Omega

At ten to nine Dan came home; she ran to greet him, smiling with relief. They returned to the living-room together just as the continuity a

'The headquarters of the Anti-Pagan Crusade a

Stanley Friell drifted back into consciousness, his head throbbing. He was lying on a narrow mattress on the floor of a closed van, and to judge by its high and steady speed the van was on a motorway. One of the Angel women was squatting beside him, watching him, and as soon as he opened his eyes she called 'Karen!' and clambered forward.

A few seconds later Karen was looking down at him. ‘How do you feel?'

'Not too bad, in the circumstances. Did you have to slug me?'

'Sorry about that but we couldn't leave you there, you know. We're ninety-nine per cent certain you're reliable but we couldn't afford the one per cent. You knew too much. And at the speed we had to get out, there was no time to argue. Slugging was quicker.'

Friell nodded, carefully. 'Don't blame you. I'd have done the same… Anyhow, the Unit's become a dead end for me. I think I'd rather join you.' He rolled sideways to ease his limbs and caught sight of Je

Karen smiled. '(A), as a consolation prize for you since we'd kidnapped you! and (B), because her reaction to the ritual suggests she's promising material for the Angels of Lucifer.'

'Fair enough… I wonder how Ben Stoddart's feeling now?'

'Oh, it's been on the radio already. You're not joining amateurs, Stanley. Ben Stoddart is dead.'

Stoddart's death gave Harley his first opportunity to test the 'sensitive news' system which he had devised in consultation with the experts of BBC News and ITN. Each of the latter had a small news-studio in Beehive, with a hand-picked staff, in close touch with Harley's own office. The moment a news story was classified as 'sensitive', its handling was transferred to the Beehive studios – whose output could be integrated with those of the Surface studios during news bulletins in the same way as that of OB vans or of the Parliamentary interview studios.

A hunch made Harley rule that Stoddart's death was 'sensitive', and he was glad later. At first, the death itself; the almost immediate official confirmation by doctors and police that neither violence nor poisoning had killed him; the 'spontaneous' demonstrations in Parliament Square by crowds chanting 'Ban the witches!' and worse (illegally, since Parliament was sitting but with little police interference); Quentin White's impassioned speech in the House demanding 'in the name of our martyred friend' that, pending legislation, a more stringent Order in Council be made declaring the professing or practising of witchcraft illegal – all these could have been suitably handled by BBC and ITN on Surface without Harley's guidance. But when the first hint of the Banwell Emergency Unit raid came in, Harley knew he had been right.

He told BBC and ITN to hold the Banwell story till the news was harder and a suitably guarded version of it could be released. Within half an hour, he had received a concise police report, and spoken to the Unit chief (a personal appointee of his own) on the telephone. Ten minutes later, he let the BBC and ITN loose on the story in all its lurid detail – with the only provisos that the Unit was to be described as 'a small isolation hospital for the specialized treatment of violent mental patients', no mention was to be made of the Dust or of any co

For apart from the Dust, there was no need to censor the story. The Angels of Lucifer had carried out their threat in a way bizarre enough to turn the witch-hunt into a stampede. Harley had merely to sit back and watch.

The Order in' Council which Quentin White was demanding had in fact already been prepared, and tonight was psychologically the ideal moment to impose it. So at 10.30, half an hour after the Banwell story had hit a public already stu

As soon as Ben Stoddart's death was a

Moira nearly had her ready when Rosemary ran upstairs. 'Got to go now, love. There's a small crowd gathering on the corner of the road – can't sec much from this end but they could be after us.'

They hurried down together, Moira carrying Diana. Both vehicles were still in their garages; Sally was already in the car back seat and Dan behind the steering wheel. 'Keep Di on your lap,' he told her as she climbed in. 'No time to tuck her in behind… Greg's going first, because the van's bigger and heavier in case we have to scatter the crowd. The moment we see him go, I follow. Right? You can start the engine while I open the door.'

He got out and stood with his hand on the already-unlatched garage door, which was of the up-and-over type, while he watched through the window towards Greg's garage. In the waiting silence, Moira suddenly heard the noise of the crowd. The corner was over a hundred metres away but they must be begi

Greg's door crashed upwards, quickly followed by Dan's, and Moira had the engine ru

She had thought Diana's scream was of fright but now she was able to look at her. A stone must have found the open window because her forehead was bleeding and she was whimpering in Moira's arms, trying (as she usually did when she was hurt) not to cry. Moira said, 'Di's hit but keep going,' and started cleaning the wound with a tissue while she soothed her. Diana attempted a smile and said, 'Horrid people.'

'Yes, darling, horrid. But they can't catch us now… She's all right, Dan… Hold still, my love, while I stick a little plaster on it.'