We murmured a response.
‘Right, I’ve already briefed my team on this and now I’m telling you. We are not there to fight the fire. We’ll try and contain it while you work but our main job is to protect you while you seize what you can. We’ll give you every opportunity to get the job done, but your safety is our priority. And don’t weigh my people down with piles of scrolls because that’s not what they’re there for.
‘A couple of us will be in full fire-fighter’s gear. Everyone else will be wearing protective fire suits. And there’s no point in the History Department shaking its head and muttering. I don’t give a rat’s arse about historical inaccuracy. Live with it.
‘Those of us not on fire-fighting duties are on crowd control – guarding against hostile contemporaries. Again, don’t rope them into scroll-rescuing activities. Their purpose is to protect you long enough for an ordered retreat back to the pods.
‘Number Two is converted to a medical purpose and Dr Foster and her team will be located in and around. If any injuries are incurred, all members of the team should report to her. You must remain in your teams at all times. No one wanders around on their own.
‘Whatever happens, we spend no more than two hours on site. However well it’s going. Number Six will have a designated driver who will monitor oxygen levels, act as timekeeper, and advise me when it’s time to pull the plug. This brings me back to where I started, people. When I say we go – we’re gone. Any questions?’
Helen’s final medical briefing was even worse. She gave us a depressingly long list of the circumstances and/or injuries which would result in us being deemed not fit for purpose. It seemed anything more serious than a slight headache would result in us being returned to sender.
I shifted restlessly in my seat. Beside me, Peterson whispered, ‘Bloody hell, Max, we’ve got to stop including these amateurs. We’ll never get anything done at this rate.’
Unfortunately, at that moment, Helen stopped talking and his voice was heard around the Hall with disastrous clarity.
You can say this about historians, we may be the tea-drenched disaster-magnets of St Mary’s but bloody hell, can we think quickly when we have to. He turned in his seat, fixed a startled Ian Guthrie with a glare, and said, ‘Sh!’
It didn’t save him. I did what I could, but she separated him from the herd and when she’d finished with him, a vengeful Ian Guthrie was waiting.
Afterwards, I took him for a drink and said fondly, ‘Idiot.’
‘Yes,’ he said, downing it in one go. ‘But there’s always make-up sex afterwards.’
‘True,’ I said. ‘Tell me, I’ve always wanted to know – what’s he like in bed?’
Chief Farrell delivered sets of co-ordinates. The big pod, now known for ever as TB2, was completed and loaded only two days after its scheduled date. All the other pods were serviced and ready to go. He did not manage to set fire to himself in any way. No screaming was involved. No alarms went off.
‘Well,’ I said. ‘That was dull.’
And then, suddenly there was nothing more to do and we were ready.
We assembled in Hawking, unfamiliar in our stiff new fire suits.
Doctor Dowson and Chief Farrell had loaded up TB2 and stood on the ramp ticking off the inventory. Helen and her team waited outside Number Two. Guthrie’s teams, already in fire-fighting gear, lined up outside Numbers Five and Six. Peterson, Kal and I assembled our teams and marshalled them into Number One. Professor Rapson quivered with excitement outside Number Three. The gantry was packed. Every single member of the unit had assembled in Hawking for this. This was it. This was The Really Big One. Our future was on the line. Every pod would be in use and over half the unit on the active list for this one. Thirsk was on stand-by. If this went wrong then St Mary’s was finished.
What had I done?
We stood in silence. There was no point hanging around. I gave the word and the world went white.
Chapter Seventeen
Everything went wrong. Right from the off, everything went wrong.
We landed an hour later than planned and a good half of the library was well ablaze. Fortunately, we were at the other end. The Christians, showing a level of intelligence not normally associated with the religiously fervent, had pushed off. We exited the pod to a red-hot wall of heat and noise. It was like stepping into hell. We had no time to waste. We got stuck in.