Hepton wasn’t sure, but had taken a chance on Interlock, pressing the number 2 on his keyboard.

Interlock control required. State access password.

And that was where he had so far drawn the blank. He was in, but he wasn’t in. He could speak to the damned computer, but it wouldn’t do what he wanted until he’d found the password. COFFIN had already been used, so it wouldn’t be anything similar. He had an idea.

ZEPHYR

Incorrect password. Please try again.

He sat there staring at the screen. If not ZEPHYR, then what?

‘Try Argos,’ Nick Christopher suggested. Hepton typed in the letters.

Incorrect password. Please try again.

Hepton snarled, then typed in FUCK YOU and pressed the keyboard’s return button.

Fuck you too, 762, came the onscreen reply.

‘I hate computers with an inbuilt sense of humour,’ Christopher commented. Then he touched Hepton’s shoulder. Hepton looked up and saw that a security guard had entered the room. The guard stopped and held a murmured conversation with one of the new controllers. Hepton didn’t like this one bit. He reached around the side of the computer screen and turned the brightness and contrast knobs as low as they would go, blacking out the screen. Then he turned to Christopher. The guard was looking in their direction now.

‘Does that guard know you?’ Hepton whispered.

‘I’ve seen him around,’ Nick said, trying hard not to sound nervous.

‘Yes, but has he seen you around?’

‘We’ve nodded to one another in the corridor.’

‘Does he know your name?’

Nick shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. We’re not that close.’

Hepton’s hand went to his trousers and unclipped the ID badge, slipping it into the pocket. ‘Do you have a name badge?’ he whispered. As well as the official ID, some of the staff owned larger, rectangular badges made from stiffened card and boasting name only. These had been given out at the beginning of the Zephyr project, a stopgap until the proper IDs had been made. But Nick had held onto his, finding its inverted mistake – CHRISTOPHER NICHOLAS – amusing. He reached into his shirt pocket now, brought out the badge and laid it in the palm of Hepton’s hand. Pretending to fuss with his keyboard, Hepton attached the badge prominently to his own shirt.

A moment later, the guard confronted them.

‘Yes?’ Hepton asked imperiously. The guard stared at the name tag, then at Nick, whose face he recognised. He seemed confused, shook his head.

‘Nothing, sorry,’ he said, moving away again. Hepton watched from the corner of his eye as the guard said a few reassuring words to the controller, then left the room. He sighed and turned the screen back on. He was still no further forward. He stared upwards, seeking inspiration, and found himself gazing into the single black lens of a video camera, angled into the room from one corner.

‘Shit!’ he said. ‘I forgot about that.’