"What are we gonna do with them?" George said to Rick referring to Savanarolova and Munro, whilst the children worked their way out of their pipework prison.

"We're not killing 'em, Georgie," Rick answered emphatically.

"Still, what are we gonna do with them?"

"No idea, but if we leave them here then they'll do something pretty dreadful with whatever's in there," Rick pointed at the Confinement Chamber, his gun never leaving Munro for an instant.

Savanarolova groaned beneath the heavy grill.

"George, check on her, will you? If she's OK to move, kick her over to where Frankenstein is," Rick asked the big man.

George lifted the grill of the fallen woman and swiftly checked her for broken bones. "She's OK, Rick, apart from a nasty cut to the head. It'll bleed a lot but she won't be in any danger." Continuing with his first aid work he swiftly searched Savanarolova too, removing the various weapons that he knew she had had from the last time he had searched her.

"Hey you!" George called over to Munro. "Where's your first aid kit?"

"Rucksack," he said sullenly, nodding at the pile of equipment he and Savanarolova had deposited near one of the control stations.

George went over to the bags and started rooting through them. He quickly found what he was looking for but he also gave a low whistle when one item slid out of its tough nylon case onto the floor.

"What's that, George?" Rick asked.

"Someone's tablet computer," George answered, picking up a ruggedly designed handheld device. "You know who likes her fancy toys doesn't she?" George said admiringly as he fiddled with the little device. "I wonder..."

"You leave that alone!" Munro barked. He started forward but stopped when Rick gestured at him to kneel back down with the machine pistol.

"Quit your complaining, tough guy!" Rick ordered. "You know how the game's played." He called over to George, "You don't think she left it unlocked do you?"

"No, but I think I can guess the password."

***

It was at this moment that Charlie and Carmen joined them, having negotiated unfastening another grill, dropping through the unblocked access point on to the catwalk and then finding their way down to the floor via a flight of steps. They were still angry with each other but managed to forget about that when they saw the blood on the floor and the injured woman.

Their eyes were constantly drawn to the little splashes of blood on the concrete and the syrupy drips that trickled down the woman's face. Her closely cropped white blonde stuck out in stiff red peaks where the blood had seeped across her scalp.

"Is...is she all right?" Charlie asked his father, pale faced.

"Yeah, worst luck," Rick replied without taking his eyes off Munro. He risked one brief glance at Charlie and was startled to see his son looking so very distraught. "She's gonna be fine, Charlie. You got George out of a tight spot back then. You did good. Don't worry about the blood, head wounds always look worse than they are. She'll have a nasty headache and a sore scalp but she'll be as right as she ever was in a few days."

"I hope it's more than just a sore head and I hope it hurts for a lot longer than a few days, the witch!" Carmen added. "No-one threatens my Dad!"

"Rick you have gotta see this," George literally bounced over to them all in excitement. "There's everything here!"

"You don't know what or who you're messing with," Munro snarled from his knees. Somehow the glowering Scot still seemed intimidating despite being unarmed and under guard. "If you read that you'd better kill us both because Miss Savanarolova is never going to let you get away with having raided her files."

"I can do that," Rick said blandly.

"Yeah but you won't," Munro argued, "not unless your forced to."

"Then force me. Make a move," Rick waved his gun at Munro. "Risk it. See if it's worth it."

The Scot remained on his knees; his eyes alight with repressed rage.

Walking back to tend his patient, George hand Rick the tablet. "I've deactivated the password protection," he said as he bent down to fasten a bandage around Savanarolova's scalp. She groaned and began to stir.

"What was it?" Rick asked.

"Huw's birthday, and his name," George said.

The news was strangely saddening, like the memory of a long dead relative. Rick watched George work silently as he thought of a long cold night in another lifetime, cradling a dying boy, who was almost, but would never quite be, a man.

Eventually, his work complete, George dragged the semi-conscious Savanarolova to Munro. Ordering him to keep her upright so that the bleeding diminished, George returned to Rick to relieve him from his guard duty. "I'll watch 'em now, Rick," he said happily. George was in his element - being saved from horrible mutilation and death, then getting one over his would be captors, definitely agreed with him.

A little while later Rick was still reading Savanrolova's files on the little tablet computer. He had paused only once, when she had come to and had realized what had happened. A dreadful shriek had pierced the silence of the Production Floor, which had made Rick grin to himself. His smile only widened when he listened to the lambasting the hapless Scot received from the furious woman.

"Now there's a man who'll be seeking new employment once this is all through," he commented to the children, who had been busy gulping their way through Savanarolova and Munro's water bottles, parched as they were from their trek through the tunnels.

"So now you know everything, Rick," Savanarolova sneered, "and yet there's so little you can do. You've hijacked a perfectly legal salvage operation, detaining members of that expedition against their will, causing damage to property and I can probably even get you arraigned on charges of manslaughter too, judging by what happened to some members of my team." She sat bolt upright, legs crossed, free of Munro's support. He had retreated to the Confinement Chamber, chastened as he was, and rested with his back against it, eyes closed.

"Yeah, you'll really get that one through court," Rick said. "After all, it's quite normal for salvage teams to carry enough weaponry to equip an armoured platoon! Try and scare me some more, please!"

"Oh, I can manage that, quite easily," she shot back. "Within one day of getting off this island, I'll know where you live, your fat fool of friend lives, where your families do their shopping, where your children go to school. I'll know who their teachers are, which gate they leave school by, who their friends are and where they sit in their classrooms. I'll have access to your bank details, credit card accounts, employment history, tax affairs, aviation accreditation and every piece of correspondence that you've ever had from anyone, or that you've sent to anyone. I'll have your life in my hand. I'll be able to clear out your bank, shut down your credit, cancel your pilot's license, transfer your kids to another school, libel everyone and anyone in your name. I'll be able to control every aspect of your existence before I burn it all to ashes. Is that what you want?"

Rick had actually gone pale. With a sinking heart he knew that she could do this and more. George looked to him anxiously, realising that things were in very serious danger of going awry. A silence stretched out, long and uncomfortable in the gloom of the cavernous Production Floor. The euphoria of rescue had bled away and a more dismal sense of foreboding descended on the small group, which was only made all the more ominous by the looming presence of the Confinement Chamber.

Summoning up some bravado, Rick laughed, "Yeah, you can do all that. You probably will but you'll never know what Huw said about you before he died."

The silence continued. Savanrolova had recovered some of her poise and sat calmly, her grey eyes, starkly framed by dried blood, staring basilisk-like into Rick's.

Charlie and Carmen looked anxiously between George and Rick, aware that some kind of mental chess game was in play.

"And you'd tell me?" The pale woman said at last.

"Perhaps."

"But then you'd have to trust me. I'm not sure that you'd do that."

"No, indeed."

"I would like to know what Huw said," her voice softened so that it's harsh, assertive tone lessened somewhat. "He was very dear to me."

"Yep," Rick said, "I guess he was but then he was as big a damn fool as I've ever met."

Her eyes flashed with irritation but she did not rise to the bait. "Huw was...impulsive but then I liked that in him."

"Huw would never have done this either." Rick shouted, waving his arms around at the Production Floor. "This is probably the biggest single World War Two archaeological discovery since the War and what are you doing? Opening doors with high explosives and tomb robbing before anyone can really study what happened here!"

"What does it matter? Do you know how many little bits of paper are still unread in official archives? Millions! What does it matter if one site goes unstudied? Does it change who won the War? Or who lost? Does the history of one insignificant unit in the Imperial Japanese Army change what happened? Does it alter what we know?" she yelled back with passion. "Don't be such a hypocrite, Rick. No-one would ever be able to read a history of what Unit 842 got up to here because it's just too unbelievable!"

"So what did go on here? What's hiding in the concrete box, Iphigenia?"

"Power."

"The power to kill or create?"

"What's the difference? It is only power for those who are prepared to use it. It could bring great joy but it is utterly useless to you, Rick. All you'd like to do is shut it up in a museum as a curio for rubbernecking day-trippers to gawk at." Savanarolova smiled. "You're a little man, Rick and you can't see beyond your own insignificant concerns."

"Yeah, I have no worries about you riding a dragon out of here." He said sarcastically, "Because with your track record the world would be in no danger whatsoever."

"A dragon! Here!" Savanarolova laughed scornfully, "There's no dragon here, Rick. It's dead and has been for eighty years, ever since the Japanese found it."

"So what is it you want?"

"That's for you to work out. But I would rather make you an offer." She leant forward and smiled mirthlessly. "You can walk out of here with your island trash friend, as well as your delightful offspring, and in return I will not have Munro hunt you down and kill you immediately. I get you out of my life so that I can get on with my work and you get to live for a few days more. After that, who knows, maybe you could evade him? For Huw's last words I might even pardon your death sentence."

Rick stared back at her for a moment then turned on his heel. "I can't kill her, George, but life would be so much easier if she was dead!"

George simply raised an eyebrow to which Rick shook his head. Instead he went back to reading the tablet computer, grimy stubby fingers wrapped around the tough anti-shock casing.

***

Meanwhile the children had begun to explore the Production Floor, keeping well away from the adults in the centre of the room. Their mutual anger with each other had cooled and they made slightly awkward conversation has they rooted through the control stations, or looked under the platform that the huge Production Floor was built on. It was apparent that the huge chamber was only half of the complex. They found a set of metal steps that led down, where they made a staggering discovery.

Hidden from view, beneath the floor itself, in an even bigger chamber the size of a cathedral, they glimpsed vast concrete pipes that seemed so wide they had to have been big enough to have been able to drive a bus down the inside. These led off in all of directions, fanning out from one central pipe that descended from the middle of the Production Floor above.

"Where do you think that goes?" Charlie asked.

"No prizes for guessing," Carmen answered.

"If the dragon's dead, why have all these pipes? What are they for?"

"Where do they go?"

The children found a gantry that ran parallel to one of the vast pipes. Footsteps ringing softly on the metal platform, they followed the pipe, barely able to see it in the gloom underworld. It terminated at another huge block, similar to the one that sat in the middle of the Production Floor.

For a moment they stared at it blankly, wondering what it was for.

"Why have another one of those?" Carmen said.

"Dunno, unless they had more than one dragon." Charlie remarked absently.

They both turned and looked at each other in shock, then they turned and swept their eyes around the cavern, following each pipe to its end.

"It's like a giant prison!" They both shouted at the same time, which they then followed with, "Jinx, padlock!" Hooting with laughter they ran back along the catwalk and up the steps.

"What's got into you two?" George growled.

Whispering excitedly, they told him what they had seen. Then they repeated it all for Rick, who roused from his studies, suddenly leapt up and flicked his fingers.

"It all makes sense, now!" he cried. Grinning at Savanarolova he sauntered back to her. "You almost had me there!"

She looked puzzled but maintained her calm posture, "I did?"

"Yes, you almost had me believing that there would be any mercy from you. But you see I read the news too. I know what happens to people you work with." Rick picked up one of the unpleasant looking surgical tools that they had found amongst Savanarolova's equipment. A very long, hooked blade caught the light and sparkled evilly. "I remember reading a story about a Dutch surgical tool maker who was found dead in a canal. What struck me as odd was that as much as the police suspected murder; you had to ask yourself, who'd want to kill a guy like that. Then I pick up one of these and etched on the blade is De Kuyper. That's a Dutch name isn't it? I bet the police would like to know more about these. They don't seem your typical surgical blades. More like swords really."

"So what?"

"So what do you want with one of these, Iphigenia?" Rick paused to think before he continued, chewing his lip. "I think that these are made to cut through a very thick, tough hide. Dragon skin, maybe? What would you want to get from inside a dragon?"

"Rainbows and kisses. Spare me your cheap detective routine, Rick!"

"Hmm, I think not. Then the children see the enclosures in the level below. That's what they are, aren't they? Pens, hutches, stables, or whatever you want to call them, for other dragons. You found out that the dragon the Japanese had captured was female. That it could lay eggs. Why would the Japanese build this complex if it was dead? Why would they build all those pens if they weren't going to harvest eggs from the mother? And now I know why I've got to stop you."

"And why's that?"

"Because they built that many pens because they knew that they could expect that many eggs. You've only come here with one other person. I don't think that dragon's dead but it sure will be after you cut out the two eggs that you came to collect!"

"How very noble of you. You still won't kill me."

"No, but I can make sure you never leave here," Rick turned to George. "We'll take them to Suzuki. He's in charge here so he can decide what to do with them. This place was a military base so it's got to have a guardroom to lock these two up in. He'll know where it is and he's perfectly capable of looking after them until we sort this mess out. For now let's get rid of these disgusting objects." He kicked the roll of surgical tools with his tattered dive boot. "Any ideas?"

"We can throw them down into the floor below." Charlie suggested. "It's a long way down."

"Could you go with them George? I'll keep an eye on these two." Rick ordered.

The children picked up the canvas bag, which clattered as its contents shifted, and led the way with George trailing a little behind. They descended the stairs again and emerged back onto the catwalk below.

George whistled when he saw the size of the cavern.

"You know, it's almost as if we were in some huge magma chamber in the volcano that has emptied for some reason." He pointed at the smooth bare rock around the perimeter, "It's like it's been melted to be that smooth."

"Dad, do you think dragons really breathe fire? Could a dragon have done that?" Carmen asked.

"Carmen, until about two hours ago I didn't know that dragons existed. I'm pretty sure that I'm not qualified to answer that question." George said. "Let's get rid of these and get back to Rick."

Charlie stepped to the rail of the catwalk and pushed the roll of tools over the side. Theythumped onto the concrete casing of a pipe below them in the darkness. There was a dry scraping sound as the bag slid slowly down the side of the pipe then nothing. An awful silence opened up beneath them as the children looked at each other in amazement. How deep was the cavern? Suddenly, from the darkness far below came the distant sound of the tools pinging off in all directions as the bag split apart on impact with the distant cavern floor.

"I'm not sure anyone's coming back for those," George said quietly. "Let's go."

***

"Those tools have cost a lot to a lot of people, Rick, and now they'll cost you, I promise you that." Savanarolova rasped, her fury barely held in check.

"Tell it to the judge, Iphigenia. I'm done with your trash talk, girlfriend."

"Then I'm done with you too, Rick Bravo." Savanarolova said defiantly. She turned her head slightly then carefully spoke over her shoulder to her henchman, "Mr Munro, the heather is blooming in the glens!"

Munro flinched as if he had been slapped across the face. Unbeknownst to Rick, or Munro, Savanarolova had implanted a hypnotic suggestion in Munro's sub-conscious for this very situation. Once a pre-arranged coded order was given, Munro would be unable to stop himself carrying out the order to eliminate any potential threat to Savanarolova, regardless of his own personal safety.

Savanarolova grinned at Rick who stared back in bemusement. What on Earth was she babbling about the glens for?

"Mr Munro? Kill Rick Bravo!"

To Rick's horror, the massive Scot roared to his feet and tore across the floor towards him. With inhuman speed he closed the gap between himself and Rick in less than two seconds. Panicking, Rick pulled at the trigger of the machine pistol which bucked in his hand, filling his ears with its clattering bark and his nose with the smell of cordite. Poorly aimed as they were and fired in haste, most of his bullets went wide. They spattered across the floor and smacked flatly into the side of the Confinement Chamber. In fact they went anywhere but into his target.

In the corner of his eye he caught sight of Savanarolova ducking out of the way of the gunfire but most of his vision was filled with furious Scotsman. At last, just as the magazine emptied, several of the 7.65 mm bullets struck the charging, raging bull of a man. Munro barely broke stride. Despite the crimson flowers that erupted across his chest in a ragged line, he crashed into Rick and wrapped steel fingers around the American's throat.

They tumbled to the floor, the huge Scotsman on top of Rick, his face screaming directly into Rick's, spattering him with blood and spit. The Skorpion was dead in Rick's hands, empty of ammunition, and all he could do was batter at Munro's head with it ineffectually. Pincer like, Munro's fingers dug agonisingly into his neck and Rick strained against the awful pressure that threatened to crush his throat and cut of his windpipe.

His vision began to darken and he could hear his heart beating in his ears, above Munro's tortured howling. Oh God, this is it! Where are you, George? Where are ...

---

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