“I didn’t, actually. I lost you outside the han. I’ve been looking for you all week.”
“How’d you find us?”
“The library. I got lucky.”
“The library?”
“Celaleddin asked me to let him know once it was done. He came up with a way to do it from here—from this time. I was to go to the Sultan Majid Imperial Library, which we knew was around back then—well, back now—and leave him a message on the specific page of a book that was around in this time, one that’s rarely taken out. Some obscure, dusty old tome that he got his people to identify. Three of them, actually, to be safe. So after losing you and coming up blank all week, I figured I ought to go there to see if the books were there, thinking I should scribble the message before he decided to send someone else back, maybe even a whole team.” He then added pointedly, “I was going to tell him it’s done.”
Which intrigued Kamal. “Done? As in, we’re dead.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“All week, I’ve been thinking about things, a lot, since it sank in that I was really trapped here—I mean, we are trapped here, right? You don’t know how to travel forward in time?”
Kamal felt a prickle of alarm at the question, but masked it and just shook his head. “No. Ramazan was going to ask Rasheed about it when the Z guys showed up and the shooting started.”
“So that’s why you were researching Rasheed and Vienna? You want to go back and find him to get the rest of the incantation from him?”
The prickle grew into a stab. Taymoor hadn’t just seen them at the library—he’d looked into what they were doing there. But he’d given Kamal the perfect out, the perfect excuse to deflect attention from what their real purpose was.
“Yes,” Kamal told him, his tone as even as he could manage. “It’s the only way. He’s the only one who knows it. We have to go back and get it from him.”
“See, that’s what I thought. But then, I thought, why Vienna? And why all the research about the battle for the city?” He paused, as if gauging Kamal’s reaction, then pressed on. “You could go back to a more recent time than that. To Paris, after he became governor. It would be much easier—you wouldn’t have had to take a train anywhere—and it would have been a hell of a lot safer.”
Kamal felt skewered. Taymoor had been baiting him with his earlier suggestion regarding Vienna. He tried to backtrack without appearing flustered in any way. “Vienna after the invasion is also safe. But, of course, we considered Paris, too.”
“But you chose Vienna. That’s what’s on your tickets and that’s why you didn’t get off at Strasbourg or Munich.”
Kamal leaned forward. Taymoor had done his homework. “We know he was definitely there, we know the times and the places. It’s all well documented. The rest, Paris … we don’t have specific information.”
“How hard could it be? He was the governor. And he was sick. He couldn’t have been that hard to find or to approach. And yet you chose to go back to a war zone?”
Kamal tried to mask any semblance of feeling cornered, which he was. “Things might have changed after he went back. We don’t know how far back he went after he disappeared from the hospital after the shooting. But we know it can’t have been before Vienna. So we thought we’d go there to make sure we find him. Besides, after I saw you at the han and assumed you had the backing of the Hafiye and the police, Paris didn’t seem safe anymore, in any time. You could have gone back decades earlier and set up a whole load of wanted bulletins about us.”
Taymoor looked dubious. “That seems rather extreme.”
“Maybe. But you guys are obviously desperate to find us, so maybe extreme isn’t unreasonable. I just wanted us to get the hell out of there.” Kamal realized there were holes in his argument as it tumbled out, but Taymoor just sat back, stone-faced, and nodded. There seemed to be something else on his mind.
“Maybe … or maybe there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I’m leveling with you, brother.”
Taymoor eyed him calmly for a beat, then shrugged. “Either way, let me ask you this. Why do you want to go back to our time?”
The question surprised Kamal. “Why?”
“Yes, why? You’re both wanted there. I can’t imagine Nisreen will be happy there, given what happened. And yet you’re taking this huge risk to get ahold of the rest of the incantation. For what?”
Kamal ran with it. “It’s home. Like you said—it’s our time.”
“Yes, but what about here, now?” Taymoor’s face was animated now—and markedly less antagonistic. “We could stay here. All of us.”
“You want to stay here?”
“I’ve been thinking about it all week after I lost you. Maybe it’s not a bad thing to be stuck here. Maybe it’s actually a great thing. Think about it. Things are good here. They’ve got a good sultan. It’s peaceful. No terror threat, no enemies of the state. Oil is starting to bring in piles of cash, and people are enjoying good times. And it’s not so backward that it’s uncomfortable … I mean, there’s electricity and cars and hot showers. And no one knows anything about us. And with everything we know about the future … we could live like kings. Right? We could get rich. Absurdly rich. Rich like we never dreamed.” His face tightened. “But I can’t have you and Nisreen jeopardize that for me. No way. Do you understand me, brother?”
Kamal let out a small chuckle. They weren’t partners for nothing. He’d had the same daydream, and it had appealed to him, a lot, but that was before Nisreen had changed his mind. And his mind was changed, even if Taymoor’s suggestion did stir a powerful questioning within him, a questioning he needed to make visible, because he couldn’t let Taymoor find out about their plan.
Taymoor’s ambition made perfect sense to Kamal. He wanted to reinvent himself, to carve out a life of comfort and wealth in this time and place—a time and place where, Kamal also knew, Taymoor wouldn’t need to hide his sexual preference as he did in their old life, where he wouldn’t have to keep up the charade of being a ladies’ man, where he wouldn’t fear the severe consequences that would befall him if the truth ever came out.
Kamal and Nisreen’s plan, on the other hand, would destroy that ambition. The present they were now in would no longer exist. An altered version would have replaced it, and Taymoor would get wiped out in the mix.
Kamal decided now might be the right time to use what he’d long known about Taymoor. “I know it might suit you more to live here. It would be … safer for you.” He looked at him pointedly. “You wouldn’t have to live a lie.”
A flash of surprise lit up Taymoor’s face; then he relaxed and shrugged. “We’ve all been living a lie, haven’t we?”
Kamal held his questioning gaze but decided to duck Taymoor’s point and move on. “The life you describe … I thought about it, too,” he offered, not having to lie to sound convincing. “It doesn’t sound half bad.”
“And…?”
“Nisreen doesn’t want to stay. She wants to get the reverse incantation and go back to get justice for Ramazan and her kids.”
“Justice? That’s crazy. You know she doesn’t stand a chance. Surely you told her that.”
“I did. She won’t change her mind. Given what happened, can you blame her?”
“No, but … you know what will happen. She’ll wind up dead, too.”
“She won’t hear of it. She wants to make them pay. But look, either way—it doesn’t affect what you want to do. We’ll go back and find a way to get the forward version from Rasheed. You stay here and live your life the way you want. If we get it, we’ll go back to our world, and I’ll do what I can to help Nisreen get the closure she needs. It won’t matter to you. It’s decades from now; you’ll be long dead by then.”
A skeptical expression clouded Taymoor’s face. “You could change things inadvertently when you go back. Mess up the timeline. Change the future. My future—this future. What happens to me then? What happens to thi
s world?”
Kamal frowned. He felt the sides of the dining car close in on him. “She needs to try. Maybe we won’t even get near him. Maybe they’ll see these two naked people appear and think we’re djinn and just kill us on the spot.”
Taymoor’s expression grew darker. “I can’t take that risk, brother. I can’t live with that uncertainty hanging over me. Like my whole life could get wiped out just like that.” He snapped his fingers.
They faced off in silence for a moment.
Taymoor was the one to break it. “Help me out here. We need to find a solution, but I’m not seeing one. Not when all it takes is a few words for you to both disappear.”
Kamal was having a hard time thinking of ways to defuse him. “I can try talking to her again.”
“Sure, you could, but even if you did get her to change her mind now … how can I be sure that it’s going to last?”
“You’ll just have to trust me on that.”
Taymoor gave him a slow, regretful shake of the head. “Any other girl, I’d take that gamble on you, brother. But not with her. I know how headstrong she is. And I know what she means to you.”
“They took away her whole life,” Kamal told him, a familiar rage unfurling inside him.
“So you can understand why I can’t risk having you take mine away.”
Kamal just stared back at him, coolly, but said nothing.
Taymoor edged his coat open again, enough to expose the gun in its holster. He gave Kamal a sideways nod, aimed away from the table. “I wish there was another way, brother.”
“Me too.”
Kamal got up, slowly, his senses now operating at hyperalert.
He started walking down the aisle, passing the few remaining travelers who, unsuspecting, were enjoying the close of their evening, and headed toward the sleeper car that housed his cabin, Taymoor inches behind.
56
As he walked down the center of the dining car, Kamal felt a familiar electric charge radiate across his entire body.
It was a sensation he knew well. He felt it every time he was about to launch into a dangerous situation, a frequent occurrence over the last few years. It was a state of heightened mental and physical alertness. Every sensor in his body was spinning at full capacity, fast-tracking and processing the onslaught of physical and mental inputs charging in while continuously adjusting the optimal response and making sure his body was fully primed to execute it.
Not just his life but Nisreen’s hung in the balance. And he wasn’t about to let her down. Not now, not here, not after everything she’d gone through.
With Taymoor right behind him, he reached the end of the carriage and stepped through the narrow doorway into a small vestibule. It had a small washroom followed by an exit to the passageway that linked the dining car to the next carriage, the one Kamal and Nisreen’s cabin was in.
Kamal was quickly processing his options when the door to one of the washrooms opened. A morbidly obese, sweaty-faced man came out to find himself facing them, blocking the tight passage. Kamal considered the moves he could make, but the man would loom large in all of them, and that wouldn’t do. He needed to find an out that didn’t put innocent civilians at risk. After an awkward pause, Kamal squeezed by him, then turned to watch Taymoor do the same, the man looking sheepish before he waddled off.
Kamal opened the door and stepped out. The two gangways of the carriages were nestled inside an accordion wall that protected passengers and crew from the soot that the locomotive belched out and any rain or snow. Although the ride was smooth, the gangways were doing a jittery dance with each other, and it took a reasonable amount of care and a careful grip to step from one carriage to the other.
The door into the next carriage opened just as Kamal reached it. A steward was about to walk out, but he held back when he saw Kamal and waved him through.
“Please, after you, khawaja.”
Kamal accepted with a courteous nod and squeezed past him.
The steward made a move to go through; then he saw Taymoor following. He pulled back again and waved Taymoor through, wishing him a good evening.
Kamal turned to see Taymoor glance over at the man as the steward tucked into the space behind him and headed out, pulling the door shut. A split second of distraction, eyes flickering away from their target for the briefest of moments—that was often all it took, and he had it now. Maybe the last time it would happen before they got to wherever Taymoor was keeping Nisreen.
His ex-partner also didn’t have his weapon drawn.
He lashed out.
He lunged at Taymoor in the narrow vestibule, rotating at the waist to generate power before launching a hammer strike that caught him squarely on the side of his neck and snapped his head sideways. He’d rendered other opponents unconscious with that move before, but Taymoor was still standing, a rabid scowl now aimed at his ex-partner as he turned back to face him. Kamal wasn’t waiting—he followed with a quick, thudding hook punch to his ribs, but Taymoor knew the moves, and he’d taken a punch or two in his time, which meant he recovered faster than Kamal would have liked, having managed to deflect most of its impact. Still, Kamal was on a rampage, using fists, elbows, and knees to subdue his opponent, the picture of Nisreen as a prisoner more than overwhelming any latent temperance brought on by the fact that Taymoor had been his partner. He also knew that he had to end it fast, before any of the crew or another passenger saw what was happening and rang the alarm.
Taymoor certainly wasn’t holding back. Kamal kept up the onslaught, and although Taymoor had well-honed fighting reflexes, that first strike had put him at a disadvantage. Kamal kept chipping away at him with strikes until landing a solid punch to the solar plexus again. Then Kamal leapt at Taymoor, put him in a headlock, and started to choke him, Kamal’s body in full fighting mode and mind racing ahead, reeling through potential outcomes. If Kamal could render him unconscious, then pull him into one of the washrooms and tie him up—but then what? Vienna was still far away, and either the crew would be alerted to a washroom that was continuously locked or Taymoor would regain consciousness. There was no way he’d get Taymoor to their cabin, not on his own.
The tangle of thoughts was ripped apart when Taymoor surprised him with a savage backward head-butt, catching him in the jaw. The blow rattled his skull, and his hold over Taymoor loosened momentarily, an opening that his ex-partner was quick to exploit. They traded more ferocious, frenzied blows, Kamal now forced into the deflecting role, Taymoor crowding him against the exit door when a shout, the scream of a woman, interrupted them both. A quick glance identified its source: an elderly woman at the far end of the carriage had spotted them. She stood rooted in place with a clenched hand against her mouth before disappearing back out of the carriage.
Kamal had seconds to end this.
Taymoor had also fallen for the distraction, and this gave Kamal the gift of an unprotected target and a nanosecond to enjoy it. Kamal pooled all the energy remaining in his battered body and channeled it through his right shoulder, down his arm, and into his fist, unleashing it into the side of Taymoor’s face, his skin and bones turned into an anvil of anger and survival. The blow was immense. Blood, spit, and air streaked out of Taymoor’s mouth, and his eyes rolled back as he wobbled in place, his knees weakened by the crushing blow. Moving quickly, Kamal gave him a monster thumb strike to the throat, grabbed him and spun him around so he was facing out, and shoved him against the small return that housed the exit.
“I’m sorry, brother,” he hissed into his ex-partner’s ear as he reached out and pulled the door of the carriage open. A biting cold air rushed in, along with the loud clatter of the train’s advance.
He shoved Taymoor out of the carriage.
His ex-partner fell from view instantly, swallowed up by the darkness. Kamal leaned out to see where he landed. It was too dark to see much, but the train was still climbing into the mountains, and the landscape slipping by was thick with trees.
He quick
ly closed the door again and, pushing back the pain that was throbbing across his face from the repeated blows he’d suffered, he sprinted down the corridor to their cabin. He needed to disappear before the conductor or any train security personnel rushed to investigate what the old woman had seen. He also thought he had a fifty-fifty chance of finding Nisreen there. There were two places Taymoor could have sequestered her: their cabin or his. Of the two, theirs was the easier option. To use his, Taymoor would have had to lead her there at gunpoint: in the case of foul play, their bodies would end up there, which could cause Taymoor some serious complications if and when they were uncovered.
His pulse quickened as he found the door to their cabin unlocked, a quickening that came to a dead stop when he saw her inside, lying on the ground with her eyes closed. He dove down and checked her pulse, then put an ear to her mouth.
She was breathing.
“Nisreen,” he whispered as he kissed her on the forehead while cupping her cheeks. “Nisreen?”
She didn’t reply.
He tried to awaken her, gently, but she wasn’t responding. He checked her eyes, tried pinching her, but he knew the signs. He’d encountered them before. She was drugged.
He didn’t know what Taymoor had given her. He looked around but couldn’t find a trace of anything, no clue as to what it might be. He knew from experience it could be one of any number of compounds, although he didn’t know what was around back then. Pills, gases, and potions to deal with insomnia or to put surgical patients to sleep were plentiful in his time, but here, eight decades earlier, the science of soporific drugs and sedatives had to be much more primitive. The drug had to be something Taymoor could get ahold of without much difficulty, and something that he could administer easily. He could have forced her to drink it or to swallow it if it was in pill form, but Kamal suspected it was more likely that he had injected it. He looked for signs of a needle puncture on her arms but couldn’t find any.
Whatever it was, it was critical to know how long Nisreen would be under its influence. The next stop was Vienna.
Empire of Lies Page 36