His green eyes flashed in happiness as he embraced the old man. ‘Well met, my son! You meant what you said in the message? You finally got one?’

‘Indeed I have, Greeneye. It has been a long wait, but a Time Lord finally responded to our signal. I had thought that we hadn’t tried enough channels, but⁠ —’

‘Oh, they heard. Those bastards always hear.’ Greeneye glanced at the sky involuntarily. ‘Are you coming with us, then? You’ve waited so long, it’d be a shame if you weren’t there for the kill.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t put it like that.’ The old man frowned. He brightened when he saw the latest arrival stepping from the hopper. It was a child, a girl of ten or so, carrying a balloon. ‘Aphasia, my dear daughter, how are you?’

‘I’m not talking,’ the girl told him. ‘I’m sulking.’

‘I told her she couldn’t…’ Greeneye looked around again, stopping himself. ‘Get up to her usual tricks. But quickly now, have you prepared the tunnel?’

‘All is ready. Are the others here?’

‘We are here!’ a hissing voice emanated from the hopper. A dark figure in a wide-brimmed hat jumped to the ground, and pointed a white glove at the old man. ‘If you have failed, Laylock, I shall make you suffer. You know I shall.’

‘Don’t threaten me, Serif. You wouldn’t harm your own flesh.’

‘Wouldn’t I?’ Serif glanced at Aphasia, a grin twisting his mouth. He would have said something more, but another hopper was approaching. It landed, with a swirl, of soil, and two more figures stepped from it. One was a big, bearded man, carrying a huge backpack and wearing a belt from which hung numerous weapons.

The other was a thin, precise-looking man, his hair neatly backcombed and his cape enclosing an elegant suit.

‘Good,’ he muttered, looking around. ‘We’re all here. Into the tent then, quickly now. We don’t want to attract attention.’

They went into Laylock’s Emporium, as a sign referred to it. Laylock himself remained outside for a moment, glancing about worriedly, before he followed.

Inside, the thin man looked around appreciatively. A polished consultation table, with various computer reference devices atop it, stood at the very centre of the tent, the big roof spar through the middle of it. Brightly coloured canvas avenues led off in all directions, access to the other tents where the real work was done. Gentle music tinkled throughout. ‘Very professional. You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.’

Laylock inclined his head. ‘Thank you, August. I’ve made quite a profit in all this time.’

Serif hissed. ‘That is unimportant. The cover story has been successful, that is all.’