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'It's because your body knows you can relax.' Max propelled her to the bed. 'You did well. Now come and rest.'

She followed him and sat on the edge, drank her whisky and coughed. 'I still don't like this stuff.'

'I know, but, like everything else, you get used to it.'

'What if it doesn't work tomorrow, Max?'

'It will.'

She was struggling to comprehend the enormity of what lay ahead. 'Tonight could be the last night before . . . before everything changes.'

'It'll work,' he insisted, although she was better qualified to judge than he was. 'It's got to.' He touched her cheek, then kissed her forehead, not daring to kiss her mouth. He didn't deserve to hope that she might still feel something for him.

'Tonight could be our last night,' she said again. And then, before he knew what was happening, her lips were on his, soft and urgent.

PART OF ISABELLA HATED MAX AND WANTED TO KEEP HIM AT A distance. A larger part, however, needed his strength, especially tonight when even the incandescent sky seemed to signal that the world teetered on the brink of madness. She couldn't stop wondering why, this time, the drug hadn't worked on either Max or herself.

She pushed the thought from her mind. Now was not a time to think of the past or the future. As she pulled Max to her, she decided that this must be how people felt on the eve of war. As they undressed each other, she remembered their night in Antibes. Then their passion had been driven by the drug, but tonight it was real. She blanked from her mind everything that had happened since Antibes, and all that might happen in the morning. She concentrated only on the here and now: the feel of his skin against hers, the smell of his hair. For a few precious minutes, nothing else existed. And at the last moment, she could no longer keep the truth from herself or him: 'Max. I love you.'

MAX FELT TEARS UNDER HIS EYELIDS FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE HE was a child. Afterwards, when he lay beside her in the dark, he whispered, 'You must believe me, Isabella -- whatever I've done, I love you too.'

'I know. And that's why the drug didn't work on us this time. According to my father's notes, after his experience with NiL Forty-two he built in a safeguard, which he called the Zero Substitution Effect. It uses the principle of vaccination, where people with cowpox can't get smallpox. With all versions after NiL Forty-two, including Sixty-nine and Seventy-two, if someone's brain shows signs that they are already in love the drug has no effect. He ensured that nature-identical love couldn't substitute for the real thing.'

Max thought of his past and the uncertain future. 'Can you really love me, even after what I've done?'

'Yes.'

'And can you forgive me?'

She didn't answer that, just stared into the dark. He understood her silence, though. He wasn't sure if he could ever forgive himself.

*

VENUS

THE NEXT MORNING: NEW YEAR'S DAY

THE ALARM WOKE HELMUT WITH A START. HE OPENED HIS EYES, sweating, heart racing. He had been dreaming of the future, of a world that revolved around him.

There was a knock at the door.

He checked his watch, threw on a dressing-gown and opened it. He took the breakfast tray from the waiter and placed it on the table by his bed. He had chosen not to eat in the great hall, because he wanted no guest to see his face until he made his grand entrance into the ice chapel. He had even arranged for Phoebe to be there before him.

He reached for the phone by his bed.

Joachim picked up on the third ring. 'Hello.' The phone crackled with static.

'Joachim, you sound strange.'

'The Northern Lights interfere with the electricity and the phone lines. Is everything all right with you?'

'Of course, but I want you to check on Max.'

'As you wish, Vati.'

MAX ANDISABELLA WOKE EARLY AND STOLE OUT OF HUDSUCKER's room to select clothes from their own. When they met up again neither spoke of the night before or the day ahead. Max treasured their night together, and had decided he would settle for that: he didn't deserve her love. And whatever had happened between them paled into insignificance when he compared it with what might happen today.

The wedding was scheduled for mid-morning. Max and Isabella waited till the last guests were finishing breakfast, then put on concealing hats and furs and joined the procession to the chapel. Despite all the precautions they had taken, as Max stepped out of Hudsucker's room he found himself facing Feliks Lysenko. The Russian strode down the corridor towards him, wearing a frown that expressed fury and confusion in equal measure. He was alone. There was no sign of Kathryn, who had been by his side since the welcoming party. For a moment their eyes locked, but Lysenko blanked him and walked on.

Max watched him checking the room numbers until he stopped five doors down. He pounded on the door. 'Klaus! The deal is off! I keep my money!' He pounded on the door again and when he realized no one was coming out, he reached into his pocket, took out a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled a note and slid it under the door.

Max and Isabella exchanged a glance. Keeping their heads down, they descended the stairs and went to the main doors. Half-way across, Isabella bumped into a figure backing out of the great hall.

The man turned, fingered his white beard nervously, and stared at her. He looked confused and anxious until she smiled at him. 'I apologize,' he said.

Max turned away quickly but not before the man had caught his eye. 'It's a strange morning,' the man said, to no one in particular. 'A very strange morning.' Then he walked away.

Max and Isabella almost smiled as they watched him ascend the stairs.

'It might just work,' he heard Isabella say, voice quivering with relief.

'It might,' he agreed, as he watched his uncle Klaus return to his room. Then Joachim appeared on the other side of the lobby. Max took Isabella's arm and walked briskly to the chapel.

JOACHIM FELT DISORIENTED. HIS ONLY CONSOLATION AS HE watched the guests, in their furs, make their way to the chapel was that they looked equally fragile. As he passed the main doors he spotted his reflection in the glass and rubbed his eyes. He had drunk too much wine after the toast last night. Or perhaps it was the effect of the Northern Lights. The visual pyrotechnics might have disappeared with the rising sun but the air was still electric.

Outside, he walked across fresh snow to the boiler-house. He knocked on the door four times and one of the guards opened it groggily. 'Have you been sleeping?' Joachim demanded.

'No,' the guard said, but he clearly had.

'Where's my brother?' The guard ushered him inside. Joachim barely glanced at the other Stasi unbolting the storeroom: his head had begun to ache. The door opened to reveal a man sprawled on the ground, fast asleep. A mask covered his face. Joachim stepped closer. 'Max?'

Silence.

He leaned down and gingerly pulled up the mask, revealing the lower part of the man's face. He stared hard at the bruised features, covered with blood, and rubbed his eyes again. He had heard that electrical surges caused by the Northern Lights could play tricks on the mind. His head was pounding now. How much had he drunk last night? He looked back at the guard, who shrugged. Joachim replaced the mask and locked the storeroom door behind him.

When he returned to his room, his wife was still at breakfast. He felt feverish and confused. He took two painkillers from his first-aid bag, then checked the safe. Inside there were two locked canisters. He ignored the first, marked Ilium, which contained the four vials of the lethally modified, permanent NiL #072 drug.

He focused on the second canister, which contained a spare sample of Venus. He opened it and held the vial up to the light, then placed it in his aluminium case. It shouldn't be needed -- he had watched the guests drinking the toast -- but nothing could be left to chance. Today had to succeed or his father would never forgive him. He placed the case by the door, so that he would remember to take it with him to the chapel.

The phone rang.

'Joachim, it's Klaus. They want to call it off. Should we tell Helmut?'

What are you talking about?'

'Project Ilium. Corbasson and Nadolny have just rung me. And Lysenko left a note. They all say they won't pay for the bridesmaids.'

The phone fizzed with static. What was going on? Joachim wondered.

They believe we're lying. They've talked among themselves and decided to call our bluff,' Klaus said. 'Do we tell Helmut now?'

'There's no point in worrying him until after the wedding.' Joachim told himself that once Venus was activated everything would fall into place. After the wedding no one would defy his father's will. 'Don't worry about it, Klaus. Once they realize we're not bluffing, Lysenko and the others will fall into line.'

Joachim broke the connection, then dialled his father. 'Max is secure in the boiler-house, Vati.'

'Excellent,' his father rasped. 'I'll deal with him after the service. Call me when everyone's in the chapel.'

HELMUTKAPPELATE A FULL BREAKFAST OF CEREAL, CHEESE AND wurst. Everything tasted fresher and more intense than usual. After breakfast he showered, took his wedding outfit from the wardrobe and laid it on the bed. Designed by Odin, it was a classic morning suit, except that the whole ensemble was white. A fur cape lay beside it. As he ran his hand over the soft pelt, he imagined Phoebe changing into her Odin creation. Undoubtedly his Snow Queen would look beautiful, but all eyes would be on him.

He wandered over to the window to watch the guests making their way from Valhalla to the ice chapel. Fresh snow had fallen overnight and everywhere was white, except for the red ribbon of carpet on the lake, linking the island to the chapel. Was it his imagination or did the shambling guests seem confused and subdued?

He dressed methodically. First he put on his underwear and socks. Next he strapped the assassin's knife to his ankle. Then he slipped on his trousers and shirt. After he had tied his cravat, he put on the white silk waistcoat, the ermine jacket, and completed the ensemble with a pair of black shoes. Then he combed his hair, lit a cigarette, and smiled at the effect in the mirror. Except for his pale blue eyes, the glowing black cigarette in his pallid lips, and his shoes, he was white from head to toe.

The phone rang.

'Everyone is in the chapel, Vati,' Joachim said. 'Are you ready to come down?'

'I'm ready.'

THERE WAS NO WIND AS HELMUT KAPPEL WALKED ACROSS THE RED carpet from Valhalla to the chapel, and it felt surprisingly mild. The pale sky merged with the mountains and the weak sunlight flattened the virgin snow into a featureless white plain. He felt as if he was walking through a void that contained only three solid objects: the crystal palace behind him, the ice chapel ahead and the red carpet beneath his feet. Even his own white form seemed invisible in the surrounding snows cape.

He paused before the gleaming dome, savouring the moment. In a few seconds he would be far from invisible. His face would become the most visible that the world had ever known. Today wasn't just the first day of a new year. It was the first day of a new era in human history. The two Stasi guards by the chapel door stared at him and his white hair and seemed about to speak. Then they thought better of it, opened the door and stood aside.

He entered the chapel, listening to the organ music, and watched every head in the amphitheatre turn towards him. Beyond the congregation, the aisle led to the dais where the bridesmaids and Joachim, his new best man, waited. A veiled Phoebe stood alongside the priest.

With slow, deliberate steps he walked down the aisle. He felt all eyes focus on him, scrutinizing him. He heard the congregation rustling in their seats and whispering to each other. He remembered what Joachim had told him: as each person recognized his face, the Venus drug would trigger their adoration and the influenza-based component of the Tag Vector, which would spread round the globe. Last night's dream would soon be reality.

As Helmut came towards him Joachim frowned briefly, then Helmut greeted him and he smiled. Helmut almost patted his son's shoulder for having made this possible, but restrained himself: his destiny was no more than he deserved. As he climbed the steps to the dais and saw Joachim and the bridesmaids staring at him, he felt as though he was ascending to a higher spiritual plane. This was no longer just a wedding but an assumption of deity.

He stood opposite Phoebe. Odin had fashioned her dress from white silk and ermine. Its simple, classic cut accentuated her tall, slender figure. She looked stunning, and Helmut looked forward to seeing the adoration in her eyes. The priest smiled at him and Helmut smiled back, then looked down on the congregation. He could barely contain his excitement. The sense of power running through him was like electricity.

Helmut signalled to the priest that he should start the ceremony and a hush descended on the chapel.

ISABELLA FELT MAX PLACE A RESTRAINING HAND ON HER THIGH -- perhaps he had sensed her restlessness. Wrapped in furs on the far left of the second row, she craned forward in her seat, willing her friend not to go through with the marriage. She wanted to stand up and shout: 'Don't do it, Phoebe. It's your last chance.'

But everything had to run its course, if she and Max were to be be certain that their efforts to stop Venus had succeeded -- and Phoebe was the acid test: she had received the permanent version of both Ilium and Venus. If Phoebe came to her senses, it would prove that their plan to thwart Helmut Kappel had been successful. If she went through with the marriage his brave new world had dawned.