Now there was an interesting woman, and how pretty she had looked while deriding him. He remembered the way her eyes had sparkled during their verbal joust, something he had not had leisure to consciously think about at the time. He felt somehow liberated by the fact that she knew the truth about him. A pity she hadn’t stuck to a war of words. He had never experienced anything like that kick, and still felt terrible ten minutes later.
He’d have had more options had Kayla not been there, or Jace . . .
The police were getting to their feet, explaining there was nothing they could do at this stage, the suspects’ chips being already in the auto report system. “Sorry we missed the fight, but chasing time-travelling perps is more your people’s line of business than ours,” the senior officer said as they left.
Kayla suggested he should stay the night so she could fuss over him, but Quinn ordered a pod and went home, after telling her to get everything, including the ruined carpet, replaced and send him the bill. He wanted to be alone to think. The spacious calm of his apartment soothed him; the panoramic view, the silence. He showered and changed his clothes, then realized he was hungry. Sitting on his own sofa eating salmon en croute with a white burgundy, aching all over – he suspected a rib was cracked – and uncharacteristically low spirited, he considered the various defeats of the last two days. The one shred of luck had been Floss not disclosing to Kayla what she had gleaned from his journal; she had not had time to spill the beans about his other women. If Kayla broke up with him, he would miss her. She suited him well, was beautiful, intelligent, good company, presentable and prepared to accept him on his own terms. He’d be unlikely to find anyone more fit for purpose.
But that aside, things had gone badly for him. Quinn was not accustomed to losing, and did not like it. Also, it seemed improbable that Jace had gone for good; he was a man with a grudge, a tough, intelligent and dogged man who had nothing to do with his time except work out ways of getting revenge. He was a human sword of Damocles hanging over Quinn’s head, a bomb that could go off at any moment and bring his life crashing down. Quinn had thought he was done for earlier that evening, when Jace’s arm had been round his neck, slowly forcing his head backwards. He had waited for his spinal column to snap; then came the obliterating pain from Floss’s kick, and Jace had let him go. On reflection, that kick might have saved his life.
Quinn finished his meal. Glancing up he noticed something white, a piece of paper, beside his computer. His immediate conviction was that Floss had visited again, and left him a message. This thought was considerably more appealing than all the others jostling in his mind. He crossed the room and picked up the note.
I’ve brought you a timely present. I wonder if you can work out where it is?
His heartbeat accelerated. The handwriting was his own.
Quinn walked through his bedroom and into the dressing room, crouched by the ottoman and felt underneath for the slit in the canvas. His fingers closed round something smooth and metallic . . . he drew it out. A TiTrav – not his old one, this was silky black, a little lighter in the hand and a different design, with the buttons to one side of a slightly larger screen. It was brand new, still with the temporary password tag attached. As he looked, its ice-blue light pulsed. A warm glow suffused his body, banishing pain and depression. Life felt good; he was back in control of his world. It occurred to him his future self must be doing well, to own more than one TiTrav. Then he thought again – by delivering this, his future self would be wiping his own timeline in favour of a new one. What had happened to him to make that a desirable option?
Unbidden, the notion crossed his mind that he could visit Floss in her own time . . . he dismissed this beguiling idea as frivolous. The first thing he needed to do was remove all threat of Jace returning. He would go back to 4th September 2180, to Bunhill Fields five minutes after he had left him, and put a bullet in his brain.
Floss and Jace walked down Upper Street to Pizza Express. They sat at a small table by the window, eating pizzas, drinking Pinot Grigio and watching people pass by. Jace found he was keeping an eye out for Quinn – ridiculous. The man no longer had his TiTrav, and could only time travel under the austere auspices of IEMA; he was securely stuck in his own time. Floss was attacking her pizza as if taking part in a speed pizza-eating contest. She glanced up and noticed his eyes on her.
“Thinking you might get shot makes you really hungry. Never knew that.” Jace was feeling ravenous too, he realized. They both focused on the food for a bit.
When her plate was nearly empty, Floss said, “So what next?”
“Quinn’ll send an IEMA team after me. Not that he’ll want to, but he doesn’t have a lot of choice, what with Kayla being there, and the police called. I’m on the wanted list, I time travelled in the presence of witnesses. Not just any old witnesses, either – he’s Chief of Intelligence, she’s Head of Timecrime. It would look suspicious if he didn’t.”
“What about me? Will they come after me?”
“Again, Quinn won’t want to. On my own, I’m a wanted criminal telling an unbelievable story, maybe off my head. With you there, my allegations look a bit more solid. Quinn could argue you aren’t subject to laws not passed in your own time, and that you’re now back in 2015 with no obvious ill effects in 2050, so why not leave you there – but people would wonder what his angle was, why he cared. They’d wonder until they worked it out.”
“But he’s in charge and good at getting his own way. I might be all right.”
Jace shook his head. “It was a big mistake to let them see you had the TiTrav. That’ll be their main focus.”
Floss thought about this. “Maybe if I don’t go back to my flat for a while it’ll blow over.”
Jace’s face expressed his doubts. It’s not going to blow over unless I make it.
“I could call in sick at work, then take some time off, stay with a friend . . .” She grinned. “I could leave a note on my door saying I’d given the TiTrav to you.”
“Be my guest.” Jace topped up her glass, then raised his eyes to hers. He had to make her see the danger she was in. “Floss, I’m really sorry. It’s not realistic to think you can lie low for a while, then resume your normal life as if nothing has happened. You’ll be taking a big chance. I’m not sure I can fix this thing, and if I can’t . . . when you go to any of your usual haunts, home, job, friends and family, IEMA could be waiting for you. Then back to 2050, a trial, and fifteen years’ jail. Time cops are thorough, and we don’t give up.”
“They may be thorough, but they’re not superhuman. I’ll be on the lookout for them. I’ll buy a personal alarm, and stay in crowded places whenever possible. The last thing they’ll want to do is cause a stir, because that could change the timeline, and the more trips they make, the greater the risk.”
She doesn’t get it. He tried to explain. “If they’re determined to get you, they will. Realistically you need to disguise yourself and get a new identity and a new job. Stay away from friends and family. Start again.”
She looked at him, appalled. “I’m not going to do that!” The people on the next table glanced their way, and Jace frowned a warning. Floss leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I’d lose everything; my whole life. Even with a new identity – and God knows how I’m supposed to get that – I couldn’t work in the same field because it’s quite small, and I’d be recognized. The obvious thing for IEMA to do is check out all female research scientists in my age group. So I’d lose my home, my family and friends, a job I love, and they could still find me if they’re as relentless as you say!”
“There’s no point making it easy for them.”
“There’s no point living a life that isn’t mine.”
“You’ll feel differently if they arrest you.”
“Even if they do, there’s always the possibility they might believe what I tell them about Quinn.”
“They might, at that. What they’ll know for absolute certain, though, because Kayla saw
it and you’ll admit it, is that you’ve time travelled. And they don’t recognize any mitigating circumstances for timecrime. And they won’t send you back to your own time.”
Floss said, “Why don’t we use the TiTrav to go back and warn ourselves?”
Jace quoted, “Encountering yourself is theorized to be dangerous to the fabric of reality.”
Floss rolled her eyes. “I’ve already encountered my younger self! You’re being annoying. You told me all this physics stuff went over your head.”
“Some of it stuck.”
“What are you going to do now? About Quinn?”
“Realistically, there’s nothing I can do. The bastard was right. It was always my word against his, but now there’s evidence I time travelled, forget it.” His eyes narrowed and he gave a bleak smile. “Not that I plan on being realistic. When you take the TiTrav back to Ryker, I’ll come with you and stay in 2050. While I’m deciding what to do I might go someplace remote, Scotland maybe. Camp, survive off the land.”
“But that would be like being back in 2185!”
“I’m not intending to be there for long. Just till I work out the best way to crack this.”
“If they went to future London, they could see you’d lived there. That would prove your story.”
“It would prove I’d travelled to the future illegally and stayed, not that Quinn dumped me there.”
“I don’t know – no one would believe you went there by choice.”
They ordered desserts. After the meagre and monotonous diet Jace had survived on for five years, meals were a recurring pleasure. He ate a spoonful of fudge cake and felt an involuntary blissful smile spread over his features as the chocolate melted on his tongue. Floss was looking at him in a funny way. “What?”
“It’s nothing – just . . .” She glanced away as she muttered, “For a moment you looked like your old photos.”
Their meal finished, coffee drunk, Jace made a last attempt to persuade Floss to take evasive action. She remained adamant.
“Whatever. I’ll take my chances. Just like you’re doing.”
He gave up. “Let’s go to the flat and you can pack a bag. We’ll have to leave fast if the SWAT team turns up banging on the door.”
“Quinn came on his own last time.”
“He wasn’t arresting you then.” He signalled to the waiter for the bill. “Perhaps you should have taken him up on his offer.”
She gave him a look. “Yeah. What was I thinking? I could be at home with my feet up now, instead of getting lectures on time paradoxes from tiresome ex-time cops.”
The waiter handed Jace the bill, and he realized he couldn’t pay it. Floss grinned at his discomfiture and plucked it from his hand. “My treat.” She gave the waiter her credit card.
“I said I’d take the TiTrav back straight away, and I think I’d better just in case IEMA catch up with us before I do. I don’t want to let Ryker down.”
“We’ll go as soon as we’ve collected your stuff.” Jace smiled. “Maybe he’ll let us borrow it for a bit. Give us time to rob a few banks and buy a couple of private islands, as a fallback.”
CHAPTER 40
Expect the unexpected
Full of new energy in spite of his aches and bruises, Quinn got out his second pistol, loaded the ammunition and put it in his concealed waistband holster. He changed the TiTrav’s password, then set the date and location for his trip to the future.
When he had taken Jace to 2180 London, he had chosen to leave him at 7.30 pm GMT, while it was still light enough to see, but the sun was setting and darkness about to fall. Now he set the time for 7.35 pm, so he would avoid meeting his former self (a big IEMA no-no) but Jace would not yet have been able to escape his bonds. Another fight with Jace was the last thing he wanted. He set the details of the return journey to his apartment, five minutes from the present time, and switched on the limiter. After checking he had not forgotten anything, he pressed the two buttons with a feeling of anticipation.
The blackness cleared. Quinn gazed around, frowning. The TiTrav had malfunctioned somehow, had moved him in space not time . . . Bunhill Fields looked exactly the same as it did in 2050; well-kept, its grass mown and stone paths clear, apart from a few scattered autumn leaves from the big trees. A wilted posy of flowers lay beside William Blake’s grave. The area was deserted, but beyond the murmur of the breeze moving in the branches he could hear faint sounds of people and traffic. He consulted the screen. The last trip pane showed the correct date, just as he had entered it. The fading amber evening light confirmed the time was right – but this was not future London. If the TiTrav was not working properly, it might be better to get a pod home rather than trust it to take him. Ryker could no doubt sort it out . . .
Quinn walked towards the exit to City Road. The gate was closed and locked; of course, the Fields would be shut at this hour. He’d have to climb over, which looked do-able, just about, in spite of the gate’s row of gold-painted spear heads. Outside, the pavement was teeming with people, a mixture of workers going home and revellers commencing a night out. Something seemed a little odd about them as he got nearer . . . many were wearing close-fitting dark glasses. He noticed a woman in a long dress with a glowing, rippling pattern running over it, rather like the skin of a cuttlefish, then he saw that quite a few of the clothes had integral lights . . . a man had one muscled arm bare, displaying a luminous tattoo of a dragon.
Quinn was right up to the gate by now. Wesley’s Chapel was there across the road – its courtyard occupied by an encampment of scruffily dressed families – and the Georgian townhouse next to it, but the other buildings were . . . entirely different. One’s glass façade resembled a huge screen, showing adverts; a flawless woman’s face smiled enigmatically, her deep blue eyes enticing. TOUCH YOUR DREAMS . . . WITH ZENSA. Her eyelashes dipped, the image faded. A wholesome young couple at the top of a skyscraper toasting each other in Coca Cola followed, and Quinn returned to the matter in hand. Exercising caution, working out where to place each foot beforehand, he climbed over the gate and dropped to the pavement. He looked about him, oblivious to the covert stares of passers-by at his clothes and the cuts on his face.
The road had strange markings on it and was crammed with nose-to-tail pods, smaller than those he was used to, moving at a crawl, slowed by people dodging between them. Silicon Roundabout was now multi-layered, roads swooping and twisting around it. Skyscrapers shouldered along the City skyline, which more resembled Dubai than the London he knew.
His brand new TiTrav had not malfunctioned after all. Something must have happened to avert the disaster with the contraceptive virus. This, he finally accepted, was future London in the year 2180. The old uninhabited and ruined London was gone forever, as was his best and simplest opportunity to rid himself of Jace.
Why hadn’t his future self told him more, given him some useful information? He must have had his reasons. Most likely, it was important his former/present self did not deviate from his current course, even if that involved blunders he would avoid if he knew about them.
There was no point lingering, nothing for him here. A shabby child asked him for spare coins, and Quinn shook his head impatiently. He pressed the buttons to return to his own time.
CHAPTER 41
Parting and meeting
Saturday, 7th May 2050
Jace told Floss she didn’t have to come with him, but she wanted to see the TiTrav safely back in Ryker’s hands, as she had promised. Not that she didn’t trust Jace; but something might go wrong . . . also, she was worried about him. His determination to get even, coupled with zero idea of how to do it, was likely to end in disaster. Perhaps Ryker would talk some sense into him.
She reminded herself that none of this was any of her business.
Jace thought it safest to arrive in a nearby park and walk to Ryker’s railway arch, in case he had a customer in his workshop. Floss wore trousers and jacket from her 2050 wardrobe to blend in, but Jace only had his P
rimark clothes, so they set the time for 9.30 pm, after dark when they would be less visible. Spinning, blackness; then wind sighing in the trees and the smell of rain and mown grass greeted them. A line of streetlights fifty yards away showed where the road was. They walked to a lamppost by the railings, and Jace linked his fingers to give Floss a leg up. No one was about in the scruffy streets.
They reached Ryker’s cul de sac and saw light gleaming from his windows. All the other buildings were dark. Floss rang the bell; the dog barked and after a moment Ryker opened the door.
He smiled, as if pleased his confidence in her had been warranted. “You brought it back, then. Come in.” He nodded at Jace and they went inside. Ryker found them a couple of chairs, then got out three bottles of Tiger Beer, flipped off the caps and passed them round.
Floss took off the TiTrav and handed it to Ryker, who laid it by his computer. He turned to Jace.
“Made up your mind what you’re going to do?”
“Not as such,” Jace said.
“He’s going to go to Scotland, live rough and seethe for a bit,” Floss interpreted. She told him about the encounter with Quinn at Kayla’s, on the principle that being in possession of Quinn’s TiTrav, he needed to know. Ryker listened without saying much, though she could tell he appreciated the bit about her kicking Quinn.
Then he said, “I’ve been thinking. What I want to do is hire this out, but there’s two problems with that. One, all my contacts are crooks, and not all of them can be trusted. It won’t be long before someone decides not to bring it back. Two, one of them might do something stupid that’ll mess up the world. I don’t want to wake up one morning and find myself living in a dictatorship or some post-apocalyptic wasteland, and if it was my fault I’d feel bad about it. What I need is someone I can rent out with the TiTrav, who’d keep it on his wrist and stop the punters doing anything too bonkers with it. He’d have to be able to look after himself if things turned nasty.” He looked at Jace. “Dunno if you’d be interested . . . ? Gamekeeper turned poacher type of thing. I’d pay you. We’d have to have a trial period, see if it worked, but if it did, we’d be like partners.”
The Trouble With Time Page 22
