Once the British have seen our capability, they will surrender.' Steinmann glanced at his watch. 'There is only one way to convince you Doctor, and that is to show you. We shall leave at once.'

Steinmann stood. Chris looked at the Doctor, who was picking up his briefcase.

Wolff sat silently, handcuffed to the chair, head down.

Roz watched him from the darkened room behind the concealed mirror. Kendrick stood to one side of her, concentrating on his captive's expression. George Reed, her... whatever the word was for possible fiance possible fiance, had just entered the room, carrying a file. She was surprised how much she'd missed him. They'd bought an engagement ring on the way back to his flat, on the strict understanding that she hadn't accepted yet. Roz had tried it on in the shop, and held the emerald up to the light. The little Jewish goldsmith had smiled a knowing smile. Reed had bought the ring, and Roz chose to wear it on the way home, to see if it suited her.

She was still wearing it.

It's definitely him?' Kendrick asked.

Reed held out a photograph from the file. 'It's him.'

Roz only needed to glance at the picture for confirmation.

None of them had doubted it.

Roz stubbed out her cigarette. 'How do we proceed?'

Kendrick hadn't taken his eyes off the prisoner. 'Joachim Wolff is an evil man. He killed two hundred at Mallesan, gave the orders to have them rounded up in a church and machine-gunned. Apparently, he did something similar in Guernsey four days ago. I want every last piece of knowledge he has. I want him to confess to every single one of his sins. Captain Forrester, he deserved to have his eye removed.'

The prisoner slowly looked up, staring straight at them for a moment. What remained of his right eye was covered with a simple felt eyepatch. Roz hadn't realized that they couldn't regrow eyes in the twentieth century. She didn't feel sorry for him. He couldn't see them, of course, he didn't know they were there, but all three shuddered.

'I didn't remove his eye, I just poked it very hard with my fingernail. If I'd wanted to remove it, I'd have used my thumb, in the corner of the eye.'

'When did he arrive in London?' Reed asked, not wanting to continue that particular line of conversation.

'We don't know. The first sign of him was at Paddington.

We have reliable reports that he was personally responsible for the elimination of the Tomato network. So he was still in Guernsey on the fourth. Why's he here?'

'Guernsey? He's connected with Hartung?'

'He's connected with Hartung. He knows everything about the superbomber.' Kendrick held up a sheaf of papers.

'The police found these on the woman he made contact with.

Raid a.n.a.lysis from the night of March the first. The night the superbomber was used. She was going to pa.s.s them on to him. Any idea why she couldn't just radio the information across?'

Roz had already wondered about that. No. How did he get to London?'

'We have no idea. As far as we know, he simply materialized on Paddington station at eight o'clock this morning.'

'Sir, they could have perfected the Gruber-Schneider Devic- ' Kendrick silenced Reed with a glare.

'Hartung has nothing to do with that. Fergus says they are still over three years away from a prototype. We'll worry about that little problem when we get to it. This is something quite different.' Kendrick returned to his scrutiny of the prisoner.

Reed nodded, but was clearly frustrated. Roz knew better than to enquire. A state secret, one for another day.

'Well, how did he get through? You can't just boat in, jump on a train and get off in London.'

'He could have flown in,' Roz suggested.

Kendrick shook his head. 'Last night was quiet over London.

If he had flown in we'd have picked it up on radar.' The admiral straightened. 'I'll begin the questioning. Reed, accompany me. I think Captain Forrester's presence might be counter-productive. Keep watch, please, Captain.'

Roz nodded. The two men made their way round into the cell. Wolff pulled himself to attention as they came into the room. Roz plugged in her headphones and switched on the intercom and tape-recorder. Wolff gave his name and his rank. He was a Protestant, a member of the n.a.z.i party - not a huge surprise - and had no special medical requirements. The interrogation was taking place in German, and although Roz could understand it, Reed was clearly having difficulties. She smiled to herself.

'How is your eye?' Kendrick asked.

Wolff didn't answer him. Kendrick began to speak, but Wolff interrupted. 'What is the time, please?'

'It is four o'clock on the afternoon of March the sixth.'

'You are Admiral Arthur Kendrick of the Scientific Intelligence Division. You have a direct telephone link to the War Cabinet, and to the Prime Minister himself.'

Kendrick nodded.

'I wish to make a statement. You will wish to relay it to Downing Street.'

Kendrick relaxed ever so slightly. 'I make no promise about that. Go ahead.'

'I am Standartenfuhrer Joachim Wolff, a.s.signed to the Luftwaffe zbV. I am speaking on behalf of certain senior elements of the German government and the military. When you hear my message, you will understand why this statement has not come through the normal channels. If asked, the German authorities will deny my existence.

'My statement is this: "It is a tragedy that the Germans and the British, Aryan blood brothers, are fighting one another. Far too many brave men have died on both sides, and the conflict can only escalate. We have a common enemy: the scale of the Bolshevik threat posed by Russia cannot be overstated. The Reich is willing to sign a treaty with the United Kingdom immediately to end hostilities. The British will be allowed a free hand in the control of their empire. Likewise, all the territories and colonies lost to Germany under the terms of the Versailles Treaty will be returned. Neither side would surrender, or offer reparations and neither side would meddle in the internal affairs of the other. Naval, air and military power would be regulated by a series of treaties. Exact levels would be decided later, but would not be unfavourable to the British. In the event of a Russian attack on German-or British-held territories, the other country would come to immediate military a.s.sistance.

These are the major points. There are some minor details: Iraq must be evacuated; France would become a demilitarized area; the British must conclude an armistice with Italy." '

Kendrick sat back, astonished by this. It was a little while before he spoke. 'As you say, Herr Wolff, this is not exactly the proper diplomatic channel -'

Reed interrupted his superior. 'Mr Wolff, if you intended to deliver a message to the authorities, why did you attempt to escape from the police when they arrested you?'

'The police would not listen. Even if they had, they would not have the access to the Cabinet that the admiral here does.'

Kendrick straightened. 'Your claims are... wide-ranging.

Why on Earth should we believe them?'

'The balance of power has been tipped, Admiral. The Germans are now in a position to win this war.'

'With what Hartung has built? Hugin and Munin?'

'If you know of them, you know the truth of my words.

Several weeks ago, certain doc.u.ments were leaked to you: selected blueprints of Hartung's device. Now, you only have incomplete plans of the propulsion system, but will know from them that the technology involved is many years in advance of yours.'

'We can fight it,' George piped up.

'No, Herr Reed, you can't. The Reich expected this response. The offer remains open for another twenty-four hours. At six o'clock this evening we shall use Hartung's weapon on one of the cities on your south coast. That city shall be systematically wiped out. Your a.n.a.lysis of the attack tomorrow morning will conclude that something new and dreadful was used. Something that no amount of forewarning, preparation or defensive action could stop.' Was he talking about a nuke nuke? Forrester wondered. She quickly rejected the idea. It would be a 'new and dreadful' weapon all right, but nuclear weapons weren't exactly 'systematic'. And why pick a target on the south coast? - however primitive their understanding of atomic theory, they'd know about fall-out.

Kendrick was already standing. he stared straight through the mirror at Forrester. 'Get me Downing Street!'

Roz picked up the handset and got through just as Kendrick arrived in the room. He grabbed the handset from her. 'This is Kendrick. Cromwell. Repeat, Cromwell.' He replaced the receiver. Kendrick had just warned the Cabinet that Britain was about to be invaded.

'He wasn't lying, was he, sir?'

'He's over-confident.'

'But was he lying?'

Kendrick looked her straight in the eye. 'No.'

'Doctor. I've just thought of something.'

'Go on.' They were sitting in the back of a Mercedes, heading for the secret airbase. Steinmann's car was in front of them. Chris shifted slightly to face the Doctor.

'You said that according to the history books, Steinmann doesn't die for years and years.'

'True.' Behind the Doctor's head the countryside slid past.

'What happens to Hartung?' Chris whispered.

'Hartung is a shadowy, mysterious figure. Once he retires from racing, in '36, he becomes a recluse. There are no photos of him after the Cairo race, his last public appearance. He never married. He dedicated himself to the Reich,' the Doctor said quietly.

'When did he die?'

The Doctor tried to scratch his head, but his hat got in the way. 'That's a mystery that's never solved. A secret buried deep in the Reich's archives. The information only ever appeared on a single sheet of paper. At the end of the war, that sc.r.a.p of paper was taken to the Kremlin along with every other piece of information about Emil Hartung and his project: every surviving blueprint, notebook and diary. The doc.u.ments were sealed in the deepest, darkest vault in the Soviet Union and sat there untouched for almost forty years.

In September 1984 the vault was opened on the direct orders of Konstantin Chernenko. Certain technological developments coming to light in the United States worried the Soviets. Their own scientists couldn't match recent American discoveries. You can't have an arms race if there's only one runner.' The Doctor grinned, removing his hat and scratching his head. 'Hartung's work was in the same area. The vault was unlocked, the bolts were drawn back. The heavy door swung open for the first time in thirty-nine years. It was empty. Unable to match America in this and other areas, the Soviet Union collapsed soon afterwards.' The Doctor kept his expression neutral as he unfolded a sc.r.a.p of yellowing paper.

He pretended to read it. 'Hartung dies in March 1941.'

Chris nodded. 'We kill him.'

The Doctor's expression was grim as he replaced his hat. 'We finish this. Tonight.'

'It's alien, isn't it? Whatever's in those hangars?' Chris offered.

'In your terms,' the Doctor said softly.

'A crashed s.p.a.cecraft? He's using alien technology from a UFO that made planetfall in Germany. Or perhaps one that has been buried here in France for centuries that they've only just uncovered. The n.a.z.is found the ship, they set their top scientist to work a.n.a.lysing it. They've organized a ma.s.sive cover-up. Now he's built something centuries in advance of what they should have here and they've been testing it.

Something big.'

The Doctor pointed ahead. They had arrived at the main gate of the secret airbase. 'The truth is in there.'

They stepped from the car. The guards searched them, but found nothing. Finally, they were ushered through the main gate. Steinmann was waiting for them.

'Is Hartung here?' asked Christ.

'I promised to show you what we are building,' said Steinmann non-committally. They had walked past the concrete cows, past the concrete pine trees, down the green tarmac of the runway. They reached one of the long, almost square, hills. Chris saw now that one end of this barrow was flat, a wide corrugated metal door, painted to look like gra.s.s.

This door was edging open. Inside, neon lights were flickering on. The Doctor was consulting his watch. As the door inched open, Chris saw a word painted onto the concrete floor inside the hanger, thick white letters like road markings.

MUNIN.

'The Norse for "Memory",' noted the Doctor thoughtfully.

Chris guessed that Munin was sixty feet long, and that its wingspan was just under twice that. The main fuselage was simply the shape of a cigar tube. The wings were flat, narrow, isosceles triangles mounted halfway along the length. Most striking was the colour, a mottled blue/grey/black, lighter underneath than on top. The c.o.c.kpit canopy was lozenge-shaped, and coated in gold film. It was impossible to see into the c.o.c.kpit itself. Although it was advanced for the time there was nothing alien about it.

A handful of technicians scurried around the plane. Rusty orange scaffolding encased one side of the fuselage and technicians were inspecting the exposed fuel system.

Steinmann dismissed them, and they marched from the hangar. The three men were alone together, now.

'It's just an aircraft!' Chris exclaimed. 'An ordinary aircraft. It looks a bit like a U2 spy plane.'

'The first U2 was unveiled at Groom Lake, Nevada on July fourteenth 1955. Fourteen years from now. This plane is similar,' noted the Doctor. He sounded almost relieved.

'Look where they've put the engine,' Chris said. The plane had a single jet engine, running straight along the top of the fuselage.

'Fascinating!' the Doctor exclaimed. 'I had expected that the planes would be of a flying wing design, with the engines mounted above the wing. This dorsal-mounted engine would be impossible to detect using ground-based radar.'

'There is another type?' enquired Steinmann.