Situated close to the wall, it could not be seen from where Toshiro and the other Iron Masters stood. Steve applied a touch of left rudder to bring the speeding trolley into line with the ramp. He'd been keeping the stick forward to keep the wheels firmly on the ground but, as he hit the ramp, he pulled it hard back and found himself sailing through the air. This was the bit there hadn't been time to rehea.r.s.e. Steve and Cadillac had been over the ground and agreed it was feasible. But only just.

A collective gasp of surprise left the throats of the invited guests and watching workers as the stub-winged trolley took off. Rising steeply like a heron from a marsh, it cleared the stone wall by at least twenty feet and continued to climb.

Beyond the wall was a narrow stretch of boggy ground spinkled with tussocks of long gra.s.s, and beyond that a large pond whose far end was fringed with trees. As Steve crossed the edge of the pond at a height of fifty feet, the last two rockets cut out. The trolley, whose glide characteristics were only marginally better than those of the humble house-brick, promptly went into a steep dive. Steve stood it on its tail to lose speed, then took a deep breath as it wallowed drunkenly out of the stall and went in more or less a.s.s-first. Kerr-SPL UNCH!

The watching Iron Masters burst into great guffaws of thigh-slapping laughter as a huge cloud of spray rose into the air above the wall.

Toshiro's enjoyment was tempered by his concern about the fate of his chosen a.s.sa.s.sin, but even he found himself smiling broadly.

Min-Orota's samurai-major, who had travelled with a ten-strong party from Ba-satana to watch the demonstration, turned to the Herald and gave him a comradely slap on the shoulder. 'Ha! If this long-dog can make carts fly like chickens, then you and I will soon have horses that can fly like eagles!" 'That day cannot come soon enough for me,'

replied Toshiro.

Jodi and Kelso, who were up and running as soon as Steve left the ground, were the first over the wall. Jodi, like the Herald, was genuinely worried; with Kelso, it was more a case of wanting to be there when they picked up the pieces. His unforgiving half had been hoping to see that self-satisfied grin wiped off Brickman's face when he hit the wall; the other half had been tinged with grudging concern for a fellow wingman who had drawn the short straw. But the lucky sonofab.i.t.c.h had gotten away with it again and was now wading ash.o.r.e draped in green slime. Behind him, the crumpled stub-wing floated in the middle of the pond, surrounded by a few broken struts.

They met Brickman as he stepped ash.o.r.e with a cheerful grin. He had blood running down one side of his face.

'Go back in and wash that gunk off,' said Jodi. 'You smell just awful."

Steve obeyed meekly.

'You must be crazy pulling a stunt like that." Neither she nor Kelso had known about the ramp.

'You got it wrong, lady. I didn't volunteer. I was drafted."

'Nyehh, what the h.e.l.l, it worked,' growled Kelso.

'These birds are gonna fly."

'Looks that way..." Steve took hold of Kelso's outstretched hand and clambered back on to firm ground.

Jodi checked his scalp wound. 'You'll live."

Kelso eyed him keenly. 'Kaz tells me these rockets were your idea."

'That's just between the three of us. Officially it's all down to Mister "Brickman'' - okay?"

'Yeah. I've been meaning to ask you about him. Who the h.e.l.l is he and why is he using your name?"

'Dave, I'd like to tell you, but. it's a long story and it would only confuse you."

They picked their way back towards the wall through the tussocks of marsh gra.s.s. A handful of Trackers were gathered on the other side.

Having seen he was in one piece and on his feet, they hadn't bothered to climb over. As far as they were concerned he was only another stinking Mute - and a nosy one at that.

Steve scrambled over the wall ahead of the two wingmen and skirted round the waiting linemen.

'Hey, Kelso! Make sure you wash that hand o' yours!" said one of them loudly. 'Touchin' lump-s.h.i.t makes your fingers fall off."

The others greeted this jibe with raucous laughter and looked expectantly at Steve, but he averted his eyes and ran limping across the field towards the workshops.

'Well done,' said Cadillac, as Steve stopped to ma.s.sage his knee. The visiting Iron Masters had all departed.

'You okay?"

Steve grimaced. 'Yeah. I just twisted this leg a little.

How did it go your end?"

'Terrific. They're over the moon. That lift-off put them in a really good mood. Ryoshi - the head of the party that came down from Ba-satana - is one of Min-Orota's top men. He says we can have whatever materials we need. They want to move ahead as fast as possible. All the plans under construction are to be completed.

They're talking about putting on some kind of display for the Shogun."

'Good. Did they say anything about drafting in more people to speed things up?"

'Yes. But they won't be Trackers."

'j.a.ps."

'No. They'd lose too much face working alongside us.

They'll probably be Koreans or Vietnamese."

'Gotcha." Steve tested his wrenched leg by putting his full weight upon it. It was still tender. 'Listen, while we're on the subject of d.i.n.ks, I saw a horse tied to one of the hitching-posts out front. Had this black cloth on its back, trimmed with red ' 'It's called a "caparison"..."

Steve ignored the interruption ' - and there were red doo-dabs '

'Ta.s.sels..."

'-hanging from the reins. Did you, by any chance, see who it belonged to?"

'Yeah. Toshiro Hase-Gawa. He's a Herald to the Inner Court."

'Sounds important..."

'He is important." Cadillac gave Steve a concise explanation of the Heralds' role, their position in the government hierarchy and their special relationship with the Shogun.

Steve listened intently. He'd asked because the horse, with its red and black trappings, was identical to the one he'd encountered near Two Island Lake. So the Man in Black was Toshiro Hase-Gawa, Herald to the Inner Court, one of the 'eyes and ears' of the Shogun - the top man in Ne-Issan. He really was caught up in a high-level conspiracy.

Once again his gut-feeling and that silent inner voice had enabled him to put it all together. It was the Shogun who wanted the Consul-General killed. And by using a lowly long-dog, he made sure no one would ever be able to point the finger at the prime mover. Neat.

Steve was prepared to keep his side of the bargain to secure Clearwater's release, but what then? The Shogun, he imagined, merely had to lift his little finger and his people would be falling over themselves to ensure their safe delivery to the border. Except, of course, that, for the same reason they were using him to make the hit, they would not want to be seen doing so.

It would make things a lot easier if they could move under the Shogun's protection, but could he be trusted?

How much did he know about what was going on? Had he, for instance, bought the story about the ma.s.sive air strike that would be delivered if he did not return safely with Cadillac and Clearwater? The Man in Black was a tricky customer. He might be using his position as intermediary to settle a few scores of his own.

Fascinating problem. What was even more fascinating was the intimate knowledge Cadillac had garnered about the Iron Masters. 'Tell me,'

said Steve, 'how do you know all this?"