It had been the garage of a motor dealer. Silent cars stood ranged in rows along the walls, some of them unregistered, all covered in dust and dirt with flat tires sagging on the floor. In the middle of the floor stood a racing car. It was a single seater, painted red. It was a very low-built car, a very small car, with a bonnet sloping forward to an aperture that lay close to the ground. The tires were inflated and it had been washed and polished with loving care; it shone in the light from the door. It looked venomously fast.

"My goodness!" Peter said. "What's that?"

"It's a Ferrari," said John Osborne. "It's the one that Donezetti raced the year before the war. The one he won the Grand Prix of Syracuse on."

"How did it get out here?"

"Johnny Bowles bought it and had it shipped out. Then the war came and he never raced it."

"Who owns it now?"

"I do."

"You?"

The scientist nodded. "I've been keen on motor racing all my life. It's what I've always wanted to do, but there's never been any money. Then I heard of this Ferrari. Bowles was caught in England. I went to his widow and offered her a hundred quid for it. She thought I was mad, of course, but she was glad to sell it."

Peter walked round the little car with the large wheels, inspecting it. "I agree with her. What on earth are you going to do with it?"

"I don't know yet. I only know that I'm the owner of what's probably the fastest car in the world."

It fascinated the naval officer. "Can I sit in it?"

"Go ahead."

He squeezed down into the little seat behind the plastic windscreen. "What will she do, all out?"

"I don't really know. Two hundred, anyway."

Peter sat fingering the wheel, feeling the controls. The single seater felt delightfully a part of him. "Have you had her on the road?"

"Not yet."

He got out of the seat reluctantly. "What are you going to use for petrol?"

The scientist grinned. "She doesn't drink it."

"Doesn't use petrol?"

"She runs on a special ether-alcohol mixture. It's no good in an ordinary car. I've got eight barrels of it in my mother's back garden." He grinned. "I made sure that I'd got that before I bought the car."

He lifted the bonnet and they spent some time examining the engine. John Osborne had spent all his leisure hours since they returned from their first cruise in polishing and servicing the racing car; he hoped to try her out upon the road in a couple of days' time. "One thing," he said, grinning in delight, "there's not a lot of traffic to worry about."

They left the car reluctantly, and locked the garage doors. In the quiet mews they stood for a few moments. "If we get away upon this cruise by the end of next month," Peter said, "we should be back about the beginning of June. I'm thinking about Mary and the kid. Think they'll be all right till we get back?"

"You mean-the radioactivity?"

The naval officer nodded.

The scientist stood in thought. "Anybody's guess is as good as mine," he said at last. "It may come quicker or it may come slower. So far it's been coming very steadily all round the world, and moving southwards at just about the rate that you'd expect. It's south of Rockhampton now. If it goes on like this it should be south of Brisbane by the beginning of June-just south. Say about eight hundred miles north of us. But as I say, it may come quicker or it may come slower. That's all I can tell you."

Peter bit his lip. "It's a bit worrying. One doesn't want to start a flap at home. But all the same, I'd be happier if they knew what to do if I'm not there."

"You may not be there anyway," John Osborne said. "There seem to be quite a few natural hazards on this course-apart from radiation. Minefields, ice-all sorts of things. I don't know what happens to us if we hit an iceberg at full cruising speed, submerged."

"I do," said Peter.

The scientist laughed. "Well, let's keep our fingers crossed and hope we don't. I want to get back here and race that thing." He nodded at the car behind the door.

"It's all a bit worrying," Peter repeated. They turned towards the street. "I think I'll have to do something about it before we go."

They walked in silence into the main thoroughfare. John Osborne turned towards his office. "You going my way?"

Peter shook his head. "I've got to see if I can buy a playpen for the baby. Mary says we've got to have it or she'll kill herself."

They turned in different directions and the scientist walked on, thankful that he wasn't married.

Peter went shopping for a playpen, and succeeded in buying one at the second shop he tried. A folded playpen is an awkward thing to carry through a crowd; he battled with it to the tram and got it to Flinders Street station. He got to Falmouth with it at about four o'clock in the afternoon. He put it in the cloakroom till he could come and fetch it with his bicycle trailer, took his bicycle, and rode slowly into the shopping street. He went to the chemist that they dealt with, whose proprietor he knew, and who knew him. At the counter he asked the girl if he could see Mr. Goldie.

The chemist came to him in a white coat. He asked, "Could I have a word with you in private?"

"Why, yes, Commander." He led the way into the dispensary.

Peter said, "I wanted to have a talk with you about this radiation disease." The chemist's face was quite expressionless. "I've got to go away. I'm sailing in the Scorpion, the American submarine. We're going a long way. We shan't be back till the beginning of June, at the earliest." The chemist nodded slowly. "It's not a very easy trip," the naval officer said. "There's just the possibility that we might not come back at all."

They stood in silence for a moment. "Are you thinking about Mrs. Holmes and Jennifer?" the chemist asked.

Peter nodded. "I'll have to make sure Mrs. Holmes understands about things before I go." He paused. "Tell me, just what does happen to you?"

"Nausea," the chemist said, "That's the first symptom. Then vomiting, and diarrhoea. Bloody stools. All the symptoms increase in intensity. There may be slight recovery, but if so it would be very temporary. Finally death occurs from sheer exhaustion." He paused. "In the very end, infection or leukaemia may be the actual cause of death. The blood-forming tissues are destroyed, you see, by the loss of body salts in the fluids. It might go one way or the other."

"Somebody was saying it's like cholera."

"That's right," the chemist said. "It is rather like cholera."

"You've got some stuff for it, haven't you?"

"Not to cure it, I'm afraid."

"I don't mean that. To end it."

"We can't release that yet, Commander. About a week before it reaches any district details will be given on the wireless. After that we may distribute it to those who ask for it." He paused. "There must be terrible complications over the religious side," he said. "I suppose then it's a matter for the individual."

"I've got to see that my wife understands about it," Peter said, "She'll have to see to the baby… And I may not be here. I've got to see this all squared up before I go."

"I could explain it all to Mrs. Holmes, when the time comes."

"I'd rather do it myself. She'll be a bit upset."

"Of course…" He stood for a moment, and then said, "Come into the stock room."

He went through into a back room through a locked door. There was a packing case in one corner, the lid part lifted. He wrenched it back. The case was full of little red boxes, of two sizes.

The chemist took out one of each and went back into the dispensary. He undid the smaller of the two; it contained a little plastic vial with two white tablets in it. He opened it, took out the tablets, put them carefully away, and substituted two tablets of aspirin. He put the vial back in the red box and closed it. He handed it to Peter. "That is for anybody who will take a pill," he said. "You can take that and show it to Mrs. Holmes. One causes death, almost immediately. The other is a spare. When the time comes, we shall be distributing these at the counter."

"Thanks a lot," he said. "What does one do about the baby?"

The chemist took the other box. "The baby, or a pet animal-dog or cat," he said. "It's just a little more complicated." He opened the second box and took out a small syringe. "I've got a used one I can put in for you, here. You follow these instructions on the box. Just give the hypodermic injection under the skin. She'll fall asleep quite soon."

He packed the dummy back into the box, and gave it to Peter with the other.

The naval officer took them gratefully. "That's very kind of you," he said. "She'll be able to get these at the counter when the time comes?"

"That's right."

"Will there be anything to pay?"

"No charge," the chemist said. "They're on the free list."