I pointed the way and Bradshaw took the lead. I pulled out my gun, despite Bradshaw's assurances that it was a waste of time, and he gently pushed open the door to the vault beneath the old hall. Snell snapped on a torch and flicked the beam into the chamber. The door to the minotaur's cage was open but of the beast there was no sign. I wish I could have said the same for Perkins. He – or what was left of him – was lying on the stone floor. The minotaur had devoured him up to his chest. His spine had been picked clean and the lower part of a leg had been thrown to one side. I choked at the sight and felt a knot rise in my throat. Bradshaw cursed and turned to cover the doorway. Snell dropped to his knees to close Perkins' eyes, which were staring off into space, a look of fear still etched upon his features. Miss Havisham laid a hand on Snell's shoulder.

'I'm so sorry, Akrid. Perkins was a good man.'

'I can't believe he would have been so stupid,' muttered Snell angrily.

'We should be leaving,' said Bradshaw. 'Now we know there is definitely a minotaur loose, we must come back better armed and with more agents!'

Snell got up. Behind his MV mask I could see tears in his eyes. Miss Havisham looked at me and pointed to her carrot, which had started to sprout feathers. A proper clean-up gang would be needed. Snell placed his jacket over Perkins and joined us as Bradshaw led the way out.

'Back to Norland, yes?'

'I've hunted minotaur before,' said Bradshaw, his instincts alerted. 'Tsaritsyn, 1944. They never stray far from the kill.'

'Bradshaw—!' urged Miss Havisham, but the commander wasn't the sort to take orders from another, not even someone as forthright as Havisham.

'I don't get it,' murmured Snell, stopping for a moment and staring at the chaos within the laboratory and the small glob of purple mist on the floor. 'There just isn't enough vyrus here to cause the problems we've seen.'

'What are you saying?' I asked.

Bradshaw looked carefully out of the open door, indicated all was clear and beckoned for us to leave.

'There might be some more vyrus around,' continued Snell. 'What's in this cupboard?'

He strode towards a small wooden cabinet that had telephone directory pages pasted all over it.

'Wait!' said Bradshaw, striding from the other side of the room. 'Let me.'

He grasped the handle as a thought struck me. They weren't telephone directory pages, they were from a dictionary. The door was shielded.

I shouted but it was too late. Bradshaw opened the cupboard and was bathed in a faint purple light. The cabinet contained two dozen or so broken jars, all of which leaked the pestilential vyrus.