Tom saw his own reflection, brow furrowed, eyes wide, staring back at him, and Jack behind him, glowering.

‘I see myself. And you.’

‘And anything else?’

In the far corner of the glass box something was fluttering. Something white and pale. Something that was forming into the shape of a person, black-haired, dark-eyed.

Tom focused fully on the form.

She came to the edge of the structure and tapped, eyes wide. They were separated by a thin sheet of glass. But by how much power?

Zita. It was Zita.

She was trapped. Trapped, inside the glass box. She spoke his name, and he could hear her, although her voice was distorted and came as if from far away.

‘What have you done? Get her out!’ His voice cracked.

‘You touch me, Thomas, with your concern for Zita. You conceive that I am unable to know what you do when I am not here. Alas, you are wrong, indeed you are wrong. I told you she was trouble. I did not know that she would seek to betray me. You found the room with the Captive. I am not so slow nor so stupid.’

Jack grinned his devilish grin, his white sharp teeth showing like a wolf’s.

‘You’re a monster. There’s nothing human left in you!’

‘Some may say so.’ Jack poured himself a small glass of dark wine and sniffed it gently. ‘Delicious port wine. You will not join me?’

Tom shook his head.

‘Others may see what I have done and think me to be a man of genius. None have accomplished what I have. None in all of time past. In all my travels, I have never met one like me, who has conquered time.’ He took a slow sip of port. His eyes gleamed below his white brows, and Tom felt as if the entire world was collapsing around him.

Somehow, he managed to open his mouth, the words falling out in a torrent.

‘It doesn’t make you special. You’ve captured this Samdhya – you’ve captured Kit and Zita. You’ve captured me. You torture them. And who knows what you will do to me!’

‘Kit loved me once. As did Zita. As, one day, may you.’

‘You’ve destroyed Kit. Zita, too. They had lives!’

‘But did you, Tommy boy? Did you have a life? Kicking around that school, wondering what to do with yourself, amongst those dreadful boys. You didn’t feel happy there, did you? And what will you go back to? What does your life offer to you in the future? Some futile task, sitting in some terrible white room, staring into those vile machines?’

Jack was penetrating into Tom’s mind and soul. He knew what was in there. He knew the uncertainty, the fear, the loss, the anxiety. It was true. He had been adrift. For a few days, on Mundham Farm, he had been happy, dancing with Zita, walking the bounds with Kit.