They were the usual standard team of four. Stefan Kohl, with his very blond hair, who was very nearly as silent as Farrell and known, for never satisfactorily explained reasons, as Socko; Alan Hansen, laconic and slow-speaking, who hoped, on completion of his six months’ gruntwork, to be assigned to the Pod Bay; Marco Rossi, dark and intense, with a smile as big as he was, whom she had rather liked during training; and the infamous Alek Anders, massive and very useful to hide behind in times of crisis.

North sat at the console. ‘Awaiting the word, sir.’

‘Consider it given.’

‘Jump procedures commenced, sir.’

The world flickered and then settled again.

9

9

Everyone clustered around the screens.

‘Remember,’ said Grint, who, for all his many faults, was an experienced officer and knew what he was doing, ‘no one and nothing here is on our side. The Medjay, the tomb robbers themselves, lions, snakes, scorpions and so on. The terrain is rough – watch your footing. Don’t raise your voice and do not shine a light. Night visors if you need them. Our usual procedures. Quick and quiet. Stun anyone who isn’t us. Try not to kill anyone. We don’t want to upset St Mary’s delicate sensibilities.’

All eyes went to Farrell again and someone sniggered. Again, he stared solidly at Grint, showing no reaction and saying nothing. Wise, thought Jane, beginning to appreciate his strategy. She turned her attention back to Grint, who hadn’t finished.

‘Hansen, you’ll remain with the pod to coordinate. Keep your eyes peeled and inform me of any activity in the area. Switch internals to night mode. Night vision, lads.’

They pulled down their visors.

‘Let’s go.’

Kohl and Rossi exited the pod and vanished into the darkness. The rest of them awaited the word: ‘Proximities show all clear, sir. Clear to disembark.’

Grint gave the word and they disembarked.

Jane trotted down the ramp, behind Parrish and ahead of Matthew. She was very aware of her own thumping heart. This was their first real assignment – no one counted Henry Plimpton. Even they didn’t count Henry Plimpton. Still, at least they hadn’t been told to remain behind and ‘guard the pod’. The traditional instruction for no-hopers. But given their lack of a leader, team cohesion and experience, exactly why were they here?

The thought occurred to her – was she to be frightened out of the Time Police? Was this their way of getting rid of her? She’d done well in the theory part of her training, but if she didn’t measure up physically then they still had grounds for dismissing her. Or what if she performed so badly, they had no choice but to let her go? How shameful was that? The Time Police took just about anyone who could fire a gun. Rumour had it there were several clean-up crews who hadn’t yet mastered speech. Jane squared her shoulders and trotted down the ramp.