Paradise, Luke decided to begin the meeting by introducing everyone formally. He steadied his swing and placed his feet firmly on the ground. 'We only know a little about each other from our records so let's play our baby bios now. I'll start.'

In the space between them another Luke appeared and started to speak. The apparition described his background and formative experiences and showed scenes from his life on Earth as he guarded wagon trains of pioneers crossing Oklahoma. It finished with a tour of his part of Heaven. The apparition disappeared. Now a second Ruth took shape and went through the same rapid biography. It was exciting to see the makeshift hospital in the Alamo, a flustered Ruth binding up the wounds of Mexican soldiers and American settlers on adjacent beds. Then Agatha's avatar followed with its depiction of Second World War Great Britain and the Bletchley Park codebreakers. Finally Jabez's double described building a thriving farm in iron age Judea, despite the foolishness of his spendthrift brothers.

'So now we know each other a little better, I hope we can also work well together,' declared Luke, drawing the introductions to a close.

'Before we get started, why don't we sing?' suggested Agatha in her clipped Oxford accent. 'It'll put us in a positive mood.'

'What are you thinking of?' Jabez.

'I heard a beautiful song recently. It's about a man who falls in love with a woman only to find out she's his long lost sister.'

'So they can't love each other?' Ruth.

'Well, that's the point. They can love each other. For ever.'

'Interesting.' Luke. 'Where did you hear it?'

'David sang it. Live. At the Eden Hall in Desert Springs, not far from where I live.'

'David? The David?' asked Luke.

'Yes, the David. He says that when he was King David in Jerusalem he spent too much time fighting so now he's in Paradise he doesn't want to be in any of the combat battalions. Instead he's built a business making harps and teaching angels to play them. I've seen him play and sing live. He's very funny.'

'Funny?' said Jabez. 'So let me get this right, you mean King David who stoned Goliath and was always beating up the Philistines is now an entertainer?'

'Yes,' said Agatha. 'He says he always wanted to be a musician. He only got into soldiering because of the lack of concert halls in one thousand B.C. Judea.'

'Very amusing.' Luke.

'It's a good line.' Ruth.

'Well it sounded funny when he said it,' apologised Agatha.

'I think we should move on,' cut in Jabez hurriedly. 'Before you tell us that Attila the Hun is now an opera singer. Look, all of you, we need to make progress. We're not getting anything done.'

'Jabez. Why are you looking so sad suddenly?' asked Agatha. 'Is it something we said?'

'No. Nothing.' He smiled weakly. 'Thanks for the suggestion about singing Agatha. But I'm not quite in the mood. I'd prefer to get cracking.'

'Yes, let's get down to work,' agreed Luke quickly, with an eye on his friend. 'So, bring us up to date on Nancy then, Jabez.'

Ruth and Agatha looked at each other quickly. Neither said anything.

Jabez sat up on his rock, cleared his throat and looked at them all.

'OK, the latest on Nancy is that she's arrived in Gambia and been picked up by Lafi Touray who is a Brother acolyte but also a chancer. He's taking risks by trying to run an independent operation outside of Brother. Nancy has been given two code letters, a capital R and a small e, by the other side. I'm going to ask Agatha in a moment if she can help us with fiendish puzzles. Ruth has kindly joined the team to enlighten us on Nancy's state of mind. We're going to need all the help we can get on that front because her reaction to meeting Lafi Touray, her cheek and feistiness in that meeting, were not what I was expecting at all. I had Nancy down as being petrified on arrival in a foreign country in the dark without any papers, friends or money. In fact she had more fight in her than a rhino. We're behind in this game and we need to catch up fast. Luke you've got something for us to watch, let's begin with you.'

'Sure,' responded Luke. 'Let's just refresh our memories by watching this sequence together.' He looked at the ceiling of the globe above him and spoke to it saying, 'Catch-up sequences now.'

In the space between the four of them, just in front of Jabez's fire, Nancy appeared at the moment when she saw the letter e through the window of the jeep inside the transport plane. The angels felt the tense atmosphere, heard the throb of the engines and saw Nancy moving around in the dark surrounded by military vehicles, far from home but bravely keeping her spirits up. As they watched the e burn up and disappear, the angels shivered inwardly. It was not often that a direct manifestation of Infernal activity was witnessed, even in a recorded sequence, within Heaven's golden realm.

Next the angels saw the action as she descended from the plane at Banjul and met Lafi. They watched as she met Lafi and dealt him the verbal right hook that knocked him back on his heels "...yes I'd love a room for the night and a cold shower..."

Jabez finished munching his grilled fish off a skewer while they watched.

The sequence ended and the figures vanished.

'Shall I go first?' Agatha.

'Sure, blue jeans, go ahead,' replied Jabez warmly.

Agatha smiled back at him.

Serious now, Agatha folded in her wings till the tartan disappeared from view. She looked down at the ground, concentrating, and began to speak.

'There are many types of code that the other side use to entrap men and women. It's still too early to be sure which type they may have used. That's a problem because we don't know how much time we have or how long the code is. It could end soon with a third letter or it might be a whole sentence or more.

But there are three main code types and it's likely to be one of these. The first is a simple instruction. An injunction. It may tell Nancy to do something. Humans are intensely curious so they often follow these injunctions just to find out what happens. Often with disastrous consequences. The second is an appeal to ambition. It's a promise of wealth or power if they follow a particular path, normally one that is harmful to others. The ambition code has been used many times. It's a powerful bait and has seen many souls lost. But the third is the most dangerous and also the hardest for the enemy to pull off. It's a code that spells out what a human is. If the code message arrives at the same time as a revelation from somewhere else that 'this is the person I was always meant to be', the combination of the two together are powerful and invariably fatal. The soul will be lost and the enemy will control their life for ever. It's hard for the enemy to co-ordinate this, however. It needs detailed planning on their part, which they're not normally good at. But on the rare occasions when they've done it successfully in the past they've gone on to inflict colossal damage on Earth. I sincerely hope it's not the third code type.'

Agatha paused and waited for a reaction.

Jabez was the first to respond. 'Thanks Agatha, but I guess we're all thinking the same thing. Whatever they're doing smacks of considerable planning. We'd be foolish to assume it's one of the first two codes. My instincts are shouting that it's the third. Luke, Ruth?'

Luke chimed in. 'I agree. They know something about Nancy that we don't. That incident off the plane was amazing. There's more to Nancy than even she thinks there is. That's why this revelation idea rings true. Nancy's personality hasn't stabilised, despite her years. She's still finding herself and so she's open to something or someone revealing who she is and what she is. She would find that kind of revelation difficult to resist. Ruth?'

Ruth sat forward on her granite seat looking thoughtfully at the ground. She plucked her golden tiara from her forehead and contemplated its fluid stones for a moment before replacing it in her hair.

'Well, ah do declare that this is a mystery that just gets bigger. And more intriguing by the minute. I have to confess that up to now I've been concentrating on Nancy's character and personality. I've researched her personal history but not yet her ancestral history and that's where ah think I'm going to find some surprises.'

Ruth looked up and met all their eyes.

'So that'll have to follow later. First off I'd better tell ya what I know. Then I'm gonna tell y'all what I don't know but what I'm gonna find out. So here's the start. Nancy is a Jew. Her parents were not strong believers and she was not brought up with a religious faith. Then her parents died in a car crash and she was put in the care of an aunt who had been married to her mother's brother. The aunt, Mary, was a fallen-away catholic who never spoke about religion. Nancy grew up without any encouragement to do well at school. She was angry about the loss of her parents and didn't develop her talent. But here's the thing, Nancy is very smart. In fact she's far smarter than she knows. She's got an eye for detail but also sees the big picture. She could run the travel agent business she works in better than the current owners. But she doesn't have the self-confidence to realise it.'

Ruth paused and changed her position on her rock stool. Jabez decided that Ruth did not often find herself on such uncomfortable seats. It's good for her to endure some hardship, he thought. It'll build her character.

Ruth continued.

'Nancy won't ever put herself forward for a big task, because she doesn't believe in herself. She'll always try to play it safe. But if she's thrown by circumstances into a situation where she has to sink or swim, she'll swim. Like a seal. And if that happens she'll suddenly discover her potential and she'll take off. She's like a firework just waiting to be ignited. One moment she'll be passive and unremarkable, the next she'll take the world by storm. We see this sort of thing all the time in humans, they're so frightened of failure they don't really try to succeed.'

'And if the enemy are controlling her at the time she takes off...,' butted in Luke.

'...they'll make sure she uses all her new-found energy and ambition to do a whole lot of bad,' finished Agatha.

'Correct,' agreed Ruth. 'Right now they're calling the shots and we're struggling to catch up. Already they've managed to engineer Nancy onto the fringes of the criminal Brother organisation. Brother is involved in some very nasty stuff that's destroying a lot of families and taking many souls to Perdition. On the face of it, Nancy doesn't belong anywhere near Brother, she's just not that kinda girl. But that's why ah have to look into her background more. The enemy may have a plan to convert her to evil in a way that's currently unimaginable. There are a lot of dirty tricks they can use. Our challenge is to find out what they're up to and stop it before they can finish it. We may be running out of time.' Ruth paused in her flow, looking for a reaction.

'Stop it before they can finish it,' repeated Jabez. The others looked at him expectantly.

'If we were to pro-actively stop the enemy in their tracks, that might mean an intercession,' he continued. 'An intercession is a major event, a very serious event. You all know there are loads of rules against us interceding directly in human affairs when we haven't been asked.'

'I can help on this,' interjected Luke. 'Broadly there are two types of intercession. The first is when we tackle the enemy on his own ground in the Fifth. The second is getting directly involved with humans in the Fourth. There are different rules governing both. But in this situation there might be a third option. A hybrid.'

'We're listening.' Ruth.

'The code letters the enemy have put in front of Nancy...'

'You mean the R and e.' Agatha.

'...yes, the R and e. These are only visible in a window or mirror. But they have to be transmitted through a tiny fibre known as a filament. If we want to stop their code, we could try to find their filaments and cut them.'

A thoughtful silence followed. Jabez looked at Ruth. The blue female angel was looking back at him with a knowing smile on her face.

She has the answer, thought Jabez. But she won't come out with it herself. She's waiting for me to cotton on to it.

Suddenly it clicked. Jabez leaned forward.

'No,' he answered. 'We're not going to do that.'

Luke and Agatha looked at him quizzically. 'Surely it's a sensible idea?' said Luke.

Jabez continued looking at Ruth. 'It's the wrong answer,' he said carefully, 'because we'll waste our resources trying to stop them instead of formulating our own plan. We'll just be playing their game and eventually they'll get their message through when we miss one of the filaments. No, we must find a strategy of our own. That's the way to win.'

Ruth's smile had broadened and there was a twinkle in her eye.

Nailed it, thought Jabez.

He continued. 'Let's reconvene this time tomorrow. That'll give us all time to get some more facts so we can move on to a plan of action. Agatha, can we meet at your pad? You've all been very polite but I guess you might like to enjoy a context with some more comfortable seating next time. That is..I presume your place is a little nicer than this, Aggy?'

'It's jolly nice, actually,' replied Agatha, laying on the cut-glass accent. 'So long as you like sitting on bean bags and cushions on the floor. I'll send some furniture over so you can join in too, Jabez. And yes, you may call me Aggy.'

Jabez nodded his head and smiled to show he accepted the rebuke. Even angels needed time to build relationships and work through the social protocols.

'Good,' he said and then quickly changed the subject back to where he had left off. 'I need to know what kind of action we can take in all sets of circumstances. The way things are going we might have to leave the safety of Paradise for a while and go on an active mission into enemy territory. Or down to Earth. If Ruth is right and the enemy are using dirty tricks we might have to behave in a way they don't expect. That's uncomfortable I know, but this is an extraordinary situation.'

Agatha and Ruth both looked shocked at the suggestion of a direct confrontation with the enemy. Ruth's face in particular had lost its colour and she was sitting awkwardly, her wings wrapped tightly around her.

Jabez noticed her body language and sought to reassure her. 'Don't worry Ruth,' he said gently, 'nobody will be asked to do anything they're not trained for. We have lots of highly experienced combat angels for this kind of stuff.'

But as Ruth noticeably relaxed, Jabez was forced to ask himself: who? Who could he send on a dangerous mission against Infernal forces on Earth that he would not go on himself? There were indeed angels who knew how to fight, but they were mostly used as guards and convoy escorts. He couldn't just co-opt them into a hastily-organised clandestine mission of his own and place them at risk.

Ruth and Agatha signed out of the globe meeting. Jabez and Luke were still connected.

'Well, I'm glad we have 'lots of experienced combat angels for this kind of stuff',' said Luke, pushing his swing again.

'Oh, you saw through that, did you?' Jabez ran his hand over his face and squeezed his eyes.

'Well, you said the right thing. No sense in those two worrying how they'd face a volley of imp spears.' Luke's down swing took him so close to Jabez that he almost thought he could feel a rush of air. 'I'm pretty handy in a fight. If we have to confront the enemy, send me in first. They won't know what hit them.'

Jabez drew a fish bone out of his mouth and threw it on the fire. He gazed into the flames. 'Thanks Luke. You're a trooper.' He looked at Luke and took in the thoughtful face, the languid movements, the kindly eyes. He couldn't imagine Luke hurting anyone. Not even a demon. Unless maybe he hugged one too tightly.

Jabez was starting to feel that a direct confrontation with the forces of Inferno was inevitable at some point. Maybe with Bezejel herself. He hoped it wouldn't come to it. But if it did, he knew that such an encounter would be one that he could not delegate. He would have to do it himself.

Naxela's Squawhouse, Outer Pentacurse region, Inferno

Kodrob pushed his nose as far inside the tankard as it would go. He drew in a deep breath and held it. The petroleum vapour scalded the mucous linings of his nostrils and thrashed the delicate wall of his windpipe before burning its way into his lungs. His brain clouded deliciously. He took a gulp of the liquid and felt it splash against the back of his throat inflicting pain and relief in equal quantities. As it trickled down inside him his chest burnt like a bonfire. Ecstasy. He cradled the tankard with both hands.

Naxela's Squawhouse and Bar was busy and the din was atrocious. It was a rougher joint than Navaho's with no drums beating and no art on the walls. There were no upper-castes here. Just several hundred rank and file soldiers and a few non-uniformed buccaneers.

'Jet fuel. My baby. Where have you been hiding till now?' cooed Holzman, sitting beside Kodrob, guarding his own jug.

'This stuff is good. Where'd it come from?' asked Lafarge who had just arrived and was sipping his drink carefully like a true bourgeois.

Holzman nodded to the other side of the bar. A demon with slicked back hair, almost as good looking as Lafarge but twice the Frenchman's size was talking to a pair of squaws. 'Zhivkin. His haul. Got lucky probably.'

The big slick demon heard his name being mentioned and looked across. Seeing Kodrob, he got up from his seat and made to come over. The two squaws pulled him back. 'Stay with us,' they begged. 'Two for the price of one.'

Zhivkin unhooked himself from their vixen arms. 'Later, you beautiful sisters,' he assured them. 'I just got to talk to this guy and then you'll have my undivided attention. OK, divided attention. But only between you two. Promise.'

Leaving his bogof offer behind he walked around the bar keeping his eye on Kodrob. 'Captain,' he shouted above the din. Kodrob was the only officer in the bar.

'Captain Kodrob, I've always wanted to meet you.' Kodrob allowed Zhivkin to take his hand and pump it. 'I'm honoured. I've heard a lot about your unit. I want to join a unit like yours. I've heard yours is the best. I asked around.'

Kodrob nodded at the jet fuel in his tankard. 'This your doing?'

'Sure is,' grinned the giant Russian. 'And there was nothing lucky about it.' He looked Holzman in the eye.

'Tell me about it,' said Kodrob, taking another glug and swilling it around his mouth.

Zhivkin eagerly forced his way to the bar, pushing his bulk between Kodrob and Holzman. 'Well, I was down around the Black Sea. Just loafing. Looking for trouble. Using my wits, you know?' Zhivkin was leaning closely into Kodrob's face, staring intently into his eyes. 'And there was this airliner taking off from Crimea. Straight into a storm. Only, I knew that it would beat the storm. It would be safe. Unless I did something fast.'

Zhivkin's body rocked forward. He turned around. 'Hey, do you mind?' he said to Holzman. 'I'm trying to talk to your boss.'

'Get on with your story, buccaneer.' Kodrob didn't want trouble.

Zhivkin turned back and held his head only inches from Kodrob's face. 'And near the runway there was a farm, with lots of horses.' 'So I found a gap in the fence and led a horse onto the runway. Just for a few minutes. To delay the plane. And when the plane eventually took off it flew right into the storm. And a lightning bolt got it right in the engine and set it on fire. And the airliner came down in the sea. Couldn't make it back. Sunk right down to the bottom. Nearly two hundred souls on board and more than a hundred of them came straight here. Communist Party. Beautiful.'

Kodrob was sceptical. 'So, how did you commandeer the haul. There are rules. You're not allowed to interfere.'

'The tanks,' leered Zhivkin. 'I bust them open. Made it look like it happened when the plane hit the water. Doesn't matter if they bring that bird up tomorrow or in a hundred years. They'll never wonder why the fuel isn't there. It was the perfect crime.'

'What about the Confiscations Unit. How come they didn't take it off you?'

'That bunch of criminals?' Zhivkin was beaming widely, enjoying himself. 'Even they couldn't find a good reason to disallow it. There were no infringements. None they could find, anyway.' He gave Kodrob a knowing look.

'That's quite an achievement.'

'What? Crashing the plane? Or fooling the goons in Confiscation?'

'Both.'

Holzman had been listening in. 'You were lucky, Zhivkin, just lucky. You happened to be in the right place at the right time. But you're a loner, you don't know how to work as part of a team. That's why we can't let you in.'

Zhivkin turned slowly around and looked Holzman up and down. Kodrob was worried now. Both demons were large. Very large. They were equal in everything but looks. Beauty versus the Beast. If there was a fight it would be a devil of a job to separate them.

'That's a bit rich coming from someone like you, Holzman. I heard about you. You don't take orders too well.'

'That was a long time ago,' replied the warty German, instantly defensive. 'And anyway, no-one knows the true story.'

'So why don't you tell us?'

A crowd had gathered, sensing a rumble. Zhivkin looked around at the score of faces in various stages of drunkenness. He smiled cruelly, knowing he had them on his side.

Holzman succumbed to the pressure. 'All right then, I'll tell you.'

'I was a slave. A slave gladiator. In Rome. My people were captured. They made us slaves. But I was big so I got trained to be a gladiator. I was fighting for my freedom. And then I joined Spartacus and his rebellion. 'Cause those Romans, they didn't want us to go free, never. They were cruel. They...'

'Get on with it,' shouted a number of demons.

Holzman had a hunted look on his face. He licked his lips and continued. 'My unit captured ten legionaries. In the fighting. We had these ten guys, proper front-line men. Rome's finest. So we decided to kill them, 'cause there was nothing else to do. But I thought killing them's too easy. They had hurt us bad. So I wanted to hurt them bad. That's why I did what I done.'

'You mean that's why you disobeyed orders. What you just accused me of.' Zhivkin made sure his voice carried across the swell of demons pressing in to watch the entertainment.

'I didn't disobey. I just did it my own way, that's all.'

'Spartacus told you to kill them quick. But you killed them slow. Come on, Holzman, tell us what you did.' Zhivkin was keeping the pressure on.

'Come on. Tell us. What happened?' shouted a chorus of throats.

Kodrob looked around uneasily. There was no way of stopping this. Officer or not, he couldn't control a mob.

But Holzman was warming to his task. His story would show them all that he wasn't to be taken lightly.

'I got the ten men and I sat them in a circle on the ground. I put wooden blocks in front of them. Then I put tourniquets around their wrists and began to chop off bits of their fingers on the blocks, an inch at a time. The tourniquets were to stop them from bleeding out too quick. Keep them alive longer. Let them suffer. When their finger pieces were lying all over the ground I moved the tourniquets further up their arms. I cut through their hands and forearms.' Holzman stopped and looked around at the crowd. He was trying to smile confidently but Kodrob could see he was nervous.

'Then they died. That was it.' Holzman finished defiantly.

The crowd was quiet. They were expecting more.

'No it wasn't.' A thin voice piped up from the front of the crowd. A small imp had forced his way through the mass of legs and now stood defiantly in front of Holzman. 'There was something else. Tell them what you made them say,' shouted the imp. 'Tell them Holzman. Tell them what you made those legionaries say.'

Holzman's hunted expression had returned. 'I don't remember. It was a long time ago.'

The imp was undaunted. 'Well I'll tell them. 'Cause I can remember, Holzman. I can remember what you made them say. 'Cause I was there. I was one of the legionaries. I was one of the ten.'

A buzz went through the crowd. 'Lift him up,' shouted someone at the back. 'Let's see him.'

A burly figure at the front picked up the little imp and stood him on the bar.

Holzman gulped his drink. Lafarge sipped his. Kodrob sat still. It was important to look calm and unflappable, even if he didn't feel that way. If the crowd turned against Holzman, the entire squad was in danger.

'When we'd all lost our fingers,' shouted the imp to the crowd in his high pitched voice, 'he told us to look at each other and say things like 'pluck the nit from my head, brother, and I will pluck the louse from yours' and 'are you taking part in the archery contest this year, comrade'?'

Sniggers of laughter rippled out around the crowd. The imp was looking for sympathy. He'd waited through two thousand years and several huskings to tell his story and gain revenge on the man who had tortured him and his mates to death. But it wasn't going as he thought. Instead of earning himself some understanding, the mass of demons found the story of Holzman's cruelty quite funny. Many of them had seen or done things that were almost as bad. Holzman's gallows humour was going down well.

Kodrob seized the moment. 'Barman, get the imp a drink. A big one. On me.' He turned to Lafarge. 'Get him down from there.' Lafarge understood the urgency. He grabbed the imp around the legs and pulled him off the bar. 'Well done little fella,' he said, patting him on the head. 'Now take your drink over the other side of the bar.'

The imp looked around him at the crowd which was already breaking up and moving away and at Kodrob who was ignoring him. Holzman had turned his back. His moment had come and gone. Lafarge handed him a huge tankard off the bar. 'Go on now. Don't spill it.' After a moment the imp walked off disconsolately, holding the huge tankard close to his chest in case anyone should prise it from him.

Kodrob pulled Holzman over by his collar. 'You had a near death experience with Bezejel the other day. Now another one with the imp you fingered. You're riding your luck.'

'Yes guv.' Holzman accepted the warning and stepped away.

'You really did all that, made them say those words?' asked Lafarge looking at Holzman in wonder. 'Man I respect you. I thought you were just a dull cabbage-eater.' He slapped Holzman on the arm.

'You didn't hear the last of it,' replied the German, cockily. 'After we chopped off their hands and arms I let the legionaries cry for a bit. Then when I released the tourniquets I placed bets with the other rebels on which soldier would last longest.' He looked at Lafarge with a grin, 'well, we had to do something for entertainment.'

Zhivkin butted in. He'd seen the mood swing against Holzman and then back in his favour but he wasn't done yet.

'So we have all seen and heard of your idea of leadership,' he said sourly with his Russian nasal drawl. 'But I know a real leader when I see one. Captain Kodrob is one I admire.' He looked up at Kodrob with fawning approval. 'Kodrob can even work with Bezejel. That's an achievement you could never manage, Holzman.'

Lafarge chimed in. 'Be careful who you criticise, Zhivkin, Holzman's my buddy.'

Zhivkin had to row back. 'I can get on with anyone. No problem. But you should know that I wasn't lucky with that jet fuel grab. I saw the storm coming and knew it was a strong one. I led the horse onto the runway and delayed the plane taking off so that it would fly into the thickest cloud at just the right time. That's how it got struck by lightning. It was pure skill and planning. Luck had nothing to do with it. You could say I engineered it. You know, you guys could do well with my talents. I could make you rich. You'd have more diesel and squaws than you could imagine.'

Now he knew he'd got them interested. All of them could imagine a lot of diesel and a lot of squaws. They never seemed to get enough of either, not even with Lafarge's Gallic charm. Zhivkin had brought them top grade jet fuel too. But Zhivkin also knew how to negotiate and he decided to pretend to take his offer away. 'But maybe I take my talents somewhere else. There are other marauder squads who are interested in me.' He got up from his seat and made as if to leave.

Kodrob had been watching and listening to the debate with amusement. Zhivkin had handled himself well. And with the new challenges that Bezejel was handing him almost daily, he might need a new team member who could think on his feet.

'Sit down, Zhivkin, you're not going anywhere.' Kodrob grabbed the former Russian Cossack by his collar and dumped him back in his chair. 'All right we'll take you on trial for one project and see how you get on. If you perform, you're in for good. If not and you turn out to be nothing but a clever talker, we'll husk you. Capisce?'

Zhivkin looked around at the grim faces of the other squad members that bore down on him. Kodrob's threat was a nasty one, to be sure. But it was only to be expected. There had to be discipline after all and Zhivkin ran more risk of being husked as an independent buccaneer if he was caught with valuable swag in the outlands by other marauding bands without buddies to protect him.

'Sure, no problem,' he drawled. 'I don't disappoint. You'll see.' He stood up and called to Naxela's owner who was running the bar.

'Red.'

Red Naxela came over and glared malevolently at Zhivkin.

'This is my good buddy Red, everyone.' Zhivkin indicated the squawhouse owner who showed no sign of being anyone's good buddy. 'Red, give these boys some of my hundred octane jet fuel recently liberated from Crimea. Let them experience the true spirit of Mother Russia.' He laughed magnanimously and even managed a grimace at Holzman. While the team roared their approval and downed their glasses ready for the refill, Kodrob surveyed his new charge and a sudden shiver ran down his spine. He now had two team members with a grievance against each other. Both were aggressive as well as huge. They could cause a lot of trouble if their enmity turned into open warfare. Had he made a mistake in hiring Zhivkin?

The Nancy project would soon be moving into a new phase and the pressures on his team would increase. Pressure could be good or bad. It could force guys to work together or it could split a team wide apart.

If Kodrob had made the wrong decision, Bezejel would show no mercy.

Gambia, road to Southern Senegal, West Africa

Nancy put her foot down on the clutch and slipped the gear lever on the monster truck into fourth. She checked her wing mirror.

'It's good to leave those potholes behind. I thought they'd never end.' She looked at Lafi in the passenger seat who didn't respond.

Her headlight beams now showed a long, straight stretch of level road ahead with a mixture of forest and fields on either side. Strong moonlight periodically flooded in from the front, illuminating the cab when the forest canopy overhead receded. Lafi stared straight ahead, intense and brooding.

The lorry engine was strong and pulled the heavy iron frame powerfully. Nancy had been overawed at first when she had climbed into the driver's seat and switched on the ignition. How was she going to drive a juggernaut like this, she who had never driven anything bigger than a Morris 1100? But surprisingly soon, she'd grown to like the touch of the huge steering wheel and the sense of power she derived from sitting up so high above the ground. Beast that it was, it responded instantly to her touch and did everything she told it to do. You just had to give it a wider arc going around corners, that was all.

'I'm getting to like the feel of this.' She had to keep trying to communicate. Pretend that things were normal. 'It's easier to drive than it looks. Just as well it's empty though. It'll be hard work when it's fully loaded.'

The silence settled back in. Another burst of moonlight and Nancy turned her head to survey Lafi's features quickly. He looked nervous. His anxiety was making Nancy nervous too. If he was frightened, she certainly ought to be frightened. How dangerous was this mission going to get? And even if it all worked out successfully, would they really put her back on the plane to Israel at the end of it? Or had Lafi been told to quietly do away with her and bury the body?

'You know anything about aid organisations?' he asked suddenly in an aggressive tone.

'Er..no. Not really.'

Lafi didn't follow up. He continued staring straight ahead into the gloom.

A moment later their road left the jungle and Nancy found she was driving on a wide sandy beach. The Gambian government had little money to invest in roads and so made use of natural thoroughfares such as firm beaches wherever possible. The setting was spectacular. To Nancy's right the ocean was dark and endless with white breakers near the shore. On her left the tall trees of the jungle were equally forbidding. But ahead of them the wide moon-lit beach with its virgin yellow sand, firm under the wheels of the lorry, would have been heart-stoppingly romantic at any other time.

They continued on for ten more minutes, eventually leaving the beach again as the road led them back through the jungle. It was a long time since they'd seen any other lights.

Lafi was now showing signs of real fear. Sweat was apparent on his forehead. Nancy checked the mirrors again. She took her foot off the accelerator and dropped back to third gear, then second.

'What you do?' Lafi's shouted question sounded panicked.

'I need to know what we're getting into,' replied Nancy, trying to keep her voice under control. 'What's ahead? What are we facing?'

She had slowed to a crawl now, her eyes flitting to scan the road ahead then back again to look at Lafi, forcing him to speak.

Lafi's face was a picture of uncertainty. Nancy could see him peering forward through the windscreen trying to make up his mind what to do. Abruptly he slapped his hand down on the dashboard.

'OK, stop here,' he ordered. 'I explain now.'

It was the middle of the night and they had seen no other vehicles for the last half hour. Nancy stopped the lorry where they were in the road. She killed the engine, leaving the lights on but kept her hands on the wheel, her arms covering her breasts. No sense in being provocative out here in the darkness, far from help. She turned her head sideways to look at him, her face serious and unfriendly. If he was going to attack her, at least she'd better make it plain that she would fight back.

But Lafi continued looking forward, peering into the darkness beyond the headlights.

'Lorry not empty,' he blurted. 'We carrying a cargo.'

Dammit thought Nancy, I knew it. Her brain started wondering what the cargo could be. A number of likely suspects came to mind. Drugs, guns, gold. What else was there? Cigarettes? Alcohol?

'We carrying workers. People who want to work,' stated Lafi defiantly. 'In the north, no work, but many people. In the south, there is work in the fields, but workers frightened away by war.'

'War? We're going into a warzone?' Nancy shouted. But at the same time there was something about Lafi's face that indicated he wasn't telling the truth. Not all of it, anyway.

'Lafi, how many people are we carrying?' Nancy's tone was insistent. Something had subtly changed in the dynamics of the power battle between them. Nancy was starting to get the better of Lafi. She was demanding answers and getting them.

'Thirty five people,' said Lafi.

'Thirty-five?' Nancy was in shock. You couldn't get thirty-five people in this lorry. They'd be crushed worse than pigs on the way to market.

'Are they alive?' Nancy couldn't understand why she hadn't heard them speaking, even above the noise of the engine.

'Yes, yes, they alive. Of course alive.' Lafi seemed grateful to be able to say something positive. He actually smiled.

'But on the border they no like northern people. They stop them coming. At the border, you must tell guards the workers are for UN.'

'UN.' Habib and Ilan had mentioned pretending to be an aid worker. But that was for 'medical supplies'. Not people. Nancy was now lost for a follow up. Medicines, even drugs, she could understand. She was ready for that. But now she was smuggling people. Not only that but SHE was now responsible, according to Lafi, for convincing border guards or whoever they were that these thirty five people, who she knew nothing about, were in the employ of the United Nations.

'I can't do that,' she pleaded. 'We have no papers. No-one is going to believe me, no matter what I tell them.'

Suddenly Nancy cottoned on. This had nothing to do with Habib or any of his gang. This wasn't Brother. This part of the operation was all Lafi's doing. That was why he was afraid. He was moonlighting - quite literally - and he was out of his depth. He had to get 35 people across a border and he needed Nancy's help to do it. In his greed he had dug himself a hole and he needed Nancy to dig him out.

She looked at him accusatively. 'This isn't what I was sent here for. This is you, isn't it? Habib doesn't know about this. Why should I...?'

Then before Lafi could stop her, Nancy reached for the door handle, pulled it down, kicked the door open with her right foot and dropped to the ground. She ran to the back of the truck and started fiercely untying the knots on the straps that held the truck's canvas cover to the wooden tailboard. As one flap came loose, then another, a powerful waft of fresh excrement assaulted her nostrils.

'Oh, shit,' Nancy wailed and jumped back several feet. She retched and heaved noisily before sucking down a mouthful of clean air and looking back at the lorry. A face had appeared at the loose flap. Then another, then two more. There was enough reflected moonlight for Nancy to make out their features clearly. Children.

The spark plugs in Nancy's brain went into slow motion. Children. Thirty-five of them. Thirty five children. Workers. Thirty-five child workers. No parents. She drew another deep breath. No wonder the truck felt light. Couldn't be that many adults. Stench. Poor children in that stench.

Lafi had appeared just as she pulled the straps free. He made no effort to stop her. Presumably he had realised that there was no point in trying to hide what he was up to.

He began to shout at the children in dialect. The heads disappeared. Lafi tied up the straps.

'You see?' he shouted accusingly.

Accusingly.

'Yes, they children. They going home. I want tell you but I know you no believe me.' His face was stern and angry.

It was her fault that he hadn't told her. Her fault that she had found out. No doubt it was Nancy's fault that the children were there in the first place.

But amidst Nancy's outrage at Lafi's inability to accept responsibility for his misdeeds she perceived something else. He was still lying. Wherever these kids were going, it wasn't home. They were being taken somewhere to do something that they certainly wouldn't have chosen voluntarily.

'I'm not doing it. I'm not going on. I'm not driving them,' she shouted. 'Habib said nothing about this. What will happen when he finds out?'

Lafi reacted furiously. 'Habib must not find out,' he hissed. 'If he knows I do this, I a dead man.'

Nancy stepped away. She'd just threatened to tell Habib what Lafi was doing. And Lafi had told her it would mean his death. What did that mean for Nancy?

'Oh, well. I won't tell him. Obviously.' It was weak but Nancy was now grappling with the significance of what Lafi had just said. Lafi had to assume that Nancy would spill the whole story to Habib once she was back in Israel. The only way to stop her would be to kill her. A shiver went through her body and she started to sweat.

'Why don't you tell him? He won't mind. He's quite a nice guy. He'll forgive you.' Oh, that was pathetic.

But Lafi was clearly genuinely scared and there was real aggression in his eyes as he looked down at Nancy. 'Habib and Brother, they forgive nothing. They want obedient. Hundred per cent obedient. They will say I take risk and put operation in danger. You must promise you no tell Habib.'

'Of course, I promise. It's nothing to do with me.' Nancy wished that she didn't know about the children. But even if she hadn't forced the issue now, she reasoned, she was bound to have found out at some time. Lafi hadn't thought this through. His lack of planning meant that he had got her into a position where he would have to take her life in order to save his own. He would never believe that she would keep mum, would he? It wasn't fair, getting murdered by someone because of their own stupidity.

'I'm taking the children back to ..' she couldn't remember the name of the town. 'Back there,' she pointed vaguely back down the road they had come.

'Oh, then what you do?' it was Lafi's turn to ask the difficult questions. 'You go to the police? How you think I go through Banjul?'

Banjul. Of course. Must remember that. Nancy stared at Lafi, thinking furiously. He had clearly bribed his way across the country and she might very easily find herself appealing for help to the very people who were in his pocket. He obviously wasn't going to let her casually drive back to Banjul and take the children into the protective compound of the British Embassy, even if she could find it. If she ran back to the cab he would get to the passenger side before she could get the engine started and would easily overpower her. If she refused to go on she would become useless to him and he might decide to kill her. He might decide to kill her anyway. She needed more time to think.

The moonlight dimmed as a cloud drifted across its face and obscured its light. A soft rain began to fall.

'All right,' she said quietly. 'I'll do it, I'll go on.' Her body had visibly relaxed. She wanted him to know she was not about to try and run away.

'We'll go on and finish the job together,' she continued, her voice subdued but resolute. 'And I won't say anything to Habib'. That was stupid, shouldn't have mentioned him again.

But whatever Lafi might be inclined to do in the future Nancy was fairly certain of one thing. He still needed her now. The border or tribal boundaries - Nancy wasn't clear which - still had to be crossed and the guards there, official or otherwise, had to be charmed or cajoled into letting them go through.

And while doing all that and driving Lafi's lorry and transporting his drugs and solving his problems for him and digging him out of his hole, Nancy had a bigger problem. Timid, wouldn't hurt a fly Nancy, Nancy who loved finding holidays in Torquay for retired teachers and study trips in Israel for impecunious students had to solve the biggest challenge of all. She had to find a way to save her life.

Heaven's Shore

The tiny air marbles vibrated and gave off a purring sound. 'Agatha, you shouldn't have. That's real thoughtful of you.' Jabez took the bean bag out of its packaging, put it to his ear and listened. It was the most relaxing sound imaginable, virtually guaranteed to reduce stress. There was another, smaller package for him too, as there was for Luke and Ruth. All three opened their parcels and clapped their hands with delight. Each parcel contained a pot of fresh hot tea together with a bone china cup and saucer, a large thimble of milk and a tiny jewel box of cane sugar with a silver spoon. A dish of three fresh-baked ginger biscuits, still warm from the oven completed the set.

'How did you manage to arrange for all of this, hot tea and cookies, to all of us in different places separated by several hundred thousand miles of Heaven?' asked Jabez as he slumped gratefully into his soft, purring bag.

Agatha beamed triumphantly. 'Well, you know, one has contacts that one can sometimes ask a favour from.'

'Ah'd say one has some very excellent contacts,' declared Ruth smiling appreciatively while stirring a spoon of sugar into her cup.

Jabez, Luke, Ruth and Agatha were all present - three of them by globe - in Agatha's apartment. Her 'pad' as she called it, was a large old-brick warehouse structure with wooden bookshelves and Turner prints adorning the walls. A kitchen range at one end could have come from an English early 20th century stately home while at the other end was a little Shaker chapel lit by soft mood lights and fragranced with fresh-cut wildflowers. Hundreds of candles perched on wrought iron candelabra provided the light while a pair of sheepdogs yawned and slept in front of a cherry-log fire.

Agatha had chosen the centre of her pad, laid out with sheepskin rugs, for the meeting. In the background the Music played. Choruses of male angel baritones and tenors chased each other in perfect counterpoint. She subdued the volume as a mark of respect to their hermit team leader.

Jabez called the meeting to order.

'Thanks for all being here on time,' he began. 'I've been thinking a lot about something we discussed at the last meeting, that the enemy has the initiative and we're trying to play catch-up. I'm very keen that we create a strategy that will allow us to wrong-foot our fiendish foes and put us back in the driving seat. It's time they reacted to us, not us to them. If we can achieve that we may force them into making a mistake.'

'What have you got in mind?' asked Luke, pushing up the brow of his Stetson.

'Right now I don't have a concrete plan, just some thoughts and suspicions based on what we know about Brother. Ruth, I need to know what you've learned. That may help us decide our approach.'

Ruth carefully swallowed the remains of her first biscuit and washed it down with a sip of tea. She placed her cup and saucer on a nearby table and then folded her hands in her lap and regarded them all.

'Well y'all, I've gone back through Nancy's family tree and gotten a good look at many of her ancestors,' she began. 'Particularly I was searching for something unusual, something that the enemy could latch onto and use for a sinister purpose. Now almost all Fourth Dimensioners have a more interesting heritage than they think they have. Nancy's no exception. But I've uncovered something that may just be the basis of how they mean to make her powerful.'

Ruth could see that she had everyone's full attention.

'As you know,' she continued. 'Ruth is a Jew. Though it doesn't seem to really mean nuthin' to her. Her folks were all Jews from Russia. They been there since leaving Byzantium in the fifteenth century at the time the Turks all rode in there.'

All three nodded, they knew the history of the city also known at different times as Constantinople and Istanbul.

'Well her family got into the silk trade, then the spice trade, then the gold business, then property. They even built some churches. Hec, there wasn't much they didn't do. I won't bore you with the details of how they survived Terrible Ivan and some other not-so-fine examples of human leadership but by the time the 19th century come around one branch of the family had gotten into the Russian navy. Three different generations of this family served the czar from fightin' Napoleon in the Med to blockadin' the British in the Black Sea.' Here a nod to Agatha, acknowledging her patriotic loyalties during her time in the Fourth.

'But the one ancestor we're interested in is Alexander Shafner. Shafner was an adventurous young naval officer who was sent to northern Manchuria in 1860. The Chinese government was reeling from the Taiping Rebellion, a massive civil war, and had just agreed to hand this area over to Russia. Shafner was given command of a 28-gun, two-masted navy sloop, unsurprisingly named the Manchur. It had a crew of a hundred fifty sailors and eighty marines. He sailed his ship into an almost unknown bay along the coast, weighed anchor and promptly founded the city that became Vladivostok. As if that wasn't enough already for a young wandering Jew far from home, here is where the tale gets really interesting.'

Ruth paused and poured herself another cup of tea then added milk and sugar and procured herself another biscuit. The others, leaning forward in their seats and listening intently to her story, followed suit and topped up their drinks.

Ruth continued. 'A beautiful Chinese princess, on the run from enemies made by her family during the civil war, hears about Shafner's expedition and turns up in Vladivostok. By now, the settlement has just a few buildings and a horse stable so it really is the edge of never. The princess's name is Mya Ling. Mya is certainly beautiful but she's also poor having lost all her riches and most of her clothes to bandits. However, she is manipulative, ambitious and extremely single-minded. Shafner's heart is taken by her. Well, why wouldn't it be? There he is in the back of beyond with only his crew for company and no elegant soirees or parties to go to when along comes this seductive oriental female who dresses up in all her remaining silk finery and starts to flash her eyes at him. She was like the sudden appearance of an oil painting in a very bleak landscape. Anyway, Shafner takes Mya onto his ship, they have a whirlwind romance and decide to get married. As you can guess, Mya is driving all this along. Shafner thinks he's in control but really Mya Ling is calling the shots. She's intending to carve out a rich life for herself. Shafner is her escape from the desolation of war-torn China to the decadence of Moscow society. She's like the Chinese calligrapher making an awesome painting and Shafner is the brush in her hand. He starts to make a lot of colour but she's the one pushing him around the canvas. Now I'm going to give you a first sight of Shafner and Mya Ling by showing you a scene from the day they met. Are you ready to see it?'

'Absolutely.' 'Of course.' 'Do it.' The three shouted.

Ruth smiled proudly and held her hand up high over her head. 'Then make a space and let the show begin.' Jabez and Luke shuffled their bean bags back as far as they could without actually leaving their globes. Ruth let fall her hand and in the space between the four of them a shimmer of lights and colours began to appear and slowly arranged themselves.

The four angels found themselves inside the wardroom of a mid-19th century wooden warship. A polished table surrounded by six solid oak chairs with leather inlays was in the centre. Around the walls were a drinks cabinet and a side table. A large window comprising four panels of six smaller glass panes was obviously the stern while along the walls were a number of charts and maps. A portrait of Czar Alexander II in military uniform wearing a blue sash and sporting long sideburns occupied the centre of one wall.

The angels were seeing the wardroom from different angles as if the action was really taking place in their midst. They had seen historic scenes like this before, of course, even some truly ancient ones. But it was still a delight to be taken so intimately into an intriguing human environment, especially one like this that was positively simmering with significance. As they accustomed themselves to the furnishings and lighting in the room, a door opened. In came a young man in grey naval officer's uniform, clearly Shafner. He turned with a bow, beckoning behind him and was followed by a diminutive and most exquisite young Chinese woman wearing a startling blue silk cheung sam. She looked around her, taking in her surroundings before looking up shyly at Shafner.

'Ver' nice,' she said in highly accented English, dipping her head slightly as she spoke. She folded her arms across her waist and waited for Shafner to make the next move.

'To sit please,' said Shafner in his own Russian-accented English, drawing back the least-scratched chair and motioning for her to take it.

She did so and sat, straight-backed and stiff, replacing her hands across her middle. A sailor came to the door and asked Shafner if he needed an interpreter. They spoke in Russian which the angels understood perfectly as they understood all languages. Shafner replied that he needed no such help and the sailor departed and closed the door.

The conversation then began in rather stilted fashion.

'You like drink something?'

'Thank you no.'

'You like eat something?'

'Thank you no.'

'You like look through telescope?'

'Thank you no.'

A pause.

'You are very beautiful.'

'Thank you yes.'

'You are from Peking?'

'Canton, thank you. I Canton woman. Most happy to be Canton woman.' Then Mya Ling giggled and even to the watching angels it was a delightful sound after the initial stiff formality. To Shafner her laughter must have been like summer rain. Sunshine poured in through the windows, lighting up Mya Ling's delicate features and the silken blues of her long dress.

'You laugh why?'

'I not know. Here ver' nice. You polite man.' Another giggle and Mya Ling raised her hand to cover her mouth. 'I not ver' polite. I sorry. You ver' kind. Perhaps I see your boat now, learn how you drive and sail it?'

And as Shafner rose to give Mya Ling an escorted tour of his ship it was clear that he was already smitten. Mya Ling took his proffered arm and flashed her perfect brown eyes at him once more before they left the wardroom.

The sharpness of the picture faded into shimmers and then dissolved into nothingness.

'That's all I wanted to show you,' said Ruth. 'Intriguing is it not?'

'So this woman, Mya Ling,' began Jabez 'is Nancy's ancestor?'

'That's right. Shafner takes her back to Moscow where she is eventually accepted into Russian society. Shafner's Jewish relatives are more reserved of course and initially tell him to divorce her. However Mya Ling's beauty and especially her ready wit, once she learns Russian which she does exceptionally quickly, soon have them eating out of her hand. Added to this, Mya Ling exploits all her new Jewish connections to the full. She begins importing Chinese antiques, furniture, silks and other goods to Moscow and selling them to wealthy Muscovites. But here's a funny thing. There are already many merchants in Moscow involved in selling 'chinoiserie' as they called it. Mya Ling is entering a crowded market with her imports. But one by one all the other merchants run out of stock. They can't get supplies. It seems that their Chinese suppliers, who were all exporting through Hong Kong which is by now British and is the most stable and peaceful of China's deep sea ports, keep dying or falling ill in mysterious circumstances. Mya Ling's Moscow emporium becomes a virtual monopoly. She becomes rich and powerful. Shafner married well. Their two children, a boy and a girl, are raised as Jews and fully integrated into Russian Jewish society. That's the line that Nancy springs from. Including Mya Ling herself, Nancy is the fifth generation!'

'That's superb research, Ruth, but do we know anything more about these mysterious deaths in Hong Kong?'

'I believe I may be able to throw some light on that, Luke,' interjected Agatha. 'Ruth, can you replay the scene?'

They watched again as Shafner and Mya Ling came into the ship's wardroom and delicately courted each other. But when Mya Ling giggled and put her hand to her mouth Agatha shouted 'stop here.'

She pointed to Mya Ling's lower arm, which had lain hidden under her sleeve until the material was pulled back as she raised her hand. 'You can't see this from where you're sitting but I can. Ruth, can you turn the image so everyone can see?'

'I think so,' replied Ruth. 'I'm not great with these controls.'

She raised her arm and the wardroom tottered and swung drunkenly until Ruth mastered the technology. After a moment the wardroom and everything in it levelled again and then slowly revolved at Ruth's direction so that all the angels could see from Agatha's vantage point.

'Look there,' she exclaimed. 'Can you see a symbol tattooed onto Mya Ling's wrist? It's the Chinese character 'hung' which means 'red'. The 'hung' character also symbolises the three-cornered relationship between heaven, earth and man. It's the symbol which was adopted as the motif of the mutual-help brotherhoods which became the Chinese triad societies. Don't you see? At the time when Mya Ling met Shafner on board the Manchur, she was already a triad member. She may have the poise and manners of a well brought up princess but in fact Mya was a fully-enrolled member of a criminal triad fraternity. Many of these had no problem using murder to further their aims. She may have joined the triads as a way of surviving the war when her family lost their money. But how and why she joined doesn't matter now. If she re-forged and built up her triad connections in furtherance of her business ambitions after her move to Moscow, it may help explain why her commercial competitors kept disappearing. And remember what Ruth has just told us: this Mya Ling is Nancy's great great grandmother!'

Southern Senegal, West Africa.

There must be a way to save the children too, Nancy told herself. They were so quiet, too quiet for kids. They must be absolutely petrified. As if to confirm her thoughts Nancy heard a whimper emanating from the covered vehicle. Another voice whispered 'shhh' in gentle tones.

Lafi butted in. 'The border is only a mile away now. We have work to do first. Come,' he ordered.

He led her to the side of the truck where he opened a wooden box fitted under the chassis. The side of the box swung down on a hinge revealing its contents. 'Take that cloth.'

Nancy stooped down and looked inside the box. She could see a large section of folded cloth as well as some smaller pieces of material and bits of shiny plastic. As she removed the large cloth, Lafi went to the cab and removed the keys from the ignition.

He returned to her as she stood up unfolding the cloth. 'Give me your hand,' he ordered curtly. As she held out her arm Lafi took it and abruptly slapped a handcuff onto her wrist and clasped it shut. He then locked the other cuff through one of the ringlets in the canvas cover. 'Just for a minute,' he snapped.

Lafi took the large section of cloth and opened it up to its full rectangular expanse, about twenty feet by ten feet. In the moonlight Nancy could see the large letters 'UN' written at either end with the words 'Emergency Humanitarian Supplies' beneath. He walked to the other side of the truck and she could hear thumps as he climbed up the side of the vehicle. The sound of fabric slipping across fabric followed and the next moment half of the piece of cloth appeared over the top of the truck and fell down on Nancy's side. While she waited for Lafi to return she stooped and took out the smaller materials from the box. These turned out to be tabards emblazoned with the words 'UN Relief Worker' as well as an inflatable plastic ring bearing the letters UNHCR and various other pieces of UN-labelled gear. Two minutes later Lafi re-appeared and grasped the two tapes at the corners of the cloth on Nancy's side. He secured these to the ringlets on the lorry's canvas and then unlocked her cuffs.

'Wear this,' he indicated one of the tabards curtly. Nancy donned one of the bib-like garments and Lafi put on the other. He then went to the back of the truck and spoke in dialect to the children. His tone was gentler, more reassuring than before and Nancy was certain he was telling them their journey was nearly over. The rain was now teeming from the sky and drops of water were streaming down Nancy's face. Lafi returned and led her back to the driver's side and made sure she was in before climbing in the passenger side. He gave her the keys and she started the engine.

'Where are the children going? What will happen to them?' Nancy demanded.

'I tell you the truth before,' Lafi responded defensively. 'They go to work in the fields. Earn money to send to their parents. This not Britain. In Africa children must work. This is our culture. Our tradition.'

It was plausible if not entirely convincing, Nancy thought. Though at the very least she was sure the children did not want to leave home to work, they'd surely much prefer to be at home in their own beds.

'Now,' he said looking forward through the windscreen as though trying to draw a line under the conversation. 'In one mile we meet border guards. Now you do your job. You make sure they not search lorry. If they find you with children, they arrest you. UN shirt will not help,' he nodded at the logo on her tabard.

'Why would they stop us?' Nancy had raised her voice and leaned in to Lafi looking him directly in the eyes. She aimed to pressure him to admit something she felt he was hiding. 'If child labour is common practice around here why can't we just declare them and cross the border?'

'You not understand,' said Lafi in exasperation. 'These children work for cheap. Cheaper than children in the south. Border guards no like children work so cheap.'

And now Nancy began to understand at last. Something half-remembered stirred in her memory and resurrected itself. These weren't child workers. 'They're slaves, aren't they?' she said, amazed at the words. 'The children are slaves. They're child slaves. They have to work to buy their freedom.'

Lafi said nothing.

'You're a slave trafficker.'

Lafi glared back. 'And so are you.'

There was no more pretence between them. More than ever, Lafi had to make sure the story of his criminal behaviour did not come to light. He was operating outside the law of any country, whether Gambia, Senegal or any other.

Ferociously Nancy threw the truck into gear and gunned the lorry forward. She was heavily implicated in Lafi's awful trade and it was unlikely anyone would believe her story. Confused though she still was, she realised she had to play the game for now and look for a way out later. Preferably a way out that ensured Lafi never caught up with her. It was two o'clock in the morning. The rain was pouring onto the windscreen and Nancy was dog tired. But her brain was racing at twice the normal speed. There had to be a way out.

A minute later as Lafi predicted, Nancy spotted a lighted building beside the road with a turnpike barrier next to it. A uniformed soldier bearing a rifle, alerted by the lorry's headlights, emerged from the guardhouse and stood in the rain to await them. Nervously he shifted his rifle in his hands as if to ensure the lorry's occupants had seen it.

'What you going to do?' Lafi was leaving it all to Nancy.

'I don't know.'

Nancy kept the lorry moving fast till the last moment and then braked sharply bringing the vehicle to an abrupt stop twenty yards short of the barrier. Leaving the engine on she jumped from the cab and strode forward briskly with her right hand held up in salute and a broad smile on her face. The shoulder flashes on the guard's uniform bore the word Gambia.

'Hello, it's good to see you. Awful weather isn't it? Completely chucking it down.' She pumped the guard's hand and pointed towards his guardhouse. 'Let's do the paperwork in there shall we?' She began to walk towards the tiny one-office building continuing to smile widely at the perplexed guard and compelling him to follow her. 'We're off to get some urgent medical supplies for the capital. Expect you've been told we were coming. Apparently the American president has promised them to your prime minister without delay.'

They reached the guardhouse. Inside was a desk, a chair and a telephone.

'Papers, I need your papers,' the guard was not going to be a pushover. Nancy feigned surprise. 'Look it's urgent. There wasn't any time for papers. There's an outbreak of fever, you understand? Fever in your country. And I have to go and get these supplies from the south and bring them back through here or people will die. Have you not been told?'

She stood with her hands on her hips facing him directly, the UN designation on her tabard in full view. A foreign woman driving a UN truck and shouting words like 'urgent' and 'fever' - what could be wrong with that?

'Look, people will die if I don't get through immediately, die do you understand, there's a fever and it's urgent. Get your prime minister on the phone if you don't believe me. But we have to hurry.'

Nancy was taking a huge risk but it paid off. The guard looked anxiously at the phone without moving and Nancy realised why. It didn't work.

It was time to step up the pressure.

'Look you talk to your boss and get it all sorted out. But I can't wait for all that. It's urgent and we have to stop the fever.' Nancy was bombastic and arrogant in a way that she had never been in her life before. She stormed out of the guardhouse into the rain and stomped her way to the truck. Revving the engine she drove forward to within inches of the barrier and wound down the window. The harassed guard emerged and stood in the rain with his rifle pointing at the ground clearly not knowing what to do.

Nancy changed tack again and switched on the charm. Leaning out and smiling as broadly as before she cooed to him. 'Now lift up the barrier and everything will be fine. You're doing the right thing. Well done.' She had no idea how much he understood of her language so she poured as much inflection and meaning as she could into her tone, nodding at him in approval as she did so.

It was touch and go whether the guard would comply. He clearly did not like being ordered around. Especially by a woman. But exactly how to deal with a bossy white female in the garb of the UN driving a huge UN-liveried truck in the middle of the night and shouting about fever and presidents while alternately threatening and cajoling him was a scenario that was unaccountably missing from his training. Reluctantly he pressed down on the counter-weight and the barrier rose in the air.

'Thanks so much, toodaloo,' Nancy shouted cheerily as the lorry shot forward to the crunch of gears.

Lafi emerged from under the dashboard where he'd been hiding. He took his seat and regarded Nancy with a mixture of admiration and astonishment.

'Very nice,' was all he said. Nancy looked steadily forward. Her smile was back on her face.

Kodrob's Squadroom, Central Pentacurse Region, Inferno

Nancy's grainy image inside the neon gas cloud broke up and dissipated as Bezejel froze the action.

She turned to Kodrob with elation. 'See Captain? Just as we said. She's taken control like we predicted all along. She's been dropped into a dangerous environment like a mouse into a hatful of snakes and she's the one doing the biting. That woman was born to boss the world and everyone in it. Don't you ever doubt me again.'

'No, Madam Bezejel, I never doubted you. None of us did.'

'Good. Well don't do it again.'

Bezejel looked past Kodrob at the others, making sure they were equally engaged with the developments.

'What do you think Lafarge? You're an educated man, say something.'

Lafarge, on the spot, stood his ground and preened himself like the aristocrat he once was, born to enjoy the attention of a beautiful female.

'I enjoy to see her drive the horseless wagon past the gun-carrying guard,' he said with a slight bow. 'She has courage that remind me of Joan of Arc.'

Bezejel bristled at the name of a saint.

'There's nothing virtuous about what Nancy did back there. It was all about self-preservation. That little joy toy of scheming, man-chewing, slave-driving womanhood is goosing up my pimples. That dame's got more guts in her little frame than a Hun horseman twice her size. She's an inspiration to every one of us.'

She paused to take in the rest of Kodrob's squad who were standing to attention and regarding her with very serious expressions. Her eyes fixed on Zhivkin, the newest member of the team and an unfamiliar face. Bezejel allowed herself to soak up every inch of the muscular Russian. He was no bigger than Holzman. But whereas the German had a face as unsightly as a nest of wood-lice Zhivkin's swarthy features brought her to the lip of temptation.

She looked him up and down and then she looked him down and up. Then she walked around behind him. Kodrob saw the danger. He hadn't noticed before but Zhivkin was a handsome devil and if he didn't act quickly Bezejel would have him and husk him before they could get any use out of him. The Cossack might think he had nothing to fear from Inferno's uncrowned queen but he had no idea of the inhuman strength the Leader had conferred on her.

Bezejel completed her circuit and advanced on Zhivkin like a cat on a sparrow. Kodrob jumped forward between them. 'Ma'am this is Marauder Zhivkin who is a new and vital member of our team. We need his excellent aerial skills to ensure the continued transmission of messages to the woman Nancy.' He turned to Zhivkin. 'Get out, you're not supposed to be here, you've work to do, Marauder.'

He turned back to Bezejel: 'Apologies Ma'am. Zhivkin is an ignorant hunter from the Black Sea. He needs his ass kicked or else he'll just stand and stare like a village idiot.'

Zhivkin looked at Kodrob with annoyance. He was enjoying Bezejel's attention. He also didn't like being called an ignorant hunter. For a moment he considered making a stand and refusing to obey his new boss. But that would be insubordination which was an automatic husking offence. He thought better of it and gave a stiff, military nod of his head. If he was going to confront Kodrob there would be a better moment on another day. Inwardly he seethed.

'From the Black Sea indeed,' Bezejel was watching Zhivkin as he made to leave the room. 'A nice place, the Black Sea.'

But while Kodrob was just starting to wonder how Bezejel knew about the Black Sea there was an interruption.

Gog at the door signalled to Bezejel that someone was approaching. Kodrob had never heard Gog or Magog speak and realised now that they were mute and used a subtle sign language to communicate with Bezejel. That was convenient if they didn't want others to understand them.

Bezejel looked mildly displeased. She drew up a chair and placed one foot on it. A moment later Hideki strode into the room with a look of purpose about him. He made a half bow to Bezejel. His sword rattled slightly at his side.

'Madam Bezejel, if you don't mind, the moment is approaching when we must begin our active mission. This is an important event and I don't want any mistakes made. May I brief your team?'

For Hideki, this was unusually good manners. But he had burst into her meeting without advance warning and Bezejel did not like to be pushed. She needed to put him back in his place.

She regarded him evenly for a moment and then slowly removed her coat revealing her thigh length magenta dress. Magog stepped in to take the coat and moved back out of the way. Bezejel sat herself on a chair and placed her feet on another one before slowly crossing her legs. All the while she kept her eyes on Hideki. Kodrob was enjoying the battle of wills. Bezejel was clearly the boss but Hideki had a habit of challenging her authority. More out of clumsiness than intent, Kodrob thought. But with her vibrant dress sense and concealed energy Bezejel was a peachy powerhouse of self-control.

The demon princess folded her hands in her lap and waited. It was Hideki who blinked first.

'I should have given you some warning,' he finally admitted.

Bezejel inclined her head a fraction. She wanted more.

'Apologies.'

Bezejel looked over her shoulder. 'Hades coffees,' she ordered loudly so Pu Gash at his petrol station could hear her. 'More bitumen this time.'

Now she turned back to Hideki as if nothing had happened and motioned for him to sit. The tension evaporated.

'Kodrob, get your squad in here. The colonel has something to tell us.'

Kodrob delegated Van Diemen to fetch his team from various corners of the labyrinthine caves.

As he returned Bezejel petted Hideki's ego. 'We have some important activities planned for today, Colonel. But since you're here, why don't you take the opportunity to brief the squad on their active mission? They're excited about what you've got for them.'

Hideki nodded and made a small 'Hrumph' noise. Bezejel's diplomatic skills were superior to his own.

Authority re-established, Hideki admonished, Bezejel was ready for the next move.

Kodrob's troops arrived and he assembled them in a line in front of his two commanders.

'Listen up to Colonel Hideki, all of you,' ordered Bezejel. 'You may be going into action soon.' She gave Hideki a nod.

The colonel stood to address the Marauders. It was not part of Bushido protocol to remain seated.

'Fellow demons,' he began portentously. 'The first part of the mission that you have been assigned to is about to begin. We are going into the Fourth to make contact with Nancy's ancestor, Mya Ling. I plan to perform the operation on her spirit that will open up the passageways out of her soul and allow us to extract all of her ambition at just the right moment and pass it down a century of Earth time into Nancy. As you know this process occurs to some degree naturally. When humans do evil they pass some of that evil forward to the next generation by what they teach their children. More often unintentionally than deliberately. But we must capture all of the evil, not just some of it. Your job is to protect me from any angels that might be in the vicinity while I perform my surgery.'

'Which time zone in the Fourth are we entering, Colonel?' Kodrob.

'Nineteenth century,' replied the Japanese. '1860's China to be precise. There should be few angels about at that time and in that place.'

Hideki's briefing continued with a large amount of detail on timings, vantage points, signals and other logistics. Kodrob was watching him throughout with growing confidence in his mastery of the tactics. But he still worried about his rivalry with Bezejel and whether he might attempt to steal her authority. Kodrob was afraid of Hideki. But he was even more afraid of Bezejel. He didn't want to have to choose between the two.

Evidently Bezejel had a similar concern.

She took her mug of burning bitumen from Pu Gash who bowed before delivering a second smoking mug to Hideki.

'Kodrob,' she called loudly when Hideki had concluded his briefing, 'remember that you and your team report to me throughout this operation. Colonel Hideki is in charge of the technical details and we must leave him free from the burden of leadership to carry out his delicate operation. He must be allowed to concentrate on his spiritual surgery. Now Marauders, make your preparations. We will postpone our other activities. Nancy is making excellent progress, she doesn't need us for a little while. Be prepared to leave for Earth upon the instant.'

The squad thundered off to arrange their kit and prepare their weapons. They'd have to cancel their immediate plans to go to a squawhouse and get blitzed. But an air of excitement ran through the group like an electric charge. The waiting was over and they were going into action, potentially into combat. If any angels got in their way, they were ready for them.

Heaven's Shore

'Maybe I should visit the Manchur for myself. Maybe there's more to the meeting between Shafner and Mya Ling than meets the eye.' Jabez was sitting alone on a rock, drinking the last of his tea, speaking into his mission journal in his globe.

Every engineering project Jabez had ever worked on required the keeping of a team diary. For the Nancy project he had decided to record all of his thoughts as well as all of his conversations. If the mission failed, he might need to show some evidence of the difficult choices he'd faced.

He stood up from his rock and walked further along the shoreline, flicking an occasional stone ahead of him. As his footsteps crunched on the shingle he continued speaking into the shining orb.

'The scene inside the Russian warship appeared, on the face of it, an innocently charming encounter between two young people. The wardroom was dingy and Spartan. But this was offset by an intense atmosphere of romance and expectation. The question is: was Mya Ling really just a young woman on the make? Was it not possible that she was really in love?'

He paused and listened to the hush around him. This was the only place in Paradise which swallowed up any sound as soon as it was made. The Shore was a land made for secrets. It had to be, so close was it to Inferno. Inferno, there it was. Simmering, just across the divide. You could almost throw a...

He stooped and selected a smooth rounded stone, just perfect for a short flight. It left his hand and he watched it draw its straight line across the chasm - no gravity below to pull it down in an arc. Nearly halfway across it rebounded and came back, dashing itself again on the shore. Jabez threw another and this time he had to duck as it boomeranged back at high speed, glancing off his wing before embedding itself in a dune.

'OK,' he said to himself, 'so the divide is a fact. Not just a label. It keeps them out and it keeps us in. Just like they told us on the induction.'

It was time to get back to work. He spoke into the globe. 'There is no time to make a real visit to the Manchur. But I need to take another look.'

Jabez returned to his rock where he sat down and expanded the globe to room-size. Sitting inside it he called up the recent archive and returned to 1860. He selected and viewed scenes of both Shafner and Mya Ling earlier in the day, before she made the visit to the ship.

Shafner had spent the day in endless report and letter writing.

Mya Ling was staying in paid lodgings at a private house in the village near the new Vladivostok with only an old family servantwoman to look after her. He watched her as she made her way to the little quay and was invited, apparently as a public relations exercise, to go aboard the warship. A Russian flag hanging from a new flagpole on the shoreline embodied the change of national ownership of the region from China to Russia.

Jabez looked closely at the pair's expressions on entering the wardroom to see if they could tell him anything more. The stilted conversation, the fluttering eyebrows, the formal politeness, the giggle, the triad tattoo on Mya Ling's arm. Jabez jerked his head forward. The triad tattoo, where was it? He replayed the scene again. The triad symbol wasn't there. He looked more closely. Mya Ling's forearm, which had been lit in sunlight when he had viewed it earlier, was now in shadow.

'Mission diary,' he exclaimed excitedly. 'The triad tattoo which I viewed with the team earlier is now too dark to make out. Why?' He looked at the window. 'The curtain on the right side of the window is now partly drawn and is obscuring the ray of sunlight which previously shone on Mya Ling's arm, illuminating it. It is not in the position it was in before. That is impossible. History doesn't just change.'

He looked up from the globe for a moment, clearing his head before looking back.

'My memory is clear. I recall when Ruth revolved the scene for us. Sunshine was playing all over Mya Ling's face and upper body. It was part of what made the whole tableau so special. As though the moment was blessed. Now she is all in shadow.'

Jabez was stunned. 'They've broken the rules of engagement,' he whispered in disbelief. He played the scene a third time with the same result.

'Conclusion.' He continued his journal entry. 'Only supernatural forces could have gone back and changed history like that. I know it was not angels. That means it could only be the other side. It means Infernals have not just viewed the wardroom scene from afar, like us, but have actually visited the ship and moved the curtain. They've broken the rules. They want Nancy that much, they've risked a war.' He paused for a moment to allow the gravity of his thoughts to sink in before continuing. 'Questions that must be asked: Why bother to obscure Mya Ling's tattoo? What else were they doing there? Why is Nancy so important to them?'

Jabez collapsed the globe to thumb diameter size and replaced it at his belt. With his heart beating fast he jumped up from his rock and walked briskly forward to the edge of the divide. He perched his feet on the very last grains of Paradise's sand before the cliff fell away into nothingness and looked out towards Inferno. Then drawing in a large breath he shouted with the loudest voice he could muster.

'You shall not have her. You shall not have Nancy. You might get me. But you will never own her. This I promise.'

Moments later his words were thrown tumbling back at him, zipping past his ears.

Shall not. Nancy. Might get. You. Never. Promise. This I.

The silence returned, shocking him with its power. He stood there a while longer, burning with incandescent rage, a feeling he had never known before.

Vladivostok, Eastern Russia, 1860.

The five members of the squad selected for the mission were Hideki, Kodrob, Holzman, Lafarge and Zhivkin. Van Diemen, Ologu and Pu Gash waited back in Inferno with Bezejel.

In the Fifth Dimension, time did not carry the same meaning - or limitations - as it did in the Fourth. Supernaturals could view and even visit any event of any period in human history. But there was a rule observed by all. They must not interfere with or change anything that had already happened. Hideki's intention to open certain pathways out of Mya Ling's soul was within the rules, but only just. He was not actually changing anything that happened in 1860. He was simply manipulating something that would influence the course of events in 1978.

The five demons had landed inside the Manchur's wardroom and were waiting \- invisibly - for Shafner and Mya Ling to enter. Hideki gave one final briefing. 'Kodrob I want you on the deck, alert to any angelic presence. If angels start watching now they will see us, so we have to act fast. Holzman and Zhivkin, go to the shore and keep watch from there. Lafarge, stay with me. Remember all of you, touch nothing. Angels may come here and try to research Mya Ling and her relationship with Shafner. We don't want them to find anything interesting.'

If Hideki's last sentence was ambiguous, it was exacerbated by the fact that Lafarge was looking out of the stern window and not paying full attention.

Lafarge was lazy and insubordinate and had only won his place in Kodrob's team because of his ability to arrange for cheap female company for his squad members whenever they were off duty. With his Gallic magnetism, decadent charm and roguish behaviour he appealed to the self-destruct instincts of Inferno's females and could attract squaws for half the price anyone else would have to pay. Now, as the other demons took their places, he lounged at the window and stared out at the seascape.

The door opened and Shafner and Mya ling entered. They conducted their elegant courtship unaware they were being watched by devils. At the moment that Mya Ling giggled and raised her hand to her mouth, Hideki held up both his arms and the scene froze.

'Now,' he said to Lafarge, 'this is the moment when Mya Ling's emotions and excitement are at their most vulnerable. She is already the ambitious, deadly woman we know her to be. But right now, she is genuinely attracted to Shafner. It is the first and last time that her heart is open to love. Only at this moment can we pull her heart strings and open up the channels that will pass her wickedness down the centuries to her great-great-granddaughter Nancy.'

Hideki bent himself over Mya Ling, closed his eyes, then placed his hands inside her body. He enjoyed a little melodrama and so chanted aloud an incantation he had memorised earlier. While he chanted his fingers moved rapidly together, as if sewing.

Mya Ling, ambition, hunger, power

In another's breast take root and flower

Flesh of your flesh, await the day

Your new home the heart of Nancy Kay

Lafarge watched with detached interest. He didn't share Hideki's fondness for hocus pocus. He just wanted to get back to Inferno and begin a mammoth drinking session with Holzman. His eyes wandered to Mya Ling's slender forearm and caught sight of the triad tattoo. He knew what it represented and realised that if the sun was not illuminating it, it would be in darkness and could not be seen by any angels that came along. It would be good to deprive them of an important clue, he decided. No-one would notice. While Hideki was still engaged with Mya Ling's soul, Lafarge pulled the curtain sideways, just a few inches. The arm slipped into shadow. The tattoo faded from sight.

Hideki was talking while he worked. He obviously didn't know Lafarge well for he thought the French demon was paying attention. 'The sins of the fathers are visited on the sons and the sins of the mothers are visited on the daughters as far as the seventh generation,' he pronounced with an air of gravity. 'Nancy is only the fifth generation from Mya Ling so we are well within the boundaries.' He lifted his head and removed his hands from Mya Ling, at the same time opening his eyes. He stood back and raised his hands as before. Mya Ling and Shafner unfroze and continued their romantic conversation then stood up and soon left the room, arm in arm.

Hideki looked delighted.

'That was highly successful,' he declared. 'Mya Ling's murderous lust for power will flow into Nancy. It will consume her. There is nothing she can do about it. It's just a matter of time.' Moments later the five demon team had left Earth and returned to their Infernal lair.

Southern Senegal, West Africa.

Nancy kicked the lorry into fourth gear and closed her driver's side window. They had travelled only a mile since leaving the frontier post between Gambia and Senegal.

'Why was there only one border guard?' asked Nancy. Why wasn't there a Senegalese border post?'

'They do not have enough money to build one,' replied Lafi. 'Sometimes there is a mobile post, a car or lorry with a policeman or soldiers to check passports. We had to be prepared for that. But tonight we are lucky.'

The rain was now pouring down and the wipers flicked noisily across the windscreen.

Lafi was peering through his own side window into the wing mirror. 'Slow down,' he barked.

Nancy checked her mirror and saw headlights behind.

'Trouble?' she asked.

'Maybe, maybe not,' replied Lafi, sounding less nervous than at any time since they'd met.

It was 4.15 am.

The headlights flashed, three longs and three shorts.

'OK stop around this corner, pull into the side,' ordered Lafi.

Sure enough, after the next bend a lay-by appeared on their right and Nancy slowed as she pulled in.

The children, she thought, how can I save the children?

But Nancy was not about to rescue any children that night.

A large white van pulled into the lay-by behind them and stopped, keeping its engine running and lights on. Lafi reached across and took the keys from the lorry's ignition and then jumped down and ran back, greeting the driver of the other vehicle with a handshake.

Nancy also went to see what was going on.

'Thirty-five, all healthy and fit for work, count them,' shouted Lafi above the rain.

The other driver nodded.

Lafi pulled the rear covers back and a host of sullen faces looked out.

He let the tailgate down.

Lafi shouted at the children in dialect and began to pull them physically from the truck. He kept shouting and pointing to the white van until the children proceeded reluctantly to walk towards it. The van driver counted every head and made sure they all climbed into his vehicle. He reached into his pocket, counted a bundle of notes and gave it to Lafi. After checking it, Lafi nodded and shook hands with the driver and then turned to where Nancy was standing.

The rain was streaking down her face and her clothes were already nearly drenched.

'Those poor kids, they're...' but she didn't know what to say.

'Not your business,' shouted Lafi brusquely. 'We go now.' He had successfully concluded his non-Brother transaction and was now clearly relieved. And confident. Nancy felt the balance of power between them had changed again and that Lafi was now fully in control of matters. She shivered in the rain, but not because it was cold.

The other driver shut the rear doors of his van, climbed into the cab and within seconds had pulled out into the road and was fast disappearing into the darkness. It had all happened so quick. The thirty-five children were still slaves. Nancy had helped them on their journey.

Back in the cab of the truck Lafi was now more businesslike and decisive. 'Thirty minutes' drive down there,' he indicated a side road Nancy hadn't noticed before. 'And then we pick up the drugs. No, not drugs. Medicines. Medicines,' he repeated. 'And go back to Gambia. Then you go home. You like go home?' he asked as though to reassure her that that was what he had in mind for her.

'Yes, I like go home,' replied Nancy calmly, taking the keys from him.

They drove for nearly half an hour through dense forest until it was clear they were again approaching the sea. The road was a mere track at this point. As they left the trees behind, Lafi pointed across some sand dunes.

'I can't get this lorry across there,' wailed Nancy.

'Only two hundred yards, but you must also turn truck around.'

There was no obvious trail for a lorry to follow across the sand dunes. They seemed to be virgin as far as vehicles were concerned, there were no tracks of any kind. Nancy drove slowly wondering if a wheel would become stuck. But Lafi - or someone - had evidently scouted the place well for the dunes were firm under the wheels and Nancy made solid, if bumpy, progress. At the end of the dunes, she halted. There was a sudden drop of about fifteen feet to the beach and continuing on was not an option.

She turned to Lafi, but he was already opening his door. 'Turn the truck,' he ordered. 'I start to find boxes.'

Nancy sighed as she took in the complexity of her task. She was feeling very tired after the recent tension and driving in the rain at night. Now she had to haul the lorry around to face the other way on a turning area not much larger than the lorry itself. She crunched into first, pulled the wheel hard down to the right and inched forward. Then smashed it into reverse and pulled the wheel to the left, reversing only a couple of feet. After what seemed like a 15-point turn the lorry was at last facing the way they had come. Nancy poured with sweat.

She walked to the rear of the truck in case she was needed. Lafi already had the tailgate down. On the beach lay a camouflage cover in a rough heap. Beside it, in a large hole were several dozen small wooden crates, all marked 'UN Medical - Not For Sale.'

Lafi was hauling the boxes out of the hole and piling them up at the back of the truck. When he had finished he turned to Nancy and motioned to her to climb in the back. He passed each box up to her and she took them and moved them inside the truck. Within minutes they were done.

Exhausted and breathless, Nancy sat on one of the boxes.

'Why bring them here? It doesn't make sense.'

Lafi was also breathing deeply. But he was smiling too. 'Boat driver bad navigation. This wrong place. Brother very angry. Need Lafi fix problem. That why you here.'

So that was it. A monumental screw-up caused by the smuggling boat coming into the wrong cove and then having to stash the drugs, or whatever, till they could be salvaged.

'So presumably, the drugs should have come into a harbour in Gambia, then you wouldn't have needed me to help you cross the border?' Nancy was piecing it all together.

Lafi just smiled and nodded. He was starting to look quite smug about his accomplishment that night. He had saved Brother's illicit cargo and made a nice little earner for himself on the side. Not bad. He also hadn't corrected her when she said 'drugs'.

'OK we go home now. Only one stop, but after border.' Lafi jumped into the lorry and waited for Nancy to climb in the driver's seat.

It was 5.00 a.m.

Thirty-five minutes later they approached the border post and Nancy drew the lorry up at the barrier. Rain was now sluicing across the windscreen as the guard, the same one as before, emerged to greet them, this time dressed in a waterproof cape. But in the intervening time his temper had not improved. Humiliated by Nancy the first time around he was determined to exercise his authority. Lafi was not in hiding now and instead had donned a UN tabard, the same as Nancy's.

The guard pointed his rifle directly at Nancy's head. Without saying a word he motioned with the rifle for her to get down. Seeing Lafi, he summoned him too. The guard went to the back of the vehicle and the two UN tabards followed him.

'Open,' he shouted. Lafi, acting mystified with all the skill of a professional actor, untied the straps holding the cover and let down the tailboard without question. The guard pulled himself up inside the truck and began to survey the boxes neatly stacked in the centre.

'Where you get these?' he demanded of Nancy. 'How,' he looked at his watch, 'in one hour?'

Nancy was the picture of innocence. 'I told you, we are working closely with our colleagues in the UN. They met us on the road. We have to bring these very important medicines back to Gambia. Your President is waiting on them.'

Nancy was wondering how she could shout a warning to the guard and tell him she was Lafi's prisoner. Unlike the police in Banjul who Lafi claimed he had bribed, this man was clearly no friend of his. Lafi was standing too close to him right now, close enough that he might seize the guard's rifle if Nancy tried to warn him. It was just a matter of timing, Nancy thought. She had to choose the right moment and then it would all be over. She could talk herself out of any charge of complicity if it came to a judicial hearing, she was sure of that.

Lafi seemed to sense the danger. He had his arms folded, unthreateningly, and a bemused look on his face but he stayed within a couple of paces of the short border guard. That was another thing to consider. Lafi was strong and could easily overpower the guard in a fight.

But the guard had other matters on his mind.

'There is a charge for taking medicines. You must pay. UN must pay.' He had declared his intention now and his rifle was up and swinging back and forward from one to the other.

Then Lafi started speaking to him in dialect. They began to argue angrily. Lafi took some notes from his pocket and threw them on the floor. The guard looked and spat on them, shouting again. Lafi shouted back and threw some more notes on the floor. He gesticulated with short, jabbing movements and pointed at 'UN' on his tabard. The guard hesitated and demanded more. But Lafi knew he had found the man's price. He refused and shook his head. The guard looked from one to the other as though briefly considering killing both of them. He stooped warily, keeping his rifle pointed at Lafi and picked up the money. Then he abruptly walked past Nancy and jumped to the ground.

A minute later the barrier was raised and the truck sped forward, kicking up mud and stones from the rear wheels. They were back in Gambia.

But if Nancy was relieved to be another step closer to the airport and a long flight back to Israel, the look on Lafi's face reminded her of her predicament. He was grim and resolute, not joyful at their latest escape. She thought she knew the reason.

'I know what you're planning to do,' she said coldly, flicking her eyes to Lafi and back to the road. 'You mean to kill me, don't you?'

No answer. But the emotion of the moment was beginning to show on Nancy.

'Look, I know what's going on inside your head, Lafi, you laughing slave trader. You've messed up worse than a pig on a guided tour of a scratchings factory and now you want me to take the blame for all of it. There's just one thing I ask. If I'm going to die I want to die in a place of my own bloody choosing. You owe me that, after all I've done for you.' She paused. 'Don't you?'

No answer. Nancy had no idea how much of her insults he'd understood. But it made no difference. Lafi leaned forward and reached under his seat. He pulled out a snub-nosed revolver and showed it to her.

Great, girl. If he wasn't planning to kill you before you insulted him, he is now. Well, better a bullet than a knife.

Nancy wondered if she could crash the lorry into a tree. Lafi was heavier than her and would certainly go flying through the windscreen. But the impact might kill her too. Or she could just drive really fast to Banjul and hope Lafi was too scared to stop her. But he could easily shoot her in the side and then hold the wheel steady until the lorry came to a stop.

'Don't you?' She wasn't letting go.

Finally Lafi turned toward her and nodded his head. 'OK Nancy, where you want to die?' Big-hearted, generous man, granting her last wish.

'By the sea,' she said miserably. 'If I'm going to die here, far from home, I want to die on the beach with the open sky above me, the forest in front of me and sand between my toes.' She wasn't putting on the desperation.

'OK, you know where?'

'Yes I know where,' she replied. 'The romantic place we came through on the way here.'

They continued on in silence for the next 40 minutes but she knew he was watching her like a hawk in case she tried anything desperate.

The rain was still coming down in sheets as the road led out of the jungle and back onto the beach.

To the right, shadows of huge trees leaned over towards them like bully judges at a bloody assizes, their beaky canopies nodding in agreement that the punishment was right and just. You've been a bad girl. Drugs and child slaves. Death is the only verdict.

To the left the ominous dark sea grumbled its hunger while the waves begged for more seafarers to swallow. Come, sleep deep in our belly. Unwind your mortal coil. Rest and suffer no more. Give you up on Judgement Day, promise.

In front of them the ribbon of sand led back to civilisation and order but Nancy knew she wouldn't make it if she tried to drive on. Lafi was getting ever more fidgety and was pointing the gun anxiously towards her. She slowed the lorry down to a crawl and began looking for a suitable place to make her last stand. Eventually, just as Lafi began to inch towards her across the seat, she brought the lorry to a stop and switched off the engine.

It was 6.30 a.m.

The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east, behind the tree line.

Nancy dropped from the cab and walked forward, kicking off her shoes. Lafi followed her, the gun in his right hand. He looked around and checked that they were in a secluded spot away from any settlements.

Nancy pointed to a slightly raised sand bar about twenty feet from the water's edge. There seemed to be more beach visible than when they came through earlier. The tide was going out.

'There,' she pointed, 'right there.' Nancy began to trot towards the spot she had indicated, still holding her arm out in front of her, pointing. Lafi was walking but quickened his pace to keep up. He brought the gun up level and pointed it forwards. His finger took a light pressure on the trigger. Nancy knew he would easily explain her disappearance to Habib. He'd simply say she got frightened and ran away. Would Habib follow up? Hardly.

Lafi looked behind him at the tree line and the forest behind it. Suitable place for a burial. Should be easy. He looked forward again. Nancy was running quite fast now, faster than necessary. Lafi speeded up too, breaking into a trot. Nancy reached the little sand bar.

And kept running.

'Hey,' Lafi shouted and started to race. But Nancy was now sprinting with all of her might straight towards the sea. She reached the first waves and splashed through until she could run no more and then dove head first and started striking out with all of her strength. Lafi had been taken unawares and was caught between stopping to take a shot or chasing her into the water. He fired off a couple of wild rounds at Nancy's disappearing form in the surf and then ran in after her. After a moment he stopped. With the gun in his hand he could barely swim and he couldn't see her now anyway.

Nancy hadn't heard the shots but continued swimming as fast as she could. She was no champion swimmer and knew she couldn't keep going long. But the tide going out might just save her. At the very least, it wouldn't be trying to bring her back in. After another minute and a half, completely exhausted and gasping for air, Nancy paused and looked behind her.

Nothing.

Yes, there he was, still on the shore. With the dawn light behind him she could just make out his silhouette. He was probably hoping she would try and swim back in to land further up or down the beach. Glint in his hand. Must be the gun. It was preventing him from plunging in after her. He couldn't swim with it and he didn't want to leave it behind. Keep hold of the gun, she whispered. That gun in your hand could save me. She flipped over on her back still gasping and floated. Utterly exhausted. She knew she couldn't last long before she drowned. Maybe she had three or four minutes at the most. The rain was still intense but there was also a breeze which made for some choppy waves. They were only a couple of feet high, but even so they kept swamping her face when she was trying to breathe.

Nancy reached behind her with her right hand and pushed it down inside her jeans. She arched her back to open up the gap between the waistband and her spine. The effort caused her head to dip below the waves and she swallowed a mouthful of the Atlantic. She grasped the inflatable life ring she had found earlier in the hinged box under the lorry and pulled it out. Her only chance to live was if it was not punctured. She found the teat and started to blow into it, coughing and spluttering as she tried to breathe at the same time.

The ring started to inflate. It was a large one, made for saving the lives of refugees at sea, not for playing at the poolside. After two minutes more of exhausting blowing the ring had hardened and was near its full expansion. She slipped it over her head and pulled her arms through. For several minutes she lay back and rested, breathing hard.

Cheat, wailed the waves. Tricked us. Not fair.

Sunrise, and the night turned to day speedily in the way that it does near the equator. Over the next two hours Nancy alternated periods of swimming with moments of rest. When she was about half a mile from the coast she turned and breaststroked north. She had no idea which way the nearest village was but she knew the airport was north and that was where she was going.

The rain stopped, the clouds lightened and blue sky found its way through in patches. A fishing boat came into view, a mile away. The boat was motorised and was heading out to sea. Nancy waved her arms and shouted hoarsely but there was no change in its direction. The boat continued.

On shore there was no sign of Lafi.

Ten minutes later, another boat sortied out followed by another. The second of the two changed course slightly and came in Nancy's direction. She hollered and waved for all she was worth. A man standing on the prow was looking out for any shimmer that might mean fish. He walked back to the tillerman. The boat pointed itself directly at Nancy and slowed. A minute later, strong hands were pulling her out of the water. She collapsed at the bottom of the boat and sobbed.

It was 9.00 a.m.

'Water, have you any water?' After several minutes Nancy managed to pull herself up on one side. She had stopped sobbing but a blinding headache now afflicted her.

The kindest, happiest face she had ever seen in her life swung itself into view and its owner shoved a plastic bottle into her hands. She drank deeply and handed the bottle back.

'Thank you,' she gasped.

'Lucky. You lucky lady,' said Happy Face. The fisherman was dressed in rough clothes and he squatted down in front of her with his thighs sticking out like girders either side of him. His huge bare feet were like tree roots under Nancy's nose. The second fisherman came up too, smiling with a mouth so wide that Nancy thought of the whale that swallowed Jonah.

Both of them showed rows of perfect white teeth. Aren't there sweet shops around here?

Nancy coughed and vomited up the water she'd just drunk. A thick strand of saliva dribbled from her lower lip to the mess in the bottom of the boat. Nausea took her and the boat span around the sky.

'You fallen otter?'

'Huh?'

'You fall in water?'

'Oh.' Damn headache. 'Yes.'

The two fishermen talked in their own language. They seemed to be searching for English words.

'Sleep,' Happy Face said. 'Safe now,' Jonah said.

Nancy put her head down and closed her eyes. A few minutes later she felt heat on her face and knew the sun had come out. The engine had started again and Nancy hoped they were going home, wherever that was.

Happy Face gave her the bottle again. 'Drink slow,' he laughed. How were these people so happy, who had nothing? Nancy sipped the water and eased herself up again. The headache had receded and she almost felt alive.

She stared up at Happy Face and Jonah, who was now at the tiller again. Spray washed over the prow and refreshed Nancy's face. She was feeling less sick and sat up, looking around. A much-repaired net lay at her feet along with her UN life ring. Apart from those and some diesel fuel in cans and a few water bottles, there was nothing else in the boat.

She looked over the side and saw the coast only a few hundred yards away. The tall trees beyond the beach, now lit up by the morning sunshine were waving their friendship to her. You weren't that cuddly last night, were you? She thought of her flight to the sea with the rain in her face and the gloomy forest behind her. Had that really happened? Was Lafi really going to kill her? Yes and yes.

The boat rounded a headland and Nancy could now see their destination. A village of wooden shacks with many colourful boats drawn up on the sand and large numbers of people working around dozens of long tables that were set up on the beach. Boats were setting out to sea and others were coming back and unloading their catch. Lines of women and children were filling baskets of fish at each boat and ferrying them in relays to the tables for gutting and drying. Happy Face and Jonah had given up their morning's fishing to bring Nancy home. How could she repay them?

As they approached the beach, Happy Face stood up high on the prow and began calling out to the nearest bystanders. They could barely hear him above the noise of the engine but soon people could see Nancy's face and began shouting and pointing. A crowd gathered and moved down the beach. Nancy watched all this with growing confidence. She would be safe now, surely?

A figure at the rear of the beach near the treeline caught her attention, running behind a shack. Lafi. Oh no, not again. What was he doing here? Silly question. He would come and mingle with the crowd, unseen, looking for a moment when she was vulnerable. Then he would strike and make his escape leaving her bleeding her life out on the pure white sand.

Happy Face was still shouting to the crowd. Moments later people were excitedly helping her off the boat and walking her up the beach. Questions aimed at Happy Face and Jonah in dialect. Questions aimed at Nancy in English. What happened? Who was she? Did her boat sink? Was she from Scotland?

Where was Lafi?

She sat down, collapsed rather, and was joined by Happy Face and Jonah, proud of their mermaid catch. Who could she tell about Lafi?

A local woman, dignified and commanding, came down the beach. The crowd made way for her. She was about fifty and carried herself like someone in authority, stepping like a president, speaking like a caesar. Schoolteacher? Tribal leader?

'Well this is an unexpected surprise. Did you fall off a pleasure boat?' asked the woman. 'I'm Doreen by the way.'

Doreen indeed. And I'm the Queen.

'I'm Nancy, pleased to meet you.' They shook hands.

But Doreen was waiting for an answer.

'I, em, I had an accident. These two men saved me from drowning,' Nancy indicated Happy Face and Jonah who were sticking close to her and smiling like politicians on election day.

'Good,' said Doreen and started talking to Nancy's saviours in their own language. There were lots of questions from Doreen and answers from Happy Face, who seemed to speak for the two of them.

'Let's get you dried out.' Doreen summoned Nancy to follow her up the beach while some of the crowd started to melt away, show already over. Just a tourist who'd fallen off a yacht. No story there after all. Probably drunk. Westerners!

Nancy was sure Lafi was biding his time, waiting for a moment when she'd be left alone. Doreen wouldn't be able to protect her, that was for sure.

Nancy put her arm around Doreen and pulled her to a stop. 'A man tried to kill me,' she whispered urgently. 'A man with a gun. I swam into the sea to escape.'

Doreen pulled away in alarm. What sort of people was the young white lady involved with?

'I think he's hiding behind that shack. I mean that building. Waiting for me. If you don't believe me please take a look.'

Doreen now took a long look at Nancy. She was quite a sight to be sure, bedraggled and shoeless. But she didn't look drunk and she didn't look drugged. Nancy looked back at Doreen, imploring her with her eyes. She knew she was being sized up.

There was still a small crowd around, including Happy Face and Jonah who wanted to know the outcome of their morning's work. Doreen turned to them and spoke rapidly without raising her voice. They looked at her in surprise but in a moment ran up the beach and peered behind the shack. Clearly there was someone there as Nancy could see Jonah speaking.

'Be careful, he's got a gun,' she shouted.

But a moment later the chase was on. Lafi broke from cover and started to run up the beach. Now, through the trees, Nancy could see the lorry. If he could reach that, he'd get away.

Lafi brandished his gun and shouted at his pursuers. At the top of the beach two fishermen emerged from the trees carrying a long net between them and walking slowly towards the boats. They heard the commotion and saw Lafi with the gun in his hand, a crowd from their own village chasing him.

The two fishermen advanced on Lafi holding their net between them. They unfurled the sides of the net threatening to make a catch of him. As they rushed down at each side of Lafi he fired off a shot. One of the men clutched his arm but didn't drop his side of the net. Lafi tried to jump the advancing mesh but his feet slipped in the sand and he ploughed straight into it. In a moment he was trapped and the two net-carriers together with Happy Face and Jonah grabbed him and pinned him.

Jonah took Lafi's gun and held it high, its very existence evidence of Lafi's guilt. The wounded net-carrier was holding his arm which was bleeding lightly.

Lafi was marched down the beach towards Doreen and Nancy. The crowd had gathered again but this time it was a very angry crowd indeed. There were jeers and shouts and jabbing of fingers in Lafi's direction. More people were running in from all directions.

A man appeared behind Lafi bearing a fishing spear. Its sharp tip and barb made for landing sharks. He used it to prod Lafi and keep him moving forward.

When they reached Doreen, the crowd quietened.

'Tell me what this man did,' Doreen said to Nancy.

Nancy breathed in deeply. She didn't know if this was an impromptu trial or if the police had been sent for and, whichever it was, what the outcome might be.

'He tried to kill me. I ran into the sea and swam away.' Doreen rapidly translated this for the villagers who began shouting and chanting again.

Nancy noticed some small children in the front of the crowd, holding onto their mothers' skirts.

'Before that, he was carrying thirty-five children in a lorry across the border. South. That lorry.' Everyone followed her outstretched arm and could just see the outline of the truck through the trees. As those who understood English translated for the others, the crowd's anger turned to fury. Lafi was not of their village, probably not even of their tribe. He had shot one of them with a gun. Now he was accused of child-trafficking, something that all the parents present regarded with horror. If Nancy had been worried that Lafi might try to implicate her in his guilt, she had no need. His time was up.

The spearsman jerked his arm and the sharp point of the fishing-spear that had been at Lafi's back now appeared in front of his chest. A drop of blood wobbled at the end of its hanging barb. Lafi sank to his knees. The mob closed in around him kicking and tearing.

Exhausted, Nancy sank back and fell to the ground. She sobbed again and kept sobbing as Doreen came over and put her arm around her.

'You poor dear, you poor dear,' Doreen repeated. 'You need to get some rest and tell me all about it.'

That, Nancy thought, is the last thing I want to do. As Doreen led her away she turned and looked back. Lafi's body lay broken and torn on the beach, almost in pieces.

'You underestimated me, Lafi,' she whispered to his departing soul. 'You weren't the first and you won't be the last.'

Heaven's Shore

'Luke, I think the other side have made a slip-up and given something away. This could be our breakthrough.' Jabez was on a one to one globe call with the Stetsoned black angel.

'Go on.'

Jabez recounted his discovery of the 'disappearing tattoo.'

'That breaks all the legal understandings,' said Luke in shock. 'I'd say it was a sin but that's understating it. This needs to get to the top straightaway, to the kind of senior angels that Ruth hobnobs with. This is serious.'

'No, we mustn't do that,' replied Jabez quickly. 'If we take this through proper channels and it gets to St Michael there'll be all hell to pay in Inferno, he'll make sure of that. But all of that diplomacy will take too long. It won't help us if their leadership gets thumped by ours. The demon team we're battling will know instantly that we're onto them and they'll take counter-measures. We'll lose our advantage. I say we use this discovery and act on it.'

'What do you have in mind?'

'We need the girls in on this too. But it's confirming our suspicions that the Chinese connection is highly significant. Not just that, the triad involvement also. That's why they've tried to hide it.'

'And you've seen the latest from Nancy?'

'Yes, she's an amazingly resourceful young woman. She risked being shot and being drowned and survived them both. The tragedy is that the other side are in charge of her development. All her survival instincts and natural brilliance are coming awake. They can do an awful lot of damage with her, not to mention capture her soul. Luke, we need to get ahead of the game and this error of theirs gives us the pointer we've been looking for.'

'I know what you're going to say. If we put together the Chinese connection, the triads and what we know about Brother, there is only one place that we need to look next.'

'Exactly,' agreed Jabez. 'Who have we got in Hong Kong?'

Shanghai Mansions, Yaumati District, Kowloon, Hong Kong

'Business is good, Monkey. The new heroin batch is selling like moon cakes at New Year and the girls are working hard. In fact they're working so hard they never get off their backs.' Fei Jai Lo, Fatty Lo to his friends, laughed heartily at his own joke while turning up the volume on his state-of-the-art push button phone.

Fatty Lo was head of the Hing Dai, or Brother, triad society. He had joined twenty years before as a '49', a warrior, and literally fought his way up the ranks. Now in his late 30s he had more money than he'd ever thought possible and surrounded himself with all the flashy accoutrements that a criminal grandee needed to show off his wealth. Fatty's name testified to his love of food and his habit of eating five times a day 'to keep my luck healthy'.

'Prostitution is where the fucking money is,' laughed Monkey crudely in his office above a girlie bar in San Po Kong, several miles away. Monkey was the nickname of Fu Yip who was head of the rival Gam Ma, or Golden Horse triad society. Golden Horse was currently in a territory treaty with Brother which meant that turf wars between the two were suspended for the time being. 'Making plastic toys is for fools,' he added.

'We should get together soon for dim sum,' Fatty continued. 'You bring two girls and I'll bring two and we'll have double happiness while we eat.'

'You have the best ideas, Fatty, always thinking ahead.'

The Golden Horse society was a lot smaller than Brother so Monkey was careful to ply his partner with compliments. It was all part of giving 'face' to your seniors and betters. In an honour society such as a criminal triad organisation, giving 'face' was showing respect. Fatty Lo liked respect. A lot of it.

'Talking of good ideas,' continued Fatty, 'when we meet and eat I want to discuss the eventual merging of Golden Horse into Brother. I like your operation or I wouldn't bother to ask you. You've built a profitable business and earned respect on the streets. But there's no room any more for small societies, they're just too...local. We have to think big.'

Monkey closed his eyes. It was the moment he had been dreading. He'd built up Golden Horse in a relatively quiet area of Kowloon, far away from the tourist traps and the easy dollars. Almost all of his business came from local Chinese factory workers who wanted good value for money, whether they were spending it on drink, drugs, gambling or women. But the truth was, he loved running Golden Horse. It wasn't about making money or having lots of pretty girls to pick from any more, it was about having hands-on control. If he merged with Brother he would have money and girls aplenty. But he would never again be able to make a decision without having to ask someone else.

'I know, Fatty, I know,' he replied, thinking fast. 'I'm not putting it off. I just want to negotiate good terms.'

'That's fine. We'll find you a good position in Brother, don't worry,' reassured Fatty. 'I don't want to squash you, Monkey, you know? That was the old way of doing things. Caused a lot of trouble. When business people like you and me used to fall out there was lots of death-by-ten-thousand-cuts in the streets. Very bloody indeed and it brought the law along. It used to be that Hong Kong's finest were the best police force money could buy. We could pay them to look the other way. But things have changed. They're not as corrupt as they used to be. They're frightened of going on the take in case this new anti-corruption force from England collars them. So I don't use violence any more unless it's absolutely necessary, understand? Everything by negotiation. Unless negotiation doesn't work. Get me?'

The threat was very clear.

'Sure, Fatty. Listen, I'm going into hospital next month for surgery. Small operation to straighten my toe. I can't concentrate on this merger before then. Can we talk when I come out? I'll have a clearer head. Can it wait till then Fatty, huh?' Monkey had found a delaying tactic.

'OK,' Fatty Lo sighed. 'It can wait till you come out. We'll have dim sum then and talk. But no later, OK? I'm a patient man, everyone says that. But even I have my limits.'

'You're the big fella Fatty. You're the boss of bosses. I'm looking forward to it already. I'll bring Ah Mui and Sai Chen, they're my two prettiest. You'll like them. They'll make you happy.'

'You know what will make me happy, Monkey. Don't let me down'.

'I won't, Fatty. See you in a few weeks.'

Monkey's Office, San Po Kong

But as Monkey replaced the receiver in its cradle he picked up the golden paperweight that lay on top of a pile of $100HK notes on his desk and flung it at his electric fan. He scored a direct hit and the fan toppled over, its protective spokes crushed in on the fan blades which ceased their whirring.

His male secretary Chu rushed in. 'What happened boss?'

'Fatty Lo wants to take over Golden Horse,' declared Monkey miserably. 'Big Brother wants to be even bigger Brother. I won't sell out to him. He's not getting Golden Horse without a fight.' Monkey stared at the broken fan on the floor.

'We can't fight Brother, boss. There are twenty of them for every one of us.'

'It's about honour, Chu,' declared Monkey sternly. 'Have you learnt nothing from me in all these years? Some things are more important than money. More important than life itself.'

Chu regarded his master calmly but with a strong sense of foreboding. He was completely loyal to his boss and would lay down his life for him if necessary, as he had pledged to do when taking his bonds of oath. But taking on the might of Brother was a move that could have only one possible outcome. There could be trouble ahead, he thought. There could be a whole dragon's breath of trouble ahead.

Banjul Airport, Gambia

It was midnight as the outer right wing engine of the C-130 Hercules kicked into life sending a cloud of smoke into the empty scrubland behind it. The 'Flying Hippo' as one of her former pilots had named her, had logged over 40,000 flying hours since she was built in 1960 meaning that she had been in the air for a quarter of her life. But her current masters, a group of ex-Israeli servicemen turned privateers, were determined that she should continue with her aerial travails for a lot longer yet. Israel had many secret friends around the world that needed her cast-off weaponry and these ex-servicemen were happy to carry out the role of distributing her out of date hardware to wherever it was most wanted.

The inner right now fired throatily followed closely by both of those on the left side.

Banjul airport was almost completely dark, only a few lights in the control tower showed that the airport was still working. At this hour there would be few suspicious eyes about and that was the way that both the Gambian government and the Flying Hippo's owners wanted it.

Co-pilot Jimoh Bah decided to have a last smoke before prisoning himself once more in the cramped cell of the cockpit for the night. 'I'm going outside, Adima,' he said to the pilot. 'For a last puff. Want to join me?'

'No thanks,' replied pilot Adima Ceesay. 'I'll finish the pre-flight checks. But don't be long. We'll be leaving in a few minutes.'

As Jimoh stepped into the plane's hold, Adima called over his shoulder. 'Looks like the little white girl didn't make it.'

'No,' replied Jimoh. 'And even if she did manage to do whatever Lafi wanted from her, he wouldn't bother to bring her back here. He'd leave her to walk. And there are plenty of other bad guys who'd make short work of a foreign girl walking the roads by herself.'

'Well, nothing we can do about it,' agreed Adima. 'It's not our business. We'll just have to tell Ilan that Habib has lost another one.'

'It's a big shame,' called Jimoh. 'She was such a nice little girl. Polite too.'

The ramp was still lowered so Jimoh strode down it and wandered onto the tarmac. The engines were at idle and Jimoh loved to hear their rumbling growl, a mere whisper compared to the roar they would give out in just a few minutes time when the plane was straining against the brakes at the beginning of the runway and the throttles were opened.

Truth was, he was more than a tad disappointed that the little white girl hadn't showed up. He had seen she was afraid even though she'd covered it up with a lot of bravado.

Jimoh slowly turned 360 degrees, scanning the perimeter for any sign of movement. A couple of large stag beetles flew close. He blew a cloud of smoke at them and they turned and lumbered off, like insect versions of his own fat-bellied plane. He flicked his cigarette away. Then he walked back up the ramp, located the prominent 'Close' button in the side of the fuselage and pressed it. As the motor grinded and the ramp began to lift he flicked on his torch to light his way back through the hold, looking behind him as he went. The cavernous interior was entirely empty. Even a beetle couldn't hide in here. Not a profitable trip for the Flying Hippo's owners.

In the cabin Adima turned his head back and called out to him. 'We're clear for take-off, Jimoh. Let's be on our way so these control tower lightweights can get to their beds.' But as Jimoh entered the cabin he cried out like he'd seen his grandmother's ghost. Little white girl was sitting in his seat. Not only that, she was holding his coffee flask in one hand and drinking from his cup in the other.

She held it out to him. 'Would you like a sip?' she asked sweetly.

Nancy had slept soundly for nearly eight hours at Doreen's compound just a hundred yards from the centre of the village. When she woke, Doreen gave her some fish stew and rice with some fresh coconut water to wash it down.

'Thank you,' said Nancy 'I don't know the last time I ate. I'm so hungry and I feel like a washed-up rag doll. What do I look like?'

'Well I don't know how you normally look, Nancy,' smiled Doreen. 'But I'm guessing you proba'ly scrub up a lot better than you look right now.'

Doreen tenderly handed her a mirror and Nancy was shocked to see the wild hair, cracked lips and parched skin staring back at her. Her clothes had dried but they were straight off a scarecrow and wouldn't have made it to the shelves of a charity shop. She put on her feet some plastic sandals that Doreen gave her as a present.

'So tell me Nancy,' she began, now the pleasantries were over, 'who is - or rather was - that man and how did you get mixed up with him?'

'Oh him? Yes. What will happen to him, I mean his body, will the police..?'

'We take care of our own affairs,' said Doreen firmly. 'It's not like Bristol where I used to live. No sense in bothering the police here. They only get in the way. We can do our own justice.'

'Oh, right. Was there anything on the lorry?'

'No.' Doreen looked intently at Nancy. 'And if there had been something on the lorry, what might it have been?'

'Oh, nothing.' So Lafi had handed off the drugs before coming to look for her at the village. Street dealers all over Europe would be very happy about that.

'You were saying?' Doreen knew how to be persistent.

'Well...'

But as Nancy played for time and tried to think up a story about being abducted by Lafi while walking around Banjul as an ordinary tourist, she absent-mindedly picked up the mirror again. Only instead of her own face, the mirror showed a small letter 'd', as fine and neat as if made from cut glass, with bevelled edges and a rainbow-like prism of light around it.

'Oh,' gasped Nancy as she pulled her hands away and the mirror fell to the floor.

In the same moment, Doreen drew back in her chair as if Nancy was radio-active.

'My dear,' she said, her eyes wide in fear and her hands held up in front of her like a barrier. 'My dear, there's something going on with you that I haven't ever seen before.'

'What do you mean?' replied Nancy innocently, while trying not to think. 'R', 'e' and now 'd'.

'I mean that there's stuff, spiritual stuff around you that's intense. I've seen ghosts and other strange goings-on in my time but what's around you is much too big for me to meddle with. I don't know what you're about, my dear, but I think you best be on your way as soon as you can.'

Red.

And with that, Doreen sent a messenger to summon Happy Face and Jonah to come to the compound. When they arrived they seemed a little disappointed to hear that Nancy was leaving them so soon.

'Take miss Nancy to Banjul, anywhere she wants to go, in the market van,' ordered Doreen. 'You two brought her to the village so it's appropriate that you two see her safely away from the village. Understand?'

The two fishermen regained their smiles. 'I'll take you anywhere you want to go,' laughed Happy Face to Nancy. 'So long as you promise not to go swimming in the sea again.'

Nancy laughed, relieved that there were no hard feelings. 'Are you going to keep the lorry?' she asked of Doreen.

'No, we don't need it,' replied Doreen. 'We'll probably sell it and use the money to buy packaging equipment. For the fish. We can sell more fish if they're properly wrapped and labelled.'

The moment had arrived. Nancy made a tearful good-bye with Doreen who, although keen for her to continue on her journey, had also become a little mumsy.

'You take care, you hear,' encouraged Doreen. 'You've got a strength about you like a tree in a storm. Stay true to your roots and you'll be all right.'

Red. Red flag? Red squirrel? Red bus?

'Thanks Doreen, I'll always remember you,' said Nancy who kissed her on the cheek and followed the two men out into the night.

Heaven's Shore

'Red. It could be anything. But it's starting to look like this adventure is taking Nancy to Hong Kong. I know we've said it before but we need to stop just following events and get ourselves ahead of this game.'.

Jabez was hosting the meeting and the other three were present on his shingle beach by way of their globes. This time Jabez insisted they make themselves comfortable rather than roughing it with him. So Ruth was curled in her feather air chair, Agatha lay in a softcane swing seat and Luke sat cross-legged on a vast leather armchair the size of a small room.

'African proportions,' he said with a cheeky grin. 'It's a cultural thing. You wouldn't understand.'

They didn't try to.

Jabez retained his rock saying that anything else would disturb the ambience of his environment. He was doing his best to look relaxed but the others could see he was tense.

Ruth had volunteered to provide the refreshments however and decided to introduce the team to a new range of drinks.

'Got sump'n special for y'all,' she declared with a smile as wide as a cotton field. 'Take 'em out and fill 'em up.'

Each one opened a container she'd sent over and took out a tall crystal glass. A second container produced a jug of elderflower and ginger cordial while a third disgorged thin coconut cookies.

'The fourth container is the one that makes it all come together.'

Jabez was first. The door of the tiny freezer container, barely the size of his fist, opened and jettisoned several ice cubes into his glass. As the cubes melted, they freed up little peppercorn-sized butterflies that leapt into the air and hovered above his drink for several seconds, flapping their wings before disappearing in a puff of mist. Soon the space above everyone's glass was filled with dozens of these diminutive fliers, spinning dizzily and vaporising in front of their eyes.

'Who made those Ruth? They're so beautiful.' asked a delighted Agatha.

'My friend Valentine makes them over at his ranch in Eternal Springs,' replied Ruth with a hint of pride. 'The water there has a unique chemistry that allows a short bio simulation. He makes all kinds of butterflies and miniature birds out of the minerals in the water and then chills them into ice. While they're frozen he calls them 'still life'. Course, they're not really living, they're just crystals with miniature heat-exchangers in their joints. The crystals absorb the ambient warmth of the passing air at different rates and that causes the wings to flap and rotate.'

Silence reigned for a few moments to the accompaniment of several faint drumbeats of Music.

'I liked them better before you told me that,' declared Luke.

'Oh, I'm sorry y'all. I just done and took the romance out of the whole thing. Tush, what a thing to do,' laughed Ruth stirring her drink. The last of her butterflies leapt from her glass, took flight upwards in a lazy spiral and abruptly evanesced in a vapour rainbow.

Jabez stirred his drink to allow several butterflies to escape together. As they rose from his glass he opened his mouth and gulped them in. 'It's better than sparkling wine,' he exclaimed.

Soon they were all trying to capture the insect sparklers in their mouths and the air was thick with exclamations and hoots.

Finally Jabez called a halt.

'This is great but it's not getting the children to school.' He was still laughing as he put down his glass. 'At least I feel less anxious than I did before. Laughter is a great way to begin a meeting. I have a feeling we're going to be more productive than we otherwise would have been. Well done Ruth. Thanks to your friend Valentine. Tell him he's got a great product line.'

He looked around the shore at the others who saw that his face was still holding onto his smile. 'Right, let's get started on our strategy. But first, has anyone got any questions?'

Agatha put her hand in the air. 'I have.'

'Fire away, Aggy.'

'Remind me, Jabez, how we got to Hong Kong,' said Agatha, brushing coconut crumbs from her knees. 'Because the last we saw, Nancy was in West Africa by way of Israel but lives in England.'

Jabez bedded his cordial glass into the sand at his feet. 'OK, quick recap. Ruth discovered that Nancy comes from a Russian Jewish line but her great great grandmother was Chinese. That ancestor, Mya Ling, was a member of a triad society. The other side tried to erase visibility of her membership of that organisation by covering up her triad tattoo when she was on the Manchur. It's as though they didn't want us seeing the triad connection and following the logical trail to Hong Kong.'

'Or else,' put in Luke, 'very cleverly teased us in order to make us think it was important so we would waste time on a dead end.'

'That's possible,' admitted Jabez, 'and we'll have to watch out in case it's a false trail. But it was very subtly done. Too subtle, in my view, to have been a deliberate ruse to send us in the wrong direction.'

'Probably right. I don't disagree,' concurred Luke.

'Also,' continued Jabez, 'Brother is based in Hong Kong. If Inferno has big plans for Nancy, doesn't it make sense they'll bring her there sooner or later?'

'I agree, it's possible that it's a false flag,' added Ruth. 'But right now it looks the most obvious next step for Nancy if they're going to continue her education. We'd be crazy not to prepare for it.'

'OK, that's fine by me,' agreed Agatha. 'I just wanted to check.'

Ruth looked at Jabez sitting on his uncomfortable rock, his empty glass at his feet. 'You mentioned that you might have to get close to the enemy at some point, Jabez.'

'That's right.'

'I just may be able to help you with some risk management solutions. It's some technology that might help you keep out of trouble.'

'You have the floor Ruth,' invited Jabez.

'Well, while I was working on exposing the Skajj defection as a fraud, I encountered some angels working on an exciting project in the Ninth. It's a lightship that can't be seen by demons. It creates barely a ripple in Fourth Dimension spacetime. You could be inside this craft and be right next to a satyr and he won't know you're there. If you're going to have to do as much interference on Earth as I think y'all are, the lightship will help you stay hidden. Plus, it's real comfortable. What do you say I take you to meet my friends Chan and Jo and see if they'll let y'all play with their new toy?'

'Ruth that sounds amazing, I'd love to see the lightship. And meet Chan and Jo. Thank you.'

'No problem, amigo.'

'Well, that's a step in the right direction,' continued Jabez. 'But we still need to find a way that we can start to influence Nancy in our direction. The enemy has this 'red' business and whatever they plan to follow that with. We've followed her thought waves and they've already got her thinking about what it might mean. That means that they're gaining traction on her mind. We need to counter their evil, downward strategy with a positive, healthy one that will lead her upwards to freedom and victory.'

'Actually, I've been thinking along those lines already.' Agatha.

'You have?' asked Jabez gratefully. 'What have you got Agatha?'

'Well,' began Agatha coyly. 'I was thinking about the murky world of Hong Kong criminal triads. And I was wondering what kind of people triad members encounter in their daily lives. And it struck me that we have a friend in place who could be a most valuable asset.'

They all nodded, knowing that by 'friend' Agatha meant a mortal who was destined eventually to arrive in Paradise.

'We might be able to arrange that this 'friend' I'm thinking of could meet Nancy in Hong Kong. We'd have to think carefully how we could engineer such a meeting. But, if it could be done, he could give Nancy a message that will block the 'Red' code they're trying to infect her with.'

Agatha paused to see if the others were on her wavelength.

'Go on,' encouraged Jabez. 'This is interesting. But tell us more. What is this message that you're thinking of.'

'It's a message that all of us here know very well.' Jabez noticed that a delicate smile was playing on Agatha's mouth. She was quietly confident about what she was about to say.

'But the thing is, we don't just tell her the message,' Agatha went on. 'That won't work at all. We have to build it up. We have to get her intrigued so that when it's finally explained to her, she's desperate to hear it.'

Luke was leaning forward, almost falling out of his oversized seat. 'And...how do we do that? How do we build it up?'

'Easy,' said Agatha, now smiling like a Cheshire cat. 'We do what the other side are doing. We give her a mystery. We give her a mind game that she's impatient to solve. We give her a riddle that she wants to understand. But we take our time over giving her the solution. Then when she does finally get the answer, it will mean so much more than if we told her straight out.'

'I get it,' said Ruth. 'We make her work hard to solve our puzzle. Then she'll own the answer in a much deeper way. Very smart.'

'That's right,' said Agatha. 'What I have in mind for Nancy is to give her a hidden message that she's desperate to break open. We give her a code.'

Inferno, Navaho's Squawhouse

'And so, we now know clearly the layout of Mya Ling's mind, particularly the exact locations of her ambition and ruthlessness. When we first looked into Nancy's soul some time ago and understood her great potential for Destructive Purpose, I made a similar chart of her mind's layout. Now I can prepare to map across all the evil from Mya Ling's mind to Nancy's across the centuries. When that's done our job will be nearly complete.'

Hideki's success on the mission to 1860 had made him more conceited and unbearable than ever. Bezejel made a mental note to have him ambushed and husked by a private gang she knew as soon as possible after the mission was over. But for now she needed him - and Hideki knew it.

'So let me get this right, Colonel Hideki, you have charted the layouts of both women's minds and know how to import the evil from one to the other, is that right?'

They were celebrating at Navaho's after their return from the Manchur. Holzman and Lafarge were already blitzed and had begun to leer at passing squaws. Zhivkin was lost in a stupor of his own thoughts. Kodrob was swaying gently beside Bezejel, but comprehension was gone from his stewed eyes. Around them a raging cacophony was in place as demons drank and argued and squaws led eager though barely-capable clients to the spiral stairways. Drums beat in the background.

'Pay attention, all of you,' Bezejel snapped at her drunken squad. 'We need to focus on the project. Then you can drink and take your squaws.' But it was too late for discipline. When they were like this, demons became fatalistic and lost their fear of husking. Some of them even sought it out and picked fights to accelerate the journey to gurndom and finality.

'Yes, I know how to import the evil. I have everything I need,' replied Hideki, looking past Bezejel disdainfully. 'I will map the evil from one to the other by myself in my laboratory. That will be done when I leave here tonight. But the transfer will not take place until the right moment. That comes when Nancy has received all of the letters of the code. Most important right now is that we guard the communication filaments carefully so that angels not interfere with it. Nancy has received the word 'Red'. But there is more to come.'

'I will put a round-the-clock guard on Nancy,' declared Bezejel. 'If any of those feathered wonders comes close to her we'll know it. She's on her way already to the centre of the Brother organisation. With our help she'll shake it up and turn it into the evil empire that humans have long feared. Then Inferno will have a harvest of souls not seen since the Flood. The Leader will reward us mightily. We'll be rich, Hideki. You and me. Rich. You'll have more demons to torture than instruments to torture them with. I'll have a never-ending line of satyrs leading to the door of my chamber. The plains above my quarters will be piled with husks.'

Hideki's face worked itself into the closest thing to a smile that he could manage. He took a big gulp of jet fuel, held a candle in front of his mouth and blew. The flame soared over the heads of the hundreds of demons and squaws in the huge hall. Before burning out it took the shape of a Chinese dragon. As the dragon fell to the floor a tongue of flame licked out from its mouth, scorching the wall. A cheer went up from everyone present which Hideki acknowledged with a fluttering of his raised hand.

Squaws were now descending on Kodrob and the squad, attracted by their fame. Hideki was approached by several pretty vixens, impressed by his pyrotechnic display.

Bezejel spat on the floor. She would get nothing from her team now. It was time to depart and she made her way between the tables slapping the heads of any drunken males who tried to touch her. As she reached the outer door a trio of thirsty buccaneers entered, their packs bulging with petroleum fuel to trade for time with the squaws. Bezejel smiled at them invitingly. They weren't surprised to see a siren leaving the squawhouse. It wasn't unknown for upper caste demonesses to frequent Navaho's, looking for a bit of rough company. These three were clearly taken by Bezejel's beauty although, unfortunately for them, they didn't know who she was. She placed her hands behind her back allowing the three to drink in her fine figure and her low cut top.

'Hello boys. Have you been working on a dangerous mission for the Leader? You deserve some reward. Why don't you come with me and tell me all about it? You won't have to spend any of your hard-earned liquor with me.' The three looked at each other. Their luck was in. Bezejel took their arms and led them out in triumph. She marched them to one of her favourite chambers, a place with many rooms where she could entertain each in turn. The three would never be seen again.

Flying Hippo, 25000 feet above Sahara Desert

Nancy sat in the navigator's seat behind Adima, wide awake. She'd playfully tried to hang on to the relatively comfortable co-pilot's seat for as long as she could but in the end had been evicted. The three had engaged in friendly banter for a couple of hours, teasing each other about the relative superiority of men and women. Nancy was sure she'd had the best of it.

Now she sat back thinking about the sheer craziness of the last 24 hours of her life. A host of images swam through her mind as she asked herself if she could have done anything different, or better. The faces of the children came back frequently to haunt her. Thirty five young boys and girls off to work in the fields, probably as slaves. She'd heard the phrase 'indentured slaves' used before. What did 'indentured' mean? Must look it up.

Anyway, Lafi was dead now - and good riddance. He had intended to kill her but had been killed by his own kind. Brutal justice. At least he wouldn't be slave-trafficking any more. She felt a pang of remorse as she remembered that she had been partly responsible for the children's passage into slavery. She had helped get them across the border using all her charm and wit. Then she had brought drugs in the other direction. What did that make her?

But as she surveyed the recent past from every conceivable angle she began to realise one extraordinary thing. She had enjoyed it. Far from wanting to return home to safety and certainty she wanted the danger to go on. She had intimidated border guards, fought off a killer, crossed borders with two illegal cargoes while driving a military truck and survived certain drowning at sea. How could she go back to England now and resume her former life as a timid travel agent? The cork was out of the bottle, the jack was out of the box, the genie had escaped - how could it go back? She had had fun! No. She had had FUN! It was dangerous and illegal but it had been heady, exciting stuff. She had never felt so alive as when driving the truck across that moonlit beach. Romance? Far better to have someone point a gun at you and work out how to escape them. That was living. That was the edge. That was what she was made for. Damn, Nancy, you're good at this stuff. Go, girl, have a life, not an existence.

She was looking forward to seeing Habib again. Boy, would he be surprised when he learnt what she wanted. As for the three boys, well, she hoped they were enjoying their incredibly boring archaeology trip. Let them go back to their ruins, their bones and their dungeon of a university. Let them plot the lives of the dead for the rest of their careers. She was going to escape.

Nancy felt excitement run through her as she contemplated Habib and his organisation. Brother? Well, let me tell you something, brother, you're inefficient, badly organised and wasteful. Why was this plane flying empty? Why had they hired an unprofessional loner like Lafi? Why had the yacht carrying the drugs across the Atlantic ended up in the wrong cove? Brother needed someone capable and professional in their operation. Someone with an eye for detail. Someone with the patience to plan ahead and improvise rapidly if things went wrong. Someone like Nancy.

There was still her great-uncle to visit. But that wasn't going to change anything, surely?

Nancy knew that she needed to sleep. She couldn't afford to waste the night dreaming, she already knew what she had to do next. What time was it? She flicked on the backlight on a digital clock in front of her.

1.11

Really? She thought it was later than that.

She looked to her left at the clock in front of Jimoh Bah. Also 1.11

Nancy got up. 'Just going to stretch my legs.' She walked into the hull of the Hercules. You could have an orchestra in here, she thought. Or a tennis court. Outside, the hum of the engines was constant and reassuring. She closed her eyes for a minute and allowed the vibrations to pass through her, relaxing her like a sedative.

She returned to her seat. 1.11

'Jimoh, is your clock working properly?'

Jimoh looked up and tapped the face of the clock. He looked at his watch and back again at the clock.

'The clock has stopped. But my watch has stopped also.'

'What does it say on your watch?'

'Also 1.11'

'So two clocks and your watch all say 1.11?'

'That is very odd, Missy Nancy. They are separate clocks, not connected. And my watch is powered by movement, not batteries. It's high quality, never breaks.'

'OK, Jimoh, never mind. I'm going to have a nap now. Wake me when we refuel.'

'Sweet dreams, Missy.'

Nancy settled back in her seat and pulled over her a blanket that Adima had found in the navigator's locker.

1.11. Strange. Within a few minutes she was sound asleep.

Lightship Factory, Dry Tree Desert, Paradise's Ninth Dimension

'Can I have one of these to keep?' Jabez had had his first run in Chan and Jo's lightcraft and was excited at the possibilities for sneaking up on friends and surprising them. 'You could be in their living rooms for hours and they wouldn't know. It's so cool.'

He ran his hands over the perfect curves and sleek lines of the superbly engineered lightcraft. The bodywork changed colours under his fingers as if he was playing it like a musical instrument.

'May I remind you, young Jabez, that's not a terribly heavenly idea,' joked Jo, swirling her dreadlocked hair. 'Are you sure Heaven's the right place for you?'

'Oh, you know, I was just thinking of a little fun, nothing sneaky. Though with one of these I could definitely beat Luke at golf for once. Just think what a lightship could do for your handicap!'

'Send this one for moral re-education, Jo' said Chan, grinning behind a cupped hand.

'By the way what's it called, Jo?' asked Ruth who was also present, having made the introductions and wanting to be closely involved.

Chan and Jo looked at each other.

'Well,' began Jo, 'we're thinking of calling it the Finest Unseen Ninth Dimension Intercruiser and Lightship.' She looked down at her watch.

Jabez was pensive for a moment.

'So, the Fundial.' he pronounced.

'2.68 seconds. I told you he'd beat 3 seconds, Chan,' said Jo delightedly.

'Yep, the Fundial,' Chan agreed with a smile.

Ruth cut in. 'Because it's about navigating the Dimensions as easily as dialling a globe and it's about using light for a purpose like the old sundials and it's about having joy and fun at the same time, right?'

'My, my, you're a cute angel,' said Chan in genuine surprise. 'Go straight to the top of the Christmas tree.'

Ruth blushed and looked around her as a way of changing the subject.

'Jo, take me for a walk while the boys talk man stuff. Tell me about the desert.'

Jo readied her wings with obvious delight. 'OK follow me up to the canopy and we'll talk there.' Her wings flared and beat down as she took off, followed immediately by Ruth. A small sandstorm engulfed Chan and Jabez. The two females flew to the top of a nearby tree and alighted on adjacent branches. They settled themselves down and folded in their wings.

'We never get tired of showing visitors around,' Jo admitted. 'The Dry Tree Desert is exactly what you'd expect from a desert. There's no rain, no rivers and no water. But dry trees have roots that penetrate deep into the underlying igneous and quartz rock and are able to extract hydrogen and oxygen separately. Then they blend them together within the rootballs to make H₂O. Water. So dry trees aren't really dry at all. But the name has stuck.'

'How do they get their appearance? Is it from minerals?' asked Ruth in wonder. She fondled some leaves which had the patina of laminated rocks but the texture of regular foliage.

'Exactly right. The minerals that dry trees ingest from the rocks along with the water they make gives them colours like living rock. Angels come here on vacation and they fly through our amazing desert forest and they can't stop talking about it.'

'What about at night? What do they look like in starlight?'

Jo curled her leg around her branch and raised her wings as she looked out across the treetops. 'Picnicking in the canopies is a favourite. Especially at night because our sky has different stars from almost anywhere else in Paradise. The stars come out at different times and drape their light across the forest in unpredictable ways. It's delirious. It looks like diamonds and rubies and emeralds and everything else you can think of, swirling and changing with every passing minute.'

'Oh, I just wish we could stay the night. But I think Jabez wants to get back,' sighed Ruth.

'You can come any time. We're always here.'

'It sure is a great place to work. What about the drifting light effect? When can we see that?'

'Any moment now,' replied Jo, excitedly. 'There's a breeze coming. Watch out, it can make you dizzy.'

A breath of wind riffled through the trees making the branches and leaves dance.

'Oh, I can see it,' shouted Ruth. 'Oh, it's amazing. It feels like a dream.' Everywhere around her, leaves and branches were in several places at once, sometimes solid and sometimes with a ghostly see-through quality about them.

'Remember, you're in the Ninth Dimension, not the Fifth. All light here is flexible and moves around easily,' shouted Jo whose own black plumage seemed to Ruth to move like waves on a midnight sea.

'The patterns are unbelievable. Even the hangars and factory buildings are moving.' Ruth was holding her hand to her mouth and looking increasingly anxious.

'Don't worry, it will stop soon,' reassured Jo. 'The wind doesn't blow for long. But flexible light is the reason we're here. We can control it. We can make it go fast, slow, stop, go backwards, bend it and make really fun shapes out of it. Chan and I have combined some fairly well-known astracraft technology with some light manipulation and developed the Fundial. That's why it's called a lightcraft.'

'Can we get down on the ground?' begged Ruth. 'I need solid earth beneath my feet. Or even rocky desert.'

'Sure let's go.' And Jo fluttered her wings and neatly hopped to Ruth's branch and led her down to terra firma.

Jabez and Chan were sitting in the Fundial, discussing its capabilities.

'So it can hold onto light in a way that makes an astracraft invisible not only to humans but also to Supernaturals.' Chan was drawing pictures in the air with his hands. 'Plus it has the usual properties of regular astracraft technology in that it can fly right through Fourth Dimension solids. It just pushes the molecules aside.'

Jo and Ruth listened in. 'Now as I understand it,' stated the practical Jo, 'you want to carry out some fiddly stuff on Earth in the Fourth and make sure you're not spotted by the other side. What you gotta remember is that while you're inside the Fundial you can't be seen. But if you step out of it, you're back to normal rules. Also, although they can't see you, make sure they don't work out your location by what you do.'

'What does that mean?' asked a puzzled Jabez.

'It means,' explained Jo patiently, 'that if they can't see you but they can see something that you've just moved or changed, they can work out that you might be there. Then they might decide to try and figure out how to do something about it.'

'OK,' said Jabez, 'I think you're telling me that nothing is foolproof and that I must take normal safety precautions.'

'Exactly,' said Jo, 'you got it. By the way we can also override the controls and recall the Fundial at any time, whether you're inside it or not. So don't think of taking it on an extended leave of absence. We can still bring it back even if we can't see it.'

'Foiled again,' laughed Jabez. 'Looks like I can't give up the day job just yet.'

'Seriously though,' he continued, 'Ruth and I are working on an Earth project and the Fundial would come in real handy. Can I take it into the Fourth for some hands-on application work?'

'Ruth has already had our hands up our backs and 'persuaded' us to let you take it,' said Chan, grinning broadly. 'I don't need to say 'be careful' because only you know the dangers you're facing. But, hey, we made the Fundial for work as well as for pleasure so it would be good to see it tried out in a real enemy-facing situation. Here, take the keys.'

Chan held his right arm out with his forearm up at 90 degrees. Jabez did the same, placing his forearm against Chan's and took his hand. It was a traditional angel greeting and marked the symbolic handover of the Fundial to Jabez's care. Jabez took Jo's hand in the same way. 'It's a superb piece of engineering. I'll guard it well,' said Jabez to Chan and Jo. Ruth looked on in approval.

'Ruth, how about I give you a lift home?' Jabez motioned to Ruth to step aboard the two-seater craft.

A minute later the Fundial disappeared from view.

Chan and Jo looked at each other and sighed. 'Come on Jo, let's go and sing,' said Chan. 'I need a break from avionic systems that move around as you're trying to engineer them. It's doing my head in.'

As they walked back to the factory which was still swaying drunkenly, they both lifted up their voices and broke into the Music allowing it to consume them and wash over them. They kicked up their heels and sang as they danced in unison, now a hornpipe, now a tango, then a reel and now a jive. They circled each other dos-a-dos, and they cartwheeled and span. They waltzed through a copse of dry trees and down a path and up a long high hill. And when at last they collapsed on the ground laughing and breathless they talked of engineering and light and time and how they would realise their dream to install a Fundial in every house in Paradise. Then darkness came and they lay out a while under the starlight, holding hands, watching the dry leaves twinkle and the trees walk until sleep overtook them.

Flying Hippo, 25000 feet above Sahara Desert

Jabez peered out from the Fundial and took in the sights below. It was night-time over North Africa and the Earth's surface looked both lonely and desolate with only moonlight to display its wonders. Beautiful too though, in its own way.

The four-engined plane carrying Nancy, Adima and Jimoh Bah was just a few hundred metres off his side. He had watched it take off, waited till it had got to altitude and spent a few minutes cruising beside it, taking in its bulky beauty and its thundering ruggedness.

Now's the time, he said to himself.

Jabez could have done this operation without the Fundial. Angels could stay hidden on Earth, when they wanted to. But he needed to avoid oversight not just from people but from Infernals who might be tracking Nancy at all times.

Jabez swung his craft in towards the Hippo. He took the Fundial right inside the aluminium plane until he was inside the cabin. He leaned out of the craft's side window, found the clock in front of Jimoh Bah and breathed his instruction upon it. Then he breathed on Jimoh Bah's watch. Finally he did the same to the clock in front of Nancy. He paused to observe her for a moment. She seemed happy, excited and making plans about the future. He looked into her mind and saw what she was thinking and was sad for a moment. She was a nice girl who'd simply run into some very bad luck when Bezejel had decided to make her a project. I will protect you, I will bring you back, whispered Jabez. Jimoh Bah's watch and both clocks were showing 1.11 as Jabez swung the Fundial out of the Hercules and soared up into the sky. He took it away from Earth, past Mars, Jupiter and Saturn and out to Alpha Centauri and beyond. He looked down at the thousands of planets and systems where he knew angels were working, preparing for the day when the drawstring would be pulled that would untangle the convoluted chemics to create new heavens. What delights lay in store for humankind, he thought. What shining physics and twists of bio forms lay waiting for them to discover and explore. Oh how they would marvel.

His thoughts turned homeward and he selected a nearby gateway to take him back into the Fifth. Shortly he returned to the heavenly shore and was trudging over the shingle to his rustic accommodation and hammock. Agatha had sent him more tea and biscuits. He supped the hot brew and crunched the wafers and thought about friends.

On the Flying Hippo, Zhivkin fumed. The tough satyr was on sentry duty that night, watching Nancy. 'Someone's been here,' he called angrily to Kodrob. 'Someone's messed with my stuff. They've changed things right in front of me. I was watching, didn't take my eyes off her, but they've been here. The filthy white boys have been here. I'll have them. Nobody sneaks up on me and gets away with it. I'll have them.'

Eilat, Israel

'I want another mission,' repeated Nancy. 'Oh, and I'd quite like to be paid. And I want to meet your boss.'

'And perhaps you'd like my job too,' replied Habib sarcastically. 'And my Swiss bank account numbers.'

'All in good time,' rejoined Nancy, equally sarcastic.

They were sitting in Habib's car in the parking lot at the secret Eilat airport where Nancy had first embarked. Habib had been waiting for her off the plane and at first had been hard-faced and stern. But he was thrown off balance when Nancy had walked towards him bearing a smile. A smile indeed!

'Look, for the thousandth time,' she continued, 'when you sent me off to Gambia I hated you for manipulating me. I was frightened. I was angry. But something happened out there. I discovered myself. I found myself. I can't just go back to a nothing job in a wet high street travel agency.'

'Wet? What means wet?'

Nancy was enjoying Habib's discomfiture. She knew he was prepared to deal with tears, anger, threats and blame. For all of those he had a strategy worked out. He knew how to confront force, even violence, and turn them aside to get his way. He was a seasoned manipulator. But this was totally unexpected. Nancy had thrown him by asking for a job. With Brother. No-one worked for Brother unless they were already outside the law. Even with her crumpled clothes and unwashed hair Nancy knew she was the image of civility and niceness.

'Surely you can see that my story makes sense?' As Habib looked away Nancy tapped him heavily on the shoulder to bring him back, force him to look at her. Two could play bully.

Habib regarded her with frustration.

'Lafi,' he almost spat the word out. 'That no-good son of a camel. Yes, Nancy, it makes sense. It's just like him to think he could run a secret business on the side, using Brother's resources to help him. Probably thought he was really clever. Child-trafficking too. Now that really is evil.' He looked at her with feeling. Habib has values. Oh, really?

'If what you're saying is true he put in danger the entire cocaine supply chain from South America to Europe.' This was becoming personal, Nancy could see. If Lafi brought down the supply chain, Habib would go down with it.

'It took Brother years to put that together. And I was part of it.'

It was personal.

'If those villagers hadn't killed him, I would have.' Habib came the closest to losing his temper that Nancy had ever seen him. 'Plenty of others who can take his place.' He stared out of his side window and this time Nancy allowed him.

'I will verify your story, Nancy,' he said after a moment, his usual self-control restored. He leaned towards her, the bullying side of his character returning, staring menacingly into her eyes. 'If you have lied to me, I will hurt you and your friends. It would be better you leave Israel than wait to see what I will do.'

Nancy absorbed his stare. She returned it with a glare of her own.

She could see he didn't enjoy being put on the spot. Habib was used to forcing decisions on other people. Now he found himself backed into a corner by an enigmatic whirlwind he couldn't read. A whirlwind who was clearly in no fear of him at all. He needed space.

'OK Nancy, here what we do. First, you off the hook. For now. While I check your story. You free to have your holiday. You go home to your three boy friends.' Nancy gave him a sour look. 'Tell them your aunt OK, false alarm. Second, if you tell anyone about your mission, ever, we come after you. Even in ten years' time. We have people in England too. Understand?' She nodded. 'Third, meet me in Café Haifa on the beach front in two days. At noon. If your story is true, who knows? Brother always looking for people with ability. Maybe we use you.'

She nodded again.

'We talk more then. But I make no promise. OK?'

'Fair enough,' Nancy replied after a moment. 'I'll see you then.'

Nancy wanted to say more, but she realised she would only damage her prospects if she kept haranguing him with the same demand. She was also keenly aware of the irony that a man who had threatened her and her friends and forced her into a perilous situation was a man that she was now asking, voluntarily, to help her find a place in his organisation. But in the back of her mind she also knew that a future in Brother might open a lot of doors and one of them just might lead to an opportunity to pay him back.

Enough of that now, she thought, she mustn't let him think for a second that revenge might be on her mind.

Habib drove them back to Eilat town and dropped Nancy near the beach. It was 9.00am and she didn't want to face the boys just yet. Even though she was dirty and desperately wanted to wash her hair she stopped at a café and ordered tea and toast. The Gulf of Eilat was a perfect blue while the still air and cloudless sky promised another hot day. Windsurfers and swimmers were already out in the bay, sharing the warm water's hospitality. Almost, she felt she could relax. A solitary dinghy came past cutting a fine dash through the water and displaying the number 1.11 on its sail in bold lettering. Nancy's breakfast arrived and she ate it quickly then paid without waiting for change and went home. As she entered the shower and looked in the mirror she remembered the R and shuddered.

Red. 1.11.

Bugger it. Bugger it all.

Inferno

'I want the TRUTH,' Bezejel yelled at Zhivkin, 'how did it happen?'

She was pinning Zhivkin against the wall by his neck with her left hand while her right was drawn back in a fist ready to strike him. Bezejel was slighter in stature than most male demons, petite almost. But the Leader of Inferno had endowed her with great strength and she had the ability to husk even the mighty Zhivkin with a single blow. If Zhivkin had thought Bezejel might be a pretty little plaything to spend some horizontal time with after work one day, he had changed that view within the last couple of minutes.

'Truth, ma'am, I give you truth,' Zhivkin was looking directly into Bezejel's eyes. 'I watch the girl all the time. How they change clocks I not know. No-one tell me to look at clocks. Many things on plane. Why I look at clocks?'

It was true that Zhivkin had raised the alarm with Kodrob. He hadn't hidden his mistake, he had reported it straightaway. For that she couldn't fault him. But Bezejel was so angry that she was minded to smash Zhivkin anyway. Just in time she reminded herself that he was part of a team and if she husked him without good reason she would lose the team's confidence.

She pulled her hand back and Zhivkin dropped to the floor.

'There's something going on that we haven't seen before,' Bezejel addressed Kodrob and the rest of the squad who were standing to attention behind her. 'Somehow, an angel got inside that airplane without being seen. Kodrob, you're in charge of finding out how and of making sure it doesn't happen again. Who's with Nancy now?'

'Lafarge is on watch, Madam Bezejel,' replied Kodrob. 'He will be relieved by Holzman later.'

'I want every one of you to keep a log when you're on Earth,' ordered Bezejel sternly. 'Report anything unusual. Angels have a habit of upgrading their tricks and playing new games. But we can catch them out and turn the tables on them if we're vigilant. We've done it before. Sooner or later they'll get complacent and then we'll pounce.' She looked down at the floor. 'Zhivkin, pick yourself up.'

The relieved demon got to his feet, glad that he was not about to be reduced to an imp or worse.

'You've an opportunity to make amends for your poor performance,' she announced sharply. See that you take it, there won't be another warning.'

'Ma'am,' he muttered, rubbing his neck.

Nancy's Apartment, Eilat, Israel

'Oh, it's been such a lovely day. The water is warm and the people are so friendly. How are you all? Have you had a good day digging?'

Martin Pete and Andy looked at Nancy in shock.

'Nancy, we were so worried about you?' Scrawny Pete.

What's this about your aunt? we didn't know if we should believe it.' Tawny Andy.

'We thought you'd been kidnapped.' Brawny Martin.

Nancy put down her beach bag in the TV room and slumped into a chair.

'I'm gasping for a cup of tea. Be a love would you, Martin, and put the kettle on?'

'Not till you tell us where you've been,' replied the latter, almost falling out of his chair. 'Was your aunt really sick?'

'Oh yes. It was all a false alarm,' replied Nancy breezily. 'Lots of planes, trains and buses all for nothing. She'll live another hundred years, I'm sure. I'll tell you all about it over dinner. But it's very boring. Anyway, all behind us now. I can get on and enjoy the rest of the holiday.'

Nancy could see they were all trying to work out if she was hiding something.

'So tell me, how is the dig going?'

'It's very interesting,' said Martin unconvincingly.

'But boring.' Pete.

'Lots of scratching away sand and earth with small trowels while baking in the sun.' This from Andy. Nancy noticed they took it in turns to speak. No-one liked to be left out.

'Oh,' said Nancy.

'But that's why we're home early,' continued Andy. 'It's too hot to work in the afternoon.'

'Well I think you should all get your trunks on and go down to the beach. I'll come too. I only came back here for my sun hat.'

'Sounds good,' said Pete. 'What do you say guys?'

'Oh by the way,' interrupted Nancy. 'Andy here has kindly offered to drive me to see my great uncle. Near Jerusalem. Andy, do you mind if we go tomorrow?'

'Oh is that still on? Fantastic.'

The others showed no surprise at this. Clearly Andy had boasted that he would get to meet a famous archaeologist if he drove her to her relative.

'Yeah, that'll be fine,' he added. 'I've already spoken to Professor Aaronovitch about it. He said I can have a day off. But where's the car Nancy? Have you arranged a hire car?'

'It's all in hand.' Nancy flashed her eyes at Pete. 'There's a car hire company only two streets from here that has what we want. You simply walk to the top of our lane, turn right, then take the second left and walk to the end of the road and there it is.' She hoped her directions were clear enough for Pete to follow.

'They're open from 8 till 6,' she added, not looking at anyone in particular.

'Well, that's great,' said Andy. 'We'll have an early start in the morning so we can be there when it opens. What kind of car have you hired?'
'Oh, I think you'll like it,' said Nancy smugly after a moment's thought. 'It's a nice car. So, shall we all go down to the beach?'

'Sure,' said Andy and Martin together.

'Er..I'll join you all later,' put in Pete hesitantly. 'I want to do some souvenir shopping. And I don't want to leave it too late. So, er..I'll see you on the beach in about an hour.'

Pete made eye contact with Nancy. Their clandestine agreement was still in place. Good. Otherwise she'd be in trouble.

'Though I think you should know...'

Trouble.

'...that we've experienced a shocking outburst of truth-telling while you've been away.'

All three were now looking at Nancy. All three wore smug grins.

'Go on.'

'I'm poor,' said Andy, the tawny one.

'And I'm rich,' said Pete, the scrawny one.

There was a long pause while they looked around at each other, pleased with themselves. Finally the other two looked at Martin and waited.

'And I'm gay,' said the rugby-playing brawny one.

Kibbutz Ramat Rachel, near Jerusalem

Andy turned the wheel gently and the supercat's engine almost purred with pleasure as it entered the kibbutz gates. A scruffy teenager in dusty trainers watched them suspiciously while continuing to bite on the chicken wing between his fingers. The sub-machine gun slung over his shoulder was like an extension of his body. He could bring it to bear in an instant if he sensed trouble, Nancy had no doubt.

'I wonder how many Jags they've seen in here before,' Andy remarked.

'None so beautifully driven,' replied Nancy. 'You could always be a chauffeur if digging up broken pieces of pottery ever gets you down.'

Andy was not going to be diminished. 'Every shard tells a story. Every bone is a life rediscovered. Stories and lives. That's what archaeology is all about.'

Andy noticed the signs pointing to the kibbutz car park. He kept the 12 cylinder engine to a 5 mph crawl.

'Very poetic,' agreed Nancy. 'If you had spoken to me romantically like that the other day you wouldn't have had to work so hard to get me into bed.'

'I didn't have to work hard Nancy. You were practically there before me,' he replied drily.

'Funny how men remember everything differently from how it really happened.' She leaned forward to direct the air conditioning vent at her face. 'But anyway, wasn't it good that Martin came out? He must be so relieved.'

'Yes, but it's not like it was a secret.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, we all knew. Pete and I knew anyway.'

'How?'

'Well, there are only so many times that a guy can say 'no, she's not my type' at a disco before you start to realise that no girl is going to be his type.'

'So what did you think when I called him into the bedroom with me?'

Andy laughed. 'Pete and I just looked at each other and smiled. We knew it wasn't going to happen. It was just a matter of time before it all came out.'

Andy checked his mirrors as he reversed the big saloon into a tiny space.

He turned to Nancy. 'Well, we're here at the kibbutz. What now?'

'Let's go and find out.'

Twenty minutes later, after asking directions, Nancy and Andy walked into an apartment block on the kibbutz campus. They sat down on a sofa in the communal day room on the ground floor and waited.

'I'm a little nervous,' Nancy whispered to Andy. 'If truth be told.'

A vigorous shuffling could be heard approaching from the corridor outside. Then a figure appeared at the door and peered in. Nancy looked at him uncertainly. He was a short man of about eighty years, wearing a dressing gown and carrying a Hebrew language newspaper.

The man looked at Nancy and broke into a huge smile. His hands flew up in the air and he started to run towards her. 'Nancy,' he shouted in accented English. 'Nancy, I am so pleased to meet you at last.'

'Great Uncle Shai.' And Nancy found she couldn't move and waited for the old man to reach her. When he grasped her in his arms she was already crying.

'Oh, Great Uncle Shai...'

'Just call me Shai. I haven't got time left for great uncle. I might die before you get my name out again.' Accented but perfect English.

Nancy laughed through her tears. 'Shai. OK then. Oh, I didn't know I'd get so emotional. Oh my goodness. Till now I didn't really believe I had a living relative.'

'You got lots of them. But after your parents died everyone lost touch. Half of them went to California. The other half went to Brazil. Or Argentina.' He looked up pensively. 'Who cares? It was South Africa somewhere.'

Nancy noticed Andy looking perplexed, wanting to step in. 'Great Uncle...I mean Shai, this is my friend Andy. He drove me here. From Eilat.'

'He drove you? You don't drive yourself?'

'No.' He waited stubbornly for her answer. 'Well if you must know, a traffic warden stepped off the kerb one day and my wheel went over his foot. I got the blame. It was all so unfair. I haven't wanted to drive since then.'

'Oh, so they took away your licence? And you got hit by a bottle of gin before the nice traffic warden, who you didn't fall out with beforehand, put his foot in your way?'

Nancy was alarmed at how much Shai was finding out about her so quickly.

'Vodka.'

'Well, well.' But Shai had already moved on. He stepped back, looking Nancy up and down. 'You're a fine looking young woman. If I wasn't eighty and if I wasn't your relative I'd punch this guy on the nose and take you off somewhere.' He put his fists up playfully to Andy who reacted, but rather late. By the time Andy had his fists in front of him Shai had his arm around Nancy and was leading her to a table.

'Sit yourself down, young man,' he called over his shoulder. 'I need to talk to Nancy. My great niece.' He laughed loudly.

Nancy sat down and Shai pulled up a chair and sat close, looking directly into her eyes.

'Later, we'll all get some lunch together. But you're probably wondering why I asked you to come visit. So let's do that part first.'

'Of course. But first, Shai, I promised Andy I would try and get him a meeting with the former Head of Israeli Antiquities. Is that really your previous job? Andy's an archaeology student. Do you think you could help?'

'Are you trying to make a connection between me and some old Jewish ruins? Wherever did you learn your manners?' He laughed again but this time Nancy saw pain in his eyes.

'It's nothing,' said the old man who appeared not to miss anything. 'Just a space invader.'

'Space invader?'

'Cancer. But I'll kill it. Or at the very least I'll make sure it doesn't outlive me. Promise you.'

Nancy squeezed his hand and his energetic smile bounced back and lit up his face.

'Sure, you can tell your friend I'll dig out some bumbling old idiot who can bore him senseless about bones. And shards. But they're the stuff of stories, you know?'

'And lives,' said Nancy, surprised at herself.

'That's very true,' said Shai looking up at her with a note of respect in his eyes. 'Stories and lives. What's more important than that?'

They continued looking at each other for several seconds, like friends who had found each other too late. Eventually Shai looked down.

'So, where do I begin?' he said thoughtfully. 'At the end of course. 'Cause the present is over-rated and the past is gone so there's no time like the future. The thing is, Nancy,' he paused for a moment, squeezing her hand back, 'you're heading into danger. Don't ask me how I know that, I just do. It's all about your roots, and I don't mean your hair.'

Nancy wondered if Shai ever said anything serious without bringing humour into it.

He continued with his serious face. 'Some of your past is hoping to catch up with you, leap into the present with you and take over your future. And that part don't mean you any good.' He allowed that to sink in.

'And some of your past is ahead of you already and trying to put a halt to what's already over. And that part don't mean you any bad.' He was full of helpful pauses.

'And some of it's beneath you and some of it's above you, figuratively speaking. But all of it's around you. Even now. Are you with me so far?'

Nancy shook her head.

Shai laughed and held his chest as he wheezed. 'What do you mean?' he said. 'I've been as clear as I could be.'

He was laughing and wheezing so hard Nancy was genuinely worried for him. She stroked his arm.

'Shai. That sounds like a riddle. You surely didn't bring me here just to tell me that?'

'No, I didn't bring you here to tell you that. I brought you here to meet you. Because I haven't got much time left. I know that. And I got to thinking about Miriam and Mikey, your parents, and how you got cut off from the family. And that's why I got in touch with your Aunt Mary. Because family is important.'

'I'm glad you did.'

'Really? Well that's great because I thought to myself, Shai, you've got to make the effort. You've got to reach out to that girl. No matter what it costs her.'

Nancy looked into the bright twinkling eyes and felt that every penny put into this trip had been well spent.

Shai hadn't finished. 'But then I thought well, while she's here maybe I could talk to her about what's ahead, because...'

'Shai. Just a minute. You said I shouldn't ask how you know what you know. But how do you? Can you really see my future?'

'OK.' Shai summoned her with his fingers. 'Come here close, because I have to tell you something that few people are aware of. Actually, it would be embarrassing if my friends found out.'

Nancy was apprehensive but she bent forward so that Shai could whisper into her ear. 'In fact, I might get thrown out of the kibbutz as a loony if this becomes generally known.'

Nancy whispered even more softly. 'Shai. Are you going to tell me what it is? Or should I go for a walk and come back later?'

He smiled. 'OK. Here it is. I'm religious.'

'Oh, you are?'

'See. I knew you'd be shocked.' He looked around and behind him. 'Promise you won't tell anyone?'

'Yes of course. But why is that important?'

'You see, one day while I was praying you swam into my head. Not as pretty as you are in real life, of course.' He raised his thumbs in emphasis. 'And you really swam. Because you were in a whirlpool. And it sucked you in. Only the funny thing was, it didn't matter that you got sucked in. There were these great tree roots beside the whirlpool and you hung onto them and used them to climb out. And I knew it was a metaphor. You were safe, so long as you hung on to your roots.'

'My roots?'

'Yes, your roots. And anyone, even someone innocent, like me for instance, might be part of that whirlpool. Unwittingly.'

'What roots exactly?' Didn't Doreen say something like this?

'If you don't know, I can't tell you.' Shai was deadpan. No twinkle this time.

'Oh. I thought you were going to give me some answers.'

'The best answers are those you find for yourself. Some answers can't be given to you. But what I want to say to you is this. Whatever you're getting into, it's dangerous. And if that concerns you, you should back out now.'

A solitary magpie flew past the window, wings outstretched, braced to land. Nancy envied it the ability to fly off any moment it wanted to. Shai wasn't making her life any easier.

He squeezed her hand again to get her attention. 'We'll go for lunch now, in the canteen. But first, I've got something for you. I wanted to hand you this personally. I didn't want to put it in the post.'

Shai thrust his hand in his pocket and produced a small piece of folded pink gift-wrap paper. He held it in his upturned left palm and began to unfurl the corners.

'I'm sure she'd want you to have these.'

As Shai pulled back the last corner of paper Nancy's eyes opened wide. There in his palm lay two exquisite jade earrings.

Nancy picked one of them up and held it in front of her. The housing and clasp were of filigree gold but it was the perfect proportions and the slender tear drop cut of the precious stone that enchanted the eye. She turned it around, letting the light catch it.

'They're beautiful. Even I can see the workmanship is amazing.'

'Valuable too. If you ever need to sell them, they'll more than make up the cost of your trip to Israel. But they're a big part of why I asked you to come here. You see they were given to me when your mother died. For safe-keeping. You were young and the family were worried you might lose them. So they sent them to me because I was an archaeologist.'

Nancy looked at him curiously.

'Yeah, I know. Odd choice. As though an Israeli ruin-hunter is going to know about jewellery that's come from Russia. But no-one in the family knew about antiques so they figured an archaeologist was the next best thing. Anyway, they didn't know if these were genuine or just picked off a market stall.'

'If these came from a market I'd love to visit it.'

'Exactly. Well I didn't know anything about eastern jewellery, obviously. All my work has been here in Israel. But I used some of my connections.'

'Mm hmm?'

'Well it turns out these earrings were made over three hundred years ago. In China. At the end of the Ming dynasty. How and when they got into our family I don't know. But this I can tell you. They once belonged to your great great grandmother.'

'It's a big car, Nancy. With a huge back seat. You know, you're looking particularly attractive right now. How about if we stop in a lay-by for a little while and...'

'No.'

'Oh, please Nancy. I've worked so hard for you today.'

'I'm just not in the mood alright? I've had a busy few days and I've got a lot to think about.'

Silence. The big Jaguar scooped up the miles and threw them behind. Pete had paid for the luxury car even though his aristocratic secret was out. He had no need to honour his commitment but he had chosen to do so. Nancy knew she had won him over. She had won them all over. She had kept their secrets even as she pulled them this way and that and made them play her game. They knew it and loved her for it.

They were already halfway back to Eilat. Nancy was tired and had almost fallen asleep.

'Anyway.' She was out of her reverie now. 'I want to hear about your chat with Shai. I wasn't paying much attention. What did he tell you? Was it worth talking to him?'

Andy became animated again. 'Yes, wasn't it incredible that your great uncle turned out to be an archaeologist?'

'Yes,' said Nancy. 'Incredible.'

Andy turned and laughed. 'Anyway, I just asked him a couple of questions and immediately he was off and running. I could barely write notes fast enough to keep up with him. He talked about the Assyrians and the Hittites and the Essenes and Idumeans. He talked about the evidence for King David in Jerusalem, which is not much, and the fortress at Masada. But mostly, he talked like all that stuff was real. He made it come alive. He's done more to light my fire on middle east history than hours of lectures at uni. I can't wait to read more. Shards and bones indeed. Those stories are so much more real than they were this morning. The people too. I've got to thank you Nancy, it was well worth giving up a day at the dig.'

He looked across at her. 'What about you, did you get what you wanted from Shai?'

Nancy gazed out of the side window for a long while. She watched the empty vastness of the desert roll by, its unrelenting harshness stretching out on all sides. Five minutes went past before she responded.

'He told me I'm in a whirlpool and I can still jump out,' she said eventually, so softly that Andy almost couldn't hear. She turned away from the window, unfurled her left hand and looked down at the two antique earrings that nestled comfortably in her palm. 'But if I jump out, I'll never know what was inside it. And I may never find my roots.'

Café Haifa, Eilat, Israel

'Maybe we have to kill you.' Habib faced Nancy sternly across the table. He stubbed his cigarette into the ashtray as two plumes of smoke vented from his nostrils and curled around her neck. 'But not today.'

'I'm pleased.' A revolving fan blew the smoke away.

He regarded her with a puzzled frown. Nancy's calm manner was frustrating him. She liked it that he had no idea how to handle her.

'I have checked out your story, Nancy, and it seems everything you told me is correct.' Habib took three packets of sugar, broke them open one by one and stirred them into his espresso. 'A man was killed two days ago by a mob at a fishing village near Banjul and a white woman was seen in the area. Our police contacts are not involved in child slavery themselves. But they say your story is believable. We have looked for the lorry but it has gone.'

'Sorry about the lorry.'

'No matter,' said Habib with a tilt of the face. 'It is our problem. We do not ask you to replace it.'

'You are magnanimous beyond measure.'

'Mag...what?'

'It..it means you have a big heart.'

Habib searched Nancy's face closely. He was looking for any sign of weakness or deceit but her continued gentle sarcasm combined with her willingness to look him straight in the eye, without apparent rancour, was surprising him. There was a long pause while Habib carefully selected his next words. In English, his third language.

'I can not use you in Israel,' he said finally. 'You know neither Arabic nor Hebrew. Likewise Africa. The fact of your skin colour maybe take people by surprise for a while. But long term your skin no good there. You would be like a deer swimming through a pool of crocodiles.'

He sipped his supersweet espresso. Nancy watched.

'But there is someone who maybe like to meet you.'

'Uh-huh.'

'But not here. Not Israel.'

'Uh-huh.'

'I have spoken about you. It is possible that my employer can use someone like you in England.' Nancy's heart sank. She didn't want to go back to boring England. 'But first you need to learn our ways, understand how we do things. You know the name of our organisation?'

'Brother. Lafi told me.'

'Do not speak the name often,' Habib instructed. 'Just say 'the company'.

'The company. Fine. Who wants to meet me?'

'I spoke to Mr Lo myself, yesterday. He is the boss of the company. The company is based in Hong Kong.' Nancy could feel her mouth go dry. This was more like it. 'He very pleased to have the medicine cargo back. He thank you for that.'

'Glad I could help.'

'But he also say a white face in Hong Kong may be good for him too. Or maybe not, who can say? Mr Lo is building a worldwide logistics operation. He needs more staff. It useful for him to have clever people without criminal record. Clever people like you maybe.'

Habib took another cigarette from his pack and lit it.

'But I take a big risk. If you work well with Mr Lo, it reflect on me. Maybe they give me some of Egypt to expand. Maybe Cairo itself.' He blew out a cloud of smoke. 'But if you fail, it will cost me.'

He looked at her, clearly trying to read her intentions.

'Anyway, I decide to take risk on you. You will go to Hong Kong. You will meet with Mr Lo. Perhaps he can use you. Hong Kong is a place where English is spoken, no? Many white people there. Tomorrow go to Tel Aviv airport. El Al airlines desk. There will be a ticket for you to New Delhi for a connecting flight to Hong Kong. Someone will meet you when you arrive there. Be discreet with your boy friends, make sure they know nothing.'

Nancy stared at Habib to make sure she could trust him. Was he just getting rid of her? Would she get to Tel Aviv airport only to find nothing there? But what did she expect, a contract of employment? A big handshake and a 'welcome to the company' smile?

'I never thought I'd say this, but 'thank you'', said Nancy with sincerity. She held out her hand before realising it was inappropriate and swiftly withdrew it.

Habib stood up, gave a slight bow and left.

Nancy played with the sugar packets in the bowl. Hong Kong was halfway around the world. She didn't know anyone there. It was crazy to believe she was going to a remote part of Asia - was Hong Kong in China or Japan? Or somewhere else? - and build a new life in a very dodgy company. How was that going to end well?

The sugar packets she stacked on top of each other fell over. What had she ever achieved in her life to make her think she could succeed in a dog eat dog world? She sighed. It was time to end the dream. Time to go back to being Nancy the small-time travel agent who'd made a big mistake with three stupid boys in Israel and a stupid trip to Africa and wouldn't do it again. She'd finish her holiday and then go back to Ealing and carry on where she'd left off. That was it.

'Shai was right,' she said out loud. 'I'm in over my head. I'd better jump out of this whirlpool before I drown.'

She breathed a sigh of relief, stood up and pulled her handbag over her shoulder. Her beach shoes hardly made a sound as she waved her hand to the café owner and walked to the glass door. No-one else in the café paid her the slightest attention. She was just an insignificant little girl who nobody would miss when she'd gone.

A large capital S with Chinese dragons' heads at the beginning and end of its serpentine shape was clearly visible hanging in space several inches the other side of the glass. The body of the S glistened with scales like armour and it writhed with energy and power. The protruding eyes were penetrating and alive, awash with pools and swirls. In their watery depths Nancy saw promises of mysteries and mazes, of love and lanterns, of emperors and escapades. She pulled open the door, closed it again and saw the S slowly fade, the eyes last to disappear.

Nancy set off back to the apartment to pack. Her eyes were bright and her pace was brisk. She was wondering how she would explain to the boys that she was leaving Israel the next day.

Inferno

'This is my favourite place in all of Hades,' announced Bezejel in delight to Hideki and Kodrob.

As though they couldn't tell.

Bezejel had led them up the spiral stairway around the lower reaches of Husk Tower. Now she fairly sparkled in the reflected glow of all the orange and red hues that threw themselves over the yellow tower. She breathed in deeply. 'Smell that sulphur. Doesn't it fire up all the senses in your body and load you with lust? Doesn't it give you a thrill to kill and a desire to survive?'

Hideki, as ever, ignored her. Kodrob felt obliged to look at Bezejel and nod, albeit without much passion in his features.

'I've brought you both here today because I want to remind you of what Hell is about. What we stand for.' Bezejel was determined to display the power of her reason. The reason of the fanatic. 'Look out there and understand why Inferno is right and why our philosophy will succeed in the long term.'

She stopped them at a point on the helter skelter where the vast finger of Slothmire lay stretched out into the distance. The land surface of the finger was barely visible. The entire plain heaved with a groaning mass of devilry, standing, stooping and crawling. Here and there a fight broke out over some tiny sod of shale or piece of coal. Dozens of lower caste trolls, mawls and pixies joined each deadly scrum, desperate to steal any trophy that would allow them to feel greater, richer, better than all the others - even if just for an instant.

Further out still, near the end of the finger was a vast wall of slag and stone that stretched from one coast to the other. On the other side of this, the 'nail' of the finger, was where the vast majority of gurns eked out their miserable existences. Destitute and starving, they defended their territory with the force of their numbers, lest they all be captured and burnt in a short time.

'They're all my people,' proclaimed Bezejel proudly, indicating the mobs below. 'The strong survive and the weak die out. We are gradually creating a powerful tribe. Eventually the weak will be gone and we will face Heaven and all its cosy, pampered angels on the battlefield and we will thrash them.'

The lower levels of Husk Tower were open to upper caste demons both for motivational sightseeing and for Destructive Purpose meetings. From the helter skelter stairway, corridors led off into the interior of the building. Some of the rooms were for private debauchery. Others were dungeons where the Leader could interrogate any presumed malcontent who might lead an insurrection against him. Few were ever found to be innocent. Most were condemned. It wasn't called Husk Tower for nothing.

Bezejel led them on till they reached a plateau in the spiral. Here the helical wall jutted out, overhanging the fall below. The incline had been levelled out to make an even deck. Bezejel had arranged for their meeting to be held here. A stone table and three chairs were set out on the small plateau. She motioned her accomplices to sit.

'Let's talk,' she said. 'Let's make our plans while we look out on the cauldron below where the glorious future of Inferno is being pieced together right now.'

Hideki sat and looked over the wall at the huddled masses below. He betrayed no thought or emotion. His habitual arrogance was his only expression.

Bezejel regarded him with annoyance. It was time to talk business.

'What was in those eyes, Hideki, the eyes of the Chinese lizard?' she demanded.

'Nothing, Madam Bezejel.'

'But Nancy stared into them. She saw something there. You must have planted something. Tiny images, maybe. Inside those reptilian windows. What were they?'

Hideki looked away disdainfully, determined not to be hurried.

Kodrob was feeling the intense heat that surged upwards from the plains. The thermal currents were attracted to the Tower and rose around it as if they were following the spiral stairway. It was too warm for Kodrob, though Bezejel and Hideki appeared comfortable. He carefully brushed his forehead and looked down with a frown at the slight dash of perspiration on his fingers. Sweat was a sign of weakness. Only new arrivals to Inferno displayed such intolerance for heat and they were roundly mocked and abused. Kodrob was sitting slightly behind his terrifying mistress. He shuffled his chair, taking the opportunity to wipe his hands on the underside of the seat.

Pu Gash emerged unexpectedly from a door in the Tower beside them and walked onto the deck. Bezejel had planned ahead and arranged for the little imp to wait on them. He had been making drinks in a nearby 'petrol station' and now appeared bearing three flaming flagons of tar on a tray. He handed them to each of his three superiors in turn. Their bitter aroma and black smoke perfectly represented the malice of their little maker.

For Pu Gash was not a kindly imp. In honour of the indentured slave-children that Nancy had helped on their journey to cocoa bean farms south of Gambia, Pu Gash had carefully decorated the outsides of the flagons with motifs of young children being prised away from feckless parents. The images of their flailing hands and wide-eyed fear at their separation were a welcome sight to the demons. Hell valued orphan societies as some of its best recruitment grounds. Kodrob shook Pu Gash's little hand. Bezejel patted him on the head. Hideki ignored him.

Bezejel held up her flagon and inspected the images before nodding approvingly. 'There's a special place in hell for all of these young ones. The more they despise their fathers for selling them to people traffickers the more they'll understand that survival is only for the ruthless.'

She stood and removed her coat, smoothing down her skin-tight red dress several times with her elegant fingers. She regained her seat and crossed her legs.

'She saw what she wanted to see', Hideki eventually pronounced. 'The eyes of the dragon only opened her imagination. They created an empty space in Nancy's mind. She filled that space with her own desires. We will never know what she saw. We only opened the door.'

'It was superb work, Hideki. It was exactly what I wanted from you,' exclaimed Bezejel. 'But now it is essential that you tell me more about the code. How long will it be until Nancy has received the entire coded message and we can extract all of Mya Ling's ambition and ruthlessness forward into her soul?'

Hideki spoke carefully and deliberately. 'In Earth time, we go more slowly now. Nancy will enter a new world in Hong Kong and must be given time to settle into it. But it is permitted now to tell you how many code letters in whole code string.'

Kodrob looked up and regarded Hideki with more than usual attentiveness. He noticed that Bezejel had stopped fidgeting and burning sugar in the flames of her drink.

Hideki drew himself up and looked languidly over the wall at Slothmire. He was too important to actually look anyone else in the eye, thought Kodrob. The rivalry between Bezejel and Hideki was flaring up again, Hideki's arrogance continuing to scrape against Bezejel's raw temper.

Kodrob realised that he was beginning to tire of the constant turbulence around him. Why couldn't he just retire somewhere quiet and let his fellow demons fight it out between themselves until there were none of them left? He realised that these were dangerous thoughts. If any of his squad realised he was thinking with such passivity he would be demoted in an instant and he knew what that would lead to. A gang assault with no mercy. In really severe cases it could lead to double-husking and he would re-emerge as a mere troll, fit only to clean latrines with his bare hands and lick splashes of petrol from the floor with his tongue.

He realised Hideki was looking at him and there was contempt in his eyes.

'Are you with us, Captain Kodrob, or are you thinking about your next visit to a squawhouse?' said Hideki acidly. 'We don't want to hold you up if you'd prefer to be somewhere else.'

Bezejel turned around and glared at Kodrob. For now he was her protégé and what he did reflected on her. Kodrob couldn't afford to lose her patronage.

'I'm delighted that you trust us with this important information, Colonel Hideki,' said Kodrob, recovering quickly. 'I was just reflecting on the gallant work you have done and how it has paid off.'

Hideki gave him a sour look. Bezejel kept up the pressure. 'Colonel Hideki, you were talking about the code.'

'Indeed,' continued Hideki trying to recover his air of superiority and looking coolly at Bezejel. 'I believe it will help the cause of our mission if you know that there are nine letters in the code.' He looked at them to gauge the effect of what he clearly considered to be a hugely important piece of information. 'We must deliver all nine before we can connect Nancy to her ancestor. So far we have delivered four and if I may say so, the last one was the most sophisticated and the most important. As you correctly perceived, Bezejel, the eyes of the dragon, which I designed myself, had a most profound effect on the young woman.'

'Indeed Hideki, I witnessed it myself,' retorted Bezejel. 'But it would not have been possible to deliver the code letter safely without my team members in place. We did all the hard work.'

'I see,' replied Hideki non-committally. 'But what are your team doing about the messages from the winged imperialists? There was another triple digit number from them in the harbour. And what about her visit to the relative in the kibbutz? What are you doing to stop them, Bezejel?'

Bezejel was defiant. 'Her great uncle encouraged her to continue on the path we have set out for her. That may not have been his intention. But it was the result. I am well pleased with that meeting. We were right to let it go ahead.'

'But Nancy is now searching for her roots,' countered Hideki. 'She is a Jew. What if she rediscovers her Jewish roots?'

But Bezejel was ready for this. 'Calm down Hideki. You worry too much. She has no family in Hong Kong. There are few of her faith in the British imperialists' colony. Not a single synagogue. In Hong Kong she will be completely isolated. It is the perfect place to deliver the rest of the code to her. Paradise will be powerless to intervene.' Bezejel now had Hideki's full attention and she paused for a moment before delivering her knockout punch.

'There is no place on Earth where Nancy is less likely to find her roots.'

Heaven's Shore

'I've received permission to go to Earth,' announced Jabez proudly. 'That is, really go there, not just watch from above.'

'You mean, like, walk on the ground and drink tea?' asked Agatha.

The four angels were at Jabez's lonely command post, three of them by globe.

'Yes, I'll be drinking tea definitely. But it'll be Chinese tea.'

'That's great news,' shouted Luke. So you're going to Hong Kong?'

'Yes, my sponsors were impressed that we made the right call in anticipating the Hong Kong connection. They also approve our strategy to work with the friend that Agatha identified. But there's more.' Jabez was clearly excited. 'First, I'm going to familiarise myself with things on the ground, understand the local conditions. But later, if all goes well, I may need some or all of you to join me. It's voluntary of course. There are dangers. But I think it could really help us to support Nancy better when the time comes. What do you all think?'

'I hate to take the air from your sail, Jabez,' put in Ruth, 'but I'm not really sure it's such a great idea. I think the risks, frankly, are too great and we'd be better working more closely together from Paradise. In fact, if y'all want to come and move into my place there's plenty of space here. Then we can work from the side of the pool.'

'Ruth, that's very generous of you, and I may well take you up on your offer. Though I'm not sure too much comfort and easy living will help us focus better on the task. But I think I will go ahead and spec out Hong Kong myself to begin with. I want to get a feel for the place. I've only viewed the twentieth century from Paradise before. I've never been there. And this mission needs wings on the ground. I'll be undercover of course, for the most part. No-one'll know I'm there.'

'They'll know,' said Agatha.

'Yes, they will,' agreed Jabez. 'Though humans won't notice me. But maybe it'll be a good thing if they do see me. It might slow them down a bit. Make them more cautious and wary.'

'Or it might make them more careful and more effective,' said Luke. 'Look, I agree you should go. But you should go in the Fundial lightcraft and keep it close by you. Just in case you need a quick exit.'

'Thanks Luke,' said Jabez. 'I appreciate the vote of approval.'

'Can you use chopsticks?' asked Agatha, supportively.

'I need to practice,' admitted Jabez. 'But first I need to brush up my Cantonese tones, I'm a bit rusty on those.'

'Jan hai la' - Definitely - agreed Luke in perfect sing-song Cantonese dialect.

'Yes. Jan hai. Quite right. I'll be in touch as soon as I know more and I've found more places to put the 1.11 code in front of Nancy's eyes. Agatha, that was a touch of genius placing it on that sail.'

'Thank you,' said Agatha. 'I can't wait until the moment of Nancy's revelation, when she learns what it means. But she will need to see it many more times before then so that it really sinks in. We've got our work cut out to increase its visibility.'

'Ah'm inclined to agree,' cut in Ruth, her Texan tones acrobatting through the air like cowboys on mustangs. 'The enemy has got a clever code, but we've got somethin' better. Next time we speak I hope to be able to tell you what I think they were doing in the nineteenth century with Nancy's ancestor. I have my suspicions and if they're true Nancy's havin' a powerful time-trick played on her. It's what they used to call a spell long ago but these days we just call it a dirt extraction. It's legal by the rules we all play by, but it's mean. And if they pull it off, all the bats of hell will be loosed on Earth. We're gonna need that friend of ours in Hong Kong that Agatha talked about. And he's gonna need us.'

Yaumati Police Station, Kowloon, Hong Kong

The dragon's head surged into the upper corner of the CID room, pulled back, surged again, waved its huge colourful head side to side and dived back towards the centre. Then it reared up and surged again at another corner to frighten away the terrified evil spirits who had taken refuge there. Cymbals clashed and drums bashed at all sides making a cacophony of joyful noise. Underneath the dragon three pairs of scuffed shoes could be seen kicking out to the side while its long body trailed nearly twenty feet behind it.

At the long table in the centre of the room, a detective was trying to take a statement from a robbery victim while around him DCs and English-speaking Junior Investigators were putting out beer and Chinese tea. To a rousing cheer, two young waiters from the Gam Jeung restaurant, both with cigarettes protruding from their lips, man-handled a large salver bearing a just-sliced whole roast suckling pig into the room. Smaller plates bore shiny-skinned Peking ducks and cold roast chickens. Moon cakes were piled high on a filing cabinet.

Dan Kelly, CID duty inspector, strode into the room and stood just inside the door. Dan was fond of suckling pig. But he was also fond of a beer and he made no effort to decline when Detective Sergeant Tung grabbed a bottle of San Miguel and poured some into a glass. 'Daai Lo' - 'Sir'- he saluted Dan with the respectful title and offered him the glass.

'Thanks Tung,' said Dan, speaking in Cantonese. 'Have we got the witnesses coming back for questioning about that serious wounding? And what about the two guys who were caught with 6 packets of heroin in their car and each blamed the other?'

'All delayed for one hour until festival over,' declared Tung confidently.

'I'm glad we have our work priorities the right way round,' said Dan swigging his beer.

The drums and cymbals rose to a crescendo. The dragon's movements became ever more exaggerated and sharp, looking suddenly behind to the left, behind to the right, up, down, under the table, behind the window blinds. Around it, detectives were smiling and clapping. A few members of the public who were sitting at various side benches looked on with detached interest. Whatever serious matter had brought them to the squad room was not going to be blanked out of their minds by a mere dragon dance.

Finally the dragon leapt up high and then collapsed on the floor to a roar of applause, its six trousered legs sticking out at various angles. Three new volunteers rushed to take the places of the exhausted crew who staggered out grinning and smiling to their mates. The cymbals and drums started up again and the dragon concertina'd out of the room and into the corridor to chase the evil spirits out of the rest of the station. Locusts with side arms under their shirts now descended on the food. Ribs, wings, thighs, feet and even heads were all picked clean and washed down by gallons of tea, lemonade and beer. The squad rooms were now ritually clean and happy. Fung shui had been restored. Life could go on.

In his office opposite the big CID squad room, Dan finished writing up his case reports, in English. His English-speaking junior investigator Liu Jai would later load eight pieces of white A4 paper interspersed with 7 pieces of carbon paper into his typewriter and bash out multiple copies of the report of the day's crimes for dissemination to a host of senior officers at Kowloon Police Headquarters.

Dan sat back and folded his hands together behind his head. 'I have to go to the Magistrates Court to get that warrant signed, Liu Jai,' he said. 'Tell Ah Tung to meet me here tonight at 10pm with two of the squad and we'll go and check out that 'hotel' in Ho Lo Gai Street.'

'Yes, sir,' replied Liu Jai. 'But even though we know it's really a brothel, it will still be hard to find evidence.'

'Well, we can but try,' Dan was speaking English now. He didn't need to, he was fluent in Cantonese. But Liu Jai wanted the practice before his next police language exams. 'We might get lucky and find a customer who'll spill the beans.'

'Spill the beans?'

'Yes, it means tell the truth, sometimes without intending to do so.'

'Oh,' said Liu Jai, thinking. 'You mean like you do when you have several beer?'

'Cheeky monkey, get out of here.' And Dan sprang at Liu Jai who was too quick for him and jumped back laughing. At the door, Liu Jai turned, 'Good luck with warrant.'

'Thanks. I hope I see the nice Mr Wong and not Bruce 'the Australian strangler' Wangler,' said Dan.

Liu Jai smiled. He couldn't help looking down at Dan's chest where his neck chain lay over the top button of his shirt. Liu Jai had noticed the chain before and the unusual pendant it held. But he hadn't got around to asking about it.

The pendant was a small silver ingot bearing an engraved number. 1.11

Shanghai Mansions, Yaumati District, Kowloon, Hong Kong

Nancy looked across the desk at the portly Chinese man sitting opposite her. He wore several gold rings, a gold bracelet and an expensive-looking starched shirt. They called him 'Fatty' in both English and Chinese. How come he was comfortable with that?

In the few hours she had been in Hong Kong, Nancy had already learnt that she was a 'gwai lo' woman. An old ghost. She was certainly the 'gwai' bit of gwai lo, she thought, her complexion was quite pale. Compared to the tanned Chinese, anyway. As for the 'lo' well, she clearly wasn't old. She was a young ghost then.

She knew she presented a nice image. Slender, medium height, long brown hair. Pretty enough, but not too beautiful. That was a good thing, she hoped. Beautiful people were too easily noticed and remembered. Not good in a crime organisation. And anyway she wanted to be treated seriously, not taken for a bimbo.

Fatty's assistant, Ko-yee, was sitting on a sofa behind her. Ready to protect his master in case she attacked him. Well, if you're a crime boss you can't be too careful.

'Habby speak very highly of you.' Pretty good English.

'Habby? Oh, you mean Habib. Yes.'

'So. What you want, Nancy?'

Nancy was ready for this. 'Well, I enjoyed working for Habib in Africa. I thought I did a very good job there in difficult circumstances.'

'You killed one of my men.' Fatty wasn't going to make it too easy.

'No, actually,' Nancy bridled. 'He killed himself with his own stupidity. And he was cheating you by running his own operation on the side.'

The glean of a smile lightened up Fatty's face. He liked that.

'But you not speak Cantonese. What good you to me?'

'No.' This was proving harder than she thought. Had they flown her from Israel to Hong Kong just to turn her down flat after five minutes? 'But I speak perfect English and this is a colony with an English-speaking government, right? And English laws? And where a lot of important business is done in English?'

'So? I not need English people in my company so far. Why I need you now?'

This was going badly. She needed to break out of her defensiveness, take the initiative.

'I am good at organising things. Getting things done.' Damn, she thought, what have I really done except talk my way across a border and run into the sea? 'Look, give me something to do. You must have a challenging problem right now that no-one else can fix.' Shot in the dark. 'Put me in charge of something. I can learn Cantonese as I go. I'm best when I'm dropped into something, at the deep end.'

Fatty frowned. 'At the deep end?'

'Yes, it means without warning. Without preparation.'

'Hmm. You not look like member of Brother. You look too... innocent.'

'Oh? You just told me I killed someone.'

Fatty grunted again and looked at Ko-yee. Did he like that too?

'What you know about...eh...newspapers, television. I mean about talking to newspapers, what you call that?'

'Oh, do you mean PR?'

'Yes. PR.'

'Not very much. But I'm good with customers. I'm good at selling. I could learn on the job. Give me a try.'

Fatty turned to Ko-yee and spoke to him in Cantonese. 'You know we talked about how Brother is growing up. Maybe we need someone to be our face to the rest of the world. We need to be international like a proper corporation. We'd set ourselves apart from other triads. What do you think?'

Ko-yee was hesitant. 'She's never run a brothel, or a casino. What does she know about heroin? Is she going to run to the police when she wakes up to what we're doing? We don't know anything about her, Fatty.'

'Hmm.' Fatty thought for a minute. He turned back to Nancy and spoke in English.

'Here's what I think. Maybe we could use an English girl. Or maybe not. But first, we need to see you how you work. Stand up.' Nancy stood. 'Now turn around.' Nancy did as she was told. Fatty leaned forward over his desk and scrutinised her body all over as if he was looking at a horse. Nancy wondered if he was going to come over and put his hand in her mouth and inspect her teeth. He turned to Ko-yee.

'Get her fitted with a cheung sam. And nice shoes. And get Ah Mui to put some make-up on her.' He turned back to Nancy. 'Tonight you work in my Golden Luck casino. Hostess. Greet customers and make sure they spend money. Show you can sell. We see if you like Brother. We see if Brother like you. Find out very quick.'

Oblivion Bar, Naxela's Squawhouse, Inferno

Bezejel slapped Kodrob so hard on the back that it nearly broke his spine. His nitro-top benzene went flying across the bar, some of it splashing into a Poseidon's trident of burning torches. A flaming whoosh went up to the top of the ceiling cone.

A loud cheer came in response from all the squaws and demons present who had joined in Bezejel's celebration. She was buying the drinks to mark a significant moment in the progress of the Nancy project. Two drums boomed in the background in time with each other.

Kodrob recovered his composure and watched his boss with some concern. It was an incongruous sight. Bezejel the siren princess, confidante of the Leader, elegantly coiffured in her dazzling red dress and high heels amidst a throng of beery, leery cut-throats in drab uniforms who would husk each other for a snoutful of grog.

Even now he could see some of them weighing up their chances, doubting the rumours about her, thinking that maybe they could catch her alone later in the night and force themselves upon her.

They'd be stupid to try. She could snap them in two as easily as breaking a match. Even a gang would stand little chance.

'She's in, dammit, she's in,' shouted Bezejel raucously to the adoring crowd. 'We've guided that woman into Brother surer than a Pecheneg arrow into a Byzantine eye. This is more exciting than watching Scythian heads torn from their shoulders with a shredded shield. Who can stand against us?' She was on her feet now. 'WHO CAN STAND AGAINST US?'

Another huge cheer assailed the rafters while hands all around the room held up jugs of diesel in grateful salute. She looked around her. 'Come here Holzman you maggot-eating Schwabian goat-molester. Come here you great wart hog.' Bezejel grabbed Holzman by his collar, pulled him bodily off his chair and kissed him full on the lips. But the next moment she swiped him on the side of his head with her left hand sending him crashing to the floor.

'Don't touch me again,' she shouted at the prostrate form in fury. Kodrob dropped from his chair and threw his body in front of Holzman, protecting his squad member. 'I'll take care of him ma'am. I'll punish him.' He half-pushed and half-dragged Holzman out of the way and sat him on a distant table before returning to the bar. It wouldn't do for Kodrob to absent himself from Bezejel's side at this stage of the party. All he could do was hope that the storm had passed and Bezejel's fiercesome exuberance would abate.

There was a wide berth around Bezejel now and even she seemed to realise she had gone too far. 'More drinks, on me,' she shouted and this time the cheer was slightly less loud than before as demons acknowledged her gesture out of fear but deigned to meet her eye.

'Ma'am, I can't thank you enough for your leadership,' said Kodrob obsequiously, looking for a way to calm her down. 'We've rarely known such success as you have brought us. Holzman just got carried away, that's all.'

'I don't hold it against him,' said Bezejel defiantly.

'Thank you ma'am.' Kodrob glanced around him and saw Lafarge, Zhivkin and Pu Gash looking anxiously his way. He winked at them that all was fine then turned back to Bezejel. 'Ma'am, this may not be the right time and place to discuss this, but if we look forward to the rest of the project, there is still much to do.'

'This is a perfect rime and pace,' mumbled Bezejel who had herself drunk plenty and was beginning to show it.

'Zhivkin has approached me with an idea that I believe is worthy of consideration. It involves giving the arrogant angels,' he paused to turn his head and give an obligatory spit on the floor, 'a bloody nose that they won't forget in a month of Hallowe'ens. It will need co-ordination and planning. May I come and talk to you about it tomorrow when we've got some Hades coffees in front of us?'

Bezejel looked at Kodrob and for the first time he noticed the abject misery in her eyes. Bezejel was lonely, he realised. Like all of them. But she was a female in a wholly male environment and the only way she knew how to cope with male company was either to dominate and hurt them or else use them for pleasure and then destroy them. In her current mood she was very dangerous indeed and could easily turn on him, thoughtlessly, in a furious rage.

From the doorway came a sudden hubbub followed by a loud cheer and a stamp of feet. Demons were rushing to the exit in excitement as a voice shouted 'Banshees at the ski jump, it's a spectacle.' Soon more voices were shouting 'Banshees at the ski jump' and 'Come on lads'.

It was just the distraction Kodrob needed.

'Come on ma'am, let's see this,' he said. 'It'll be good for our spirits.'

Bezejel rose from her seat and they followed the crowd outside.

A few hundred yards from Naxela's squawhouse lay a volcanic lava plain in-between where the Slothmire and Miser's Folly fingers joined the Pentacurse region. The flatland steamed and simmered in the dim light of Inferno's atmosphere. Here and there in the plain, the barely solid crust on the molten rock would open up for a minute or so exposing the flowing red magma underneath. Clouds of sulphur spewed upwards from the vents and drifted lazily across the torn landscape towards the fingers. The plain was a couple of hundred feet lower than the finger promontories and a steep embankment led down to its tempestuous red and black bubbling surface. In one place the embankment had been worn smooth, like a slide, and at the foot of the slide, whether through natural erosion or through the deliberate working of demons' hands - no-one could remember which - there was a hockey stick-like short upward incline in the rock. The whole resembled an Olympic ski-jump.

An armed unit of jager imps had captured a foraging party of banshees and was preparing to roll them down the slide. Banshees were lower-caste female demons who had been unable to obtain work in a squawhouse, liquor shed or roadside shebeen or even one of the mean flesh farms that served the needs of undiscerning male demons. They banded together in sisterhoods of up to a hundred strong and roamed the remoter districts of Inferno to rob the unwary.

They also launched daring co-ordinated attacks against buccaneers and marauders, robbing them of their captured loot after they had relaxed their guard upon returning to Inferno from a scavenging trip. In this way they earned the enmity of all Infernals from the lowest to the highest. On this occasion an entire commando of banshees had been captured by jager imps after an ambush they set had been observed and pounced upon. The banshees had been taken prisoner and brought, moaning and screeching as banshees do, to the ski jump site. Now the group, over fifty females strong, were bound and perched on the edge of the ski jump having been trussed up in balls and bound tight with sargasso seaweed ties. Cahuatl, a former Aztec chieftain and leader of the jager imps now sent his troopers around the crowd demanding a half pint of diesel fuel from every demon who wanted to watch the spectacle. Most paid up and only a few were reluctantly turned away, out of funds.

Watching the scene, Bezejel had considerably perked up and lost her maudlin tearfulness, much to Kodrob's relief. She was starting to shout and jeer at the banshees along with the loud macho figures among the dominant band leaders. Because of Bezejel's rank, she and Kodrob had managed to make their way to the front of the crowd close to the cliff edge around the volcanic plain. They were joined there by the rest of the squad, even Holzman who was holding his hand protectively to his cheek.

Cahuatl had brought up several drums and these now began to boom out across the fingers, raising the tension and excitement even more. The first banshee was brought to the edge of the ski jump and the crowd hushed in anticipation. The drums fell silent and a wailing moan was heard from the tied figure. This caused the crowd to laugh. The moan grew louder as the banshee reacted to the mockery and wailed all the more. Soon all the banshees were moaning in unison making a sound like an invasion siren. The watching demons held their claws in their ears but didn't dare tear their eyes away from the imminent spectacle. This entertainment would be remembered for a long time.

Cahuatl kicked the first banshee-containing sargasso ball with his foot and all eyes followed it as it pitched over the lip of the embankment and began to roll down the slide and pick up speed. As it hit the bottom curve and shot up into the air the banshee's moan turned into a piercing screech that made the crowd roar with laughter even more. Cahuatl's purpose became immediately apparent. He was attempting to aim the banshee so that its trajectory curve would take it neatly through one of the openings in the plain's crust and straight into the boiling magma. As it fell through the last thirty feet of its journey the opening that Cahuatl had aimed for abruptly closed and the first banshee crashed into the smoking rock. There its sargasso ties smouldered and burnt away after a few minutes allowing the indignant banshee to escape. She jumped up pulling her smouldering skirts up around her and hot footed it across the sulphurous plain in an effort to get away. The watching demons were so incapacitated by their laughter that none of them bothered to try and catch her.

Cahuatl, cashing in on the fun he had created, now began to auction off the chance to aim and push each sargasso ball. Commanders and section leaders, urged on by their men, began to step up and pay large amounts of liquor for the chance to boil a banshee. Bezejel was urged by many to take a shot but couldn't bring herself to execute another female.

All night long the entertainment continued with each moan, screech, scream and splash into hot magma being greeted by roars of approval and cheering. In the end about fifteen of the banshees had been successfully sautéed into the liquid rock, some having been launched and recaptured several times. Once submerged in the molten lake they were carried underneath the crust to emerge aeons later in another part of Inferno husked and reduced to lower status. Some banshees had managed to escape but even the jager imps who caught them originally had had so much fun that they didn't really care. Maybe they'd capture them again another day and repeat the spectacle?

Kodrob's team were all motivated more than ever before. They believed in their ability to steer Nancy away from the angelic threat and deliver her safely to the gates of Hell.

Bezejel returned to her chamber, this time without even trying to find a young satyr to accompany her.

Lafarge came and walked beside Kodrob as they trudged back to Naxela's for more booze.

'Guv'nor, you know you were telling me about the caste ladder and how all demons and demonesses gradually slide to the bottom?'

'Yes, Lafarge. Why do you find that so hard to understand?'

'It's not hard to understand. It's just that I was thinking about Nancy. We all know that Bezejel will make sure that Nancy ends up here in Hell. I just wondered how long it might take before Nancy gets husked down the ladder and becomes a banshee. It would be more fun to roll someone down the ski jump if you actually know them. More personal, like. See what I mean?'

Kodrob's imagination filled with a picture of Nancy trussed inside a seaweed ball, screaming in fear as she trajectoried into a molten bath. He stopped and scowled at his subordinate.

'Shut up Lafarge. Go and buy yourself a hangover. I've had enough to drink. I'm going to bed.' He abruptly changed direction and trudged off into the gloom, pausing only to punch a passing troll.

Kowloon, Hong Kong

Jabez swung the Fundial lightship down beside the British Airways Boeing 747 as it continued its glidepath over mid-Kowloon towards Kai Tak airport. He brought it up alongside the cabin and looked in, so close that he could almost reach out and touch the pilot on the shoulder. Then he swung it around the other side and brought it just in front of one of the engines, peering inside till he could see the turbine spinning and the spout of blue flame from the jets. It was primitive technology and yet so very advanced compared to his own time on Earth only 3000 years before.

Jabez could have flown above Earth with his own wings but the lightship was even more effortless and fun. He took the craft down just above ground level and overflew the main thoroughfare of Nathan Road at 1000mph. Then he took it around again and this time brought it down at walking pace. He took in the bustle and traffic noise, the ferocious buying and selling in streets and stores, the cooking and eating, the trade in heroin and sex and the sheer energy of this middle part of the colony.

It was time to do some work however so he looked for a suitable place to park. Leaving the invisible lightcraft two floors up attached to the outside of a building in Yaumati district, he dropped to the ground. Jabez's mission would involve placing the 1.11 number where Nancy would be able to see it. He was not just observing humans, he had chosen to walk among them, visibly, and so had tightly folded his wings behind him under a thick hoodie.

Walking along Yaumati's main streets he spotted Lafarge standing outside a foreign exchange booth. Lafarge saw him too. But this was no place for an open conflict. Both Fifth Dimensioners exchanged glances and then looked away and ignored each other disdainfully, like cold war spies in Beirut.

Jabez set about his task. He walked into restaurants, stores, clothes shops, jewellers and grocer shops. He scanned hawkers' trolleys, food stalls, bins, office signs, stairways, bus stops, taxi ranks and security guards' uniforms. He made mental notes of everything he saw and then gradually widened his search taking in backstreets and harbours, boats and parks till he had covered every street in Kowloon from Tsim Sha Tsui to Sham Shui Po and Yaumati Typhoon Shelter to Tsz Wan Shan. Returning to Yaumati with his reconnaissance accomplished he saw that Lafarge had been replaced by Holzman who appeared to have a large bruise on one side of his face. Jabez summoned the invisible lightcraft with his thought. He waited for a moment when Holzman was looking the other way, stepped inside it and was gone.

It had all been so easy. He'd come back the next day and continue his work without fear. Demons were dim.

Golden Luck Casino, Yaumati, Kowloon, Hong Kong

Nancy stood beside her new friend Jenny Ling inside the door of the Golden Luck Casino. Westerner and oriental, both were an oasis to male eyes in their stunning and identical blue cheung sams.

Nancy had survived her first week at the Golden Luck Casino. She had learned several Cantonese words and phrases and was beginning to understand how the place worked.

'So, Nancy, let me test your knowledge of Golden Luck,' said Jenny during a break in the flow of customers. 'How many storeys in the casino?'

'Four,' said Nancy. 'And the higher they are, the more luxurious they are. And more expensive. And we're in the best of all, the Jade Room.'

'Correct. And what kind of gambling do we do here?'

'We don't do any gambling, because it's illegal in Hong Kong. At least 'officially' we don't.'

'Correct.'

'Instead, guests 'pretend' to gamble and their pretend bets are recorded and logged in a register. The real money is paid out later and collected by Brother agents.'

'Correct.'

'But Jenny, what happens if someone loses money and then the next day they refuse to pay up?'

Jenny didn't answer. She simply looked at Nancy and rolled her eyes. Nancy understood. Anyone who refused to pay up would suffer the consequences.

In fact, any gambler arguing the amount of his loss and reluctant to pay would soon find himself in the back of a car with three heavies testing the flexibility of his finger joints. In extreme cases he might enjoy an unexpected and protracted deep diving lesson in nearby Yaumati Typhoon Harbour. These extreme cases had become more common within the last year.

Nancy had been taught to stand with her hands folded demurely across her waist welcoming customers at the door. Initially Nancy greeted customers in English while Jenny did the same in Cantonese. Customers, normally male, then indicated which of the apparitions in blue should guide them to a table. To her surprise many of them chose Nancy, probably a novelty factor, she thought.

But there was also a subtler process going on inside Jade Room. Customers who arrived as couples were led to tables on the right of the room. Single customers, normally men, were led to the left. There, while they gambled and drank, they were joined by pretty hostesses who would engage them in conversation in exchange for highly priced drinks. A hostess was expected to prise at least twelve drinks a night out of her clients. These drinks were called whiskies and were served from a bottle with a Cutty Sark label but Nancy knew it was really cold tea. Clients drank real alcohol while hostesses were served from the Cutty Sark bottle. The hostesses aimed to match their clients drink for drink so while the client got more and more drunk and reckless with his gambling, the hostess remained sober and ready to move on to any other client who looked like a better prospect for wallet-lightening.

If clients became amorous, which many did, they were smilingly advised that they should buy the hostess more drinks to give her 'more face' before they would be allowed to take her to a private comfort lounge for intimacy.

Inevitably, these lustful visits to comfortable but dimly-lit one-bed passion parlours were not only expensive but brief. A hostess was expected to satisfy her client's needs quickly and then return to the tables as soon as possible to work her charms on the next one.

Nancy was not expected to perform hostess duties, a fact she was extremely relieved about. But she soon developed a knack for matching up new clients with an appropriate hostess and then ensuring that the client bought enough drinks to merit the girl's continued company throughout the long evening.

She also became an expert negotiator and seemed to know intuitively the maximum amount a man would pay for a girl and how to up the amount he would splash out for her services. She had rapidly learnt some specialised vocabulary for this price discussion including phrases like 'I can see that Mei Xing really likes you, she is very special' and 'Siu Mei does not normally go with men, she is nearly a virgin'. These were weak arguments but worked surprisingly well with a man whose brains were below his belt and who had drunk several brandies too many.

Nancy was not unduly concerned with the unusual nature of her job. The Golden Luck casino and others like it had been in business since long before she came to Hong Kong, she reasoned. Her job was not to question what they were doing but to ensure clients got what they wanted - at an appropriate price naturally - and no-one got hurt.

From time to time customers made a play for Nancy herself and even offered quite high amounts of money for time alone with her in a comfort room. But Nancy had ambitions for greater things and knew that her status would be diminished by such a move. She made a joke to her immediate boss, a smooth former protection racketeer called Ah Kwok, that she would not sell herself for less than a million Hong Kong dollars. As this was exactly the price of two new top of the range sports cars Nancy immediately won for herself the nickname Two Ferrari Nancy, a moniker that didn't hurt her at all.

Fatty Lo was delighted to hear the reports of Nancy's progress. He had taken a big risk in employing the non-Cantonese speaking ghost female and now had the pleasure of hearing his staff praise her dedication along with his judgement in hiring her. He was eager to make more of Nancy's talent and to parade her as evidence of his ability to think differently from other gangsters.

'Nancy, I want you to be a liaison and work with a new partner that is soon going to join Brother,' he said to her on the Monday of her second week as he visited the Golden Luck early in the evening. 'It is another business that is merging with us. But their managers are a bit afraid of us. I don't know why, maybe our reputation on the street. Sometimes too kind. I want you to smooth the way and show them that we nice people, treat them well. It will be good part of your training.'

'OK great, when will that happen?' asked Nancy.

'Soon enough, maybe a couple weeks, maybe less, I am working on it. But before that, tomorrow night I want you to accompany me to a little party that I'm having with some friends.' He was grinning wickedly as he spoke. Nancy was just starting to get slightly worried when Jenny Ling leant in close and whispered 'cock fight.'

'That's right, cock fight' Fatty said with a warning glance to Jenny. 'It's just a bit of fun. You will see some feathers flying and much people shouting. But nobody get hurt and you meet some of my friends.'

Two customers came in who recognised Nancy and walked towards her. Jenny came over to intercept them. She welcomed them and showed them to a table, then she returned.

'You ever see cock fight?' Fatty asked Nancy when the customers had gone. 'You put two male hens close together in arena with no escape and watch them parade around like little generals. They hold out their chest and show off their macho. Then they tear living daylight out of each other while people around shout and drink beer.'

'Er no,' replied Nancy, 'it's not a big thing in England. But we have rugby which sounds very similar. Except it's thirty males tearing living daylight out of each other, not two.'

Fatty was delighted. 'Play rugby here too. Hong Kong sevens. Very famous. Maybe I take you some day.'

Nancy nodded politely.

'Do not tell anyone about tomorrow,' Fatty Lo warned, 'cock fighting illegal in Hong Kong. Wherever there is something illegal there is Brother also. Illegal make money.'

Fatty left to continue his inspection tour of the casino and left Nancy and Jenny to their duties.

'You ever go to a cock-fight?' Nancy asked her.

'Oh yes, I remember it always. The macho show go on for hours. And that was just the men.' replied Jenny.

Nancy giggled.

Yaumati Police Station, Kowloon

'Sir, I think we've got another one. Very horrible.'

'Another what, Ah Tung. I can't read your mind.'

'Murder sir. By Brother. It feels like another Brother killing. All the hallmark.'

Dan sighed and turned away from his typewriter. 'Talk to me.'

'We need to go there now sir, see for yourself.'

Fifteen minutes later Dan arrived at the West Kowloon Mortuary with Detective Sergeant Ah Tung and Junior Investigator Liu Jai. They walked in through the swing doors and presented themselves at the reception desk.

'D.I. Kelly about the body fished out of the Harbour this morning. May we see it?' All three flashed their warrant cards at the white-fatigued orderly.

'Ah, Mr Kelly. Nice to see you again. You always get the good ones. Lot of violence and blood' said the orderly.

'Thank you Mr Fong, no need to remind me that I've got rubbish fung shui,' replied Dan,' rubbing the back of his neck in tiredness.

Fong led them through several corridors to an open room where there were two naked male bodies lying side by side on gurneys. One was a European, fat with neat pearly teeth, obviously prosperous. The other was Chinese, thin, unshaven and with the hands of a manual worker. In life they would never have met, thought Dan, probably didn't speak each other's language either. Yet here they were in death, splayed out ingloriously for all to see like equals, all pretence at vanity gone.

Fong went to the Chinese cadaver and turned it half over. 'As you can see,' he said pointing to the back, 'subject has been pierced several times with sharp instrument. Body put in harbour probably last night. Dead only 8 or 9 hours.'

'Where are his clothes, was there any I.D.?'

'Only a note in his shirt pocket, like those we've seen before. It says 'would not pay debts'.'

'OK,' said Dan, 'someone will probably report him missing sooner or later. Then we'll get the name. Guys, let's get back and write the report. Thanks Mr Fong. Hope I never see you again.'

'Thanks Mr Kelly, me too.'

'OK, probably see you next week.'

'Yeah, maybe sooner.'

The three detectives returned to Yaumati centre and headed for the Double Happiness restaurant. It was 11a.m. and time for the first lunch of the day. Dim sum. There they were joined by the other four members of the squad. At first the conversation was jovial with lots of talk about girls, football and gambling. After a while Dan leaned forward and signalled that he wanted to speak to them all.

'Brother are getting more violent and more arrogant by the week.' Dan was speaking softly because he knew that Brother had eyes and ears everywhere. 'They used to do their gambling and prostitution with barely a ripple of aggro. But something has changed and it's all based around just a few Brother establishments. The Golden Luck here in Yaumati is one and the Ho Tin Girl Friend Bar is another.'

The ha gau and siu mai arrived in bowls together with two pots of bo lei tea. Liu Jai poured.

Ah Tung butted in. 'Daai Lo, I have heard something similar from a DS in Mongkok. There the Brother drug dealers used to be the best disciplined. But recently a new boss in one housing estate has started attacking other triads. There have been several death-by-ten-thousand-cuts attacks in recent weeks. Some say that Fatty Lo, the founder of Brother, is getting soft and new bosses are coming in who don't respect the old ways. They are more violent. There may be a power struggle in the future.'

'If that's the case, we need to know more about Brother', declared Dan in an urgent whisper. We need to get a picture of all their operations whether it's by activity like gambling and drugs or by territory. We need to know all the names of all the bosses, from the bottom of the organisation right to the top.'

There was silence around the table. The plainclothes officers tucked into the dim sum and passed around the bowls of chilli and soy. Theirs was the only table not making noise.

'Well?' said Dan.

Eventually Ah Tung spoke. 'Daai Lo, you live in a nice flat in Ho Man Tin. Far away from Yaumati. But we all live here. Many people know us. It's one thing to arrest ordinary criminals, dealers and murderers. But if you go after Brother, word will leak out. They will know within hours if we start to target them as an organisation. Then maybe they come after us. We all have families, they can hurt us easily. We cannot fight Brother. Maybe a headquarters unit can fight them, but not us. We are just an ordinary CID team.'

No-one moved to contradict Ah Tung and all eyes were lowered, intent on the provender in front of them. The sound of munching, swallowing and slurping dominated the table.

'There is no headquarters unit,' said Dan. 'We're it. If we don't fight Brother, no one will. Then they just get bigger and bigger and they sell drugs to our children, your children, with no fear of arrest. Are you going to let that happen?'

Ah Tung put down his chopsticks. 'Thank you Daai Lo, that was a lovely dim sum. I buy the next one. Now, I have to get back to the station to interview a witness. See you later.' He drew back his chair, stood up and left.

Gradually all the others did the same until there were only two left, Liu Jai and Hui Fen, the only female member of the team.

'What are you two doing here, haven't you got homes?' asked Dan miserably.

Liu Jai and Hui Fen sat quietly for a moment, looking around. Hui Fen sipped some tea. 'My brother was attacked by a triad gang ten years ago' she said eventually. 'Hurt very bad. He is afraid to leave the house now. He never goes out.' She paused before looking Dan directly in the eye. 'I will help you.' Then without further ado she picked up her bag, stood up and left.

Dan looked at Liu Jai. Eventually the junior cop spoke up. 'You're not safe around here either, sir. Despite what you say. In fact it can be dangerous for you to cross the street, even in daylight.' He waited for a few seconds. 'Especially when you're drunk.'

Dan was used to a modicum of insubordination. And it was a standing joke that he liked a cold beer to wash down his lunchtime noodles. But Liu Jai didn't disappoint him. 'So I had better be part of the Brother squad too. Someone has to make sure you don't fall over in the road while you're fighting the biggest triad society in Hong Kong.'

Dan saw a passing waitress and called for the bill. She walked past him and went to another table. 'I'm very glad that I've spent so much time encouraging and supporting you in your career, Liu Jai. I can see that it's appreciated.'

Liu Jai got up, tapped Dan on the shoulder and left.

Dan drank the last of his tea and tried again to get the waitress's attention. She ignored him.

Golden Luck Casino, Yaumati, Kowloon

'So, Kowloon means 'nine dragons'.' Nancy was polishing her nails while listening to Jenny who was perched on her bed in the dormitory she shared with Nancy and two other Brother women. 'Gau means nine. Lung means dragon. Put them together and you have gau lung which the English speak Kowloon.'

'And did these nine dragons once blow flame and smoke all over the people of this part of China and turn them into fire cakes?' asked Nancy who was also cross-legged on her bed and still in her pyjamas.

'No, they are still here. They not go away. The nine dragons are the nine hills that Kowloon is built on. The dragons went to sleep and people built houses and roads on them, that's all.'

She threw a pillow at Nancy's head.

'What if they wake up?' asked Nancy. 'If they're Chinese dragons they're going to be very, very hungry. How will we feed them?'

She threw the pillow back at Jenny. Then she threw two more at her for luck.

Jenny caught the pillows and stacked them on her lap. 'True. We definitely will need more food for them. Chinese dragon eat all day long. Maybe we ask America. Or the UN.'

Lorry in the night. Tabards. Life belt. Lafi and his gun. Three boys. O my goodness, I never told Ealing I'm not coming back.

'What's the matter, Nancy? Why so many shock?'

'Oh, just something I meant to do. That's all. Listen Jenny, continue my education. How do I say in Cantonese 'may I use the phone to call England?''

'You can not use any phone to call England. So I not teach you that phrase. Ordinary phones only use for call people in Hong Kong. You must go to Star Ferry Terminal. Find Cable and Wireless building. Call international from there.'

'OK thanks. I'll do that.' She hesitated. 'Fancy breakfast?'

'Sure,' replied Jenny cheerfully. 'Always fancy breakfast. Any time of day fancy breakfast. Got hunger like dragon.'

Nancy had not seen any strange letters or numbers since she arrived in Hong Kong. She had forgotten about them completely, so much had happened.

But when she and Jenny arrived down on the street all of that changed. A student's back pack in front of her bore the inscription 'Any time is 1.11 time'. When they sat down in the restaurant and looked at the menu Nancy saw that the inside left page was numbered 1. and the opposite page was 11. Two Filipino men came in wearing Liverpool football shirts, one of them bearing 1. on the back and the other 11.

Just co-incidence, thought Nancy. It's obviously on my mind again, that's all.

Jenny was determined to help Nancy blend in. 'You order the food, Nancy. I tell you the words. You not look Chinese but you can sound Chinese.' And while they ate their congee soup together, Jenny gave Nancy the most intensive language lesson she had ever undergone. She learnt how to cut off her Cantonese consonants like a native, how to sing-song her way through each delicious word, how a change in tone could be the difference between life and death and how in Chinese conversation food was the new weather and money was the new sex.

Two hours later, exhausted and crammed, Nancy stood up, hugged her new best friend Jenny and exclaimed in perfect Cantonese, 'Now I go out and forget all.'

'No,' laughed the exuberant Jenny. 'You remember all. Got good memory, you. And especially when you become rich and powerful in Brother you remember all your friends and me too. Not forget us.'

And when Nancy looked at her doubtfully Jenny went on, 'You going high, I can see that. You got talent. You got the talent that Brother like.' And this time Nancy didn't try to look doubtful and didn't argue with Jenny because already in the depths of her being she knew that Jenny was right and although she didn't have the ambition to go to the top, she knew she had taken to Brother like a Peking duck to water. She was fitting in to the triad society's centuries-old culture just as neatly as she had fitted into her elegant cheung sam and zipped it up tight at the first try.

Then she went up to the counter and paid for their meal and picked up her dollar and eleven cents change, put it in her pocket, took Jenny by the arm and returned with her to the Golden Luck, chattering non-stop as they went to prepare for another slow midday opening, a long afternoon and a frenetic evening that wouldn't finish till two in the morning and all the while wondering was it one eleven, or one two, or one one one, or three, and how long was this going to go on and whoever they were why wouldn't they just leave her alone and let her go on finding herself, becoming the person she was always meant to be and building a solid, worthwhile career in one of Asia's foremost criminal organisations.

Yaumati, Kowloon, Tai O Factory Building

Zhivkin stared down into the street from his hidden vantage point in the Tai O building. His private meeting with Bezejel and Kodrob had gone well. He had outlined his plan to deal a sizzling blow to the angels supporting Nancy. At first they challenged it and rejected it. Then, after a rethink they called him back and refined it. Finally they approved it.

Bezejel had even gone so far as to hint that during their 'rethink' she had taken the plan to very high levels within Inferno to gain approval. Maybe even the Leader himself. Clearly there could be political repercussions of the highest magnitude if anything went wrong and so the Inferno leadership team had to give consent.

Zhivkin was now feeling extremely nervous. With the level of visibility his plan now had, he was either going to zoom to the top of inferno's management cadre if the plan was successful or suffer consequences of extraordinary pain and duration if not.

But Zhivkin was a gambler and he played for high stakes. He had brought down the Russian aircraft taking off from the Crimea and stolen its fuel from the bottom of the Black Sea. He had even covered his tracks from the thieving hands of the Confiscations Unit.

Through that little escapade he had won notoriety and managed to talk his way into Kodrob's squad. No mean feat, that. Now he was on another mission but this time it was to bring down, not an inanimate aeroplane, but a very animate angel. An angel by the name of Jabez. Zhivkin had been watching days before, unknown and unseen, when Jabez had been walking the streets of Yaumati.

Unlike Lafarge, that useless French bourgeois ladies' man with the silken tongue and the permanent thirst, Zhivkin had not taken his eye off Jabez for a moment. Indeed he had watched in amazement as the angel disappeared from the middle of a Hong Kong street as though plucked from above by giant chopsticks. Supernaturals visiting Earth did not just appear and disappear in an instant. The transfer to the Fourth Dimension was a process that required preparation. Whether angels or demons, both had to seek a quiet place completely secure from accidental discovery where they could pass through a gateway between the Fourth and the Fifth. But Jabez had disappeared in a location where Zhivkin was sure there was no such gateway. He had disappeared in the middle of the street and that could only mean that he had some sort of invisible astracraft. Zhivkin wanted that craft. It would be his passport to a blazing career in Inferno with as much nitro as he could drink and top-caste, classy squaws every day. As many as he wanted.

Zhivkin opened the window blind just a tad further to increase the distance his eyes could sweep. There was Holzman, oblivious to his presence. Holzman was a typical demon duffer. No imagination and no ambition. Well, that was fine. Holzman was useful right now. He just had to do his job - which was to notice nothing - and all would be fine.

Zhivkin continued scanning the street. He would wait as long as it took. He would not blink. He would spot that smug, smiling angel without being spotted back. Then he would strike.

Blue Diamond Warehouse & Godown

Fatty Lo pointed to the huge gantry that spanned the warehouse from side to side twenty feet above the ground.

'During the day,' he told Nancy, 'this warehouse use for import cotton. Use crane and pulley for move heavy bags from side to side and up and down. But night time we use equipment for add excitement to cockfight.'

Nancy was on sensory overload from the smell of forty sweaty male bodies as attractive as swamps to the squadrons of circulating mosquitoes. From forty hoarse throats shouting, negotiating and laughing in discordant unison. From forty pairs of eyes furtively scanning her face, body and hemline. And from the proprietorial touch of a single podgy arm draped casually around her shoulders, property of one extremely contented triad society leader at the peak of his powers.

Fatty's moll du jour, the forty pairs of eyes read back to her. His bit of exotic fancy. A pale-faced courtesan to show off his cosmopolitan modern manners.

But Nancy was enjoying every bit of the attention, even the many lustful glances that came her way like panting dogs. Men gave themselves away at times like this, betrayed their power or lack of it. She read each face in an instant and knew who mattered, who counted, who was on the rise and who were just the placemen. She folded her hands delicately in her lap and surveyed the raucous assembly with calm interest, neither approving nor judging, just absorbing.

Fogies were busily removing dozens of thick oak planks from the floor. These revealed a circular, brick-lined pit under the gantry's path. Around this, other junior gangsters were piling bales of sheet cotton in tiers to make a grandstand.

'Down there is where the action,' explained Fatty unnecessarily. Only he and Nancy had chairs, placed in prime position near the edge of the pit to watch the upcoming avian battle. The rest would stand. He pointed to a metal grille set into the pit's brick wall, a small one-metre deep recess behind it. 'Challenger come from there, champion come from up there. Meet in pit and decide who live and who die,' he laughed.

Nancy saw the hoist attached to the gantry. A square metal pallet dangled below it.

Clap-clap-clap. A dapper gentleman with a wide, pointed moustache brought the meeting to order. He had slicked back grey hair and wore a satin waistcoat under a blazer with a carnation in the buttonhole.

'Frenchy,' Nancy heard many of the gangsters mutter in muted respect.

'Faithful leader, Devoted Encourager, Brother of Brothers,' began Frenchy. 'We salute you and thank you for your leadership and for the gift of tonight's entertainment.' A murmur of approval rippled around.

'First, we salute you,' he held up his glass and looked directly at Fatty. 'Drink to victory.'

'Victory,' shouted the hoarse throng through a thick cigarette smoke haze as forty Adam's apples protruded at once, flushing down cold beer and finest XO cognac. Grateful mosquitoes joined in, buzzing their way through the pall and drinking from their steaming human tankards.

Somewhere an air conditioner could be heard fighting the ferocious heat. It was no match for the task.

Fatty Lo acknowledged the toast with an imperious wave of his hand. 'Enjoy, enjoy,' he shouted. The forty hoodlums raised their glasses to him again before continuing with their drinking and smoking. 'Maybe I Rome emperor in previous life,' Fatty laughed to Nancy. 'The Fat Caesar. What you think?' Fatty's hand was now firmly clasped on her shoulder, his thumb casually brushing her skin.

A second speaker with the comical-sounding name of Chopper Kwok, who Nancy had seen before in Fatty Lo's company now took the floor. Chopper looked anything but a comedian. His hard eyes looked around him at his brothers and sisters in crime and gave off not a hint of kindness. The respect shown him by those gathered near was the respect of fear, not the respect of admiration. But Chopper was one of the most senior officers in Brother so it was appropriate for him to speak at this important gathering.

'Today we work and tomorrow we work. But tonight we drink and gamble.' While he spoke, Chopper's eyes ranged around as though looking for targets for his venom. 'Here are some reasons why we celebrate. We are no longer dependent on police informers. No need to pay off those uniformed parasites.' He looked down and nodded meaningfully at one or two of the men watching. 'In the last year, two more regional triads join Brother. In total ten casinos are in operation throughout the colony and nearly a thousand healthy women are on the payroll.' This brought a mild cheer and some clinking of glasses. 'The partnership with the Colombians is paying off and we now have our own factories in Thailand.' Everyone understood that the 'factories' were for heroin production.

'But now I want to address those of you who are impatient for us to grow faster. To make more money quicker.'

Nancy could just about follow the speech but now she paid close attention. Chopper appeared to be addressing an ongoing internal wrangle.

'Brother is growing 10% every year,' he continued. 'There is no need for faster growth. Let those who think otherwise keep their mouths shut.'

Nancy looked at Fatty but he showed no emotion.

Beside Chopper was his dog Wolf Smoke, a German shepherd. Wolf Smoke, whose comic book name was testament to Chopper's immaturity, was a model for those who believed dogs took after their owners. Wolf Smoke lunged at everyone who came close to his master and made as if he would rip their hearts out if just given the command. Men put their hands in their pockets near Wolf Smoke to protect themselves. They surreptitiously tried to move the fabric of their trousers around their waist so that a hand covered their groin. Wolf Smoke was Chopper's aggressive persona on four legs.

He finished with a final toast for the Brother of Brothers and then handed back to Frenchy, the evening's fightmaster.

Fatty Lo turned to Nancy. 'The first fight is always between the current champion cock and a challenger. The challenger get thrown into the pit. The champion come from above, like Heaven,' he laughed.

Frenchy shouted, 'The first challenger, Snake Biter' and waved his arm with a flourish. An Armani-suited young man stepped forward holding a wide-eyed bird and threw it fluttering into the pit. Snake Biter landed and peered around him, startled, head on one side. He looked most unworthy of his name.

Then Frenchy looked up and with great aplomb announced the name of the champion, Black Wing. There was a roar of applause. Stewards now came around with notebooks taking money from the excited audience and marking the bets. Junior brothers handed out more beer and XO. Fatty Lo smiled graciously above the fray and shouted his own bet to a steward.

A steel gate crashed shut, there was a clank and then a hum as the hoist and pallet began its journey across the gantry. A metal cover with large air holes had been placed over Black Wing on the pallet. Once over the pit, the pallet descended.

Anticipation was now at fever pitch. The theatre of Black Wing's clanking journey to his next gladiatorial contest had captured the attention of old and young brothers alike. Necks craned, eyes stared, voices stilled. For the first time, no-one was looking at Nancy.

Fatty Lo's hand was now resting on Nancy's leg and his thumb indelicately stroked her thigh.

'Daai Lo,' - Big Brother - she said, 'drink with me.' She turned her whole body to face him. Fatty snapped his fingers at a nearby junior brother and shouted 'Brandy.'

'Scotch for me,' ordered Nancy. Two glasses appeared and two bottles. A small slug was poured in each. Nancy's was Johnnie Walker Black Label. The real deal, not tea.

'More,' she called. She tilted the bottle to give herself half a glass and did the same with Fatty's brandy.

'Down in one,' she said, looking him directly in the eye. Fatty was delighted.

'Wait, a picture.' She turned and put down her glass and rooted in her handbag for a minute, finally producing a small Land camera. She gave this to the brother and turned back to Fatty, glass in hand. As they downed their drinks the camera flashed and a moment later a photo rolled out of the machine. Nancy coughed and put her hand to her chest. Fatty's eyes shone.

The pallet hit the floor and the cover was raised. Black Wing looked up shyly at the two score of leery faces peering down at him. His moment's distraction cost him the first blow as Snake Biter descended on him with a screech and a rasping claw. The fight was on.

Two hours and eight cockfights later a limousine pulled up outside the Blue Diamond Warehouse & Godown. A swarm of brothers wreathed in cigarette smoke and with watery eyes emerged with Fatty Lo into the night, shaking him by the hand and guiding him to the car.

He just made it without stumbling and poured himself into the back seat. A brother held the door open for Nancy who stepped in after him. The car moved off with Fatty slumped against the far door, his cheeks unusually red.

Nancy lifted her handbag onto her knee. It sloshed a little despite the bundle of toilet paper she had thrown in earlier. It also smelt like a distillery. She hoped no-one had noticed.

'Where to, Miss?' asked the chauffeur.

'Drop me off at Golden Luck and then take Mr Lo to his apartment and see him safely indoors,' she replied.

Beside her, Fatty groaned.

She pulled out the small soy milk bottle with the flip top. There was still a little tea left inside. She drank it and replaced the top. Then she threw it quickly back inside her bag and zipped it up tight to stop the whisky vapours escaping. Thanks for the warning, Jenny, she thought.

Looking ahead as the chauffeur pulled away, Nancy saw a red candle about a metre in front of the windscreen that stayed in place even as they turned out of the parking spot and accelerated. She couldn't see its wick but its bright red flame was just hovering there, mysterious and beautiful. She was drawn to its enigmatic energy, almost wanting to reach forward through the glass and touch it.

She consciously resisted its attraction. I'm not a moth. I'm not a creature of the night. You shan't have me yet.

The candle became a lower case letter i, stark in outline, still as death, staunch as certainty. You're coming, Nancy. You'll soon be mine. Nothing you can do.

No need to ask the driver if he saw it, Nancy thought. She knew he couldn't have, he'd have crashed by now.

Red Si

The limo cornered, the i faded, Nancy placed her bag on the floor and folded her hands in her lap.

Tai O Factory Building, Yaumati, Kowloon

Out on Nathan Road the hawkers were dishing out salt fish and rice in little snack packets; hot woks were frying pork with prawns, pork with chestnuts, pork with cabbage and pork with chicken; currency exchangers with exquisite charm, rapier wit and murderous no commission exchange rates were robbing the tourists like oriental Dick Turpins; jewellers were dusting their trays of Rolex, Girard Perregaux and Cartiers while restaurant windows displayed goldened ducks and honeyed char siu pork that drew eyes and flies in equal numbers.

Lafarge patrolled the highway with his eyes peeled for heavenly angels. He had strict instructions from Bezejel to unpeel his eyes from the many delightful local angels that filled the streets. These bubbly brown-eyed beauties poured out from offices and factories in the warm October noontime and teased him insane with their pretty faces, narrow waists and slender hips. What he wouldn't give to bring half a dozen of these girls back to his old chateau for a night or two. But he knew Bezejel would skewer, spit and slow-roast him like a Cul Noir pig at Chinese New Year if he missed so much as a real angel's sigh.

One floor above him and unknown to him, Zhivkin was into his third day of watch behind a dirty pane of glass in an unused storeroom of the Tai O Garments Factory. Zhivkin was aiming for glory among thieves and he had the patience and the watchfulness to achieve it.

A car skidded and a horn blared as someone stepped back suddenly from the road below. Near miss.

There. Zhivkin saw Jabez appear outside a jewellery shop. One moment that part of the street was empty and then suddenly Jabez was there. I couldn't do that, he thought, how can he do that? It was so quick. Lafarge was still lazily watching the almost-accident. Concentration of a five year old. Jabez walked slowly, almost insolently in Zhivkin's view, on the opposite side of the road, letting himself be seen by Lafarge. I'm not up to anything, he seemed to be saying, just taking the airs and showing you Inferno doesn't own this patch.

Cats do that. Jabez was parading like a cat. Amateur.

Zhivkin knew his opportunity had arrived. This was what he had waited three days for. It might not come again. He left the window at a fast trot and made for the stairs. He ran up the six flights of steps as fast as he could, kicking open the fire door at the top and bursting onto the roof. Running to the roof-edge he dropped low and took out his lightly-dusted periscope, using it to peer over the drop. The dust on the lens would reduce his spectre making it hard for Jabez to see him, even if the angel looked upwards directly into the optics. He just had to keep from being seen until Jabez returned to his craft. Then he would have just seconds to act.

For two hours Jabez walked around the area, occasionally disappearing down side streets or into buildings. Both demons knew he was planting his ludicrous code. They knew he could not know their own plan to capture Nancy's mind and turn her into one of the most powerful corruptors of men the world had ever seen. Why, even they didn't know the full details of Hideki's plan.

Zhivkin watched closely the area in which he had first seen Jabez. It was there somewhere, the ship, and he was going to hijack it. He had brought down an aircraft before with his quick thinking. Now he was going to steal a heavenly astracraft.

Jabez reappeared, nonchalantly strolling back towards Nathan Road from a side street. Lafarge hadn't clocked him. No surprise there. Beyond Lafarge, further north, the sound of an ambulance. It skidded to a halt outside a department store and two medics disgorged in a hurry. Up and down the street heads turned and rubbernecked, eager to see someone on a stretcher, ready to tell the story later to eager friends. Lafarge flashed his eyes up and down the street and then followed the medics' progress, sure he had missed nothing. Zhivkin kept his eyes on Jabez.

Sure enough, Jabez stopped just near where he had appeared earlier and looked up, as if calling with his mind. Then he stepped forward and disappeared.

Zhivkin grasped the edge of the parapet, raised himself up and threw himself off the building. He sailed through the air in a perfect arc drawing his knees up to his chest to make himself smaller. He crashed heavily six feet above the pavement.

Boot and Shoe Archipelago, Azurine Sea, Paradise

'There,' said Agatha, 'on the edge of that island. There's a town that's built out into the sea and right in the centre there's a cute-looking piazza. Let's stop there.'

'The map says the island is called Scarpa Trovata,' said Jabez reading from the Fundial's display pictograms. 'Says here it was settled by Venetians after the Great Plague hit Italy in 1630. After they passed, they brought all their artisan skills to Heaven and carried on where they left off.'

'Scarpa Trovata. Sure sounds a lot better than its translation, Shoe Found,' laughed Agatha. 'But the setting is absolutely stunning. Who wouldn't want to live and work here for ever, even if it's just making footwear.'

'Wait till you see what they make and how much fun they have making it. You may not want to leave.'

Jabez made sure the light hider was switched to 'off' and gradually circled the lightcraft over the all-shades-of-green island keeping in view the sunlit sea that surrounded it and a chain of other islands that stretched out towards the horizon in this industrial region of heaven.

The archipelago and its seas were a continent two hundred thousand miles below Paradise's surface and ninety thousand miles from its core. It was a land that enjoyed bright mornings, hot afternoons and warm evenings most days with just enough rain, mostly at night, to water its many fields.

Way above its skies were the jurassic jungles of Montefalco where dinosaur raptors fought with tooth and claw and angel-sized butterflies preyed on mouse-sized cats. And far below the Azurine's deepest trench were the Cascades of Arancazan, beloved of angels who liked to canoe to a waterfall's edge and then leap into space at the beginning of the drop, only opening wings near the end of the long fall.

All around the edge of the piazza there were tables and benches laid out where men and women were working busily. Leather was being cut to size, colours were being applied to fabrics, pins were being beaten into heels and soles were being stitched.

Heads looked up as the lightcraft's shadow was noticed and people paused from their labours to welcome the visitors. Hands waved and faces smiled. Jabez returned the greeting while Agatha surveyed the scene in delight at the cosiness of the community.

They closed in on the town centre with its architecture of Ionic and Corinthian pillars, Roman, Romanesque and Gothic arches, walls made from a hundred varieties of bricks and stone and leaded stained windows. These dazzled the eyes with moving images of life in medieval Italy.

Beyond the piazza, terracotta-tiled roofs serried out from the centre in joyful disorder somehow managing to pose themselves elegantly between a double helix of roads and lanes that curled itself around the neighbourhood on the landward side. Beyond that, the houses and mills surrendered to olive groves and vineyards that undulated out in sun-drenched ecstasy upwards towards the granite hills at the isle's centre.

A dozen shoe workers took to wing and flew up to greet the lightcraft, escorting it while nodding in admiration at the vessel's curves and styling. Some of them formed a circle above the lightcraft and flew around it laughing and waving olive sprigs. The others flew down to gather vine leaves and then formed a circle below the ship spinning in a countervailing direction. Jabez held the craft in a hover while the townsfolk below pointed up and laughed at the fun their friends were having. Those in the circles implored the left-behind land lovers to join them and make bigger circles. Soon the air was filled with fast-beating wings as angels ascended rapidly to join the two competing squadrons in the vault above them. The air was thick with calls and cries as angels hallooed and hollered to each other, spiralling like swallows enjoying a slipstreamed syncopated showtime. Now a third circle formed above the other two and then broke and began diving and weaving between those below. The circles and lines began to spin and weave faster and faster with the aerobatics becoming more and more elaborate. Finally, as though at a command, all the formations broke up in the same instant and the angels flattened out and glided down on full wingspan, exhausted, returning to land gracefully at their point of departure.

Agatha, inspired, leapt from the lightcraft into the void, stretching out her wings and making a couple of passes over the town before landing in the middle of the piazza with a polite curtsey and wing flourish to her new hosts. Jabez brought the lightcraft down beside her and jumped out, also bowing in appreciation for the dazzling impromptu flying display.

At one side of the square a shoe-shop quartet of non-flying cobblers assembled together to add their own latin sonics to Heaven's pervasive sensurround Music. At the same time boot makers tapped their lasts in rhythm with hammers, dance shoe makers tap-danced their wares and ballet shoe artisans performed a soft shoe shuffle supplemented with flashing fans and shimmering silks.

'Is all this just for us, two or'nery angels from nowheresville?' asked Jabez in amazement.

'Speak for yourself,' replied Agatha, 'I get this kind of reception everywhere I go.'

Within a minute all the angels had returned to their work tables and were picking up their tools. The chatter among them continued as they laughed about what each of them had done during the aerobatic 'promenade' as they called it.

A female angel approached Jabez and Agatha, smiling expectantly, a swatch of leather hides over one arm and a short bone-handled knife in her hand. 'Thank you for coming,' she said, looking from one to the other. 'We haven't had so much fun since yesterday. Now what can I do for you two lovely people? Are you buying or supplying? And while you're here, will you eat with us?'

Agatha spoke up first, 'This is my friend Jabez, he wore his feet out on Earth a short while ago and he needs some new soft boots to help him banish his blisters.'

The woman looked down at Jabez' feet.

'I think we can help you out all right,' she said confidently, 'My name's Maria. Come over to Gianni's bench.'

Maria led the couple across the piazza to a bench where a man was lifting a boot from a last after nailing on a new sole. He matched up the boot with its mate and held them up for inspection by the newcomers.

The boots were of soft doeskin leather on the inside and seasoned cowhide outside. Scenes from the Exodus ran around the sides etched in filigree silver while the uppers were stitched to the soles with gold fibre. The eyes were rimmed with brown mother of pearl which perfectly set off the brushed leather of the tongue.

Jabez's jaw dropped. 'Those should be put on a plinth. Surely no-one's going to do anything as vulgar as actually wear them?'

The cobbler smiled. 'Buon giorno, I am Gianni' he said, holding out his hand. 'You know, here we make shoes that are worn throughout Paradise. St Michael gallop his horse in our riding boots. Gabriel play golf in our spike shoes and Mary, Jesus' mum, she jog every day in our trainers.'

'Mary jogs?' said Agatha incredulous.

'Sure she does,' replied Gianni with a wide grin. 'Not for lose weight of course. But she like to jog through all the lands of Heaven while she pray. Last year she even pray for me personally. This I know because she put a note in my globe. She pray for me while she jog in shoes we make her. Is very nice.'

'I bet she doesn't jog through Montefalco,' put in Jabez.

'Even Montefalco,' replied Gianni laughing while Maria nodded in agreement. 'She can jog in Montefalco because she run in our trainers. I seen it on my globe. Those great big monster with the enormous teeth and the small brain.' Gianni waved his arms to illustrate his story. 'They think they got a little blue sandwich when they see her. But she go so fast in our trainers they just suck air. You look it up some time.'

'I will,' replied Jabez whose imaginative mind was now filled with pictures of the mother of the infant Jesus racing past razor-toothed cows in a stable whilst wearing superfast running shoes. For a moment Jabez and Agatha were both bereft of words.

'Now signore, what sort of shoes you like for today?'

Jabez could tell that Gianni had told this story before and enjoyed the effect it had on his listeners. His face bore a deliciously smug grin.

'Jabez requires a fix for sore feet,' said Maria, breaking into the silence. 'What you got Gianni?'

Six hours later after a meal of pasta and sambuca-cooked mackerel washed down with prosecco and amarone, Jabez and Agatha left the party of twenty angel-cobblers they had spent the evening with and returned to the lightcraft. They had heard many stories from Gianni of how their hand-made footwear had been used by Paradise's many residents. In return Jabez described the wonder worlds that were awaiting mankind and Agatha recited a poem she had made up about their unexpected welcome reception that day.

Jabez was getting used to the feel of his new walking boots, which were both kind to his blistered feet as well as a marvel to look at. They were presented to him by Gianni fresh from the workshop just as he and Agatha were finishing their dessert of Boot and Shoe Archipelago ice cream and melon. If the name sounded less than heavenly, Agatha confided to Jabez, the flavour was definitely more so.

Their hosts waved green and red lanterns as they boarded the ship, then wished them Godspeed and a swift return.

By morning they arrived at Agatha's downtown warehouse where she alighted. 'Take care Jabez,' she whispered. 'Don't relax your guard for a moment, the enemy is watchful.'

Jabez took off. 'Hong Kong,' he said to the Fundial lightcraft's autosystem. 'Slowly. I need to sleep off my Italian ice cream.'

When he awoke he was in a hover several miles above Yaumati. He yawned, stretched and took back the controls and brought the craft down on Nathan Road. Soon he was back at work distributing the 1.11 code where it would be seen by Nancy. He was getting to enjoy his work.

Jabez slowed his stride and concentrated on listening. Lafarge was on the other side of the road and had him in view. Down the side street where he was headed he knew that there would be no human eyes on him. But he still needed that distraction to be sure.

Here it came, just as Luke had promised. The sound of the ambulance's wail grew loud very quickly \- all the better to surprise everyone in the area and cause them to look. Jabez knew it was a false alarm. No-one had been injured. The ambulance would soon return to its base.

As heads turned away from him he summoned the Fundial with his will and heard its peculiar purring that told him it was right in front of him. He felt for its door handle, opened it and jumped in. A final glance down the road reassured him that Lafarge had seen nothing. The demon would look back this way in a moment and see that he had disappeared. Another round to the angels.

He looked ahead. Dark blob above. Coming fast. Crash.

Zhivkin slammed into the lightship and momentarily praised himself for correctly predicting where it would be. The impact winded him nonetheless but there was no time to waste on getting his breath back. He raised his right arm bearing the hydraulic hinge that he had ripped from the Tai O's rooftop firedoor and brought it down hard onto the craft beneath him. The thin skin was not made for such treatment and rent asunder. Two more powerful thumps from the hinge and he had made a big enough hole to squeeze through. Inside, Jabez, frozen in shock had barely moved. Angel and demon in close confinement, a rare event. Jabez stared at the hard expression on the demon's red face trying to comprehend what had just happened and what he should do about it. But he had little time. Zhivkin's fist slammed into his face, once, twice, three times. He was hardly conscious as Zhivkin found the door handle mechanism and opened it. He kicked the angel savagely in his side and propelled him through the door. Jabez felt his right wing catch on the door frame but another kick from Zhivkin broke the wing and he found himself lying on the pavement with the limb sticking out in front of him in an unnatural way.

Jabez still hardly knew what had happened except that it was very bad. His breath came in short bursts and he knew he had broken ribs. Zhivkin's arm came out, grabbed the door and slammed it shut. Sitting inside the cockpit he looked for the controls knowing they would be intuitive to operate. There were fewer than he expected. How does it fly? He thought furiously. No controls, so...must be thought-controlled. He was sitting in the pilot's seat, where Jabez had been. He projected his thought. Move backwards, he ordered. The craft made a slight shift to the rear. That worked. Time to go.

Outside, Jabez rolled on his side towards where he knew the Fundial must be, even though he couldn't see it. Despite his pain he kicked out with his foot and connected with the ship's hull. He kicked again and again and within a moment found what he was looking for.

Inside, Zhivkin gave the order with his mind. Ascend. The craft lifted. Faster, he commanded. The Fundial picked up pace and started to leave Nathan Road behind. He looked out below to where Lafarge was still at his post. The French demon was staring up at him in shock. How can he see me, thought Zhivkin, I thought this craft was supposed to be invisible?

He returned his attention to flying. Quite simple really. So long as you make your thoughts strong and clear, the craft picks them up and responds. Clever angels. But not clever enough. It's mine now.

As he rose through Earth's atmosphere accelerating rapidly and burst into space Zhivkin felt the craft offering him the option to leave the Fourth Dimension. He reviewed the many choices available to him and was astonished at the places that he could go. All in good time. There might be a pursuit so best take it home where the prize can be defended. He transited the Fundial into the Fifth Dimension, found his bearings and ordered it towards Inferno. As he flashed across huge distances in fleeting moments he found he was enjoying himself.

There was Inferno, straight ahead. He ordered the Fundial to make itself visible then he made a pass across the surface of Hell and was rewarded as heads popped up to look. On his second pass there were even more. By his third pass almost the entire population of Inferno had come to see the strange apparition. As he brought the craft lower Zhivkin realised that the huge crowd of demons were not looking at him or the craft, they were looking at something else. He opened the door and peered below. Suspended underneath the lightcraft by a leather boot hooked around a grab handle was an angel. Its wing protruded sideways at a very odd angle. Zhivkin cursed. He'd brought an angel to Hell.

With great foreboding Zhivkin landed the ship above Kodrob's squadroom in Pentacurse. The crowd parted and Bezejel came forward with thunder in her eyes as he got out. 'What have you done?' she shouted. 'Fool. What have you done?'

To his side, Jabez groaned and tried to stand up. But his foot, still encased in Gianni's protective boot, remained caught in the Fundial's grab handle.

The crowd of demons continued to stare at Jabez's handsome face, his scuffed costume, his elegant shoes, but mostly at his beautiful broken wing.

'Get him out of there. Take him below while we think what to do with him,' shouted Bezejel to the nearest demons. 'Quick.'

Deep Water Bay Restaurant, Yaumati, Kowloon, Hong Kong

'Excellent noodles, don't you think Monkey? Even in Singapore they don't make noodles like they do here.' Fatty lo was in expansive mood. His famous paunch was expanding too and he lay down his chopsticks for a moment to loosen his belt.

Two of his newest and youngest hostesses from one of his Mongkok nightclubs sat, one on each side, with their legs drawn up underneath them. Two roses around a thorn.

'Singaporeans are amateurs when it comes to food,' agreed Monkey, biting into the head of a deep-fried prawn. 'And they're lazy. And they talk funny, all that Mandarin nonsense. You may as well be in Beijing. Who'd want that?'

'Keep it quiet, Monkey,' advised Fatty Lo in a hushed voice.' You never know who's listening. One day Hong Kong will be part of China again and your words may come back to haunt you.'

'That's a long way off and it may never happen. The English may decide to stay here,' said Monkey who was on his fourth beer of the night.

'That's why Golden Horse needs to come under my protection,' insisted Fatty. 'The winds of change are blowing. We need to embrace the big world, not just our little corner of Asia. Brother is an outward-looking business, Monkey. We aim to replicate our business model in London, New York, Moscow and Paris. We're thinking big and you're still thinking small.' He paused to pick up three rings of squid in his chopsticks and guide them into his mouth. 'You know, those Italian thugs, the mafia,' he continued. 'They tried to take over Chicago and New York like they ran Palermo. But they weren't smart enough. They upset too many people and brought the law down on top of them. We're not going to make that mistake. That is, Brother is not going to make that mistake. You understand me, Monkey? We're going to take over all the gambling, prostitution, drugs in all those countries because we're going to be patient and work with the system, not against it. Now I've been patient with you Monkey, because I want you to come into Brother and work with me. But I've made you an offer and I haven't heard you accept it yet. I want you to accept it. Are you with me Monkey, or against me?'

Monkey also had two of his favourite girls seated with him. He put down his chopsticks and placed an arm around each of them.

'You know, Fatty,' he said slowly, 'I knew you were going to ask me again. And I'm ready to agree, but only if my men agree. So before you say anything to anyone, let me tell my organisation first. I'm planning a big party tomorrow night where all my senior managers, that's my closest friends, men who've been with me for years are coming to eat and have some fun with me. I'm also inviting the enforcers, the street fighters and the messengers. Everybody. I'm going to discuss the matter with them then. So, let me do that and then I'll come back to you with a final decision. It's best if they know up front before something leaks out.'

'Monkey, you're testing my patience to the limit,' said Fatty, clearly unimpressed. 'You should have done this a long time ago. It's a bit late in the day to begin sharing this with your people. Very well then. But I'm going to send one of my assistants to your meeting to make sure you do as you say.'

Fatty spoke to one of his girls who stood up and went to the back of the restaurant. She returned with Nancy who was looking stunning in a black cheung sam with embroidered red dragons, slit to the thigh.

'This is my western assistant Nancy. She already speaks and understands good Cantonese. She does not have any 'history' with any of your fighters, no-one knows her. But I trust her completely. She will come to your meeting and report back to me afterwards. I want you to send her back to me with your answer. Understand Monkey?'

'I understand Fatty, completely.'

'Good. Now, have you a present for me, Monkey?'

'Of course Fatty. But a single present is never enough for a man like you.' Monkey motioned to the two girls beside him who stood up and walked to Fatty's side of the table. Fatty's girls made way for him and they sat down next to him, each leaning against his shoulder.

'Thank you Monkey,' said Fatty Lo smiling and putting an arm around them. 'I much appreciate your gift. I will send them back in the morning. I will also send Miss Nancy to you. But remember, she is not for playing with. She is my lieutenant.'

'Of course, Fatty, I will treat her appropriately,' assured Monkey. 'I will send her back with my answer.'

Pearl River Dancing Parlour, San Po Kong, Kowloon

Nancy stepped out from the air-conditioned taxi into the heat of the October afternoon and felt like a shrimp thrown from fridge to oven. The taxi's meter had got stuck on 1.11 but Nancy had wearily given the driver $10 knowing that was closer to the true amount.

'Hello, I am Chu,' announced the young man, stepping out onto the pavement from the quiet shadows of a stairway.

The frenzy of industrial northern Kowloon with its multitude of smells and noises was all around. Above them were clothes factories, dyers, cutters, pressers and weavers with their non-stop machines. To the side, knife-wielding cooks demonstrated their skills at the front of their restaurants, slicing grilled pork and roast chicken and allowing their aromas to sally out and entice the empty-bellied.

Nearby, animated diners at street stalls recounted plumbing disasters to friends; a magistrate's court emptied silent, brooding witnesses and scores of unsilent hawkers loudly proclaimed fried squid, grilled fish, baked chickens' feet, steam noodles and other good food news. Hungry crowds gathered in worship. They sortied purses, flicked notes, negotiated cents, crunched crisp fish-fins and uttered burps of praise.

In the middle distance, spanner-jangling mechanics hoisted an engine from a car by the roadside; women bucketed slop-water into the gutter and cockroaches splashed back to their storm drains smirking with spoil.

Ten feet from Nancy a shout went up from a hawker pushing a trolley laden with chopped shrimps, smoking hot oil and a flaming burner. Heads turned sharply in panic and the cry was taken up by others. 'Patrol. Scatter.' Dozens of hawker barrows, headless chickens, heads of broccoli, frying pans and feet rapidly turned and pointed the same way down the street like a shoal of herring before dolphins and accelerated to 12 mph in a fake Rolex nano-second. Around the corner behind them appeared two white uniforms, one of them with officer's pips on his shoulder. San Po Kong's municipal hawker unit had struck the fear of a $HK20 fine into the heart of every unlicensed food vendor with predictable effect. The uniforms sauntered down the suddenly empty street, casual and victorious like Genghis Khan and his lance-bearer after surprising a flock of sheep.

The machine noise increased. The car mechanics hauled on their spanners. Hawkers watched the patrol from alleyways and waited for the white uniforms to go. Kowloon stopped for no-one.

'Nancy,' said Nancy holding out her hand English-style.

Chu grasped and pumped it.

'Very welcome to San Po Kong. I hope you have good visit. My boss order me to look after you nicely happily.'

Nancy took in the sharp suit, the flying starched collar and the highly polished shoes before replying in Cantonese, 'Thank you Chu, I expect an interesting evening.' Chu was clearly a slick operator but Nancy liked his civility.

'Please to rise.' Chu indicated the stairway and Nancy plunged into its darkness locating its steps by feel more than by sight.

At the top of the stairs she pushed open a door and entered into a large square room, unexpectedly well-furbished. There were classic Chinese murals of birds and mountains, subtle wall lighting, and a plush deep pile carpet. Around the room were quality pieces of Chinese furniture including lacquered cabinets, bamboo screens and clay sculptures of smiling fat men eating, playing music and carousing in the company of pretty maidens. In the background a woman sang a haunting melody of love and hope.

'My boss, Mr Fu, like collect antique. Help preserve Chinese culture.'

'I see,' said Nancy looking around.

'Please to sit and enjoy Chinese tea,' said Chu indicating a plump armchair with ebony arms carved into playful porpoises.

The door from another room opened and an elderly woman entered bearing a tray with a blue porcelain teapot and two small cups. Chu took them and placed them on a table. The woman bowed, muttered something and departed.

'She is Chiu Chau, not Cantonese. Not speak our language,' laughed Chu. He poured tea for them both. Nancy sipped hers, holding the little cup at the rim.

'So tell me Chu, what will happen here tonight?' Nancy had learnt a number of Cantonese phrases in advance that she expected would prove useful. She had also interrogated Fatty and Jenny on the vocabulary that Monkey would use if he was to have the type of discussion with his team that he had promised Fatty. She was determined to show Monkey and all of his functionaries that she would be able to understand all that was said.

But Chu was still eager to practice his English.

'Tonight we have feast - big eating party - with much beer and brandy,' he said proudly. 'Also my boss Mr Fu, Monkey, talk to us about future. I not know what he say but I know you come from Brother.' He looked at her nervously. 'We have girls tonight, for entertainment. Working girls for entertain the men. You understand?'

Nancy indicated that she did understand. She was wearing a black woollen top set off with a pearl necklace that she had chosen with Jenny's help, on top of black linen trousers and black shoes. She hoped that she looked business-like and professional. Certainly nobody could mistake her for the female entertainment.

'Maybe we gamble also and maybe smoke. You like to smoke?'

'It depends what you're smoking.'

'Maybe white powder,' he said looking at her closely. 'Maybe not.'

Nancy knew that white powder was heroin.

'Some day, I'll try it,' she said trying to laugh lightly. 'But tonight I have to stay awake. So no white powder for me.'

Chu saw that Nancy's cup was empty. 'So sorry,' he said solicitously and reached for the teapot.

'I have enough tea. No more, thank you.'

An older man entered wearing a suit with open-necked shirt. Chu leapt to his feet and half-bowed.

'Mr Fu. Miss Nancy is here.'

Fu looked at Nancy for a long moment. Nancy found herself unsettled for the first time since she arrived. Fu's eyes were as cold and penetrating as they had been warm and friendly when she had first met him with Fatty Lo the night before.

What's he about? Which is the real Mr Fu?

'Welcome to Golden Horse, I trust you will have a memorable evening,' he said in English.

'Thank you,' replied Nancy in Cantonese. 'I am told your hospitality is of the highest. I look forward to meeting your team.' So far her stock of learnt phrases was holding up well.

'Tonight you will learn my answer for Mr Lo. Whatever it is, my answer will be clear.' Monkey was ultra-formal and correct. He was giving nothing away in his words, but his tone was definitely unpromising.

'I'm sure Fatty will be pleased with your reply,' Nancy was trying to be diplomatic and positive.

'Hmm,' was the only response, accompanied by a slight tilt of Monkey's head.

Sound of women's voices from the stairs. Fu turned towards Chu. 'You have work to do. I will leave you to finish the preparations. Our guests will be arriving in half an hour.'

He bowed to Nancy. 'Please to excuse. I must get ready.'

'Thank you sir. You have heart,' replied Nancy formally and not entirely convincingly.

But if Fu was aloof and curt towards Nancy, Chu seemed aware of his boss's coldness and wanted to make amends.

'My boss..much pressure now,' he said earnestly. 'So sorry.'

The stairway door opened and two young women fell giggling into the room.

'Drunk,' said Chu in disgust.

'I've always wanted to have customers on this carpet,' said one of the girls. 'It's softer than a bed.'

'Who else is coming, Chu, you smooth liar?' said the other.

'Come on you two, time to get ready for work. At least you're properly dressed this time,' said Chu, pulling the two to their feet. 'Now go to the toilet if you need to, you won't get another chance for a while.'

Both girls were wearing skirts that barely covered their behinds and high heels they could hardly walk in. Their bare waists were wasp-thin and their make-up was overdone.

'Nancy, please to help Roxy?' asked Chu, 'I help Suzy. She is not walk well.'

Together they helped the two prostitutes through into the next room which was clearly the place where they were due to earn their wages. Nancy took a deep breath when she saw the walls of this rectangular chamber decorated as they were with drawings of oriental women in a variety of semi-naked poses. This was a room for man fun, no mistaking it. At one end of the room a phalanx of theatre lights focused down on a wooden dance-floor whilst nearby were clusters of easy chairs centred around tables on which were placed sets of mah-jong tiles. Bottles of Dimple Whisky and Remy Martin FOV Cognac were placed within easy reach. At the other end of the room was laid out, rather incongruously, a table tennis table with bats and a ball.

But in the middle of the room was the most unexpected item. This was an elaborate iron construction the like of which Nancy had never seen before.

'Old Chinese warming stove and serving table,' said Chu, seeing her surprise. 'Use for heat room and also keep dishes hot.'

It was a bulbous iron furnace on legs with a circular metal top on which could be placed dishes and plates. In the centre, leading out of the boiler, was a cast iron flue pipe that disappeared into the ceiling.

'Not hot now. Just for show,' reassured Chu who was once again helping Suzy to her feet.

Chu launched into a blaze of Cantonese against the two girls. Nancy could just make out that he was telling them they would never work again if they didn't behave.

At last, they appeared to give in. Both stood up and leant frontwards against the stove.

'Who you?' asked Suzy looking at Nancy.

'I know who you are,' said Roxy, with a sly smile.

The two continued grinning at Nancy as Chu shouted at them to straighten their skirts and fix their hair. Had they never seen a western woman before? Stop staring, it's bad manners.

When Suzy had neatened herself to Chu's satisfaction she offered up both her hands to him with a cheeky grin on her face. Chu steered her hands towards the metal flue to which Nancy could see three sets of handcuffs had been welded.

'Old woman,' shouted Chu, 'any sign of the third girl yet?'

The two prostitutes giggled again and looked at each other.

Chu clipped Suzy's wrists into the handcuffs and made sure they were tight. He positioned himself behind her and held her by the hips. Then he pulled her body back half a step so that her rear projected with just the right degree of pertness.

'Like that. OK?'

'Uh-huh.' Chu noticed that Suzy was chewing gum. She did not bother to close her lips. He reached his hand into her mouth, removed the amoeboid blob with his fingers and after a moment's thought stuck it on the side of his heel.

'Man repellent,' he exclaimed in disgust. 'What use is that here?'

He stepped to the side to survey her in profile. Her feet were together, her legs were straight, her skirt was tight and her upper body ascended with a pleasing incline to where her elbows rested on the circular table. Her plum sized breasts hung nicely into space within easy reach of a gentleman's hands.

Chu nodded slightly. She had bad breath but that wouldn't matter tonight.

'Ho' - good - he said. Suzy's shift had begun.

'Gwai poh,' said Suzy to Nancy. Ghost woman. Nancy returned her look evenly but without judgement. She knew that some women worked this way. Always had, always would. It was their choice. They didn't have to do it.

Chu now took Roxy's proffered hands and clipped them into the second pair of handcuffs on the stove pipe. He smoothed down her skirt, straightened her blouse and pulled a few loose strands of hair into position. Turning to Nancy he patted Roxy on the buttock and smiled. 'Girls earn many money tonight. All our men like this entertainment.'

Roxy smiled at Chu. Tonight her cute bum was her fortune.

Chu turned towards the door and shouted impatiently. 'Old woman, has the third girl, Ah Siu, arrived yet?'

Nancy turned her head in the same direction, trying to make sense of the flow of Chiu Chau dialect that came torrenting into the room in reply. Chu took her arm and lifted it. She felt a cold bracelet close on her right wrist. In the same instant an arm enveloped her waist and lifted her up. With his other hand Chu pulled Nancy's left arm forward towards the flue. As Nancy fought back he pushed her physically forward with his body, took her left forearm in his left hand and slipped the handcuff in place over it with his right.

'How dare you? What do you think you're doing? Undo me you bastard, I'm not here for that. I'm Nancy. I'm Fatty Lo's girl.'

Nancy pulled with all her might trying to wrench the handcuffs from the flue. They were unyielding. She was held fast.

The two prostitutes stared at Nancy open-eyed. Whatever they thought of her before, they weren't expecting this.

'M Ho. Gwai poh m seung jo'- It's not good. The ghost girl doesn't want to do it - said Roxy under her breath.

Nancy was a prisoner.

'So sorry,' said Chu. 'So sorry.' But when Nancy looked at him in fury, she saw he wasn't smiling. He wasn't gloating. He looked frightened.

Chu stood to the side, now surveying Nancy's profile. He looked her up and down, glanced at his watch and left.

Nancy began to scream. 'Hey, somebody help me. I'm trapped. Mr Fu. Monkey.'

Suzy and Roxy regarded her with consternation. There was nothing they could do.

The Chiu Chau woman entered the room bearing a tray. She showed no surprise to see Nancy chained to the flue, trying to struggle free. From the tray she took three lacquered Chinese bowls decorated with fish and flowers and placed them on the circular serving table, one in front of each of the three women. Nancy turned to her in desperation but in mute response the woman nodded towards the beautiful bowl. It contained a score of condoms. The woman left and Nancy stared down at the plastic packets in their hand-painted vessels and could think of nothing to say.

Chu returned ten minutes later holding in his hand a plastic carrier bag. He went straight to Nancy and reached in front of her, undoing her waist button and drawing down her fly. Then he pulled her new linen trousers down to her feet. Nancy shouted and kicked but he ignored her. After removing her shoes, with some defiant resistance from Nancy, he pulled off the trousers and threw them on a nearby chair. From the bag he took a simple red tartan skirt with a top to bottom zip, wrapped it around her and zipped it up. Then from the bag he took a pair of red high-heeled shoes and stooped down.

Nancy was ready for this. With a furious back kick she caught Chu full in the cheek with her heel and sent him flying. She accompanied this with a lacerating burst of English swear-words that she knew Chu didn't understand but made her feel better anyway.

Chu picked himself up and stood warily beside Nancy holding the red shoes. Suzy and Roxy watched soundlessly, hardly breathing. The Chiu Chau woman came to the door and looked in.

Chu looked at Nancy, imploring her with his eyes. 'Please to wear,' he said. 'Please. Mr Fu angry man. I not want you get hurt.'

Nancy stared at him for a long moment. Chu was wearing the most serious expression that she had ever seen on a man's face. She looked back in front of her. Something was going on that was much bigger than she or Fatty had expected. She considered fighting but had an odd feeling that might make matters even worse. Suzy and Roxy backed this up. They kept looking towards the door as if in fear that Monkey might come in and take a dim view of her rebellion. Nancy's body relaxed.

Chu stooped down while Nancy slowly lifted her right foot. He slipped the foot into the elegant pump and did up the strap. She put the foot on the floor and he repeated the process with her left.

Chu stood up and stepped back to view his handiwork. But Nancy was grim-faced and looking straight in front of her. Suzy and Roxy stood motionless and looked from Chu to Nancy and back again. The room was as quiet as a tai chi class.

'You will understand,' he said in English. 'So sorry. Later, you will understand.'

Paradise

Globes flashed red on the belts of Luke, Ruth and Agatha simultaneously. It was Chan and Jo calling together. The flashing was rapid which meant only one thing: an emergency. Within a few seconds all had acknowledged and accepted the call.

'Have any of you heard from Jabez recently?' Jo asked, her dreadlocks trailing over her face.

'We're really worried about him, something's not right,' added Chan.

'He dropped me off home only hours ago and went down to Hong Kong,' volunteered Agatha. 'We'd been to the Azurine to get him some boots. He was really excited about wearing them. What's happened?'

'We're getting really strange signals from the Fundial,' said Jo. 'It's suffered some sort of damage. But..'

'But what?' put in Luke. 'What else?'

'Well,' said Chan. 'It may be that the damage has thrown off the auto-locators too, we just don't know. But the auto-locators are giving a very strange fix for its position.'

'Which is what?' Ruth.

'Well, basically they're showing that it's in the Fifth Dimension, which is good. But the precise location is, well, they're showing somewhere in Inferno.'

'What?' shouted all three at once.

'Do you know what his expected movements are?' asked Jo, the worry in her voice evident. 'We can't raise him, his globe is not responding.'

'I should be able to find the location of his globe,' said Luke. 'He and I exchanged find-me codes weeks ago. I can locate his globe even when it's off or he's not wearing it. I'll try it now.'

The others watched while Luke brought up Jabez's face. The globe picked up Luke's nod at his friend's image and a moment later gave him the answer. Luke sighed. 'It's showing Hong Kong which should be a good thing. But he's not with it which is a bad thing. Apart from Jabez's safety there's a serious risk the globe could fall into enemy hands. Or be found by humans. That would be a disaster. We need to retrieve it.'

'OK, here's what we're going to do,' cut in Ruth suddenly. There was a note of authority in her voice that had lain hidden before. They all remembered that Ruth had walked the corridors of power and was held in high esteem there.

'Firstly, I'm going to raise an alert that will get cut straight through to Gabriel. Yes, that Gabriel. The archangel. We have the possibility of an angel abduction by the enemy, coupled with the potential loss of an advanced lightship with the added complication of a misplaced globe. By any standards that's serious. Secondly, Luke, I'm going to order a detachment of angelic cavalry armed with ice lances to escort you to Hong Kong and search for the missing globe. You'll depart momentarily. Hold one.'

The four angels waited while Ruth's thoughts and hands flickered over her globe.

'Done,' she said. 'A troop is on its way and will meet you over Kowloon. Ice lances are made of water, obviously. Water is an important part of life and demons hate it. If an ice lance is used in the heat of battle and touches a demon's skin, some of it melts and burns them so bad they husk instantly.'

'Husk?' asked Agatha. All the angels were dazzled by Ruth's sudden decisiveness and the authority she commanded.

'No time to explain now. Take my word for it. If there are demons lying in ambush for Luke they'll think twice when they see a dozen of our cavalrymen in full spiritual armour. Especially when those horsemen know an angel may have been captured. Luke, I bless you in the name of the Most High. Now go.'

Luke's image disappeared from the others' globes. He was on his way.

'Jo and Chan, I've had an answer back from Gabriel.'

Jo and Chan looked at each other. Gabriel? The Gabriel. Gabriel the archangel? Ruth had communicated with him and he had answered her that quickly?

'Get the lightcraft back right now,' Ruth continued. The Fundial didn't seem so much fun any more. 'I know you can control it from where you are. There's a chance Jabez may be still in it. But Gabriel thinks it's a real abduction. This one's gone stratospheric already. The Lamb is involved too.'

'Him,' said Agatha.

'Yes, him.' replied Ruth. 'We're now on a war footing with Inferno, as if we weren't already. You will go nowhere outside of Paradise without armed escorts. It seems little old Nancy is so important to them that they're risking all-out conflagration.'

She paused.

'Anyway, let's hope I'm wrong and Jabez comes back safely in the lightcraft.'

'We've summoned the lightcraft,' said Chan. 'It's on its way, be here soon. But we're pretty sure Jabez isn't in it. Oh, I wish we hadn't lent it to him. It seemed such a good idea at the time.'

'Don't be sorry,' said Ruth in a suddenly gentle voice. 'You acted out of love and consideration. No-one will blame you for that, least of all me. Now, let's work the problem. The enemy would love us to play the blame game, that's where they've scored lots of victories in the past. But it's not going to happen on my watch. You're all in Heaven because you were chosen to be here. It's where you belong. Now let's all use our talents to the utmost and get Jabez back.'

Pearl River Dancing Parlour, San Po Kong, Kowloon

'Sir, the preparations are nearly complete for the party,' said Chu to his boss. 'All of your men will have a memorable time tonight. But I beg you to reconsider. Please don't go. We need you to lead us when Brother takes over.'

'My dear Chu,' said Monkey to his subordinate. 'Golden Horse is my creation. All of the working girls, dealers and den managers who work for me are like my own children. I have built a great business, a traditional business, outside of the laws of these ghostly foreigners. And now Fatty five lunches Lo sends one of these same round-eyes to me and tells me she is there to watch me hand over my business to him? Without a fight? Where is the honour in that? I lose face in that. Fatty four chopsticks Lo, a man who is so greedy he eats with both hands at once can take my business. But he will not take me. I will retain my honour. I will not be here when he takes over. For the sake of my beloved staff, I will let them keep their jobs. I will not dismantle the organisation. But I will be gone. I aim to depart this very night.'

'Then, sir, as you are the only father I have ever known, I am going to come with you. We shall depart together.'

'I understand, Chu. If I had had a son, I wish he were like you. We will go together if that is your wish.'

For a moment Monkey rested his hand on Chu's shoulder and looked at him with something approaching tenderness. Then his stern face reasserted itself.

'Come,' he said. 'Let us go down and greet our guests. We must smile and be good hosts so that they can have fun. Much fun. Tomorrow they will be alone.'

Nathan Road, Yaumati, Kowloon

Lafarge tore his eyes away from the ambulance and looked back down the road. He had heard the unearthly crash as Zhivkin hit the lightship after his long fall. He was just in time to see his fellow demon force his way inside the craft.

As he ran across the road he saw Jabez appear momentarily on the pavement, kicking and thrashing while his broken wing lay flopped beside him. Then Jabez seemed to hook his foot around something and all disappeared.

Lafarge reached the spot and looked around. There was no sign anyone, human or otherwise, had been here. Wait. Lafarge spotted an unusual small round object lying on the ground between two metal bins. Something about it didn't look earthly. He was scared to touch it. It might be something heavenly and poisonous.

He had to report back.

Kodrob's Squadroom, Inferno.

Jabez lay crumpled in the corner of Kodrob's squad room breathing heavily. The temperature in Inferno was considerably hotter than in Heaven and his lungs were struggling with the searing air.

He looked up at the ruddy faces leering down at him. They seemed just as astonished to see him as he was to be here.

'The blessings and peace of Heaven on all of you,' he wheezed.

A boot landed in his side. 'Enough of that you ugly pig,' Holzman snarled. 'You're our prisoner. You're a jail bird with a broken wing. You're in Lucifer's kingdom now and you don't leave till he says so.'

Kodrob pulled Holzman aside.

'Get him a drink' he said to Pu Gash. To Jabez, 'What do you want?'

'Water.'

'We don't do that here. What else?'

Pu Gash offered Jabez a beaker of unleaded.

Jabez sniffed the concoction and choked sending the beaker's contents flying across the room.

'Hey, that's good stuff. That's a top tub,' shouted Holzman.

Bezejel was watching from the back of the room.

'Kodrob, he's in your charge,' she said curtly. 'I'm going to meet with the Leader and find out what he wants to do.'

As she was about to sweep out of the room Zhivkin burst in.

'The machine,' he shouted miserably. 'The machine I stole. The craft. It's gone. Somehow they've taken it back.' He went up to Jabez and aimed a savage blow at his head before being pulled off by Kodrob just in time.

'I stole an invisible lightcraft and got rid of the angel,' he shouted at the room in general. 'It was a perfect ambush. Now we've got the bloody useless angel and lost the craft. You scumball. It's all your fault.' He wrested himself from Kodrob and again aimed a kick at Jabez, this time catching him behind the ear and cutting his scalp.

'Relax Zhivkin,' advised Bezejel as Kodrob for the third time stepped in to protect the angel. 'There'll be time for games later. Maybe we'll wrap him in seaweed and play rollerball with him like we did with the banshees. We'll see how well he flies then.' She looked around the room before letting her eyes fall wrathfully on Jabez. 'I'll be back later,' she threatened. 'Don't look forward to my return.'

Yaumati Police Station

Dan Kelly replaced the receiver in its cradle and looked at the flip chart by the side of his desk. Beside it, on the wall was a map of Kowloon with a number of brightly coloured pins sticking in it.

He turned to Liu Jai and Hui Fen.

'The blue pins represent Brother establishments,' he declared. 'All the other DIs I've spoken to are reporting take-overs in their area by Brother. Plus openings of brand new dancing parlours, sleazy cinemas and recruitment of heroin dealers. What's interesting is that all of them thought the growth of Brother was localised in their territory, just part of the give and take pattern of triad change. But the thing is, there's no mutuality about any of it. It's all one-directional. Brother is swallowing everything and giving nothing back. Brother is becoming a total monster.'

Dan went to the flip chart and picked up a marker pen. He added the name of a housing block in Sham Shui Po whose heroin dealers had reportedly transferred their allegiance to Brother. 'That's a new win for Brother just today,' he told them.

'It's slick,' added Hui Fen. 'Everything I've learnt says that Brother are consolidating by persuasion and gentle pressure, not by force like in the old days. But I've learnt something else.'

'Go on,' said Dan.

'All is not well inside the organisation. From the outside it seems that Fatty Lo is in complete control. But I've heard that there are some voices, mainly centred around one of his lieutenants called Chopper Kwok, who think he's going too slowly. Kwok is suspected of involvement in the savage attack on two police sergeants some time ago. He's brutal and impatient. There could even be a battle for power, a take-over at the top.'

'There's more,' said Liu Jai. 'In the last few weeks a mysterious western woman has been seen in Fatty's company. We don't know her name. She has come from nowhere but is already seen as quite influential. That has ruffled a lot of feathers, especially in an organisation like Brother where seniority traditionally goes with time. The longer you work in a triad the more you are trusted. I agree with Hui Fen that there is resistance to Fatty in some places. That will be increased if he tries to bring in someone new and give them high rank, especially, and I hope you don't mind me saying it, a foreigner.'

'Yes,' agreed Dan, 'and a woman foreigner at that. I'm sure all the macho gangsters in Brother are well unchuffed with that.'

Hui Fen looked at her watch.

'It's 10 pm,' she said. 'I know you like to change your woman every week Daai Lo,' she looked sideways at Dan, 'but I have a family who need me.'

'You mean when they need someone to change the TV channel for them,' laughed Liu Jai.

Hui Fen cuffed him playfully. 'Isn't it time you put your pyjamas on and sat on your potty, young man?'

'It sure is,' said Liu Jai. 'Let's face it, I won't be paid overtime for being here.'

'No, neither will I,' agreed Dan with a philosophical grin. 'Listen,' he said,

'I'm going to have a word with a CID superintendent I know at Kowloon Police HQ. I trust this guy, he was my teacher at police training school. He's the RHKP's liaison with the FBI and Interpol and so on. I'm going to ask him if he's heard of any concerns from outside Hong Kong about Brother. It will be good to learn just how far their tentacles have gone.'

'Be careful,' warned Hui Fen. 'Brother go back a long way with a lot of people in the police.'

'I know,' said Dan. But there are plenty of honest guys left in the force too.

On his way home that night Dan drove to the Walled City of Kowloon, a curious enclave that by a quirk of history still came under the jurisdiction of the People's Republic of China.

Uniformed Hong Kong policemen were forbidden to patrol its narrow lanes lest their presence in 'China's territory' be used as a pretext for an invasion of the colony by the People's Army.

The exterior of the Walled City wasn't actually a wall but an almost unbroken circular terrace of unlicensed doctors and dentists, apothecaries, fung shui advisers, herbalists, bonesetters, acupuncturists and rather nice tea shops.

Dan parked his car in nearby Wang Tau Hom Estate, walked across the perimeter road and dove into one of the narrow alleyways that labyrinthed its way to the centre of the enclave.

The Mad Woman was still up and expecting him. Jacintha was a missionary from Glasgow who had made her home and operating base in this part of Hong Kong because 'it's off limits to all the other pastors, angel which is great because I canna stand competition.' Initially hated and threatened by the local gangsters Jacintha had earned her place in the Walled City and had made many a heroin dealer give up his trafficking and turn to the Lord. The population accepted her and often went to her with their problems. But they still thought she was mad.

'I'm taking on a really heavyweight gangster,' said Dan to the Mad Woman over a cup of jasmine tea. 'I don't go to church very often but somehow I feel the need for some spiritual support. Will you pray for me?'

They stayed up long into the night and read the book of Mark together. Afterwards Mad Jacintha anointed Dan with oil and called on the Lord of Hosts to send his angels to protect him. Dan drove home through the traffic-free streets and for the first time in an age he didn't go straight to the fridge and reach for a cold can of San Miguel beer. Instead he undressed, collapsed on his bed and slept like a cherub.

Ho Tin Girl Friend Bar and Film Club, Yaumati, Kowloon

The two junior accountants picked their way down the narrow street beside the sixteen-storey building. In this part of Yaumati a tower block could contain hair parlours, restaurants, shops and businesses as well as apartments. Every building was a self-contained village. The air space above the street was criss-crossed with dozens of electricity cables and telephone lines, many of them illegal. In the doorway a young man in a battered leather jacket drew on a cigarette and fiddled with the stash of heroin packets in his pocket. His eyes roamed in every direction checking for police, rivals and customers. The accountants stepped past him and walked under the arch with the garish neon sign and followed the narrow stair to the fourth floor.

Entering a room with hanging pictures of Cary Grant and Marilyn Monroe, they were greeted by a large man behind a small counter. His stubbled face, string vest and tattooed fingers were meant to give one message: don't make trouble.

'Film only? Or film and company?' he asked in a gravelly voice, looking from one to the other and trying to work out if they were undercover cops.

'How much is film only?' asked one of the white-shirted pair chirpily.

'Nine dollars. Film and company, thirty dollars.'

'What's the film tonight?' asked the other.

'Deep Throat,' came the almost incomprehensible growl.

'Say again?'

String Vest made no response but looked coldly at the speaker. That's the kind of trouble I was talking about.

'OK, never mind. Two for the film. No company.' Chirpy accountant handed over two $HK10 notes while his shadow remained slightly behind him, taking cover.

String Vest took the money and gave them a sour look for change. The film club only made money if customers paid for female 'company' while they watched the blue movies. What did they think this was, a regular cinema? He indicated a curtain partition and the two office workers stepped through it to find their seats and catch up on finest American culture.

An underfed hostess in a tartan skirt and a cheap blouse with faded dragons on its sleeves followed them. 'You like some company? Touch your trouser while you watch film?' Her voice carried all the friendliness of a female boar. The accountants declined.

In a luxury apartment beside the tiny cinema, replete with state of the art sound system, Italian tile flooring and furniture from Hong Kong's finest shops and at just the moment when Nancy was being handcuffed to the iron flue in San Po Kong, Chopper Kwok was swirling a Hennessy XO Cognac around a balloon brandy glass.

Chopper earned his sobriquet after ambushing two uniformed police sergeants one night while they were on patrol in Tsim Sha Tsui. Wearing a scarf around his face, he forced them to their knees before slashing them with a heavy kitchen knife and making off with both their revolvers.

He had never been charged with this crime, not because the police didn't suspect him, but because the revolvers had never been found and there was no other evidence against him. Chopper had made his way into Brother soon after and the organisation had done its best to mould him into a mature criminal while persuading him to leave out the violence. But Chopper's old instincts were not persuadable. He continued to use brutality to achieve his ambitions, not only with rival gangs and police but even with his own team.

The Ho Tin Girl Friend Bar and Film Club was one of eight establishments owned by Brother but run by Chopper. He had a big appetite for food, (though not as big as Fatty Lo) but an even bigger appetite for women.

More than these however, he had an appetite for power.

Chopper Kwok had given the speech at the cock-fight evening in which he had criticised those who wanted Brother to ramp up its criminal operations more aggressively. In reality Chopper was at the forefront of those who were ready to use more violence to achieve faster growth. He was covering up his own tracks by pointing the finger of blame elsewhere. But violence was in his make-up. Chopper was the accepted No.2 in Brother and impatient to accede to the top table in the fraternity and become Big Brother himself. But he knew it didn't do to be too open about your intentions. Far better to shout 'the enemy is over there' and in the meantime position yourself closer to the king so as to ensure your knife strike in his back didn't miss.

Chopper was only waiting till the gods he believed in, the Lord of Time and the Lady of Fortune had agreed that it was the right moment for him to strike. If Fatty wasn't going to hand him the throne of Brother, he reasoned, he would have to seize it for himself.

'Why's Fatty doing this, bringing in this western babe-in-arms, a woman, can't even speak Cantonese?' asked Chopper of his Brother mates Mars Ma, Wonton Chiang and Nescafé Mao.

'He's lost it. He's gone soft,' said Mars Ma sycophantically.

Mars Ma's path to Brother had involved armed robbery of cab drivers by simple application of gun to back of head. He liked to portray himself as a talented criminal artist rather than a simple thug. But really he was a one-trick pony: he knew how to apply fear very suddenly to an isolated man in a cramped space, then extract the cash and get away quick. Ma had suffered for his art. On one occasion he got into the back of a taxi, leaned forward till he was right up against the cabbie's head and pulled his usual stunt. The enraged cabbie had refused to pay up and instead floored the accelerator and driven off at top speed sending Ma suddenly rocking into the back seat. The cab then smashed into a streetlight sending the two of them through the windscreen. Ma's severely lacerated face thereafter bore a red pallor with striations from his nose right back across both cheeks to his ears that made his face look like the fourth planet. Triad members relished a good nickname and so Ma's new moniker was born.

Chopper agreed. 'Right at this moment she's over at the Golden Horse sipping sherry with Monkey,' he roared. 'The scheming godfather of working-class junkies is probably eating out of her hand. I should be there, that should have been my job. I'm the negotiator. I'm the number two. Now she'll come back to Fatty with Monkey all over her like hoisin sauce on a spring roll and tell him she deserves to run his operation.'

String Vest came in. 'Boss they can hear you in Deep Throat.'

'You'll have something of mine deep down your throat if you don't shift yer arse. Put a shirt on and make yourself respectable. What sort of a brother are you?'

String Vest departed.

'Things have gone too far. It's time for new leadership at the top of Brother, that's my opinion Chopper,' said Wonton Chiang.

Wonton supplied many of the girls who worked in Brother's brothels, casinos and film clubs. Wonton once had a close brush with religion. He had volunteered as a night worker in one of the soup kitchens run by charities to cater for the homeless, especially new arrivals smuggled across the border from mainland China. Wonton noticed how charity workers were automatically given a huge degree of trust by needy strangers, even women.

When his do-gooding enthusiasm started to wane, he began to cosy up to any pretty females who came along to the charity soup stall and offer them free accommodation at his apartment. Once off the streets and reluctant to be homeless again, Wonton found it easy to control them and feed them into the prostitution system. When the charities eventually tumbled his game and threw him out of their organisations he simply set up his own street kitchen specialising in his favourite soup variety, wonton. He turned away all the homeless men and any women over 30 and only gave soup to those he could use profitably. Wonton was widely admired in Brother for his lateral thinking and innovative methods.

'It's a matter of choosing the right time,' said Chopper, abstractedly.

'Nescafé, you ain't said nothing all evening, what do you think?'

'Sorry boss, I've just sent a load of red chicken heroin off to Kwun Tong packed in coffee jars. I'm waiting to hear if it's arrived. I'm not really concentrating on the discussion.' Nescafé could tell from Chopper's look of dissatisfaction that his excuse for lack of comment was not accepted.

'Except to say,' he added quickly, 'that little Nancy knows nothing about drug-running like me, she's too nice to get involved with people-trafficking like the talented Mr Wonton here, she'd faint if anyone pointed a gun at her like my esteemed companion Mars and worse than all that she has no respect from anyone in the entire ancient, revered and estimable organisation that we all know and love as Brother. In short she has no face.'

The last point was the worst insult that a Chinese gangster could use against anyone.

Speech over, Nescafé sat back and picked up his own brandy glass. Chopper looked from one to the other. 'So boys, are we all agreed?' he asked. 'Are you going to back me for the leadership?'

Chopper's accomplices had only been playing up to him for the sake of an easy life, because they were afraid of him. They weren't expecting to get involved in a mutiny. But now their feelings hardened and, each one encouraged by the others, they agreed to support Chopper in his bid for power.

The four swore an oath of secrecy to each other. They began to plot the downfall of Fatty Lo as soon as it could be arranged and the humiliation and expulsion of Nancy from the organisation.

Meanwhile, only five miles away in San Po Kong, Nancy was feeling quite humiliated already. She too was considering her immediate future in Brother. But she was doing it while chained to a stove alongside two professional sex workers and staring at a dish full of prophylactics that were soon to be used on her.

She didn't feel much like Two Ferrari Nancy now.

Pearl River Dancing Parlour, San Po Kong, Kowloon

All night long they came at Nancy. Roxy and Susy tried to protect her by luring the men in their direction. 'Me, me, me,' they both shouted when any male came close.

But mainly the men wanted their turn with Nancy. Novelty factor.

Everything in the same place, they all joked.

Half way through the evening and just when the bustle was waning, a stripper arrived. Unfortunately she was very good at her job and got all the men excited again. There was an intense burst of activity after that.

Mostly the men played mah-jong, drank, smoked, joked, laughed, played table tennis and when they felt the need they came to the pleasure centre around the stove, selected their human toy and took their fun.

Nancy's natural horror at the violations being inflicted on her every few minutes was only slightly alleviated by the chatter of the two prostitutes. Roxy and Susy knew many of the men already. For them they were not rapists, but customers. They joked with them, asked about their families, talked about food and movies.

Were they on piece rate, being paid by the trick? Did they really enjoy their work? But Nancy drew heart from the sisterhood that had formed around the stove. Her two manacled partners could not shorten her ordeal. But they continued to give her looks of concern.

Down and down went the level of packets in the bowl.

Nancy wondered at the men and how they were able to perform this intimate act in front of each other. If anything the public nature of their performance seemed to add to their enjoyment. They laughed and hooted and joined in mockingly as each one reached his destination with groans and cries.

Mates.

They'd go back to their wives and girl-friends and make love to them and dandle their children on their knees and visit their parents for dinner on Sunday nights. None of tonight would be shared with the families. But this blokey celebration of basest instincts, this matey conspiracy would be their little club secret. They'd be talking about this night for weeks.

\- Remember when Fatty Lo sent Monkey that English slapper for us to play with? Great night wasn't it?

\- Yeah, but she was as miserable as a Shanghai mother-in-law.

\- Ah Deng said she gave him crabs.

\- Ah Deng probably gave her crabs.

\- I heard she wasn't a pro at all. She just can't get enough of our prime mutton.

\- She was mutton you mean. She must have been twenty-five at least.

So on.

Nancy didn't think about hate or revenge or going to the police or telling Fatty or going home to England. She just endured, waiting for the awful night to end.

As more and more of the little packets disappeared Nancy decided the lacquered bowl was really quite delightful. What an incongruous moment to discover such artistry.

One condom remained.

The men were getting tired. And drunk. And drugged. Many had smoked heroin, taking out their little rectangles of tinfoil, folding them in a V and sprinkling white or red granules that looked like coffee into the fold. A lighted candle below the V and a piece of rolled up paper in the mouth to chase the smoking dragon up and down the line was all that was necessary.

A bump against her hip. Hands on her outer thighs slowly moving up under her skirt, pushing the tartan up her back. Her pants had long since disappeared, probably in some drug pusher's pocket as a memento. She felt the man grazing himself against her, brushing left and right and up and down against her buttocks.

Which one was this? Had he been before?

Just get it over with.

Hands cupped her breasts and massaged clumsily. Heavy breathing. Pig.

The last condom went back. She heard the plastic rip and felt the fumble. She began to rock forward and back. Steady girl, hold it together. This night will end. It will never happen again, promise you that.

And as he came to the end of his journey and his body shook and his mates roared their approval, Nancy looked into the bottom of the beautiful lacquered bowl and saw the small s. It was an eel but to her shock it moved, writhed, twisted and swam. But it always stayed an s.

The man zipped up. The eel froze still.

Red Sis

The door opened and Chu appeared. Where had he been? Nancy was sure he hadn't coupled with her. Earlier he had been in the room chatting with the men, joking, socialising, playing mahjong. Then he had disappeared for a long while.

Chu approached her with his hand in his pocket. Tinkle of metal on metal. Keys.

'Nancy, you may leave very soon,' he said. But his voice was empty of hope.

Chu released Suzy and Roxy who were half asleep against the stove. Both looked around dizzily then found themselves comfortable chairs, settled into them and immediately closed their eyes. They knew there was no more work for them that night.

Chu came last to Nancy and turned the key in her handcuffs. The steel clasps sprung open and she reclaimed her hands, quickly smoothing down her skirt as though she had any dignity left. Chu took Nancy by the arm and led her back into the luxurious room through which she had come earlier. Her legs were stiff and she was sore, barely able to walk.

'I very sorry for your hurt,' he said, noticing her frozen expression. 'But now my boss, Monkey, want to give you answer for Mr Lo.'

He led her towards a closed door.

'No, I'm not going in there,' exclaimed Nancy, fearing something even worse than the ordeal she had just suffered.

'No danger to you. Promise,' said Chu.

'You lied to me before about the third girl, then you handcuffed me. Why should I trust you now?'

Chu nodded.

'Please to see,' he said. He walked towards the door, opened it wide and stood back so that she could see in.

Nancy's face was white and her body was both rigid and shaking. She was inclined to run for the exit but for a moment she stood defiantly and looked inside the room. It was small and sparsely furnished. In the middle was a dining table. A man was laying on it on his back, very still, his hands folded across his chest. It was Monkey.

'My boss very angry with Fatty Lo,' said Chu. 'My boss lose face when lose Golden Horse. Want to hurt Mr Lo. That is why he order this to you. When he hurt you, he hurt Mr Lo. Now Mr Fatty Lo can have Golden Horse. But Monkey die with honour. He fight back against Mr Lo in only way he can.'

Nancy stood and stared. Now she understood Chu's despair.

'Have taxi waiting for you downstairs,' continued Chu. 'Already paid. Take you back to Yaumati. Go now.'

'You know Brother will come after you and kill you, don't you, all of you?' Nancy was shaking with anger.

'All other colleagues not know what Monkey do,' said Chu. 'He has written letter to all. In morning they read it. They find out tomorrow they now part of Brother. They think you are just prostitute. Only I and Monkey know.'

'Fatty Lo will have you killed.'

'No,' said Chu. 'Fatty not do that.' As Nancy looked on, rigid, cold, white, Chu walked into the room, took off his polished shoes and placed them neatly beside each other on the floor. Then he sat on the table beside the prostrate corpse of his boss and looked back through the door to Nancy. 'Monkey treat me like father all my life. Look after me. I never leave him. Where he go I go too.'

Chu took a small box out of his top pocket, opened it and showed Nancy a white tablet.

'I so sorry for your hurt Nancy.' Chu placed the tablet in his mouth and swallowed. 'So sorry. Goodbye.'

Nancy didn't want to see any more. She turned and left the building.

Above Nathan Road, Yaumati, Kowloon

The cavalry arrived just in time. Lafarge's alert that he had seen an unearthly-looking object, the globe that Jabez lost when he was beaten out of the Fundial by Zhivkin, resulted in a stampede of marauders and foragers of all kinds in search of loot. But amongst the rabble was an organised squad of soldiery sent by Bezejel. Its captain was Baalbul and he had a reputation for savagery that terrified even his own troop.

A globe would be more than just a valuable bauble in the corridors of power in Inferno. It could be used for listening into conversations throughout the Heavenly Realm. The Leader, yes no less than he, would use it as a trophy to remind his followers that battles could indeed be won against the angelic host.

Baalbul led a centurion of satyrs in ten by ten phalanx formation. Their armour and axes burned red hot as they plunged through the upper levels of Earth's atmosphere at high speed heading for the little British colony. As they neared the surface, they saw, on an interception route in front of them, the column of twelve cavalrymen that Ruth had ordered. It was led by Bohemond, one of the most valiant commanders in all of Paradise.

'Desist,' shouted Bohemond to his massed enemy. 'Depart and go home to your fiery fields and you will not be harmed.'

But Baalbul's dark mood was set for he was in search of personal glory.

'Get out of my way, fool, or I will take you back with me and set you down beside your brother Jabez. There to be tormented in a way you cannot imagine.'

Then he looked left and right at his grim-faced warriors and ordered them to kindle their fire arrows for he planned to send waves of blazing tar barbheads arcing into the angels bright plumage and immolate them in their rush and make of them a sight like many comets burning their way across the heavens for men to point to and wonder at. 'Tar and feathers,' he laughed. 'Can't beat them. They go together like saints on fire. Time to light them up boys.'

But he had reckoned without the determination of Bohemond's angels on their speedy steeds for while Baalbul was boasting and celebrating too soon, the angels had closed the gap between the forces. Bohemond, that knight of old Byzantium, led his mounted, breastplated angels in a thunderous charge against the muscly satyrs under their rock mail coats. Three angels continued for Nathan Road to find and guard the globe. They linked up with Luke who had flown on streamlined wings faster than ever before to make the rendezvous on time.

The other nine steadied their ice lances before them and drove straight into the enemy formation, ripping right through its heart. Eighteen demons fell burning in the first pass as lances fell left and right, their diamond sharp ice tips ripping through the brittle slate rings into the infernal skin beneath. There they released sprays of life-giving water that seared the undead tissue dealing catastrophic shock to the damned creatures' miserable senses.

The cavalry wheeled about and charged again into the already broken and fleeing formation of shrieking devils picking them off in ones and twos. Baalbul brought up his bow and aimed a sure shot at one angelic rider. But just as he prepared to release the string, a fragment of ice from a lance tip hit him in the eye. His fingers slipped and his arrow skewed high, missing its intended target. Baalbul fell, the melted ice burning his brain, his body already sagged and unfeeling. An angel bugler blew a song of praise as he slew and the retreating demons covered their ears from the hateful sound and threw away their bows and their untorched arrows.

Lafarge, hearing the din and realising he was alone and surrounded made a desperate dash for cover. As he attempted to reach the upper air, an ice lance hurled from a great distance by the angel Thaddeus caught him in the neck. His body jerked rigid. Lafarge's remains continued their fall into the Fifth and Inferno even as the first husk strands appeared through his skin and began to envelop him. He would take no further part in Bezejel's mission.

The nine regrouped with the three and recovered Jabez's missing globe. Spurring on their chargers they rose from Earth's sleepy night and soared upwards to Heaven's grateful embrace even while Jabez lay wounded in Kodrob's squadroom and Nancy was arriving back at the Golden Luck after her own hellish torment at the hands of the almost damned.

This had been just a skirmish, a minor affair. But at least no more angels had been lost.

Now it was time to recover Jabez. Now to get Heaven's captured angel back. Not one must be left behind.

Half-Way Island, mid-way between Paradise and Inferno

Heaven's envoy, Augustine, arrived on the neutral platform that served as the occasional meeting point between the irreconcilable forces of truth and deceit.

Under the terms of the parley there was to be no ambush or attempt to hold or delay. War was suspended, at least as much as could be when one party believed itself in permanent belligerence. Inferno's Leader arrived with an escort of female siren demons in uniform long boots and skirts, all carrying short flame guns. They were fair, in the manner that beautiful assassins may be, but they moved as a group, all individuality lost.

He was late of course, as befitted the Prince of Ego. He approached the island slowly, almost insolently, as if all of creation waited on him. Then he feathered his shining wings - for was he not once an angel, as great as any in the heavens, and was his name Lucifer not synonymous with light? - and strutted and tutted around the island, lamenting its rudimentary landscaping which was unworthy of a spiritual leader of his importance.

'Why am I here? What business do you want with me, O relic of Hippo?' began he whose name could not be uttered in Heaven's spaces and whose time, even in his own kingdom, was limited. 'Are you chaste yet, Gus, or are you still chasing angelic tail with as much verve as you chased Roman tail?' The Leader laughed at Augustine's apparent pain.

'None of that in Paradise? What a shame. I can lend you some if you like.' He gestured at his escorts. 'On the QT, you know. While you're away from home. Won't tell anyone, promise. Got some delicious skirt just arrived from Earth too, all colours, all sizes. Wicked, some of it. We're strictly egalitarian in Hades, no discrimination. But too much for me to handle by myself, you know. Fancy flexing the old muscle, Gussie? Bit of pork swordery just to remind you of the old days? What do you say old chap?'

Augustine had wisdom in his eyes and on his countenance, but these were withheld from Inferno's Leader who saw only what he wanted to see, the basest of motives and desires. Augustine had long since faced down his fleshly yearnings and put them aside. Now with his youth restored to him in Paradise and strength in his arms he seemed to the Leader like one who must be bursting with appetite and longing. The Leader could not see his courage, patience and self-control for these were outside his imagining. Augustine knew that he never would.

'You know why I'm here,' he said simply.

'Oh what a bore,' sighed the Leader. 'You heavenly types only want to talk business. You're just no fun. You don't know how to have a laugh. Why don't you let your hair down, tell a few jokes?' He looked at Augustine to see if he was scoring any hits. But the Saint looked back patiently and waited.

'All right then, if we must talk business let's get on with it,' he went on. 'You've lost someone I believe. Most careless of you. Forgotten his name.'

'Jabez.'

'Oh yes, that was it. Jabez. Remember now. He was mentioned in one of your books wasn't he? Chronicles. Boring name for a book. You know I've always wondered about Jabez. You have this intensely boring list of names - everything about you lot is boring - then Jabez pops up for a couple of lines, asking for favours as usual. Do all your lot do nothing but beg for favours all the time? So selfish. Mine work hard you know. You could learn something from us. Anyway, after Jabez says he doesn't want to cause pain - which is ironic don't you think, in the circumstances?' he laughed at his joke and turned to his escort for complicity in his humour 'you go back to another boring list of names. And then you tell everyone your books are enlightening. Illuminating, even. I just don't see it old friend, the logic escapes me.' He turned back to his escort shaking his head in derision.

'You captured Jabez, against the rules,' went on Augustine. 'We want him returned.'

'Oh rules, always rules. You lot make up rules and then expect everyone else to abide by them. We don't acknowledge your rules.'

'You agreed to the rules. You signed up to them.'

'Well, I lied.' The Leader held up his hands. 'Oh, don't be surprised Gus, you know I lie. It's what I do best. Everyone knows that.'

'Jabez. We want him back. What's the price?'

The Leader pretended to think hard for a moment.

'Well, Jabez tried to save Nancy's soul and got caught in the attempt. Red-handed, so to speak. Or at least he will be if he stays in Inferno much longer.' His line of females sniggered with him, in perfect unison. 'So their fates are tied together and the old formula is still there, if you want to rely on that. Life for a life. Nancy can save Jabez but only if she pays a high price.'

'And what's that?'

'If she surrenders all she's won,' said the Leader smugly. 'Luckily for me, she's enjoying herself too much. She doesn't care about anyone else so long as she 'finds herself'. She's a natural for Hell. Slave trafficking, drugs, pimping - she'll have lots of friends when she finally gets here. Though I hope that won't be for a long time. She has a lot to do for us before then. Nancy belongs here and I'm going to enjoy her when she eventually arrives. In fact I've already got the handcuffs sorted. I heard she likes that.' He laughed and looked around him at his escort, one of whom stepped forward with a flourish and produced a pair of linked steel bracelets from behind her back. She waved them in the air before slapping them playfully on her wrists.

Augustine ignored her. 'We want Jabez back for certain. What are your terms?' he asked.

'Well, if you really want Jabez back your Boss will have to come and ask me for him. On bended knee.'

'You mean the Lamb,'

'If you want to call him that.'

'That's unlikely,' replied Augustine sternly.

'I thought you might say that. He's made such a big thing about that screw-up outside Jerusalem when he got his come-uppance. We never stop hearing about it, do we? All this incessant bleating about how he died for everyone. It seems to me he was begging for a grisly death.' The Leader stretched his arms out to the sides. 'Oh poor old me,' he said in a croaky voice. 'And he's been dining out on that ever since. If you really want Jabez back all I ask is that the Lamb comes here and makes the request in person. Seems pretty reasonable to me. Or is he too busy partying and listening to everyone tell him how wonderful he is.'

'On bended knee? You want the Lamb to bow down before you?'

'Well if you want to put it that way, please yourself,' smiled the Leader. 'But I won't be hard on him, one knee will do. The floor here is a bit hard and I wouldn't want him to hurt himself. A single genuflection will do, no need for the double. What do you say?'

Augustine was silent.

'Not much of an envoy, are you? Can't make a decision, obviously.' He turned to his escort. 'They used to make saints who could think for themselves. This lot have to kick every decision upstairs. To a higher power.' He sniggered.

Augustine was furious. 'Your time is limited. Hell will not last for ever. This will not help you get an extension on your lease.'

'Oh so you keep saying. Well, I'd better have fun while it lasts then, hey? By the way, since you're unable to give me an answer right now and you've wasted my time, I'm going to take it out on poor Mr Kelly, the beery detective, he of the forename Dan. I want him as dead as a losing scratchcard on a Liverpool pub floor and I'm going to make sure it happens soon. Painfully. That's your fault for not being prepared.'

'Anyway Gus,' he continued, 'while you're consulting with your important chums, I'll just nip off and do some shopping. Got hundreds of delightful darlings in the catalogue to choose from. Shame they're not coming your way. Heavenly bodies, some of them, isn't that a laugh? Flash a red light if you want to join me and I'll send a pair of vixens to pick you up. I'm sure you won't be such a miserable cuss when you're back in the saddle again like the old days. Bye now.' And with that the Leader of the Lost turned, leapt from the island spreading out his wings - and they were still dazzling to behold - and led his siren guard back to the land of the damned.

Kodrob's Squadroom, Pentacurse, Inferno

Jabez lay on the floor, breathing heavily. One of his arms was manacled and chained to a stubby iron girder embedded in the wall. Zhivkin and Kodrob sat watching him at the table while they supped diesel and threw darts at a troll that was running around the room looking for hiding places. Pu Gash stood at the door watching in case Bezejel should make an unannounced visit.

'What I don't understand,' Kodrob was speaking softly so that Jabez wouldn't hear, 'is that Bezejel seemed shocked when you captured him. So I thought she wanted him gone, sent back to Paradise as quickly as possible. But now it seems she and the Leader have decided to keep him prisoner. What's going on?'

Kodrob was Zhivkin's boss and normally he would be the first to know his bosses' plans. But it was an indication of the esteem that Zhivkin was now held in that he knew more than Kodrob. The balance of power in the team had shifted perceptibly and Kodrob knew he had to watch his step. If Zhivkin was really 'in' with Bezejel, he'd better not get him on the wrong side. Boss or no boss, it was influence that mattered, especially when someone as mercurial as Bezejel was above both of you.

'I think it's all to do with Nancy, chief,' replied the cruel Russian. 'She's too important to the future of the war on Earth. The war against the Lamb's forces. The Leader wants to hold onto anyone who has or had any influence over Nancy. If nothing else it makes the other side nervous. It's become a high stakes game. The Leader is using Jabez as a bargaining chip. He doesn't want to hold onto him for ever, Bezejel told me. He's after something bigger.'

'Something bigger?'

'OK, someone bigger. A lot bigger. A big fish.' Zhivkin pushed his face close to Kodrob's, emphasising his point.

'Who?'

'Who do you think?'

'I don't know,' replied Kodrob. 'There's a lot of big fish in Paradise.'

'Put it like this,' Zhivkin was whispering directly into Kodrob's ear. 'Apart from the Creator himself, there is no one bigger.'

'Him?'

'Yeah, Him.'

'How does the Leader plan to do that? asked Kodrob.

'Do you think they'd tell me?'

'I don't buy it.'

'Don't buy what. That they want to get the Lamb?' Zhivkin was starting to sneer again.

'No. I know they want to get him. I just don't see how they will,' replied Kodrob.

'Well. You'd better keep your traitorous thoughts to yourself, Captain,' spat Zhivkin. 'It would be such a shame if Bezejel found out you don't have confidence in our Leader.'

He threw a dart which hit the troll in the arm and stuck there. The fat creature squealed and stood still, holding its hands in front of its face.

'He thinks we can't see him,' sneered Zhivkin.

'If the Leader doesn't get a move on soon, Jabez will perish. Look at him.' Kodrob waved vaguely at the angel who was looking down at the ground, eyes unfocused. 'Then Heaven will get really angry.' His dart pierced the wall above the troll's shoulder.

'Nah, angels are tougher than that. He's just malingering,' replied Zhivkin. 'I'm going to get stuck into him soon and have some fun with him. I've never heard an angel scream but I think the time for that is approaching. Got some old techniques I want to try out again. Matter of fact, think I'll have a little play now.' Zhivkin stood up and took a small set of pliers and a file from his pocket.

'I'm going to break his perfect front teeth and scrape the nerves inside. Let's see how loud he hollers.'

'No,' shouted Kodrob, a bit too urgently.

'What do you mean, no?' Zhivkin glared at Kodrob. 'Have you gone soft Captain Kodrob? Your star has been falling for a while, you know?. Bezejel is not your biggest fan any more, savvy? If you get in my way, I may have to ask Bezejel for a promotion. Right now I think I'd get it. Then you know what would happen to you, don't you?'

Kodrob saw the troll hiding behind its fingers. He knew exactly what would happen to him.

'I just mean,' he stammered, 'if Bezejel and the Leader are using him for a negotiation, they may not want him seriously damaged.'

'Oh I'm not going to damage him seriously, Captain, not yet anyway. But who's to say his teeth didn't get hurt when I kicked him out of his machine. I don't remember anyone making a list of his injuries when he got here. Anyway, I captured him so I've got rights over him, that's always been Hell's law. If you nick it, you own it. Now stand out of the way, Captain.'

'I know you've got rights Zhiv, but it would be a pity to torture him without an audience. Why not get a group of demons in here and have a party? Or get him to a public place, like the Banshee lake and make him holler and cry there? It would be good for morale. You could sell tickets to watch it and make a whole stash of diesel.'

Zhivkin stroked his chin. He looked at Kodrob closely, searching his face for any sign of a trick.

'Hmm. Maybe,' he said. 'But we'll have to do it quick, before he gets repatriated back to his home.'

He thought for a minute.

'All right,' he said. 'It's a deal. Let's spread the word. Tell everyone you know and we'll get a crowd there, tomorrow. I'll organise a cross so we can stick him up on it. That always gets a laugh. I'll bring my other toys too, a lorry battery and some wire. And some pliers to pluck him with. Nice one, Kodrob, good thought.'

Then before Kodrob could stop him, Zhivkin swung around towards Jabez and aimed a kick at his good wing. 'I hate you arrogant filth,' he snarled. 'I'll pull out all your fancy feathers and burn them. Tomorrow.'

Jabez groaned with the sudden pain and his body arched. Zhivkin spat on the prostrate angel who was now breathing in clear discomfort.

Kodrob took Zhivkin by the arm and hurried him to the door. 'I'll meet you in the morning to finalise plans,' he said in a whisper. 'Don't tell Bezejel till it's all organised or she might try and stop it.'

Zhivkin smiled and punched Kodrob in the arm, 'Till then' he agreed. 'I'm off to the squawhouse, see you later.'

Yaumati Police Station, Kowloon

Dan Kelly was at the end of a busy overnight shift. Any crimes reported to the station during the previous 24 hours were the responsibility of his team to investigate, categorise, distribute and follow-up.

Distributing or 'batting' as it was known was a favourite game of detective inspectors. If you could show that a crime had occurred in another station's district you could 'bat it' in their direction and so relieve yourself of a lot of work.

Some DIs had won a reputation for their laziness and willingness to bat cases to other stations, no matter what the distress caused to the public who often had to spend hours waiting to give a statement only to be told they had to go to another district of Kowloon and repeat the process.

Dan, however, had rarely batted a case in his entire 5 year career in the RHKP, much to the disappointment of his overworked team who rarely got off shift on time.

Now Dan had gone a stage further and taken an active interest in all things Brother.

On top of the regular caseload of bag snatchings, heroin dealing, street robberies, factory thefts and gangland violence he was building up a file on Brother's operations throughout Kowloon. Dan was now copied on any and all reported crimes where Brother involvement was suspected. His dossier was filling up fast.

Dan finished typing up his reports into all the day's cases and handed them to Liu Jai for copying. He barely had time to pick up his cold coffee cup and drink from it.

Detective Sergeant Tung walked purposefully through from the CID reception room into Dan's office.

'Sir, CID Kwun Tong are trying to send us a case of kidnapping and extortion. They say it's a Brother case and they think we've agreed to take anything related to Brother. We're getting snowed under with new cases and the team is getting fed up. You must resolve this or we'll lose the team. There are plenty of under-staffed CID squads who'd happily take our guys. Sir, do you understand?'

'I know, Ah Tung. I have not agreed to take all Brother cases, so you can politely tell DI Chan Man-wai in Kwun Tong to put his cricket bat away and stop bowling us googlies, if you follow my meaning. But what I have done is arranged to meet my old teacher Pete Richards in Kowloon HQ in about an hour. I'm going to ask him if he can lend us some resources. 'Bout time we passed some work to them instead of the other way round, don't you think?'

'Sir,' replied Ah Tung, unconvinced.

An hour later Dan gratefully picked up the burning hot cup of decaf coffee that Detective Superintendent Pete Richards had placed on the table in front of him. After a sleepless 24 hour duty he was looking forward to a date with his duvet. A decaffeinated drink would help make that meeting worthwhile.

'Dan, great to see you,' Pete offered him a cigarette. 'How are the bright lights of Yaumati keeping you?'

Dan declined the cigarette. 'Yaumati must be the busiest place on the planet. I just love it, there's always so much going on,' he enthused.

'And you've come to thank me for my brilliant teaching at training school and the perfect preparation I and the other staff gave you for your role, that right?'

'Astonishing, how did you know I travelled right across Kowloon and gave up my morning to come and tell you that?' replied Dan, smiling.

'Aw, I get used to old students praising me up,' said Pete. 'What's great is they never want me to do anything for them. They never come all the way to Kowloon HQ and try to put a monkey on my back or ask me for favours. OK, well I have to get off to another meeting. Thanks for dropping by.' He pretended to stand up.

'Well, actually,' said Dan hesitantly.

'What? You don't mean to tell me you're going to break the trend and ask me to do some work for you, do you?'

'Ask you to do some work? Oh, Heaven forbid, I know work isn't your thing.' Dan held up his hands.

'Sarcasm will get you nowhere, young Inspector.'

'No, seriously,' replied Dan, realising his joke might backfire. 'It's not so much about work, it's just an enquiry really.'

'Shoot.' Pete sat down again.

'Well, it's just that one of the triad societies in our neighbourhood, Brother to be precise, appears to be getting its head and shoulders well in front of all the others. I just wondered if anyone was monitoring the situation from a headquarters point of view, you know, with a colony-wide strategic approach. Or even if any of your partners like FBI or Interpol had ever mentioned them. We're getting reports that an English woman has joined them and I was wondering if there was any signal that they're going international.'

Pete Richards sat back in his chair, suddenly intent.

'Well, that is interesting,' he said slowly.

'It is?'

'Yeah, I'll say.' He looked up, concentrating. 'Thing is,' he continued, 'I don't know how much I can tell you.'

'Oh,' replied Dan, hoping for more.

'Yeah, look, let's put it like this,' said Pete, choosing his words carefully. 'There is a headquarters unit that's aware of Brother's meteoric rise. It's gathering information behind the scenes that will be used to put Brother leaders away for a long time.'

'Gosh,' said Dan, genuinely shocked.

'Yeah, but they're not ready to strike yet. In fact, given the evidence requirements of the Supreme Court and the need to build an absolutely watertight case against them, it's still going to be quite some time till they're ready.'

'Who is they exactly?' asked Dan.

'Good question.' Pete acknowledged with a raise of his eyebrows that Dan was being persistent. 'They is me and my team.'

'You?'

'Mm hmm.'

'So you must be very interested in all the duty reports I write about Brother,' asked Dan.

'Got them all here, every one,' Pete indicated a cabinet loaded with large files.

'Oh, good.' There was a pause. 'So what do you want me to do? I mean, shouldn't we be working closely together?'

'We are working closely together. And I'm very glad that you took the time out to come and ask me. But I need you to just keep sending through all that you see about Brother in your reports. There are spies here, even in Kowloon Headquarters who would tip off Brother that we're onto them if we start doing anything unusual. And remember, I'm gathering information from all over, including DIs on Hong Kong Island, in the New Territories and from sources in other agencies internationally.'

'You mean, the FBI?'

'Among others,' replied Pete tersely.

'So...'

'So thanks for coming, Dan. You need to know that we're on top of Brother and taking strategic action and you must continue to send us everything you get. It's really important that you do.'

'Ok then, well, that's great.'

'Have a great day, you just come off shift?'

'Yes, just a couple of hours ago.'

'Great,' smiled Pete. 'Fight the good fight. We'll nail Fatty Lo and all his crew as soon as we can. We're compiling evidence of conspiracy to defraud involving massive amounts of money. Smaller charges of racketeering won't stop him for a moment. He'll just sacrifice some junior gang leader to take the rap. This needs a major initiative and it's happening. I need you and the dozens of other DIs in the Colony to just keep doing your jobs. Ming baak?' Pete finished with a commonly understood Chinese phrase meaning 'understand?'.

'Ming baak. OK thanks Pete, I'll be off then. I'll keep sending the reports.'

'Best wishes, Dan.'

Luke's Farm, Mountain Meadows, Paradise

Luke, Ruth and Agatha were meeting, in the flesh, at Luke's farm in a vast area of rolling pastureland in Heaven's green belt. To the west and south were more farmsteads and ranches whose buildings and barns were constructed of pillars made of local marble infilled with timbers of white oak and topped with thatched roofs that curved upwards in praise. Each one's unique design reached out and interlaced with the beauty of its neighbour and then carried on the pattern to the next, building the whole community into an eye-catching configuration. To the north and east were mountains with glaciers reaching down to their foothills and pine forests reaching up like green fingers. The mountains gathered snow in the winter time and released it gradually over the rest of the year, frothing the rivers and canyons with white water and tickling a hundred species of fish as it flowed down to irrigate the fields below.

But on this occasion the mood inside Luke's farm was not as bright as the sunshine outside. The quartet was a trio and the trio were in mourning for their missing player and his eager, if sometimes naïve, leadership.

For once Ruth was dressed down, wearing a simple white dress but no colour to her wings and no jewellery. Agatha as usual was in denims with a blue and white hooped mariner-style top while Luke was in lumberjack shirt and jeans. His Stetson hung at his back.

It was Luke's pad so he was first to speak.

'Well guys, we've been punched right in the nose by Hades. Our brother Jabez is missing as a result. Ruth, you were right to say that we should concentrate on solving the problem, not on blaming ourselves and I agree with you. It's hard to be optimistic and carry on, but I know that we must. Sometime in the future when Jabez is back and we've concluded this project successfully we can conduct a fail review to work out what went wrong at this point. But for now, we have to put aside our misery. We still have a mission to carry out.'

'That's right,' agreed Agatha, 'Nancy is still there on Earth and, unfortunately, what happened to her in San Po Kong is even more likely, not less, to drive her into the enemy camp. Any trust she ever had in others, especially men, is gone. That doesn't bode well for our plan for her to meet up with Dan.'

'There's an added complication you two might not be aware of,' said Ruth with a sigh.

Luke and Agatha regarded her with foreboding.

'The enemy want Dan's life. They want him to die soon, in pain. They've also offered to give us back Jabez, but only if we agree to something else they're asking.' She sighed, unable to continue for a moment. 'I'm under orders not to tell you what that is, at least for now. Anyway, Augustine says we are running out of time. Jabez is very sick and we need him back soon. If we agree to what they want, there may not be enough time to arrange the all-important meeting between Nancy and Dan, the one where she discovers the meaning of 1.11.'

'That's bad' said Luke. 'But there's something else about Nancy that worries me. She's alone and far from home, with few friends around her. Apart from Jenny Ling. I'm seriously worried that she may take her own life. I mean, she's just had this horrific thing happen to her, a gang rape. She must be very low indeed. Obviously if she dies she can't take over Brother, as the enemy wants. But right now we need to fight for her soul. That comes first.'

'Let's also remember that the entire region around Nancy is now highly dangerous and infested with demons,' said Agatha. 'None of us must go there unless accompanied by a strong armed escort. Luke, you went to Yaumati with a dozen cavalry, but even you nearly got trounced.'

'That's right,' smiled Luke, bringing the first warm note into the conversation. 'I'll remember that fight for ever. The challenge by Bohemond. That brute Baalbul. The satyrs reaching to light their arrows. Then the full-on cavalry charge as our forces crashed into the enemy lines and destroyed their formation. I was way below them heading for Nathan Road but there were lights flashing in the skies for many minutes. Hong Kong citizens probably thought they saw UFOs above them.'

'Well that's a lesson to us. No visits to Earth without a guard,' said Agatha.

'Amen to that,' agreed Luke.

Ruth was silent.

'Ruth, do you agree?' asked Agatha.

'Oh ah was just thinking that we need to continue with Jabez's work, even if remotely, from Paradise. In fact ah think we might be able to encourage Nancy out of her depressed state and deliver one more of Jabez's prepared 1.11 messages at the same time. Jabez got it all set up before he was captured. It just needs activating and we can do that from here.'

'OK,' said Agatha, 'just so long as none of us goes down to the Fourth alone. That's really important.'

'Uh huh,' agreed Luke.

Ruth said nothing.

Golden Luck Casino, Yaumati, Kowloon

Nancy sat on her bed with her legs drawn up beneath her, staring into the emptiness in front of her. Jenny Ling and the two other girls slept and snored in the narrow beds beside.

Then the emptiness took form and became an entity in itself. It separated itself from the rest of the room, became real, took on boundaries and moved closer. It promised that it would not hurt her. It crept up the bed and swept over Nancy like a cloudy eiderdown, untouching, covering her like a mother's scent at tucking-in time. The emptiness brought with it an anaesthetic that enveloped her mind like a warm breeze on a Caribbean afternoon. The stinging pain in her woman's body retreated. It vanished like an army of tiny spearmen lost in fog, their cries muffled, distant, then gone.

Sleep was out of reach, but on its borders where waves of memory roll and crash against consciousness and the soul stretches out to reshape its understanding of the world after a tragedy, Nancy had a vision.

She was back in London, outside the travel shop. Her eyes were drawn to the sky and she saw a fearsome angel of death that flew forward and back over all the Earth, causing a noise like thunder.

As the angel passed overhead it called out loudly 'time's up and you can't put no more money in the meter' and she saw one man throw his shoe at it and heard other people cry out as they do in the moment before a road accident. She looked around and saw men and women staggering along the street as if heart-attacked. Some were shouting in fear and they seemed to be looking for places to hide, but they didn't know from what. Two people unhooked man-hole covers in the road, peered down into the circular darkness for a place of refuge and then abruptly ran away.

In front of each person in the street, as if they had burst out of their chest, were balloon-like shapes that displayed all the bad things that they had ever done, all the spiteful words, all the mean sneaky things, the plans to hurt others and all the hidden deceits, the ones that they thought no-one would ever know about. All of these balloon shapes smelt of rot and buzzed with fat black flies. They were displayed in front of each person like cinema screens which you could watch. The angel flying over them had made this happen. Nancy was amazed for she looked at each person's balloon screens and was able to see their life's deeds and misdeeds in one glance. The deeds came out from each person in these balloons of words, images and moving pictures, some of them so hideous and shameful that it hurt to look at them. Nancy fell to her knees, she thought some of the pictures were so unspeakably horrible that she did not know how their owners had kept them hidden.

All of the balloon-shapes showed acts of caring or of uncaring, but in almost all the people in the street the hurtful, selfish actions they had made in their lives far outweighed the caring ones. There was something more. Each balloon-shape showed images of the victims who had been hurt by the balloon-carrier's misdeeds and just how much they had been hurt. Some of them showed how the victims had been brought low, to sadness, anger, suicide or murder by the balloon owner's words or acts.

The angel came over again shouting, 'It's J-Day. Make way for the assizes to end all bloody assizes. Take your places. Everyone gets to see everyone's show'.

Yet Nancy could hardly take her eyes away for the balloon-shapes were as fascinating as they were grotesque. They were so detailed that it was like watching a million films all at the same time but with the same clarity as if the events were happening right beside you.

Nancy knew that she was looking at Judgement. The Big Judgement. But it was not like a court scene with God as judge, wielding a gavel and sending people to heaven or hell with a Roman tilt of his thumb. It was more down to Earth than that. This wasn't judgement imposed from outside. It was judgement that came from the inside of each person, from all the stored up memories that lay inside each one's soul. All the actions, thoughts, words and deeds of each man and woman which were indissolubly and irreversibly held inside them had now been spilled out into the open. All knew that the balloon-shapes in front of them, with their words, images and moving pictures, were real and unarguable. There was no denying them. No disputation was possible. All that men thought was hidden was now visible to all.

The people were crying and casting about fearfully. Their despair lay in the knowledge that their chance for remorse and a promise to change their ways was gone.

'The exam is over, close your answer-books and hand them in please, no more writing,' bellowed the angel. People could not bear to look at the coloured cloud-balloons and shapes in front of them. But these visual tormentors were unavoidable, attached to them as if for eternity and constantly swinging around as though blown by a malevolent wind so they were ever in front of the person's gaze no matter where they looked. People saw their own life histories and they saw their neighbours' and friends' past lives laid out. Many were as amazed and stupefied at others' laid-bare stories as they were appalled at the revelation of their own. Nancy saw one man whom she recognised as a librarian from the library she used as a girl. He had always seemed harmless; she had never thought badly of him. But now Nancy saw the librarian as he really was and was horrified and astonished at the same time as she saw his entire life in front of him, hanging from his chest in all its grotesquerie. She could see the thousands of boys and girls he had hurt, some with his body, some with his words and many, many with his eyes and his will. The damage the old librarian had caused to so many young lives was so great that Nancy didn't know if even Hell could take it all in.

Then Nancy realised she was being pulled away. She was not part of all this, she was just witnessing it, looking into a vision that may or may not have been real, may or may not have meant something.

She was back in her dormitory. The emptiness began to retreat. The eiderdown cloud fell to the floor and dissipated like theatre dry-ice. The sweet scent of a long-forgotten mother was gone. The bed and doors took shape again. The vision was over. Nancy looked at the beds around her and listened.

For once, the sound of women breathing loudly nearby was oddly comforting.

More time passed and for several hours Nancy didn't think of very much. A clock ticking. The traffic on the street. A burglar alarm somewhere. Street lights finding the flaws in the room's defences and streaming through like a yellow disease. Crumpled sheets. A bug patrolling the skirting board. Cockroach? Don't care. Come here, my lovely and I'll give you a cuddle. You'll die of surprise. Monkey. Damn him. Chu. Cheat. Why me? Jenny's hair, so silky. Foot itch. Snoring from girl three. Wossername?

I can't pretend it didn't happen. They all know I was there. With Monkey and Chu dying it will all come out. The others will talk. Word will get about. If I don't speak up they'll think I wanted it. They'll snigger at me behind my back. Cockroach. Creeping into crevice. Want into my bed? Want nice, warm crack to crawl into? Not mine, you wouldn't want mine. Not now. Men are cockroaches. No, cockroaches are men. Disgusting, furtive creatures. Leave interesting colours on the wall when you splat them. All they're good for. Who, men or cockroaches? You know damn well.

Razor in the bathroom. Proper blades, not safety. So tempting. End it. Let's do it now, no-one will miss you. Street lights have gone out. Room's gone dark. Nearly dark. Single light outside. Pattern on the window blind. Shining through the pattern. Wall. 1.11 on the wall. Someone trying to tell me something. But I'm so tired. And sore. Tired of it all. Unequal struggle. 1.11 All right, I'll try again. Once more into the breach. Who said that? One more try. Then it's razors into wrists at dawn.

Nancy unwound her tight legs and slipped off the bed. She swung herself across the gap and perched on the edge of Jenny's mattress. 'Jenny,' she whispered.

Nothing.

'Jenny, wake up. Jenny, you know you said I could talk to you any time. Now's the time.'
'Huh?'

'Jenny, if ever I needed a friend I need one now. Jenny, wake up.'

Nancy pulled the covers gently away from Jenny's shoulders.

'Jenny, something happened tonight. Something bad. I need to tell you.'

Then Jenny roused herself from her dream of bright futures and dingy pasts, of families and feasts, of fortunes and cookies and sat up there in a shabby dormitory of the lowest form of business life, a girly gambling den, the cockroach of commerce and took the hand of her friend and listened and became in that moment the stepping stone that Nancy needed to continue her walk of life and not slip and fall and finish it far from friends and home. So Nancy did not come to The End. Not then anyway. No razor skated her ivory wrists that night leaving its violent red tail disgorging into a basin. She went on the way she was meant to simply because one woman chose her friend above her comfort and in such small, huge gestures are heroines made and heroes saved and empires lost and won.

Chopper Kwok's Apartment, Ho Tin Girl Friend Bar and Film Club, Yaumati, Kowloon

Chopper Kwok dug his fingers into a bowl of peanuts beside his bed and forced some into his mouth. His other hand held a phone to his ear. Beside him naked on the bed lay two girls, sisters, who had been lent to him by Wonton Chiang.

The sisters, Mei-Lien and Mei-Xhen had travelled from cold Harbin province, further north even than Russian Vladivostok, to try their luck in the prosperous British colony of Hong Kong where legend said all rice bowls magically refilled themselves three times a day and even the poor lived in sun-sparkling penthouses high above the earth.

They had journeyed more than 18 months through China, dodging corrupt police, people traffickers and prostitute traders. They had slept in old buses, disused factories and occasional warm barns. Frequently they had slept with the policemen who arrested them for vagrancy in order to win their release. For several months they had worked the grim drinking sheds of Beijing where soot-faced pottery workers paid for sex with a half bowl of rice.

Through it all the teenage sisters had encouraged each other with stories of happy faces, full wage packets, considerate bosses, prosperity, boyfriends, husbands and a life of plenty different from that of their parents who had died of hunger during the disturbances after Chairman Mao's death in 1976 and the rise of the Gang of Four soon after.

They finally crossed over the border into Hong Kong one summer night, evading the patrols of British army gurkhas who could hide motionless for hours waiting for transients whose fung shui meters were on empty. Once past the border guards, Mei-Lien and Mei-Xhen hugged each other and swore they were now on the road to happiness. No more hunger, they said to each other, no more abuse, no more fear.

In Kowloon the next night, near the Star Ferry Terminal, they came across a kindly man handing out soup and bread to the hungry. Noticing their look of yearning, a look he had seen many times on the faces of those who had gone without nourishment for several days, the man called to them.

'Come and be saved,' said he 'and while your souls are being rescued come and eat for free. Fill up and be glad for the Lord has poured his bounty upon the Earth and I am his humble servant.'

The sisters nodded to each other and agreed that this did indeed sound like a good idea. They sat at the man's stall and took his bowls of Cantonese broth and listened to his stories about a certain carpenter who lived long ago in a far-off town.

'And that's why I provide food for the homeless,' said Wonton Chiang looking the young women up and down. 'Are you homeless, by the way? Do you need a place to stay? Just for a few nights of course.'

But when the sisters arrived at Wonton's apartment, the mood changed. There's no such thing as a free meal, Wonton said, why, I have to pay for the food. How can I do that on my worker's salary? You must work for me to repay what you owed me when you ate without paying at my stall. What, you are in Hong Kong illegally? Then you must work twice as hard, so I can bribe the police to leave you alone. Not speak Cantonese? Then there are only certain types of work open to you. Luckily, neither of you is too brute ugly for the type of work I have in mind. Just work for me for a year, maybe two and then you will have paid my price and may have your freedom. The carpenter I told you about? Look, I am sentimental sometimes and my good heart gets the better of me. But such stories are for children and the weak-headed. Do not be fooled. You can only save yourself through hard work. You're not afraid of hard work are you? Good. Then knuckle down, do the work that your youth and gender has prepared you for and celebrate the day you met me. Welcome to Hong Kong, Mei-Lien and Mei-Xhen. Your abundant future has begun. Now, please to transport yourselves, with alacrity, into my sleeping quarters two steps hence. Unbutton your blouses, undo your zips and allow me to test the product that I'm going to sell.

Chopper grunted down the phone several times, listening to the flow of only slightly-accented Cantonese that made its way to his ear.

'We'll keep an eye out for him,' Chopper said between nut crunches when there was a pause. 'Dan Kelly you say his name is?'

He listened again.

'No problem. I will have one of my boys take a photo of him and then send it to the rest of my team,' he said. 'Once we know what he looks like it will be easier to keep out of his way.'

A pause while the volume from the other speaker increased.

'It's all right, we won't hurt him unless we have to. I know he's your friend,' said Chopper, reassuringly. 'And don't worry, your next payment is on its way. Your information is important. Thank you Pete.'

Chopper Kwok replaced the receiver and turned to look at his two skinny sleeping companions. Wonton had stumbled over a good idea, he thought. What a way to find recruits. A charity food stall. Brilliant. But Wonton was weak. Good ideas, but no ambition. Wonton didn't know how to scale up an operation. For that you needed someone with vision. Someone who understood business. Someone like me. Not that soft idiot Fatty Lo and his ignorant English girl. Fatty belongs to a past age, a frightened age, an age when honourable brothers were scared to take on the police. That age is over.

He rolled towards the nearest sister and pushed his knee between her legs. 'Wake up,' he said. 'I'm horny.'

Golden Luck Casino

For three days Nancy did not venture out of her room. The story of her kidnapping and gang rape was quickly relayed by Jenny Ling to Fatty Lo and verified by contact with the men who had taken part in it. These all pleaded innocence, or at least to knowledge of who Nancy really was. Many of them now went to ground in fear of their lives, hoping to hide until the anger abated.

The bodies of Monkey and Chu were identified by many and added authenticity to Nancy's story. Outrage built throughout the criminal community of Kowloon.

Fatty Lo came to visit Nancy. He bore gifts of money and jewellery and asked for forgiveness. He had no idea that he was placing her at risk, he pleaded.

But it was against Fatty Lo himself that much of the anger was directed. He had been foolish to hire an unknown 'gwai poh' and put her into such a senior position so soon, many argued. And it was his misjudgement of the Golden Horse takeover and Monkey's loss of face in that operation that had allowed not just Nancy to be raped, but all of Brother to be humiliated in the process.

Chopper Kwok, the organisation's second-in-command, made no effort to slow these accusations or mitigate them in any way. Instead he allowed them to build knowing that they were contributing to his game plan to discredit Fatty completely and take over Brother.

But another contender for the title of Brother of Brothers now emerged. This was Frenchy who had compèred the cockfight in the Blue Diamond Warehouse & Godown many nights before. Frenchy was neither as cunning as Fatty Lo nor as ruthless as Chopper Kwok but for those who thought the latter was just too aggressive, Frenchy represented a middle of the road option. He held out the prospect of stability and continuity, at least until a better contender for the leadership came along.

With Fatty's continued tenure as leader of Brother seemingly more and more doomed as the hours and days went by, Frenchy and Chopper campaigned and politicked for support amongst both the opinion leaders and the rank and file.

Outside of Brother, the story of Nancy's rape and the uncertainty surrounding Brother's leadership had radiated out to all compass points of Kowloon and Hong Kong. The situation has to be resolved quickly, said many within the fraternity. If we're going to have a new leader we need him soon, otherwise we'll have defections to the 14K, the Wo Shing Wo, the Daai Huen and many other triads.

Dan Kelly also learnt of the horrific rape and the effect it was having on Brother. He continued to write up his crime reports and send them to Kowloon Police headquarters in the routine way. But he worried at Pete Richards' lack of return contact. Surely, with something as big as this, Pete would be in touch? Apparently not.

Members of the Golden Horse who had taken part in Nancy's rape were gradually hunted down by Brother. They were taken from their families in San Po Kong and held prisoner at the Blue Diamond Warehouse & Godown in Yaumati. Sure, Nancy had been personally violated. But the whole Brother organisation had been made to look inept. If a provincial triad gang like Golden Horse could abuse a senior Brother girl and get away with it - regardless of whether her high position was justified or not - it would be open season on all members. Attacks and defections would increase.

There needed to be some kind of response. But nobody was quite sure what it should be. A massacre of the guilty along St Valentine's Day lines was mooted by some. But that would be messy and invite massive police retaliation. There would be an outcry from the whole population of the Colony.

Release them, they didn't know what they were doing, said others. But that seemed insufficient.

Eventually there was a groundswell of opinion among all levels of Brother about the right approach. This new consensus even had the agreement of out-of-favour head Fatty Lo as well as new leadership contenders Frenchy and Chopper Kwok. It only needed one other person to agree. Nancy.

The feeling among all was that as Nancy had been violated and had suffered the most, she should be closely involved in determining the fate of those who had hurt her. The scene was set and on the fourth night after the events in San Po Kong, amidst utmost secrecy, almost the entire membership of Brother, as well as the twenty or so members of Golden Horse who were there on that fateful night, were gathered in the Blue Diamond.

Yaumati Police Station

'I'd happily swap my revolver for a decent typewriter,' said Dan as he hit the 'line feed' lever on the machine in front of him for the second time and nothing happened. Fishing out his pocketknife he probed the mechanism with the small blade and emerged with a bit of ink tape that had ravelled itself around a cog wheel.

Dan glanced at the clock. 'Liu Jai, it's 8.30 pm. Know what time that is?'

'Yes sir.'

'What time is it?'

'It's time for your beer, sir.'

'Wrong, Liu Jai, it's two hours after beer start time. And you know how I hate to be late for an appointment. In fact, Happy Hour has already finished. I'll have to go to that sordid topless bar in Shan Tung Street in Mong Kok to get a cheap beer at this hour, that's how desperate things have got.'

'Do you mean the bar you took me to last week where you fell asleep drunk while talking to a girl? Monica I think her name was, and I got a taxi to take you home?'

'I remember a girl, Liu Jai, and I remember talking to her about the impact of the English industrial revolution on farm wages..'

'That was me, sir.'

'Huh?'

'You were talking to me about the industrial revolution. When I woke you up with a coffee after Monica left. And very interesting it was too. I was telling my family all about it at my grandmother's birthday party at the weekend and they all agreed..'

'Liu Jai, sarcasm does not become you.'

'Pardon, sir?'

'I mean, sarcasm is not a Chinese trait. There is no need to get sarcastic just to make me feel a little more at home.'

'Sorry sir, I just thought it might help...'

'Let me be clear Liu Jai. We western people, we do the sarcasm. You lot do the food. That's how we get along.'

'Sorry sir. I'll make a note.'

'So, what was I talking to Monica about, if not the industrial revolution?'

'Oh, you were being very funny sir.'

'I was?'

'Yes, sir. Monica was laughing a great deal. And the more she laughed the more you liked her and the more drinks you bought her.'

'Are you telling me I fell for the old trick, Liu Jai?'

'No sir. I would never tell my boss that he got suckered by the oldest trick in the book. Or that he spent most of the evening looking at a woman's chest instead of her face. I have more tact than that sir.'

'Well that's good Liu Jai, tact is very..'

Policewoman Hui Fen burst into the room.

'Ah Fen, what a pleasant surprise.' Dan looked at his watch. 'Why are you here?'

'I don't know. Missing this place, I guess.' She looked around at the spartan room.

'Don't you start,' said Dan, wagging his finger. 'What is it?'

'One of my contacts came to see me while I was out having dinner with my husband at a stall. He is a member of Brother. He works for Nescafé Mao.'

Dan butted in. 'Nescafé is the Red Pole Enforcer who sends heroin around Kowloon in coffee jars along with groceries, isn't he?'

'That's the one,' replied Hui Fen. 'This contact, let's call him Fang, is disappointed with Brother because of the turmoil the organisation is going through right now. He already hated his boss, Nescafé Mao, because of not getting paid enough for a job he did some time ago. But now he says he wants to shop Nescafé. He wants us to arrest him. He's given me information about how we can catch Mao in a warehouse in Wong Tai Sin where they are packaging up red chicken heroin in Maxwell House jars before shipping it to the Island. Thing is, sir, we only have an hour before they leave the warehouse. If you're going to ambush them, it's got to be now.'

'What does he want in return?'

'Nothing. Though if I took a guess I would say that he wants Nescafé out of the way so he can set up a similar operation later. Whatever his motives, you have a chance to make an impact on Brother. If that's what you want to do.'

'You're darned right it's what I want to do,' said Dan, thinking furiously.

'OK, I want both of you ready to roll in ten minutes. Don't tell anyone else about this, Hui Fen, because Brother have spies everywhere, including in this building.'

'Sir, begging your pardon,' said Hui Fen.

'What, Ah Fen?'

'Sir, I'm happy to go on the raid. But not as a shock troop. I'm not a good shot with a gun. Just in case it comes to that. You need more people with you sir, the three of us are not enough.'

'I know Ah Fen.'

'Sir,' said Liu Jai. 'I will call Sergeant Tung. He lives nearby. He did not want to be part of a special Brother investigation team but I know he will join us for a hot mission like this. It's his job and he will do it.'

'Thanks Liu Jai. OK phone Ah Tung and get him here now. I'm going to the bar.'

'The bar sir?'

'I saw Tse Siu Lung, the DDI, and two uniformed inspectors heading for the officers' mess a moment ago. If I'm lucky they won't have had a beer yet. I'll try and get them to join us. Then we'll be seven, including Hui Fen. OK everyone, we leave here in eight minutes, no matter what happens.'

Six minutes later, just as Ah Tung walked in, Dan began his briefing.

'Welcome all of you to this impromptu SWAT team. We're going to rush a warehouse in Wong Tai Sin. Hui Fen has the address. We believe there are drugs there but we don't know how many bad guys. We're going in two cars, mine and the DDI's Mr Tse. We'll just have to get there, survey the scene when we arrive and make an onsite decision as to how we're going to make the bust. We have no time to do a recce. Any questions?'

'I can help,' said one of the uniformed inspectors. 'My name is Cheng, I've just come off shift with Emergency Unit. I'm going into the yard now to round up a few lads. We'll take a Land Rover and follow you. The Land Rover has some axes and crow bars in the boot in case we need to smash our way in. OK?'

'Brilliant,' said Dan, checking his watch. 'Thanks Cheng, your initiative is really appreciated. OK, to the vehicles everyone, let's go.'

The Blue Diamond Warehouse and Godown

There were brothers standing in tiers on boxes and crates. There were brothers lining both of the side walls and brothers had even climbed up to the gantry and perched themselves along its length, legs swinging into the space below.

Rank had its privileges of course so at the front of the ensemble were current Brother of Brothers, Fatty Lo flanked by Frenchy and Chopper Kwok. Beside and behind these were the other senior men in the organisation with their odd titles: Red Pole Enforcers, White Paper Fan Organisers, 'Forty-Nine' Fighters and even some Blue Lantern initiates.

The cock pit was concealed with oak beams and covered with rugs as if it did not exist. Sitting cross-legged on the rugs and surrounded by the thick wall of Brother men were the twenty or so members of Golden Horse who had been present on the night Nancy was raped. They looked about them cautiously and awaited their fate with resignation. Whatever would be, would be. Many claimed they had not touched Nancy and had simply enjoyed the brandy, the drugs and the gambling. Few believed them.

All were facing towards a small area at one end of the godown on which was placed an ordinary fork lift pallet, covered with a sheet of clean dark plywood.

Lighting was limited to a number of wall lights, installed by Brother specifically to create the right atmosphere for cockfighting nights. Someone with thespian pretensions had helpfully installed a temporary floodlight which rayed down on the pallet. Many were smoking cigarettes but there was no drink. It was not that kind of night.

The Golden Horse men were sullen and subdued. But they were also frightened. They knew that if the mood turned nasty it was quite possible that some or all of them could be executed. There had been little contact between Brother and Golden Horse before now so there were no fraternal relationships, no joint money-making escapades to reflect on and no shared histories of drinking and whoring to bind them together.

A low murmur continued around the room as gangsters deliberated with their mates about what would happen next. There was no precedent for this gathering, no guideline. And it came at a time when Brother itself was already riven through with fractures. Cliques of brothers stood with each other, ignoring other cliques. Suspicious glances abounded. All organisations had cliques and politics. Brother's were now bubbling to the surface.

Outside, tin man tois - royal observatories - stood guard in case of a police raid. Though if it happened, well, they were just a voluntary organisation having a conference, what harm in that?

Inside, smoke drifted upward and the ubiquitous mosquitoes dived, settled and gorged their fill on the many veins that stood high, blood pumping through them in tense excitement.

Fatty Lo cleared his throat and the room fell silent. His position as ultimate boss was under threat but until that particular question was resolved he was still Brother of Brothers, Dragon Head, Fraternal Master.

'Brothers,' he called out in his familiar calm voice. 'We are gathered here tonight because of a shocking event that has befallen one of our own. You all know what happened. In front of us we are joined by the entire membership of Golden Horse who all took part in that event. They inflicted a grievous insult on our ancient and estimable order when they insulted our sister.'

Here there was a general murmur of approval, tinged with anger. Whilst many of the Brother members in the room had seen Nancy at the cock fight, few of them knew her well and some had not met her at all. The most they knew was that she was an effective casino hostess who had learned Cantonese in double quick time. She had worked her way into Fatty's confidence after performing some unknown, but apparently very difficult, mission overseas. However, she was one of them and that's what mattered. In an organisation that saw itself as besieged by the police, the media, other triads and an unfriendly public, anyone who could be called 'one of us' got a sympathy vote.

'Nevertheless,' Fatty raised his voice realising that he needed to tone things down before they got out of hand. 'Nevertheless,' he repeated, 'before we rush to judge our colleagues from another band, a band that may still one day become part of Brother..'

There were mumbles of both agreement and disagreement at this

'..we must ask the one who was offended to join us. And when she does I am going to ask each member of Golden Horse to stand up and offer their apology. Once that is finished I and the other leaders will gauge the sincerity of the apology and decide the forfeit they must pay.'

Some of the Golden Horse men looked around them at the shining, sweaty faces that outnumbered them ten to one. They quickly looked down at the floor again, eager not to inflame the already hostile gangster shell that encased them.

Fatty Lo made a gesture to the front with his hand and the room fell silent again. All eyes focused ahead, many standing on tip toe to make sure they missed nothing.

A slim figure emerged from the side and walked with measured step to the pallet, stood on it and turned to face the assembled throng.

But if any in the room had expected a meek and mousey administrator type, or an elegant arm-dressing for a rich, fat mobster or even a frightened abashed little girl whose ambition had outstretched her ability and was now shaken to the core, they were to be disappointed.

Nancy faced her inquisitors with a look that would have stopped a Mongol invasion.

Her dark hair hung down behind her over a mid-length black dress on top of black tights and open-toe black shoes. Her right arm lay casually at her waist while her left hand was placed on her hip making a v of her elbow. She slowly surveyed the faces in front of her from left to right with an intensity that made men falter. Many said later it felt like she could see inside their minds and they were frightened what she might find there. Such was the piercing quality of her look that many stopped breathing in case the sound of it should draw her attention. Eventually Nancy's eyes found their way to Frenchy, Chopper Kwok and finally Fatty Lo. No judgement or condemnation did she make with her regard. No sound did she utter, she didn't need to. All were fixed on her as if the four horses of the Apocalypse had come among them, for judgement day was surely here and Nancy held the gavel.

Nancy lowered her gaze and began to look from one to another of the huddled masses in front of her. These too, could not unglue their eyes from her unflinching stare. They had been told to confess their sin but all remained mute, awaiting her order. It was Nancy, not Fatty, who would determine what happened next. Still she was in no hurry. Her eyes probed the gang and dwelt on each man in turn, holding them as if on justice scales. Each one was weighed up, measured out, divided. The silence was absolute. If a beetle had fallen to the floor, everyone would have heard the thump.

Nancy let her gaze fall on a face in the middle of the group. He was one of Monkey's right hand men, a tough-looking former pimp and drug dealer. He too was transfixed. Nancy jerked her chin a fraction of an inch, summoning him to the front. He moved forward on his hands and knees until he crouched before her. Nancy looked down on him until he raised his head and met her gaze. For half a minute she continued to look into his eyes with unblinking stare. He returned the look, too terrified to move or drop his head. We both know what you did, Nancy's look said. If you thought I was a willing prostitute, know this now, I was not. You violated me.

There was no rancour or threat in Nancy's eyes. There was no rage or revenge. Just the white hot glare of ferocious fact. The triads behind were as silent as a terracotta army and just as still. Only their wide white eyes showed they were sentient beings, not clay. Slowly, almost imperceptibly Nancy moved her right foot forward a few inches till it rested just underneath the gangster's leaning body. She nodded to it while still keeping her eyes on him.

After a moment the pimp understood. He lowered his head to the floor and touched her stockinged toe with his forehead through her open shoe. He looked back at Nancy. She held his look until she was satisfied. Then she nodded that he could go. As he crept back to his place, Nancy moved her gaze to the next man. Soundlessly she summoned him too and he shuffled forward and looked up into her eyes. After many seconds of her soul-penetrating gaze he too was allowed to kowtow her foot and then raise his head to look back up at her till he was released.

So it went on until all of Golden Horse had made their act of atonement. It was not the act that any in the room had expected. But it was an act more powerful and more cleansing than any had thought possible.

The mood in the room had changed. Duty had been done. Ceremony had been observed. Honour had been restored. Face had been given.

Nancy looked briefly from Frenchy to Chopper and thence to Fatty Lo. They returned her look with a new respect. All around the room, Brother men beheld her redoubtable features and stern composure with wonder. They knew they were experiencing a very special moment. In return, Nancy lowered her head briefly as token of respect to the Brother men. Then she turned and stepped off the stage and departed the scene as noiselessly as she had arrived. Throughout the entire encounter Nancy had not spoken a single word. People started to move and breathe again. Death had put away his scythe. It was over.

Golden Horse men stood up and started to look about them. They were still uncertain, but no longer afraid.

It was Frenchy who now seized the initiative.

'Golden Horse,' he called. 'You have made your apology and it was seen to be sincere and has been accepted.' He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. 'Your former Dragon Head has told you that you are now part of Brother. This is true. But it is not compulsory. If any of you want to leave, do so now and you may go without trouble. If you stay, you will become part of Brother and will become equals with us. Choose now.'

It was a bold move. Not only did Frenchy in his immaculately tailored outfit look the part, but in one instant he had both shown himself as a rival for the crown of leadership with Fatty Lo and also gone one up on his rival Chopper Kwok. The Golden Horse men looked at each other, all of them asking the same question with their eyes, 'are you staying or leaving?' The same answer came back, spoken through their body language. None of them made for the door. They were Brother.

There was general, though unspoken, agreement that Frenchy had made the right call. Nancy's performance and Frenchy's short speech had done what had seemed impossible only an hour before. Brother was healed and was back on track. In fact, Brother was bigger than before with two dozen more willing workers swelling its ranks. There was a mood to lighten the atmosphere and some men went to bring crates of beer.

But there was one notable absence. Chopper Kwok was no longer in the building. He had left the party early.

Kodrob's Squadroom, Pentacurse, Inferno

Kodrob watched Zhivkin leave the room and followed him with his eyes until he was out of sight. Then he listened by the door for another minute until he was sure the Russian devil would not return.

'Pu,' he shouted without turning his head. The little imp appeared by his side a moment later. 'Take off,' Kodrob growled, 'I'll watch the prisoner.'

Pu Gash gave a sideways look at his embattled boss and hesitated for a moment. Kodrob raised his voice a notch. 'That's not a request'.

As the little demon trotted off, casting doubtful glances over his shoulder, Kodrob crossed the squadroom slowly to Pu Gash's petrol station.

He poured himself a thick tarsand, lit it with a black Lucifer and dropped into a skinbone chair opposite the wheezing Jabez.

'Thirsty?' asked Kodrob. He expected and got no answer. Jabez watched as Kodrob reached into an inner pocket and removed a bottle. He threw it to the angel who caught it cleanly.

'Drink it,' ordered Kodrob. 'It's what you think it is.'

Jabez removed the top with one hand and sniffed it. 'Water?'

'The purest,' replied the demon captain. 'We keep it for interrogations. It frightens the hell out of defiant demons. Burns them too if we have to go that far.'

Jabez sipped the fluid suspiciously, swilled it round his mouth and swallowed some. He waited a few moments for ill-effects, searching Kodrob's face while he did so.

'Why have you given me this? What do you want?'

'To keep you alive, and, nothing.'

Jabez drank half the water and tried to sit up straight. 'That is good, really good.'

'I'm pleased. Just don't give me all that blessing bit. It's a little late for all that around here.'

'How did you end up here?'

Kodrob smiled. 'In Inferno?'

'Yes.'

'I killed a few people and took their horses. Burned their tents too. Apparently it's frowned upon by your lot. That's why they wouldn't let me in.'

'You didn't know that killing people was wrong?'

'Where I come from in Assyria it was virtuous to kill people. It's what they taught in all the best schools. You passed out top of your class and had your pick of slaves if you mastered the Fifteen Unarmed Ways to Kill and could arrow-split a walnut at 25 paces. And when you brought home your first three enemy heads they gave you land. Killing Assyria's enemies was honourable, noble even. I thought I was heading for Warriors' Paradise.'

Jabez drank another gulp.

'What will they do if they know you gave me water?'

'Husk me.'

'Huh?'

'It means kill me a little. I will come back as a diminished demon, a lower rank. Less intelligent, less strong, less able. A step towards the final end.'

'And you don't mind that?'

'Of course I mind. I cling on to existence even though here there's not much existence to cling onto. I have to serve deadly directors like Bezejel and Hideki from time to time. So far I've survived. Maybe this time I won't. In the meantime I just do my job. I take my pay. I go to the squawhouse and then I come back the next day and do it all over again.'

'So if you don't mind me asking again, why did you give me water?'

'I don't know. Honestly, I don't know.' Kodrob laughed, stirred his burning tarsand with his thumb and sucked it.

'I heard you and the other demon plan to torture me tomorrow.'

'He's planning to torture you, yes.'

'And you?'

Kodrob was silent and looked down at his drink. 'It wasn't my plan,' he said eventually, 'Zhiv is cruel. That's his way. His need to watch others suffer overrides his common sense, even his own self-preservation. That's why he's dangerous. And he's got me naked against the whipping wall. If I try to stop him, he'll mouth off to Bezejel and the others that I'm soft. Then I'll get husked.'

Both of them drank. And waited.

Pearl River Wholesalers, Block 17, Wong Tai Sin Lower Estate, Kowloon

Inside the sparse plain-fronted building, Nescafé Mao and two of his henchmen, father and son Chen Shou-shan and Chen Wu-zhou were gathered around crates of sugar, flour, noodles, rice, tea and coffee.

'I shouldn't have to come out and supervise this myself, Ah Shou,' said Nescafé Mao crossly to the older man. 'It's time you did this yourself.'

'But sir, I was never taught to write. I can hardly read. My Shan Tung parents were very poor and could not afford to send me to school. And my son Ah Wu is too weak in the head to learn. We cannot label the boxes and jars ourselves.'

'What did Fang say?'

'Sir, he said his father suffered a heart attack and he had to go to Fanling in the New Territories urgently.'

'That's what he told me too,' said Nescafé, resignedly. 'I still don't believe him, slippery bastard.'

'Right, let's set up a production line and get this done quickly,' went on Nescafé. 'Wu, you open the containers with the jemmy and pass one jar from each container to your dad. Shou, you unscrew the jars, empty out some coffee and shove a packet of red chicken heroin into each, making sure the packet is not visible from the outside. I'll write out the 'Special Offer' labels and stick them on the jars and put them back in the containers. We should be done in an hour. Then we'll lock up and clear off and the delivery boys will distribute them in the morning. Got it?'

'Yes sir. Thank you sir. Sorry sir,' shouted father and son together.

Outside, in a street around the corner, ten police officers, some of them in uniform, alighted from their vehicles. They split into three groups and approached Block 17 from different directions. The 'tin man toi' look-out that Nescafé had posted outside the metal-shuttered door was smoking a cigarette and looking up and down the street.

It was the first cold night of the year and his thin jacket was barely keeping him warm. He paced up and down to keep his blood pumping and pulled his collar about him for warmth. The tin man toi straightened up when he saw two uniformed police officers walking towards him. They were chatting in a relaxed fashion and seemed to be out on patrol. Nothing wrong with that. If he rapped on the door now they'd see his alarm and be suspicious. Let them pass. He scrutinised them up and down without trying to look too obvious. Hang on, he thought, looking at their gaiters and long batons, they're Emergency Unit, riot police. They're not local. There's something wrong.

A hand grabbed his arm from behind and wrenched him away from the steel door. The tin man toi tried to kick the shutter in warning but he had been hauled too far away from it. Another hand clamped over his mouth while a second officer, in plain clothes, stepped in front of him holding a revolver aimed at his chest with a remarkably steady pair of hands.

'Quiet now,' said Dan in Cantonese. The lookout calculated his chances and realised he had few options. His body sagged in submission and one of the uniforms hauled him off to the Land Rover.

Dan and his team regrouped and scanned the building's defences. The steel shutter was clearly too strong to bust open. But there was a side door.

A telephone rang inside.

'They must have had a second tin man toi somewhere else,' hissed Dan. He looked up at Block 22 opposite. Nothing. If someone had seen them and was making the call, they'd be indoors now anyway. 'Let's go.' Two uniforms struck at the lock of the side door with a six foot crow bar. The door held fast. The forced entry could take minutes and that was too long. Shouts inside. As the uniforms pulled back for another assault, Liu Jai stepped forward, reached for the door handle and pulled it down. It was unlocked and the door flew open. The nine officers almost crushed each other in their efforts to get through the narrow door. As they burst in there were shouts of, 'Don't move or I'll shoot', 'You're under arrest' and 'Stay where you are'. The floor of the building was strewn with spilled coffee jars, coffee granules, jemmies, plastic bags and half-drunk beer bottles. Three men were tearing open plastic bags containing coffee-like granules and rushing in relays to the toilet.

Within seconds two of them were on the ground with their hands behind their heads, several revolvers pointing down at them. There was still a lot of shouting as adrenalin worked its way through the police officers' fast-pumping bloodstreams. Nescafé Mao held out the longest. Inspector Cheng seized his arm in the dirty one-room toilet closet where he was desperately disposing of heroin granules into the sewer system. Cheng wrenched his fingers from the handle on the cistern then hauled him backwards till Nescafé came unstuck like a limpet off a rock. He span back into the warehouse sending a hail of granules over everyone in the room and knocking over several sacks of rice. Tripping over the edge of a pallet, he lay where he fell, staring up into the barrels of two Colt .38 snub noses. These weapons were not known for their accuracy or firepower. But at four feet they would easily take the back off his head and make the cleaner's job a lot messier. Nescafé shrugged. Brother could afford good lawyers.

The night was a long one. Detective support teams were called away from their families and beds to gather evidence that would later be produced in court. Photographers positioned tripods that flashed like starshells in a night battle. Uniforms with braid on their caps came out of nowhere to be snapped at the scene and take the credit. Police were sent door to door in the heavily populated neighbourhood to find out who knew what about Pearl River Wholesalers and take statements from anyone foolish enough to admit they knew something. TV journalists were briefed, blocked, escorted away, schmoozed and generally neutralised as far as possible. Evidence bags were stuffed, labelled, inventoried, classified, cross-referenced and taken away to a secure store. Finally, Dan made sure that everyone involved in the raid spent several hours writing complete statements listing every moment, every thought and every action of the night in infinitesimal detail. By the time all of these were translated into English, typed, checked, copied fifteen times on carbon paper and disseminated to every senior officer in Kowloon who wanted to be in on a successful swoop, the sun was well into its new arc and restaurants in Yaumati were already opening their doors for early dim summers.

Dan was exhausted as he left the office and walked down the street to stretch his legs. He would be home soon and able to have a shower, put his gun away and crash out for a few hours in readiness for the follow-up and the fall-out.

Traffic was already grid-locking in Nathan Road, lorries blocked lanes insouciantly as their human parasites offloaded scaffolding into building sites and taxis were parping horns to show their fares they were doing something about the delays. I love the smell of diesel in the morning, thought Dan.

Beside the door of a restaurant, a beggar, an old lady with sapphire blue eyes and a shawl over her hunched back, held out her hand to him. 'Sir, can you spare a little change? I'm hungry.'

Women's Dormitory, Sixth Floor, Golden Luck Casino

An eye for an eye. Nancy's face was half buried in the pillow as the memory of her sex slavery came back into her head, forcing out sleep. Her mind would play the awful scene again and again just like a horror blockbuster. She opened one eye and looked across to the next bed. Jenny was lying on her side, one eye visible, looking back at her. Both eyes blinked, out of sync. The blinks turned to winks as the game began. Eyelids became shutters on morse lanterns beaming out unintelligible sequences. A sound track was added as giggles accompanied the light show. The winks became grimaces as cheeks pulled sideways and noses turned upwards. The grimace race continued as heads began to move and expressions contorted like children competing at a Hallowe'en party. Peace couldn't last. Physical violence was inevitable and soon the first sock was thrown as the confrontation burst out into open laughter and both women launched ballistic pillow attacks on the other's position. Slipper mortars rained down to devastating concussive effect while paper aeroplanes, rapidly manufactured on a war footing, zoomed across nearly two feet of no man's land taking no prisoners, strafing remorselessly and ending up all too often crashed and buckled under a bed. The women took turns to emulate the dead pilots' heart-rending bravery as they tried to exit their burning craft and perished, half in and half out of their cockpits. The UN made no effort to separate the bitter protagonists and it was only an eleventh hour show of statesmanship and an appeal to decency by Jenny that eventually allowed a shaky truce and cease-fire. 'Nancy, look at the time, let's go down to a stall for breakfast and get some noodles.' The world looked on and saluted this extraordinary and courageous suggestion but it was met with equal wisdom by the other belligerent. 'Race you to the shower,' replied Nancy and World War III was averted while the two friends splashed, scrubbed, washed, brushed, dressed, shoed, ear-ringed, blushed, mascaraed and exited in less time than it takes to say Treaty of Kowloon.

Down on the street, traffic was almost stationary and the air was thicker than usual with smoke and fumes.

'Come on,' said Nancy, 'I had a big night last night so I'll treat you to dim sum at the Ho Fook. It will be more comfortable indoors.'

They entered and took their table in the middle of the big salon which was already filling up with hungry shoppers and textile businessmen. Kippah-capped Jews talked gold with smiths out of Shanghai while German investors mulled casino interiors with Macau architects. Red streamers decorated the walls and papier maché dragon's heads blessed the diners and warned evil spirits to depart this world. Or at least go next door to a rival eatery and curse them instead.

While they were eating, Nancy related the events at the Blue Diamond and how it seemed that hostilities had been set aside and Golden Horse were now clear to join Brother, all reputations and honour restored. She played down her role in the affair but Jenny could guess her performance had been pivotal.

As they were talking Ko-yee, Fatty Lo's messenger and office administrator, entered the restaurant and stood near the door peering around. Spotting Nancy he came over, nodded to Jenny and then with great courtesy addressed himself directly to the westerner.

'Miss Nancy, Mr Lo would be pleased if you would have dinner with him tonight at the Furama Hotel on Hong Kong Island. He will send a car for you at seven.'

'Miss Nancy,' exclaimed Jenny after he had gone. 'And the Furama! You've gone up in the world, my dear.'

But even more surprising, a few minutes later the dapper, moustachioed figure of Frenchy appeared in person and presented himself before the pair. After greeting Jenny with a peck on the cheek he turned to Nancy.

'Miss Nancy, may I congratulate you on your diplomacy last night. You rescued victory from a very difficult situation. You have become a person of stature in our fraternal order. Would you do me the honour of joining me for dinner tomorrow night at the Peninsula Hotel so we can discuss your rightful place in the company?'

After he had left the two women were so engrossed in their conversation they didn't notice the young western man who sat down at the next table with an elderly, shabbily dressed beggar woman.

'Nancy, do you realise what's happened?' asked Jenny, her eyes wide in astonishment. 'Fatty is trying to reassert himself as Brother leader again and Frenchy is also pitching to take over. They're both trying to get you to endorse them. Nancy, you've become...' Jenny couldn't think of the word.

'King-maker,' said Nancy in English. 'I don't know the Cantonese for that.'

'Yes, I understand that word,' said Jenny, excitedly. 'But the king-maker also becomes the second most important person in the organisation. You will be the power behind the throne. Nancy, in due course you might become the..well, Brother of Brothers isn't quite right. They'll have to make up a new title for you. You could be the next Dragon Head of Brother.'

Nancy considered this for a moment. 'You know, I'm not sure that's really what I want. I don't know that I want to go that high in the organisation.'

As Jenny frowned, Nancy continued. 'Don't get me wrong, I like Brother and I want to build my career here. I think I can help them become more professional and outward-looking. But I'm not sure I want to be leader. I'm just not that ambitious.'

'Poor child,' said Jenny only half-mockingly. 'There must be something in the soy sauce that's turned your brains into minced pork today. You have leadership and ability gushing out of every pore in your tough-as-dragon-scale skin. You have all these hard men eating out of your hand and you want to be a passenger in the car and not the driver. Don't worry. Your madness will pass, Nancy. You'll be better by dinner time.' And Jenny squeezed Nancy's hand before adding in a whisper, 'And when you are Dragon Head, you will need a secretary. Someone you can trust and throw pillows at when you get stressed. I think I know someone who can do that job very well.'

As Nancy laughed Jenny suddenly looked down at her watch. 'I have to be at work, I'm late,' she said, jumping up. 'See you later.' And with a kiss on the cheek she was gone.

Nancy sat back and found herself gazing up at the chandelier. It's hundred pendant crystals reflected the reds and yellows and whites from all around the crowded room. They twirled gently this way and that as the door opened and customers went in or out, letting in a draught. Two of the crystals detached themselves from their holders. They reshaped themselves into the letters t and e and then journeyed around the rest of the chandelier like a slow train, threading, looping, swooping, circling and porpoising in and out, around and around. Always t followed by e, never the other way around.

Nancy wasn't frightened. There was already so much drama in her life that a little weirdness wasn't going to make a great deal of difference. Who was afraid of the alphabet?

Red Siste

Pretty obvious what was coming next. Been obvious since the second s really. Calm though she was, a slight shiver ran through Nancy's body as she spoke the two words to herself. But no-one in Brother had ever used those words together before. Well, whatever was going on it was out of her hands. Anyway, time to think about more important things. Can I afford to buy a new dress for my dinner dates?

'Hello,' said a male voice beside her, in English.

Dan looked down at the diminutive figure of the old woman beggar.

Damn it. He was dog-tired and his nerves were frazzled and he had just arrested a senior officer of the most powerful criminal organisation in Hong Kong. He wanted sleep and he wanted a drink. Not necessarily in that order.

Yet here on the busy streets of the richest area of Kowloon was an old, frail woman who just wanted a hot meal. Dan fished in his pocket and found a $HK100 note. That was a week's spending money. He couldn't afford to part with that. The woman looked at him, her expectations raised, the gratitude already in her eye. He couldn't walk away now.

The Ho Fook restaurant they were standing beside wasn't one Dan had used before. Detectives were creatures of habit like everyone else and Dan's squad tended to stick to the places they trusted. Maybe it was better he took her somewhere he wouldn't be seen by anyone he knew.

'Yap lei ah,' he said, trying to hide his lack of enthusiasm. 'Sik faan.' Come in. Let's have a bite.

'Doh je, nei yau sam.' Thank you, you are so kind, said Ruth.

She turned suddenly, more nimbly than he expected and led the way into the restaurant to a table near the middle of the room leaving him in her wake. How did she walk so fast, an old lady like that? She must be really hungry.

'Thank you, sir, you will be much blessed,' said Ruth, laying a hand on Dan's arm after he'd sat down. Dan was nervous of the bedraggled, hunched old lady but tried not to show it. He hoped she would not embarrass him by calling out to other diners or slopping her food.

A waitress appeared an instant later. Crikey, thought Dan, I've never been served that quickly before. The woman ordered a dish of Singapore noodles with a plate of choi sum and oyster sauce. Dan ordered tea and a beer. He looked about him. Mixture of Chinese and westerners. Odd for Yaumati, not that many white faces came this far north of the Star Ferry usually. Beside him, two young women were engaged in earnest conversation, oblivious of everyone else.

The waitress returned with the food and drinks - fast again! - and set them down on the table. The beggar woman tucked in and ate noisily, looking up and smiling at Dan from time to time.

Dan tried to drink his beer slowly. He looked at the two women again. The western one looked English by complexion but was speaking not bad Cantonese. Not seen her around here before. A light went on in his head. No, couldn't be. She looks much too nice to be the mysterious western newcomer making headlines at Brother.

He turned back to his guest. The old woman had finished her meal. She burped loudly and smiled at him, dabbing the corner of her mouth. 'Thank you, sir,' she said, then rose, bowed and headed straight for the door. Gratitude! Another diner walked into her path and bumped into her. A bluish-white feather fell to the floor as she continued her journey and left the restaurant without looking back.

Dan looked down at his glass which was empty in a seriously unfunny way. Another beer or home to bed?

Beside him, the Chinese girl had left and the westerner was staring at the chandelier with a curious mixture of concentration and calmness.

Always worth a shot.

'Hello,' he said. 'My name's Dan. Do you speak English?'

The girl turned and looked at him as if she'd been dragged from another galaxy.

'Yes,' said Nancy, guardedly.

'Oh, well I was just going to have another beer. I see you're alone. Can I join you and buy you a drink?'

'Actually I was just about to...'

She stopped and stared. Dan's neck chain dangled forward. A little silver ingot fell out in front of his shirt and settled at a slight angle over his top button. 1.11

Dan noticed the surprise on Nancy's face. 'Are you, OK?' he asked, looking down and fingering the ingot which had clearly caught her attention.

Nancy looked back at Dan's face and then down to his ingot again.

'That number,' she said, 'what does it mean?'

'Oh that,' said Dan, suddenly embarrassed. 'Er, well.'

He was still sitting at the adjacent table with his body half-twisted round to face her. A waitress passed and asked if he would like anything else.

'Er, well,' said Dan looking down at his glass and back at Nancy. 'Erm.'

Nancy pulled back a chair beside her. Dan slid across, suddenly feeling both pleased and out of control at the same time.

'Get him a beer please and I'll have some tea,' she said commandingly to the waitress.

Dan looked at Nancy anew. She was attractive certainly. But there was something about her that seemed quite high powered, forceful even. She'd spot any bullshit instantly for sure.

'Thank you, don't worry. I'll pay,' he said, trying to regain the initiative.

'It's on me,' said Nancy decisively. Bloomin' hec, this woman was a force.

'The number,' she reminded him. 'You were going to tell me about it.'

'Oh yes, the number.' Dan wanted to talk about anything but the number.

'What's in a number?' he laughed.

'I don't know, what's in a number?'

Jiggered.

'Well it's something I had made. When I came here. To Hong Kong, that is. I'd forgotten I was wearing it actually.' Dan fingered the silver ingot for a moment before tucking it back inside his shirt.

'So, is it a lucky charm?'

'No, that wouldn't be right, not a charm,' Dan blurted. 'Well if you must know, it symbolises, I mean it means, I mean it represents the Trinity.'

'The Trinity?'

'Yes.'

'And what's that?'

'Er..God.'

'God?'

'Yes. All three.'

'There are three Gods?'

'No. Just one.' He laughed weakly.

'One God. But three of him. Fascinating. Explain.'

Dan shrugged his shoulders helplessly. 'I can't. It's a mystery. It's just one of those things. You can't explain it.'

'Try harder.'

Dan's smile was becoming increasingly forced. He wanted to romance this woman. But she had him on the ropes and wouldn't let him off.

'OK, let me think for a moment. Right. There's one God. But three persons.'

'Is it Jesus, Mary and Joseph?'

'No. They're the Holy Family.'

'Oh. Is it Peter, Paul and Mary?'

'No. They're a singing group. But they had a great hit with Puff the Magic Dragon. What sort of music do you like?'

Escape. Off and running. He looked down and noticed Nancy's legs in their black tights.

Nancy seemed about to answer. Then her expression changed back.

'Three persons. Who are they?'

He felt like he'd walked out of gaol and then been re-arrested.

'OK, I've got it now.' He'd get through this bit quickly and then move on to some witty chatlines. 'They're God, the Holy Spirit and Jesus.'

'I've heard of Jesus. Good, we're making progress. So why is he God? And who's the other one?'

'The other one?'

'The middle man. I mean the middle God. The Holy Spirit. Where does he come in?'

Dan drew a deep breath. Only a few hours before he'd conducted a brilliant bust. He'd arrested a major drugs dealer from Hong Kong's biggest crime organisation. As a result his name was all around headquarters. It was the kind of fame every policeman wanted. Yet now he was involved in trying to explain the unexplainable to a complete stranger. It wasn't fair. He was also very tired and slightly woozy with the beer.

But she wasn't going to let him go. 'Come on, you're doing so well. Are you OK for time?'

Dan could see Nancy was enjoying herself. She had crossed her arms and there was a semi-smile on her lips.

'Er, yeah, I suppose.'

The beer and tea arrived. Dan took a large glug of Dutch courage and wiped his lips with his hand. His expression became more serious as his chat-up brain stood down and his logical brain reluctantly stood up.

He looked the curious female stranger in the eye.

'OK, here goes. God', he said, 'the first of the 'ones', is the bloke who made the Universe. But he's too big to fit into it. If he appeared here right now it would be like an elephant in a matchbox.' Dan made the sound of an explosion and opened his arms out wide. Nancy's expression didn't change.

'Then there's the Holy Spirit.' He looked down again. Such nice legs. 'Since God would cause a massive explosion if he came here, the Spirit's a bit like having God on the phone. He's not really there with you, not properly, but he sort of is, in your ear.'

Dan took a big breath, 'And then there's Jesus.'

He looked at Nancy with a triumphant smile as though he'd finished.

'Mm hmm?'

'Well you know about him, don't you?'

'Not really.'

'You don't? You never heard about him? Even at school?'

'Maybe I wasn't paying attention. My childhood was a bit..fraught.'

'Oh.'

'So go on.'

'Oh, OK.' Dan swallowed and looked around the room. Against the wall a lobster in a fish tank was clawing at the glass, trying to escape. A plaster mermaid in a sunken ship behind it regarded its flailing efforts but made no move to help. Above them, sea bass window-shopped the diners, flicking their tails lazily and waiting for dinner.

His mouth was dry again. When his eyes eventually came back to Nancy she was still looking at him, waiting.

'Well, he was a teacher.'

He paused and smiled thinly, waiting for Nancy to respond.

'A teacher.'

'Yes, well, a rabbi. It means teacher.' He stared at his beer glass, searching for inspiration. 'It's a Jewish word. I mean Hebrew. It's a Hebrew word.' He cocked his head on one side, looking up. 'Or was it Aramaic?'

'I don't know. Was it?'

'One or the other. Anyway he was in Israel. Well, I mean, it's Israel, now. But it was different then. It all moves around.' Dan smiled nervously and rolled his hands in the air, forefingers protruding.

'Oh?'

'Well, it was part of Rome. I mean, the empire. The Roman Empire, that is. Not the city. It wasn't part of Rome itself.'

Tiny beads of sweat emerged on Dan's forehead.

'Sure? Not the British Empire?'

'No, of course not.' He gasped out a laugh and looked back into her eyes like a grateful dog.

'Judea, that was it.' He clicked his fingers. 'It's all coming back.' He snatched at his beer and swigged it, wetting his parched lips before replacing the glass on the table.

'So he was a teacher in Judea. What sort? Maths? English?' Nancy permitted herself the ghost of a smile.

'No. Not that sort of teacher.' Dan's eyes searched Nancy's face again. Uncertainty had returned to his expression. She was teasing him. 'He taught about...being good and stuff. He was a preacher.'

'A preacher teacher.'

'Yes, I suppose. Good way of putting it.' His breath was coming shorter and shorter. He flashed his eyes at the door.

'So what did he do? Why is he one of the 'ones' on your necklace?'

'Well he died and then came back.' Dan stared at Nancy, nervousness in his eyes, waiting for her reaction. His upper lip shivered a little. 'So they say.' He picked up his beer glass again and held it close to his chest.

Nancy crossed her legs slowly. Dan knew fairly certainly that she was torturing him.

'So they say? You don't sound very certain.' Her eyes reached out like tractor beams on a rabbit at night, pinning him.

Dan breathed in deeply. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came. Nancy stepped in to break the silence. 'Didn't it all get a bit messy at the end?'

Dan stared down at his glass and then back at her. 'Well, I suppose saving the world you're bound to make some enemies.' He rested his arm momentarily on the table before replacing it in his lap. 'Anyway, it's a matter of faith. Either you believe or you don't.' His eyes wrenched themselves away from her face and made a Z across her body. The snug breasts. The flat stomach. Those legs.

She reeled him back. 'And you believe?'

'Yes. Well, I guess, well yes, I do actually. Yes. I do.' He drank again, looking at her over the glass's rim, half-expecting her to laugh. But she wasn't mocking him now. There was a warmth in her eyes towards him that wasn't there earlier. Her long brown hair rested on the seat-back behind her. He would like to see it resting on his shoulder. 'What about you?'

'I don't know.' It was Nancy's turn to pause. 'So Jesus was a Jew?'

'Yes. He was a Jew. Hundred per cent.'

'Not a Christian?'

'Well, no. That came later. He was Jewish. All of them were.'

'Oh.' Nancy began to shuffle her feet. Dan opened his mouth, searching for something to say. Anything to keep her there.

But she beat him to it. 'One last thing.'

'Go on.' Dan just wanted this conversation to end so he could ask her out on a date.

'Why the dot after the first 'one'?'

'Er, well, that's because although God, the Holy Spirit and Jesus are all equal, they're all number one, numero uno -' he winced at his own awful gag - 'God came first. So the dot separates them.'

Nancy nodded and looked down at her watch. 'Well, thank you. That was all very interesting.' And she finished her tea, rose from the table, gathered her bag and turned to go. 'I'll pay the bill,' she said, throwing some notes on the table. 'Goodbye.'

And before he could react she strode to the door, went out into the street and was gone.

Dan sat there holding his beer feeling desperately alone. He stared at her empty chair amazed at his sudden sadness. He wondered how he'd lost his heart to a woman whose name he'd forgotten to ask and who he'd only met half an hour before.

Nancy walked down Nathan Road heading back towards the Golden Luck. Dinner with Fatty tonight. Dinner with Frenchy tomorrow. Got to prepare my thoughts. Choose some clothes. Learn more Cantonese. Are they both really pitching for my support? Who will make the better leader? What do I want out of it? Must think of a price. Quite cute that Dan. Shame he's in a different world from mine.

She thought about their conversation. 1.11. The Trinity. Really! After all that build-up over the last few weeks, seeing 1.11 everywhere. And it just means the Trinity? Is that all? Underwhelming. Completely underwhelming. And it's got nothing to do with me anyhow. Well, it's not going to change anything. Anything at all.

Lining the street were dozens of stalls selling toys, clothes, trinkets, cheap jewellery, cosmetics, brushes. Among the buildings Nancy noticed a smart jewellery shop she had often looked at before. In the window were watches, bracelets, rings, necklaces, pendants, ear-rings, even tiaras. One item caught her eye.

She walked into the shop, pointed out the necklace to the assistant and tried it on in front of a mirror. There was an odd feeling as she turned this way and that, letting it catch the light on its two triangles of jade inlay, now on one side and now on the other. It felt like it belonged. She looked at the label knowing the notional asking price was only the starting point for a negotiation. 'Give me your best price,' she said to the assistant in Cantonese.

The woman looked at Nancy a second time, picked up a pocket calculator and jabbed at it several times, holding the machine out to show her the result.

Nancy handed over the money and walked proudly out of the shop and back into the pell mell of Nathan Road, wearing the necklace. Would the menfolk of Brother know the significance of her new jewellery? Or the women for that matter? Maybe, maybe not. But Nancy did and she had a skip in her stride as she walked along the pavement holding her hand up to her new necklace and letting her fingers gently test each of the six points of the small star hanging from it. The Star of David.

Chopper's Apartment, Ho Tin Girl Friend Bar and Film Club, Yaumati, Kowloon

Nescafé Mao sat on the edge of Chopper's sofa with both hands behind his head. He was bowed over almost to the ground while he waited out the typhoon of terror that thundered around the room, throwing ornamental plaster warriors to the ground and sending their bone china spirits back to the earthenware underworld.

Wolf Smoke lay in his basket under a table, his dark fur flecked with flakes of ceramic. He raised his head and chased an itch with his sharp canines, the only one in the room pretending all was normal. A dust pall swirled gently in the air, sliced in two by a ceiling light as particles of plaster ambled into existence from nowhere, lived briefly then turned tail and vanished again.

Wonton Chiang, door marshal of the moment, stood still and silent as a saint's statue in a church, staring down at the powdered loafers on his feet. A ring of glass from a broken lampshade lay around them like a fallen halo. His body language warned Nescafé against trying a headlong exit, surely a temptation for someone who had stirred Chopper's ire to this degree.

But his mind was in last night's and next night's conquests, stealing immigrants away from the fate of good factory jobs that otherwise awaited, sifting the easily led from the resolute, watching his venomous words as they snaked their way into homeless heads and worked their poison in anxious hearts and finally taking his work home mini-skirted, jeaned, zipped or buttoned and tasting the first fruits of his labour à la horizontal while pricing it, $50, $70 or even $100 a throw for punters who cared to throw that much away in five minutes of superimposed rapture.

By contrast Mars Ma followed every move of his boss, in part because he worshipped him and in part so he could see the next airborne champagne bottle or onyx ashtray before it described its near-straight arc through the plaster dust and dodge it before it added to the pattern of grooves on his windscreen-slashed face.

Two other mobsters, drivers for their deflated bosses, moulded themselves into the walls, wishing now that they had remained safe and bored playing with the buttons in their supercharged spoiler-tailed Porsches instead of coming up and hoping to spill some of their great-boss's Bollinger.

In the middle of the room stood the blowing volcano of Chopper himself, the psychotic cop-slasher. Hot lava blew out from him in all directions in the form of swear words, hatewords and chain-saw words that slashed and maimed his colleagues' egos unless, like Wonton, they could find a way to blot them out.

'...and that's what will happen to you if you ever, ever again do anything so stupid you bean-curd for brains, mile-high pile of cockroach dung.' Chopper was shaking as he stared down at Nescafé's bent head. He looked around him at the jetsam of his apartment, a ghastly assemblage of pine and chrome perfectly worthy of a cheap gangster. And that was before he wrecked it.

There was a knock at the door.

150 decibels of 'Come in' threw themselves past Wonton and made a scientifically measurable concave indent in the plywood and MDF fabric of the door to the Girl Friend Bar.

It opened and a Chopper sidekick came in, treading cautiously on the china shards and staring about him.

'What?' said Chopper, suddenly calm at the appearance of one of his own.

'Mr Kwok, sir, you asked me to watch the ghost detective Dan Kelly, sir.'

'Yes, Ah Leung, what have you found out?'

'Sir, he had some drinks and talks with Miss Nancy in the Ho Fook just now for about half an hour. Miss Nancy was there with Miss Jenny and when she left, Mr Kelly came over and sat at Miss Nancy's table. She behaved very distant with him. He did most of the talking. Then Miss Nancy left by herself and Mr Kelly left a few minutes later and returned to the police station.' Leung shut up and waited. He had learnt it was not good to speak while Chopper was trying to think.

'So,' said Chopper in an almost whisper to contrast with his bombast of moments ago. 'First, a senior officer in Kowloon Police Headquarters tells me that Kelly is targeting Brother. Then Kelly arrests Nescafé at the Pearl River Wholesalers in Wong Tai Sin as though he's been watching it for a long time. Now we find Kelly is trying to schmooze Nancy who even I have some sympathy with after her performance the other night. That's three things against Mr Kelly, one after another.'

Chopper kicked away some broken plaster pieces from his feet. He stooped and picked up the head and torso of a warrior figurine holding a spear and held it up in front of him.

'Yue Fei,' he said looking into the fierce eyes. 'This is Yue Fei everyone. There was a general who knew how to take care of his enemies. No mercy, no quarter, no prisoners, no falsehood. Yue Fei was a hero in his time and an inspiration to us now. '

Chopper looked around him at each of the six men in turn ensuring he had their complete attention. The figurine in his hand was like a broken Action Man in the hands of a spoilt boy.

'I'm going to capture Mr Kelly and I'm going to show all of you how we dispose of those who target us. I don't care that he's a cop. We're not just going to wait around while they pick us off. They come sneaking at us like cowardly assassins in the night. But we will respond with courage, like real men should. All those cowards in uniform will learn a lesson from his death.'

Wolf Smoke looked up adoringly at his master and growled. He looked at the other men in the room as if he'd understood the word 'death' and wanted to get started right away.

Chopper was finished with his tirade and now began to give orders. 'I am Kwok, the bane of policemen and I have spoken. Nescafé, you and Mars work together. You're the hard men of the outfit. This time don't screw up. I want you to lift Mr Kelly off the street as soon as you can and take him to the Blue Diamond. Make sure no-one sees you. Let me know when you've got him and we'll make the final arrangements for his departure to the afterlife. I promise you,' he said, looking down at the panting Wolf Smoke, 'it will be an event worth watching.'

Kodrob's Squadroom, Inferno

Jabez stirred from his dark slumber. All his water was gone and he was thirsty again. Kodrob had removed the empty bottle and presumably hidden it. His broken wing was sore again and he could hardly change position without a stabbing pain shooting down one side. The chains on his wrists were heavy. So unnecessary too. How could he escape from a dungeon deep underground in Hell? Now someone had laid a bundle of ropes on the chains, threading them around and between his arms. What was the point of that? The heat was stifling. No Music. No friends. No laughter. No Lamb.

Voices growing louder. Kodrob and Zhivkin. Zhiv the cruel. Coming this way down the corridor.

'Why can't you take care of it by yourself?' Zhivkin.

'I told you,' said Kodrob, 'he's got an amazing strength. I've tied him up tight several times but he keeps working his way free. I thought you might have some ideas.'

'The Zhiv has always got ideas,' sniggered Zhivkin whose eyes were now like drills, 'when it comes to keeping people quiet. Luckily I've got a few tools on me that might help.'

They entered the room and Jabez writhed against his bindings, genuinely scared.

Zhivkin came towards him and began his work with a savage kick into the angel's back. But as the boot landed, Zhivkin lurched sideways with a cry. Jabez twisted his neck around and saw a long knife was in Kodrob's hand. Its point was deep in Zhivkin's back. Deep, but not deep enough. Zhivkin pulled himself away gasping in pain and pulled a scimitar from under his cloak.

'I never trusted you, Kodrob, you corpse-eating worm. That's why I wear chain mail under my shirt. Never take it off. Your little plan has failed. Pu Gash!' he shouted suddenly.

'No-one here, Zhiv, I've sent them all home,' replied Kodrob quietly, masking his disappointment that his pre-emptive strike had failed. 'It's just you and me. One of us is for husking, it's just a matter of who.' Both demons circled each other, pushing the table out of the way and clearing the space in-between.

Jabez pulled his legs tight against the wall. Kodrob's failed attack had tipped the hulking Zhivkin mentally off-balance. He knew the big demon would slice him in a second if he got close enough and he had no defence against a sharp blade.

Both demons continued circling, each one looking for another implement they could use as shield or weapon. Chairs were seized by both and their seats punched out, enabling them to be used as combined shield and four-pronged jabber.

Zhivkin threw himself at Kodrob's left, pulled back at the last moment and switched sides pushing into Kodrob's right with the chair while slashing low with his curved blade. Kodrob leapt high out of the way but Zhivkin had achieved what he wanted. He was now closer to Jabez than Kodrob and was waiting for the right moment to turn and strike the prone angel.

Kodrob leapt forward with blade and chair outstretched and tried to take the initiative. Thrown back he tried again. Then a third time. Panting for breath, Kodrob hesitated. While he looked for advantage he inadvertently gave Zhivkin the space he wanted. A shock of air blew past the ruthless Russian as he turned sharply and drove his scimitar down into the body of the angel. His blade hit rock. Jabez at the last moment had beaten down with his one good wing and propelled his body to the other side of the girder that held his chain.

It was Zhivkin's last move as a satyr. As he tried to pull his scimitar from the rock that held it fast, Kodrob's knife came down on him from behind and this time made no mistake. The blade entered his body with so much force that it pulled behind it a dozen unbroken mail links into his body, rupturing his lungs and forcing a spume of blood and air up his bronchial tubes, out of his mouth and onto the wall.

Zhivkin collapsed like an airplane struck by lightning in a storm. His body and armour were so heavy that Jabez and Kodrob felt the thick walls shake when he hit the ground. His scimitar remained stuck in the floor, impelled deep into the dead-rock by his ferocious strength.

A genital-shortening curse boomed through from a disturbed demon in a neighbouring barrack-room. Dust ghosted down from the ceiling.

All went quiet.

Ho Fook Restaurant, Yaumati

The police landrover hit top speed as it blared its way north-south down Nathan Road, blue light flashing. Black smoke poured from its exhaust as the three-shift-a-day, fourteen year old vehicle reached 40 mph and 200,000 lifetime miles. Its four uniformed occupants looked embarrassed as they gazed enviously out of the vehicle at the windows of the jewellers and TV stores they couldn't afford to shop in. In the outer lane a taxi delivered a middle finger insult as it casually overtook the clapped-out emergency car and continued to accelerate ahead.

Ruth walked slowly the other way, keeping in beggar character, head down and shuffling her cloth-bandaged feet. The gateway to the Fifth was now just a few feet away. She had broken all the rules by coming here alone and putting herself at extraordinary risk. If she could get back in one piece it would be worth it. She turned left, down a sidestreet and stopped. Holzman smiled broadly at her, blocking her way. The gladiator killing machine stepped towards her and flicked off her hat. He stood on her foot, pinning her in place. His left hand grasped her waist while his right held a knife to her stomach. 'We're going to the Fifth, lady, but my place, not yours,' he grinned.

Holzman swivelled the knife in his hand so its point was towards his elbow. He punched Ruth in the stomach then hauled her around in a half-circle towards the gateway. He knew she had travelled here alone and once on the other side it would be easy to conduct her towards Inferno.

A galvanized steel dustbin lid frisbeed at a perfect horizontal and travelling at twice the speed of the disappearing police vehicle surfed Ruth's head and sliced into Holzman's neck. Ruth slid to the ground gasping for breath as Holzman relaxed his grip and brought his hands up to pinch the flesh and stem the blood loss, an instinctive reaction for a 1st Century BC gladiator. He stepped back and tripped against a bag of empty yoghurt and soy milk cartons from the nearby health food shop.

As Holzman went down the heel of a leather cowboy boot descended heavily on his face. It struck him full on his nose and moved his entire nasal structure, bone, cartilage, skin and flesh two centimetres to the side. Blood poured from the torn wound.

Dozens of emissaries from several different tribes of wasp rose from the bag and buzzed over Holzman like helicopters on a battlefield.

Luke's black arm reached around Ruth's shoulders and hauled her upright. As she coughed and hauled some air into her lungs, he leaned down and tucked his body into her midriff.

Before Holzman could recover Luke had Ruth over his shoulders and was sprinting to the gateway. Once through and into the Fifth he transferred Ruth to his front, holding her between his strong arms against his lumberjack-shirted chest and transferred all his energy to his dorsal muscles. Luke beat his wings harder and faster than ever before, accelerating through the speed bands as though all the demons of Hell were in his wake, all the while looking behind in case there was hot pursuit.

Holzman appeared through the gateway moments later and immediately gave chase, the powerful German holding his neck wound with his hand while his skin wings beat frantically. Without a burden to carry he was faster than Luke and was gradually overhauling the angel. Luke knew he had only minutes before Holzman would be upon him. Again he glanced behind and saw the broken face of the demon, the contorted expression twisted in pain, the determination to catch and kill. Ruth was still in no condition to fly, Luke could hear her praying.

Ahead, lights appeared unexpectedly in the firmament, approaching them. They'd been seen by a patrol. Reconnaissance flights and cavalry patrols had been stepped up recently because of the emerging situation resulting from the Leader's outrageous demands. Was it luck or an answer to Ruth's prayer?

Luke could have sung for joy. Ruth gave thanks. The closing speed meant it was a fine calculation whether the rescuers would reach them before Holzman did. But the demon settled matters. He was already demoralised by the neck and nose wounds and now he knew he was heavily outnumbered. He might be able to reach Luke and deliver another injury to Ruth but he risked being iced or worse.

He flattened his wings out to brake as quickly as he could. An outriding angel passed Luke and Ruth in the opposite direction at high speed. Using his velocity the angel crashed straight into Holzman and sent him tumbling and spinning off his flight path. Now the demon had a broken arm to add to his other injuries. The patrol of four male and two female angels surrounded Luke and Ruth protectively.

Within minutes more lights ahead told them additional reinforcements were on their way. Not that they were needed. Soon there was an escort of hundreds of flying and mounted seraphs cheering and offering to help Luke with his burden. Which of course he declined.

'We're out of danger, we'll soon be home,' gasped Luke to Ruth who was recovering in his arms but showing no interest in spreading her own wings.

'That's real nice, Luke. What a story I'll have to tell Michael and Gabriel when I see them at the next cocktail party. They'll be so interested. I'll put in a good word for you too, you know?'

'You're just too big-hearted, Ruth. I'm thrilled to know that the archangels will be interested. Really, I'm excited. Well OK, not very excited. Anyway, I thought you were too frightened to go to Earth. You were most reluctant when Jabez first mooted it.'

'Y'all must know, that was the most scary thing ah ever done in my life. It was excitin' though. Specially when you showed up in the side street with the sands o'time runnin' out, just like in the movies.'

'Movies? If that was a movie it was nearly a horror. That demon was a nightmare.'

'Mebbe. But it just might have been worth the risk. Nancy and Dan got talkin', just like we bin tryin' to arrange all along.'

'Tell me later. I don't know whether I'm still furious enough with you to drop you down the Glacier Chimneys of Choldotsk. They're on the far side of Paradise a long way from me, Jabez and Agatha. A long way from everyone really.'

Luke was cruising now that the danger was over. Other angels were circling them, globing their friends in flight.

'Oh, they sound cool Luke, tell me more. Glacier Chimneys. Fun.' Ruth was now as wide-eyed as an 8 year-old. No longer gasping for breath. Still no inclination to fly, though.

'Oh, you want to know, do you? You're up for a little scaring? OK then, see how you like this. You see the tunnels in Choldotsk are too narrow to fly in and angels have been known to get lost and wander around there, out of the Music and even out of Creator's sight, for centuries. Crying bitterly. And when angels cry there, it's so cold that they cry ice. Only, there's no gin and no tonic to go with it. Yeah, it's that bad.'

Ruth was showing mock horror, her fingers in front of her mouth. 'And no lemon?'

'No. And when those sad, beautiful but hopelessly misguided angels do eventually find their way out of those extremely dark, extremely cold, extremely endless tunnels they're normally reformed characters who are cured of a passion for loneliness and doing things on their own and meeting evil creatures on the sly in yoghurty alleyways in British colonies. Instead they delight in company and friends and telling people what they're up to and being generally thoughtful and considerate and all.'

Ruth looked up at him adoringly. 'Oh, Luke, that's a wonderful story. You know my daddy used to tell me tales like that when I was a little itty bitty girl back in San Antone. He frightened me and my sister under the bed and we loved it. You've got such a gift for story time. You should develop your talent.'

Luke looked up with a long-suffering sigh.

She tapped him on the chest. 'Hey, don't stop now dude, tell me another one. Make up a horror story for me about a girl who fell off the edge of Heaven and landed on Earth in a barn full of check-shirted cowboys all keen to practice their chat-up lines on her and smiling with those corn-fed white teeth they have. That'd be a real scary story.'

The joyful escort gradually peeled off and departed with many waves, kisses and hurrahs.

Luke flew Ruth back to her home where he found that Agatha had already arrived and was preparing dinner for them.

'Welcome home, oh wandering one,' she said to Ruth. 'My, my, what lengths some girls will go to just to get carried home in a man's arms.'

'Shucks, it's an old trick of mine. Never fails. But you know, I think next time I'll try sump'n different. I'm just a home town girl after all, not one for adventurin'.'

'I think you're incredibly brave and resourceful,' said Luke. 'And you sure fooled me with that image of a sensible, pragmatic strategist who rarely gets away from Paradise's corridors of power.'

'Thank you, Luke, and I wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't noticed my less than fulsome agreement to the new regs on armed escorts and decided to follow me. So thank you. And I promise you I feel suitably chastised and I won't be doin' anything' like that again any time soon.'

Agatha broke in. 'I hate to dispel the cuddly atmosphere guys and dolls, but once you two have finished making up there's some breaking news I have to update you on and it's not all good.' Agatha stirred the mushroom and iron risotto and added some more shamrock basil.

'The good news is that Augustine has agreed a deal with the other side that will definitely result in us getting Jabez back. But the bad news is it will mean the biggest humiliation in history for Heaven in general and the Lamb in particular. It's going to be a catastrophe. Even if we manage to pull off something extraordinary with Nancy - and right now the odds are still against it - we may not be in time.'

She pulled her clenched fist to her chest and stifled a sniffle as a tear outed her emotion. The saucepan voiced its sympathy with her misery, sucking at the rice like a child clinging to its mother, puffing its simmering impotence. Luke's long outbreath whispered his gloom. Only Ruth could still surface some hope. 'Don't be upset y'all. If Jabez was here he'd say carry on and work the problem. And that's what we gotta do. This here is Heaven and we Heaven-folk don't know how to do despair, we just don't do it. It's not in our kit-bag. So let's sit down and eat Agatha's wonderful supper together and then carry on working. Agreed?'

The aroma of the basil wound around the kitchen and temporarily worked its magic on the angels' senses. But once they had finished eating, the bare facts of Nancy's predicament reasserted themselves and despondency set in. Hope was spread thinly about. Outside Ruth's apartment darkness descended. Jabez's angels went to sleep that night wondering if they dared face what the new day would bring.

Nathan Road, Kowloon

Holzman fell back to Earth and lurched his way to Nathan Road. He was too injured to continue his surveillance and instead made a call to Kodrob asking for a relief. Demons did not possess the sophisticated technology available to their feathered rivals. But they could send a small number of basic thought impulses across the airs to their mates. Holzman's plea for help was a primal cry wracked with anger and bitterness.

While he waited, he walked down towards the Golden Luck. He was just in time to see Nancy in the distance as she arrived back and turned off the street to enter the building. She was carrying some shopping bags and wearing some new jewellery. But he was too self-absorbed with his wounds to look any closer.

His relief was a long time coming. It was Kodrob himself.

'Where are the others?' enquired Holzman.

'Lafarge was husked by angels, as you know. And Zhivkin's busy. Anyway, I wanted to get a grip on things myself. You look a total mess. Get back to Hades and get yourself fit. The mission's coming to its endpoint soon and you may be needed.'

As Holzman departed, Kodrob reflected he didn't have much time left in his current existence. When they eventually found Zhivkin's husk where he had hidden it and hunted him down, it would all get ugly.

He surveilled the traffic, the people and the lights. He listened to a myriad urban sounds and sniffed the scents of a thousand woks. And as he watched the sauntering lovers, the dour roadsweepers and the sleepless night shift taxi drivers he wondered, which of you is destined to join me in Hell?

Furama Hotel, Hong Kong Island

The Datsun taxi's headlights chased the shadows of the ornamental palms and cacti at the entrance to one of Hong Kong's most prestigious hotels.

The working vehicle's scratched and battered bodywork, scars of honour resulting from thousands of tactile lane-changes on one of the world's busiest road networks, made a striking contrast with the marble, glass and chrome structure to which it had brought its latest passenger.

The red high-heeled shoes which emerged from the rear door of the vehicle were also in sympathy with the surroundings. They tallied perfectly with the elegance and grandeur of the polished forecourt and the hourly swept steps. So too the slender legs in their sheer black tights that poured out in pursuit and then the svelte female form wrapped in a simple but perfectly fitting knee length red dress that followed.

Nancy's long brown hair framed her ivory face neatly. The light green hue of the jade six-pointed star laying on top of her dress was a perfect match for her only other adornment, a pair of elegant jade earrings.

The footman allowed himself a covetous glance at the ghost female's nimble form before springing to the door to open it and remove one more barrier between her and her destiny.

Nancy tip-tapped up the steps and was greeted by the tailored concierge.

'I am meeting Mr Lo.'

'This way, madam.'

Nancy followed the concierge up two flights of stairs, her stillettoes clacking crisply on the mezzanine floor as she passed a swanky restaurant, a cocktail bar and a bistro to a set of double doors. He bowed slightly as he opened the door and Nancy walked in.

In front of her was Fatty Lo with a glass in his hand. It was a banqueting hall and he was smiling slightly and standing at the end of the room behind a long table. But he wasn't alone. Eleven other senior Brother officers stood beside him, Frenchy included. Nancy was relieved to see Chopper Kwok was absent.

All were wearing traditional Chinese silk jackets and baggy silk trousers. Two large red candles burned at either end of the table and a row of traditional burial urns were laid out in a line between them. The door closed behind her and Nancy stood still.

'Welcome Nancy,' said Fatty, looking appreciatively at his protégé and sweeping his eyes around the other officers, nodding his approval to them. 'This is a very important night for you.'

Fatty spoke slowly and allowed pauses between his sentences to increase their import. 'You are not having dinner with me alone. I have brought you to a secret meeting of our brotherhood for a very important event. Tonight we welcome you to the heart of Brother. In a little while you will no longer be our little sister. Tonight we initiate you fully in our order and we invest you with your proper rank and title. Tonight you will become a very important sister. Nancy, please step forward and approach the table.'

Inferno, Human Ancestor Research and Manipulation HQ

'Why is she wearing that..that thing around her neck?' Hideki shouted at Bezejel. 'How did that happen?'

Bezejel's red face dropped a few shades of colour. 'I don't know, it's the first I've seen of it.'

She looked away from the neon cloud displaying Nancy's straight-backed frame with its proud six-pointed star and turned to Magog. 'Get Holzman in here, fast.' The satyr took off at a sprint.

'Hideki, can that religious icon stop the vanity transplant taking place?'

Hideki's eyebrows almost came together. 'I do not know. I have never uploaded a human vanity store in these conditions. It is impossible to be sure.'

'Damnation, we are so close, so close.' Bezejel thrust her face at Hideki's. 'Maybe it's just an emotional throwback to her childhood. But if it has a deeper significance it could mean trouble. Hideki are you ready to make the transplant?'

The Japanese returned to pontificating form. 'The transplant is set up and will happen automatically when Nancy's soul is opened up by the ceremony at the Furama. At the moment when they announce the presence of the ashes and proclaim Nancy as Red Sister, the ambition of her ancestor will tumble through the centuries and flood into the empty spaces in her spirit. Then the vanity transplant will be complete and Nancy will hunger to take over Brother and steer it to be the world's first truly successful criminal society.' Hideki looked down imperiously at Bezejel, persuading her with the force of his conviction.

'How can you be sure?' Bezejel was bordering on panic.

'Nancy has already sunk deep into the world of organised crime,' he continued, his eyes sparkling with zeal. 'She could hardly be prised away from Brother. She has a passion for her work there, it's given her a reason for her existence.'

Bezejel regarded him doubtfully.

Holzman stomped in, his arm in a sling. Bezejel surveyed his broken nose and neck. 'The squawhouses will charge you double now, Holzman. So you'd better start working on your charm. Now, look down at Nancy and tell me everything about your last watch on Nathan Road. I need to know how Nancy ended up buying that religious necklace.'

Holzman stood to attention. 'As I told Captain Kodrob in my report, I missed some of what she did because I was chasing that tramped-up angel. I saw she'd bought some clothes and jewellery. I thought that was normal.'

Hideki backed him up. 'Many people wear a six-star but not really believe. It is often just a statement of identity. Even if she become a bit sentimental about her origins, it will be overwhelmed by the rush of the transplant. She can be head of Brother and take some weak tribal feeling with her. This very common among humans. If it make her feel good it not matter.'

Bezejel looked at Holzman again and then back at the gas cloud. 'It's out of our hands now. If we fail, the Leader will have no mercy upon us. Let's just follow what happens and get ready to take whatever next steps are required.'

She looked at Gog and Magog. 'If it goes well tonight, you two are gonna find me a six pack of satyrs to take home with me.' She looked down at Nancy's star and back at them again. 'And if it doesn't, you're gonna find me two six packs.'

Furama Hotel

Nancy approached the table. Fatty Lo and Frenchy stood at the centre on the other side. The other ten officers arranged themselves five on each flank.

'Nancy would you like to sit?' Fatty took out a page of speech notes.

Nancy nodded and a chair was brought up and placed behind her. She sat and crossed her legs, folding her hands on her lap and looked along the line of short, tall, balding, hirsute, fat and thin men, smiling and nodding at the faces she knew, which by now was almost all of them.

She was at ease as the only woman in the room, the centre of attention for the dozen pairs of eyes which picked over every curve of her shape, every blink of her eyes, every hair that cascaded over her fine-boned shoulders.

A thoughtful officer brought her a glass of wine. She took it with a smile.

Then Fatty related the story of Tsuen Liu, Hong Li-Zhang, Mya Ling and first Mountain Dragon Li, a story that clearly evoked pride in the men ranged in front of her.

Their brotherhood was born in a time of trial for China, the story told them, a time of war when there was little trust in government by the governed. Yet ordinary people stood up against the tyranny and cruelty of the age and placed their hope in each other with unbreakable bonds of comradeship.

For a few hours the Brother hoodlums could forget their prostituting, heroin trafficking and casino-running day jobs and soak in a collective spirit of fraternity, unity and loyalty. Never mind that there was little real honour in their chosen outlaw careers. The ancient roots of their business were respectable and that was enough.

Nancy hadn't heard the name Mya Ling before. But when she looked at the miniature red urn in the centre of the table she knew with a certain intuition whose ashes were inside. What did the pretty, quiet, fiercely ambitious woman look like? Fatty mentioned a marriage to a Russian naval officer. A business based on Chinese manufacturing. A gradual dominance of the Hong Kong export trade to the west through Moscow and St Petersburg. The eventual return of a wealthy Mya Ling to Hong Kong in 1902, when her children had grown up and left home.

A half recollection of an overheard conversation between great-aunts stirred in Nancy's memory. She was playing in a corridor, colouring in some picture books when voices were suddenly hushed and something unusual, almost shameful was hinted at. A Chinese ancestor in Russia? An oriental shiksa among her strict Jewish forebears?

Fatty had finished his history. No need right now for the rest of the story, he said, his purpose was to set the scene for tonight's ceremony.

Fatty Lo and Frenchy now pulled out red bands from their inside pockets and put them around their heads.

'We are both Red Brothers,' explained Fatty. 'Nancy, in the time you have been with us, you have impressed all the brothers with your hard work, skill and above all, your flair for leadership. Mya Ling was chosen by the great Li to be an important commander of our order at a time of change in China.' He picked up the red urn with both hands and held it high. 'In this urn are kept Mya Ling's precious ashes and we believe her spirit is with us in this room right now, leading us on to ever greater success.'

With great care he replaced the urn on the table. 'Now, new challenges and new markets are opening up for us outside of Hong Kong and we believe you have the capability to help us expand and seize those markets. This is indeed another time of change. Nancy, we invite you to take up a high rank in our organisation.'

Fatty produced another red band and held it out across the table to Nancy with both hands. An officer took her wine glass as she rose and walked towards him.

'You are initiated into Brother at the highest possible level.' He placed the band around her head. 'Behold Nancy, you are now our Red Sister.'

As all twelve men broke into spontaneous applause and cheering, Nancy placed her hands on the sides of the red urn. She picked it up and held it in front of her at eye level. The urn was mainly of porcelain with small embossed red panels separated by recessed lines of plain white. One of the embossed panels contained a tiny rectangular mirror, barely two centimetres on its longest side. Something about the miniature mirror caught and held Nancy's eye. She already knew what she would see and so there was no surprise when the silvered glass showed her a small but perfectly formed red r in its centre. The final letter in the code. But what happened next did surprise her. The r faded and was replaced by

Nancy

Red Sister

spelt out in elegant fine lettering. A wave of powerful emotions entered her head as if they had been poured over her from a bottomless urn. Nancy felt a powerful presence which she was sure could only be that of Mya Ling. Her ears tingled and she now understood who had worn the jade earrings before and how Great Uncle Shai had come across them.

Shai.

Roots.

The presence hovered in front of her, unseen, and made as if to enter her head. Then it disappeared and Nancy felt a glow of exultation coming from within.

The promise begun in the shower room of the holiday apartment in Eilat months before was complete. The incremental prophecy had come true. Whoever or whatever had laid the breadcrumb trail of letters in front of her had made no mistake. Nancy was Red Sister.

And as the cheering gangsters continued to shake her hand and congratulate her, Nancy felt an elation she had not expected. Nancy the trainee travel agent who was the butt of everyone's office jokes was now exalted, honoured and respected by people who mattered.

She would be wealthy beyond the wildest dreams of the directors of Ealing Travel. Through the throng of silken-robed mobsters around her Nancy felt a connection with Mya Ling's ashes that she could only describe as unworldly. She could feel confidence, ambition and power surge through her and she knew that she held the world in her hands.

People were like puppets and she understood how to pull their strings. Money-chasing was for weaklings, there was no victory in wealth. But power, that was the delight of the gods, the desire that satisfied, the drug that never failed. Power over people, corporations and governments ran through her like a lightning bolt. The corners of Nancy's mouth turned upwards. She looked down at the celebrating men about her, the pawns and rooks of her new empire. She was queen and in the game of chess stretched out in front of her, there was no need for kings. She only had to choose and it would all be hers.

Inferno, Human Ancestor Research and Manipulation HQ

'Did it take? Hideki, did it work? Is Nancy completely ours?' Bezejel was up and down on the balls of her feet, staring at the neon.

'We know very soon,' came the phlegmatic reply. 'First appearance is good. I am hopeful. But we will know her by her actions, not by the look on her face.'

'She is Red Sister,' said Bezejel, still excited. 'Nancy is Red Sister. Got me tingling all over. She and I have so much in common. I can't wait till she gets to Inferno and I've despatched her to Tyrant's Fall. I'll go and watch her every day. She'll be a marvel to see, a bigger crowd-puller than the entire twentieth century.'

Gog and Magog were enjoying her exuberance. They joined in the laughter. It was the first time anyone had heard them make any sound.

'Enjoy the fun, you two. Why not?' Bezejel said with surprising warmth. 'And when you've finished, go and find me three satyrs each and deliver them to my quarters. One every hour for the next six hours. It's time to celebrate.'

Halfway Island

'I hope you have a positive reply for me this time, Gus, I have things to do.' The Leader was making a poor job of playing down his excitement.

'The Lamb agrees to your proposal.'

'Does he indeed?' The Leader raised his eyes to meet Augustine's. 'He has agreed to everything I asked?'

'I have said. He agrees.'

'Well then, I suppose we'd better stop plucking Jabez's feathers out with tweezers and burning them in tar in front of his eyes. Seems that he may be going home after all.'

'Jabez will be coming home and he'd better be unharmed. Heaven will not leave an angel behind.'

'Sweet.'

'You know that there will be repercussions after this don't you? The Creator will be angry at what you have done to the Lamb.'

'Oh spare me, Gus. When has the Creator ever liked me? As for your threats about my days being numbered, the number of days left to me was decided and written down in that tedious Book of yours a long time ago. This little victory won't change things a morsel.'

As he turned away he couldn't resist some sarcasm.

'But the Lamb's genuflection to me will brighten up everyone's day in Inferno. So that's worthwhile isn't it? Now, bye, bye messenger boy. Go and tramp your way home. Or should I say, flop on the bus, Gus?'

He turned around to his female bodyguard. 'Let's go, ladies. Must get back to watch Match of the Day live in Cambodia. There's a huge event taking place in the football stadium in the capital.'

He turned back to Augustine. 'A hundred plucky communist cadres armed only with machetes and pliers are taking on five thousand fierce villagers tied by the wrists to poles above their heads. Their families are being bussed in to watch. That's the sort of match I like.'

Ho Man Tin Street, Kowloon

Dan Kelly, driving home from work, thought about his meeting with the English woman in the restaurant. There was something about her, something mysterious, something deeply attractive. Why hadn't he found out her name or where she worked? Would he ever meet her again? There was something so special about her. He would go back to that restaurant and haunt it every lunchtime until she turned up there again.

It was late October and the days were a lot cooler now, almost European. The short Hong Kong Autumn had breezed in and citizens wore padded jackets with sewn-in white collars over their free 'Shek Kip Mei Cotton and Garment Factory' or 'East Kowloon Gas & Engineering Co' tee-shirts.

Ho Man Tin Street was busy. The traffic piled up behind double-parked delivery trucks and impulse shoppers, dashing out of their cars to buy garlic and storm umbrellas.

Dan slowed for a public light bus that had stopped in front of him. It was picking up a solitary passenger. There was an argument over the fare. His door opened and a knife appeared, its blade against his ribs. 'Come with us, mister, quickly, no time to waste.' The blade pressed harder, beginning to penetrate, as if the speaker needed to reinforce his point. Don't even think about it, said his eyes.

'What the bloody hell...I'm a police inspector.' But the protest was expected and a firm hand grasped his arm, pulling him from the vehicle. Dan stepped into the road as the abductor laid a cloth over the knife, concealing it. Another man stepped forward from the back of the car and slapped Dan's hips up and down. He located the revolver, unclipped the retaining strap and slipped the gun from its holster. One step to the already-open door of a stationary car facing the other way, a push into the back seat and the job was done.

Doors closed. Dan's own Peugeot moved away first, the man who'd taken his gun driving it. A hood came down over his head. His upper body was pushed onto the legs of the man beside him. The kidnapping had taken 3-4 seconds.

Slick.

Nothing much was happening now. No-one spoke. The car accelerated smoothly through the gears. An indicator clicked and the car slowed briefly then turned left. Heading for Yaumati then.

'What's going on?' No reply.

'What do you want?' No reply.

Someone moved their foot. A cigarette was tapped on a packet and the wheel of a lighter grated against a flint. Cheapskates. The draw of smoke was so calm it could have been a student sucking his teeth over a tricky algebra question.

The knife was still pressing into Dan's ribs. He smelt oil, tobacco, oranges. His side hurt where he was bent over. He tried to ease himself and the knife dug deeper.

'I have to move,' he shouted. A hand came down over his head and he shifted his body slightly. Some relief. His arms were pulled behind him and tied at the wrist.

Who could this be? Had they mistaken him for someone else? Why him? Oh! You're kidding. Brother. Surely not. Are they really that angry at him for nabbing Nescafé Mao?

The car speeded and slowed alternately through heavy traffic. Pedestrians chattered close by. Bus drivers pulled back their sliding quarter lights and swore. Scaffolding clanged. After thirty minutes the car stopped and the handbrake rhino-burped on.

'Keh-lee. Out.'

They knew his name. No mistake then. It was really him they were after. Dan tripped his way out of the car. He was thirsty and scared. Hands on either side led him over broken concrete, ropes, bits of metal - chains? - and a steel door sill. Then the lights went out completely. Must have gone indoors, into the dark.

Who would pay a ransom for him? The police force? Hardly. There would be a furore nonetheless. No-one kidnapped a police inspector in Hong Kong and got away with it. Unless they thought they could get away with it. Oh God, I don't want to die. Far from home and no-one will know where my grave is or what happened to me. I'll never see Mum or Dad or Deirdre again. I'll never see Liverpool beat Everton again.

Dan was led through an echoey passage with two right hand corners along its length. Then up a metal staircase with two U-turns in it onto a landing. Then they bent him low and ushered him onto a metal platform. It swayed a little. Why's that? His arms, already tied behind him, were now tied to a steel pole in the middle of the platform.

'I need some water. I'm thirsty,' he shouted.

His kidnappers stopped moving for a moment. Were they considering his demand or were they about to beat him?

'Sure Keh-lee,' said one of them. 'I get you water. Is that your last request?'

Fatty Lo's Office, Yaumati, Kowloon

'Frenchy and I will run Brother together. That was the agreement we came to after reviewing the origins of our society. We must work like brothers, not like greedy corporations that leave all decision-making to one person.'

Fatty was in decisive form again. His position as leader - or co-leader - had been shored up by Nancy's performance in front of Golden Horse. The stature and authority she revealed on that tense occasion demonstrated to everyone that Fatty was a good judge of character and talent after all.

Nancy regarded Fatty intently. They were almost equals now and she had nothing to fear from him. She sat cross-legged on the sofa in her favourite electric blue cheung-sam, her six-pointed star lying on top of the dress, its jade inlay neatly setting off the fabric's colour.

'Chopper Kwok, however, has gone off in a sulk.' Fatty was enjoying sharing his insights with his young female lieutenant. 'It's best to leave him like this when he's angry. Plus as you already know, one of his top men, Nescafé Mao was arrested in Wong Tai Sin with a huge load of heroin. Utter foolishness. Brother's lawyers will help him, of course, but Chopper is upset with him. The good thing about it all is that Chopper has lost his shot at becoming leader. The rumours of his bad temper frighten every 49 and every officer. They can see that he's just not stable enough to be leader.'

Nancy felt no need to interrupt. Fatty would get there in the end.

'Which brings us to you, young woman. Frenchy and I have discussed your next move in the organisation and there is a logical step for you to take which will give you vital experience. But I will understand if you feel nervous about it.'

Nancy felt she knew what was coming. She rejected the instinct to cross her legs the other way.

'Golden Horse currently has no leader. We need to appoint someone as their manager who they respect and yet who is not one of their own. I have spoken to a number of their old hands and the person they all prefer is you. Obviously, given what happened there I understand if you prefer not to take that role.'

Nancy raised her hand and pushed her hair back from her face. Her fingers lightly brushed her star as she lowered her hand. It didn't do to answer too quickly.

'I thought this vacancy might come up between us, Fatty, so I have given it some thought.' Nancy was a picture of composure. She held her hands together lightly over her chest and stared thoughtfully at the floor for a minute. 'Golden Horse is a down-market operation working in the relative backwater of San Po Kong.' She raised her gaze to meet Fatty's small brown eyes full-on. 'But I'm not afraid of the men who work there. When they kowtowed to me at the Blue Diamond they acknowledged their fault. My honour was restored in front of everyone. I have 'face' with them and I know they will work for me. I believe I can raise the quality of Golden Horse's services as well as increase its margins and profitability. Even San Po Kongers want a bit of luxury when they relax. However I want something in return.' Now was the time to re-cross her legs. The deep slit up the side of her cheung sam opened up a little. Fatty couldn't resist a quick glance before the silk covered it again. Nancy pretended she hadn't noticed.

'Give me all of Kowloon from Yaumati down to the Star Ferry. There is massive untapped potential there for quality girl-friend bars where rich businessmen can meet elegant ladies and spend a lot of money on them. Most of the existing bars I have seen are sordid and cheap. I would like to set up some tightly-controlled members-only clubs targeted at politicians and civil servants. I plan to offer superior services and a luxury setting where they will feel comfortable. They buy prostitutes and drugs anyway so they may as well do it somewhere safe. Also, if people want to spend money on drugs, why should they have to buy it off someone on a street corner? Clients will be able to buy what they like in our clubs and smoke it in complete confidence. They can have a joint in one hand and a girl in the other. Though they'll pay a lot of money for the pleasure of both. What do you say?'

Fatty's eyes gleamed.

'If anyone else made that claim I would say they couldn't do it. But Nancy, I think you have the vision and the cunning to pull it off.'

He thought for a minute.

'How about you begin by setting up one or two establishments. Prove the concept. Establish a business model that can be copied and then we will multiply it around the colony.'

'And then export it,' added Nancy. 'We will start with Thailand and the Philippines and then gradually adapt it to other countries outside Asia. I know it will work really well in Britain.'

'Nancy, I will talk to Frenchy. But I think it's a deal. Next we need to work on the finance.'

'Talking of finance, there's something else, Fatty.'

'Continue.'

'I would like to go shopping. For some clothes. Some nice clothes. And some jewellery from a quality shop.'

'Of course, Nancy. I forgot to mention. Frenchy and I have agreed to raise you from your hostess salary. I was thinking of $HK10,000 a month. Will that be enough?'

Nancy considered Fatty for a moment. Almost but not quite making him squirm.

'For now, Fatty. It will do for now.'

Kodrob's Squadroom, Pentacurse, Inferno

There was a mild thump as a closet door was gently closed. As if by a thief in the night. The door to the squadroom from Pu Gash's petrol station opened and an apron of neon light streamed out. Jabez half opened his eyes and saw Kodrob on his haunches in front of him.

'Here,' whispered the demon. 'Last of the Pu Gash stash. Don't spill it.'

He unscrewed the cap carefully, lest he burn himself, and passed the bottle to Jabez. 'Holy water. It's morally wrong to keep it around here. Best you dispose of it.'

'Kodrob, you devil, you're smiling. I believe you have a sense of humour.' Jabez took a couple of swallows and breathed a sigh.

'Gallows humour, angel. You know how it is. A light burns twice as bright just before it goes out. All that.'

'What will you do?'

'Well, I've always wanted to travel. I haven't seen half of what Inferno has to offer. The lava. The burnt plains. The desperate crowds. I want to see more of them.'

'You mean you're going on the run?'

Kodrob grinned. 'I mean that if they want me, they'll have to put the effort in to find me. No sense in going out cheap. We never surrendered to the Medes nor the Hittites nor the Babylonians. Not even when they clobbered us good. Not even when they put their knives to the throats of our women when they captured the baggage trains. Surrender is not in my nature.'

'Did anyone surrender in those days?'

'Not many. Funny thing though.' Kodrob was suddenly looking intently at Jabez's face, studying his features closely. Something about the angel's appearance had stirred his memory.

'What?'

'There was a tribe to the south of us. Judeans, they called themselves. Looking back they make me laugh. I hated them at the time but you know the thing is they never beat us in battle but they never surrendered neither.'

'Meaning?'

'Well, we'd be close to slaughtering them in some field outside their city, Jerusalem and they'd stop and say 'let's negotiate', and we'd say 'what with?' and they'd say 'well, what do you want?' and we'd say 'to kill you' and they'd say 'no money in that, let's negotiate' and so it went on and on and on until somehow they'd wangled their way out of it and we'd go back to Nineveh with a bucket of frogs' legs or something useless wondering what had hit us and they'd go laughing home to Jerusalem with their heads still on their shoulders. And then we'd attack them again the next year and do it all again.'

Jabez managed a smile despite his pain.

'What about you? Where you from Jabez? You didn't come across the Judeans in your incarnation did you?' Kodrob was still looking at Jabez curiously.

'Me? Oh, mine's a long story. But I've been meaning to ask you, what did you do when you weren't fighting? In winter time for instance when the campaigning season was over?'

'I was a saddle-maker. I worked with leather. Always been good with my hands.' Kodrob hadn't noticed Jabez's quick change of subject. 'Anyway, that's all over.'

He rose to his feet. 'By the way, I've heard you're going home.'

Jabez looked up at him.

'Apparently the Lamb is going to let himself get royally humbled by Inferno's Leader in order to get you back. Just as well I stopped Zhivkin from slicing you or he'd be doing it for nothing. Everyone in Paradise and Inferno will be watching. It's going to be the biggest event of all time in the Fifth. Leastways, that's what they're all saying. Anyway I'd better be going. You'll be safe now that they've got what they really want. But someone could come to the squadroom at any time and I want to get a head start.'

Jabez was clearly shocked to hear Kodrob's news. His face became pale despite the heat.

But he held out his hand anyway. 'My best wishes go with you.' The demon took his hand and shook it.

Ruth's Mansion, Paradise

Nancy stood up to leave Fatty Lo's office with a shine in her eyes. An ambitious young woman on her way to the top. She skipped out of the door with her confident head high, her body radiating happiness.

Ruth had seen enough. She raised her hand and the scene rapidly faded from the centre of the room. Gloom invaded like a cancer. Ruth, Luke and Agatha continued staring at the floor for a while, not wanting to meet each other's eyes.

'So that's it. Our hope is gone.' Luke spoke for all.

'The enemy's plan has succeeded. Nancy's been pumped full of Mya Ling's ambition. Her meeting with Dan had negligible effect.' Agatha turned to Ruth. 'I'm sorry Ruth, I don't mean to criticise. You did brilliant work getting them together ahead of schedule.'

'Very soon now, the Lamb will suffer as big a humiliation as he did on Earth.' Even Ruth could see no last-moment cavalry to prevent another Calvary. 'There's only one last act of this whole miserable play to come and I can only see it ending one way.'

Halfway Island

Satanic standards bedecked the rocky island. Flags and black bunting streamed from one end of it right up to the centre. There, troll smiths had built a crude but solid platform, raised high enough that everyone in the Fifth, Inferno or Paradise should have the clearest view.

Inferno's five fingers were crammed with demons of all ranks. For once, enmities were suspended and scores went unsettled as even gurns came out of their holes to watch the spectacle.

Squawhouses were empty for the first time in the memory of the damned and jugs of diesel and tar were passed from satyr to banshee and on to mawl and vixen. Jager and Charnel imps flew in from their deep space sabotages and landed indelicately (and often drunkenly) on the edges of the lava lakes, so little space was there left. Inferno's deep rocky halls were empty, for this was the rocky horror show to end them all. They would memorise this day throughout all of their huskings until the moment of their final burn. 'Where were you standing when you saw the Leader humble the Lamb?' would become the most common conversation starter in squawhouses and tar barns till Hell froze over. New arrivals from Earth were landed in a special field where arm-banded imp marshals growled at them to shut up, watch the show and ask questions later.

On the other side of the rock, in Paradise, the mood was very different. Angels and non-flying Heaven-dwellers all stayed at home, crying and mourning. There was no public assembly to watch the proceedings. Tools were downed and globes were closed. No-one wanted to watch but no-one could work either. The Music continued. But the small number of choristers from all over Heaven who could force themselves into voice at this time could not bring forth any joyful sounds and instead turned to Gregorian chants and funeral airs for their inspiration.

Jo and Chan sat with their wings around each other, knees drawn up, staring at the beauty of the mineral trees around them while their tears fell and were soaked up by the desert underneath them. 'Surely the Creator will step in and put a stop to this, won't he?' said Jo. Chan squeezed her shoulder and said nothing.

In the Boot and Shoe Archipelago, Gianni, Maria and their friends huddled together in the piazza for comfort and resolved to watch every last moment of the unfolding tragedy together. The Lamb's friends should not desert him again, they whispered to each other. The charcoal in the pizza ovens burnt out. That had never happened before.

Even in Montefalco, raptors ceased their predation, pterodactyls ceased flying and herbivores lay in their swamps not even chewing the cud. All knew the world was upside down.

Luke, Agatha and Ruth remained together, holding hands and consoling each other. They wondered what they could have done differently. They lamented every decision, every action and every bright idea.

Throughout the Kingdom angels asked each other 'Who's Jabez?' But if they wondered silently whether the unknown engineer was worth it, they answered themselves, yes. Because if it was me instead of him, I know the Lamb would come even for me.

Inferno's Leader now appeared, flying high above Halfway, gradually gliding lower in circles. He smiled down graciously at his excited subjects, his charm switch temporarily on. He waved, fluttered onto his back and planed as if reclining on a sofa, to a storm of applause. Not that there was anything positive in it for Infernals, of any rank, except a brief pause in their dismal routine. Their victory lay only in hurting the other side. Their circumstances would be exactly the same the next day. More misery and decline.

The Leader landed on Halfway and bowed to his dark flock. His dazzling female guard detail, resplendent in metallic red robes with matching flame guns formed a line to one side. Olive leaves garlanded the Leader's forehead making him every bit the Nero. He opened his arms while his siren cheerleaders orchestrated adoration from the mob. 'Lu-ci-fer,' they chanted in delirious devil worship.

Now across the void came six swarthy satyrs, hells' angels in their bullet-riveted capes, bearing a billowing package which they placed at Halfway's Inferno End. Its curtains flapped back like a slit skirt, concentrating the eyes of demons and angels alike. Every head in both kingdoms peered at the drapes and their hidden structure. Out from the curtains, like a magician's assistant emerged Bezejel herself, flamboyant dominatrix, prancing the stage like one to the clamour born, effortlessly raising Hell's roar several notches.

'Hail the true Lord of Light,' she called, bowing low to the Leader. The roar surged even higher.

Heaven quailed. Hundreds of millions of beautiful, piercing eyes could scarce pierce the hands held in front of them.

'Why are you here?' shouted Bezejel to Hades, putting her hand playfully to her ear. Indiscriminate roars assailed the heavens, fingers jabbed towards the curtained construction.

Bezejel grasped the tassels where the curtains met. 'Shall we?' she called to the Hadean mob while the Leader nodded and suavely grinned his triumph.

'Yes' screamed millions of red throats as heads pumped up and down like pistons, bodies prostrated in Baal-mania and scores of demons lost their footing and fell into lava lakes only minutes from seeing Hell's greatest victory.

The curtains came away and were cast aside as Bezejel swept her arm back. There between two pillars of red Mars rock stood the pale figure of Jabez, one wing sickeningly askew, every bit the lost but surprisingly defiant sheep. Steel rings circled his wrists and led out in chains to the pillars. Chants and raucous cries now ascended from Inferno as demons joined together in venting their hate. If the Leader had ever thought to take a popularity poll, now was the time. Though their wretched post-life existences were more hopeless than that of a palsied child born in a typhoid slum, here was a real live angel to blame for their misery. Praise the Leader for that.

Jabez would go home this day to his crooning friends, a beautiful house and a soft pillow. They to their hard vulcan beds with barely a teaspoon of tar to send them to their nightmares. What more reason to hate him?

Magog swept in, suppressed urgency in his pocked features. Bezejel threw him a glance like a dart but inclined her head.

Jabez looked behind him at the blistering ranks of rancour that filled Inferno's acres and ached to tear him apart. Then forward again and calmly into Bezejel's diabolically beautiful face. For the taking of a breath it seemed to many that it was Bezejel, not Jabez, whose calm was cracked. Smug turned to anger in a particle of a second and she spurred towards him in her high black boots, composure undone. Jabez's head was knocked sideways as her smack landed on his cheek, her famous strength behind it. She leaned into him, the way she liked to frighten men, spikes on the knuckles of her drawn-back hand threatening the sight of his eyes.

'Where are Zhivkin and Kodrob,' she hissed.

Jabez was still holding it together. 'They can't bear to watch you. They don't want to see a woman cry.'

Bezejel waggled the spikes. 'Don't waste my time or I'll make sure you never see Paradise again.'

'Well, OK then. They said they were going off to hold hands and jump in the lava lake together. It was either that or carry on working for you.'

Bezejel launched her blow with all of her strength. But the spikes stopped suddenly just short of Jabez's unflinching gaze. Bezejel's eyes winced in pain as she looked behind her. The Leader was holding her arm and his strength was far greater than hers. He nodded towards the assembled host of Hades, every one watching the bewitching scene.

Bezejel spat in Jabez's face but herself howled in agony as the Leader's vice grip tightened on her.

'Patience, my dear,' he murmured softly. But his own eyes spoke of anger and patient revenge. Bezejel relaxed as she realised she had gone too far and was now in danger of losing a life. She stepped back respectfully.

Master that he was, the Leader now stepped into the hiatus caused by Bezejel's loss of temper.

'Well,' he beamed at both kingdoms. 'We are, I believe, waiting for one more player.' He paused and allowed Infernals, thrown by the unruly scene they had just witnessed, to recover their bile. They knew who the missing 'player' was.

'Yes,' he nodded in turn towards both Hell and Paradise. 'Who could it be? Who is coming from Heaven to ask for the return of young Jabez here. Jabez the impetuous. Jabez the loner. Jabez the unprepared. Jabez the bumbling friend who's always there when he needs you. Who needs a friend like Jabez?'

The throng of Inferno cheered again. They were back on track.

'For he can go home as soon as someone claims him. That's all I ask. That's fair isn't it?'

The cheering grew. Arms were waved and fists appeared. The Leader walked to the centre of Halfway where the crowds now saw a soft red cushion had been placed on a low plinth. He stood still and crossed his arms imperiously, then raised his head towards Paradise.

'It's time. If you want Jabez, come and claim him.'

All eyes turned and looked up into the great vault above. At the gate of Heaven the faint outline of a door appeared as if lit from behind. As the outline grew brighter and the door opened a ray of light shone out illuminating the darkness around.

A figure in white appeared, male, long-haired and barefoot. The figure was the source of the light. Below the door a stairway now etched itself out of the nothingness and curved its way down to the Paradise End of Halfway. But Lo! When that foot stepped out and reached for the first step, a gasp came from everyone in Inferno and Paradise alike. For as the hem of the cloth pulled back and the heavenly ankle was revealed, all could see the scars of two wounds on either side. Then they remembered that it was not two wounds, but one, drilled from side to side. A soldier's workaday duty from long ago.

The Blue Diamond Warehouse and Godown

Only a single external light was shining above the door outside the Blue Diamond. Chopper Kwok knew that the warehouse had hosted a lot of Brother parties of various kinds recently and he didn't want to draw the wrong kind of attention.

Anyway, this was a small affair, compared to the others. This time it was only his own crew and that was no more than twenty five men and women, all counted.

'Special treat tonight, a night you'll never forget,' said Chopper to one of Wonton Chiang's toadies. A smooth thug who worked on the sham charity soup kitchen in Tsim Sha Tsui.

A gentle rain was falling and Nescafé Mao held an umbrella over his boss's head. Without Chopper's support he would now be in prison, unable to afford the bail for his stupidity in getting caught in possession of dangerous drugs. More gangsters arrived including two women, prostitutes who also worked as 'Mama Sans' keeping the new girls in line and keeping tally of their clients and their financial contribution to Brother. These women were vital to the success of running girlie bars, they knew better than a man just how hard a girl could work, how many men she could service.

Beside Chopper, Wolf Smoke panted and scrutinised every gangster, checking their sweat glands for fear or nervousness. Such things were clues to treachery and the German Shepherd instinctively knew how to protect his master.

Wolf Smoke's training to kill on command had been intensified over the last 48 hours. Chopper had shaken up his network of contacts and sent out pimply youths on scooters to buy and bring back captured rats and small stray dogs from all over the colony. Then, in the cock-pit of the Blue Diamond he had worked Wolf Smoke hard, slapping him down if he killed on the wrong command and rewarding him when he got it right. The youths were also kept busy disposing of the dead creatures in shanty town refuse dumps, sewers and building sites.

Wolf Smoke had a special mission this night and Chopper was sure that the dog was up to the task.

Only yards away Dan Kelly listened intently and tried to make out any names that were used during the meeting and greeting. If he ever got out of this alive - and he was naively sure nobody would be so foolish as to kill him - he would need all the facts he could remember as evidence.

The last expected visitors walked up the alleyway to the Blue Diamond and were admitted, after a thorough nose job from Wolf Smoke. Chopper and Nescafé checked the area one last time for unwelcome intruders. They threw their cigarettes into a pile of rusting boat engines and joined their guests.

Ling Yee, a Mars Ma stalwart who knew everyone in Brother - and was universally disliked - took Nescafé's umbrella and stood himself outside the door. A user himself, he had clumsily packed a hundred heroin fix bags with twice the regular amount of the drug. This had cost Chopper thousands of dollars in lost sales and Ling was now dogsbody for the night, literally under a cloud and missing the show as combined doorman cum lookout.

Inside the Blue Diamond warehouse, Chopper took his place a few steps back from the side of the pit. It was still uncovered since his training sessions earlier with Wolf Smoke. He allowed his gang members to drink beer, smoke and socialise for some time while he revelled in their praise of his leadership. You're so good to us, Mr Kwok, sir. You should be the Brother of Brothers. Thank you for leading us. On and on went the stream of obligatory adulation.

As each supplicant came to him in turn to inflate his ego with another puff of sycophancy, Chopper levelled his penetrating stare at them, forcing them to open up the windows of their dark souls to him. He believed in the essential badness inside every person. He reminded his underlings with his condemning looks that he knew every detail of every evil they were up to and it was no use trying to hide them from him. Wolf Smoke soaked up the malignant atmosphere and waited for the chance to kill, which deep in his canine brain he knew was coming.

Eventually Chopper signalled that he was ready to address the group and a hush went around the cavernous space.

'Now, you all know that I am a fair man.' Chopper continued in a long tradition for bullies and tyrants of opening his speech with a serving spoonful of self-promotion. 'But I am not a man with infinite patience. Nor will I allow the authorities to interfere with my legitimate business. We don't force our customers to buy from us. We are not evil. They buy our white powder and our girls and they gamble with us because it's what they want. It's natural. And then along comes the police who try to stop us from earning our living.'

Everyone nodded at Chopper, encouraging him. They could hardly do otherwise. He went on in this vein for a while, building himself as the people's champion against the merciless imperial forces of policing and taxation. The audience murmured and occasionally shouted their approval which Chopper soaked up with barely suppressed delight. 'It's not right, brothers, it's not fair, and I won't just roll over like others in our profession and let it happen.'

One of the women was especially vocal. 'We must stand up to them, Chopper. The police must learn to protect us and serve us. Not arrest us when we do business.'

Chopper warmed to this theme. 'You are right, Ah Min, they must learn. And I am going to teach them. I will teach and they will learn. We must stand up for our rights and hurt them as they hurt us. Tonight I am going to hurt one of them. A lot. His fate will be a lesson to them all. If they want to fight us, we will fight back until they leave us alone.' He looked at all of his gang and shouted. 'Who among you wants to hurt the police tonight?'

The response was universal and loud. 'Yes. We do. Hurt the police.'

Chopper had intended to run a few cock-fights before the confrontation between Dan and Wolf Smoke in the pit. He had planned to build up to it slowly, escalating the tempo of the night. But now he began to get carried away in the moment and impulsively decided to bring forward his plans.

'Right then, let's get started. Wolf Smoke, into the pit.' The German Shepherd looked up at Chopper adoringly, checking he had understood the command correctly. When Chopper motioned his hand he leapt down the seven foot drop into the cock pit. 'Everybody, stand around the edge of the pit. You're going to see a police inspector die.'

Golden Luck Casino 7.30 pm

Nancy swirled her head in front of the mirror, checking her jade earrings, her make-up and lipstick. A puff of Chanel on her neck made her feel thoroughly feminine. She had had quite a lot of dressing up recently so for this tête-a-tête with Frenchy, she decided to look a little more relaxed.

A white V-necked woollen top over blue jeans on top of classic red high heels was just the ticket. Her six-point star necklace neatly filled the cleft of the V. Quite fetching if I say so myself, she said to the mirror.

Not that Frenchy was on her mind in that respect. The dinner with the dapper, elderly triad leader was purely business. It was about building relationships, discussing strategies and forging plans. Nancy already had lots of ideas for which she wanted Frenchy's support. It was important that she felt good as well as looked good.

Last to go on was a handsome black pilot-style jacket with a winged breast insignia and firm gold-striped shoulder boards to lend the whole outfit some authority. As she picked up her Dior clutch bag and carefully checked its contents, Dan's face swam into her mind. He seemed at home in this part of Kowloon. Maybe he wasn't a tourist. Maybe he lived here. She had liked his cheerfulness and his obvious vulnerability. Why was she thinking of him now? She realised that despite the awful events in San Po Kong and her desire to stay away from men for a while, she secretly wished that she was going out to meet Dan, not Frenchy.

The door burst open and Jenny Ling came in, her face a squall, a worried frown banishing her prettiness.

'Nancy, I'm so glad I caught you before you left.'

'Jenny, what is it? You look really worried.'

'Oh Nancy, I've just heard something terrible. I have to tell you.'

'Come and sit down on the bed, tell me.'

Jenny slumped on the bed, brushing her hair back. Her cheong sam tightened around her waist and her chest pumped in and out as she breathed deeply after her run up the stairs.

'I just heard from Chopper's driver - he's a very close friend of mine...' Nancy nodded. She had guessed there was something more than friendliness between Jenny and Bobby Cheung, Chopper's handsome foot-soldier.

'...He told me that Chopper has kidnapped a policeman today. A detective, an inspector...I think a European. They've taken him to the Blue Diamond.'

'What are they planning to do?'

'That's just the point. I don't think they mean to let him go. Nancy, I'm so worried. Bobby told me that Chopper has been training Wolf Smoke in the Blue Diamond cock pit all day. He's been training him to kill on command. Nancy, why would he do that?'

'Oh flip.'

'What?'

Nancy thought for a moment, reviewing and dismissing several options. Call Fatty? Not enough time. Call Frenchy? He won't be at home. Send Jenny to the Blue Diamond? No. Chopper won't pay her any attention. Call the police? Obviously not.

There was only one option.

'Jenny, you go back to work, to the casino. No sense in you getting involved. There's nothing you can do anyway. The Blue Diamond is only five minutes' walk away. I'll go there and pretend I was just dropping by. I'm sure Chopper is not being stupid. He couldn't be that stupid, could he? Anyway, I'll see what he's doing and put a stop to anything bad.'

'Oh Nancy, I'm worried about you. Chopper hates policemen. He always talks about them. But if you get in the way, I don't know what he might do to you.'

'Me neither. But if we don't do anything and Chopper kills a cop, every one of us could be arrested. It would be damaging for all of Brother.'

Nancy patted Jenny's shoulders.

'Go on now, do what I say. It will be all right. And we're wasting time sitting here talking.'

Nancy stood and held Jenny's hand up, lifting her from the bed. Tears were pouring down Jenny's face turning her mascara into wiggly lines.

'Go to the bathroom first, Jenny, and get yourself settled. I have to go and meet Frenchy after I've sorted out the Blue Diamond situation. But I will phone the Golden Luck from the hotel and speak to you, OK?'

Jenny nodded, still tearful. Nancy picked up her clutch bag.

'See you later,' she said and headed for the stairs.

Halfway Island

To each side, the rock pillars held Jabez fast. The chains burned his wrists and their weight sapped his strength. His broken wing ached and its feathers hung down like parched white rose petals.

Behind him was nothingness. And behind that was Hell with its heat, its hate and its one amazing singularity of kindness.

In front of him, only feet away, was Lucifer. Jabez could scarce look at Inferno's Leader, so intense was the loathing that poured from those red eyes. But despite his discomfort, he kept his feet together, his legs straight and his back erect. He would look back on these moments for ever, no matter what took place here, and he wanted to look back on them with pride in his bearing. The enemy wanted him to look desperate in front of all the eyes of Hades and he did not want to give his enemy their wish.

Bezejel fixed her eyes on Jabez and would fain have lit him like a torch with the intensity of her will. For her anger was personal, unlike that of her master. She would intervene between one instant and the next, if the moment presented itself, to revenge herself on him for her imagined hurts.

But Jabez ignored them all and stared out straight in front of him. He saw the cushion, intended for the Lamb's royal knees and though his heart slowed he kept his gaze steady. Jabez asked, What can I do? And the answer came back from the Spirit, You are doing it.

He heard Lucifer call out 'It's time. If you want Jabez, come and get him.'

Jabez saw the light start around the door, the stairway to Heaven stencil out from the void and the white-robed figure appear on the landing. Like a thousand million faces from across the dimensions he gaped in awe.

The Blue Diamond Warehouse and Godown, Yaumati

Heaven wept and its tears poured down on Hong Kong, filling the gutters with detritus from the roads, turning cigarette vendors into umbrella sellers and filling the cinemas and bars with solitary strollers and coat-sharing couples refuging from the rain.

On one side of the Blue Diamond, Yaumati Harbour lay sullen in the downpour, its village of boat people cooking, eating, laughing and loving as if water was all the same to them, whether above their fragile craft or beneath it.

On the other side of the Blue Diamond, Ling Yee spat at a cockroach, aiming for at least one direct hit before he give himself up to his usual dark thoughts. He continued to curse his seeming perma-misfortune. Late-autumn mosquitoes rose in search of a delicious blood supper, sniffed the airs for scent of a healthy victim and, not finding one, settled for Ling instead. The out of favour door-warden slapped his ear and peered down at his bloodless hand. Another miss.

Irregular steps on the gravel from the direction of Nathan road. Someone avoiding puddles. Ling turned to see Nancy carefully picking her way through the sudden mire of the lane from the side street. Her elegant shoes, made for romancing and dancing surely, were already mud-spattered. The heels, shapely stilettos that they were, sliced into the murk beneath forcing Nancy to tip toe. She held her pilot jacket over her head, the bars on the shoulders spelling out her superior rank.

'Miss, I wasn't expecting you, I'll tell Mr Kwok.'

'No, Ah Ling. Don't do that.' That sounded panicky. Calm down. 'Chopper invited me but I told him I couldn't come. Now I want to surprise him.'

Ling was unsure. He didn't know Chopper's detailed plans for the evening. But whatever his boss was doing, he was sure that Miss Smarty Shoulder Stripes wouldn't like it, no matter how much Fatty Lo thought of her.

'Take my hand, would you and help me over this puddle?' She had to keep him from going inside.

'There. That's wonderful, Ah Ling. Thank you. Chopper will be so pleased to see me.' Nancy had used her purchase on Ling's arm to hold him in place and sling-shot herself around him, edging her body between him and the door. She pulled the handle open. 'You're doing a great job.' She beamed up at him like a lover while her perfume and red lips assaulted his senses. 'There was a police patrol just around the corner. Make sure you come in instantly if they approach.' With that she was through the door and pulled it closed behind her. Ling knew he'd been charmed but he didn't mind. She had praised him and smiled at him - no-one else had done that for a long time.

Once inside, Nancy paused and listened. A brieze block wall partially separated the entrance area from the rest of the warehouse. She could hear everything without being seen. Chopper was holding court. Admirers were praising him like pilgrims at a shrine. Bottles were being clinked, stories were being told and jokes were being laughed at. A regular party.

To Nancy's left a corridor led all the way around the inside of the warehouse to the back, the side near the harbour. This was where the raw cotton was landed and brought inside.

She followed it in near-darkness all the way to its end. A three-flight metal staircase that led up to the gantry and its moving platform faced her. She removed her shoes and hid them behind the first step. Slowly, in case of creaking, she made her way up the first flight of steps, turned up the second flight and turned again up the third flight. The platform was in position against the landing. Another brieze block wall separated the platform from the view of those in the warehouse. There was a human shape on it, lying still. Nancy approached carefully and stooped low.

'Hello,' she whispered. 'Are you awake?' Stupid question.

The figure moved sharply and sat up. Nancy already had her finger to her lips. 'Shhhhh.'

The face looked at her. It was the man from the restaurant. Dan. The one with the 1.11 necklace. He was a police inspector?

Dan was as surprised as Nancy. 'What are you doing here? Are you one of...?' The light dawned as he remembered the rumour of a western woman in Brother.

'You're in danger,' said the ever practical Nancy. 'We have to get you out of here.'

'I'm tied up. A rope around my wrists.'

'OK. Keep quiet and don't move.'

Nancy moved forward on her knees and edged onto the platform. It swung outward a little with her weight and she knew it would clang when it swung back against the landing. She placed her left foot into the gap to hold the two apart. That could be dangerous if the platform swung back hard. Leaning over Dan she looked behind him at the ropes that bonded him to the central column. The chain that lowered and raised the platform went through this tall aluminium cylinder. Luckily the knots were clumsily tied. They couldn't be undone by Dan but she was confident she could pull their loops apart.

'Now, you all know that I am a fair man.' Chopper.

Nancy rested her weight on Dan and started working on the knots.

'Things are building up down there. Dan, was it?'

'Yes, Dan. Kelly. At your service.'

'I'm glad you're here to save me, Dan.'

The last knot came free and she pulled the loose ends of the rope away. She clambered off Dan who sat up rubbing his wrists. The change in weight distribution caused the platform to swing back towards the landing. It closed on her foot. Nancy found herself squealing, 'Jesus...Mary and Joseph.'

'I told you, they're the Holy Family, not the Holy Trinity.'

As she looked down at him, Nancy suddenly realised without any shadow of a doubt that this ordinary, working man with his weak jokes and his fascination for her hemline was the one.

In that moment her heart went out to him. She would save him no matter what.

They inched off the platform, she on her knees and he on his seat until they sat together on the landing. They were both breathing deeply as if they'd just made love. Which, in a sense, they had.

'It's not right, brothers, it's not fair, and I won't just roll over, like others in our profession and let it happen.' Chopper's voice was echoey, but the malice was undimmed.

'I have to get rid of the door guard. Wait here.' Nancy pulled herself to her feet and tip toed to the stairs. As quietly and as speedily as possible she made her way down the three flights of steps. Grasping her shoes from behind the first step and slipping them on she made her way in the dark around the three walls of the corridor's edge and stealthily approached the door.

Ling heard the handle turn and was waiting attentively as the door swung out.

'Yes, miss?'

Nancy noticed the hunted look in Ling's face, the look of a dog that expects to be beaten. She took pity. Her smile at him was unhurried and unforced. Even in her desperate plight she recognised his need for a kind word. But the tempo behind her was building. She had to move him quickly.

'Ling. I've left a present for Chopper at the Golden Luck. You'll find it at the fourth floor casino. Would you be a dear and get it for me? I'll be so grateful.' Nancy was stretching her Cantonese to the limit but there was no puzzlement in Ling's face. He understood what she was asking.

He also wasn't stupid. He knew that he could get into serious trouble with Chopper for leaving his post. But Miss Nancy was the future of Brother. Everyone was saying it. And anyway, how do you refuse a pretty woman who smiles at you like she means it? Like that?

He drew in a deep breath. 'Yes Miss. I'll be right back.'

As Ling's back disappeared into the rain, Nancy figured she needed one minute to get herself and Dan safely away.

Halfway Island

The scarred feet continued their journey down the stairway from Heaven. Slowly, patiently, certainly.

Above them the white-robed figure of the Lamb took shape and even those who had not beheld his likeness before knew it was he. But if any watching from the smoking plains of Hades below were hoping for a sign of panic or fear in those messianic brows, they hoped in vain.

Closer now he came and those who were vigilant could make out the scar tissue on both wrists. Some pointed them out to their friends amid swallowed breaths and much wiping of eyes.

Though almost all the audience were, even in the dimensions of the majestic vault, great distances away, yet were they able to view the events on Halfway across the chasms in between as if they were seated in a close ring around its edge.

Jabez, chained, looked on his lord and his eyes were sick with anguish. He tried to remain stalwart yet the imminent proceedings in which the Lamb would kneel to Satan and plead for his freedom were overwhelming his courage. I'm sorry, he prayed. Be strong, said the Spirit.

The Lamb stepped off the last stair and strode forward, stopping just in front of the cushion. He and his tormentor beheld each other while their muted followers in both kingdoms looked on. Lucifer smiled at his prey.

It was the Leader versus the Lamb.

The Prince of Liars versus the Prince of Heaven.

Despair versus Hope. And to all it seemed that despair held the day.

But the Lamb bore a calmness and a humour that belonged to another age.

'Lucifer, it's been a long time. You should come back to Heaven.'

The Leader gawped, affronted by the dignity.

'What? And have to worship you and sing your praises all the time like all the others you've crushed beneath your feet? I think not. I like being my own boss. I do what I want, when I want.'

'You weren't always this way. We enjoyed each other's company long ago. It was good. We used to sing and be glad.'

'Oh, but you were ever the special one. The spoilt child. I was always in your shadow. It made me sick.'

To watchers in both places it seemed that the Lamb alone stood tall and spoke fair. Lucifer betrayed himself with his accusations and his mean talk. But this was not a debate where protagonists won points on the power of their arguments or the loftiness of their rhetoric. This was a battle for power and there could be only one winner. Lucifer, sensing he was losing the upper hand in the exchange of words, foreclosed the debate and invoked his angelic cudgel.

'Enough of this wasteful talk. You always did twist my words to get your way. I have Jabez. And if you want him back, ask me properly. Ask me with respect. Look, I've even provided you with a silk cushion to protect your sacred knee. We wouldn't want you to get any more scars now, would we?' He cast a sniggering look to Bezejel who smirked, sensing blood.

Lucifer looked back at the Lamb. 'Let's get on with it. Your angel is looking poorly. If you want him, flex your knee and ask me nicely.' Lucifer had spoken harshly, flinging his words as though they were edged with blades. So it was to his great surprise that the Lamb did not respond with anger, despair or even submission. Instead he opened out his arms, smiled at Lucifer with great warmth and then looked up directly above him as if he had heard something.

The Blue Diamond Warehouse

Nancy walked the warehouse perimeter through the narrow corridor for the third time. She removed her shoes again and trotted up the stairs.

'Yes. We do. Hurt the police.' the gang around Chopper bellowed.

She reached the landing where Dan waited on one knee, looking up anxiously.

'Right then, let's get started. Wolf Smoke, into the pit.'

Nancy looked at the mobile platform. She had thought she had a minute. She didn't. Any second now it would start to move on its deadly journey and pull out beyond the brieze block wall that concealed it. The crowd of gangsters below, some of them armed, would see that it held no human cargo. They would swarm to the door and any escape attempt would be forlorn. There would be no time for Nancy and Dan to get down the stairs and around the corridor to the door before they were intercepted. Chopper and his gang were already hyped up to kill a policeman. They would kill Dan immediately. In the mood they were in, they would kill Nancy too if she was caught with him. They would believe she was really a police spy.

Have to hold them off.

'I think they mean business.' There was urgency now in Dan's voice. Nancy watched his mouth move but barely heard the words. She saw the lips she would never taste. The cheeks she would never see jowls. She forced her eyes bright as her hope dimmed.

'Give me your coat.'

'Why?'

'Just do what I say.'

Dan took off his coat and handed it to her. Nancy put it on. She stepped onto the platform and lay down.

'No.' Dan tried to pull her back.

'Everybody, stand around the edge of the pit. You're going to see a police inspector die.'

Nancy held up her hand, palm out, stopping him. 'They won't kill me,' she lied. 'I'm one of them. Now go and get help.'

Down around the cock pit all eyes turned and looked expectantly to where the platform would emerge from behind its safety cover. Chopper pressed the green button on his hand control.

Nancy pulled Dan's coat over her, tucked her long brown hair down inside it and turned her face away.

A motor whined like a rising banshee. Gears engaged with the thump of a distant shotgun. Chains played out and rattled like a slave ship.

Nancy's platform jerked into motion taking her out beneath the gantry towards the cock pit. From beneath her coat she looked back towards Dan and watched as he stood there turning one way and the other like a tree caught in a storm. Their eyes met for the last time and then Nancy dropped her head and moved her body a little so her killers below would know someone was there.

Dan ran down the stairs, not thinking about the noise. The clatter of the machinery covered up any sound he made. He opened the door and ran outside with the desperation of a man running for the fire brigade while in the house behind him his baby was dying. He reached Nathan Road and looked for the first shop that was still open. It was a grocery store on the other side of the street. Down the road to his right, Ling was walking quickly on his way back to the Golden Luck.

'Have you got a phone?'

The store owner indicated the plastic handset beside the till. Dan dialled 999. Even for a serving policeman this was the quickest way to get blue lights flashing. When the operator came on line Dan could barely force the words out of his mouth.

'Blue Diamond Warehouse. Yaumati. Murder in progress. Young woman. Please hurry. Please, please hurry. Please, please, please hurry.' His legs gave way as his face fell like melting glass. The wail of a wedding night widower came from his mouth.

Nancy was amazed by the speed the platform was travelling. Isn't time supposed to travel slowly when you're about to die? Maybe the machine's operator had a choice of speeds depending on the weight of the goods on board? No matter, there was barely time for Dan to get clear even if the machine went slowly. The gears crunched again as the platform stopped and then a new mechanism played out the vertical chain and she started to drop. She thought of Dan and hoped he would be all right. It wouldn't have worked anyway, she decided. Not with him in the police and her running prostitutes and corrupting the rich and powerful. What would they have talked about over dinner every night? Better this way.

In the pit, Wolf Smoke trotted back and forth in frenzy, looking up at the lowering platform and lifting up on his back legs. His mouth was open and salivating in expectation. Impatient whines interspersed with murderous growls. Every part of him from his paws to his eyes was placed temporarily at the service of his sharp teeth. Above him his master fed him words of hate and death.

Nancy had covered almost her entire body so that all that was visible was her bare feet, her blue jeans and Dan's jacket. If anyone had noticed the fine turn of her ankles or the feminine shape to her rear they had no time to express it. Peering from under the jacket she saw the rim of the cock pit pass above her. Dan should be nearing the door by now. Wolf Smoke, impatient with the hunt, readied himself to leap.

Nancy stood up and let the jacket fall. Her elfin shape was revealed in all its youthful beauty to a gasp of disbelief from two dozen mouths.

She picked out Chopper with her eyes and lifted up her head, showing more of her bare throat.

'No,' shouted the two-time sergeant slasher and would-be policeman killer. He fumbled desperately for the red button on his control.

Wolf Smoke made his leap springing straight from the floor to his target and making no mistake. His forelegs hit Nancy's chest, knocking her back while his incisors cut deep into the tendons of her young neck and ripped it open. As she hit the ground he ripped again and tore arteries, airways and voice box till there was nothing left. Blood poured out over the ground while Nancy's heart still beat. In a few seconds her body sagged and the spurting ceased. Wolf Smoke raised his head to look at his master, searching for the approval he knew was his due. He barked and panted with excitement. Blood dripped from his mouth. No-one moved.

Halfway Island

As the Lamb raised his eyes, a voice far, far away could be heard shouting. It was a voice of urgency, a voice of news, a voice of joy.

'The price is paid.'

Heads all across Heaven and Hades turned, probing the void, searching for the caller.

Louder came the voice. 'The price is paid. Nancy has given her life. Jabez is free. It is the price Satan demanded. Jabez must go free.'

And a wind like no other anyone had ever known blew all across Heaven and even Hell and everywhere in-between and everyone knew that the news was true. And the shout was taken up by millions of glad voices and 'The price is paid' echoed and reverberated to every corner of every dimension. More and more voices shouted 'Jabez is free' and soon all of Heaven, every angel in every land in the kingdom was proclaiming 'The price is paid' and 'Jabez is free'.

In Hades the excitement and thrill on every face turned to instant despair. Demons cast themselves upon the ground and buried their heads in the ash or threw themselves into the lava lakes. And still the shouts and echoes grew and went out and came back, every time doubled and re-doubled.

Then the wind which had blown and brought the truth of the news that the price had been paid was heard to build into a storm, a tempest, a typhoon. And then an ear-clattering, rock-smashing boom could be heard in the distance that came nearer and built louder and when at last it burst with all its fury upon Halfway the pillars that held Jabez were smashed into dust and the iron chains that pinioned his wrists were dissolved into scintillas. Bezejel and Lucifer's female bodyguard were blown over the side of the island and fell pell-mell into Inferno landing in disorder. Lucifer was knocked forward and fell prostrate on his front barely a dozen yards from the Lamb. All power was gone from him and he was unable to raise himself up.

Jabez however was lifted by the wind like seed-pollen on a breeze and landed in front of his lord as if placed there by a giant's graceful hand.

And now the Lamb made good use of that cushion which had been placed in front of him for another purpose. He knelt on it with both knees and took Jabez' hand in his. 'Welcome home faithful servant. It's good to have you back.'

'You came for me. I'm just one of millions. Yet you came for me,' replied a tearful Jabez.

'Of course I came for you. Millions are made of ones like you.'

And while the watchers in Paradise looked on they noticed something wonderful. Jabez's broken wing was no longer shivered and hanging from his side like a broken spar. It sat beside its twin and fair glistened and sparkled like a sapling in springtime as a ribbon of light washed over it. Jabez looked over his shoulder at the fullness of feathers behind him. He flared and beat his wings twice for pure joy, rising his own height before settling back in front of the Lamb.

'Let's go home,' said the scarred one simply.

The Landing Fields - Paradise

All of Heaven had taken the day off, it seemed. The streets of every land were thronged with joyful, chatting angels. Nobody was working - except for those making and serving food who were calling for extra help. The Music poured out more powerfully than ever. Handel's Messiah was a favourite right now of course but there were also kettle drum bands, steel drums, pop quartets and orchestras with a cappella choirs on every corner. The entire sonorous repertoire rose and fell, rhythm chasing melody around the kingdom in an endless playful competition yet all blending in harmony like birds singing different songs in a dawn chorus.

Jo and Chan were sitting with Jabez asking endless questions about his time in Inferno. Behind them on a revolving plinth sat the repaired Fundial in all its visible glory. Jo and Chan were taking commissions for new ships and were seeing their order book grow beyond all their hopes. They'd be kept busy designing and building new lightships for thousands of years.

Jo flicked her head and her dreadlocks span around like a carousel. 'Did one of those warlocks really give you water?'

'Yes. But he wasn't a warlock.'

'Oh. Why was he there then?'

'What, in Inferno?'

'Yes.'

'I really don't know.'

Chan had his hand in the air. 'Jabez, I know the memories are probably still a bit painful so I'll ask you about the she-monster, Bezejel, another day. For now, can you tell me what you thought of the handling characteristics of the Fundial and if it needs more work on the stabilisers?'

'The stabilisers worked perfectly,' laughed Jabez, who was looking around him. 'It was the pilot who was at fault. He definitely needs more engineering work on his brain.'

While Jo and Chan joined in the laughter, Luke, Agatha and Ruth approached and sat down. The four looked from one to another and for a long time said nothing while Jo and Chan looked on.

It was Luke who broke the silence at last. 'Bro, you really frightened the lot of us. You frightened us all the way to the Crystal Springs of Cara Quetzal and back.'

'I promise I won't do it again.'

'What I want to know is,' piped in Agatha who had taken inspiration from Ruth and sprinkled sapphire dust over her wings, 'was the Lamb really going to kneel to erm, You-Know-Who, if Nancy hadn't made the choice she did?'

For once Jabez looked really lost. 'I haven't been able to work it out. On the one hand I know that he came for me and he would have done anything to get me back. Anything at all. I'm sure of it. On the other hand, he just looked so calm and in control of himself, like he wasn't worried about a thing. The timing of everything was incredible. That voice shouting 'the price is paid' just when it all seemed too late, was amazing. I'm sorry to say it but I was beyond hope. I still don't understand. That's the best answer I can give to your question.' Jabez finished with a smile and looked beyond the group again, scanning the crowds.

Ruth placed her hand on Jabez's arm. 'Well, ah do declare. Ah've run close to the wire a few times but ah been weeping all down my newest dress the last two days. Had to wring it out with a hand-mangle.'

'Ruth, I bet you've never even seen a hand-mangle let alone know how to use one.' Luke.

'Well ah was speaking figuratively as y'all knew. By the way Jabez, ah know who you're lookin' out for. And if you look over your right shoulder, you just might see her.'

Jabez whirled around scanning the faces. New arrivals from Earth were appearing in the Landing Field all the time. Most of them were greeted by long-unseen friends and relatives. A tearful family group re-united around an elderly man throwing their arms around him. He kissed them one by one and they led him off towards the Welcome Pavilion.

Behind where they had stood was a young woman wearing a fashion pilot jacket over a white V-neck top, blue jeans and slightly muddy red high-heeled shoes. A Star of David hung proudly over her chest. She looked a little bewildered.

Jabez leapt to his feet and approached her.

'Nancy,' he began cautiously, holding out his hand. 'You've no idea how glad I am to meet you.'

Nancy looked up at the handsome stranger with his strong, soft-feathered wings. She warily accepted his hand.

'Do I know you?'

Jo, Chan, Luke, Agatha and Ruth had joined Jabez and were gathered around Nancy smiling broadly at her.

'No. But I know you and I've been following you for months.' Then Jabez began to weep and for the next minute all he could utter was sighs followed by whimpers followed by more sighs.

The other five angels looked at each other and unanimously decided to depart.

'We'll leave the two of you alone to get to know each other,' said Ruth. 'Lovely to meet you, Nancy. Catch up with you real soon.'

'Don't go far, all of you. Stay near. I'm going to need you in a short while,' said Jabez cryptically.

Then Chan and Luke bowed low to Nancy while Jo, Agatha and Ruth curtseyed. Nancy regarded them with wonder in her eyes as they walked away. She looked up at Jabez. 'What's that Music. It's the most wonderful sound I've ever heard.'

'There's a lot to cover,' said Jabez, his eyes still watery. 'Let's go to the pavilion and get a glass of wine.'

'You have alcohol in Heaven?' said Nancy as they walked.

'Yes, although this particular variety is non-alcoholic. Even so, it tastes better than anything on Earth.'

Many eyes turned towards Jabez as they made their way to the pavilion. The memory of his ordeal on Halfway was still fresh. They'd also heard the name Nancy and guessed it was she at his side. Nancy was aware of the attention but said nothing. She had so many questions.

They found a table and sat down. A jug and glasses were already there so they poured, cheered and drank.

Nancy couldn't get over the way Jabez looked at her. Like he knew her. She was used to attention from men on Earth but this was different. Pride, that was it. Jabez was bursting with pride. For her. Why? And his attitude to her in the short time since they'd met. It was so protective. It was almost... No.

Then Jabez began to tell Nancy about his mission to look after her and bring her to Paradise. How he and the others had followed her across Africa and back. How they'd watched as the enemy lured her with promises of power and how they'd fought back with the plan to connect her with Dan. Jabez told her excitedly how he'd seen her love for Dan blossom in the last moments of her life.

'You'll see Dan again, I promise you. Though it may not be for another sixty years. Earth time, that is.' He smiled at her and held her hands.

'But did he love me? I hardly knew him. It all happened so quick.'

'He fell for you the instant he saw you, in the restaurant when you first asked him about his necklace. He had marriage going through his head even then.'

'I had no idea.'

'It was a beautiful moment. You can watch the replay.'

'I can't wait. But you know I have so many other questions. I mean, I wasn't particularly religious. And I turned to crime. I became a bigwig in one of the biggest crime organisations in the world. I had plans to corrupt so many people. Isn't Paradise for good people? Why am I here?'

'You gave your life to save someone else. You had a lot to lose and you surrendered it all for another person. Someone you hardly knew. There's no greater love than that. That's why you're here.'

Nancy sighed deeply and drew her hands back. She looked around her at the other tables where angels and recent arrivals were weeping and holding each other as if time stood still.

'I'm the only one here with no family. Are my mum and dad here? What about my aunts and uncles?'

'You've got whole flights of relatives winging their way here. Going back generations. Your death was, shall we say, a tad unexpected. No-one's had time to prepare. I can't tell you their names but you've got people coming from New Moscow, Golders Valley and all sorts of places all over Paradise.'

Nancy nodded.

'However. There is one exception.' Nancy could see from Jabez's smile that he was hopeless with secrets. 'Someone who arrived just before you.'

'Oh?'

'Look to your left.'

And as Nancy turned to look, a man with a surprisingly nimble step was approaching and holding out his arms to her.

'Great-Uncle...Shai.'

Shai took Nancy in his arms and held her tight.

'Roots. You found them. See, I told you so,' he said after a while. He pushed her back and looked down at her jade star. 'Nice trinket. I can get you a good price for that. Want me to ask around?'

And for the first time Nancy burst out in full-voiced mirth and her laughter was like a waterfall on a summer's day to all who heard it.

But Shai was not yet ready for idle chatting and passing the time of day. A crowd of bright-eyed angels were surging towards him eager to renew old friendships. 'I'll see you soon. Got a few others to catch up with.' And he was gone just like the moonbeam he was on Earth.

Jabez sat Nancy down again and took her hand.

She gazed at his perfect aerial limbs. She didn't know that one of them had been broken or the pain that it had caused him. 'Will I get wings and become an angel too?'

'I don't know. Not every resident of Paradise has wings. Some wait a long time for them. And some never get them at all. They're not my gift to give.'

'They're so beautiful.'

Jabez put his hand to his side and looked down. The mists in his globe were swirling.

'Nancy, I have to be somewhere shortly. But I'm going to leave you in good company while I'm gone.'

He plucked his globe and held it by its sides in front of him, then expanded it. Ruth's face came up.

'Ruth, can you, Luke and Agatha come in and look after Nancy for a while? I have a mission. Oh, and can you ask Jo and Chan to wait for me out there, I need to talk to them.'

Presently, the three angels came into the pavilion and sat down at Jabez's table. Nancy gazed at them in awe, just like she'd gazed at all the angels she'd seen since arriving in Paradise. Their beauty, male or female, was beyond her knowledge.

Jabez introduced them and asked Ruth to take charge.

'I'll see you again very soon,' he said to Nancy as he stood up. 'I have to fly.'

The others looked at him quizzically. All except Ruth who seemed to know where he was going.

Jabez walked outside the Welcome Pavilion and found Jo and Chan who were high-kicking to the Music. He spoke to them urgently and seriously for a while and they listened intently.

'I promise I won't leave Paradise this time,' he finished. 'Really, there's no danger of a repeat performance of Yaumati.'

'OK,' said Chan. 'But with one condition. We come with you.'

'But how...'

'We've converted the Fundial to a 4-seater,' said Jo. 'It's not that we don't trust your flying skills. It's that your mission sounds astonishing. We want to be there.'

'Well, OK. Why not? I'll be glad of the company.'

Jo and Chan led the way to the flying machine. Soon the three angels were speeding their way to their destination faster than a comet. Chan and Jo took turns driving.

Jabez confined himself to the rear.

Heaven's Shore

Jabez stepped out onto the shingle of Heaven's shore. He stooped and kissed the ground. There had been times recently when he never thought he would see this place again. In truth, there were times when he never wanted to see this place again.

Jo and Chan alighted behind him and looked around at the wild beauty of the fringe of Paradise. They shivered when they looked across at the near reaches of Inferno and glimpsed signs of furtive movement there.

'Mawls and gurns mostly,' said Jabez, who was carrying a pack slung over one shoulder. 'They're looking for any edible hydrocarbons thrown up by Inferno's churning surface.'

He turned to the engineering pair. 'Maybe it's best if you two stand back a bit. Perhaps up on that dune over there. Try not to look too ferocious.'

Far from ferocious, Jo and Chan were actually way out of their comfort zone and were looking distinctly apprehensive. They held hands and walked back, finally sitting in a little hollow on a high dune, their knees drawn up in front of them. Chan wrapped a wing protectively around Jo.

Jabez gazed out across the divide to Inferno, as he had done on that first occasion when he arrived at the start of his mission. Only now he wasn't looking for anything, he was looking for something. Someone.

The air was perfectly still and he breathed in deeply. He calmed himself and gently hummed some strains that echoed through his head from the Music that was playing at the moment they left the Pavilion.

A gurn scratched in the ashen surface of Desoland just a few miles away. Two mawls, bigger and faster than the gurn watched him from behind a rock in case he found something worth eating. Why dig the dirt when you could mug the digger?

Jabez's eyes scanned left and right. Silence came down and spread all over, slowing down time itself. This was the moment, surely, if it was going to happen. It was now or never.

The gurn twitched and looked up from the hole it was digging. Something had startled it. The mawls, demons the size of chimpanzees, leaned forward, peering where the gurn was looking. Jabez grew anxious. Were they a threat?

His hands tightened into fists as his body tensed. Gently he eased the pack off his shoulder, lowered it to the ground and opened its straps. He dipped both his hands inside the pack and waited. The timing had to be right. He looked behind him at Jo and Chan. They looked terrified. Good, Jabez thought, allowing himself a wry smile. They wanted some excitement, they're getting it.

The gurn was up on its toes, peering around like a meerkat. Barely a hundred yards from the gurn a sudden puff of ash leapt up from the surface. A red glow appeared below it coming from deep in the ground. There was a hole. Next there was a clang as a circular iron cover was thrown from the hole and landed yards away in the ash. A head appeared, then a body which climbed out hurriedly onto the surface. It looked around, in classic demon fighting stance, a knife in one hand and a sword in the other.

Jabez ran to the very edge of Heaven and shouted.

'Kodrob.' This time his voice did not bounce back.

He pulled out of the bag a spiral metal ladder, pinned one end of it under his foot and then threw the rest of it across the divide. The ladder unfurled itself as it went. It was just long enough. The last rung of the ladder was fitted with two long spikes which dug into Inferno's crusty ash surface.

Kodrob had seen Jabez. Now he spotted the ladder bridge and set off towards it at a loping run, looking about him. The mawls followed him with their eyes, their mouths dropping open. They could see what was happening but even two of them together were no match for a heavily-armed front-line soldier like Kodrob. The gurn had disappeared.

Kodrob reached the ladder bridge and looked across at Jabez.

'OK, take your time Kodrob. There's no-one behind you.'

But there was.

More than a hundred miles behind Kodrob a sharp-eyed imp near the top of Husk Tower was surveilling the suffering hordes below. Something way in the distance had caught his attention and he raised his spy-glasses momentarily and re-focused. He saw the uniform of a Marauder captain on the very edge of Desoland and guessed it must be the demon on the run everyone was talking about. The one who'd apparently been a spy for Paradise for over two thousand years and was in the final stages of a plot against the Leader at the very moment his cunning plan was discovered. Damn him, the traitor.

The imp raised the alarm and within moments shouts and commands were being thrown in all directions. Above him, the Leader heard the noise and ran to the open doorway at the side of the Oven. The same doorway which had witnessed many fine demons pass through on their one-way journey to the rocks below. He looked down to the far end of Desoland and his rebellious heart quailed.

Kodrob slipped his knife into its sheath and his sword into its scabbard. He steadied himself and placed his foot on the first rung. Calmly he stepped onto the bridge and began to walk, not looking back. When he passed the mid-point, the Leader, looking on, realised he had been outwitted beyond recovery. He howled his fury and slammed the huge stones on the side of the doorway with his mighty hand. They smashed into pieces that flew for miles in an incandescent arc before smashing into the crowds below, husking many. The shock wave reached the roof of the tower, shaking the battlements and sending several sentries crashing to the rocks.

But Kodrob knew none of this. He reached the Paradise shoreline and stepped off the ladder. He sank to his knees and put his lips to the ground, tasting its sweetness. Jabez tapped the ladder which furled itself in and came to rest at his feet. Heaven was secure.

'Ex-Captain Kodrob, formerly of the Infernal Marauders, at your service.'

Jabez put his arms around the demon and hugged him.

'Welcome to your new home. You're safe now. The divide has closed behind you.'

'I can't believe I'm here.'

'As far as I know you are the first and may be the last devil ever to make this journey.'

Kodrob looked around him, taking in the wild splendour of the landscape. He plucked a small flower and gazed at it, stroking its petals. 'Is all of Paradise so beautiful?'

Jabez laughed. 'All of Paradise? Like this? Kodrob, you have no idea.'

Jabez checked himself, realising the vast gulf of understanding between him and the grizzled ex-demon. He didn't want Kodrob to think he was mocking. 'No. Sorry. What I meant to say is, Paradise is vast. It's diverse. Every land is different. Beauty has many forms.'

He grasped Kodrob's shoulders and raised him to his feet. 'You'll like it here,' he added quickly, as though the deserting captain might change his mind and go back.

Kodrob breathed in. 'It smells nice in this place. But can I live? I can't even drink water.'

'Your body will go through a lot of changes. It will take some time. But eventually you'll be able to eat and drink like us. And even look like us.'

Jo and Chan walked carefully down the shingle towards the unlikely pair. Kodrob regarded them with fear. His right hand began to move slowly towards his sword hilt.

'They're not the enemy any more. They're friends,' reassured Jabez with a smile. 'Say hello, guys.'

'Hello,' said Jo.

'Welcome,' said Chan.

Kodrob looked Jo and Chan up and down.

'If you say they're friends, who am I to disagree?' He held out his clawed hand to Jo who touched it as though she expected to be burned. Chan did the same.

'I've got you a job, Kodrob,' said Jabez. 'Shall we go?'

'Sure.'

Scarpa Trovata, Boot and Shoe Archipelago, Azurine Sea, Paradise

It was night time in the heavenly Mediterranean island of Scarpa Trovata. Stars spangled in the sky and the still air pulsed gently to the quiet beat of rock Music. Even angels couldn't sleep if their aural senses were being thrilled too much.

Maria and Gianni were alone in the piazza to meet Jabez and his friends. As Kodrob stepped out of the Fundial, the Italian pair regarded him with wariness. Kodrob noted this and turned to Jabez. 'I don't want people staring at me all the time. I feel like a freak. Really, I just want to hide.'

Maria and Gianni heard him.

'I've an idea,' Maria said, staring uncertainly at the ruddy demon. 'Jabez told us already that you'll soon look like other Paradisians. We have a workshop behind our house that we use for special projects. It's not being used right now. If you like, you can live there for the time being while you adjust to Heaven's climate and food. When the redness fades from your cheeks and your eyebrows look a little less fierce...oh sorry, I hope you don't mind me saying that...'

'I understand,' smiled Kodrob, and the others noted how friendly he could look when he relaxed.

'...but what I mean is when you've eaten some good pasta and lots of fresh tomatoes you'll fit in better and then we can introduce you to the village.'

'It sounds good,' replied the ex-demon. 'But you know, I want to work. I don't want to be a burden. I was a leather worker back in Assyria. I can use my hands.'

'That's why I brought you here, Kodrob,' said Jabez. 'Maria and Gianni and all their people here in the Azurine Sea make the most beautiful leather boots and shoes in all of the Kingdom. You can put your old leather-working skills to good use here.'

It was a match made in Heaven and soon the old warrior found himself tucked up in a soft bed in an attic of a quintessential Italian village and when he woke the next day and opened his shutters he would look out on a breathtaking vista of terracotta tiles, olive groves and fruit orchards leading down to sandy beaches and a morning sea made from a palette of the purest blues that Paradise could produce.

Hades raged impotently for Kodrob's loss.

Heaven's mercy had won it its most grateful soul.

Jo and Chan put their arms around Jabez as they walked back to the Fundial.

'I don't know how you swung it with the powers upstairs but saving Kodrob was the most courageous move I've ever seen,' said Chan.

Jo looked up at Jabez, her jet black feathers shimmering like a midnight sea under the moon. 'Jabez, if you still wonder why you were chosen for the Nancy mission, wonder no more. No one else I know would have ended it this way. What you've done has won a greater victory than anything most other angels would have done. Any Heaven-dweller who hears the story of you and Kodrob will be inspired. You weren't the perfect project manager. But you were the right one.'

Jabez took a moment to absorb Jo's comment. 'Thank you friends. But you and your space engineering played a vital part. If you hadn't built the Fundial, everything would have played out differently and who knows how it might have ended?'

'You know,' said Chan, 'this is one occasion when I believe a cold beer is justified. Let's put the Fundial on automatic back to the Pavilion and have us a brew while we talk some more.'

The Landing Fields

Morning sunlight poured over the sculptures and trees outside the Welcome Pavilion. The sculptures were made in their own art by Paradisians from every nation and tribe. They welcomed new arrivals of their kind, proclaiming the Creator's joy in their uniqueness.

The trees were transplanted here from every land in Paradise and hinted at the wonders to be discovered in the journeys and careers ahead.

Within the Pavilion, thousands of families and friends reunited talked and laughed and made-up amidst tears, hugs and hoots. The flow of people in and out was like an airport lounge. But unlike those soulless temples of restlessness, the Pavilion beat with joy, hope and fulfilment.

Nancy, Ruth, Angela and Luke were still in the Pavilion having talked tirelessly through the night.

'There must be something in this wine. If it's not alcohol, it must be caffeine,' shouted Nancy across the hubbub as she returned to the table with another jug.

'And that's another thing,' agreed Luke who was keen to explain all that Paradise had to offer. 'Here there are more than a million types of bean and leaf which means you can try different hot drinks every day.'

'I can't take it all in,' exclaimed Nancy, sitting down and putting her hands over her head. 'Heaven just seems to go on and on.'

'Don't worry, the introductory tour of Paradise for new arrivals will give you a good overview of the basics,' said Agatha. 'It lasts a hundred years but seems to fly by in an instant. The food and transport are great and the guides are really knowledgeable.'

Luke added his favourite. 'If you like skiing, the eighty mile downhill at...Jabez, you're back!' Jabez took a seat opposite Nancy and smiled at everyone.

'Where have you been?' enquired Nancy. 'I've been missing you already.'

'Er..I went to meet a new arrival. Someone I met on my travels.'

'Did it go well?' asked Ruth. She had alerted Agatha and Luke about the mission to bring Kodrob across. They had all pledged secrecy until the outcome was known.

'Very well. Our new friend has settled in nicely.' Jabez paused. 'I'm sure he'll pick up the threads quickly,' he added with a wink.

'He definitely won't be down at heel for long, then.' Luke.

'Sounds like he'll really put his sole into it.' Agatha.

'Erm..He's clearly tenacious. I'm sure he'll last.' Ruth.

'Hey this isn't fair. You lot are talking in code. What's going on?' complained Nancy mournfully.

'I promise I'll tell you later,' said Luke with a grin. 'But it's good news and it's one more positive outcome to emerge out of your journey here.'

'Well, I'm glad about that,' said Nancy sitting back. 'So, what happens now? I've arrived in Heaven even though I scarcely believed in it till a short while ago. Can I take a little walk around and get my bearings?'

'Of course, let's do that,' Jabez pushed his glass away.

'Ah've got a suggestion.' Ruth had her hand in the air. 'Ah think we should let Jabez take Nancy for a little stroll, just the two of them, and let her stretch her legs. She's been in this Pavilion almost since she got here. Time for her to start seeing a little more of Paradise.'

Around the oaken halls other groups were coming to the same conclusion. While new parties arrived accompanying a soul fresh in from Earth, others were pushing back their chairs and leaving for another land within the Kingdom.

Jabez had been relieved at Ruth's suggestion that he take Nancy for a walk, just the two of them. There was something he wanted to ask Nancy in private. He just didn't know how he was going to do it. Or what her answer might be.

He led Nancy outside where they waved goodbye to Ruth, Agatha and Luke. Then he stood up tall and spread out his wings to their full span. Nancy looked from wing tip to wing tip and was amazed to see the distance they reached. Every feather was neatly in its place, like white-shirted students in a classroom. Every plume was alert as though searching for its share of wind.

Deftly he scooped her up in his arms, raised his wings and lifted off with a powerful downward beat. They soared up into the blue sky where Nancy looked around and caught glimpses of pyramids and towers and ziggurats and castles in settings more vivid than any fairytale could tell. They flew for an hour without speaking while Nancy took in the sights of her new home. Eventually Jabez glided down and planted them both in a garden glade within a blue tree forest. They walked along one of the sandy trails.

'You know Nancy, while we were on the project to rescue you, we looked up your ancestral tree.'

'Oh, and did you find lots of crooks and murderers?'

'One or two, since you ask. Though Mya Ling was the most colourful, by a long way.'

'So she realIy was my great-great grandmother and I really am part Chinese?'

'Yes, you're an English Chinese-Russian Jew.'

'Holy melting pots. So when I wore that tabard in Gambia as though I was representing the United Nations, it was half-true.' She was laughing.

'You could put it that way. But there was anoth...'

'You know,' interrupted Nancy, 'I've had quite an odd feeling and it's been growing stronger since I arrived on the Landing Field. But I feel as if everything about me is important and valuable. And wanted. I feel so wanted.'

'That's what Paradise is all about.'

'It's amazing. I feel so alive.'

Jabez was wondering how he could get back to his subject. Nancy unwittingly helped him out.

'So did I have any other famous ancestors?' she asked, watching a tumble of butterflies chase each other nearby.

'I'm glad you asked that question.'

'Oh goody. What are you going to tell me now?'

'Well we traced your maternal line way back before Mya Ling. A long way back. Ruth did all of the research, by the way. It's her thing.'

'I like Ruth so much. Her jewellery is amazing.'

'Yes, she designs it all herself. She has it made by an artisan in the Mines of Kurkatorra. That's where the liquid sapphires come from. Anyway, she traced your line back and when she got to a thousand years BC she found your great great grandmother many times removed was my sister.'

'Oh, very interesting. What does it mean?' Nancy paused at a rose bush to smell one of its flowers, inhaling deeply. Bumble bees shopped busily for nectar inside the petals. They gathered golden ripe pollen and stuffed it into their legbags like shoplifters. She pulled a head of roses towards her and grazed her nose against it.

'It means that you and I, we're family.'

Nancy's hand jerked up from the rose stem, knocking against the petals. Several of them went flying into the air as the stem swung away and back again. She turned and looked at Jabez closely.

'Family?'

'Yes. Family.' At last he had her full attention.

'So what I was thinking was..' Jabez looked at the bees, trying to find the right words. 'I was reflecting that you didn't really have much in the way of family when you were growing up. But I've been watching over you. I've been watching over you as though you were my little sister. I know you were an only child, without any siblings. So I was thinking, well, since you're descended from my own sister, only many times removed, that, well, it might be good if you weren't many times removed and that I could be, well, what I am, really. I mean I could be your brother. If you'd like me to, that is.'

'My brother,' whispered Nancy. She stared into Jabez's eyes, seeing him in a different light from before, almost as though she was looking at someone new.

'My brother,' she repeated.

'If you'd like.' Jabez knew he sounded nervous.

'I've always wanted a brother.' And Nancy's eyes became misty and turned into pools and then torrents as tears streamed down her face and fell onto her 6-point star and soaked into her V-neck top. She threw herself at Jabez and wrapped her arms and legs around him. She hugged him around the neck crying, 'Jabez. My brother. My brother. Jabez. I've found you.'

Then while sobbing into his collar she thought about the brothers of Brother and how she had nearly built her life around them while all the time a real brother was watching over her, caring about her. At last she unhooked herself from Jabez's wet neck and stood down. They went on walking, hand in hand.

'Next month is December,' Jabez continued, 'and I was thinking, now that we're reunited as a family, perhaps you'd like to celebrate Hanukkah with me and then Christmas on the 25th.'

'Hanukkah and Christmas? We can do both?' Her star bobbed around on her chest as she span towards him.

'Of course,' Jabez replied.

'Well, I'll check my diary and see if I'm available. But pencil me in for now.'

Then Nancy whooped and leapt in the air for pure joy and jumped up and hung onto the branch of a tree and swung her legs wildly while Jabez watched and laughed in surprise at her sudden girliness.

When she jumped down she had a spring in her step and swished her hips as they continued to walk.

Jabez placed his arm around Nancy's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. His sleeve snagged unexpectedly as it passed behind her and he looked down at her back.

Just above her shoulder blades, a few inches each side of her spine he could see a pair of bony swellings, maybe a half inch long, poking upwards. There were no feathers on them of course. It was far too early for that. But there was no doubting what they were.

Nancy rested her head on his shoulder.

'Jabez, my brother. You're a darling. Did you know that? A darling.'

'Thank you, Nancy,' he murmured. 'You're an angel.'

###

Thank you for reading The Code War. I really enjoyed writing it for you. If you liked it, would you consider going to your favourite bookseller website and leaving a favourable comment? I read everything that's written.

Also check out my blog at thejshot.com

Thank you.

Ciaran

