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it clear they don’t want
     to be disturbed. Apart from the clinking of bottles and glasses, and the occasional cheer or bellow, we don’t hear from them
     for the rest of the night.
    Shortly before eleven, Timas steps away from his laptops, takes a blue satin handkerchief from a pocket and dabs at his forehead,
     then folds it neatly and puts it away again. “Could I have some milk and a selection of whatever pastries the hotel has in
     stock?” he asks.
    “Pastries?” Meera frowns. “This late?”
    “Yes, please,” Timas says calmly. “I would like an ice pack also, for my frontal cranium, and could you please make up a cot
     for me beside the desk?”
    “I’m sure we can find a room for you,” Meera says.
    “No thank you,” Timas replies. “I would prefer a cot.”
    “I’ll see what I can rustle up,” Meera says, then whispers to me, “I’m going back to my room when I’m finished. This guy gives
     me the creeps.”
    I hide a smile, wait until she’s gone, then ask Timas how he knows Shark.
    “He killed my father,” Timas says in a neutral tone, studying the back of the TV and frowning with disapproval.
    Timas’s English is excellent, but it’s clearly not his first language. I think he must have made a mistake. “Do you mean he
     worked with your father?” I ask.
    “No. He killed him. My father was trying to summon a demon. He meant to sacrifice me and my sister as part of the ritual.
     Shark saved me.”
    “And your sister?”
    “He was not in time to help her.” Timas walks around the rest of the room, making a survey of the remote controls, light fixtures,
     telephones… everything electronic.
    “Shark felt he was to blame for my sister’s death,” Timas says. “He should have saved her. He didn’t react quickly enough.
     Guilt-ridden, he developed an interest in my future. I was already heavily involved with computers, so he put me in touch
     with people who knew more than I did. I worked with them for a time, then with some others. When Shark realized I was the
     best in my field and could be of use to him, he re-established contact.
    “I relished the challenge I was given and indicated my desire to work with him on subsequent projects. He summons me every
     so often. I drop everything to assist him. The people I work for understand. They know how important Shark’s work is. Do you
     work for Shark too?”
    “Not exactly. We’re… associates.” The word doesn’t sound right, but I don’t want Timas thinking I’m Shark’s lackey.
    Timas thinks about that for a moment, then sighs. “I hope they have
pain au chocolat.
That’s my favorite.” Then he falls silent and stares at his laptops, not moving a muscle, barely even blinking.
    Four more soldiers arrive the next morning, three men and one woman. Shark introduces them only by their first names — Terry,
     Liam, Stephen, and Marian. They don’t show any interest in Meera or me, so we don’t bother with them either. Probably better
     that way. If we have to fight, some of us might die, and it’s easier to cope with the death of someone you’re not friendly
     with.
    “Has it clicked yet?” Shark asks as we gather in my room around Timas, who’s beavering away at his laptops after a short night’s
     sleep.
    “Huh?” I frown.
    “Do a head count. Twelve of us.
The Dirty Dozen.
I love that film.”
    “I hope that’s not your only reason for deciding on that number,” I growl.
    “It’s as good a reason as any,” he chuckles. “But that wasn’t the key factor. I have access to a helicopter and it holds twelve.
     I could have commissioned a larger craft but I’m familiar with this model. I can fly it if I have to, though James will be
     doing most of the flying — he’s the best pilot I know. Handy with a rifle too. If we need a sniper, James Farrier’s our man.”
    “What’s Timas like with a gun?” I ask.
    “Not bad,” Shark says. “But it needs to be a high-tech weapon with some kind of computer