‘It’s hardly cold, Judy,’ Lara said and stooped to kiss the old lady’s cheek. ‘You should try visiting London at this time of year.’
‘Oh no, sugar. You won’t catch me on an aeroplane at my age,’ Judy said, not quite grasping that the invitation had been rhetorical. She was now in her eighties and, although they had been in sporadic contact over the years, this was the first time that Lara had seen her since 1976, when the search for Isaac had been officially called off and a memorial held.
They set off up the hall at a snail’s pace, Judy shuffling her Zimmer frame forward a few inches at a time and then dragging her body after. The interior of the house looked much the same until they entered the living room, which appeared to have been redecorated at some point during the 1980s.
‘I was so sorry to hear about Donald,’ Lara said, sitting on a brown corduroy sofa.
‘Don’t be,’ Judy said, ‘he had a long, full life.’
They stared at each other, both silently contemplating the implication that the reverse was true of Isaac.
After a few seconds Judy shook her head and eased herself into a reclining faux-leather armchair. ‘So how have you been keeping, sugar? You said in your last letter that you’d given up medicine.’
Lara had started working for the Security Service seven years ago, around the same time that the steady seep of grey into her hair had become a landslide and she’d resorted to dyeing it. Had it really been that long since she’d last written?
‘Not so much given up,’ she said, ‘as taking an extended sabbatical. My new employment keeps me very busy.’
‘Well, I’m glad to hear that. I always try to stay active, otherwise my mind begins to wander, especially at this time of year.’
‘Almost twenty-five years to the day,’ Lara said, more to herself than to Judy.
‘December 31, 1969.’ Judy gazed through the wide window onto the garden and out over the ocean. ‘Not a day goes by I don’t think about it. Obviously I never believed Isaac could be responsible for the things they accused him of, but I can’t stop myself wondering what became of him, or if he’s maybe still out there somewhere. It’s the not knowing that’s the hardest part. Sometimes I think that if I at least had a grave to tend…’
Lara gulped. Perhaps the real reason she and Judy hadn’t corresponded in so long was because it had become too painful. She reached over and patted the woman’s gnarled old hand. ‘You can’t think like that, Judy. If Isaac were still alive he’d have been found by now. You need to move on.’
‘Is that what you’ve done, move on?’
‘I’m probably better at giving advice than taking it.’ Lara tried to force a smile. ‘Besides, I have my career.’
‘A career is no substitute for a life. Take it from me, you need companionship, someone to grow old with.’
Lara had never married or, for that matter, had a significant relationship since Isaac’s disappearance. For a few years after she’d rejected the advances of several other suitors, but as time wore on and her grief warped into bitterness, such advances had become fewer and further between before drying up altogether.
‘It might be a bit late for all that,’ she said.
‘Nonsense, sugar. It’s never too late for a bit of happiness. That’s why I’m selling this place.’
‘Selling the house? But Judy, you’ve always loved it here!’
Judy swatted the comment away. ‘I can’t manage the stairs anymore, and looking after the place has become too much since Donald died. Anyway, I get lonely rattling around here on my own. There’s a retirement village only a mile down the road – Pacific Villas, it’s called – where I’ll have my own room, in-house medical care and plenty of people my own age to talk to. All this,’ she gestured around the room, ‘is the past, and I can take my memories with me wherever I go.’
‘So you’ve already made up your mind.’
‘I saw a realtor last week. The money from the sale of the house will keep me at Pacific Villas far longer than I expect to live.’
‘I see,’ Lara said.
‘Would you like to have a look around? Isaac’s old room is just how he left it.’
A part of Lara – the rational part – realised this was probably a bad idea, but the rest of her knew she would never get another chance. ‘Would you mind?’ she asked.
‘Of course not, sugar,’ Judy said. ‘You take your time and I’ll fix us some herbal tea. Which do you prefer, mint or chamomile?’
* * * * *
Judy hadn’t been exaggerating; Isaac’s room was exactly as Lara remembered from the three nights they’d spent there in ‘69, right down to the space rocket bedsheets. A row of sports flags remained pinned to the wall next to a labelled poster of the human skeleton. The room was cleaned regularly, it appeared, without a speck of dust to indicate the continued lack of occupancy.
Lara paced in slow circles, recalling distant, fading memories. Why had she returned to California, and what exactly did she hope to gain? Looking back, Isaac’s absence had had more of a formative impact on her life than his brief presence ever achieved. Over the years she had transformed her grief into motivation, climbing ever higher in her career. She was respected at the Security Service. People valued her opinion. They listened when she spoke and followed her commands. The wide-eyed girl with a crush on her supervising doctor was long gone, replaced by a hard-nosed professional who was accustomed to getting what she wanted.
She should have stayed in London, she now saw, where a mountain of paperwork waited under which she could happily bury herself, rather than indulging this pointless pilgrimage to the past.
Before stepping out of the room, Lara paused to gaze around one last time. It was only then that she noticed Gray’s Anatomy on the bookshelf. It was the same 1958 edition that Isaac had always kept by his bedside. Unable to suppress a final stab of nostalgia, she pulled the book from its place and was surprised when a folded photograph fell to the floor. She bent to retrieve it. The photo showed Lara and Isaac standing at the reception desk of the Lincoln Ward. It was the day he’d announced his consultancy at Bereck & Hertz, a day full of optimism when neither had known what was waiting just around the corner. Isaac was caught with his mouth open in mid-laugh, while Lara gazed adoringly up at him. There was a thick white line running between the couple where the photograph had remained folded over the years: a visual reminder of their separation in the time since it was taken.
When Lara opened the book to replace the photo, she discovered that it wasn’t Gray’s Anatomy at all, but one of Isaac’s hardback notebooks hidden in Gray’s dust jacket. The earlier pages were filled molecular diagrams and equations, all in Isaac’s spidery handwriting and far beyond Lara’s comprehension, but these gave way to a diary of sorts, which stopped abruptly a third of the way from the end with the remaining pages left blank.
She skimmed back, stopping at a page at random.
June 30, 1969
Today I gave Tetradyamide to Michael for the second time and, as before, the readouts showed that it steadied his neurological activity. Indeed, under the drug’s influence he seems calmer and more lucid than at any time since arriving at Stribe Lyndhurst, and I’m beginning to suspect that Tetradyamide may have applications far beyond those I’d originally envisioned.
On a side note, Michael still claims that he has developed the ability to manipulate time, and that the drug actually enhances this! I laughed (which I probably shouldn’t have), but Michael told me he could prove it with a deck of playing cards. To humour him, I fetched some. He instructed me to shuffle the deck and deal it face up onto the table. Somehow – and I’m still scratching my head over how he pulled this off – Michael was able to call each card before it was dealt. Whatever the trick was, I doubt I’d ever have to pay for a drink again if only I could figure it out!
‘Lara, sugar, are you okay up there?’ Judy called from downstairs. ‘The tea’s ready.’
‘Coming,’ Lara shouted. She closed
the notebook, dropped it into her handbag and walked out of Isaac’s room without looking back.
2
Present Day
They drove in silence, Doug behind the wheel, Sam in the passenger seat, Eva in the back and Steele bound and gagged in the boot. After leaving the outskirts of London they passed through a village where, as the church bell struck midnight, drunken Christmas revellers stumbled from a pub, cheering and singing as they made their way home. Then they were back in the dark of the countryside again, with only the cones of the headlights to reveal the road unwinding ahead. Although Sam had made this journey a number of times, he’d never fully concentrated on where he was going. It had never seemed important before, but now everything hinged on him remembering the way.
His grandparents had taken Lance’s car and driven southeast towards the port of Dover, hoping to throw anyone who might be following off the trail. Doug had given them cash and told them to ditch the car and book themselves into a hotel if they made it that far. Lance had refused to leave Chrissie. Sam had tried to persuade him that it wasn’t safe to stay in the flat, but he wouldn’t budge and with time running out before either the ambulance arrived or someone came looking for Steele, there was nothing they could do but leave him there, weeping and cradling Chrissie’s body.
Steele’s car keys had been in his jacket pocket. Sam had helped Doug to tie Steele’s hands behind his back in an intricate knot that also secured his ankles. At that point Steele had started to come round, voicing an impressive range of threats and obscenities, but Sam had silenced him with a punch to the jaw and then stuffed a tangerine in his mouth, which he went over with several layers heavy duty packaging tape. While this might not have been the same as putting a bullet in his head, it still gave Sam some small measure of satisfaction. Eva had kept lookout while Doug and Sam carried Steele down the staircase and loaded him into the boot of his own car.
Rain started to spot the windscreen as they drove. After a while the country lanes grew impossible to tell apart. Sam was beginning to worry that they were lost when, all of a sudden, they passed over a familiar-looking bridge and then a gap appeared in the thick border of pine trees to their right.
‘Stop!’ he yelled. ‘This is it!’
Doug hit the brakes so hard that the car skidded, then he put the gearstick into reverse, backed up and turned onto the muddy, rutted path that looked like it led to the middle of nowhere.
Sam felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as they approached the checkpoint in the metal fence.
‘What now?’ Doug asked, slowing the car to a crawl.
So far Sam had given them only the briefest outline of a plan, because that was all he had. ‘Leave this to me,’ he said, rummaging in his coat pocket. His fingers clamped around his security badge and he thanked his lucky stars that he hadn’t had time to change when he’d arrived home that evening.
The guard stepped from the hut, the fur collar of his coat turned up against the wind, and walked towards them, twirling a torch in his gloved hand. Sam glanced across at Doug and saw him stroke the handle of Steele’s pistol, which was still tucked into his trousers.
The guard rapped his knuckles against the passenger window.
Sam lowered it and leaned out, the ID badge in his hand. ‘Evening,’ he said and tried to give a reassuring smile. ‘Bad luck working on Christmas, eh?’
The guard didn’t smile back, but shone the beam of his torch into the car. Sam sensed Doug stiffen beside him. The moment seemed to last forever, then without so much as a word the guard turned back to the hut, opened the gate and waved them through.
Sam let out the breath he’d been holding, but they had only cleared the first hurdle and he very much doubted if any ahead would be as easy to overcome.
They continued along the path, turned a corner and there before them stood the rundown exterior of the building where, one way or the other, Sam knew his fate would be decided.
‘KPP&R Logistics,’ Eva said, squinting at the flaking sign above the door. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a cover,’ Sam said, wondering if any such company had ever existed. ‘The lab is beneath it, underground.’
She nodded as if this were all perfectly normal. ‘Okay, so how are we getting in? You weren’t planning on walking straight through the front door, were you?’
Sam didn’t want to tell her that he was making things up as he went along. A metal medical cabinet stood in the depths of that building and, although he wasn’t sure how exactly, his only hope of saving Chrissie was to find a way of reaching it. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I appreciate everything you guys have done, but I think you should wait here while I go in.’
Eva blinked and then frowned. ‘Sam, I didn’t come all this way to let you go in there alone.’
‘It’s too dangerous, I don’t know what to expect.’ He turned to Doug. ‘I’m going to need the gun.’
‘This?’ Doug pulled Steele’s pistol out and passed it back and forth between his hands as if trying to guess its weight. ‘Tell me, Sam, apart from today, have you ever fired a gun before?’
‘In a way.’
‘What kind of a way is that?’
‘You know, video games and stuff. And at a funfair once.’
Doug laughed and returned the pistol to his waistband. ‘Then you’re crazy if you think I’m giving this to you. You’re more likely to shoot your own foot off than hit anyone else.’
‘But I can’t go in there unarmed,’ Sam said.
Doug held him in a steady gaze. ‘You don’t need to, son. I’m coming with you.’
Eva leaned forwards from the back seat. ‘I’m coming too.’
‘No, you’re not,’ Sam and Doug both said at once.
‘So you’re planning on leaving me here?’ she said. There was a thud from the boot of the car. ‘Alone. With him?’
Doug sighed and shook his head. ‘Looks like we’re going in together then.’
3
Eva trudged toward the building, thinking it looked more than a little like an abandoned warehouse. The sloping, corrugated iron roof was covered with patches of melting snow from which mini waterfalls cascaded to the ground. The fear she’d felt in the car was replaced by a jittery anticipation, and on some level she felt more alive than ever before, as though the present moment was the only thing that mattered.
Sam stopped just before the double doors and turned to face them. ‘Last chance, are you sure you want to do this?’
‘Will you stop asking that already?’ Eva stepped forward and took his hand. ‘We’re with you on this.’
Doug grunted behind them and stamped his feet. ‘C’mon,’ he said. ‘It’s cold out here.’
Sam nodded and pushed the doors open. Doug stepped in behind and, after a moment’s hesitation, Eva followed. The room she found herself in reminded her of the waiting room of the orthodontist she used to visit as a child, which was not a favourable comparison, since Dr Price was a clumsy, unsympathetic man who’d left her in agony after each visit, until he eventually went out of business the month before she was due to have her braces removed. A near-empty vending machine stood on one side of the room and a row of metal-framed chairs was bolted to the floor on the other. There was a reception desk straight ahead, where a small man wearing a peaked cap sat with his feet propped up.
As they entered he looked up from the paperback novel in his lap, swung his feet to the floor and blinked at them from behind the thick lenses of his glasses. ‘Sam? What are you doing here?’
Sam ambled over and placed both hands flat on the desk. ‘Hi Arnold, how’s it going?’
Arnold closed his book and shifted his weight back in his chair. ‘A bit on the quiet side, but can’t complain. What can I do you for?’
‘That’s the thing,’ Sam said and glanced over his shoulder at Eva and Doug. ‘I know it’s a bit, um, unusual, but I’ve got some visitors, colleagues from the States, and Dr McHayden said she wanted me to show them around the lab.’<
br />
Arnold frowned and checked his computer. ‘Nothing on the rota about that.’
Sam gave a nervous laugh. ‘No, I don’t suppose there would be. The request came through right at the last minute. All very hush-hush, if you know what I mean.’
Eva gave Arnold her brightest smile, but he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’d love to let you in – really I would – but without direct authorisation from Dr McHayden there’s nothing I can do.’
‘Aw, come on, pal,’ Doug said and stepped beside Sam. ‘We’ll only be a few minutes. Where’s your Christmas spirit?’
The friendly expression vanished from Arnold’s face. ‘Look, I’ve told you already, without Dr McHayden’s permission there’s…’ His gaze drifted down to the front of Sam’s jeans, which, Eva now realised, were smeared with Chrissie’s blood. He looked up again and began moving his hand toward the holster at his hip.
In a split second Doug had pulled the gun from his waistband and was pointing it at Arnold’s head. ‘Think again.’
Arnold made a face like a cat swallowing a hairball. ‘You must be out of your minds! You do realise what this place is, don’t you?’ He looked up at a small, black hemisphere hanging from the ceiling above their heads. ‘There’re cameras everywhere. You’ll never get away with it.’
‘With what we’re planning, I don’t think that’ll matter,’ Doug said. ‘Now get up. Please.’
Arnold pushed his chair back and stood with his arms raised.
‘Much obliged.’ Doug spun his finger in a circle. ‘Now, be a good fella and turn round.’
Muttering, Arnold turned his back on them.
Keeping the gun trained on Arnold’s head, Doug stepped around the desk, unclipped the holster on the guard’s belt, pulled out the pistol and dropped it into his own coat pocket. ‘Good. So, tell me,’ he waved the gun in the direction of the door behind the desk, ‘what’s through there?’
‘Nothing, only a kitchen and a lavatory.’
The Pages of Time Page 25
