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intelligence clearly lay behind Shafer’s restless grey eyes. He was, like McNally, about fifty; he wore a copper-coloured T-shirt decorated with a Buddha, and an elastic band held his long grey hair back in a ponytail. He grinned and nodded towards Leclerc and Webb. For Webb, the presence of the awesome Willy Shafer on the team underlined the gravity of the emergency as much as any lecture by the Astronomer Royal.
    “On my left, let me introduce our two European partners. Oliver Webb, still catching his breath, is the British asteroid man. Next to him we have André Leclerc. André knows as much as anyone in the West about the space capabilities of the former Soviet bloc.” A tall, gaunt man, with a red bow tie and a black and white goatee beard, smiled and bowed to the centre of the table.
    “And I’m Colonel Mark Noordhof. I know a thing or two about missile defence technology.”
    “Who needs the Brits?” Sacheverell asked, staring at Webb with open hostility. “We have all the know-how we need in the States.”
    “In part this is politics,” said Noordhof. “An attack on America is also an attack on NATO. If we get zapped on Monday the Russians could roll over Europe on Tuesday. But the essence is we need the best for this one.”
    Sacheverell continued to glare, his eyes tiny through his thick spectacles. “Webb is a bad choice.”
    Noordhof added: “And security. Sure, we’re up to our ears in civilian experts but what if they started dropping out of sight wholesale? We can’t treat this like the Manhattan Project. So, we’re using minimum numbers, drawn from a widely dispersed net. Small is beautiful is what the President wants. Kay, now let’s get down to it.”
    Noordhof produced a cigar and played with the cellophane wrapping. He continued: “My brief comes from the President. I have to lead a team which will find the asteroid, estimate where and when it will impact if it does, estimate the impact damage, and determine whether it can be destroyed or diverted. I report directly to the SecDef, Nathan Bellarmine. He in turn informs the President, the DCI and the Joint Chiefs of our progress. The resources of these people are available to us and that’s some awesome resources. If you want the Sixth Fleet in Lake Michigan, ask and it shall be given unto thee.”
    “Seek and we shall find,” said Shafer. “I hope.”
    “Understand this,” said Noordhof. “This is not some cosy academic conference. This is a race, and the prize is survival. We have no precedent for this situation, no experience we can call on. We have to make up the rules as we go. Comments, anyone?”
    “I’m not long out of bed,” Webb said. “How do we know that an asteroid has been diverted towards the States?”
    “I’ll pass on that for now.”
    “What are the political implications? Does it connect to the Red Army takeover?” Leclerc asked, speaking good Parisian English.
    “That we don’t know.”
    “We need a handle on the time element,” Sacheverell said. “It could be hours, weeks, months, years before the asteroid hits.”
    A smoke ring emerged from Noordhof’s puckered lips. “We’ve been given five days to identify the asteroid and formulate an effective deflection strategy. This is Monday morning. Deadline is Friday midnight.”
    Sacheverell laughed incredulously. “In the name of God . . .”
    Noordhof continued. “And I’m authorized to say this. If at the end of five days we have failed to identify the asteroid,the White House will then formulate policy on the assumption that it will never be found before impact. I think it’s safe to assume that aforesaid policy will be highly aggressive.”
    Shafer said quietly, “I think the Colonel is telling us that either we find the asteroid by midnight on Friday or the White House will retaliate with a nuclear strike.”
    The room went still. Sacheverell paled, McNally flushed purple and Leclerc puffed out his cheeks. Noordhof leaned back and took a