by Tim Heath
Nigel was now all set. He wanted to take very little, aiming to travel as light as he could. Nigel planned to make it look as much as possible as if he was just going on a routine business trip. Nigel needed his guards, and therefore everyone else, to believe he was still there. It would be far better for anyone who threatened him to die trying to reach him here at home, rather than searching for him overseas, where he wouldn’t have much time to make himself secure because he would now have to start over again.
He had thought about finally breaking his public cover once he was in Germany. Up to that point, publicly he had always kept up the image that he was an old man and that was because he was trying to hide. The effort of that had been fierce, and while Nigel would need to continue it for the moment while he went to the airfield and even on the flight, after that, there seemed little point because Robert had been revealed. Nigel finally knew who he was, so there was not the fear of strangers as there previously had been. A fresh start in Germany with all the resources that remained his offered Nigel the bonus that he could be himself again outside, in ordinary life, which would make moving around so much more comfortable.
He stood for one last time at his window, looking down upon the one piece of land that had been his haven, his walled garden, up to now the only place in the world where he had been able to be himself, outside and in the open, without the need for his disguise. He’d lived both lives it seemed for so long that he wondered how it would feel not to see the old guy again but he pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind, realising the tiring effect they had on his time and emotions. He turned one last time from that window, went over to check on the explosives he’d attached in three places within his bedroom and bathroom, highly sophisticated motion sensitive bombs that Nigel could remotely activate from his hallway once he was safely outside. He’d placed a couple already on his Door, hidden away as it was in his private little room, really there in case someone came through it from the future, as it was unlikely that they’d find it from this side of things. Either way, one step inside the room would see his visitor and the Door annihilated. He’d figured it was best that way as obviously anyone going through it in the first place meant trouble and if they’d got that close, then their death was a bonus. But before that, there seemed no need to destroy the Door in case, for some reason, Nigel ever needed it again, and with the remote control device safely in his personal belongings, he could just as quickly deactivate the bombs.
Picking up his bag, with everything seemingly in place with the explosives, he shut his bedroom door, and once he was in the hallway, he turned the devices on with a press of the remote and walked off at speed, no hint of even one last look back.
Just twenty minutes later, his car was bringing him next to his jet in his private airfield that ran alongside the western part of his property. He was helped out of the car and led to the steps that came down from the jet, being welcomed onboard by his usual crew, though he rarely used them and hadn’t done so for several months. The two women smiled politely, and the captain and co-pilot returned to the cockpit having acknowledged his arrival. A few pleasantries were spoken back and forth, and Nigel was seated in his usual position, not that there were many seats anyway.
The crew had been told not to report their destination before he left, only to complete the records on their return if they indeed it was still needed. Nigel knew they would, of course, do as they were told, being employees. Nigel looked down at his bag, safely resting in its own tray next to him, secured in place by a strap. Inside it, as well as the essentials that he would need for the first few days before he could purchase anything, Nigel also had an air bomb. Once more a highly sophisticated piece of future technology, its detonation on such a small craft as that one would destroy every part of it in a second. The fireball would incinerate everything, and done over the sea, and there would be no trace to find, no evidence that the jet had even been there. And with no log of their flight yet, there was no way of finding out that they had flown Nigel to Germany. It was all about covering his tracks. How wrong it all was, was far from Nigel’s mind now, such was his thinking, more like a child playing a video game, and this just part of his next level, something that had to happen to survive.
They spent thirty minutes over the sea with only short periods over land either side. Nigel would time things well so that they were well on their way back before things were to explode. Coming into land at another private and more importantly empty airport just a few miles in from the coast, they came to a stop having made good progress. The runway was still in good condition though it was not used much any more, this being only the second time Nigel had ever come there by air. The airport dated back to the Second World War, the kind the Germans used to send bomber squadrons out over Britain. Now the buildings stood empty and rundown, but for one hangar that had been kept in reasonable condition, as the occasional event was held not far from there. The world’s elite who liked to fly into such functions, preferred to do so on the quiet, which is where that place excelled, so far away from even the nearest home, let alone village, that an aircraft could land without anyone noticing.
The crew got the doors open, and the steps in place as Nigel was helped out of his seat, bag in hand. Everything he now needed was in it, except of course the bomb, which had been safely attached during the flight. They got onto the tarmac, which was beginning to show its age in places, cracks appearing and grass even growing through in patches.
The crew looked around, alarmed still by its barrenness, thinking it a little strange that no one was there waiting for him, wondering if the old man had merely forgotten to arrange a pickup.
Nigel instead took his stick from one of the ladies who held it out for him and started making his way towards the hangar, where Nigel had previously left a car that he hoped was still there. Nigel paused a few metres away, turned and told them that he would be alright and that they should leave right away. After a slight hesitation, they followed orders as usual and were back up the steps in a moment. The stairs were then pulled back into place, and as Nigel reached the doors to the hangar, the jet was racing down the runway and into the sky. Nigel glanced at it one last time, aware that in about twenty minutes it would no longer exist.
It was early evening by the time Tommy arrived home. Hearing the keys in the door, Jessica jumped up, excusing herself for a moment from Robert’s company, and went to greet him, apparently wanting to talk to him before he walked in on their little gathering.
Robert sat there patiently, quite at ease now, and he could hear that they were talking eagerly in the hallway, the occasional raised voice breaking their heated whispering. It was five minutes before they re-entered the room, Tommy leading as Robert rose to greet him, his look giving nothing away.
Robert looked different from how Tommy had imagined, having spoken to Robert only on the telephone that one occasion. Tommy had, however, heard a bit about Robert, including what Jessica had just told him. It was crazy, of course, utterly impossible and somehow Robert had got his Jessica thinking it was real. But Tommy remained calm, taking Robert’s hand and greeting him warmly, not knowing if the replica swords that hung as decoration on the wall were now a good idea, with someone so clearly unstable, in the room. Tommy pushed the thought from his mind and sat down, Jessica walking into the kitchen, closing the door to prepare some drinks, but more importantly, she wanted Tommy to have some time with Robert.
When Jessica came in ten minutes later, far longer than it would take to make the tea that she carried on a shiny metal tray, Tommy was quite relaxed, and he’d started to change his view on Robert completely. Robert hadn’t been unreasonable in his logic and Tommy was kind of worried that what he was hearing was now even sounding believable, despite the fact it was so ludicrous.
Once she’d poured them all a drink into clean cups that were sitting on the tray alongside another plate of biscuits, which again she didn’t touch, Jessica was a great help, going over much of what she’d
been told, unequivocally for Tommy’s benefit, but Robert liked that. In truth she didn’t know what to make of it either and had it been some elaborate hoax, someone must have fed Robert some amazingly personal and accurate information because Robert had their thoughts, dreams and even frustrations down to the most exquisite detail.
She’d also had time to think by now, and some significant points of conflict were coming up.
“Okay, Robert,” Jessica finally said, her head coming up, her brown eyes looking straight into his, and Robert could tell she had something weighty on her mind.
“What I’m finding hard to work out, among other things, is that if what you are saying is true, and this man had come back from the future, just as you say you did, why didn’t you stop something like 9/11 from happening? Because if what you have told us is true, then you would have been well aware of it and even if this man didn’t do anything about it because of the selfish and evil reasons you have told us, couldn’t you have?”
Tommy looked with interest at how Robert would answer such a question, waiting for him to crack, which would be Tommy’s sign to get up and throw the nut-case out of the house himself. Robert instead sat there calmly and smiled.
“There are two points that I need to mention here. Firstly, I came back here only around two months ago, give or take a week. It has felt like a lifetime though, I can tell you. But my other point, and I hope it highlights what I am saying clearly, is that two or three months ago, before all this happened, the last time I checked those two towers were standing beautifully as always in the heart of New York City!”
Jessica and Tommy looked confused. Robert thought for a moment and then said.
“What I am saying, is that only since coming back, something Nigel has done led to that event happening.”
“So you’re saying he did it?” Jessica said
“No, that’s not what I’m saying exactly. What I am saying is that as a result of Nigel coming back and doing all the things he did in his early days and beyond, some of which we know and some of which we do not, there were many significant changes in the world. The act of terrorism on September 11th, 2001 is an example. Another example is the world economic meltdown that hit everyone, it now seems, in the final few years of the last decade. That was news to me when I got here. Most of the companies, banks and not to mention governments that now seem to have disappeared, had gone on for many more years, even if some of them were not still around in my time.
“Now I must say, to a much lesser degree admittedly, that the same has been true the other way round. This man calling himself Nigel Gamble acted only for reasons of personal gain, but maybe his claim that he did some good was occasionally true because of some of the things he stopped. One recent example was a guy arrested for a murder of a colleague; you may have heard about him––Terrance Goldman. The murder was aimed at stopping me on many counts, but mainly because the victim, Simon Allen, went on to found the Agency that I worked for and his death, as I found out, meant no Agency, at least not in the same way as it had been. But the man arrested for the crime and then conveniently killed was to become the worst child killer in the country’s history, not being caught until he was well into his sixties, a sick evil man that had murdered hundreds and wrecked the lives of so many more. Think of what his death now means to his would-be victims. They’ll now all grow up, their families intact. Maybe they’ll be the next world leaders, or pop stars, footballers or artists. They get to live because their murderer didn't. Now isn’t that the craziest thing you’ve ever heard!” Robert said, realising how heavy the conversation had got, as they both sat in front of him, Tommy’s mouth slightly open, a look of puzzlement appearing on Jessica’s face now as well.
Robert reached for a cup, deliberately taking his time to drink it, allowing them time to process what he’d just said. Robert pondered what Jessica’s other point or points were, but maybe, in fact, he had already answered them. Opening her mouth to speak, Robert quickly realised he had not. With a slight quiver in her voice, emotion leaking through with every word, apparently the thought growing and festering in her heart since they’d discussed it an hour or so ago, Jessica asked Robert the main thing now on her mind.
“You told me earlier about my other life, answering all my questions, but you never mentioned anything about my, about…,” she glanced at Tommy, aware that she hadn’t told him anything about this side of their earlier conversation, “about our children? What are you not telling me?”
Tears were almost in her eyes now, and she put a hand to her cheek to try and cover the fact. Realising he had no other option, Robert said gently:
“Your situation brought great strength to hundreds of thousands of couples. I honestly don’t know the details but I know you are…,” he’d caught what he’d said, “were not able to have children.”
It was too late as she’d picked up already what he was about to say, Jessica jumping to her feet in distress, tears no longer able to be held back and she walked into the kitchen to hide her sorrow. Such news was hard to take at the best of times but hearing it now, completely unprepared and yet being told, effectively, they were infertile made it a hundred times worse.
Tommy sat there speechless, a little unsure of what had been discussed earlier but slowly working it out, before following Jessica into the kitchen to comfort her. When she had calmed somewhat, Tommy returned to Robert who was just sitting in the same position, waiting. In the thirty minutes that followed, with Jessica off in her own world dealing with the news, Robert filled in some of the blanks for Tommy as he sat there quietly, mainly listening, with the odd question from time to time, amazed now himself by what he was hearing. It made so much sense, yet inside he still battled with the feeling that it was just all too crazy to believe.
28
As soon as he got to the hangar, Nigel decided to ditch the walking stick which for so long had been his public companion. After all these years of bending over a little to add to the picture of the old man that he wanted everyone to think he was, Nigel had developed a permanent ache that he hoped would correct itself. Enjoying being able to stand tall and move freely, Nigel got one of the big hangar doors open. For the first time, he realised that he was very much alone now, a feeling that he had never really had before, always aware as he was that there were people around. Even if they were on the outside and Nigel couldn’t see them, they were there nonetheless, his permanent shield and protection. And yet he felt freer now than he had in a long time. It was the first time in two decades that Nigel had been anywhere other than his walled garden without his disguise, the release Nigel now felt almost electric, and he wanted to run around and shout, for the fun of it. He gathered himself together though and walked inside the hangar, the cool undisturbed air having a slight smell to it that took a little adjusting to, his eyes also adjusting to the dimness that now met him, the high windows letting surprisingly little light into the place.
Over on the very far wall of the mainly empty hangar under a thick covering, sat his car, left there several years ago when he’d spent some time around the area. He’d figured that transport from there might one day be a help and having flown out of there on that occasion it made sense to leave the car for such a time as this.
The keys had never left his person and taking them out of his pocket, he reached down and pulled the covers off the car, some old carpet he’d found lying around that he’d put to better use. The vehicle, though not shining as the carpet had left quite a lot of dirt on it, was still in an excellent condition, a classic Mercedes from the home of that famous car.
Nigel got into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition. To his delight, the car started the first time, and he pulled away slowly, smoke pumping out from the exhaust as the car cleared its pipes. It was undoubtedly glad to go for a run again, and it would have plenty of opportunities since Nigel had some miles to cover that day. He was hoping to make it the whole way before midnight, an ambitious target at the best of ti
mes.
Sometime later, on another quiet but fast road, still about two hours from the house, with the clock showing just after half eleven, Nigel pulled in at a small guest house. He had decided to get his head down there for the night, as the increasing rain had made progress slow. On the dark unlit country roads, Nigel had made several wrong turns already as it had been some time since he'd last driven that way, his memory at that time of night just not entirely working fast enough.
It was an old house, its beautiful features still very much intact, as Nigel opened the door to the small reception area, surprised to see anyone there. There had only been two other cars in the parking area, and though his German wasn’t that good, he’d known enough to read that they still had vacancies.
Twenty minutes later he was being shown into his room and he fell into bed sometime later, sleeping better than he had done in a long time.
