She tried to cudgel her brain into action. Her lips felt almost too stiff and cold to function. ‘No. Wait, Luke. They know who you are. They wouldn’t kill the son of the man who . . .’
She tailed away and closed her eyes. Too much effort.
‘Wouldn’t they? We both saw what they’re capable of. Think of the money they must be making . . . Always knew he was a bastard.’
Jane closed her eyes again, the better to consider this information. This idea of getting out of the wind had been a good one. Finally, warmth was beginning to creep through her bones. She was actually very comfortable.
‘Jane, stay awake. Don’t go to sleep.’
‘I’m not,’ she said drowsily. ‘I’m fine.’
And she was. Heat was flowing through her body. She could feel her toes and fingers again. Everything was soft and comfortable. All she had to do was lie back and recover. Everything would be fine.
She was jolted awake by Luke trying to scoop more snow around them. At least that was what she assumed he was doing, although his movements were so jerky and uncoordinated it was hard to be sure.
She blinked. Even her eyelashes were frozen. ‘Luke, where’s your glove?’
‘Eh? Oh. Dunno. Must have come off sometime. Doesn’t matter. Feeling fine.’
‘No, no. We must find it.’ She tried to sit up but it seemed so stupid to move and let all that cold air in when they’d just managed to get themselves so warm. Must conserve body heat.
She could still hear his voice. Fainter now. He was saying words.
‘If it wasn’t . . . for the fact that I’ve dragged you down with me, I’d be inclined to say this was . . . the . . . ideal outcome for me. You wouldn’t believe the amount of damage I’ve done in this world. The sooner . . . I’m out of it the . . . better. Sorry, Jane. So sorry.’
She made a half-hearted scrabble in the snow. ‘I can’t find . . . glove. Dark. Can’t see.’
‘Jane, must tell you . . . about my dad . . . saw his logo . . . Site X . . .’
She became aware she was digging in the snow. Whatever for? Why would she do that? ‘Sorry . . . what? Say . . . again.’
‘What?’
‘About the thing . . . you were going . . . to tell me.’
‘My dad. Site X. Must . . . tell you.’
‘Mm.’
‘When I wake up . . .’
He leaned his head back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. Jane slept in his arms.
38
The Time Police have always had a reputation for hitting a place hard, blowing up everything in sight, shooting everything that moves until it doesn’t, and then enjoying a well-earned coffee and chat around the smoking crater. Commander Hay had been at considerable pains to change this attitude but now, suddenly, she found she had no problems with it at all.
She stood inside Site X, in the observation lounge, noting the comfortable chairs, the food, the drink . . . as if all this was some kind of spectator sport. And then there was the view . . .
They’d hit this place hard and they’d hit it fast. The outer door had been blasted into non-existence. Two clean-up crews went in first, pouring down the corridors, driving people ahead of them and sonicking the reluctant until either they complied or were incapable of non-compliance. Or, indeed, anything at all.
The main force drove forwards, sweeping everything ahead of them until their targets had nowhere to go and were invited to surrender or die. It was made very clear that the Time Police weren’t bothered either way.
The secondary force swept up behind, picking up those who thought they’d escaped the attention of the main force.
The third force – mechs, medtecs, the infants from IT, and so forth – followed on at the rear. Their job was to investigate, download, upload and generally remove everything that could be removed. People, equipment, records – everything. Once they had what they needed – and it wouldn’t take long – the Time Police would hit the facility with simultaneous EMPs so ferocious as to ensure anything left would never function again.
Resistance was not only futile but almost non-existent. The Time Police had the advantage of surprise, superior numbers, superior weapons and their famous couldn’t give a rat’s arse attitude. A winning combination in any situation.
More and more Site X staff were marched into the central rest area and pushed on to their knees. The less conscious – those who had been zapped – now found themselves enjoying the other half of the equation and were unceremoniously dropped to the ground and zipped. Zapped and zipped – the traditional Time Police way.
Major Ellis found his commander still in the observation room.
‘All secure, ma’am.’ He pushed up his visor. His face was rather pale. ‘You wouldn’t believe this place, Commander. Some of the things going on . . .’
She was still looking down into the science area below. ‘Oh, I think I have an idea.’ She roused herself. ‘Any signs of Parrish and Lockland?’
‘None.’
‘Pick someone and hit them until they tell us where they are.’
‘That might not be necessary. Imogen Farnborough is here.’
‘Really? The rat returned to the sinking ship?’
‘So it would appear.’
‘I gave instructions she wasn’t to be released until my say-so.’
‘We were the victims of our own secrecy, ma’am. Not knowing anything of this mission, Captain Filbert saw no reason why her release shouldn’t proceed as normal.’
She said thoughtfully, ‘It would give me enormous pleasure to slap that little bitch unconscious.’
‘Not necessary, ma’am. She can’t talk fast enough.’
She nodded. ‘Even her mother won’t be able to get her out of this one.’
‘No, indeed. And a second offence. It’s not looking good for her. There’s also an oily little snake called Geoffrey who I think can be induced to rat out his colleagues in return for his life.’
He joined her at the window. ‘What do we do with them, ma’am?’
They gazed down at the Neanders below, thoroughly agitated by the events of the day, which they couldn’t possibly understand. Some were screaming. Others cowered. Several were hurling themselves at the walls of their cages.
‘And there are others, ma’am. Some sort of habitat in the basement – but anyone venturing close enough to release the cages runs a very real risk of being torn apart.’