He smiled. ‘It went OK then?’
‘How can you tell?’
‘You’re all here. No one’s on fire. The pods are intact. There’s no screaming. An intelligent and perceptive man can read these small signs.’
I nodded. ‘Do you think I’ll ever meet one?’
He wiped my face with something cool. ‘I’m sure I saw you in a dress once. You were clean. And smelled good. Sometimes it seems like just a dream.’ He rubbed my arm and then went away to deal with the others.
I lay for a while looking up at more stars than I’d seen since the Cretaceous. Occasionally, I grinned to myself. We’d done it. We’d managed to save a part of the Great Library of Alexandria. Not a big part, admittedly, more like a tiny fraction, but that was better than nothing. We’d done it. And no one was dead. History, it would seem, had either been looking the other way; or had possibly given up where St Mary’s was concerned.
And this was just the beginning! If this assignment went well …
We were being tended to in a rough square area, formed by TB2 on one side, Number Three at right angles, and now Five, Six and One completed the set. All doors opened onto the square, making it defensible should the need arise. They’d laid rough mats over the sand to give us a reasonable surface and in a vain effort to keep sand out of the pods. Canvas awnings were stretched overhead and around the pods to give shade during the day.
We were camped in a small ravine, closed at one end and approachable only by a narrow, enclosed, rocky path. Somewhere among these rocky crags lay the hidden cave where we would store the scrolls.
The ravine would trap the heat. The scorching, baking, sweltering heat. We came straight from the inferno into the cauldron. It would be almost unbearable during the day. I could smell dust, stale air, and the memory of hot rock. The canvas awnings would keep us shaded but nothing could keep us cool.
I struggled to my feet as the Boss approached.
‘Excellent work,’ he said softly.
Time I earned my pay. I raised my voice. ‘Report.’
‘Mostly present,’ croaked Guthrie. ‘And mostly correct. Evans and Ritter have been med-evacced. Nothing serious, but a sandy desert is no place for weeping burns. We’ve all been lightly toasted but no one actually managed to immolate themselves.’
‘What did we get?’
Peterson coughed and spat. ‘What we came for. At a rough guess, between fifteen hundred and seventeen hundred scrolls. No idea of the contents. We grabbed from all over the Library so it should be a nice mixed bag. Of course, with our luck, it’ll be just multiple copies of the furniture inventory,’
But he was grinning. They all were. I was too. Fifteen hundred scrolls. Fifteen hundred scrolls containing the secrets of the Ancient World.
‘Thank you, everyone,’ said Dr Bairstow. ‘Extremely satisfactory work.’
Professor Rapson and Dr Dowson wrung my hand, incoherent in their excitement. We dissuaded our two fanatics from investigating the contents of Number One right at that moment.
‘OK, people,’ I said. ‘Let’s get some rest. Tomorrow, we make a start.’
Guthrie set the watch. We switched out the lights, stretched out on the ground, and fell asleep.
They came in the night. They’d chosen their time well. Most of us were spark-out after our crowded day.
I opened my eyes to the crackle of gunfire and sat bolt upright, disoriented and groggy. Guthrie was bellowing over the din. Someone tossed me a handgun and two clips. The Boss was giving urgent instructions to secure the pods.
I sent Van Owen, Schiller, and the other Pathfinders, together with all R & D staff to the pods with instructions not to come out again. Under any circumstances. Ignoring orders to get inside myself, I grabbed my boots and joined those hidden at the narrow entrance, peering out into the darkness, trying to make out what the hell was going on. Whoever it was, there was no way they were getting those scrolls.
There were no more shots. I could hear only the breathing of those around me.
Tactically, Guthrie had us in a very sound position, controlling the only entrance into our ravine with the pods clustered behind us. Always try and hold the narrow ground. Leonidas did it at Thermopylae, delaying the Persian army for three valuable days, giving the rest of Greece time to get its act together. Henry V did it at Agincourt, positioning his army in the narrow waist between heavily wooded areas and watching the French knights ride over each other and drown in the mud. Leonidas and Henry V. Two men who’d have a lot to say to each other should they ever meet. And where were they when we needed them?
I had no idea what was going on. Neither did anyone else. Guthrie made it simple for us.
‘We’re here. The rest of St Mary’s are safe inside the pods. Therefore shoot anyone you see trying to get up this path. They’re not contemporaries. They have modern weapons. Legitimate targets. Shoot their arses.’