'Yes, indeed. I am here to do all I can to help.'

Fu Peng sat down himself and began pouring tea. 'It is a great sadness...'

Since by now the Doctor and Fu Peng had slipped back into Hokkien Chinese, the Brigadier listened to the exchange in total bafflement.

The Doctor and Fu Peng went on talking in low earnest voices. Ignored, the Brigadier sank into a chair and sat down to wait.

Escorted by Prison Officer Green, Lenny Vosper trudged down the prison corridors with his bucket and mop.

Vosper was a dangerous thug with a record of violence. By careful good behaviour he had managed to become a 'Trusty', a long term prisoner allowed certain privileges because he was reckoned to be at least partly reformed.

Vosper was uneasily aware of the tension in the prison, of the angry murmuring coming from the cells they pa.s.sed.

Moreover, Vosper had his own reasons for feeling tense.

Green marched him along the short corridor that led to the condemned cell and unlocked the door. 'All right, Vosper, get busy!'

Vosper shuffled into the cell and began mopping the floor.

From the main area of the prison came the angry muttering of the prisoners.

In the locked Process Chamber the Keller Machine was throbbing gently.

Jo Grant was in the Prison Infirmary visiting Barnham, the prisoner she had seen undergoing the Keller process.

The big man was laying contentedly back against his pillows, listening to the radio on headphones.

Jo looked at Doctor Summers. 'How is he?'

'Fit as a fiddle, aren't you Barnham?' He raised his voice. 'Barnham a visitor for you.'

Realising he was being spoken to, Barnham slipped off the headphones, and looked up at Jo curiously. 'Hallo.'

Sitting in the chair beside the bed, Jo handed him a box of chocolates. 'Here, these are for you.'

Barnham gave her a child-like smile. 'Thank you. Do I know you, miss?'

'Well, we have sort of met.'

'It's just that I don't seem to remember anything much.'

'You were treated by the Keller Process. Don't you remember that?'

He shook his head. 'Everything seems a bit of a blank,'

he said in a slow, puzzled voice. 'You won't believe this, but I couldn't even remember my own name till the doctor here told me who I was.'

There was something about his blank, child-like expression that made Jo suddenly uneasy. She stood up.

'Well, I'm glad to see you looking so much better.

Goodbye.'

'Bye bye, miss, and thank you for the chocolates.'

Barnham spoke like a well-mannered child in junior school. He put back the headphones and leaned back, closing his eyes.

Jo moved over to Doctor Summers. 'Well, everything seems to be all right.'

'I'm not so sure,' said Summers worriedly. 'My theory is that in Barnham's case the Machine overreacted. It extracted all all the negative impulses from his brain.' the negative impulses from his brain.'

Jo looked at the peaceful figure in the bed. 'So what does that make him now?'

Summers shrugged. 'Depends how you look at it. An idiot or a saint?'

The noise from down the corridor was getting louder now.

Vosper said casually, 'Getting a bit noisy out there, aren't they, Mr Green?'

Green turned and shouted down the corridor. 'All right, you lot, shut up, can't you?'

In a flash, Vosper took a plastic-wrapped bundle from the bottom of his bucket of water, and thrust it under the mattress on the already made-up bed. When Green came back into the cell, Vosper was vigorously mopping the last section of floor.

'Finish up,' said Green. 'Here they come.'

He looked along the corridor as a little group of people came marching towards the cell. One was a prisoner, flanked by two prison officers. Behind came the Governor, and Chief Prison Officer Powers.

Green stood aside as the little group entered the cell.

'All right, Vosper, outside.'

s.n.a.t.c.hing up his bucket and mop, Vosper made for the door, catching the new prisoner's eye for a moment as he scurried away.

The new prisoner, Mailer, was a tough hard-bitten character with brutal features. His face had a weathered, corrugated look, as if made of leather rather than normal skin.

Harry Mailer was a London gang leader, a vicious killer who had run a highly successful protection racket with the aid of a gang of armed thugs. He had finally been arrested and convicted for a murder which he had been rash enough to commit more or less in public. It was thought to be only one of a whole string of murders in which no evidence, and indeed no bodies, had ever been found. It was rumoured that Mailer's victims were embedded in the foundations of bridges and motorways all over England.

Like many criminals of his type, Mailer was both arrogant and conceited. He looked disparagingly around the well-furnished cell. 'Proper little home from home, isn't it?'

The Governor said, 'You'll be in this cell until sentence is carried out, Mailer.'

Coolly Mailer stretched out on the bed. 'I wouldn't put any money on that, Governor. n.o.body's going to turn me into a ruddy zombie and that includes you, mate.'

Chief Prison Officer Powers was outraged. 'That's enough of that, Mailer '

The Governor smiled grimly, prepared to allow Mailer his gesture of defiance. 'All right, Chief.' He left the cell.

Powers glared angrily down at Mailer for a moment, then turned to the two warders who had brought him.

'Watch him!'

Powers and Green too left the cell. With a clang of metal and a rattle of keys, the door was closed and locked behind them.

The warders were Johnson and Samuels, the same two kindly, middle-aged men who had looked after Barnham.

Johnson nodded towards the pack of cards on the table.

'Care for a game, Harry? It'll pa.s.s the time.'

'Drop dead,' said Mailer briefly.

The warder shrugged. 'Suit yourself. Sam?'

The two warders sat down. One of them shuffled the cards and they began to play, comfortable in their long-established routine.

Harry Mailer watched them for a moment, then slipped a hand under the mattress. His fingers encountered a hard, n.o.bbly bundle, cold metal under wet plastic.

Quickly Mailer withdrew his hand. Next time the warders glanced at him he was laying back, eyes closed, a picture of innocent relaxation.

To the Brigadier's relief the tea party between the Doctor and Fu Peng seemed to be drawing to a close. Still chatting away in Chinese, they rose and bowed ceremonially to each other.

The Brigadier leaped to his feet. 'There are a few questions I should like Mr Fu Peng...'

Another burst of Chinese.

The Brigadier looked at the Doctor. 'What did he say?'

'Dried squid and stewed jellyfish.'

The Brigadier blinked, wondering if this was some obscure Chinese insult. 'What?'

'For our dinner,' explained the Doctor. 'He's invited me to dine.' He bowed once again to Fu Peng, and said in Hokkien, 'Farewell, my dear Peng.'

Fu Peng bowed in return. 'Until our next meeting, Doctor.'

The Brigadier made a last desperate attempt to get someone to take some notice of him. 'I really must insist on asking '

But Fu Peng had returned to the study of his papers, and the Doctor was already at the door.

'Do hurry along, old chap. We've got a lot of work to do!'

Fuming, the Brigadier followed him from the suite.

Pouring himself a large brandy from the bar in the back of his limousine, the Master was still listening to Mike Yates's voice. 'Armoury? Captain Yates here. I want to draw arms and ammunition for a minimum escort detail, Security Coding 27953/4A/22...'

The Master sat back listening, sipping his brandy.

Moving cautiously, inch by inch, Mailer slid the gun from the plastic bag beneath the mattress.

When the b.u.t.t was in his hand he lay patiently waiting.

At last he heard footsteps and the rattle of crockery from the corridor.

Suddenly he spoke. 'Where's the food then or are you planning to starve me to death?'

Johnson looked up. 'It's coming, Mailer, it's coming.'

'So's Christmas!'

There was the sound of a key in the lock and the cell door began to open.

'About time,' grunted Mailer.

The warder with the tray came into the cell, and with sudden, shocking speed, Mailer sprang from the bed, grabbing the man from behind and jamming the pistol against his ear. The tray crashed to the floor.

Mailer glared at the other two warders. 'You two, stay right where you are, or he gets it right now.'

The two warders stood very still.

Mailer jabbed his captive with the barrel of the automatic. ' You! You! Give me the keys.' Frozen with fear the man didn't move. Give me the keys.' Frozen with fear the man didn't move.

Mailer jabbed him again. 'I said the keys. Hand 'em over. Move!'

6.