They couldn’t possibly see us. There was nothing to see. We were camouflaged. With a background of a simple stone wall, we were invisible.
I felt a twist of fear. They knew we were here. They might not be able to see us, whoever they were, but they knew we were here somewhere.
My first impression was that they were military. They wore full body armour. Black-visored helmets gave them a sinister look and they carried some very serious weaponry. Not rifles, but rifle-shaped. With an underslung something-or-other. They moved smoothly, efficiently, and as a unit. We were definitely in some deep shit here.
Leon swore softly.
They dropped to the ground, weapons covering every inch of the small garden. How could they know we were here? What was going on?
With every angle covered, the soldier at the back raised something that looked, to my non-technical eyes, like a hair dryer.
Was that an EMP device? An electro-magnetic pulse would disable the pod and render us helpless.
Now Leon really swore, swept me from my seat and onto the floor, at the same time shouting, ‘Computer! Initiate jump.’
‘Jump initiated.’
The world went white.
We landed without even a tremor. He scanned the console, flicking switches and shutting things down. His hands danced over the controls in the way that was so familiar to me. Since he was busy, I lay quietly on the floor where he’d dumped me, stared up at the ceiling, and had a bit of a think.
They were obviously looking either for him or for me. And since he’d been in Rushford for some time now, presumably living a blameless life, and I was a recently arrived alien intruder in this world, it seemed likely that it was me they wanted.
That they were connected in some way with St Mary’s, I had no doubt. They’d been carrying some really cool kit. Besides, there was Dr Bairstow’s warning call. They’d hit St Mary’s and Rushford almost simultaneously. Something serious had occurred and it was almost certain to be me. How had they found me so quickly? And if they caught me – what would they do with me?
As if I didn’t know the answer to that one.
Thanks very much, Mrs Partridge. She’d snatched me out of my own world and dropped me into this one. From the frying pan into the furnace, you could say. Without warning. Without breakfast. And now something was after me. Something serious. What is it with me and a quiet life?
Leon came to sit beside me on the floor. ‘Thank you for not bombarding me with questions.’
‘A temporary respite. Make the most of it.’
‘Did I hurt you?’
‘On the contrary, I’ve never been hurled to the floor with such style. A five point nine score for that one.’
‘Up you get, then.’
I sat in the seat and stared at the screen and the familiar coordinates. I knew where we were.
My Leon and I had a special place and time. A small island in the eastern Med., thousands of years ago, before people turned up. I loved St Mary’s dearly, but, sometimes, you really want to be alone and so we would come here, to this special place, to spend some special time together. Best of all, absolutely no one knew about it. Sometimes it shows on an ancient map as the island of Skaxos, but mostly it’s too small even to appear, let alone be named. We would be quite safe here.
He finished at the console. ‘It’s still dark outside. Shall we take a moment to catch our breath?’
‘Good idea. And you can tell me what this is all about.’
He got up and put the kettle on. The traditional St Mary’s method of dealing with a crisis.
I’ve already said my name is Madeleine Maxwell. Chief Operations Officer at the St Mary’s Institute of Historical Research. Or rather, I was. Since I was never confirmed as Deputy Director, I wasn’t sure what I was now. Apart from short, ginger, and bewildered, of course, but that’s pretty much my default state, so don’t pay too much attention to that.
A week ago, I’d been in the Cretaceous period, fighting off a hungry Deinonychus with a fire extinguisher and some harsh words. This time yesterday, I had been at Agincourt, staring at a sword in my chest, just before being transported to another world. I’d just had time for a bath and now, here I was, being thrown around the timeline – in my pyjamas. Someone owed me an explanation. And breakfast.
He draped my dressing gown around my shoulders.
‘Thank you,’ I said in surprise.
‘Well, some of us were a little more focused when grabbing important equipment to see us through our current crisis.’
I smiled sadly at my little pile of possessions. ‘This is all I have in the world. You can’t blame me.’