by Alex Scarrow
Liam gazed out of the back of the truck, his mind a million miles away.
My first trip… and it’s already over for me.
The last few weeks of his life felt like a crazy dream. A little over three weeks ago,he’d been a junior steward on the Titanic, tending to rich,pampered passengers, looking forward to arriving in the land of opportunity, America. The planhad been to quit his job the moment the ship docked and begin a new life of adventure anddiscovery. He’d read so much about America and knew this was the place for him, thecountry in which he would make his fortune.
Then a chunk of bloody ice at sea had changed everything.
And with it came Foster… saving him from the sort of death he’d always hadnightmares about — drowning. The old man had opened an incredible door for him. Astunning world of the future, a world of chrome and glass buildings, of neon lights andflashing screens of colour, of excitement, of movement, of technology that seemed out of thisworld. But also a world of the past, of any time he wished, for Foster assured him he wouldsee so many wonderful things, wonderful moments, that in a way… no,definitely… he was the luckiest young man alive.
Now here he was. Stuck. What he faced now along with everyone else in this truck was afrightening and uncertain future. They were going to be shot and, if not, then most probablyput to work as prisoners of war.
Some small voice inside tried to reassure him that at least he was alive instead of crushedand rotting fish-food at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. It did little to cheer him. He wasstuck here. There was no way for him to return to that third and final extraction window. And,without any way at all to communicate with Foster, Maddy and Sal… that was it forhim.
Might as well forget those names, he told himself. I’m never going to see them again.
The truck rattled past a picket fence plastered with photographs of all shapes and sizes, thesmiling faces of those missing printed on Have you seen them?posters placed by worried husbands and wives, mothers and fathers. Along the bottom of thefence were piled posies of flowers, fresh and old, crosses, mementoes, teddy bears and dolls.It was a shrine to those who had vanished amid the whirlwind carnage of recent weeks.
Several of the other people in the back of the truck watched the fence pass by, a painfullyendless display of hope and sadness. A woman opposite him sobbed at the sight of it.
So many dead and missing.
A soldier in the truck ground his teeth. ‘Never even stood a goddamn chance’gainst them Nazis.’
Perhaps the only comfort, Liam considered, was that the war had been so short, that it wasalready over.
CHAPTER 45
1956, command ship above Washington DC
Kramer watched the nervous young Fallschirmjager officer and his two men leavethe room.
He had a million and one things to attend to, a steady stream of command decisions waiting tobe made, not only to do with this recently conquered country, but also with affairs of stateback home in Europe.
But his mind was now on this one thing, the report he’d just heard from the youngofficer, the report of a shimmering window of air among the White House trees. There had beeneye-witness statements that one man was ‘swallowed’ by it, only to be returned aminute later, his body appearing and instantly merging with that of another man who hadaccidentally stepped into the shimmering air.
These were eye-witness statements made in the immediate aftermath of a battle; themen’s blood was up, adrenaline flushing through their veins. Soldiers, after the rush ofcombat, have always been prone to seeing things. Military history is filled with the storiesof soldiers who saw armies of angels coming to their rescue. Kramer might have dismissed thisas the overexcited rambling of young soldiers, except the officer had brought themthis…
His eyes drifted across the twisted, mutated thing in the body bag between them.
Karl looked up at his leader. ‘You think this might have been theresult of another time traveller?’
Kramer said nothing in response.
How could someone else travel through time?
Waldstein’s carefully hidden prototype had been the onlytime machine. International law had come down hard and unanimously, and thoroughly closed thedoor on this technology. Any nation, any corporation, any individual caught developing it wassubject to the ultimate punishment: complete obliteration. No warning. No arguments. Nomitigating factors. Even in the chaotic troubled world of the mid-twenty-first century therewas an accepted understanding that, for better or worse, time could not be allowed tochange.
‘That machine was the only machine, wasn’t it?’asked Karl. ‘Paul…?’
Only Karl was allowed that privilege now — using his firstname, and then only when it was just the two of them.
‘Yes, Karl… it was the only one.’
By destroying Waldstein’s prototype behind him, Kramer had been certain that no one could follow them back in time and their efforts to change theworld for the better be undone.
But what if there was another machine?
The thought sent a chill down his neck.
And someone determined to come back after us?
If this twisted body on the floor was the result of a time window opening, then someone from the future had chosen to zero in on today. Someone fromthe future was trying to correct history and assumed today, 5 September 1956, was the dayhistory was changed.
But it wasn’t today.
History had in fact been changed fifteen years earlier, the day Kramer and his men had foughttheir way through SS guards to have an audience with Hitler. The day Kramer had explained thatHitler’s impending attack on Russia would be the beginning of theend of his dreams, an end that would come four years later in a bunker beneath Berlin with abullet in his temple and a cyanide capsule crushed between his teeth.
Kramer looked up from the corpse, out through the panoramic viewing windows. ‘Karl, wemust completely erase history.’
‘What?’
‘Everything before today… particularly everything since we arrived in1941.’
‘Covering our tracks?’
‘Yes. But we should present this to the people as a symbolic gesture.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘This day will be known as Day One, a new beginning for allof mankind. We will announce that after so many thousand years of bloodstained history — countries, kings, popes, emperors fighting each other for land or money, or faith — thatall war is over.’
‘No more wars, yes.’ Karl nodded. ‘It would be a popularmessage.’
Kramer pointed towards the city skyline through the broad window. ‘America was our biggest threat, and now it’s part of our Reich. Wecan’t be challenged any more. We’re now looking at the chance that every person inthis world can finally be united under one banner.’
‘The Russian and Chinese states still remain.’
Kramer shrugged. ‘Their time will come.’ He turned to Karl. ‘I think now isthe perfect time, anyway, to make this sort of a sweeping gesture.’
He turned away from the smouldering body, glad the young officer and his two men were goneand that he could turn his pale face from the awful sight.
‘But, Karl, you and I must never forget that we’re strangers in this time. Even though it’s been fifteen years since we time-travelled, we must beever vigilant of covering our tracks.’
‘I understand.’
‘By declaring today as the first day of a new era, we’ll be wiping the lastfifteen years clean, Karl. Leaving absolutely nothing. No clues for anybody in the future toclose in on. But, more than that, we’ll erase all of history. And why not? Isn’tthis also the reason we came back? To wipe the slate clean… A new beginning. A neworder?’
Karl nodded.
‘I will make an announcement over state television and radio. We shall decree a day ofcelebration across all the nations of the Greater Reich — a unity day of-’
‘Unity Day… it is a good name for it,Paul.’
‘Yes
… yes it is. We’ll call it that, then. As well as this celebration,we’ll begin a systemic purging of history books, documents, relics. It all has to go. Itall has to be burned.’
Karl nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘And we’ll tell the people of America that there’s nothing to be afraid of.They will not be enslaved, but instead will be invited to join theGermans, the French, the British and all the other citizens of the Greater Reich.’
‘I will have a speech drafted for you,’ said Karl.
‘Thank you, old friend. This…’ he said, pointing at the body on the floor,‘is nothing for us to be alarmed at, do you understand? Wecontrol history now, Karl… you and I… it’s clay in our hands to be mouldedexactly as we want. There will be no way for anyone from the future to find our entrypoint.’
‘If this body was the result of an attempt by somebody to find us — ’ Karllooked at Kramer — ‘the fact that they tried today andnot back in the spring of 1941… this proves…?’
‘Yes.’ Kramer smiled. ‘That they have no idea what date we went back to originally.’ He patted Karl affectionately on the shoulder. ‘Ithink this shows that we’re safe.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Karl crisply saluted. ‘I shall see to your speech.’
‘Thank you.’
Kramer watched Karl go, closing the grand double doors behind him, and then turned once moreto look out of the panoramic windows.
Will that be enough, though… erasing history?
It would be a sensible precautionary measure, but Kramer still felt a chill of unease. Halfan hour ago he’d been certain that Waldstein’s prototype had been theworld’s one and only time machine.
Is it possible I’m wrong?
In the sky he watched a squadron of Messerschmitt Jetlanders swoop down from a higheraltitude and hover just above the deserted streets below, sweeping them with theirsearchlights.
What was left of the world to conquer would present even less of an obstacle than Americahad. His Reich was now unassailable, unbeatable, all powerful. The remaining countries wouldfall one by one. Russia and China, two large but backward nations, were isolated, blockaded onall fronts. Sooner or later he could finish them off and be done with war.
Nonetheless, it was an unsettling prospect that someone somewhere out there in the futurecould — if they got very lucky — find a way to get to him.
Or it might be something far worse, Paul. Do you remember what the oldman Waldstein once told you?
Kramer cursed, glancing at the body. He ordered his guards standing outside to take the thingaway and dispose of it. He’d seen enough bloodshed for one day… and there was muchto attend to now that the United States had officially surrendered.
CHAPTER 46
1956, Washington DC
It was dark and wet. Bob’s eyes had adjusted hours ago to the dimness downhere in the sewers. Pallid tendrils of light lanced through the grating in the pavement above.It was a grey, overcast afternoon in Washington DC, the day after America had been defeated byits invaders.
The support unit sat motionless on a damp concrete sill, his legs dangling in thefoul-smelling water that trickled past.
From above, he could hear the occasional movement of vehicles, the tramping of boots andevery now and then the rattle-dash of distant gunfire. Over the last twenty hours, thousandsof people, potential trouble-makers — those who might try their hand at rallying thepeople: senators, congressmen, judges, lawyers, journalists — had been rounded up andput on convoys of trucks heading out of the city. The rest of the city’s populationcowered in their homes and could only wonder at what Kramer and his invasion force would dowith them all now.
It was quiet at the moment, save for the persistent echo of water dripping from thesewer’s curved brick ceiling and the languid trickling of stinking sewage.
Bob sat motionless. Absent-mindedly a finger flicked the safety catch of the pulse carbineheld in his hands. On and off, off and on, the metallic click echoing loudly down thesewer.
Waiting patiently. Counting down on his internal clock.
Bob closed his eyes.
[Information: final window due in 23 minutes]
He was only ten minutes from the White House, a mile as the crow flies, and half thatdistance he could cover underground along the network of sewage tunnels, emerging from amanhole along Pennsylvania Avenue. He would have to run the rest of the way in plain view. Hisblack rubber suit and mask might disguise him for a short few moments. But since all the otherenemy soldiers had discarded those and were now wearing their grey Wehrmacht uniforms,he’d most probably attract attention the instant he was above ground.
However, if he timed things correctly, and was lucky, he stood a fair chance of managing tofight his way quickly to the space beneath that copse of cedar trees just as the air began toshimmer and the window appeared. Yet it was quite probable that his body would suffer too muchcombat damage to recover itself.
But that was of little importance.
The small wafer of silicon in his head was all that mattered; getting that through the windowand sent back to the future in one piece was the onlyconsideration. Even if the best he could do was poke his head into the portal as it activated,leaving his headless corpse behind, then that would satisfy his primary mission objective. Thegathered intelligence would be back with the field office, precisely where it needed tobe.
Bob stirred. It was nearly time for him to make his move.
But something in his small organic mind urged him to reassess his mission priorities, like asmall child’s nagging voice. A whimpering plea that travelled down thin internalwires.
Don’t leave him behind.
Bob’s head twitched uneasily as his AI attempted to deal with conflicting assertions.There was an authoritative, emotionless silicon reply to that child’s voice.
[Mission objective: gather and returninformation]
But… there was so little information to relay, so very little that they’d managedto gather. Bob could return to the field office — alive or dead — and they coulddownload from his head what he’d seen and heard. But the vast majority of this data wasjust smoke and gunfire; there was little they’d learned that could be of use. Not enoughto fix on a precise point of origin for this time contamination. More information was needed,much more. Specifically — knowledge of the events that had come before this invasion. Located here in 1956 he had a far better chance of uncoveringthe recent past than back in the altered world of 2001.
His head convulsed anxiously, his finger thumbed the safety catch with increasinglydistracted vigour.
[Mission parameters require reprioritization]
The unit was out of his comfort zone now. His AI could deal with detailed and speedysituation analysis, but decision-making was something far betterdealt with by a human mind. His on-board memory recalled Foster’s words from a few daysago.
‘… And that’s the reason the agency sends a humanoperative back as well as the support unit. A robot can’t make intuitive judgements,Liam… not nearly as well as a human can…’
The tiny nodule of wrinkled flesh in Bob’s skull — the undeveloped brain — understood this all too well. It understood help was needed while the hard-wired computer codecontinued to argue the case that mission orders were orders to be obeyed at all costs.
Must Find Him.
[Recommendation: update mission parameters]
Bob’s finger froze; his body remained rigid, utterly still. His internal computerfocused now on one thing alone, every micro-volt of computing power devoted to one end.
Re-ordering his mission priorities.
Making a decision.
[Mission updated: locate and rescue Operative LiamO’Connor]
CHAPTER 47
2001, New York
Foster and Maddy watched the countdown on the computer screen. ‘Thirtyseconds,’ he announced.
Maddy nodded; she could see the display too. ‘And what if they miss this window aswell?’
‘We’ll deal with that when — if — itcomes to it.’
Maddy looked over her shoulder at the floor, an area cleared of cables and detritus with thefaint circle of chalk inscribed in the middle where Liam and Bob were — hopefully- going to materialize very soon. She was glad Foster had sent Sal out to sit in TimesSquare and observe. If she was here, she’d be worrying, interrupting, agitating…distracting. Foster already looked stressed enough as it was, without having to constantlyassure her Liam and Bob were going to be fine.
And what if they came back, Liam wounded… or worse?
Better that Sal was elsewhere right now.
‘Since they missed the other back-ups,’ she said, ‘something must havehappened to them. Right?’
‘We don’t know that for sure. Quite often I’ve missed a scheduled window ortwo on the missions I’ve been on,’ said Foster. ‘The unforeseen happens- that’s why we have several back-ups.’
‘But if they do miss this one…?’
He looked at the display.
Ten seconds.
‘If they miss this one, then we need to communicate a new rendezvous point tothem.’
She looked at him. ‘Communicate? How?’
‘It’s complicated. I’ll talk you through that later.’
She let out a breath. ‘So it’s not the end of the world, then? I thought…you know… I thought we’d lost them forever.’
Foster checked the phase interruption indicator; no sign of any shifting packets of densitywhere the extraction portal was due to open. That was good. The soldiers must have gone.
‘All right… here we go,’ he said.
The displacement machinery began to hum and the lights in the archway dimmed as all powerdiverted towards it. Then, across the floor from them a large sphere suddenly began toshimmer, and through the undulating air Maddy thought she could make out the dancing, twistingform of tree trunks.
‘Come on, Liam,’ whispered Maddy. ‘Move your butt.’
