“I don’t know if this qualifies,” Strange said suddenly. “But I’m picking up a new report just coming in to the War Room. It seems to be saying we have a definite location for a large gathering of Loathly Ones.”

We all stood up straighter and looked at each other. Reports had been coming in for some time now that the Loathly Ones had been gathering together in unusual numbers, somewhere down in South America.

“Where?” I said.

“The Nazca Plain,” said Strange. “You know, that place where they have all the big lines dug into the ground, that make up shapes you can only see clearly from orbit, or something. Von Däniken said they were really landing pads for spaceships, in his Chariots of the Gods.”

“Hold everything,” said Molly. “You’ve read von Däniken?”

“Oh, sure!” said Strange. “I love a good laugh.”

So we all trooped straight down to the War Room, carefully not hurrying too much so as not to draw attention to ourselves. The family watched everything the Inner Circle did with great interest, and they did so love to gossip. If we were about to launch our first big attack, I didn’t want the information getting out in advance. The staff in the War Room was more than a bit surprised to see us, as the report on the Loathly Ones was still coming in from our agent in the field, one Callan Drood. We had hardly any agents out in the world at the moment, as it was hard to get anyone to volunteer without the protection of a torc. The Droods have a lot of enemies. Luckily, some of the younger members of the family were keen to prove themselves, and hopefully fast-track themselves for one of the new torcs.

I knew Callan. I’d been impressed by his attitude, and his thoroughness, when I found out he led the team searching through Truman’s old stamping ground under London. I suggested he might like to volunteer for field work, and he jumped at the chance. Though of course he had to be sarcastic and opinionated about it, so he could pretend he’d been talked into it against his better judgement. He didn’t want anyone to think he was a pushover. So I smiled, and sent him to South America. And now he’d been the one to find the Loathly Ones for us.

All the way down in South America. What the hell were they doing in South America?

Callan’s face filled one of the main display screens. He didn’t look too happy about things, but then he never did. His young, broad face was sunburned, his thin blond hair was plastered to his skull, and the sweat was dripping off him. All I could see in the background was a tall bluff face of some dark sandstone, and a sky so blue it was almost painful to the eye.