by Scott Baker
‘Now,’ Shaun said, watching David walk off with the guard, ‘Father Giovanni. I’m glad you could finally join us here.’ He turned to face the priest.
‘I can barely believe it is you,’ the priest said. He had seen Shaun’s face before, of course; he had seen it for years. This man had been Giovanni’s sole contact at The Society for World Historical Accuracy. This man, who had always referred to The Society as a larger entity, an organisation through which he would have to relay Giovanni’s information in order to return a decision – this man was The Society. Giovanni had never thought much of it, but now he understood. He realised how clever it had been. Shaun seemed to read his thoughts.
‘It’s easier to keep a secret that way,’ Shaun said, smiling. Giovanni’s expression had turned blank as he realised the enormity of the task that Shaun had undertaken. Then, he followed the thought through. Shaun was the decision-maker behind The Society, which meant that he had willingly consorted with Le Clerque. He had been party to some unspeakable acts. Giovanni did not understand.
‘Father, you have shown utmost support throughout the years. For that assistance I thank you greatly.’
‘But I was removed as your Vatican contact. You have been dealing with a man I assure you has only his own interests at heart. He cares only about establishing a new Church, his Church, and starting a war that would kill millions of people. He has had people killed. He tried to kill me, and it was you yourself who prevented that, but there were others. There are things you must have known about, assassinations you did not stop. Murders you were a party to …’
Shaun felt Lauren’s eyes on him, and was cautious when he spoke.
‘Father, I have been in a position over the past two decades that no one else has ever experienced. It’s true that after the Holy Father, Pope Nicholas, passed, I knew you would be removed as the official spokesperson for the Vatican, and I knew that I would deal with Le Clerque. The thing is, Le Clerque did not know that I knew him. He planted two agents into our military recruitment program to steal the agent list, and to kill Pilate. He authorised the murders of many people, and it’s true that I knew about these things. It’s true also that I did not stop them.’
Lauren took a small step back from her husband. The reality that this man had led an entire life without her was starting to scrape the surface.
‘These things are true. I cannot explain to you, to anyone, Father, what it’s like to know something terrible is going to happen. To absolutely know it, and to have the power to do something about it and to choose not to. But, for me, these things were in the past. They were in my red time as we call it here. They were moving away from me. For me they had already happened and so I could not interfere, even if that meant making sure that they did happen.’
‘You killed people?’ Lauren stared at the man she had just met, the man who was once her husband.
‘No,’ Shaun said carefully. ‘I never killed anyone. I did my best to remove responsibility from my own decision-making, but it’s true that sometimes I allowed things, horrible, terrible things, to occur. But you must understand: I had no choice. If I changed anything, anything at all, then what is taking place right now, our reunion, may not have happened. I’ve been in a prison of my own knowledge.’
Giovanni tried to imagine it, but struggled with the idea.
‘Look,’ Shaun said, stepping forward to the Italian priest, ‘nothing has happened that I did not allow. Le Clerque did not steal anything I did not allow. No one I did not know to be already dead was allowed to be harmed. But I couldn’t risk anything being different; what we are doing is too important. For me, it was all red time.’ He turned to Lauren. ‘Seeing you again, being with you, is too important.’ Then he pointed down at the case Giovanni held. ‘You see, Father, I kept my promise. You have your player. But there is something else I have for you.’
Shaun reached back into his pocket. When he withdrew his hand it held a penny-sized disc.
‘You liked the Napoleon movie that you saw, yes?’ Shaun asked.
‘I … the … it is what I need to prove to the Holy Father that time travel is possible so he will believe that Le Clerque is a traitor to the Church.’
‘I see. Then I think, Father, you may wish to take this movie as well. It will interest you greatly. Take it to Müller and let him do with it as he sees fit.’
Giovanni’s eyes bulged at the tiny disc in Shaun’s hand. He dared not hope, but he decided to ask the question anyway. He did not have to – Shaun was already nodding slowly.
‘You had it all this time?’ Giovanni asked.
‘Take it. It’s your responsibility now.’ With that, he let the disc fall into Giovanni’s palm. ‘My work is done,’ Shaun said with a sense of fatality. As if the weight of the universe had been lifted from his shoulders, Shaun suddenly seemed lighter. He breathed deeper, and appeared to lose several years of age before their very eyes.
‘This whole time?’ Giovanni asked again.
‘Yes, this whole time. I knew where it would be, remember? It was the first thing I did when I woke up twenty-one years ago. Well, after I found some clothes … which didn’t last long because I vomited almost straight away and found my walnut. I very nearly missed it. That would have been ironic.
‘The first thing I did was decide where the disc would be, and then I went and got it. From that moment on, I was locked in. It meant that I couldn’t change my mind about the disc’s location, nor could I decide not to go ahead and build The Facility, because I had the disc, which meant that it had all happened. It’s funny, effect creating cause, rather than cause creating effect. I’ve had very little free will over the past twenty-one years. I knew what had to be done and I had to make sure nothing prevented it from happening. Making sure none of Shaun’s papers ever reached further than his own outbox. Making sure he never got a university scholarship. Everything happened when it was supposed to. Creating my new persona, and ensuring that Shaun knew the works of Professor Landus; building a career at Cambridge and fostering the contacts I would need to help me see it all through. Getting Presidents elected, making wise investments and placing several large bets on sporting events to get the capital I needed. There are more details that could be explained, Father, but know this: now, it’s out of my hands. Now, it’s up to you. What you have in your hand is the culmination of something that has been in progress for more than two thousand years. That’s it, all of it, that’s what the whole thing was about, and I’ve done my bit. Now I just want to take my wife home and live the life that was taken from me.’
He reached out his hand to Lauren, and she took it gingerly.
‘You have to give me some time,’ she said slowly.
‘I know,’ Shaun answered.
CHAPTER 76
Three days later, Cardinal Vincenso Raul Giovanni sat in the sun at his favourite cafe not far from Vatican City. He finished the last of his extra-strong short-black coffee and wiped his lips. He was a different man. Only twice before in history had men been as totally transformed as the priest was now. One of them had seen the disc Giovanni had just watched; the other had made it. Both knew the face.
Giovanni breathed deeply, then strode towards the Vatican. It was early, and the sun was just beginning to filter through the city’s tallest peaks as he passed through the gates.
‘I have an appointment with the Holy Father,’ Giovanni said as he approached the Pope’s chamberlain. The man looked up and smiled.
‘Ah, Father Giovanni, he is expecting you,’ the man replied. ‘Please, go straight up.’ Giovanni marched with an ordinary-looking black-and-silver briefcase at his side. He navigated the hallways he had known intimately for the past thirty-three years, but now they seemed different. When he had completed the formalities outside the Pope’s chamber, he walked through the Holy Father’s doors with confidence and purpose.
Cardinal Joseph Müller, elected Pope Pius XIII, sat alone at a large mahogany desk, a fountain pen in his hand. He preferr
ed to write most of his communications and then let his secretary enter them into the computer, and now he was penning his retirement speech in a thick black ink. He looked up over thin-rimmed glasses at the priest’s approach.
‘Ah, welcome Vincenso!’ the Pope said in Italian. ‘How good to see you. It has been a while since we have had some time together, has it not?’
‘It has, Holy Father.’
‘Please, Vincenso, there is no need for that.’
‘I’m sorry, Joseph, but what I have to talk to you about will require you to truly be the leader you have been elected to be. In fact, there has never been a moment that has more greatly required the divine infallibility of the station of Pope.’
Müller put his pen down, hearing his friend’s tone.
‘There is something on your mind?’ Pope Pius asked. In response, Giovanni put his briefcase on the table and opened it.
‘What is this?’ Müller asked.
‘Holy Father, I beg a few moments of your time to listen to me. I ask you to hear me in full before you pass judgement on what I have to say,’ Giovanni said. ‘What I have to tell you and, through this device on the table here, to show you, will require you to have an open mind and be prepared to accept some challenging ideas. It will be the most important thing that has occurred in your life so far.’ He paused. ‘Yes, a very open mind. Do you think you can do that?’
Müller had not been spoken to in this way for many years, and it commanded his full attention. He slipped the speech he was writing to the side and interwove his fingers on the desk. He gave Giovanni his undivided focus.
‘Please, Vincenso, begin.’
Vincenso Raul Giovanni did begin, and for the next twelve hours, deep into the evening, he held the Pope’s attention. All other appointments were cancelled or postponed. When Giovanni emerged from the Pope’s chamber at eight o’clock that evening, the sun cast a deep red light through the hallway windows. Giovanni navigated his way back through the corridors, passing other members of the clergy as he walked with an air of completion. He knew now how Shaun Strickland had felt as he had handed over the disc. To know he had successfully played his part in something larger brought contentment to his soul.
It was as Giovanni rounded a corner and entered one of the lower ornate hallways of the major wing that he saw Cardinal François Le Clerque walking in the opposite direction. He had two assistants with him, one of whom was taking his dictation of a homily on racial tolerance. The cardinal spoke without looking at the junior priest. When he looked ahead down the corridor, he did not speak at all. Le Clerque stopped, frozen.
Striding towards him was a ghost. In an instant, a thousand facts flashed through the Frenchman’s mind. The car had been totally destroyed; his agent had reported that Giovanni had been hideously burned and taken away in an ambulance, dead. Le Clerque had sent ‘visitors’ to the local medical facilities to make sure that the job had been properly completed, but they had not been able to trace which hospital Giovanni had been admitted to.
Now, in that instant, Le Clerque knew why.
Giovanni continued to close the distance, the appearance of Le Clerque at the opposite end of the hallway not faltering the Italian’s stride one iota. After a brief pause, the Frenchman resumed his walk. They were barely twenty feet away when Le Clerque absently allowed his eyes to drift down the Italian’s arm to the briefcase he carried. François Le Clerque’s blood ran cold. How had he? The player had been secured in his own personal safe … there was no way that what the Italian carried could be the same case, but it looked identical. And what was Giovanni doing in this part of the Vatican? He was stationed outside the—
Then he put it all together.
The Pope.
Giovanni had been to see the Pope. But how? He had nothing to show him – the disc had not been found, and Müller was to announce his retirement this very evening.
The fat French cardinal began to jog, then to run towards Giovanni. They stared each other in the eyes in the moment of passing, François wearing a look of confusion and panic, Giovanni wearing one of knowing contentment.
‘Eminence! Eminence!’ the confused assistants stammered as they chased after their scrambling cardinal.
Giovanni continued to march forward. His part was done.
What would be, would be.
CHAPTER 77
‘This is amazing,’ Shaun remarked as he ate the best apple crumble of his life. As he had promised himself for the past twenty-one years, the first thing he did upon his return was to buy Lauren a bag of fresh apples, and he had come to repeat the gesture for the next few weeks.
‘You shouldn’t be eating that yet!’ Lauren chastised him as she dashed about the kitchen trying to complete the trimmings for the Thanksgiving turkey before their guests arrived.
Shaun grinned, sucking the remnants of his indiscretion from his fingers, one of which held a golden Roman ring given to him by his friend X7. It had been passed down through the Fontéyne family for generations, and Graeme had presented it to Shaun just before embarking on his mission.
Ever since his older self had sent him back in time twenty-one years, Shaun had dreamed of living this life again. He had woken up in England, naked, confused and in pain from the cuts on his forearm. Soon enough, though, he had remembered, and had set about doing what needed to be done despite the pain of losing Lauren again. For the past nineteen years he had been Professor Landus, and had distinguished himself with incredible predictions and amazing science. He had pioneered ideas, and had access to the resources and people he had needed to realise those ideas.
Of course, there was much more that he had access to. It had started quickly enough, once he had completed the first task of securing funds and reinventing himself. Shaun Strickland had become Maxwell S Landus because he already knew that that was who he had become; it was the first of many such choices where Shaun had to learn that he had no choice at all. He did well on a few football matches with the bookies, and then he compiled a list of everything he knew. Every election result, world event, sporting victory, newsworthy affair. He entered himself into hypnotic regression therapy and was able to recall far more. The compilation became his bible.
It was six years before he heard a voice say, ‘I’d like to sign up for your advanced Afghanistan hiking class.’
He had looked up from his desk into the eyes of a leaner, more sober-looking David Black, fresh from six years of training and learning in a Facility that did not yet exist. Shaun had not expected him, but the joy he felt when David arrived was overwhelming. David had arrived with instructions and knowledge from The Facility that allowed Professor Landus to start his preparations in earnest. Tim had been a great help, his most trusted ally and consort.
The true challenge had been one of self-discipline. One of stopping himself from arriving on the doorstep of his North Carolina home and taking Lauren in his arms. Of course he had not, but he had had the couple closely monitored. He had not realised he was such a putz, and he loved his wife all the more for putting up with him. Through it all, though, he had known that eventually it would be worth it. He knew that if he just obeyed The Rule of Knowledge, then he would be with her again. He had seen it, and so had been inspired to continue his work. He knew also that millions were counting on him, though they didn’t know it.
Now, as he cleaned up the spillage of tonight’s dessert that he had prematurely sampled, he felt that everything had been worthwhile. Fitting back into Masonville High had been a challenge. He had dyed his hair and done his best to look the same age as he had been when he had left the previous week, but he knew that the students talked about him behind his back. He was clearly not the same man.
His teaching had improved considerably, however, as had his ability to guide and counsel the kids who came to him with more personal problems.
Tonight he would see his friends for the first time in more than a month. David would arrive shortly, as would David senior’s wife, a research scientist
from Spain who spent her spare time writing compression algorithms. ‘There’s someone for everyone,’ Shaun had mused as he saw the fireworks ignite between the two. He once caught sight of a flirting text message that read: ‘There are 00000010 kinds of people in this world, those who understand binary, and those who don’t.’
It was now about five-thirty on a Sunday, and the ball game Shaun had on in the background held particular interest for him. It was the first World Series in more than a decade where he did not know the result.
He had decided to bet anyway, mainly because this time held the thrill of possible loss. He did not need the money. No, money was something he would never have to worry about again. Ever.
It was probably because he had not heard the score for a while that he walked into the lounge room to see what was wrong. What he saw made the apple he was snacking on fall from his mouth.
CHAPTER 78
Eight-year-old Diego Mannuel sat fidgeting with his parents in the Quito hospital waiting room. He was not fidgeting from boredom, but more because he was so involved with what was happening on the television. He was so excited that he could not sit still. His parents too had their eyes fixed on the screen, just as they had for the past two hours. So had everyone else in the waiting room. Since the program had begun, none of the patients had hit their call buttons, none of them had complained. They all sat watching, forgetting, for the moment at least, their various ailments.
