by Alex Scarrow
Faith suddenly twisted in her seat to face him. ‘I have a signal.’
His eyes locked on her and he nodded. ‘I also just detected it.’
For a second, less than that, they’d both picked up an ident signal just as they’d driven past a turn-off leading to some large square buildings fronted by an enormous car park.
‘An AI ident,’ she said. Her grey eyes locked on his. ‘Software version date — ’
‘2064,’ he finished. Nothing in this time — nothing — other than their primary target could possibly be broadcasting a signal with a future date stamp. ‘It must be them.’
‘Agreed. Take the next turning.’
Chapter 16
12 September 2001, New York
Cooper had arrived in New York not long after sunrise and was taken by an NYPD squad car over from the precinct HQ. The plain-clothes police sergeant drew up and stopped in front of a fluttering streamer of crime-scene tape.
‘As far as I can go, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘Feds have it all staked out even though it was a couple of our guys that got shot,’ he added without attempting to hide his disgust.
Cooper thanked him, stepped out and flashed his ID at a uniformed officer guarding the tape line.
A chalk circle on the tarmac marked several bullet cases, and another marked a dark dried puddle of blood.
‘Is there an Agent Damon Grohl on-site?’ he asked the cop.
‘Your FBI buddies are down there somewhere,’ he replied, pointing to the opening of an alleyway beside the base of the towering support for the bridge he’d just been driven over from Manhattan.
‘So what’s down there?’
‘Damned if I know. Nothing us dumb ol’ beat cops are being allowed to see.’
Cooper crossed the intersection, flashed his ID at another uniformed cop standing at the mouth of the alleyway.
‘Yo, Cooper! Coop! Down here!’ a voice barked out from further down the alley.
It was Grohl. Cooper could make out his chunky silhouette standing two-thirds of the way down. Light from crime-scene floodlights was spilling out from some archway across cobblestones and piled rubbish.
‘Damon!’ He began to hesitantly pick his way into the mouth of the alley, sidestepping a discarded spicy chicken wrap. ‘You going to tell me what this is all about yet? I just spent the last four hours driving up here! And I really don’t know what — ’
Grohl waved at him to come on down. ‘I’m not going to shout about it. Come over here.’
Cooper made his way along the alley. At the far end of it he could see a handrail and quayside, a view of the East River and the underbelly of the bridge overhead, receding until it merged with Manhattan beyond. Warm morning sunlight picked out the tops of the skyscrapers along Wall Street. In the sky, several news choppers buzzed around where yesterday the Twin Towers had stood.
He joined Grohl and shook his hand. ‘Sheesh… long journey all the way up from Washington this morning. Every plane in America’s been grounded. I had to damn well drive.’ He looked at his old Academy buddy. ‘Now I was trying to figure out what the hell it is you think you’ve got that made you decide to give me a call.’
Grohl smiled. ‘Come on, Coop, everyone in the Agency knows you’re the custodian of all that weird X Files stuff.’ He slapped Cooper affectionately on the arm and grinned, a knowing boy-have-I-got-something-for-you expression. ‘You won’t be disappointed.’
They were standing beside a brick archway; a metal shutter door was wound three-quarters of the way up, but still low enough that they both had to duck down to look under. ‘What’s in here?’
‘Last night, early hours of the morning actually, there was that double cop killing. You probably saw the evidence markers out there on the intersection?’ Cooper nodded.
‘Eyewitness saw the whole thing. Said they emerged from this alleyway, two of them; one male, one female, mid-twenties, white, tall, athletic. And get this — ’ he grinned — ‘both as bald as buddhas. Walked right up, assaulted the first cop, took his gun off him and shot him and his partner dead, execution style. Two to the chest, one to the head. Then calm as you please they both got into the squad car and drove it away.’
‘Sheeesh. Linked to the Trade Center? Terrorists?’
‘That’s what we thought. That’s why we got handed this one so quickly. Follow me.’ He ducked down, led the way inside. ‘Precinct cops were first on the scene. They searched the alleyway and found this archway left wide open.’
Cooper ducked under after him and stood up inside.
‘And this is where it all gets very weird.’
Cooper looked around. The place looked as if it had been burgled or rifled through. A mess of things pulled out and strewn across the floor. He noted the bunk beds, the table, armchairs. Kettle, pizza boxes, burger wrappers and drinks cans. ‘What? This some sort of drugs den? A gang crib?’
Grohl shrugged. ‘No. Not narcotics, not even a trace. But we did find this.’ He pointed down to spatters and smears of dried blood on the floor, each mark highlighted with a chalk circle and an evidence number. ‘Something went down in here. A fight. Crime-scene pathologist reckons there’s enough blood on the floor to suggest another possible homicide. Two dead cops out there and another possible killing in here. But no body. Anyway, we got handed this ball because it might… might… have something to do with the terror attack.’
Grohl beckoned Cooper to follow him across the floor towards a desk cluttered with wires and circuit boards. He picked up something sitting in a plastic evidence bag.
‘And this little beauty is why I thought I’d give you a call, old friend.’ He passed it to Cooper. ‘Don’t worry, it’s already been dusted for prints. You can get it out and take a look at it.’
Cooper reached into the bag and pulled out a smooth, fist-sized piece of glossy black plastic and chrome. ‘What is this thing? Some sort of digital organizer?’
‘Turn it over.’
He did and noted the logo on the back in the centre. An apple.
‘This is some sort of prototype Apple product?’
Grohl took it back off him. Pressed a button at the bottom and the screen glowed brightly. He slid his finger across the screen.
‘Jesus! That’s…’
‘Touch-the-screen technology. Very fancy, huh?’
Cooper nodded. It wasn’t fancy, it was stunning. But he still wasn’t sure what he was doing all the way up here this morning. There was enough work the FBI needed to be doing chasing down whatever leads they might have on the horrific events of yesterday.
‘Jesus, Coop, even the military doesn’t have anything near as slick as this little beauty.’ Grohl’s thumb found an icon on the screen and tapped it. ‘Check it out. This is where it gets real interesting, though.’ He turned the device round and showed him the screen. Cooper squinted at a page of text.
‘What am I looking at?’
‘System software information. Look at the software version date.’
Cooper’s stomach did a queasy turnover in his belly. It was showing the year as 2009.
‘And the device’s calendar is set to 2010. You ever see anything like this gadget? It looks like something right out of Star Trek.’
Cooper shook his head. No, he’d seen nothing as advanced as this, not even mocked-up prototypes at a gadget show.
‘Damon, it looks to me a bit like a super-advanced version of those new Apple iPod things the kids are all asking for Thanksgiving.’
‘Oh, and this thing is also designed to make phone calls.’
‘It’s a phone as well?’
‘Oh yeah, only… it doesn’t connect to anything because it’s using a telecoms protocol that doesn’t actually exist…’ His eyes met Cooper’s and Cooper understood what word his friend was leaving unsaid and dangling in the space between them.
… Yet.
Chapter 17
7.24 a.m., 12 September 2001, outside Branford, Connecticut
Abel swung t
he Volkswagen Beetle into the car park and climbed out of the vehicle, the engine still ticking as he crossed the tarmac towards the source of the signal, a large white vehicle with wide perspex windows at the front and back. It looked like some kind of habitation module on wheels.
Faith strode beside him. She withdrew the handgun from the waistband of the jogging bottoms she was wearing, stolen from some hapless runner what seemed like a lifetime ago.
‘They are here,’ she said.
Abel nodded and reached for the handle of the vehicle’s rear door. It failed to turn. He grabbed it tighter and twisted it hard. Something snapped softly and clattered on to the floor inside. He pulled open the door and stepped up inside the vehicle. The RV lurched gently under his weight.
Inside his eyes picked out a mess of bin liners and plastic bags piled down the vehicle’s central aisle towards the driver and passengers’ seats up at the front.
And a small, yellow cubed android was sitting on one of the seats. Big ping-pong-ball eyes batted lashes as its pickle-shaped nose quivered. ‘You’re not supposed to come in here,’ it said with a cautionary tattle-tale voice.
Abel’s mind detected a squirt of data. A broadcasted alert. The yellow robot was beaming an alarm signal. A fainter signal approximately a quarter of a mile away registered an acknowledgement. He dropped back on to the ground outside and turned to Faith.
She’d picked that up too.
‘The acknowledgement came from over there,’ she said, pointing towards a large squat white building, sporting signs of big-brand retailers. Between them a sea of tarmac beginning to fill with cars parking up: early-bird shoppers.
‘They are inside that building,’ said Abel.
‘My God.’ Rashim shook his head with disbelief. He looked around the mini-mart and then reached into a freezer unit and picked up a shrink-wrapped pack-of-three Ma Jackson’s Shaked n’ Baked Tennessee Chicken Drummers. ‘This is real? Real food?’
Sal nodded. ‘Those? Real chicken legs? Uh-huh.’
‘From what was once a real live chicken?’
‘Of course.’
His eyes widened. When he’d come from only the wealthiest could afford vat-grown meat and even then it wasn’t really proper meat. ‘Meat on the bone’ was muscle cells grown on plastic rods shaped like bones. It tasted vaguely savoury, with a gelatinous texture, a meat-gel lollipop at best. Everyone else lived on synthi-soya alternatives.
‘There’s so much!’ He shook his head again. ‘There’s just so much of this real food!’
‘Yeah, well.’ Sal took the drumsticks off him and dropped them in the shopping trolley. ‘Best make the most of it, right?’
Maddy’s call. Since this food supermarket inside the mall was already open, she decided that since they’d stopped they might as well stock up on some essentials. The RV had a fridge that worked, they might as well put something edible in it and the little kitchen cabinets located above it. Maddy said she wasn’t sure whether they were staying in Boston or moving on. But it probably wouldn’t hurt for them to have a few luxuries aboard the TimeRiders’ ‘tour bus’.
‘This way, Becks.’ Sal led the trolley. Becks pushed it dutifully.
‘Affirmative.’ Her language pack was installed now. Just the default library. Her voice was monotone, completely without any expression. Sal turned to look at her. She was wearing a beanie hat to cover her still-smooth head, and baggy jeans and a jumper hung loosely on her slight frame. Her pale face had a slack, vacant look to it. At least that part of her looked convincingly teenager.
And at least she wasn’t drooling now.
‘My God!’ Rashim’s voice echoed from the next aisle along. A moment later he appeared at the end of the freezer aisle gazing wide-eyed at something sitting on the palm of his hand. She waved him over.
‘What’s up, Rashim?’
He hurried over and held his hand out. ‘Are these strawberries real too?’
Great. He’s found the fruit counter.
Liam put some more boxes of Coco Pops in the trolley. Bob looked down at them.
‘You already have five boxes of Coco Pops.’
‘Aye, well, ’tis better to be safe than sorry.’ He nudged Bob’s arm. ‘Anyway, you like them too.’
‘They are acceptable to my digestive system.’
‘Oh, come on… admit it, you actually like them. I’ve seen the way you gobble ’em down.’
‘They are low in protein. I require large amounts of Coco Pops to sustain me.’
Liam offered him a sly grin. ‘I’ve seen you slurp that chocolate milk, like a cat lapping cream.’
‘The milk is the more beneficial food component of the two.’
Liam shrugged distractedly. ‘Ah well.’ He surveyed the other cereal boxes stacked along the aisle. ‘Hey look, Bob. You can even have Coco Pops with funny pink teddy bear shapes in it.’ He picked the cereal box up and held it closer to get a better look at the far too colourful package design. ‘What do you reckon those little teddy bear fellas are made of?’
Bob scowled disapprovingly. ‘Probably nothing particularly nutritious.’
‘Maybe not, but it looks fun.’ Liam dropped the cereal box in the trolley. He smiled up at Bob. ‘You remember what fun is, don’t you?’
‘I can supply a definition of the word and several thousand cultural references to the word including — ’
‘Never mind.’
Chapter 18
7.25 a.m., 12 September 2001, North Haven Plaza, outside Branford
Maddy brought the tray over to the booth and sat down opposite Foster. He wasn’t looking so good this morning. Perhaps a couple of sleepless nights hadn’t helped. Perhaps it was the artificial lighting in this coffee shop. He’d looked healthier in Central Park: sun on his face and a fresh breeze ruffling the tufts of snow-white hair on his head. Healthier and happier back there.
‘Coffee, milky and sweet, just how you and Liam like it.’
‘Thank you, Maddy.’
She sat down, grabbed her latte and looked out across the mall. There was a toddlers’ play area and a fake palm tree, beyond that the mini-supermarket where the others were food shopping. She thought she caught a glimpse of the bristly top of Bob’s coconut head above an aisle. An hour’s stop over here, that’s what she’d told them. An hour, grab something to eat, then she wanted them all in the RV and back on the road. The further away they were from New York, the better.
Foster sipped his coffee, testing the heat with his lips. ‘I think it would be safer if you were to head somewhere else. Somewhere other than Boston.’
‘Where, though?’
‘Anywhere.’
‘Why?’
He took his time answering. ‘I just think it would be safer.’
‘They can’t know where we’re going. We lost them, right? We got clean away.’
‘What if they know your family lives in Boston?’
‘But those support units… they don’t know me. They don’t know anything about me. How the hell are they going to guess my folks live in Boston?’
‘They know something about you, Maddy. They found you after all, didn’t they?’
‘They found our field office. Maybe we’ve been… I dunno… leaking traceable tachyons. Maybe we just got careless and left a breadcrumb trail? All the coming and going backwards and forwards in time, that’s going to leave some kind of a mark, right? Some kind of a trackable signature maybe?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. In fact, you probably know as much, if not more, about this technology than I do now.’
‘You think?’ She looked up from her styrofoam cup at his craggy face, seeing the ghost of Liam in there among the folds and wrinkles. ‘Maybe so,’ she said. ‘After all… not so very long ago, you were just a young lad from Ireland, weren’t you?’
He looked like he was going to say something, then laughed. ‘That’s about right.’
‘Foster, there’s something I’ve always wanted to know.’
‘What?’
‘How we got picked. Selected. Me, Liam and Sal. You too, I guess. I mean, who knew so much about us? Who knew I was on that plane? Who knew Liam and you were on that particular deck on the Titanic? Who knew exactly where Sal was in that burning building?’
‘I… don’t know.’
‘And how come they knew we had the necessary skills?’ She rubbed her temple. ‘Not that that’s helped so much. I’ve messed up more than I want to think about.’
‘The three of you were perfect,’ he replied. ‘Perfect recruits,’ he added. ‘You’ve done so very well.’ He patted her arm gently. The lightest touch. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. From what I’ve heard you tell me, you’ve been busy saving history over and over.’
‘Well, more like fighting fires. But we’re here still. The world’s the same as it ever was. For what good that does it.’
‘Oh, it’s important, Maddy. History can’t be changed.’
‘Yeah, yeah… has to go one particular way, I know.’ She lifted a plate of sausage patty bagels off the tray. One for him, one for her, and more for the others when they finally came over to join them. That is, if the bagels lasted that long. She was famished.
‘Did you have many missions, Foster? You know… back when you were Liam, I guess.’
‘A few. Enough.’ His smile looked sad. ‘Enough that I ended up like this. Old before my time.’
‘Long before your time.’ She could cry for him, cry for this wizened old man sitting opposite her. ‘Foster, you remember telling me about how travelling through time can age you?’
‘Yes.’
She almost stopped herself. ‘Were you serious? Are you really only twenty-seven?’
‘I think so.’ He sighed. ‘Twenty-seven, perhaps twenty-six. It’s easy to lose count of the field cycles.’
She could only imagine how Liam must feel looking at him now that he knew this fate was awaiting him. That all too soon his body was going to be irreversibly corrupted by time travel.
‘What were the others like? The team you were with before us?’