by Jodi Taylor
She just laughed derisively.
I shook my head. ‘Rosie – not today. You don’t want to be caught up in this. Take yourself somewhere public and be conspicuously uninvolved.’
‘No.’
‘For God’s sake, why not?’
‘Because I’m coming with you.’
I recoiled. ‘You’re bloody not.’
‘I bloody am.’ She nodded at my requisition lists. ‘You’ll never get that lot into a pod by yourself.’
‘You read my confidential notes?’
‘Of course I did. I read all your confidential stuff.’
No wonder she never had time to make the bloody tea.
‘Why?’
‘It’s a lot more interesting than the non-confidential stuff.’
‘No,’ I said patiently. ‘Why do you think you’re coming with me?’
‘Because you don’t have anyone else, Max, and I don’t think you can do this alone. Plus, Treadwell might be watching the History Department like a hawk but no one ever takes any notice of admin staff. We’re all invisible until something goes horribly wrong and we suddenly wake up and find ourselves in the firing line. You could argue I’m just cutting out the middleman here.’
‘Rosie . . .’
‘And, as you always say – someone has to bring the body back,’ she said cheerfully and I groaned and laid my head on my desk.
‘Seriously, Max – you can’t do this alone.’
I spoke into my blotter. ‘Rosie, I’m probably not going to be able to protect you.’
‘Well, of course you won’t. I’ll be protecting you.’
I had the strangest urge to burst into tears.
I swallowed it down. She was probably right. I couldn’t do this part alone. I’d accept her help on the safest part – loading the pod and so forth – and then with that safely accomplished, I’d thank her, push her out of the door and go without her. There’d be hell on when I came back, but since I probably wouldn’t come back, I couldn’t see this being a problem.
She and I split up. Since I was the one under observation I went after the innocuous stuff.
Taking care to look grumpy and martyred and defiant – the traditional expression of an historian who can’t get her own way – I set off for Wardrobe, passing two of Hyssop’s Half-Wits in the Hall – Glass and Harper. They weren’t doing anything in particular, just standing around. And watching for any signs of suspicious behaviour on the part of the History Department, I suspected.
I halted. I didn’t see why I shouldn’t have a little fun. I called over to Sykes and Roberts.
‘Guys – we’ve got a couple of lost Security guards here. Can someone sort them out, please? Find out where they’re going and write it down for them. Use your crayons.’
I turned back. ‘We really are an us-and-them outfit these days, aren’t we? Fortunately, I’m on Team Us.’
‘And me,’ said Sykes, appearing at my elbow and grinning up at them.
‘And me,’ said Roberts.
There was the sound of chairs being pushed back. Glass and Harper stepped slightly apart to give themselves room.
I lowered my voice. ‘I think you should go now. You’re not welcome here. My department’s just lost two team members thanks to you and your useless boss, and this isn’t a particularly safe environment for you. Security is that way.’ I pointed. ‘And don’t forget to hold hands – just in case you lose anyone else on the way.’
There was a long second’s silence – during which the traditional tumbleweed rolled through the Hall – and then, red-faced, they left.
I picked up two sewing kits from Mrs Enderby – needles, pins, thread and so forth. I also snagged two packs of candles, a dozen boxes of matches, two packs of firelighters, some water purification tablets and some string. My story, should I be stopped, was that I was restocking the pods after Babylon. Less easy to explain were the set of knives from the kitchen – which Mrs Mack had unaccountably left out on a worktop for some reason – and a large cooking pot with a lid, into which I tipped everything. Oh – and a bucket.
Mrs Midgley stopped me in the Hall. She didn’t look happy; I braced myself. ‘Dr Maxwell, I had to throw away all the blankets from Number Eight.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said guiltily. Poor old Clerk had been in a bit of a state.
She dropped three thick blankets into my arms, coincidentally covering the bucket and its contents ‘These are the replacements. Would you take them down for me, please? I’m very short-staffed this morning.’
She winked in a manner that led me to believe she had some ghastly eye disease.
Speechless, I nodded and then ran away.
Rosie Lee was waiting for me in the paint store. At her feet was a pile of emergency rations. A month’s worth. I added my stuff to the pile and I was tempted to jump there and then since we’d got away with everything so easily, but we still had clothing to acquire.
Again, we set off separately and it was just as well we did because I ran slap bang into Hyssop. Literally.
Fortunately, I was empty-handed. She had Glass and Harper with her – they must have told her what I’d said – and she’d acquired the one whose name I could never remember and Scarfe along the way. I had no idea where the others were. I hoped, for their sake, they hadn’t crossed Rosie Lee’s path otherwise she might, at this very moment, be concealing their lifeless bodies in the shrubbery.
The best form of defence is attack. ‘Oh look,’ I said, ‘you’ve found each other. How sweet. And you didn’t lose anyone along the way. Well done you.’
Hyssop flushed an angry red but I’d just seen Rosie Lee quietly nipping around the corner. By distracting them I could also get a lot off my chest – two birds with one stone.
‘Is this the Security Section way of doing things from now on? Staffing our assignments with half-trained Half-Wits? Always coming back with fewer people than you set out with?’
I moved closer so only she could hear. ‘I don’t know who you’re working for, Hyssop – it’s certainly not St Mary’s – but a quiet word of warning. No one here loves you. Wouldn’t it be ironic if, one day, you were the one who doesn’t come back?’
I stepped back again. ‘Still – why should you worry? It’s not as if it was your people sold into slavery. Have you any idea what Prentiss’s life must be like at the moment? No, of course you don’t. I doubt you’ve spared a thought for anyone but yourself since the moment you walked through the door.’
Scarfe shrugged. ‘No one made her go.’
There was a moment’s disbelieving silence and then a kind of blur. That’s the only way I can describe it. The next moment Sands had Scarfe by the scruff of his neck and was shaking him like the rat he was.
Hyssop went to intervene and found herself sandwiched between Sykes and Van Owen.
‘Go on,’ said Sykes, smiling. ‘I already have a reason to punch your lights out. Now all I need is an excuse.’
Hyssop froze. Sands let go of Scarfe who fell to the floor with a crash making funny wheezing noises.
Hands up all those who always knew the last thing I would ever do at St Mary’s was to start a riot. However, I couldn’t hang around. I turned to Hyssop.
‘Treadwell won’t say it but I will: you’re not up to spec, Hyssop. Nor your people. You’re bungling and amateurish and too arrogant to learn.’
She moved into a fighting stance. ‘I’m arrogant?’
‘That’s what I said. Your team’s days here are numbered. No one here trusts you to have their back. Thank God we already have a proper Security Section in place. And I’ll tell you this for nothing – Mr Markham would never have let people like you into the building, let alone have you on his team. I don’t know why on earth you thought you’d ever be good enough for St Mary’s. I’ll tell you to your face, since everyone else is
too polite – we’re used to better.’
Behind them, Rosie Lee crossed back the way she’d come, laden with an armful of tunics, shawls and shoes. She held up two fingers. I hoped she was telling me she’d got the gear for Prentiss and Clerk as well as me – and not just instructing me to sod off. Not important – she’d got away with it. I, on the other hand, was about to be plastered across the ceiling.
It really was touch and go. Even I could see I’d pushed Hyssop too far. And in front of her own people, as well. I could only hope she was too professional to brawl in front of junior staff. An illegal jump to Babylon might be the least of my problems.
The silence through the building was absolute. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Treadwell wasn’t quietly listening somewhere. I was living my last hours at St Mary’s.
I risked another look around her. There was no sign of Rosie Lee anywhere. There are many alternative routes down to Hawking and if she’d any sense she’d have skirted the gallery, walked past R&D and then shot down the back stairs and out into the car park, around the building, in through the hangar – where Dieter would raise his eyebrows and look the other way – to wait in the dark paint store beyond.
On the other hand, this was Rosie Lee and it was perfectly possible she’d just stamped down the Long Corridor, alternately kicking people or turning them into stone as she went. It all depended what sort of mood she was in. And, not to underestimate my own contribution, I’d cleared her path because half of Hyssop’s Hostiles were here at the moment, looking at me as if I was lunch.
A quiet voice intervened. ‘Dr Maxwell, could you spare me a moment, please?’
I looked around. Peterson was standing on the half-landing. ‘Of course, sir.’
I threw Hyssop a look which indicated I could tear her arms off any time I pleased but I had better things to do at the moment, and deliberately turned my back on them.
As we gained the gallery Peterson said mildly, ‘I’m sure if Markham were here, he would remonstrate with you on the folly of taking on three or four adversaries without securing your exit route first. Seriously, Max.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Won’t happen again.’ Which was true.
We both leaned over the banisters and watched six historians all very plainly present and very nearly correct, slowly going back to work. He looked back at me and sighed.
‘It’ll be fine,’ I said, reassuringly.
‘I’ll come too.’
‘No, thank you. I need you to hold the fort.’
‘And suppose you don’t come back? What do I do then?’
‘Not my problem,’ I said. ‘It’ll be you that has to face Leon. I’ll be safely dead.’
He sighed. ‘If Markham were here it would be the three of us going.’
I said bitterly, ‘If Markham were here none of this would be happening.’
He sighed again. ‘Just make sure you come back.’
‘No problemo,’ I lied.
He put his warm hand on mine. ‘I’ve got your back here. Good luck.’
I swallowed hard. ‘I’ve given the History Department to Mr Sands.’
He nodded. ‘Understood.’ He squeezed my hand. ‘Max . . .’
I smiled. ‘Understood.’
I left him standing there.
Rosie Lee was waiting for me in the paint store again and it was only as I closed the door that I realised just how strung up I’d been. I let my breath go in a long exhale. ‘Rosie, I don’t know how to thank you.’
She blinked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Are you genuinely confused or has no one ever actually thanked you before?’
‘I’m not the confused one here,’ she scoffed. ‘Bloody senior officers – I don’t know how you get through the day.’
‘Well, thank you, anyway. I’ll take it from here.’
‘No, you won’t. I told you – I’m coming with you.’
‘And I told you – you’re bloody not.’
‘I bloody am.’
‘No – you’re not. I won’t even let my own people on this one.’
‘I am not your people.’
Well, she got that bit right. ‘I don’t care. You’re not coming so don’t argue. For God’s sake – why does no one ever do as they’re told in this bloody organisation?’
She marched over to the wall and stood next to the fire alarm – the heel of her hand over the breakable plastic bit. ‘I’m coming with you.’
I’d like to say my urge was to bang my head against the wall but actually my urge was to bang her head against the wall. Nowhere near the fire alarm, obviously. I needed to get a move on. Treadwell wasn’t stupid. By now he’d have Hyssop monitoring Hawking. And, while the entire History Department would cover for me, he was probably already demanding to know my whereabouts.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Help me load the pod.’
She looked around. ‘What pod?’
I said, ‘Door,’ and a door opened in the middle of nowhere. I marched inside. I’d like to say I left her gaping but she was hard on my heels. Well, no matter. I could still push her out of the door when we’d finished loading. There wasn’t anywhere for her to hide. It wasn’t a big pod.
It wasn’t actually my pod, either. Treadwell wouldn’t find this one on the inventory. This was Leon’s own pod. A single-seater with some interesting features.
We loaded it up, ramming as much as we could into the lockers and stacking the rest around the walls. Whether by chance or design, Rosie Lee ended up backed into a corner, almost completely surrounded by boxes and I remembered there was a set of kitchen knives in there somewhere within her reach. She glared defiantly at me over the bucket. Fine. I would just not let her out of the pod at the other end. She wouldn’t want to stay, anyway. How often had I heard her declare we’d never get her into one of these bloody stupid things?
‘I brought a set of clothes for each for us,’ she said, dashing all my hopes. And not for the first time.
Quite honestly, I just didn’t have the strength to argue and there was an advantage to having her along. My nose was too blunt. My hair and eyes were too light. My skin too pale. I had no cheekbones to speak of. Rosie Lee, with her dark skin and hair, looked far more authentic than I did. Yes, she was completely inexperienced and I would need to keep an eye on her because otherwise that would be another one to rescue, but now I thought about it, I was glad to have her with me. To have someone who could help me pull this off. I’d have the strength of the admin department behind me. World leaders may think they’re the ones who actually run things – all those shouty politicians who think they’re the dog’s bollocks – well, they got one part right – but it’s the administrators that make it all happen. You want results? Go to the chief admin person. They’ve been ruling the world forever. Yes, only Rosie Lee stood in front of me, but behind her, row upon row, rank upon rank, stood the administrators of History. Back through the Victorian secretaries, Tudor clerks, medieval scribes, Roman administrators, back even to Hammurabi and his codes. All those and more stretched out behind her and I wasn’t going to argue any more. Not for one minute.
‘Make yourself comfy,’ I said, giving in to greater forces, and she plonked herself on a handy box.
I changed back into Babylonian gear. Rosie Lee helped me with my tinkling headdress and many bracelets. I even wore my wedding ring because I had an impression to create.
After we’d done that, I helped her dress. Then I had to lay in all the coordinates which took a while. I had an anxious eye on the door the whole time. I was aiming for about three hours after we’d left Clerk. Long enough to maintain a safe interval – you can’t be in the same time twice – but not long enough for him to begin to worry we were never coming back.
When I’d finished I looked around at Rosie Lee. She sat demurely Babylonian, her hands folded, regarding me calmly. Babylon d
idn’t know what was about to hit it.
I sighed. ‘Computer, initiate jump.’
‘Jump initiated.’
We landed with barely a jolt. It was definitely one of my better efforts. Rosie Lee didn’t look particularly impressed. I sighed and deactivated the camouflage device. This was going to be a long day.
I made Rosie Lee wait in the pod.
‘No,’ I said as she opened her mouth to argue. ‘I left Mr Clerk around here somewhere and I’m off to find him. I should warn you now that he doesn’t look good. He’s had a rough time and it’s not over yet.’ I pointed at the screen. ‘I want you to monitor the cameras, please. You know how to operate a com and I’ve got my earpiece. If I miss him and he turns up here then I’ll need to know.’
She nodded.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Coms check.’
‘I can hear you,’ she said.
That was because she was only two feet away from me but I wasn’t going to argue with her in a confined space.
‘Please do not leave the pod,’ I said. ‘I haven’t had time to give you access and you won’t be able to get back in again.’
She nodded. Admin staff are never this docile. Should I be worrying?
‘I know where we left him,’ I said, patting my amber necklace into place and straightening my bracelets. ‘With luck, I’ll be back in ten minutes or so.’
She nodded again and off I went. I closed the door behind me and looked around.
Babylon.
Again.
I remembered how excited I’d been on my first Babylon jump and now I was sick of the sight of it. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d traipsed these streets and always with the bitter taste of failure at the end of every jump.
The mud brick wall was still slowly returning to the earth from which it had been made. I called softly so as not to frighten Clerk into walloping me with a rock. There was a movement in the shadows and he emerged from behind the wall. He didn’t look too bad although I suspected he hadn’t slept a wink.