Beth woke up and smiled, but then reached across and found that Sol wasn't there. The bed was still warm where he had been, though, so he obviously hadn't been gone long. She slipped out and found Sol's big, toweling dressing gown. Snug and shapeless, she wandered down the stairs to look for him.

She found him sat at the computer, dressed in the same baggy sweatshirt and jogging bottoms he was wearing last night. She crept up behind him, then slung her arms around his neck and nuzzled his neck.

"What do I have to do to stop you working?" she asked.

"I'm sure you'll think of something." Sol said, craning his neck and kissing her, "You seem to have a lot of good ideas about that."

"Why'd you get up? It's Saturday."

Sol turned around and put his arms around her.

"You were sleeping. I didn't want to wake you."

"I wouldn't have minded."

"I know. Still, you looked so beautiful there."

Beth punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Shut up. You'll make me blush."

Sol smiled. "I didn't realise you were that easily embarrassed." Beth blushed a little, but still smiled back. "So, you're up now. What do you want to do?"

Beth thought about this. "I think I'd like to go back to bed."

Sol turned round and switched off his monitor. As he did, he had a last, wistful look at the screen. He'd just started to make some decent progress. Still, there were more important things.

They went back to upstairs via the kitchen, making tea and grabbing yoghurts and fruit for breakfast in bed. They ended up staying there until noon, then pottering around the house for the rest of the day. After they had eaten a late lunch, curled up together on the sofa, Beth decreed that Sol was probably relaxed enough now, and let him back on the computer.

He was not only relaxed, but also had a kind of silly, happy glow. He kept stopping work to turn around and look at her with a daft grin on his face. Luckily, he usually caught he looking back, her face sporting a matching grin.

Not that he was really worrying about it, but he was also making good progress with Crystal. He'd got all of the donkey work out of the way, and had actually started on the query that they wanted and answer to. It was still a large and complicated query, mainly because it wasn't what the system had been designed for, but at least it was going somewhere.

Early evening, Beth mentioned tea (by which, Sol had learnt, she meant dinner). They briefly suggested going out, but Beth only had the lounging around clothes she'd arrived in last night. They decided to cook, and Beth went off to the kitchen to see what Sol had got. While she was going through his cupboards, and being pleasantly surprised, and a little intimidated, by the propensity of ingredients and the lack of ready meals (Beth tended to stick with sauce in a jar most of the time), Sol turned back to finish off the auxiliary query he'd been working on, intending to go and help.

When he finished that auxiliary and submitted it, there seemed to be a sea change in the system; he'd made a breakthrough. This wasn't unusual, but it was rarely annoying; this time, though, he really wanted to leave this and go and join Beth. Another part of him, though, wanted to see where this would lead, and that part won over. It would only take a minute, it said, coaxing. Just a couple more queries.

Of course, once he got started, he was drawn back in. Barriers seemed to topple down, and he was tearing through things at a terrific speed. Everything started to fall into place. Within a couple of minutes, he thought he was at the point of getting the final answer. He pause, took a deep breath, and hit enter. Sure enough, the result popped up on the screen before him.

He read it, and the grin dropped off his face.

"Beth," he called, "come and have a look at this."

Beth could tell from his tone that something was wrong. She came through and joined him in the corner. "What is it?"

He gestured wordlessly at the screen. She read the contents of the forecast panel there, and then didn't say anything for a long time.

"Shit." she muttered eventually.

"I know."

Isabelle came over as soon as they called her. She hadn't had any distraction from events, so it hadn't come as a surprise when Sol told her that he had something he wanted to tell her, and she hadn't been phased by the worry in his voice. When she arrived, she noticed that Beth and Sol were being far more touchy-feely than usual, but she didn't mention it.

"You've found out who's doing this?"

Sol nodded.

"Well, who is it?" asked Isabelle, taking off her coat and throwing it over a chair.

"Faraday."

Isabelle looked at him blankly. Sol looked back expectantly as Isabelle wracked her brains. Then, realisation dawned.

"Faraday? Mike Faraday?"

"Uh-huh."

"The C.E.O.?" She sat down heavily in an armchair, facing Sol and Beth on the futon. "No wonder he wanted it untraceable."

"So," said Beth, "What are we going to do."

Isabelle summarized. "Let's see. Faraday has immense resources, he can predict the future, and he's trying to take over the world. What can we do?"

"We can try and stop him." said Sol, flatly.

"We don't actually know he's trying to take over the world," pointed out Beth.

"Why else would he destablise a nuclear power?"

"He..." Beth paused, then thought of something. "He might be trying to cause economic unrest. I don't know how these things work, but I guess he could be trying to rig the stock market or something." She turned to Sol, somewhat redundantly, as their faces were only a couple of inches apart. "Could he do that?"

"From what we've seen, yes. In any case, we still need to stop him. In fact, it's even worse if he's not planning to secure the weapons himself. I'd rather he had them than some random terrorist or mafia don; he has a lot more to lose by using them."

"That still doesn't answer the big question. How do we stop him?" Isabelle was plainly not going to let this one go.

"We've got to play him at his own game."

"How? He's got Crystal, and on top of that he's got millions of dollars to play with. We can't hope to match that."

"We've got Crystal as well," Beth said, then her face lit up, "And he doesn't know that!"

Sol shook his head wearily. "We don't know that he doesn't know. We found out about him, so he could find out about us."

The other two didn't say anything. The possibility that Faraday could be using Crystal in the same way that they were hadn't occurred to either of them, and, what's more, it was giving them the same feeling of being watched that Sol had had when he first realised.

"Wait," said Beth, turning to Sol again, "He'd have to think to look, right?"

Sol nodded. "Yes. He'd have to think to look. Same with anything; Crystal's useless if you don't know how to ask the right questions. On the other hand, that's what they have Minerva for."

"But doesn't necessarily know?"

"We have to assume he does. So, basically, on the prescience front, that leaves us equal. He's still got a lot more money than us. Remember, non of us are millionaires."

"No," agreed Isabelle, "But I know a man who is."

Mr. Sherwood put down the phone, puzzled. The call from Miss Shelby had taken him by surprise. The very fact that she had called him was unusual, but the content of the call was even stranger. She wanted to meet with him, and had hinted that they would be able to impart more information than they had on previous occasions. As much as he disliked losing control, and doing things on someone else's terms, he was intrigued. Also, she had said it was urgent, and she sounded like she thought that it was. That was what tipped the balance.

He reached out to pick up the phone again, to dial Grayson (it was her day off, but she usually wasn't averse to a little overtime), but something stopped him. He got the feeling that they might clam up if he had company, and he'd be back to square one. He looked at his watch; he had a couple of hours yet before he had to set off.

When the time came, he walked out the garage, and selected a low key, but comfortable, dark blue Mercedes. He got in, started the engine (Grayson had ensured that all the cars were in good working order, and had a full tank of petrol; he really should give her a raise), and keyed the electric door opener. The ponderous mechanism began to move the wide door into the roof, and Sherwood set off when it was at half height. He was under it and away before it had even finished opening, and watched with satisfaction as it juddered to a halt and started to close again.

He'd forgotten how satisfying driving was. He let himself go a little when he got out onto the dark, empty country roads, letting the powerful engine carry the car up to within a cat's whisker of 100mph, and gliding through the corners. The fens around him, and the road in front and behind, were entirely free from the clutter of human life, and devoid of lighting; he almost seemed to be traveling through a void, inside a moving bubble of hedgerow and tarmac.

Eventually, he began to see signs of civilization, other cars at first, but then small villages, and then towns. He slowed to a more sensible, and legal, speed, and carried on until he reached his destination.

Isabelle had asked to meet in an out-of-town pub, more of a restaurant. It was far smaller and less grand than the hotel that they'd met in before, Sherwood reflected as he drove through the gates and into the car park, but it was pleasant enough. More importantly, judging by the handful of cars outside, it was all but empty, and so they could expect a little privacy.

He wandered in, and was momentarily thrown by the lack of a doorman. He saw Isabelle waiting with Sol at a table in the corner of the bar, talking in hushed voices. Another woman was with them, sitting close by Sol. Isabelle looked up and waved as he approached.

"Hi. I'm, well, we're very pleased that you could come." The three of them stood up, and they all shook his hand.

"This is Beth," explained Isabelle, "She's the only other person who knows what we're going to tell you."

"A pleasure," said Mr Sherwood, politely. They all sat down, aside from Sol, who asked around and then went for a round of drinks.

"If I may ask you a question," Sherwood began. Isabelle nodded, and he went on, "What made you change your mind? I mean, you've previously been very reticent to tell me anything at all, and now you're about to tell me something only known to a select group of people. What precipitated this shift of heart?"

The two women glanced at each other, then Isabelle answered. "You'll see when we tell you. Before you were asking questions about WorldPulse, and we couldn't really answer them. Now, the circumstances have changed, and, well, wait until Sol gets back and then we can explain."

Sol returned, and he and Isabelle took turns as they explained everything to Mr Sherwood. Sol knew more of the details, but tended to get carried away on technicalities, and would have lost Sherwood had it not been for Isabelle filling in the gaps. She was by far the better communicator, and could get across the big picture in a few well chosen words. Between them, they made a fairly good job of laying out the situation. Mr Sherwood sat and listened to them, occasionally asking for clarification on some point or other, but never raising any disagreement. When they had finished, he put his now-empty glass on the table and sat back.

"Well," he began, "This is a fairly fantastic story you've spun."

Sol began to speak, but Sherwood raised his hand to silence him.

"You've had your chance, so please allow me mine. As I was saying, what you have told me is fantastical in the extreme - it beggars belief." He glanced from Sol's face, to Isabelle's, to Beth's. "Now, I'm not saying that I don't believe you, merely that I'll need more to convince me than an earnest conversation over a couple of Cokes in a country pub."

The three of them looked cowed; one thing they hadn't counted on was skepticism. Actually, Sol reflected, now that the matter had come up, it could have been a lot worse. Sherwood could have laughed in their faces, and left. He was still here, and he seemed intent on giving them every chance to back up their claims.

"We can provide you with evidence." he offered. "Come back to my house and I can show you Crystal in action."

Mr Sherwood nodded. "I'll be glad to take you up on that offer. In the meantime, I suggest we get another drink, and discuss the ramifications of this revelation, assuming for the moment that it is genuine."

Mr Sherwood got up and went to the bar to get another round (he was very sprightly for a man of his age, Beth thought). The three left at the table leaned forward and held a brief, whispered strategy meeting.

"That went well, I thought." Isabelle said.

"Yeah; he seems open to the idea, at least." Sol answered.

"Why did you have to offer to take him back, though? He'll find out where you live. What if he's working with them?"

Isabelle and Sol stared at her.

"Where does your payment advice thing arrive every month?" Isabelle asked, irritably.

"Oh. Yes. Sorry." Beth replied.

They sat back up as Sherwood arrived back, carrying the four drinks on a tray. When they were all sitting again, he continued.

"One question I've still not been able to answer," he announced, after taking a sip from his Coke, "Is why you chose to involve me in all of this."

Beth and Sol both looked at Isabelle, and from this she guessed that the ball was in her court. "As you might imagine," she began hesitantly, "Mr Faraday is a rich and powerful man. While we can match him in terms of technology - we have a Crystal system, as does he - we can't compete with him on resources. We were hoping that you, would, well..."

Mr Sherwood jumped into the gap that she left. "You were hoping that I would provide the missing link in this chain, namely resources."

"Erm, yes," said Isabelle in a guilty voice, as if she were confessing to some embarrassing but ultimately minor misdemeanor.

Sherwood smiled. "Assuming what you say is true, then it is most certainly a cause for concern. It is dangerous, in my opinion, to have so much power concentrated in a single individual, especially one who is given to obtaining power by surreptitious and underhanded means. That being the case, you could certainly count on my full support, just as I would count on yours."

He paused, and let his offer sink in.

"Assuming," he repeated, "That what you say is true. Mr Davies, I recall you mentioned something about a demonstration?"