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that we know about Nemesis, they can anticipate getting nuked in retaliation. So they’ll get their strike in first, to minimize damage to themselves.”
    Shafer completed the logic: “Except that, since we know they’ll be thinking that way, we’ll have to get in first.”
    Noordhof nodded again. “A careless word from anyone here could trigger a nuclear war.”
    They stared at each other in fright. At last Webb recognized the sour odour. It was the smell of sweat, induced not by exertion but by fear. The chairs scuffled on the wooden floor as they stood up. “Strictly,” Webb said, “Nemesis is the Goddess of Righteous Anger. Have you people upset somebody?”

 
Southern Arizona
    The desert air was cold, the sun was setting, and a bright red Pontiac Firebird, straight out of the nineteen-seventies, was waiting for them. It had fat tyres and a front grille like twin nostrils, and flames extended from the air intakes back along the bonnet and down the sides in a wonderful expression of psychedelic art from the period. The woman leaning on the car was about thirty, small, with shoulder-length, curly, natural blonde hair. She was wearing a slightly old-fashioned dress which didn’t disguise the fact of elegant bodywork underneath. She waved cheerfully at them.
    Noordhof took the driving seat, Shafer sitting next to him. Webb added his holdall to a pile of luggage in the boot and squeezed into the back beside the blonde. She was diminutive against his strong six foot one frame. Leclerc sat on the other side of her and immediately delved into a sheaf of papers.
    “Judy Whaler,” she said, shaking hands. “So you’re our European astronomer.”
    “What’s your field, Doctor Whaler?”
    “I’m a Sandian.”
    “Is that a religious cult?”
    She smiled tolerantly. “Sandia National Laboratories. The Advanced Concepts Group. We’re supposed to identify threats to national security and propose countermeasures.”
    Noordhof said, over his shoulder, “The rest of the team’s on site.” He eased the car on to the road. Once on Speedwayhe opened the throttle and they moved throatily north on the broad street, past Mexican restaurants and cheap motels. It took about twenty minutes to cross the city and then they were clear, still heading north, and the grey Catalina Mountains were getting bigger. Paloverde cactus and little creosote bushes started at the roadside and stretched into the far distance. The sky was blue, but streaky clouds were beginning to form around the peaks, and above them was high cirrus. A four-engined jet was drawing a contrail.
    In the confined space it soon became clear that Judy enjoyed bathing in cheap perfume. Her thigh was warm against Webb’s but he tried not to notice that—after all, she was a colleague. The road began to climb and twist and they passed over narrow bridges straddling deep canyons. Webb’s scrotum contracted, as it always did when he faced great heights or imminent danger. It would do a lot of contracting over the next few days.
    Half an hour north of the city Shafer fell in impatiently behind a big, gleaming American truck with a vertical exhaust. The corrugated door at the back portrayed a leering, gluttonous child, with a frost-covered head, eating a Monster Headfreeze Bar. The road went steeply up the mountainside and the truck dropped gear noisily with a surge of exhaust smoke, labouring heavily. A second truck appeared on the skyline like a hostile Indian and bore down on them at alarming speed. Noordhof put his foot flat down and they sailed past with ease.
    “Six point six litre V8,” Judy said, “delivering three three five bhp. The suspension’s too simple to cope with it.” The truck drivers blasted their air horns but the big Pontiac was already long past. At the top of the hill Noordhof slowed, and turned sharply off on to a stony, unpaved track. In seconds they had lost the highway and were heading steeply upwards, towards high mountains. Something