‘Promise, no sugar.’

‘Okay then.’

The brass had disappeared, and Fagin with them. Waving them off, probably. Hepton wondered what the weather was like outside. He could check by using the computer, but wouldn’t it be so much nicer just to walk outside and take a look? Sunny, showery, cool, breezy. Inside, the air conditioning kept things temperate, and the lighting was designed specially so as to be bright without giving glare. Same went for the screens. You could stare at them all day without getting a headache, which didn’t stop him succumbing to the occasional migraine. He pushed back into his chair. It, too, had been designed for maximum comfort and minimum stress. He stuck a thumb either side of his spine and pressed, feeling vertebrae click into place.

‘No sugar,’ said Nick Christopher, handing him the beaker.

‘Thanks.’

‘Only another twenty minutes till break.’

‘Thank God.’

‘So what were you saying about Paul?’

‘Oh, just that he’s got some data he wants me to check.’

‘Data?’ Christopher sipped his own coffee. ‘What sort of data?’

‘I don’t know till I’ve looked. Probably nothing important. You know what Paul’s like.’

Christopher smiled. ‘He’s like a kid with a train set.’

‘Exactly,’ said Hepton.

But by the time he wandered across to Paul Vincent’s console, Vincent himself had vanished. Hepton looked at the computer screen. It was blank. He tried coding in, but it remained blank.

‘Temporary fault,’ said Fagin from behind him. ‘Was there something you wanted?’

‘Just checking.’

‘Checking what?’

‘Oh, you know …’

‘Well you won’t get much joy. Part of the disk’s been wiped.’

‘You mean the hard disk?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because of the malfunction?’

‘Or more likely Vincent’s panicking.’ Fagin had it in for Paul Vincent, everybody knew that. It was whispered that Paul reminded him too much of his own son, who had left home at seventeen and never returned.

‘Where is Vincent, by the way?’

Fagin shrugged. ‘I don’t know. The little boys’ room perhaps.’

‘What happened back there?’

Fagin seemed to think about this. ‘I’m just glad we got her back,’ he said at last. ‘We’ll find out eventually.’

‘It wasn’t a test then, to impress our friends?’

‘Friends?’

‘Those two generals.’

‘Not at all. What makes you say that?’

‘Oh, they just seemed to be timing our response, that’s all. And they looked fairly happy with the outcome.’

‘Nobody likes to lose a satellite, Martin.’

‘Of course not, sir. If you’ll excuse me, it’s almost my break. I think I’ll try to find Paul.’

‘Fine.’ Fagin was picking up the internal telephone, pushing buttons. The panic was over; things had to go on.