Face rinsed. Hands washed. Teeth brushed. Feeling clean and ready gives a psychological boost and in turn helps set the mental preparation for what is to come. She stops, looks down at her chest and grabs her boobs, realising she isn’t wearing a bra.
She goes into the middle room with the three chairs and prods one with her bare foot. Not bolted down either, and it feels light. She could throw it as a distraction. She looks round, assessing, evaluating. No visible lenses, but then they’ve become so small now they could be anywhere. She closes her eyes and draws a slow breath to try and gain any sense of being watched. They said in training never to ignore those senses. If it feels that way, then assume it is that way. She doesn’t get that voyeur feeling now, but then also considers the fact that she just woke up from being drugged.
Perimeter.
She goes to the window to further the assessment and evaluation. To know what the ground outside is. Where the nearest structures are. How high up is she? Where are the hiding points? See. Smell. Hear. Plan, think and always be prepared.
Why did Mother do that? Why? What happened? I was with the target male. I secured him. Why?
Ten minutes later, she still stands at the window. Staring. Just staring. Her heart, which had almost jumped out of her chest, now settles back down to a normal rhythm.
Dinosaurs.
She finally thinks to look around. She is on the ground floor of a concrete structure on the side of a hill that sweeps down to a huge valley currently filled with what appear to be dinosaurs.
Another ten minutes pass and she again tries to look around, unaware that her nose has started bleeding again.
Assess. Evaluate. Summarise.
Alpha said there was a time machine. He said Bertram Cavendish is thought to be the inventor. The snatch mission failed. They were opposed. The opposition was Safa Patel, Ben Ryder, a big man with a beard who was strangely familiar. Harry? They called him Harry.
Mother ordered everyone to kill me. She ordered the gunships to fire on us. Why?
Safa Patel.
Ben Ryder.
Dinosaurs.
Is the old woman in charge? The dynamics in the room they came into after Cavendish Manor suggested that Roland thought he was in charge. They were all arguing with each other. Yes! She remembers now. She remembers the old woman saying to Safa if she had authority. Like a question, but not a question. Is the team here undergoing change? A change in leadership always creates a power vacuum, which is a thing to exploit.
Okay. The time machine is real. She went through it and now she is in the distant past. Cretaceous? Jurassic? She knows history, but not enough to determine her precise location. Either way, those periods spanned tens of millions of years and were hundreds of millions of years before humans emerged as a species.
Footsteps. She turns from the window to face the main door. She listens for what comes next to determine the number and types of locks, but hears only the scraping of metal on metal. A bolt? The door swings inwards. She waits, passive and calm. Safa Patel walks in and stops on seeing Tango Two.
‘Seen the dinosaurs?’ she asks bluntly.
Tango Two stares at her. Seeing the same bruises, swellings and cuts on the other woman; but even with that slight disfigurement, she is clearly and recognisably Safa Patel.
‘You deaf, fuckstick?’
‘What?’ Tango Two blurts.
‘Dinosaurs? Seen them?’
‘Er, yes. Yes, I have . . .’
‘We’re in dinosaur times,’ Safa says. ‘Cretaceous.’
‘Oh.’
Safa shrugs. ‘I sounded smart then. I don’t know what Cretaceous is.’
‘Oh,’ Tango Two says.
‘You look like shit. Good. Serves you right for being the bad guys. Miri said I can’t ask you why you helped us. So fuck off and don’t tell me anything.’
‘Okay.’
‘Doc said nothing’s broken.’
‘I . . .’
‘You got my knickers on. Clean though. It’s gross wearing someone else’s pants.’
‘I see.’
‘Your boobs are bigger than mine, so no bra.’
‘Right.’
‘I changed you. You’re the bad guys, but I didn’t let any men see you naked.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Miri said Ben and Harry aren’t allowed to talk to you.’
‘What?’
‘She said you might honey-trap them. She meant shagging. Don’t try and honey-trap me either, or I’ll punch you in the face.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t try and run off, otherwise the dinosaurs will eat you.’
‘Right.’
‘Or I’ll shoot you and leave you for the dinosaurs to eat.’
‘Um.’
‘And the nosebleeds are something to do with the oxygen or something . . . Doc’s given you meds. You’ll be fine, so stop whining. Man up.’
‘I . . .’
‘Miri said I’m not allowed to carry my sidearm when I come and see you . . . in case you take it off me. I said there was zero chance of anyone ever taking my gun from me unless it was from my cold, dead hands, but she said no. So I don’t have a sidearm. But you try anything and I will kill you with my bare hands. Got it?’
‘I . . .’
‘Stop gabbling. I hate gabblers. Got it?’
‘Yes.’
‘There is nowhere to run. The portal is shut off and the thing that makes it work is encrypted.’
‘Okay,’ Tango Two says, blinking as she tries to keep up, while staring mesmerised at Safa.
‘Your nose is bleeding,’ Safa says. ‘Miri will debrief you later. You want some food?’
‘Food?’
‘Yeah. Food. To eat. Are you English?’
‘Yes, I’m English.’
‘Stop gabbling then. Doc said it helps to eat.’
‘Yes, food would be nice. Thank you.’
‘I’ll come back with food.’
Tango Two stares as Safa about-turns and marches out, slamming the door closed, with that single scrape of metal coming after.
‘Miri?’ Safa stops at the door of what used to be Roland’s office and looks in to see the older woman sitting behind the rough-hewn desk reading a newspaper. The rest of the room is bare and sterile. Anything left by Roland is now gone. Out with the old and in with the new. Safa snorts at the thought as Miri folds the newspaper neatly in half.
‘Come in. Report.’
‘She’s awake,’ Safa says, walking to the desk. She thinks to sit down, but gets the sudden feeling of being back at work in front of the divisional commander and almost comes to attention when she stops.
‘Sit down,’ Miri says in that blunt, hard voice. Her own face still bears the marks of the fight. Bruises and swelling, but Miri remains devoid of expression. Simply waiting for Safa to continue.
‘Thanks.’ Safa sits down. ‘Seemed fine. I told her what you said.’
‘All of it?’
‘Yep. Well, I said it in my words, but yeah.’
‘In your words?’
‘In my words,’ Safa says, locking eyes. ‘In the way I speak . . . With my words . . .’
‘I know what . . .’
‘Then why ask?’
Miri concedes the point with a twitch of eyebrows. ‘Did she say anything?’
‘Nope. She said yes and no, and said she understood. She’s seen the dinosaurs. Ben’s idea of leaving the shutter up worked. She was polite. Didn’t ask anything.’