She nodded. ‘I do trust you.’
He sighed. ‘I’m sorry – we used to be friends once and I let you down.’
There was a long pause and then she said shakily, ‘It’s a good job you don’t know how sexy you are when you’re nice.’
‘Actually, I know how sexy I am all the time. I just have to remember to tone it down a bit out of consideration for the weaker sex.’
Imogen slapped his arm.
Matthew turned around once more. ‘Are you being beaten up again? Can we watch, because that’s always fun.’
‘Why are we still here, Farrell?’
He grinned. ‘Waiting for our team leader to give the word.’
‘You may consider the word given.’
Matthew turned back to the console. ‘Commence jump procedures.’
The AI responded pleasantly, ‘Unable to comply.’
‘What?’ said Luke, sitting bolt upright.
‘I don’t want to worry anyone,’ said Jane, peering at the screen, ‘but there are a lot of people heading towards us right now and they don’t look very happy at all.’
Imogen pulled Luke’s cloak around her and groaned.
‘It’s all right,’ Jane said again. ‘They can’t get in.’
‘No,’ said Matthew, ‘but they could pile a ton of wood around the pod and try to make a bonfire of us.’
Imogen’s voice was shrill. ‘Then let’s go!’
‘We can’t,’ said Jane. ‘The AI’s not happy.’
‘It’s never bloody happy,’ said Luke. He stood up and assumed an authoritative stance. ‘Pod – why did the jump fail?’
Imogen clutched him. ‘Are we stuck here forever?’
‘No. Pod – respond.’
‘I am detecting an anomalous object.’
‘What?’
‘I am detecting the presence of an anomalous object.’
‘Have we picked something up?’ said Matthew, looking around.
‘Everyone – check,’ ordered Luke. ‘Pockets, sticky patches, everything.’
‘Why?’ said Imogen.
‘Because, somehow, we’ve picked something up. We’re not allowed to remove things from their own Time. The pod won’t jump. Everyone have a look around.’
Matthew checked under the seats. Jane was searching under the console. ‘Nothing here.’
‘There must be,’ said Luke. ‘The AI’s detected something. Check nothing’s on the bottom of your boots, check your cloaks, check everything.’
Matthew pulled off his cloak and shook it. Nothing fell out.
‘Jane?’
‘No.’
‘Then what?’ said Luke. ‘I’ve wiped off most of the pigswill so it can’t be that. Check your pockets.’
They did so. Again – nothing.
Someone thumped on the door and Imogen jumped a mile.
‘Where is it?’ cried Jane. ‘We’ve checked each other – we’ve checked the pod – what’s left?’
The truth hit them all simultaneously. As one, they all turned to look at Imogen. Who backed away from them, her face a mixture of guilt and defiance.
Luke said quietly, ‘Imogen, what have you done?’
Someone pounded on the door again. It sounded as if they were trying to kick their way in.
‘Nothing,’ she said, unconvincingly. ‘I haven’t done anything.’
‘OK. You have three choices. Jane searches you – probably quite gently – or I search you – not so gently – or you voluntarily hand over whatever it is you’ve stolen, right now. You choose.’
The pod reverberated to a dull booming noise. ‘They’re trying to force their way in, Immy. We need to get out of here.’
Imogen drew herself up. ‘I haven’t done anything. I don’t know why you’re assuming . . .’
‘Matthew, stand by the door controls. Imogen, you have three seconds before we open the door and throw you out to face your fate. Three.’
‘Luke, I’m telling . . .’
‘Two.’
Imogen threw a glance at the screens, filled with images of angry men. Jane recognised rat man and one or two others from their earlier encounter and was struck by sudden inspiration.
‘Luke, they’re not thieves or thugs – they’re the police – or whatever the 17th-century equivalent is. They’re thief-takers. They think Imogen’s a thief.’ She turned to Imogen. ‘They hang thieves here.’
‘One,’ said Luke, grabbing Imogen’s arm.
Matthew raised his hand to the door control.
‘No. Wait.’ Imogen slipped her hand into some sort of pocket hidden in her wide skirts, pulled out a small wooden box and passed it over to Luke, who opened it.
‘Spoons?’ he said in astonishment. ‘You risked your life – our lives – for spoons?’
‘I think they’re Apostle spoons,’ said Jane, taking the box off him. ‘My grandmother had a set.’
They looked down at the six silver spoons, each one with an image on the handle. ‘Look,’ Jane said. ‘I don’t recognise them all – and it’s not a full set anyway – but this one is probably Judas because he’s usually represented by a bag of money.’ She looked at Imogen. ‘How appropriate.’
Luke snapped the box shut. ‘For God’s sake, Immy, what were you even going to do with these?’
‘Sell them, of course.’
‘You idiot. They’re brand new. If somehow you had managed to smuggle them back – which you can’t – they’d have been rejected as forgeries. Yes, they have a 17th-century hallmark but they’re obviously freshly minted. You’d have been rumbled in five minutes. Why would you take such a risk?’
She said quietly, ‘I have a very generous allowance. If I ask for it. I can have almost everything I want. If I ask for it. It’s her way of controlling me.’ She paused. ‘How did you know I’d taken them?’
‘I did something very similar once. We’re quite alike, you and me, Immy.’
She flared. ‘I am nothing like you, Parrish.’
There was a long silence in the pod – apart from the angry mob outside trying to break in.