The Time-Thief

by Patience Agbabi

  ‘OK. Guess you need an explanation,’ says Portia. She runs her fingers through her peacock hair so it goes all spiky again.

  ‘What is it?’ says Big Ben, meaning the car, but Portia ignores him.

  ‘You’re both in lots of danger. My advice? Back off.’

  ‘This is better than Season’s Ferrari. Can I land it?’

  ‘BB, we have to listen.’ My voice sounds all whispery but I force the words out. I wish I didn’t feel so sick. ‘Back off from what?’

  ‘Don’t play stupid, Elle. And don’t play games with the bad guys.’

  ‘We’re not playing games,’ I say.

  ‘Then how come you delivered the Infinity-Glass to The Vicious Circle? You want to work for them? No? Didn’t think so. You know too much and you know what happens to kids who know too much?’

  ‘They exit them?’

  ‘Look. I know you’re after the reward but it’s not worth—’

  ‘What reward?’ says Big Ben.

  ‘£10,000. The museum’s desperate to get the Glass back. It’s priceless. And the police aren’t likely to find it. Millennia’s paying off half the police force.’

  ‘That’s a lot of money,’ says Big Ben.

  But I’m only half listening. She didn’t answer my question; she changed the subject. DO they exit kids who know too much?

  No answer is scarier than a yes. What could be worse than being killed?

  ‘We’re about to reach 2049. Safer than 2021.’

  The car violently swerves and I put my hand over my mouth.

  ‘Sorry about that. Has a mind of its own.’

  ‘Driverless mode needs reprogramming,’ says Big Ben.

  I don’t really need to hear that at this point in time.

  ‘What happens to kids who know too much?’ I say.

  Portia sighs. ‘What happened to me. I have to work for The Vicious Circle. For life!’

  Landing is thankfully smooth. But I still projectile vomit onto the back of the front seat. Portia isn’t bothered. She presses a button and the seat starts oozing with foam.

  ‘Self-washing,’ she says. ‘You OK?’

  I nod. It’s not strictly true but I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself. Here we are in front of the Triple M School in 2049. It’s quiet and none of the lights are on. Obviously, no one’s around. But I still can’t relax, expecting to see the gunman appear out of thin air any moment. Portia sees me looking.

  ‘Don’t worry, our trigger-happy friend won’t find us here. He dislikes our near future. That’s why I chose 2049.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘The Grandfather was born in the 19th century, prefers the 20th and wreaks havoc in the 21st. He helped Millennia turn The Oath Keepers into The Vicious Circle by exiting her enemies one by one. Some say he’s the real criminal mastermind, not her. Spent his teens leaping from the 19th century to the 21st. But you probably worked that out already.’

  I hadn’t, actually. The athletics meeting was so absorbing with the boys trying to mess up Big Ben in the 800 metres, my own race and Ama’s shooting. I knew there was something familiar about the gunman but didn’t put two and two together. I must be careful I don’t let my athletics passion get in the way of solving this crime. But useful to know The Vicious Circle used to be The Oath Keepers.

  ‘Why do you call him The Grandfather when he’s only a boy?’

  ‘You really don’t know?’ She sits down on the school steps. ‘He’s MILLENNIA’s grandfather, on her mother’s side. Comes from a long line of watchmakers. Heard of grandfather clocks? He could make one single-handed!’

  I smile at the wordplay. Why do baddies have the best names? But I’m still puzzled.

  ‘If he’s Millennia’s grandfather, how come he’s not old or dead?’

  ‘He IS dead. He died as an old man in 1925. But this is the 3-leap +1 version of him. He simply leaps from the 19th century into his future, which is our present, then leaps back. Don’t you have any friends from times past?’

  I think of Francis texting us from 1752 and nod. He’s a virtual friend; we haven’t met him in person yet. But we will soon, I hope.

  I decide to join Portia sitting on the school steps as I still feel quite shaky but Big Ben remains standing. I can tell he’s unhappy about something. He draws his eyebrows right down to his eyes at Portia.

  ‘It was you driving,’ he says.

  ‘I wasn’t going to let you land in a million—’

  ‘Not today. Summer solstice. You tried to run us over!’ Portia shrugs but doesn’t say anything and Big Ben finishes. ‘I see how you landed the Lamborghini so brilliant. It was you.’

  Portia sighs. ‘OK, Sherlock. I won’t lie to you, it WAS me. And this is a Lamborghini Quarto Millennio. So what? Think I’d risk everything to save you now if I tried to kill you two nights ago? I was SENT to kill you, once we worked out Elle witnessed the Circle meeting. The thief admitted someone snatched the glass off them; everyone knew you were at the museum to recite your Infinity-Glass poem, Elle; and you’re the only one who can leap to a nanosecond. It had to be you. But I deliberately messed up the hit. I wasn’t going to run down a couple of kids.’

  Big Ben waits several seconds before he nods. ‘Logical.’

  ‘I filmed the hit for Millennia. It looks like your brilliant reflexes saved you rather than my brilliant driving! Hoped it would scare you off. Obviously, I was wrong.’

  I frown at her. ‘Will they kill you for saving us now?’

  ‘Probably not. They’ll come up with a punishment worse than death. Apprentice me to Aunt Nona.’ She laughs. ‘They won’t get rid of me; I’m family. Besides, I’m too good.’

  ‘At driving?’

  ‘Yes. At driving. When mum called me Portia, she thought Shakespeare not Top Gear. But my skills come in handy.’

  ‘Are we going to stay here all night?’

  ‘No. We need to collect Ama from hospital. Drive her home.’

  ‘How do you know she’s not badly hurt?’

  ‘Aunt Nona texted.’ She sees me stiffen. ‘I know she’s not your favourite person but she knows about wounds. Even she felt bad when Ama got shot instead of you. Come on! Haven’t got all night.’

  We reach the hospital just after Ama’s been discharged. She’s sitting in the reception with Kwesi and GMT who look far more worried than she does. She gives me one of her gap-toothed smiles.

  ‘I’ll beat you next time, sis!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ama.’ I almost whisper the next bit. ‘That bullet was meant for me.’

  ‘I know,’ she says. ‘Kwesi worked it out. Glad it was only a plastic bullet! They wanted to contact my next of kin and I thought Mum and Dad would freak hearing I was injured and where I was, so I texted big bro.

  ‘Anyway,’ she continues, ‘it’s me who should apologise. I never thanked you last year for saving Kwesi. Thanks so much, Elle!’

  She hugs me again and I go bright red. I find it difficult getting emotional in front of everyone. I want to hide my face in my hands but that would be even more embarrassing. It’s nice Ama thanked me, though.

  ‘I can’t take all the credit,’ I say. ‘I worked in a team.’

  By team I mean The Infinites but I can’t say that in front of Portia and the nurses because it’s top secret. Portia jangles the car keys in her pocket.

  ‘I could stay here all evening listening to the mutual appreciation society,’ she smiles so we know she’s not being unkind, ‘but someone needs to get home.’

  Big Ben, Kwesi, GMT and I walk back through town. We were supposed to have our meeting tonight and definitely have some serious catching up to do. It’s a warm evening; why risk leaping and possibly being seen by an Annual when we can stroll? Big Ben and I tell them everything about the day: Nona being Evil Nine; Big Ben’s meltdown; tea with Mr Johnson and Frank being Francis; the athletics meeting; and Portia. Their eyes get bigger and bigger with each piece of news. Finally, we show them all the Francis te
xts. It’s the first time they know I worked out what France is 1752 meant and contacted Francis.

  That last piece of news bothers Kwesi. He frowns so deep he looks 100. He shows us his infinity tattoo on his left hand, bumps fists with us each twice and disappears and reappears on the spot. We gasp. We thought only MC2 could body blink. GMT translates but we’ve already worked it out.

  ‘Kwesi says we gotta stay true to the symbol. Gotta look out for each other. Gotta visit MC before we do anything else!’

  Kwesi raises his eyebrows at us.

  Big Ben nods.

  GMT smiles.

  ‘OK,’ I say. ‘Let’s visit MC2 tomorrow after school. We can’t let The Vicious Circle win!’

  Chapter 14:00

  PRIME SUSPECT

  ‘Thing is, even if Leaps locate the Glass, peeps’ll still say I’m prime.’

  It’s Thursday after school. MC2 has been talking ever since we arrived. Actually, he hasn’t stopped talking since we updated him about everything, especially making contact with Francis. This makes me happy. It was scary when he wasn’t himself.

  We’ve been allowed to meet him in the main room this time, rather than behind bars. It’s a different warden as well, a younger, red-headed man called Bonzo, who’s given him more privileges. Although we’re sitting on the hard prison chairs, MC2 is walking up and down all over the room. Every few seconds he tenses his body like he’s about to do the long jump but nothing happens. That explains why he was so exhausted at our last visit. He was overwhelmed after being arrested and had overdone trying to body blink with no success.

  Big Ben perks up at the word prime.

  ‘2, 3, 5, 7 and 11. Five of The Vicious Circle are prime numbers.’

  ‘You speak sense,’ says MC2, ‘but I meant prime as in suspect. The one most likely did the crime in a whodunnit. In this case, The Squared. They think I did it cos I messed up in the past. But you got me thinking, BB. Is the Glass still at Vicious Circle HQ or hidden someplace?’

  I frown. ‘We don’t know where The Vicious Circle’s headquarters are. If we did, we could try to get it back.’

  ‘I do. Went a coupla times in my Time Squad days. Course, it was Oath Keepers then. GMT’s got it on her Chrono.’ He pauses. ‘I want more on The Vicious Circle. Who’s the Three dude again?’

  ‘Mr Oily Hair,’ I say. ‘He knew the thief. He told Millennia they were family. He kept talking about his sister and . . . oh my Chrono! He said, “Show some respect, Nine. You’re letting down the family.” Mr Oily Hair must be Nona’s brother.’

  ‘Family could mean crime ring. That’s how crims speak, sis.’

  ‘I know. But now I remember, they LOOK like they could be the same family. They both have short black hair and look like shot putters. Evil Nine IS a shot putter!’

  ‘Logical,’ says Big Ben. ‘11’s a prime number. Is 11 their grandfather?’

  ‘No, BB. He’s Millennia’s grandfather.’ I pause. No wonder Big Ben didn’t take in everything Portia said. So much happened that evening; I’m still processing it myself. ‘I have an idea. If Mr Oily Hair is Nona’s brother then he’s also Anno and Anon’s brother. When he said the thief was family, he must have meant one of those two.’

  MC2 stops walking. ‘So, the thief was Anno or Anon?’

  ‘Yes! But I can’t believe it. They’re both so nice.’ I remember Anon taking us to Mr Johnson’s house and Anno inviting me to read my poem this Saturday at her private view. But they’re both the same height as me and a similar athletic build. Maybe it WAS one of them.

  ‘No!’ Big Ben is shaking his head. ‘Anno or Anon or MC2 . . .’

  ‘Me?’ MC2 freezes.

  ‘You can’t be serious,’ says GMT. She turns to MC2. ‘I told them it was me stole the watches, not you. They can’t believe—’

  ‘. . . Or Elle,’ says Big Ben.

  ‘Me?’ I say.

  ‘It has to be someone the same size as Elle.’

  ‘That makes sense. But if it was me, I’d have leapt back in time TWICE. There’d be THREE of me: one on the school trip; one stealing the Glass; and the other trying to stop the thief.’ I stand up. ‘Of course I wasn’t the thief, BB. I’d never steal and I’m not family.’

  ‘Me neither, bruv.’ MC2 gives Big Ben the cat’s eye. ‘Nice try.’

  ‘I have another idea.’ Everyone looks at me then looks away. ‘Portia. She’s the same size as me.’

  ‘No,’ says Big Ben. ‘She saved us from the gunman.’

  ‘Not logical. She still could have been the thief.’ I frown at Big Ben. Is he letting his feelings for Portia cloud his judgement? I try to ignore my own feelings of jealousy and continue talking. ‘So prime suspect for the theft is either Anno or Anon or Portia.’

  Big Ben’s shaking his head again. ‘Anon walks with a stick, so how can she leap and try to fight you, Elle?’

  ‘Good point, BB. But remember she used to be a gymnast. She leaps to 1752 on her own to see Mr Johnson. Old people can be strong and fit so she’s still a prime suspect.’ I pause. ‘If her sister Anno did it, she would have had to leap from the past or the future to commit the crime, since she was also giving the talk about the Infinity-Glass. And one of them is probably the missing Eight. They missed the meeting because they were committing the crime.’

  ‘Good work, sis. But where’s your proof?’ MC2 sighs.

  The warden clears his throat and MC2 brightens up.

  ‘Listen up, Leaps! I forgot to give Bonzo a befitting intro. He’s a keeper of the keys who’ll never set me FREE but he loves the 4/4, TOO.’

  I frown. MC2 speaking in rhyme always gives me a headache, though I like his wordplay. But his emphasis was odd. Either he’s losing his touch or . . . he’s speaking in code again! FREE 4/4 TOO. 3442. That must be Bonzo’s telephone number! Which means he’s a Leapling or an Annual with a Chronophone who’s been trained how to use it and MC2 wants us to have his number. I make a mental note of it, wishing MC2 would be more direct.

  ‘He’s into hip hop?’ I say, keeping my voice steady.

  ‘Yeah. Fan of mine and Einstein. We’re NUMBER one on his chart.’

  Bonzo gives a fake bow and out of the corner of my eye, I see it. A tiny flicker, a brief outline of MC2 before he appears solid again. I don’t think anyone else noticed and if you saw it on the CCTV, you’d think it was a technical glitch. I narrow my eyes at him; he winks at me. That confirms it. MC2 has somehow managed to body blink in Do-Time, in spite of the Anti-Leap. And if he’s able to body blink, the next step is a full-on leap!

  For the second half of the visit, we discuss Francis.

  ‘Kwesi, I know we sparred over this but I gotta get out of this spit. Give Leaps the lowdown on Francis.’

  Kwesi frowns but MC2 keeps talking.

  ‘Me and Kwesi met Francis May Day, 1752. Brother’s an Annual but he thought my Chronophone the best thing since green tea so we gave him one, taught him how to use it. I know it’s breaking the Oath, but Francis was lonesome. A boy of ten won’t harm nothing. He learnt quick; most Annuals take years. Francis said his master knows everyone in London, upper crust to crims. Peeps drop by morning, noon and night. This woman used to follow Francis when he left the house. Asked lots of questions. Said she was writing an article about timepieces. Francis knew nothing. He hadn’t bin given the Glass yet, I guess. I thought nothing at the time but since I got arrested, it clicked. There must be a clue back in the day. Only way to find out is leap.’

  Kwesi’s shaking his head like he’s got a swarm of bees in it. He signs for a full minute before MC2 translates.

  ‘Brother says he don’t want you meeting Francis in no 1752. The present’s the devil you know but the deep past is the devil for real. Nothing’s the same. Peeps eat, sleep and speak different. It’s a noisy, smelly Armageddon for autistic folks. Worst is, black people are slaves; Francis still gotta buy his freedom. You wanna meet Francis, meet him virtual on your Chronophone.’

  It’s what I thought. Kwesi
chose not to explain France is 1752 was Francis 1752 because of slavery. But if Francis is a slave, how come he lives with Mr Johnson and how did he manage to make friends with MC2 and Kwesi?

  ‘Kwesi, it’s nice you want to keep us safe. But we’ve already met Francis on the Chronophone. And we’ve already visited 1752. It was noisy and smelly and I DID find it hard but how could they make me a slave? I could always leap away and escape.’ My heart’s thumping in my chest; I sound more confident than I feel.

  Kwesi wrinkles his mouth like Grandma does when the yam’s too bitter. I understand his disgust. Slavery was a terrible thing, especially when people were transported away from their original culture. It was worse than prison: you could be bought and sold to the highest bidder like an object.

  Big Ben frowns like he’s thinking hard.

  ‘We can’t do it by phone. Francis can’t send us evidence.’

  ‘I asked him to text me photos of anything suspicious,’ MC2pauses, ‘but he ain’t sent nothing. Course, he coulda sent something to me now but Do-Time’s got my phone.’

  I nod. They took our phones and bags again on this visit. I make a mental note to add Bonzo’s phone number as soon as we get our phones back. Big Ben continues.

  ‘Kwesi’s logical. Elle can’t leap. I can.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You got danger from The Vicious Circle plus danger from slave owners. One too much danger.’

  ‘BB, I’m not letting you go alone. I contacted Francis; I need to speak to him. I’m going to leap because there’s no other way to get the evidence to free MC2.’ I turn to the others. ‘Anyone else coming?’

  Kwesi shakes his head. MC2 tenses like he’s about to leap out of Do-Time this second. GMT shakes her head at him to say stop that and smiles at us.