‘I’m certain that he hasn’t,’ Craddock answered.

‘You may be right,’ Barlow agreed. ‘But I won’t tell anyone what we’ve talked about until I give you my decision.’ He held out his hand. ‘You have my respect. You know that.’

‘Yes,’ Craddock agreed, taking the grip. ‘And I appreciate your candour.’ He released Barlow’s hand and nodded. ‘I’ll talk to you again later.’ He hurried away, and left through a nearby door.

Barlow considered his next move very carefully, and then looked up at the ceiling. ‘Estro,’ he said, ‘I think we had better talk.’ He considered repeating the comment, but decided that there was no need. If he was correct, Estro was monitoring him; if he was wrong, repetition was futile, and the man’s worth would go down a notch in his estimation.

Less than thirty seconds passed before the dark‐clad adviser stepped into the corridor, and Barlow turned to look at him. Estro smiled, and spread his gloved hands. ‘You were so sure I was observing you?’

‘You’d have to have been a fool not to watch two of Haldoran’s lieutenants conferring privately,’ Barlow replied. ‘And, whatever you are, you’re no fool.’

Estro moved closer. ‘Neither, I perceive, are you.’

‘I doubt that a man who has access to Dalek technology needs to do anything as crude as planting microphones all over the castle in order to monitor someone,’ stated Barlow.

That made Estro laugh in delight. ‘My dear Barlow, you’re very refreshing,’ he said. He held up one hand, and a small fly landed upon his outstretched finger. ‘A mobile camera. It’s very sensitive, and virtually unnoticeable.’

Barlow nodded. ‘I quite agree.’ He’d have to be more careful what insects he allowed in his rooms from now on.

Estro released the fly. ‘Well, now that we’ve evaluated one another’s keen sense of perception, what is it that you wish to discuss?’

‘Craddock,’ Barlow said bluntly. ‘You heard his intentions.’ He’d promised not to tell anyone what Craddock had said, and he wasn’t about to break his given word – especially since Estro knew everything anyway.

‘Indeed.’ Estro spread his hands helplessly. ‘I’m afraid it would be most inconvenient to my plans if Mr Craddock were to succeed in killing me. I shall have to take measures.’

‘No.’ Barlow gave him a scowl. ‘I shall make sure he doesn’t follow through on his plan to kill you.’

‘In return for what?’ Estro seemed amused.

‘Two things. First, you don’t try to pre‐empt his strike and kill him.’

Estro raised his eyebrows. ‘Sentiment?’ he inquired politely.

‘Not entirely,’ Barlow confessed. ‘He’s also too valuable to us. O’Hanley’s a fine tactician, but he’s cold. Tomlin has little respect. Malone is too blunt, and Downs is… sick. Craddock is the key to the war you’ve proposed we start.’

Estro nodded. ‘I quite agree. You and he are the only two men in this plan that I can rely on. In your own way, you’re honourable people. So, as long as you can keep him in line, I agree not to murder him first. And your second condition?’

‘I never lie,’ Barlow said. ‘What you heard me tell Craddock was the truth: I’m not yet convinced that using Dalek weaponry is a good idea. Oh, I’m not so paranoid about it as Craddock is. His problem is that he simply hates the Daleks so much that he can’t contemplate touching anything of theirs. It’s his one major weakness. But there are others like him who’ll be fighting for us, and they’ll have the same problems with those guns.’

‘Surely you can talk them around?’ Estro suggested.

‘I can’t persuade my men unless I’m first persuaded myself. If you win me over, I guarantee my best efforts to convince our troops and the rest of Haldoran’s advisers.’

‘I see.’ Estro barely had to consider. ‘Mr Barlow, I admire your candour. I will show you the source of those Dalek weapons, and convince you of their worthiness. You will then, I am certain, join with me in urging their use.’

‘Excellent.’ Barlow smiled. ‘Then I am very pleased we’ve had this talk.’ With a slight incline of his head, he marched away.

Estro watched him leave, an amused smile on his face. ‘Such a bright young man,’ he murmured to himself. And such refreshing honesty.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Such a shame everyone isn’t as candid and open as he…’ Humming cheerfully, he returned to his work.

5

Domain London

Alan Tomlin settled back into his modified runabout’s back seat. ‘Move on,’ he ordered his driver, satisfied with progress. The dawn was attempting to paint the skies, but in a half‐hearted fashion. Rain looked possible for later, and that always caused trouble for foot soldiers. The further they could get before any rains came, the better.

The push had begun, and Tomlin was pleased that he’d been chosen to lead the initial thrust. To be honest, he’d expected Craddock or Barlow to have been chosen. He had no illusion about his own skills being better than theirs. But, of course, he had one immense advantage – he was unswervingly loyal to Haldoran, and it was difficult to be sure if either of the other men was. They were fools, not seeing which side their bread was buttered on, and incapable of true commitment. Tomlin was no such fool: he’d risen through absolute service to Haldoran’s wishes. That had placed him in the forefront of the Lord’s council, and would keep him there when Haldoran was crowned king. Such a move was inevitable.

Tomlin’s only regret was that he didn’t have more runabouts or horses for his men. Infantry moved so damned slowly. He wished they could be at the gates of London today, instead of in three days. But he’d do what he must, and he’d horsewhip any man who caused him further delays.

All about him, Tomlin could see marching men, moving through the mists of morning, as the sun glanced down on the world. His men, and his fight.

This would be a glorious day.

Haldoran watched the final rank of Tomlin’s troops moving out. It gave him a slight twinge – but only a slight one. ‘A fine sight,’ he murmured to Estro, who stood beside him on the castle ramparts. ‘Are you sure it is absolutely necessary to sacrifice them?’

‘Without a doubt,’ Estro assured him. ‘You know that London has spies in the castle The man’s no fool. So he’s bound to be expecting an attack. As soon as he knows where it’s coming from, he’ll commit his troops to combat. Once they’re engaged, we can move the real forces into action around them. Barlow will strike east, and Craddock west. Downs and Malone are ready to move their men to support whichever unit breaks through first.’

Haldoran nodded, pleased with the plan. He, too, knew that London was expecting the attack, and that sacrificing a pawn was often necessary to bring about success. ‘It’s a shame it had to be Tomlin, though,’ he said with a sigh. ‘He’s absolutely loyal to me.’

‘Which makes the fake attack so much more believable,’ Estro purred. ‘With him in command, London is going to accept that it’s the real thing, since Tomlin is known to be your favourite.’

‘I know,’ Haldoran agreed. It was a shame to lose Tomlin, but you couldn’t have a war without casualties. Those men would die so that he could win. ‘How many of my men are armed with the Dalek guns?’

‘Only eight, with the first shipment I brought,’ Estro replied. ‘I’d like to see how they do before I bring in further guns. And I want the other soldiers to see how effective those guns are. By the end of this battle, they’ll all be clamouring for them.’ He smiled. ‘It’s always best to allow the demand to exceed the supply. You’ll be able to reward good service with one of the Dalek weapons.’

Haldoran frowned. ‘I suppose. Still, it might have been better to have had more of them in this first fight.’

‘There’s no need for more,’ Estro assured him. ‘Don’t forget, London’s men don’t have a clue what they’ll be up against. When they find themselves up against Dalek guns…’ He smiled. ‘It will be most… interesting.’