A Trail Through Time (The Chronicles of St Mary's, #4)

‘The cuff shows she is telling the truth. The cuff you yourself introduced, Colonel.’


Always be wary of people who go white with rage. It’s never a good sign. He was white now. ‘I will not allow it. I will not allow these criminals to escape punishment. The Time Police …’

‘Are finished.’ She flourished her papers. ‘This document is the new Charter. You will be signed out of existence as soon as we can assemble all seven Directors.’

‘You don’t have – and will never have – seven Directors in one place. It will never happen. And while you inch your way towards failure, I have a job to do here. The prisoners will be removed for a more thorough investigation. Sergeant, take them to the pods.’

It wasn’t over yet. I tensed my tired muscles. I don’t know what on earth I thought I was going to do.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Markham give a signal and our own Security team stepped up. And they weren’t the only ones. All of St Mary’s stood up.

Colonel Albay smiled unpleasantly. ‘You are all unarmed.’

Dr Bairstow’s smile was even more unpleasant. ‘How little you know my unit.’

All around the Hall, people produced their own private arsenals. The Security team had Tasers. Mrs Mack flourished her battle ladle. I reached up for my hair pins. One of those in each eye would slow anyone down. As the saying goes – it’s not much, but it’s the thought that counts.

Dr Bairstow’s voice cracked like a whip. ‘Leave my unit and take your thugs with you.’

For a second … it all hung in the balance. They were outnumbered but they were armed. Would they make a fight of it? If they did, people would die.

Softly, into the silence, Madam President said, ‘It’s over, Colonel. Accept you have overstepped your authority. Go while you can.’

‘It is not over. I will fight this. You will, all of you, be brought to account.’

‘Colonel, there was never anything here. You have searched – thoroughly – and found nothing. It seems obvious that you have acted on information that was not only incorrect, but also personally motivated. There will certainly be an investigation into its source. You have allowed yourself to be used. You overstepped your remit. Accept it and move on.’

He looked around the Hall. I knew who he was looking for. I may not have looked good, but I bet I didn’t look half as sick as Isabella Barclay.

He said quietly, ‘We’ll be back,’ and it wasn’t clear to which of us he was speaking.





Chapter Twelve

Once, I would have celebrated in the bar, just like everyone else. I would possibly have had a drink or six, probably exchanged a great deal of less than witty but very noisy banter with my colleagues, and almost certainly would have had to be helped to bed later. We would have woken the next morning, partaken of a very gentle breakfast, and then got on with the day.

Now, however, with blurred vision and legs that would hardly support me, I made for my bed. I just had enough strength to pull the foot of the bed across the door to deter any nocturnal visitors and fell sound asleep.

I woke well into the next day, enjoyed a careful shower, and headed for breakfast. Or lunch – I’m quite flexible about what I call my meals.

I made myself a pot of tea, picked up an egg and bacon buttie, and made my way to the same table as yesterday. Someone had left a copy of the local paper, folded back to display a report of a road traffic accident two days before, on the Rushford by-pass. Apparently, it was a miracle that no one had been seriously injured.

Someone had scribbled something underneath.

Knock-knock.

Who’s there?

Ivanna.

Ivanna who?

Ivanna say thank you …

I stroked the page and smiled.

After I’d eaten, and somewhat curious to see what would happen next, I wandered into the library. I was pretty sure Dr Bairstow would want to see me sooner or later. My plan was to return to Rushford. I had concerns for Leon’s flat and workshop after the Time Police had rampaged through everything. I just hoped Dr Bairstow would lend me half a crown for the bus fare.

The library was deserted this morning. Judging from the distant thunder, all the historians were working in the Hall. Dr Dowson bustled in and out, giving me a cheery wave every now and then. It was all very peaceful and pleasant.

I was staring out of the window, wondering what would become of me and not thinking about Leon in any way, when Miss Lee turned up and announced that Dr Bairstow would like to see me. Her tone led me to believe it was a toss-up between me and leprosy and I’d won by only the narrowest majority.

I followed her to Dr Bairstow’s office.

He greeted me politely but neutrally, and we sat down.

‘You look a little pale this morning, Dr Maxwell. Are you feeling quite well after yesterday?

‘Yes, very well, thank you. A little tired, but nothing to speak of.’