‘Ladies and gentlemen, many and profound apologies. This auction is at an end. No more items will be offered for sale this afternoon. I regret to inform you that we have a thief in our midst.’

  Well, that was a bit rich considering who it was coming from.

  I looked around again. Definitely no Markham in sight and I think we all know what that meant. He could be in the bog, of course, but it was much more likely he’d been in the Library. Being a naughty boy.

  Things suddenly looked very ugly indeed. Black-clad security staff stood at every door. More were emerging. A lot more than I’d originally noticed. I wondered if they’d been outside watching for intruders. The punters were murmuring angrily among themselves. Outrage and ‘Do they know who I am?’ were only seconds away.

  The auctioneer drew himself up to his full height. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, regrettable though such a step might be to us – nay, repugnant, even,’ he paused, suddenly looking considerably less benign than a minute ago, ‘you will all be searched.’

  ‘We will not,’ said a man behind me. Other people nodded in agreement. I had no issues with being searched, but heaven knows what Markham could have hidden in his nooks and crannies. Always supposing you could find someone foolhardy enough to approach his nooks and crannies without special equipment.

  The auctioneer wasn’t having any of that. ‘Willingly or unwillingly, you will be searched. If you do not cooperate, you will be held down and searched, a procedure you will not enjoy. Now, we can do this the easy way – or we can do it these gentlemen’s preferred way, which is with lots of public groping and all the unpleasantness that will entail.’

  There was a lot of angry muttering. One or two people stood up, clearly intending to head for the doors. They’d be turned back and things would get ugly. Time to establish my credentials as a good girl. I stood up. ‘You may begin with me.’

  The auctioneer bowed gravely. ‘Thank you, madam. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.’

  I was taken into the Library, now half empty of treasures, although the big stuff was still here. The two other women trailed along as well. It would seem that women were to be searched in here – men in what would one day be Wardrobe.

  I tried to see which artefact could be missing but the layout was different now that some items had been removed and it could have been anything. Except for the sarcophagus, the amber panel and Leda and the Swan, all still very visible.

  The search was manual, carried out by a man because there were no women on the staff. He was thorough but professional. The groping threat might have been just that – a threat. On the other hand, of course, I might now be outside the accepted parameters of groping eligibility.

  He certainly knew what they were looking for, even if I didn’t. At his request, I handed over my jacket. He went through the pockets and then patted me down in a general sort of way, but it was very obvious that whatever he was looking for, I didn’t have it. I suspected they’d checked their own footage and knew I hadn’t moved from the auction area. It wasn’t a strip search – I was wearing clean underwear, should anyone be curious – and it certainly wasn’t a rubber gloves job, either.

  They did Chain-Smoking Lady at the same time. I was interested to see they’d managed to persuade her to desist for a few moments, though I have to say the haze appeared to be permanent.

  Eventually he was done with me and muttering, ‘Thank you, miss,’ he passed on to his next victim – the fur-bedecked matron who gave him to understand she had boundaries and crossing them would result in the loss of his front teeth. Disappointingly, she didn’t say how that would be accomplished and I was ushered out before I could see how her search went.

  Everyone was presented with a glass of champagne on completion of the search. I took my glass and circulated, listening to the outraged comments around me.

  Markham had mysteriously reappeared. I have no idea from which direction he’d emerged. No one has worked out how he does that. He was now standing just inside Wardrobe, waiting in the men’s line, three from the end, hands in his pockets, looking bored.

  I tried to keep my face expressionless. Would he have had a chance to stash the stuff or was it still on him?

  Casually I made to wander over – there might be an opportunity for him to pass whatever it was on to me, now that I’d been done, so to speak, but a guard very politely turned me aside. For precisely that reason, I suspected. The guard wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, everyone was very polite. Mind you, for the amount of money some people were splashing out, they should be.

  Markham twitched me a frown. Bugger. He hadn’t managed to shed his load. Now what?

  His line was inching forwards. He was the next one to be searched. I had only a minute to think of something. I was just contemplating setting fire to the place – my go-to procedure in times of crisis – when there was a shout from outside, a bang that sounded very like an explosion, and a sudden impact on the doors as something big tried to gain access.

  Everyone – punters and puntees – stood frozen. Including, it has to be said – me. Because I knew what this was. Sinking under the weight of stolen goods he might be, but suddenly, Markham was no longer the issue. Because if this was who I thought it was, then we could kiss goodbye to our profit margin and commission this afternoon. To say nothing of brief but thoroughly unpleasant treatment at the hands of the Time Police.

  I had only seconds to think of something. I flung a quick prayer in the direction of the god of historians and just for once – it worked. I was damn near dazzled. Because I’d had a Brilliant Idea. A staggeringly Brilliant Idea. Stonking even by my standards. All I would need was a ton of luck and balls of steel. Stand back everyone and watch Maxwell Save the Day.

  Without thinking – a very valuable character trait, trust me – I ran up the wobbly stairs to the half-landing. Glancing at my watch – because I had to get this right – I pulled out my SmartCard and held it high, at the same time shouting, ‘I am an accredited representative of the Time Police and you are all under arrest. Your pods are impounded and all stolen property seized by me.’

  And suddenly found myself looking down at every gun in the western hemisphere. Unimportant, as it turned out. Barely had I finished speaking when the outer doors exploded inwards with an enormous crash and suddenly there were armoured men everywhere shouting at us to put our hands in the air and get down on the ground.

  I don’t know if you’ve ever tried that, but it’s bloody near impossible – not without bruising your knees quite badly, anyway.

  The bloody Time Police were here. Useless pillocks that they usually were. But not today. Today I was very pleased to see them.

  They were fully helmeted so I couldn’t see their faces. I couldn’t read any of their names either but I didn’t think I recognised any of them. Which, I hoped, meant they probably wouldn’t recognise me, either. They strode around in typical Time Police mode, pushing people in all directions and shouting at the tops of their voices. I couldn’t see outside, but I didn’t mind betting the South Lawn was covered in pants-wetting black pods. Arrested by the Time Police. Oh – the embarrassment of it all.

  I was grabbed by some sapling with the name Rosen imprinted on his chest. ‘You’re nicked.’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m not.’

  You’re not supposed to argue with the Time Police. They don’t like it. He pulled out his sonic. I was seconds away from not having clean underwear any longer.

  ‘I’m one of you,’ I said. Not words I ever thought I’d have to utter again. ‘This is my ID. Do you have some higher form of life to which I could show it?’

  He didn’t sonic me but I’m guessing it was close.

  Very, very slowly, because I think I might have managed to annoy him, I offered him my SmartCard – the one with the magic hologram authorising the bearer to act on behalf of the Time Police when the occasion warranted, etc., etc.

  He stared suspiciously. At least I assumed that was what he was doing, I could only see myself reflected in his shiny black visor. I compounded the danger I was in by using my reflection to check my lipstick was OK. Personally, even I’d have shot me.

  He ran my card through his scratchpad and it bleeped. He nodded and reluctantly – very reluctantly – stepped back. I made sure I retrieved my SmartCard because Pennyroyal had been very explicit on the subject of lost cards.

  The officer in charge, a big bloke, even for a Time Police gorilla, started giving orders for the transfer of prisoners. Time to act. And while everyone was concentrating on me, they weren’t concentrating on Markham and whatever he was up to.

  ‘Not so fast, young feller,’ I cried, trotting across the Hall and channelling Lady Amelia as hard as I could go. ‘I think you’ll find this is our collar. I and my team tracked them down. We followed them here and arrested them, and their pods, and their stolen property. Ergo – our collar. Our bounty.’

  I flashed my SmartCard again, really quite enjoying myself.

  He loomed but I wasn’t in the mood to be a loomee. ‘How many of them are you claiming you arrested?’

  ‘All of them.’ My gesture encompassed the entire room. ‘And I’ve already officially impounded the really rather impressive stash of goodies in the next room. And their pods outside. I’m awfully glad to see you, of course, because I’m really not sure how we’d have got all this lot back to TPHQ, so I’m grateful for your assistance. Nevertheless –’ I flourished my card again – ‘my collar, sunshine.’

  One or two punters, possibly under the mistaken impression that sticking with me would enable them to escape the Time Police, nodded vigorously.

  ‘If you collect the security footage –’ I gestured to the cameras – ‘you’ll see that I arrested everyone here at 1529 hours, and you entered the premises at 1530. I’m happy to let you take them into your custody now, of course, because you’ll be saving me all that tedious paperwork.’

  I scribbled a receipt on the back of my catalogue and handed it to him. ‘If you could sign my docket, please. Thank you so much, Captain. The prisoners are officially all yours. We’ll be off now and leave you to take all the credit. To which you are welcome, with my goodwill. Toodle-pip.’

  Markham was standing behind him, innocence radiating from him in waves. He smiled politely at the officer, holding up his own SmartCard. ‘Good afternoon, officer. When you’re ready, ma’am.’

  It wasn’t that easy, of course. They had to go through the footage first, but there I was, large as life – slightly larger, actually, because the food at Home Farm was very good – wreathed in the rosy glow of slightly too much champagne, single-handedly arresting the entire room and impounding their pods and stuff. I stood patiently while all this happened because my concern now was getting myself and Markham out of their clutches – not least because the wannabe Time Pirate standing beside me was riddled with stolen property.

  Eventually and very reluctantly, they let us go.

  ‘Slowly and without running,’ said Markham as we left the Hall and headed out through the front doors.

  Just to be on the safe side, I waited until we were down the drive, out of the gates and halfway to the village before asking, ‘What did you get?’

  ‘Two of the Fabergé eggs. Valuable and portable.’

  ‘And priceless.’

  ‘And that.’

  ‘How did you . . . ?’

  ‘Well, their security was very good as far as it went, Max. Those display boxes were uncrackable and I didn’t even try. Sadly, the silly sods didn’t think to screw them down because, well . . . why would they? I magicked away the two smaller ones.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Sleight of hand. I just tossed them under the table. Hidden by the fancy hangings. Mind you – I had to pick my moment and I had to be quick. One minute there – the next minute gone.’

  ‘But wasn’t there some sort of alarm?’

  ‘As I said, Max, their security wasn’t as good as it looked. Mind you, I don’t know what else they expected. Everything was powered by generators. Their greatest strength – holding the auction in the past – turned out to be their biggest weakness. The bulk of their power went on lighting, heating and refreshments. And the cameras, of course.’

  ‘Didn’t they pick you up on camera?’

  ‘Well, there was a fair bit of agitated milling around when someone said they’d seen a rat.’

  I regarded him suspiciously. ‘Who said they saw a rat?’

  ‘A genuine error,’ he said, looking hurt. ‘I think it was that woman’s fur thing actually, but the lighting was very bad.’

  ‘They’d have rumbled you sooner or later. Good job the Time Police did turn up.’

  ‘Yes, they’ve done us several massive favours today, haven’t they? And the best thing is they don’t even know it.’

  ‘Let’s have a look then.’

  He looked shifty. ‘Ah.’

  ‘Oh God . . . what have you done?’

  ‘No, no, everything’s fine – it’s just that when the Time Police turned up, I grabbed the opportunity to stash the stuff in case they took it into their heads to search me.’

  ‘You idiot – I had everything well in hand.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t know that.’

  ‘You should have. I always have everything well in hand.’

  ‘How can you say that? I’ve never known anyone have anything less in hand than you.’

  ‘Says the bloke who stole two priceless eggs and then lost them.’

  ‘They’re not lost. I know exactly where they are. It’s just a case of . . . going back and getting them.’

  ‘Are you insane? The Time Police will be all over St Mary’s.’

  ‘They won’t find them.’

  ‘You hope.’

  ‘They won’t know they’re missing.’

  ‘They will if they match their haul against the catalogue. Missing – two Fabergé eggs.’

  He shrugged. ‘I took a chance. If the Time Police do find them then we’re no worse off. If they don’t . . .’ He grinned.

  ‘Well,’ I said, doubtfully. ‘You might get away with it. They were very small. I suppose you could argue they’re the sort of thing that could easily be mislaid.’

  ‘Um . . .’ He looked even more shifty.

  ‘Oh God – what now?’

  ‘Well, it was just lying there. It seemed too good an opportunity to miss.’

  ‘What was too good an opportunity to miss?’

  ‘The sword. You know – the one you quite liked.’

  The world swam before my eyes. I clutched his arm. ‘Durendal? The sword of Roland? You stole the fabled Durendal?’

  ‘I did indeed. If I wasn’t before, I’m certainly a legend now.’

  ‘Don’t you have to be dead before that can happen? Because if so I’m happy to oblige.’ I was struck by a thought. He looked remarkably sword-free. ‘Did you stash that too?’

  ‘No. Too big.’

  Oh God. ‘So, where is it?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘Everything’s fine. Absolutely fine.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  I knew the answer even as I asked. He was walking strangely, even for him.

  ‘Down my trouser leg.’

  I can’t tell you what images flashed through my mind because these stories are supposed to be suitable for young people.

  ‘Which leg?’

  ‘Can’t you tell?’

  ‘Don’t tell me the eggs are down there, too.’

  ‘Of course not. They weren’t big but I couldn’t keep them on me so I shoved them behind one of the bookcases.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know. I thought you’d have buried them. Or found a secret panel or something.’

  ‘I had seconds to dispose of some of the hottest property in History. And it’s only supposed to be temporary. I’ll retrieve them somehow later on.’

  ‘So, you shoved two priceless artefacts down an unknown hole where something unpleasant could happen to them, and another down your trouser leg where something unpleasant is certain to happen to it.’

  Markham grinned. He does this. He does the most outrageous things and when you attempt to point out the outrageousness of the things he’s done, he just grins at you, and after a while your brain shuts down and you find yourself agreeing that his actions were entirely and completely reasonable, and well done, Markham.

  ‘Nothing wrong with the inside of my trousers.’ He shook his leg like an inaccurate drunk on a Saturday night.

  Unpleasant image aside, I was horrified. ‘You’re kidding. It’s the sword of Roland. It deserves a bloody sight better than having all your private bits within nestling distance. Good job it’s not still sharp.’

  He grimaced. ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘A good job?’

  ‘Still sharp.’

  I ignored any potential damage to his nether bits. They’d once survived a thorough scalding – they could handle this. ‘The eggs. Which bookcase?’

  ‘Second one from the end on the left. They’ll be fine. Lots of reasons they might not still be there in our time, of course. Renovation, rebuilding and all that. They could have been found any time since 1921.’

  ‘True – although we’ve never heard anything.’

  He grinned. ‘No, we haven’t, have we? I’m a bit optimistic about this one, Max. But I’m not risking taking this bugger through time.’ He slapped his leg and then winced. ‘Not with all these Time Police bastards around. I’ll just stash this somewhere and then we’ll jump forwards and do a bit of sneaky retrieval, shall we?’

  We were nearly back at the pod. I have to say I was surprised how well our pod blended into the general landscape. There were strange little huts all over the place, knocked together out of old bits of wood, sacking, mismatched bricks and stones – anything anyone could lay their hands on. Everyone in the village seemed to have at least one for animals, wood, farm stuff, fodder, old furniture, and so on. Our pod was just one of many.

 

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