I sighed and then continued with my book in the hope she’d take the hint.

  She didn’t, so I said, ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I’ve come to see this mysterious patient everyone’s talking about.’

  I turned a page. ‘Let me know when you’ve found her.’

  She pounced. ‘How do you know it’s a her?’

  ‘Because you’re not standing in the men’s ward. Although I wish you would.’

  All right, yes, a touch ungrateful considering she saved my life at the Red House but if she hadn’t made such a complete dog’s breakfast of the Babylon assignment then neither of us would be standing here today. We could have been out having a nice drink with Clerk and Prentiss.

  ‘Why are you here?’

  I sighed and looked up from my book. ‘I was about to ask you the same question.’

  ‘You were sacked.’

  ‘And yet . . . here I am.’

  ‘Again – why? What’s going on?’

  I looked up. ‘Treadwell keeping you out of the loop again?’

  She flushed. I’d hit a nerve. I wondered how she’d been faring since the Babylon disaster. She must be aware she and her people had been frozen out. She could have solved everyone’s problems by requesting a transfer but she was stubborn.

  The silence lengthened. I put down my book and we looked at each other. I don’t think either of us could think of anything to say. We’d parted under the very worst of terms. On the other hand, she could have let Halcombe kill me at the Red House. Revenge would have been sweet. She must have been tempted. But she hadn’t given in. She’d shot Halcombe and saved my life.

  And now, here she was. She must have heard there was a patient in Sick Bay, enquired who, been dissatisfied with the answers and come to check for herself.

  We looked at each other some more. This was ridiculous. One of us should speak. Be the bigger woman. I prepared to be the bigger woman. I just hoped I could carry it off.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘You saved my life at the Red House. Did Gaunt have a go at you afterwards?’

  ‘He tried. I just walked off and left him to deal with the aftermath. Of the two of us – you and me – it would be hard to say who he hates most.’

  I grinned. ‘Well, now you’re just showing off. It’ll be me. No question about it.’

  She gave me a kind of half-smile. ‘Don’t kid yourself. Apparently, there are all sorts of enquiries if someone discharges a firearm in a government establishment. He’ll be tied up in paperwork for the next six months. So, of the two of us, I think I can confidently take pole position.’

  ‘I gather no one took the opportunity to be rid of him.’

  ‘He managed to foist all the blame for Halcombe and Sullivan’s behaviour on to Dr Washburn. According to Gaunt, Washburn’s obviously incorrect medical assessment had placed lives in jeopardy. Washburn got the boot. Gaunt’s still in place.’

  ‘Bugger. What did Treadwell say about what happened?’

  She closed her eyes. ‘From memory – “You’re an idiot, Hyssop. Don’t do it again. Do you know how long I’ve had to spend sorting this out? Next time shoot Gaunt as well. Or even instead.”’

  ‘A surprisingly enlightened response.’

  ‘Oh, he’s not so bad.’

  ‘He sacked me.’

  ‘As I said – not so bad.’

  Another awkward silence.

  Eventually, she said, ‘I’ve left Glass at your cottage.’

  About to start reading again, I laid my book down, saying suspiciously, ‘Why?’

  ‘To safeguard your stuff. There’s been some damage. Not to the fabric of the building, but some of your personal effects have been tossed.’

  I opened my mouth to protest.

  ‘His instructions are to sweep up, bin anything that’s totalled and wait for Chief Farrell.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Who should be there now.’

  Since I’d thought Glass’s instructions would have been to have a sneak around while he could, I was a bit ashamed of myself. ‘Well, that’s very considerate. We don’t have much but what we do have is special. Thank you. And Glass, too.’

  She nodded and silence fell again.

  It was good of her to have done that. And of all her people, Glass was the most acceptable. He would safeguard our stuff until Leon arrived. And then what? What was to stop Insight trying again? Could I ever go back there? What would I do when I left here? My options were narrowing. No Home Farm. And now, probably, no cottage.

  I sighed. I was still too tired and fuzzy to think too deeply about my future. Something would happen which would help me make up my mind.

  And it was about to.

  I made an effort. ‘I’ll be gone soon – just as soon as I can stand up without falling over. This afternoon, probably.’

  ‘Don’t hang around here,’ she said, quietly. ‘For many good reasons. Not the least being you get on my nerves.’

  I’m sure I had a really witty response to that but I never got to utter it and I can’t remember what it was now.

  A movement outside caught my attention. I turned to see Treadwell letting himself out of a side door. He stood for a moment, surveying everything around him, and then began to walk across the grass. No reason why he shouldn’t – it was a nice day. I suspected he was in the middle of his weekly departmental inspection. He’d obviously finished in Hawking and was heading for the stables, and taking the scenic route across the South Lawn.

  Hyssop followed my gaze. His back was to us. I watched his shadow move across the grass. He turned to survey the building, head tilted back, seemingly in no hurry and enjoying the peaceful day. The sun shone brightly, the grounds looked beautiful, nothing was on fire. St Mary’s basked in rural tranquillity.

  There was a noise rather like a car backfiring somewhere a long way off. Treadwell stood stock-still for a moment and then crumpled to the ground and lay still. I could see the crimson stain from here.

  I sat up in a hurry and looked at Hyssop. She looked at me. And then she said, ‘Stay where you are. Don’t leave this room,’ and ran out of the door. I could hear her shouting into her com. ‘Red alert. Red alert. Lockdown. Now. No one in. No one out. Red alert. Hyssop out. Where the hell is Dr Stone? Get me a medical team now. Director down. Gunshot wound. South Lawn.’

  Her voice was cut off as a door closed behind her.

  There was movement outside. Atherton appeared from around the corner of the building. Closely followed by Sykes and Roberts. The ex-Head of the History Department wondered what those two could possibly have been up to.

  Then Mrs Mack, closely followed by Kim and Janet from the kitchen.

  Then Dieter and Lindstrom, who came out from Hawking.

  Then Hyssop from the same door as Treadwell, running across the grass towards Treadwell with Dr Stone and Nurse Fortunata close behind.

  They all bent over him, obscuring the body from my sight. I saw Hyssop step away and speak into her com. A moment later, Cox, Lucca and Keller appeared. She barked a series of instructions and they scattered. To check the perimeters, I suppose. I don’t know why. Complete waste of time. She knew as well as I that the shot had come from inside St Mary’s.

  All the remaining members of her team would be securing the building and running the CCTV tapes. I was prepared to bet they wouldn’t find anything useful.

  I saw Peterson running across the grass. He halted a few paces away, watching Dr Stone work. Faces crowded at all the windows that I could see. I wondered if everyone else was as gobsmacked as me.

  Peterson and Hyssop conversed for a moment and then she returned to the building. The enquiries would begin. The shot had come from inside St Mary’s. Almost anyone could have done it. The only person who couldn’t – the only person with an absolute, cast-iron alibi – was me. She’d been standing next to me at the time. But if she wanted to – if she really wanted to – she could lie. It would be her word against mine. No one would believe me. No one who mattered, anyway. I needed to get out of here. Because I must be the number one suspect. A disgraced former employee back on the premises for a reason yet to be discovered and being concealed by certain members of St Mary’s staff. If Gaunt ever found out I was here then the shit really would hit the fan.

  I stood up, wobbled a little and headed for the locker next to my bed. At exactly that moment, the door opened to reveal a fully armed Gallacio.

  ‘Sorry, Max. You’re not going anywhere. Orders.’

  I sighed. Hyssop wasn’t as dim as I thought she was. Well, she couldn’t be, really.

  I climbed back into bed.

  ‘I have to leave the door open,’ he said.

  ‘What’s happening? Is Treadwell dead?’

  He didn’t respond and I didn’t push it. He would have been instructed not to answer any questions. Especially from me.

  I lay back on the pillows and watched him prop himself against the wall where he could see me, the nurses’ station and the door to the lift. Sick Bay was utterly silent. I wondered if they’d bring Treadwell in for treatment or whether they’d call for an ambulance. Depended how serious it was, I suppose. He might even be dead.

  And what would happen now? Was Gallacio here to keep me in or someone else out? If Treadwell was dead, then Peterson was in charge of St Mary’s. He could override Hyssop’s orders. But would he? And for how long would he be allowed to act as Director? Would London send a replacement for Treadwell? And if so – who?

  I began to have a very bad feeling about this.

  And where was Leon? Was he at the cottage or here at St Mary’s? Did he have an alibi? Would he be under surveillance too? After all, he was married to Suspect Number One. Innocent or not, I needed to get out of here. As soon as possible. And then my second, more sensible, thoughts said that fleeing the scene of a crime might not be a Brilliant Idea. Better to stay put and bluff it out, perhaps. And Hyssop, unless she was a complete bitch, could – would – should be my alibi. If she wasn’t, then I’d revert to Plan A – climbing out of the window in the middle of the night and setting fire to the place to cover my tracks.

  There were so many factors. Someone in this building had shot Treadwell. He was Time Police. They weren’t going to take kindly to that. He’d been appointed by the government – they weren’t going to be happy, either. Would the police be involved? Or would the whole thing be handled quietly and behind closed doors?

  I suppose a lot depended on whether Treadwell lived or died. Even if he survived, though, short-term, he was out of the game.

  I sat up suddenly. Should someone warn Markham? No – someone would already have told Guthrie what had happened. He’d have lost no time informing Markham. Because if Hunter and little Flora hadn’t been living safely with Mrs De Winter in Rushford all this time, then he was a bigger idiot than even I thought he was.

  My head was spinning again. I lay back down and closed my eyes. I had no idea what would happen next.

  The answer was, from my point of view – not a lot. There was a lot of activity outside the ward. I heard voices and footsteps and then Gallacio closed the door and I was on my own. I practised climbing out of bed in case I had to do it in a hurry. I went to the window and tried to devise a method of escape that wouldn’t involve me fatally splattering myself on the flagstones below. Markham wouldn’t be throwing me out of this window.

  I wandered into the bathroom and inspected cabinets and cupboards in case anyone had inadvertently left something with which I could overcome the forces of darkness, and they bloody hadn’t, which was just typical.

  It was Janet from the kitchen who brought me a meal. I assumed Fortunata was busy. Or possibly under arrest. I asked Janet what was happening and she just shook her head. I wondered if she’d also been instructed not to speak to me.

  I examined the food very carefully in case someone had concealed a message or a key or a remote or a weapon or a rope ladder and no one had so I just had to eat it.

  That done, I put the tray to one side, lay back and waited for something to happen.

  The hours passed slowly and I began to feel more and more frustrated. I wanted to know what was going on. I had no doubt that should I leave my room to enquire, I would very speedily find myself back on this side of the door, courtesy of Mr Gallacio. Or whoever had replaced him.

  Sleep – my constant companion over recent months – had abandoned me completely. In the end I gave up. I sat up in bed, switched on the light, thumped a few pillows and had a bit of a think.

  I hadn’t seen Leon. Whether that was good or bad I didn’t know. I didn’t even know if he had returned to the cottage. Don’t think about that now. Whoever was in charge of this investigation – someone in London, probably, since I was sure Hyssop wouldn’t have the seniority – would no doubt consider me the number one suspect with Leon running a close second. The absent Markham would be on the list somewhere, as well. Closely followed by Dr Bairstow, recently broken out of a government establishment and in the wind with his notorious accomplice, Mrs Brown. That’s the thing about Civil Servants. Once they topple off the Rails of Respectability, they really go wrong. ‘Bad to the Bone Brown’, they’d be calling her.

  Unfortunately, the only one definitely in custody at the moment was me. But even if I could escape, where could I go? I had only a limited number of options. The cottage was the first place they’d look. I could return to Home Farm – in whatever condition it was at the moment. There was a chance Smallhope and Pennyroyal might have returned by now. There was also a chance they might be dead.

  Or – and I’ve no idea where this came from – I could return to Insight. Was such a thing actually possible? I lay back and tried to get the timelines straight in my head, but my thoughts were still fuzzy from the medication.

  In the end I stuck my head out of the door and asked Gallacio – for it was still he, gentle reader – for some paper and a pen.

  He regarded me warily. ‘What for?’

  ‘To write with, of course.’

  He looked at me.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘you’ve got me. I’m going to fashion a digging device and tunnel my way to freedom using a sheet of A4 and a 2B pencil.’

  You shouldn’t be sarcastic to Security. I would pay for that later on, but he did bring me the paper as requested.

  I made two columns. One for me and one for Bridget. Because the first and most important question to ask myself was – I knew where Bridget was in my timeline, but where was I in hers? If I returned to Insight – would she be dead or alive?

  Order of events for me

  Order of events for Bridget

  Attacked at Home Farm

  Bridget dies

  Jump to Insight and meet Bridget

  When did she meet me? Here?

  Jump to Runnymede

  Insight team jump to Lincoln. Failed attempt to take out Nicola and possibly William. They fail. Bridget there?

  Jump to Lincoln

  Insight jump to Runnymede. William again? Bridget definitely there. Another failure.

  Jump to 17th-century London

  Insight probably there at some point. Could they identify us? It was dark. Confusion and chaos. Perhaps not. Another failure.

  Jump to 19th-century London

  ?

  Living in cottage

  Insight attack me there. They get wet and scorched. Failure. Was it here that Bridget first saw my face clearly and realised who I was? I don’t think she saw me at Runnymede.

  They jump to Home Farm for a second attempt. Failure again. Ironically, if they hadn’t tried to kill us at HF, we’d have had nothing to go on and very little of the above would have happened.

  Return to Insight?

  What is Bridget’s status? Alive or dead? If I return to Insight, will Bridget kill me or kiss me?

  Bugger, I’ve got a headache now.

  If I jumped to Insight again – would Bridget Schrödinger be alive or dead? Actually, there was a very simple low-tech solution to that little problem. I could simply telephone Insight and ask to speak to Bridget Lafferty.

  Yeah – that easy. Obviously, I’d have to get myself to the future somehow, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Overcome everyone at St Mary’s, reacquire Leon’s pod – which had almost certainly had its codes changed to keep me out – make the jump, and pray I survived. Once I’d done all that, then actually, telephoning Bridget at Insight would be the easy bit.

  If she answered, then she was still alive, and if she was still alive, then I almost certainly hadn’t somehow given myself away yet and she hadn’t tried to kill me. Therefore, theoretic­ally, it was still safe to return. There must be loads more to investigate at Insight. Names, places, dates – all sorts. Something I could present to Smallhope and Pennyroyal as a little package all tied up with a neat bow on their return. I refused to believe they were dead. They were simply off doing something to someone and hadn’t yet returned.

  My clinching argument would be that I had to do it. If you start something like this, then you have to be prepared to finish it, because you definitely don’t want people like Insight after you and your loved ones. I had a very nasty feeling we hadn’t seen even a fraction of what they were capable of.

  I tore my list into very tiny pieces and flushed it down the loo. Which took about twenty tries and I had to club some of it with the bog brush until it took the hint.

  It’s actually very hard not to feel despondent when you’re lying alone in a room all day and night and God knows what is happening on the other side of the door. Where was Leon? Was he repairing his pod prior to generously donating it to me for nefarious purposes? Or had recent soup trauma been the final straw and he’d fled? I knew he hadn’t, not really, but imagin­ation is not always the gift people say it is. I tried to concentrate on David Sands’ book – which was really good. Everyone should buy a copy.

 

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