Foresight: Timesplash 3

by Graham Storrs

  “No, I said. If the attack has started, we’ve got to go, now.”

  Lee pointed the gun at Hamiye’s chest. “We have to go. You have to get into the sphere.”

  Hamiye looked his boss in the eye and his stomach tightened. There was no doubt in his mind that Lee would shoot him if he didn’t do as he was told. He considered attacking him. Hamiye had the advantage of size and reach and he doubted that Lee had seen much hand-to-hand combat. But there was a pace-and-a-half of space between them. Plenty of time for Lee to pull the trigger before Hamiye could lay a finger on him.

  “If they’re here when I get back,” he said, still looking Lee in the eye. “I will surrender and tell them everything.”

  “We’ll hold them off. Don’t worry. The gunship will be here in a moment. Any of their people outside the building will die soon after.”

  “Who the hell are you, Lee? If you’re a bloody HiQua executive, I’m a primary school teacher.”

  The line of Lee’s mouth hardened. “Into the sphere now. Speak again and I will shoot you.”

  Hamiye dared not risk it. He turned and walked over to the sphere.

  “Inside,” Lee said.

  Hamiye looked at the soft, padded interior. His choices seemed to be to die there, or risk dying in the future—either tomorrow or in two hours’ time. He took the small chance of survival the future offered and climbed in. Lee closed the hatch as Hamiye fastened the harness around himself. He hit the big yellow button with “EXTERNAL” printed on it and it lit up. He flipped up the red plastic lid over the little silver switch and flicked it from “Locked” to “Ready”. Now Hong could fire him off into the future. He gripped the arms of the seat and waited.

  ***

  Fourget heard the shooting and cursed silently. They’d discovered Jay and the chances of him surviving were almost zero—as were the chances of Jay reaching their target. He kept moving along the wall of the building. He might be Sandra Malone’s only chance now.

  The window with the missing bars was just where Jay had said it would be—near where they’d shot their hostage. Fourget holstered his gun and pulled himself up and through with little effort. He found himself in a small office and made straight for the door, drawing his gun once more. The corridor outside was quiet although there was shouting and the sound of running elsewhere in the building. He switched to augmented reality and green arrows painted themselves on the floor of the corridor. As quietly as he could, he followed them.

  At the first corner, he stopped and hooked a finger around the edge of the wall. The camera at the fingertip of his suit fed an image into his commplant which displayed itself on the inside of his mask. Five meters away, two Asians in business suits were standing outside the room he was trying to reach. As he watched, one of them left. The other stood in the doorway, guarding it, cradling a snub-nosed machine gun that hung from a lariat around his neck.

  It would have been easy for Fourget to step into the corridor, raise his gun and shoot the guard. Even if the man had time to aim his weapon and fire, the combat suit could handle the impact of a few small-bore bullets. But Fourget needed to stay silent. The whole building was on alert and more shooting would draw their attention to him. His first encounter with the hamsters had put him in hospital. He would not be so lucky again.

  He watched the guard and waited. Every now and then, the man would look up and then down the corridor. Each time, his head was turned away for three seconds. That was how long Fourget would have to reach him if he sprinted down the corridor. But his best estimate of how long it would take to cover the five meters between them was six seconds, giving the guard three full seconds to raise his gun and shoot. It was almost impossible, but Fourget would have to take the chance. There was nothing else he could do. He readied himself, steadied his breathing, crouched slightly to launch himself into the attack.

  The sound of gunfire deep inside the building startled him, then brought a grin to his face. So Jay is still alive after all. The shots also startled the guard, who stepped away from the door to face in their direction, weapon ready. His back was to Fourget. With a lunge that strained his suit’s servos to the max, he leaped into motion, powering down the corridor at more-than-human speed, barrelling into the guard, who barely had time to look over his shoulder before Fourget was on him. The impact knocked the guard off his feet and, as they hit the ground, Fourget delivered a single, power-assisted punch to the back of the man’s head that cracked his skull against the floor and left him unconscious, if not dead.

  Fourget lay across his victim’s back while he took a couple of deep breaths and thanked the gods for his survival. Then he was on his feet and dragging the limp body back to the room in which the injured hostage might still be alive. The door was locked. He pushed it open with a shove of his free hand, threw the guard inside and followed him, closing the door behind him.

  On a chair in the middle of the room was a man he did not recognize. Not Sandra! Not Cara's mother bleeding out before his eyes. There were two bullet holes in the stranger’s chest and he was dead. Fourget tried to access the man’s commplant but there was no signal. Someone was running a jammer. He reached out and touched the body, creating a direct bridge between them. Across the residual electrical field from the corpse came the information he requested. Sir Roger Waxtead, CEO, HiQua.

  Fourget’s relief at finding that the hostage was not Sandra Malone was offset by two things. One was confusion about what this Waxtead guy was doing there, in fact, the whole question of what the hell was going on. He’d been completely convinced that they would find Sandra in that room. The other thing that marred his relief was the burning urge to kick himself—and Jay—for getting into this mess for no good reason at all.

  Another burst of gunfire reminded him that Jay was still fighting for his life elsewhere in the building.

  He crossed back to the door and eased it open. The corridor was clear. Silently, he slipped out and headed towards the noise.

  ***

  Hamiye waited an age but nothing happened. He knew something must have gone wrong and called Hong over the intercom. No reply. Fearing some kind of malfunction that would shoot him into a distant, dangerous future, he popped the hatch of the sphere.

  Immediately, he heard gunfire. He slapped the release on the harness and peered out over the edge. He could see Hong hiding under the console, hands over his head, as if that would save him from a bullet. He craned his neck to see farther and there was Lee with two of his Chinese security men. They’d taken cover behind the capacitor cabinets and were firing across the room at someone who only rarely got the chance to fire back. He risked poking his head right out to get a proper look. They had a tall, slender man in a gray combat suit pinned down behind a steel cupboard that was already dotted with dozens of bullet impacts.

  The scene didn’t make sense. The guy in the suit was only facing small-arms fire. He could come out from behind his cover and stroll out of the room without any risk of being seriously injured. Also, he must know that one or more of the hamsters could appear at any moment and take him down. It took him a couple of seconds to realize the man in the suit was stalling them, keeping them busy while something else was happening.

  He swung himself out of the sphere on the side away from the shooting and made his way towards the intruder around the back of the room.

  “Langbroek,” he whispered into his comm as he closed on the suited man. “What’s the status out there?”

  “No movement, boss. I’m in the main corridor, heading your way. One of my team is down.”

  Damn! How did one guy bring down a hamster—even in a combat suit? “Send someone to check on our prisoner. I think there’s more than one of them in here.”

  “Sure.” There was a pause, presumably while he gave the order. “I’m outside the main door now.”

  “OK. The target is on your left, crouching low, range four meters. Do not kill him. I know he shot your friend, but do not kill him. I want to know what�
�s going on.” He waited until Langbroek acknowledged the order. “Thank you. On my mark. Mark.”

  The hamster burst into the room, big gun aimed at the intruder. At the same time, Hamiye came out of cover shouting, “Drop your weapon. Get down on the floor. Arms straight out.” He saw the man’s helmet swing round, saw him look first at him, then at the giant. Given the circumstances, he took a very long time to respond. Slowly, he stood up, holding his handgun between two fingers. He looked around at all of them, Lee and his two sidekicks, Hamiye, and, finally, the merc. Then he tossed his gun aside and, again slowly, lowered himself until he was lying down, as instructed, with his arms out. Still stalling, Hamiye thought. Something’s going on that this guy thinks is worth risking his life for.

  Hamiye walked up to him. Lee joined him above their prisoner. “Take off your helmet.” Slowly, the suited man complied. Hamiye still had plastic ties in his pocket from dealing with Sandra Malone. He knelt down and tied the prostrate man’s hands behind his back. “OK, you can get up now.” He glanced at Langbroek. “Help him up.” The giant reached down and grabbed the man by his wrists and hauled him upright with such force it would have dislocated both shoulders without the suit’s servos taking the strain.

  Hamiye found himself facing a man in his mid-thirties, broad-shouldered but slim, with eyes that held no fear, only wariness and determination.

  “You’re Farid Hamiye,” the prisoner said. He turned to face Lee. “You are Lee Shaozu. And the older gentleman crawling out from under that table is Dr Hong Minzhe. And that …” he looked over at the sphere “… must be your FORESIGHT machine. Although I suppose you call it something else.”

  Hamiye couldn’t help smiling at the man’s audacity. Even now he was stalling, trying to sidetrack them so they wouldn’t ask the obvious questions.

  “How do you know about the machine?” Lee demanded, pushing his gun in the prisoner’s face.

  Hamiye reached out a hand and gently pressed Lee’s gun down. “Never mind that. Tell us what’s going on. You’re obviously not here alone. How many of you are there and where are the others?”

  “One’s just been to see Waxtead,” Langbroek said. “My guy reports one of your Chinks is down. No sign of any intruders.”

  “Who are you?” Lee asked, irritating Hamiye by putting his gun back in the man’s face and by asking stupid, irrelevant questions that only wasted time.

  Before the man could answer, Hamiye said, “Langbroek, tell your guy to head towards us. That’s where any intruders are heading. Mr Lee, if you would send your men to guard that door …” He pointed across the room towards the front of the building. “They might be able to surprise them as they try to get in here.”

  Lee gave the order then turned back to the prisoner. “I still want to know who you are.”

  The man regarded Lee’s gun for a moment and sighed. “You know, you should really put your gun down. I’ve always made it a rule not to talk to people who point guns at me.”

  “Talk or die,” Hamiye said, losing interest. He needed to find the other intruders. “He’s all yours, Mr Lee.”

  “Jason Kennedy,” the prisoner said. Another attempt to forestall Hamiye’s departure. “I’m—”

  Hamiye saw the surprise on Lee’s face. “I know who you are, Mr Kennedy,” Lee said. Hamiye didn’t remember ever seeing his boss surprised before. “You are the head of K Section, European Defence Force, Military Intelligence.” His face hardened as he turned to Hamiye. “That means the woman wasn’t MI5 at all, you idiot. She was EDF MI.”

  Hamiye had reached the same conclusion. But how was he to have known? Besides, if not for him, Lee would never have known there was a spy in their midst, whatever agency the damned creature was from.

  “Get back into the sphere, Farid,” Lee said. “The mission must not be delayed.”

  “What? There are other agents in here. In this very building. Getting in that sphere would be suicide until we’ve rounded them all up and eliminated them.”

  “The woman doesn’t work for me,” Jay said. “She doesn’t work for Five, either. She’s a civilian. You should let her go.”

  Lee placed the barrel of his gun against Jay’s temple. Hamiye saw the Englishman stiffen. He was going to die bravely, at least. “Goodbye Mr Kennedy. I wish I could take you with me. There are people who would love to have a long talk with you. But I’m no longer in a position to take prisoners.”

  Machine-gun fire exploded nearby. Hamiye flinched and looked round in time to see a section of ceiling give way and another man in a combat suit fall from above in a shower of plaster. He held a snub-nosed machine gun in one hand and an automatic pistol in the other and both muzzles were flaring as he fell, spraying scores of bullets around him. Hamiye turned to run as the man landed with a crash in a cloud of white dust. Bullets whipped through the air and he managed just one stride before pain stabbed up through his left leg and he found himself falling.

  He hit the ground hard but tried in desperation to see the man who had shot him, as if knowing what the gunman was doing might help save him. He saw Lee’s two Chinese henchmen come running back into the room, guns up. He saw Lee, still alive, holding the man Kennedy like a shield. He saw the shooter’s handgun was no longer firing, out of ammo, then the machine gun stopped too. The agent threw it away and took off, running straight at the two Chinese, ramming a new clip into his handgun as he went. Then the thunder of a heavy machine gun boomed nearby and the EDF MI agent went down, armor-piercing bullets knocking him off his feet as blood splashed from his lower back and legs.

  Sudden silence echoed around the factory, ringing in Hamiye’s ears. His leg was on fire, pain burning along every nerve. Yet it seemed distant, like the drum drum of his heartbeat. The echoing, rushing silence whirled around him; he felt sick. For a moment he was confused about the giant legs striding past him, the prisoner shouting, “Nooooooo!” until blackness flooded in to claim him.

  ***

  Jay stared at Fourget’s body, unable to believe what had happened. The man who’d hidden behind him, Lee, let go of him and stepped forwards to stare at Jay’s fallen friend.

  “I—I have never seen such courage,” Lee said. His voice was shaky and hushed. “I wish I had men like that.” Jay glanced at him. There was something in his tone, as if he spoke to Jay as a fellow soldier, an equal. He saw blood dripping from Lee’s fingers. Wounded in the arm, then. At least that was something.

  He looked about. The mercenary had gone over to poke Fourget with his machine gun. There was no sign of life. The other man, Farid Hamiye, was on the floor, blood oozing from a leg wound. Everyone seemed stunned by what Fourget had done. He looked over at the two Chinese men in suits. They were too calm and disciplined to be hired thugs. Soldiers, perhaps. And Lee was their commanding officer. So not soldiers, but spies. Chinese agents on a deep-cover mission that had lasted at least three years to his knowledge. And Hong … He looked across the room to find the elderly scientist back under his table.

  “You’re here to conduct experiments in future time travel,” he said aloud.

  “The dangers were unknown,” Lee said, not looking at him. “Influential people refused to let us work within our own borders. After Beijing, a timesplash in Chinese territory would be unthinkable.”

  “And this whole elaborate set-up with HiQua, what was that all about?”

  Lee turned to face him. A sad smile played on his lips. “Money. Deniability. But mostly money. There is a very important general, you see, who was only persuaded to support the project in return for a very large consideration. We’ve done enough to prove the technology, but to go back with empty hands would be unacceptable. It complicates the mission.”

  Jay looked away, anger rising like gall. “You know you are responsible for the catastrophe that happened the other night?”

  “That is not certain. Dr Hong thinks it is unlikely.”

  They both watched the old man climb shakily from his hiding place. Jay’s tone was bey
ond scornful. “Dr Hong might prefer to lie to himself than to face the truth about his work. He doesn’t strike me as a particularly brave person.”

  Lee seemed to snap out of the reflective state his near-death experience had caused. “Your people are attacking at last. I have a helicopter gunship outside watching them. Tell them to pull back, or it will blow them to pieces.”

  “You’ve got a jammer running. Shall I stand on the roof with a megaphone?”

  Lee called to Hong and the scientist reached into his console and worked the controls with trembling hands. His team’s comms chatter was suddenly audible through Jay’s commplant. He sighed.

  “Here’s the thing, Lee. I’m willing to let you and your agents go. I’ll even let the hamsters go. We can always track them down later. But I want him.” He pointed at Langbroek. “And I want Hong and your equipment. I also want the civilian woman you’ve been holding.”

  “No fucking way, Kennedy,” Langbroek said. “I ain’t going with you and the fucking Chink can’t make me.”

  Jay pursed his lips. “Then we have a problem, I’m afraid.” Silently, he said into his comm, “Gerhard?”

  “Jay! Where have you been? Are you all right? You won’t believe—”

  “Gerhard, shut up and listen. There’s a helicopter—”

  “Yes, we’re tracking it.”

  “It’s just received orders to shoot the men you’ve sent here.”

  “Ah. OK.”

  Lee had been speaking but Jay had missed it. “Sorry? What was that?”

  The Chinese agent snarled. To Hong, he shouted, “Get that damned jammer back on.” To Jay he said, “I said to tell them to pull back! It won’t help to warn them. They’ll be just as dead. You missed your chance to save their lives. Langbroek!” The gigantic mercenary was right behind Jay, as he discovered with a start when he turned. “Keep an eye on him. I’m keeping him in case any more of his people get in here.” He turned to his Chinese agents and snapped orders at them in Mandarin. Langbroek did not move. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you doing anything?”