“Much fuel in those cars?” the lieutenant asks quietly.

“Only what we couldn't siphon,” I reply.

“Can you take a vehicle into the castle itself?”

“Not one of those,” I tell her. “Too tall. There's a small courtyard, with enough room to rum something the size of a jeep around.”

“No drawbridge?” she says, looking at me. I shake my head. She smiles thinly. “I think you mentioned a gate, though, didn't you, Abel?”

“A thin one, and a portcullis of wrought iron. I doubt either would stop “

The lieutenant's radio chirps. She holds up one hand to me, and answers the radio, listening then making a snuffing noise. “Yes, if you can do it cleanly. We're on the ridge just behind the castle.”

She puts the instrument away. “Amateurs,” she says, sneering, and shakes her head. “They've nobody in the gatehouse.” She looks at the man to her other side. “Psycho's in the trees by the drive, over there,” she tells him. “Says there's only two loading the car. Nothing heavy in sight. He's about to start shooting, then one of the trucks and the other jeep are going to make a dash for the front. Give them cover.” She turns to me. “These aren't soldiers,” she says with seeming disgust, “they're just looters.” She shakes her head, then puts the binoculars away and readies her long gun, steadying it and sighting. “Deathwish,” she says to the soldier with the rocket launcher. “Save it. Not unless I tell you, okay?”

The fellow looks disappointed.

Gunfire comes from beyond the castle, near where the driveway leaves the trees and climbs up the shallow slope to the main lawn. There is nothing to see for a moment, then the four wheel drive reappears racing round the gravel track from the front of the castle, back towards the stable block.