Luke grinned the irritating Parrish grin. ‘You even punch like a girl.’
‘Hey,’ said Jane, trembling but defiant.
Luke spat blood on to the pristine floor. ‘Sorry, Jane.’
‘You will both be sorry,’ hissed Mr Geoffrey, seemingly unable to resist the temptation to behave like a Bond villain.
Imogen shifted her weight impatiently. ‘You should kill him. Kill them both.’
She thrust her face into Luke’s. ‘You piece of shit, Parrish.’ She stepped back. ‘Shoot him. Shoot him now.’
‘I give the orders here,’ said Mr Geoffrey, now bespeckled with Luke’s blood as well as his own.
‘Actually,’ said a voice behind Jane. ‘I think you’ll find it’s Mr P who gives the orders here.’
‘Really?’ said Jane, trying to distract attention from a suddenly frozen Luke. ‘Sorry, I hadn’t realised. Isn’t Miss Farnley the one actually in charge?’ She turned her head to look at Geoffrey. ‘Not you, anyway.’
Mr Geoffrey slapped her again. ‘No, we won’t shoot you. Too quick. Too easy.’ He turned his head to address the man who had been watching the chess match earlier. ‘Throw Mr Parrish and Miss Lockland outside. If the cold doesn’t get them, then the local wildlife will. Or even, if they’re really lucky, our friends outside might find them first. You won’t enjoy that. They really don’t love us at all.’
‘Ha,’ said Imogen in satisfaction.
Geoffrey turned on her. ‘And you, Miss Farnborough, have problems of your own. Problems that I, alas, do not have the authority to deal with. For now.’
Luke and Jane were seized again. Fire truck, thought Jane. I’m going to die. I’m actually going to die.
‘Wait a minute,’ said Luke, and amazingly, they did. ‘Imogen – how on earth did you get mixed up in this? Have you seen what happens here?’
‘Eric cared, Parrish, which was more than you did. He took me back – Mummy wouldn’t. He brought me in on everything here. I’m going to be rich.’
‘Immy, for your own sake – persuade them to let us go. Mr Geoffrey knows what you did now. And even if he lets you live – unlikely – then trust me, the Time Police will hunt you down. They’ll never rest until they find you and when they do . . .’
She laughed. ‘Don’t threaten me, Parrish.’
‘Immy, we’re not the only ones facing a nasty end here.’
Imogen was dragged away. Geoffrey stepped up. ‘Throw them outside. Just as they are. Throw them out.’
Jane and Luke fought every inch of the way. They had nothing to lose. It took three or four men to manhandle Luke into the dressing room. Jane only rated two which, strangely, made her angrier than ever. She struggled and twisted and kicked them until a couple of heavy slaps made her ears ring.
‘Steady on,’ said Bolshy Jane. ‘You don’t want to be unconscious when they throw you outside. You won’t last two minutes if you can’t keep moving.’
‘She’s right,’ said Wimpy Jane.
Great – now the two of you decide to work together.
‘It’s for your own good, Jane.’
The locker room was empty. Wherever Smallhope and Pennyroyal were, they weren’t here now.
She heard someone open the outer door. Windblown snowflakes danced into the room and the temperature dropped sharply. Luke was shoved out of the door. He staggered out into the snow and fell heavily.
Mr Geoffrey nodded in satisfaction. ‘Thirty minutes. If that.’
Luke rolled over and tried to sit up. His efforts were painful to watch. Dribbling blood on to the pristine snow, he squinted up at Geoffrey. ‘Do you expect me to beg for mercy?’
Geoffrey laughed. ‘No, Mr Parrish. I expect you to die.’
Someone grabbed Jane’s ankles and she was swung out of the door to fall heavily on top of Luke. Someone else laughed. Jane rolled over and staggered to her feet, all ready to make a fight of it. Too late. The door was closed. They hadn’t even hung around to gloat. Not that she blamed them. Not in these temperatures.
She pulled at Luke’s arm. ‘Get up. You must get up.’
He groaned but lifted his head. ‘Jane . . . ?’
Her teeth were chattering and she could barely speak. After the warmth inside, the cold was so intense she could only take very shallow breaths. ‘Luke, get up. We have to find some shelter.’
‘Hurting me . . .’
‘Good. Get up now. Because I won’t leave you, so if you don’t get up then we’ll both die here.’
Groaning, he rolled on to his front and from there on to his hands and knees.
‘That’s good, Luke. That’s really good. Now stand up.’
‘Jane, you’re a hard woman.’
But he did. Somehow, he pulled himself to his feet and stood swaying and shivering.
‘Well . . . here I am. Now what?’
She pulled them both against the wall where they could shelter a little from the wind.
‘Now we think of something.’
33
Matthew stared unseeingly at the lines of data flickering across his screen and thought furiously. Jane’s daily report was late. She’d never been late before. Others might be a bit slapdash about this sort of thing, but not Jane. He bent over his console, ostensibly plotting and replotting old time-slips, and surreptitiously checked his scratchpad again.
Nothing. The screen remained obstinately blank.
They’d discussed what to do should this happen.
‘I don’t envy you,’ Luke had said. ‘If you’ve got to go and tell Hay we’ve disobeyed her orders, then I reckon you’ve got the most dangerous part of the assignment.’
Jane had nodded and they’d all grinned at each other because, of course, that wasn’t something that would ever happen. Only now it had, and he had to go and confront Commander Hay.
Should he give it another hour? There might be any reason why Jane hadn’t been able to make her report. No, there wasn’t – this was Jane. Jane did things by the book.
He hesitated. This next bit was not going to be pleasant. It seemed unlikely that either Ellis or Hay would come at him with a cudgel and break his arm . . . or light a fire beneath him to make him climb the chimneys more quickly . . . but it still wouldn’t be pleasant. But . . . this wasn’t about him. This was about Jane and Luke. His quietly cherished friends.