‘About what?’

‘That camera.’ Its red light was on, too. There was no doubt about it: it was beaming his picture back to security. Perhaps he had even less time than he had thought. He stared around the room. Two controllers were laughing over a photo in the newspaper …

Newspaper!

‘Nick,’ he said, ‘do you still do those crosswords?’

‘Yes, why?’ Nick Christopher sounded scared: he had an inkling now that this was all very serious after all.

‘Got a thesaurus?’

‘Sure. Stay there.’ As if Hepton were going to leave! A moment later, he returned with a large paperback book.

‘Look up zephyr for me,’ Hepton ordered.

Christopher started flipping through pages. ‘Why zephyr?’ he asked.

‘Because I don’t suppose Argos will be in there, and we’ve already used coffin.’

‘Okay.’ Christopher had found zephyr in the index, and now sought the correct section. ‘Three-five-two,’ he said to himself. ‘Right, here we are.’ He held open the book, his hands tense, as though he might at any moment tear the pages in half.

‘Start at the top,’ commanded Hepton.

‘“Breeze”,’ Christopher read.

Hepton typed the word in: incorrect.

‘“Breath of air”.’

Hepton was dubious, but typed it anyway: incorrect.

‘Next,’ he said.

‘“Waft”, “whiff”, “puff”, “gust” …’

Hepton entered all four individually: incorrect.

‘Damn this thing!’ he cursed.

One of the older operatives came up to the console.

‘Hi, Martin,’ he said. ‘What happened to the holiday?’

‘Just clearing things up, Gary,’ Hepton said, his grin as tight as a rictus.

Gary took a look at the screen.

‘It’s a game,’ said Christopher grimly. Gary sensed that he wasn’t wanted.

‘That’s nice,’ he said, moving away. Hepton watched him go.

‘Next,’ he said.

Christopher had lost his place. There was a pause while he found it.

‘Next!’ Hepton hissed.

‘Jesus, Martin, I’m doing my best. Hold on, here we are. “Capful of wind”.’

Hepton stared at him, saw he was serious and shook his head. Then tapped the letters in anyway. Incorrect.

‘“Light breeze”, “fresh breeze”, “stiff breeze”,’ Christopher concluded, closing the book with a thump.

‘That’s it?’ Hepton asked.

‘That’s it.’

‘Okay.’ Hepton thought hard, seeking another way.

‘What about a dictionary?’ Christopher suggested.

Hepton nodded vigorously, then, while the large red book was being fetched, rubbed at his aching temples. Time was rushing by. Soon he would run out of his online allocation, and the satellite’s computer would warn its guardians that someone was attempting to tamper with it. They would try to shut him down right then … that was supposing security didn’t get to him first.

‘Here you go.’

Hepton took the book. There was a mark on the cover where Nick’s palm had left some sweat.

‘What are you looking for?’ Christopher asked.