The Good, The Bad and The History by Jodi Taylor EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Jodi Taylor
- Language: English
- Genre: Time Travel Science Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
There were two of them. Smiling, pleasant, devious, almost certainly lying
through their teeth and definitely not to be taken at face value.
So that made three of us, then.
I was being interviewed in Sick Bay, which, I hoped, would confirm my
credentials as a very sick person who shouldn’t be bullied.
Neither of them were in uniform, and although I’m now so old that
policemen are beginning to look positively embryonic, these two were around
my own age, which probably meant they’d be patient, experienced and
tenacious. Or perhaps they’d been brought in to reassure a nervous patient.
The nervous patient sat up straight, smoothed her covers and endeavoured
to look frail and helpless but – above all – law-abiding.
‘Good morning,’ said the elder of the two, flashing his ID. ‘Detective
Inspector Ivaan Mendis, and this is Lt Den Trasker, representing the military
police. I expect you can guess why we’re here.’
I nodded. Leon had warned me to keep my answers short and to the point
and, most importantly, not to argue with anyone. I don’t know why he
thought I would.
They pulled up a chair each and sat down at my bedside. Not close enough
to be intimidating but just that little bit too close. Invading my personal space
but being very nice about it.
‘Good morning,’ said Trasker, carefully seating himself on my right.
Mendis was on my left – all cleverly designed to split my attention. ‘Do you
mind if we call you Nicola?’
‘Of course not, Den,’ I said cheerfully. There was a more than slight pause
and then we began again.
‘Let’s start with the easy stuff, shall we?’ said Mendis, placing his recorder
on my bedside table. ‘Name?’
‘Nicola Hay,’ I said tremblingly. The very picture of someone who knew
nothing but wanted to cooperate.
‘And your occupation?’
‘Library assistant.’
He’d placed his recorder so the blinking green recording light was just at
the very periphery of my vision. Very irritating. And distracting.
‘Where do you work?’
‘Here – at St Mary’s. In the Library.’
‘And how long have you worked here?’
Shit. I didn’t know. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
I said, ‘Um . . . let me see . . .’ and began to do complicated sums on my
fingers, whispering, ‘November . . . no, December . . .’ until Peterson, who
had demanded to be present at every interview to ensure any and all questions
related solely to the Treadwell incident, said, ‘About four years, I think.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Still a bit hazy. You know . . .’ and tailed away as if my
strength was failing me.
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