At the end of the ward, next to a curtained-off corner, Matthew Farrell sat on an uncomfortable visitor’s chair, his bandaged head in his bandaged hands.
Hay raised her eyebrows.
‘It’s the closest . . . the doctor will let him get, ma’am.’
‘How are they?’
He shook his head slightly.
She sighed.
‘Farrell fought well, ma’am. Saved . . . a civilian woman. He certainly saved me. Stood his ground and roared like a lion.’
She sighed. ‘He is very like his mother, isn’t he?’
‘With the bad comes . . . the good. You know that.’
‘Get better soon, Charlie. The front of the building looks like a bomb site and most of our garden has fallen into the river. The press are all over us and the Corporation is out for blood. I need you on it.’
‘With that incentive, ma’am . . . how could I fail to make a spectacular recovery?’
‘The doctor tells me you’ll be sitting up tomorrow and taking nourishment.’
‘Ah. Something . . . to look forward to.’
‘I shall come and watch.’
The words something else to look forward to were not spoken.
She smiled. ‘Get well, Charlie. That’s a command.’
An hour later, back in her office, Major Callen was presenting his report.
‘My sitrep, Commander.’
‘Thank you, Major. Your main recommendations?’
‘That we admit the gardens were a bad idea, concrete over the front area, sow a few anti-personnel devices, and install two miles of razor wire and a couple of gun turrets.’
‘Ah, still favouring the warm and fluffy approach, I see.’
‘Someone has to, Commander. We made things too easy for them. Plenty of cover for the enemy and none for us. It’s a miracle there wasn’t more of a bloodbath.’
‘No one died, Major. At least, not on our side.’
‘We won’t always be so fortunate, ma’am. If you read my report, you will see I’ve recommended . . .’
She let his report fall on to her desk and sighed. ‘I don’t have to read it, Major. I know without looking that there will be three pages of I told you so, another three pages of how badly everything has been handled and ten pages of how much better you would manage things given even the slightest opportunity.’
There was a red-hot silence.
She leaned over her desk. ‘I know what you want, Major.’
He appeared to come to a decision. Subtly moving to a fighting stance, he said very quietly, ‘No, you don’t.’
‘I think I do.’
‘Actually, I don’t think you’ve got a clue what I want.’
‘Well, let’s find out, shall we? Let’s drag it out into the open. Tell me what it is I think you want.’
He was very white. ‘I can assure you, whatever you are thinking, you are completely wrong, Commander.’
‘Am I? I think not.’
On the other side of the wall, the very young lieutenant currently standing in for Captain Farenden listened to the rising voices and redoubled his prayers for Captain Farenden’s complete – but above all, immediate – recovery.
‘Very well, since you insist, Commander. You initiated an entire operation without any reference to me. You knew two of my people – my people, Commander, from my division – had been murdered and you said nothing to me. You left me in complete ignorance of current events. You could not more clearly have demonstrated your complete lack of confidence in me. I am your second in command and officer i/c the Hunter Division. I have never failed in my loyalty to the Time Police, Commander, but now . . .’
‘And I command the Time Police. What about your loyalty to me?’
The silence lay like a chasm between them and then he said very quietly, ‘You’re a fool, Marietta. A blind fool.’
Kicking a chair aside, he strode from the room.
Commander Hay sat down. Very slowly. After a while she reached for the file, opened it, stared blindly and then closed it again. She picked up her scratchpad and then put it down again. Then she turned her chair to stare out of the window. For a long time.
Back again in MedCen, Jane was struggling to open her eyes. They felt gummy and disinclined to cooperate. The first thing she saw was Matthew, illegally easing himself through the curtains.
‘Hey, Jane. Can you hear me?’
Her mouth felt gummy as well. Everything was a tremendous effort. ‘Yeees.’
‘How do you feel?’
‘Worn . . . out.’
‘Yes, you will for a bit.’
‘Did . . . we get . . . them?’
‘Yep. Every last one.’
‘Luke?’
He nodded. ‘There.’
She summoned all her strength and turned her head. Luke lay in the next bed, white, silent and hooked up to any number of machines.
‘They’re still rewarming him. Don’t worry. He’s doing well.’
‘What’s the matter with his hand?’
‘He lost some fingers.’
Jane closed her eyes. ‘I couldn’t find his glove.’
‘Not your fault, Jane. He’d be the first to say that.’
‘Will they chuck him out, do you think?’
‘They won’t chuck him out, no.’
Something in his voice made her ask, ‘What . . . do you mean?’
He didn’t reply.
She seemed to focus more clearly. ‘Why are you in civvy clothes?’
‘Suspended.’
‘Oh my God, what did you do?’
He looked around but they were alone. ‘I went to St Mary’s for help. They tracked you to Shoreditch and I took the information to Hay.’
‘You saved us?’
‘I think the emphasis is more on – so you went over my head to those morons at St Mary’s.’
‘And she did her nut?’
‘I deserved it. I did go over her head. Is there a worse crime?’
Jane thought of some of the things that had gone on at Site X. ‘Yeah. Trust me. There are worse things out there.’
He remained silent.