'What do we know?' Clark asked.

Barry tossed the photos aside. 'We know that these UFOs have been commuting between this masked zone and Hong Kong. We know they're the only things that can get into the zone. We know they've tried to abduct at least one person in Hong Kong and that they've got contacts with the Triads, and we know their traffic is increasing as the handover of Hong Kong to China approaches. It seems reasonable to assume they're ferrying something, but we don't know what or in which direction.'

'Could this have anything to do with the handover?'

'It'd be a hell of a coincidence otherwise. We don't know for sure, but for safety's sake, it's best if we assume some disruption of the handover is intended.' He moved over to where Palmer was looking over her electronic gear. 'Jules.'

Palmer nodded, switching on her laptop computer. In a moment, she had brought up a series of waveforms. "These are the signals recorded so far.

As you can see they're all different, but as far as we can tell from the radar traffic, they only have two ships.'

"Then the pattern's a code that's changed daily, not a ship ID transponder code.'

'It looks that way.' She brought up another waveform and enlarged its window. 'I've had the computer look for any pattern in the changes from day to day. There does seem to be a progression and, if correct, this will be the next code.'

Barry grinned; she was great. 'Then it looks like we wait.'

light always crept into a young bachelor's living space, as if it was afraid of what it might step in. With the rest of his family out, Yi Chung's apartment was equally intimidating to the chink of light that spilled in from the hall when Sarah jimmied the lock and pushed the door open.

She wasn't comfortable with this kind of criminality - at least not in a person's space, it would be different if it was a corporate building - but sometimes these things had to be done. Sneaking into places - she refused to think of it as breaking and entering -wasn't the kind of thing to mention as a source of information in an article. It was more the sort of thing that would come out much later, when one couldn't be taken to task for it but needed to seek understanding and forgiveness. Conscience was a bug-bear, but also a good friend.

Someone had killed Yi Chung, and she couldn't help thinking it might have been because of his contact with her. Or possibly he was killed as a precursor to killing her. Either way, there was safety in finding out who did it and why. That meant finding out more about him, and that in turn meant meant sneaking in. It was a hideous Nancy Drew kind of phrase, but it made what she was doing a lot more bearable. sneaking in. It was a hideous Nancy Drew kind of phrase, but it made what she was doing a lot more bearable.

The apartment wasn't that different from any western inner-city flat, except that it didn't have garish 1970s wallpaper and the food in the kitchen was very different.

It was drawers that interested Sarah. Drawers were where most people kept documents like letters and pay slips, and were where she was most likely to find out where Yi Chung had worked.

She had a suspicion that she already knew, but had no way to be certain.

More accurately, she had no other way to be certain.

It didn't take long to find the relevant papers: a wage slip from the Pimms Import-Export Company (Kwai Chung). She wondered what the bracketed words meant, but had no time to ponder them here. The word Pimms was all she needed to know. Directly or indirectly Yi Chung worked for the Doctor - if it was really the Doctor. And that meant the Doctor was involved, however distantly, in his death.

Tse Hung was in two minds as to how this meeting might go. Normally he knew at the start of the day what sort of mood he'd be in, but some days he just winged it. At least, so he told himself. Usually this indecision masked waiting for a justification to be in a bad mood. Something usually came along when he was like this.

Just in case, he had borrowed a small car from the company's pool of stolen cars, and parked a couple of streets down from his destination.

As he crossed the road to the Club Shanghai, someone slammed into him, but he managed to stay on his feet. It was a kid, running full tilt from an-angry shopkeeper.

The kid looked pissed off rather than scared. He tried to punch Tse Hung, but got a backhanded cuff for his trouble. The attempt gave the shopkeeper time to reach them. 'Thanks,' he said. 'This little bastard just grabbed a handful of CDs.'

'Hand them back,' Tse Hung told the kid. Trapped between two adults, and with his pride stung as much as his face, the thief obeyed. 'You shouldn't steal - you'll end up in jail.'

'So?' The boy broke free from Tse Hung's grip and ran.

For a moment Tse Hung felt dislocated in time, remembering a uniformed cop telling him much the same thing twenty years ago. The cop had lectured him that crime did not pay, and Tse Hung used to laugh at this when he remembered it.

He didn't laugh so much now. Not because he thought what the cop had said was true, but because what crime had paid him he had had to earn, with as much hard work as if he had stayed on the straight and narrow.

In fact, if anything, it took more effort to maintain his criminal lifestyle these days. It wasn't just making the money, but staying ahead of competitors, cops and ambitious underlings. If he knew how to be anything else, he would have retired a decade ago and gone into legitimate business.

The Pimms world of steel and glass was a long way from his father's herbal surgery, and not just as the crow flies.

Yue Hwa couldn't imagine the sons - or daughters - of Pimms employees enjoying their school holidays in the office car park, or ogling the filing cabinets. He had spent many happy summers being amazed by the mysteries of his father's shelves. They had been full of little bags of spices and powders, and topped with dusty jars containing containing containing things he probably could never have identified. containing things he probably could never have identified.

It would have been nice to have followed in his father's footsteps, but university had got in the way and then Tiananmen changed the direction of his life for ever. After that day, he knew what he wanted - no, had - to do.

Sometimes, though, he still envisioned himself back in that little village shop.

He knocked on the door of the Doctor's office suite, hoping he was in. The TARDIS was in the stone garden, so he probably was. 'Come in,' came a cheerful call.

Yue Hwa entered to find the Doctor and Chiu skimming through some map sheets. 'I just wanted to ask how it went last night.'

The Doctor looked up, then to Chiu and back to Yue Hwa. 'It went well.'

Tse Hung couldn't believe the guy who was stealing Bonnie away from him: a merchant banker. At least she was maintaining her taste in wealthy men, but the man was a computer nerd, probably happier playing on an N64 than in a smoky mah-jong game with good hard cash at stake.

Tse Hung refused to think of him as a man at all, in fact. He was a boy with more money than sense. Tse Hung downed another shot of whisky and reminded himself that some of that money would now be his. He shouldn't even be having these feelings; he was simply going to transfer a capital investment to another owner.

Feelings implied love, and if he was going to fall in love it wouldn't be with a hooker he had bought. His mother would spin in her grave if ever something like that happened. And his father would probably disown him and refuse to let him visit again.

And yet The man saw him, and recognised Tse Hung's interest. That meant it was time to introduce himself. 'You have the money?' he asked.

'Yes.' The guy could barely disguise his sneer. He probably had some moral objection to paying for sex, or love, or whatever. Tse Hung sympathised entirely, but had no moral objection to selling anything. He was just a businessman who met demand. 'Here's your blood money.' The man tossed a thick envelope on to the table between them.

'This is just business,' Tse Hung pointed out.

'Not to me. But if this is what it takes to get her away from the likes of you -'.

Tse Hung laughed. "The likes of me?' His laughter faded, along with his good mood. 'Is that why you want her? Just to take what was once mine? I suppose that's a form of flattery.'

"Then I didn't make myself clear.'

Tse Hung sighed, and punched the guy off his chair. He wasn't sure whether he was defending Bonnie's honour, or his own, or just letting off steam from conflicting emotions. Either way, it felt good, and he could almost see Pendragon being the one bleeding on the floor.

'Jealous?' the man asked.

Tse Hung kicked him in the groin, then realised that, yes, he was. To his surprise, he would miss Bonnie. A lot. He had other mistresses, but it just wasn't the same with them, and would be even less so now. But the deal was done and she certainly wouldn't have any more to do with him.

'Mistreat her and I will have you killed.'

Without waiting for an answer, Tse Hung turned and walked out of both the club and Bonnie's life.

'Do you know exactly where this refers to?' Sarah passed the pay-slip she had stolen from Yi Chung's apartment across to Colonel Tsang. She had dropped in on the covert UNIT building without warning, thinking that if they were interested in her presence they might at least have something to offer.

'Of course; Pimms are a shipping company. They own a whole patch of Kwai Chung container port. This slip suggests the owner worked there.'

Sarah nodded. 'If anyone was smuggling anything through Hong Kong, that'd be a good transfer point, wouldn't it?'

'I'd say so.'

'I think that might make an interesting angle for my next story about concerns leading up to the handover. I mean, policing and the way the container terminal is run must be something that might be looked at by a new government.' She smiled, she hoped endearingly.

'Miss Smith,' Tsang replied,' I've been gardening during all my off-duty time since I joined up. I know horse shit when I smell it. We're all on the same team here; if you have something to ask, just ask it'

'Then' Sarah became more serious, and more earnest.' Could you arrange with the port authority for me to look around, and get a feel for the place?'

Tsang smiled slowly. 'I think some help in various ways could be arranged.'

The colonel led Sarah through the converted office block and into a central courtyard that served as the station's car pool. There was a large Mercedes sedan, and some chunky four-wheel-drive types, but most of the cars were thoroughly innocuous little two-door hatchbacks.

'We can't exactly put you on a retainer, of course,' Tsang was saying, 'but if you need a car while you're in Hong Kong, just help yourself.'

Sarah was flattered, but also suspicious. No doubt all the cars had some kind of beacon fitted so that they could be tracked at all times. If this was the Brigadier, back at UNIT-UK, she wouldn't have any problem with that, but it wasn't.

"Thank you, Colonel, but but if we were out in the countryside, I'd accept, but here in the city, the public transport is good enough for me not to need it.' if we were out in the countryside, I'd accept, but here in the city, the public transport is good enough for me not to need it.'

Tsang accepted the decision gracefully. 'Of course. I just wouldn't feel like a good host if I didn't make the offer.'

'Oh don't worry - you're treating me well. In fact I almost feel at home, UNIT-wise, if you see what I mean.'

Tsang nodded with a smile. 'It's UNIT-SEA's pleasure to cooperate with members of other UNIT -'

'Colonel Tsang?' Nomura was calling her from the corridor.

'Yes, Lieutenant?' She moved towards him, a couple of steps from Sarah.

Nomura kept his voice low and private, but Sarah could still make him out.

'It's the Cortez Project, a conference call. They'll need your input.'

Tsang breathed slowly, and glanced back at Sarah. 'All right. See to Miss Smith - give her whatever assistance she requires.' She took a half-step back to Sarah. 'I hope you'll forgive my rudeness, but I have to go now.

Lieutenant Nomura will see that you're sorted out with anything you need.'

'I understand,' Sarah told her. Inside, her curiosity had been piqued.

Barry could feel it making the hairs on his neck twitch. It was like the thickening air that preceded a thunderstorm, only more so. The treetops rustled, disturbed by something passing close to them.

Then a wide swathe of the sky rippled and a polished steel disc, maybe forty feet across, was hovering there.

It remained for a moment, silent and stationary, then resumed its flight, descending towards somewhere beyond the trees. Barry ignored it and instead knelt beside Palmer. 'Did you get it?'

She nodded, indicating the laptop. A new waveform was making its way across the screen as the software decoded it. It was identical to the prediction the machine had made earlier. 'You're good,' he told her.

'You said that last night as well.'

'You were good then too.' He glanced around, making sure no one else had heard that. 'Can you give us another prediction?'

'Absolutely' In a second, a new waveform slid on screen. "There we go.'

He handed her the metal box that had been belatedly delivered to him.

'Program this transponder with that sequence. We're going in.'

Chapter Twelve.

Proof Denies Faith

Kwai Chung container terminal is the largest in the world. The expanse of freight containers is as a large and mechanistic as a decent-sized new town. Containers of myriad different colours are piled several storeys high in batches that cover the floor space of city blocks. Streets run between large batches, and alleys further subdivide them. You could probably house all Britain's homeless in the place, with plenty of room left over.

The port authority's press spokesman had driven Sarah around it, explaining how the place worked and reeling off statistics like a professor of mathematics. Much of the information had been dull, much had been interesting, and Sarah had taken enough notes to write a genuine article.

She was pleased with that; a little extra income never hurt.

When they got back to the gatehouse complex and offices, Sarah was glad to stretch her legs. She put on her best doe-eyed smile. 'Look, you've been awfully helpful, and I know I've got enough material for a good story, but but'

'If there's anything else I can do for you you' the spokesman offered magnanimously. Like most Chinese officials, he obviously took the view that giving people what they wanted gained him face.

'Well, it might be a little naughty, but do you think I could have a walk round? Just to really appreciate the scale of the place.'

The spokesman hesitated. 'I'm not sure. Obviously this is a customs area and security is very important important'

'I can hardly steal anything with this' She indicated her small She indicated her small handbag' handbag' and it would be very good publicity for you.' and it would be very good publicity for you.'

'Well'

'Oh, thanks ever so much,' she grinned disarmingly. 'I'll be very careful.'

Then she hurried round the nearest corner before he could refuse. There were no sounds of pursuit so she thought that he was probably in favour of allowing her to walk. She was also sure he'd have someone follow her to keep an eye on her, but didn't mind. She appreciated the necessity of maintaining security in a customs area, and had no intention of breaking any laws.

Which wasn't to say breaking the law might not become necessary anyway.

She took a folded paper from her handbag. It was a crude map, drawn by one of Tsang's people, indicating the location of the Pimms area of the terminal. Orienting herself almost instantly, she started walking in earnest.

Music of a sort was in the air as the flight surgeon entered Chiu's workspace. The sound was a passable, if flat, impression of a vocal harmony. Chiu made an adjustment on his clipboard, and the sound changed slightly. "The computer can never quite generate the equivalent quality of a live vocal performance,' the flight surgeon whispered. 'But it is enough to know when a composition is working.'

Chiu nodded and switched off the sound. 'Do you compose, when you're off duty?' he asked.

'No. I sculpt, for preference. But I have not been off duty since -'