And the Rest Is History Read online

  It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Things wobbled a bit, but casting my mind back to pre-pregnancy days, things had always wobbled a bit, so I didn’t take a lot of notice.

  The day was lovely, with blue skies, fluffy clouds, and cool enough to keep me comfortable. The swans, always as far away from St Mary’s as they could possibly manage, floated serenely on the lake or stamped around the reed beds muttering to themselves. We all gave each other a wide berth.

  I completed one circuit, chugged back some water and, encouraged to find I was still alive, decided to give it another go.

  I set off again, anti-clockwise this time, rather enjoying myself and, just as I was at the very furthest point from St Mary’s, just where the reed beds hid me from sight, I came upon Clive Ronan, sitting on a fallen tree trunk, and apparently waiting for me.

  Remembering the last occasion on which I’d seen him, the time when he’d kidnapped me and left me to give birth alone and lost in time, I screeched to a halt and began to grope for my thingy. Sadly, it was under my T-shirt to stop it bumping around so was not, therefore, immediately accessible.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I mean you no harm. I’m not armed. Look.’

  His gun was on the ground some feet away. ‘Pick it up if it makes you feel safer.’

  I did pick it up. As I’d suspected, it was empty but I could always use it to club him to death.

  He stood up very slowly. ‘I’m not armed,’ he said again, arms in the air, rotating slowly. He wore a black T-shirt and jeans and I could see he had no gun.

  ‘No ankle holster,’ he said pulling up his jeans. ‘And no knives either. No hostile intentions of any kind.’ He sat back down again. ‘I can understand that after our last encounter you might have a few … issues … with me, but since you apparently made it back safe and sound, I hope you’ll be able to set those aside for a few minutes and talk. How is the young lad by the way? Does he look like his dad?’

  I ignored the questions. He wasn’t going to get any information out of me.

  He gestured to another log. ‘Please sit down.’

  I ignored that too.

  He seated himself again slowly and carefully. ‘I have something to say to you and…’

  I finally located my thingy and pulled it out. Carefully, because I’d once set it off accidentally and birds had erupted from the trees, glass had shattered, every dog for miles around had begun to howl, and Dr Bairstow had blamed me for stopping his clock. You get the picture. It’s loud.

  I’ve been dealing with Ronan for years now. He’s a killer without conscience. He’s ruthless. A complete bastard. He couldn’t possibly have anything to say to me. Activating my alarm would have the entire Security Section here in moments. And Leon, probably, dripping wet, baby in one hand, Glock 9mm in the other. And the History Department, of course, all wanting to see what was happening, and keen to make a bad situation worse.

  ‘I want to stop.’

  There was a silence, while my brain struggled with what was actually quite a simple sentence.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I want to stop.’

  I stared at him.

  He sighed and leaned forward, his forearms on his knees. ‘I want to stop running. I want … I don’t want to…’

  He stopped talking and stared at his feet.

  I wasn’t altogether surprised. I think I’ve said before that living outside one’s own time is not easy. Today’s society is much more fragmented than in the past – people are no longer linked in the traditional groupings of family, tribe, guild, or village, but even today, without a NI number, a credit rating, or an ID card, there’s little chance of being accepted into society. Life on the outside is never easy. Everyone belongs somewhere. They may not like their life but it fits them exactly. It’s where they’re meant to be. Leave it for any length of time and History reacts by making things as difficult as it knows how.

  Ronan had been running for years, damaging himself and everyone around him. His trail was littered with corpses and the wreckage of other people’s lives. I could understand that he would want to stop running. Especially now that the Time Police were on his case. The question was – would he be allowed to? Should he be allowed to?

  I thought of Mary Schiller. Killed and left in a box for four hundred years. And Jamie Cameron. Killed to make a point. And Big Dave Murdoch who died saving me. I thought of what Ronan had done to Bashford and Grey. And to me.

  I said nothing because silence is the best way to get people to talk.

  Not looking at me, he said, ‘I want to stop running all the time. I’ve found somewhere … I want to settle down with … I want to stop all this. Sooner or later, Max, one or both of us is going to be dead. And that doesn’t have to happen. I now know the … the value of what you have, and I want it too. So I’m saying – you back off – I back off – and we both of us get on with the rest of our lives.’

  I found a voice. ‘That’s it? That’s what you want? A decade and more of killing everyone in your path and now you just want to close the door and walk away?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘A new beginning.’

  ‘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.’

  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.