J had asked Blade to stop in at Copra House. It was from this antique structure, on Bart Lane near Thread needle Street, that J ran the affairs of M16A. Here he had a suite of dingy cubicles that were offices only in a symbolic sense. J, as Blade entered, appeared to be his placid, pipe-smoking, tweedy self. Upper-class, understated, civil servant.

Blade knew better. J had aged considerably since the computer experiments began. J was nervous at times now, where BTG-Before The Computer-J had had ice water for blood. Blade could understand. His own nerves were not what they had been.

J greeted Blade with a casual wave of his pipe toward a chair. «Good morning, Richard. You are looking extremely fit.»

Blade shrugged his big shoulders. «I am. I should be. I awoke this morning to blackbirds singing and honeysuckle on the vine. Pippa passing and all that rot.»

J sucked on his pipe and gave Blade a meditative look. «Methinks the lad doth protest too much. To be direct, Richard, I don't think you're too happy about going into Dimension X again.»

Blade grinned at the older man. «I'll level with you, sir, as the Yanks put it. I could pass this cup. Not that I will, naturally. It's my job. I'll do it.»

J nodded as he knocked pipe ash into his palm, spilling it on his vest. «Of course, my boy. Of course you will. But it needn't be forever, you know. That is, er, rather why I asked you to stop past before you go to the Tower.»