‘Leon …’
‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘The night before a jump is traditionally spent in a solitary and sober fashion.’
‘Well, I’ve got a passenger tomorrow. You’ll want me to take care of him.’
‘I would be grateful if you could.’
‘I’ll bring him back without a mark on him.’
I made the promise in all good faith.
We parted in the Hall.
‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘There’s always tomorrow night.’
But there wasn’t. It only goes to show – take your eye off the ball and Fate, Destiny, History, call it what you will, steps up and just pisses all over your chips.
Chapter Eleven
I put together a short briefing for Dieter and met him at breakfast. He’d remembered his greens and looked sober and calm, albeit apprehensive.
We looked through things. He asked questions, good ones and I began to feel quite optimistic. I planned to show him around the lakeside where, hopefully, there would be enough wildlife to make it interesting without being life-threatening in any way. So long as it was far enough away, I quite hoped for a T-rex.
Loads of nosey people had found things to do in Hawking that morning. I waved to Kal and Tim up on the gantry. They gestured back. So rude!
We settled into the pod, good old Number Eight, and the Chief carried out the last minute checks. Dieter was very quiet. At last we were done. I started flicking switches. The Chief leaned over Dieter.
‘Just one last thing. Miss Maxwell is in charge of this pod, this mission, and you. You do exactly as she tells you, when she tells you, because that will save your life. Is that understood?’
He swallowed. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good luck, both of you.’
‘Thanks Chief. Put the kettle on.’
I locked the door. The world went white.
Again, Fate, Destiny, whatever, took a hand. We were near the lake, but higher up on the slope, at the unexplored northern end. We bumped as we landed and one of the hydraulic legs unfolded automatically to keep us level. I checked all the read-outs very carefully. This mission would be by the book. There was no way I could take back a damaged Dieter and ever hear the last of it. But everything seemed quiet. Nothing large appeared within biting distance.
I checked over my passenger – helmet, vest, coms, and blaster; everything the well-dressed historian carries. We jumped up and down. Nothing jingled and nothing fell off. We activated the cameras and set off.
I remembered my first time and gave him a couple of minutes to get his head around it. The warm blue sky, the forest noises, the heat, the smell, the sheer exhilaration. He spun around and around. ‘Wow! I’m sixty-seven million years ago! Max, this is absolutely, bloody amazing!’
‘You just wait,’ I said. ‘We’ll go this way and then down a bit.’
He pulled himself together and we headed towards a gap in the trees which should give us good views of the lake and the flat areas around. I stayed vigilant because although I wasn’t expecting any trouble, this was the Cretaceous period after all. And I was quite fond of Dieter.
Vigilant and alert I may have been, but I was totally unprepared for the brain-numbing, gobsmacking shock I got when we emerged from the small copse and got a good view of down below. I stood transfixed, then grabbed Dieter by the arm and pulled him down to the ground. We wriggled forwards on our bellies and tried to make sense of what we were seeing below.
It was like a small town down there. I could see tents, people, cages, vehicles. Pop music played over a PA system. I could smell cooking. What the fuck was going on?
‘Dieter, make sure you’re getting all this.’ I started to dictate into my com. I could hear him doing the same. He estimated numbers of people and described them, counted the pods, and noted their positions. I counted the cages and identified the occupants as best I could, all the time turning my head so the camera could get the full sweep.