Years ago, when I first came to St Maryâs, Chief Farrell said, âYou get a feel for when things have gone wrong,â and he was right. You do. So when Grey, Bashford, Cox, and Gallaccio stepped out of their pod, one look was all I needed to see that something had happened.
I stood quietly while they were ushered off to Sick Bay for the statutory check-up, waited for everyone else to disappear, and then followed on behind.
âWhy are you here?â said Nurse Hunter to me, ushering Bashford into an examination room. âIs everything all right?â
âAbsolutely fine,â I said. âWhy shouldnât it be?â
âYouâre here voluntarily, thatâs why.â
âIâm just checking up on my people. Theyâve returned from a vital and important assignment and I want to debrief them as soon as possible.â
She consulted her scratchpad. âAre you sure? Theyâve only been checking out shipbuilding in ⦠Ancient Egypt.â
âQuite sure,â I said firmly. âWhereâs Grey?â
She nodded in the direction of the womenâs ward.
Elspeth Grey was sitting in the window seat, staring at the snow falling silently outside. She turned her head as I entered and I knew I was right. Something had gone wrong. From the look on her face, something had gone badly wrong.
This wasnât unknown. Weâre St Maryâs â something always goes wrong. To give us our full title, weâre the Institute of Historical Research, based at St Maryâs Priory just outside Rushford. We investigate major historical events in contemporary time. We donât ever call it time travel because our lives are hazardous enough without deliberately calling down the wrath of our boss, Dr Bairstow, upon ourselves.
Grey and her team had returned from Ancient Egypt and something had happened. I was at a bit of a loss. They all seemed relatively intact to me. Very sunburned, obviously and with hair like straw, but no one was missing a vital body part, or leaking vast amounts of body fluids everywhere. I had a horrible feeling this was more serious than simple physical injury.
I dragged up a chair. âWhatâs happened?â
She was so pale that I was surprised Hunter hadnât shoved her back into the scanner again.
She said quietly, âIâve done something terrible, Max,â and stopped, unable to go on.
Many terrible things can happen to historians. It was obviously up to me to whittle them down a bit.
I said, âIs anyone dead?â and waited for her hasty denial.
It didnât come.
I felt myself grow cold. The team was all present and as correct as St Maryâs was ever able to achieve, which only left â¦
âElspeth. Is someone dead?â I took a deep breath. âDid you â has someone â killed a contemporary?â
She shook her head, then nodded, and then said, âI donât know.â
Iâd had enough. If something catastrophic had happened, I needed to know immediately. Before the bloody Time Police came crashing through the door to arrest us all.
I pitched my voice to bring her back. âReport.â
She pulled herself together. âThe assignment went well. No one knew who we were. Weâve got masses of good footage.â
âSo what went wrong?â
âIt was me. I did it.â
âWhat did you do?â
She clenched her hands tightly in her lap. Iâm not actually that terrifying. All right, Iâm slightly pregnant, but that doesnât usually reduce people to a state of speechless terror. My husband Leon had actually been quite pleased. And Dr Bairstow had immediately commanded Mrs Partridge to prepare him a briefing on the duties of a godfather. Even I was coming round to the idea.
I said gently, âElspeth. You must tell me so I can put it right.â
She took a deep shuddering breath and braced herself. âI took a gun on the assignment.â
I