He’d fashioned a sling to try to ease the pain in my arm and it wasn’t working at all. I leaned against the chair and watched the screen.
I could see all of St Mary’s spread out before me. The old house dreamed gently in the warm summer afternoon. There were the mullioned windows winking in the sunshine, the Virginia creeper climbing the stone walls, the South Lawn, the lake with its reed beds, the straight gravel drive flanked by horse chestnuts – it was all there, the epitome of the quiet English country house. I could even hear the birds singing.
My heart thumped with the shock of recognition. There was no one around, but inside, somewhere, there would be Peterson. And Guthrie. And Mrs Mack. And Van Owen. All of them. I wondered what they were doing. What assignments they were preparing for. Who had my job now? I gave myself a little shake and made myself focus.
Of course, this quiet, idyllic scene wasn’t the whole story. I could also see the craters, the burned patches of grass and the stumpy remains of the Clock Tower. The remnants of Professor Rapson’s previous experiments lay strewn around the grounds. I did take a moment to wonder at the Time Police allowing this and whether they had any idea at all of what could – and probably would – happen. I had no clue what the diversion would entail, but it seemed safe to assume it would be fiery, spectacular, noisy – and successful.
‘Right,’ said Leon, breaking a long silence. ‘We’ll just run over the details. At 1400 hours, some sort of diversion will occur. God knows what. I just hope there’s no major loss of life. Given the presence of the Time Police, they will probably tone it down a bit. So long as it’s enough to enable Helios to get here undetected. Whatever they do will last a good thirty minutes, which should give Guthrie more than enough time to get him to us. They’ll probably come through the woods and approach us from the rear. We don’t open the door until he’s directly in front of us. You will hide in the toilet.’
‘Will I?’ I said, not best pleased.
‘Yes. I trust Ian Guthrie with my life, but, at this stage, I’d prefer that no one, apart from Dr Bairstow, knows about you. So no arguing. I give the word and you head for the head. Got it?’
Reluctantly, I nodded.
‘You stay there until I give the all clear. The best option is to go ahead with the plan. I know we’ll have to open the door to let him out, but only for a second or so. I’m pretty sure your tag won’t register on their equipment. Or, if it does, it won’t be long enough for them to get a fix. Understood?’
Reluctantly, I nodded.
At that moment, things began to happen and didn’t stop happening for quite a long time.
Firstly, Dr Bairstow appeared on his balcony. Two black-uniformed figures accompanied him. From this distance, it was unclear whether they were guests or gaolers. However, they seated themselves quietly enough. Dr Bairstow’s role was obviously to keep them out of the way so he’d offered them ringside seats for the afternoon’s entertainment. I watched them exchanging casual remarks. They seemed amused.
Slowly, large numbers of personnel wandered from the building, clutching mugs of tea and seating themselves on a convenient wall. A black-and-yellow tape delineated a safe distance from the splash zone. This was ignored by all.
To a round of applause and cheers, three boats appeared from the other side of the lake. Two were small rowing boats, with Professor Rapson standing in the prow of one of them, rather like a Viking figurehead. He and his R & D crews had long poles with which they were attempting to guide the third boat. This was a small craft, about twelve feet long with two short, stubby masts. Two cauldrons hung suspended from these masts. Brushwood and other combustible materials were piled high in the bottom of the boat.
‘Any clues?’ said Leon.
‘Actually, yes.’
Everything inside me that was St Mary’s was singing. This was going to be good. This was going to be very, very good.
‘I suspect Professor Rapson and his team are attempting to replicate part of Alexander’s siege of the Island of Tyre. Alexander tried to build a causeway to reach the island and the Tyrians launched fireships to destroy it. The professor is attempting to ascertain whether they were capable of reaching the temperatures necessary to do so. It’s actually a legitimate experiment. The small boat in front is stuffed full of firewood and other stuff. The cauldrons suspended from the mast will be filled with some concoction of beeswax or oil or maybe animal fat. Something that burns well, anyway. They’ll light the brushwood, and then float the burning boat to the jetty over there, which probably represents the causeway. On impact, the cauldrons will swing and tip the hot mixture onto the flames. The causeway was made of stone so they’ll need some pretty ferocious temperatures to do any damage. But we shall see.’
He shifted uneasily. ‘Exactly how much are we at risk?’
‘On the other side of the lake? Not at all.’