Under a cloudless summer sky I found myself speeding through the sun-browned English countryside, alongside me the formidable figure of Flight Sergeant Jones sat behind the wheel of our smart new pool car. Once again we were answering Cassandra 23's call, heading for that den of hidden horror, Brichester.

Even by the standards of C23 our briefing for the mission had been perfunctory, basically nothing more than a summons to meet up with the ever capable Mr. J. While I'd never found much useful in the audio briefings of previous missions it seemed odd to be embarking on a task for our nameless masters without the vague whispers, hints and suggestions that those tapes provided.

The start of this mission was different for other reasons as well. Firstly we had been instructed to arrive for the briefing later than usual and this time we would meet the other team members at the safehouse rather than in the slightly tarnished glory of the Queens Hotel and would be given our instructions from there. Jones felt sure that the reason for the change in locale was due to the security breach which occurred at the Queens during the "Matter of Time and Space" mission – furthermore such a formal setting apparently made the bluff soldier ill at ease.

With half that midsummer afternoon gone we pulled up to the brightly painted exterior of the house in XXXXXXXXX Street, its innocuous exterior expertly masking the cutting edge intelligence centre located within.

A familiar figure greeted us as we entered the safehouse – the veteran agent Heather Scott would once again be acting as an advisor to the C23 group. Despite my lingering suspicions about her it was good to see that we'd have at least one professional along with us, for we would have to do without the services of Carl Fox. Apparently he was required to monitor a crucial Anglo-German meeting and couldn't be spared for other duties.

Only a matter of minutes after we arrived a knock on the door signalled the entrance of the rest of our team. This time we were to number seven (hopefully a lucky number), myself, Jones, an erudite gentleman occultist by the name of Charles Mortimer, a trench-coated detective codenamed Hammer (Brian Lowe), a pilot called James Mason (codename BIGGLES), Luke Hurl, a computer expert and Dr. Gabriel Olding, a cryptozoologist. An eclectic collection to be sure, but possessed of a wide range of skills.

Heather gave us the traditional Cassandra 23 introductory speech, explaining the restrictions within which we'd have to operate, particularly relating to the use of firearms in the crowded environs of Brichester. I was relieved to learn that both the pilot and the detective were TOYmen who could provide back up for Sergeant Jones. My joy turned to alarm when I learned that the agency, in their "wisdom", were allowing the NCO to make use of the strange weapon which we acquired from the monstrous Fungi some weeks before. My trepidation grew when Heather explained that the weapon had not been tested and therefore no one had any idea what it did or how dangerous it was. The only positive thing about that situation was that the mere presence of this ominous instrument seemed to make Jones happy.

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