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'Are they a natural feature?' A male voice crackled from the Command Module. The sound was becoming as erratic as the pictures - Michaels couldn't even identify the speaker for certain.

'Good question. What do we think?'

The four astronauts stepped forward, right to the edge of the abyss. They looked across at the spires and then back to each other. Andi, Bob and Campbell all shook their heads.

'Negative,' Michaels stated, 'These are artificial in origin.'

'Is that ice in there?' Bob asked. Michaels checked his wrist monitor. It was cool in here, with no atmospheric water vapour.

'There's so little water on Mars, how could it be ice?' Campbell objected, bringing a torch beam to bear on the nearest spire.

There was a shape inside, a humanoid shape.

***

Eve checked her make-up and hair in the mirror.

'OK Alan?'

'Sure,' her cameraman grunted. 'Ready to rol .'

'Do I pass muster?' Lord Greyhaven asked. He was the picture of English elegance in a single-breasted suit with a silk tie and matching handkerchief. There was something classy about a man that had over a bil ion dollars but didn't feel the need to exude wealth.

Not that he'd got his money because his great granddad was at Agincourt. While she was researching this story, Eve had often seen footage of Edward Greyhaven, then a fortysomething politician with a black quiff and some very sharp suits. He'd managed to get the Treasury to pour money into R&D back then, and the British had led the world in the field of pure research. Every month he'd open some new project that promised to revolutionise the way people lived their lives. Not all of them had failed, either. If only the rest of British industry had been in a state to exploit all that new technology. Greyhaven had made his fortune as a consultant after he'd left office. Twenty years on, he looked more distinguished, but there was still a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

'You look good. Er ... before we start, I've got a question. How - ?'

'You can cal me Teddy, or Edward if that's too informal.'

Eve was caught out, something that rarely happened. 'How did you know that's what I was going to ask?'

'I've been interviewed by Americans before, Mrs Waugh. You don't have to address me as "Your Lordship". And my name is spelt with an ‘e’, not an ‘a’.'

'You don't have to cal me "Mrs". I'm not married.'

'I'm afraid that I am,' he replied, chuckling. 'Is this your first time in London?'

'No. Who's doing this interview, me or you? It's the second time this year. I covered the general election. No need to ask you about the result.'

Greyhaven smiled. He had flourished regardless of which group of politicians happened to be in charge. 'Which hotel are you in?'

She told him. He brightened. 'Oh yes, an excellent place. If you're eating in the restaurant there, I recommend the lamb. If not, try the Thai place around the corner.'

'Thank you. Shal we begin? Ready Alan?'

'Still ready.'

***

The picture on the screen at London showed the three astronauts venturing towards the archway, their torch beams coming on and leaving streaks of light across the Martian landscape. These were five-minute old pictures.

'I must ask you al to leave.'

The Doctor turned his attention away from the screen for just a second. The large young men wore black wool suits that might have been tailor-made to make them look like secret service agents. There were only three people left in the observation bay now: Bambera, Bernice and the Doctor himself. They'd sent three men to get them out.

Each guard picked a target and began to advance.

30

With a couple of seconds before the guard reached him, the Doctor turned back to the screen. The astronaut with the camera followed his colleagues into the tunnel, and the picture became darker, more grainy.

The Doctor was grabbed from behind, and pul ed away from the window. The giant screen lurched out of view.

Benny was kicking and shouting, trying to wriggle free.

Bambera was more calm,