I took a deep breath. Irrepressible anger roiled inside me. I stood up and faced him, because you can’t do this sort of thing sitting down.
‘You fired a sonic weapon indiscriminately while standing on a frozen river. You cracked the ice, you morons. That you didn’t cause the Great Frost Fair Catastrophe of 1683 was a miracle. There were hundreds of people on the ice. Men, women, children, and you put them all at risk. If they’d gone into the water, they would have died in seconds. You could have irrevocably changed History.
‘And then again in Thebes. Your sonic vibrations woke up every crocodile within a radius of five miles. Don’t you know that’s how they communicate? You were fortunate everyone was at the festival. If the banks had been full of fishermen, families, people drawing water, people bathing, livestock drinking, there could have been massive loss of life that again would have been entirely due to your reckless irresponsibility.’
I said nothing about Pompeii. There was no point getting Ellis into trouble.
‘Ma’am, if asked my opinion, and I hope very much that one day I will be, I would say that the damage done by these officers as they ran riot up and down the timeline is far greater than the crime they are supposed to be investigating. A crime, I might add, that is vigorously denied by everyone charged, and for which no evidence exists outside of the imagination of the Time Police. Why have they not produced this contemporary? Where is she? Or he?’
I looked artistically around the Hall. ‘Oh! That’s right! Not here! How strange! The one piece of evidence that would prove the case beyond a shadow of doubt and they can’t produce it. Because it doesn’t exist.
‘Madam President, I would like the record to show that in my opinion, their behaviour has been appalling. Abominable. Unprofessional. Careless. Stupid. By seeking to punish those whom they consider responsible for a non-existent misdemeanour, they have rampaged through History, endangering the timeline and countless lives along with it. The Time Police are a disgrace, Madam President, and I call for them to suffer the strongest censure possible.’
I fell back into my seat. Someone at the back started to clap and slowly, it was taken up around the Hall.
I tried not to show the satisfaction I was feeling. Because I could deny I was Maxwell until I was blue in the face and no one was ever going to believe me after an outburst like that.
At a gesture from Colonel Albay, members of the Time Police unshouldered their weapons and made their wishes clearly known. St Mary’s slowly subsided, but something had changed.
Colonel Albay stood, slightly flushed with what I hoped was triumph, his mouth set in a grim line. I hoped – I really hoped – that my outburst had given him all the ammunition he thought he needed to finish me.
I turned to look at Madam President. Who was still writing. I was battling for my life – and those of Guthrie, Peterson, and the Boss – and she was still writing. She turned her head, caught me looking. She said, quite calmly and with no inflexion whatsoever, ‘The witness will now tell the truth.’
I nodded. The witness would indeed tell the truth. Because, finally – at long last – our Colonel Albay had allowed triumph to get the better of his judgement. He was about to make a mistake. He was some distance away, but even from here, I could feel his sudden excitement. He thought he had seen his way clear.
‘Ma’am, I think it is obvious now to everyone in this room that this is Madeleine Maxwell. Her familiarity with St Mary’s and its functions make this very clear. They think that by claiming Madeleine Maxwell is dead and conveniently cremated that somehow, they can escape the consequences of her actions, but I will not have it. Ma’am, I am prepared to state – on oath, if necessary – that this woman here today is Madeleine Maxwell.’
‘You are absolutely certain?’
‘Yes, ma’am. I am. Without doubt, this is Madeleine Maxwell. This is the woman who, while on assignment to Troy, removed a contemporary from his own time. The penalty for which is death.’
She turned to me. The silence was absolute. The only things moving were the dust particles, swirling in the sunlight shafting through the lantern.
I could feel the sweat running down my back. My arm throbbed. My chest throbbed. I had a splitting headache. I suspected Mrs Partridge’s witch’s brew was wearing off. I was going to crash any minute now.
The witness had been told to tell the truth.
She said clearly, ‘Please state your name.’
‘Madeleine Maxwell.’
Green.
No one moved.
‘You will take some time to consider your answer to this question and you will answer truthfully. Did you, last year, while on assignment at Troy, remove anyone, anyone at all, from their own timeline?’
I held up the cuff where everyone could see it and let my voice ring around the Hall.
‘No, I did not. My name is Madeleine Maxwell. I was Chief Operations Officer at St Mary’s and I have never, ever removed anyone from their own time.’