‘Straws to clutch at,’ muttered Hepton. He turned to the back and found zephyr. ‘“The west wind”,’ he read aloud, ‘“gentle breeze, the god of the west wind”.’ He closed the dictionary and handed it back, then turned to his keyboard. The west wind. Well, what the hell. He started to type.

WEST WIND. Then the return key.

There was a pause, and he held his breath, then: Incorrect password. Please try again.

Nick Christopher cursed quietly, but Hepton was staring at the screen. There had been a pause, a very slight pause, before the computer had responded. As though it were checking … As though it weren’t sure. He typed again, his fingers solid on each plastic key.

WESTWIND. This time with no space. Then the return.

There was another pause, if anything longer than the first, then the screen kicked into life.

Welcome to interlock option on interphase. Do you wish to:

1. Change interlock coding?

2. Enter interlock program?

3. Check interlock co-ordinates?

4. Oversee interlock?

5. Disengage interlock?

Nick Christopher sucked in air and leaned lower towards the screen. ‘You’ve done it!’ he gasped.

Hepton almost leapt out of his chair, but gripped its arms with his hands instead. Yes, he was in! He was right there in the nerve centre of the American satellite! He wondered if someone somewhere in a tracking station in the US was watching a screen and beginning to worry. He hoped so. Because he was going to give them a show.

Christopher slapped his back. ‘You clever sod,’ he whispered, his voice trembling. ‘You’ve actually done it.’

‘Now watch this,’ said Hepton. But Nick’s attention had switched to something else. He was looking over towards the far door, his antennae twitching.

‘She’s new,’ he said. ‘Must be part of the skeleton crew. A bit tasty for a skeleton, though. No, wait a second, I’ve seen her before …’

Hepton, curious, looked up for a moment from his screen and saw Harry standing just inside the far door, holding it open as her eyes swept the room. She seemed to be carrying a plastic bag.

He froze momentarily, watching her. ‘She’s the one who’s been trying to kill me,’ he stated, his voice cool. Then he concentrated on the screen again. Any second now she would see him. And she would kill him. But he had so little time left anyway, so little time to crack the whole COFFIN thing wide open. And what a foul stench he’d release. So rotten and pungent that no one could ignore it any longer. It didn’t matter if he died right here and now, just so long as he wrecked their plans.

‘Hello, Martin.’