‘A car … and some big guns for Bob.’ Liam glanced up at the support unit and grinned. ‘He does like rather big guns.’
‘Affirmative.’
Maddy planted her hands on the table. ‘And we need to get going soon … I mean, like, in the next hour.’
‘Who’s going?’ asked Sal. ‘We can’t all go, can we? Doesn’t someone have to stay here?’
Maddy nodded. Sal was quite right. Somebody needed to stay right here to coordinate the opening of a return window.
‘Well, obviously you need to stay, Mads,’ said Liam. ‘We need you here to organize it all. Me, Bob and Becks can do this. The pair of ’em are an army between them, more than a match for anyone, so they are.’
‘Let me come with you,’ said Sal.
Liam shook his head. ‘It’ll be dangerous. You’d be best staying here.’
‘I’m always here! I’m always safe – I never get to do anything!’ She turned to Maddy, looking to her for support. ‘This time, please … let me do something more than just watching for things!’
‘Liam’s right … There may be shots fired if they have to –’
‘I should be dead anyway, right?’ said Sal. ‘All of us should be! I should have been burned to death in Mumbai with my family. But I’m here now. So … every day is an extra. Every day is bonus time. And what’s the point if all I ever do is sit here and do nothing useful?’
‘You are useful, Sal. You’re very useful. You’re our early warning system!’ said Maddy.
‘I want to do more!’ Sal folded her arms. ‘I need to do more.’
Maddy gazed down at the wooden table in silence, glanced at the time on her wristwatch. It was gone twelve o’clock. Throughout today things across America were going to happen quickly. Right now, somewhere amid the panicking corridors of power, a FEMA-directed order was being issued to suspend all aeroplane flights across the entire nation. President Bush was in Airforce One in a holding pattern escorted by two F16 fighters. The Pentagon was on fire. Vice President Dick Cheney was sitting out the unfolding crisis in the Presidential Emergency Operating Center in the basement of the White House.
And Abraham Lincoln was – if Sal was right, if she had seen him in the back of that black van – undoubtedly being taken down to the FBI’s headquarters in Washington to be interrogated. He was probably already on the interstate, heading south through New Jersey.
‘OK …’ she said presently, ‘OK, this is what we’re doing. No need to drive down there. We’re going to open a window down there, right now, right outside the entrance to the FBI’s place. Not a time jump … just a location jump.’
She looked across the archway towards the computer desk. Becks was standing beside it, motionless and engaged in a silent Bluetooth conversation with computer-Bob. ‘Just as soon as we’ve got information on the layout and some coordinates we can use.’ She turned back to look at the others.
‘Liam … you and Bob and, OK, you too, Sal, you’re going down there and can watch the traffic going in. If you spot him, if you actually see this black van and Lincoln gawping out of the back window and think there’s an opportunity to snatch him … then you just go for it, OK?’
The three of them nodded.
‘Meanwhile, me and Becks and computer-Bob, we need to pool data. We need to get every piece of information we can on how all the terror suspects were moved around in the first week after today: where they’re being held, how they’re moved … so on and so on.’ She shrugged. ‘If you guys miss him, then we’re going to need to build up a picture of where all the terror suspects are being held during today. If we lose him, if we let the trail grow too cold, we may never find him again. I hate to think where that’s going to take us. I suspect we’re lucky that history’s only tweaked itself so far.’ She pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose noisily.
‘Sheesh … and God knows how long that’s going to last.’
CHAPTER 23
2001, New York
Half an hour later Bob, Liam and Sal stood in the middle of the archway’s floor, just outside a faint hand-drawn circle of chalk, four foot in diameter. Within the circle the concrete floor was gone, or, more accurately, scooped out, leaving a shallow crater as if an impossibly large bowling ball had been dropped from the ceiling.
Maddy hated the sight of it. They’d refilled the small crater several times; she’d even bought a cheap throw rug to cover it. But several times now they’d had to open a portal in the middle of the archway – ‘going dry’, that was their term for it. Going dry because there’d not been enough time to fill the displacement tube with water.
‘Now let’s see …’ Maddy looked at her watch. ‘It’s nearly twelve thirty now. If the FBI grabbed Lincoln just after nine-thirty, it’s what? … A three- maybe four-hour drive down Interstate 95 all the way south into Virginia?’
‘Correct,’ said Becks. ‘That would be my calculation.’
‘So I’ve set the coordinates for the slip road off Interstate 95 that leads to the grounds of the FBI Academy at Quantico. It’s a pretty discreet, quiet spot. Russell Road. There’s a checkpoint where every vehicle has to slow down and stop; you gotta show some ID and stuff. That’s maybe the best place for you guys to keep watch.’
She hunched over the desk and tapped at the keyboard as she spoke. ‘I’m not bumping you backwards or forwards in time – it’s just a straight spatial transposition. You should be there at that checkpoint before the van arrives.’ She glanced back at Sal. ‘If, that is, you’re absolutely sure you saw Lincoln in the back of it.’
Sal’s hesitant nod wasn’t entirely reassuring.
‘OK, then.’ She clicked the mouse on a dialogue box and tapped in a one-minute countdown.
‘What about a return window?’ asked Liam. ‘Do we not need to agree on a –’
Maddy rolled her eyes. ‘See the mysterious-looking contraption Sal’s holding?’
Liam turned to look at her. She grinned as she held out her hand, the mobile phone sitting on her palm.
‘Just gimme a call, OK? And I’ll bring you right back home. No need for funky fossils or ancient parchments this time.’
‘Oh.’ Liam looked sheepish. ‘Right … yes, of course.’
‘And look, Bob, if that van looks like it’s full of SWAT guys wearing Kevlar vests and packing big guns, then don’t be a dummy. You may be a tough brute, but you’re not invincible.’
‘I will operate within acceptable risk parameters.’
She looked at Liam. ‘It’s your decision to make, OK? If you feel it’s too dangerous, then we can figure out something else. At the very least we’ll know where they’re holding him and we can work out some other plan of action.’
‘Aye.’
‘OK … so everyone good to go?’ She checked the screen. ‘Twenty seconds.’ The displacement machine’s hum began to rise in pitch and volume.
‘Careful, guys, OK? Particularly you, Sal. Let the boys do their work.’
Sal sucked in a tremulous breath, clearly excited by the prospect of doing something more proactive than sitting idle and intently watching the world for subtle changes. ‘I will.’
A draught swept across the archway, sending sweet wrappers flying and pizza boxes shifting across the desk. Before them a shimmering sphere of daylight had suddenly pulsed into existence.
‘See you soon,’ Maddy called out above the hum of energy.
Sal waggled her hand as Liam took the first step into the portal.
She watched him vanish, then a moment later Sal, gritting her teeth and wincing as she stepped in, then finally Bob.
‘Close the window, please.’
Computer-Bob obliged and the spherical field collapsed into a single point and vanished.
She sat down beside Becks, facing the dim glow of a row of monitors, all of them showing news feeds from different channels, a variety of live-footage angles of the same thing: the smouldering ruins of the World Trade Center and the dust-covered ghostly faces of a
thousand firemen, paramedics and police officers staring in stunned silence.
A frozen tableau.
The only movement seemed to be the still-fluttering sheets of paper circling restlessly in the sky like a flock of birds taking flight to seek a new home.
CHAPTER 24
2001, Quantico, Virginia
Liam, Bob and Sal squatted down amid the tall grass beneath the shadow of a red cedar tree. At the bottom of the freshly clipped sloping lawn was a single-lane road winding its way anonymously through the woods towards the grounds of the FBI’s academy.
Fifty yards in front of them, a small Portakabin – all scuffed plastic windows and corrugated iron – housed a pair of security guards. Both of them were staring at the glow of a TV on a desk inside. Where they were crouching at the edge of the tree line, on a normal day, the guards would probably have spotted them by now. But today both of them were glued to their television set. A brass band could’ve marched past them and they wouldn’t have noticed.
‘Bob?’ said Liam. ‘If that van does turn up and I give you the order to go and rescue Mr Lincoln, what’s your plan?’
Bob’s eyes narrowed in consideration for a moment. ‘Incapacitate the vehicle first. Then incapacitate any armed guards and proceed with extracting the target from the van.’
‘We want to get our fella out of there unharmed, so we do.’
‘Affirmative,’ he grunted. ‘I will assess the threat of harm to Lincoln and proceed only if the percentage is favourable.’
‘But you’re not going to kill those guards in that hut, are you?’ said Sal, looking at them. ‘They’re just old men.’
Bob frowned at her. ‘If they are an obstruction to the mission objective, they will be a valid target.’
‘Just give ’em one of your battle-roars, Bob,’ said Liam. He nudged Sal gently. ‘You should hear him.’ He’d seen men recoil from it before. A fleeting recollection filled his mind: the front few ranks of an army of veteran knights and grim-faced mercenaries had faltered, albeit for a moment, at the monstrous sight of Bob standing astride a mound of rubble at the base of the breached wall of Nottingham.
That heartbeat moment before the clash of arms, the thundering of thousands of boots, the jangling of a million rings of chain mail, the rising crescendo of every charging man screaming a noise of hate rinsed with fear … but, above all that, there’d been the deep bellow of Bob’s roar, like some sort of grizzly bear calling from one valley to the next.
‘That’ll scare the bejayzus out of them two poor fellas. They’ll scarper like rabbits, so they will.’
‘My size can be intimidating,’ said Bob matter-of-factly. ‘That is a factor that works in my favour.’
‘Do a scary face, Bob,’ said Liam. ‘Something really gnarly.’
‘Scary face?’
‘Yeah … sort of like your angry face, but much more so.’
Bob pulled up a file from memory. His brows suddenly rumpled and joined into the menacing ridge of a monobrow. His thick horse-lips pulled back to reveal a row of teeth that looked like they could stamp holes through sheet metal.
‘You remind me of a big bad-tempered dog that’s had its chewy bone taken away,’ said Sal.
Liam shrugged. ‘Perhaps, but would you hold your ground with a face like that bearing down on you?’
Actually, she imagined, she probably wouldn’t.
The three of them were silent for a while, the only sounds the restful far-off hiss of interstate traffic, the muted burbling of the TV set and the turf-war chirping call of jays and thrushes in the thick branches above them.
‘So tell me – I’m interested – are you happy with how today’s gone?’
Lincoln looked up from his feet at Agent Mead sitting opposite.
‘Is that what makes your day? Hmmm? Killing innocent American civilians?’
Lincoln’s jaw set. ‘I am an American, sir.’
‘Oh yeah? But what? You don’t like the way America is? Is that it? This is your way of changing it for the better, is it?’
‘I have no knowledge of your two towers or who it is that has decided to destroy them.’
‘Right,’ nodded the agent sarcastically. ‘You’re still going with the I’ve come from another time story.’
‘That is the fact of the matter, sir. Yes.’
The agent shrugged. ‘So … then, let’s run with the ball, shall we?’
‘Run with the ball?’
‘Why don’t you tell me your time-travel tale again.’
‘It is no fiction, sir! I live in the year 1831.’
‘1831, eh? I bet this is all pretty weird then, huh?’
Lincoln sensed the man was mocking him. ‘Of course.’ He answered drily. ‘As it would be to you if you had journeyed across one hundred and seventy years of time.’
‘So you must think it’s pretty far out, huh? Spacey? Futuristic?’
The other two men were quietly laughing along with their boss.
‘Well, since you ask, I think this world is decidedly rude. What I have seen of it.’
‘Rude?’ The agent shook his head. ‘That’s priceless.’ He grinned, amused by that. ‘Go on … you’re almost convincing.’
Lincoln was happy to. ‘Although what I have seen of its constructions and devices are quite beyond my comprehension, I do see clearly it is an amoral, selfish world.’
‘Really?’
‘Quite so, sir. And lazy. Why is it that everyone is so fat?’
The van leaned into a turning and then began to slow down.
‘Ah, looks like we’re nearly there,’ said the agent. He smiled coldly at Lincoln. ‘The next bunch of fellas who’ll be asking you questions aren’t going to be quite so indulgent, Abraham. You’re soon going to be thinking of us as the nice guys, trust me.’
Through the partition at the front they could hear the driver talking to someone, a crisp, professional exchange.
‘You’re going to vanish into a dark cell somewhere, Abraham. Every day of the rest of your life is going to be an extremely unpleasant one. And while all that’s going on I want you to think long and hard about what you and your terrorist buddies have done. All the innocent people you’ve wiped out today.’
There was the muffled sound of a voice raised as a challenge, a moment later the crack of a hand-gun.
‘What the –?’
They heard a loud thud against the van, making the whole vehicle rock and a side panel bulge inwards. All three agents began to fumble inside their jackets for their weapons.
The rear door of the van was suddenly wrenched open, blinding daylight spilling inside. Lincoln looked up, his eyes narrowed against the glare, and recognized the outline of the giant he’d seen in that archway yesterday.
The men in suits had their guns out, aimed, and were all shouting in unison at the giant man to raise his hands … when, as one, they simply stopped.
‘Jumping Jeezus … what in God’s name is THAT?’ gasped Agent Mead.
The giant man paused and turned to look round at what they were staring at.
Finally Lincoln did the same. Looking out of the back of the van, he saw it for himself … an impossible sky.
CHAPTER 25
2001, Quantico, Virginia
Liam and Sal stood up together and emerged from beneath the low branches of the cedar tree to get a better look at the rapidly advancing wall of reality, chasing its way towards them across the Virginian countryside.
At first it looked like a whole continental shelf was filling the blue sky, as if the earth’s crust had split and broken and one half of North America was sliding across and engulfing the other. But it wasn’t solid. It churned and changed like a liquid reality as it raced towards them. Like brewing storm-cloud formations filmed and then played in fast forward.
In among the looming darkness faint watermarks of fleeting possibility appeared: fantastic buildings that had never been, twisted creatures that had no place on this earth and a sea of tormented face
s – lives glimpsed momentarily, people that could have been, but never would be.
‘Oh boy,’ gulped Liam. ‘It’s going to be a big one, right?’
Sal nodded. ‘Yes … a big one.’
Then it was upon them. The slam of a tornado moment. A maelstrom of thrashing energy and darkness. Liam kept his eyes open, absolutely determined to witness it all, this his first time to see a time wave up close, to be outside the archway and see for himself what reality replacing reality actually looked like. In the few seconds of it he thought he glimpsed a Roman soldier morph into something half human half mechanical; the screaming tormented face of a newborn baby become a girl, a woman, an old woman, a decaying skull – a complete life lived in no more than a second.
Then it had passed over them.
Liam turned to watch it go. A twisting, undulating, serpent-like ribbon of black across the sky receding away from them like a freight train.
‘Jay-zus …’ Breath failed him. He sucked in a lungful and tried again. ‘Jay-zus-Mary-’n’-Joseph! Did you … did you ever see anything like that?’ he gasped. He looked beside him. Sal was on the ground, all of a sudden kneeling amid rows of shin-high stalks of something: a harvested crop of wheat or corn maybe.
Liam helped her up.
‘That … was … incredible!’ He grinned manically at her.
Sal looked around them. ‘This is very different, Liam.’
Liam hadn’t even bothered to take the new reality in yet – his mind was still on the infinite possibilities he’d glimpsed in the time wave. He turned round to look where Bob and the van and the guard hut had been only moments ago.
They were in a large rolling field. The woodland behind them was gone. Fifty yards away, he was relieved to see Bob standing perfectly still, nonchalantly studying the new world around them, and then, a moment later, the tousled brush hair of Lincoln’s head emerging from the stalks as he began to sit up.
‘Come on,’ said Liam. They wandered over towards Bob and Lincoln. Lincoln was on his feet now. He saw Liam approaching.
‘That … that storm? That hurricane we … we …’