Time rolled on and if I stood any longer, I would be there for ever. I started to pull my bag towards me but he stopped me. ‘I’ll take it. Come on, let’s get you to Sick Bay. Can you manage?’
Nodding, I opened the door. A small orange crowd waited outside. Someone said, ‘Welcome home.’ I could see them looking over my shoulder for Sussman. Behind me, I guessed the Chief was making signals because they all moved back. I looked up to Kal and Peterson on the gantry and shook my head.
We took the lift to Sick Bay. After three months in the Cretaceous I couldn’t remember what stairs were for. Helen and her crew waited as the doors opened.
Farrell handed over my bag and said, ‘We’ll make a start with the tapes and upload to you as soon as possible. Dr Bairstow will be along later, I expect. Get some rest.’ He walked away and I felt disappointed and alone.
Helen treated me quickly and gently. I was scanned and had my wounds dressed. There was no infection. I crawled into bed and slept.
Next morning I showered and found my blues in the wardrobe. Helen came in. ‘Yes, you can go,’ she said, sarcastically.
Nurse Hunter came in with a printout which they both scanned. ‘It all seems fine. Battered and bruised, Max, but nothing permanent. Report here tomorrow morning for a final check-up. Now, let’s go and get some breakfast in you.’
I walked into the dining room to a round of applause. Not wild applause, because of Sussman, but congratulations were in order nonetheless. Mrs Mack beamed and handed me eggs, bacon, and hash browns. And fruit to follow. Helen nodded. ‘At least two pieces of fruit a day, Max, that’s an order. You’ve been on rations for three months. You’ll be like a log jam on the St Lawrence.’
We sat with Kal and Peterson, both of whom were quieter than usual. Just as I finished, the Chief turned up. He looked serious and didn’t smile. Dr Bairstow wanted me. Of course he did.
Dr Bairstow was surprisingly brisk. I thought out of respect for Sussman he might tone it down a bit, but he got straight to it. ‘We were surprised, Miss Maxwell, to find a lock on Number Eight. Apparently only you had access to that pod.’
Shit, shit, shit, I’d forgotten to take the lock off. Sometimes I think I’m too stupid to live. I wasn’t looking forward to explaining this at all, but I didn’t have to. He said into his com, ‘Mrs Partridge, would you come in now, please?’
Normally she sat beside or just behind the Boss, but today the Chief put a chair for her next to me. She wore Paris. I’d never noticed before.
The Chief activated the screen. For five seconds or so, it remained dark. Shockingly suddenly, Sussman’s face appeared, close up, slightly distorted, fiddling with the controls. Apparently having adjusted the camera to his satisfaction, he stepped back and I could see what it was pointing at. Me, asleep in an untidy heap in my sleeping module. I lay on my back, a light sheet over me with one leg stuck out the side.
The Boss said, ‘We’ll go and organise some tea,’ and to my astonishment, he and the Chief left. I stared at the door and then at Mrs Partridge and she gestured back towards the screen. On it, Sussman knelt beside me. He reached out and, oh so very gently, began to lift the sheet off me. I wore T-shirt and shorts and even as I watched, he began, an inch at a time, to lift my T-shirt. He turned to the camera and grinned.
I felt physically sick. With a nasty heave of my stomach, I remembered all the times I’d woken with the sheet on the floor.
Back on the screen he’d got my T-shirt nearly to my breasts and the other hand was bashing the bishop as fast as he could go. And any second now … Yep, there I was. One minute dead to the world and the next minute I’d got my feet on his chest and pushed him backwards. And here I was with the pepper spray. He got a mouthful. And I sprayed his penis as well, on the grounds that if he hadn’t had it out and been waving it around then it wouldn’t have come to any harm. Watching myself on the screen, I stopped feeling sick and began to feel a little better. There’s nothing like good, healthy anger. Mrs Partridge turned to me. ‘Good move with the spray.’
‘Thank you.’ My voice came out more wobbly and hoarse than I was happy with.
Back on the screen, I’m giving Sussman the bollocking of a lifetime. He’s scrabbling round the pod, grabbing his clothes and whatever of his stuff he can carry. I grab the blaster and he makes a bolt for the door.
Mrs Partridge blanked the screen. ‘The tape runs out about thirty minutes later, just after you put the lock on,’ she said calmly. She paused. ‘We found three more tapes. In them he is not so – bold, but there is no doubt he was escalating.’ The sick came back. And the anger.
Little Jenny Fields from the kitchen came in with a tea trolley, followed by the Boss and Chief Farrell. I saw Mrs Partridge nod slightly. Suddenly, I didn’t want her to leave. I turned to her and she sat down again. Farrell poured the tea.
The Boss seated himself at the head of the table. ‘This tape and any others of a similar nature will be destroyed immediately on conclusion of this meeting.’