There was a cow on the roof of 12-22 DuPre.

Jabowski sat in his agency issue sedan drinking coffee and wondering whether the cow would still be up on the roof by the time Fire and Rescue's mobile crane arrived. The cow wasn't very big, more like a calf if truth be told, and was coloured brown and white. The wings, Jabowski guessed an ornithologist would be able to tell which bird they were derived from, were half open as the animal flapped them nervously. The cow had every right to be nervous. 12-22 was a three-storey townhouse and the pitched roof was old-fashioned slate. The cow's hooves slithered and skittered as the beast trod its way along the ridge line, two legs one side, two the other.

The crowd that was gathering at street level took Jabowski's interest. Everyone had a right to stop and stare; the problem was who would be in the wrong place at the wrong time if the cow took the decision to come down. He drank the last of his coffee and pulled himself out of the car. There were two parking wardens amongst the onlookers; Jabowski co-opted them to help him form a thirty-metre cordon. How far could a cow fly anyway? He knew it had got up onto the roof. But coming down? If he shifted the crowd back to a hundred metres there would be a riot.

Jabowski's decision was made for him when he heard a woman's awestruck voice say,

"It's taking off."

He looked up in time to see the cow stretch its wings. It had an impressive span and the animal made a half step-half jump movement to launch itself skyward. The onlookers held their breath as silence came to the street. The cow glided, briefly, and looked as if it belonged in the air. Then gravity and lack of experience took over. The wings flapped twice before folding back on themselves, and the animal plunged towards the ground.

Jabowski closed his eyes before impact. The wet slap told him all he needed to know. The crowd sighed in distress. Jabowski risked a look and was relieved to see that one wing had flopped across the worst of the offal that was spilling out of the animal. As he made his way up the drive to the house Jabowski skirted the rapidly spreading pool of blood. The property owner came to meet him. Jabowski flashed his badge. The owner said his name was Keegan, and then added.

"It's my son."

Jabowski looked from the owner to the cow and back.

"I don't see the family resemblance," he said.

"No, this isn't my son. My son is responsible for this."

"And how is that?"

"He has a mini-lab in our loft. He bred this hybrid cow and has been keeping it in our garden. I guess it slipped its tether and flew onto the roof."

"I guess," Jabowski heard Fire and Rescue's approaching sirens. "Where is your son now?"

"I don't know," Keegan seemed honest in his answer. "As soon as he saw the cow was up there he ran out of the house."

"Any idea where he would go? Friends? Relatives?"

"He's been hanging out at a tech bar called Larry's down on the waterfront for the last year or so. I think that's where he got the mini-lab."

"I can find the place," Jabowski turned as a young woman approached them. "Can I help you?"

"Only if you are Tim Keegan." She had avoided looking at the cow on the way up the drive but the thick stench of death was hanging in the air and her face was beginning to turn the colour of milk.

"No," the badge came out again, "Special Agent Jabowski, I"m with the Hi-tech Unit. And you are?"

"Ruth Kelly," she fished in her pocket and pulled out an ID card, "I work for Heart, the student counselling service at the University. I received a call from Tim's girlfriend this morning. She seemed very concerned about him."

"In what way?" Fire and Rescue arrived, the crew spilling out of their vehicle to stare at the dead cow.

"She told me he had done something very bad and he was worried about the consequences."

"Take a look," Jabowski gestured at the cow.

"Is that what he did?" Ruth decided to keep her eyes on the federal agent.

"He did the creating," Jabowski said, "the cow did the jumping."

"And where is he now?" The student counsellor looked as if she was going to be sick at any moment.

"That's what I was trying to find out when you arrived."

"He needs help," Ruth said, "I'm sure this must be illegal."

"Operating a gene lab without a licence, hybrid creation without a licence, failure to take due care of hybrid life, failure to notify Federal agencies of hybrid's existence," Jabowski listed the first few infringements he could think of. "The kid is looking at a minimum of five years."

"My son is studying Applied Genetics," Keegan interrupted with a shade of pomposity. "He has his thesis written, I'm sure this must come under University rules."

"No," Jabowski shook his head. "The University has gene experiment licences but only within specified labs open to inspection."

Ruth Kelly was easing herself away from the sight and smell of the cow.

"What are you going to do?" Her mid-west accent had a waver in it as she fought to control her stomach muscles.

"His father told me about a tech bar, I'll try there first."

"Can I come with you? If there are any students there I may be able to persuade them you are acting in Tim's best interests."

Jabowski figured that wasn't such a bad idea.

"How did you get here?"

"Taxi, it's waiting over there."

"If you pay it off you can travel with me. My car's over there, the grey one."

The crowd was, if anything, getting bigger. Half a dozen newsgroup drones floated over the street, broadcasting the death of a cow to a shock hungry audience. Jabowski typed the name of the bar into his sat-nav console. The route flashed up, along with an advertising blurb for the bar. He smiled as he read the lines of flashing text. Ruth opened the door and sat next to him.

Jabowski drove slowly until the street cleared. The Keegans lived in the Goldhay district, up in the hills that threw evening shadows across the city when the sun set behind them.

"Do you usually make house calls?" Jabowski asked as he guided the car onto the city bound highway.

"Tim is currently on exam leave and his girlfriend was very insistent I see him today."

"Do you have her name?"

"No."

"Do you have a contact number for her?"

"No," Ruth shook her head, "we're a counselling service. We operate in complete confidentiality for all callers."

"But not enough to stop you talking to me?"

"Tim is obviously in trouble," Ruth replied, "it is part of my duty to help him in anyway I can. This includes dealing with law enforcement agencies."

Jabowski sensed there was something left unsaid.

"What's the other reason?" He asked as the traffic began to slow.

"Other reason?" She looked across at him, her hazel eyes catching the sun.

"Personal visits can't be the norm."

Ruth was quiet for a moment. Jabowski didn't say anything; he waited for her to fill the silence.

"Five students involved in genetics have gone missing in the last year. I don't want it to become six."

"Has this been reported to the authorities?"

"Yes, police from the Missing Persons Bureau have looked at each case and come to the same conclusion. The students are simply running away from the extreme pressure of exams. The fact that they are all over twenty-one means that unless there is evidence of a crime the police can't proceed any further."

Jabowski saw the signs for the Docklands and guided the car down an off-ramp. The officers who had looked at the missing students hadn't been wrong in what they told Ruth, but had they been right? The traffic was lighter now and he made good progress through the older part of the city. Most of the buildings were original, old brick and stonework that was dark with history. He found a parking slot on a quayside, paid on his card for the privilege. He walked with Ruth in bright sunshine to the single storey glass and metal building that was built from quayside down into the harbour water. Ocean waves slapped against the stone pilings with a rhythmic slap like the slow hand clap of a gospel choir. A gull, its razor beak the same yellow as the sun, eyed them as if they might form part of its next meal.

"This is Larry's," the detective said, "ever been here?"

"No," Ruth watched a hologram of a lobster scuttle across the roof of the tech bar.

"And that's Larry," Jabowski said, recalling the information gleaned from his sat-nav system. "He's a Northern Lobster, supposedly two-hundred years old."

"And is he?" Ruth asked as the doors slid back to admit them.

"If he is it doesn't show on him," the detective led the way in.

The late afternoon customers hadn't arrived yet. Jabowski could see maybe half a dozen people, mostly clustered around a game of null-g pool. Behind the bar, in a long tank, was Larry. Ruth gazed at the lobster.

"Has he been gene-tweaked?" she asked.

"As far as I know the two-hundred year old bit is genuine," Jabowski walked up to the bar. The lobster moved across its bed of sand, lasers swept his carapace and transmitted the reflected image up onto the roof.

"Is Laszlo around?" Jabowski asked. The barman looked at him like he knew Jabowski was a cop.

"Who's asking?"

"My name's Jabowski," he flashed his badge.

The barman slouched away, as if carrying the message was the hardest thing he had ever done. He returned a couple of minutes later followed by the owner of Larry's. Laszlo was tall and wide and built like a granite block. He greeted Jabowski with a nod of his blonde head and led them across to an empty table.

"Is this your partner?" Laszlo asked, looking at Ruth.

"This is Ruth Kelly; she's a counsellor at the university."

A waitress approached.

"Would your guests like a drink Mr. Laszlo?"

The bar owner looked a question at Jabowski and Ruth.

"Vanilla coffee, please" Ruth said.

"I'll take the same," the detective added.

"So this isn't a social call?" Laszlo asked.

"No. We're looking for one of the kids who hang out here. His name's Tim Keegan."

"I think I know him," Laszlo nodded. "But we get so many from the university some days that it's hard to keep track of them."

"What about the group over there?" Jabowski pointed to the pool game.

Laszlo studied them for a moment as the waitress returned with their drinks.

"All from the university, some under graduates and some post graduates. Want to talk to them?" Laszlo asked.

"Sure," Jabowski and Ruth followed the bar owner across to the pool game.

Laszlo did the introductions. Jabowski gauged the group. They were all young, or at least younger than him by ten years or more, and they had all been gene-jumped in some way or other. Two of the girls wore backless dresses to show off their snakeskin grafts, a third had the delicate pattern of a monarch butterfly threaded into the skin of her cheeks. The boys were more macho; the tails of wolf and fox predominated as they strutted around the pool table. Jabowski felt them examining him; he had not been grafted, spliced or jumped and to these kids that put him on a level with a caveman.

The group's spokesperson turned out to be a twenty five year old called Hermann. His foxtail matched the colour of his elongated ears.

"Yeah, I know Tim," Hermann admitted as his eyes stayed fixed on Ruth Kelly.

"Seen him today?" Jabowski asked as the balls clattered through their three dimensional cage.

"Saw him heading to the genetics block as we came here," Hermann shook his tail at Ruth.

"Did you speak to him?"

"No, he was down at park level, heading for the basement labs." Hermann caught hold of his tail and drew it around his body. "Want to stroke it?" he asked Ruth.

"No, thank you," she smiled and held out a card, "but if you ever feel the need to have psych-evaluation concerning your inability to cope with the basic human form then we at Heart can arrange a counselling session."

Hermann's lips twitched in disgust. He turned away. Jabowski smiled as he followed Ruth back to Laszlo's table.

"Any good?" Laszlo asked as Jabowski sipped at his coffee.

"Possibly," Jabowski could see that Hermann was still watching them, or maybe just Ruth. "What do you know about Hermann?"

"Off the scale intelligence," Laszlo gave the group a sidelong glance. "But most of them are. Hermann is on his way to a double PhD."

Jabowski finished his coffee.

"Time to head for the university."

Ruth followed him back out into the sun light.

"Hermann seemed to take a liking to you," Jabowski said.

"I'm not sure why, I know I'm not his type."

"Oh? What is his type?"

"Girls who are willing to be gene jumped. Did you see the grafts they had? That amount of gene therapy needs total dedication."

"And you haven't got it?"

"My parents are neo-Christian. I haven't followed them fully down that road but some aspects of their beliefs have stuck."

"So you"re authentic?"

"Yes," they had reached Jabowski's car and she gave him a challenging stare across the roof of the vehicle. "Does it shock you?"

He didn't answer until they were inside and the air conditioning was running.

"Well?" Ruth prompted.

"I did twelve years in the Army Special Investigations Bureau, straight from military college where my father sent me from the age of four. We signed on the line to say we agreed to no genetic manipulation. I've never gone against that requirement."

Ruth was silent for a moment.

"Are you married?" she asked.

Jabowski shook his head and said,

"Who is going to marry a man whose genes do not carry any kind of certification?"

Ruth was silent, looking out over the bay at the dark outline of a multi deck suspension bridge. After a moment she gave him her card.

"If you ever want to talk," she said, her hand shaking ever so slightly.

Jabowski held the card, studying it like it was some kind of alien artefact. Ruth broke the growing silence by saying,

"Shall we head over to the university?"

"Sure," Jabowski slipped the card into an inside pocket. He reversed out of the parking slot. He took the road that clung to the edge of the bay as if it were a drunk hanging onto a wall. Seals basked on rocks that littered the shoreline as they allowed the slight forms of waders to roam between them. Ruth watched the passing scene in silence, and Jabowski was unable to find the right words to start a conversation. They drove, without speaking, the fifteen miles to the university through the early afternoon traffic of shoppers and delivery drivers.

The university sprawled its way around a crescent shaped bay in a series of four and five storey buildings linked by a web of transparent walkways. Jabowski threaded the car down the narrow roadways, over speed humps and under the suspended plasglass ribbon-bridges that were thronged with students and lecturers. Ruth spoke for the first time since leaving the quayside, directing Jabowski round the back of the genetics block to a parking area shaded by a dozen broad-leaved trees. They were next to the bay again, a concrete sea defence providing the third side of the triangle around the parking lot.

Jabowski let her lead him to a dark tinted glass door. Inside, a security guard the shape of a soccer ball sat behind a bank of monitoring screens. He looked at them through watery blue eyes and said.

"Help you?"

Jabowski showed his badge and Ruth her University ID. There was no reaction from the guard. Jabowski said,

"We're looking for a student named Tim Keegan. It's been suggested he may be here."

The guard flicked at the keyboard in front of him and read from one of the screens.

"He logged in using his flashcard two hours and eight minutes ago."

"So he's still here?"

"Yup," another couple of taps, "he went through the security to Level 3. Should still be there."

"Anyone else down there?"

The guard sniffed noisily and said,

"Not sure I should give that information, we do have security issues here."

"I understand that," Jabowski replied, "but it may have a bearing on how I approach Tim."

The guard gave a half shrug and typed another command.

"Professor Eugene Laroche is the only other registered occupant of the lab."

"Do you know Laroche?" Jabowski asked Ruth.

"Not personally, but I have heard of him. He's a big noise on the faculty pushing for federal funding on research projects."

"How do we get to Level 3?" Jabowski directed his next question to he guard.

"First you need clearance," the guard put a portable scanner onto the counter top. "Retinal scans first."

Jabowski and Ruth took turns in putting their right eyes to the scanner. The guard watched his display and nodded. He gave them each a temporary pass and then called a service drone.

"Passes last two hours, after that you're locked in. Follow the drone."

Jabowski and Ruth followed the drone as it floated down the corridor. After two turns they reached a bank of elevators. The drone called one for them. They stepped inside, the drone remaining in the corridor as it signalled the elevator where to take them.

The ride down took less than fifteen seconds. A remote camera monitored them all the time. When the door slid open they had to swipe their passes to get through a security screen. The Level 3 laboratory was in partial darkness. Opposite them stood a bank of cages. Some were occupied. The creatures inside stirred, a few came to the bars to examine the new arrivals whilst others cowered away. Jabowski took a quick look into the cages. They were human, or at least had some human genes in them. The smell of them lay in the air like a blanket, catching at his throat. He felt Ruth shiver; she had pushed close to him in fear at what she saw.

"Is this legal?"

"I'm afraid so," Jabowski said, softly. "The university has licenses for radical experiments."

A whisper came to them from one cage. Jabowski stepped close, peering into the shadows at a creature less than a metre tall that lay huddled in a straw filled corner. The creature made another sound through lips that were cracked and dry and a face and body covered in coarse hair. Jabowski squatted down, breathing through his mouth as the stench of the creature's waste filled the air around him. He studied the animal, and then corrected himself, it wasn't an animal it was a genetically modified human. Blue eyes gazed at him imploringly. The mouth, full of thick yellow teeth, opened and spoke again. This time, Jabowski understood.

"Water ..."

Jabowski looked around and saw a dozen water bottles stacked to one side.

"Give me one of those," he said to Ruth, and when she passed it to him he slid the bottle into the bars and held it while the creature sipped quickly to ease its thirst.

"What are you doing?"

Jabowski half turned. A thin man in a white coat approached them. Jabowski stood to meet him, showing his badge and identifying himself. The thin man stared at it and smiled.

"You got here quicker than I thought."

"We did?"

"Oh, yes," the man rubbed his hands together. With another smile he held one out to Jabowski. "Eugene Laroche, Professor of Applied Genetics."

Jabowski shook the hand, feeling as if he was missing something.

"Why were you expecting us?" he asked.

"Come through and I'll explain." Laroche turned away. Jabowski stopped him.

"The hybrids in these cages are not being cared for properly."

"I know," Laroche shrugged, "staffing isn't what it used to be and we struggle to cope. I'll get my students to clean them all up tomorrow."

"I can get a court order to ensure compliance with all relevant laws," Jabowski held his place.

"There's no need," Laroche seemed distracted, as if he was eager to move them on. Reluctantly, Jabowski followed. Ruth, with a final look into the cages went after the two men.

The corridor opened into a white walled laboratory. Only one other person was in the room. He sat at a workstation, watching them with nervous eyes. Jabowski didn't wait for introductions.

"Tim Keegan, I presume," he said, as he stopped in front of the young man.

Keegan stood, stepping away from Jabowski. The student looked towards Laroche. The professor said,

"Are you carrying a sidearm, Agent Jabowski?"

Laroche had moved to his workstation. Now he stood, aiming a nerve-jammer at Jabowski, with a grin of delight on his face.

"Please hand it over to Tim," the professor walked closer, gesturing at Ruth to move and stand next to Jabowski. With slow movements Jabowski slid his gun out of his shoulder holster and held it out to Keegan. The student grabbed it and put the gun in a draw before taking out another nerve-jammer. Keegan went and stood a few paces to Jabowsky's left.

"Well," Laroche said, "what a pretty picture we make."

"I take it you"re going to explain what's happening?" Jabowski was gauging the distances involved. He could manage one, but not both. Beside him, Ruth was shaking. He put his hand on her arm in reassurance.

"Genes. What other reason can there be?"

Jabowski thought about the answer. He looked at Ruth. Considered his options for a moment and said.

"Our genes?"

"Correct." Laroche's grin got wider. "Yours, and Miss Kelly's."

"Why?"

"You already know the answer to that," Laroche's face became serious. "We ran through the entire population gene database and came up with maybe two-dozen candidates. After background checks we were left with the two of you."

"We're both natural," Jabowski stated the obvious.

"Yes," Laroche gestured with the gun. "And there"s more."

Jabowski decided to let the professor do the talking now. He waited in silence until Laroche couldn't contain himself any longer.

"Not interested?" Laroche asked.

Jabowski shrugged.

"How long have you been in this city?" Laroche asked.

"Sixteen days," Jabowski said.

"And you, Miss Kelly?"

"Twelve days."

"Why are you here, Agent Jabowski?"

"The local area office had a vacancy. I was transferred in from Chicago."

"And you, Miss Kelly?"

"The National Counselling Service posted me here."

"What about your parents, Agent Jabowski?"

"They're both dead."

"Any siblings?"

"No."

"Miss Kelly, how about your family?"

"The same."

Laroche's smile was that of a shark circling its prey.

"Your personal backgrounds have precluded you from forming any close personal ties with other people. Over the last year neither of you have done anything more than send birthday or Christmas mail greetings. You are both now living in rented accommodation. No-one will miss you."

"What are you going to do?" Ruth's voice carried a tremble of fear.

"I need you for the next stage of our research. You are perfect, a male and female subject to provide baseline genetic material. We will splice your genes and stitch your genes. We will tweak them and transform them. We will deconstruct you and reconstruct you. In essence, Miss Kelly, you will multiply a thousand fold into a multitude of hybrid types."

Jabowski kept his features still; glancing at Tim Keegan he saw the student was rocking nervously from foot to foot. Keegan was the weak link here, all Jabowski had to do was exploit it. He thought about what Laroche had said.

"The hybrids in the cages outside, they're the missing students, aren't they?"

"The essence of the students is out there, certainly. They were, however, all volunteers."

"They volunteered to die?"

"They volunteered to take their lives onto a new plane."

Jabowski shrugged and half turned to Ruth.

"I'm sorry," he said. She frowned.

"What for?"

"This."

Jabowski reached out and took hold of a handful of her blouse with his left hand. With his right hand he tightened his grasp on her arm, then he swung Ruth round and threw her at Laroche. The professor's jaw dropped. He fired the nerve-jammer on instinct and the blue-white blob of supercharged energy hit Ruth in the side as she pirouetted towards him. Jabowski was already moving. Tim Keegan's eyes had followed Ruth's flight. Too late, he realised his mistake. Jabowski grasped his wrist and twisted it as his free arm came up in a forearm smash that took the kid off his feet. Jabowski pulled Keegan's gun free and dropped to one knee as he turned. Laroche was struggling with Ruth. She had careered into him, her unconscious limbs tangling with the professor's, pulling him half to the floor. Jabowski gave Laroche enough time to free himself and look up. Their eyes met across the lab. Jabowski squeezed the trigger and saw the sphere of energy flash across the space as if it were a lighting bolt. Laroche managed a scream, as his nerves were pulse shredded by the force of the shot. He crashed to the floor alongside Ruth, legs kicking spasmodically for a moment until he lay still.

Jabowski turned back to Keegan, but saw with relief that the kid was out of the game. He went to Ruth and felt for a pulse. It was there, just about, weak and thready. Ruth had the build that the kind of energy kick she had just got called for fast medical support. Jabowski lifted her onto his shoulder. Laroche and Keegan were still both unconscious. He left them there, sprawled on the laboratory floor, and headed back to the elevator.

Jabowski took the turns in the corridor by memory. The fat guy was still on the security desk. He was eating a double layer chicken salad sandwich on rye bread. The guard's eyes widened as he saw Jabowski approach.

"Need help?" The question came round a mouthful of food.

"She just needs some air," Jabowski told him.

The guard pressed the door release as mayo dripped onto his desk. Jabowski nodded his thanks and went out into the bright sunshine. He used his remote to open the car door and slid Ruth onto the back seat with relief. Jabowski stretched his back to release the cramp that had set in, and then he called for backup and paramedics. After that, with a glance to the building, where the guard still sat eating his sandwich, Jabowski went to the trunk of his car and got out a pump action shotgun.

He checked Ruth again. She was still unconscious, and her pulse was fluttering from fast to slow and back again. It had been a long time since Jabowski had last done an emergency aid course. He had no idea other than to wait for the experts. Jabowski heard a high whine and looked up to see a security dart pass over the car park and then bank round to take station overhead. The dart was blue, with yellow chevron marks down each side. Jabowski didn't recognise the pattern, he slipped the safety catch off the shotgun and waited. A second dart came over the treetops and came to a hover above the laboratory building. This one had the same markings as the first. Jabowski drummed his fingers on the stock of the shotgun. He decided they must be university security darts, alerted by his call for backup. The local field office would have called the university as a matter of course.

At least, that was what he hoped.

Jabowski saw movement amongst the trees. A half dozen figures flitting in and out of the sun dappled shadows. The kids from the tech bar came out into the sunlight, spreading out to form a line. Hermann was in the middle, holding a foldaway machine pistol. Three of the others carried similar weapons and the two girls on the flanks had hi-fire crossbows loaded with explosive quarrels. Jabowski looked at the darts above and knew they weren't here to help him. He shivered in the warmth of the sun.

The standoff lasted ten minutes. No one spoke. No backup came for Jabowski. Ruth's legs kicked a couple of times and Jabowski heard her breathing stutter as she fought for breath. Hermann had the kind of smile on his face that a cat wore when it played with its prey. His tail switched back and forth as if the pleasure of the moment was driving it. Jabowski decided to go for Hermann first, simply because of the smile. At least the others were serious or nervous or both.

Jabowski was taking a final breath and tightening his grip on the shotgun when he heard the doors to the lab open. He glanced over his shoulder. Things went from bad to worse. Laroche and Tim Keegan came out, carrying their nerve-jammers. The professor was limping; the student had blood smeared around his nose and mouth. They came close to Jabowski.

"I should kill you," Laroche said.

"And I should have killed you," Jabowski shrugged, "but we all make mistakes."

The professor's eyes narrowed.

"Put down your shotgun," he said. "I will make this as painless as possible for you and Miss Kelly."

Movement over Laroche's shoulder caught Jabowski's eyes. The security guard came out from behind his desk. He waddled across the grass and paving until he reached the little tableau. The guard was truly gargantuan, his huge stomach was round like a bowling ball and folds of flesh hung down over the collar of his shirt as if they were the sails of a tall ship. Jabowski wondered why, with all the gene science around, the guard didn't fix himself slim. Most likely he was simply a glutton, and nothing could be done for him.

"Is there a problem, Professor Laroche?" The guard asked.

"Nothing that can't be handled, Hal," Laroche didn"t take his eyes from Jabowski.

Hal gazed up at the security darts.

"They're not university security," he said.

"No they're not," Laroche spoke through gritted teeth. "We have an arrangement with a private group to provide an over watch on campus. I called them in after this man assaulted me in the laboratory. Go back to your desk."

Hal sniffed and looked at Hermann and his gang.

"What about them?" he asked.

"What about them?" Kalpinsky's patience became paper-thin. "They're with me. That's all you need to know."

Hal pulled his belt up over his stomach.

"This man is a federal agent," he said, as if the anger coming from the professor was nothing.

"This man is impersonating a federal agent. The real Max Jabowski died in a road accident three days ago."

"Oh?" Hal looked at Jabowski. "Is that true."

"No," Jabowski could feel his blood running cold. Laroche had just revealed the depths of his plan. If he could alter federal records, move people around the country like they were pieces on a chess board then how much support was he getting from those individuals in positions of real power?

"He's lying," Laroche said. "Now, Hal, if you know what's good for your pay slip and you pension then I suggest you get back behind your desk right now."

"I can't do that professor," Hal said.

Laroche's head rotated round to look at Hal, eyes wide with shock.

"What?" the professor wasn"t sure he had heard right.

Hal drew his sidearm in a fluid almost-too-fast-to-see motion. The gun was a big, silver magnum that caught the sun in flashes of brilliant white as he first whipped the barrel across the back of Laroche's head and then forward again across Tim Keegan's forehead. Both men went down with grunts of shock and splashes of blood as Hal threw himself down behind Jabowski's car. The federal agent was a scant second behind him as Hermann and the other kids screamed in anger.

Hermann opened fire first. A hundred rounds of nine millimetre parabellum bullets turned the bodywork of the vehicle to Swiss cheese. The windshield showered around them like a winter snowstorm. Hal looked up at the two security darts and shouted into his collar.

"Ruby Five, go, go, go."

Hermann stopped firing and started reloading. The other kids began to circle round the car. Jabowski saw the first, a guy with the spikes of a horned lizard on his head and back, come into view with his machine pistol held ready. The shotgun blast merged with the siren howl of the darts as they reacted to the action below. The kid went down in a heap and Jabowski rolled over to fire up at the darts.

"Don't worry about them," Hal shouted and pointed towards the bay.

Four interceptor drones leapt into view over the sea defence, splitting into pairs and attacking the darts. Jabowski saw the blur as two drones went through the dart above the laboratory as if it wasn't there. Pieces of blue and yellow shell spiralled down ahead of the main body as it hit the flat roof and exploded. Metal and masonry fell like shrapnel. Jabowski heard a scream from one of the kids as they were hit. One of the girls fired her crossbow. She missed the car but hit the building. The concussive blast shattered windows and punched a hole in the wall. More concrete scythed across the parking lot. Hal popped up over the car for long enough to fire two shots at the kids before Hermann raked them with another long burst.

Jabowski was watching the second dart. It had moved away from above them, reacting to the drone threat but not quickly enough. One drone sliced through the rear drive compartment. A bursting fuel cell pushed the dart into the treetops where the last drone hit it square in the flank. The explosion ripped leaves from branches and sent flaming wood splinters out to replace the masonry.

Silence returned for a moment, almost shocking in its intensity. Jabowski looked along the ground. All he could see of Hermann was the kid's left leg. That was all he needed. He shot it out from under Hermann and saw in its place the upper body and shocked face of the kid on the ground. Jabowski thought for about half a second on his next move and then fired a shell into Hermann's chest.

Hermann's death seemed to suck the life out of his companions; as if he were the brain and they were unable to function without him. Hal took the chance to kneel and take out one of the crossbow girls. Jabowski rolled over a carpet of glass shards and fired three shells in rapid succession that lifted a kid with a squirrel's tail off his feet. The few who remained began to melt away into the smoke that rolled down out of the burning trees.

Jabowski let them go. He was looking up, and the world was becoming a truly uncertain place.

Four more blue and yellow darts were coming from over the main campus as emergency sirens and alarms filled the air with their noise. From over the bay came five matt black security darts in response. The opposing units met in the air above the university. Laser and plasma beams and fire-and-forget mini missiles wreathed the sky. The first dart to fall was matt black, hitting the main university building and tearing away half of its faux Roman façade. Jabowski wanted to speak, but his throat was dry and his lungs empty as the ferocity of the combat increased.

Two blue and yellow darts died in swift succession, one of them slicing through a gossamer thin ribbon bridge as it fell ground wards. Students and faculty, mesmerised by what was happening around them, tumbled to their deaths. The battle became one sided, the remaining blue and yellow darts doing more for survival than threat. One vanished in a fireball to three simultaneous missile strikes. The other took avoiding action from a plasma beam and careered straight into a two-storey lecture theatre. It never came out.

Jabowski didn't think anything else could surprise him now. The high whine of a jet-powered trimaran scooting across the bay did. The vessel drew alongside the sea defence. Expanding ladders popped into view, followed moments later by a dozen black clad men armed with assault rifles. They spread out across the parking lot and disappeared into the trees. Jabowski, feeling incredibly tired now the firefight was over, put his shotgun onto the roof of the car and leant in to look at Ruth. He wished he hadn't. Hermann had done to her what he'd done to the car. Jabowski straightened. He could still see Ruth's legs. They were unharmed. Jabowski's mother had always told him if he wanted to know how good a girl's breeding was then look at her legs. Ruth had good legs.

A couple of the armed men returned. They went and stood with Hal and stared down at Laroche and Keegan. None of them spoke. It was as if a decision had been made and a judgement passed. Finally, one of the men raised his rifle and shot Laroche through the head. A second later he did the same to Tim Keegan. Jabowski grabbed the roof of his car to stop himself collapsing. His legs had drained of strength in an instant. Hal, almost reluctantly, came to him.

"That was murder," Jabowski said.

"That was justice," Hal replied, his gun held down by his side.

"What's going on?"

"A war is what is going on. It's being fought between scientists and corporations on one side who are driven by profit and ego and zero morality and those of us who believe that Man is made in God's image and shall not have his dna sequence modified or his genes spliced with those over whom we have domain. They seek to change humankind beyond recognition; we seek to defend it."

"And you?" Jabowski looked at Hal's girth.

"We're not above tweaking our genes in the course of our duties," Hal said as he patted is stomach. "People only saw my shape. They never saw the thin man inside watching them."

"I guess you could say you were a deep cover agent," Jabowski said.

Hal chuckled.

"You're a good man, Jabowski, an honest and truthful man who we have been watching for many years. We would have tried to recruit you if we thought you would have joined us. We knew you wouldn't. So we didn't try."

"You can't hide all this." Jabowski said, gesturing at the scene around them. Hal simply smiled.

"This city is in an earthquake zone. The damage here can be explained away by that fact. Those who talk of security darts and gun battles will be treated as if suffering from shock. Explosions will be caused by fractured gas mains, the sound of shots by the movement of the earth itself. Within forty eight hours this will be another forgotten tragedy."

"And me?" Jabowski asked.

"Laroche has already arranged for you to have died in a road accident. That fact can remain on record."

"And Ruth?"

"She's like you. Too honest, too trusting in the justice system to see how it can be manipulated by injustice. We can arrange for her to die in the same accident as you if you want."

Jabowski nodded, as if that was an idea that appealed to him.

"She had good legs," he said.

Hal's eyes dropped towards the car. Jabowski took his chance. He turned, reaching for the shotgun. He got his hand on it; the sun had warmed the stock and it felt good to lift the weapon up off the roof of the car. Jabowski began to turn back towards Hal.

He never made it any further.