by Steve Howrie
“Of course he knows – this is his home town! He told me he knew it well… his mother went there with his niece, remember?” Niki always wants to make sure things are organised properly – she doesn’t like leaving anything to chance. It’s a good trait of hers, but I was sure about the hospital.
That evening, we went for a slow walk in the vicinity of the hotel. Smirnoff said he wanted to show us Red Square and the main sights of the city once the job was over, so we didn’t go far. After returning to the hotel, we made our final preparations, and had an early night.
*
The next day after breakfast, we made our way to Tushinskaya Children’s Hospital, which was located in the western part of the city, close to the MKAD ring–road. A receptionist at the hotel had written the address in Russian for us, so we had no problem getting there in the taxi. However, we did have a problem when we arrived: no Smirnoff. I tried calling him on his mobile, but the message said it was powered off. We waited until 10.20am, and then I went inside in case he was waiting for us in the large foyer. But no Smirnoff. I waited another ten minutes, and then rejoined Niki outside.
“He’s never late, something’s wrong,” I said whilst Niki stared at the building. “What are you looking at?” I asked.
“Joe, how old do you think this hospital is?”
“Oh, I dunno… eight or nine years maybe – no more than that.” Then the penny dropped. This hospital could not have been there in 1995. To double–check, we jumped back nineteen years – and found ourselves on a building plot. We quickly jumped back to the present and entered the hospital. Niki found someone who spoke Chinese (yes, it was actually easier to find a Chinese speaker than an English one!) and discovered that the original hospital building was downtown, but no longer in use. She got the address and we grabbed a taxi. It was well after eleven by this time, and with the heavy traffic we didn’t arrive at the old hospital until midday. There was Smirnoff, leaning against the building, casually smoking one of his cigarettes.
“So, you think you’re still on British time, my friends?”
“Very funny. Why is your phone switched off?” I was rather irritated by this time. Partly because Smirnoff had his phone switched off, but mainly because I had ignored Niki’s thoughts about checking the address our Russian friend had.
“My phone was not switched off. But maybe you had forgotten that I would be using my Russian mobile? And maybe I could not call you because your phone cannot be used outside of the UK?”
“Tian a! Is that true Joe?” Oh boy, was I in trouble.
“Okay okay – I’ve messed up – sorry. Can’t we just jump to 1995 and move on?”
“Well, we can,” replied Niki, “but we can’t be sure Diana will still be there. It’s nearly 12.30pm now.”
One thing we realised early on about time–trips was that we could only change the date, not the time. This meant we would always have to arrive at whatever time it was when we left. So if we jumped to 16th June, 1995 from the present, it would still be 12.30pm. But as Diana had only scheduled a morning at Tushinskaya and had another appointment in the afternoon, the likelihood was that she had now left. This gave us two options: either we wait until 10am the next day (Saturday) and then jump back to 10am 16th June, 1995. Or, we catch her at her next engagement. We opted for the latter.
This was to be a visit to the offices of the wheelchair charity, ‘Motivation’. In 2015, the Moscow office had closed, but we had the address from 1997, so it was just a matter of getting there, jumping back in time, and waiting for Diana and party to arrive. Motivation wasn’t far from the old hospital, and it took us less than twenty minutes to get there. After a quick bite to eat at a local café recommended by Smirnoff, we found a quiet street nearby and made the jump.
In our amended plan, Smirnoff would smuggle us into a room in the Clinic, and then somehow get Diana into the room to talk to us. He found a window unlocked at the rear of building which he opened and climbed through. He then unlocked a rear door and let us in. From that room we had a good view of the corridor, at the end of which Diana would enter. Smirnoff would meet the Princess of Wales there. He was looking very official, with ID badges, ear-phone and the right sort of clothes for his role.
After ten minutes, we heard the front door open and the familiar sound of Diana’s voice. As per our plan, Smirnoff was waiting for Diana. As she entered, we noticed she was talking to a young boy in wheelchair in the corridor. There was a minimum amount of security and the atmosphere was warm and engaging. Smirnoff changed all that.
“Your royal highness, I need to speak with you urgently,” he said, suddenly approaching the Princess directly.
“What is it – who are you?” Diana replied.
“Vikor Korikov, madam, head of Moscow security.” Smirnoff was wearing a photo ID around his neck, with his name and ‘Moscow State Security’ displayed. It looked very authentic.
“I don’t like this ma’am,” her personal bodyguard said, “I haven’t been informed about this.”
“I’m sorry, but your life is in danger, madam – you must come with me. Your man can accompany you,” Smirnoff said, indicating the bodyguard, “and the Police should guard the entrance.”
“Oh very well,” Diana replied a little flustered. “I won’t be long,” she smiled at the young boy.
The Russian led Diana and her bodyguard into our room – and with the speed of a viper he injected the bodyguard with a syringe, holding his hand over the man’s mouth so he couldn’t talk. The man slipped out of consciousness within seconds. Diana gasped.
“Just a sedative,” he explained. “He’ll have a nasty headache when he wakes up, but that’s all.” Diana was understandably alarmed by this action, but Smirnoff reassured her. “We mean you no harm madam, and your life really is in danger. Please take a seat.” Smirnoff signalled to us, and we introduced ourselves to the Princess. We had to be quick – we didn’t know how long the local police would stay outside the building.
“My name is Joe Cooper and this is my wife Niki. We’re from London, and we have some important information regarding an accident in Paris which you need to see. Please take a look at these.” I tried to be as calm and business–like as possible. I’d never talked to a princess before.
We showed her everything we’d brought with us. She watched with mesmerised confusion as she scanned through all the pictures and newspaper articles. The fact that she was looking at them on a device which was ten years ahead of its time had passed her by.
“I don’t understand,” she said eventually, “is this some sort of simulation – a future that could happen? Not a very nice one, I should add.”
“Yes, you could say that,” Niki replied.
“But there could be many different futures that become reality – hundreds, if not thousands – why pick this one?”
“Because,” I stated bluntly, “if you go to Paris in 1997 and go down that tunnel, this one will come true.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have time for this bull–shit. People need me…” Diana got up from her seat and headed for the door.
“Joe, do something!” Niki hissed.
As quickly as I could I got out my phone, grabbed Diana’s arm and changed the date. Feeling the wobble, and aware that something had just happened, Diana turned round to find that Niki, Smirnoff and her bodyguard had vanished. In their place was a doctor behind a desk talking with a nurse.
“Can I help you?” the doctor asked in broken English.
“Another time, thanks,” I said quickly leading Diana out of the room.
The policemen and the rest of Diana’s entourage had vanished.
“Where is everyone?” she said with surprise.
“They’ll be back in a couple of years... they’re still in 1995 just now.”
“Then where are we?”
I looked at my phone. “Moscow, September first 1997,” I replied. “Follow me.”
“Where are we going?” she asked as I a
lmost pulled her along the street outside.
“Less talking and more walking would be good, thanks.”
Naturally, this little diversion was not planned. We hadn’t anticipated Diana walking out like that, and when Niki shouted ‘Do something!’ I had to act quickly. We’d previously convinced Smirnoff of our ability to travel through time by example, so it seemed reasonable to do the same for Diana. As we hurried through the streets of Moscow, I was looking for a newspaper stand or bookstore selling the English version of the Moscow Times with the information I needed. Then I found a small bookshop not far from the Charity office we’d just left.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got any roubles?” I asked the Princes of Wales.
“This is utterly crazy,” she replied. “You’re going to get into so much trouble for this.”
“Ah, here’s some,” I said, fishing some coins out of my pocket.
“Why is everyone staring like that – as if they’ve seen a ghost?” she asked.
“Well, probably because of this...”
I showed her the Moscow Times and she sunk to her knees. An assistant quickly got her a chair. September 1, 1997 was the day after Diana’s car crash in Paris, and the story was on the cover of just about every national newspaper around the World. She read the whole article and looked at the pictures. Eventually she said, “I don’t know what to say… am I dreaming? It feels like a nightmare.”
“It’s a chance to change history,” I said.
“I’d like to have another look at the things you brought me – can you give them to Trevor? He’ll take them to London. I’ll make sure you have them back, of course.”
“No problem. We want to do whatever we can to avoid this,” I said pointing at the paper. “We need to get back now… the others will be worried.”
In a quiet corner of the street outside, I set the date back to June 16, 1995, and we walked back to the Charity office from the bookshop.
“Why do you have to hold my arm to do that?” Diana asked as we walked.
“Only people or objects connected to the phone will be transported,” I replied.
“Transported?”
“Through time.” This was a mountain of unbelievability for a Princess to take in – in fact for anyone – but she was doing pretty well.
“Is that a mobile phone?” she asked.
“It is – but don’t ask for one in the shops – they might think you’re crazy.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m used to people thinking I’m crazy,” she replied.
Niki was relieved to see us back at the Clinic, as were Diana’s people. Whilst they were quizzing her on what had happened, Nik and I talked privately.
“They’ve been going mental here Joe… where did you take her?”
“September, 1997.”
“Did it work?”
“Seems to have done. She wants to take another look at the documents and videos we brought with us.”
“Great!”
“I said she could take them with her.”
“What! You mean take my iPad to London… 1995 London?”
“She’ll give it back.”
“Right – after she’s changed the development of tablet technology!”
“Could be a good thing.”
“We don’t know that!”
“Well, I don’t think she’ll show it to anyone else – I trust her. And if things don’t work out, we can always come back and change history again,” I said.
Niki shook her head and went over to talk to Smirnoff. He was checking on the bodyguard, who was still out cold, whilst everyone else seemed to be in a state of confusion. Diana prized herself away from her entourage and came over to talk to me. I let her have the iPad and documents I’d promised.
“Thank you Joe. I still don’t know how you’ve done all this, but it’s given me a lot to think about.”
“Don’t think about it too long,” I said.
“I won’t. How can I get these back to you? Could you call at Kensington Palace next week? I want to make sure you have them back as soon as possible. And don’t worry about me showing anyone else. If ‘they’ see all this, they’ll have me committed – and I’m not ready for that just now.”
I said we’d call mid–week, and went to find Niki and Smirnoff. The bodyguard had come round, and Nik and the Russian had left the building before too many questions were asked. Outside, Niki was in the shade, sheltering from the bright sunlight of a warm June day. She waved when she saw me.
“Smirnoff’s gone to see his mother,” she said. “Did Diana take it seriously?”
“I think so… she asked if we could call at the big house next week so she can return the material. Whether or not anything changes is up to her now – she knows as much as we do.”
Smirnoff stayed in 1995, whilst we returned to our own time zone for the rest of the day. He still intended to show us the sights of Moscow, and said he’d bring his mother, if that was okay with us. We arranged to meet them both in Red Square the following day.
***
Twenty–Eight
The next day, it was good to relax and see the main tourist sights of Moscow, accompanied by two people who knew the Capital of Russia far better than I know the Capital of England. We did a lot of walking (far more exhausting that time–travel), and in the evening had a nice dinner with Smirnoff and his mother.
Mrs Smirnoff was very good company, and despite knowing very little English we could see the impact that Diana’s visit to the children’s hospital had had on her. She hardly stopped talking about it. The day seemed to pass quickly, and we were soon saying our goodbyes and returning to our hotel. Smirnoff said he’d like to stay in 1995 Moscow with his mother and other relatives for a few days – whilst he had the chance. Meanwhile, we decided to travel to St. Petersburg – a city that Niki had always wanted to visit. We arranged to meet Smirnoff back in Moscow (in 1995), return him to 2015 and then travel back to London together.
*
On the plane home, we’d decided that no matter what the outcome of our trip to Moscow, Diana’s fate was now entirely in her hands – and we would not attempt to influence her choice or change history again. Unless of course our intervention had caused something far worse than the death of three individuals.
It was early Wednesday afternoon when we finally arrived back at Gatwick airport. Smirnoff left us at there, and we took the train to Central London. We were quite tired – we’d been travelling across both space and time, and doing both at once can be exhausting. (Anyone who’s travelled from east to west on a plane for fifteen or more hours can tell you that!). Despite the tiredness, we really wanted to retrieve the iPad and documents loaned to the Princess of Wales as soon as possible, so we called at Kensington Palace before going home.
The Palace is located in Kensington Gardens, adjacent to Hyde Park, Central London, and we knew it well. Standing a short distance from the house, we could see a very long queue of people waiting to enter the former home of the Princess and take a nostalgic journey back in time. Our own journey back in time would be to Wednesday June 21st, 1995.
“I hate queuing,” I said to Niki with a smile, as I changed the date on the phone. Suddenly, instead of the queues, there were two uniformed guards on the door. We gave our names and told them we were expected, prompting one of the guards to make a call on some sort of outdated intercom. Niki had hoped to see Diana again, but we learned she was away on business. The man who greeted us at the door (whom we took to be her butler), thanked us for calling and handed me a package. He said everything was there. We were just about to leave, when he added, “Oh, I forgot to say… her royal highness did ask if you wouldn’t mind leaving your contact details, if that would be in order.”
This was a little problematic. We wanted to leave a contact number, but our mobile phone numbers were not yet active in 1995, nor were our current email addresses. Whilst we were dithering about this, Niki said to the man, “Can we give you the det
ails tomorrow?”
“Certainly,” the Butler replied.
As we walked away from the house I hissed, “Why did you say that! Now we’ve got to come back tomorrow!”
“Oh, never heard of time–travel then?”she replied.
“Duh!” I said slapping my forehead, as we stopped by the duck pond close to the palace.
“Why don’t we give Mama and Baba’s address and phone number?” suggested Nik.
I agreed this was a good idea – but we should check the contents of our package first. We were relieved to see that everything had been returned, plus there was a card from Diana. On the outside, there was a beautiful winter scene in Moscow, and inside a handwritten note from the Princess.
‘Dearest Joe & Niki, words cannot describe the feelings I have for what you have done for me. I still cannot really believe or understand what happened in Moscow, but no doubt I will soon discover where my future lies. Please keep in touch. Much love, Diana.’
We were very tempted at that moment to jump to September 1997 to see if things had changed for Diana, but resisted the thought. Instead, I set my phone to just one day later.
“This’ll be interesting!” I said. And sure enough, it was.
“Ah, Mr Joe and Miss Niki – nice to see you again. I trust everything was in order yesterday?”
For a moment, we were stopped in our tracks. In our time frame, we had spoken to the Butler less than ten minutes ago; but in his frame of reference, it had been a whole day. We gave the man Niki’s parents’ contact details, left the house and walked back across the park. It was a clear June day and many couples were walking and enjoying the sunshine and warm air. We found a secluded spot under a large oak tree and I gave Niki the phone to set the date back to our present time. We were in for a surprise when we arrived home.
***
Twenty–Nine
We were standing in our lounge, suitcases by our sides. On the mantle-shelf, there were cards marked ‘Thank You’, ‘Invitation’, and ‘Happy Birthday’, amongst other things. When I looked inside, they were mostly from Diana.
“Nik – come and look at this… Diana is our best friend now!”
Niki was in the kitchen looking for food. She came out to see what I was talking about.
