Miriam’s walkie-talkie bleeped at her urgently.

“We’ve got company.” Miriam eyed the walkie-talkie as if it might explode. My mother is an alien, she thought. Must have been in the Weather Underground or something. But there was no time to worry about that now. “Is that thing loaded?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Then wait here. If anyone comes through the garden door, shoot them. If anyone comes through the other door, it’ll be either me and Olga, or the bad guys. I’ll knock first. Back in a second.”

Miriam dashed for the hall and took the stairs two at a time. “Zone two breach,” the burglar alarm chirped in her ear. Zone two was the east wall of the garden. “Olga?” she called.

“Here.” Olga stepped out onto the landing. Her goggles made her look like a tall, angular insect—a mantis, perhaps.

“Come on. We’ve got visitors.”

“Where do you want to hold out?”

“In the scullery passage and kitchen—the only direct way in is via the front window, and there are fun surprises waiting for them in the morning room and dining room.”

“Right.” Olga hurried downstairs, a machine pistol clutched in one hand.

“Brill,” Miriam called, “we’re coming in.” She remembered to knock.

Once in the kitchen she passed Brill a walkie-talkie with hands-free kit. “Put this in a pocket and stick the headphone in. Good. Olga? You too.” She hit the transmit button. “Can you both hear me?”

Two nods. “Great. We’ve—”

“Attention. Zone four breach.”

“—That’s the living room. Wait for it, dammit!”

“Attention. Zone five breach.”

“Dining room,” Miriam whispered. “Right. Let’s go.”

“Let’s—what?”

She switched her set to a different channel and pressed the transmit button.

“Attention. Zone four smoke release. Attention. Zone five smoke release. Attention. Zone six smoke release.”

“What—”

“Smoke bombs. Come on, the doors are locked on the hall side and I had the frames reinforced. We’ve got them bottled up, unless they’ve got demolition charges. Here.” Miriam passed Brill a pair of handcuffs. “Let’s go. Remember, we want to get the ringleader alive—but I don’t want either of you to take any risks.”

Miriam led them into the octagonal hallway. There was a muffled thump from the day room door, and a sound of coughing. She waved Olga to one side, then prepared to open the door. “Switch your goggles on,” she said, and killed the lights.

Through the goggles the room was a dark and confusing jumble of shapes. Miriam saw two luminous green shadows moving around her—Brill and Olga. One of them gave her a thumbs-up, while the other of them raised something gun-shaped. “On my mark. I’m going to open the door. Three, two, one, mark.” Miriam unlocked the door and shoved it open. Smoke billowed out, and a coughing figure stumbled into the darkened hall. Olga’s arm rose and fell, resulting in a groan and a crash. “I’m in.” Miriam stepped over the prone figure and into the smoke-filled room. It was chilly inside, and her feet crackled on broken glass. Bastards, she thought angrily. Something vague and greenish glowed in the smoke at the far corner, caught between the grand piano and the curtains. “Drop your gun and lie down!” Miriam shouted, then ducked.

Bang-bang: The thud of bullets hitting masonry behind her was unmistakable. Miriam spat, then knelt and aimed deliberately at the shooter. Can I do this—rage filled her. You tried to kill my mother! She pulled the trigger. There was a cry, and the green patch stretched up then collapsed. She froze, about to shoot again, then straightened up.

“Stop! Police!” Whistles shrilled in the garden. “Attention. Zone three breach.”

“That’s the south wall! What the fuck?” Miriam whispered. She keyed her walkie-talkie. “Status!”

“One down.” Brill, panting heavily. “Olga’s got the guy in the hall on the floor. They tried to shoot me.”

“Listen.” Whistles loud in the garden, flashlight beams just visible through the smoke. “Into the hall! Brill, can you drag the fucker? Get him upright? You take him and I’ll carry Olga.”

The sound of breaking glass came from the kitchen. Miriam darted back through the doorway and nearly ran straight into Olga.

“Quick!” Olga cried. “I can’t do it, my head’s still splitting. You’d better—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Miriam pushed her goggles up, grabbed Olga around the waist, and mashed a hand against the light switch. She fumbled with her left sleeve, saw the blurry outline clearly for a moment, tried to focus on it, and tightened her grip on Olga painfully. “Brill?”

“Do it!” Brill’s voice was edgy with tension and fear. More police whistles then a cry and more gunshots, muffled by the wall.

Miriam tensed and lifted, felt Olga grab her shoulders, and stared at her wrist. Her knees began to buckle under the weight: Can’t keep this up for long, she thought desperately. There was a splintering sound behind her, and the endless knotwork snake that ate its own tail coiling in the darkness as it reached out to bite her between the eyes. She fell forward into snow and darkness, Olga a dead weight in her arms.

Miriam was freezing. She had vague impressions of ice, snow, and a wind coming in off the bay that would chill a furnace in seconds. She stumbled to her feet and whimpered as pain spiked through her forehead. “Ow.” Olga sat up. “Miriam, are you alright?” Miriam blinked back afterimages of green shapes moving at the far end of the room. She remembered her hot determination, followed by a cry of pain. She doubled over abruptly and vomited into the snow, moaning.

“Where’s the hut?” Olga demanded in a panicky voice. “Where’s the—”

“Goggles,” Miriam gasped. Another spasm grabbed her stomach. This cold could kill us, she thought through the hot and cold shudders of a really bad world-walk. “Use your goggles.”

“Oh.” Olga pulled them down across her eyes. “Oh!”

“Miriam?” Brill’s voice came from behind a tree. “Help!”

“Aaarh, aarh—”

Miriam stumbled over, twigs tearing at her face. It was snowing heavily, huge flakes the size of fingernails twisting in front of her face and stinging when they touched her skin. Brill was kneeling on top of something that thrashed around. “Help me!” she called.

“Right.” Miriam crashed to her knees in front of Brill, her stomach still protesting, and fumbled at her belt for another set of restraints. Brill had handcuffed the prisoner but he’d begun kicking and she was forced to sit on his legs, which was not a good position for either of them. “Here.”

“Lay still, damn you—”

“We’re going to have to make him walk. It’s that or we carry him,” Olga commented. “How big is he?”

“Just a kid. Just a goddamn kid.”

“Watch out, he may have friends out here!”

Miriam stood up and pulled her night-vision goggles back down. Brill and the prisoner showed up as brilliant green flames, Olga a hunched figure a few feet away. “Come on. To the cabin.” Together with Brill she lifted the prisoner to his feet—still moaning incoherently in what sounded like blind panic—and half-dragged him toward the hunting blind, which was still emitting a dingy green glow. The heat from the kerosene heater was enough to show it up like a street light against the frigid background.

It took almost ten minutes to get there, during which time the snow began to fall heavily, settling over their tracks. The prisoner, apparently realizing that the alternative was freezing to death slowly, shut up and began to move his feet. Miriam’s head felt as if someone was whacking on it with a hammer, and her stomach was still rebelling from its earlier mistreatment. Olga crept forward and hunted around in the dark, looking for signs of disturbance, but as far as Miriam could see they were alone in the night and darkness.