Commander Hay fought her way through several more tear-splattered pages concerning Time Police brutality, which led her to believe the more old-fashioned method of shoot first, torture the survivors, and destroy anything else in sight had more merit than she had previously perceived.
Geoffrey and the King’s Arsenal were, however, the meat of Imogen’s statement. The remainder was all self-justification, self-pity and a confident expectation of being allowed to go free.
Jane knew that Luke had visited Imogen on several occasions before her final transferral from security to one of the Time Police’s special detention centres.
‘I’ve encouraged her to cooperate,’ Luke said to Jane in the bar one evening. It was still early and they were almost the only people there. It would fill up soon and such girlie pastimes as a quiet drink would be drowned in a sea of testosterone and beer. ‘I told her to tell us everything she knows in return for a light – a lighter – sentence.’
Jane toyed with her orange juice. Neither the taste nor the look of beer had led Jane to believe she would, in any way, ever fancy a quick pint. ‘What do you think will happen to her?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Depends on the intel she can give them, I suppose. If it’s valuable they’re likely to be more lenient.’
‘But she’s definitely going to prison?’
‘I was convinced she wouldn’t – because of her mother – but now, yes, Commander Hay has spoken – she’ll definitely serve time.’ He paused. ‘I’m still not sure she believes it though.’
‘How do you think she’ll handle it?’
He shook his head. ‘Dunno.’
Jane shivered. ‘It’s such a cruel system.’
‘Do you think so?’
She nodded. ‘Well, yes, imagine it’s you, Luke. You come back after all those years only to find that Matthew and I haven’t aged a bit. We’re still young and fit . . . fit-ish, anyway. Everything’s exactly the same. The same notices on the board. The same day-to-day concerns. Your name might even still be on the team lists. Except you’re an old man. Too old to serve. Too old to do anything except come to terms, as best you can, with the knowledge of a wasted life.’
Luke frowned. ‘Imogen’s not likely to get a long prison sentence.’
‘Do you think so?’
He shrugged. ‘Well, say what you will, Mummy’s an import-ant figure. It might only be two years.’
‘Which means she could be back in circulation in a month or so.’
‘That’s the whole point, Jane. It’s the criminal who serves the time – not the family or other innocents.’
Still unaccustomed to maintaining her point of view in the face of opposition, Jane gritted her teeth and prepared to argue. ‘No, you misunderstand. She could be back in a matter of weeks. What will this mean for you? She knows your past. Could she make trouble for you? With your dad?’
‘Well, he knows I’m with the Time Police because he’s the one who abandoned me here.’
‘Your friends then?’
‘I don’t have any friends, Jane. I knew lots of people and they liked me because I was rich. Now I’m not and they’ve forgotten I exist, so I don’t see how Imogen could possibly cause me any problems. Besides, I’m certain the Time Police must have some way of dealing with threats of that nature. You know the sort of thing.’ He deepened his voice. ‘Make trouble for us, Farnborough, and we’ll make trouble for you. The first sign of misbehaviour and we’ll rescind your time off for good behaviour and pack you off back to prison for the remaining thirty years of your sentence. To one of our special units this time. I suspect the threat alone would keep her quiet.’
Jane shivered. ‘I think the whole idea of imprisoning someone outside their own Time is rather barbaric, don’t you?’
‘I suppose I’ve never really thought about it before. As Major Ellis says – it’s not our concern. No one makes them break the law. And you know what they say – you do the crime, you do the time. We catch them and we hand them over. That’s our job. What happens next is not our affair. It can’t be. We can’t afford to get involved or we’d never be able to do our job properly. It’s separation – like church and state.’
She looked at him. ‘It’s not like you to be such a deep thinker.’
‘No, it’s not, is it? And it’s not as if I feel any better for it. Shan’t do that again. Here’s Matthew.’
11
Three days later, the results of Imogen’s hearing were flying around the building.
‘What did she get?’ asked Jane.
‘Eight years,’ said Luke quietly, burying his face in a mug of coffee.
‘Well,’ Jane said, trying to find the positive, ‘that’s a very lenient sentence. And she won’t serve all of that, surely. They’ll take her cooperation into account.’
‘That was taking her cooperation into account, Jane. The official sentence was seventeen years reduced to eight.’
‘How did she take it?’ asked Matthew.
Luke shook his head. ‘I don’t think it sank in to begin with. I know she thought I could somehow speak up for her and that my words would carry weight. She thought after she’d told us everything she knew that they’d let her go. Perhaps with just a fine. Which, obviously, would be settled by Mummy. So, then she blamed me. Then she lost her temper. Then she cried. Then, when none of that worked, she just sat there. I think that was the worst bit.’
Luke’s mind went back to the small room. A table, two chairs and the inevitable cameras. Imogen, already in her prison uniform, white-faced and shocked.
‘Eight years, Luke.’
‘You might not serve it all, Immy. There might be more time off for good behaviour. So, don’t go thumping anyone. And your mother’s got influence, remember.’
‘If she cares to use it.’ She rocked backwards and forwards. ‘I’m being abandoned, Luke.’
‘No, you’re not, Immy.’
‘You promised me you’d get me off.’ Words spilled from her in her panic. ‘I cooperated! I told them everything I knew. Names, dates, places. Everything they wanted. And I spoke up for you. Why didn’t you do the same?’
‘I did, as far as I could, but I don’t have that sort of power and . . .’
‘You told me to tell them everything they wanted to know. And I did. I did everything they – you – wanted. And look where it got me.’