It was mid afternoon before the workmen finished clearing off the helicopter landing pad, and the nobles had returned to stare dismally down at it.

"No door," said Baron Hardy, pulling his long coat closer around himself against the strengthening wind. "Just a single, smooth expanse of devil rock."

"You have my apology, as I promised you would," said Randall to Duke Latimer. "The elevator will be over there, then."

They all followed him as he led the way to another spot fifty metres away. "Somewhere around here," he said. "There was a large building here once, the size of your mansion. Somewhere under it is the shaft leading down to the vault, but above it will be a layer of bricks and rubble. All that's left of the building. It'll all have to be cleared away."

"Why wasn't it also made of devil rock?" asked Baron Hardy. "Why isn't the building still standing today?"

"They say that the weapons of the Old Ones were powerful beyond belief," said Randall. "Not even devil rock could withstand them. And any building that was still standing was destroyed by VIX and his angels when they cleansed the Earth. We are simply fortunate that VIX didn't know about the underground vault."

"Maybe He did know about it and He destroyed it as well."

Randall shrugged his shoulders. "I guess we'll know soon enough," he said.

"Well, then the sooner we start, the sooner we finish," said Duke Latimer. He beckoned the workmen over and once again they attacked the ground with picks and spades. Soon they were digging up broken slabs of plasteel which they hauled out of the way while trying to touch them as little as possible. Randall saw several of the burly labourers glance upwards now and then, looking to see if VIX was in the sky. They'd erected another, smaller marquee over the site, but the machine god could still see them when it was low down in the sky. One man after another made signs of protection against evil and Randall suspected that they might have just fled, fearing divine retribution, if the Duke hadn't been paying them so much. Much more than they would normally have received for a job of this nature.

Randall hoped that their nerve held. What he feared most was that one man, more timid or more devout than the others, might decide that he was placing his immortal soul in too much peril and would try to abandon the job and flee back to the city. He might try to salve his conscience by confessing to a priest, to the total ruin of Randall's plan. If that happened, Loach's men had their orders, but one man trying to mutiny might encourage others to do the same and they outnumbered Loach's heavies by ten to one.

He remained where he was, therefore, as Loach and the aristocrats drifted away, and he watched nervously as the area of broken ground spread and the pile of fragmented plasteel grew on the edge of the site. Although the upward glances and the signs of protection continued, though, there was no sign of anyone abandoning the work. After a while, therefore, he allowed himself to relax and wandered away to find something to eat.

A short distance away, though, two other people were watching. Emily and Jane, having just finished walking from where the carriage had dropped them off. Although they had no way of knowing, it was the same copse of trees in which Randall and Loach had spoken to the orc chieftain. If either woman had looked down, they might have seen their footprints in the newly frozen ground, but they both had their full attentions on the hive of activity fifty yards away in front of them.

"How long do you think it'll take them to find the elevator?" asked Jane. She was wishing she'd brought some sensible boots for walking around in the countryside. Her town shoes simply weren't up to the task. She'd nearly twisted an ankle a couple of times on the hummocky ground and the air was cold on her ankles, covered only by a thin layer of cotton.

"Depends on whether it was on the ground floor or in a basement level," replied the former eco-terrorist. She, of course, was wearing a pair of man's work boots. Tramping around the countryside was something she was well used to. It was beginning to snow quite heavily now and she pulled her heavy work coat closer around her shoulders. "If it was really ultra secret it might be two basement levels down. They might have to dig twenty feel down to find it."

"That would take a long time," said Jane, though. "Randall seems to think they'll find it quite quickly. Maybe some time tomorrow."

"Possibly " Emily conceded. "He would know, I suppose."

"So, what's the plan?" Jane adjusted the woollen scarf she was wearing around her neck to keep out the chilly wind. She would have preferred her fox skin, but she wasn't sure how Emily would have reacted to it.

"The plan?"

"Yes. We're here. Now what?"

"We wait for them to get the elevator shaft open and go down to the control room. As soon as Randall's entered the codes to activate the transmitter we kill him and take over."

"That means we're going to need to be down there, with him. He's likely to be quite surprised to see you. I can't see him relaxing his guard enough for you to take him by surprise."

Emily gave her a look. "I think I told you a while back how many men I've killed."

"With bombs, yes. How good are you at hand to hand combat against a man with twenty kilos on you? Have you ever killed a man face to face? And Loach is likely to be nearby. You'll have to kill him too. And his goons."

"Maybe your God will show us the way. Sometimes you've just got to play it by ear." She thought for a while. "You'll go over there," she said at last. "Tell him you were curious, you wanted to see how he was getting on. He may be a little surprised and unhappy to see you but he won't be suspicious. He'll probably tell you to get back to the city, but you have to stick around. Be firm. You want to be there for the historic moment. Then, when the opportunity presents itself, you smuggle me in there."

"How?"

"We'll think of something. I'll send a pigeon so we can communicate."

"You said they know about the pigeons now."

Emily cursed under her breath. That was right. She'd been watching the expedition through a pigeon's eyes and had seen Loach kill it with an arrow. If they saw Jane talking to a pigeon... "Okay," she said. "Come back here, to this spot, as often as you can. We'll talk, compare notes, make plans. In the meantime, you go to them now." She waved Jane towards the expedition site.

"What about you? Where will you spend the night? I think it's going to be cold."

"There's another abandoned farm a couple of miles away. I sent a pigeon to check it out and the farm buildings seem pretty much intact. There'll be firewood, maybe even some cheese in the pantry. Cheese lasts for years if you keep the damp and the rats away. If not..." She looked down at her waistline ruefully. "Well, I could do with losing a couple of kilos, and if we're here for more than a couple of days I know how to live off the land."

"You mean, killing animals?" said Jane with a smile.

"The ecosystem is what's important, not individual animals. You can kill the occasional animal so long as the species as a whole is healthy. Off you go now." She urged the other woman towards the camp again.

Jane nodded and rose to her feet, making sure the trees were still shielding her from the view of the expedition workmen. "I'll circle around to the south so it looks like I came from the road. We don't want to draw their attention to this place."

"Okay. Just go before it gets too cold and dark."

Jane nodded and set off, treading carefully on the uneven ground. Emily watched her for a few moments, then also rose and headed away in the opposite direction.

☆☆☆

As expected, Randall was none too pleased to see her but there wasn't much he could do about it. Evening was falling. The workmen were putting aside their tools and returning to their tents, all lit from within by portable oil lamps. To one side of the camp, the aristocrats and their servants were settling down for the evening in much larger tents, from one of which came the sound of stringed musical instruments to accompany the occupant's evening meal.

"Well, you can't return to the city now," said Randall as he and Loach made their way to their own tents. "First thing in the morning, though, you're going back."

"No I'm not," replied Jane. "None of us are. We're finished with Elmton, right? If your mad scheme wins and you take control of the solar system you'll have the machines build you a magnificent palace in the Bahamas or somewhere, and if you fail we'll all have to run. Try to find a deep, black hole to hide in where the machines won't find us. Either way, you're never going back to Elmton, so why should I?"

"She's got a point," replied Loach with a faint smile. "What was your plan? To just dump her in the city and leave her there? She did a magnificent job finding this place but she's not likely to be of any more use to us so why not just leave her behind?"

"Of course not! I was always going to send someone back for her! I just didn't see any need for her to rough it out here when she could be comfortable back in the city." He paused in mid step and turned to face Jane, taking her by the arm to make her stop too. "I was going to send for you. That's the truth."

Jane pulled her arm out of his grasp and continued walking. Randall had to walk fast to keep up with her. "You think I've never slept in a tent before?" she said. "My dad took me to Yorkshire many times when I was a kid."

"Yorkshire was basically one big tent fifty klicks across," the former businessman replied. "A place where rich kids and their parents could play at camping, like in the old days. This won't be like that. We don't even have a tent for you. You'll have to share with someone. A man. With no room for modesty."

"Fine, I'll share with you. You've already seen my bare skin, and I know you've got a woman back at the Weasel who keeps your bed warm at night so you're not going to try to ravish me in a sex starved frenzy. And besides, if you do try something I've got a knife hidden in my dress."

"Perhaps you'd rather share with me," suggested Loach with a leer. "I've seen your bare skin too and a knife might add spice to the evening."

Jane just glared at him. "So, which tent is yours?" she asked Randall.

"The green one with the blue patch." He sighed with resignation. "Okay. You go in and get yourself sorted out while I go get something to eat from the mess tent. I'll try to scrounge some more blankets from someone as well. Even so, though, it's a small tent. There's not going to be more than six inches between us the whole night."

"Six inches is fine."

Randall nodded and strolled over to a larger tent where a man with a huge, grey beard was warming up a cauldron of beans over a log fire.

Loach walked beside him. "There are now five robot pigeons in the area," he said conversationally. "The nearest one is just over there, on top of Duke Latimer's tent."

Randall nodded while forcing himself not to look. "I expected as much," he said. "The machines are curious about what we're doing out here. If we're lucky, they'll assume that we want to use the basement levels of Gorsty Common as our camouflaged barracks. They'll probably send a priest to investigate, ask a few questions. If that happens, our story is that we just want to use the basement as a place to hide soldiers. They should have no problem with that."

"Let's hope so," said Loach. He gave the other man a careful, measuring glance, then turned aside, heading for his own tent.