I nodded.
‘You appear to have dealt with the situation with your customary aplomb.’
I nodded.
‘Should I perhaps be reviewing our customary pairings of one male and one female, do you think?’
I shook my head (for a change). ‘Hard to see how you can, sir. Firstly, there are only three of us now until the next intake qualifies and that’s not for at least another six months. Secondly, and this should have been firstly, Peterson would die at the stake rather than pull a stunt like that and, thirdly, one male one female works best. There are always places women can go and men can’t and vice versa. We would be shooting ourselves in the foot, I think.’
‘Very well, we will continue as we are for the time being.’ He paused. ‘No one outside this room has seen these tapes and no one will. I understand the unique bond between our three historians, but I would appreciate you not discussing this with anyone else, Miss Maxwell; unless you feel the need for professional counselling, of course.’
Yes, sir. And no, sir.’
‘To spare you any undue speculation from others, the usual procedures for Mr Sussman will be followed; the service and so on. Please do not feel under any obligation to attend.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Is there anything you wish to say? Or any questions to ask?’
‘I don’t think so, sir.’
‘You are surrounded by friends here. If you find yourself in difficulties you have only to ask.’
I nodded.
In the outer office, I said, ‘Thank you, Mrs Partridge.’ She smiled slightly. It changed her face. I couldn’t help smiling back.
‘I think a change of scene would be good for you today, Miss Maxwell. If offered the chance, take it.’
I was staring out of the window in my room when the Chief turned up with my kit as promised. He dumped a box on the table then dug a disk from his pocket. ‘Where’s your laptop?’ I lugged it out from under the couch and switched it on. He sat beside me and inserted a disk.
‘What’s this?’
He looked at me with an odd mixture of concern and sympathy that alarmed me more than I would care to admit. ‘More unpleasantness.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘You need to see this. Just watch please.’
I sat back, curled my legs under me and watched a clearing in the Cretaceous come to life. ‘This is …’ I paused. The angle wasn’t right. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘This is from my pod. I’ve just been back to the Cretaceous. You need to see this. And I’m sorry. I’m very sorry.’
Again, that chill. I uncurled my legs and sat forward.
Number Eight’s door opened and I stuck out my head. Obviously all was clear because I stepped out, followed by Sussman. I looked at the Chief. Why was he making me watch this? He nodded back to the screen.
I watched the two of us cross the clearing. I watched us walk single file where the path narrowed. I watched Sussman pick up a piece of wood from behind a rock and hit me hard across the back and shoulders. I watched myself stagger forwards and sideways. I watched the path crumble away beneath my feet. I watched my struggle for balance. I watched myself fall. I watched Sussman toss the branch aside, walk to the edge, peer over, shout, ‘Up yours, you fucking, jerk-off bitch!’, and spit.
My throat closed. I had to make a conscious effort to breathe. I’d been over four years with this guy. I’d liked him, worked with him, played with him, and lied for him. Massive betrayal sat like lead in my stomach. But more was to come. Other figures walked into the clearing and joined him. What? Who? Where did they come from? Who else was there? There was me. And Sussman. And Farrell. And now this lot. It was like the Cretaceous equivalent of bloody Piccadilly Circus. They all spent some time carefully looking over the edge of the path. I got the feeling they weren’t a rescue party. I tried to think.
Farrell said gently, ‘Tell me what’s happening to you at that moment.’
‘I’m wedged under a fallen tree, quite a long way down. I’m covered in loose shale and stuff that came down on top of me. I’m probably quite invisible from above. Being semi-conscious helped.’ My voice was hoarse and I had difficulty making my lips move.
Finally, the figures turned away and returned to the clearing. Sussman talked to a man in a long leather coat. He had no weapon so I guessed he was in charge. They were too far away for audio, but the body language spoke for itself. They were arguing.
‘I think,’ said Farrell quietly, ‘you weren’t meant to go over the cliff. It was supposed to be a quick, clean kill. There was supposed to be a body. For Sussman to take back.’