'Check in,' he whispered into the mike that wound snake-like from his helmet.

'Negative on one.'

'Nothing, Captain.'

'A big negatori, Trouble.'

Captain Kelp winced.

'We're in the field, Corporal. Follow procedure.'

'But Mummy said!'

'I don't care what Mummy said, Corporal! Rank is rank! You will refer to me as Captain Kelp.'

'Yessir, Captain,' sulked the corporal. 'But don't ask me to iron your tunic any more.'

Trouble zeroed in on his brother's channel, shutting out the rest of the squad.

'Shut up about Mummy, will you? And the ironing. You're only on this mission because I requested you! Now start acting like a professional or get back to the perimeter!'

'OK, Trubs.'

'Trouble!' shouted Captain Kelp. 'It's Trouble. Not Trubs, or Trub. Trouble! OK?'

'OK. Trouble. Mummy's right. You're only a baby.' Swearing very unprofessionally, Captain Kelp switched his headset back to the open channel. He was just in time to hear an unusual sound. 'Arrkk.'

'What was that?'

'What?'

'Dunno.'

'Nothing, Captain.'

But Trouble had done a Sound Recognition in-service for his captain's exam, and he was pretty sure the 'Arrkk' had been caused by someone getting a chop across the windpipe. More than likely his brother had walked into a shrub.

'Grub? Are you all right?'

'That's Corporal Grub to you.'

Kelp viciously kicked a daisy.

'Check in. Sound off in sequence.'

'One, OK.'

'Two, fine.'

'Three, bored but alive.'

'Five approaching west wing.'

Kelp froze. 'Wait. Four? You there, Four? What's your situation?'

'……………..' Nothing except static.

'Right. Four is down. Possibly an equipment malfunction. Still, we can't afford to take any chances. Regroup by the main door.'

Retrieval One crept together, making slightly less noise than a silk spider. Kelp did a quick head count. Eleven. One short of a full complement. Four was probably wandering around the rose bushes, wondering why nobody was talking to him.

Then Trouble noticed two things — one, a pair of black boots was sticking out of a shrub beside the door, and two, there was a massive human standing in the doorway. The figure was cradling a very nasty-looking gun in the crook of his arm.

'Go silent,' whispered Kelp, and immediately eleven full-face visors slid down to seal in the sounds of his squad's breathing and communications.

'Now, nobody panic. I think I can trace the sequence of events here. Four is skulking around outside the door. The Mud Man opens it. Four gets a whack on the noggin and lands in the bushes. No problem. Our cover is intact. Repeat intact. So no itchy fingers, please.

Grub…Sorry, Corporal Kelp, check Four's vitals. The rest of you make a hole and keep it quiet.'

The squad stepped back carefully until they were standing on the manicured grassy verge. The figure before them was indeed impressive, without doubt the biggest human any of them had ever seen.

'D'Arvit,' breathed Two.

'Maintain radio silence, except in emergencies,' ordered Kelp.'

Swearing is hardly an emergency.' Secretly, however, he concurred with the sentiment. This was one time he was glad to be shielded. That man looked as if he could squash half a dozen fairies in one massive fist.

Grub returned to his slot. 'Four is stable. Concussed, I'd guess.

But otherwise OK. His shield's off though, so I stuffed him in the bushes.'

'Well done, Corporal. Good thinking.'

The last thing they needed was for Four's boots to be spotted.

The man moved, lumbering casually along the path. He may have glanced left or right, it was difficult to tell beneath the hood pulled over his eyes. Odd for a human to wear a hood on such a fine night.

'Safety catches off,' ordered Trouble.

He imagined his men rolling their eyes. Like they hadn't had their safeties off for the last half an hour. Still, you had to go by the book, in case of a tribunal later on. There was a time when Retrieval blasted first and answered questions never. But not any more. Now there was always some do-gooder civilian banging on about civil rights. Even for humans, would you believe it?

The man mountain stopped, right in the middle of the squad. If he had been able to see them, it would be the perfect tactical position.

Their own firearms were virtually useless, as they would probably do more damage to each other than the human.

Fortunately the entire squad was invisible, with the exception of Four, who was safely secreted in what appeared to be a rhododendron.

'Buzz batons. Fire 'em up.'

Just in case. No harm in being cautious.

And when the LEP officers were switching weapons, right at that moment when their hands were fumbling with holsters, that's when the Mud Man spoke.

'Evening, gentlemen,' he said, sweeping back his hood.

Funny that, thought Trouble. It was almost as if…Then he saw the makeshift goggles.

'Cover!' he screamed. 'Cover!'

But it was too late. No option but to stand and fight. And that was no option at all.

Butler could have taken them from the parapet. One at a time with the ivory hunter's rifle. But that wasn't the plan. This was all about making an impression. Sending a message. It was standard procedure with any police force in the world to send in the cannon fodder first before opening negotiations. It was almost expected that they would meet with resistance, and Butler was happy to oblige.

He peeked out through the letter box and, oh happy coincidence, there was a pair of goggled eyes peeking right back at him. It was just too fortuitous to pass up.

'Bed time,' said Butler, heaving the door with a mighty shoulder.

The fairy flew several metres before alighting in the shrubbery. Juliet would be devastated. She loved rhododendrons. One down. Several to go.

Butler pulled up the peaked hood on his field jacket, stepping into the porch. There they were, spread out like a squadron of Action Men. If not for the array of very proficient-looking weaponry hanging from each belt, it would have been almost comical.

Sliding his finger casually under the trigger guard, Butler strode into their midst. The bulky one at two o'clock was giving the orders.

You could tell from the heads angled his way.

The leader gave a command and the squad switched to close-quarters weapons. It made sense, they'd only cut themselves to pieces with firearms. Time for action.

'Evening, gentlemen,' Butler said. He couldn't help it, and it was worth it for that one moment of consternation. Then his gun was up and blazing.

Captain Kelp was the first casualty, a titanium-tipped dart puncturing the neck of his suit. He went down sluggishly, as though the air had turned to water. Two more of the squad were dropped before they had any idea what was going on.

It must be quite traumatic, thought Butler dispassionately, to lose an advantage that you've held for centuries.

By now, the remains of Retrieval One had their buzz batons fired up and raised. But they made the mistake of hanging back, waiting for a command that was not forthcoming. This gave Butler an opportunity to take the fight to them. As if he needed another advantage.

Even so, for a second the manservant hesitated. These beings were so small. Like children. Then Grub clipped him on the elbow with his buzz baton and 1,000 volts spread across Butler's chest. All sympathy for the little people vanished instantly.

Butler grabbed the offending baton, swinging weapon and bearer like a set of bolas. Grub squealed as he was released, his new-found momentum carrying him directly into three of his comrades.

Butler continued the swinging motion, driving punishing punches into the chests of two more fairies. Another clambered on to his back, stinging him repeatedly with the baton. Butler fell on him.