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Oh, I was on to him. No way was I letting Fawkes take all the credit for killing Sergei.
In the back of my sleep-deprived, concussed head, a teeny, tiny voice was yelling at me to think about this. But even if I had listened to it, I wouldn't have dropped Bryan in it like that.
So, really, at this stage, it didn't matter that I said, "We both decided it was the wisest course of action."
"'Wisest course of action,'" Anderson repeated. "You incapacitated your government-appointed escorts, exited the Vehicle against a government-appointed mandate, and proceeded into contemporary time, firing a non-contemporary weapon at this man" — he indicated Ivanov with a wave of his hand — "and killing him. Did you even know who you were shooting at?"
"Of course, I knew. This man" — I used a wave of my hand at Ivanov like Anderson just had to indicate who I was referring to — "killed my parents and twin sister! He was the direct cause of the death of a good friend of mine! And he's the reason why I'm here instead of at university finishing my Ph.D! Well, actually, I might be more responsible for not completing that, but heisresponsible for me being here at RATS, in this time. So, you see, he really had it coming, didn't he?"
"Yes, I suppose he did," Anderson said agreeably. "Did you say 'inthis time', Dr Wylde?"
"Um..." I was starting to feel a little off colour and I didn't think I could blame it all on the concussion or the multitude of bruises covering a good portion of my body. "I don't think so," I said.
"Our entire conversation has been recorded," Anderson pointed out.
"Oh," I said, not sure what else to add to that and thinking — belatedly — that I should probably shut the fuck up now.
Anderson looked down at Sergei Ivanov. "The best you could hope for is manslaughter."
Self-defence, I wanted to argue, but now I couldn't seem to speak to save myself.
"In some courts, you may even be accused of murder."
It was Sergei Bloody Ivanov! He'd killed dozens of people. Nearly destroyed Time itself. Stole expensive RATS equipment;governmentequipment. They should be thanking me!
"Of course, as you are, by your own words, 'out of time', it would be a simple thing to remove you from the equation altogether. RATS has enough of an uphill battle to get their finances under control and appease Parliament. It doesn't need the added pressure of the public prosecution of one of its Interns for murder."
Self-defence, my mind whispered to me.
"I have a solution," Anderson went on. "Let's sweep it all under the rug, shall we? I can't say I'm looking forward to reporting all of this to the Prime Minister." He looked decidedly pale at that idea. "So, we'll help each other out, Dr Wylde. What do you say?"
I stared at him, my heart thundering inside my chest, my head aching at the increase in blood pressure. I'd fucked up. I knew it. Even concussed and time-travel induced exhausted, I knew I'd fucked up severely.
"Don't send me back," I whispered.
"What was that? Never mind." He pulled a communicator out and brought the device to his lips. "Dr Harding, if you and Dr Pratt wouldn't mind joining me in the hangar, I have a task for you."
"On our way, Director."
Director? Anderson put the device away. "A new title, I'm trying out," he told me. "What do you think? It has a certain ring to it, doesn't it?"
"Why Harding and Pratt?" I asked.
"Oh, no particular reason. Other than the fact that they have proven themselves to be very helpful on occasion. Actually, the last report I received from Dr Harding was about your supposed qualifications. You're notreallya doctor, are you?"
"Don't do this," I said. "You're making a mistake."
All affability left his features. His face turned stone cold.
"No, Miss Wylde, if this is a mistake, it is all of your own making. You are simply out of time. All I'm doing is correcting the error."
