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you measure their speeds? You don’t see them moving?’
    ‘No, but their light is shifted to the red or blue pro rata with their velocities, like the change in pitch of a train whistle when it passes. You find that the dark stuff in clusters has to be about ninety-five per cent of the total mass. What we’re saying here is that the whole of astronomical science is devoted to only five per cent of what’s out there.’
    ‘Right. So rather than change the law of gravity, which is sacred, you assume that there’s some exotic new type of particle. Invisible but with mass. If you find it, you have a handle on the missing ninety-five per cent of the Universe.’
    ‘On the nail,’ Gibson said. ‘A subnuclear particle unknown to present-day science. There could be millions of them passing through our bodies now.’ Gibson’s froglike face had acquired a fanatical look.
    ‘Where are these particles supposed to come from?’
    ‘Hell, Tom, they were created in the Big Bang. They must have been.’
    ‘Yes, all right, Charlie, I believe it. In fact, I believe everything you’re telling me.’
    Freya asked, ‘Okay, Charlie, but why in the hinterlands? Why not someplace civilised like the Alps?’
    ‘The Alps have been taken: a rival team got into the Mont Blanc tunnel long before us. Likewise the Gran Sasso in the Italian Apennines. And the karst limestone here-abouts has very little natural radioactivity. Anyway, our technique needs an underground lake. It’s worth a little sojourn in the Carpathian hinterlands to solve one of the greatest scientific mysteries of the age.’
    ‘And pick up a Nobel Prize in passing.’
    ‘Provided we beat the competition.’
    ‘You just did,’ said Freya.
    Gibson said, cryptically, ‘Except that we got more than we bargained for. Follow me again.’
    Gibson marched out of the library, half-ran back along the corridor and up broad stairs. He turned left and stopped at an oak door, puffing slightly.
    He paused, his hand on its large wooden knob, and blinked. ‘The stuff on the other side of this door will change your life. This is your last chance to walk away.’
    ‘My goodness, Charlie, this is dramatic stuff.’ Petrie’s tone was light, but he was tense with excitement.
    ‘Okay – you had your chance. Welcome to Wonderland.’
    Gibson opened the door.
    Petrie stared into a large room, almost bare apart from a square central table around which were half a dozen chairs embroidered with some royal insignia. On the table were six computer terminals. Windows on the right opened out to a snowy wooded landscape. At the far end of the room, wood panelling had been slid aside to expose a bank of television screens. Two people were standing at a screen, obscuring it. They turned, and Petrie formed instant impressions.
    There was Miss Dominatrix. A long-haired female, midthirties, spinsterish, with a long thin face and an intense, dedicated look. She was dressed in black sweater and slacks, and fashionless trainers. She was devoid of makeup but wore sapphire earrings.
    Gibson made the introductions. ‘Well, at last we have our mathematician, Thomas Petrie, and our astronomer, Freya Størmer. The team’s complete. Tom and Freya, this is Vashislav Shtyrkov and Svetlana Popov.’
    Svetlana alias Miss Dominatrix had an unexpectedly warm smile. ‘Cracow University, Poland. I just join up the wires.’
    ‘Svetlana’s modesty is out of place,’ Gibson said. ‘She’s a first-class experimentalist.’
    The two women were shaking hands. ‘I know, Charlie, I just like to hear you say it. You must wonder what you’re getting into, Freya.’
    ‘It’s all very clandestine. I think Tom and I are in the hands of paranoid lunatics.’
    Shtyrkov approached and extended a powerful hand to Petrie. He had a deep bass voice, with a slightly breathless edge. ‘Moscow State University. I do particle physics. Freya is right, I’m a paranoid lunatic. As will you be after a day or two here. So,