'Not a chance. I want the real Landen or none at all.'

'You won't know the difference. Take my hand – I won't offer it again.'

'No deal.'

'Then,' he said slowly, 'it is goodbye.'

I saw something out of the corner of my eye and moved quickly to my right. A pickaxe handle glanced off my shoulder and struck the carpet. It was Uriah Hope. No wonder Tweed hadn't seemed that worried. I rolled off Tweed and dodged Uriah's next blow, pushing myself backwards along the carpet in my haste to get away. He swung again and shattered a desk, wedging the handle in the wood and struggling with it long enough for me to get to my feet and raise my gun. I wasn't quick enough and he knocked it from my grasp; I ducked the next blow and ran back towards where Tweed was starting to get up. He hooked my ankle and I came crashing down heavily. I rolled on to my back as Uriah jumped towards me with a wild cry. I put out a foot, caught him on the chest and heaved. His momentum carried him over on to the pile of dictionaries – and the mispeling vyrus. Tweed tried to grab me but I was off and running down the corridor as the DanverClones began to stir.

'Kill her!' screamed Tweed, and the Danvers started to move rapidly towards me. I took my TravelBook from my pocket, opened it at the right page and stopped dead, right in the middle of the corridor. I couldn't out-run them but I could out-read them. As I jumped out I could feel the bony fingers of the Danvers clutching my rapidly vanishing form.

I jumped clean into Norland Park. Past the striking nursery characters and the frog-faced doorman to appear a little too suddenly in the Jurisfiction offices. I ran straight into the Red Queen, who collapsed and in turn knocked over Benedict and the Bellman. I quickly grabbed Benedict's pistol in case Tweed or Hope arrived ready for action and was consequently attacked from an unexpected quarter. Mistaking my intentions, the Red Queen grabbed my gun arm and twisted it around behind me while Benedict tackled me round the waist and pulled me down, yelling:

'Gun! Protect the Bellman!'

'Wait!' I shouted. 'There's a problem with UltraWord™!'

'What do you mean?' demanded the Bellman when I had surrendered the gun. 'Is this some sort of joke?'

'No joke,' I replied. 'It's Tweed—'

'Don't listen to her!' shouted Tweed, who had just appeared. 'She is an ambitious murderer who will stop at nothing to get what she wants!'

The Bellman looked at us both in turn.

'You have proof of this, Harris?'

'Oh yes.' He smiled. 'More proof than you'll ever need. Heep, bring it in.'