roving silently around the house, keeping an eye on the various entrances in case they had any
unexpected callers.

Stripping off his loose jacket, Steve donned the sleeveless padded vest that AMEXICO had
supplied. It contained a holster for his air pistol, pockets for the spare mags and pressure cartridges, and
clips to hold the grenades under a loose flap that concealed their telltale outlines.

There was another pocket positioned level with his right elbow to hold the face mask. He filled
up the various compartments and selected a lethal cocktail of grenades. By the time he was finished, he
was a one-man war machine.

He began to load up the three other vests. 'How're we doing?’

Cadillac told him: 'Min-Orota's finished his inspection of the pilots and planes. The man next to
him must be Yama-Shita. The four machines in the second line are being moved back towards the
workshops, but the crews have been stood down and have gone to the front of the stand.’

'Good. That's more than enough for us.’

'And they've just started to move five from the first line.’

'Where to?’


'They're pushing them towards the grandstand. Wait a minute.’
Cadillac lapsed into silence, then said: 'Ah, yes · . . They've parked them in a V-formation right in


front of the stand, with their tails pointing towards the spectators.’

'And the crews?’

'They're positioned front and rear like they were before.’

Steve continued loading the pockets of the combat vests. 'So that leaves three out on the field...

Can you see their numbers?’

'Yes. Six, Seven and Eight. One to Five are in front of the stand.’

'Good.’ The tidy-minded Iron Masters couldn't have made his task easier. Steve looked up and

saw that Clearwater had taken over the 'scope. 'Where's lover boy now?’

'He's handing his swords to your friend, the Herald.

And now he's taking off his hat and wig and tying a scarf around his head.’ Clearwater moved

the 'scope on to Min-Orota, then found Yama-Shita's face filling the rectangular frame. She was gripped
by a sudden chill as she recognized the slitted eyes and steel-trap mouth.

It was her tormentor, the implacable master of the wheelboats who had crushed, drowned and
tortured eight Plainfolk Mutes to demonstrate what could happen to her if she did not obey him.

She felt the hatred well up within her. Not reckless and unreasoning, but cold and calculating.
The memory of the merciless game played out on the giant paddle-wheel and-of the two mutilated heads
she had had to share her cabin with was still as fresh and as shocking as ever. She had vowed to avenge
the deaths of her fellow Mutes and she would do so today. Yes...

this soulless monster and his servants would pay the blood-debt. Many times over.

Oh, Talisman, when I call upon you, lend me your strength I 'Now he's taking his seat in the front
of the flying-horse. And a samurai is climbing into the seat behind.’

Steve repossessed the 'scope and zeroed in the Consul-General, then panned left on to the tail.
Number Seven. Cadillac had told him that one of the gods in the Iron Masters' pantheon was in charge of
lucky breaks.

He didn't know whether they viewed the number seven as having any specially favourable

significance, but if they did, the fat man was in for a big surprise.

The set-up was becoming clearer by the second.

Toh-Shiba was going up with Six and Eight acting as escort. All three aircraft were being pushed

back on a diagonal line across the field to the take-off point by the workshops, followed by the other two
pilots and their observers. Yama-Shita and Min-Orota were returning to their seats in the stand.

And the Herald? Ah, yes... he was walking past Min-Orota's troops towards the government


detachment, moving forward on a line that would take him to Steve's right. Steve tracked ahead with the
'scope and caught sight of Toshiro's horse with its distinctive trappings.

Another mounted samurai was holding the reins. Steve watched as the Herald was helped up into
the saddle. He had obviously decided to improve his chances of survival by staying mobile. Smart
move...

Steve called Jodi and Kelso back into the study and handed out the combat vests. They put them
on under their tunics. Steve helped Cadillac into his. 'I hope you know how to use this stuff...’

'If you do I do.’

'Yeah, well, this is the one to watch.’ He unclipped a gas grenade and explained its effects to
Cadillac and Clearwater, and how they could protect, themselves by using the face-mask. He handed the
last one to Clearwater and told her to try it on.

Steve saw her eyes widen in alarm through the visor as her muffled voice leaked through the
side-filters. 'I feel as if I am drowning!’

She pulled the mask off quickly.

He laid a calming hand on her arm. 'There's nothing to be frightened about. You're not going to
suffocate.

Just breathe deeply. You won't have to wear it for long, but you must put it on when you see any
of us give this signal -' he brought his hand down over his face.

'Immediately. You understand?’

Clearwater nodded.

'And don't take it off until we remove ours. You got that?’

'Yes.’

'Okay. Time to get changed.’ Steve produced a canvas tote-bag and handed it to Clearwater,
then placed a faded blue Tracker worksuit on top of it. 'Pack your white mask, robe and whatever
you're wearing underneath in the bag. But do it carefully. Did you bring that set of body-paints?’

'Yes. They're bundled up with the clothes I came in.

Plus the other things you asked for.’

Steve turned to Cadillac. 'What about your walking skins?’

'I burned them.’

Steve eyed him. 'Trust you. Where're the body-paints you told me about?’

'In one of those cupboards...’


'Well, we need 'em.’ Steve laid the bag of precious pink cleaning leaves on top of the worksuit.
'Put these in too, plus anything else that might come in useful.’ He signalled Jodi and Kelso to precede
him through the door. 'Okay. We're just gonna take a look around.

You've got five minutes to get changed and packed.

Then we'll go over the plan.’ Steve stepped quickly outside, then popped his head back into the

room. 'And while you're at it, why don't you two patch things up?

We've got a long haul ahead of us, and we're gonna need each other every step of the way.’

He slid the door shut and joined Jodi and Kelso at the far side of the adjoining room, whose

window screens faced the side wall of the Heron Pool compound.
Kelso eyed him thoughtfully. 'I ain't too happy 'bout that lumphead walking around with all that

hardware.

Suppose he turns it on us?’

'Yeah,' murmured Jodi. 'I thought we were taking these two guys back as prisoners.’

'That comes later,' said Steve. 'At the moment, we're all supposed to be on the same side.

You're a couple of renegades helping us make the break. You want to get back to the Big Open, and
they're going back to their own people.’

'And you're going with them...’

Steve shrugged. 'Listen. As long as they believe that, it's gonna make our job a whole lot easier right?’


'I just hope you know what you're doing,' muttered Kelso.

'Trust me,' said Steve.

Steve stepped out of the pavilion on to the rear veranda and walked down the steps into the
yard. Beyond it was a small vegetable garden, then a short stretch of grass which ended in a line of
shrubs and trees and a stone wall.

Cadillac's domestic staff were still ranged along it, with their children perched on top.

Even though they had been watching the build-up since early morning, their attention was now
riveted on the three planes preparing for take-off. Over the past months, flying machines had become a
familiar sight but today's events were special because of the importance of the people involved and the
surrounding pomp and ceremony.

No one noticed Steve cross quickly to the dung-heap where he had left two wooden buckets
containing the usual night mix but, as he went to pick them up, the plump, bossy cook turned to pick up a
wandering bare-assed infant. Recovering from her surprise, she gave him a suspicious stare. Steve tilted
the bucket towards her to reveal its contents then pretended to empty it.

There was a dramatic roll of drums and Shwaah-ba-ba-BOOOMMM! The sound of three pairs