‘Yes, for the moment perhaps. But everyone around you seems ever so slightly agitated. I shouldn’t think your safety here could be guaranteed for much longer. What do you say?’

‘You mean I can leave?’

‘Well of course you can leave. Nobody’s been forcing you to stay.’

Dreyfuss groaned.

‘Unless, of course,’ Parfit said, ‘they got you to sign any papers.’

‘What kind of papers?’

‘Papers committing yourself to their care?’

‘I haven’t signed anything.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Positive.’

‘Very well then. I’ll just make a few arrangements, and then we’ll have you out of here.’

‘Have you told them I’m leaving?’

‘Who?’ Parfit seemed amused. ‘Esterhazy and Stewart? Good Lord, it’s not up to them, is it? It’s up to the doctors and the hospital administrator. I foresee no problem.’

‘They won’t be very happy.’

If anything, Parfit’s smile broadened. ‘No,’ he said, ‘no, they won’t, will they?’

He was about to leave, but Dreyfuss stopped him.

‘One question, Parfit,’ he said.

‘Yes?’

‘What took you so long to get here?’

‘We’ll talk about that elsewhere,’ Parfit said, looking around the room. His meaning was clear: walls really do have ears. Dreyfuss nodded. Parfit again turned to leave.

‘Parfit?’

‘Yes, Major Dreyfuss?’

Dreyfuss was smiling too. ‘It’s nice to see you again,’ he said.

12

Cam Devereux arrived at London’s Heathrow Airport desperately tired and in need of the vacation this was supposed to be. His cotton sports shirt was sticking to him, and his scalp tingled as he ran his hands over his thinning hair. He was so tired. But how could he rest? His mind felt inflamed. How could he stop himself replaying events, seeing that stranger arrive at the ground base control room? Seeing the stranger given an office of his own and a console, ignoring the curious looks of the other controllers? Seeing Argos itself gliding erratically towards earth, flailing across the runway …?