‘What about droppings of some kind? Plant fibre is a wonderful binding agent. I’ll try with horse dung. Or rabbits. Or maybe human excrement. An organic and a renewable source.’
Yes, good luck with that. If they were relying on me then the jars would be unsealed for ever. After years living off rations, I only go about twice a year, usually at the summer and winter solstice. I like to have a bit of a ceremony …
We discussed things for over an hour and a few things were changed, but, basically, that was the plan.
I had the final mission plan on the Boss’s desk within a month as requested. He nodded and said, ‘This seems satisfactory.’ So he was very happy with it. ‘I assume you have contingency plans?’
‘Well, yes and no, sir. Sod’s Law decrees if a thing can go wrong it will. We’ve done our best but something will happen that we haven’t foreseen and then we’ll just have to wing it.’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘The History Department’s motto.’ He smiled thinly. ‘Almost, I envy you.’
I stopped gathering things together. ‘Would you like to come with us?’
He stood quite still and we looked at each other.
‘Why not, sir?’
After a long pause, he said softly, ‘Yes, why not? Although not to the library. I shan’t be able to contribute anything there, but I might drop in to Site B.’
‘I’ll leave it up to you, sir, but you’ll be very welcome.’
Outside, Mrs Partridge gripped my arm. ‘Is he going to Alexandria?’
I was really surprised. She was hurting me. ‘If he wants to.’
‘He shouldn’t go.’
‘It’s up to him.’
‘You are the mission controller. You should use your veto.’
‘Why?’
But the moment had passed. Her face smoothed. She released my arm and stepped back. ‘Do you have anything for me, Miss Maxwell?’
If I was back to Miss Maxwell again, I must really be in her bad books. I handed her the data cubes, schedules, and distribution lists. She nodded, took them back to her desk, and began to hammer her keyboard.
I slipped out of the door.
There was a terrible smell on the second floor. I went to see what was happening. I’m not sure why I bothered. I could hear what was happening.
‘Rabbit shit? You’re cooking rabbit shit in here? Are you insane? Dear gods, man, you can’t cook rabbit shit. Are you seriously telling me …?’
‘Dr Dowson,’ I said soothingly. ‘What’s the problem?’
He pointed a trembling finger. ‘This madman … this idiot is cooking rabbit shit. Can you believe such stupidity? Rabbit shit, for God’s sake …’ He gasped for breath.
‘Calm down, Octavius,’ said a completely unrepentant Professor Rapson, emerging from the murk and removing the handkerchief tied across the lower part of his face. ‘You’re going to have a seizure at this rate. Jamie, can you open the windows, please?’
The awful fug began to dissipate a little. The fire alarms hadn’t gone off. I climbed on a table and pulled off the cover. No battery.
‘Professor …’
‘I had no choice, Max; the stupid things keep going off. It’s very annoying.’
‘Rabbit shit,’ raged Doctor Dowson, displaying a focus not often seen at St Mary’s. ‘Of all the idiotic, moronic …’
‘For God’s sake, Occy, show a bit of gratitude. We’re working on a recipe for pitch here and I need some sort of fibrous binding agent. I have to say, before you self-combust, this batch seems to be working very well. Show a little gratitude, please.’
Dr Dowson swelled and his colour deepened. ‘Gratitude? For what? I knew I’d end up doing R & D’s job for them. Tell me this, Andrew, exactly how much rabbit shit do you think is going to be available in a city? In Egypt? In the heat? In the desert? I’ll tell you now, you’re wasting your time. Cow, camel, or donkey dung is the way to go. Plentiful supplies and bigger dollops. Have you seriously thought how many little rabbit pellets you would need to equal the average cow pat?’
‘Well, it should be easy to calculate,’ said Professor Rapson, more easily diverted, thank goodness. ‘Say between seventy to one hundred pellets to one pat – although we could do it by weight, of course … Jamie, my boy, can you get me some cowpats, please. We’ll need to poke them about a bit to check for plant material, so can you ask Mrs Mack for some forks as well. Now, Occy, we need to consider our source of resin …’
The two of them plunged back into the murk.
Major Guthrie’s final briefing laid it on the line.
‘Listen up, everyone. I shall say this only once. As soon as we land, even before we step outside, you will – all of you – answer to me. Everyone from historians upwards should be aware of this. If you can’t accept this then you don’t go. It’s that simple. So, no one leaves their pods until I give the word. And when I say, “Pull out,” you pull out. You don’t stop to grab just a few more scrolls or investigate what’s round the corner; you go. You drop whatever you are doing and return to your pods. Is that clear?