Hope for the Best

by Jodi Taylor

  ‘Dr Bairstow, I don’t think any useful purpose is being served by rudeness.’

  ‘I would be astonished to hear the Time Police is even familiar with the expression “useful purpose”. This does not happen often but I find myself in complete agreement with Dr Maxwell. And I know you will accept this in the spirit in which it is meant, madam, but if, under your management, the Time Police continue to betray their allies in so spectacular a manner, you will very soon find yourself with none at all.’

  ‘As usual, St Mary’s is commenting from a position of complete ignorance.’

  ‘On the contrary, madam, I am perfectly well aware of your reasons for releasing Clive Ronan. It is your concealment of those reasons that is falling under heavy criticism. Particularly from Dr Maxwell. The only question now is whether I allow her the pleasure of a little light violence before returning to St Mary’s.’

  I turned to Dr Bairstow. ‘You knew . . .’

  He said quietly, ‘I hesitate, in the face of such overwhelming stupidity, to utter even a word in their defence but, yes, I know why they’ve let him go. And, Max, when you are able to think clearly, so do you. What I am taking issue with, at this moment, is the very poor judgement shown in not preparing you, of all people, for what must happen.’

  I took two or three deep breaths and then sat back down again. The emotional temperature in the room dropped a little.

  ‘Go on then,’ I said to her. ‘Amaze me with tales of your cunning and intelligence. And believe me, I will be amazed.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘You are treading a dangerously fine line.’

  ‘Only for you.’

  ‘I think you forget for whom you work.’

  ‘For St Mary’s. Always have – always will.’

  ‘I could have you shot where you sit. And very possibly will. Believe me, no one here will lift a finger.’

  Dr Bairstow stirred. ‘Not an absolutely correct statement, madam. I would lift several fingers.’

  ‘And suffer the appropriate response.’

  ‘Dear me,’ he said mildly. ‘Do you propose to strengthen your position by assassinating the Director of St Mary’s? I think if you take the time and trouble to think things through, you will find that might not be your optimal course of action.’

  More rain lashed against the windows, sounding very loud in this quiet office. My insides were beginning to settle. I nodded at her. ‘Go on then. Justify your actions.’

  ‘It isn’t a case of justifying our actions,’ she said angrily. ‘In this instance the Time Police . . .’ and subsided as she regained control. She took a deep breath. ‘I shall explain. There will be no discussion because the deed is done but I think you will see the necessity.’

  I said again, ‘Go on.’

  She pushed herself back from her desk a little and said, ‘Have you ever heard of smartdust?’

  I looked at Dr Bairstow who shook his head for both of us.

  ‘It is – was – an offshoot of biotechnology subsequently hijacked by . . . some people who found a better use for it. It was originally developed for endoscopic imaging but is now used mainly for monitoring and surveillance.’

  ‘And this has to do with Clive Ronan – how?’

  ‘The product was adapted to monitor people’s brains. Not their thoughts, unfortunately, although some work has been done in that direction, but rather to be able to see which areas of the brain are active and to what extent.’

  She paused. ‘We’ve taken things one stage further. Under anaesthetic, smartdust is inhaled by the subject . . .’ She meant victim. ‘. . . Where it lodges in the brain. I won’t bore you with the science because I don’t understand it myself. But – and this is the important bit – at a previously designated moment, the smartdust embedded in the cerebral cortex can be . . . activated.’

  ‘What do you mean – activated?’

  ‘In this case – detonated.’

  I stared in puzzlement.

  Dr Bairstow intervened. ‘It means, Max, that Ronan is walking around with a bomb inside his head.’

  She nodded agreement.

  I was bewildered. ‘But why?’

  ‘Because during the course of his life he has done many wicked things – and some he has yet to do. It is not a case of preventing those from occurring – they have already happened to you and others and he must, therefore, remain at liberty to commit them. They occur in your past but his future. If he dies prematurely, your past – everyone’s past – will slowly unravel. To prevent this happening, he has been released.’

  She straightened something on her desk. ‘Thanks to smartdust, he can be closely monitored and after he’s cleared his backlog of outstanding actions . . . when he reaches the point where he can no longer do anyone any harm . . . hundreds of thousands of microscopic bomblets will detonate.’

  ‘And blow his head off.’

  ‘No. The explosion will be internal – we don’t want any unnecessary casualties. To all intents and purposes, he will have some kind of neural event – a stroke, perhaps – and die instantly. Whatever conclusions are drawn, you may rest assured that he will be very, very dead.’

  ‘But until then . . . after all this effort . . . he’ll still be out there, running riot, killing everyone in sight.’

  Her expression hardened. ‘I have already explained . . .’

  ‘Not to my satisfaction. Nor that of anyone else who has suffered at his hands.’

  She slammed her hand on the table. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Maxwell, grow up. What did you think was going to happen? How did you think the problem of his future crimes would be solved? You surely weren’t so naïve as to think it would all tidy itself quietly away.’

  An icy hand clutched at my heart. Because she was right. I’d known about this problem. I’d always known about it. Back in the days when we were dealing with Mary Stuart, I’d known about it. And now I needed to be honest with myself. I hadn’t forgotten it. I’d done worse than forget it – I’d buried it. Buried it deep. Out of sight – out of mind. If I’d considered it at all – and I hadn’t – at some point I’d just thrust the thought into a room in my mind and slammed the door on it. I think I’d rather hoped that someone above my pay grade would have come up with a solution and saved the day and, of course, that was never going to happen. Could never happen. An older Clive Ronan had done things in my past but his future. They’d been done to me but he hadn’t done them yet. Effect before cause.

  I was still boilingly furious, but a good part of it was now directed inwards. I’d just assumed someone would have thought of some way out of this problem. They were the Time Police after all. They operated under different rules. They were technically advanced. They’d think of something. But they hadn’t. Because there was nothing to think of. There was no way around the problem.

  I was angry at the world, at the Time Police, and at myself. I stared at the floor as my mind flew around like a trapped bird, injuring itself looking for a way out that didn’t exist.

  Dr Bairstow remained silent, giving me all the time I needed.

  Eventually, I said, ‘Does he know?’ Meaning Ronan.

  She shook her head.

  ‘But how can you keep it from him? He must know he’s been in surgery.’

  ‘He and his men were brought back unconscious and kept that way. They’ll be dumped back in the Cretaceous again. We’ll wait around, discreetly keeping them safe until they regain consciousness and then leave him to get on with the rest of his life. What’s left of it.’

  I persevered. ‘But the damage he could do.’

  ‘The damage he must do . . .’

  ‘And then he dies?’

  ‘And then the smartdust activates and he dies, yes.’

  I sat quietly, unsure how I felt about any of this.

  She said more gently, ‘Max – you agreed to this
.’

  ‘I agreed to his capture. Because I thought someone here might have the answer. That some giant mind had figured it out.’

  ‘They have. We have. The smartdust will be activated on a certain date. An unknown date. We have to leave him free to perform the actions that he must perform.’

  ‘You free him to perform more atrocities.’

  ‘Atrocities that have already happened, Max. He just hasn’t done them yet. We call it closing the circle. When all the circles are closed – bang.’

  ‘Which will be when?’

  She shrugged. She wasn’t going to tell me. Probably she herself didn’t know. That knowledge would be confined to only a very, very few people and I wasn’t one of them. I hadn’t even been important enough to be included in their plans.

  Outside, the wind was getting up. I could hear it shrieking around the building. The windows here didn’t rattle the way they did at St Mary’s. Suddenly, I wanted very much to be back among my own people. Back with Leon and Matthew, sitting in our room where the windows rattled properly and even leaked a little if the wind was in the wrong direction. I suddenly felt very tired and I badly wanted to go home.

  I stood up. ‘With your permission, sir, I’ll leave you to finish dealing with these people. I’ll collect Matthew and meet you downstairs.’

  The atmosphere in the room changed immediately.

  39

  I’ve often suspected I’m not a nice person. That there’s a part of me that is best kept hidden. It erupts from time to time – people get hurt – but not, thank God, very often. I don’t know if other people are the same. Whether we all have hidden demons that must continually be controlled, repressed or contained, for fear of what would happen should they break free, even for one moment. Something told me that moment had come. Because something bad was about to happen.

  She reached under her desk and behind me, something thunked. She’d locked the door.

  I turned very slowly to look at Farenden. His face gave nothing away. I turned back again to look at Ellis. The same. Both of them had their hands on their guns. I couldn’t see the commander’s hands but I was willing to bet she had some pretty substantial weaponry tucked away under her desk, too.

  At some point, Dr Bairstow had risen. ‘Commander, I beg you to reconsider this course of action.’

  ‘I am sorry, I cannot. Nor should I. Nothing has changed. Clive Ronan is still out there. Matthew must remain here under our protection.’

  I said, flatly, ‘You will surrender my son. Now.’

  She sat back. ‘I could not do so even if I wished. He is not here.’

  ‘More lies.’

  ‘I can assure you that is true.’

  ‘I don’t think you are in a position to assure anyone of any truths ever again. You stand exposed as a liar, Commander. Frankly, I wouldn’t believe you at the moment if you told me it was raining.’

  She flushed. Good – I’d made her angry.

  ‘Matthew is currently enjoying a school expedition in the Wye Valley. Canoeing, I believe.’

  ‘Too convenient for belief.’

  ‘Max, we have an agreement.’

  ‘That Matthew remained here with his parents’ permission. That permission is now revoked. You are now committing a crime.’

  ‘To remove Matthew now would expose him to great danger.’

  ‘And that’s why you deliberately let Clive Ronan go. He’s your excuse for hanging on to Matthew.’

  She ignored that. ‘Your best course of action would be to leave Matthew with us until Ronan is terminated. For his own good. You must see that. If you don’t, we have emergency powers designed to cover this situation.’

  She tapped at her scratchpad and passed it across for us to read.

  I expect Dr Bairstow read it. I was too busy planning my next move. Over the desk. Knock aside Ellis’s gun. Somehow. Avoid whatever she had concealed under the desk. Somehow. Avoid being shot in the back by Farenden, still behind me. Somehow. Get out of this locked room. Down to Matthew’s dormitory. Seize Matthew. If he was there. Get him through miles and miles of featureless Time Police corridors. Somehow. Down to the pod bay. Avoid mechs, security people and sundry passing bodies. Steal a pod. Get it to accept my instructions. Escape back to St Mary’s. Somehow.

  It was never going to happen.

  There was silence as all the other occupants in the room waited for me to come to this inevitable conclusion.

  Or I could die in the attempt and take as many of them with me as I possibly could.

  I watched them stiffen as all the other occupants in the room came to this inevitable conclusion.

  I looked at her . . . measuring the distance . . . calculating the risk.

  Dr Bairstow put his hand on my shoulder and twisted me round to face him. ‘Dr Maxwell, you will remain still and silent. That is a direct order. Please indicate your understanding.’

  I was angry. ‘What are you doing, sir?’

  ‘Saving lives.’

  He was afraid. I could see it in his eyes. Whether for me, for them, or the situation in which we found ourselves, I had no idea.

  ‘Say nothing, Max. Not a word.’

  I don’t think I could have. I started to shake. I’ve no idea why. Rage? Shock? Imminent death? Hers, I mean, not mine. Because I would do this. I’d lost Matthew once. There was no way I would leave him again.

  Part of my mind – the probably slightly saner part – was telling me not to make this situation worse. To allow the arrangement to carry on as before. He would live here with frequent visits from both sides. Not to put myself in a situation where neither Leon nor I would have any access to our son. The larger part of my mind was telling me to kill them where they stood. Another part flew back to the Egyptian desert. I stood in the wavering heat haze and heard Ronan’s voice.

  ‘Because, my dear Max, you dance on the edge of darkness . . . and I don’t think it would take very much for you to dance my way.’

  There was a connection between us. Or there had been. I was the one he’d sought out with his offer of peace. He’d saved my life, I’d saved his. Yes, there was a connection between us and I felt it now.

  A long time ago, Ronan, too, had once been desperate to escape and take a loved one with him. He’d killed and injured friend and foe alike in his doomed attempt to escape with Annie. She’d died in the crossfire. Now, suddenly, I too, could feel all the desperation, all the panic, all the helplessness that the sudden and brutal loss of a loved one could entail.

  I couldn’t leave Matthew behind. He was mine. He was my son. Part of me. And I certainly wouldn’t leave him alone with these people. To watch him grow up in their image. A tiny voice said I probably wasn’t going to be allowed to watch him grow up at all. The thought exploded inside my head. I’d lost him once and now I was going to lose him again.

  No. I would see them all dead at my feet before I allowed that to happen.

  As if he could read my mind, Dr Bairstow tightened his grip. ‘Dr Maxwell, you will remain silent. You will not move. You will not utter another word. That is a direct order with which you will comply.’

  Actually, I had no choice. My mouth was full of bile. I could feel it burning the back of my throat, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Because I’d been played. The Time Police never had any intention of ending Ronan. And they’d never had any intention of relinquishing Matthew, either. They’d played me from the moment I walked through their front door.

  Dr Bairstow turned towards the door, his hand still on my shoulder.

  ‘Madam, we are leaving. By the time we reach the door it will be unlocked. We will not encounter any obstacles on our way to the pod bay where a pod will be ready and waiting for us. Failure to comply with any of these instructions will result in a blood bath. You will have to kill both of us and then account to the world for your act
ions and I can assure you all of St Mary’s – in every place and every time – will unite in publishing your wrongdoing to the world. Your attempts to separate a mother from her child for no good reason – in fact, no reason at all – will attract the harshest censure.’ He paused and then said, meaningfully, ‘Colonel Albay would be so proud.’

  And now she hated both of us.

  I took advantage of her sudden silence, leaning over her desk until we were eye to eye and my voice was deadly. ‘And then . . . Leon will come for you.’

  There was just a very tiny flicker in her eyes. I turned away.

  Dr Bairstow took my arm, saying in an undertone, ‘Say nothing to anyone, Max. No matter what the provocation.’

  I nodded.

  The door thunked open while we were still a good three paces away. I felt him relax a little.

  We crossed Farenden’s office. He and Ellis had fallen in behind us.

  Dr Bairstow walked me through the building. I would never have made it without him. The corridors were lined with silent officers, watching us as we walked. I had no idea how they knew but they did. No one said a word. I found I couldn’t look at any of them, let alone speak.

  We reached a junction in the corridors. Right would lead to the lift – left to the dormitory areas. My feet stopped of their own accord. Dr Bairstow tightened his grip. I felt Ellis and Farenden move up behind us.

  Dr Bairstow turned his head. ‘Step back or I will not be responsible for the consequences.’

  They stepped back.

  ‘Come along, Max. Only a little further.’

  My feet turned right.

  Ellis and Farenden stayed well back in the lift. I suppose if I’d been going to try anything then that would have been the place, but Dr Bairstow had steered me into a corner and held my arm in a grip of iron. I stared at the floor indicator, watching the numbers change, my mind in a whirl, completely unable to formulate any sort of action plan. I couldn’t think of any way to prevent this happening. Because once I was out of TPHQ, I was pretty sure I’d never be allowed back in again. The thought was unbearable and I shifted my weight. His grip tightened even further.