A Catalogue of Catastrophe, page 6
part #13 of Chronicles of St. Mary's Series
‘Get up those stairs while you still can.’
Pleasantries observed, we went upstairs.
My room was exactly as I’d left it, which was a little concerning.
‘Ian, have you been keeping this room for me?’
‘No need,’ he said, checking the supplies of tea and biscuits were adequate. ‘Once I tell people you’ve been in here, no one ever seems to want it. When all this is over . . .’ he looked at me, ‘and it will be over one day, Max, then I’m going to bill you for a major refit.’
I grinned. ‘Your words have no power over me. Not to toot our trumpets but the young master and I are doing rather well. We’ll just buy you out.’ I paused. ‘The . . . um . . . the things we left with you . . . ?’
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Not accessible and quite safe.’
I nodded, satisfied. If Ian Guthrie said a thing was safe then it was. In our capacity as recovery agents living on the wild side, Markham and I had attended a Flying Auction selling off historical artefacts and we’d . . . acquired . . . a few goodies which, out of the goodness of his heart, Ian was keeping safe in his concealed cellar. Which now you know about, too.
He looked me up and down. ‘You have time to tidy yourself up before Leon arrives.’
I was indignant. ‘I tidied myself up before I jumped.’
‘Really? Rough landing, was it?’
‘Why are you still here?’
He laughed and closed the door behind him.
Barely had I dropped my bag on the bed when someone knocked at the door.
I stiffened. Leon wouldn’t knock. This was trouble.
There was one of those ornamental fire sets in the fireplace. I seized the poker, raised it on high and whipped open the door to find Commander John Treadwell standing on the threshold.
Which was a bit of a shock. On the other hand, Guthrie must have had a reason for letting him come up so maybe I should let him live. For a minute or two.
I stared at him. He stared at me.
‘Can I come in?’
‘No.’
I really don’t know why I bothered. He did something – something ninja and faster than the eye could see – well, my eye, anyway – and suddenly he was inside the room and calmly locking the door behind him. I planted my feet, gripped my poker and prepared to sell my life dearly.
‘Should he turn up, I have asked Major Guthrie to detain Chief Farrell for twenty minutes. Therefore, my time is short. Oblige me by not passing any facetious comments until I have finished and am halfway back to St Mary’s.’
Very slowly and ostentatiously I laid down the poker and folded my arms.
‘Three things,’ he said. ‘Firstly, Mr Black is dead. Yes, that Mr Black. Friend and ally of Dr Bairstow. He died last week. This changes things considerably. There is now no one in government circles who has ever known Dr Bairstow personally. Mrs Brown’s replacement is still under discussion and Green has always been unknown to me. I was deliberately inserted into St Mary’s with the knowledge and cooperation of Brown and Black but I now think it very likely I shall be replaced. And quite soon.’
I wasn’t given any chance to react.
‘Secondly, I am unaware of the current location of Dr Bairstow and Mrs Brown and intend to remain so. However, it occurs to me that some attempt might be made to rescue . . .’
‘Possibly already happened,’ I said.
‘Indeed?’
‘They’re both safe and well.’
‘From where – and when – did this attempt originate?’
I wasn’t going to tell him that. ‘Unknown.’
‘Move them,’ he said abruptly.
I nodded. ‘In hand.’
He paused and then said, ‘For your own sake and that of St Mary’s, you should make this your last visit here. There is someone out there who would give a very great deal to get his hands on you for a second time.’
For a moment I couldn’t think who he was talking about. And then I could. My throat closed.
‘Gaunt,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘This is only a suggestion – please do not reject it because it comes from me – but you should consider sending Matthew back to the Time Police. For his own protection. And yours. He is your weak link.’
I nodded again. He wasn’t wrong. ‘A question.’
He looked at his watch. ‘Make it a quick one.’
‘This shadowy organisation Dr Bairstow and I have talked about. The one pulling people’s strings behind the scenes – the one who planted Laurence Hoyle – the one possibly linked with Clive Ronan – is it possible it’s based in the future?’
‘I think it very likely,’ he said. ‘May I ask what led you to that conclusion?’
‘We were attacked. We’re not sure if it was just a normal working-day hazard for Pennyroyal and Smallhope, an attempt to get at Markham, or whether it was Dr Bairstow and Mrs Brown they were after.’ I tried not to sound too mournful. ‘They didn’t seem to want me at all.’
‘My own opinion is that they must be completely unaware of your existence.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘No normal person who has even the slightest acquaintance with you would be able to resist the temptation to kill you on the spot, Dr Maxwell.’
I informed him coldly that his twenty minutes was up.
Treadwell ignored me. ‘What was the outcome of this attack?’
‘Four dead, one handed to the Time Police. Their pod attempted to self-destruct but Pennyroyal might find something that we can work with. What was your third thing?’
‘Thirdly, you will not be surprised to hear that after the Security Section’s disgraceful performance in front of the Parish Council, I have had no option other than to dismiss Mr Evans.’
We stared at each other for a very long time until the penny dropped for me. ‘Understood,’ I said.
‘His last working day will be Friday but if it gets him off the premises more quickly, I would have no objections to him leaving early.’
I looked at Treadwell. With Evans, Dr Bairstow and Mrs Brown would acquire one of the best bodyguards money couldn’t buy. They could end up being the safest people on the planet. This was an unexpected bonus arising out of St Mary’s embracing World Naked Gardening Day. And then my brain moved up a gear. Exactly whose idea had that been? Not the worldwide get your kit off and watch the roses bloom thing – yes, WNGD is a real thing – but the idea that our Security Section should participate. Surely Evans at least must have realised the consequences . . .
I gave up. I had my world view of Treadwell, and like most people, I was unwilling to give it up even when faced with evidence to the contrary.
‘Understood,’ I said again. ‘I shall be here until tomorrow evening. Tell him to bring a suit if he’s got one.’
‘Understood,’ he said. ‘And I say again – this must be your last visit. You do not want to fall into the hands of Martin Gaunt. Nor do you want Matthew falling into the hands of Martin Gaunt.’
A cold hand gripped my heart. No – I didn’t.
He continued. ‘Chief Farrell can, I am certain, look after himself and has not, as yet, brought himself to the attention of the authorities, but you and Markham are wanted criminals. As are Dr Bairstow and Mrs Brown. Be aware Pennyroyal and Smallhope are not the only bounty hunters on the block.’
I nodded. Shit – this was just going from bad to worse.
‘Will you return to the Time Police – once you’re finished at St Mary’s?’
‘My course of action is not clear at the moment.’
I took a chance. ‘Who does Captain Hyssop work for?’
‘An excellent question to which I do not have the answer. She appears to be a genuine Army officer with eleven years’ service. Distinguished service. If St Mary’s could only realise how lucky they are to have her as their new Head of Security, everyone’s life – especially mine – would be a lot easier. On an unrelated subject, I suspect either Chief Farrell has been conducting the longest field trial in history, or he hasn’t yet succeeded in finding a home for your Archive. He needs to wrap that up and return to St Mary’s. As for you – try to stay out of my sight.’
He unlocked the door and left.
I sat on the bed and had a think.
Five minutes later I went down to see Guthrie in his office.
‘Have you got a minute?’
He closed his tablet. ‘My spreadsheet doesn’t balance so of course I do.’
‘Did you know about all this?’
He knew exactly what I meant by all this. ‘Some, yes.’
‘Did Leon?’
‘Everyone was briefed on their own particular role.’
Except me. I hadn’t been briefed on anything.
‘So only trusted people were briefed on their “particular role”?’
He didn’t answer. Which was answer enough.
‘Never mind,’ I said. ‘I can ask Leon.’
Who turned up about five minutes later.
Another one with a beard. He looked well and healthy. I walked into his arms and we stayed together for a long time. He felt good. He smelled good. Eventually, I lifted my head and smiled at him. ‘Where’s Matthew?’
‘With Professor Penrose. They’re both fine.’
‘And Mikey and Adrian?’
‘The same. They’re all fine. They’ll be along later. Me coming ahead was their idea of being tactful.’
There was something in his voice. ‘How are you, Leon?’
He sighed from the depths of his soul. ‘There are no words to describe my suffering.’
‘Oh dear,’ I said, patting him, because that always helps.
‘The four of them . . .’
‘Four?’ I said, startled.
‘Oh, come on, Max. As if you don’t know Professor Penrose is as bad as the other three put together. You have no idea how many times I personally have saved the world.’
‘Well, the world is very grateful. As am I. Perhaps there’s some way I can show my gratitude.’ I tickled his neck.
He closed his eyes. ‘I spent all last week dissuading Mikey from inventing a portable time-travelling device that could end the world. None of the other three supported my well-presented arguments. In fact, none of them were any help at all. Sometimes I think I’m just a lone voice in the wilderness, struggling against a tsunami of irresponsible enthusiasm – or possibly enthusiastic irresponsibility – and now all I want to do is sit quietly and stare at a wall.’
I patted him again because it seemed to be helping. ‘You poor thing.’
‘You’ve no idea.’
‘What can I do to end your torment?’
‘Alcohol,’ he said, which wasn’t what I’d had in mind at all but I forgave him because he was obviously suffering.
And yes, I did go downstairs and bring him back a nice bottle of wine. And a ginormous ham sandwich, because sometimes even a hero can’t handle full-on head-banging sex and needs a ham sandwich instead.
While he was building up his strength with that and two glasses of wine – so that his wife could dangerously deplete his energy levels again, he said – I had a grumble about Treadwell.
‘And after what she did to Clerk and Prentiss at Babylon, why is Hyssop even still walking the earth?’
Leon sighed. ‘Are we going to waste our short time together talking about those two?’
‘Sorry. Can’t help it.’
‘I think you’re selling him short, Max. If he really is Time Police, he’s doing a cracking job of protecting St Mary’s. No,’ he continued, as I prepared to annihilate him on the spot. ‘I know you resent Treadwell giving Hyssop’s team all the top jobs over Evans’ team, but think about it. It’s Hyssop’s people who are never at St Mary’s. If something unfortunate were to threaten the unit, then it’s Evans’ team who’ll deal with it. I suspect that, like you, Treadwell’s not sure who Hyssop is working for. By getting her and her team out of St Mary’s at every opportunity, he’s leaving the people we do trust on site and in charge. And don’t worry about the History Department. Sands is more than capable of keeping them safe. Hyssop’s people might kid themselves they’re providing Security but they’re not. Sands takes an extra historian along on every jump just to keep an eye on the Security Section, instead of vice versa, and it’s working well so far. If Evans had refrained from participating in World Naked Gardening Day, he’d be there still. I can’t believe he did that. He left Treadwell no choice other than to sack him.’
‘He did it on purpose,’ I said, thoughtfully.
‘Who? Evans or Treadwell?’
‘Evans,’ I said. ‘And possibly Treadwell. It’s wheels within wheels.’
And it was. For all my enthusiasm over his relocation, I’d been worried Dr Bairstow might be a little exposed in 1893 and now, suddenly, here was Evans. Another one manipulated out of St Mary’s at the perfect time. Were we all just pawns? Given just the right amount of information to do the job and no more? And in my case – almost no information at all.
‘I’m just a pawn,’ I said to Leon.
He smiled and kissed my hand. ‘Pawns turn into queens.’
‘Unless they’re sacrificed for the greater good.’
He suddenly looked worried. ‘Max . . .’
I wasn’t going to let my gripes about being outside the loop ruin our time together. ‘I know. Don’t worry about it. It’s good to see you again.’
‘And you.’ He looked around. ‘Nice room. What’s the bed like?’
‘I don’t know. Don’t laugh – I haven’t actually been in it yet.’
‘In that case . . .’
Someone thumped erratically at the door.
Leon uttered a heartfelt groan. ‘Your son is here.’
I grinned, warned him I’d give him something to really groan about later – if he was lucky – and went to open the door to Matthew.
We spent a lovely evening together. Professor Penrose looked no different. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, he was plainly enjoying life on the run.
‘Max, my dear, how are you? No need to ask – as radiant as ever. Perhaps because you’ve been away from Leon for so long. My dear, are you sure you’ve made the right choice there? If you should change your mind, you have but to utter and I will happily lay the world at your feet.’
Leon turned his head. ‘Professor, are you still trying to steal my wife?’
‘And succeeding, I think. She’s looking very impressed. What do you say, Max?’
‘I’m tempted, professor. Very tempted. It’s not as if Leon’s ever offered to lay the world at my feet.’ I linked my arm through his. ‘Tell me more.’
Wisely, Ian had parked us all at a table in the corner. Where we couldn’t upset his proper customers, he said, and for heaven’s sake, keep an eye on those two.
Those two – Mikey and Adrian – astonishingly tidy for the occasion, grinned in what they mistakenly considered to be an endearing manner. Professor Penrose very kindly talked to them for most of the evening, leaving Matthew to tell me what he’d been up to.
There was a lot of laughing and joking which didn’t completely disguise the strain we were all under. By unspoken consent we talked of nothing important. I drank rather a lot of wine. I told Leon he had some difficult decisions to make regarding the world and the laying at my feet thereof. Although my grammar became rather entangled.
Leon and I spent the night together at the Arms. The others returned to the pod under the dubious supervision of Professor Penrose. And for those still interested – Leon laid more than the world at my feet. Several times, actually.
Matthew joined us for breakfast. Somewhere along the way he’d encountered Mr Evans who had allowed him to carry his bag. Matthew staggered in, red-faced with effort and completely unwilling to admit it was too heavy for him. A grinning Evans was on his heels. I tried hard to unsee Evans as I’d last seen him.
I put my hands on my hips. ‘Seriously? World Naked Gardening Day?’
Evans smirked. ‘An important event in every gardener’s calendar. Like propagating your corms or pinching out your trusses.’
How does the Security Section manage to make even gardening sound slightly improper? I blame Markham. ‘I don’t see why any of that needed to be done in the nude.’
‘Letting the air in,’ he said, innocently. ‘Opening my pores. Beneficial effects of sunlight. Reducing the risk of mildew. Or black spot. I asked Mrs Mack if she’d ever considered hosting World Naked Cooking Day.’
Yes, I know I shouldn’t have asked but I just couldn’t help myself. No one could. ‘And what did she say?’
‘Actually, Max, she was unexpectedly enthusiastic. Although she was manipulating an electric carving knife in a way that was making my eyes water so I decided to give any further discussion a miss.’ He grinned at me. ‘So how are you?’
‘Virtually speechless,’ I said, my mind running on electric carving knives and trusses.
He grinned complacently. ‘Then my work here is done.’
I’d forgotten Big Ears flapping away at my side.
Matthew plucked at my sleeve. ‘Did Uncle Evans really take all his clothes off?’
‘No,’ I said, lying to my child without a second thought.
‘What’s a pore?’
‘It’s how your skin breathes.’
‘Why does he need to open his pores?’
‘He doesn’t.’
‘But he said . . .’
To continue the gardening theme – I decided to nip this in the bud.
‘Uncle Evans’ pores are open enough. In fact, they positively gape. His pores are actually the size of Tycho Crater.’
‘Does he really have mildew?’
‘I don’t know but it would account for a lot.’
‘Is Aunty Mack really having World Naked Cooking Day? Will we all have to take our clothes off?’
Leon had had this for months. Together with Mikey and Adrian as well. He really is a hero.
I have to say Evans didn’t seem too upset at being chucked out of St Mary’s. He told me he was following a proud tradition. Leon rolled his eyes again.
I had a lovely hour with Matthew after breakfast. Just the two of us in the pub garden. He chatted happily, describing some of his adventures, and I began to perceive I’d underestimated Leon’s suffering. And I suspect I was getting the ‘edited for Mum’ version. But I was thrilled to see how much his vocabulary had improved. And his social skills. And his manners. And he’d grown again. He was now nearly tall enough to look me in the eye which seemed very strange.
