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ground, probably. Anyway, they were getting the place ready for a TV programme and someone was checking the sound levels. At some point, the organist must have played a series of the lower notes. I hardly heard anything, but I felt the note inside my chest, rather than with my ears.
    This was very similar.
    The pain was sudden and savage. For a moment, I was back in the woods at Agincourt, staring at the red, wet sword protruding from my chest.
    I felt my legs begin to give way. I couldn’t breathe in. Sounds around me began to blend one into another, one long drone …
    Now I knew what the hairdryer thing was. Not an EMP device. They had some sort of sonic weapon designed to neutralise people, not equipment. The effects were painful and disabling. And very unpleasant.
    My lungs couldn’t seem to work properly. I couldn’t get a rhythm going. My heart fluttered. Beneath me, the ice swayed and tipped as I felt my head spin. Everything blurred. I couldn’t get back to the pod. I’d forgotten where it was. Legs that weren’t mine took two or three wobbly steps in a direction I hadn’t meant to go.
    All around me, I could vaguely hear women screaming. Someone crashed into me, spun me around, and I was lost all over again.
    Where was I?
    What was happening?
    My chest was on fire. I put two clenched fists to my heart and tried to bend forward to ease the pain, but it was all internal. Nothing helped.
    Sonic weapons are supposed to be less harmful than conventional types. They’re not. Take my word for it – and I’m someone who knows what she’s talking about.
    They must have had it on a fairly narrow beam because only a few of us seemed to be really badly affected. It was the secondary effect that did the real damage.
    Panic.
    The Great Plague might be nearly twenty years in the past, but the nightmares were still only just beneath the surface. Londoners, seeing people drop suddenly to the ice for no good reason at all, lost their heads and panicked.
    The screaming intensified. People tried to scatter away from what they supposed was infection. Maddened dogs ran through the crowds, howling and barking. They’d been affected too. Children cried. Men shouted. In fear. Or anger. Or for their families who were being swept across the ice in the panic. I heard the sounds of a stall overturning.
    The worst was yet to come.
    I heard a sharp crack. And then another. Beneath my feet, something trembled.
    Whether because of the sonic weapon or because of the sudden concentration of people all in one spot – or maybe a combination of both – the ice was cracking.
    I’d never heard of any Frost Fairs crashing through the ice, but this wasn’t my world. Maybe this was the world that had suffered the dreadful Frost Fair Catastrophe of 1683 when the ice had given way and the entire fair fell into the Thames with massive loss of life. It was more than possible. That these people would be prepared to run that risk rather than let us get away was not a good sign. I remembered Leon telling me they would do anything to get the job done, whatever the cost. They were ruthless and professional and they would get what they wanted. And they wanted me.
    Someone caught me from behind and lifted me off my feet.
    They had me.
    I tried to struggle, kicking out, and flailing with my arms.
    People were still clutching their heads or their chests. I could still hear screaming. Was it me? It usually was.
    Someone shouted, ‘Door.’
    I flew through the air and hit the floor hard. The universe kicked me hard in my already damaged chest and everything went black.

Chapter Three
    I lay on the sleeping module, spread-eagled like a stunned starfish under the weight of blankets. So much of me hurt that it was probably easier to list the parts that didn’t.
    No, that wasn’t going to work. There weren’t any.
    My face throbbed with the pain of returning blood. And my feet. And my hands. My head pounded. Even my ears hurt. My chest was just a red-hot