A Trail Through Time (The Chronicles of St Mary's, #4)

I sat back and beamed at him, not sure whether I’d get a round of applause for being so brilliant or a clip round the side of the head for being so stupid.

‘I am not leaving you in the middle of a volcanic eruption.’

‘You have to. It has to be somewhere I could legitimately die and no one would be surprised. And where they wouldn’t expect to find a body. And conditions would be too hazardous for them to investigate properly. And when they never find any further trace of my tag then it will be obvious that I’m dead.’

‘And you think they’ll believe I went off and left you there? Come on!’

‘Well, all the evidence will point to just that. I’m dodging pyroclastic flows and you’re not around. They’ll either think I tried to be too clever and the volcano ate me or you got fed up and dumped me. What could be more believable?’

‘I’m not even going to bother answering that.’

Suddenly serious, I said, ‘Leon. Do we have a choice? Look around us. There’s condensation running down the walls and that’s not good. Never mind what it will do to the pod, our clothes are damp. Our bedding is damp. We had to leave a lot of gear on Skaxos. Our food is running out. And the water. And the power. These people are relentless. They will catch us one day. And that might be the best thing that could happen to us, because, one day, the safety protocols will fail and this pod will dump us at the bottom of the sea. Or in the path of an avalanche. Or one day it just won’t move at all. Then what do we do? Sit in a wet box until we die? Or make a dash for it and hope to outrun them? We haven’t been very successful at that, so far. I know you don’t like it, but you need to think about it. There’s no point in doing it the other way around, with me going to St Mary’s instead of you. This is something only I can do. You know that.’

‘Setting all that aside for one moment, I don’t even know how to remove a tag.’

‘It’s only just underneath the skin. I could probably do it myself. Except I’d have to do it one-handed, but I could probably manage.’

‘Why not remove the tag first and throw it into Vesuvius?’

‘I think they’d suspect something if it’s too easy. They must see me desperately trying to escape from Pompeii. Their instruments will lose me for a while and then, suddenly, a brief flicker – and I’m gone for ever.’

His face changed for a moment.

I put my hand on his arm.

‘Sorry.’

He nodded. ‘I’m not a surgeon.’

‘You don’t have to be. You’re an engineer. That’s almost the same thing.’

‘Your ignorance is frightening.’

I was suddenly very tired.

‘Leon. Do we actually have a choice?’

He sighed. ‘You look dreadful. Go and lie down.’

‘And you, too.’

‘What?’

‘This is ridiculous. One of us is always exhausted while the other one is unconscious in the corner. You say we’re safe with the door closed. So let’s both get some sleep. And if they do turn up and catch us while we’re both asleep, then at least you’re spared having to hack through my arm with a rusty bread-knife.’

I spread the blankets out on the floor. ‘Come on.’

I lay down, and after a moment’s hesitation, he lay down beside me. About two feet away.

I woke in the night. The pod was dark and silent. He had curled himself around me, one arm protectively over my shoulders. I could hear him breathing.

I woke again and I was lying in the crook of his arm, warm and safe.

I woke again and he was resting his head on mine. I could feel his breath in my hair.

I woke again and he was in the tiny shower.

Singing.

*

It’s true what they say – things do look better after a good night’s sleep.

After breakfast, we sat and talked over the plan – every aspect of it, because there would never be a second chance. We had to get it right first time. Our lives depended upon it.

Leon’s plan was to land at St Mary’s and talk to Dieter, now in charge of the Technical section. While his pod was being serviced, he’d somehow sneak a word with Dr Bairstow and load up with supplies. Whether the Time Police would have left a presence at St Mary’s, we had no way of knowing but he didn’t seem overly concerned about that, because, I suspected, he was keeping all his concern for my part of the plan.

In vain did I argue that the eruption was necessary to cancel out any advantages they might have in terms of numbers and equipment. When you’re fighting for your life in a pyroclastic flow, sonic weapons are about as much use as the junior party in a coalition government. In fact, I argued, as an historian, I’d have considerable advantages over the Time Police. I was commanded to state at least one. Not important right now, I said.

He sighed.

I challenged him to come up with a better plan. He sighed again. I didn’t push it. Instead, I made us both a cup of tea, partly because I felt we deserved a mug to fortify us against our coming ordeals, but mostly to put off the actual moment when we would have to part.