Lights on the cuff glowed green. Someone laughed.
‘I shall begin by asking you a few simple questions, the purpose of which is to calibrate the cuff.’
I gestured airily. ‘Take your time. I’m quite comfortable.’
There was some of muttering at the table. The unnamed officer made a few adjustments to his equipment and finally, off we went.
‘Please could you answer this question untruthfully.’
‘My pleasure.’
‘How old are you?’
‘One hundred and eight.’
Rather worryingly, it took the red light a second or two to show.
‘Thank you. What colour is your hair? Please answer truthfully.
‘Flame-flecked auburn.’
The red light flashed.
I sighed. ‘Ginger.’
Green.
Madam President looked up. ‘The cuff appears to be working perfectly, Colonel. You may proceed.’
I waited with trepidation, memories of my last interrogation still fresh in my mind.
He leaped straight in.
‘Did you remove a contemporary while you were on assignment at Troy?’
Something snapped into place inside my head and I stopped feeling sorry for myself and concentrated. Suddenly, I thought I could see my way through all this. In the matter of identity, I was on very rocky ground, but in the matter of removing contemporaries, I could actually display a pure and shining innocence. Because, of course, I hadn’t. It wasn’t me. Suddenly, there was a possibility I could get the whole show over with right now. Today. Because, sure as eggs is eggs, I couldn’t afford a trial. If I was drugged then God knows what I might say. Here, today, I did at least have some control.
However, if I answered too easily, he might become suspicious. I needed to keep him focused on the removal of a contemporary and hope, in the excitement of the chase, he forgot about establishing exactly who I was. Piece of cake. I could still feel Mrs Partridge’s liquid fire coursing through my veins.
‘Last warning, Colonel.’
‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. I merely wished to save the court some time.’
‘The hearing reminds you again that this is not a court.’
‘Very well. Your name, please.’
I didn’t want to get into a pissing contest with Colonel Albay, so I addressed my responses to Dr Bairstow in the front row. As far as I was concerned, he was the one in charge here. And I could see that it annoyed the colonel, so no downside there.
‘Maxwell.’
We all looked at the green light.
He allowed the silence to become heavy. When I shifted my position slightly, I could feel my T-shirt drenched in sweat.
‘Are you Madeleine Maxwell?’
‘No.’
Red. Pure, solid, unblinking red.
And three seconds later – a sharp pain. Not for long. Not savage. But it could be if I didn’t start telling the truth.
I said, ‘Ow,’ and looked indignantly at the colonel. ‘That hurt.’
‘It was supposed to. Are you Madeleine Maxwell?’
I shook my head, thinking it might be safer. It wasn’t. The pain was a little sharper this time. I couldn’t prevent an indrawn hiss of breath. And these bastards had wanted to attach it to my damaged arm …
I looked across at Dr Bairstow, whose face was of stone. ‘You torture people here?’
He said, with careful emphasis, ‘We don’t, no.’
‘The witness will confine her remarks to the hearing,’ said Albay.
‘The witness is pretty pissed off at the moment.’
‘The witness will remember this is a formal hearing.’
‘The witness is unlikely to be allowed to forget it.’
‘May we continue, please, Colonel.’
‘Of course, ma’am. You are Madeleine Maxwell?’
‘No.’
Red.
A short sharp jab. I could not help jumping in my seat. I was hanging on to my temper by a thread. I’d have his bollocks for this.
‘Do you now or have you ever worked at St Mary’s.’
‘Yes.’
Green.
There was, as they say, a sensation in the court.
‘Might it not be easier, Colonel, to allow the witness to make a statement and then question her as to the contents. We appear to be going nowhere, at the moment.’
I couldn’t help glancing over at Dr Bairstow whose face, suddenly, had a ‘welcome to my world’, expression. He caught me looking and immediately rearranged his features.
I shifted position on my chair.
‘My name is Maxwell. I was living in Rushford with the man known as Leon Farrell. One day, from nowhere, a group of armed men attacked us. They did not, at any point, identify themselves or offer any explanation. We escaped and ever since, we have been pursued by a group of incompetent thugs whose disregard for the safety of the timeline and the contemporaries therein has been breathtaking.’