Hope for the Best

by Jodi Taylor

  Ellis appeared in the doorway. Two others I didn’t recognise stood behind him with Mr Personality Grint behind them. Considering our ordeal, Ellis was insensitively cheerful.

  ‘Sorry we couldn’t get here sooner, Max. We’ve literally only just finished repairing the Time Map. The Map Master switched it back on again and not only did the whole thing light up like a Christmas tree but every alarm in the building went off as well. Obviously, we knew it would be you and here we are. Just in time to save the day. Again.’

  Euphoria was kicking in. ‘Rubbish,’ I said. ‘Miss North and I had the situation well in hand. There was no need for you to rush.’

  ‘In fact,’ said Miss North, loyally, ‘we didn’t need you at all.’

  He took in the scene. Celia North, flushed and dishevelled. Me, definitely not looking my best, and Sullivan and his men. I could see I didn’t have to explain anything at all. Which was just as well because I still wasn’t sure I could put coherent words together. I rather thought someone else could do the thinking for a little while.

  Without a word, Ellis gestured and his men bustled about collecting weapons. All except Sullivan’s humane killer, currently lying on the console. This man would have killed North. One of my people. In my mind I saw the heavy bolt shatter her skull. And heard him speculating on whether she’d know anything about it. And how she’d stood firm.

  Perhaps it was time for me to send a message of my own. I looked at Sullivan. I looked at North. And then, slowly, I reached across and picked up his gun. It was considerably heavier than I expected. I turned it over in my hand. I looked at Sullivan.

  Ellis held out his hand. ‘Give it to me, Max.’

  I looked at Ellis but I saw Celia North. Prepared to do her duty. Right up until the very end.

  I snapped it together and slid the bolt into place. Suddenly the pod was very, very quiet.

  ‘Don’t do it, Max.’

  I looked at Sullivan. I saw my own arm raise the weapon and level it with his right eye.

  There was complete silence in the pod. There was complete silence in the entire world.

  ‘Max, I’m ordering you. Don’t do it.’

  I could hear my own voice saying to Sullivan, ‘You are going to die,’ and I think he could, too, because there was the sudden acrid smell of urine.

  The moment dragged on. Nothing moved. Except it wasn’t Sullivan I saw, but Helen. That tiny black hole over one eyebrow. She was looking at me. A voice said, ‘You mustn’t do this, Max,’ and whose it was I couldn’t have told you.

  The moment dragged on and on. I honestly don’t know if I would have pulled the trigger but before I could come to any sort of decision, Ellis put a gentle hand on my arm.

  ‘Don’t do it, Max. I know you. You’ll regret it forever.’

  I saw poor, battered Peterson, his face covered in blood. And I remembered that I hadn’t seen Evans at all. ‘His hands aren’t clean.’

  ‘They aren’t – but yours are.’

  ‘He would have killed us all.’

  ‘He would, but you have no authority over him. I do. He’s contravened the Triple-S rules, Max. Leave us to take care of this. It’s what we do. Put the weapon down.’

  I strung it out for another four or five seconds then slowly lowered my arm. There was the sound of people not holding their breath any longer.

  Sullivan did not go quietly. Well, I suppose he had nothing to lose.

  ‘I represent the government,’ he announced, struggling between two colossal and impassive Time Police officers.

  Ellis was unimpressed. ‘Your government signed a treaty giving the Time Police the authority to deal with all illegal time travel.’

  ‘This is not illegal. I am operating within my legal remit.’

  ‘I should perhaps warn you that every word you say digs you deeper into the mire. Seriously, I’d shut up if I were you.’

  ‘You have no authority over me. I answer to His Majesty’s government.’

  ‘That’s the one that signed the treaty, is it? I’d really shut up if I were you.’

  ‘You can’t arrest us for contravening rules we knew nothing about.’

  ‘I told them,’ I said swiftly. ‘On several occasions. They knew the jump was illegal. They forced us to carry it out.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ellis, turning to me. ‘I can’t wait to hear your brilliant idea for getting out of that particular crisis.’

  ‘Actually,’ I said, loftily, ‘I had two.’

  ‘And I can’t wait to hear either of them.’

  I shrugged. ‘They were belters. Simple, effective and one hundred per cent successful.’

  ‘And the first one was . . . ?’

  ‘To let the computer do its job and blow us all to pieces.’

  ‘Good grief, Max. And the second?’

  ‘Not to open the door so we all suffocated,’ I said.

  He nodded. ‘Yeah, that would have worked as well. But, fortunately for you, the Time Police have saved St Mary’s – yet again.’ He gestured with his head. ‘Get them out of here.’

  They put black hoods over their heads and led them away. Actually, the hoods came as a bit of a shock. I did wonder if they were going to take them round the back of the pod and shoot them there and then, but common sense kicked in and said it was so they wouldn’t see what was going on around them. This was still 1st-century Jerusalem, after all.

  Ellis remained behind. He obviously wanted to talk. I imagined it would proceed along the lines of – you left us less than an hour ago, what the hell sort of situation have you got yourself into now? – and there would be criticism and recrimination and, frankly, all I wanted was a nice cup of tea.

  Ellis was speaking again. ‘For crying out loud, Max, barely have we fixed the Time Map than the whole alarm system goes off again, courtesy of yet another member of the Farrell family.’

  I shook my head and muttered, ‘Sorry.’

  ‘What’s going on here?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t have any answers.’

  ‘I mean, why are you here?’

  I glanced at North. ‘No choice.’

  ‘Who were those men?’

  I fell back on ignorance and half-truths. ‘I’m sorry, Matthew – I don’t know. I don’t know who they are, where they came from, or what they want – I don’t know a single thing.’

  ‘Has Dr Bairstow gone insane?’

  I sighed. ‘He’s not there any longer. St Mary’s is under new ownership and they thought they’d kick off with something spectacular.’

  ‘You nearly died!’

  I shrugged.

  ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

  ‘Nearly everything.’

  There was a long silence and then he said quietly, ‘Max, I thought we had fought our way to a place where we could trust each other.’

  ‘Hey, don’t talk to me about trust. I trust you to look after my son.’

  ‘I think,’ said Miss North, with all the social grace for which St Mary’s was not famous, ‘I’ll see if I can assist in the other pod. Statements and so on.’

  We watched her disappear out of the door.

  ‘Listen . . . Matthew . . . if it was your organisation and something had gone wrong and you didn’t know what and you didn’t know who was on your side, wouldn’t you want to wait and gather more info before deciding who to involve and who not? I mean, I bet Commander Hay doesn’t go blabbing about the Albayans to just anyone.’

  ‘I’m sorry you think I’m just anyone.’

  ‘I don’t and you know it, so don’t pull the pathetic routine with me. I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know what’s happening or what I should do about it, so rather than just rushing in, I’m going to do a little discreet poking around first. I thought you’d be pleased.’

  ‘Pleased?’
/>
  I nodded towards the door. ‘Will you take North back to TPHQ and keep her there for me? She’ll be safe and she can handle all the legal stuff much better than I can.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘And keep an eye on her, would you? She’s not anywhere near as calm as she likes people to believe.’

  ‘You’re not coming back with us?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not just at this moment.’

  He said quietly, ‘Max, what’s going on at St Mary’s? Do I need to go and check things out?’

  I looked straight at him. ‘You remember, just now, you said to trust you.’

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘Will you trust me?’

  ‘What should I be trusting you to do?’

  ‘The right thing.’

  I waited for him to say that the St Mary’s right thing and the Time Police right thing were not always one and the same thing, but he didn’t, which was just as well because at that moment, I honestly didn’t know what to do for the best.

  The easiest option was to take Ellis and his men back to St Mary’s, point to Halcombe and instruct them to kill him. But then they’d find out something had gone very, very wrong and, from there, it was a short step to them keeping us under close observation ‘as a safeguard’ – I could just hear Commander Hay saying it – and we might never be rid of them.

  No. My priority was to find Dr Bairstow, dump the problem squarely in his lap, and then follow his instructions.

  I’d need to be careful. I wasn’t going to go anywhere near Halcombe because it was much more effective to leave him to wonder. To leave him to explain the absence of both the pod and his people to his superiors. To leave him to try to find an acceptable explanation. Because they would never know what had happened to us and uncertainty can be a killer. It certainly wouldn’t do Halcombe any good. Extreme disfavour from his bosses – whoever they were – might be the least of his problems. I’d like to see him talk his way out of that one. But, at the same time, while keeping me and the pod away from Halcombe, I had to go back to Peterson and the others and do what I could for them and find out what had happened to St Mary’s.

  I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. ‘I’ve just got a few things to sort out and then I’ll be back to work.’

  ‘Off your leave,’ he said sarcastically.

  ‘That’s right. Leave me to sort this out and you won’t find yourself involved in the sort of thing Commander Hay wouldn’t like at all but would be unable to avoid.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Max . . .’

  ‘I’m on leave, remember?’

  ‘I don’t think leave covers what you’ve got planned.’

  ‘I don’t know what I’ve got planned.’

  ‘Max – you should come back with us.’

  No, I shouldn’t. I didn’t want one of our pods anywhere near Time Police HQ. There might suddenly be all sorts of reasons why it shouldn’t leave. And all sorts of reasons why I shouldn’t leave either. I might be doing them a huge injustice – I probably was – in which case I’d apologise for it later.

  And, for me, anyway, the top priority was always Ronan. I couldn’t afford to be distracted by the Time Police. And something, somehow, told me he and Halcombe were not unconnected.

  Grint tapped at the open door. ‘All safely stowed, sir.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He stood in front of me and I groaned inwardly. Grint the Grunt. Just what I needed right now.

  ‘Take your top off, Max.’

  I recoiled. ‘Piss off, pervert.’

  He flourished his med kit. ‘Let’s have a look at those bruises.’

  Not without some difficulty, I pulled my T-shirt over my head.

  Quite a lot of me had gone red and dark blue and purple. He sprayed away with something that smelled like drain cleaner. Whatever it was, it worked. The throbbing didn’t go away completely but it became much more bearable.

  He pressed two fingers against my ribs, moving up and down. He’d closed his eyes and, out of appreciation, I closed mine.

  ‘No,’ he said eventually. ‘Nothing broken.’

  ‘Are you sure? It certainly feels like it.’

  ‘I could break one if you like and we can do a comparison.’

  ‘Grint,’ said Ellis warningly.

  ‘It’s no trouble, sir. Wouldn’t take a moment. You’d be inundated with volunteers.’

  ‘Piss off, Grint,’ I said.

  He grinned and they both departed.

  I didn’t go straight back to St Mary’s. I’m not that stupid. I needed to rest a while. I knew from experience that tomorrow my bruises would leave me as flexible as a banker negotiating his annual bonus. I needed a refuge.

  But, before that, I made myself a cup of tea, sat back, closed my eyes and wrestled with the devil.

  Because, ten years back, while pretending to Sullivan that I was shutting down the pod, I’d ‘accidentally’ switched on one of the cameras. Of course, I had. Why wouldn’t I? True, I’d had no idea of our location within the city of Jerusalem, but a quick glimpse outside might be all I needed to work out what was going on. On this day of all days, the simplest of clues could tell me what was happening. I reasoned thusly:

  • Deserted streets with Roman patrols everywhere – something important was happening.

  • Riots, crowds and civil disturbances – something important was happening.

  • Everyone going about their business as usual – nothing important was happening.

  So – when I hit ‘replay’ – what would I see?

  My hand hovered over the controls.

  And stopped.

  I’d been in Jerusalem on one of the most important days in History. I’m an historian. Here, in front of me, was this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. People would kill to be where I was now. All I had to do was instruct the computer to replay – if it would comply – and I’d know. I’d be the only person in the whole world who would know. The only person in the whole world who would ever know.

  Still my hand hovered.

  I should look. This was a true record of events. This was what St Mary’s was all about: having a true record of actual events. To know what actually happened. It needn’t necessarily be of the event itself. Even just the briefest glimpse of the city would enable us to extrapolate. And I had it here. Now. In front of me. I alone would know what actually happened. I could hold the fate of millions of people in my hands. I could put an end to doubt and uncertainty.

  Or watch the world end in blood and fire. My choice.

  I hit the appropriate key. ‘Computer, overwrite, delete and destroy file.’

  ‘File overwritten, deleted and destroyed.’

  Christians – you owe me. Send chocolate.

  21

  I landed on her back lawn and it was a good job I missed her rotary drying thingy this time, because she was actually hanging out her washing.

  I opened the door, leaned against the door frame and grinned at her.

  If it had been anyone else I would have used the word gobsmacked. ‘Max!’

  I was almost too stiff to move. ‘Mrs De Winter.’

  ‘Oh, my dear, you look terrible. Come inside at once.’

  I closed the door behind me and followed her into her house. She sat me at the kitchen table while she bustled about.

  ‘Mrs De Winter, I’m sorry to impose. I’m in desperate need of shelter. And a bath and some hot food. And a cup of tea.’

  ‘And you shall have all of that and welcome,’ she said. ‘On the condition that I am involved.’

  ‘In what?’

  ‘In whatever crazy adventure you have planned.’

  ‘What crazy adventure?’

  ‘Well,’ she said comfortably, pouring out the tea. ‘We are going to get St Mary’
s back, aren’t we?’

  Mrs De Winter is an old teacher of mine. I don’t mean she’s old – in fact she didn’t look a day older than the day she tossed a pile of books and papers across her desk and instructed me to give her fifteen hundred words on the nature of ma’at. By Friday. Her intervention had changed my life. Those had not been good times for me but, through her, I’d escaped the manifold horrors of family life and again, through her, I’d eventually arrived at St Mary’s. Oh – and she’s sister to Mrs Partridge, so if anyone knew what was going on, it would be Sibyl De Winter.

  I sipped my tea. ‘So, if you can, please tell me what happened.’

  She stirred her tea. ‘Edward has been expecting this for a very long time now. Certainly long enough for him to have his plans in place. The archive was packed away, the pods all serviced and prepared, grab bags packed and so on. St Mary’s isn’t alone, you know. He has friends in some very high places. As does the Chancellor, of course. And then, one day, he received a telephone call.’

  ‘Who from? I mean – from whom?’ I said, reaching for a sandwich as she frowned at me.

  ‘He didn’t say. He, Dr Peterson, Chief Farrell and Mr Markham put their heads together and I think it was generally felt the time had come and they should go now before it was too late.’

  ‘How do you mean – too late?’

  ‘Before his leaving St Mary’s was more . . . involuntary.’

  I thought. ‘Is this anything to do with Lawrence Hoyle’s “shadowy figures”?’

  ‘I believe the two things are not unconnected.’

  ‘Did they get away in time?’

  ‘He held off until the very last moment.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Mr Clerk’s team was still out there, Max. They were away and had no idea what was happening back at St Mary’s.’

  And Clerk’s team, having missed Elizabeth at Tilbury, had gone on to London to investigate, and then made a further jump to 1554 to instigate Wyatt’s Rebellion. Even if Dr Bairstow had despatched someone to bring them home, by the time they found them it would have been too late. I remembered Ellis saying, ‘And no one thought to return to St Mary’s to report . . .’ If they had done so, then they’d have been in time for the evacuation and a great deal of workplace stress would have been avoided.