Mr. Philip told me about that, Miss Juliet. It's a grand idea. He said it was your suggestion.

Certainly was, boy. She's an Evans, through and through. And we don't do anything by halves. No sir.

I wonder who's in that tower, Royan asked.

Someone big, Julia said. Someone important, important enough to make Kendric visit him, not the other way round. And if you knew Kendric like I do, you'd know how few people in the world would be granted that concession.

The first instance of sensation invaded their private universe, an electric tingle reminding her of far-off nerves. Julia looked down on the mill, judging it with the dispassion of some Olympian goddess.

Could it really be? Philip asked.

There was never any body, said Royan. Never any real proof. Not even Mindstar knew.

We'd have to hurry. The timing is tight, very tight.

No, Julia said, bold with conviction. The timing is perfect.

Synchronised.

Gabriel? Philip enquired.

I expect so, she said. Whatever the reason, we cannot ignore this opportunity.

I agree, said Royan.

That makes it unanimous, then. Access the Ordnance Survey's memory core and download that mill's co-ords, m'boy, accurate as you can get. We've only got the one satellite uplink left after your friends came a-knocking. I would've preferred to keep watching Wisbech, just in case we need to update. But we'll simply have to make do.

You're lucky you've still got that one. Father is efficient.

Julia's awareness shifted as the thematic image faded. She was plugged directly into Wilholm's myriad gear systems, a bright-glowing three-dimensional cobweb of data channels. New strands were coming on-line at a phenomenal rate as the antithesis poured through it, purging the virus.

A quick status check showed her that there were only three functional servos out of the eight which steered Wilholm's one remaining satellite dish. Accelerated time stretched for what seemed like aeons as the dish swivelled round on its axis to point at the western horizon. Her grandfather had overridden the servos' safety limiters, allowing them to take a double load. Temperature sensors relayed the heat from overloaded motors straight into her medulla, interpreted as scalding hands.

Sorry, Juliet.

Her pain vanished.

The dish's rotation halted, smaller azimuth servos began tracking it across the sky.

Co-ords ready for loading, Mr. Philip. Got them down to half a metre.

Anything within three hundred metres would be enough, Julia said.

Don't brag so, girl, Philip said as he loaded the figures into an OtherEyes personality package. But a sliver of pride escaped from his thoughts.

So, that just leaves the reactivation code. Juliet, your honour.

She allowed herself one moment of supremely self-indulgent satisfaction.

Access AvengingAngel. The long string of binary digits emerged from her nodes to hang between the three of them. Her grandfather integrated it into the OtherEyes personality package. The completed data construct squirted into the dish transmitter, streaming upwards at light-speed.

This time, you bastard, this time I'll get you.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE