And the Rest Is History(97)

‘Right then, people. Background. Constantinople in 1204 is a violent place. Everyone will be a threat to us. Invading crusaders are out for blood. Terror-stricken civilians will be desperate to escape and trampling anything in their path. There will be the elite troops, the Varangian Guard, fighting a rearguard action. There will be toppling buildings and trampling horses. A lot of the city will be on fire. We’ll be heavily armoured because on this occasion, historical accuracy is unimportant.’

Everyone looked at me. When did I get the reputation for being such a troublemaker? I’d barely been here ten minutes. For once, I agreed with them – historical accuracy was unimportant.

Unfortunately, that was as far as detente went. As usual, with the Time Police, things went tits-up fairly quickly.

Ellis had finished describing the conditions we could expect and was detailing the precautions to be taken. I had honestly intended to keep my head down and my mouth shut, but all I could hear was so much impatient, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ from the officers around me. I didn’t think they were listening because this wasn’t something they wanted to hear. Their attitude was very much, ‘Can we stop talking and go and shoot someone now, please?’ Shifting in my seat, I could see there were very few women present. Always a sign of an unenlightened organisation.

Eventually, I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. Yes, I know but, honestly, this sea of testosterone was going to get us all killed. If Leon and the others were, by some miracle, still alive when we got there, I wasn’t going to let these idiots blow our chances of getting them out safely. I raised my hand.

‘Yes, Max?’

I did try. I tried, quietly and reasonably, to explain that shooting contemporaries, even in self-defence, would not be a good idea. I tried to explain about History. I might as well have tried to explain evolution to a creationist. I was using words they simply didn’t understand.

There was a certain amount of restless shifting in their seats and then someone said, ‘It’s going to be a slaughterhouse there. Are you saying we can’t even defend ourselves?’

‘It’s a key point in History,’ I said. ‘We have to be really careful.’

I know – I can’t believe I said that either. Two hours with the Time Police and my brain was already turning to yoghurt. I tried again. ‘It’s going to be tough enough without going in and deliberately asking for trouble.’

‘We’ve never had any trouble before.’

‘You were putting things right before. Righting wrongs. Repairing the timeline. As far as History is concerned, this will be just a bit of private enterprise. History isn’t interested in rescues and noble causes and the like, and if you start mowing people down right left and centre then it will fight back.’

‘That’s no concern of ours.’

‘It should be. There’ll be enough going on around us without having to take on History as well.’

‘Typical bloody St Mary’s. It’s a big boy’s world out there, sweetheart, and if you can’t hack it…’

‘Hey, it wasn’t St Mary’s stupidity that caused all this to blow up in the first place.’

‘It’s your bloody boyfriend we’re risking our lives for.’

‘My bloody husband kicked your arse and don’t you forget it.’

‘Listen, sister…’

‘Enough,’ said Ellis sharply and we subsided. ‘Our mission is to locate three St Mary’s personnel – two of whom were working with us to assist with the apprehension of Clive Ronan – together with one of our own, and bring them home. They were working together in a common cause and so are we. We go in and we get them out. Sonic weapons. Low charge. For defence only – and only then as a last resort. The medical teams will do their job and the security forces will do theirs. This is new style policing. Minimum impact. Is everyone clear?’

There was some muttering and I began to suspect that Commander Hay might have more of a problem on her hands than I’d realised.



We went to get kitted out.

I liked their armour. It was a matt black, flexible and light – far better than anything St Mary’s had – and, as far as I could see, capable of keeping out everything from a charging rhino to a small thermo-nuclear device. They issued me with a sonic gun. A very small one. I’d rather hoped I’d get one of the big ones and I’d look really cool, but no. I also picked up a small med-kit and a helmet. I thought I looked just like a real Time Police officer, but apparently I was in a minority of one on that one.



We assembled outside their hospital pod. Blacker and more sinister than your average medical facility, but with a big, red reassuring H painted on every side. And, presumably, the roof.

Inside, they’d set up four stations, each bed surrounded by banks of equipment. A medical team stood by each one. Two pilots sat at the enormous console. I was impressed. Standing quietly against the wall, well out of the way, I looked around me. Everyone was armoured, even the medical teams. Their names were stencilled across the helmets, together with the red cross, the red crescent and every other medical aid symbol I knew. And a few I didn’t. Faces were grim. Weapons ready. We were set to go.

For the first time since being caught up in events only a few hours ago, and whirled here almost without having time to think, I took a moment to consider the implications. Not just for me, but for everyone. They might not be dead. There was only the faintest chance, but they might not be dead. Ronan was almost certainly still alive, so why not Leon and the others? They were three tough professional men. And Van Owen was no slouch when it came to looking after herself, either. If anyone stood a chance of survival it would be those four. They could have done it. They could have survived. For the first time since I heard the news, I felt almost optimistic.