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s； and shipping ports are henceforth closed down； and this action will be under the direct supervision of the armed forces。 I must stress that these bans may be lifted within a matter of days。 All steps taken are of a temporary nature； with the interests of the public foremost。'
The sweetener； Coyle smiled grimly to himself。 The treat after the medicine。 The nation was being treated like a small child； but this was how it suited the government。 Stop panic and rioting at all costs。 Democracy itself was at stake。
Coyle wondered how many planes had already left the country carrying people who had received a tip…off from friends in high places。 Their efforts to find sanctuary would only be temporary。 A disaster of this nature would have worldwide repercussions。 There would be no escape for any of them。
He switched off the television。 All over the country now； people would be sitting in their homes staring in shock at a square of nothingness； a crystal…ball forecasting their futures。 Oblivion。
He resumed his seat and lit a cigarette； wondering if the two of them would sit there all night； not speaking； totally divorced from every human relationship they had known。
He glanced sideways at Jane。 Maybe he ought to make some coffee。
'Where's Sarah？'…the thought suddenly came to him。 He remembered his daughter's admission that she had terminated her affair with Houston。 Without him she had no reason to stay out late。 Of course； there were other men 。 。 。
'Upstairs in bed。 She went straight up when she came in from work； or maybe you didn't notice。'
Bitterness。 He did not reply。 Sarah would be upset at the break…up with Houston。 Coyle wondered whether he should go up and check if she was all right。 He decided against it。 She would be in total ignorance of the threat they afi faced。 No point in telling her now…she could use all the sleep she could get。
Finally； he got up and made some coffee； strong and black。 Jane drank hers in silence。
Everywhere； right now； Coyle realised； people would be making coffee。 Beds would be ignored。 A long night lay ahead for the nation； sustained by alcohol； coffee； and tobacco whilst their brains reluctantly accepted the situation。
Saturday morning dawned cold and grey。 The mist was thicker than the Met。 Office had forecast…and slower to clear。 The surrounding mountains were invisible as Kent made his way along the deserted streets towards the Herald offices。 Coyle had given him a key； but he had no idea what he was going to do there。 No point in ringing London again yet。 Perhaps towards midday he would try and get hold of Dyne； attempt to discover how fast the radioactivity level was rising； and then make another report。
The newsagent's stall on the corner of the Square was not open yet。 That angered him。 A world crisis； but one had to wait until normal opening time to read about it。 He had half expected to see crowds on the streets； people loading their precious belongings into their cars in an attempt to put even a couple of hundred miles between themselves and this impending doom。
He was almost at his destination when he heard the rumble of heavy vehicles。 The pavement beneath him vibrated slightly。
The leading vehicle rounded the corner…an armoured truck。 Another。 Three 。 。 。 four 。 。 。 five 。。。 he counted ten in all as they passed him slowly and came to a halt in the Square。 Soldiers began disembarking。
Kent stood in the doorway of the Herald； automatically stuffing tobacco into the bowl of his pipe； his keen eyes missing nothing。 He noted how the heavy vehicles were parked in a line that pletely blocked the road running through the centre of the valley； perfectly positioned from kerb to kerb。
The soldiers moved with quiet efficiency…no bawled orders from a senior NCO。 Each man knew what was expected of him； each carried a slung rifle。 Kent wondered if the bullets were rubber。 He noted； too； the riot shields being unloaded； and the open crate on the tailboard of the centre vehicle。 Tear gas！
Soldiers stood around the vehicles； wary； not lounging。 Steel helmets； too。 Not a beret to be seen。 A couple of officers wore battledress and peaked hats。 They merely watched the proceedings； all so thorough in every aspect。
Kent's eyes wandered up towards the still invisible mountain peaks。 Possibly the southern ones would remain shrouded hi mist throughout the day。 He knew the army would be there； too； blocking the pass…the road that led down through Moniaive towards Dumfries。 He admired their sheer efficiency。 He had seen it before； on his several trips to Belfast。 The army just moved in； nothing spectacular； but one knew they were ready for any eventuality。 This platoon had probably e direct from Edinburgh； their orders issued prior to the Prime Minister's speech last night。 A nocturnal military takeover。 This； the dawn squad； would have been the last to arrive。 Nobody would be entering or leaving the valley！
He let himself into the building； fully aware that the soldiers were watching his every move until the door closed behind him。 They were not concerned with what he did inside。
Contrary to his earlier plans； he picked up the telephone； as an experiment。 He guessed what would happen； and he was correct。 No sooner had his forefinger dialled the first two digits； 01； than the disengaged signal was sounding； a perpetual monotone。 munications had been suspended。
Kent sat down hi the swivel chair； and relit his pipe； then reached in the cupboard for the whisky bottle。 His recent promise to Coyle to remain here until the end was now an enforced one。
McLellan had sat in a daze throughout the hours of darkness。 His wife Edith； a small frail woman； was virtually in a state of collapse after the broadcast； and having helped her upstairs to bed； he had e downstairs again。 By 3。a。m。 the ashtray was full of chewed cigar butts； and the atmosphere in this spacious room was thicker even than the rolling mist outside。
His first fear was of dying。 He would never forget the sight of those dead pigeons and the Alsatian in the Square。 Yet； until this massive conurbation had claimed the valley； he had looked forward eagerly to the weekly grouse…shoots。 That was a form of death that had pleased him； elated him when a dead grouse rolled on the sparse heather； a measure of his skill。 It had put him amongst the landed gentry。 It was pursuit of this sport that had resulted in his first meeting with McLoughlin。 He remembered； word for word； those two letters he had typed。 McLoughlin's tender for the new estate would be granted； McLellan would see to that。 Would have seen to it！ He chewed angrily on yet another cigar。 The houses would not be built now。 Nobody would need them。 Those already erected would be blown up with the rest of the valley； the whole country。
A movement hi the corner of the room caught his eye。 A sudden stiffening of his corpulent body； a tensing of every nerve。 He saw that Alsatian again； skulking in the alleyway； scavenging the diseased pigeons； the way it had regarded him steadily as if to say； 'You're going to die； just like me！'
Then he relaxed again； with a sigh of relief。 The yellow Labrador； ageing now； moved out from its resting place； and came towards him。 It； too； remembered those glorious days amidst the heather； the dead birds waiting to be retrieved。
McLellan stroked the smooth head； something to occupy his restless； flabby hand。 He would have had the dog put down after the grouse moor had been built over； if it hadn't been for Edith。 She loved this dog a lot more than she loved him。 It was funny； he hadn't petted the animal for ages。 Perhaps all this business had something to do with it； a kind of reconciliation。
His thoughts moved to the gun in the hall wardrobe。 A Purdey； worth at least a couple of grand； a sign of affluence at any shooting party。 There were cartridges； too。 Maybe half a box。 One shell would be sufficient。 So easy。 He could opt out of this waiting game； settle for death and have done with it。
He half rose； but flopped back in the chair。 He tried to find excuses why he would not go through with it。 The radioactive level might fall； life would revert to normal； McLoughlin's tender would be accepted； and McLellan would get his pay…off。 All in hard cash； as agreed。 Perhaps he would move out； leave Edith here in this place with her beloved dog。 She wouldn't object。
Another cigar。 More melancholy thoughts again。 Everything closing in upon him。 Something in the Prime Minister's speech came back to him： 'Animal and bird life is apparently more vulnerable to radioactivity than are humans'。 He sat bolt upright； gripping the upholstered arms of the plush chair。 Damn it； those grey squirrels that infested the garden every morning！ Surely the squirrels would be affected； too。 And he could stop them。 Something to do。 He had to take it out on someone or something。 One small shred of satisfaction before 。 。 。
He struggled out of the chair and lumbered into the hall； listening for a momen