‘No,’ exclaimed Luke, blinking at her. ‘You’re still with him? If you’ll take a spot of advice, Immy, I’d get him to pay for a little work if I were you. You’re looking very . . . tired.’
Luke and Imogen were watching each other like a pair of cats. Jane held her breath. Luke had offered Imogen a way out. If she could recognise it. But Imogen was too far gone to listen to his words. Resentment – eight years’ worth of it – not unreasonably boiled over in the froth and frenzy of revenge.
‘They’re Time Police officers, you morons!’ Spittle flew from her mouth with the vigour of her shouting. ‘They’re spies. There should be another one around somewhere. A little runt with funny eyes.’
‘Immy,’ said Luke, gently. ‘Don’t you think you might benefit from a bit of a lie-down?’
‘No,’ she shouted. She turned to the room, desperate to make them understand. ‘Why are you all just standing there? The Time Police are on to you.’
No one moved.
They don’t believe her, thought Jane. Or, given who they think Luke is, they don’t want to believe her. Mr Geoffrey won’t easily let someone like Luke escape his clutches.
Immy clenched her fists in frustration. ‘Don’t you understand? They’re the Time Police, I tell you. Time Police.’
And finally, it penetrated. Slowly, people began to get to their feet.
‘Time Police bastards,’ said someone.
Luke shook his head. ‘You are mistaken.’
Imogen punched him hard in the stomach and he doubled up, retching and coughing.
‘Liar,’ she spat. She looked around. ‘For God’s sake, there might be any number of them on their way here right now.’
‘Unlikely,’ said Mr Geoffrey, a touch uncertainly. ‘As far as we know, the Time Police are still unaware their original officers are dead – our contact certainly hasn’t heard anything – so why would they send two more?’
He stared at Luke and Jane – the unspoken implication being why would they send these two?
‘Look,’ said Imogen to Geoffrey and anyone else whose eye she could catch. ‘You know what happened to me when I . . . became separated from Eric on our jump – for which he paid you an enormous sum of money, Geoffrey – and I got lost. Mummy went to the Time Police to get me back and they sent these two bastards. And another one. Where is he?’
‘Where’s who?’ said Jane, tearful, frightened, bewildered, and entirely playing to her strengths.
Imogen ignored her. ‘And they dragged me off and arrested me and –’ It seemed to occur to Imogen for the first time that this was an area of her story that should be glossed over as quickly as possible – ‘and Mummy did a deal with them – if I got myself sorted out, then they’d let me go. And that bastard . . .’ she pointed at Luke, ‘got me sent to prison just because I dumped him for someone else.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Luke, wearily, straightening up again and wincing. ‘I’m not sure where Miss Farnborough’s getting all this from, and I don’t want to be unkind, but I strongly suspect her last spell in the Happy Home didn’t go so well, but that’s not my problem. And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home now. On reflection, Mr Geoffrey, I think Jane and I will not be investing . . . in your organisation. And – I never thought I’d live to say these words – but when my father finds out about this, there will be an enormous amount of ordure impacting the air-circulation system.’ He paused meaningfully. ‘And now, I’ll leave you with the delightful, if slightly unbalanced, Miss Farnborough and her paranoia. And the best of luck to all of you.’ As he finished speaking, he became aware of an electronic whine in their vicinity.
‘No,’ said someone, running their electronic tag reader over first Jane, then Luke. ‘No tags or tracking devices of any kind. Nothing electronic at all.’
‘Not sure what that means,’ said Luke, ‘but it sounds good. The exit door, please.’
‘I’m telling the truth,’ shouted Imogen.
‘Of course you are,’ said Luke, patting her on the shoulder.
‘He shouldn’t have done that,’ thought Jane. Imogen’s face had turned white with rage.
During their training, one of their instructors had warned them to watch for this. ‘Angry people come in two categories,’ he’d said. ‘Red-faced and white-faced. Red-faced – duck. White-faced – run away. They’re dangerous.’
Imogen had mastered herself. She’d stopped shouting. Now she was dangerous. Turning to Geoffrey, she spoke quietly. ‘These two people are Time Police officers. Forget his investment. Parrish doesn’t have a penny to his name. His dad kicked him out six months ago. The Time Police were the only people who would have him. If you fail to deal with this issue now – right now – I will speak to Eric. I will tell him this organisation is no longer secure. That under your auspices, Geoffrey, the Time Police have infiltrated the entire establishment – top to bottom. I promise you, Eric will have his money out of this venture before you even have time to regret not believing me. And once that happens, how long do you think you’ll be allowed to wander around, Geoffrey, knowing what you know?’
Mr Geoffrey blinked. ‘He’s Luke Parrish. Son of Raymond Parrish and . . .’
‘The name on my arrest docs said he was Trainee Parrish of the Time Police. You’re a fool, Geoffrey. But this situation is not beyond saving. We get rid of these two right now and no one will ever know what became of them. Problem solved.’
Luke was never sure whether Geoffrey truly believed what Imogen was saying or not, but the face he turned to them was ugly. And afraid. He wouldn’t take the risk of losing a giant investor like Eric Portman. And Luke was very much afraid he and Jane were another risk Geoffrey wouldn’t run.
Jane pulled on the back of Luke’s paper suit. Above their heads an electronic alarm shrieked and blue and red lights flashed. Heavy doors clunked shut and locked themselves, blocking their path. There was no way out. They were unarmed, and trapped.
‘Don’t fight,’ said Luke, backing them both against a wall. ‘Stand quietly. Cooperate. Let’s try and stay alive for as long as possible.’
Those were the last words he was able to say for quite some time.
They were seized by the men around them. Not gently. Luke was thrown to the floor and disappeared from view. Jane struggled in the grip of two others. That they weren’t security professionals was apparent by the way in which they handled her. Get your opponent on the ground and then do everything to stop them getting up again was always Rule 1. Jane was pinned to the wall which was all well and good but left her legs free. She kicked out. At what, she had no idea, but the sharp pain in her toes and ankle told her she’d connected with something. A man’s voice shouted out. She was all set to follow through when, suddenly, Mr Geoffrey was in her face. He slapped her hard enough to knock her off-balance. One of her captors lost his grip on her arm and she pivoted and punched Mr Geoffrey in the stomach. Not hard – Grint would have laughed at her – but Mr Geoffrey was soft and flabby. He doubled over. More arms seized her, pushing her back against the wall. Before she could kick out again, Mr Geoffrey straightened up and hit her for a second time, putting a surprising amount of force behind the blow. Her vision blurred. Pain burned all down one side of her face. Even through the pain she thought how typical this was of him. Hitting a woman held back by other men was just about his level. He didn’t even have the balls to be one of the many putting the boot into Luke.