Scorpia

had the answer. Disconnect the dishes. Do it before the platform reached one hundred metres. Do it before Nile arrived. How much time did he have? Very briefly he considered somehow unfastening the rope that Nile was climbing. But even if it was possible, he would never be able to bring himself to do it, to kill someone in such a cold-blooded way. Anyway, it would take too long. No. The four twinkling lights were his targets. Somehow he had to turn them off.
    He got unsteadily to his feet and took a small step, the platform swaying slightly beneath him. For a moment he was afraid. Was the platform even designed to hold his weight? Move too fast and it might tip up and throw him off. He grimaced and edged forward. Apart from the hiss of the gas feeding the flame, the hot-air balloon was absolutely silent. Somewhere inside him, Alex wished he could simply sit back and enjoy the ride. The majestic envelope, soaring into the sky. The views of London. But he had perhaps less than a minute before Nile got there. And how long until the balloon reached the right height?
    Eighty-three … eighty-four…
    God. It was like being back in Murmansk again. Another digital counter, though that one had been going down, not up, and it had been attached to anuclear bomb. Why him? Alex fell to his knees and reached out for the first of the cables.
    He quickly examined it. It was thick, attached to the master control by a solid-looking socket. He tried unscrewing it but it didn’t budge. He would have to tear it out, and in such a way that it would be impossible to reconnect. His hand closed around the cable and he pulled with all his might. Nothing happened. The connections were too strong: metal screwed into metal. And the cables themselves were too thick. He needed a knife or a pair of scissors; he had nothing.
    Alex leant back and pressed his foot against the metal box. He strained, still gripping the cable, using his whole body weight. The balloon was still rising. A wisp of cloud slid past – or maybe it was smoke from the fight below. Alex swore through gritted teeth, his entire consciousness focused on the cable and its connection.
    And suddenly it came free. Alex felt the cable tear. He fell back, his head slamming into the platform railing. Ignoring the new pain, he dragged himself back up. He could see the separate ends – the severed wires – sprouting out of his hands. There were deep welts in his palms, and he had hurt his head. But when he looked, he saw that one of the yellow lights had blinked out. One of the dishes was no longer functioning.
    Ninety-three … ninety-four…
    There were three left. And Alex knew he didn’thave enough time to disconnect them all.
    Even so, he lunged forward and grabbed hold of the second. What else could he do? Once again he pressed the flats of his feet against the side of the box. He took a deep breath …
    … and something flashed in the corner of his eye. Instinctively Alex threw himself sideways. The samurai sword, half a metre long, sliced the air so close to his face that he felt it. He realized that it had been aimed at his throat. But for the sun reflecting off the blade, he would have been killed.
    Nile had reached the platform. He was standing in the corner, holding the railing. There had been two swords strapped to his back – he had thrown only one of them. Now he reached for the other. Alex was lying flat. He couldn’t move. There wasn’t enough room to do anything. He was an easy target, wedged between the metal boxes and the side of the platform. Above him the flame burned, carrying the balloon the last few metres.
    Ninety-seven … ninety-eight … ninety-nine …
    The digital display flickered to the final figure. There was a buzzing sound inside the master control and the lights on the three remaining connected boxes changed from yellow to red. The system had been activated. Terahertz signals were being beamed all over London.
    Alex knew that inside him, in his very heart, the golden nanoshells had begun to break up.
    Nile unsheathed the second sword.
    * * *
    Inside the church Mrs Rothman was beginning to realize that the battle was lost. Her men had fought well and they outnumbered the enemy – but they were simply outclassed. There had been many casualties and two more SAS units had arrived, providing back-up for the first.
    She could see the fighting outside. Everything was being relayed to her by a series of hidden cameras. It was right in front of her on