‘Do we have a team leader for this one?’ said Jane, vaguely, all her attention focused on the information being displayed on the console.
Luke sighed. ‘Well, it’ll be me, won’t it? It’s always me. No one else ever volunteers.’
‘No one else ever gets a word in,’ said Matthew. ‘Besides, she’s your girlfriend.’
‘Ex-girlfriend,’ said Luke quickly, looking around. The pod door was still open and mechs were criss-crossing the bay.
‘Worried your blonde in Logistics might hear?’ asked Matthew, innocently.
Jane looked up. ‘I thought he’d taken up with that brunette in IT.’
‘Is that the one with the guide dog?’
‘Very funny,’ said Luke, drawing himself up. ‘Your team leader instructs you to get a move on.’
‘Before the blonde finds out about the brunette and they both find out about Ms Jones?’
‘Just get on with it, will you.’
‘Ready when you are.’
‘OK – everyone got everything? Sonics? Liquid string? Then let’s go. Matthew, get the door shut. Jane, commence jump procedures.’
The pod responded. ‘Jump procedures commenced.’
The world flickered.
4
London. May, 1663.
‘Oh my God,’ said Jane, staring at the screen. ‘Is this a riot? Are we in the wrong place? What is going on?’
Matthew surveyed the milling, shouting crowds. So many people jam-packed into such narrow spaces. ‘Don’t think a drone is going to be much use here.’
‘Right,’ said Luke, leaning over the screen to look more closely. ‘Let’s have a recap. What do we know about this Time and place? Wait – don’t ask the . . .’
Too late.
‘Pod,’ said Jane, not without a sideways glance at Matthew, who was grinning. ‘Please provide details of this location.’
The AI responded in its pleasant female voice.
‘London, 1663, during the reign of Charles II. This period is known as the Restoration and is characterised by . . .’
‘Never mind all that,’ said Luke, impatiently. ‘Where is . . . ?’
The AI ignored him. Not for the first time.
‘After the restrictions of the . . .’
‘We don’t need all that.’
‘This area predates the Great Fire of 1666 when . . .’
‘Nor that.’
‘The buildings are constructed mainly of . . .’
‘We don’t need that, either.’
‘. . . wood, thatch, wattle and daub. The invention of the chimney means that smoke from internal fires . . .’
Luke ground his teeth. ‘I don’t care about the fire-trucking smoke. Is there any evidence of a pod signature in this area?’
‘The most recent signature appeared precisely three point three minutes ago and . . .’
‘That’s us, you moron. Anything earlier than that?’
‘Yes.’
There was a long pause. Jane busied herself checking the read-outs and power levels and shutting things down while Matthew appeared to be in some sort of light trance. Neither caught each other’s eye.
‘Yes, what? Jesus, it’s like pulling teeth.’
‘Yes, there is evidence of recent pod activity unrelated to this one.’
‘Where? When?’
‘Initial scans indicate a pod departed this vicinity approximately three hours ago.’
‘That’s good news. We’re not too far behind,’ muttered Matthew.
‘Not long enough for Imogen to have got herself into any serious trouble, surely?’ said Jane, packing her notebook away.
‘You don’t know Imogen,’ muttered Luke.
The AI continued. ‘I have the signature recorded. A return to HQ will enable comparisons to be made with similar . . .’
‘Forget that. It’s not the pod we’re after this time. Do your scans indicate the presence of any contemporaries?’
‘Please indicate the area to be scanned.’
His voice rose to a shout. ‘Here. In this place. Where we are now. London. We are looking for an illegal. How much easier would you like me to make it for you, because it’s quicker just to switch you off, open the door and take a look ourselves!’
Jane judged it time to intervene. ‘Pod, is it possible to locate the illegal in this vicinity, please?’
‘You don’t have to say please,’ shouted Luke. ‘It’s a fire-trucking machine.’
Until she joined the Time Police, Jane’s life had been a sheltered one. She had had little experience of the casual swearing now occurring all around her on a continual basis. After a few months, however, her horizons had broadened. She still wasn’t quite ready for the f word – nor could she ever imagine she would be – but life with Luke Parrish had taught her a lot and use of the word fire truck as an acceptable alternative to the word beginning with f and ending in uck was one of them. She was aware its use was being picked up by other officers, although whether this was a compliment or mockery was unclear.
As unstoppable as Time itself, the AI swept on. ‘I am unable to detect any anomalous readings but this may possibly be due to the large number of people in this area.’
‘Thank you,’ said Jane.
‘You’re welcome,’ said the AI, pleasantly.
‘Piece of fire-trucking crap,’ said Luke.
Team Weird wrapped themselves in the Time Police long black cloaks and exited the pod.
‘The AI was right,’ Luke said, as they stood outside getting their bearings.
‘Who’d have thought?’ murmured Matthew and was ignored.
Luke consulted his scratchpad again. ‘There’s definitely been something here. I can pick up the signature but it’s very faint. I doubt we’d be able to track it even if we wanted to.’
‘I can’t believe they would leave without her,’ said Jane, still struggling with how she imagined Imogen must have felt on learning she’d been abandoned.
‘Well, it’s Imogen, so you never know. She can get on your nerves a bit. She certainly got on mine.’
‘Or vice versa,’ muttered Matthew.