'They're copies of a playwright named William Shakes—'

'We know of Shakespeare, Mr Cable,' interrupted Stig. 'We are particularly fond of Caliban from The Tempest. This is a deep recovery job. Brought back from a piece of dried skin or a hair in a death mask or something.'

'When and where, Stig?'

He thought for a moment.

'They were probably built in the mid-thirties,' he announced. 'At the time there were perhaps only ten biolabs in the world that could have done this. We think we can safely say we are looking at one of the three biggest genetic engineering labs in England.'

'Not possible,' said Bowden. 'The manufacturing records of York, Bognor Regis and Scunthorpe are in the public domain; it would be inconceivable that a project of this magnitude could have been kept secret.'

'And yet they exist,' replied Stig, pointing to the corpses and bringing Bowden's argument to a rapid close. 'Do you have the genome logs and trace element spectroscopic evaluations?' he added. 'More careful study might reveal something.'

'That's not standard autopsy procedure,' replied Rumplunkett. 'I have my budget to think of'

'If you do a molar cross-section as well we will donate our body to this department when we die.'

'I'll do them for you while you wait,' said Mr Rumplunkett.

Stig turned back to us.

'We'll need forty-eight hours to have a look at them – shall we meet again at my house? We would be honoured by your presence.'

He looked me in the eye. He would know if I lied.

'I'd like that very much.'

'We, too. Wednesday at midday?'

'I'll be there.'

The Neanderthal raised his hat, gave a small grunt and moved off.

'Well,' said Bowden as soon as Stig was out of earshot, 'I hope you like eating beetles and dock leaves.'

'You and me both, Bowden – you're coming too. If he wanted me and me alone, he would have asked me in private – but I'm sure he'll make something more palatable for us.'

I frowned as we walked blinking back out into the sunlight.

'Bowden?'

'Yup?'

'Did Stig say anything that seemed unusual to you?'

'Not really. Do you want to hear my plans for infil—'

Bowden stopped talking in mid-sentence as the world ground to a halt. Time had ceased to exist. I was trapped between one moment and the next. It could only be my father.

'Hello, Sweetpea,' he said cheerfully, giving me a hug, 'how did the Superhoop turn out?'

'That's next Saturday.'

'Oh!' he said, looking at his watch and frowning. 'You won't let me down, will you?'

'How will I not let you down? What's the connection between the Superhoop and Kaine?'

'I can't tell you. Events must unfold naturally or there'll be hell to pay. You'll just have to trust me.'

'Did you come all this way just to not tell me anything?'

'Not at all. It's a Trafalgar thing. I've been trying all sorts of plans but Nelson stubbornly resists surviving. I think I've figured it out, but I need your help.'