A spent fire extinguisher lay on the floor. Powder and foam flecked the floor and walls. It looked as if a small eruption had taken place in here, as well.
I sat up, cracked my stiff hair off my face, and said, ‘You see – this is what happens if you let a techie drive. Did you leave the handbrake on again?’
‘Don’t start,’ he said, tersely, flicking switches like a lunatic. ‘It’s been a lively morning.’
‘More or less lively than avoiding Vesuvius and the Time Police?’
‘You have no idea. Just to give you a flavour of today’s catastrophes – I’ve been trying all day to get to you. I’ve jumped to Pompeii yesterday, next Tuesday, last week, tomorrow, and finally, now. I’ve overridden every safety protocol on the board. I’ve fought fires, electrical failure, and a major fit of pod-sulk. Do not push me today. I am a man on the edge.’
He turned as he spoke and I was shocked. He’d said he had a bit of a struggle, but that wasn’t the half of it. The back of his left hand and the left side of his face were encased in medical plastic.
‘You’d better let me take a look at that.’
‘I’m fine,’ he said, impatiently. ‘The plastic is doing its job. I’m more concerned with you. Here, drink this.’
I gulped down the water he offered. I couldn’t get enough. It ran down my chin and splashed onto my PJs. I was in such a state. Parts of my face and the backs of my hands were red with tiny burns. My chest hurt. My back hurt. My shoulders hurt. Everything was coated in fine dust. I shed a cloud of it every time I moved. At some point, I’d melted one of his wellies and not even noticed. I didn’t even want to think about my hair. It would never be the same again.
He fingered the black square of material. ‘What’s this?’
‘My good deed for the day.’ I told him what had happened, expecting all sorts of scolding, but he just smiled.
‘The tanks are full. Get yourself a shower. Are you hungry?’
‘No. Just very, very thirsty.’
‘Well don’t drink your shower. I don’t want any historian habits here.’
I staggered stiffly into the shower, throwing my ruined clothes back into the pod. The shower was wonderful. By the time I had finished shifting volcanic rubble from all my nooks and crannies, the bottom of the shower tray looked like a builder’s yard.
As I turned off the water, his arm appeared around the door with a pair of shorts and a man’s T-shirt.
He had a mug of tea ready for me. There should be medals struck for men who produce tea at exactly the moment it’s needed. I slurped thirstily and slowly everything subsided. I was suddenly aware that I was very tired.
‘Where are we?’
‘England. Sometime between the last Ice Age and modern times.’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘No, and neither does the pod at the moment. All the safety protocols are down. I’ve had to override a lot of systems. I had real trouble getting it back to Pompeii during the eruption. As I said, I jumped to yesterday. When I tried to force it, it gave me next week. I had another go and got tomorrow. That wasn’t good. We really don’t want to be in Pompeii tomorrow. The heat was blood boiling. There was a … smallish … fire inside the pod and I jumped away as quickly as I could. By now, I was jumping around all over the place. I pulled the boards out, disconnected everything in sight, and gave it a strong hint as to its future if it didn’t do exactly as I wanted, crossed my fingers, jumped, and there you were. Had you been waiting long?’
‘Too busy consorting with the enemy,’ I said cheerfully, unwilling to admit, even to myself, that I’d had even the smallest doubt that I’d ever see him again. ‘So we’re hot to trot?’
‘Yes, I can fix the worst of it.’
Something in his voice wasn’t right.
‘And?’
‘And what?’
‘And the bit you’re not telling me. The really bad news. What’s happened at St Mary’s?’
‘The Time Police are there.’
I stared, speechless.
‘Don’t panic. It wasn’t a problem.’
Why wasn’t I reassured? ‘Why not?’
A long, a very long silence.
I felt my stomach shift. Something bad had happened. ‘Leon?’
‘There were only two officers on site and they were easy to avoid.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Because …?’
‘Because they were too busy looking for Helios. Max, they know.’
‘They know Helios is Joe Nelson?’
‘No, no. They don’t know Helios is Joe Nelson. They just know Helios is there. Somewhere.’
‘What will they do if they find him?’
‘Arrest Dr Bairstow, Peterson, Guthrie – and me, of course. You’ll be all right – you’re dead.’
‘Not funny.’
‘No. Sorry.’
‘I meant – what will they do to Helios?’
‘At worst, they’ll shoot him. At best, they’ll take him back.’