Toad had had the simple but brilliant notion of bringing three slender spars of wood, an inch thick, to act as temporary buffers, and he laid these across the top of the base unit so that we could lower the top on to them without letting it touch the metal beneath until we were ready. Then, while Pavarotti and I held up one end of the top component, he withdrew the bars one at a time and we lowered away the last inch. As we stood back, he quickly went to work inserting six stainless-steel bolts – one at each corner, one half-way up each long side – and carefully screwed them down with a ratchet-handled socket spanner. Then he plugged one of the two black co-ax cables into the lower half of the package and locked it in position, using an Allen key to turn the sunken nut.

As he took hold of the second wire, I said, ‘Listen, Toad. Are you quite certain this fucking thing isn’t going to go?’

‘Don’t worry,’ he replied, not even looking up. ‘My instinct for self-preservation’s as good as yours.’

In went the end of the wire. Again he tightened a nut down.

‘OK to cover up?’ I asked.

‘Hold on. I need to check.’

Once more he put on his headphones, lifted a small flap at the bottom corner of the device and plugged in the lead from a control box slung across his stomach. For a minute or two Pav and I waited, running with sweat, itching with the grit that had worked its way down the necks of our shirts. My anxiety about possible premature detonation wouldn’t die down. I could only hope to hell Toad knew what he was doing. Glancing sideways at Pavarotti, I could see him thinking the same.

At last that sly, secret smile stole back on to Toad’s face.

‘What’s happening?’

‘I can hear it.’

‘What?’

‘It’s talking to us.’

‘What is, for fuck’s sake?’

‘The satellite.’

‘Jesus! What’s it saying?’

‘I don’t know. I just recognise the signal they gave me. Listen.’

He pulled off the headphones and handed them to me. All I got was a distant chirruping and beeping that rose and fell.

‘How far up is the satellite?’

‘Twenty-two thousand five hundred miles.’

I handed the set back and said, ‘OK to cover up, then?’

Toad nodded and began to pack up his tools.