Foresight

by Graham Storrs

“I do agree,” she said, slowly. “However small the chance that you’re right, the danger is so astronomically high it has to be investigated.”

  “But?”

  “But what makes you think we’ll find a FORESIGHT machine in this factory you’re taking me to? If it exists, it could be absolutely anywhere.”

  Jay began to answer but stopped himself when he realized how stupid it would sound. The time machine had to be at Clarke Engineering because that’s where Sandra was, and he knew, with a completely irrational conviction, that Sandra had sniffed and stumbled and smashed her way to the very heart of the mystery.

  It was a gift she had.

  Or a curse.

  ***

  Night had fallen but the little engineering works was awash with the glaring white light that shone perpetually within its walls. Hamiye prowled around, restless and unhappy. Lee and Hong were at the console again, arguing. The sphere sat with its hatch open, the centre of everything, the metal gantries looming over it like curious adults peering down at a baby about to say its first word.

  And what if that word was “apocalypse”? What if the woman was right?

  Everything had been so certain just yesterday. Now there were mysterious backers, a desperate rush to complete the project before MI5 or the SAS turned up, the tekniks fleeing, and the time shot depending on the goodwill of one crazy woman.

  He should do it himself. He knew he should. Using Sandra was insanity. But so was risking his life. And the way Hong was gesticulating and complaining to Lee only convinced Hamiye more that the next trip the sphere took would be a one-way ride for its passenger.

  “There’s a car approaching,” Langbroek said through Hamiye’s commplant.

  “No-one comes in.”

  He crossed the broad factory floor and wound his way among the offices to reception. There he looked out through the glass doors along the drive to the main gate. All he could make out were headlights and two of the hamsters, guns ready. As he watched, a man approached from the car and stood at the gate, speaking to Langbroek.

  “Says he works for Lee,” the mercenary said over the comm. “Cocky little bastard.”

  “Stand by.” He called Lee and asked if he was expecting a visitor.

  “Let them in,” Lee said at once.

  “Who are they?”

  “Don’t worry about that. Just let them in.”

  He began remonstrating but realized Lee had hung up. Through clenched teeth, he called Langbroek and told him to admit the car. “Ask them for ID,” he added.

  “Already did. The little shit told me to fuck off. All in Mandarin. No speakee Engrish, so he says.”

  Hamiye wanted to tell Langbroek to take his visitor by the ankle and shake him until he started cooperating but instead he said, “Let him in anyway. How many in the car?”

  “Four.”

  Four? Was Lee bringing in reinforcements? “When they’re inside, have somebody search their car.”

  “Looking for what?”

  “Anything that shouldn’t be there.”

  The gate swung open and the man walked back to the car, legs flickering past the headlights. Then the lights bobbed into motion and the car drove up to the entrance. Three Chinese men got out and two of them dragged a European out of the back. He was gagged and his hands were tied behind him. Hamiye’s breath caught as he recognized the prisoner as the CEO of HiQua, Roger Waxtead. Had Lee lost his mind? Waxtead was in on it. He controlled all the money. Even if he’d been nothing to do with it, Waxtead was the kind of high-profile figure you don’t just kidnap on a whim. People would miss him, important people who could bring down a world of grief on Lee’s head. They were probably already looking for him.

  Hamiye stepped in front of the leader of the little group as they came through the door, forcing them to stop. The man only came up to Hamiye’s shoulder but there was not the least sign of intimidation in his hard brown eyes. Instead there was an air of calm, professional appraisal as he studied Hamiye. The scrutiny lasted a couple of seconds, then he settled back to wait for Hamiye’s next move. The security chief had a strong sense of having been weighed in the balance and found wanting.

  “Follow me,” he said and turned to lead the group to Lee.

  Hamiye found Lee still standing over Hong and his tekniks as they labored to get the rig ready for the coming time shot. Hong was grumbling as he worked, endlessly clicking his stupid pen. Hamiye caught a little of Hong’s complaints as he crossed the factory floor. “We have enough data already,” the scientist was saying. “We don’t need to do this. You’ll get us all caught.” He stopped abruptly when he noticed Hamiye and the newcomers.

  “Did you arrange this?” Hamiye demanded as they drew near, flicking his head towards Waxtead.

  Lee ignored him. He had a quick exchange in Mandarin with the head kidnapper. One of the men holding Waxtead pulled their captive’s gag loose.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Lee?” Waxtead wanted to know. The man was trying to stand on his authority but Hamiye could see how shaken and scared he was.

  Again, Lee spoke in Mandarin and this time the guy who had removed the gag hit Waxtead in the stomach. The billionaire convulsed, gasping for air.

  “Please understand,” Lee said. “Once you signed over the funds for tonight’s trading and wagers, you ceased to have any value to me.”

  “To you?”

  Lee’s henchman hit him again. This time Waxtead threw up on the floor. Lee looked away from him with an expression of distaste. Hamiye noticed Hong watching, wide-eyed with alarm.

  “I need you to listen to me,” Lee said. “There is a strong possibility that the police or the secret service will be here soon. There was an altercation last night. Someone snooping around. One of them was wearing a state-of-the-art combat suit. With any luck, he died from his wounds.”

  “What’s that got to do with—?”

  Again, they hit Waxtead in the guts.

  Lee shook his head in mock sadness. “You are a very slow learner, Waxtead. Speak again and I will have them break one of your legs.” He turned to look at Hamiye but continued to address his remarks to Waxtead. “Thanks to the incompetence of one of my trusted lieutenants, we seem to have drawn the attention of a government agency. So, you see, we might need a high-value hostage to bargain with if things don’t go well.” He turned back to Waxtead and gave him a thin smile. “And that’s you, Sir Roger. Hopefully, all will be well and we can leave this place without interference, but I like to plan for all contingencies. Farid, here, will see to your needs while you are our guest.” He dismissed them all with a wave. “Lock him up with the woman.”

  ***

  Hamiye and the three Chinese took Waxtead to the storeroom where Sandra was being held. Hamiye unlocked the door and stood back as the leader of the Chinese group pushed forwards and opened the door, giving commands over his shoulder. Sandra Malone barrelled into him, butting him in the solar plexus with her head then cracking him under the chin with the back of her skull as the unfortunate man doubled over and she straightened up. He staggered back into the hall and fell heavily onto his backside. Sandra, head up now, froze as she took in the five men outside her door.

  “Fuck,” she said.

  Recovering from their shock, both the men holding Waxtead let him go and drew guns. Their leader jumped to his feet and assumed a fighting stance. Hamiye couldn’t help but smile at the man’s obvious discomfiture. It cheered him up immensely.

  Sandra took a step back. Her hands were tied but she seemed willing to take on her opponent with only her feet. Hamiye had a strong urge to stand back and watch the fight, but, seeing that it would upset his Chinese co-workers even more, he stepped between them, facing Sandra, and held up his hands.

  “No, no,” he said. “Don’t hurt him any more. You’ve had your fun, so let’s all just settle down, shall we?” Behind him, a barrage of what sounded like fluent Mandarin cursing brought another smile to his face. He let it drop a
nd turned to face the angry Chinese. “Could we put away our guns, please, gentlemen?”

  The injured man wiped at the blood that was running down his chin. He stepped up to Hamiye and said quite a lot to him in a low, threatening voice. Then his companions put away their guns. He reached out, caught hold of Waxtead and threw him at Hamiye. With a final burst of angry invective, he and the others stalked off down the corridor.

  Hamiye turned to Sandra as soon as they were gone, remembering that he had his back to her. He held Waxtead between them and grinned at her. “How do you like my new friends?”

  Watching him out the corner of her eyes, she walked over to a chair and sat down. “You guys make the Keystone Cops look like a tough, well-disciplined outfit. What you got there? Dinner?”

  Hamiye shoved Waxtead into the room. “Sandra Malone, meet Sir Roger Waxtead. It seems he’s our hostage in case your friends turn up.”

  “Waxtead? As in …?”

  “The very same.”

  Sandra pushed up her lower lip in mock appreciation. “Wow, you guys just get stupider and stupider.”

  Since this was almost exactly Hamiye’s opinion, it did a lot to wipe the grin off his face.

  “I’ll give you a million euros if you’ll help me escape.” Waxtead’s first words were directed at Hamiye but Sandra was the one who laughed.

  “You’ve got to do better than that, Rog. You’re in the hands of master criminals here. They’ve already offered me twenty million to help them.”

  “What?” The billionaire seemed shocked. Then an even more astonishing idea seemed to strike him. “You turned it down?”

  Hamiye didn’t like to be reminded. “Waxtead, save your breath. No-one’s getting out of here until the shot’s over and we all leave.”

  “The shot? But that’s not for another week.”

  He noticed Sandra glance sharply at Waxtead, no doubt realizing that he wasn’t just a hostage—or hadn’t been. “You’ve been out of the loop, I suppose. We shoot tonight and we’re out of here. The trades happen on the South American and Asian exchanges, and we pick up our money in the morning.”

  The fear was back in Waxtead’s eyes. “So why am I here? Why am I being treated like this?”

  Hamiye felt sorry for the big idiot. “You heard Lee. He doesn’t need you any more now he has control of the money. I suppose you should be grateful he still wants you as a hostage, otherwise you’d be dead already.”

  “And what about when he doesn’t need you any more?” Sandra asked.

  That very thought had been on Hamiye’s mind for some time now. He said to Sandra, “I’ll come for you when the device is ready. It shouldn’t be long. Look …” He hesitated, not certain that what he was about to say was true, but he said it anyway. “After the shot, I’ll do what I can to make sure you two walk away from all this. I … just can’t promise much.” He made for the door.

  “Farid?” Sandra’s tone lacked its usual hostility. “Those Chinese guys just now. The way they held themselves, the way they handled their weapons: they were well trained. They didn’t look like rent-a-thugs. They looked like police, or armed forces. You didn’t bring them in, did you?” He looked back at her without speaking, turning over the implications of what she’d said. “You need to find out who they are, Farid.”

  He gave her a small nod and left.

  ***

  Jay and Laura struggled to make small talk as their car followed the others through the night.

  “What’s your plan?” she said, after a long silence.

  “My plan?”

  “For when we get there.”

  “Pierre and the guys have worked out a way to storm the place if we need to, but first we’ll reconnoitre, assess the situation. We’ve got satellite coverage for the rest of the night.”

  “And you?”

  “Me?”

  “Are you part of the plan?”

  “If Fourget needs me. Otherwise, I’ll go in after the main assault. When it’s all quiet, I’ll call you and you can join us to assess the equipment.”

  “Why don’t you just get the local police to surround the place and hold a siege until they surrender? Then nobody would get hurt.”

  The idea of a long siege and protracted negotiations gave Jay a visceral feeling of revulsion. “No, it has to be quick. They could do another lob at any moment—do you still call it a lob if it’s into the future?” Laura shrugged. “Then there’s the prisoner to think of.”

  “Your Sandra.”

  Jay chose to ignore the comment. “And I don’t want them destroying any of the evidence. If we ended up with a three-day siege, they could disassemble their rig, wipe their files, and we might be hard pressed to prove they’ve done anything illegal except a bit of kidnapping.”

  “Kidnapping’s not insignificant.”

  “No but one of their underlings might try to take the rap, with the bosses denying they knew Sandra was even in the building. I don’t want the people in charge slipping through the net.”

  “Even if it means they might be killed in a raid?”

  Jay had put this question to himself many times over the years. “These are not innocent victims, Laura. If they really did cause the event we saw the other night, they’ve got the blood of thousands on their hands.”

  “Perhaps they didn’t realize what would happen?”

  “Perhaps they didn’t care.” It irritated him that she should try to defend them. “They must have known. Hell, if I can work it out, whoever they’ve got in the role of evil genius can work it out too.”

  They fell silent again. Jay brooded on the likelihood of the brilliant Dr Hong disappearing from China three years ago and then someone else suddenly working out how to build a FORESIGHT machine in London. He popped up a display with Hong’s image—a blurry 2D shot of him at a conference from ten years back. It would not surprise Jay to find that face looking at him from the inside of a cell if tonight’s raid went well. Or a mortuary slab if it did not.

  Laura interrupted his thoughts. “Is Sandra the reason you became such an intense and isolated person, Jay?”

  “No, I blame that on not having been breastfed for long enough as an infant.”

  “Seriously. She broke your heart, didn’t she?”

  Yes! She smashed it to pieces then trampled on the pieces until they were dust.

  “We’re nearly there. I just need to make a couple more calls.”

  She flopped back in her seat. “Fine. Make calls.”

  ***

  Hamiye went outside to talk to Langbroek as soon as he had the opportunity. The night was getting colder all the time and a thin rime of frost covered everything, sparkling in the streetlights. He turned up his collar and clutched his jacket tight at the front. His breath was a stream of gray smoke as he crossed the courtyard to where Langbroek and the woman stood waiting for him. They were still bare-armed and oblivious to the bitter thin wind stinging his cheeks and making his fingers ache. The woman wandered off as he approached.

  “All quiet?” he asked Langbroek.

  “I’d let you know if it wasn’t.”

  “You search the car?”

  “Sure.”

  “And?”

  “Three travel bags in the boot. All popular Chinese brands. Same for the clothes inside.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nope. Looks like the new guys are planning a trip after they finish here.”

  “Aren’t we all?”

  “And it looks like they’re Chinese.”

  “Yes, it does, rather.”

  Hamiye thought about this new intelligence as the gigantic mercenary watched him. Actual Chinese, probably military, or maybe just well-trained Chinese mercenaries, called in by Lee to kidnap Waxtead. Why would Lee do that? Why wouldn’t he ask Hamiye to arrange it? How did Lee even know people like that? There were plenty of questions and no answers at all.

  “We’re finishing here tonight,” he told Langbroek. It elicited a small frown.
<
br />   “You told me four days.”

  “After the run-in with the odd couple last night, we’ve moved up the schedule. You’ll still get paid for the full contract, only it would be better to get out of here as soon as we can. Just in case.”

  Langbroek nodded. “Can’t argue with that.”

  “It’ll be just a couple of hours now, I think, so be ready to move out.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m going back inside.” He could feel his muscles tensing already. He’d be shivering soon. “Keep a sharp eye out. Don’t relax. If they come, they’ll come fast and hard.”

  Langbroek seemed completely unperturbed by the idea. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. My team’s the best, right?”

  “That’s what it said on the box.”

  Langbroek grinned at him and Hamiye hurried back into the factory.

  Five pumped-up super-soldiers, three Chinese military, and himself against … what? An SAS squad? Backed up with MI5 agents? If so, it sounded far too much like a fair fight for his taste. The factory would not be easy to defend with so few people. All-in-all, it would be better if they just got the time shot over with and got out of there as soon as they could.

  Before he went in through the glass door, he took a last look out across the drive and the parking lot to the dimly-lit road beyond. He was glad they had Sandra inside—even Waxtead. It would be a piece of cake to hide someone out in the shadows and lob mortar shells at the building, or to fly in out of the black sky in a military helicopter and fire a couple of missiles into it. At least the hostages prevented that kind of attack—or they did if anyone knew they were there. And the guy in the super-suit turning up meant that someone did.

  He shivered and went inside. No point in dwelling on it. If it came to a shoot-out they were stuffed any way you looked at it. Their only hope was to get out before the shooting started.

  Even as he thought it, an unearthly screech rang out nearby. Then a window smashed.

  ***

  The presence of Waxtead in her cell gave Sandra renewed hope. She showed him the plastic tie that bound her wrists behind her and explained what he had to do.

  “Are you kidding? I’ll rip your hands off.”