“You’re risking your life for her.”

“I’m only doing it because Hijo pissed me off.” Petrovitch took one last look around. “Thanks for letting me keep the coat, but I’m done here. North it is.”

He got as far as the white line when the speakers chimed, three rising notes.

“Warning. Warning. Warning. New machine jihad. Warning. Warning. Warning. New machine jihad.” The voice was a woman’s, very proper, very English.

A dull concussion drifted across the city, and Chain’s attention was diverted. But not Petrovitch’s.

“What does this mean?” he called. When Chain threw up his hands, he came back. “You’re supposed to know these things!”

“It’s a radiation warning system. Someone in the control center presses the button when there’s a warning of radiation, not a…”

“Warning. Warning. Warning. New machine jihad.”

“One of those. I don’t know what a new machine jihad is. I’ve never heard of one, and I don’t know why I should be worried about it when someone—other than us—is using explosives in the central Metrozone.”

The alert was played twice more, then stopped. The clicking returned.

Marchenkho twitched his mustache. “No matter. The tower has fallen, but if we are to destroy Oshicora’s organization utterly, we must strike now. We will crush our enemies while they are still reeling from their losses. Our success depends on our speed.”

Chain coughed politely. “Can we talk about this for a minute?”

“Talk? I thought you wanted this, Harry Chain.” Marchenkho clapped his hands and called for order. Drivers started their engines and their passengers climbed in. “There is no time, no point to talk anymore. Petrovitch, are you going to go and search for the girl?”

“Yes. Yes I am,” said Petrovitch. “I think I know where to start looking.”

“If I hear something—something other than the sounds of our glorious victory—I will try and get word to you.” Marchenkho’s brows furrowed as he turned to look in the direction of Regent’s Park.

“Yeah. Thanks, Marchenkho. You might be an unreconstructed Stalinist, but you’re okay.”

“I will probably still have to kill you,” he said, laughing, “but not today. For now, do svidanija.” He climbed into his Zil, and even before the door closed, it was pulling away.

“Everyone seems to be leaving, Chain.” He checked the safety on the Norinco. He didn’t want to shoot his foot off by accident. “And I’m pretty certain you need to be going too. The Metrozone needs you, as terrifying as the idea might be.”

“Warning. Warning. Warning. New machine jihad.”

Petrovitch stumbled as he walked away, and had to use a lamp-post to catch himself. He hadn’t imagined it. He’d heard those words before. He knew where to get the answer as to what fresh hell it meant.

He ran, with Chain’s unanswered questions shouted after him.