‘I want new people in place before we’re officially informed of our two officers’ deaths. I want these illegals – whoever they are – to be so busy looking for our replacement agents that they don’t notice the two already under their noses. And then I want their balls in my blender. Get on it, Charlie.’
Luke was outraged. ‘Worst timing ever. I was so nearly there. We’d had dinner – which was not cheap, let me tell you. My wit and sparkling conversation were just about to pay off, and then some bloody great hairy officer comes barging into her room at the very worst possible moment. She screamed. He knocked over some ornament she was apparently most fond of in all the world. She screamed again. For a completely different reason that time, and I was the one who got my ears boxed. I didn’t even have any trousers on. How is that right?’
‘Commander Hay wants to see us,’ said Ellis, ignoring this. ‘Now.’
‘Oh God, she hasn’t received a formal complaint about me, has she? It’s not my fault the bloody vase-thing went flying. And it can’t possibly be valuable – it was the ugliest thing I’ve . . .’
‘Is there the very faintest possibility you could ever think of someone other than yourself, Parrish?’
‘Well, no, I shouldn’t think so.’
‘Find Farrell and Lockland and meet me in Commander Hay’s office.’
Jane panicked immediately. ‘Are we being discharged? Is it because of the thing with Grint? I’m sorry if I hurt him. I did apologi—?’
Luke raised his finger before she could dig herself any deeper. ‘Lockland, a couple of points. Never admit anything until you’re directly accused. And not even then if you can help it. Always let everyone else do the talking until you know exactly what’s going on and how much trouble you’re in. Once that’s established, issue a blanket denial.’ He turned back to Ellis. ‘My apologies. Lack of experience on the part of Lockland here.’
Ellis shifted his weight. ‘Parrish, shut up. This way,’ and ushered them into Hay’s office.
On the point of saying, ‘Shutting up now, sir,’ Luke paused. The atmosphere in the room was heavy. He looked around. No one appeared angry or irritated or retribution-seeking. They looked serious.
‘Shall we sit down,’ said Hay, and they sat at her briefing table. Jane pulled out her trusty and by now quite dilapidated notebook.
‘No notes,’ said Captain Farenden. ‘Not for this one.’
Jane looked around. Ellis, North, Luke and Matthew. The whole team was here. What could they possibly have done that would warrant a confidential interview with Commander Hay?
Captain Farenden began. ‘This is for your ears only. Nothing is to be discussed outside this room. Acting on intel provided by Imogen Farnborough, we sent in two Hunters.’ He hesitated and looked at Hay.
‘Full disclosure, Captain.’
‘Their task was to pose as the sort of people who might be tempted into indulging in a little Temporal Tourism, infiltrate the organisation, report back here and be on the inside when we eventually took them down.’
He stopped. Jane looked at Hay’s impassive face.
‘This morning, we received unofficial word that two bodies found at Vauxhall are probably Nuñez and Klein. They’ve been murdered.’
The room was very silent.
Luke shifted, uneasily. ‘May I ask a question?’
Commander Hay nodded.
‘Vauxhall – not that far away.’
‘No. Under the bridge.’
Luke frowned. ‘You could say, almost on our doorstep.’
‘You could.’
‘Could it be – is it possible – they were intended to wash up around here?’
‘That is a possibility, yes.’
‘Someone wanted to send the Time Police a message.’
‘Perhaps, yes.’
Parrish nodded and said no more.
Under the table, Jane clasped her hands in her lap. They were very cold.
‘What exactly do you require from my team?’ asked Ellis, softly.
Farenden closed his file and pushed it slightly to one side. ‘Imogen Farnborough was just what they were looking for. Rich, heedless, irresponsible, a bit of an adrenalin junkie . . .’
‘Shame we banged her up, then,’ said Luke, bitterly.
‘Not really,’ said Farenden. He looked directly at Luke. ‘Here in the Time Police, we have our very own rich, heedless, irresponsible adrenalin junkie. Someone we feel they would be unable to resist targeting.’ He looked at Jane. ‘And his girlfriend.’
Jane filled the silence by turning scarlet.
‘What about me?’ said Matthew.
‘Two points,’ said Farenden. ‘Your wound isn’t yet healed, and you will have another part to play in this operation.’
‘Which is?’
Ellis sighed. Briefings and their conduct had been covered during his team’s basic training. There was a form to be followed. The mission statement, allocation of personnel and resources, programme of events, individual responsibilities, questions at the end. A rigid format. It wasn’t supposed to be . . . a chat.
Commander Hay spoke. ‘Trainee Farrell, it is essential you continue with your gruntwork as if your teammates are still in place. You’ll be seconded to work on the Time Map because of your injury. You must maintain the fiction that this team is still functioning normally – a fiction Major Ellis and Officer North will also do their best to support. Your names will continue to appear on all appropriate rotas, staff lists. To all intents and purposes, you are all still here, still working, and everything is normal.’
Ellis cleared his throat and said carefully, ‘Ma’am, while I myself consider my team equal to any situation they may encounter, in this instance . . . and yes, I do realise it’s their inexperience and generally . . . informal . . . approach that makes them so ideal for this assignment, I . . .’ He stopped, lost in the complexities of his own sentence, and finished with, ‘They haven’t even completed their gruntwork yet.’
‘Actually,’ said Luke, leaning forwards, ‘can we assume that accepting this mission will automatically conclude our gruntwork? We’ll be fully-fledged Time Police officers at the end of it?’
‘Yes,’ said Hay, without hesitation. ‘You may assume that.’
‘Would that be,’ said Jane, ‘because we probably won’t survive, so the question is academic?’ and then realised, to her immense relief, that she hadn’t actually asked the question out loud. Fine undercover agent I’m going to make, she thought. No training, no skills, no hope. My one talent is that I look so useless no one will ever suspect who I am.