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human body and soul。 Balzur is now Winston Dyne； Head of Oxide Reprocessing！'
Life appeared to be full of totally new experiences for Kent at present。 Yet another assailed him on arrival at the Herald premises the following morning。 Guilt！ It was crazy。 The neatly folded sleeping…bags in Coyle's tiny office served as a tiny sop to his conscience； but all the same； he knew he would have to tell Coyle； and the sooner he got it over with； the better。
'By the way。' Kent was grateful that he did not gulp or stammer when the words came out。 T stayed at your place overnight。'
Coyle regarded him slowly。 Surprise； but certainly no resentment。 A moment's silence。 He； too； was searching for the right words。
'Thanks；' he smiled。 'Thanks for telling me； Kent。 I guess it took a lot of guts。 And thanks for what you did。 I hope it was 。 。 。 successful。'
'Mutually。' Kent's relief was evident。 T have an invitation to return there tonight if 。 。 。 '
'Please do。' Coyle experienced a sudden unburdening of responsibilities which he knew he had previously shirked。 It made him feel a lot easier。 'How's Sarah？'
'Still asleep when I came out。 She'll be OK。'
Their conversation was drowned by the drone of a low…flying helicopter。 They listened to its progress； the noise fading slightly； then shutting off altogether。
'Sounds like it's landed at the nuclear station；' Coyle's eyebrows were raised。 No helicopter had entered the valley； not even a military air patrol； since the army had moved in；
'Must be somebody visiting Dyne and his friends；' Kent suggested。 'Some VIP e to see for himself。 Judging from the mass meetings in town last night it won't be long before the crowds try to storm the station。'
'Suicidal。'
'Everything's suicidal these days。'
'By the way。' Coyle felt suddenly foolish。 Everything seemed so different； so realistic since dawn had blended into full daylight and swept away the nocturnal terrors。 'Something silly； but 。 。 。 well； you know my feelings concerning the ancient curse。 Maybe you'll think my mind's snapped under the pressure； but I believe Balzur has e back somehow 。 。 。 in the person of Winston Dyne！'
Kent pursed his lips； then he nodded slowly。 'I've e across stranger things。 When I was out in Uganda doing some stories on Amin's atrocities； I met up with things that I didn't dare write about for fear I'd be laughed out of Fleet Street。 e on； Bob； let's hear your theory。'
Briefly Coyle related the dream； and when he had finished； Kent was silent； stuffing tobacco into the bowl of his pipe。 His rugged features were grim。
'It's up to us to stop him；' he spoke in matter…of…fact tones。 'You and me； Bob。 As simple as that。 It's no good trying to convince anybody else； there isn't time anyway。 But we'll have to play our cards carefully because we won't get a second chance。 My guess is the devil will invite us up there again today； another load of PR shit。 Then we'll have to play it by ear。'
It was 1。30p。m。 The three of them had eaten sandwiches in the office rather than go into town； where the storm…clouds of rioting were gathering。 Shouting and chanting reached their ears； and they guessed that the Square was packed to capacity。 Kent wondered just how long it would be before the storm finally broke。 Not just yet； he hoped； because he needed time。
At 1。40 p。m。 Dyne telephoned。 Kent and Coyle were both invited to attend a crisis meeting at the reprocessing centre in an hour's time。 Dyne sounded harassed。 Carefully chosen words； too； as though there were others in his office； men of higher authority than himself。
'We'll be there；' Coyle replied； replacing the receiver。
'A gathering of chieftains；' Kent muttered。 'We'll be right in the heart of the action。 I guess my name will be mud in the Cheshire Cheese…if I ever get back to Fleet Street。 But this is it； Bob。 Our big chance。 Let's hope we don't fall down on it！'
They travelled in the Mercedes。 Passing through the initial checkpoint was a mere formality； but Coyle was surprised to note that the guard in the outer sentry…box was Loader himself。 Why had the Atomic Energy Authority's private police chief taken such a menial task upon himself？ Certainly not because of a shortage of security forces； Army reinforcements were also in evidence； and obviously the military now considered defence of the nuclear station of greater importance than attempting to quell the unrest in the town itself。
'Funny about Loader being there；' Coyle mused as they drove slowly towards the second checkpoint。
'Perhaps he needed some fresh air；' Kent dismissed the affair as one of minor importance。 He had briefly summed up the man during the inspection of their green pass…cards。 Mean； with a killer instinct…shoot first and ask questions later。
The routine guard had been no less surprised when Loader had suddenly transferred him to duties within the pound。 There had to be a reason； but he wasn't paid to think…just obey。
The usual escort down the maze of corridors； this time into the core of the main building。 They took an elevator； and alighted at the fourth floor。 Then into a small room with three walls of floor…to…ceiling windows。 The whole extent of 'Holocaust' lay spread out below them…the 'pyramid trap' towering like a monument to death and destruction。 Section Eight…the bomb that could wipe out civilisation！
Tyler gave them a nod； but there was no sign of Winston Dyne。 It was strange； indeed； that the big man himself was missing。 A couple of vacant chairs were placed in readiness for them。 A dozen other men occupied seats at the long table。 Kent recognised Canverdale at once。 Also； Stafford and some resident boffins。 There were three others who looked like governmental men； probably Canverdale's private staff。 AEA police were noticeable by their absence。 This was no press conference； so no trouble was envisaged。
Canverdale spoke first。 A brief summary of recent events。 The USSR airliners would be landing at all major airports tomorrow afternoon。 He fully believed that they had no intention of taking off again。 In other words； it was an advance invasion force。 Parachutists would drop into the valley； with a rearguard to back them up on Manquhill Moor。 The USAF intended to beat them to it。 There could only be one oute。 Tonight the nation would be told。 He； Canverdale； would broadcast from this very room at 8p。m。
Coyle and Kent looked grimly at each other。 They had never envisaged such a turn of events…not at such short notice； anyway。 But time was running out for everybody。 It really made very little difference to the British； anyway。 The rest of the world would suffer in due course。 Both men spared a thought for their women。 Just one more night 。 。 。
Tyler was on his feet the moment Canverdale sat down。 The representative of Britain's Hazardous Materials Group produced a sheaf of blueprints from a manilla folder； and spread them out on the table before him。 plicated diagrams and figures meaningless to a