But that danger faded too; the maths was complete, and now Hutchman was face-to-face with the realization that he wanted nothing to do with his own creation.

Voice from another dimension, intruding: You’ve fired six dozen arrows at a hundred yards for a total of 402 points. The neutron resonator is the ultimate defense. That’s your highest score ever for the range. And in the context of nuclear warfare the ultimate defense can be regarded as the ultimate weapon. Keep this up and you’ll top the thousand for the round. If I breathe a word of this to the Ministry of Defence I’ll sink without a trace, into one of those discreet establishments in the heart of “The Avengers” country. You’ve been chasing that thousand a long time, Hutch — four years or more. And what about Vicky? She’d go mad. And David? Pull up the studs, and ground quiver, and move down to eighty yards — and keep cool. The balance of nuclear power does exist, after all — who could shoulder the responsibility of disrupting it? It’s been forty-three years since World War Two, and it’s becoming obvious that nobody’s actually going to use the bomb. In any case, didn ‘t the Japanese who were incinerated by napalm outnumber those unfortunates at H and N? Raise the sight to the eighty-yard mark, nock the arrow, relax and breathe, draw easily, keep your left elbow out, kiss the string, watch your draw length, bowlimb vertical, ring sight centred on the gold, hold it, hold it, hold it…

“Why aren’t you at the office, Luke?” Vicky’s voice sounded only inches behind him.