Lies, Damned Lies, and History(44)

‘Where did he go?’

Roberts turned around. ‘Back into the cave, presumably. Anyone want to go in to look?’

There was no reply. No one moved. I personally wouldn’t have gone in there to save my life. I remembered that no one had entered the cave when the sword was first presented. Not allowed in then – not allowed in now.

The white mist swirled. Water dripped. We stood at the entrance to another world … To linger would not be wise.

We ran. Well, as best as one pregnant woman, one man with a weak arm, one man with a bionic foot, a perky-eared security guard, and a beardless Welshman can run.

The drive back to St Mary’s was accomplished in silence.

We were met by Major Guthrie who arrested us.





Chapter Ten

The gates were already open as we approached. We did not make the mistake of assuming this was a welcoming gesture.

We crawled slowly up the drive, listening to the loose stones bouncing off the bottom of the car, and pulled into the car park. Roberts switched off the engine and we sat in the sudden silence.

‘Now what?’ said Sands.

The question was answered for us.

Major Guthrie appeared and he wasn’t alone. Evans, Cox, Gallaccio, and Keller were with him. None of them looked very friendly.

On the plus side, there was no sign of the police.

‘Come on,’ said Peterson. ‘I’d rather go to him than have him come to us.’

We set off across the car park to where a bleak-faced Guthrie was waiting.

We stood before him in silence.

Finally, he said, ‘You are all under arrest.’

We nodded.

‘My first choice was to march you all through the building in handcuffs, but I have been instructed to tell you that if you give me a promise of good behaviour, then you will be spared that particular humiliation.’

I said, ‘I agree.’

‘What about the rest of you?’

‘Max speaks for us all,’ said Peterson quietly.

Never had Dr Bairstow’s office seemed so far away.

We were walked through the building.

Through Hawking, where expressionless techies watched us go by. I couldn’t see Leon anywhere.

Down the long corridor, passing from patches of bright light to deepest shade, it struck me suddenly that my whole life had been like that.

Past the kitchen, where Mrs Mack and her team clustered in the doorway as we passed.

Past Wardrobe, where people stuck their heads out of doors as we approached.

Through the Great Hall, where silent historians were lined up to watch us. Clerk and Prentiss stood together, saying nothing. Sykes looked distressed. I guessed she’d been yelling at someone, but whether she was for or against us was anyone’s guess. Atherton sat quietly at his data stack, his face giving nothing away. North straightened up, folded her arms, and glared at us. We climbed the stairs, our footsteps sounding very loud in the unaccustomed quiet. Nobody said a word.

We walked past R&D where a troubled-looking Professor Rapson opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it again. Someone plucked at his sleeve, Dr Dowson was my guess – and he turned away.

Past what wasn’t going to be my office for very much longer.

Past Peterson’s – ditto – and, finally, to our destination. Dr Bairstow’s office. Major Guthrie tapped once and went in.

We were made to wait.

We lined up in Mrs Partridge’s office, waiting to go in. No one spoke. I could faintly hear voices in his office. Mrs Partridge busied herself at her desk and ignored us.

I looked at us all – exhausted, muddy, thirsty, shocked – and made my voice as firm as I could.

‘We expected this. We went into it with our eyes open. There’s no choice now but to accept whatever comes our way.’

They nodded.

The door opened. Major Guthrie jerked his head, indicating we should enter.

We entered carefully and he closed the door behind him on his way out. I could feel my heart knocking against my ribs. It was evening by now, and the curtains were pulled across the window. The overhead light seemed dazzling. I trod across the familiar faded carpet and stood in front of his desk. His old clock ticked away in the corner as we waited for him to end our time at St Mary’s.

It seemed an age before he spoke. ‘Explain your actions.’

I gave it to him briefly, not bothering with excuses or justifications, taking full responsibility for my team’s actions.

When I’d finished, he said nothing, his face expressionless, gazing at each of us in turn. I swallowed hard and forced myself to stare back again.

Roberts was visibly shaking. Nerves. Emotion. Fear. The effort of keeping it all inside. I don’t know.

‘I understand you regard yourselves as a team. Very well. I shall deal with you as such.’