Tunnels 03, Freefall

was probably--
    "Tant... Tant... Tantrum!" Mrs. Burrows choked as she struggled to recall her name.
    "Say again," Drake crackled in her ear. "What did you--?"
    3:13
    "Con... CONTACT!" Mrs. Burrows managed to scream a the top of her lungs.
    Black-clothed soldiers leapt up from their positions all around the base of the hill.
    "Come on, man!" Drake shouted as one of the soldiers fumbled to open the rear doors of the van. Leatherman stepped in. He heaved the soldier aside to get at the handle himself, but precious seconds had been lost.
    "Fools!" Oscar Embers exclaimed as he pressed a button on the top of the trolley, smiling.
    A low tone cut through the air, quickly building in volume.
    With Drake's frantic voice in her ear, Mrs. Burrows braced herself. Her first thought was that there was going to be an explosion -- it had to be some sort of bomb in that trolley. Her second thought was that she was too close to escape the blast.
    She was done for.
    As it grew so loud that Mrs. Burrows' teeth were vibrating, the tone dropped an octave, then another, then several more, until it couldn't even be heard as a rumble. Her eyes rolled up into her head as she had the sensation that a knife was being dragged down her spinal cord, making each of her limbs twitch uncontrollably. The sound, beyond the limits of human hearing, was unbearable.
    Then Oscar Embers hit another button.
    The fabric panels on the sides of the trolley were blown off, revealing a chunk of machinery underneath. Its sides were gloss black, although inset with concave dish-like hollows of varying sizes that appeared silvery, like liquid mercury.
    There had been an explosion, but not one that Drake or the soldiers would have recognized.
    Mrs. Burrows was flung unconscious to the ground. A concussive wave had been thrown out by the device, and invisible wall of sub-audible sound that only affected living things.
    To a man, the soldiers that had emerged from the dug-outs were dropped where they stood. The woman and her Afghan hounds were knocked insensible. The two teenagers reading their books simply keeled over on their traveling rug. A small flock of starlings landed around them, caught by the pulse of sound as it radiated skywards.
    The few occupants of the houses in
    Broadlands Avenue
    at that time of day were similarly affected, collapsing to the floor. And a number of cars within the blast radius either came to a halt or drifted into parked vehicles at the side of the road as their drivers blacked out.
    Unable to get the doors open in time, Drake, Leatherman and the two soldiers lay slumped in a tangle of limbs in the back of the van.
    "Enough," the old Styx ordered as he appeared on the top of the hill beside Oscar Embers and Mrs. Tantrumi. Oscar Embers turned the device off. "Get clear before the Topsoil police arrive," the old Styx ordered as he yanked his earplugs out. There was no need for them now.
    His black ankle-length leather coat creaked as he stepped over to where Mrs. Burrows lay in a crumpled heap on the ground. But he didn't pay attention to her, instead watching the Styx Limiters scuttling out over the areas below like a swarm of cockroaches. Then, as a pair of Limiters ran up the hill towards him, he waved them over to Mrs. Burrows. She was out cold, her head hanging forward on her chest as they hoisted her up between them.
    "Wait," he barked. "Search her."
    One of the Limiters found the pair of phials in her pocket and held them up so the old Styx could see. He nodded. "Good. Get them tested, and take her to the Hold." Then he walked around the water fountain, monitoring his men's progress as they dragged away the unconscious soldiers. Other Limiters were kicking up the earth around the dug-outs where the soldiers had been hiding, and removing the surveillance cameras from the trees. No trace of the operation would be left by the time they had finished.
    Returning to the south side of the hill, the old Styx peered down at the van by the entrance to the Common -- the Limiters hadn't gotten to it yet but the rear doors seemed to be open. He was sure that they had been shut before the weapon had been powered down.
    Something wasn't right.
    And as he watched he could have sworn that he caught a fleeting glimpse of a tall, thin figure by the van -- it certainly looked like one of his own people, but it was wearing black. He frowned.
    That couldn't be.
    He was the only Styx there that afternoon not in Limiter combat uniform.
    He began to hurry