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by Tobias Sturt

All text in this work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/uk/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA. ISBN 978-1-291-42451-5 Inspired by characters and events created by Mike Dicks, James Erskine & Tobias Sturt 2013 Tobias Sturt

1 The Street
A single drop of blood ran down the speedometer from 30 to 20. He could see the whole interior of the Range Rover re[lected in it. The blank light of

the empty windows, himself, held up right in his chair only by the seat belt, Lily slumped forward over the steering wheel, everywhere crumbs of safety glass that winked and scintil- lated in the bright summer sunshine. In the aftermath of the crash the silence was shocking. His [ingers, slick with blood, numb and unresponsive, scrabbled at the release on the

seat belt. Slipped, found it, popped the button and the belt reeled itself in. He fell forward onto the dash.

Months ago. Monotonous grey skies above monotonous grey buildings and the ferrous

taste of approaching snow in the air. Maybe thered be a white Christmas this year. Broken glass ground under foot, under his palms, the powder shimmering in the >lat,

bright winter light. There were feet everywhere, stumbling, stamping. The crowd had become a single thing, lurching back and forth unpredictably, panicked and confused, torn between >ight and >light. Right now it was staggering back towards him, where he was lying on the marble tiles

and he just knew he was never going to get back to his feet in time. Then her hand grabbed hold of his collar, pulling, and his feet found purchase where

the glass gravelled on the marble tiles.

You hit me. Theyre beating her up, Adam! You saw them. Police! Weve got to get out of here, Lily, the police are coming! Then get up, you fucker, get up!

At the other end of an undisturbed expanse of pale leather dashboard was the wing

mirror. In it the sky was an endless, calm blue. Skyscrapers loomed up into it shining, while at their feet the traf[ic had snarled to a stop round the crash, groaning and hooting. And between the cars [igures moved. Dark, sober [igures in dark, sober jackets, mak-

ing their way down through the traf[ic towards them. Then get up, you fucker, get up. Lily, weve got to get out of here! He hauled himself up off the dash and it took all the strength he had, stranding him

back in the soft leather seat again. All he wanted to do was stay there, rest, sleep in that comforting grip. He grabbed hold of her shoulder, the fabric of her suit bunching under his [ingers,

coarse, but she didnt respond. Lily, get up! He pulled himself forward, grabbing her with both hands and pulling with all his

body weight, and her head came up from the steering wheel. Afterwards he was never quite sure of what he saw and what he imagined, but the

shock of it, he never forgot: the brightness of the blood, the livid face, the imprint of the

steering wheel smashed into it. He let go before he could see too much. She was an impas- sive weight beneath his hands and fell back against the wheel as if she belonged there. She didnt belong there. In the rear view mirror he could see a dark [igure climbing up onto the bonnet of a

car stuck in traf[ic behind him, the driver protesting through the windshield. For a moment the [igure became unpredictable, shimmering as if in a heat haze, the shape twisting in something monstrous, shadows ramifying up into the air behind it. Instinctively his hand reached for the door latch, but the collision had already blown

the lock and it swung open at his touch. He fell straight through, onto his hands and knees on the tarmac outside. He pulled himself up onto the wing, his legs unsure of his weight. Lily still slumped

there, hair down over her face, thank god. She wasnt moving but he wasnt quite ready to accept that she wasnt going to. Lily? Above the noise of the traf[ic, of the city, he could hear someone shouting, someone

nearby. The driver had got out of his car and was waving his hands at the impassive [igure denting the bodywork of his BMW bonnet. The [igure wasnt looking at the driver; he was looking at Adam. Hauling himself over the bonnet of the Range Rover, willing his legs to keep moving,

his feet grinding on the fractured glass embedded into the soles of his shoes, Adam forced himself onto the pavement. Not looking back, not looking back at Lily in the drivers seat, determined that she was not going to be there, that she was going to be following him, that she was never going to have been there.

There was an alleyway just there, a sliver of shadow between tall buildings, a faint

memory of the old medieval pathways of the city, and he let it swallow him up.

Nico could see someone moving round the crashed Range Rover, but the driver of

the BMW was unhappy about him standing on the bonnet and was now standing by the open car door, waving his arms and shouting. People shouted at Nico Wolf, they always had. He seemed to have spent most of his

life with people shouting at him, to the extent that, for the last ten years, muscle, soldier, se- curity, it had pretty much been his job. People shouted at him when they wanted something doing, shouted at him while he was doing it and shouted what they thought of what hed done when hed [inished. As a young man Nico might have just hauled off and punched the shouting man, like

he had his father, a tactic that had earned him a beating and further shouting until, one day, Nico had [inally been big enough for it to work and his father had never shouted at him again. These days, though, he was learning. What Nico did these days was just get on with

what he was doing and let the shouting happen, and he was getting pretty good at that now. He ignored the man and got on with what he was doing. Had someone got out of the

Range Rover? The man shouting at him was called Hugh Devereux and he had spent an awful lot of

his life shouting at people. He was used to getting his way and his way certainly did not in- clude men standing on the bonnet of his BMW 2002 and denting it. And when he didnt get his way, he shouted.

Jessica blamed his mother and was determined that she was going to do something

about it. But right now, she was sitting in the passenger seat of the Beemer and also shout- ing. What was really annoying Hugh, was that the man was some kind of functionary. If it

had been some kind of vandal, or even a policeman, it might have been interesting or excit- ing, but this man was in a cheap, manmade fabric suit, with the kind of shoes you wore if you were actually expecting to have to walk somewhere in them. His tie looked as if it was clipped on and there was even a little patch sewn onto the breast pocket of the suit. Three dogs heads in golden thread, a logo. This man was an employee, branded with a brand, this was exactly the sort of person who followed Hughs orders and who got shouted at if they didnt. Get the fuck down off my car! Are listening to me? The man looked like some kind

of security guard, that was it, Are you some kind of security guard? What company do you work for? Im calling my lawyer. Jessica, call my lawyer! Nico jumped down from the bonnet of the car and the driver reached out and

grabbed his arm. Who do you work for? The reason you learned, as Nico had, to ignore the shouting and get on with what

you were doing was Dont escalate. Thats what they always said, what they drummed into him, Dont escalate. They said it like they were talking about the [ight that you were about to start, Dont escalate it into violence, but he knew what they really meant was Dont es- calate it into law.

You throw one punch and you are throwing yourself into the police, the courts, the

lawyers bills, the punishment. That was the escalation, the climb into the world that men like this had constructed so that they could shout at people like Nico and people like Nico had to stand there are take it. That was the shouting. The touching, though, that was something else. That grip on

his arm, that was common assault. That was the second part of the talk about escalation, a painstaking introduction to

the law surrounding bodily contact, assault and escalating things very fast and very hard. Nico grabbed the mans arm and twisted it. The man gasped and let go. In the same

movement Nico spun him round and slammed him up against the BMW, pulling his arm up behind him. Nico had learned very carefully to do this just enough to argue plausibly that he was

simply restraining his attacker but quite de[initely enough to hurt. The woman in the car was screaming. Sir... he began, but then a womans voice behind him said: Wolf. He looked round. A woman was standing between cars, at her elbow another man in

a cheap suit, the three dogs heads on his breast pocket. The womans suit was anything but cheap and the only logo on it was discreet, obscure and not currently visible. She didnt have to say any more than Nicos name, the look in her grey eyes was enough. Nico let go of the mans arm and stood away from him, obediently. Following orders

was another thing that Nico was good at.

Well, in a manner of speaking. What mattered, Nico had eventually realised, was not

the order itself but rather the person giving the order. There were orders that were just the rules, there were orders that were just some-

one throwing their weight around, making you do something just because they could and then there were the orders of someone in authority who knew what they were doing. The orders that made you feel like an integral part of a well-planned scheme. The woman, Pasteur, was his boss at Kerberos Security, but more importantly to

Nico, she was someone who knew what she was doing and was good at it. Her schemes were always well planned, and Nico was pleased to be part of them. And more than that, he was learning. Hugh spun round. This is outrageous! he slammed a hand against the side of the car, Jessica, call the

police. Diane Pasteur, Kerberos Security, Hugh was suddenly brought up short. The

woman looked familiar, had he met her before? Hugh didnt notice things like expensive haircuts and well cut suits and elegant jewellery, but he was suddenly aware of someone from what he thought of as his world. Hugh noticed things like bums and breasts. This woman didnt seem to have any of the latter at all but there was something sleekly muscled about her, something controlled and superior that made him squirm a little. Hugh had been educated at an all male private school. The woman produced a business card with an imperceptible [lick of her [ingers. He

instinctively took it and immediately knew that was a mistake. He had entered into a world

of etiquette and manners now and wasnt going to be able to shout with quite as much con- viction. Of[icer Wolf works for me and Im sure he will apologise, but there is a potential

terrorist situation and so his reaction to your physical intervention is understandable. We have only public safety in mind. It was said quietly and [irmly and Hugh heard the magical words terrorism, your

physical intervention and public safety quite clearly. The woman had managed to evoke fear, assert his legal culpability and appeal to his public spirit all in one speech. He couldnt think of anything to say. Please feel free to call me if you need to discuss the matter further, she nodded at

the card in his hand, Of[icer Wolf. And they were gone. Hugh opened the drivers door and got back in the car. Hugh, its the police, can you describe the man? Jessica was on the phone. Oh for gods sake, Im [ine! Jessica, at least, he could shout at.

It seemed to Adam like running in a dream. He knew he was desperate to get some-

where, but he couldnt quite remember where and his feet didnt seem at all sure about running at all. They kept catching and stumbling on [lagstones, and the terrible silence of the crash was still ringing in his ears. The alleyway was narrow and shadowed and cool and one wall was covered in old

Victorian tiles and he could not quite help wondering how cold and clean they must feel, even on a summers day, and how good it would be to lean his face against them.

And he remembered an alleyway in winter, with snow starting to fall, and him and

Lily running away from the police, a ragged line of protestors following them. There were sirens sounding in the streets around, and shouting and the sound of police boots on as- phalt, but he had found this gap in the mayhem - a way out - and, for once, was in charge. Saving Lily, for a change. He staggered against the wall, his hand slipping on the tiles - they were cool - and he

almost fell. And something twitched at the movement - something high up on the wall opposite,

something scaled that glinted in the sunshine, and craned round a serpentine neck to look at him with a single, pitiless eye. A CCTV camera, turning on its arm in its steady, mindless sweep. As it turned he saw

the sticker on its side: a logo of three dogs heads in yellow. There was a door set into the tiles - old, with peeling black paint and rusty lock, a

memory of some other use, some older passage. He threw his weight against it, the paint split on the hinges and it snapped open, pitching him inside, out of sight of the inching cam- era.

Nico was waiting to be reprimanded about the BMW driver but Pasteur said nothing.

She had something far more important to worry about and he was suddenly afraid that he wouldnt be part of it. He had to be. This was his chase, he had spotted them in the [irst place, after all. Without him, none of this would be happening. tions. Pasteur had a Bluetooth headset on and was having two simultaneous conversa-

There maybe others. I want two man teams at the tube stations. A radius based on

running speed from the time of the crash. Start analysing all our cameras in the area and start looking into getting footage from the others. You two, she nodded at Nico and the other guard, start searching the immediate area, to no one and to everyone, she said, We are going to get this done quickly and quietly. all. Quickly and quietly. Perhaps she was saying something about the BMW driver, after

The snow was really falling now. It seemed so incongruous: the unworldly, silent deli-

cacy of the snow, and the grim, desperate battle that was happening somewhere in the streets below. The windows up in this of>ice were so thick he could barely hear the police sirens. The building was weekend empty, the security guards distracted by the riot out in the

street, and no one had noticed he and Lily sneaking up the back stairs. Normally Adam would still have been worrying about getting caught, but right now he

had other things to think about, like how to get this stapler out from underneath him while Lily was trying to take his shirt off. Theres a fucking riot going on down there. So I thought we could start one up here, she grinned at him, pulling at a button, A

fucking riot. You hit me. Poor baby. Next time dont try and stop me hitting security guards, she gave up on

the buttons and pulled at his belt.

The police were coming. You would have been arrested. Hang on, theres a stapler

digging into my back. Man up, and she bent and bit his stomach, a light nip with her terrifying little teeth.

He tried to pull away and the stapler crunched out a mangled staple beneath him. And how did you know that anyway? That the police were coming? I heard the sirens. Bollocks you did, and she scored round an exposed nipple with her >ingernails. He

snatched at her hand and she grabbed his arm, suddenly throwing her full weight on top of him, pinning him to the of>ice desk, her face right there in his. Tell Lily the truth. Dont lie to me, because I know when you are lying. Lily knows eve-

rything. And do you know how she >inds out? And she squirmed against him, and the stapler dug into his back. I saw it. Bollocks again, I didnt see anything. No, not like that, I saw... I see things... things like that... He was suddenly aware that he was about to tell her, to tell Lily what he had never told

another living soul, not friends, not girlfriends, not even his parents. It was true, she could >ind out anything. From him, anyway. stand? What have you taken and why didnt you share any of it? No, Lily, its nothing like that, why should he tell her anything? Who would under-

She must have seen something in his face because she lifted her weight up off him and

dug a quick hand in under his back, fetching out the stapler and throwing it on the >loor. She looked at him appraisingly, trying to >igure out just how serious he was being. Tell me, then. What is it like? Its like... you know what I always thought it was like? This is going to sound... I dont

know: I always thought it was like gods. Oh fuck, you havent started talking to Jesus have you? No. No, hes started talking to me. Only not Jesus, I said gods, not god. I mean like the

really old gods, right, like the Greeks and the Romans. The guys in bed sheets on the statues. Right, yes, yes, think about the statues, think about all those buildings down there - all

the old ones, just covered in statues, right? Faces above the door, people holding up windows, whole continents, India, all elephants and that, America with feathery hats, all walking across the front of a building, you know what I mean? Like some guy on a fountain, pouring it out of a jug or something? Exactly that, because thats what they thought, right? They thought that every little

fountain had a god, every stream and tree and fucking street corner. Everything was alive and aware and talking to you. Busy. Yes, he said, Very busy. Indeed. Wait, she said, This is what you see, all these gods? Like angels or something? I wish it was, I wish that was what I see, because then Id just be another religious

nutcase, right? I thought I was maybe, for a bit, I thought I was just going mad and, you know,

that was ok, because at least there was a rational, well, irrational explanation. But Im very much afraid that it isnt. Im afraid that what I see is real. And what is it? What do you see? I see data.

There was something digging into Adams back that wasnt a stapler. He didnt care,

but he knew he was supposed to, and he hauled himself back up out of unconsciousness, back into a world where there wasnt a Lily anymore. He was slumped into the corner of a grimy light well just the other side of the bat-

tered old door. The concrete under foot was strewn with cigarette butts and used condoms. A plucky little Styrofoam cup sailed giddily nowhere in a scummy puddle, turning in aim- less circles. And round the corner of the door something came stealing. It had the wrong number of dimensions - too few, a [lat drawing somehow alive in

the real world - something like an origami of darkness that unfolded itself into the grey concrete space, a shape like a hand, feeling forwards blindly. There was another door opposite him, at the top of a short [light of steps, this one

leading into the of[ice-building behind. With any luck it wouldnt be locked. Or alarmed. Or guarded. He levered himself to his feet, glad to be away from the thing that wasnt a stapler,

that wouldnt be taken away by Lily, and hobbled up the stairs to the door. His luck held.

There was a CCTV camera in the alleyway, one of theirs, and Nico Wolf called in its

number to central control. They could check back, see if anyone had been this way. There was a door there, too, though, and open just a crack. Someone might have

made it, perhaps, before the camera had made its swing down the length of the alley, if they had timed it right, had a little bit of luck. It was the sort of thing Nico himself might have tried. He pushed the door open, looked inside. A narrow little concrete space, somewhere

where smokers went, a door to the of[ice beyond. Thatd be locked. Nothing in there, no sign of anyone. He looked back - he still didnt know if someone had got out of the Range Rover, but

then control would tell him if he was on a wild goose chase. Wouldnt they? He hated these secretive little alleyways, didnt quite understand the desire to pre-

serve these dark little shards of the past in between the modern buildings. Someone had told him, and he could well believe it, that they had had a Great Fire that had burned the en- tire city and that afterwards they had wanted to build a whole new modern one, but that the building owners had insisted on keeping the old streets just the way they were, wouldnt stand for one inch of progress if it was being built on one inch of their land. Sounded about right. Sounded like the English. They seemed terri[ied of the future,

burying away from it into mounds of antiques and tradition like maggots from the light, when you turned over the dead body of an animal. They wrapped themselves up in their cosy nostalgia, comforting themselves with the remains of their empire, while fresh em- pires raged past them, unnoticed.

Not all of them, though, he had to admit that. You only had to look around you to see

that. These skyscrapers, pushing up like saplings in a forest of dead trees, these were monuments to the ruthless English, people like Pasteur, people who wore the accent and the traditions like a cloak to hide the hand that held the knife. They decorated themselves with history, with chivalry and etiquette, but Nico had

learned long ago to never trust an Englishman. there. He turned and walked back towards the crash, looking for a man he wasnt sure was

Kenneth Robinson hated being stuck in traf[ic. If you had asked him, he couldnt have

provided a sensible answer to why. It was rare that there was anywhere that would miss Kenneth Robinson if he didnt get there on time, but when he was driving, he wanted to be driving, not parked. Kenneth liked to have a purpose. Like today. He had a list; he had made Miriam write it out, had made the children in-

clude what they wanted. Not just shopping, things they had to do. Lunch was on there, as was coffee. And cake, that was Lucys, his daughters, item; coffee and, a separate item, cake. As a joke he was going to make them do the two things separately, because they were sepa- rate items. Coffee and then a cake. Separately. It was a Kenneth Robinson kind of joke, but his family would talk about it afterwards. Perhaps he should add Appreciation of the joke to the list. He had his list and they were going to the shopping centre (not mall, Kenneth hated

the word mall, too American) to tick off its items. Only they werent, currently, because they were stuck in traf[ic.

Kenneth Robinsons purpose was being thwarted. Theres been an accident, Miriam was looking out of her window. There was a po-

lice car there, lights still [lashing, and [luorescent tape, and men in high visibility jackets and a big, black Range Rover smashed into a bollard. The bollard had been pulled out of the pavement by the impact, showing its concrete

roots. Yet more money on the council tax, thought Kenneth Robinson. Thatll be why theres traf[ic, said Kenneth, People just have to look, dont they?

And he craned past Miriam to see. I hope no one was hurt, said Miriam. Theres an ambulance, there, said Lucy, with a certain ghoulish relish. Ambulance, said Keith, the youngest, for whom emergency vehicles were the most

important things in the world. What a shame, said Miriam, Its a lovely car. Thats the trouble with those big four-bys, said Kenneth, They cause more acci-

dents than other cars. The drivers get complacent. Theyre dangerous. He was dimly aware that the car in front had inched forward and he went to move on

himself and then, looking back at the road, slammed on the brakes, jerking the family Rob- inson as one forward in their seats. Deborah, the eldest, tutted audibly, the [irst sound he had heard her make all morn-

ing. Kenneth caught her look of disgust in the rear view mirror. He found it confusing and annoying that this judgmental, sulky teenager had taken his little Debbie away and hidden her somewhere behind eye make up and headphones.

A woman had just walked out straight in front of him, right between the cars. Yes,

they were all stopped in traf[ic, but you didnt just walk between cars, did you? There were pedestrian crossings for that, after all. Surely one of the policemen would say something. The woman raised an indifferent hand in thanks and walked up to one of the po-

licemen and greeted him. The of[icer nodded his head at her in deference. Do you think shes a policeman? asked Lucy. Policewoman, said Kenneth and followed the traf[ic slowly past the crash.

Detective Inspector Eva Lisiewicz wasnt supposed to be looking at this Range Rover

- which must have been going at quite a speed at impact to pull that bollard up like that - she was supposed to be in a meeting about policing for a protest march, but the meeting didnt need her. Mind you, neither did the road traf[ic accident, but she knew which was likely to be more interesting. like. And the passenger? Theres no passenger, maam, and he bent down to peer into the passenger seat as Drivers a fatality, said the of[icer with the police line tape, Died in the crash, looks

if to reassure himself. Not any more, said Eva, But there was, she pointed into the window, Glass in the

foot well but not on the seat, blood on the dashboard here, not from the drivers injuries, glass crushed underfoot here on the road, bloody handprint on the bonnet here.

The passenger had survived the crash, then - probably had a seat belt on - had got

out after the crash, walked round the front of the car, away from the traf[ic, up onto the pavement. So where are they now, then, eh? The of[icer didnt seem to have any suggestions.

Adam opened the door and breathed. The roof of the building was asphalt and clut-

tered with air conditioning, window cleaning equipment, aerials and dishes. Around it crowded the blank faces of the city skyscrapers, but sandwiched in between them, high above, the summer sky was an endless, perfect blue. He closed the door behind him and crunched across the roof towards the edge. And then he stopped. The sky above wasnt perfect anymore. The sun had gone. Something reared down from the tower peaks around him. Something like a cloud of

pale light, spun between the buildings, bunching itself together. A hundred hands, reaching and grabbing, pulling itself through the echoing glass canyons. And over them all loomed a face, no, three faces, [lickering through monstrous contortions. Shadowing out the sun it craned in between the walls of concrete and steel, scanning

the streets with a hundred unblinking eyes. Right over his head it bent, and for a brief mo- ment he was aware of it as a hundred thousand different shapes, a whirlwind of phantoms that eddied through the city. Down it bent and, opening its ghastly mouths, it spoke his face.

And then, just as suddenly it was gone, the sun re[lected in the building walls, the

sound of traf[ic and sirens from the streets. Birds calling somewhere and a distant jumbo jet. Another summer morning. And he fell to his knees under a once more perfect sky.

Eva walked back between the crawling traf[ic to the central reservation, and walked

along it, ignoring the stares of the drivers, thinking. There: scraping and the remains of paint on the low concrete barrier - the car must have crossed it here - already going at a fair old speed. She climbed up onto the barrier herself. Traf[ic was moving faster on the other side.

Nothing there, but, ah - the black marks of complaining tyres on the asphalt. They had been driving - at speed - in the wrong direction down this side of the road - hence the crossing over, of course. Which meant they must have come from down there, somewhere - what was that? She sprinted between traf[ic and jogged down the pavement. It was the opening to

an underground garage. The security arm that had barred the entrance had been uncere- moniously swatted aside, although it was still gamely trying to raise itself, waving its bro- ken end in the air. So they had exited this car park at speed, turned the wrong way up the road, against

the traf[ic, jumped the central reservation to get onto the right side of the road, lost control of the vehicle - there was no evidence of other traf[ic involved so it was probably driver er- ror - and crashed into the bollard on the far side of the road.

A man was trying to [ix the arm, watched by a security guard. The guard had a

golden logo on the breast pocket of his uniform. Three dogs heads. Satis[ied as she was to have this part of the event straight, this was not the important

or interesting part. That wasnt even down there in the underground parking. It was some- where further back. Or up. There was an of[ice building above the car park and Eva was try- ing to remember who had of[ices there. The dead young woman, Eva was thinking, had not been expensively dressed. She

had had piercings - removed, but only recently, and there had been tattoos visible on her neck, under her shirt collar. Eva was going to stick her neck and guess that the Range Rover had been stolen. It was not a good car for a getaway, a Range Rover. For a weekend getaway to a coun-

try cottage, yes, for a high-speed pursuit getaway, no. And Eva was becoming sure this was a getaway. An unpremeditated one, a panicked one. The driver had not been wearing a seat belt. But the passenger had. She looked back at the crash. There were more people there. People in dark suits,

suits which looked like they might have little yellow logos on the breast pockets. She looked back at the underground car park. Interesting and important. She turned and started walking back.

He was looking out of the window of the of>ice at the snow falling on the city, so calm

and white and beautiful.

Lily was lying on him, her chin on her hands on his chest. Her teeth were white as the

snow and her lips were red. So what, she was saying, You can see peoples bank details? No, well, yes, but its not really like that. You know, like, when you look at someone,

youre not just seeing them, right, I mean youre also seeing all their clothes and their make up or whatever, and there are all these other things like their body language or their accent - things you might not realise youre seeing, but that are them, its the whole thing, right? Its like that - I see the whole thing, all at once, all the data that someone has one them, or thats sitting on a computer, I see it all at once, like its a whole other thing. What does it look like? That was the thing, that was the thing that made me think I was going mad. The

things I started seeing. I mean you kind of see the truth about someone, do you see, all the things they hide away in secret are right out there for me to see and it doesnt look pretty, of- ten, and then its worse these days, getting worse all the time. Theres so much, so much infor- mation, just everywhere, and everythings always changing, growing worse, more... mon- strous. I thought... I thought I was seeing demons at one point. Wait, she lifted herself up, her eyes wide, You see this all the time? I thought it was

like visions or something. All the time. Oh my god, Adam, she looked so terri>ied and sorry and his heart lurched in his chest.

He had been right to tell her. To be taken seriously, and by her. However ghastly life might be, sometimes the universe was too wonderful to believe.

I mean, its ok now for example, most things in the building are switched off - theres

nothing really screaming at me, I can kind of ignore the background these days... But... what do you see when you look at me? But thats the great thing about you. There are many great things about me, her smile made his chest tight. No Facebook pro>ile, no email, no smart phone. When I look at you, I see you. And I

cant think of anything Id rather look at. And she kissed him.

Adam squinted up at the empty sky. His mouth was dry and a stone had made a per-

fect little impression of itself in his hand where he had been lying on it. He had to keep it together, stop passing out like this. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a battered old mobile phone. The crash, the

passing out, seemed to have stopped the visions for the moment. Perhaps he would be bet- ter off not pulling himself together after all. There was only one number in the contacts book and he dialled it. Its me. Theres been an accident. Lilys... I think shes dead. Its Plan B, ok? Plan B.

There was a small knot of the dark suited security guards standing next to the crash

scene and, just behind them, a woman in a sharp suit and extravagantly restrained haircut, who Eva immediately saw from the body language was their boss. The woman was talking on the mobile phone. It matches a phone registered in the building? Then trace it, of course.

One of the guards, a young man in his late twenties with dark hair, was standing a

little apart from the others and the police of[icer they were talking to. Something about him piqued Evas curiosity. And he said Plan B? said the woman in the suit. Detective Inspector Eva Lisiewicz, she held out a hand to the young man, I take it

you have some information about the incident? Diane Pasteur, Kerberos Security, it was the woman in the suit, putting away her

mobile phone and taking hold of Evas outstretched hand, I take it youre in charge of the incident. For the moment, Eva found that the woman had handed her a business card, with

the logo of the three dogs heads on it, The vehicle came from a premises you provide secu- rity for? From our own building, actually, our headquarters. And it was stolen? It was, at least Pasteur had the decently to look shamefaced about this - a car sto-

len from the headquarters of a security [irm. Not very secure. This is the overview, Pasteur continued, This morning two individuals gained ac-

cess to our headquarters through deception. Deception? They claimed to be software developers, pitching a new electronic surveillance

product to us. But they had no such product, said Eva. They did, actually, and rather a good one, in fact, said Pasteur, Terrifyingly good.

He opened the door and everyone in the entire [loor shouted all their secrets, banali-

ties and corporate con[idences right in Adams face. It was an open plan of[ice [illed with desks divided by low partitions, so that he

could see across all of them to the lifts at the other end. It was a short run, maybe a minute or so, nothing to it. Just the ghosts. The room was full of them. Phantoms of phone calls, email trails, text messages, all

talking, whispering, shouting, singing, screaming. A room teeming with the ethereal and monstrous data invisible. Once upon a time it had just been the impression of something, these visions. Shapes

and colours and sounds. To this day he didnt know whether he had become more sensitive to them or whether it was simply that the world was more [looded with signal. Of course he hadnt known what it was then. Just visions, hallucinations. And with them, splitting headaches and dazzled eyes. He thought he was just ill. He knew, for instance, that people with migraines often saw lights. He wondered if he might have a brain tumour, sy- naesthesia, something. It was only gradually that he became afraid he was losing his mind. They were

changing by then, the visions, taking shape, so that from a distance he began to see... things. Forms loomed in the sky, forces coiled beneath the streets. Like something from a story- book, his horizon began to be crowded with giants and titans. He hadnt told anyone else, of course, he was far too frightened of what it might all

mean. But his own puzzlement had led him to read, to research, to discover. He read about

ancient religions, magic, the practices of shamans. Holy men taking hallucinogens to speak with the dead and wrestle with spirits. Was this the world that was revealing itself to him, the prehistoric, forgotten world of gods and monsters? Perhaps it was this that had made him begin to scrutinise, examine the visions more

closely. And he started to see that, like the household gods of Roman belief, every building had its ghost, its lares and penates, every street was watched over by its patient guardians, every person haunted. That had been the moment when he had truly feared for his sanity. Although

whether he was afraid that the visions came because he was mad, or would make him mad themselves, he was never entirely sure. It was that discovery, that every person was a mon- ster, that the world was peopled by demons. That had almost broken him. But it had also enlightened him, revealed what he was actually seeing. Who knew what had [inally done it, his own sensitivity, the spread of mobile phones,

of Internet connectivity, of wi[i, but the world around him had turned itself inside out. Sud- denly everyone was horrifyingly changed. Everywhere he saw terrors and metamorphoses. Passers by would sprout horns, tails, wings. A tube carriage would seethe with scaly, feath- ery monstrosities, whole buses would blaze past, packed with [laming devils. Ever day had become a nightmare, even the shortest walk a trip into hell. He could

no longer stand the city, or large groups of people or even to talk to a single individual. He [led human society, afraid, uncomprehending. But slowly he started to see how these transformations were somehow separate

from the subjects. Concentrate on the people, his head throbbing, his eyes watering with the pain, and he could see the individual beneath the vision.

Look further, though, and it became worse, for each person was not just one but a

legion of monsters. The vision changed, each mutation becoming a separate creature: a face, a voice, a ghost, a thousand ghosts and monsters, crowding everyone, drowning them out, overpowering them, overpowering him. Look further, though, look further. For these are indeed ghosts, the memories of

things, the remains. These endless voices are the echoes, the reverberations of speech long gone. Of conversations, debates, shouted argument and whispered desire, of spreadsheet and love letter, of date making, date breaking, mate meeting and long loneliness. For [inally he began to understand. Understand that these werent just random,

ghastly hallucinations. These were the embodiment of something, of something real. Some- how his brain was taking something he saw and in trying to make sense of it, made it mon- strous. Something that could only be contained in shapes of ancient and mythical terror. Because this wasnt a normal thing. What he saw was something no one else saw,

something that [illed the world invisibly, that drove it, gave it life, unseen, unheard, unsus- pected. What he saw was data. And data was everywhere. Every person moved through a sea of data, spreading out great ripples with every

movement. With every phone call, text message, email, status update. Withdraw money and the banking network twitches, upload a photograph and the internet watches, cross the road and the city counts you, pass by a camera and the world knows. We are ghosted by data, caught in a hall of digital mirrors, multiplying us across the

ether. Where once it might have been believed that photographs stole the soul, we have now

made electronic spirits for ourselves, capturing them in magnetic bottles that they may fa- miliar us and de[ine us both. And this was what Adam saw. He saw us all. Not just the brave face we put on, but

the us we hid, the online selves, all the people we might be and pretend to be. He saw the overdraft and the low expectations, the anonymous post and the public boast, the careful lies and the mistaken truths. And he saw them all at once, in one monstrous, twisted form. He saw us, the monstrous, twisted us. So, looking out from the doorway at the busy of[ice, he saw it crammed with de-

mons. Demons dogged by ghosts. Telephone messages, email threads, murmuring and chanting down the grey-carpeted aisles, while [inancial numbers rang in their tidy cells and the dreams of projects writhed in the hard disks. And beyond, out at the edges, where the building, but not the data, ended in [loor to

ceiling windows, the giants strode. Three headed titans lurching between dwarfed building, all of them singing as they went. Singing and watching. Singing his face. It wasnt far to the lifts, just a short trip through hell. And Adam ran.

So, Im not clear, out of the corner of her eye Eva was aware that the ambulance

crew was removing the body from the Range Rover at last, What exactly was the deception involved, then? One of our guards recognised the individuals, said Pasteur and Eva realised that

she was very carefully not indicating any of the guards present. It would have been a natu-

ral move. Perhaps the guard in question wasnt here. The young one with the dark hair and the intense eyes was watching the ambulance men. Kerberos is the target of a number of activist groups, Pasteur was saying, There

have been numerous terrorist threats in the last few months. Of course. Kerberos wasnt just corporate security. They handled all kinds of busi-

ness, right up to what you might call mercenaries. Newspapers even claimed they were the de facto government in various parts of the Congo and Afghanistan. There had been a lot of talk of their violation of human rights. And some people just didnt like security [irms, too. But Eva knew what Pasteur was talking about. Six months ago, just before Christ-

mas, there had been an anti-capitalist protest at the Kerberos headquarters. It had been un- announced and the police hadnt been in attendance. The protestors had clashed directly with the Kerberos Security staff and a woman had been severely injured in the [ighting. Not that it had got much better when the police [inally did show up. The protestors had claimed the woman had been beaten by the Kerberos staff, Ker-

beros claimed she had been injured in the crush of the mob. The evidence was with Kerberos, not least thanks to their own systems. CCTV had

captured everything and there was nothing to show excessive force on the part of the Ker- beros staff. Eva had watched some of it herself. The Internet, however, was alive with conspiracy theories, it always was. Activist

chatter was heavy around the [igure of the young woman, now in a coma in a city hospital. Talk of evidence and revenge, of hidden CCTV footage and silenced witnesses. Graf[iti was appearing everywhere: a sheep on a drip, in a tangle of barbed wire or thorns, bleeding on a slab. It was a pun on the young womans name.

Ella Lamb, said Eva and Pasteur nodded. Ella Lamb. So that was what this was about.

Adam came out of the main doors of the building and scanned the street. Another

stab of vision, like a hot wire through his head. There, off to the left, lumbering through a sea of ghosts and goblins, a dark monster

with three heads. Dogs heads. He turned right. The vision faded as he dodged through the crowds, but they were coming closer and

stronger now. Any hope he might have had that the crash might have [ixed things somehow was fading. He could still feel that phone burning in his pocket, for instance. The [laring spark of

network connection that craned in over his head. Could they trace that? Would they have done that already? Would they even know it was his?

Pasteurs phone buzzed and she looked down at it and smiled to herself. The dark

haired guard was watching her now, trying to see what was on the screen, as Eva was. So these individuals, our fugitive, said Eva, Are activists campaigning about Ella

Lamb? We believe so, our guard believes he recognised them from the Christmas protest

and they [led when challenged, Pasteur was thumbing out a message on the phone while she spoke, But beyond that we have very little to go on. No names, no group af[iliation?

Oh we have thousands of names, and each one of them is their own personal af[ilia-

tion, Pasteur made a sour face, The most in[luential group is something that calls itself The 404s or just identify themselves with those numbers. 404. But they have no structure, no hierarchy, no rules of membership, no organisation. We watch all the message boards, keyword search, trace postings, collate and analyse everything. Lots of information, very little intelligence, said Eva. It sounded all too familiar. The Internet meant a proliferation of channels. On the one hand conversations that

had once been in private were now held in public chat rooms, on the other hand there were millions of chat rooms all over the world and no amount of automated searching and com- puter analysis was ever going to equal a single intelligent police of[icer in the right place at the right time. Groups like this are impossible to in[iltrate in any normal way, said Pasteur, putting

her phone away, Theyre practically invented to obstruct it. All we can hope for is getting lucky. And have you? said Eva, Got lucky? Searching for the fugitive? We will, of course, cooperate fully and share everything we have with the police op-

eration, said Pasteur, smiling.

A bus came shuddering up to the traf[ic lights like a beast of [ire, a leviathan with a

belly full of monsters. The lights sang to it as it waited, chanting out their countdown, a counterpoint in the atonal symphony of the traf[ic system. There was a bass cacophony to the song that Adam followed to a pit of dark brim-

stone. The Underground network. It was almost quiet down there - no phone network, the

earth dampening the connections that ran through it, just the occult ticking of the train sys- tems. And three headed creatures in the shadows. It was lunchtime and the streets were [illing with young men about Adams age in

cheap business suits about the same as his. Hed been lucky so far.

They bothered Eva, the 404s. They bothered the policeman, Detective Inspector

Lisiewicz. Not just the criminal activity, not just the anti-social lifestyles, the railing against authority. All that was normal. It was the fact that she didnt know what it was about. Anarchy bothered Eva. Eva believed in the rule of law. You took what you believed

was right and good and made a law out of it. Then when people disobeyed those laws you punished them to remind them what those laws meant. They were the rules that made what you believed in into how society worked. Eva believed that so much that she had be- come a policeman to make sure that the laws worked properly. That society worked prop- erly. But what did the 404s believe in? They didnt seem to believe in anything except nothing at all. People like that seemed

to Eva to be complete nihilists, raging against society without trying to change it, just trying to destroy. It meant you couldnt argue with them, couldnt negotiate, couldnt even fathom their

thinking. You could only [ight them, which just con[irmed their beliefs. Their belief that eve- rything you stood for was bad. And Eva Lisiewicz was absolutely adamant she wasnt bad.

You have security footage from this morning, it wasnt even a question, they had to

have it, Id like to see it. She wanted to see their faces, needed to try and understand them. Why hadnt that stupid girl been wearing a seat belt? Of course, Pasteur looked pleased, An excellent idea, exactly the close cooperation

were looking for. My men can continue to liaise with the of[icers here, well go back to my of[ices.

The ticket hall of the tube station was circular, sitting directly under a road junction.

In fact this had been a road junction for thousands of years and the tube station was a hole dug out of history, passages under the city and through time. Right now, it was full of of[ice workers, all taking advantage of their lunch hours to

run quick errands, hundreds of young people in identical suits [lowing through the labyrin- thine tunnels. Jim Whelan was not one of them. A twenty-year veteran of Kerberos security, a

shock of greying hair above a battered face, he let the crowds part round him, an immove- able object. He had seen Adam duck into the station, lost him in the crowd, but there were only limited exits, and all of the ones above ground were being watched. Another guard entered the ticket hall and Whelan motioned to him to stay back,

watch the hall in case the suspect doubled back. He checked his phone. He was still close enough to the surface to be still getting the

real time feed from control. The trace on the suspects phone put him right here, in the sta- tion.

As experienced a guard as he might, Whelan was not old and fond enough, like some

of them were, to think he was above the technology. Whatever got the job done, that was good enough for him. Whelan pushed through the crowd to the barrier and swiped through. He was going

to have to catch up with him before he boarded a train if he was going to have any hope of staying with him. At the bottom of the escalators it got complicated - two lines crossed here: north,

south, east, west - four choices. He stepped onto a platform, scanned the waiting passengers, then back through a

tunnel to another. A train was pulling in; the passengers gathering round the doors, waiting for them to open. There: about the right build, right hair colour and... a red smudge on the white collar of his shirt. It looked like blood. He was getting onto the train two carriages down. The door alarm was going as Whelan squeezed onto the train.

Nico was just about to follow Pasteur and the policewoman when Pasteur turned

back to him, moving in close so that that detective couldnt hear her. Nico, you can take yourself off duty, thank you. He said nothing for a moment, taken aback. Off you go. But you need people. We need to [ind him.

The police are here now, Nico, she was careful to keep her tone light but he could

see she meant it, Until I can rely on you to think with your head and not your [ists then you are to consider yourself suspended, understand? She didnt even wait to hear an answer; she just turned and walked back to the po-

licewoman. If he was off duty, he could just follow them if he liked, it was no business of hers. But he just watched them go and then turned to walk across the road to the car park.

Following orders.

The original parts of the underground network were built as cuttings, not as tunnels,

and there are still places, on the older lines, where you suddenly [ind yourself in sunlight, at the bottom of a pit between high, blank buildings. The map on Whelans phone updated. The suspect was on the train. He pushed his

way down the carriage towards the windows at the end and peered through. There it was, a white collar with a red smudge. Whelan pulled out his phone again and thumbed out an update to control. Have suspect in sight. Subway heading west. Put personnel at all stations.

Hugh was locking up the BMW when someone started a motorcycle right behind

him. He was already in a bad mood and turned and glared at the driver, who was still stand- ing by the bike, holding his helmet. The driver stared back at him, an even, steady stare that Hugh didnt like, half a chal-

lenge and half a warning. Jessicas heels clacked on the concrete.

Hugh, come on, for gods sake. They were both in a foul temper now and had al-

ready had a row about parking. That woman never shut up. Hugh looked at the motorbike. All on your own, just you and the road. His surgeon friends called motorbike riders organ donors, but a couple of them rode them anyway. They were a menace in traf[ic, though, un- predictable, dangerous. Idiots. He turned to follow Jessica. Without his uniform, in his leathers, Hugh had completely failed to recognise Nico.

2 The Ofces
The lobby for Kerberos Security was surprisingly restrained. Just marble tiles, some

nondescript art on the walls, a modernist interpretation of a three-headed dog and a pair of escalators up to the reception on the [irst [loor. Pasteur swept Eva through reception. Her presence meant none of the tedious sign-

ing in and issuing of passes. Ill send you the Detective Inspectors name, she had said as she passed security,

Send a pass to my of[ice. Past the soft seating and the wooden panelled walls, the [lat screen TV with an ani-

mated presentation of Kerberos around the world and through the turnstiles into the build- ing. You dont mind the stairs, do you? Pasteur didnt wait for an answer, It gives you a

better feeling for a place, dont you think? And its good exercise, after all.

Beyond the stairs was a plate glass window that looked out onto a huge central well

that was let down through the centre of the building. The glass wrapped all the way round, so that Eva could see straight through to what looked like a canteen on the far side. She couldnt see the top of the well, but she supposed it was glassed in, as the bot-

tom of it was a big open space dotted about with sofas and tables and what looked like a cafe. Were this [loor and upwards, Pasteur was saying, Down there is public space,

shopping, eating, a couple of galleries, a cinema, which we also use for concerts and per- formances. We like to see ourselves as part of the wider community. Its what we do, after all, serve the community. Eva remembered now. The building had been constructed on the site of an old Victo-

rian music hall and had kept the name, calling itself Arcadia Hall. It had probably seemed like quite the publicity coup to install a small cinema on the site, as Pasteur had said, but Eva suspected that it was probably the extra three [loors of shops that extended down un- derground that was what it was really about. There wasnt a shopping centre like it nearby and she would lay good money that it paid for the of[ices that Kerberos had built for itself above. Up on the second level the [loor to ceiling glass stopped. Here there were meeting

rooms, open plan of[ices. Im on the top [loor, Im afraid, Pasteur smiled, In what we call the Tower. Just say

if youd rather take the lift. And she set off up the next [light of stairs.

The underground train pulled into the next station and Whelan sidestepped towards

the door, not taking his eyes of the red smudge in the next carriage. The suspect was leaving the train. He followed him off, keeping sight of the back of his head as he crossed the platform

towards the exit. The suspect stepped onto an up escalator and Whelan glanced up at the summit. The famil- iar yellow logo was waiting up there, too. They had him trapped now. There was nowhere he could go.

Nico came to the top of the exit ramp, where the security barrier had been removed

and staff were just waving cars through. He pulled up, dismounting to have a look at the battered barrier that had been

placed by the side of the entrance. No immobilisers, no solid barrier, it was sloppy, even in a car park for public use. He shook his head and looked out across the road towards the crash scene. Still, they

hadnt gotten very far... And there, standing opposite him on the other side of the road was the fugitive, the man from the car crash. It was him, Nico was sure of it. He started for his bike and the man saw him move.

Their eyes met and then the man turned and ran.

Pasteur picked up a tablet from her desk and handed it to Eva, motioning her into a

chair. On the screen was a still from CCTV footage. Eva could see Pasteur, what looked like

other Kerberos employees, two younger individuals in suits that must be the activists and the security guard with the dark hair. So it had been him. Just tap the screen to get a play button, Pasteurs phone vibrated on the desktop,

One moment. She picked up the phone and left the of[ice, closing the glass door behind her. Eva started the video. She could see now that the activists were a man and a woman.

The security guard, who might have been just passing the little group, was pointing at them, shouting something. They protested, the guard spoke to Pasteur, the body language altering, becoming more hostile. The angle changed. Footage from another camera. They must have a lot of them. Eva

looked up. There it was in the corner of the room, a little winking light. Angled, she noticed, so that it wouldnt see any screen or paper Pasteur might be working on. Shed bet that Pas- teur was one of the few people in the building allowed to angle her desk like that. The female activist, the one who had died, was now shouting and pointing herself.

The male, the one who must be the fugitive, was trying to drag her away. She was a handful, that one, the sort of person who would steal a car and not wear a seat belt. Stupid child. Who was she shouting at? Eva swiped across the screen, rewinding it, trying to match up the angles. The secu-

rity guard or Pasteur, or someone else? The guard maybe? He was the one pointing at them. But there was some [ierce and de[inite in the girls face, something speci[ic in that accusa- tory [inger. There was no sound on the video, and Eva was trying to make out the lip move-

ments, which wasnt easy, partly because the video was low-res and grainy and partly be-

cause she was also trying to listen to what Pasteur was saying on the phone, out in the cor- ridor. The glass was thick and the door was closed, but then Pasteur was quite angry about

something. ...not him... planted the phone... could be anywhere... You. Eva was pretty sure that one of the words the girl was shouting was You.

Nico [lung the bike out into the traf[ic, weaving between cars to catch the lights at

the corner. The man had run across in front of the stationary traf[ic and Nico just squealed through as the lights changed and the cars started moving. sions. Nico jerked round a cyclist, squeezed on the inside of a taxi, pulling level with the The man ran full tilt through the pedestrians, leaping from left to right to avoid colli-

fugitive as he suddenly disappeared from view into a pedestrian underpass. Without stopping to think, Nico turned between parked cars and jolted up onto the

pavement, gunning straight down into the underpass after him. A woman shrieked and jumped for the wall, her shopping bag catching his shoulder

as he rattled down the steps, faces at the bottom frozen in surprise. No sign of the fugitive there, not in the underpass. No time to think. Directly opposite him was a ramp back up to the pavement, not steps, and he sped

up it, scattering more pedestrians as he roared up onto the pavement. He skidded round a bin and back onto the road, just narrowly missing a van.

The man must have crossed under the road. Round the back of the van, just in front

of a mini. Up onto a pedestrian island. No traf[ic coming the other way, the next set of lights was changing. Had he doubled back? Nico stood up in the seat, scanning the pavements. Then, just as the lights went green, the man came sprinting out of the underpass,

across the lights in front of the traf[ic the very moment it started moving. Then there was just moving cars and the man was gone beyond them. Nico turned the bike and, without daring to stop and think about it, gunned the en-

gine and raced straight into the traf[ic in front of him.

The only people who didnt get out of the lifts are [loor 0 were the people who

worked in the of[ices above, and there werent very many of them. Deborah had stayed in the lift once to see where it went but there was a reception desk and a guard and you needed some kind of swiper card to get through the doors up there. They were glass doors though, and shed peeked through them. It had looked pretty boring. That meant though, that pretty much everyone got out at [loor 0. It was stupid be-

cause there were shops on -1, -2 and -3, but everyone rode up from the underground car park straight through those [loors and got out at [loor 0. Everyone got on at [loor 0, too, because that was where the ticket machines were.

You had to pay for a ticket at the machine and then you had ten minutes to get to your and get to the barrier and use the ticket to get out or you got charged more. It drove her Dad mad, that. He could just take stuff to the car and then come back

and get a ticket, shed told him that a million times, but he insisted on getting the ticket

[irst, then lugging everything down in the lifts, shouting and ranting at Mum and everyone to get everything in the car before their ten minutes were up. Mad. Stupid. Anyway, because of all that, [loor 0 was just full of people, all milling around, hitting

each others legs with bags, arguing over who was in which ticket machine queue. So it was the perfect place to lose her family. You just had to get far enough away

quickly enough that you could pretend not to hear Dad when he shouted at you. She had her headphones on, but there wasnt any music. There never was. Someone

had told her once that those headphone things that builders wore werent headphones at all. She thought they were all listening to music, but they werent, those things were, get this, ear defenders. Her headphones were her defenders. So when Kenneth Robinson shouted at his daughter Deborah, as she faded away

through the crowd and into the shopping centre, she heard him, she just didnt listen.

There was a moment there that Adam was almost happy. His legs no longer hurting,

the visions [lickering to dim in his head, high on the exhilaration of losing the guy on the motorcycle, too ragged to think about Lily, lost in the simple act of moving, breathing, being. Then it rose back up at him like a wave, the City in all its terrible [ire. The street was a dismal canyon between dark walls of encrypted data, shadowy and

grim, but ahead was a shrieking main road where buses trundled like mobile funfairs, all neon and clamour. And from behind came the sound of a motorcycle. Running - it was all he could do.

It was always Evas favourite phrase.

Im afraid I have a confession to make, Detective Inspector, Pasteur slid the door

closed behind her. As usual in this situation, Eva was already pretty sure she knew what the confession was going to be, but she waited for it patiently, nonetheless. Eva had never gone [ishing - the thought of those cold mouths and colder steel was

unsettling, but she imagined that it was something like this moment that attracted people to it. The delicious pause before the delivery on anticipation. My of[icers have been trailing an individual they believed was the fugitive from the

vehicle. Believed. Pasteur didnt add an mistakenly to that, Eva noticed. In Pasteurs world, she suspected, belief was always mistaken. Only knowledge could be trusted. It wasnt him, of course, Pasteur spread her hands in half contrition, half resigna-

tion, We should have shared our intelligence with you immediately, I know. That would have been... intelligent, said Eva. Pride, Im afraid. These people managed to escape us, after all. But that is not what I

wanted to confess. Eva sat up a little higher in her chair. It isnt? These people may have stolen something from us. May have? Data, you see - we cant know for sure until we recover them, People. Recover. Pas-

teur liked her euphemisms. So they managed to elude your digital security as well.

A [licker of what Eva took to be genuine emotion crossed Pasteurs face. She sud-

denly realised that it was the [irst time she had seen the woman betray anything of what she was really thinking. I would not normally disclose corporate secrets, Pasteur managed to say this in the

manner of a naughty schoolgirl sharing a con[idence. Eva suspected that this was the clos- est the woman got to personal intimacy, But this will be important - vital - to your investi- gation. These people gained access to the building on the grounds that they had a new

software package to pitch to us. We take many similar pitches from many similar people. Obviously we have very strict security protocols for this process. The reason these people managed to get so far through the process was that their software package worked. And this is the bit that is important to both of us. Their product was actually both hardware and software - a device that allowed

wireless monitoring of electronic communications, of all communications, regardless of en- cryption, storage, medium, transmission. All communications. Pasteur paused dramatically and, for once, Eva felt the drama was apposite. They claimed that the device currently only worked over short distances, with di-

rect line of sight. We made sure to test this. It seemed to be true. But youre worried, arent you? said Eva, After all he escaped you. Maybe he knew

you were tailing him. Maybe he saw more while he was in here. More than your tests were meant to show him. Maybe youre right to be worried.

They were undoubtedly looking for this CCTV footage of the Lamb incident that the

404s are all so obsessed with. It doesnt exist, of course. But, as you say, there remains the fact that they may well have compromised our systems. Youre a security [irm, said Eva, Secrets are all you have.

Nico just caught a glimpse of the running man out of the corner of his eye and barely

had time to haul the bike round, tyres [idgeting against the road surface, and point it down the side road after him. The fugitive turned right out of the end of the street and Nico screamed after him,

almost straight into the front of a bus coming in the other direction. He jammed on the brakes, pulling against the momentum of the turn, trying to pull

the bike round as the bus drivers shocked face got closer and closer. He slid round the drivers side, just as the man [inally regained his composure

enough to start swearing, swinging the back wheel around ready to squeal down the white lines, only to [ind himself speeding into the back of another bus, pulled up at a bus stop on the other side of the road. The entire road was blocked off with buses and somewhere beyond them the fugi-

tive was running, gaining time. He had no time to think about it. Nico pulled on the bike again, as if it were a com-

plaining, resisting animal, forcing back round the second bus and up onto the pavement. The bus queue, all jostling to get squeeze on board, hardly noticed him in time, leap-

ing backwards and forwards as the growled through them, opening up onto and empty

stretch of pavement as people ahead all turned and froze in horror at the sound of an en- gine behind them. And there, right in front of him, the fugitive ran across the pavement and disap-

peared down yet another of the Citys narrow alleyways. Nico blew past the shocked, uncomprehending pedestrians and squealed round the

corner into the alleyway. It was dim and dank, a tiny space between two windowless walls, barely wide

enough for the bike to [it in. At the far end was a small [light of steps and a door, security locked with a keypad.

The fugitive was standing by the door, looking at Nico. Nico gunned the engine. There was no way the man could know the combination for

a random door and there was no other way out of the alley. He [inally had the man trapped. The man turned, tapped a number into the keypad, pulled the door open and

stepped inside, giving Nico a slight smile as the door closed behind him, leaving the alley- way empty. Now that the man had gone, Nico could see that the door was stenciled with a pri-

vacy warning and a logo: three dogs heads. Kerberos.

So, we have an unidenti[ied fugitive who has some kind of gizmo that mean he

knows exactly what we might be doing to [ind him, Eva was talking to give herself time to think. It meant just repeating the blatantly obvious, so she could concentrate on what she was thinking about, but that just had the added bene[it of making people assume she was a lot less perspicacious than she actually was.

In fact, she went on, The only background we have on him is that he may well be a

member of an underground anarchist group about whom we know nothing and can [ind out even less. We dont know any addresses, any history, any contacts. We dont even know if he has any of them. Eva had been hoping that she would eventually bore Pasteur into interrupting her

and she [inally got her wish. There is evidence, Pasteur said, That the two of them may have had accomplices. So there may still be some of these 404s in the area? Which was precisely what Eva

had been thinking about, of course. From what she had overheard through the glass door, Kerberos must have been

tracking the fugitives mobile phone. Not something that Pasteur would ever admit to, of course, at least no to her, given that it was somewhat illegal. As would be, of course, listen- ing into any calls made on that phone, but Eva had further suspicions about that, too. What was it Pasteur had been saying on the phone when they had [irst met - some-

thing about a phone identi[ied in the building... Plan B? Eva was willing to be that Kerberos captured data on any devices that entered their

building, and monitoring phone use would be second nature for them. So lets say they identify the mans phone while hes in here with his magical device, then they spot it when he uses it, trying to contact his accomplices, and then he dumps the phone on some poor, unsuspecting passer by, who then feels the rough hand of Kerberos Security on his collar. And what does the fugitive tell his accomplices? Plan B? What was that? Well, that

rather depends on what Plan A was, doesnt it? We cant know for certain, Pasteur was saying, But it seems more than likely.

So now we have an of[ice building full of unidenti[iable, untraceable cyber-

anarchists? Pasteurs vibrated across the glass top of her desk again. She twisted the screen to-

wards her, away from Eva. Oh, we know where they are, she said, with a slight smile that chilled Eva, Theyre

standing right outside our reception. A protest? said Eva, Theres nothing I know of scheduled. I dont think these people work to schedules, said Pasteur, Shall we go and see?

Adam stood in the lift with his eyes squeezed shut, listening to an electronic voice

calmly announcing the [loors. It wasnt that he had a problem with lifts, far from it, it was what was going to happened when it stopped. The metal walls blocked out at least some of the signals, but he could still feel the

building around him boiling with information as he was pulled up through its core. Most people had got off at the ground [loor, taking with them their humdrum may-

hem, their cacophony of skewhiff relationships and untidy lives, their clusters of ghosts and familiars. He was rising now into a very different kind of maelstrom. All around him global voices whispered, a Babel of languages rendered one by bi-

nary. Great glaciers of data slid to and fro, grinding as they went, the solemn chanting of endless [igures, the sudden spikes of urgent news, the tenuous [lutter of gossip and glib as- sertion. The corporate world had its own colours in Adams eyes. Blue and grey, sober and

steel, impassive and whetted, like an edge of metal.

Floor 3, said the voice, Please stand clear of the doors. Adam opened his eyes and stepped out. He was in a small hallways of beige stone, two banks of lifts and mens and womens

lavatories. At either end were glass double doors, both secured by scanners. He could feel the anxious pulsing of the locks like a beat, see the security card numbers they eagerly awaited writhing within. The hand drier in the womens lavatories started. Adam looked at his re[lection in

the glass door and straightened his tie, patted his pockets. The door to the womens lavatories opened as he was feeling frantically in his inside

pocket. Patty Hurd, a junior account manager in the Far East section. Patty, he said, Thank god, left my pass back at my desk. Dont suppose you could...

he gestured at the door. She couldnt remember meeting him, of course, because they had never met, but the

use of her name had thrown her. She was trying to place him, [igure out where she knew him from. He knew her , though. There was something dark and green about her. Liana of data

wound round her, dotted with pink, [leshy, hothouse [lowers that puckered like mouths, whispering secrets. Dripping bloody jewels of information. One of Pattys clients ran mining operations in Papua and been having problems

with local activist groups, claiming that their diggings were damaging the local ecology. Lo- cal Kerberos operatives had close ties to the Indonesian intelligence and military networks. A round up of Papuan separatists had also included a number of ecological activists. They wouldnt be bothering anyone any more.

Adam could see their faces, rendered blurred and prehistoric by cheap technology

and rudimentary record keeping, halftone portraits from local press obituaries. I know I shouldnt, he said, But Ive got a presentation to Pasteur, last minute

nerves, you know. He smiled ruefully and she smiled back, pulling out her pass card and waving it over

the scanner. Its coiled codes sprang loose and the door opened. He waved Patty through and followed after. Steve Waller, her boss, was sending her email he really shouldnt be sending through

an internal mail system, not if he wanted to keep them private. But then, with Kerberos, there were no private systems. away. OK, said Patty, I will. She didnt know about Malaysia yet. That would give her something to think about it. Say hello to Steve for me, wish him luck with Malaysia, said Adam as he turned

Hugh Devereux stood on the escalator, staring down into the depths of the shopping

centre, his heart metaphorically as well as literally sinking. They were out in force today, he noticed, the fat people, milling around, bumping

into each other. Not the fresh, cherubic pink [leshiness of his cheerfully wealthy friends, but the desultory, abandoned weight of bad diets and unhappiness. The lumpen proletariat, he thought of them as. You only had to look at them to realise that these people werent capa- ble of looking after themselves.

This was why he always felt shopping was somehow demeaning, being locked in this

place with people like this. He always thought of the stories his grandmother would tell of her childhood, the butler calling in orders to the local tradesmen, the little green delivery van puttering up to the rear entrance of the house. That was civilised, not all this jostling about with the great unwashed. Suppose its

what you do on the internet these days, orders and deliveries, but that didnt seem any bet- ter. Place your order and then suffer three months of we tried to deliver cards through the door as your package silted down through the benthic depths of the postal service. Anything from all over the world, though, right there at your [ingertips. And here he

was again, doing his democratic duty by inserting liquidity back into the retail sector. But then he preferred it, really, being able to see and handle what you were buying.

Online wasnt the same, and you just didnt know what you were getting. Anyone could claim anything online. No proof anyone was who they said they were. Whole thing was a mess. Anyway, Jessica had wanted a new out[it. Something about the barbecue with Flick

and Jonners tomorrow. Quite why, he didnt know, she had plenty of things to wear already. Hugh had gone out with Flick for a little while at University and Jessica always

seemed to make a fuss whenever they were visiting them. She was Felicity really, of course, but everyone called her Flick. Hugh and Jessica didnt have nicknames, he suddenly realised. He had been Poohead

at prep school for a little while, and Devvers on the cricket pitch, but these days they were both just Hugh and Jessica, while Flick and Jonners were Flick and Jonners to everyone. Who decided these things, he wondered?

The shop fronts were inching into view beneath them and he suddenly remembered

the tablet computer someone from Marketing had brought with them into a meeting. Eve- ryone else had cooed over it, exchanging speci[ications and prognostications about the fu- ture of consumer IT. Maybe hed have a look at one, he could do with a little gadget to cheer himself up.

Nico knew well enough not to try and park his bike back in the Kerberos car park. Pasteur had told him to leave and he knew her well enough to know that if she got

wind of him being anywhere near the of[ices again, his temporary banishment could well become permanent. He had rode round, trying to trace the outline of the building the fugitive had [led

into, only to discover that it appeared to be Arcadia Hall itself, Kerberos own of[ices. He found a side street that was narrow and obscure enough to avoid any kind of

parking restrictions at all and left the bike crammed in behind a dumpster. He was sure, now, that the fugitive had broken back into Kerberos. But why and,

come to that, how? Part of him was sure that it wasnt possible, and equally sure that even if someone managed it, they would be detected almost immediately. But then the fugitive had appeared to waltz through a secured door, who knew what

else he could do? And who was in a better place to [ind out, than Nico? Nico Wolf could be the only person who knew that a dangerous fugitive was loose in

the Kerberos building, the only person who could do anything about it - were the potential rewards worth risking Pasteurs wrath by entering the building when he had been speci[i- cally banned?

He turned a corner to the front of the building and walked into a costume party. Or a circus, or a [ilm set, or something. The street was full of people in fancy dress:

Vikings, Nazi storm troopers, knights in armour, all milling around, greeting each other, chatting, incongruous mobile phones ringing and beeping. At [irst he thought it must be some kind of promotion for the shopping centre, but

then he realised that they were concentrating not on the big class doors of the main en- trance, but on the glass atrium to the side that led into the Kerberos of[ices themselves. Calming queuing up, Roman legionary followed cowboy through the revolving door,

[iling singly past two bemused security guards and up the escalators towards the lobby above. T1000, am I right? said a Mongol, looking at Nico in his motorcycle leathers, Not a

mass murderer strictly speaking, of course. Dude, Skynet nuked us, said a man who looked like a giant red woollen pill, with a

crackling cellophane rim round the edge, I mean, they were trying to destroy the whole fucking species, man. Not the T1000, though, right, said the Mongol, He didnt do it himself, did he? Well, neither did Genghis Khan, man, the man in red tapped himself on the chest

with a hollow noise and his plastic cilia rippled, Neither did a single Smallpox bacillus, but its representative, know what I mean? Smallpox, right, nice, said Genghis Khan, After you. He stood aside to let Nico go [irst and, taking out his sunglasses and putting them on,

Nico stepped into the revolving door and followed Mussolini through into the building.

There was a soft seating area with international newspapers and Adam picked one

up, hiding behind it to give himself space to think. It was calming, the orderly black courses of print, a monochrome pattern of uncom-

plicated information, compared to the great chaos around him, the looming faces, the end- less susurration, the great churning multitude of data that [illed the of[ices. It seemed insane, now, just the mere idea of being here without Lily to look out for

him. Trying to [ind his way round an unfamiliar place with such clamour about him, let alone the fact that everywhere his own face stood out, his own ghost paraded past him, dragged out databases, sent out in emails, traded and sold, watched for by a thousand hun- gry eyes. Those eyes. They were everywhere, even now his own self was overlaid by at least

[ive different views, CCTV cameras poised at every angle. But there was more than just eyes. He was used to the cameras and, more often than not, perfectly aware that they werent on, or being monitored or recording anything. But not here. Here there was something else. Something behind all of those implacable eyes, a

baleful [lame of intelligence. They called it Argus. A system that coordinated all the CCTV in the building, watch-

ing every feed, collating it, analysing it. Even now it was observing him, weighing up how he held the newspaper, how long he had been sitting there, his posture and his unconscious habits. It was judging him, he realised, measuring him on some scale of behaviour, trying to

decide whether it liked him or not. A terrible, cold stare of glacial assessment. Was he ac- ceptable to the machine?

He turned the page. That satis[ied Argus. He was evidently reading at something like

the average speed. The [lawless gaze turned elsewhere in the building. And through it he saw it too. He saw the crowd of mass murderers collecting in the

lobby, straining and pushing against a thin line of security guards. To Argus it was a mess of threats, potential and actuals, the costumes making it harder for the system to pick out in- dividuals in the throng. His view was even more confused, as the history of the costumes collided with the

biographies of the people in them in confusion. General Custer, for instance, appeared to use the online nick Empty V and in between slaughtering indigenous Americans worked as a sysadmin in a college. And over them all hung their common history, the [lash mob summons spread out

across the networks, from phone to web to IRC, summoning them all to dress as famous mass killers and genocidal maniacs and head down to the Kerberos head of[ice to apply for a job. There were other calls too, faceless voices, whispering amongst them. Blank, fea-

tureless faces, as immediately identi[iable as they were anonymous. Details has been leaked, or hacked, or both - the whereabouts in the building of the servers that ran Argus, collating and storing the CCTV data. If the much rumoured Ella Lamb footage was going to be anywhere, it would be

there, whispered the voices. All they had to do was evade security, in this, the head of[ices of a multinational security [irm.

And where was that security now? Ah, there. Standing behind the electronic gates

that led from the lobby into the building itself, watching the mayhem with a slight smile on her face: Diane Pasteur. He took a while just to look at her, [ive different views from [ive different cameras

giving him a cubist view point, expanding out into a surrealist nightmare as her shadows were echoed round them building, re[lecting out into the endless space of Kerberos net- works. Diane Pasteur, her history, like her expression, carefully restrained, occluded. A se-

cret woman in an industry of secrets. One who had risen undetected, like a steel grey shark through dark waters. Her suit hand made, her white silk shirt unadorned, her stockings perfectly aligned,

her hair short, neat. She was a cipher, and unparseable symbol of a person. The only stroke of individuality was that: a glint of silver at her wrist, a simple bracelet in the form of a chain of padlocks. Someones idea of joke, perhaps. Probably not hers. Not his, either. And for a moment all he could see was what he had glimpsed when

he pulled Lilys head away from the Range Rover steering wheel. It wasnt even an image anymore, just a bottomless sensation of falling, a lurch of the heart. Then something else obtruded into his vision. A police record, not of Pasteur, but of

the woman with her: Detective Inspector Eva Lisiewicz. And what are you doing swimming with the sharks, Detective Inspector, with your exemplary record and apparently high moral standards? London born and bred, Polish father, West Indian mother, worked her way up the

hard way, by being bloody good and putting the hours in. He could tell just from her stance

that no matter what she thought of the jostling maniacs in the lobby, there was plenty she didnt like about Kerberos, either, about Pasteur. Like for instance, that. Eva wouldnt have liked that, if she had known about it. Fire-

arms permit for Diane Pasteur. Handgun. Building security had it registered, too. Held in Pasteurs own of[ice, rather than the armoury. Armoury? They had an armoury? But already his mind was two [loors up, following the building plan and [inding him-

self stuck. He could see the of[ice, but none of the cameras were pointing the right way. The room itself was fragmentary, only partially there. Well, hed just have to go and see for himself, wouldnt he?

Adolf Hitler stumbled against the Wicked Witch and the two of them went over into

a Kerberos security guard, who took a step backwards and the thin line broke, and the murderers burst through, spilling up to the gates. Eva knew without needing to look round that there were more guards coming up

behind her, but still she couldnt quite help taking a step backwards from the crowd now thrusting up against the gates. They were still exuberant at the success of their prank, enjoying the transgressive

lark of being dressed as someone they shouldnt in a place where they shouldnt be, laugh- ing and shouting. What was that? Saddam Hussein was yelling something about his quali[i- cations being buried in the desert, Mao offered to kill someone in order to free up a posi- tion. Oh, she got it, they were pretending to apply for jobs. Mass murderers come to apply

for jobs at an international security [irm. She wasnt sure if this was about Ella Lamb or

Kerberos questionable overseas political links, or both. Probably more like just unfocussed anger [inding something it was acceptable to hate. There was something in the air, certainly, a brittle edge to that laughter. Something

febrile, something teetering on the edge of action. Then it happened. A guard, rushing forward, opened one of the security gates to go

through and the crowd surged against him. He fell back and the mass murderers followed, lurching though the gate into the building itself. Guards closed in immediately and there was a scuf[ling ruck for a moment and then

[ive or six of the costumed killers broke through, shaking off clutching hands. A woman in a knitted moustache, a man in motorcycle leathers, someone in a long blue cloak, and others, all sprinting away down a corridor, armour clinking and feathered hats waving as they dis- appeared, guards racing after them. der. Dont worry, Detective Inspector, were quite in control. Im sure you are, said Eva, Its them Im worrying about. Argus will have them. Argos? The shop? Let me show you something. Instinctively, Eva was about to follow them, when Pasteur put a hand on her shoul-

Pasteur steered her round a corner and through a door, into a narrow back room be-

hind the main reception desk. A minor security station. One wall was covered with screens and a guard sat in front of them, watching a feed from the lobby.

Pasteur gestured at the screens. Argus, she said. One of the screens was a multitude of angles on the lobby, but there was something

strange about it. Laid over the shots of pushing and shoving mad men, were letters and numbers and most of all enigmatic little icons all in varying shades of red, blinking and shifting as the crowd moved back and forth. But it was the other screens that interested Eva. Instead of the lobby, they showed

the costumed activists, running through the building, again adorned with icons and labels. What caught Evas attention, however, was that the views were changing. Without the watching guard apparently doing anything, angles changed, cameras rotated to follow fugi- tives, the viewpoints followed the interlopers wherever they went. That is Argus, said Pasteur, Still very much in beta at the moment, but our of[ices

and the Arcadia retail environment give us an excellent testing ground. A CCTV system? said Eva, knowing that she was only encouraging Pasteur. More than just CCTV, said Pasteur, Argus is a revolution in security technology, the

moment when surveillance becomes an active force in harm prevention. Eva had the distinct impression that she was hearing a sales pitch Pasteur had deliv-

ered before. A posh CCTV system, Eva said. As you can see Argus aggregates surveillance from the entire system, analysing it in

an attempt to isolate individuals, this allows it to then track those individuals wherever they go within the environment.

Impressive, although currently only happening in a largely uncluttered of[ice space

rather than a busy street, and even then not perfectly. One screen suddenly cut to a corridor elsewhere in the building. A young man standing outside... was that Pasteurs of[ice? Then it was back again, Genghis Khan charging up a [light of stairs. Eva had only seen the back of his head, but there was something about that young

man, something vaguely familiar, but Pasteur was still talking. But how to select in the [irst place which individuals to track? Ulmer here, Pasteur

gestured at the guard, who grunted at Eva, Has had to do nothing to choose these individu- als. In fact Argus was already tracking them before they broke through the gates. Because Argus already knew they were a threat. I think anyone dressed as an SS of[icer is probably questionable, said Eva. Actually, said Pasteur, The fact that they are wearing costumes and, in effect, dis-

guises is more signi[icant than you realise. The system, you see, is capable of analysing a vast array of conscious and unconscious human physical cues and actions to create an over- all threat assessment for an individual. In real time. Even through fancy dress. Body language? said Eva. Body language, physical movement, even speech patterns. Argus watches us all and

decides for itself who is trouble.

Adam sat in Pasteurs chair and stared at the gun in his hands. Here, of all places, he

was out of Argus unceasing gaze, right in the heart of Kerberos. He was sitting with his back to the door, facing the window, a view into the well in the centre of the building, all the

busy [loors cross-sectioned before him and far, far below the busy top level of the shopping centre. But all his attention was on the gun. Smith and Wesson 638 Bodyguard, the name

came to him before he was aware of it, and with it speci[ications, glowing descriptions, ex- periences, recommendations and then, too, injury reports, crime scene photographs, the faces and names of the dead and dying. Yet all this paled into insigni[icance in the face of the thing itself. Adam had never

held a gun before, and its weight, its presence took him by surprise. The simple fact of this masterpiece of engineering, heavy and blue and snug in his hand. A tool to take a gesture, a thought, and make it deadly. A machine for killing. What amazed him was how familiar it was and how strange. How idolised the gun

was, fetishised. An instrument for projecting ones own will, violently, a hard little [ist of self-de[inition, like a forged soul. He would have chosen a dagger for Pasteur, something sleek and needle sharp. A

misericord, designed for slipping through the joints in medieval armour, to seek out unde- fended chinks and ease in cold death. But he would have been wrong, he saw now. The gun was her, alright. Hard and contained and steel. And more than her, it was

Kerberos, too. An implement for a world that talked of soldiers as assets and bombs as de- vices, a world where security had nothing to with society or justice, just personal safety and individual freedom. A world where war was a moneymaking endeavour and pro[it trumped everything. Take coltan (he was free falling now, here in the heart of the system, stories and

faces sleeting past him endlessly). Columbite-tantaline, a mineral found all over the world -

Australia, a lot of it. From it was extracted tantalum, in great demand for use in capacitors in modern electronics. Every computer in this building, all the devices he could feel ranged about it, from

mobile phones to server farms, all of them owed their functioning to coltan. Coltan that could also be found in the Congo. But of course, in the midst of the con-

[licts in Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo, mining it there was dif[icult. And public outcry about the role mining might play in the military economics of the area made it even harder. Logistically and public relations wise a disaster. But Australia has [irst world labour laws, and the army of the DRC could do with the

money. It was only dif[icult, not impossible, not with a little care, a good legal team and help from someone like Kerberos. And Kerberos was quite willing to help, for the right money. To secure hellish mining

diggings, to guard illegal smuggling networks, to make sure the whole thing stayed out of the view of international watchdogs. To willingly support an operation that only brought with it death and war and hor-

ror. All for a mobile phone. And good old pro[it. We not only secure out clients and their interests, but through them, all our inter-

ests. Our interests in security, in democracy, in justice. For all of us, for the whole world. The interests of civilisation itself. Pasteur herself, at some conference somewhere (yes, he could see the date stamp on

the video, yes it had been in Switzerland). That was her, Pasteur the gun, guaranteeing the safety of her clients, their money and the civilisation they wished to buy, while Lily, his wonderful Lily, was slumped over the wheel of a Range Rover, under the pitiless sun.

He looked at the weapon and wondered. Just a tool, after all, the plaything of the

hand that held it. A machine for killing.

Nico Wolf couldnt understand why he hadnt been caught yet. He also couldnt un-

derstand where the hell he was going and he certainly couldnt understand what he was do- ing. He was following Genghis, in the hope that the scourge of Asia knew where he was

going, but, as far as he could tell, the Khan was just running around the building at random. Presumably he was trying to throw off any pursuers but, extraordinarily, there didnt

seem to be any. It worried Nico. The Argus system would have spotted them in the lobby and would certainly be

tracking them now. Kerberos guards would know precisely where they were and be more than capable of cutting them off at any moment. So why werent they? It had to be deliberate. They were being allowed to run around the of[ices for a rea-

son, but what that reason might be, he couldnt imagine. He tried to think what he might do in usual circumstances, when he would have

been one of the guards chasing Genghis, but then he would have just been doing what he normally did: follow orders, no matter how strange those orders might seem. And what was he doing in this unusual circumstances at all? He shouldnt even be in

the building, certainly not out of uniform and de[initely not in the company of illegal in- truders. So why was he? He hadnt even thought about when the crowd burst through the guards and the

gates, he had just followed them, caught up in the heady rush of the illicit. That had always

been his problem, of course, the reason he was shouted at - just acting on instinct, jumping in out of his depth every time. As Pasteur had said, thinking with his [ists instead of his head. And once again hed got himself into trouble. Serious trouble, this time, not just dis-

obeying an order, but being in the building with a bunch of stupid activists in kids cos- tumes. Right now, he knew, Argus wasnt yet complex enough to identify him and hopefully,

with the sunglasses on, no one human would have yet. But if they caught him, theyd [ind out soon enough. And then what? Dismissed for sure - and worse, maybe. What if they thought he was

one of them, one of these idiots. Well, wasnt he, right now, running around? What if they thought he was some kind of informant sent to in[iltrate Kerberos? Some kind of spy? Nico had seen things happen to informants. Had caused it to happen, once or twice.

Maybe Kerberos wouldnt go to those lengths, but he knew for sure the consequences would be extreme and lasting. If they caught him. If. Nico felt the thrill go through him again, the same thrill he had felt leaping through

those gates right in the face of Roukan, a guard he had been on duty with just a few hours ago. That old thrill of the illegal, the daring, the deadly. They had taken a stroll through the of[ices, him and Roukan, rows and rows of desks

full of people working, the same people, the same work, day after day until you die. Without ever knowing you were alive.

How could you know what life was without risking it, without holding it in your own

hands and weighing it, without taking that chance and trusting in yourself to make it through? He had often wondered why people turned informant when they knew what hap-

pened to informants, but maybe this was it. This danger of being discovered, the lie found out, the disguise torn off. Like a spy on a mission, a cop undercover. Undercover. Wasnt that exactly what he was? He remembered Pasteur talking to

that cop, about how dif[icult it was to get people into these organisations, to [ind out from the inside what was going on. But what was he doing right now other than getting on the inside and [inding out the

truth? What was the thing she had said? The cop? Information but no intelligence. Well, here was Nico Wolf, for once, using his head and gathering intelligence. Undercover and on a mission. Better [ind out what was going on, then.

I assume from the fact that you havent closed in on them yet, said Eva, That you

have a plan. There was a slight smile on Pasteurs face that told Eva she was right before she even

spoke and also made all the hairs on her arms stand up in goosebumps. We are a security organisation, said Pasteur, All we have is plans. The scenes on the Argus monitors were changing. Where the 404s had been running

down brightly lit corridors, surprising of[ice workers and breaking up impromptu meet- ings, they were now entering different territory.

They had been heading upwards, staggering up [lights of stairs into less populous,

executive parts of the of[ices, and then further, up onto entirely unpopulated [loors, where the automated lights [licked on at their approach and turned themselves off when they had passed, casting the empty meeting rooms back into shadowy silence again. Theyre going somewhere speci[ic, said Eva, And you know where, dont you?

I know, because I told them, said Pasteur, We spoke about it earlier, the dif[iculty of pene- trating such networks, how the internet allows them the security of anonymity and struc- ture less organisation. There is no one in charge and even if there were, discovering who is next to impossible. So why try and discover them? Why not let them uncover themselves? Why go hunting when you can tempt the prey to come to you? Pasteur leant over the guard at the controls and called up a speci[ic camera. It

showed a small room on one of those empty [loors, packed full of what looked to Eva like complicated computer equipment, all arranged on racks and strung together with a spa- ghetti of wires. A goat, Eva said, Tiger hunting. You tether a live goat up to attract the tiger and

then when it attacks the goat, you kill it. Thats your goat, isnt it? Not an idea that she had ever liked. Hunting tigers was bad enough but then gratui-

tously throwing in the death of a goat, too, it seem carelessly callous in a way that made her feel slightly nauseous. Actually a technique we use a lot in cybersecurity, said Pasteur, We create what we

call honeypot servers, full of what looks like desirable data with inadequate security around it. We can then analyse the attacks made on it by hackers, understand their techniques, sometimes even manage to track them.

In this case, as soon as we saw this ridiculous little costumed demonstration being

planned, we leaked information online that all this was the server housing all of the Arcadia building CCTV video [iles, intimating that if the Ella Lamb footage existed it would be found there. Hoping that the more daring of them would try and break in and [ind the [iles. Exactly. This way we get an idea of how the network is structured and to take into

custody some of the ringleaders. Those servers dont contain anything useful at all, of course, in fact, theyre some of our honeypots, although weve taken them of[line for the moment, in the interests of verisimilitude. Oh yes, said Eva, Verisimilitude. Thats very important, of course.

The instructions on the Internet worked and the magazine swung out, depositing a

single round into his hand. Round, magazine. All this terminology seemed ridiculously hokey to Adam, like something you only heard in [ilms, but people genuinely seemed to use it. People genuinely seemed to use guns. He held the bullet in his hand and saw, loaded

into it, tightly packed in, like the explosive in the shell, its whole existence. He saw the backwards reel of armourers records, ammunition company, metal

smelters, mining contractors, all along strung beacons of Kerberos, ordering, guarding, su- pervising. And he saw forwards, that great, [inal forwards, the passage through countless ma-

terials, paper targets, wood chip walls, aluminium car shells, [lesh. So much [lesh, mashing together meat and vessel and bone in its crashing trajectory.

What seemed like such a direct, neat machine, but its purpose was a biological mess,

his vision an explosion of images and medical detail, such a small thing and such an enor- mous ending. Thats what they did, these machines, these corporations, these tools for mankinds

careless ambition, they moved forward inexorably and felled those in their without a thought. Did she believe it, Pasteur, when she stood there and claimed that she did what she

did in the cause of civilisation? He thought she did. She was suddenly all around him, a time lapse of security pass photographs, a slit scan of elongated video. She had come into her own in this company, working her way up, making enemies of

people that didnt matter, making allies of people who did. Never friends, not her. The terri- ble thing was that she was not ruthless, they were everywhere, the favours done, the graces given. She had a cause, he could see it burning like a thread of [ire through her life, a mis- sion to civilise the world with commerce, with guns, with money. He could almost hear Lilys voice, a long tirade about the evils of capitalism, about

how people should come [irst, not pro[it, about equality and freedom. A voice he would never hear again, thanks to this woman. But Pasteur genuinely believed it, he could see that. She believed that capitalism

represented individual freedom, the means to determine your own destiny, and through that political power, justice and democracy. There were doctors in the Congo, brought in under Kerberos protection. Doctors

and medicine that people there wouldnt have been able to afford or rely on before. It had been Pasteurs idea. Some kind of hearts and minds operation, although the joke in the of-

[ice was about the workers being looked after long enough to die from overwork, rather than disease. But did she really care about all those lives that fell before her mission? Was she

counting? He looked at the bullet in his hand. Would one more life matter? Lily cared. Still thinking, Adam put the gun in his pocket and stood up to leave the room. He

looked down into the central well of the building, down at all the people milling about on their way to the shopping centre. A view Pasteur had every day. People like ants, dutifully doing their commercial duty

and buying themselves a lifestyle. An idea was coming to him. He walked to the door and discovered he was still holding the bullet. He clenched it

in his [ist, a solid object, warm in his grasp, devoid of any meaning but its own weight and presence and he walked out of the room.

Nico turned a corner and almost ran into the back of Genghis Khan. There was a thin

man in a long blue old-fashioned coat and a wispy blond goatee, another of the activists. He was blocking the corridor and arguing with Genghis. Ive got a map, he was saying, Did you bring a map? Its the wrong way round, dude, said Genghis. Dwarven maps always have East at the top, said the thin man. Dude, tell him, said Genghis, seeing Nico, Its straight ahead. What is? said Nico.

The server room, dude, the video archive, said Genghis, You know, what were all

here for? What this is all about. Who are you? said the thin man. T1000, Terminator, Genghis said, Right, dude? Theres no server room up here, said Nico. There wasnt, he knew there wasnt.

This [loor was completely unoccupied. All top three [loors were. They still had to patrol them, though, which was how he knew there was nothing up here. Dude, said Genghis, Deep Throat, the leak, we know, right, I mean thats were

here, right, thats why youre here. No, said the thin man, Who are you? Screw that, said a voice, Who the fuck are you and why are you in my way? It was a girl, dressed in a collarless coat, like a waiter, with a knitted black mous-

tache attached to her nose. The thin man drew himself up. General Custer, he said. Well, Custard, she said, The injuns are coming, so get out of my way. Indians? said Nico. Guards, fuckwit said the girl, who swore in a manner that suggested she didnt do

it often but felt it was expected of her, Just saw them. Wait, said Nico, This server room, where did you hear about it? No, said Custer, Who are you? Online, dude, said Genghis, Same as you. Its a trap, said Nico.

He suddenly understood why they hadnt been apprehended yet. Kerberos must

have put out some misinformation about this mythical server room to lure these idiots were they could be safely contained. Its a trap, he said again, Whos in charge? They looked at him, blankly. No, said Custer, Who are you? The truth, his grandmother used to tell him, never hurt anyone. This, he knew, was

itself untrue. The truth frequently hurt people, often badly. But the easiest way not to be caught out in a lie is not to lie. Too much. My name is Nico Wolf, he said, I am a Kerberos employee and you are walking into

a trap. He pulled out his security pass and showed it to them. Theres no server room up here, he said, They made it up to get you up here. You

need to trust me. You need to fuck off, said Custer. Theres nothing here! said Nico. Hes right, dude, said Genghis, Look at it. This entire [loor is unoccupied. Injuns, Custard, said the girl. Look, said Nico, I am getting out of here because if I am not going to get caught.

You want to come, come. Not the lifts, too easy for them to control. There were [ire stairs that ran the entire

height of the building and they should be open, too, even on this [loor. He pushed past the girl and started running.

 him.

Come with me if you want to live, said Genghis in a German accent, and followed

We have a problem, said Eva, pointing at one of the screens. On the other screens she could see Kerberos guards arresting a Victorian gentleman

and Emperor Hirohito of Japan, but this one was showing four people running down a [light of stairs: a man in motorcycle leathers, a man in a US cavalry out[it, a woman in a woolen moustache and what looked like a Viking. The stairs were uncarpeted, the walls unpainted concrete. Those look like back stairs of some kind, she said, Fire exit? Fire exit, said Pasteur, Right the way down the building into Arcadia. Pasteur gestured to Ulmer, the guard, and he passed her a radio. Whos on duty in Arcadia? she said. Ulmer consulted a tablet computer. Randall, Sirhaan, Kenyon, Lowell, Lopez, he said. This is Pasteur, she said into the radio, Kenyon and Lowell to the Arcadia main

exit, Randall and Sirhaan to cover the mezzanine [ire doors. Lopez to the [loor three [ire exit. She took the tablet from Ulmer and scrutinised it. Wait there for back up, she said, Whelan, Roukan and Channing to rendezvous

with Lopez in Arcadia, begin securing the [ire stairs a [loor at a time. My shift here is almost up, said Ulmer.

Find your relief and then [ind... Leikos, said Pasteur, Then rendezvous with Whe-

lan, hes in charge. She hooked the radio to her belt and hefted the tablet. She swiped at it and Eva saw

the Argus feed appear on the screen, the four [igures still running down endless stairs. Shall we, said Pasteur, and motioned Eva to the door.

3 The Mall
Nico pushed open the [ire door and almost ran straight into someone. The mezza-

nine was the top [loor of the Arcadia shopping centre, a large open space dotted with places to sit, small stalls, a cafe in one corner. It was [illed with people, all moving in a bovine Brownian motion from the lifts to the car park towards the escalators that led down into the mall itself. Are you crazy? said the girl with the moustache, There are guards everywhere. There are people everywhere, said Nico, More distractions for Argus. He could see, between the bustling people, Kerberos uniforms moving, heading in

the same direction as them, towards the main doors. It looked like Kenyon, an older man, one time a body builder, now slow and running to fat. Nico could move faster than him. Whos Argus? said Genghis Khan. New security system, said General Custer, Reads body language. Claim it can iden-

tify criminals before they do anything. Before theyre criminals, you mean, said the girl. Itll have us already, said Nico, Theyll be watching, we need to keep moving.

General Custer pulled out a mobile phone. He was already moving too slowly for

Nicos liking, puf[ing and panting after their career down the stairs. Come on! said Nico. Got an idea, said Custer, then, not looking where he was going, ran straight into a

shopper, her plastic bags tangling round Custers spidery legs, causing him to stumble. Genghis Khan caught hold of him, pulling him out of the scattering clothes and toi-

letries. They staggered together, trying to hold each other upright. Kenyon was still forcing his way through the crowd, but there was someone else

now, a woman called Lowell. She was there already, closing one of the big doors, cutting down the number of possible exits. Nico wheeled. Behind them another guard, Randall was already at the [ire door they

had just come through. He struggled to think. Theyd be sealing off exits, then checking the [ire stairs, moving up from the bottom. At least they were out of that. But theyd be watching Argus, theyd know exactly where Nico and the others were.

If they couldnt make a quick exit, they had to disappear. Down below, down in the mall. Stores and changing rooms and the cinema. Places to hide. Back there, back to the escalators and then down into the depths. Follow me, he said, and ran.

Adam stepped out of the lift and walked into hell. He stopped in his tracks, caught by surprise by the sheer scale and chaos of it. He

was standing on the main [loor of Arcadia Hall, in the centre circle of a many-[loored in- ferno. The whole space burned with data.

In front of him escalators marched endlessly into depths dark with monsters. Shop-

pers milled past, each of them crowded by ghosts: smart phones, text messages, voice mail - their faces obscured by mysteries, their hidden lives paraded before his face. All of them heading below into the constant hungry forge of commerce - numbers

hammering back and forth, the endless monotony of sizes, colours, stock and price - an end- less drumming in his head. And over all of them Argus watched, a hundred eyes weighing each one, analysing

and evaluating, counting each head, and endless and inescapable judgement. He turned, trying to [ind somewhere to hide, somewhere to catch his breath, [ind the

strength to deal with the horror. Then he saw a monster he recognised. A man in motorcycle leathers - the man who had been chasing him - his name leap-

ing, unbidden, into Adams mind: Nico Wolf. And the mans face was there too - his security pass photo, logged away on the system. The long dogfaces of Kerberos were everywhere, casting about for a scent. (Born in

Romania but German by ethnicity). Adam had to get out of sight. (There are seven main groups of ethnic Germans in Romania). Down the escalators. THE EYES ARE WATCHING. Wolf was heading for the escalators too. Hurry up! Hurry up! Dont make yourself conspicu- ous. (As a boy Nico had been asked by his teachers to spy on his parents). Be a good shop- per. DONT LET THE EYES SEE YOU. He was right there behind. Wait, something was slow- ing him down. Stay calm. (Currently suspended from active duty pending managerial re- view). Down another [loor, get as deep as you can. AMBER TARGET - MAIN LOBBY - POSSI- BLE THREAT. Just going shopping. (Personality test indicates poor risk assessment and a tendency to violence). Just shopping. Just shopping.

There: a bench. There were two [loors between him and Nico now. Adam dropped

onto the bench and closed his eyes; trying to burrow down into the darkness behind his lids, escape all the terrible light. Something was bothering Eva Lisiewicz. Actually a large number of things were Have you got 65p? said a voice, Ill be honest with you. Its for drink.

bothering her, but one thing in particular was nagging away at her. ing? Its able to tell what theyre thinking about doing, said Pasteur, It analyses both Let me get this straight, she said, This Argus system can tell what people are do-

conscious and unconscious movement, from gross physical gestures right down to micro- expressions, if we have the cameras with suf[icient resolution and frame rate. Pasteur had brought them out to a soft seating area along one side of a corridor, to

stand in front of a glass wall that looked down into the main concourse of the Arcadia shopping mall directly below. The space was full of people, thronging in peristaltic gouts from the elevator bank

and drifting in from the main street doors. At least, Eva noticed, one of the Kerberos guards was on that exit. Hadnt Pasteur ordered two of them, though? Pasteur held her tablet up directly in front of them, revealing a screen showing a

view of the concourse, but from a different angle. A nearby camera, Eva assumed. It was slightly disorientating, a little window from another viewpoint.

Again the view on the screen was overlaid with little icons. In the centre a little clus-

ter were glowing red, below them the man in the motorcycle jacket and the Viking were pushing their way through the crowds towards the escalators. As you can see, this allows Argus to spot threatening or unusual behaviour, said

Pasteur. So the computer decides whats normal, does it? said Eva. Not at all. We are, of course, very sensitive to such issues. Think of Argus as a [ilter, a

means of targeting our security assets in an intelligent manner. Exactly what we were speaking about before: information hand in hand with intelligence. Argus spots potential issue but it is our trained staff who deal with the situation. As they are now. Pasteur passed Eva the tablet and took out her radio. Whelan, this is Pasteur, theyre out of the [ire stairs and into the general population.

Ensure exits are secured and start patrolling the concourses, from [loor three upwards. Eva was trying the screen out, watching as the man in leather jostled his way on to

the escalators. Around him shoppers stumbled backwards, remonstrated with him and his friends, their own icons turned a shade of amber. The key is that Argus is a preventative rather than reactive system. It allows us to

spot troublemakers before they can make trouble, Pasteur had evidently wound up a good many presentations with these words, The landscape of law enforcement and civil control is an evolving one and Argus is the tool to take us into the future. So it thinks these people on the escalator are possible troublemakers, said Eva,

pointing them out on the screen.

Well, obviously, their behaviour is differing from the observed norm, said Pasteur,

So the system had [lagged them as potential threats for investigation. In my line of work, said Eva, We prefer to call them victims.

Bastard! Glass splintered under his feet. He could hear Lily shouting and knew that he wasnt

going to be able to leave well alone. He climbed in through the jagged hole in the window, the sleeve of his jacket snagging on a razored shard. You fucking bastard! The guards were rushing across the lobby in a ragged line. Someone had torn a large

metal letter K from the company name on the wall and was trying to hit a guard with it. It might almost have been funny but for the fury on the guards face. They barrelled into the pro- testors, forcing them back towards the broken window, slipping and skittering on the frag- ments on the marble >loor. One of the guards - a young man with dark hair - threw someone to the ground. A girl.

A sudden shock of blonde dreads going up in her wake. He pulled back his foot to kick her. Lily lurched towards him. You fucking bastard, leave her alone. Adam couldnt help himself - he grabbed Lily, pulling her back, and she turned, smack-

ing him right in the mouth. The blow knocked him off balance, pushing him back into the crowd of protestors who were scrambling through the broken window behind him.

As Adam fell, the guard looked up, pointing a >inger at Lily as his boot came back for

another kick at the girl on the ground in front of him. And his name fell into Adams head. Nico Wolf.

Just 65p, said the voice, slurring it a little, I swear once Im good and drunk Ill go

to sleep and wont be bothering anyone else. I swear. It was dark where Adam was. It was dark and quiet and Lily was there. But that was

the past and he had work to do. He reluctantly hauled himself up on the bench and opened his eyes. A man with colourless, wrinkled skin, high pink cheeks and watery blue eyes was

staring into his face. Despite being far too close, he was evidently still having trouble focus- ing on Adam. Its made by monks, the man said and something waved in the periphery of Adams

vision. A bottle of forti[ied wine on the end of an erratic arm. An empty bottle. Thats Christian charity if you like. Theres no one drinks it but the drunks, you

know, the man was earnest, desperate to share his ragged insights, Made by monks for the drunks. Does the Holy Father know, does he? Did he tell them, you go make a wine for the poor drunk men, help them forget their sins? Its a funny thing for a monk to be doing, dont you think? Just 65p. Nico Wolf. The man who had started it all. Who had kicked Ella Lamb into a coma

right in front of Adam and Lily. Nico Wolf was in Arcadia, and with 404s, as well. What was he up to? An agent provocateur? It might explain his suspension from duty - the perfect

cover. But then he had almost no history with the 404s, not that Adam could see. Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps he was trying to learn more about them - the perfect way to worm himself back into reinstatement. It was dif[icult to tell anything about Nico Wolf. He was a black shape in leather and

shades. He had very little online personality. The sort of person who didnt get the point, Adam thought, not the sort who would share willingly and easily with millions of strangers. Not like the 404s. They were giants, each of them a bright and shining ogre, armed head to foot with secrets and knowledge and crowded by a thousand phantoms. He was a moment of relief, this rambling old drunk - no phone, no electronic history,

a man lost to the modern world, a man Adam could [inally look in the face and not see too much. All around him, meanwhile, the shopping mall thundered with the noise of transac-

tions. Customers trolled past, bleeding bright spurts of information: credit ratings, pur- chases histories, wish lists and blacklists, wants and needs and cannot haves. And over all of them Argus watched, the thousand unblinking eyes, counting them, sorting them, [iling them all neatly away into brands and sectors and personality types, an endless, monoto- nous crunch of data. have. Thats monks, isnt it? said the man, An abbey. Its an abbey, thats monks. Or is it It was worse than he had imagined. He wasnt sure he could do it. But Lily would

abbots? Or monkeys! Monkeys making wine for drunkys!

The man was shouting away merrily now, and already confused by the chaos all

around, Adam noticed too late the great, white, soft creature that lumped out of the crowd towards them, a pair of brittle, hard eyes in its pale phantom face. Why dont you shut up and die, you dirty old fucker? it said.

Nico came pushing his way down the escalator to the [irst [loor. Down among the

stores and cafes there were plenty of blind spots in Argus vision - he just had to think, try to remember. Of course, if they were already being tracked, Pasteur would knew precisely where they had gone anyway, even if she couldnt see them in there. But the system wasnt perfect, he knew that as well as anyone, they were still working bugs out. It lost people all the time, especially down in the mall itself. Meanwhile, if he remembered the procedure right, the guards would be working

their way up from the bottom towards them, clearing the [loors as they went, as long as they were quick... What are you doing? General whatever his name was had his phone in his hand again and almost seemed

to be deliberately walking into people, leaving a wake of confused and annoyed shoppers behind him. Bluesnar[ing, he said. Not possible, dude, said Genghis Khan. For you, said the General, Got an idea. We dont have time for games, said Nico. What else is it worth having time for? said Genghis.

Argus monitors body language, said the General, We cant escape Argus, so we

need to change peoples body language. Dance dance revolution, said the girl. No, this, said the General. Nicos phone beeped a text message alert. No, wait, it was the guy next to him. Then

another, and another. A cicada-ing of phones along the path the General had blundered through the crowd. Then Nicos phone itself [inally buzzed in his pocket. Oops, said Genghis, Never leave your Bluetooth open, dude. All around him, people were hunting for their phones, [ishing them out, reading

their message. He looked at his own. They know everything about you. You need to run. Now, it said. They know everything. But how could they, no one knew what he had done, there

was no [ilm, no witnesses. He looked up from the phone and saw the gloating expression on the Generals face. This was his message, he knew. Nico would have to act now if he was... And then he realised, all around him, people were suddenly looking about them

guiltily, hurriedly deleting the message, stuf[ing their phones out of sight. Thats given then something to think about, said the General.

The screen in Evas hands blossomed into a [lurry of blinking red lights, then it froze.

It tried to slide in another view, something happening on another [loor, but it only got half way and then the window, and the video in it, ground to a halt. The tablet buzzed in her hands, a single, sullen little tantrum and was suddenly

nothing more than a lump of glass and plastic.

Somethings happening on the [irst [loor, said Eva. She tried shaking it, but it didnt

seem to help. Pasteur was already on the radio. Whelan, Pasteur, theres a situation on concourse one, proceed with all haste. Even in an emergency, Eva noticed, Pasteur couldnt stop being the sort of person

who said proceed instead of go. Restart it, said Pasteur, The power button is there. Eva fumbled with it, trying out several little nubs and switches round the edge of the

thing before eventually discovering that by holding one of them down she could at least make the screen go black. This had a horribly familiar feel to it. Every crisis Eva had ever experienced, the investigation afterwards had always included a question about why the technology failed. And had always recommended a new technology as a solution. It was like a canary in a coal mine. The moment the technology started misbehaving

you knew that things were about to get seriously unpredictable. Dont be a stick in the mud, she corrected herself, because the technology wasnt fail-

ing simply because it was technology. It failed because the planning failed. Because some- where along the line someone making all this, Argus and these computer things, had de- cided what conditions they would likely have to work under and what situations they were likely to have to deal with, never once thinking that likely was the very least of their prob- lems. Sadly unlikely was exactly when they were going to need good plans and precisely

when they wouldnt have any. Like now, for instance. Pasteur, Whelan, said the radio, We have an incident down here, concourse three. Control, said Pasteur, Give me an Argus update.

Control, said the radio in a different voice, We have multiple alerts on concourses

one and three. This was beginning to sound like it was getting out of hand. Eva was starting to feel

butter[lies in her stomach, like she was waiting for something to happen. Excuse me, said Pasteur and she snatched the tablet from Eva, her hands unexpect-

edly cold when they touched. She swiped at it a couple of times and then grunted in disgust. She spoke into the radio again. Whelan, Pasteur, two of you deal with the issue on concourse three, the rest of you

head up to one. Im on my way down. Lets get this sorted out, please. She didnt mean please, Eva thought, she meant now.

Deborah Robinson - her mother called her Debs, her friends called her Dee. Her

friends called her a lot more often than her mother - they all called and texted each other an incredible amount, even when, as now, they were all together in the Mall. A crowd of them giggled and hooted behind Deborah. It was virtually impossible to

pick out the real people from the ghosts that whirled around their individual phones. Just looking at the whole, garish dance gave Adam a whole new kind of headache. Why arent useless fuckers like you just shot? It was said with a certain amount of

vehement bravado - Deborah was an angry girl. Give her a few years, Adam thought, and shell be [ighting security guards. The drunk lurched up off the bench at the teenagers, swinging his empty bottle. Ive got as much right! he shouted, although he didnt seem sure as to what he had

a right to.

All around them, the unblinking eyes of the Mall fastened on the bench and Adam

heard the muttering go up in the walls. Somewhere a three-headed monster was wading through the crowds towards them. The drunks bottle clipped the fast food shake Deborah was clutching and the lip

sprang off. You spilled my drink, you fucker! She threw the huge paper cup at him, spraying

him with pink gunk. The drunk reeled back from the explosion of colour, his feet slipped and he went down in a welter of [lailing limbs and spattering shake. His bottle went ringing away over the tiles. He tried to kick me! He tried! You saw him! Fucker! Deborah raised her foot to kick

the drunk and Adam [inally jumped up at her, holding out his hands to stop her. Hey! Cut that out, you little shit! His hand caught her shoulder and she spun at him,

lashing out, pushing him away. Get off me, you fucking paedo! She ran at him, pushing him back again, but before he could do anything, something

dark and heavy rose up between them. Three dogs heads, snarling and snapping. A security guard, powering in to grab Deborahs arms, pulling her away from both Adam and the drunk. Adam let himself stumble backwards from the scene as another guard, neatly side-

stepping the drunk, who was still sliding around in the increasingly unpleasant milkshake on the ground, joined in in trying to restrain the raging Deborah. Neither of them had time to notice him stumble, recover, slip backwards among the

gathering crowds of spectators and disappear from view.

Adams face stung from where Deborahs chipped and bitten nails had caught him,

but he was sure she would have done plenty worse if she had known he had just stolen her phone.

If they were following procedure, then all the guards should still be on the lowest

level, securing the [ire stairs. Nico would have been following procedure. After he and the 404s had escaped the of[ices upstairs, things would have got very confused. Procedure was a good, safe thing to fall back on. But there was no procedure for Nico to rely on now. The situation had become what

Pasteur called [luid. He had to think. With his head. If the Generals message hadnt worked, they would still be showing up on Argus and

the guards would be heading up here to the [irst level. If the trick had worked then they might just have enough cover to get down to second level before the guards got there with- out Argus spotting them. There was no time to wonder about it. He grabbed Genghis Khan and pointed him at

the escalator. Down, now! Weve got cover, dude, said Genghis. Why did they always have to argue? It was all

they did. Guards will be coming up, said Nico, Down, turn left at the bottom. The General still staggering about, [iddling with his phone. Nico grabbed hold of an

edge of the cape, easily pulling the thin man after him through the crowd. What are you doing?

Saving you, said Nico. No, thats what Im doing, said the General, What are you doing? He turned to look for the girl and the General suddenly jerked out of his grasp and

disappeared backwards. What? It was Lowell, one the guards who had been on the main door upstairs, she

must have come down the escalator after them. She had hold of the Generals cape, pulling him sideways off his feet and toppling over herself as the General grappled at her. Hadnt she been with...? He turned just in time to see Kenyon lurching towards him.

Nico sidestepped neatly, punching him sharply on the side of the head as he passed and then sweeping a leg across to bring him to the [loor. Nico kicked Kenyon hard in the stomach, stamping on the hand that tried to grapple

his heel as he bent and snatched at something attached to the mans belt. A taser. Where was Lowell? The General, who was considerably taller than Lowell, but with

none of her training, was [lailing around on the [loor as Lowell pulled herself on top of him, trying to use her weight to pin him down. She must have sensed Nico step up behind her but she didnt look round, just shouted: Kenyon, tase him will you? Nico tased her. She went rigid for a moment and then seemed to leap sideways to the

ground, her boots squeaking on the polished marble as her legs thrashed, unable to gain purchase. Nico pushed her [lat with one hand, trying to hold her still while he took her taser

from her belt, then he turned and pulled the General upright, slipping his arm round him to keep him that way.

The man was still dazed, reeling away from Nicos grasp. Precious seconds were

leaking away. He spun the man, pulling him onto the escalator, and the two of them half ran, half fell down, pushing past shoppers, helter skelter to the bottom.

Hugh and Jessica were just coming out of chintzy interior design store when they

heard the shouting coming from down the other end of the concourse. Hugh immediately steered Jessica away from the noise towards the escalators, determined to put as much dis- tance between him and whatever was going on as was possible. The place was de[initely going downhill. Now they were actually [ighting in the

aisles. And here were a bunch of security guards actually running away from whatever the commotion was. Ridiculous. He looked up the escalator. Above them was the second concourse and then, directly

ahead, another pair of escalators leading to the [irst, beyond that a faint glimmer of natural light far away, [iltering down from the mezzanine at the distant top. There seemed to be something going up there, too, on the [irst [loor. More lumpens

milling about, bumping into each other. Jessica suddenly grabbed his sleeve. Isnt that the man? What man? What are you talking about? Up there, the security guard. He followed her [inger. A [igure in motorcycle leathers pushing his way down the es-

calator, dragging after him a man in what looked for all the world like a nineteenth century American cavalry uniform.

Thats not a security guard, why on earth do you think hes a security guard. They

all wear blazers. Honestly, didnt the woman have eyes in her head? No, Hugh, the man who stood on the car. Its him, Im sure. Was it? The man had disappeared now into the crowd. Hugh found he couldnt actually remember what the man who had stood on his car

bonnet had looked like and he really wasnt sure whether that was the man. He thought vaguely about stopping one of the guards on the escalator and tell them

and that was when he realised. The man had been a security from the shopping centre. He had known he recognised the logo on the blazer and now her knew from where. From here. Well no point in telling anyone here, was there? Theyd all just close ranks. Still, it

decided him, they were never coming shopping here again. Hugh, said Jessica, Please concentrate, we need to get something for Eliza. Never again. After today.

Deborahs trouble was her temper. Her teachers called it anger management issues,

because they liked long words. When she was a toddler and used to have hammering tan- trums that turned her face bright red, her father had called her Deborah Tomato, which usually just made the tantrum worse. Her mother had once called it a red mist, which had made Deborah think of the mis-

ter her mother used to water the house plants, which had seemed damp and feeble and en- tirely wrong. But then once, on holiday in Devon - because that was the sort of stupid place her father took them on holiday - they had been driving on some moor and the mist had

come down and everybody had got hysterical because you couldnt see more than a couple of feet. Fog, not mist, but it was the same thing, and it was exactly right. That was precisely what it was, like she couldnt see properly any more, like every-

thing went out of focus. All of a sudden she just couldnt think straight, like she had gone dizzy, everything in a whirl. Stuck in a mist, not knowing where you were, not knowing where you were going or what you were doing, not recognising anything. Which was why, raging against the guards holding her, screaming incoherently, lost

in her mist, Deborah didnt notice that it was Matty who did something to save her. Which was a shame, because she would have liked that. All the others were just milling around, shouting at the guards, but Matty turned

away, and ran into the clothes store behind him. He grabbed an armful of shirts and ran out of the store, throwing them at the guards so that they opened out, a [lock of [lapping sleeves reaching for them. Behind him the store alarm went off, a piercing, insistent beeping. Im thieving stuff! he said, Come on! Thief! Steph, grab something! And Stephanie followed him as he dashed across the concourse into a greetings

cards shop, sweeping up an armful of plush bright pink monkeys, scattering them out of the door, bouncing them at Deborah. The alarm started in response as the two of them sprinted back out, scattering Get Well and Good Luck cards in their wake. One of the guards stood on a monkey and it squeaked beneath his feet. He was cran-

ing around to see what was happening. The other was trying to get to his radio. Deborah, lost in her fury, was dimly aware that the grip on her was weakening. She wrested herself out of their grasp, turning on them, pink monkeys jumping away from her.

Leave me alone! She [lailed at them and then Matty caught hold of her, pulling her

away as another store alarm went off, and another, as Jordan took off down the concourse in the opposite direction, random trainers dropping in his wake. One guard took off after Jordan, shouting into his radio, as the other grabbed at

Deborah and then at Stephanie as she came past in the other direction, showering him with Coke from a shaken can. All around them, staff were running from shops, shouting and pointing, passing shoppers was standing around, getting in the way, not understanding what was happening. Matty pulled Deborah, still raging, after him, pushing into a coffee shop, past a wait-

ress who was yelling in what sounded like Polish alternately at Steph and the security guard. He bundled her into the back, yanking open the disabled lavatory and shoving her in. Lock the door, he said, shutting it behind him and, in a frenzy of incoherent panic,

she did.

Somewhere below Nico store alarms were sounding. The shoppers around them all

stopped, suddenly nervous, like animals on the veldt suddenly catching the scent of a predator. That is what alarms are for, of course, to make you nervous. They are a warning. Some people run towards them and some run away. Of the people who run towards

them, some are the heroes, the ones who run towards trouble in order to do something about it. The others are just people who run towards trouble just for the hell of it, to see what is happening. It was Nicos job to run towards to alarms, but he was also one of the latter type. One

of the reasons Nico was often in trouble was because he was often where trouble was. This

time he managed to restrain himself from the temptation of the alarms because he already had plenty of trouble of his own to keep him interested. This way, he said, We have to keep moving. Keeping these costumed idiots focussed on anything was proving to be impossible.

Whelan had once used the phrase herding cats to him for exactly this situation, but that didnt sound right to Nico. Cats were predators, independent, self-reliant. This was more like herding mice. Frightened, fast moving creatures, easily distracted and with only basic notions of self-preservation. What is your problem? said the girl with the moustache. You, said Nico, I dont know what he might have done to Argus, but there are still

guards. He pulled the General up towards her, as a kind of exhibit. Then we need to do something about the guards, too, she said. What are you going to do, said Nico, Get beaten up too? Ive got an idea, she said. No time for ideas, said Nico. Screw you, she said, Mongo, how are you at getting security tags off? She turned away from him and pushed into a camping store just behind them. Easy, said Genghis Khan and followed her. This was insane. Sure, if what the General had done had actually worked, they were

capable for fooling a multi-million pound state of the art surveillance system, but they couldnt control themselves. It was like trying to deal with children. Nico had never liked children much, not even when he was one.

He thought about what Pasteur and the policewoman had said, about how the ad-

vantages the 404s had from their lack of structure, their anonymity. But that was also their weakness, they could never achieve anything concrete because no one was in charge. You needed a strong vision to make things happen, a leader to plan, to make it work.

Someone like Pasteur, for instance. This gang of children and fools might be brilliant, might be motivated, but they were directionless. They needed someone to take charge. Someone like him. Still holding onto the General, Nico went after the girl, only to collide with her as she

came back out of the store again, carrying a rucksack. She was zipping it up as she passed him and he caught a glimpse of something electronic, half dismantled. Bits of wire and ex- posed circuit boards. She brushed past and sauntered past a bench under a ornamental plant, casually

dropping the backpack onto the end of it. Then she turned, pulling off her moustache and came up next to a passing shopper. Excuse me, she said, Is that your bag? No. Only its been there for a while. Im not really sure what to do. Do you think I should

report it? Excuse me, she grabbed hold of someone else, pulling them into her little con- spiracy, Do you know whose bag that is? I had a look inside and there were wires and things. Wires? I see, said Genghis Khan, Clever, and he grabbed hold of someone too, Excuse me,

do you know who to report unattended luggage to, only theres a bag there.

Excuse me, said the girl to someone else, Is that your bag? Theres an unattended bag there, Genghis was running between passing people,

Theres wires in it. Is that yours? Its unattended. Gradually the crowd was beginning to contract around them, murmuring to each

other, casting fearful glances at the lonely rucksack. An unattended bag, they were security threats, werent they? You were supposed to report them. It might be a bomb. The girl circled back towards Nico, clipping her moustache back on as she did so. Your guardsll be down here in a minute, she said, So whats your idea?

The store alarm went off and Kenneth Robinson jumped guiltily before shooting a

suspicious look at his wife. Somehow she always managed to buy something that set off the alarms in every store they went into. And the staff, always making them unpack all their shopping in full view of everyone else. But this time it wasnt Miriams fault for once. Someone was running away from the

shop, leaving a bundle of clothes lying in the doorway. Must have tried to steal something and been panicked by the alarm. Cowards, you see, criminals - its what he always said: the really brave thing was to follow the rules. Thats what he told Debbie. No one said it was go- ing to be easy. He just couldnt understand why she just didnt listen. More alarms were going off now, all the way down the concourse. Must be a whole

gang of them, working as a team - he had read about that in the paper: immigrants. He went to check his wallet and stopped. He had read about that, too, teams of pick-

pockets - one of them would bump into you and then youd check your wallet and thats

how theyd know where it was. Then the accomplice would steal it, you see. It affronted him on a fundamental level: using your own instinct for self-preservation against you like that. But no one had bumped into him. His wallet was safe. Lucy squirmed past him before he was aware and headed for the front of the store.

He caught up with her at the door and laid a hand on her shoulder. Lucy, come along, its none of our business. Together they leant round the door and peered down the concourse. Security guards

were running towards the escalators and somewhere below them someone was shouting. Whole teams of thieves: organised crime. The phrase had just popped into his head

and it gave him a little horrorpilating thrill. Kenneth Robinson had always rather liked this shopping centre because it had al-

ways seemed rather exclusive to him, just a little out of the way and with the cinema and everything. But gangs of shoplifters. Well, they couldnt come here again, could they? He pulled Lucy back into the shop. Lucy, come on. Best not to get involved - let the guards deal with it, that was what

they were paid for, after all. Still, at least he had an anecdote for later, at the golf club.

Argus saw everything. It saw the sudden blossoming of suspicious behaviour that

followed the Generals text message, it saw all the store alarms go off as Deborahs friends tried to save her, it saw the man in black leather attacking the guards, it saw people panick- ing, running. And because it saw this, Adam saw it too.

But Adam saw more than Argus ever could. It couldnt know, for example, that the

girl leaving the rucksack on the bench was really called Veronica but preferred to be known as Empty V. Or that he man dressed as Genghis Khan running around spreading the bomb scare, threading behind him, in Argus eyes, concentric nervous red icons, went online by the name Buffalo Over[low. It couldnt know that they, like General Custer - who also called himself Mr. Hander-

son - were 404 activists but that the man in leather, leading them into the camping store, wasnt. It didnt even know that he was a Kerberos employee, Nico Wolf, which is why he knew that hiding inside a display of tents in the store, they would be completely hidden from Argus view. It certainly didnt know, and neither did anyone other than Adam, that Wolf was also

the Kerberos employee responsible for assaulting the protester Ella Lamb so severely that she had been in a coma ever since. Of course Adam had no more idea than Kerberos exactly what was in the rucksack

that Empty V had left on the bench. But he was pretty much de[inite that it wasnt a bomb. Veronica was an angry suburban girl, but not yet the bomb making sort. Argus had very dif- ferent ideas. It was, after all, built to be paranoid. It had very de[ined views about unat- tended bags. Argus activated all kinds of alarms that stabbed into Adams head. The whole thing

was descending into chaos, a chaos that was for him compounded with chaos. All around him store alarms sounded, people shouted and ran, driving the all-seeing Argus into a frenzy of alerts and responses. And beyond the whole unceasing mechanism of Arcadia and Kerberos ground on, a thunder in the heights.

He rested his head against the cool glass of a shop front, something that would have

given Argus yet something else to think about, if he wasnt standing precisely where it couldnt see him. There was another place where Argus couldnt see. A little island of blindness, out of

sight of the prying eyes. The cinema. Theyd had to shut the CCTV off in there because Argus kept getting confused by the [ilms and tagging Johnny Depp as a security threat. At least it would be nice and dark.

After a while, in Evas line of work, you saw so many awful things that you stopped

thinking of them as worst case scenarios and started just assuming they were inevitable. At least on the beat you got to give out directions or pose for tourist photographs. If

all you saw all day was crime scenes and interview rooms, civil disturbance and drunk and disorderly, assault and murder and rape, well, your worldview could get a little out of whack. Down below the mall was full of insistent alarms. Shoppers, confused and nervous,

were crowding up the escalators. As they reached the top, they stalled, milled, even as the escalator cranked more upwards, forcing them into a tight, jostling, stumbling mass. Eva looked at it and saw panic, crush injuries, the mangling an escalator could make

of a trapped foot, and worse: the alarms down below: public disorder, terrorist action, mass murder. Everyone get away from the escalators! Move away please! You, move people away,

please. Close off the down escalator.

Eva didnt like shouting; she believed it only made things worse. Years ago she had

spent her own money on public speaking lessons to learn the projection of a stage actor and she was pleased to see that even now the Kerberos guard she was addressing instinc- tively moved to do as she said before he thought to cast an enquiring glance at Pasteur, who was coming up behind her. Pasteur must have assented, as he followed Evas order and pushed his way into the crowd to start taking charge. As he did so, another guard came rushing past, running up to Pasteur. Two of[icers down, same assailants, Lowell and Kenyon. Lowell was tased but Ken-

yon was beaten. Kicked. Hes in a bad way. thing. At least two, possibly up to four, said the guard, Thats not all, theres a suspect Kicked. That reminded Eva of something. How many assailants? Pasteur handed the man the tablet computer, Reset this

package. Could be a device. This is out of hand, said Eva, You need to evacuate the building. Now. Agreed, Pasteur spoke to her radio, This is Pasteur, we need to evacuate and lock

down. Sound the alarm. Eva turned to the guard, who was wrestling with the tablet. We need to get people moving away from the escalators, she said, Get everyone up

here and get them out, then we can worry about... She was cut off by a sharp, loud tone on the tannoy and a faintly robotic female voice.

The building is now closing. Please make your way to the nearest exit. Do not take

the lifts. Please make your way to the nearest exit. This is not a test. Please make your way to the nearest exit. Follow the green markers to the nearest exit. The building is now clos- ing. The tone repeated and then the voice started again. Whelan, do as she says, said Pasteur, Clear the building. Suddenly another alarm cut in, a faster beeping. And with it a rattling grinding noise.

They turned round. There, behind them, were the main doors that led out to the street be- yond. And now, between them and that street, were descending thick metal shutters, stead- ily, inexorably shutting away the daylight. Shut that off! Pasteurs shout stirred the guard into action as she turned to her ra-

dio, Stop the emergency gates! Shut them off! The radio crackled at her in protest. The gates continued to ratchet down, even as

the guard tried to hold them back. The crowd, suddenly realising what was happening, surged forward. Keep them back! Everyone stay away from the gates! Eva could see that they

werent going to be able to keep them open and the thought of someone trapped under- neath leapt into her mind. All around them shutters were descending over the glass walls that looked out onto

the plaza at the rear of the building. Above them, unreachable, Eva could see of[ice workers, silent behind the thick [loor to ceiling, [iling out obediently in response to the alarm.

Gates were even coming down over the entrance to the restaurant at the rear of the

mezzanine, startled diners, open mouths full of food, watching as the mall disappeared from before them. Whelan snatched his hands away as the shutters [inally slammed into place. The

lights [lickered and then cut out, and in the momentary darkness there was a general inha- lation, as if everyone on the mezzanine was about to scream. Then they [lickered on again, though fewer of them, dimmer, isolated. The alarms just as suddenly stopped and with them the unheard rush of the air-conditioning, the thousand background sounds of ma- chines and electric life. The mall was darker, smaller, quieter. Alone. Well, said Eva, I take it that wasnt supposed to happen. But what she was thinking was: Kicked. Thats what happened to Ella Lamb. She was

kicked unconscious.

They were crouched inside a four-man tent in the middle of a mock campsite in the

rear of the camping store. Whoever the four men were for whom this tent was intended they were either very small or very intimate or, preferably, both. General Custer, thought Nico, needed a wash. What the fucks going on? said the girl. Security alarm, said Nico, They seal off the building so they can secure it. And then you sell us out, said the General. I just saved you from the guards, said Nico. True, I saw him, dude, he saved you, said Genghis. Again, you have no idea who this man is, said the General.

I have no idea who you fucking are, General Custard, said the girl, we have no idea

who any of us is. Mr. Handerson, he said it with a [lourish, like it was supposed to mean something. Huh, wow, said Genghis, Hence the bluesnar[ing. Buffalo Over[low. It must have meant something to the others because Handerson nodded. So what, said the girl, whose moustache was starting to droop a little, So you

know some name off a message board, big fucking deal. Were here, arent we? said the man who appeared to call himself Buffalo, Were

running away from guards, Im dressed as Genghis Khan, youre dressed as... what are you dressed as? Whatever, said the girl, Empty V. Youre a girl, said Buffalo, as if he hadnt realised this before. And youre a douche, she said and [licked him her middle [inger. Hey, just saying, said Buffalo, That bomb scare thing was pretty smart, though. Distracting the security system, said the girl, He hacks the machines, I hack the

minds. Sides, if they think theres a bomb they wont come looking for us here. Dude, absolutely, and bluesnar[ing up numbers and texting them, said Genghis, I

thought they closed that hole. I want to get back to this whole sealing off the building bit, said Handerson. Exactly, said Buffalo, Theyre totally distracted now, right? This is our chance. We

go for the server again. There is no server, said Nico, I told you.

No, theres a server, said Buffalo, Just not where we thought. I mean, the videos

got to be stored somewhere. And a Kerberos security guard ought to know where, said V. What video? Nico was suddenly nervous, an intimation of something, What is this

video you keep talking about? The video, dude, said Buffalo, Ella Lamb, the footage of the attack, dude, thats

what were all here for, right? But there is no video, said Nico. There was no video. He knew this. They had been assured many times by Pasteur,

just as she had assured the police, the press, the Parliamentary enquiry, there was no video evidence of Ella Lamb being kicked savagely in the head by Nico Wolf. There was no video. Was there? Dont lie to us, you fucker, said V, We know theres a video, Adam and Lily saw it. No, he probably doesnt know anything, said Handerson, They wouldnt tell him.

Just a functionary. Hes no help to us. Something beeped, a mobile phone getting a text message. All eyes turned on

Handerson. Dude, said Buffalo, You actually left your phone on. Same phone you just exposed

to every single open bluetooth connection in this building. Fuckwit, said V, more succinctly. I was attacked, said Handerson, The guard attacked me, and he was pulling me

about.

Affronted and embarrassed he had suddenly become an anxious child, whining out

excuses, furious at being caught out, morti[ied at his own anger. So, said Buffalo, What does it say? Youre nicked, said V. Handerson pulled out his phone. There is no Plan B, said Handerson. He held the screen up to show them, It says

There is no Plan B. He palmed the phone, thumbing the power button in a deliberately casual manner to

switch it off. Its them, said V, a sudden edge of suppressed excitement in her voice, Its got to

be them. Think theyre still in the building? said Buffalo. Must be, said V, Its on, its all still on. Think its another stupid trap, said Handerson. Nico was watching him, fascinated.

As the others spoke he was nonchalantly, one handed, removing the back to his phone, lev- ering out the battery, picking out the SIM card with delicate little movements. His long, pale [ingers were suddenly deft, quick, and Nico recognised the movements of his uncle, gutting a rabbit on a hunting trip. The same unthinking, unhesitating skill. These are the same kind of people, he thought, specialists, but from a world his uncle couldnt possibly imagine. Like aliens or, better, the goblins his uncle had used to tell stories about. Disinformation, said Buffalo, Like the server. Oh come on, said V, Those words? That was her joke, Liliths joke, There is no plan

b, right?

What joke, said Nico, trying to fathom the goblin language. Its the supermarket thing, right? said Buffalo, Theres no plan b, only someone

online said, yes there is, plan b is we burn your fucking supermarket down. There is a plan b, right? Were plan b. Lilith said it, V sounded proprietorial, evidently wanting to give this Lilith due

credit, It was Liliths joke. Back to the point, said Handerson, Sealing the building. No where we can go. And

he brought down his phone, like a hammer, on the SIM card, smashing one on the other as bits [lew off. man. The bomb threatll keep them away, said V. Not for long, said Handerson, examining his handiwork carefully, [lexing the bat- And they almost certainly know where we are, said Buffalo, Thats way too late,

tered SIM card back and forth so that it began to tear in two. So to summarise, said Buffalo, They know where we are, they can watch us wher-

ever we go and even if they couldnt, theres nowhere we could go anyway. Awesome. Nico pulled out his security pass. This pass can also open almost any door in the building. I can help you. I can help. Why would you, said V, You just said there was no video. If there is, said Nico, I want to know.

Absolutely not, said Hugh, Im not going to be told what to do by a bunch of little

Hitlers in cheap uniforms.

Randall sighed. Was it only six months she had been with Kerberos Security? It felt

longer. It was people like Hugh that made it feel longer. People like Hugh and people like Pasteur. She could already tell that she was going to get absolutely nowhere with this man.

She could feel Sirhaan behind her tensing up. Sir, we need to know that everyone is safe, she said. Were quite safe here, thank you, said Hugh, A good deal safer than we would be

with you jumped up rentacops. All units to main lobby, said Randalls radio. She turned it down. You heard it, said Hugh, Run along now. Listen, mate, Sirhaan tried to push past Randall towards Hugh. Hugh took a step

back into the shop, but kept his arm on the doorframe, still blocking the entrance with his body. You lay one [inger on me, he said, And Ill have you in court so fast itll make your

head spin. Randall put out a hand to ward Sirhaan back. She tried a different tack. Sir, we need to make sure that we can provide you with food and water until help

comes. Weve got quite enough food and water here, Hugh gestured at the rear of the shop,

where there was a small cafe, So you can do what you like, but were waiting here until the police arrive. For gods sake, said Sirhaan, turning and walking away, Randall, come on, you heard the radio, they need us.

They need you, said Hugh, Lord knows why. Right, said Randall, Can I ask you, at least, to make sure you keep the door se-

cured, sir? Were quite capable of looking after ourselves, said Hugh, Better than you can, I

should think. Off you trot then. Hugh closed the door on the security guard and turned to survey the interior of the

shop with a smug satisfaction. He felt like he had [inally had some recompense for his en- counter with the guard in the traf[ic jam this morning. That, combined with the regard from the other occupants of the shop - Jessica, a

husband and wife, a pair of men he assumed were homosexuals and two women friends - was starting to put him in a much better mood than he had been in all day. His little encampment, his little fortress in all this ludicrous mess. What mattered, he

thought, was that you took charge of yourself, looked after yourself and your loved ones - and the people who depended on you - let the others go hang. It was all you could do. It was all that was right to do. Anyone know how to work the coffee thing? he said, Im dying for a cup.

Kenneth Robinson had, of course, had a cup of coffee on his to do list, but it wasnt

going to be done, now. Look, I cant just give stuff away, alright? According to his tag, the boys name was

Raul. He was standing slightly away from the back of the coffee shop counter, as if preparing to [lee. The coffee shop was jammed into a tiny space in the corner of the main mezzanine and there was nowhere the boy could run to even if he had had a chance to.

Kenneth Robinson was rammed right up against the counter, so that it was cutting

into his crotch, other people [illing the store and forcing him right up against it. He was aware of Lucys head at waist height, her arm round his leg. Im hungry, she said. Under ordinary circumstances he might have told her not to

whine but right now he felt like whining himself. Im not asking you to give anything away, he said, I have money, look. Here. He

slapped a ten-pound note down on the counter. The tills not working, the teenager gestured at it vaguely. I dont care, Kenneth was uncomfortably aware that his voice had risen in pitch to a

screech and probably sounded ridiculous. He tried to calm himself. You know how much everything is, dont you? The till knows. God help us, thought Kenneth Robinson, a whole generation that

only knows what its computers know. The prices are on everything! Miriam thrust her head over Kenneths shoulder, a

snivelling Keith in her arms, Theyre on everything! Miriam, Im dealing with this, said Kenneth. I cant open the till, said the boy. You dont have to, said Kenneth, You can keep the change, how about that, a tip?

Kenneth Robinson only tipped in proper restaurants and even then he worked out a precise ten percent and rounded down if necessary. People were paid wages, werent they? Cant take tips, said the boy, Not allowed. Daddy, said Lucy, Im hungry.

For gods sake, said Kenneth, as close to swearing as he had ever been, Just sell me

a sandwich. Everyone out! shouted a voice from behind them. Kenneth craned round. A security guard was standing in the doorway, with more be-

hind him. store. Were closed, said the boy, reaching back to undo his striped apron. Kenneth turned and, as he did so, Lucys arm shot past him and grabbed a chocolate Out, come on, the store is closing, the guard stood to one side, motioning. We need food, said Miriam. Let us worry about that, said the guard, Now, everyone out, were closing the

bar from a display on the counter. Hey, said the boy, taken by surprise. Lucy clutched the bar to her chest, staring him

out. He looked at Kenneth, expecting something to be done. Kenneth held his stare and then reached out and took another chocolate bar from the display. Then he turned and followed the rest of the crowd out of the cafe. It was the [irst thing Kenneth Robinson had ever stolen from a shop. They [iled out of the cafe and across the mezzanine to an area of seating where the

guards were gathering everyone, passing, on their way, a well-dressed woman who ap- peared to be in charge and a woman who Kenneth would have sworn was the police of[icer he had almost run into that morning.

The barista was the last person out of the cafe and Whelan took the key from him, as

Pasteur entered, followed by Eva and Lopez. Pasteur sat down at a table and put the tablet down in front of her. Fetch me a water, would you? She said, and Lopez turned to a chiller cabinet next

to the counter. Well need to start distributing that, said Eva. The emergency services will be responding already, said Pasteur, I dont think we

need to worry about anything like that. I thought that the whole point of your emergency procedure was to make the build-

ing as secure and dif[icult to get out of as possible. It is, evacuate the building and secure it. Hard to get out of is hard to get into. The police, of course, have all the details they need to interface with our systems

and access the building. And thatll be alright because your systems are working completely correctly right

now, arent they? said Eva, Argus isnt working anymore, is it? Pasteur looked up from the tablet, [inally realising what Eva was driving at. The system is just rebooting, said Pasteur, Itll be back online soon. And Im sure thatll happen without a hitch, too, said Eva, We cant assume that the

emergency services will be able to get in straight away. Eventually, yes, but we might be here for a while if theyre having to come in through bombproof doors. They are bomb proof, I take it. Absolutely, Pasteur still managed to sound proud of the fact.

So we need to work out food and water rations and start a system for sharing it out.

Those people out there are going to start getting pretty fed up in a little bit - you need to keep them comfortable if youre going to keep them under control. Pasteur sighed, it was evidently not something she wanted to have to think about. Well, perhaps, Detective Inspector, since you already have some input on this, it can

be an action point for you, she said.

At [irst Deborah had contented herself with pulling out all the toilet paper and

throwing it round the room. There was plenty of room to do it in, it was a disabled toilet. Why did they always get so much room and normal people like her had to sit in stupid little cramped up ones? It was just stupid. Then Matty had hammered on the door and told her to shut up, so she had, and sat

down on the toilet seat and listened. She had been able to hear the shop alarms and lots of shouting and she hugged herself to think that people were running around looking for her. But then the alarms started to be switched off, and the shouting stopped. And then it started getting too quiet, and she began to worry that they had all just forgotten about her and gone home, locking her in, all on her own. She had started to get nervous. She got up and whispered at the door. Matty? There was no answer. She could feel the panic caught in her throat, like something

she hadnt swallowed properly. She tried again, louder. Matty?

He wouldnt leave her here, would he? He had saved her, set off the store alarms, dis-

tract the guards, all that to get her in here. But what if all that was some kind of joke? What if he had just been making fun of her? What if they were all somewhere, right now, laughing at her, Deborah Tomato, locked in the disabled toilet, screaming and crying like a special needs? She could hear them now, telling the story. Locked in the disabled toilet. Matty? She couldnt even hear anyone moving outside. She couldnt hear anything but her

own pulse, tripping in her ears. This was the opposite of the red mist. A spinning, [luttering fear that clutched at her belly, like an out of control car, the lurch of vertigo and hectic movement and imminent disaster. They were waiting outside. They were trying to be quiet. Waiting outside to laugh at

her when she came out, to laugh at how afraid she was that they would laugh at her. Forgetting, in her confusion, Mattys insistence on her locking the door, she grabbed

at the handle, only to [ind it mutely resisting her. She was locked in! They had locked her in. She threw all her weight against the handle, the brushed metal digging unnoticed into her palm. After a lifetime of being slammed, jammed and pulled at, the lock gave away, Debo-

rah plummeting through the door into the cafe beyond, falling forwards through tables and chairs, not even realising that they were all unoccupied. She barely registered anything, in fact, until she found herself standing all alone in

the dim emergency lights of the empty mall, the diminishing, circular rattle of an upending cup in her wake, echoing to silence in the dim tiled spaces around her. Nowhere is so unut- terably lonely as a crowded space suddenly vacated, a place made for people, deserted.

Stay right where you are and place your hands on your head, said a womans voice. Thank god, she wasnt alone.

If the emergency drill was happening according to plan, then the guards should be

just [inishing up the evacuation of the building and be preparing to secure it. Which meant that Nico and the 404s had a window of opportunity before anyone

came looking for them. The lifts would be out of action and the escalators would be too conspicuous, but those werent the only ways up to the of[ices. Nico knew that two [ire escape stairwells ran down through the entire building at

either end. In the event of a security emergency these doors were supposed to lock elec- tronically, but Nico should be able to override that with his security pass. They could slip up the stairs into the Kerberos Of[ices before anyone thought to look

for them there. What happened then, Nico wasnt yet sure about. It was a matter of trust. If he could persuade the 404s to trust him, then surely he

would have earned Pasteurs trust once more. But did he trust her? If the 404s were right and she did indeed have CCTV footage of him attacking Ella Lamb, then what did that mean for him? She hadnt told the police - that must mean he could trust her. She hadnt told the police - yet. And neither had she told him, after all. What did that

mean? They were wrong - they had to be. The video didnt exist. But then that might not

matter, since there was at least someone who knew the truth: the fugitive. Nico was sure of it. He had recognised both of them, the girl and the boy, from that day of the riot and he knew the girl had recognised him, too. The girl was dead, killed in that car crash, but the

boy was somewhere here, somewhere in this building and Nico had to [ind him and make sure he didnt tell anyone else what he knew. And is the boy was one of these 404s, well, then, all he had to do was stick with them and the boy would [ind him. So maybe hed just wait and see what happened - stick with the 404s, [ind out about

this video, deal with this boy and see what happened. Nico wasnt a great one for planning ahead too much as it was. Right now the only planning he was doing was how to get across the concourse to

the [ire exit door without being spotted on the CCTV. The systems would all still be running, and the last thing they needed to do right now was draw attention to themselves. He looked through the glass door of the bookshop and tried to remember where all

the cameras were. There was a planter in the middle of the concourse with a palm in it. He thought that if he stayed to the right of that and then curved left towards the door... Wait here, he said and opened the door, scuttling across the concourse towards the

planters. What the fucks up with him - need the toilet? said V. CCTV, said Buffalo, pointing up at a camera, Hes staying out of sight. If the systems are online, said Handerson, Itll register him using his pass. He said

it with the resigned air of someone who had seen disaster coming from a long way off. So, hes a guard, said Buffalo. Off duty, said Handerson, In the middle of a security lockdown. Oh shit, said V. Buffalo opened the door, Wolf!

Nico, already at the emergency door, turned angrily and motioned him to shut up. Nico pulled out his security pass. Wait! Nico swiped his pass and, with a low-pitched buzz, the LED on the lock showed an

angry and uncooperative red.

Argus has them, said Pasteur, passing the tablet to Whelan. He looked at the read

out, I knew it would restart properly. that? They are hackers, said Pasteur, They were probably trying to by pass it. We need Thats the [ire stairs exit on sub level three, he said, How could they have activated

to contain them, locate them and deal with them. Theres a problem, said Lopez, Theres a group on sub level four who are refusing

to do what theyre told. They say theyll only talk to the police. Then send the police, said Pasteur, Take Detective Inspector Lisiewicz with you,

but ensure that she is not involved in any engagement with the targets. Ill take a team, said Whelan, getting up, Lopez, stay on the radio, well need to

know if they move. Whelan left the cafe and walked across the mezzanine to where the Detective In-

spector was standing, surrounded by a crowd of confused and scared shoppers, doing her best to calm and reassure them. It didnt look like it was working very well. Above them the lightless glass walls of the of[ices were at once forbidding and tanta-

lising. They ought to be a promise of a way out but instead they were an impenetrable bar-

rier cutting everyone off from any hope of escape. People were trying very hard not to look up. A small, nervous man was talking to Eva, the man who had been in the cafe earlier. They cant keep us here without food and water, it stands to rights, he was saying. And they wont, said Eva, Well be distributing food soon, but you have to under-

stand, this is a very serious situation and we need to do everything we can to ensure your safety. tors. Debbie? he said, Debbie, whats going on? Eva turned to look. Two Kerberos guards were coming up the escalators, shepherd- But the man wasnt listening, he was staring past Eva towards the head of the escala-

ing between them a young teenager, her hair a black veil down over her eyes, her shoulders hunched inward. Whats going on? The man turned back to Eva, Whats she done? Do you know this girl? said Whelan. Thats my daughter, said the man, Thats my Debbie. A woman stood up and started blundering through the seated crowd towards the

two guards, as they marched the girl towards the shut up coffee shop. 404s. Debbie? Debbie? there was an edge of hysteria to her voice, Whats going on? Mum? said the girl. Whats going on? Eva turned to Whelan. She attacked two of[icers, he said, Theres evidence that she might be linked to the

404s? said the man, confused, 404 what? Is that a gang? Let her go! Let her go! the woman stumbled over a padded bench, half falling. Miriam! the little man darted away towards the woman. Eva followed him. A group of teenagers had got to their feet and were shouting at the guards. Eva heard

Fuck and Pig [loat across the mezzanine. Whats going on? The woman, Miriam, had caught up with the guards outside of

the coffee shop. The girl peeked out from beneath her hair. Mum? Miriam, said Eva, coming up to her, Mrs... Robinson, said the husband, joining them. Mrs. Robinson, said Eva, Kerberos of[icials are making some very serious accusa-

tions about your daughter. Wankers, said Debbie, distinctly. Debbie! Mr. Robinson was shocked. What are they doing? Mrs. Robinson turned to Eva, a dreadful appeal in her eyes. Were going to need to talk to her, to [ind out what happened, said Eva. Youre a policewoman, arent you? said Mr. Robinson. A police detective, yes, said Eva, Youve got nothing to worry about. But you need

to let us do our job, its for your own good. Thank you, said Mr. Robinson, putting a hand on his wifes arm, turning her away

as the guards bundled Debbie into the coffee shop. Across the tiled expanse, two Kerberos guards were about to give up chasing mock-

ing teenagers, who were running randomly among the crowd, jeering at them.

You need to get that under control, said Eva to Whelan, Ill talk to the girl. No time, said Whelan, Argus is back on line. The 404s? We think so, but there is a problem. The alert is very close to a bunch of people who

are refusing to move until the police come. Eva looked at the door of the coffee shop and then back across at where the teenag-

ers were gathering again, glowering at the guards. Weve got it under control up here, said Whelan, We need your help downstairs. Well, said Eva, The police better come, then.

It had seemed wrong to pass through a cinema lobby without picking up popcorn, so

Adam made sure that Argus couldnt see him and nipped behind the deserted concession counter and made himself a tub of mixed salt and sweet. It was a pleasure to serve it out properly, alternate scoops of each, stirring it occasionally to make sure it was evenly dis- tributed. What you wanted was the surprise, the not knowing whether you were going to get the salt or the sugar as you sat in the luminous dark, autonomically raising your unseen hand to your mouth. Which is precisely what he did. Slouched in the back row, feet up on the seat in front,

since there wasnt anyone else there to tut at him. There wasnt a [ilm playing, either, the place had been shut down and cleared out the moment the alarm had sounded. That didnt worry him, though. He had plenty to watch. It was quiet in Arcadia now. The escalators were still, the concourses suddenly de-

serted under the strip lights, the shops empty. Level after level of tiled and planted silence.

Somewhere a deactivated fountain dripped disconsolately, pennies glinting in its chlorin- ated water. A coffee pot still steamed, cooling to undrinkability, a leaf fell from a dying or- ange tree and triggered an automatic door which slid open, paused for no one to go through and then closed again politely. It was quiet in the walls now. All connection to the city beyond had been cut. The

heating had gone with the gas supply, the only water remaining was what was left in the pipes, the only sound was the generator in the basement, grinding away at its meagre stock of fuel to keep the lights [lickering. It was quiet in the air now. All network links with the outside world had been cut.

The card machines were of[line, the stock monitoring systems confused, the tills shut down. The engine of commerce was idling, dying. The mobile networks, too. Too many people had used phones to detonate bombs for

that to be left in place. That terrible [ire from the heavens, arcing down among us was gone. That great, seething ocean of the Internet gone with it. Adam was [inally alone. Alone but for the limitless eyes of Argus. The rest of the se-

curity system seemed irrevocably scrambled, but Argus persevered, watching, evaluating, judging. He saw all of Arcadia exploded about him into individual slices, like something seen

through the compound eyes of an insect, a faceted gem of fuzzily glowing video feeds. Out here, in the darkness beyond Argus vision, it hung before him in space, a self-contained world.

At the top, the mezzanine now darkened behind security doors, a whispering, dim

place below the quiet cathedral depths of the of[ices above. Then below, three [loors, laid out on either side of the escalators, dropping down beneath street level into shadow. Without the crowds it looked suddenly arti[icial, all meaning stripped from it. It

looked like a level design for a video game, a [ictional environment made solely for play. A castle dungeon, perhaps, a labyrinth for monsters. He had always wondered what the mon- sters did in their lairs, while they waited for the heavily armed heroes to arrive, and now he knew: they went shopping. But perhaps they werent the monsters in this particular lair. He thought suddenly of

a comedy sketch he had seen once, an architect who specialised in abattoirs innocently building [lensing knives into a shopping centre. Thats what this was: a building as machine, lurking in its dark cave, swallowing in the passers by and channeling them down through its hygienic, inviting gut, their journey already carefully predetermined by market re- searchers and crowd control experts, constantly tempted, spurred, held, like vermin in a humane trap. But what were they doing now, now that the machine had stopped? Its normal functioning curtailed, the machines signals were becoming alien, incom-

prehensible. Stopped, the machine was suddenly visible, its whirring workings stilled, they could suddenly be seen. The people inside were surprised, confused, bewildered. All around them were promises. The promise of happiness in a handbag, the prom-

ise of the easy exoticism of a pre-prepared pasta dish, the promise of a branded lifestyle bought on a credit card, itself little more than just the promise of money. Promises that were now empty, meaningless.

They were going to have to think for themselves now, unguided, unbeguiled. They

were on their own, with only their own resources to rely on, only their own instinct to go on. And what would that mean? Aimless milling around for most of them, it seemed. Up on the mezzanine, herded now by Kerberos employees instead of advertise-

ments, the people gathered in a uncomfortable huddle, fractious, purposeless. But there were those whose instinct led to action. He saw Pasteur locked away in the coffee shop with Argus, searching for him with

the very system that was helping him hide. He saw Debbie Robinson, being marched up a static escalator, up to the mezzanine. He saw Nico try to open the [ire exit and the attempt alerting Pasteur. He saw Whe-

lan, Eva and others responding, hurrying to the scene. He turned to the vision of the mall once more. The cinema had an exit stairway to a

door on the next [loor up. He could easily get to the second level unseen, from there the es- calators to the [irst level were directly across the concourse, and at the top of them... A service door, leading to a network of passageways and store rooms that ran behind

the shops, including a set of stairs leading up to the back of a cafe on the mezzanine. A service door that you needed a pass card to open. Even from here he could read

the blazing numbers that the lock held proudly in its electronic heart, waiting to welcome the unlocking code in a glorious union. It wanted to be opened. It wanted the card. And so did he. There, out in the cinema lobby, in a drawer under a till, a little nest of them. Bright

knots of RFID antenna, wrapped round their secret souls like binding arms. Within them their codes brandished on encrypted banners.

Hed still have to cross the concourse and climb the escalator. Eva and the others

were coming down it now, if they left it unguarded behind them... He cocked an ear to Ar- gus. The [ilters were still on. It was still looking for people it felt were wrong, dangerous. As long as he stayed calm it wouldnt even notice him. As long as he stayed calm.

You idiot, said Handerson. He evidently wanted to say more, but was angrier than

he had words for. Nico was almost glad, if Handerson had said any more, he might not have been able to restrain himself from hitting the man. There werent any alarms, said Buffalo. None we could hear, said Nico, There are alarms, though. He should have realised

that the doors would be monitored, of course, but what was confusing him was why his pass hadnt worked. Why hadnt the door opened, alarm or no alarm? Was there something wrong with the system? So weve got to get out of here, right? said V. What are we waiting for? Buffalo pulled the door open. Wait, said Nico, The cameras. Oh, now were being careful, said Handerson. It is no good going anywhere, said Nico, If they know where we are going. There are cameras fucking everywhere, said V, If were worrying about them now

then were never going to go anywhere. You can do it, said Nico, I got to the door without being seen. Fat lot of good that did you, said Buffalo. How do you know you werent seen, anyway? said Handerson.

Monitor duty, three times a week for three years, said Nico, I know where every

one of those cameras is. You can make it to the escalators without being spotted? said V, Bullshit. No point in the escalators, anyway, said Nico, Theyll be watching them. Over the railings! said Buffalo, Rad, man. Thats a twenty foot fucking drop, said V, A broken leg is contraindicated in a run-

ning away situation. Handerson almost didnt say it, because he didnt want to look like he was support-

ing Nicos plan, but he couldnt resist the point scoring. Were in a climbing store, he said. It turned out to be absolutely no help whatsoever that Buffalo was a keen climber. It

just meant that he couldnt resist showing off everything he knew about rope types and dropping the phrase urban spelunking as often as he could. Nico cracked the store door an inch. Somewhere in the quiet of the mall there were

voices approaching, coming down the escalators, almost certainly guards responding to whatever alarm he had set off when he tried to open the door. He risked sticking his head out to look for cameras. He had remembered right, it

looked like. If they edged out of the door and kept to that line across to the railing, they should be just out of shot. He slid round the door, motioning to the others to stay where they were, listening

intently to the guards as he crept to the railing as quietly as he could. The voices were low- ered, whispered and it was dif[icult to tell, but maybe a [loor away, possibly just on the way down from the mezzanine. That didnt give Nico and the other much time.

He was starting to enjoy this. Much as he might like being the man in a uniform for a

change, he missed this, the illicit thrill, the sharp edge of danger. This must be the appeal of spying, the best of both worlds, being on the side of those in control, but still the delicious risk of the underhand, the criminal. He peered over the railing. There was a kind of cafe directly below, chairs and tables

set out on the concourse. He tried to remember what the view of it was through the CCTV, but it was hard to picture, just a mass of furniture. But there were umbrellas between the tables, some of them still up, even though there was no one to sit under them. There might be just enough cover; they might just get away with it. They might. He tied the rope to the railing, tugged on it and slung it over. Then, almost holding

his breath, he stood up, throwing a leg over the railing and then, grabbing hold of the rope, lowering himself over the side. He pulled himself back up, holding himself so that he could see the door to the

climbing shop. He caught Buffalos eye and nodded, slightly. Buffalo edged through the door and crab walked to the railing, following Nicos own

path. Buffalo couldnt help check the knot, Nico noticed, but there was no time to say any- thing. Nico let himself drop; going as fast as he dared until he felt his feet touch the edge of

an umbrella. He stopped, craning around to try and spot CCTV cameras. There was one, pointing in under the umbrellas at the cafe door. If he could just swing himself left and tuck in under the umbrella, out of sight of that other camera... His feet skidded on the umbrella and then he dropped again, curving himself in, just

missing a chair to land perfectly concealed.

He stuck his head out and nodded to Buffalo. The man pulled himself up over the

railings and started to drop. His experience showed and he came down swiftly and easily, Nico catching his legs and guiding him to the [loor. Handerson was a different matter. The man was simply ungainly, angular. He came

down in an uncontrolled rush, juddering the umbrella with his feet. To Nico the noise sounded deafening. He could only hope that the approaching guards were still whispering at each other and not listening too hard. He grabbed Handerson as he swung in under the umbrella and pulled him to the

[loor. Handerson was panting with the effort and Nico could barely hear anything over the noise. He motioned to the man to get under the table. Handerson just stared at him, un- comprehending until Buffalo grabbed his head and forced it down, pushing him away out of sight. He could make out the voices again. Closer, on the escalators now, perhaps. Where

was V? Nico risked another look round the edge of the umbrella. She was coming slowly, carefully - too carefully - her arms obviously shaking from the effort from holding herself up. Voices were on the [loor above now, just at the foot of the escalators. There was no

time. Why was she taking so long? And then V slid down the umbrella in a sudden, zipping rush and he reached up to catch her just in time to stop her crashing to the ground. He put her down and motioned to the others, tracing out a path between the tables

that would keep them covered from the cameras. V moved away but Buffalo grabbed his arm and shook the rope at him, pointing up at the railing.

Of course: it was plainly visible in the muted mall lighting, a rope hanging down to

the [loor below - they would spot it immediately. Without stopping to think he hauled himself up, scrambling past the edge of the um-

brella and climbing hand over hand for the railing. As he came up level with the [loor above he risked a glance towards the escalators. There was a knot of guards there, maybe seven or eight of them in total, and that woman, the police detective. They were having a discussion of some kind. He took and deep breath and took the risk, pulling himself up to stand on the lip of

the [loor so he could devote both hands to untying the rope. The voices suddenly raised, be- coming clearer, the unmistakable sound of a meeting breaking up, heads turning. The rope came free in his hands and he dropped, catching himself on the edge so he was hanging by his hands over the drop below. He couldnt drop here; hed knock over the umbrella - perhaps six inches left. He

swung himself across, listening for the inevitable footsteps. Surely theyd hear the drop. And then it came, his stroke of luck, a two way radio suddenly bursting into hissing

loud volume and under its cover he fell, hitting the ground and rolling back in under the umbrella, desperately hoping the system hadnt seen him. But what Nico was really concentrating on in that moment was what he had heard

on the that radio, before the sound had been snapped off. The generators, a voice, We need a guard on the generators. The generators, of course.

Eva grabbed the radio from the guard and snapped the volume to off.

Havent you got earpieces? she said, Or shall we just make an announcement over

the tannoy so they know where we are. They know were coming anyway, said Whelan, We want them to know, scared

means mistakes. Scared means running away, said Eva. Where to? said Whelan, Argus will pick them up wherever they go, anywhere in

the building. Oh, said Eva, Because its been doing such a great job of that so far. Whelan paused, then smiled. Believe me, Detective Inspector, he said, This is our beat, ok? We know what were

doing here. You get on. get. Whelan turned back. Orders, Detective Inspector, Sirhaan and Randall go with you. I know youll look af- He turned away from her. Well, you dont have to send anyone with me, said Eva, You need everyone you can

ter them. This time Eva made sure she was the one that turned away, starting off down the

static escalator to the bottom [loor, forcing the two Kerberos guards to follow her, one of them, she was pleased to see, jamming his radio earpiece into his ear as he did so. What did that mean, she said to him, as they walked down, Guard the generators?

What generators? For the lights, he said, looking at her as if she was an idiot, Power, you know.

Were cut off from the grid now, in an emergency said the female guard, the one

called Randall, Our power comes from internal generators. Theyre on this bottom [loor, at the far end. Theyre right, said Eva, We need a guard on them immediately. Its secure, said the other guard, the one called Sirhaan, You need a security pass. Its double locked under an emergency, said Randall, You need a key. When are you people going to realise, Eva was starting to lose her patience, Your

emergency system has already failed, this Argus thing is barely working and you have civil- ians trapped in here with technologically adept terrorists. This is not going and is going to continue not going to plan. Sirhaan raised a sardonic eyebrow. We, he said, with a pointed emphasis, Are trained for this kind of emergency. Its

all under control, Detective Inspector.

Standing in the shadows just inside the exit door of the cinema, Adam watched Eva

storm away down the escalator and Whelan move away in his turn, the other guards follow- ing him off down the concourse towards where Nico and the other 404s had been. If he was going to do it, he was going to have to do it now. Open this door and walk

across the concourse to the escalators, in full view of everyone, if they happened to look round. And he couldnt run or hide because that was exactly what Argus would be looking for. He had to walk.

He reached out to Argus once more, looking to see where everyone was. Eva and the

other two on their way down the escalator, Whelan and his team focussed on the outdoors store Nico had been hiding in. Deep breath. Just an ordinary guy in an ordinary mall doing his ordinary shopping. He opened the shop door and stepped out.

Deborah Robinson, Pasteur was standing over her, holding her computer tablet,

Where is your phone? Debbie shrugged. She was at once furious and terri[ied, and, even now, the knowl-

edge that she had called out to her mother as Mum in front of her friends, made her cringe a little bit. Dunno. A phone registered to you sent three text messages to three unidenti[ied numbers

with the message Plan B, a message we have reason to believe is a codeword for a terrorist group that calls themselves the 404s What? Terrorists? What was going on? Immediately after the message was made two Kerberos of[icers were attacked

while responding to an incident, one of them very badly injured with head wounds. I didnt! said Debbie, That old man attacked me and then they grabbed me and I

didnt hurt anyones head. What old man? Pasteur looked up from the tablet. Some homeless, said Debbie, He spilt my shake. She offered it as if it was an ex-

planation.

I think I know him, said Lopez from behind Pasteur. She turned round. Ive had to throw him out a couple of times, he said, Said he was in the army. So he could hold a grudge against Kerberos, said Pasteur, Why wouldnt Argus

have [lagged him when he entered? As long as he was relatively sober it wouldnt have, said Lopez, But it could now. He reached out for the tablet and took it from Pasteur. Im turning off the [ilters, he said, Just scanning for movement. Theres Whelan. Can I go, then? said Debbie. No, said Pasteur, without turning round, Is there anywhere we can hold her? There a storage room below, customer lavatories, said a guard called Farkas, who

was standing at the door, watching the crowd outside. The walk up the escalators had been the longest of Adams life. The agony of keeping Find somewhere you can lock and see to it, said Pasteur. There, said Lopez, Unit 33. Movement inside. Pharmacy, I think.

his footsteps silent but normal, the knowledge that behind his back Eva Lisiewicz had only to turn round to see him quite clearly above her. The view down to his right of all the backs of Whelans guards. He had never felt more exposed and more alone in this bare, dim, empty shopping

mall. It was like a post-apocalyptic landscape, still full of ghosts and monsters, the memo- ries of shopping sleeping in the tills, the dancing network of the radios, the ever-watchful eyes.

And then, almost at the top, he had felt those eyes blink and stir. The order had

changed, the [ilters had been cleared: look for anything moving. He froze in his tracks, just out of sight of Whelan now, thank god, but still perfectly visible from the bottom of the esca- lator - or indeed on any of three different cameras, if anyone cared to look. They were in motion, though and he listened for their movements, the harsh buzzing

sweep of their gaze. Far away in the network he felt the focus shift, something below him was moving and the eyes were trying to see it. But his attention was on the here and now. He could feel the rhythm now, and a pattern suddenly revealed itself to him. There it was, a path to the service door. He could just do it, with a little bit of luck.

Well, he had certainly been lucky so far. Just be hopeful he hadnt used it all up. He took out the swipe card. He it came again. 1... 2... 3... And he stepped off the escalator and walked a sharp, zigzagging line across

the tiles, the gaze sweeping back now towards him, round a planter with a dying fruit tree in it... 3... 2... 1... And the lock heard the RFID chatter of the card and dutifully unlocked itself, and as

the camera honed back in on the door all it saw was it closed once more and Argus thought no more of it.

Whelans radio buzzed at him from his hip and he stopped where he was, motioning

the others to stop too. He was pleased to notice that he didnt need to - they had all already stopped, spread out across the concourse. Whelan receiving, over. He listened intently to his earpiece and then motioned

again. Turn around. Other direction.

He took the lead once more while the others waited to follow him, back, stealthily

along the concourse, past the escalators to the opposite wing of the mall. Something like pleasure stirred in Whelan. A thousand hours of dull plod round the

claustrophobic circles of the mall, a thousands directions given, a thousand teenagers es- corted off the premises, a thousand still and alarmless nights and now this. The dim emer- gency lighting, the silence of the mall, the quiet movement of the other guards around him. The hunt. Whelan had been in the army once, a long time ago, and private security had seemed

like a blessing after Derry, monotonous, reassuring, reliable, comfortably boring. But he had forgotten this, this moment with the gamey tang of violence on the air, the knot of the stom- ach, the salivaless mouth, the shriveling of the balls. Up ahead was a sign, now unlit, a green cross and he thought, with a grim, satisfying

irony: At least there will be bandages.

The service passage was lit only with dim, low wattage bulbs. The networks in the

wall were powerless and quiet and Adam was surprised to [ind that Kerberos trusted its staff enough not to install CCTV back here. All of which meant he was suddenly having to feel his way round in the shadows like

a normal person. He tried to remember the plan he had seen earlier. There should be a stairway somewhere round the corner. He groped his way forward. The light was getting a little clearer, possibly. Just for

once being within the CCTV network would have helped.

It would especially helped him see the people coming the other way and almost cer-

tainly have meant he wouldnt have just blundered into them the way he did: the guard called Farkas escorting Debbie Robinson to the foot of the stairs. Adam froze and they froze too, just staring at him. Hey, said Debbie, Wheres my fucking phone? And with that, Farkas tased him.

Eva didnt know what made her stop and look in other direction. Probably nothing

more than the fact that Sirhaan turned so con[idently left at the bottom of the escalators and she was so annoyed by his smugness that she deliberately stopped and looked around. Movement. There, away at the end of the right hand concourse, beyond some kind of

cafe, something moving. Correction: someone, of course. Wait, she grabbed hold of Randall. What? said Sirhaan too loudly, and she shot a glare at him. She looked back. The

movement had gone. They must have heard him. She motioned to them to be silent and moved away to right. Out of the corner of her

eye she saw Randall reinforce the motion to Sirhaan. He fell in behind them, reluctantly. She moved across the concourse, getting up against the shop fronts, trying to stay as

inconspicuous as possible. About half way down most of the [loor on this side of the concourse was covered in

chrome tables and chairs and a few large umbrellas, completely pointless down here on the third subterranean level of an wholly roofed over of[ice building.

She strained in the dim light, trying to see beyond to the far end of the concourse.

She turned to Randall, whispering. The emergency generator, its down there, isnt it? Randall nodded. She had been right. Whatever Whelan was chasing on the [loor above was a diver-

sion. The 404s were going for the generator. Call Whelan, tell him to get down here. Randall pressed her earpiece into her ear with one [inger, a gesture, Eva thought,

learnt entirely from television. Randall to Whelan, come in Whelan, over.

Up on the [loor above, Whelan reached down and turned off his radio. It would only

be that police of[icer again. He understood why Pasteur had evidently wanted her out of the way. They needed to handle this situation their way. These 404s were his now. Besides, he needed to concentrate. The automatic doors on the pharmacy were open just a crack but were automatic no

longer. He motioned to Channing and they grabbed a door each, pulling on them to open them wider. There was a smell inside the pharmacy, something medical, acrid. They had probably

been smashing bottles. No doubt looking for something to get high on. The store was divided up into aisles, all leading away from the windows into the

shadowy rear of the shop.

He motioned to Channing and Leikos and they moved away down the length of the

window, moving quickly and con[idently. Blethyn moved ahead of him down an aisle towards the rear of the store, stepping

carefully into the dim recesses.

What was that smell? There was a smell of cleaning product in Adams nose and he couldnt [igure out

where it was coming from. He turned his head to get away from it, but the smell followed him. It was him. The smell was on him. How had he got that that on him? It must have come from when he was lying on the [loor. On the [loor? Why had he

been on the [loor? The tiles had been cool down there, cool and smooth and smelling of cleaning product. Hed like to lie down again. Why had he been lying down? ...name? Someone was speaking. Why were they interrupting him while he was try-

ing to [igure out all this important stuff? He felt sure that he had been on the [loor for a reason and that they probably

shouldnt have taken him off the [loor. Yes - the lady had wanted him to lie down. She must have wanted quite badly for him to lie down; otherwise she wouldnt have made him do it. With a taser. What... name? said the voice again. Adam didnt have time for trivialities. He was on a roll here. He had been on the [loor

because the lady with the taser had used it to make him lie down. But he didnt think he was on the [loor anymore. This felt more like sitting down.

So why was he sitting down now. And wouldnt the lady with the taser be angry

about that? ...ask again... your name? That was a ladys voice, he decided, and he was fairly con[ident that that was also an

angry tone. Was this the lady with the taser, was she telling him off for sitting instead of ly- ing? Perhaps he should be paying attention to this bit. ...explain something to you. De[initely a lady, but not the same one. So possibly not angry about the sitting down,

but de[initely still angry. The face suddenly snapped into focus. Pasteur. The name surfaced the moment the face did. Diane Pasteur. That much he knew, beyond that... Beyond that... nothing. No ghosts, no burning writ, so [ire from on high. Where had

all the noise gone? Where were all the voices to sing to him Diane Pasteur, her history and record, all the re[lections of her? Where was the Internet? Wait; there was something, bright beacons in the dark. Radio. And something else,

something he realised he had been watching for. Something watching him. A hundred eyes, lidless in eternal, sussurating wakefulness. And through them a cloistered, sweating world opened beneath him. A crowd, milling and murmuring in fear, dark [igures moving in shadows below and

himself, the back of his own head, sitting in a chair in a coffee shop. And standing over him, Diane Pasteur, an angry woman with a taser. Another one. This is a taser, she said, A Kerberos product. We offer both consumer and profes-

sional grade models. This is a professional grade, of course, but our in house technicians have made certain re[inements. Here at Kerberos we like to think of ourselves as always at

the bleeding edge of the security industry, from high technology to work wear to, well, tasers. A revolution in security technology, the taser, of course, giving the security profes- sional a ranged weapon with considerable potential stopping power but one which, of itself, presents little risk of serious injury to the subject. Very much unlike that gun you were car- rying. Of course, the news media make much of the possible unprofessional use of the tech- nology, in some cases uses that you might even term torture, but, of course, we at Kerberos could never condone such a use. She smiled at him. Adam tried to smile back and she tased him. It occurred to Adam that after all this sneaking around, all the secrecy and suspense

he had been caught up in, it would be nice to, just for once, let it all out. Have a good scream. So he did. A lovely, loud scream. Or several.

Eva maneuvered her way between tables as gingerly as she could, not wanting to

give away her position. If they didnt already know precisely where she was, of course. Somewhere behind her was Randall, taser in hand - no one had offered Eva one, she

noticed - and behind her, Sirhaan, who evidently didnt think it was worth taking out his ta- ser yet. Which was why he was completely unprepared when someone hit him over the back

of the head with a chair. Eva turned as he pitched forward into a table, clattering furniture about him, and

then someone grabbed her ankles and, before she knew it, she was down on the tiles among the table legs.

Blethyn was almost at the end of the aisle when something dark reared up in front of

him. A [igure of shadow, but only for a moment. It held something white before it that sud- denly became something bright. A gush of [lame roaring out at Blethyn, making the man reel backwards, his coat catching alight. That smell! Ethanol! Whelan started to shout, but the words died in his throat. The whole aisle was alight; dancing blue [lames rushing down towards him. His eye

followed it as it grew closer and he realised what was directly in front of him: a rack of aerosol deodorants. Channing and Leikos had turned back towards him, but he waved frantically at them,

even as he turned himself, throwing himself back out of the sliding doors as the aerosols ignited, each one with a sharp, echoing explosion.

They were huddled over the far side of the mezzanine from the coffee shop, but they

could still hear the screams quite clearly. The whole crowd was suddenly silent and listen- ing, trying to discover what was going on. Miriam clutched at Kenneth Robinsons hand. Kenneth, what is it? Miriam, he said, disentangling himself, Dont go worrying yourself. But... she almost swallowed the word, Debbie. Now, come along, he said, Use your head, thats not our Debbie, is it? Thats a

mans voice. Kenneth, Miriams voice was suddenly determined, Theyre got Debbie in there,

havent they?

The police of[icer said, said Kenneth, but he couldnt quite [inish. The policewoman

had gone down the escalator, hadnt she? There was just the guards now, and that other woman, who seemed to be in charge. Kenneth, Miriam grabbed hold of his hand again, pulling at it to make him turn and

look at her, Debbie. The voice screamed again and he felt Lucys hand clutch at his trouser leg. Daddy, whats that? There was a guard not far away, standing watching a loose knot of teenagers who

were grouped by the head of the escalators, in the no mans land between the crowd and the coffee shop. Every so often one of them would make a feint at the escalators themselves and a

guard would have to make a movement as if the cut them off. Each time the teenagers got a little closer and the guards were growing more wary. There were only four of the guards and it was dif[icult for them to watch the entire crowd at the same time. Kenneth Robinson picked his way towards the guard, other people watching him,

one or two drifting in behind him as he went, curious to see what he was doing and, per- haps half knowing, curious to know the answer. Listen, he said and then he cleared his throat and tried it again, Listen, what is all

this? Whats... whats going on? The guard looked round, taken aback at the sudden appearance at a little group of

people behind him. He was young, foreign, Kenneth thought, Chinese or Japanese perhaps. His nametag said Roukan. That didnt sound Chinese or Japanese to Kenneth. Perhaps he was from somewhere else. You never knew these days; there were so many places.

 one?

Hey, he said, surprised, and then, Hey, can you, can you sit down, please, every-

Listen, said Kenneth again, Whats going on in there? Its none of your... said Roukan, Just sit down, please, alright? Everyone sit down. Our, listen, said Kenneth, Our daughters in there, they took our daughter in there.

I want to know whats going on. Just, sit down, said Roukan, fumbling at his taser. Hey, please, can you sit down, another guard had made his way over, a large man

with a scrubby ginger beard. His nametag said Ulmer and he had an accent, something European. Another foreigner. I demand to know, said Kenneth, I demand it. He was using the same voice he

used in shops when electrical goods didnt work. He contemplated asking for the manager, but since she was presumably the person making the other person scream like that, he didnt think he would just yet. We are asking you to sit down, said Ulmer, pulling himself to his full height and

towering over the little man, making it quite evident that he wasnt asking at all, he was tell- ing. Kenneth did not like being ordered about. People always assumed that just because

you were a polite, sensible, normal person they could just treat you like a doormat and or- der you around and tell you what to do. You had just as much rights as anyone else. In fact, in Kenneths opinion, the polite, sensible people had more rights. Listen, he said, and then something exploded. And then several somethings more.

From somewhere down in the shopping centre below them, a salvo of bangs.

The guards all jumped, turning towards the noise, pulling out their guns. Kenneth

didnt think they were allowed guns, but then these didnt look like normal guns. They looked like a toy from a science [iction [ilm. They were large and, he thought, plastic. With bright yellow stripes on them, like big mechanical wasps. Roukan turned back to him. This is serious, he said, Sit down. Kenneth sat down.

There was something exploding. Sharp reports from somewhere above, like gun[ire,

then, almost in time, metal ringing against metal somewhere nearby, someone pounding with all their might. Eva tried to pull herself up and there came another explosion, of stars and sharp

pain as a foot connected with her head. Kicked in the head. That seemed to be happening a lot. Whoever had grabbed her legs was trying to kick her. They must have been hiding un- der a table. It made for an awkward position. She put her hands out and the foot came to her. She gripped and hung on as it [lailed

at her, letting the force behind it push her away, getting her clear of the other foot. She dug her own heels in, pulling on the leg, dragging her assailant out from under

the table and in the same movement pushed herself upright. There was a sharp buzz and a shout and Eva looked up to see Randall fall out of

sight, a man in a long black coat standing behind her with a taser in his hand. Behind him someone was beating on the [loor with a chair. No, she realised, not on

the [loor. On Sirhaan.

The person beneath her lashed out again and, distracted, Eva lost her grip, the per-

son wriggling away among the cafe furniture, chairs juddering and scraping in their wake. The man in the coat raised the taser at her, but before he could do anything with it

she grabbed hold of a chair, pitching it at him so it caught him across the body and he stum- bled away from her. But still it came, the crackle of a taser, but from behind her now, and further away.

Eva turned. There, at the far end of the concourse, was the emergency generator, its doubly se-

cure metal doors beaten open with a cafe chair and standing in front of it was the man in motorcycle leathers, the taser in his hand pointing at the control panel. He gave it another shock and another, then, throwing the taser aside, picked up the

chair again.

Down in the street, under the Christmas lights, in the delicate falling snow, a battle

was raging. He could hear the police radios, even from up here, even without concentrating on it,

he was aware of the ebb and >low of scuf>les and clashes, running and charging. Roads blocked off, vans overturned, news reports coming live, tweets uploaded. A city writhing and groaning in tumult. Up here it was quiet, dim in the gentle glow of snow light. Softly lit, Lilys face hung

over his, staring at him, fascinated, fascinating. Its like knowing some kind of wizard, she said.

Oh great, so now Im like some wizened old man. No, a sexy wizard, like Christopher Lee. Christopher Lee is a wizened old man, he said. Hes a sexy old man. Is this going to turn into a compliment at any point? It depends, she said, On whether you do anything worth complimenting you on,

doesnt it? What you can do, what you can see, youre right, its like a superpower, its like magic. Im magic? And with great power comes great responsibility. Wait, so am I Saruman or Spiderman now? Youre a massive, massive nerd, she pinched him and he bared his teeth at her, Im

serious, Adam, you have real power, a real power to do things, to change things. To work real magic. If you wanted to.

...Plan B, said Pasteur, and Adam reluctantly opened his eyes. A joke, he said, Plan B is the same as plan A. And what, said Pasteur, sighing a little, Is plan A? Nothing much, said Adam, Downfall of Western Civilisation, save the world, shit

like that. The [irst you time you entered the building, said Pasteur, You did so under false

pretences in an attempt at a cyber attack on Kerberos. The second time you broke in, carry-

ing this gun, she gestured at her own gun, lying on a table behind her, Intending a physical, terrorist attack on Kerberos employees. We defend, vigourously, our safety record with our tasers. Our testing methodolo-

gies are exhaustive, and exhausting, our research is peerless and innovative, but, having said all that, very little analysis has gone into what prolonged and repeated exposure would do to human physiology. The brain, for example, and the central nervous system, what would repeated electric shocks do to them? Any data, of course, is useful. She raised her hand again and Adam [illed his lungs, ready to start screaming.

Whelan grabbed a rubbish bin and threw it at the plate glass of the pharmacy win-

dow, hearing a satisfying crack as it bounced off. Then it creaked and shattered, Channings boot smashing through it from the other side. Channing followed, Leikos after him, dragging a still burning Blethyn in their wake. Whelan grabbed Blethyn, half hurling him along the concourse towards the water

feature at the far end, the [lames from Blethyns clothes scorching his hands. And as he threw him into the water, jumping in after to smother the [lames, the

lights went out.

The taser sparked in the darkness, lighting Pasteurs face with a [lickering, animat-

ing [lare. Behind her Lopez face hung ghostly in the blue glow of the tablet screen. What is it? she said, Whats happening? Plan B, said Adam.

4 The Dark
The darkness was profound and shocking. No natural light reached this far down

into the mall and without the emergency light the blackness was total. Eva froze. She could barely remember, in the chaos of the [ight, what the arrange-

ment of furniture around her was. She was bound to bump into something if she moved. There was shouting in the darkness. From the other end of the concourse, maybe,

where those people were supposed to be. And from somewhere, a faint glow, and a smell of burning. What was going on? Then a chair scraped away to her left. The person on the [loor. She leaped out in the

dark, bouncing off a table, a padded coat suddenly appearing under her hands. She held on as the [igure thrashed against her. A girl, she suddenly realised. She grabbed an arm, forcing it up behind the girls back, pushing her back down towards the [loor. A torch snapped on. Who... whos there? It was Randall, her voice shaking. DI Lisiewicz, said Eva, You alright? I think so, said Randall. Find Sirhaan, said Eva, then, to the girl on the ground, Im going to handcuff you,

then Ill let you up, understand? Fuck you, said a muf[led voice. Its mutual, said Eva, [ishing handcuffs out with one hand and snapping them onto

the girl. Randall came back.

Sirhaans unconscious, Ive put him in the recovery position. Is he bleeding? Not that I can tell. Good, well come back for him, though, Eva stood up, pulling the girl up after her

You can get up now. Please dont run away, Im sick of bumping into furniture. There was de[initely a glow of something like burning coming from the [loor above.

But there was a glow closer now, at the far end of the concourse. The people holed up in the shop must have lit a [ire. Right, then, said Eva, Lets get these people out of here before they burn the whole

place down.

Nico came up the escalator cautiously, dropping into a crouch as soon as his head

was level with the [loor above. In the [lickering glow of the burning pharmacy, he could see dark shapes moving, people in uniforms. Whelan and the others, probably. Occasionally something in the pharmacy would pop or [lare and a spatter of light

would dance shadows up the walls and across the ceiling. Someone was shouting com- mands. Yes, that was Whelan. There was a sound behind him, someone on the steps. He reached up, grabbed hold

of the handrail and hauled himself up and over, dropping down behind the glass sides of the escalator. Not the greatest concealment from the guards down at the pharmacy, but he was more worried about who was coming up from below.

A tall, thin [igure with a heavy backpack, wheezing with the effort of the stairs. Mr.

Handerson. He was lucky that the [ire in the chemists was making so much noise; it covered his labouring boots on the metal steps. He barely seemed to be aware that at any moment one of the guards might turn and

see him. He just stopped at the head of the escalator, staring open mouthed at the [ire. Nico reached up and pulled him down to his level. Get down. I think they got V, said Handerson. And shut up, said Nico. A knuckle rapped on the glass by Nicos knee. He looked down. Buffalos head

grinned back up at him, keeping itself carefully out of sight from the guards. Nico motioned at him, pointing down the concourse, back towards the camping

store and the [ire exit. Buffalo gave him a thumbs up. Follow me, said Nico and scurried away across the tiles, without waiting to see if

Handerson followed him. Like Nico before him, Buffalo climbed up over the side of the esca- lator, keeping as low as he could, and hustled after them, away from the burning shop. They passed by the place where they had climbed down into the cafe below and Buf-

falo leaned forward. Hang on a minute, and he ducked left, back into the camping store. What are you doing? but he was gone. Then Handerson after him. What now? They

had no discipline, thought Nico, what made them strong, their elusiveness, their lack of or- ganisation, also made them weak. Even a guerrilla army needed order. This lot were barely even terrorists. Troublemakers and all they ever made was trouble, for themselves as much

as anyone else. They needed someone to get them into shape. They needed someone like Nico. He followed them into the store. Buffalo was creeping between the shelves, hissing instructions to Handerson. Look behind the counter, thats where theyll keep the knives, and I need [ire-

lighters. What the fuck are you talking about, said Handerson. Too loud, Nico thought. Weapons, dude, said Buffalo, We just got our arses kicked by a couple of rent-a-

cops. We need weapons. You play too many games, said Handerson. You dont play enough, specially LARPing, said Buffalo. Its a good idea, said Nico, Weapons are a good idea. You help him, Ill [ind knives. Nico didnt trust Handerson to look for a useful knife. He was the sort of man who

would choose one with a compass, a corkscrew and [ive shitty blades instead of one good one. Weve got fucking tasers, said Handerson, waving his. Propane, said Buffalo, holding up a bottle of camping stove fuel, Hear that, thats

the sound of aerosols blowing up in the chemists down there. I [igure, why not go one bet- ter? We have only three shots left in all with these tasers, said Nico, Weapons are a

good idea. There was a display of knives behind the till, one of them a clasp knife, like his father

had bought him to take hunting. He waited for another distant explosion from the phar- macy and broke the glass on the display, taking the knife out. He held it for a moment,

thinking about the silence of a forest, trying to distinguish the shapes of deer in the dappled sunlight, waiting to [ind the shot. The steam that rose from the bodies as you gutted them, bright and wet in the pale morning sun. Hey, pass me a knife, dude, Ive got an idea, Buffalo was standing the other side of

the counter with a walkers stick. Nico passed him a knife and Buffalo produced a roll of masking tape, proceeding to lash the knife, open, to the end of the stick. He took the stick by its handle and whisked it through the air a couple of times, the knife edge shining in the dim orange glow of the far away [ire. Check it out, he said, A sword. Idiot, said Handerson coming up with a couple more propane tanks. Come on, dude, said Buffalo, Tell me you dont want a sword. Look me in the eye

and tell me you dont want a sword. I dont want a sword, said Handerson. Be careful with that thing, said Nico. And dont try and use it, he wanted to say. Dont worry, man, said Buffalo, Fencing lessons. So, said Handerson, squaring up a little, as if he was readying himself for a [ight,

Were going to go back and get V, right? No, said Nico. Fuck you, said Handerson, Buffalo, were going right? To do what? To get the shit kicked out of you again? said Nico, We have a plan.

Plan B. Were [inishing the plan. You just switched the power off, said Handerson. Yes, said Nico, So now the [ire doors are open. We go upstairs.

Dude, said Buffalo, No power, no computers, no computers, no video. Nico realised what they were talking about. It hadnt even crossed his mind. You got

so used to electricity just being there on tap that even when hed switched off by smashing the generator up hed somehow assumed the computers would still work. Idiot. He thought of Pasteur with her computer in her hand, the secrets he needed to de-

stroy clutched to her chest. Wait a minute... Portable, he said, The computers they use are portable, like books. They arent

plugged in. Laptops, said Buffalo. Tablets, said Handerson, But the video [iles will be on a server. Not if theyre hiding it, said Buffalo, getting excited, Last place youd put it. Could

be on a desktop, thumb drive. We could still [ind it. Theyve got V, said Handerson. But they dont have us, said Nico, Yet. Lets keep it that way. Lets do it, dude, said Buffalo and judging by the look on Handersons face, that

made him want to hit Buffalo as hard as Nico did. Instead they let him lead them out of the store and down the concourse towards the

[ire door.

Miriam had started screaming them moment the lights had gone out. Even in the

darkness Kenneth could recognise her voice, although he had never actually heard her scream before.

He stood up immediately, blundering towards the sound, straining to make out

where he was going as his eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom. All around him people were shouting and screaming. The sound of panicked people

trying to organise and scaring themselves in the process. He bumped up against someone. Someone tall. Get back! said a voice - he thought it might have been the tall security guard - and a

hand pushed him roughly backwards so that he stumbled against someone else. Careful, said another voice, Are you alright? The lights of mobile phones were coming on, patches of glow in the black, dancing

like creatures out of a fairy tale. Someone had a torch and it waved over the ceiling and the startled faces around it. Then there came an exultant, hysterical crowing, a tumult of baying and scuf[ling

and a voice. Ulmer! Ulmer! Get out of the way! Get the fuck out of the way! someone large was forcing his way

through the shadowy crowd, pushing people into each other. There was, somewhere to- wards the escalators, a mocking, cruel laughter. Young voices, the sound of something vi- cious let off the leash. Kenneth shivered a little. It was the sound of the playground, a sound he had always dreaded. Then a child started crying and he recognised it immediately as Keith. He pushed

through the crowd to the sound, and something grabbed hold of his leg. Lucy. How she had found him in the milling, confused, indistinguishable mass, hed never know. And there were Miriam and Keith.

He [lung his arms around them and in doing so realised he hadnt done anything like

that since Christmas when her had been tipsy on ginger wine. Report! Ulmer! Woolsey! the voice cut through the chaos, not shouting, just pene-

trating, unmissable. A square of light was advancing towards them across the mezzanine, a tablet com-

puter, held out before someone, its screen acting, inadequately, as a torch. Pasteur, Lopez and Farkas following in her wake. Woolsey, one of the guards, shouldered his way through the crowd. Roukans down, he said, Someone attacked him in the dark. As if in response, shouting went up, further away and below, somewhere down the

escalators.

The can that bounced off Whelans head was empty so that it was more the shock

than anything else that made him stumble back down the stairs into Leikos. He must have been still silhouetted by the glow of the [ires below, thats how they

had seen him, these howling, chaotic shapes rushing down out of the darkness towards him. He glimpsed the white of faces in the gloom, wide eyes and hooting mouths. Wankers! He fumbled for his taser as more cans rained round them, but the buzzing darts just

clinked against the glass of the escalator sides. Move it! said Leikos behind him, Weve got to keep moving!

Whelan stumbled forward as another [igure lurched at him, making grunting noises,

then it wheeled away, disappearing downwards into the darkness, laughing wildly. Kids, just kids, running completely fucking amok. Leikos and Channing laboured up after him, carrying Blethyn between them, the

man moaning as they stumbled on. Above he could hear Pasteur giving orders, the crowd complaining, the sound of

high, nervous voices, the edge of hysteria. Whelan, she somehow knew he was there, even without turning round, I want this

crowd under control. They set [ire to a chemists, he said, Blethyns injured. Roukan as well, she said, Get them into the coffee shop. Farkas, youve got [irst aid

training. Meanwhile, I want every one of these people searched for weapons, prioritise by potential threat. Eighteen to thirty year olds [irst, particularly males, understand? Right, said Whelan, turning to Woolsey, Got a spare taser cartridge? Follow me, said Pasteur to Leikos, Farkas, bring Roukan. Using her tablet as a torch once more, she guided them across the mezzanine to the

coffee shop. The cafe was empty. Adam had gone.

Whats going on out there? Who are you? The man was wearing a pink striped shirt under a collared blue jumper. He had the

untouched pink complexion and con[ident manner of the wealthy classes. The kind of per- son who liked to think of the police as just another servant. Eva got a grip on herself. Noth-

ing was going to be helped by her getting irrationally angry just because she didnt like someones background. She didnt like his haircut either. Police, she said, Detective Inspector Lisiewicz. It was the kind of shop that Eva usually detested, a place that had no distinguishing

identity, and sold nothing of any practical use. Novelty gifts, the novelty of which had worn off before you even got them out of the packaging, cards you wouldnt want to send to any- one you might like enough to send a card to, last minute gifts for last minute acquaintances. Of[ice jokes and hal[hearted celebrations. This one, in a desperate attempt to increase footfall, she assumed, was half con-

verted into a little cafe. Of course, the gleaming coffee machine had stopped working the moment they had switched to emergency power, as Hugh had discovered when he tried to make himself a Latte, but for all that Eva found herself curiously relieved to see it. She ought, she thought, to feel angry, looking at these people lounging on deck chairs

and cushions decorated with diamante and [lecks of mirror. Sipping their fruit smoothies taken from the cafe fridge, all by the warm light of a set of garden torches, while out on the concourse Sirhaan was lying on the tiles, waiting for them to come back to him. But instead she felt genuinely happy to see these people. Normal people, dealing

with an insane situation in a normal way. Good for them. Even if they were going to turn out to be irritating idiots. The police are here, everybody, said the man, and then turned back to Eva, Hugh

Devereux, everyone heres ok.

What was that noise? said a woman standing behind him, wearing a too short skirt

and an ostentatiously restrained necklace, It sounded like an explosion. I told you, Jessica, said Hugh, without turning round, They probably blew up the

generator. chair. I knew it, said Hugh, Its a terrorist attack, isnt it? He seemed to be having trouble looking Eva in the eye. His gaze kept slipping down They blew up a chemists, said Eva, They just smashed up the generator with a

to her chest. It is, she said, Which is why we need you all to come with us, we need you all

where we can keep you safe. Theyre blowing things up, said Jessica, Were quite safe in here, arent we Hugh? No youre not, said Eva, Theres an injured guard just outside, right on this con-

course. The [loor above is already on [ire. Here is exactly where youre not safe right now. But the police are here? said Jessica. Im the police, said Eva. Youre the only police, said Hugh, Arent you? Which is why youre going to be safe with me, said Eva. Where are the police? said Hugh, Are they on their way? They are here, said Eva, And I am not asking you to come with me, I am telling you,

understand? She [ixed his gaze, daring him to contradict her, and was slightly revolted to see that

he smiled to himself in a way that made her feel distinctly grubby.

Bring some of those lamps with you, she said, And one of those deck chairs. Were

going to need it to use a stretcher, and lets try and make sure we only need one, shall we?

With the power gone Adam had nothing to guide him through the pitch-black serv-

ice tunnels but the bare concrete surface of the walls. It ought to have been the darkness that confused and misled him, but it was the loss

of the data that he felt most keenly. Everyday he thought that that ever-present roiling chaos was going to overwhelm him, every waking hour that inescapable tinnitus of other peoples triviality hounded him, every moment was lit by the ghastly [lash of data and the vision of monsters and yet he missed it. He missed the insight and the revelation, he missed the great width and depth of the electronic world, he missed the knowledge. Above him on the mezzanine he could still feel the lonely chirruping of mobile

phones, but without the network they were just bewildered [ire[lies, sparks of isolated data in the great night that surrounded him. The radios were still reaching out to each other, but their power was failing now, the signal dimming, receding. He tried to remember the map of the tunnels, tried to remember the route he had

taken to get in and he could already feel it growing insubstantial in his head, a ghost incon- gruously fading in the dark. Leikos. The name popped out at him, coming down towards him through the

shadow. A mobile phone mumbling its contact list to itself, keening for the lost network, his radio stretching a tenuous link out to the others. He looked back and could suddenly see the tunnel lit in the growing light of an approaching torch. Light! Light that he didnt want to be around to see.

But there it was - he had almost passed it - a turning to the left. Down it to the door,

now completely unlocked with the power out. But he heard the footsteps behind quicken at the sound of the door opening. He slammed it behind him and dashed across the concourse to the escalator, starting down at a run as he heard the door open behind him. Ahead of him, down in the depths, was the dim light of [ire, and movement too,

shadows, shapes in the darkness. He almost paused, but he could feel Leikos phone on the escalator behind, charging down towards him. He ran, stumbling on the steps - no, he couldnt afford to fall now, he caught himself, slipped down the last few to the concourse below. Away to his right, a shop was burning and, it seemed to him, [igures danced with a

hideous glee in the [irelight, shadows racing up and down the walls. He turned away from them, slipping on the marble tiles as Leikos barrelled down the steps towards him. Then a [igure rose up from the shadows beside the escalator, something hulking and

dark that turned into something hissing and glinting in the [lickering light. It caught Leikos mid step, right across the face, pitching him over backwards on the escalator with a single, inarticulate yelp. The [igure wheeled unsteadily and grabbed Adams arm pulling him after it into the

shadows away from the [ire. He found himself stumbling along in a funk of unwashed clothes and stale booze that he recognised from somewhere. The old drunk, the one Debbie had attacked when Adam had stolen her phone, it was him. Down here, said the man, The kids are down that way. Adam could already hear

voices behind them, calling out.

Youre the one, arent you? the man suddenly stopped, catching hold of Adam and

whisking him round so that the receding [irelight was on his face, Yeah, youre him. Stood up for me, yeah, come on, well be ok in here. He pushed open the door to a shop and hustled Adam through, into what looking

like a camping and outdoors suppliers. They took some of the good stuff, but theres plenty left, propane and that, the

man, Adam realised, was hold a metal broom handle, like a staff. It now had a sizeable dent in it about the shape of Leikos head. It was you, said Adam, You blew up the shop. They wouldnt let us have guns, you see, made you think about what you could do if

you didnt have a gun. I had a lot of ideas, the man was hunting down the shelves, picking up objects and turning them over before putting them back, Yugoslavia, only its not called that anymore. You were in the former... were you a peacekeeper or something? None to keep. Mass graves and massacres and mass... And they tell me not to drink.

Like this is any better, he gestured wildly at the rest of the shop, staggering backwards into a shelves and making a display of thermos [lasks judder against each other. Worse than a drug, isnt it? Trying to [ill up your world with stuff you buy, trying to

[ill up the hours. Fill up the glass, thats what I say, [ill up the glass, toast those lovely monks, eh? Or, said Adam, You could do something about it. What can you do? You cant win. Got no guns - theyve got the guns, havent they, the

weapons.

Maybe you cant win on your own... Need an army, said the man, leaning back against a shelf, See the army has to

make you, they have to break you, you know, uniform, drill, yes sir, no sir, they make you into a soldier, but those fuckers, he gestured out at the wider world, Those fuckers are born. Theyre born to it with their homemade uniforms and their homemade rules and their homemade little fucking... soldiers are made, policemen are born. But we have an army, said Adam, We are an army. You in the army? the man focussed on him. An army, said Adam, I hope so. Then you know your duty, said the man decisively, nodding to himself. Did you see where they went? The people who were in here? Door at the end. Theres stairs all the way up, all the way to the top. Had a little

wander myself, seen the sights, seen the world, seen it try and kill itself. Thank god for those monks. Ive got to go after them, said Adam. Youve got to look out for your friends, said the man, Thats your duty. Mates. You look after yourself, said Adam, Alright? Look after other people, said the man, with an inebriated sincerity, And theyll

look after you.

Croquet mallets. Hugh had found a set in the store and had removed the mallets

from it, handing ceremoniously them out to the men in their little group. One of the men had demurred and his wife had taken it instead, hefting it appreciatively and then twirling

it, like a cheerleader with a baton. Hugh had looked a little taken aback at this but had said nothing. Eva hadnt bothered to stop them, hell, it might even prove useful. All they had, oth-

erwise, were the two tasers, each of them with only a couple of charges left. Who was she to stand in the way of a little positive community action? When they reached Randall, who was keeping her taser trained on the girl and her

torch on Sirhaan, they discovered that Sirhaan had regained consciousness. The girl took one look at Hugh and his little posse with their croquet mallets and

laughed. Jesus, its the militant wing of the conservative party, she said. You know what? said Hugh, his eyes lighting up, It absolutely is. And were sick

and tired of jumped up little... here. teur. This is Detective Inspector Lisiewicz, I have a group with me, were heading back to Im a nurse, said a man with a goatee, pushing past her, Let me have a look. As he bent down to examine Sirhaan, Eva took Randalls radio and tried to raise Pas- I voted Labour, said one of the women. You, youre under arrest, so you can shut up, said Eva, Randall, give me some light

you now. Nothing, just a hiss of static. Do you receive me? More static, then a voice suddenly cut in.

Fire door on level 2 is open. Suspects may be trying to escape the building through

the [ire escapes. Repeat. But then it cut off and didnt repeat. Well, said Eva, Maybe thatll mean we can at least get upstairs safely. His bruising was extensive but Sirhaan appeared to have nothing broken and in-

sisted that he could walk. Good man, said Hugh, visibly restraining himself from slapping Sirhaan on the

back, he turned to the girl, Itll take more than a punk like you to stop a man like that. girl. Wasnt it your lot that did that? said Hugh. Theres no evidence either way, said Eva, Can we just get on up this escalator? She tried to hustle them forward, up the steps. There is evidence, said the girl, Why the fuck do you think theyre going up the [ire Maybe we should have kicked him into a coma like they did to Ella Lamb, said the

escape? Theyre going to [ind the evidence and were going to show everyone. Youre not going to do anything, said Hugh. The police have examined all the video, said Randall. Like theyd show the police! said the girl, One of them, one of their own fucking

guards is helping us, he knows what theyre like! Thats not true, said Randall, It cant be. A Kerberos guard? Eva thought about the [igure in the leather jacket Argus had tar-

geted and the shape of his shoulders, Dark hair, tall, late twenties? The girl suddenly became suspicious; Eva must have hit the mark.

Hes doing the right thing, he wants to know the truth - dont you? Yes, said Eva, I do. She thought about the Kerberos guard who had been kicked

unconscious and about the way the stupid dead girl had pointed at the guard on the CCTV footage. That point and the mouth shouting You. Yes, she very much wanted to know the truth. Something moved in the corner of her eye and she ducked instinctively as a burning

chunk of wood sailed over her head. She looked up at the top of the escalator. Dark [igures, silhouetted against the uncertain light of the [ire, [litted past in the

shadows, two more glowing missiles arcing down the escalators towards them out of the darkness. Everyone move! Eva pulled at the two people carrying Sirhaan, trying to manoeu-

vre them out of the way. Follow me! Hugh lifted up his croquet mallet, brandishing it, Come on! And with that he raced up the escalator, screaming at the top of his voice and waving

his mallet, two of the others drawn in his wake. Eva started forward, shouting after them. Come back! Dont be so stupid! We have to stick together! But Hugh ignored her, charging up the steps, half laughing with the thrill of it, the

shadowy [igures above suddenly scattering before him. Hugh! said Jessica, moving after him. Come on, then, quickly! Eva pulled at the others, hustling them onto the escalator,

Get up there and get straight across the concourse, straight up the next escalator, under- stand, just keep moving,

She dragged the girl after her, Randall bringing up the rear, as they slipped and

stumbled up the metal steps. Up on the second [loor the [lames cast racing shadows about them, shouts and yelps

echoed off the walls and [igures lurched and spun in the darkness. The woman with the croquet mallet appeared out of the shadows and got in behind the couple carrying Sirhaan, hurrying them along. Devereux, said Eva, Get back here, weve got to keep moving. Devereux! She was almost at the next escalator when Hugh appeared, breathless, dragging the

other man with him. That showed them, little thugs, he was positively beaming with pride. Fucking wankers, came a shout from below. Theyre just fucking kids, said the girl, as Eva pulled her up the stairs, He just at-

tacked a bunch of kids with a fucking hammer, isnt that child abuse? Its a croquet mallet, said Hugh, Appropriate, really. Those kids, said Eva, Were just throwing burning rubbish at you. Keep moving. Are you surprised? said the girl, When theyre being chased around by Tory boy

and his fucking cricket hammer? Croquet mallet, you ignorant little prole, said Hugh. Hey, said Eva, None of that. Prole, said the girl, That just about sums it up. Look at this fucking place, I mean,

look at it. Everywhere, everything just telling you, you dont have any money, and then youre worthless, just worthless. No wonder they just want burn it all down and smash it all up. God knows I do.

Mindless vandalism, said Hugh. Oh no, said the girl, Mindful, very fucking mindful vandalism. Oh, and by the way,

being a punk is a good thing. Just so you know. Quiet, said Eva. There were noises coming from above them now, too, raised voices

and running feet and the sound of [ighting. Oh great, she said, What fresh hell is this? It was Keiths screams that had [inally done it. There had been some message on the radio and the woman Pasteur had gone

through some emergency exit, taking two of the guards with her, leaving just four of them behind to deal with the crowd. This included was the big one who had pushed Kenneth when the lights went out and a couple of new ones that he hadnt seen before, one of them covered in what looked like soot. There seemed to be some kind of [ire down stairs, al- though no one seemed to be doing anything about it. The guards had tried to get everyone standing up, to try and usher them into differ-

ent groups, but the crowd was upset and fractious, arguing back and refusing to cooperate. The guards themselves, already nervous and frayed began to lose their tempers. One

of them had made to snatch Keith from Miriams arms, insisting that he had to go with Ken- neth, to keep the men together, and Keith had started screaming. Leave him alone, Kenneth had marched up to the guard. Get back over there, the guard, who Kenneth thought was called Woolsey, jabbed a

[inger at him. Kenneth had always been told it was rude to point. It certainly felt rude now. He grit-

ted his teeth and swatted the [inger aside.

Leave my son alone, said Kenneth, advancing on the guard. Kenneth, said Miriam, half nervous, half in wonder. Yeah, leave the kid alone, said another man, appearing at Kenneths shoulder. Woolsey brought up his taser and levelled it at Kenneth. Get back, now. Oh give me that stupid thing, said Kenneth, exactly as he would to Lucy with a toy,

and he just reached out and took hold of the gun. Woolsey tried to pull it away, but Ken- neths grip was [irm. Give it back, Woolsey tried to loosen Kenneths grip, but Kenneth grabbed hold of

Woolseys free hand and the two of them tussled for a moment in a kind of vertical arm wrestle. Then Miriam stepped forward and slapped Woolsey across the face. Leave my husband alone! Woolsey reeled back and then a number of hands were clutching at him, pulling him

backwards, away from Kenneth, and all of a sudden Kenneth found himself standing there, with the ridiculous plastic gun in his hand, surrounded by a group of other men. Put that down! It was the big guard, the one called Ulmer. He was pointing his taser

at Kenneth, Put it down now! Ulmer was a good foot taller than Kenneth and a good deal broader, too. A large man

with a big black and yellow gun, towering over Kenneth. Kenneth found that his hands were shaking from the rage and adrenaline. He went to say something and discovered that his mouth wouldnt work. No, was all he could manage.

The was a snap and buzz, like that electric wasp the man held had just stung some-

one and Ulmers mouth opened in surprise. Kenneth realised that Ulmers weapon hadnt [ired. He looked down. Neither had his. Oh, fuck it, said a voice and there was another crackle and Ulmer dropped to his

knees, revealing behind him the policewoman, holding a taser of her own. Put the weapon down, said another voice, the guard who had been in the [ire, his

own taser now pointing at the policewoman. Seriously? she said, completely unfazed by this, Youre going to tase a police of[i-

cer? Randall, take that away from him. She was evidently talking to a female guard who was standing behind her. The guard

dithered, not sure what to do. Randall, said the policewoman, Your job is to protect people. Do any of these

guards look like theyre doing that? Mr. Devereux, give her a hand. A man carrying a croquet mallet stepped forward and the guard turned his taser to-

wards him. Just try it, said the man, And then Ill introduce you to my lawyer. The guard lowered his taser. Thank you, Mr. Devereux, Mr. Robinson, said the policewoman. Now, said Kenneth, Can I see my Debbie? Yes, said Eva, I think that would be a very good idea indeed.

Pasteur followed Lopez out of the [ire door and into the second [loor of the of[ices. It

was dark and silent up here, with only dim light [iltering in from the windows at the front of the building. Whelan turned as she stepped out and nodded to her. Where now? Theyll be heading for my of[ices, she said. How do you know? said Lopez. I know, was all she would say. Whelan shrugged. Well go down past the meeting room, he said, Theres too many hiding places out

in the open plan. Agreed, said Pasteur. Just watch out for traps. Whelan felt that familiar nausea in his stomach, that nerv-

ousness of danger. It was that old thrill again, that knowledge that you genuinely could not expect what was about to happen, all you could do was react well. This was the real test, the test not of your planning and tactics but of how you acted under [ire. Could you keep your nerve, could you respond? His skin seemed to have become super sensitive, as if he could feel the exhalations of

Pasteur and Lopez as they followed him. What he wouldnt have given for the Argus system now. Technology like that was like having some kind of superpower or something. Terrible thing to lose. It was a short corridor that led past a meeting room towards the head of the stairs.

The wall to his left was [loor to ceiling glass, half frosted, looking into the room beyond.

He craned up and peered into the room, over the frosting. Light [iltered in from the

central well beyond. He couldnt see anything unusual inside. Table, chairs, conference call spider in the centre. He moved cautiously down the corridor, painfully aware of how visible his form

would be through the glass wall, and how he was approaching the open door of the room. The huge table could have easily hidden anyone, anything from view, something that could be waiting for him to pass in front of that open door. He paused. Which probably saved his life, as did the architectural glass wall, which

did a very good job of containing the explosion. That and the conference table, which was [lipped up by the explosives hidden under it and hurled at the glass, which crazed with the blast and then shattered under the impact, showering Whelan with sparkling crumbs as the table fell through on top of him. Pasteur reeled back into Lopez, who then jerked under her as Buffalo appeared from

the shadows and tased him twice in quick succession. Lopez spasming arms threw Pasteur to one side and she just caught a glimpse of Buffalo as he turned and disappeared among the desks of the open plan of[ices behind them. Whelan pulled himself out from under the table in time to see Pasteur standing in a

classic [iring range position, trying to draw a bead on their assailant with Lopez taser. The passageway was [illing with smoke and debris. Shredded meeting minutes spi-

ralled around him. Which way? Open plan, she replied, Go round.

The whole of his left side was hurting, and his ears were ringing from the explosion.

Whelan paused in the corridor by the stairs, trying to catch his breath. Ahead of him was a wide expanse of open plan of[ices, ranks of desks punctuated by

islands of soft seating - little impromptu meeting rooms made of high backed sofas. And be- yond them windows and, unbelievably, a soft, summer evening, the sun setting over the city. A rose sky and gold gilding the rooftops. And from somewhere below the [lashing lights of the emergency services. He could just about make out sirens through the soundproo[ing. It was still light out, incredible. Of all the insanity of the day that somehow struck

Whelan as the most incredible thing he seen yet. He was still staring at it when Buffalo attacked him with his sword.

Pasteurs of[ice was as spotless as it always was. Tidier, in fact, as the tablet com-

puter that always sat on her desk was gone. So what now, brains? said Mr. Handerson. You said it was here. We look for it, said Nico. He turned to the desk and started

opening drawers. For the [irst time he realised that there were no personal effects on Pas- teurs desk, no executive toys, no photographs, not even a post-it. I said it was in the building, said Mr. Handerson, looking around at the of[ice,

Theres barely a personality in this room, let alone somewhere to hide something. You want to [ind it. Look, this is a senior of[icer in a security corporation trying to hide crucial evi-

dence, shes not just going to leave it lying around her of[ice, I mean it could be searched at any time, Mr. Handerson was looking at a piece of anonymous corporate art on the wall, his

voice trailing into thinking out loud, But she wouldnt trust the corporate servers, or ma- chines, they could be searched too. But shed want to keep it close to her, where she could keep an eye... He suddenly turned and stepped out of the room. So if they might search the of[ice, why not keep it outside the of[ice? and he pulled

something down from high above the door. A USB thumb drive. See? Nico sat up in Pasteurs chair, staring at the drive in Handersons [ingers. He realised

he was holding his breath and made an effort to exhale evenly, calmly. Was it true? Had Pas- teur really been keeping the CCTV footage of him and Ella Lamb? So... Mr. Handerson twisted his backpack off and unzipped it in a practiced, [luid

movement, lifting out a chunky looking laptop. He slid it onto the desk and popped it open, thumbing the power key. Nico got up and started to move round the desk. Hold it, said Handerson, Stay there. Logging on. He didnt seem to do anything,

though, just paused for a moment and then nodded at the screen. OK. Nico moved round behind him. It didnt look like any computer screen that Nico had

ever seen; it was just black with a blinking cursor at the top. Mr. Handerson jammed in the thumb drive and started typing something. Yep, there's a media [ile on here.

Boom. There was the sound of an explosion somewhere nearby and Nico turned in-

voluntarily to look back out of the door. Through the glass outside and across the gap of the buildings central well, he could see the glow of [ire lighting up a meeting room. Buffalo, he said. Jesus Christ, said Mr. Handerson. Nico turned back. Video was playing on the

screen. Grainy colour, no sound. This is it, said Mr. Handerson, This is the fucking it. Thats Ella Lamb, and thats...

Jesus, thats you. Nico thought about hunting with his father, how they used to bleed the carcasses

out, and he reached down with the knife and cut Mr. Handersons throat.

I dunno, said Debbie, He was just some bloke. Debbie, please, said Kenneth Robinson, We need to help the Detective Inspector. They were sitting in the cafe, Eva, the Robinsons, Randall, Hugh, who Eva now

couldnt get rid of, the female 404, who apparently called herself V. The nurse who had looked after Sirhaan was now helping Farkas with the other two injured guards. Jessica was organising the distribution of drinks and food from the cafe chiller cabinet. A little knot of people were already in the cafe kitchen, seeing what they could make from what ingredi- ents were there. Hugh. 404s, said V, You wouldnt get it. Debbie, said Eva, This is important, the man could be in serious danger. I thought he was one of these terrorists, what do you call them, the Fours? said

He is though, isnt he? said Eva, This was his idea, wasnt it, him and the girl in the

car crash. Lilith, said V, Its fucking... she paused, swallowing, Yeah, it was their idea. Adam

said he knew they were hiding the video, that he knew where to [ind it, they put the call out for back up, said they were going to [ind it. So hes gone to look for it, said Eva, Only hes not the only one. The guard you met,

who was helping you? Hes not helping you. Actually quite the opposite, I think. In fact, I think hes the one attacked Ella Lamb, attacked Kenyon over there and if your friend Adam [inds the video hes going to attack him too. I think hes just about ready to do anything to stop anyone [inding that video. They all sat up suddenly. There was noise from somewhere above, the breathless

concussion of an explosion and then the shattering of glass and screaming from the mezza- nine. Eva jumped from the table and rushed outside, followed by the others. High above,

on the second [loor of the of[ices, a room was on [ire. The window had blown out, scattering smashed glass down on the crowd below. Is everyone alright? said Eva, Everyone back down this end. Wheres the nurse?

Check everyones ok. She turned to people behind her. I cant wait for the rest of the police to get in here, Im going up there. Randall, you

need to take charge down here. No, said Randall, Im coming with you. So am I, said Hugh, Wouldnt miss it for the world.

I rather think, said Kenneth, That were all coming.

The hunting knife [lashed red and blue and gold in the light coming from the win-

dows as slashed down at him again. Whelan threw up an arm and white woollen padding [loated up in its wake where it had torn his jacket open. Buffalos face was full of a terrible, concentrated glee, the face of a small child gently,

insistently dismembering a beetle. The makeshift sword spun in his hands, the blade re- versing direction, cutting upwards now, and Whelan stumbled backwards, dropping his ta- ser and grabbing an of[ice chair, spinning it in front of him, towards Buffalo. Buffalo swung the stick round, pushing the chair to one side, spinning the blade in

the blaze of the setting sun. There was a whole row of chairs and Whelan sent them all spinning, one after an-

other, colliding and clashing in the narrow space between two long desks. He darted to one side, trying to see where he had dropped the taser, his leg almost

giving out beneath him, but Buffalo jumped clear of the chairs, up onto the desk, the lami- nate surface sagging and juddering under his weight as he leaped towards Whelan. Whelan grabbed what he could: a phone, the handset whirling out on the coiled

cord, snapping at Buffalos head. The sword swished up again, severing the cord neatly, sending the handset clattering off across the desks. And the knife spun above Buffalos head, glinting, and down once more, and Whelan tripped, falling, his head contacting with the edge of the desk, a metallic taste of blood in his mouth, his tongue smarting between his teeth.

Buffalo stood over Whelan and raised the sword, point downwards and Pasteur ta-

sed him in the back, three times in quick succession. He roared, his body arcing, vibrating. The sword dropped, the knifepoint burying in the carpet by Whelans head. Then Buffalo hit the [loor himself, convulsed in pain. Pasteur looked down at him

and Whelan. Come on, she said, Lets go.

High up in the building Adam stood in a window and looked down into the well be-

low. There were [ires burning all through the building. Below him he could see [lames still licking up out of the broken glass of the meeting room while, higher up on the other side of the well, someone had now lit a small [ire in one of the of[ices. Further down, in the mezzanine, garden [lares had been lit, and people were gather-

ing in small groups, sharing out food, making it look as if some medieval encampment had sprung up amid twenty [irst century ruins. Some lost and primitive people, scraping an ex- istence in the remains of a forgotten civilisation, while in depths beneath, hell smouldered, the [lickering light of the still burning chemists [iltering up the escalators. Lily had once told him the theory that without electricity western civilisation would

be back in the Bronze Age in three months. Looking down below him he was inclined to the think that that estimate was wildly over optimistic. Lily. She would have truly loved this. Not for the destruction and the chaos, she liked

to make that impression, but that wasnt her. No, what shed like were those little knots of people down there, sharing what they had, looking after each other in all the madness.

He needed her, her optimism, her [ire. He needed to hang on to that bit of her that he

kept within, that voice. Suddenly those groups of people were on their feet, as one. There was a low rumble,

a growling explosion. Smoke billowed across the mezzanine from the direction of the main security gates. Then light, blazing through the smoke, the beams of bright searchlights. And in the light, casting great [laring shadows, dark [igures, bulky with armour and weapons. The police had arrived. Time was running out.

The of[ice stank, the hot, cloying smell of blood mixed with charred plastic and

chemical smoke. Lopez gagged and stepped back outside. Pasteurs eyes began to water. There was a body on the [loor. She half recognised the [igure from the Argus feeds. A

thin man in a blue uniform with little silver piercings in his face and long, wispy blonde hair. Someone had cut his throat and the blood was soaking into the harsh grey carpet, turning it dark and spongy. His pale skin was almost glowing blue in the gloom. A laptop was on Pasteurs desk, but someone had built a little [ire on the keyboard

and the whole thing was a lump of molten plastic. What on earth had happened here? Some argument between the terrorists, perhaps? There was a rumbling, tearing noise somewhere below them and then Whelans ra-

dio sparked into life. Mezzanine. Back up needed, repeat, back up needed in mezzanine. Go, Pasteur said to Whelan, You and Lopez, go. Whelan really didnt want to stay in this room any longer, but he still didnt like leav-

ing Pasteur up here alone.

I need to check nothing else is damaged, she said, You two go. Lopez had already gone, not even thinking to worry about Pasteur - why would you?

And Whelan limped after him into the darkness. Pasteur reached under her jacket and pulled out the gun she had taken away from

Adam. She poked the muzzle at the gooey mess that was the laptop keyboard. Part of it might once have been a USB thumb drive. She scraped the gun on the edge of the table, try- ing to disengage a strand of cooling plastic, then she looked at it, puzzled. She stepped over the body on the [loor, avoiding the spreading bloodstain on the

carpet and pulled out her desk drawer. So it was her gun. She looked at it for a moment in the dim light [iltering in through the window and then pulled out her radio. How long have you been using the radios to misdirect us? she said, The [ire escape

was you, wasnt it? The radio buzzed at her. A while, said a voice, The generators, for instance. Clever, she said, Im impressed by your ingenuity and improvisation, certainly, but

I cant see being clever getting you results so far. Are you sure? Lets review: two of your fellow terrorists are in custody and one is dead on my of-

[ice [loor. Either you have had a falling out between you or someone is now after you, too. Someone else, I should say, to add to all my staff, the police who have just entered the build- ing, and me. Was it you, just out of interest? No, said the voice, And Im sorry about it. His name was Derek, but he liked to be

called Mr. Handerson. Its a complicated nerd joke, half South Park, half Matrix. No? He was

something of a complicated nerd himself. Had a lot to say about Ella Lamb and late stage capitalism. Pasteur reached out with the gun towards the melted plastic once more but stopped

shy of touching it again. said. I think we can take that as read, dont you? said the voice, Besides, I know where it I suppose a further denial of the existence of the Ella Lamb video is redundant, she

is, the details of the server were leaked online, Im on my way there now, hows that for a result? Crouched in the darkness on the [ire escape stairs, Eva looked at Randall, the both of

them bent over the radio, others crowded in around them to listen. The honeypot server, she said, Where is it? The what? said Randall. Pasteur created a trap for the 404s, put out word online that the Ella Lamb video

was hidden on a server somewhere in this building. I saw it on Argus, a room full of com- puter equipment, what looked like an empty [loor. Dont know anything about that, said Randall, But the top three [loors of the build-

ing are unoccupied. So thats where this guy will be going? said Hugh, Looking for this video you were

talking about, the girl being attacked? But that doesnt exist, does it? said Kenneth. I thought she said the guard did attack the girl? said Hugh.

Whether he did or not and whether the video exists or not, said Eva, He is about to

walk straight into Pasteurs trap and she is going to be right there waiting for him when he does. And I think Id like to be waiting there, too. How many [loors up? Three, said Randall. Hope youre all in good shape, said Eva, Follow me. Putting the radio away she jogged up the last few stairs to the top of the [light and

turned the corner to start on the next set of steps. Which was when Whelan stepped from the darkness above and shot her right in the chest with his taser. Down on the mezzanine the police where edging into the building, moving cau-

tiously in the shadows, their stabbing torches [lashing up across the blindly re[lecting of[ice windows above, casting [lickering search lights into the dark corridors behind. Dazzle painted by moving shadows, Pasteur picked her way down a corridor to-

wards a [light of stairs, watching for signs of movement ahead. She thumbed the radio again. well. Are you sure? said the voice. She held the radio away from her ear, listening in- You understand technology, she said, But I dont think you understand people very

tently. Noises and voices [iltered up from below, but she was listening for something else. When you [ind this video, she said, What will that prove? That Ella Lamb was kicked into a coma by Kerberos employee Nico Wolf.

So you think it was Wolf, she stopped for a moment at a glass door, looking through

her own re[lection into the darkness beyond, But if you know that, why havent you told anyone? She bent down and pulled off her shoes, placing them neatly by the side of the door. Proof, said the voice, Your word against mine? I need proof. So you [ind your proof, she said, opening the door and stepping through into a

large empty space beyond, What good does that do? Oh, Nico Wolf would be punished, Id make sure of that, just as Id make sure that Kerberos itself remained completely un- touched. that. To her right a wall of glass curved round the central void of the building, the only Yes, said the voice, I think you would, wouldnt you? Just throw someone away like

furniture being a lonely sofa and a dying pot plant. She padded across the bare space to a set of double doors leading to the central bank of lifts. Do you know the distinction between hard and soft assets? said Pasteur, There are

different kinds of weapon and not all of them are armaments. A man might be a weapon, or information. What matters is knowing how, and when, to use your weapons and how and when to dispose of them. But its no good having weapons if you arent willing to use them, to do what is necessary. With the electricity out, the doors were unlocked and she pushed one open just far

enough and slid through the gap. You were willing, I think, she said, You stole my gun, after all. You were going to

kill me.

She stopped in the darkness by the lifts, waiting for an answer. Little light [iltered in

here from outside. It was still, enclosed. Youll notice, said the voice, That I didnt. I didnt let you, she said, But thats my point, you chose your weapons, technology,

psychological tricks, the gun, I just chose better ones, that doesnt change the fact that we are the people who act. I may be the better player, but we are the people who use, not the people who are used. She opened the door opposite the one she had entered through and stood, listening. There, the crackled echo of her own voice, heard through a radio. Ahead was a small

cubicle made of two high backed sofas facing each other. She turned her radio down to a whisper. Are you comparing me to you? said the voice. She crossed the space between her and the sofa in three silent strides, passing

straight past them, glancing between them as she did so. There on the cushions was an abandoned radio, red LED glowing to itself. She dropped into a crouch, below the line of the computer monitors beyond the sofas, scurrying along the banks of desks. I admire you, said Pasteur, stepping through, Your ingenuity, your determination.

After all this, in the midst of all this, youre still thinking, still committed. Its admirable. Youre willing to do what needs to be done. She turned a corner and came up to the foot of a [light of stairs, leading up into the

darkness above. Just as long as you understand that I am too, she said.

Eva pitched straight back into Randall, sending the woman staggering back down

the stairs behind her, trying to keep herself from going over and stop the quivering Eva from going straight down the [light below. Get back! Whelan didnt move, standing his ground, blocking the landing, All of

you, back downstairs. Get out of the way, said Kenneth. It was all he could think of, Get out of the way. Get out of my way, said Hugh, pushing past him, hefting his croquet mallet. He

stepped up onto the landing and Whelan didnt even [linch, shooting him with the taser immediately. Hughs feet spasmed out from underneath him and the mallet clattered to the [loor

as he juddered up against the wall. Hughs arms windmilled out and Kenneth was forced to duck and sidestep, but the crowd behind him and Randall struggling under Eva left him nowhere to go and he quite unexpectedly found himself on the landing right next to Whe- lan, the mallet skidding under his feet. All of a sudden it was tight and panicked in the con[ined space. Half on instinct he

bent and picked up the croquet mallet, pushing at Whelan with it as Whelan tried to level his taser at him. He did it again, with a more determined shove and Whelan tried to grab hold of it, pulling at it with his free hand. Kenneth pulled back, but Whelan twisted it and Kenneth lost his grip. It banged

against the wall and then his knuckles as Whelan pulled back his other hand and smashed him in the face with the taser. Kenneth felt the dull, metallic pain across the bridge of his nose. His hands came up

instinctively, [lailing at Whelan, slapping his face with his open palms. Whelan brought the

mallet handle back at Kenneth, half a blow, half a throw, the wood making a hollow sound against his skull. Spots danced before Kenneths eyes. He grabbed hold of Whelans collar, as much to try and keep himself up. Then Whelan had hold of his shoulder, pulling him down. Whelan seemed to crunch

in on himself and suddenly Kenneth was sick, in pain, breathless. It took him a moment to realise Whelan had just punched him in the stomach. Kenneths legs went beneath him, but Whelan still had hold of him, pushing his face

against the wall as he went down, the concrete grinding against his teeth, the taste of it sour and salty with blood. But he didnt hit the ground. There were other hands on him now, pulling him up,

away, holding him, folding him in, as the crowd pushed on past him and Hugh, [illing up the landing. Whelan, took a step backwards, trying to bring the taser to bear, and found himself

forced against the bottom step of the stairs behind. His balance teetered and then they were on him. His hand was seized, still wrapped round the taser. He struck out, but that arm was grabbed. The weight of the crowd forced him backwards and he was down, the edge of a step sharp against the back of his head. It was the weight of the people, though, that was what [inally drove the breath from

his lungs, the [ight out of him, the weight of all those people just sitting on him, holding him down against the stairs. Pasteur climbed quietly up the [irst [light of stairs and stopped, craning round to

look up at the [loors above her, searching for movement. All was still.

Were more alike than you think, she said, climbing up the next [light to the [loor

above, What else is this all about - the one thing that we both agree on: people need pro- tecting. From you, said the voice. Really? Then how come its you that theyre hunting? she said. Are you sure? said the voice. As I said, said Pasteur, You understand technology, but you do not understand

people. She started up the next [light of stairs, moving as fast as she dared now, her stock-

inged feet slipping on the stone steps. You say people exactly the same way you say technology, said the voice, Like

they were just more machines. Look around you, said Pasteur, not wasting the time to look herself, Look at this

building. This building is a machine. From the shopping arcade right up to my of[ice, the whole building engineered to control people, move them around, drive them forward, keep them working, keep them buying. And it works, you know why? Because people are ma- chines. They are little machines, predictable, dependable, controllable. Not because we make them like that, because they want to be. People want to be told what to do and they need people to tell them. People like us. Its what youre trying to do, isnt it, after all? Persuade them, command them. All

thats different between us is that they do what I tell them. As I said, said the voice, Are you sure?

Youre lucky Im not a vindictive person, said Eva, Because now I know what these

bloody things feel like, Im not going to shoot you with it. Handcuff him will you. She was interested to see that neither Whelan nor Randall objected to her order.

Whelan seemed to have given up entirely, while Randall seemed quite happy to handcuff her old boss. Right, she said, turning to the others, Mr. Devereux, I want you stay here with Mr.

Robinson and Whelan here, wait for the police. No, Kenneths voice was muf[led where he was holding a handkerchief against his

mouth, Im coming. fast. Kenneth, said Kenneth, Its Kenneth. And Im coming. That appeared to be all he could say, but it was all he had to say, too. Eva looked at Mr. Robinson, said Eva, Its dangerous, youre injured, we need to get up there

him, a small man with bloodstains on his polo shirt, his face raw where it had been dragged along the wall, the face of a thousand muggings and assaults. Right then, she said, I want everyone to understand, I cant stop you coming and

frankly, Id be glad of the company, but its going to be dangerous, youve seen that. Wait here for the police if you want to, but Im going, and Im going now. Then get a bloody move on, said Hugh. What part of this afternoon did you miss? said the voice. Pasteur came up to the top of a [light of stairs and turned right, going round the

stairs and out into an open of[ice space beyond.

Here the desks were empty of of[ice equipment, there were no amusing holiday pho-

tographs and personalised mugs, a space as yet unoccupied, furniture moved in for workers who didnt exist yet. Pasteur moved silently between them, a soft shadow in the dimness. The part where you saved the world, she said. Thats because you werent looking, said the voice. All Ive seen is you causing trouble, she said, slipping out of the light back into

shadow, Getting people hurt, in trouble, killed. You have the will, you have your wonderful technology, but youre dangerous, youre a mess, you and your friends, and youre a threat to everyone in this building, a threat that has to be contained. She opened a door onto the [ire exit stairs and stood, listening, for a moment. Then

she started up. Im a threat? said the voice, What about the person who imprisoned children, at-

tacked a homeless man, held shoppers under guard, and, might I point out, tortured a man? That person sounds like a threat. A threat that I and my wonderful technology intend to do something about. Pasteur came up to the top of the stairs and reached down, switching the radio off

and laying it on the [loor behind her. She took her gun in her right hand and opened the door ahead of her. Beyond was an empty expanse of hardwearing, neutral of[ice carpet, it s man made

[ibres shimmering in the [lashing lights of the emergency services outside. Across the other side of the bare space was a cupboard in a wall. The door to the cupboard was open, reveal- ing the pulsing lights of threads of LEDs, a cascade of red and green [lashes that illuminated

a young man in a cheap suit standing in front of it. The same young man she had tortured with the taser in the cafe. When I said contained, she said, I meant killed, of course. The young man looked round. Kill me? I [igured that, he said, Are you sure you want to go on the record with that

statement? I want you to understand the stakes, she said, Your technology is remarkable. And

your knowledge and resources are remarkable too. But we can always reverse engineer technology, if we have to. You dont understand technology or people, said the young man, At least, in par-

ticular, this technology and this person. One way or the other, you wont ever have the tech- nology. Oh well, said Pasteur, So be it. What can be invented once, after all. And she raised her hand and pulled the trigger. And - click - nothing happened. What today has shown, most of all, said Adam, Is that planning tends to be a seri-

ous weakness for you. He raised his hand and threw something at her and, to her credit, she didnt [linch.

Whatever it was glittered as it passed through the air, re[lecting. It landed at her feet. A bul- let. A bullet, no doubt, that had been in the gun. She looked at the other chambers. Still full. Never mind. You have, at least, she said, Given me the chance to thank you for all the lessons

today has taught me. We are always learning.

And she pulled back on the trigger once more, the hammer raising, the magazine ad-

vancing. Put down the gun, said Eva. Pasteur turned. Eva was standing in front of the [loor to ceiling windows, silhouetted

against the sunset behind, as more shadowy [igures collected around her. Glimpses of detail were visible in the unpredictable, [lickering light: the taser in Evas hand, the head of a cro- quet mallet, the crazed plastic of someones shattered glasses. I have caught this individual, said Pasteur, In the act of illegal entry and attempted

theft and am apprehending him. We dont need the gun to do that, said Eva, Put it on the [loor, please and step away

from it. Pasteur looked at the crowd of people gathering around Eva and eased back on the

trigger, bending and placing the gun on the [loor at her feet. Now kick it towards me, please, said Eva, and Pasteur did so, Youre now in my

custody, until my colleagues arrive, understand? What do you think of your little machines now? said a voice in the crowd. Pasteur

looked at them. They must have heard her conversation with the young man on the radio. They must have heard everything. That goes for you, too, said Eva to the young man, So dont you do anything either.

Oh, dont worry, said Adam, I dont need to do anything. I found and copied the

Ella Lamb video to You Tube this morning. Half a million hits and climbing. Pasteur turned back to look at him. He was looking directly at her. He was smiling.

The door to the [ire exit stairs that Pasteur had come through opened again and a

policeman stepped through in full riot gear, stab proof jacket on, protective visor down, submachine gun in his hands. All eyes turned to him. Detective Inspector Lisiewicz, said Eva, These two are under arrest. There was something wrong. The mans trousers. They werent the right trousers.

Nor were the boots. The set of those shoulders. Get down, all of you, get down now! The crowd all scattered as Pasteur spun round, turning back towards her gun, and

Nico Wolf raised the police machine gun and suddenly the room was full of the [lat percus- sion of shooting, the [lash of the muzzle lighting him up in stark [ire. And Pasteur carried on spinning, twisted up by the impact of the rounds, as Eva

dived towards her, snatching at the pistol on the [loor. Adam seemed frozen to the spot as a bullet thumped into the computer behind him,

peppering him with shards of plastic. Eva brought the gun up as Pasteur hit the [loor beside her. Breathe and squeeze. Helmet and bullet proof jacket. Breathe and squeeze. And Eva Lisiewicz shot Nico Wolf in the knee. He went down immediately, the muzzle [lash lighting up the ceiling as he lost control

of the gun, bullets thudding into the tiles. And Eva [ired again, hitting the jacket with enough force to knock him [lat. The gun

stopped [iring and she was on top of him, forcing her own knee into his, so that he screamed in pain. She rolled him over onto his face, ripping off his helmet and clamping the pistol into the base of his skull.

Its over, its over! Someone secure that weapon! Dont touch the body. Find some-

thing to secure him with, she said and then leaned in close to Nicos ear, Trying kicking someone to death with no knee cap, you nasty fucker.

5 The World
Outside the sun had set and the evening was cool and grey blue. The moon hung

over the rooftops, pure and white and untouchable. Eva could see a single star above the street lighting. Venus probably. Or a communications satellite. You uploaded the Ella Lamb video this morning? she said to Adam. He was sitting

in the open door of an ambulance with the obligatory blanket and cup of tea while an EMT cleaned up the cuts on his face from the exploding server that Nico Wolf had shot up. When I... he stopped and swallowed and she wasnt sure whether it was the anti-

septic or something else, When Lily and I were in there. So all the rest of that was all for nothing? Pasteur, your friend Anderson? Lily, he said, Was that for nothing? The driver in Range Rover? The driver, he said, Yep, that was her. She was the driver. So, what, it was revenge? Was that it? Look, he said, nodding back over her shoulder. She turned. There, amongst the emergency vehicles and scurrying of[icials, Deborah

Robinson was holding her little brother in her arms, while Hugh Devereux, still trium- phantly clutching his croquet mallet, clapped her father on the back as he explained to a po-

lice of[icer what Kenneth had done. Miriam came up behind them, Lucy in her wake, carry- ing cups of tea for everyone. I wanted to kill Pasteur, he said, And then I thought I would teach her a lesson. I

wanted her to live to learn it. Wolf, though, I dont think is going to learn anything. He will get the justice he deserves, said Eva, thinking of Nicos sullen face as he had

been half carried into the police van. Will he? said Adam, looking right into her eyes, I hope Ive shown some people

something important at least. She tried to read his expression and his eyes [licked back to the scene behind her. Wait, she said, Wait a minute. You taught her a lesson? You did that, didnt you?

You did all of that. Argus, locking everyone in, cutting off the power, using the radios. It was you, you and this technology Pasteur was so obsessed with. What technology, said Adam, You searched me yourself. What technology? Oh, neither of you may know people very well, but I do, which is how Ive known all

along that whatever you showed Pasteur this morning was a sham, a distraction, she said, But there is something, alright, I know that. I wondered if it might be outside help, your 404s or even, god knows, a rival company, but none of that help arrived and anyway, this was personal, this was about you and your friend Lily. This was about you. Adam, his face now a patchwork of sticking plaster, was looking at her quietly, letting

her [igure it out for herself. You dont even have a mobile phone, she said, Who doesnt have a mobile phone?

Even your 404 friends had them. No phone, no bankcards, no credit check records, no criminal record. Oh my word, it came not out of reasoning or deduction but as a sudden

burst of insight that made everything click into focus, the only possible explanation, Its you, isnt it? You dont have technology because you dont need it. I dont understand how or why, but its you, youve got some power, some ability, some... Its you. He was smiling at her. Eva Lisiewicz, he said, Born 1979, Queen Charlottes and Chelsea Hospital to Irene

Tobias, of St Kitts, and Mandek Lisiewicz, Polish, unmarried. Police cadet in 1995, CID in 2001, Detective Inspector 2009. When I look at you... he paused, sizing her up, I see ar- mour, but glowing. Something [ierce in a righteous cause. How do you know all that? Sadly, its not just me he said, We are bleeding, all of us, information, a lifetime of

data in endless drops and it can drain us and drown us or it can set us free. People like Pas- teur might have whole new ways of controlling us, imprisoning us, but we have whole new ways to [ight them, he gestured up at the CCTV cameras across the front of the building be- hind them, They may be watching us, but they forget that we are also watching them. ish. You sound like you think you can do something about this. Havent I already? He nodded over her shoulder once more, Lily said it was like I Incidentally, Mandek, your fathers name, Ive just noticed, it means warrior in Pol-

was a wizard, a superhero. She had plans for me. Plans? Like this, like today, he said and suddenly he looked tired and worn out, a thin

young man in a shabby and torn suit. Then he brightened and looked up at her with a smile, Like saving the world.

Saving the world, said Eva, and she looked up at the faceless, shining glass walls of

the Kerberos building behind them, blinking back the chaos of [lashing blue and red lights in the street, monolithic, featureless, Saving the world... yes, maybe we ought to look into that.