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Synopsis
TIME POLICE AUDIOBOOK 5: The new Time Police adventure from the million-copy bestselling author of THE CHRONICLES OF ST MARY'S.
From the million-copy bestselling author of THE CHRONICLES OF ST MARY'S.
'Jodi Taylor is quite simply the Queen of Time' C. K. MCDONNELL
---
'I'm just stepping outside. I might be some Time.'
Is this Luke Parrish sacrificing himself to save others?
A ghost train, lost in Time, hurtles through the night with two members of Team 236 trapped on board while the third struggles to track their progress through the Time Map and effect a rescue.
With Lt Grint and Team 235 in hot pursuit, what is the future for Team 236? And do they even have one?
AUDIOBOOK 5 IN THE TIME POLICE SERIES
FOR FANS OF TERRY PRATCHETT, THE THURSDAY MURDER CLUB AND DOCTOR WHO
Readers and listeners love the Time Police:
'This got five stars only because I couldn't give it six!'
'I don't think I've ever laughed out loud so much reading a book'
'A new Jodi Taylor book is something I always get excited about'
(P)2024 Headline Publishing Group Ltd
Release date: June 13, 2024
Publisher: Headline
Print pages: 400
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
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Killing Time
Jodi Taylor
Roll Call
TIME POLICE PERSONNEL
Commander Hay
Commander of the Time Police. If things get much worse, they’ll have only two pencils with which to defend the Timeline. Two very small pencils.
Captain Farenden
Adjutant to Commander Hay. Member of MENSA. Who knew?
Major Callen
Second in charge of the Time Police. Suspiciously quiet in this story.
Major Ellis
Head of BeeBOC – the Big Business and Organised Crime Unit.
Lt Grint
Ellis’s deputy. Head of Team 235. Inching his way towards a romantic tryst with Officer Lockland. Don’t hold your breath. (No. Seriously. Don’t.)
Lt North
Head of Records/Historical Briefing Unit. Includes shooting people as her favourite teaching aid. It rarely fails.
TEAM 235
Officer Kohl (Socko)
All moderately normal by Time Police standards.
Officer Hansen
Officer Rossi
TEAM 236
Officer Farrell
The dreaded Team Weird. Been through a lot recently and are about to be returned to factory setting.
Officer Lockland
Officer Parrish
SECURITY
Officer Varma
Whose future go-to solution to all problems will be to hurl people down the stairs. Because it works.
Officer Harvey
Officer Jessup
Officer Schwartz
Officer Wu
Officer Mitchell
Officer Etok
Officer Roche
POD BAY & LOGISTICS
Senior Mech
In charge of the Pod Bay. A very worried man.
Officer Oti
Logistics.
OTHER TIME POLICE OFFICERS
Lt Dal
Lt Chigozie
Lt Fanboten
Officer Curtis
Officer Rockmeyer
Trainee Tucker
Hadn’t realised working for the Time Police would be so much fun.
Trainee Clore
Ditto.
Mikey
Time Police consultant and both witting and unwitting cause of Senior Mech anxiety.
The doctor
Head of MedCen.
TIME MAP
Map Master
In charge of the Time Map.
Connor
A TiMM.
CIVILIANS
Nora Adesina
Worried mum.
Jay Adesina
Her son.
Devan Kumar
His friend. Both of them talented lads who really should have known better.
THE ZANETTI TRAIN PASSENGERS AND GUARDS
Luigi de Luca
A passenger.
Tommaso
A guard.
HOSPITAL DE SAN HIPÓLITA PERSONNEL
Dr José Saxino
All treatment must be unpleasant to be effective.
Various guards and warders
MISCELLANEOUS
Lady Amelia Smallhope
Bounty hunter.
Pennyroyal
Butler and bounty hunter.
Ernesto Portman
Has had better days.
1
Commander Hay seated herself at her desk, arranged her files neatly and picked up her mug of very excellent coffee.
‘Right then, Charlie. Give it your best shot.’
‘And good morning to you too, ma’am. Not a great deal today, I’m happy to say.’
‘Excellent. In that case I’ll push off now before our next catastrophe lands squarely on my desk.’
‘As you wish, ma’am, but before you go . . .’
Commander Hay sighed. ‘I knew it was too good to be true.’
‘No, ma’am, really. It’s mostly just updates and one or two of those updates are mostly good news.’
‘A pleasant change. However, the day is yet young. I’m sure we’ll all be fighting for our lives before teatime.’
‘Something for us to look forward to. Shall I begin? Before the government slashes our non-existent budget even further? Or Henry Plimpton destroys the Timeline. Or Officer Parrish’s blood decorates the corridors again. Or dread Cthulhu rises from the depths to destroy us all.’
‘You may, Charlie, although after a build-up like that, I warn you, my expectations are high.’
‘Team Two-Three-Six, ma’am.’
‘Oh God. I think I prefer dread Cthulhu.’
‘As would we all, ma’am. However . . .’
‘Yes, what’s happening there? Does Two-Three-Six still exist or have they decided to go their separate ways? I freely admit, I’ll miss them. Like when your heat rash subsides but you miss the pleasure of scratching it.’
‘I believe there’s an ointment for . . .’
‘It was a metaphor, Charlie.’ She paused. ‘Or do I mean simile?’
‘Actually, ma’am . . .’
‘And that was rhetorical.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
There was a pause.
‘Why have you stopped?’
‘I was wondering whether it was safe to continue, ma’am.’
‘Team Two-Three-Six . . .’
‘Are still with us, ma’am. At least they were as of 1000 hours this morning, which was when Major Ellis locked them in their office with instructions not to emerge until they’ve resolved their issues.’
Hay sighed. ‘We may never see them again.’
‘As Major Callen remarked, no downside, ma’am.’
Hay frowned. ‘What’s the word on the street.’
‘You can get good odds that they’ll kill each other, but the smart money’s on a reconciliation.’
‘The smart money being yours, I suppose.’
‘Naturally.’
‘Hm. Put me down for a tenner each way.’
Captain Farenden made a note. And paused.
Hay sipped her coffee. ‘Ah . . . we approach the item I’m not going to like.’
Her adjutant took a breath. ‘It’s not yet been made public but . . .’ He took another breath. ‘It would appear there has been an accident.’
Commander Hay, who knew him well, waited quietly.
‘At some point between 2300 hours last night and 0450 this morning, a car went off the road just outside of a small, private airfield in Kent. There were no survivors. Preliminary identification indicates the occupants were Anthony and Bradley Portman, together with their driver and bodyguard.’
He waited. The silence went on for a very long time.
Eventually, Commander Hay stirred. ‘Coincidence?’
‘So soon after they kidnapped Raymond Parrish, ma’am? How likely is that? And also . . .’ He paused again. ‘An airfield, ma’am. Is it possible they were seeking to flee the country?’
‘I rather think that depends on from whom they were fleeing.’
‘Plus . . .’
‘There’s more?’
‘Ernesto Portman has completely disappeared. He was known to have a heart condition – albeit not a serious one – and it’s thought he has been removed to a secret location.’
‘Are we aware of this secret location?’
‘At this precise moment, ma’am – no.’
‘Do we know exactly who removed him to this secret location?’
‘At this precise moment, ma’am – no.’
‘Is he aware his sons are dead?’
‘Unknown, ma’am.’
Hay looked thoughtful. ‘So that’s all three Portmans out of the picture, then? You have to admire an organisation that cleans up after itself.’
He nodded. ‘Very considerate, ma’am.’
‘Although a little bird tells me Raymond Parrish might not be unconnected with these events.’
‘Indeed, ma’am.’
‘Just as a courtesy, could you update Raymond Parrish – who almost certainly already knows. Fortunately, this is between the Parrishes and the Portmans and absolutely nothing to do with us. We’ll stand well back on this one, I think.’ Hay appeared struck by a thought. ‘Does Officer Parrish know?’
‘I received the news only an hour ago, ma’am. He’s been in conclave since mid-morning. That doesn’t mean, of course, that he wouldn’t be aware of his father’s intentions. If it was his father, of course.’
Hay drummed her fingers on her desk. ‘None of this involves the Time Police, Charlie. Not officially. I think we’ll sit on this intel for the time being – wait and see what happens next.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Moving on . . . I have received a joint request from both Officer Varma and the Senior Mech.’
She blinked. ‘Unlikely bedfellows.’
‘Indeed, ma’am. I was somewhat taken aback myself.’
‘What do they want?’
‘If you cast your mind back to when Varma and Maxwell returned from Roan—’
‘We decided that name was never to be spoken, Captain.’
‘No, ma’am. You will remember they did not return alone.’
‘I remember they brought four illegals back with them. Are they dead?’
‘Um . . . no, ma’am.’
Commander Hay regarded him shrewdly. ‘Because . . . ?’
Captain Farenden shifted in his seat. ‘Well, ma’am – and I don’t know how you’re going to feel about this – but Varma has requested two of them be considered as potential recruits for the security department, and the Senior Mech has his eye on the other two. Apparently all four are not without . . . useful skills, ma’am.’
‘Skills,’ said Hay flatly.
‘Indeed, ma’am, and at some point during the operation at . . . that place which must not be named . . . Officer Varma made a tentative and definitely non-binding offer of amnesty in return for information and cooperation.’
Hay sighed. ‘I have to ask, Charlie, given the frequent offers of amnesty we’ve been hurling around recently, to John Costello and the like – we appear to be recruiting solely from the criminal classes these days – whatever happened to conventional recruitment procedures? You know – keen young people battering down our doors in their enthusiasm to join.’
‘As far as I am aware, ma’am, nothing has happened to conventional recruitment procedures, but Mr Tucker, apparently, displays exactly the type of leadership skills we look for, as verified by Officer Farrell.’
‘Farrell? What would he know about leadership skills? Given his hairstyle I’m astonished he can even see properly. This Tucker and his men work – worked – for Henry Plimpton and . . .’
‘They’ve been very cooperative in the matter of grassing up their former employer, ma’am. Understandably so since Plimpton was going to kill them all. He – Tucker – has also had some very interesting things to say about the site at Ro— the site where he and his team were apprehended, ma’am.’
Hay sat up in a hurry. ‘We’ve found the Death Ray.’
‘Alas, no, ma’am. To massive disappointment, the teams on site have found absolutely no trace of Tesla’s fabled Death Ray.’
‘Damn.’
‘Your comment is being echoed around TPHQ, ma’am. There was enormous enthusiasm for a Death Ray.’
‘I’m not surprised. I was quite excited myself. Possession of a Death Ray would solve so many of our problems.’ She sighed. ‘However, returning to the real world, why was Plimpton building a base there? Given the body count and primitive living conditions . . . why there?’
‘Mr Tucker does not appear to be privy to that information, ma’am. Several teams are carrying out a methodical search – during the hours of daylight since no one’s keen to leave the safety of their pods after dark. There is a certain . . . atmosphere about the place. However, nothing even remotely Death Rayish has been discovered – although, to be fair, construction of the base was in its early stages. Their interim reports will be with you tomorrow. But to return to the undefined status of Mr Tucker and his crew . . .’
Hay stared out of the window. ‘I don’t know anyone better at reading people than Varma.’
‘No, ma’am. Nor the Senior Mech, either. He is particularly interested in Mr Clore.’
‘Are we aware of the feelings of Tucker and his former crew?’
‘They appear to be quite enthusiastic, ma’am.’
‘I suspect after Henry Plimpton even we look good. Even so . . .’
‘We do have several officers with criminal records, ma’am.’
‘Only because their skills are useful to us.’
‘I believe that is the Senior Mech’s and Varma’s argument, ma’am.’
‘All right, let’s see where this goes. Rigorous vetting for Tucker and all his team. Restricted access to the more sensitive parts of the building. They need to earn our trust.’
He made a note on his scratchpad. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Very nearly, ma’am. Mrs and Miss Farnborough.’
‘I thought Mrs Farnborough had returned to London.’
‘She has, ma’am. Ostensibly to oversee the repairs to her house in Mile End.’
Commander Hay closed her eyes. ‘Let’s not talk about that now, Charlie.’
‘As you wish, ma’am. My sources tell me she offered to resign as an MP but was persuaded to remain. She has, however, declined to resume her role in the cabinet.’
‘And how is Miss Farnborough recovering?’
‘Well, I believe, ma’am.’
‘You believe? Have your legendary sources let you down?’
‘Well, if I knew where she was, ma’am, I would be able to provide more details. I believe she is in the care of Parrish Industries, so she could, literally, be anywhere in the world.’
‘Bet you Officer Parrish knows her whereabouts.’
‘I have refrained from enquiring, ma’am.’
Hay nodded. ‘We’ll need to speak to her at some point but there’s no rush. I don’t want to crowd her at this stage. Plus, I am certain that by now, no trace of her incarceration at the hands of the Portmans will remain and they will simply deny everything.’
‘And as discussed just now, we can safely leave any and all punitive action to Raymond Parrish, ma’am.’
‘Very true. And should it become necessary, we can honestly claim we have no knowledge of her whereabouts. I’m very big on plausible deniability at the moment. Speaking of which – how are we off for money?’
‘Er . . . well . . . running a quick check, ma’am, my current account is not as healthy as I could wish, and I have a small savings account.’
‘I meant the financial standing of the Time Police.’
‘Ah. Less good news on that front, ma’am.’
‘How less good?’
‘Very less good.’
‘Anything in the wages budget?’
‘No.’
‘Materiel and equipment?’
‘No.’
‘Repairs and maintenance?’
‘No.’
‘Vehicle and fleet expenditure?’
‘No.’
‘Utilities?’
‘God, no.’
‘Medical?’
‘Never anything in that one, ma’am.’
‘Contingency fund?’
‘We contingenced out over two years ago, ma’am.’
‘Stationery?’
‘Yes.’
‘What?’
‘Yes.’
‘How much?’
‘How much do you need?’
‘Could I buy a pencil?’
‘You could buy two but they’d have to be very small.’
‘Something to look forward to. What about the pension fund?’
He threw her a pained look. ‘We’re not captains of industry or politicians, ma’am. Raiding pension funds is illegal.’
‘Damnation. Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely certain, ma’am. Do you have any instructions as to how we should proceed?’
‘Standard procedure, Captain. Keep going as hard as we can until someone tells us to stop. And then pretend we didn’t hear them and continue to push on for as long as possible.’
‘It’s payday at the end of the month, ma’am.’
‘A whole thirteen days away. A lot can happen in a single day, Charlie, as we should know, and we still have thirteen of them. What else do you have on your list of things with which to annoy your commanding officer?’
‘Lt Filbert, ma’am.’
Commander Hay’s expression did not change. Although to be fair, it rarely did. As the result of an accident, one half of her face was considerably older than the other. Facial expressions did not come easily to her.
Looking down at her desk, she said quietly, ‘And what about Lt Filbert?’
‘I know we’ve told people he was already dead, ma’am, but I have to inform you that Lt Filbert has died of his injuries while still in custody at the Tower of London. Last night.’
She sighed. ‘Did he say anything before . . . ?’
‘Not a word, ma’am.’ He looked up. ‘Will there be a service for him?’
There was another pause.
‘Ma’am?’
‘Yes, yes, of course. Full honours, Charlie.’
He made another note.
Hay continued. ‘I’ll need to start thinking about his replacement. I’ll be discussing this with Majors Callen and Ellis, of course, but for me it’s between two officers at the moment.’
‘May I hazard a guess? Varma and Grint.’
‘Spot on, Charlie. Remind me never to bet against you.’
‘So noted, ma’am.’
‘Varma is my first choice, but if Two-Three-Six don’t pull themselves together then I’ll need to move Lockland to Two-Three-Five, and for obvious reasons, I don’t want Lockland and Grint in the same team. No reflection on either of them but it’s not an ideal situation.’
‘Agreed, ma’am, but we don’t yet know which way Two-Three-Six will drop.’
‘Oh, I think we both know it will be butter-side down, Charlie.’
He grinned.
‘My first choice is for Two-Three-Six to find a way to work together and put Varma in charge of security.’
‘If it helps the decision-making process, ma’am, things are very quiet at the moment.’
‘Yes. And I shan’t formally appoint anyone until after Filbert’s service, anyway. We have a short breathing space.’
‘Lt Grint has seniority. And would be a good choice for the role, ma’am. He even looks the part. You know – massive, muscled, and so forth.’
‘Very true, but Varma has the skills and the security experience.’
‘It is a difficult choice, ma’am.’ He paused.
‘Go on, Charlie, say it.’
‘Security is a tough gig, ma’am. They take no prisoners in there – quite literally, sometimes – and the remit covers responsibility for the clean-up crews as well. Internal promotions are tough. Varma would be supervising former friends and colleagues. Our policy is usually to promote from outside the relevant department.’
‘Not always possible, Charlie.’
‘Indeed, ma’am.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘Please do not shoot the messenger, but . . .’
‘I know what you’re going to say.’
‘It will be said all over the building. Varma’s female.’
‘We have a female Map Master and to my certain knowledge no one argues with her. And Lt North heads up the Records section.’
‘There was some initial resistance to that appointment, ma’am.’
‘True, but she very soon brought people around to her way of thinking.’
‘She shot them, ma’am.’
‘With blanks, Charlie.’
‘They didn’t know that at the time.’
‘All the better to make her point, don’t you think?’
‘I doubt Varma would use blanks.’
‘Exactly.’
‘She may still find the going rather tough, though, ma’am.’
‘Isn’t there a general feeling that when the going gets tough, we send in Varma?’
He nodded. ‘Very true.’
‘Speaking of the going getting tough, I see you have scheduled me a meeting today with Miss Meiklejohn.’
‘That is correct, ma’am. It’s Friday.’
Commander Hay regarded him with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Friday was the designated day for the Time Police’s one and only civilian consultant, Miss Meiklejohn, to report on her week’s activities, present Commander Hay with her proposed schedule for the coming week, describe any brilliant ideas she might have hatched since their last meeting and depart, trailing inspiration, enthusiasm and potential catastrophe.
‘Ten minutes tops, ma’am.’
Commander Hay sighed. Her adjutant’s allocation of ten minutes for this encounter invariably overran.
He grinned. ‘I can, if you wish, interrupt you with an urgent call from the prime minister.’
‘I’m never going to be that desperate, Charlie.’
‘Then that’s it for the time being, ma’am.’ He stood up to depart.
As he was leaving, she said, ‘Ask Major Callen if he can spare me a moment, please.’
2
In another part of the building, Team 236 were seated in their tiny office, looking everywhere except at each other. If any of them remembered the excitement and anticipation of their first day’s occupation and the plans they had to make the office more comfortable, none of them were saying anything now.
There was a table and four chairs – even though there were only three of them. Normal teams consisted of four officers. In this matter – as in every other – Team 236 did not conform.
Over in the corner stood an illegal bookcase, stuffed with books, papers, a broken scratchpad, a mug full of mouldy coffee dregs no one would own up to, two unmatched socks and a tube of hand cream. Various posters adorned the walls: a sunset (Jane’s), the periodic table (Matthew’s) and a young woman on a tennis court scratching her bare bottom (no prizes for guessing the owner of that one but apparently it was Art). On top of the illegal bookcase, an illegal coffee machine bubbled away. Illegally.
They had been there for some time. Meaningful discussions had not taken place. Issues had not been resolved once and for all. A solution to their team breakdown had not been mooted, discussed and agreed. A possible way forwards had not been discovered.
The coffee machine gave a final roar. Matthew stood up, poured the coffee, placed a mug in front of each of his teammates and sat back down again. Three people sipped in silence.
‘Well,’ said Luke eventually. ‘Since no one’s going anywhere until we get this sorted, and since I’m the one with the most to regret, I suppose I’d better start the ball rolling.’
He turned to Jane, sitting with her back to the bottom-scratcher.
‘Jane, I apologise for the way I behaved. As you may be aware, I’m not too balanced on the subject of our friends the Portmans, and suddenly to discover you are one was rather a shock. However, that’s no excuse. And Matthew – I’m not sure what I might have said or done to upset you, but I’m sure I will have done something. This is me, after all. So, I apologise to you, too. If either of you feels you can’t accept my apologies, then I think everything ends officially here and now and we inform the major accordingly. And even if you feel you can accept them, then we still need to discuss whether we can continue to work together. As a team, I mean. I’m not sure what would happen next, but I think if we went to Ellis and said the situation was irretrievable then they’d reallocate us. Jane, I’m certain that Two-Three-Five would welcome you with open arms. And Matthew could divide his time between the Time Map and assisting Mikey in her underground bunker. I don’t think any of that would be a problem.’
Jane looked at him. ‘What about you? Where would you work?’
‘Oh, I think it’s a given that no one will want me here. And I’m not sure I’d want to work with anyone who would have me. Relations with my dad are better – he’d find me a job if I asked – although I’m not sure I would. Ask, I mean. I might strike out on my own for a bit. See where that takes me.’
He sipped his coffee.
‘What you’re saying,’ said Matthew, ‘is that if we break up the team then you’ll have nowhere to go.’
‘Matthew, my dad’s one of the richest people on the planet – I’m not going to starve. Besides, he’ll be plotting his revenge against the Portmans for kidnapping him. He might need me to give him a hand with that. Which I’ll be very happy to do.’
Matthew looked across at Jane. ‘Jane – how would you feel about applying to join Two-Three-Five?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Jane slowly. ‘I’m sorry – I’m still a bit thrown by everything. The death of my grandmother. And the other things about my parents – who they were and how they died. A lot has happened recently and I still don’t know how I feel about some of it.’
‘Then you should consult me,’ said Luke. ‘I am still your team leader, after all. It’s my job to advise on personal problems. And even if we do decide to go our separate ways, as the one outside the team, I’ll be able to provide a valuable perspective. You see – as always, I’m the important one around here.’
Jane had to smile.
Matthew, who had been watching Luke carefully, said, ‘Never mind us, Luke. What do you want?’
Luke paused. What did he want? His life had changed irrevocably. And so had he. He had a greater insight into the burdens carried by his father. He’d rediscovered his mother and that was another relationship to be built and cherished. Then there was Imogen Farnborough. Kidnapped and abused by the Portmans – for which they would pay. Heavily. She was sick, broken-down, fearful – if he left the Time Police, he could spend some time with her. He missed the old Immy, spitting fire at him. Yes, there was no doubt – if he left the Time Police – if he regarded this as a natural ending to his career – he could devote more time to Immy, to getting to know his mother properly, and possibly do something worthwhile with his life.
But he’d enjoyed his time at TPHQ. He had responsibility. A purpose. Somehow life here – difficult as it could frequently be – was more enjoyable than fast cars, faster women and very fast money. However – and he was the first to recognise this – he was Luke Parrish and, sooner or later, Luke Parrish always screwed up. Wrecked everything he touched. And not only his own life. He still couldn’t think about Orduroy Tannhauser, the man – well, boy, really – who had killed himself because of what he, Luke, had done. The guilt would never leave him. Nor should it, he supposed.
‘Your coffee’s getting cold,’ said Matthew, who was still watching him.
Luke shook himself free of those thoughts. ‘I tell you what,’ he said. ‘Let’s have a secret ballot. Yes if we want to continue in Two-Three-Six. No if we all fancy a bright, shiny new future. And if we want to keep the team together then it has to be unanimous. Two to one is no good. It has to be all of us. Agreed?’
They nodded.
‘Jane – bring forth your trusty notebook.’
Jane brought out her by now rather dog-eared notebook, carefully pulled out a page and tore it into three, passing one piece each to Matthew and Luke. They could only rustle up one pen between them so she carefully placed it in the centre of the table. They all looked at it.
‘Do we have to decide now?’ enquired Matthew.
‘I think so,’ said Luke. ‘Ellis said we can’t come out until we do. And it’s not like you to miss lunch, is it? But if you really want more time, I don’t see why not. We could send Jane out for some toast. You know, because she’s the girl on the team and catering is her responsibility.’
‘See that pen?’ said Bolshy Jane. ‘You know what to do, sweetie. Straight up his left nostril, through his sinuses and into his brain. All problems solved and you and Matthew can go off and have a nice lunch. Although you’ll probably need a new pen.’
‘Actually,’ said Wimpy Jane, timidly putting forwards her point of view. ‘I think Luke should stay. He talks about a fresh start outside the Time Police and he may mean it now, but I think once he’s back in his own world, the old Luke Parrish will soon come back and he knows it.’
‘The old Luke Parrish never went away,’ said Bolshy Jane bluntly. ‘And anyway, it’s not our job to sort his life out. Jane should do what is best for Jane. Not what’s best for him.’
Slowly, Matthew reached out, picked up the pen, made a mark on his paper, folded it up small and replaced the pen.
Slowly, without meeting anyone’s gaze, Luke reached out, picked up the pen, made a mark on his paper, folded it up small and replaced the pen.
They both looked at Jane.
‘No pressure then,’ said Bolshy Jane chattily.
Jane picked up the pen, made a mark on her paper, folded it up small and put the pen back in her pocket – because it was her pen, after all.
They regarded the three folded slips.
‘Shall I do the honours?’ said Luke.
They nodded.
He reached out, made the classic nothing up my sleeve gesture, unfolded the nearest scrap and smoothed it out. ‘I’m assuming Y is for yes.’
Matthew nodded.
Luke sighed. ‘This was supposed to be anonymous.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ said Matthew. ‘You know that wasn’t your vote. Jane knows it wasn’t hers. That only leaves me. Get a move on. I want my lunch.’
Luke unfolded the second slip and laid it face up on the table.
Yes.
‘Well, that one was mine,’ he said, ‘so it’s all on you, Jane. Does the team continue or not?’
He reached for the third slip.
And then the fire alarm went off.
Commander Hay, meanwhile, had been grappling with her regular Friday meeting with the Time Police’s civilian consultant, Miss Meiklejohn. Or Mikey, as some people knew her. Or the former illegal, as most officers still regarded her.
Captain Farenden had disappeared to begin the arrangements for Lt Filbert’s service, so Commander Hay was on her own.
Mikey swung in through the door clutching files, scratchpads, data cubes, data sticks and sundry pieces of paper. ‘Hello there. Where’s Cheerful Charlie?’
‘Captain Farenden is otherwise engaged at the moment. Please sit down.’
Mikey sat and began to arrange her files and so forth on Commander Hay’s desk.
‘Well – I’ve made excellent progress in some areas and not so much in others. Where would you like me to start?’
Commander Hay closed her file, clasped her hands attentively and mentally braced herself. ‘Wherever you like.’
‘OK. Well – the toilet’s stopped regurgitating stuff.’
‘This is the facility you are developing for use in the pods?’
‘Yes – obviously there are times when you don’t particularly want to pop outside to do the biz. You know – battles, weather, wild animals, whatever – and so . . .’
‘You said regurgitating?’
‘Yes. Quite vigorously in some cases. Sometimes the throughput is not as . . . through . . .’ she made appropriate gestures, ‘as I could wish, and the pressure builds up with sometimes unfortunate results. I suspect I may have to take a look at the composition of our compo rations. I know they’re supposed to have a binding effect, but I think we might have slightly overdone it and the result is sometimes too . . . stodgy . . .
TIME POLICE PERSONNEL
Commander Hay
Commander of the Time Police. If things get much worse, they’ll have only two pencils with which to defend the Timeline. Two very small pencils.
Captain Farenden
Adjutant to Commander Hay. Member of MENSA. Who knew?
Major Callen
Second in charge of the Time Police. Suspiciously quiet in this story.
Major Ellis
Head of BeeBOC – the Big Business and Organised Crime Unit.
Lt Grint
Ellis’s deputy. Head of Team 235. Inching his way towards a romantic tryst with Officer Lockland. Don’t hold your breath. (No. Seriously. Don’t.)
Lt North
Head of Records/Historical Briefing Unit. Includes shooting people as her favourite teaching aid. It rarely fails.
TEAM 235
Officer Kohl (Socko)
All moderately normal by Time Police standards.
Officer Hansen
Officer Rossi
TEAM 236
Officer Farrell
The dreaded Team Weird. Been through a lot recently and are about to be returned to factory setting.
Officer Lockland
Officer Parrish
SECURITY
Officer Varma
Whose future go-to solution to all problems will be to hurl people down the stairs. Because it works.
Officer Harvey
Officer Jessup
Officer Schwartz
Officer Wu
Officer Mitchell
Officer Etok
Officer Roche
POD BAY & LOGISTICS
Senior Mech
In charge of the Pod Bay. A very worried man.
Officer Oti
Logistics.
OTHER TIME POLICE OFFICERS
Lt Dal
Lt Chigozie
Lt Fanboten
Officer Curtis
Officer Rockmeyer
Trainee Tucker
Hadn’t realised working for the Time Police would be so much fun.
Trainee Clore
Ditto.
Mikey
Time Police consultant and both witting and unwitting cause of Senior Mech anxiety.
The doctor
Head of MedCen.
TIME MAP
Map Master
In charge of the Time Map.
Connor
A TiMM.
CIVILIANS
Nora Adesina
Worried mum.
Jay Adesina
Her son.
Devan Kumar
His friend. Both of them talented lads who really should have known better.
THE ZANETTI TRAIN PASSENGERS AND GUARDS
Luigi de Luca
A passenger.
Tommaso
A guard.
HOSPITAL DE SAN HIPÓLITA PERSONNEL
Dr José Saxino
All treatment must be unpleasant to be effective.
Various guards and warders
MISCELLANEOUS
Lady Amelia Smallhope
Bounty hunter.
Pennyroyal
Butler and bounty hunter.
Ernesto Portman
Has had better days.
1
Commander Hay seated herself at her desk, arranged her files neatly and picked up her mug of very excellent coffee.
‘Right then, Charlie. Give it your best shot.’
‘And good morning to you too, ma’am. Not a great deal today, I’m happy to say.’
‘Excellent. In that case I’ll push off now before our next catastrophe lands squarely on my desk.’
‘As you wish, ma’am, but before you go . . .’
Commander Hay sighed. ‘I knew it was too good to be true.’
‘No, ma’am, really. It’s mostly just updates and one or two of those updates are mostly good news.’
‘A pleasant change. However, the day is yet young. I’m sure we’ll all be fighting for our lives before teatime.’
‘Something for us to look forward to. Shall I begin? Before the government slashes our non-existent budget even further? Or Henry Plimpton destroys the Timeline. Or Officer Parrish’s blood decorates the corridors again. Or dread Cthulhu rises from the depths to destroy us all.’
‘You may, Charlie, although after a build-up like that, I warn you, my expectations are high.’
‘Team Two-Three-Six, ma’am.’
‘Oh God. I think I prefer dread Cthulhu.’
‘As would we all, ma’am. However . . .’
‘Yes, what’s happening there? Does Two-Three-Six still exist or have they decided to go their separate ways? I freely admit, I’ll miss them. Like when your heat rash subsides but you miss the pleasure of scratching it.’
‘I believe there’s an ointment for . . .’
‘It was a metaphor, Charlie.’ She paused. ‘Or do I mean simile?’
‘Actually, ma’am . . .’
‘And that was rhetorical.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
There was a pause.
‘Why have you stopped?’
‘I was wondering whether it was safe to continue, ma’am.’
‘Team Two-Three-Six . . .’
‘Are still with us, ma’am. At least they were as of 1000 hours this morning, which was when Major Ellis locked them in their office with instructions not to emerge until they’ve resolved their issues.’
Hay sighed. ‘We may never see them again.’
‘As Major Callen remarked, no downside, ma’am.’
Hay frowned. ‘What’s the word on the street.’
‘You can get good odds that they’ll kill each other, but the smart money’s on a reconciliation.’
‘The smart money being yours, I suppose.’
‘Naturally.’
‘Hm. Put me down for a tenner each way.’
Captain Farenden made a note. And paused.
Hay sipped her coffee. ‘Ah . . . we approach the item I’m not going to like.’
Her adjutant took a breath. ‘It’s not yet been made public but . . .’ He took another breath. ‘It would appear there has been an accident.’
Commander Hay, who knew him well, waited quietly.
‘At some point between 2300 hours last night and 0450 this morning, a car went off the road just outside of a small, private airfield in Kent. There were no survivors. Preliminary identification indicates the occupants were Anthony and Bradley Portman, together with their driver and bodyguard.’
He waited. The silence went on for a very long time.
Eventually, Commander Hay stirred. ‘Coincidence?’
‘So soon after they kidnapped Raymond Parrish, ma’am? How likely is that? And also . . .’ He paused again. ‘An airfield, ma’am. Is it possible they were seeking to flee the country?’
‘I rather think that depends on from whom they were fleeing.’
‘Plus . . .’
‘There’s more?’
‘Ernesto Portman has completely disappeared. He was known to have a heart condition – albeit not a serious one – and it’s thought he has been removed to a secret location.’
‘Are we aware of this secret location?’
‘At this precise moment, ma’am – no.’
‘Do we know exactly who removed him to this secret location?’
‘At this precise moment, ma’am – no.’
‘Is he aware his sons are dead?’
‘Unknown, ma’am.’
Hay looked thoughtful. ‘So that’s all three Portmans out of the picture, then? You have to admire an organisation that cleans up after itself.’
He nodded. ‘Very considerate, ma’am.’
‘Although a little bird tells me Raymond Parrish might not be unconnected with these events.’
‘Indeed, ma’am.’
‘Just as a courtesy, could you update Raymond Parrish – who almost certainly already knows. Fortunately, this is between the Parrishes and the Portmans and absolutely nothing to do with us. We’ll stand well back on this one, I think.’ Hay appeared struck by a thought. ‘Does Officer Parrish know?’
‘I received the news only an hour ago, ma’am. He’s been in conclave since mid-morning. That doesn’t mean, of course, that he wouldn’t be aware of his father’s intentions. If it was his father, of course.’
Hay drummed her fingers on her desk. ‘None of this involves the Time Police, Charlie. Not officially. I think we’ll sit on this intel for the time being – wait and see what happens next.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Moving on . . . I have received a joint request from both Officer Varma and the Senior Mech.’
She blinked. ‘Unlikely bedfellows.’
‘Indeed, ma’am. I was somewhat taken aback myself.’
‘What do they want?’
‘If you cast your mind back to when Varma and Maxwell returned from Roan—’
‘We decided that name was never to be spoken, Captain.’
‘No, ma’am. You will remember they did not return alone.’
‘I remember they brought four illegals back with them. Are they dead?’
‘Um . . . no, ma’am.’
Commander Hay regarded him shrewdly. ‘Because . . . ?’
Captain Farenden shifted in his seat. ‘Well, ma’am – and I don’t know how you’re going to feel about this – but Varma has requested two of them be considered as potential recruits for the security department, and the Senior Mech has his eye on the other two. Apparently all four are not without . . . useful skills, ma’am.’
‘Skills,’ said Hay flatly.
‘Indeed, ma’am, and at some point during the operation at . . . that place which must not be named . . . Officer Varma made a tentative and definitely non-binding offer of amnesty in return for information and cooperation.’
Hay sighed. ‘I have to ask, Charlie, given the frequent offers of amnesty we’ve been hurling around recently, to John Costello and the like – we appear to be recruiting solely from the criminal classes these days – whatever happened to conventional recruitment procedures? You know – keen young people battering down our doors in their enthusiasm to join.’
‘As far as I am aware, ma’am, nothing has happened to conventional recruitment procedures, but Mr Tucker, apparently, displays exactly the type of leadership skills we look for, as verified by Officer Farrell.’
‘Farrell? What would he know about leadership skills? Given his hairstyle I’m astonished he can even see properly. This Tucker and his men work – worked – for Henry Plimpton and . . .’
‘They’ve been very cooperative in the matter of grassing up their former employer, ma’am. Understandably so since Plimpton was going to kill them all. He – Tucker – has also had some very interesting things to say about the site at Ro— the site where he and his team were apprehended, ma’am.’
Hay sat up in a hurry. ‘We’ve found the Death Ray.’
‘Alas, no, ma’am. To massive disappointment, the teams on site have found absolutely no trace of Tesla’s fabled Death Ray.’
‘Damn.’
‘Your comment is being echoed around TPHQ, ma’am. There was enormous enthusiasm for a Death Ray.’
‘I’m not surprised. I was quite excited myself. Possession of a Death Ray would solve so many of our problems.’ She sighed. ‘However, returning to the real world, why was Plimpton building a base there? Given the body count and primitive living conditions . . . why there?’
‘Mr Tucker does not appear to be privy to that information, ma’am. Several teams are carrying out a methodical search – during the hours of daylight since no one’s keen to leave the safety of their pods after dark. There is a certain . . . atmosphere about the place. However, nothing even remotely Death Rayish has been discovered – although, to be fair, construction of the base was in its early stages. Their interim reports will be with you tomorrow. But to return to the undefined status of Mr Tucker and his crew . . .’
Hay stared out of the window. ‘I don’t know anyone better at reading people than Varma.’
‘No, ma’am. Nor the Senior Mech, either. He is particularly interested in Mr Clore.’
‘Are we aware of the feelings of Tucker and his former crew?’
‘They appear to be quite enthusiastic, ma’am.’
‘I suspect after Henry Plimpton even we look good. Even so . . .’
‘We do have several officers with criminal records, ma’am.’
‘Only because their skills are useful to us.’
‘I believe that is the Senior Mech’s and Varma’s argument, ma’am.’
‘All right, let’s see where this goes. Rigorous vetting for Tucker and all his team. Restricted access to the more sensitive parts of the building. They need to earn our trust.’
He made a note on his scratchpad. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Very nearly, ma’am. Mrs and Miss Farnborough.’
‘I thought Mrs Farnborough had returned to London.’
‘She has, ma’am. Ostensibly to oversee the repairs to her house in Mile End.’
Commander Hay closed her eyes. ‘Let’s not talk about that now, Charlie.’
‘As you wish, ma’am. My sources tell me she offered to resign as an MP but was persuaded to remain. She has, however, declined to resume her role in the cabinet.’
‘And how is Miss Farnborough recovering?’
‘Well, I believe, ma’am.’
‘You believe? Have your legendary sources let you down?’
‘Well, if I knew where she was, ma’am, I would be able to provide more details. I believe she is in the care of Parrish Industries, so she could, literally, be anywhere in the world.’
‘Bet you Officer Parrish knows her whereabouts.’
‘I have refrained from enquiring, ma’am.’
Hay nodded. ‘We’ll need to speak to her at some point but there’s no rush. I don’t want to crowd her at this stage. Plus, I am certain that by now, no trace of her incarceration at the hands of the Portmans will remain and they will simply deny everything.’
‘And as discussed just now, we can safely leave any and all punitive action to Raymond Parrish, ma’am.’
‘Very true. And should it become necessary, we can honestly claim we have no knowledge of her whereabouts. I’m very big on plausible deniability at the moment. Speaking of which – how are we off for money?’
‘Er . . . well . . . running a quick check, ma’am, my current account is not as healthy as I could wish, and I have a small savings account.’
‘I meant the financial standing of the Time Police.’
‘Ah. Less good news on that front, ma’am.’
‘How less good?’
‘Very less good.’
‘Anything in the wages budget?’
‘No.’
‘Materiel and equipment?’
‘No.’
‘Repairs and maintenance?’
‘No.’
‘Vehicle and fleet expenditure?’
‘No.’
‘Utilities?’
‘God, no.’
‘Medical?’
‘Never anything in that one, ma’am.’
‘Contingency fund?’
‘We contingenced out over two years ago, ma’am.’
‘Stationery?’
‘Yes.’
‘What?’
‘Yes.’
‘How much?’
‘How much do you need?’
‘Could I buy a pencil?’
‘You could buy two but they’d have to be very small.’
‘Something to look forward to. What about the pension fund?’
He threw her a pained look. ‘We’re not captains of industry or politicians, ma’am. Raiding pension funds is illegal.’
‘Damnation. Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely certain, ma’am. Do you have any instructions as to how we should proceed?’
‘Standard procedure, Captain. Keep going as hard as we can until someone tells us to stop. And then pretend we didn’t hear them and continue to push on for as long as possible.’
‘It’s payday at the end of the month, ma’am.’
‘A whole thirteen days away. A lot can happen in a single day, Charlie, as we should know, and we still have thirteen of them. What else do you have on your list of things with which to annoy your commanding officer?’
‘Lt Filbert, ma’am.’
Commander Hay’s expression did not change. Although to be fair, it rarely did. As the result of an accident, one half of her face was considerably older than the other. Facial expressions did not come easily to her.
Looking down at her desk, she said quietly, ‘And what about Lt Filbert?’
‘I know we’ve told people he was already dead, ma’am, but I have to inform you that Lt Filbert has died of his injuries while still in custody at the Tower of London. Last night.’
She sighed. ‘Did he say anything before . . . ?’
‘Not a word, ma’am.’ He looked up. ‘Will there be a service for him?’
There was another pause.
‘Ma’am?’
‘Yes, yes, of course. Full honours, Charlie.’
He made another note.
Hay continued. ‘I’ll need to start thinking about his replacement. I’ll be discussing this with Majors Callen and Ellis, of course, but for me it’s between two officers at the moment.’
‘May I hazard a guess? Varma and Grint.’
‘Spot on, Charlie. Remind me never to bet against you.’
‘So noted, ma’am.’
‘Varma is my first choice, but if Two-Three-Six don’t pull themselves together then I’ll need to move Lockland to Two-Three-Five, and for obvious reasons, I don’t want Lockland and Grint in the same team. No reflection on either of them but it’s not an ideal situation.’
‘Agreed, ma’am, but we don’t yet know which way Two-Three-Six will drop.’
‘Oh, I think we both know it will be butter-side down, Charlie.’
He grinned.
‘My first choice is for Two-Three-Six to find a way to work together and put Varma in charge of security.’
‘If it helps the decision-making process, ma’am, things are very quiet at the moment.’
‘Yes. And I shan’t formally appoint anyone until after Filbert’s service, anyway. We have a short breathing space.’
‘Lt Grint has seniority. And would be a good choice for the role, ma’am. He even looks the part. You know – massive, muscled, and so forth.’
‘Very true, but Varma has the skills and the security experience.’
‘It is a difficult choice, ma’am.’ He paused.
‘Go on, Charlie, say it.’
‘Security is a tough gig, ma’am. They take no prisoners in there – quite literally, sometimes – and the remit covers responsibility for the clean-up crews as well. Internal promotions are tough. Varma would be supervising former friends and colleagues. Our policy is usually to promote from outside the relevant department.’
‘Not always possible, Charlie.’
‘Indeed, ma’am.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘Please do not shoot the messenger, but . . .’
‘I know what you’re going to say.’
‘It will be said all over the building. Varma’s female.’
‘We have a female Map Master and to my certain knowledge no one argues with her. And Lt North heads up the Records section.’
‘There was some initial resistance to that appointment, ma’am.’
‘True, but she very soon brought people around to her way of thinking.’
‘She shot them, ma’am.’
‘With blanks, Charlie.’
‘They didn’t know that at the time.’
‘All the better to make her point, don’t you think?’
‘I doubt Varma would use blanks.’
‘Exactly.’
‘She may still find the going rather tough, though, ma’am.’
‘Isn’t there a general feeling that when the going gets tough, we send in Varma?’
He nodded. ‘Very true.’
‘Speaking of the going getting tough, I see you have scheduled me a meeting today with Miss Meiklejohn.’
‘That is correct, ma’am. It’s Friday.’
Commander Hay regarded him with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Friday was the designated day for the Time Police’s one and only civilian consultant, Miss Meiklejohn, to report on her week’s activities, present Commander Hay with her proposed schedule for the coming week, describe any brilliant ideas she might have hatched since their last meeting and depart, trailing inspiration, enthusiasm and potential catastrophe.
‘Ten minutes tops, ma’am.’
Commander Hay sighed. Her adjutant’s allocation of ten minutes for this encounter invariably overran.
He grinned. ‘I can, if you wish, interrupt you with an urgent call from the prime minister.’
‘I’m never going to be that desperate, Charlie.’
‘Then that’s it for the time being, ma’am.’ He stood up to depart.
As he was leaving, she said, ‘Ask Major Callen if he can spare me a moment, please.’
2
In another part of the building, Team 236 were seated in their tiny office, looking everywhere except at each other. If any of them remembered the excitement and anticipation of their first day’s occupation and the plans they had to make the office more comfortable, none of them were saying anything now.
There was a table and four chairs – even though there were only three of them. Normal teams consisted of four officers. In this matter – as in every other – Team 236 did not conform.
Over in the corner stood an illegal bookcase, stuffed with books, papers, a broken scratchpad, a mug full of mouldy coffee dregs no one would own up to, two unmatched socks and a tube of hand cream. Various posters adorned the walls: a sunset (Jane’s), the periodic table (Matthew’s) and a young woman on a tennis court scratching her bare bottom (no prizes for guessing the owner of that one but apparently it was Art). On top of the illegal bookcase, an illegal coffee machine bubbled away. Illegally.
They had been there for some time. Meaningful discussions had not taken place. Issues had not been resolved once and for all. A solution to their team breakdown had not been mooted, discussed and agreed. A possible way forwards had not been discovered.
The coffee machine gave a final roar. Matthew stood up, poured the coffee, placed a mug in front of each of his teammates and sat back down again. Three people sipped in silence.
‘Well,’ said Luke eventually. ‘Since no one’s going anywhere until we get this sorted, and since I’m the one with the most to regret, I suppose I’d better start the ball rolling.’
He turned to Jane, sitting with her back to the bottom-scratcher.
‘Jane, I apologise for the way I behaved. As you may be aware, I’m not too balanced on the subject of our friends the Portmans, and suddenly to discover you are one was rather a shock. However, that’s no excuse. And Matthew – I’m not sure what I might have said or done to upset you, but I’m sure I will have done something. This is me, after all. So, I apologise to you, too. If either of you feels you can’t accept my apologies, then I think everything ends officially here and now and we inform the major accordingly. And even if you feel you can accept them, then we still need to discuss whether we can continue to work together. As a team, I mean. I’m not sure what would happen next, but I think if we went to Ellis and said the situation was irretrievable then they’d reallocate us. Jane, I’m certain that Two-Three-Five would welcome you with open arms. And Matthew could divide his time between the Time Map and assisting Mikey in her underground bunker. I don’t think any of that would be a problem.’
Jane looked at him. ‘What about you? Where would you work?’
‘Oh, I think it’s a given that no one will want me here. And I’m not sure I’d want to work with anyone who would have me. Relations with my dad are better – he’d find me a job if I asked – although I’m not sure I would. Ask, I mean. I might strike out on my own for a bit. See where that takes me.’
He sipped his coffee.
‘What you’re saying,’ said Matthew, ‘is that if we break up the team then you’ll have nowhere to go.’
‘Matthew, my dad’s one of the richest people on the planet – I’m not going to starve. Besides, he’ll be plotting his revenge against the Portmans for kidnapping him. He might need me to give him a hand with that. Which I’ll be very happy to do.’
Matthew looked across at Jane. ‘Jane – how would you feel about applying to join Two-Three-Five?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Jane slowly. ‘I’m sorry – I’m still a bit thrown by everything. The death of my grandmother. And the other things about my parents – who they were and how they died. A lot has happened recently and I still don’t know how I feel about some of it.’
‘Then you should consult me,’ said Luke. ‘I am still your team leader, after all. It’s my job to advise on personal problems. And even if we do decide to go our separate ways, as the one outside the team, I’ll be able to provide a valuable perspective. You see – as always, I’m the important one around here.’
Jane had to smile.
Matthew, who had been watching Luke carefully, said, ‘Never mind us, Luke. What do you want?’
Luke paused. What did he want? His life had changed irrevocably. And so had he. He had a greater insight into the burdens carried by his father. He’d rediscovered his mother and that was another relationship to be built and cherished. Then there was Imogen Farnborough. Kidnapped and abused by the Portmans – for which they would pay. Heavily. She was sick, broken-down, fearful – if he left the Time Police, he could spend some time with her. He missed the old Immy, spitting fire at him. Yes, there was no doubt – if he left the Time Police – if he regarded this as a natural ending to his career – he could devote more time to Immy, to getting to know his mother properly, and possibly do something worthwhile with his life.
But he’d enjoyed his time at TPHQ. He had responsibility. A purpose. Somehow life here – difficult as it could frequently be – was more enjoyable than fast cars, faster women and very fast money. However – and he was the first to recognise this – he was Luke Parrish and, sooner or later, Luke Parrish always screwed up. Wrecked everything he touched. And not only his own life. He still couldn’t think about Orduroy Tannhauser, the man – well, boy, really – who had killed himself because of what he, Luke, had done. The guilt would never leave him. Nor should it, he supposed.
‘Your coffee’s getting cold,’ said Matthew, who was still watching him.
Luke shook himself free of those thoughts. ‘I tell you what,’ he said. ‘Let’s have a secret ballot. Yes if we want to continue in Two-Three-Six. No if we all fancy a bright, shiny new future. And if we want to keep the team together then it has to be unanimous. Two to one is no good. It has to be all of us. Agreed?’
They nodded.
‘Jane – bring forth your trusty notebook.’
Jane brought out her by now rather dog-eared notebook, carefully pulled out a page and tore it into three, passing one piece each to Matthew and Luke. They could only rustle up one pen between them so she carefully placed it in the centre of the table. They all looked at it.
‘Do we have to decide now?’ enquired Matthew.
‘I think so,’ said Luke. ‘Ellis said we can’t come out until we do. And it’s not like you to miss lunch, is it? But if you really want more time, I don’t see why not. We could send Jane out for some toast. You know, because she’s the girl on the team and catering is her responsibility.’
‘See that pen?’ said Bolshy Jane. ‘You know what to do, sweetie. Straight up his left nostril, through his sinuses and into his brain. All problems solved and you and Matthew can go off and have a nice lunch. Although you’ll probably need a new pen.’
‘Actually,’ said Wimpy Jane, timidly putting forwards her point of view. ‘I think Luke should stay. He talks about a fresh start outside the Time Police and he may mean it now, but I think once he’s back in his own world, the old Luke Parrish will soon come back and he knows it.’
‘The old Luke Parrish never went away,’ said Bolshy Jane bluntly. ‘And anyway, it’s not our job to sort his life out. Jane should do what is best for Jane. Not what’s best for him.’
Slowly, Matthew reached out, picked up the pen, made a mark on his paper, folded it up small and replaced the pen.
Slowly, without meeting anyone’s gaze, Luke reached out, picked up the pen, made a mark on his paper, folded it up small and replaced the pen.
They both looked at Jane.
‘No pressure then,’ said Bolshy Jane chattily.
Jane picked up the pen, made a mark on her paper, folded it up small and put the pen back in her pocket – because it was her pen, after all.
They regarded the three folded slips.
‘Shall I do the honours?’ said Luke.
They nodded.
He reached out, made the classic nothing up my sleeve gesture, unfolded the nearest scrap and smoothed it out. ‘I’m assuming Y is for yes.’
Matthew nodded.
Luke sighed. ‘This was supposed to be anonymous.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ said Matthew. ‘You know that wasn’t your vote. Jane knows it wasn’t hers. That only leaves me. Get a move on. I want my lunch.’
Luke unfolded the second slip and laid it face up on the table.
Yes.
‘Well, that one was mine,’ he said, ‘so it’s all on you, Jane. Does the team continue or not?’
He reached for the third slip.
And then the fire alarm went off.
Commander Hay, meanwhile, had been grappling with her regular Friday meeting with the Time Police’s civilian consultant, Miss Meiklejohn. Or Mikey, as some people knew her. Or the former illegal, as most officers still regarded her.
Captain Farenden had disappeared to begin the arrangements for Lt Filbert’s service, so Commander Hay was on her own.
Mikey swung in through the door clutching files, scratchpads, data cubes, data sticks and sundry pieces of paper. ‘Hello there. Where’s Cheerful Charlie?’
‘Captain Farenden is otherwise engaged at the moment. Please sit down.’
Mikey sat and began to arrange her files and so forth on Commander Hay’s desk.
‘Well – I’ve made excellent progress in some areas and not so much in others. Where would you like me to start?’
Commander Hay closed her file, clasped her hands attentively and mentally braced herself. ‘Wherever you like.’
‘OK. Well – the toilet’s stopped regurgitating stuff.’
‘This is the facility you are developing for use in the pods?’
‘Yes – obviously there are times when you don’t particularly want to pop outside to do the biz. You know – battles, weather, wild animals, whatever – and so . . .’
‘You said regurgitating?’
‘Yes. Quite vigorously in some cases. Sometimes the throughput is not as . . . through . . .’ she made appropriate gestures, ‘as I could wish, and the pressure builds up with sometimes unfortunate results. I suspect I may have to take a look at the composition of our compo rations. I know they’re supposed to have a binding effect, but I think we might have slightly overdone it and the result is sometimes too . . . stodgy . . .
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