Hard Time (The Time Police, #2)

by Jodi Taylor

‘Last time I saw her she was alternately pissed off at missing the assassination of Julius Caesar and laughing herself sick at Time Police stupidity.’

No, I think our best plan will be to locate her with all speed and then adapt ourselves to whatever circumstances are prevailing at the time, devising and executing a simple but effective plan to achieve our primary goal.’ Matthew eyed him suspiciously. ‘You mean make it all up as we go.’ ‘Pretty much, yeah.’

Pod, provide a description of Imogen Farnborough’s clothing.’ The AI responded. ‘A long blue dress.’ They waited. After a while it dawned on them that no more information would be forthcoming. Luke rolled his eyes. ‘Is that it?’ ‘I do possess supplementary information.’ ‘And what is that?’ ‘Supplementary information is information that is supplementary.’

Someone crashed into her, knocking her to the ground. Time Police procedures are very clear about lying on the ground in the middle of a street fight. Don’t.

Imogen looked up in alarm. ‘Mummy’s not there, is she?’ ‘No, no,’ said Luke reassuringly. ‘Just a couple of heavily armed officers waiting for an excuse to blast you into oblivion.’ ‘That’s a relief.’

Not that the Time Police cared about major historical events – they were there solely for the purposes of navigation and finding one’s way around the Time Map. Because, according to the Time Police, it was Time that was important. History – less so. Without Time, history could not exist. Time was the structure – history simply the furniture therein.

Discretion and caution were conspicuous by their absence.

‘No, not really. He’s growing up fast and seems to be able to hold his own these days. Have you noticed – he’s even quite chatty sometimes? Two, sometimes three sentences.’

‘Of course. It’s to warn of invasion. You know – the Scots, the French, the parliamentarians, the Jacobites and so on. Archie’s currently locked in mortal combat with the Inland Revenue and we’ll use it to warn of their approach.’ ‘So you can start heating the boiling oil and winding up the trebuchet.’ She frowned severely. ‘You can’t fire missiles at the Inland Revenue.’ ‘Sorry.’ ‘You can’t get clearance over the walls. The angles are wrong.’

Archie says that even today most of the aristocracy look to see what the Norths are doing, then head firmly in the opposite direction.’

she commands the Time Police and anyone attempting to implement any course of action without her knowledge, let alone her consent, will have an excellent opportunity to observe just how unpleasant she can be when she really puts her mind to it.

He’s exactly the sort of heedless, selfish, not very bright but extremely rich person they’re looking for.’ Matthew grinned at Luke who said, ‘Yes, there’s been a lot of discussion along those lines over the last forty-eight hours.’ He looked at his teammates. ‘No one held back.’

‘I’m the forty-fourth woman in this room?’ ‘We’ve covered this, Jane. At least forty-two and a half of them would have been next door with me. Although not all at once, before you form an inflated idea of my talents.

Her bathroom had passed luxurious and was approaching sumptuous. There were fixtures and fittings in there of whose purpose she had no idea.

Jane picked up her expensive new handbag. ‘Next time we go anywhere together you go alone.’

As Markham said afterwards – it was like the Pied Piper. But with no rats. And no Pied Piper. But other than that, identical.

‘Then we’d better not blunder,’ said Max. ‘Tricky,’ said Leon. ‘Blundering is the History Department’s default state.’

‘So,’ said Max, an hour later. ‘To recap . . .’ ‘Good briefing, by the way,’ said Markham to Matthew. ‘Can tell you’re not an historian.’ Max scowled. ‘If I could continue . . .’ Markham amiably waved his permission.

She stared at him. ‘That’s a thing?’ ‘It will be when I do it. Har-har, me hearties. Shiver me timber.’ ‘We’ve had this conversation before,’ said Peterson. ‘There isn’t a person on the planet who would touch your timber – far less shiver it.’

‘I don’t hate you. I am constantly battling the urge to slap you senseless, but no, I don’t hate you.’

‘You’re not allowed to die, Charlie. I refuse to have bad news brought to me by anyone other than you.’ His voice was still very weak but he made a heroic attempt. ‘In that case, ma’am, I shall make every effort to do the not-dying thing.’

‘Get better soon, Charlie. The front of the building looks like a bomb site and most of our garden has fallen into the river. The press are all over us and the Corporation is out for blood. I need you on it.’ ‘With that incentive, ma’am . . . how could I fail to make a spectacular recovery?’

On the other side of the wall, the very young lieutenant currently standing in for Captain Farenden listened to the rising voices and redoubled his prayers for Captain Farenden’s complete – but above all, immediate – recovery.

Finally, Luke said, ‘You do know that nothing pisses people off more than a doctor who’s always right, don’t you?’ ‘Yeah,’ said the doctor, covering the bowl again. ‘There’s a lot of pissed-off people in this world. Happy to think you’re one of them.’

He sighed. ‘You suck all the joy out of life, Jane. Have you ever considered a career in Health and Safety?’

Mentally discarding most of the morning’s business, he carefully pulled out a file, waited a moment or two and then coughed. ‘Good God, Charlie, don’t do that.’ ‘Sorry, ma’am.’ ‘Had you been there long?’ ‘Quite a long time, ma’am.’ ‘Why the hell didn’t you cough or something?’ ‘I believe I did.’

‘No, ma’am. Apparently, it was felt – by Trainee Lockland – that a six-foot-four, sixteen-stone Time Police officer with the social skills of a T-rex with barbed-wire-encased haemorrhoids, and in possession of enough weaponry to level a street, would . . . induce . . . the officials to regard Mrs Chubb’s predicament in a kindly and timely manner.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Tell me Lt Grint has not razed these civilian premises to the ground.’ ‘Not . . . quite, ma’am.’ ‘Oh God.’

He paused for them both to get their heads around the words Grint, imaginative and sensitive together in the same sentence.