'We will not survive,' said Stig in a matter-of-fact tone. 'Too many of them, not enough of us. We suggest a different strategy.'

'And that is?'

Stig was momentarily lost for words.

'We do not know. Just different.'

The chimeras slavered and emitted low moans as they moved closer. Each one was a kaleidoscope of varying body parts, as though their creators had been indulging in some sort of perverse genetic mix-and-match one-upmanship.

'When I count to three rev up and drop the clutch,' I instructed Bowden. 'The rest of you open up with everything we've got.' I handed Bowden's gun to Floss. 'Know how to use one of these?'

He nodded and flipped off the safety.

'One . . . Two . . .'

I stopped counting because a cry from the woods had startled the chimeras. Those that had ears pricked them up, paused, then began to depart in fright. It wasn't an occasion for relief. Chimeras are bad but something that frightened chimeras could only be worse. We heard the cry again.

'It sounds human,' murmured Bowden.

'How human?' added Millon.

There followed several more cries from more than one individual, and as the last of the terrified chimeras vanished into the undergrowth I breathed a sigh of relief. A group of men appeared out of the brush to our right. They were all extremely short and wore the faded and tattered uniform of what appeared to be the French army. Some wore shabby cockaded hats, others had no jackets at all and some only a dirty white linen shirt. My relief was short-lived. They stood at the edge of the forest and regarded us suspiciously, heavy cudgels in their hands.

'Qu'est-ce que c'est?' said one, pointing at us.

'Anglais?' said another.

'Les rosbifs? Ici, en France?' said a third in a shocked tone.

'Non, ce n'est pas possible!'

It didn't take a genius to figure out who they were.

'A gang of Napoleons,' hissed Bowden. 'Looks like Goliath weren't just trying to eternalise the Bard. The military potential of cloning a Napoleon in his prime would be considerable.'

The Napoleons stared at us for a moment and then talked among themselves in low tones, had an argument, gesticulated wildly, raised their voices and generally disagreed with one another.

'Let's go,' I whispered to Bowden.