‘What about all the people you ended?’
‘I can’t do anything about the past. But I can do something about the future. People who might die in the future now might not. If we can agree to stop this.’
‘I can’t agree. I mean, it’s not my decision. Dr Bairstow, Director Pinkerton, The Time Police, Leon – I can’t begin to count the number of people who want to take you down.’
He squinted up at me. ‘Have you ever heard of MAD?’
‘Mutually assured destruction? Yes, of course. Are you saying…?’
‘It hasn’t happened yet, but you don’t have to be a genius to work out where this is leading. We’re all caught up in this deadly, downward spiral of violence and revenge and it’s going to end badly, Max, for all of us. You have a son now. You have responsibilities. Surely you want to keep yourself and Farrell alive for him. You want to watch him grow up, don’t you?’
I lifted my thingy. ‘I can do all that by having you arrested. Now.’
‘I’ll be gone long before they get here.’
‘After you’ve killed me, I suppose.’
‘No. I’ll just step into my pod, which is only just over there and disappear again, leaving you to reflect on a wasted opportunity which could have changed everything.’
‘Why me?’
Something in his face changed. Even his voice was different. Softer, but somehow more compelling.
‘Because, my dear Max, you dance on the edge of darkness. You always have, and I don’t think it would take very much for you to dance my way. I can’t think of anyone I would rather have to speak for me.’
‘I told you, I don’t have the authority.’
‘Your word carries weight. A great deal of weight. What do you have to lose? Love what you did to Halcombe, by the way.’
‘I’m sure had you been in my position you would have done something similar.’
‘Indeed I would. Why didn’t you shove him into a real leper colony?’
I said in exasperation, ‘Again – he doesn’t actually have leprosy.’
‘No, but he soon would have if you’d done that, wouldn’t he?’
‘I don’t think I dance quite as close to the edge of darkness as you sometimes imagine.’
‘No? Well, if you say so.’
I stared at him, shocked.
‘Oh come on, Max. We both think the same way. The only difference is that you only think about these things and I actually do them.’
He stood up slowly.
‘You’re leaving?’
‘I’ve planted the seed, which is all I came to do. Talk to Edward, Max. Tell him what I’ve said.’
‘I can tell you now what he’ll say.’
‘Can you?’ He smiled. ‘Ask him what Annie would have wanted him to do? May I have my gun back please?’
I turned, took a few steps, and threw it into the lake. When I turned back, he was gone.
I whirled around a couple of times, but he really was gone. A sudden hot wind rustled the dead, dry reeds as his pod jumped away.
I could see something white on the log where he’d been sitting. An unsealed envelope with my name on it. Inside was a sheet of paper.
Thank you for listening. If Edward wants to take this further – and I hope he does – then meet me at the coordinates below. A little remote, I know, but excellent all round visibility, which makes it a good place for neither of us to be ambushed.
Au revoir.
I folded the paper, put it back in the envelope, and jogged back to St Mary’s.
‘He’s in a meeting,’ said Mrs Partridge, not looking up from her desk.
‘Please interrupt him.’
She looked at me for a moment and then disappeared back into his office. I could hear the murmur of voices and then she reappeared.
‘Come in, please.’
Dr Bairstow and Miss Dottle were seated at his briefing table, teleconferencing with the Chancellor. She smiled. ‘Good morning, Max.’
‘Good morning, Madam Chancellor. My apologies, but I must speak to Dr Bairstow at once.’ I turned to him. ‘Something has happened, sir.’
He nodded. ‘Madam Chancellor, Miss Dottle, my apologies. We shall resume as soon as I am able.’
The screen went blank. Dottle picked up her papers and her scratchpad and scurried from the room.
‘Well, Dr Maxwell?’
I gave him the details and sat quietly while he sat quietly. His face, as usual, gave no clue to his thoughts and, believe me, I was looking. Eventually, he said, ‘Did you believe him?’
I didn’t make the mistake of replying instantly. I sat and ran through everything. What Ronan had said. How he had said it. His body language. His facial expressions. I sifted through my thoughts and impressions and then said, ‘If I had not known who he was, then yes, I would have believed him.’
‘So, as far as you can tell, based solely on this morning’s events, he was telling the truth.’
‘I think so sir, yes.’
I waited while he picked up the note again.
‘You have, of course, checked these coordinates.’
‘I have, sir. They translate to a location in the Egyptian desert, around 525BC.’
‘He’s being cautious, Max. It would be very difficult to arrange an ambush in the middle of the desert. There would be little cover for miles around.’
‘That would work to the advantage of both of us, sir.’
‘Yes, indeed. He appears to have given this arrangement some thought.’
Silence again as he sat and stared out of the window. ‘If I asked you to, would you go?’
‘Like a shot, sir.’
‘Why?’
‘If he’s genuine, then this is an opportunity we cannot afford to miss. If he’s not, then I can shoot the bastard, and that’s an opportunity I can’t afford to miss.’
He stirred in his chair. ‘If I alert the Time Police, they’ll want to be there.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And if I don’t alert them and he escapes or attacks you – then they will have a legitimate grievance, and the fault will be solely mine.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Go and have some lunch, Max. Come back in an hour. Not a word of this to anyone.’
‘Yes sir. And no sir.’
*
I sat with Markham and Peterson at our usual table. They chatted away. I sat and listened with half an ear, busy with my own thoughts.
‘You all right, Max?’ said Peterson. ‘Don’t tell me this morning’s gentle trot has knackered you completely.’
‘Of course not,’ I said with dignity. ‘If you don’t want your sandwich, can I have it?’ and he was so busy defending his lunch that he forgot to ask any more questions, and Markham was playing fish finger Jenga and not listening anyway.
It was only as I was leaving that I noticed Leon wasn’t there. Slightly concerned as to the whereabouts of the male members of my family, I went to look for them, eventually running them to earth in our room where Leon, covered in a protective sheet, was feeding Matthew. The way he eats – Matthew, I mean – it’s the feeder rather than the feedee who needs to wear the bib. One mashed banana can cover every available surface for miles around and has frequently done so.
‘There you are,’ he said. ‘How did your run go?’
‘Unexpectedly,’ I said, wondering whether to say anything or not. Leon’s not always very balanced on the subject of Clive Ronan. I hesitated, remembered Dr Bairstow’s instructions, and said nothing. If he wanted to, he could brief Leon himself.
I set off that evening. It was that funny time of day when people have finished eating and are wondering what to do next. Have a drink in the bar? Wander down to the pub in the village? Pile into someone’s car and go into Rushford? Whatever they decided to do, they wouldn’t be doing it in Hawking Hangar, which should be deserted.
Dr Bairstow limped along beside me. ‘You have your instructions, Dr Maxwell.’
‘I do, sir.’
‘Take no risks.’
‘No, sir.’
In accordance with instructions, Dieter had sent his people away. Only he remained. The hangar was empty and echoing. Two rows of pods sat quietly on their plinths. There was no tinny radio playing music, no tinkle of dropped tools, no bad language, no hum of power drills. I almost didn’t recognise the place.
‘I’ve checked the coordinates and laid them in for you,’ he said.
‘Ta very muchly.’