8

Technically speaking, the Time Police are on duty 24/7. Perpetually poised to swing into action at a moment’s notice. Though there aren’t that many emergencies because, as one of their many instructors had patiently explained over and over again during training, ‘It’s time travel, people. It doesn’t matter what time you set out – it’s the time you arrive that’s important.’

The alarm bell was designed to wake the dead. All over London the dead would rise from their graves shouting, ‘Turn that bloody thing off, will you?’

That was Matthew Farrell’s first thought this evening. That the dead had risen. He sat bolt upright in his bed wondering what the hell was happening. Even Luke Parrish – never at his best when first emerging from slumber – was standing outside his door mumbling, ‘What the bloody hell . . .’ or would have been had anyone actually been able to hear him.

Yet another layer of sound elbowed its way into the already deafening racket. ‘All officers report to the main briefing room. All officers report to the main briefing room. All officers report to the main briefing room.’

All along the corridor, officers were tumbling from their cubicles, pulling on their clothing as they went.

Jane kicked her legs clear of the covers and grabbed for her uniform. Emerging from her cubicle she collided with Matthew, who was emerging from his. The last officers were disappearing through the door at the end of the corridor.

He shouted, ‘Where’s Parrish?’ and she nodded her head towards his cubicle. Parrish had retreated back into his room, scratching his head and yawning and generally displaying the signs of one who intended to take all the time in the world.

Farrell thumped on his half-open door. ‘Parrish – come on.’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’ He looked vaguely around.

Farrell withdrew his head, shouting over the din, ‘We’ll have to go without him.’

‘We can’t.’

‘We have to. He’s going to be late; there’s no reason he should make us late as well.’ He pushed her down the passageway towards the lift.

‘Matthew, any idea what’s going on?’

‘No idea, but by the time we get there it’ll probably all be over with. Parrish probably has the right idea after all.’

Lockland’s private thoughts were that whatever it was, no one was likely to want them to be involved anyway.

They followed the others down to the briefing room, slipping in through the door just as the alarms were shut off. Blessed silence fell. People arranged themselves in teams as their officers ranged up and down ticking off names.

‘Where is everyone?’ whispered Lockland, looking around.

Farrell shrugged. ‘Not here, obviously. Maybe they’ve already gone on ahead.’

North was doing a head count. Turning to Lt Grint, she announced, ‘Twelve, sir. Including trainees.’

‘Should be thirteen, North.’