As always, the underground corridor seemed to stretch out for an empty, echoing, gleaming mile ahead. Blade quickened his stride, wanting to cover the distance as fast as possible. As always, he found himself getting more and more keyed-up as the place and time of his trip into Dimension X approached.

Beside him strode J, keeping pace with Blade in spite of his sixty-odd years. J had not always been a deskbound spymaster. He had put in his years in the field, and done his field work with deadly efficiency. Even today he never seemed entirely comfortable with sitting and watching younger men set out under his orders to risk and sometimes lose their lives.

«You're sure you're feeling altogether fit?» he asked Blade.

«Perfectly, sir. Not an ache, not a twinge. I spent an hour in the sauna last night, and I honestly couldn't be feeling better.»

«That's good. Not that it would be easy to persuade Leighton to hold things off, unless you showed up in a wheelchair.»

«Oh, I doubt if the old boffin's that tough,» said Blade with a grin. «I imagine a pair of crutches would be enough to convince him.»

«Quite possibly. But he'd probably ask for a doctor's certificate in that case.»

«Three certificates, you mean, sir. And from different doctors.»

«No doubt.»

The two men's caustic wit at Lord Leighton's expense was only partly sincere. Much of the time the scientist lived up to his reputation of having a computer where other people had a heart. At other times it was obvious that he really cared about Blade as more than a prize guinea pig for his grandest experiment.

«It's very good to hear you're feeling fit,» J repeated. «I would feel rather bad of you had taken a tumble carrying out one of my ideas.»