The Time Hunters and the Lost City (The Final Chapter in the Time Hunters Saga Book 5)

by carl ashmore

  She stepped out of the Cadillac, and stared at the vast red and orange brick building, its countless windows, towers and turrets usually so enchanting, but for once giving the impression of an impenetrable fortress. She was thankful for it.

  ‘How does it feel to be back?’ Joe asked.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.’

  The front door opened and a short, round woman with frizzy hair and a black uniform appeared, walking slowly down the stone steps, followed by her thin, reedy husband who, despite an overall air of gloom, wore the kind of smile that could melt chocolate.

  Becky looked over at Maria and it struck her just how things had changed since their first encounter a year ago. Back then, Maria was a powder keg of energy, a bubbly, bouncing ball of exuberance and joy. But that had all changed.

  Maria was a broken woman.

  Maria approached Becky. ‘Hello, my angel.’

  ‘Hello, Maria. It’s good to see you.’

  Maria’s face cracked and she launched herself into Becky’s arms. ‘All that carnage in London,’ she spluttered, ‘a - and you were there … you could have been blown in bits. That Drake monster… he is der Teufel … the devil! He has taken the world for himself.’

  Becky paused, before saying in a steady voice, ‘Then we’ll have to take it back.’

  ‘But it is too late,’ Maria continued. ‘He has too many helpers, helpers who are as twisted, as evil as he is. And he has Otto Kruger … a beast who thrives off the deaths of others. No, I am afraid this Drake has the world to do with as he will. And now there are no governments to stop him. I have not slept for a day … I hear the radio. People are dying across the world. There is no order.’

  ‘There can be order again, Maria,’ Uncle Percy said softly.

  ‘But how do you know such a thing? You are a great man, but there are things you cannot know. You treat time as a Schürzenjäger treats the emotions of others, but you only know what has been … not what is to come. You do not know the future… no one does.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘But I know enough to know that Drake will not win.’

  There was something in his tone that sparked Becky’s curiosity. ‘What d’you mean “you know enough”?’

  For the briefest of moments, Uncle Percy looked flustered. ‘I just meant that I’m confident he won’t win. Put quite simply, goodness shall prevail. I have no doubt about that.’ Becky was about to question him further when he turned on his back foot and said, ‘I don’t know about the two of you, but I think we should at least try and eat something.’ And with that, he marched off in the direction of the Hall.

  A few minutes later, Becky and Joe joined him in the kitchen, whilst Maria and Jacob went off to continue their chores. Maria had laid on a platter of sandwiches and they each pulled up a chair and sat down. It was clear from the outset, however, that Joe had no interest in food – he wanted answers.

  ‘What’s Flight 19?’ Joe asked Uncle Percy. ‘And how did you know there was gonna be an attack?’

  ‘What happened to Flight 19 remains perhaps the most notorious mystery in aviation history, not to mention one of the reasons many believe in the existence of the Bermuda Triangle.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Five TBM Avengers led by Commander Charles Taylor flew from a naval base in Florida in 1945 and never came back. Neither the planes nor the crew were ever seen or heard of again. They just disappeared into thin air.’

  ‘So you think Drake recruited Taylor and the pilots to join his Associates?’

  ‘It’s doubtful, Joe,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Those aerial acrobatics we saw today were highly advanced manoeuvres. Other than Commander Taylor, the rest of the pilots were all trainees. Taylor was the only expert pilot amongst them. I definitely agree the planes were stolen somehow, but as for the original crews, who knows? Still, rather like the story of the Marie Celeste, it seems Drake is once again responsible for one of the great unsolved mysteries of all time.’

  ‘But how did you know that was Flight 19?’

  ‘From the side number markings on the fuselage. As a boy, I was always fascinated by the story of Flight 19. I still know the planes’ markings to this day.’

  ‘So what’s Operation Amicitia?’ Becky said. When Uncle Percy looked reluctant to answer, she added, ‘You said you’d tell us later. Now’s later …’

  ‘It’s a plan Charlie and I are collaborating on,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘It involves enlisting the help of some friends of the community to stop Drake. Although I’m not particularly happy with the comparison, I suppose we’re assembling our own bank of Associates.’

  ‘Then I hope you’re mates with the SAS,’ Joe said. ‘Because you’ll need at least them to batter Drake and his bully boys. In fact, you’ll probably need the entire British Army to stand half a chance…’

  ‘I don’t think that’s an option somehow.’

  ‘And what was that about Henry’s wives?’ Becky asked.

  ‘Oh, that’s just a name for some time machines we’re trying to acquire.’

  Becky didn’t look convinced. ‘And that’s it? You’re giving super-secret code names to a bunch of time machines? I don’t believe you.’

  ‘You can believe what you want, but it’s true.’

  ‘So why do they get special treatment?’

  ‘They’re unusual.’

  ‘Unusual … how?’

  ‘They’re big.’

  ‘How big?’

  ‘Very big.’

  ‘How big is “very big”?’

  Just then, a strange clomping sound rattled the kitchen walls opposite.

  As they rose in volume, Becky was in no doubt heavy footsteps were approaching. ‘Is Barbie back?’

  Uncle Percy shook his head. ‘Ah, with all the recent excitement I forgot to mention Bowen Hall’s new resident.’

  As Becky and Joe exchanged surprised looks, a robot entered the kitchen.

  Becky’s eyes nearly burst from their sockets.

  The robot was almost identical to Barbie except it had distinctive boyish features and a blue school cap replacing Barbie’s pink bow. Seemingly giddy with excitement, the robot’s bulbous eyes blinked wildly. ‘Yes, yes, yes … it’s Miss Rebecca and Master Joseph. My Alto Radar told me you were here. This is soooo cool. My circuits could blow I’m so happy. This is smashing … really smashing.’

  Becky thought the robot resembled an excitable puppy. She sat there in a dumbstruck silence before saying, ‘Err, hello.’

  ‘Hi,’ Joe said.

  ‘And hello to you both,’ the robot said, his words coming out at machine gun speed. ‘This is just the coolest thing. You two are my heroes. I know everything about you both. Master Joseph, I’m a Manchester City fan, too. I have every single televised game from the last twenty six years installed in my audio-visual archives, so if you ever want to watch a game just let me know. I could make hot dogs and nachos…’

  ‘Err, cheers,’ Joe replied, flabbergasted.

  ‘Oh, I hope you like me… I really do,’ the robot said. ‘Please, like me…’

  ‘I’m sure they will, Kenneth,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Now just calm down before your condexitribulator melts.’ He turned to Becky and Joe. ‘Becky, Joe, this is Kenneth. I created him after Will passed away. I thought we could do with an extra pair of hands around the Hall.’

  ‘And I’m overjoyed you created me, sir. It’s smashing … just smashing. I love being alive. I love my life.’

  ‘Sadly, Kenneth, whilst I appreciate you’re overjoyed to meet Becky and Joe, we’ve had some very bad news recently so would appreciate if you could tone it down a tad.’

  ‘I am sorry, sir,’ Kenneth said. ‘Then Miss Rebecca, Master Joseph, what I shall say is if I can ever be of service you only have to ask. Whatever it is … day or night.’

  Then something occurred to Becky. ‘Kenneth? You named a second robot … Ken?’ She laughed.

  Uncle Percy didn’t get the jo
ke. ‘What’s funny? Yes, I named him after Kenneth G. Wilson, the 1982 Nobel Prize winner for Physics. Mister Wilson did some revolutionary work, particularly relating to previously unsolved problems in theoretic physics concerning critical points and phase transitions.’

  Joe wasn’t interested in that at all. ‘You do know you’ve created Ken and Barbie?’

  ‘Who?’ Uncle Percy replied.

  ‘The doll,’ Joe said. ‘Barbie has a boyfriend called Ken. Everyone knows that.’

  ‘Well I didn’t.’

  It’s true, sir,’ Kenneth said. ‘The Ken Carson Doll, the Barbie doll’s fictional boyfriend, was first presented to the public at the American International Toy Fair on March 11, 1961. And if I may say, I am delighted to share his name … it’s a smashing name.’ He appeared to sigh. ‘If only I could enjoy the same manner of affection from my Barbie as he enjoys from his.’

  ‘Are you saying you fancy our Barbie, Kenneth?’ Becky giggled.

  ‘I can’t deny I think Miss Barbie is the most resplendent Electroic Cognitive Gynoid on the face of the earth. And yes, I am not too proud to declare I am in love with her. Sadly, she does not appear to feel the same way about me.’

  Uncle Percy looked almost guilty. ‘Oh, well, Kenneth, I’m sure things may develop in time. Such is the sophisticated, revolutionary nature of her strong Artificial Intelligence, I can’t predict how her feelings will evolve, any more than I could with a human being.’

  ‘I understand, sir,’ Kenneth replied. ‘And if my affections are not to be reciprocated then so be it. I consider it an honour to know her, just as I consider it an honour to know you Miss Rebecca and Master Joseph.’

  ‘Just call me Joe, Ken.’

  ‘As you wish, sir.’

  A broad smile crossed Joe’s mouth. ‘You know Ken, I reckon me and you are gonna have a right laugh together.’

  ‘I do hope so, Joe.’

  ‘Deffo,’ Joe replied. ‘Can you play football?’

  ‘I understand the rules, but have never actually played it.’

  Joe shrugged. ‘We can sort that out soon enough. What about sword fighting?’

  ‘Again, I’ve never practised it, young sir, although I do understand the principles and - ’ Kenneth extended his index finger in the air. ‘- And I do have my own sword.’ With a soft clack, the finger extended upwards at speed, tapering to a point, until it formed a long shimmering blade.

  ‘That – is – awesome!’ Joe breathed.

  ‘I’m glad you approve, sir,’ Kenneth replied, nodding at Uncle Percy. ‘As a matter of fact, my architect has equipped me with thirty six types of Quantumex weaponry. He also informs me you like the idea of “blowing stuff up.”’

  ‘God, yeah.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Kenneth replied cheerily. ‘Well, without meaning to brag, I’m particularly skilled at blowing stuff up…’

  Chapter 12

  Jacobean Tales

  Staring at a beaming Joe, Becky knew at once Uncle Percy had built Kenneth with Joe in mind, no matter what he claimed his intentions were. The robot could never replace Will, but at least he could help take Joe’s mind off him, particularly when visiting Bowen Hall. Her eyes fell on Uncle Percy and she mouthed the words ‘thank you.’

  ‘Thirty six types of weaponry?’ Joe asked Kenneth excitedly.

  ‘Yes,’ Kenneth replied. ‘Built into my frame are two Sempex Bazookas, a squid grenade launcher, finger pistols, a flamethrower, ten emptium missiles, a Filipino Kama, eight sets of shuriken, and a pair of Nunchuks.’

  ‘You’ve got Nunchuks?’

  ‘Yes. Would you like me to show you?’

  ‘No you shall not,’ Uncle Percy said sternly. ‘It breaks my heart I felt the need to turn Kenneth into a weapon, but who knows what manner of trouble is around the corner? Besides, most of his arsenal isn’t intended to cause harm.’

  ‘How’s that possible?’ Joe asked. ‘He’s better armed than the Punisher.’

  ‘Ah, but his weaponry is designed to fire temporal displacement blasts, not bullets or shells.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Joe asked. ‘Somethin’ like that Temporevolver you had in Ancient Egypt?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘The Temporevolver was designed to merely freeze an attacker for a specified amount of time, rendering them ineffectual until you had a chance to escape danger. However, I felt we needed something more permanent … something that made a clear statement … something to eliminate danger completely, without causing injury. Hence, I developed Quantumex technology.’ He turned to Kenneth. ‘Would you be so kind as to shoot that vase over there, Kenneth?’

  Without hesitation, Kenneth trained his right thumb at a blue and white vase on the window sill. BANG. A light blast struck the vase and in a dazzling swirl vanished into thin air.

  ‘W-where is it?’ Joe gasped.

  Uncle Percy smiled. ‘It’s on Popov Island, just off the coast of Russia in the Ionian Epoch.’

  ‘And how long ago’s that?’

  ‘Eight hundred thousand years ago.’

  Joe’s jaw threatened to fall off his face. ‘So if Kenneth shoots an Associate -?’

  ‘- Then said Associate would end up on Popov Island with a rather nice eighteenth century Delft vase.’

  ‘They’d be a prisoner in the past.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘What if the Associate wore a portravella?’ Becky asked. ‘Surely they could return immediately?’

  ‘From what I’ve observed,’ Uncle Percy replied, ‘the Associates only use short-range portravellas, which are invariably stocked with a very small amount of Gerathnium. There’s no way they could travel back far enough to be a danger to anyone ever again.’

  ‘That’s well clever of you,’ Joe said.

  ‘Not really,’ Uncle Percy replied, regret in his voice. ‘Frankly, I’m saddened that whatever small talent I may possess has been employed inventing weapons, but I suppose that’s just the way it has to be for now.’

  ‘‘Fraid so,’ Joe said, before nodding at Kenneth. ‘C’mon Kenny. I say we go outside and blow something to bits.’

  Kenneth hopped up and down. ‘Oooh, yes.’

  Uncle Percy frowned. ‘Over my dead body. Kenneth is not a toy, Joe, and although I’m happy for you to spend time together, I don’t want you getting up to any such mischief. Kenneth, that’s a command not a comment.’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  ‘Typical,’ Joe said, sulking. ‘You build the Terminator and won’t let me see what it can terminate.’

  ‘Kenneth does a lot more than obliterate things, Joe. He speaks over five thousand languages, obsolete and modern – he could teach you one if you’d like … how about Ancient Sumerian?’

  Joe looked like he’d rather cut off his own knees. ‘Whoopee.’

  ‘Okay, how about I play my trump card then?’ Uncle Percy said, determined to get a positive response. ‘I’ve installed twenty four thousand computer games onto Kenneth’s hard drive, including ‘Call of Combat 5’ in fully realised 3D and with the same functionality you’d get on the Playbox 6. I know for a fact that game isn’t released until next year. Now does that work for you?’

  Joe’s head rotated slowly toward Kenneth, awe spreading across his face. ‘You are officially my new bezzie mate, Kenny boy.’

  ‘Am I?’ Kenneth gushed ecstatically. ‘Am I really? Oh, that is smashing. Just smashing.’

  Just then an orb of light appeared at the far corner of the kitchen, bobbing on the air like a firefly, extending outwards until – craackkk – it exploded in a kaleidoscope of light, which faded to reveal Barbie standing there.

  Kenneth paced over, arms open wide. ‘Barbieeeeeee!’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Barbie groaned. ‘You’re still here, are you?’

  ‘Yes. And now so are - ’

  ‘Quiet!’ Barbie snapped, barging past Kenneth and marching over to Uncle Percy. ‘Sir, I’ve learnt a great deal about the events leading to Keith Pickleton’s
murder.’

  ‘Did you see who killed him, Barbie?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Yes. It was Otto Kruger.’

  ‘I knew it.’ Joe’s face blazed with rage.

  Barbie turned to Uncle Percy. ‘Sir, I have a visual recording you must see immediately.’

  ‘That can wait,’ Joe snarled. ‘I need to know where and when you saw Kruger.’ His eyes found Uncle Percy’s. ‘I need a portravella. I’m gonna find him … and I’m gonna kill him.’

  ‘You most certainly are not.’

  ‘I am,’ Joe replied. ‘And if you don’t help me, I’ll find someone who will. One way or the other, Otto Kruger’s dead meat.’

  ‘I can appreciate you want revenge for Will,’ Uncle Percy said in the calmest tone he could manage. ‘But there are other things at play here … things more substantial than a trifling matter of vengeance.’

  ‘It might be trifling to you.’

  ‘Will’s death affected me, too,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Now it’s a certainty we will meet Kruger again, and I swear to you at some point he will get his comeuppance. But that day is not today.’

  Joe inhaled a deep breath. ‘Okay. But when we do meet him again, I’ll kill him … and that’s a promise.’

  ‘Fine,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘For now, I suggest we calm down, take stock of the situation, pop to the library where there’s more space to think and take a look at Barbie’s visual recording.’

  A few minutes later, Uncle Percy, Becky and Joe were sitting at the central table in Bowen library, the sprawling room on the topmost floor of Bowen Hall. Sunlight burst through the high windows, splashing colour on to the dozens of towering bookshelves that touched the ceiling.

  ‘Go on then, Barbie,’ Uncle Percy said, tenting his fingers against his chin. ‘Start at the beginning and tell us everything.’

  Barbie nodded. ‘First of all I visited Keith Pickleton’s Time Room which revealed his final trip was to Islington, London in 1618. Subsequently, ensuring my invisiblator was fully operational I tracked him down to The Old Queen’s Head Public House in Islington, where he was talking to a gentleman – a gentleman of note and substance. However, I couldn’t get too close as the public house was busy, but I discerned enough to know their conversation was primarily about El Dorado.’