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vertheless； he was left with a feeling that something was dreadfully wrong 。 。 。 something he ought to know。 Then came the headache； throbbing like a distant jungle drum。 As he drew the back of his hand across his forehead； the fingers came away warm and damp。 His vision； too； was affected； as though he was standing across the room watching his own feeble actions。 As though 。 。 。 he no longer had full control of himself！ His head dropped forward； his eyelids heavy…fighting to keep awake in case the dreams came back。
At 8。35 p。m。 he was suddenly aware that he was wide awake again； with a feeling almost of being totally refreshed。 Perhaps he had reached his tiredness peak and surpassed it。 He would not need to rest again for another few hours。
He picked up some reports； and began to browse through them。 Old ones； like newsreels of past events。
This disaster had been forecast a couple of years ago； but not on this scale。 Nobody； not even the most sensation…seeking reporter； had envisaged the whole of Britain's nuclear reprocessing being carried out in one unit。 They warned of the mere possibility of people dying by tens of thousands in an area stretching six miles downwind of any particular reactor。 Mentally Dyne tried to multiply those figures to fit the current threat。 Soon he gave up…mostly because it hurt his conscience…and read on。 For apart from the immediate danger zone there could be a toll of human life for as much as one hundred and twenty miles downwind。 Thousands more would die； mostly from cancer； during the following decades。 One report stated that a radius of sixty miles from the exploded reactor would need to be kept clear of human habitation for a couple of years。 But at that period the true extent of contamination and its lasting effect was unknown。 Nowadays they knew that in fact the radioactivity would last for up to a quarter of a million years。 He shuddered at the ignorance of his predecessors； and continued reading； as though some strange pulsion had him in its hold。 Somebody had even believed that in calm weather there would possibly be no casualties outside the reactor plex。
The report concluded that 'This postulated bination of circumstances； itself very unlikely； bined with the severe and extremely unlikely accident to the reactor； would cause several thousand deaths within a few weeks of the accident'。 Dyne wondered whose the italics were。 Somebody trying to play it down？ He wished he had him here now； sitting at this very desk。 He would have put him on a direct line to Canverdale。 'Convince the rioters； mate。 Restore the country to a normality until Saturday…or else e up with a solution。'
Still more reports…sheets of them。 Mostly about a plan to turn marshland into radioactive dumps。 There were fears that thousands of acres of land surrounding Rainham Marshes in Essex could be rendered sterile as a result。 All that had been solved by making one huge dump here； in this valley！ What had Coyle called it？ 'Holocaust。' The ruddy man hadn't been far wrong。
There was one further note that future contracts were likely to include an option to return high…activity material…once it had undergone the new 'harvest process'； of course…to the country of origin。 That； most certainly； was out of the question now。 He wondered how the recycling was going。 His was the worst job of all； being chained to this desk； helpless。 God； if only they could find some way of speeding up the process： bury it all in that bed of granite； a thousand feet below ground； before danger level was reached。 That would be just one problem solved。 Even then they would still be left with what resembled a giant pyramid filled with radioactivity。 Tyler and his fellow boffins were working on a new process for solidifying it； then it； too； could go down into that granite grave with all the rest。 Untried； of course。 Everything here was untried； experimental。 There had been outcries over reactors throughout the country； so they had picked on one remote valley； and now they had something a million times worse。 This was the Plutonium Society； indeed。
He folded up all the reports and dropped them back into the file。 He referred to it as the 'dead file'…the understatement of the century。
Just then the telephone rang。 Dyne recognised Tyler's voice at once。 The gravity of the other's tone warned him to expect the worst。 They had tolerated the usual one…degree daily rise。 It was too much to hope for even a steadying…certainly not a drop； until the new solidifying system was tried。
'Two degrees；' Tyler said。
Dyne sighed as he replaced the receiver。 Doomsday was one day nearer…Friday！
He phoned Canverdale at once。
When he replaced the receiver for the second time； that earlier sensation of drowsiness crept back over him。 Only this time it was different； a kind of numbing of his brain； a slowing down of his movements。 And something else 。 。 。 a strange sort of smug satisfaction that brought a slow smile to his thick lips； freezing them into a grimace like a child's halloween mask。
There was not even shock when full realisation filtered through to him； just sitting there at his desk with that same glib expression 。 。 。 knowing that which he had failed to recognise earlier。 And he remembered the dreams； too。 Understood them！
Winston Dyne laughed softly； a harsh sound like the croaking of a distant raven。 He knew why Section Eight was going to explode in a very short time。 Only he could stop the imminent holocaust。 But he wasn't going to！
At 10。30 p。m； Canverdale again spoke to the nation； this time from his secret headquarters in Hertfordshire。 His speech was the frankest he had ever made in his whole political career。 He did not； however； confess to the people about his former omission concerning the advance of D…Day from Monday to Friday。 He simply stated that because of an increased rate of escaping radioactivity…assuring them at the same time that it was being contained…Friday would be crisis day。 His cabinet would meet tomorrow； and on Thursday night a decision would be announced。
'Obviously；' he concluded； 'this radioactivity will not be released into the environment until the last possible moment when it is absolutely clear that an explosion is inevitable…the like of which cannot be prehended by mankind。 It has been pointed out to me that； in the event of this holocaust； the radioactivity will enter the atmosphere； anyway。 The margin hi deciding between the lesser of the two evils is minute。 Sanity must prevail。 Every one of us clings to the hope that the structure in which the vapour is at present contained can withstand the pressure； perhaps even beyond the limit our scientists have imposed upon it。 Work is continuing ceaselessly in an attempt to deal with the remaining nuclear waste and thus reduce the rate of escape。 It is a fight against time； a battle which can only be fought by a limited number of men within Section Eight。
Tomorrow night I shall disclose the locations of nuclear shelters situated in or near major cities。 Unfortunately； these places can only acmodate a small percentage of the population。 The Ministry of Environment will issue instructions about the most suitable evasive action for the less fortunate to take。 I beseech you…every single one of you…to remain calm； for only in this way can we avert the most terrible disaster in the history of mankind。 Mass hysteria will only hamper our efforts…and has already resulted in an alarming death…toll。'
Once his address had been delivered； Canverdale felt somewhat easier。 Of course releasing the radioactivity would be preferable to an explosion。 And if the rate of escape was consistent； the problem would be much easier。 Yet； twice the gauge had risen alarmingly and unexpectedly。 The reactor could go up at any minute…even before he had finished smoking this very cigarette。 He wondered if they would make it to Friday。
The phones rang incessantly； five secretaries taking the calls； and bringing him only the most urgent messages throughout the night。 Rioting everywhere…an infection now spreading to all corners of the globe。
Scotland had made panic…stricken attempts to evacuate itself。 'Flee south' was the cry that resulted in a twenty…mile tail…back of traffic over Shap； and on all other routes vehicles soon came to a total stand…still。 There was no longer any regard for the highway code。 A small minority drove north…the ghouls who head for any major disaster in quest of horrific spectacular。 This accounted for several head…on collisions； major accidents which blocked roads pletely。 Vehicles were abandoned； and their occupants set off on foot over fields and hills； trudging for miles along fast…flowing rivers in search of a shallow crossing place。 Some were drowned。 Whole families； totally exhausted； slept out hi the open with not even a blanket to cover them。 Many died during this pilgrimage of terror。 Towns were looted； battles raging between those fleeing from the north； and southern residents who were determined to protect their property at all costs。 Fires raged unchecked。
Wedne