“I sent Fourget to find Sandra Malone.”
“In the middle of a global crisis that has stretched my department to breaking point, you sent one of our top operatives to check up on your girlfriend?”
“I’ve already explained. She called me to say she might have a lead on a planned temporal crime.” Which was something of an exaggeration, to say the least. “Then she disappeared.” For a couple of hours. “I thought it prudent to send someone to investigate.”
“And then your daughter got involved.”
“Fourget hasn’t been able to make a report yet. He’s under sedation. Based on what Cara says, she went to find her mother and encountered a group of hamsters guarding the facility where she thought her mother was being held. Fourget intervened and rescued her, sustaining some injuries in the process.”
“And writing off a million-euro combat suit and a hire car in the process.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Jay rarely called Crystal “Ma’am” but today seemed like a good opportunity. “We’ll know more when Fourget wakes up.”
Crystal stared at him for a long time. “At the very least, Jay, this looks like extremely poor prioritisation on your part. At worst, it looks like gross misconduct. As far as I can see, there is no evidence for an imminent temporal crime by …” she consulted a note. “… HiQua.” She paused to study something. Her screen was virtual and Jay could not see what she was reading.
“What is it?”
“Just a note that’s appeared on the HiQua file. The British Home Secretary has asked MI5 to explain its interest in HiQua and the presence of an agent of theirs—one Sandra Malone—in one of their Oxford offices.” She looked up at Jay. “She doesn’t really work for Five, does she, Jay?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. A HiQua security man spotted Sandra … Ms Malone … and has flipped out about her being a spy. But she’s not. Sandra—I mean, Ms Malone—”
“For heaven’s sake, just call her Sandra.”
“Right. She went off after HiQua because … well … before she knew what this was all about, but she’s stayed on their tail because now she thinks there’s a temporal crime involved.”
Crystal screwed up her face. “Does she work for Five?”
“No. She doesn’t work for anybody. That is … she works for HiQua, or used to; I’m assuming she’s fired now. The point is she tracked Hamiye to an engineering works in Enfield and then her commplant went offline. Cara … I mean …” He gave up any pretence at being professional. Since Crystal was no doubt going to sack him after all this, it could hardly matter now. “Cara then turned up at the same place and so did Fourget. There was a fight—involving five super-soldier mercs—and now Fourget is in hospital.”
He drew a breath, calming himself for a final appeal. “Ma’am, something is clearly going on at that HiQua facility and Sandra Malone—a civilian—is almost certainly being held captive, or worse. I know the world went to shit two nights ago and we still don’t have the slightest clue as to why, but if this company is planning a timesplash, the present state of confusion would make this a perfect time to do it—while we’re all looking the other way.”
Crystal shook her head and sat back. Jay could see her decision was made, even before she spoke. “It’s a company, Jay. One of the biggest in the world. Connected at ministerial level all over Europe and elsewhere. Companies like that don’t blow up capital cities. It’s not good for business. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t have a single shred of evidence that anything is going on with HiQua except your girlfriend’s hunch, the fact that she went offline for a while, and that HiQua vigorously defended themselves against intruders in the night at one of their engineering works.” She hardened her stare. “It doesn’t justify an investigation. It barely justifies a moment’s consideration. Get Fourget back here and get on with the job you’re supposed to be doing. That’s all.”
Her expression was a shield against any attempt by Jay to argue. He said, “Yes, Ma’am,” and left her office. He found his way back to his own floor and sat behind his desk. He pulled up a software assistant and told it to keep trying Fourget’s netID and to alert him the moment the lieutenant answered his phone. Then he put in a call to his counterpart in UK Military Intelligence. He wanted to talk to somebody at Aldermaston. Somebody from Project FORESIGHT.
***
Fourget opened his eyes. Was it morning? He checked the time and groaned. Yes, it was. His tongue was sore and dry and his body felt weak and heavy. For a moment he stared at the wall of his hospital room, his mind blank. Then he struggled onto one elbow and looked around. In a chair, curled up awkwardly but fast asleep, was Cara Malone. Her sparkly jeans seemed even more incongruous in the sterile room than they had last night. She was clutching a hospital blanket but it was mostly lying across the floor. She seemed younger and prettier in repose, but that was hardly surprising.
His phone rang, a software agent trying to connect him to Jay. He ignored it.
He removed his cannula and took a drink of water. The pain in his chest was tolerable if he moved carefully. He took off his gown and got out of bed. Standing barefoot and naked, he studied his body for damage. Grazes and bruises. Nothing to worry about.
In a cupboard beside the bed, he found his bag with his clothes and shoes still inside. The girl must have brought it in from the car. He dressed as quickly as he could and walked to the door.
“You’re leaving?”
He stopped, hand on the door handle.
“After all that, you’re just going to sneak away without even saying goodbye?”
He turned to face Cara, who was sitting up in the chair, looking hurt. “Thank you for … getting me here. I must go.”
“Go?”
He nodded. “My mission is not complete.” He grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. “Goodbye, Cara.”
She was beside him, following him along the corridor. “Your mission? You mean to find my mum?”
Again, he nodded but kept on walking. He hoped she would tire soon and leave him to his work.
“No. I’m coming with you. You don’t even know where to look.”
“Do you?” She was silent. “No, I didn’t think so.” He increased his pace, the movement making him feel better all the time.
“I’m going with you,” she said, keeping pace with him. She was about his height and had longer legs. He was never going to out-distance her.
“You should call your father and ask him what he thinks.”
The young woman bridled. “I’m not a child. What would your father think, you pompous sod?”
He stopped. They were passing the hospital cafeteria and the smell, while not appealing, made him realize how hungry he was. Cara, hurrying along beside him, bumped into his shoulder, making him wince with pain.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wincing in sympathy. “I didn’t mean to.” Then she noticed the café too. “Food! Yes. Let’s sit down and have breakfast and we can talk it over, work out how to proceed, yeah?”
With a sigh, he went over to the counter and surveyed the fare. If the girl wanted to follow him, that was her privilege. Jay’s agent called him again and again he ignored it. Avoiding the greasy fried food, he chose a couple of rolls, butter, cheese, and an apple. He made Cara pay.
“Why would a hospital sell the kind of food that probably put half its patients in here in the first place?” he asked Cara as they sat down. She blinked back at him as if surprised he could say so many words all at once. She had a bowl of muesli and a pot of yoghurt. Vegetarian? he wondered.
“My dad helped me get you here last night,” she said. “I—I was in a panic. I didn’t know what to do. For a while I thought you were dead. That suit you were wearing … it’s incredible. And those people, with all their gross muscles and stuff, I thought they were going to kill us. Well, they would have if not for you. You were so brave. I just don’t know how to thank you. I was too scared to do anything useful at all. When I saw
the way that woman just picked you up and threw you …”
He let her speak. She had been shocked. It would do her good to talk it all out. Meanwhile, he buttered a roll and considered his options. One thing was certain. He would not be answering Jay’s calls. His discreet little mission was probably common knowledge by now and Crystal would be roasting his boss’s balls in a pot. If he took the call, Jay would tell him to stand down and he would have to. If he ignored the call—as he might if he were still unconscious—he could do what Jay really wanted him to do.
“So then all the penguins marched up to the senate building with their woolly hats on.”
“Pardon?”
Cara was glaring at him, obviously aware that his mind had been elsewhere. Eh bien.
“When you speak to your father,” he said, “you must tell him I am still in the hospital. Still unconscious would be better. Tell him I have a concussion.”
“You tell him.”
“No. It is better this way.”
Cara frowned at him, lips pursed. She was very cute. He should try to persuade her to go home but he did not think that would be easy.
“Is my car in the car park?” he asked.
“Your car is junk. We had to leave it at the side of the M25 and come here by ambulance. It’s a miracle it got us as far as it did. Don’t worry, my dad spoke to the police about whatever weapons you might have had stashed in the boot.”
Not good news. “Do you have a car?”
“I had a hire car that I left a couple of blocks from Clarke Engineering. I expect it has given up on me and taken itself back to the car hire place by now.”
“I need you to get me a car.”
“You … need me?”
“To get me a car.”
“Well, of course. Where are we going?”
She was smiling sweetly at him, as if she had scored some great triumph. Yes, it was her mother who was missing, but who knew where the trail might lead, or what he might find at the end of it?
“Can you fight?” he asked. She frowned, puzzled. “Are you a good shot with a pistol?”
“Not bad,” she said, but he did not believe her. He chewed on his roll and regarded her.
“You are no use to me.”
Her face set. He thought he was about to see her cry, but he was wrong.
“You really do need me,” she said. “You want EDF MI to think you’re still here, unconscious. So you can’t use them to get you transport and weapons. You’re on your own. In fact, you can’t even use your personal credit because they could find out and you’d get in trouble—or they’d make you stop and go back to Berlin. True?” He said nothing. “Well I’ve got resources you haven’t. I’ve got money and places to go and people who can access data for me. How do you think I found out where they’re holding Mum?”
“She’s not there.”
“What?”
“They moved her. I scanned the whole place yesterday before you turned up. She’s not there.”
“No. She must be. Why else would they need all those gerbils?”
It was a very good question, but not his concern. “Hamsters. Can you get me weapons?” She shook her head, deep in thought. “But you have money?” This time a nod. “Bon. You can help.”
She snapped out of her reverie. “Really?”
“Your father will have me busted to private for involving you, but …” He gave a shrug. He needed support. It was an operational decision. Jay would have to live with it.
“Let me worry about my father. If he ever says anything, just remind him how well he did keeping me out of the Washington job.”
Cara started a call to a car-hire company. “Make it something big and solid,” he said, remembering the mercenaries from last night. She seemed to understand. In fact, she had demonstrated a whole lot more competence and determination than her angelic looks promised. A chip off the old block, perhaps. Jay did not impress at first sight, either. And then there was the mother, Sandra. He was looking forward to meeting that one.
***
Dr Hong clicked his antique biro. His father had given him that pen when he received his doctorate from Zhejiang University. For a while, he had used it, writing notes by hand in expensive, paper notebooks, the way his father had once done. He was not an attractive man and the pen gave him an air of eccentricity which he believed compensated to some extent. Certainly, his first wife, Lihua, said she had only noticed him because of the pen, so it must have worked.
But Lihua was gone now. She had died of tuberculosis during the Adjustment. And Hong had stopped using his pen to write with. Now it was his good luck charm, and something for him to fidget with when he was nervous. His second wife, Mingxia, had noticed him because he was the head of her research lab, a famous and powerful scientist. He had loved Lihua with all his heart. Mingxia was very beautiful, she laughed a lot, but she was not a woman with much depth, and he had come lately to suspect that she worked for China’s Central Military Commission.
“We’re ready, Dr Hong.”
“Good, good. Proceed.”
He watched the pilot walk over to the chronosphere, lift the hatch and climb inside. He hardly knew the man. All the pilots were handpicked and trained by Lee. This one was like the others, compact, young, self-assured. In his pressure suit he looked like a fighter pilot—or maybe just a fighter—and walked with a slight swagger. Given the risks involved, Hong supposed it must take a certain kind of reckless courage to climb into that sphere. Rather you than me, young man.
The pilot put on his helmet and the tekniks leaned inside to fasten his harness. The pressure suit was just a precaution. The sphere had its own air supply and heating. He gave a thumbs-up sign and they closed the hatch. Hong checked the displays around him. All systems were nominal, in the sphere and in the lab. A countdown began while the tekniks went through the final checks with the meticulous care of a spaceship launch. All unnecessary. The systems were fine and essentially automatic once the hatch was closed. It wasn’t at this end that things would go wrong.
The countdown hit ten seconds as the final green lights came on from the various systems specialists. Despite his confidence, Hong waited with his hand hovering over the big red button that would abort the launch. With his other hand, he clicked his biro.
A teknik read off the seconds as they passed. Pure drama. He didn’t remember ever asking anyone to do that. It was a tradition that had arisen spontaneously. He could make them stop, but it was somehow settling in these final moments.
“Five. Four. Three.”
The big antennae around the sphere glowed with St Elmo’s Fire.
“Two. One.”
The supercapacitor banks discharged with a bang followed instantly by a higher-pitched clap as the chronosphere disappeared and air collapsed into the void it had left.
It was up to the pilot now to judge just how long to explore at the other end: the sphere would return with or without him in two hours.
Hong checked the displays. Everything had been perfect at the moment of launch. If the roll of the quantum dice inherent in every time shot fell in Hong’s favor, the sphere would go exactly as far as it should. But what the pilot would find when he reached the other end was literally impossible to guess. Hong clicked his pen and hoped for good luck.
***
Sandra woke up slowly. All was silent. Piece by piece the memory of the previous night assembled itself. Gradually, she understood why her head was throbbing, why she was on a mattress in a small empty room, why her left wrist was handcuffed to a metal ring in the wall. That bastard Hamiye had stunned her again. She’d waited and watched him but he had given her no chances. So she’d taken a wild risk, thrown her drink in his face, heaved the big wooden table over onto its side, slid her cuff off the leg, hurled a chair his way and run for the door. He’d still managed to get off a shot and bring her down.
She tugged at the handcuffs, but the ring did not budge. From the little pile of powdered plaster and brick under
it, she concluded it was bolted into an external wall and that Hamiye had put it there last night while she was unconscious. She checked her commplant. No signal. It was already mid-morning and she was hungry. She found a tin bucket standing near the bed and banged it against the wall, shouting to let her jailer know she was awake. She needed the bathroom too and was not happy to think why the bucket had been left there.
Hamiye took ages coming for her, giving Sandra plenty of time to sit on her mattress and fret. Cara would be going crazy with worry by now. The events of two years ago in Washington had left her daughter far more shaken up than she would ever admit. Sandra knew that Cara’s fear of that insanity starting over again was always just below the surface. She’d coped amazingly well and Sandra was proud of how strong and resilient her daughter had turned out, but Cara had been practically still a kid when it happened and there were scars despite everything that she and Jay had done to help.
Sandra herself had been just fifteen when she had been forced into a timesplash by her psycho boyfriend, Sniper. She’d seen a little girl murdered, a friend beaten to death, and all the other casual brutality and mayhem of a timesplash. It had completely unhinged her. She’d spent the next two years in a mental health institute before escaping and embarking on a crazy vendetta to kill Sniper.
Jay had saved her. Sweet, gentle Jay had shown her another version of existence, one in which people loved and cared for one another, where she was free to value herself as more than a beautiful body, a commodity for others to bargain with. She’d never told him how much she owed him. And maybe Cara too would have gone off the rails if Jay hadn’t been around, and if he hadn’t opened Sandra’s eyes to the woman she had become. Worse, if she hadn’t had that time with Jay all those years ago, if they’d just used each other's bodies without her seeing how beautiful his heart was, what kind of mother would she have been to Cara? It was a question that scared her so much she picked up the bucket and slammed it against the wall again.
At least Cara wasn’t alone. She was with Dot and, by now, must be bending Jay’s ear about mounting a rescue. Whatever happened, she knew Jay would do everything he could to keep Cara safe. Although, to be honest, his efforts at guarding her last time had been pretty hopeless.
Foresight: Timesplash 3 Page 12
