'What was I saying? The Augmentation Programme yes... Well, I didn't find it all out at once, but I learned it was all to do with getting synthetic body parts to respond to the commands of a central nervous system. So I changed my area of specialisation I studied, changed jobs, edged myself closer to this big secret. And eventually I got in.'

Drakefell wiped his forehead. He was sweating heavily.

'We were based at London Zoo.' He smiled. 'No one knew. I was there six years. I didn't like what we were doing I even did a bit of wrecking, on the quiet but we didn't seem to be getting very far anyway. We dismantled every one of the silver men, but all we got out of it well, for me at least, it was the pleasure of seeing those things ripped apart.

'The Yanks weren't that interested at the time. It's all nuclear payload with them or it was...

'And then one night... something happened. We'd been to a party it had been someone's birthday and ended up back at the lab at the zoo.

We'd all had a skinful made a h.e.l.l of a mess of the lab and I'd fallen asleep in a corner. Well, I woke up hours later, alone, still drunk. For some reason I made a feeble attempt to tidy up, and I stumbled across a piece of equipment I hadn't seen before. For some reason the sight of it made me instantly nauseous. I threw up. It wasn't the booze '

He grinned again.

'Part of it was the booze...'

Then his face fell.

'Then I touched it,' he whispered. 'And I was there again!

Underground! And the silver men were there, pushing us into the darkness!

'I ran from the lab, found my way home and collapsed. That night the dreams returned.'

He rose to his feet and put his hands over his mouth in an attempt to control his breathing.

'I went sick. I faked glandular fever I knew they'd put me in the nut-house if they knew the truth. And the thing I had it sent off into storage.

84.'Over the next few months I got better and applied for a transfer to the British Rocket Group. They needed a project director, and with my experience of high security work I got the job. We were working on the Hermes project.'

He started to chuckle.

'Oh, I thought it would be that easy. What a fool! I thought it would just let me go. There was some sort of breakthrough at the zoo. The optics boys had come up with something new, and the Americans had suddenly got all excited. They put pressure on the government, and what had been a civilian missile project suddenly became part of the Cold War. They wanted us to launch a satellite. Very advanced and very secret.

'The Soviets had put Sputnik up in '57. The Yanks put Explorer up...

shot monkeys into s.p.a.ce... Poor sods. Herding them into machines...'

He shuddered.

'But Sputnik and Explorer had really just been floating tin footb.a.l.l.s.

They didn't actually do do very much... This was something different. very much... This was something different.

They reckoned the zoo boys had come up with some kind of camera capable of reading a newspaper from s.p.a.ce. Can you believe that?

They wanted to put up a satellite that no one knew about. And they wanted us to launch it. We were putting various bits of climate-testing and experimental equipment up there anyway everyone knew that.

This would just appear to be another piece of harmless s.p.a.ce research, and it would be sending the news hot off the press from Moscow.'

He laughed grimly.

'Not that I cared. 'Cause guess what? The dreams were back! They'd closed down the operation at the zoo and moved it out here including the stuff from the warehouses in Kew. That d.a.m.ned... thing my nightmare machine had followed me.

'Well, I knew I couldn't get rid of it it would never let me. So I decided to send it where it could never come back. Into s.p.a.ce...

'It was pretty much the same size and weight as the optical equipment going into the satellite. So after the final checks I came back to the lab and took it all out smashed into pieces. And in its place I put the thing. The nightmare machine.'

He shook his head slowly.

'I've doomed us all.'

Drakefell seemed to lose his strength. He toppled forward, stumbling from the little hillock. The Doctor sprang forward and caught him by the shoulders, steadying him.

Drakefell stared at him as if he were the Devil himself, and twisted from his grasp.

85.'Who are you?' the woman challenged.

'You...!' Drakefell bellowed. 'What are you doing here?'

'I need to get to the rocket, Dr Drakefell.'

Drakefell hesitated.

'It's not from this world, Dr Drakefell. It's from another reality, and that's very bad. I need to find out what it's doing here.'

Drakefell looked uncertain.

Somewhere behind the Doctor a twig snapped. There was a rustle of privet. A shadow flashed through a gap in the hedge.

There was someone else in here with them.

The Doctor darted back into the maze. A heel vanished ahead of him. He plunged after it. He had to concentrate he was in as bad a state as Drakefell on whatever these psychopaths had put into him. He desperately wanted to sleep.

Shaking himself, he plunged after the eavesdropper, around another bend, then another.

A dead end. Impossible. Where had the figure gone? The Doctor turned to retrace his steps to the centre then realised that he was lost.

He'd lost his bearings he didn't know where in the maze he was.

Who on Earth could have done this to him?

It took him over an hour to find his way out, by which time he was close to collapse. It was a different entrance to the maze. He looked around. In the distance, under the trees, was the stone lodge. Captain O'Brien would help him...

He staggered in the direction of the trees, and got about five hundred yards before his legs buckled under him and he sank face down onto the wet gra.s.s.

Jimmy was late. He came bounding up to Ace, mumbling apologies and smiling shyly.

'Had to take a bath, he drawled. 'You know, working in a zoo...'

She grinned. 'You smell great.'

He looked great too, blue jeans, white T-shirt that clung to his pecs, running his hand through his still-wet, tousled blond hair.

'Let's get outa here,' he said, resting an easy hand on her shoulder as they set off.

They caught the bus to Oxford Street, where she gawped again in horror at the fashions on display. Did young people really used to dress like this?

The weather was good to them. They skipped ahead of the rain, crossed the river on foot and strolled along the South Bank. It was run-down empty warehouses where later there would be theatres and 86 bars.

They climbed down some slippery stone steps onto the wet banks of the Thames. The river was low, enabling them to walk out as far as St Paul's. They drew patterns in the muddy shingle with a piece of driftwood. Jimmy drew a big heart and wrote both their names. Ace added the year London 1959.

'Shame it'll be washed away,' she said.

Everything seemed so transient nowadays. She and the Doctor never stayed long in any one place.

'You know what?' said Jimmy. 'I've got an idea.'

He grabbed her by the hand and started running for the nearest steps.

'What?' she called.

'Wait,' he said.

They bounded back up to street level.

'There!'

He dragged her across a road and into a pub.

'Is this it?' she laughed. 'A pub.'

'Nah, this is just Dutch courage,' said Jimmy, catching the barman's eye.

An hour later they staggered out onto the street, drunk and laughing. It was getting dark. Jimmy put his arm round her and she hugged his torso as they walked. She didn't want this to end.

She felt comfortable with Jimmy. He was shy she'd hardly got anything out of him about his life though he'd talked pa.s.sionately about the zoo, and affectionately about the animals. She was grateful that he hadn't asked her anything about her life. He'd think she was barmy.

Here we go.

They were outside a tattooist's parlour.

Ace grinned a loopy grin. 'You're kidding...'

Jimmy drew her to him and kissed her on the lips.

She let herself be led through the narrow doorway into the shop beyond.

She knew what Jimmy had in mind. ACE, JIMMY, LONDON 1959.

In ribbons over a heart. Corny but irresistible. And something permanent in her life.

'Right,' said a greasy youth smoking a roll-up, 'who's first?'

The first thing Rita was aware of was a harsh light shining directly into her face.

'So this is her...'

'Yes, sir.' Dumont-Smith. His tone was respectful.

87.'Oh, and well done about the rocket,' the voice said.

Dumont-Smith made ostentatious noises of modesty. He really was grovelling.

'It was him, sir. He's a remarkable man. Quite unique.'

'Hardly that,' said the voice in authority. 'Are you trying to flatter me?'

The man's tone was arch both teasing and knowing. More sycophantic noises from Dumont-Smith.

'Now, wake her, please,' the voice said.

'I am awake,' Rita slurred. She was sprawled on the settee, but found it difficult to move.

'Ah, then may I ask how you are, my dear?'

His tone was friendly. Like an old vicar.

'Must go...' she mumbled, trying to get up from the settee. Her limbs felt like lead. She gave up and slumped.

'No, no, you must rest,' the voice said.

Rita could just about make out a slender figure silhouetted against the harsh light.

'Find the girl...'

'Is that why you came here? You were looking for a girl...'

Rita managed a vague nod. 'Friend of McBride's.'

'The American detective, sir,' Dumont-Smith intervened.

'I know,' the voice said languidly 'I know. Why did you think the girl was here?'

'Followed her with the stud.'

'I think she means the younger American, sir. Our courier. The actor chappie...'

'Yes, yes. Let the woman speak, for heaven's sake.'