‘You’re also supposed to be a Time Police officer – intelligent, loyal, dedicated and hard-working. How’s that working out for you so far?’

Aware that he was, once again, on a disciplinary charge for reporting in late, Parrish sighed heavily.

‘Problem, Parrish?’

‘Well, I was hoping for something a little more exciting. You know – tomb robbers, or someone trying to kidnap Genghis Khan or, you know . . .’

‘No, I don’t know. Enlighten me.’

‘. . . Illegal time travel. You know – a chance to kick some arse. I mean, a lottery ticket is hardly world-ending, is it?’

More silence indicated that it wasn’t just some hapless time traveller who was about to get his arse kicked.

‘If I might continue . . .’

Parrish indicated he might do so with his goodwill.

Taking a deep breath, Ellis soldiered on.

‘It would appear our Mr Plimpton has built something naughty, either in his spare bedroom or in his garden shed, and now he’s working the lottery ticket scam.’

‘Um . . .’ said Lockland, scarlet-faced, and hesitantly raised her hand.

‘You don’t need to do that, Lockland – just ask your question.’

‘Um . . . how do we know this, sir?’

‘Radiation signature. Homemade machines always have a radiation problem. Those unfortunates who manage to avoid our attention invariably die horribly sooner or later. Which shouldn’t be a problem – in a perfect world we could just leave them to glow in the dark and then expire – but the subsequent pod explosion could possibly level a small town. And, of course, their inevitably messy end rarely occurs before they’ve bounced around the timeline leaving chaos and disaster in their wake. Hence the need to get them out of circulation as quickly as possible. Our plan is to apprehend Mr Plimpton, locate his machine, identify the coordinates and send in a clean-up crew.’

Lockland’s head snapped up. ‘A clean-up crew? What for?’

Clean-up crews are bad news. They do exactly what it says on the tin.

‘To destroy the pod. To ensure no trace remains. Nothing that can be ever used again. Total destruction.’

‘And Plimpton?’ enquired Parrish.

‘We bring him back here and hand him over.’

‘And then?’

There was a pause. ‘Not our concern.’

There was silence in the room.

‘Did you not cover this in training?’

They nodded.

‘Then you already know. Time travel is against the law. It is our job to uphold the law. We arrest the perpetrators and bring them back here so the law can take its course. What will happen to Plimpton afterwards is not our concern any more than what happens to criminals after their trial concerns the civilian police. If he’s found guilty, then he will be punished according to the law. If he’s not, then he’ll be returned whence he came.’ He stared at them thoughtfully. ‘Should I be anticipating any difficulties?’

‘Not from me,’ said Parrish.

Farrell silently shook his head.

After a moment, Lockland shook hers.