I dumped my bag in a locker and turned to check over the console.
Pods are our centres of operations. They’re small, cramped, smell of cabbage and the toilet rarely works properly. I was in Number Eight, my favourite pod. We’d seen some adventures together and it would be hard to say which of us looked the most battered. The console was to the right of the door, with the wall-mounted screen over. I scanned the various readouts – everything looked normal – and seated myself in the uncomfortable seat, wriggling my bum to try to iron out the lumps.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve got worms as well,’ said Dieter, watching me squirm as he bashed away at his scratchpad.
I stopped wriggling. ‘As well as whom?’
‘As well as Markham.’
‘Oh God, really? I’ve just eaten with him.’
‘More fool you.’
‘And it’s not as if it’s the first time. Or even the third. How does he do it?’
He shrugged. ‘He’s Markham – home to every passing parasite looking for somewhere dark and moist. Everything’s set here. You OK?’
I nodded.
‘Good luck, Max.’
I wondered how much Dr Bairstow had told him. ‘Thanks. See you soon.’
The door closed behind him.
I felt suddenly nervous and took a deep breath to steady myself. Peering at the screen, I could see Dr Bairstow standing behind the safety line. As I watched, he was joined by Dieter and the two of them stood together.
I wiped my hands on my desert-camouflage combats. We weren’t bothering with historically accurate costumes. It was the middle of the Egyptian desert, for God’s sake. Apart from Ronan and me, there would be nothing and no one for hundreds and hundreds of miles around.
I said, ‘Computer, initiate jump.’
‘Jump initiated.’
The world went white.
I landed in the middle of nowhere. A great, grim plain, shimmering in the heat, and broken only by an occasional rocky outcrop. Ronan had chosen well. Apart from a large rock about two hundred yards away, there was nothing. The sun hammered down from a sky from which the heat had drained all colour. There were no traditional golden sand dunes – this landscape was harsh and dry, with coarse brown sand blowing around in little eddies. I checked the temperature readings and groaned. Ronan really was a complete bastard. He could perfectly easily have selected a small tropical island somewhere and we could have dangled our feet in turquoise waters and eaten coconuts.
I panned the cameras. There was no sign of him anywhere, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t around and I wasn’t going out in the blistering heat until I knew he was definitely here somewhere.
I sat for a while until it dawned on me that if he was here, he might be doing exactly the same thing. Leon’s pod has a camouflage device which enables it to be almost invisible in most landscapes, and I was willing to bet Ronan’s had something similar. He might be less than ten feet away. One of us had to make the first move and my guess was that it was going to have to be me.
I sighed, reached for my hat, and wrapped a scarf around my neck to keep out the sand. Donning sunglasses, I pulled out a small backpack, stuffed it with a water flask, a pair of binoculars and a compass, and heaved it over my shoulder.
I took one last look at the console. I’d activated the proximity alerts and nothing had gone off. As far as I knew, I was the only person around for a thousand miles. Possibly a slight exaggeration, but that was how it felt. Time to earn my very inadequate pay.
I opened the door, flinched in the bright, white heat, and stepped outside. Careful to stand in the shade of the pod, I looked around. The landscape remained empty. Hot and still. I waited. An occasional stiff wind would gust sand in my face, and then subside, and we would be back to hot and still again.
I contemplated climbing onto the roof for a better look around, but it occurred to me that the lone rock over there would make a better vantage point. It was only a couple of hundred yards away. Even I couldn’t get lost. Ramming down my hat, I set off, listening to the sound of my feet crunch on coarse sand as I trudged towards the outcrop, the only thing worth looking at in this dreary landscape.
I scrambled up the hot rock and rotated slowly, feeling sweat run down my back as the sun beat down on me. On the face of it, he wasn’t here. No one was here. Except me, of course. I rotated back the other way, just for something to do. The only movement was loose sand scudding across the ground, blown this way and that by the intermittent wind. The landscape was empty. He hadn’t come.
‘Good afternoon,’ called Ronan, looking up at me from ground level.
I spun around. Where the hell had he come from?
He stood, unmoving, as if we were both waiting for my heartbeat to return to normal. He wore the same black T-shirt and jeans but with a bandana tied around his head against the sun. I noticed that this time, however, there were no reassurances about not being armed.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘isn’t this nice? A little hot, of course. Would you like to climb down so we can sit in the shade?’
I slid down and we squatted in the deep shade at the foot of the rock. He politely offered me some water. Equally politely, I declined. Drug me once – shame on you. Drug me twice – not bloody likely.
‘I don’t want to keep you hanging around in this heat,’ he said, a sentiment I would have found so much more sincere if he hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes keeping me hanging around in this heat until he could confirm I was alone.
We looked at each other. Dr Bairstow had given me his decision and a message for Ronan, but I had discretion to act on my own initiative should the situation require it.
‘Well?’ he said, casually, although his voice was not quite steady. ‘Is there a response?’
‘Yes, there is. I’ve spoken to Dr Bairstow. In fact, we discussed it all afternoon.’
I stopped, remembering pacing the carpet in front of his desk, waving my arms, arguing … Because what we were proposing was not without risk. Strictly speaking, we should report immediately to the Time Police and await instructions. Let them handle it. Yeah, like that was ever going to happen. The Time Police are not noted for their lightness of touch. We had a chance here – a real chance – to end this now. Once and for all.
‘Yes,’ he said, impatiently. ‘And?’
‘Dr Bairstow completely…’
And that was as far as I got.
I stood up, staring over his shoulder. Over on the horizon, far over to my right, a tiny flash of light. And then another one.
I spun around to face him.
Whatever it was, it was too far away to be an immediate threat. A caravan, maybe, on its way to … I racked my brains. I’d studied maps of the area before setting out. The oasis at Siwa was too far north, and anyway, the traditional route was off to the east via the Dakhla and Farafra oases. I turned to Ronan in sudden suspicion. ‘These were your coordinates. Is this a trap? What’s over there?’
He was staring too. ‘How should I know? It could be anyone.’
‘Out here? In the middle of nowhere? Caravans travel to the east.’ I gestured vaguely in what I hoped was an eastwards direction. ‘There’s nothing here except us.’
Except me.
Dr Bairstow and I had discussed the possibility of an ambush. Or kidnapping. Or even murder. I was armed and equipped for anything. I was certain he would be as well. So much for detente.
I opened my com and he pushed me back against the rock, a gun appearing from nowhere. ‘Who are you talking to?’
I pushed his hand away. ‘My computer, of course. Computer.’
It gave that irritating little trill.
‘Computer, using current coordinates, speculate on approaching traffic.’
There was a slight pause as, presumably, it gave the matter some thought.