They later explained how they got the doctor from the ocean and how Harry and Safa died, but didn’t die because Ben went back for them. They were dead for ten days, but they were never dead because Ben went back to the exact time they were in the ocean.
Throughout the day, she didn’t probe or ask questions other than to clarify points of the discussion. She also laughed a lot. The humour between them was very strong. The quasi-bantering, flirting abuse between Safa and Ben. The dry quips from Harry. Tango Two kept forgetting to flirt, and listened with rapt attention. When she did remember, it often felt too forced, too clumsy and too weird. Like the mere attempt was instantly deflected by the energy between them.
From the whole of it, she understood that Ben suffered a reaction to the medication given when they first arrived. It made him decline into severe mental depression almost to the point of suicide. Something happened that started a fight between Harry and Ben. The fight ended badly, and Harry and Safa rescued the doctor to help Ben. This was only recently too. Is that something to exploit? To pit Ben against Harry. Maybe when the time is right, she can tell Harry she is scared of Ben, that he frightens her, the way he looks at her . . .
The rest of the day was spent the same. She ate lunch and dinner with them and wasn’t locked in her room until evening, when Miri came back.
One thing became very clear. Ben is very intelligent, and it was obvious he was struggling not to ask questions and find out more about her. When he did start, he either got a comment from Safa or stopped himself. That told her Miri has control and has given explicit instructions.
They didn’t even ask her name. She felt a bit strange at that. Like she wanted them to ask. She almost told them, but held back.
All of those thoughts came and went in the five minutes it took to get into bed and fall asleep. Now she snores in a sleep deeper than she has had for a long time.
Safa sleeps. Harry sleeps. Ben was reading for a few minutes, but now sleeps with the book dropped on his chest. Doctor Watson snores loudly. Like a walrus having a fight with a whale.
Miri does not sleep. There is work to do, and she doesn’t sleep so good these days. These days? She snorts to herself in the shadows of the alley in Berlin. She hasn’t slept soundly for years. Many years.
She thinks about the Blue and how the British government tracked it. The fact the staging area was attacked means someone found it. How?
It was while debriefing Roland that she found out about the mass brawl in the bunker that resulted in several hired men being killed and several more being seriously injured. It took all day, but eventually she was able to witness Malcolm and Konrad loading the injured men into a van.
Reading the newspapers taught her the world descended into more private wars, and private wars need mercenaries. Mercs get injured the same as soldiers, so a smaller industry flourished, with private hospitals that give treatment for cash. Berlin has two private hospitals, and she now stands in the shadows of an alley across the road from the one closest to the staging area.
This kind of work used to be time-consuming and gritty. Weeks or months would sometimes be given to backtracking to find trails of evidence. Having a time machine certainly makes it easier. The concept of time. The ability to see what is ahead and plan accordingly, and for someone like Miri that is a powerful thing.
The sound of engines brings her attention fully back to the clinic over the road. Two private ambulances stop outside the brightly lit private hospital. Five men dressed in the green jumpsuits of paramedics disembark and chat noisily as they stretch, as though from a long journey. One of them takes a tablet and starts checking the vehicles over, looking in the back, overtly doing a standard equipment check.
She lifts the single-lens, military-grade sight-magnification device to watch as the man holding the tablet saunters into the clinic towards the pretty woman behind the reception desk. They talk for a while. They start flirting. Subtle and carefully done.
The other four paramedics go into the clinic. The one with the tablet stays with the woman at the desk. A short while later a different exit door opens and six men in hospital gowns are helped to the two ambulances. They are hurt, and move as if they are drugged or medicated.
Miri switches the view to the man at the desk and the way he is leaning towards the woman, who in turn is making eyes back at him. Miri waits. Holding the view. One of the other paramedics goes in and says something. The man at the desk turns, and after a few seconds walks out with some lingering smiles at the receptionist.
The two ambulances drive off. Miri watches the receptionist use a smartphone. Sending a message? Something in her manner suggests she is trying to hide what she is doing. The way she glances up and round, but keeps the phone low before swiping it off and going about her duties.
Miri lowers the lens and thinks. The man Harry lifted up on the middle floor of the house was the man at the desk. She recognised a couple of the others too.
Several factors come to mind. The first brings a surge of irritation that Roland led the British government to them. He might as well have opened the door and invited them in. How the British government got wind of the device in the first place is now a moot point. They know it exists, and if they know, then you can be damn sure the US, Russia and China also know. The Brits had no right to try and deal with it on their own. They should have sought help. The incident in Berlin would have focussed attention. The attack on Roland’s house would have done it too, and the two incidents were only a couple of hours apart in real time.
If the world’s superpowers even suspect the Brits have a time travel device, it could trigger a nuclear war. Heck, this very thing could be what causes the world to be destroyed by 2111.
Her mind processes the new information and applies it to everything else she already knows to gain the path ahead. There is always a path ahead. There is always a way through it. That’s her job. To find it then fix the problem.
She pauses before returning to the Blue. Enjoying the buzz inside. She’s back in the game and at the very front. This is her pitted against the whole world. Her mind against everyone else’s. There are no rules now either. No politicians saying what can and can’t be done. No budget restrictions. No policy demands. No protocols. This is the game, but with every rule stripped away, and it feels glorious. She even has a team. She thought they were inept, but how they handled the attack in Cavendish Manor was sublime. With training, her team could be exceptional pawns to deploy and use. They have a high moral code, and that can be manipulated.
One thing is damn sure. She has to remain in total control, and that means Roland can never be let near the Blue or the team ever again.
Sixteen