Foresight

by Graham Storrs

  The hamster looked down at him and said, “It’s time I took my team and got out of here. You just need to settle my account.”

  “What? You can’t go yet. We need to …” Lee stopped as he noticed Hamiye, still lying where he’d fallen. There was no-one left to pilot the sphere. The mission was over. His shoulders sagged. His eyes closed. The energy seemed to drain out of him. “You’re right. We should all leave while we can. I don’t suppose you or one of your men would like to pilot the sphere? There’d be a very big bonus.”

  “We already earned a big bonus when that one killed Alice.”

  “Alice? Oh, the woman.”

  “And another one for this.” He turned slightly to reveal a patch of torn and mangled flesh on his leg just below the hip. Jay winced, even though Langbroek seemed able to completely disregard the wound. “And the agreement with Hamiye was we get paid the full four days. It’s all there.”

  “You’ve done an invoice?” Jay asked, amazed. “Just now, while we were talking?”

  From outside came the sound of heavy machine-gun fire. The kind that might come from a helicopter gunship strafing the surrounding roads and parking lots. Jay clenched his jaw and prepared to snap the tie that held his wrists together.

  “The transfer is complete,” Lee said. “Try to make as much fuss as you can when you leave.”

  Langbroek gave him a withering look. “Yeah, right. Nice doing business with you.” He took one step towards the door and the back of his head exploded.

  Blood and brains spattered Jay and Lee, who both stood frozen in shock as the giant crumpled and fell. In the doorway ahead of them stood Sandra Malone, legs apart, gun raised in a two-handed grip, smoke curling up from its barrel.

  ***

  Sandra swung her gun to point at Lee. At the edge of her vision she saw the two Chinese agents take aim at her.

  “Tell your men to drop their weapons, Lee, or you’re next.” Jay was staring at her, open mouthed. Hamiye was on the floor, dead or dying. One too many bad choices, she thought. Across the room, one of Jay’s soldiers lay face down, not moving. Lee said something and the two agents lowered their guns but did not drop them. “Jay, get over here.”

  As Jay finally got his brain in gear, she noticed Hong, over by the console. Something about the old man unsettled her, like a memory of something bad. She kept her eye on Lee and told Jay to hurry up. He had his hands tied behind his back, which infuriated her. He was wearing a combat suit for God’s sake. Why didn’t he just—?

  She heard his voice. Not in the room, but in her mind. What had he said? It was in the future, in this room, something important. Something …

  Wait, she heard him say. Hong had a—

  She dropped to one knee and swung her gun up towards the old scientist. Hong stood there pointing a handgun at her. A gun. Hong had a gun. She fired and her shot took the old man in the shoulder, spun him around. His gun clattered to the floor. A closed time loop, she thought. Had she just created a closed time loop, with her and Jay and Cara trapped in it forever? Or had she just escaped from one?

  That was the least of her troubles.

  She heard the snick of a machine-gun bolt being drawn. Even as she understood what it meant, that Lee and his men had seized the opportunity her brief distraction had given them, she threw herself sideways, out of the doorway, across the floor. Bullets ripped up the floor and the wall behind her. The noise and violence of it took her breath away. Chips of wood and concrete blasted at her, stinging her hands and face. She could hardly believe she was alive—and her luck wouldn’t last for long. The machine-gun barrels would swing her way, track her scrabbling progress across the floor. Bullets would tear her body apart.

  She heard a roar, a bellow of rage, audible above even the screaming machine guns, and saw Jay tearing his arms free of the cable tie around his wrists with the power-assisted exoskeleton and charging the gunmen, recklessly, wonderfully, hurling himself into them, dozens of rounds thwacking into his armor but not yet his unprotected face. He crashed into them, knocking the two agents down, silencing their guns, if only briefly.

  Sandra was on her feet by then and running for cover, the only cover she could reach.

  The sphere.

  Lee, shouting furiously at his agents, turned to track Sandra, firing at her repeatedly but missing with every shot. He was shooting left-handed, she realized. His right hand hung, useless, by his side, still dripping blood. She felt blessed by the gods. She dived into a roll that took her behind the squared-off base the sphere rested on. She lay on her belly, facing Lee, both arms straight ahead, sighting along the barrel of her gun.

  Wide-eyed, Lee ran.

  “Jay, over here,” she shouted and aimed at the struggling threesome on the ground. It wouldn’t take the two Chinese agents long to get a gun, even a knife, into Jay’s face. “Run, you idiot.”

  His head came up and looked at her, his face a mask of indignation. “Idiot? That’s bloody rich.” With a swipe of one arm, he knocked one of his opponents back so hard Sandra heard the man’s head bounce off the floor. Jay was on his feet and running. “You’re the one who came storming in here with nothing but a sunny smile and a can-do attitude.” Behind him, the agent who wasn’t stunned brought up his gun and took aim at Jay’s head.

  “Head down, Beanpole, before they shoot it off.”

  He ducked his head between his shoulders and ran faster. Bullets raked across his back before Sandra had a chance to fire at the shooter. The agent must have been wearing armor beneath his business suit because, of the three shots that hit him, only the one that hit his hand made him squeal and stop firing.

  Jay came crashing to the ground beside her, panting and gray-faced. He propped his back against the base of the sphere and let his head fall back, eyes screwed shut and lips pursed. For the moment, no-one was shooting. In the quiet, the boom-boom of the helicopter guns could be heard outside. Jay’s people were still taking a pounding.

  “Are you hurt?” Sandra asked, although it was obvious Jay was in pain.

  “Feels like I was trampled by buffalo.”

  “Those suits are incredible.”

  “Smart materials,” he said, easing himself into a more comfortable position.

  “Your guys are on their way. I spoke to Gerhard. Why don’t they shoot down that chopper?”

  “Waiting.”

  “For what? Christmas?”

  One of the Chinese agents had fallen back to the cover of the doorway. The other was behind the dented cabinet that Jay had once used. Between them, they had Jay and Sandra pinned down. There was no sign of Lee.

  Outside, the helicopter noise seemed to grow louder. There was a whoosh and a massive explosion.

  “That,” said Jay. “That’s what they’re waiting for. I’d say our own chopper just arr—Shit!”

  Everything shook as the flaming wreckage of a helicopter gunship smashed into the far side of the building and exploded. Windows burst and flame rolled across the factory. The fireball was gone in a moment but several blazes had taken hold where the searing heat had blasted walls and furniture.

  “We should go,” Sandra said.

  “I insist that you stay.” Lee’s voice was just a couple of meters behind them. Close enough that even he might not miss. Sandra dropped her gun and turned around, slowly.

  “You didn’t see him coming?” she asked Jay who was sitting there facing him.

  “I had my eyes closed.”

  “You what?”

  “Shut up,” said Lee. He looked angry but not out of control. “Get up.”

  Sandra couldn’t understand why he had not killed them yet. She saw the two agents come out of hiding and advance on the sphere.

  “The chopper was your escape, right?” Jay said. “So now you need hostages. Is that it?”

  Lee backed them towards the control console. As they moved past the front of the sphere, Sandra nudged Jay and glanced towards the open hatch. He gave her a quick frown, clearly not under
standing. She could have thumped him.

  “You are not getting out of this alive,” she told Lee, stopping.

  “Keep moving.”

  She looked around and saw Hong climbing to his feet, leaning on the console for support.

  “I see Hong’s recovered,” she said.

  And, in the instant his eyes involuntarily flicked across to the wounded scientist, she kicked out at Lee, her boot connecting squarely with his jaw. Whirling around she grabbed Jay and pushed him towards the hatch shouting, “Get inside!” And, as the two agents brought up their guns and opened fire, she dived in after him.

  It was a compartment designed to hold only one person and both Jay and Sandra were tall. By the time they were inside and the hatch was down, bullets rattling across the tough exterior, there was barely room to move.

  “Hang on,” said Jay. He was more-or-less in the pilot’s seat with Sandra scrunched up on top of him. “Won’t they just hit the button and send us off into the far future or something?” No doubt it had not escaped his notice that the generators were running and the capacitor banks were charged.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “You have to go through a process in here to enable external control of the time shot. Unless we do that, they can’t send us anywhere.”

  “That process wouldn’t involve hitting a yellow button with ‘EXTERNAL’ printed on it, would it?” Sandra felt her heart sink. “And maybe flicking a little switch from ‘Locked’ to ‘Ready’?”

  “Oh, fuck. Turn it off. Right now. Turn it off.”

  Jay heaved under her. “I’m trying but I can’t get my arm free.”

  Gritting her teeth against the pain, she tried to turn herself towards the controls, but it was impossible. “Look, I’m going to move over this way, then you—”

  But it was too late. With a jolt, they broke loose of the present and rattled away into the future.

  ***

  When Gerhard led his team into the grounds of Clarke Engineering, they found three men standing there waiting for them. All were wounded and all were unarmed.

  “I am Lee Shaozu,” said the well-dressed man with blood dripping from his fingers. “These are my colleagues. We are cultural attachés working for the Chinese Embassy. We have diplomatic immunity. I wish to contact the Ambassador.”

  Gerhard studied them with a jaundiced eye. “Chinese spies, eh? Where are the mercs? Or are they cultural attachés too?”

  Lee shrugged. “If you mean the terrorists who have been holding us hostage, my government will be making an official protest at how long it has taken you to set us free. As you can see, we require medical attention.”

  “Stick it up your arse, Lee.”

  Gerhard had not been having a good evening. The helicopter gunship had wounded two of the MI5 men—it would have been worse if not for Jay’s warning—and had proved to be so well stuffed with electronic counter measures that none of their hand-held surface-to-air missiles could get a lock on it. So they’d hunkered down and waited for their own gunship to arrive while the one above them circled around ploughing up the neighborhood. All the while, he could hear sporadic gunfire coming from the factory, see the muzzle-flashes in its windows, and could do nothing for Jay and Fourget except pray that the shooting didn’t stop.

  He sent people to search for the hamsters. The satellite had lost track of them ages back, probably because they were now wearing hooded, insulated ponchos to hide their infrared signal. Another bloody cock-up.

  To make matters worse, the Metropolitan Police had sent what looked like a whole armored division to “provide tactical support”. In other words to try to take over, probably because the Mayor or the Home Office didn’t like the way things were going. Well, Gerhard didn’t like the way things were going either. He looked at the burning wreckage of the enemy helicopter and thanked the Lord that at least the RAF guys knew what they were doing and had managed to bring it down within the factory perimeter. If it had gone down on the motorway, or among houses … He shuddered. Things were bad enough without having to explain that to a court-martial.

  “Cuff these bastards and get them in a van,” he told his men. “They’re my prisoners, so you don’t hand them over to MI5 or to the Met, OK?”

  A sudden squealing of wheels made everybody turn and grab for their weapons. The mercenaries were making their run. The armored van burst from the back of the building, rapidly gaining speed. Machine-gun fire roared from ports in the vehicle’s sides. “Leave it,” he shouted into the comm. “The Met can have them.” Another decision he’d pay for later, but he was damned if he’d put what was left of his team at risk chasing down a few mercs. Besides, there was more to do here.

  “Peel, Davidi, you’re with me. Let’s get in there and see who we can find before the whole place burns down.”

  “You shouldn’t go in there, Captain,” Lee called out as he was being led away. “I believe the terrorists you just allowed to escape planted incendiary devices throughout the building. Any minute now it will be an inferno.”

  Rage boiled up inside Gerhard. He stomped over to Lee and grabbed him by the collar. “Thank you for volunteering to help us search, Mr Lee.” He dragged him along as he led his men into the factory. Lee, his hands cuffed behind him, stumbled but could not fall in Gerhard’s servo-assisted grip.

  They went in through the front door and marched straight through to the back.

  “There’s one in a room down there,” said Lee, nodding in the direction of a side corridor as they passed. He was very eager to cooperate, Gerhard noted, now that his life might depend on them getting out quickly.

  “One of ours?” the captain asked, pausing.

  “No,” said Lee and they pressed on.

  The factory was filling with smoke from a dozen small fires burning at the far end of the room. There was a body nearby on the floor, a big man in civilian clothes, Arab features. Not Gerhard's concern.

  “Over there,” said Lee and Gerhard had to squint to make out the shape of a man in a combat suit face down on the ground. His heart stilled as he realized it was Fourget. He stared for a second or two, fighting down the urge to pound Lee into a pulp. Then he said, “Davidi, get Lieutenant Fourget out of here.”

  He turned Lee to face him, gripped him by the throat and lifted him onto his toes. The Chinese spy looked frightened but defiant. “Anybody else?” Gerhard asked softly. Lee met his gaze although he struggled to breathe.

  “Dr Hong is over there, shot by your agent Sandra Malone. Also around the place are a few of his tekniks, killed by the terrorists, I believe.”

  “Where are Jay Kennedy and Sandra Malone? Think carefully before you answer.”

  “They went away,” Lee croaked. “They escaped from the terrorists and went back through time.” He nodded to the platform where the sphere had stood.

  Gerhard studied the banks of F2 generators, the cabinets of capacitors. He knew a displacement rig when he saw one. Maybe the murdering bastard was telling the truth. “How long till the incendiaries blow?”

  “Less than a minute.”

  Now that he could believe. “All right. Everybody out. The building’s about to blow.” He jogged for the exit, dragging Lee behind him, not caring if his prisoner occasionally crashed into doorframes or desks. He was barely through the outer doors when the incendiaries went off. Hot clouds of flame blossomed in the corridors and erupted through the opening behind him. His combat suit protected him but Lee must have suffered badly the way he screamed. Gerhard dropped him a few meters from the burning building and marched on to where two of his men were tending Fourget.

  “Is he alive?”

  “Just,” said Davidi. “We need to get him to a hospital right now.”

  Gerhard called the helicopter on the comm and explained the situation. It was still in the vicinity, with an ETA of thirty seconds.

  “That one,” he said, turning to point at Lee, who lay on the ground, moaning, smoke still rising from his singed clothing, “can wait
for the ambulance to arrive.”

  He stared at the burning building. Anyone still inside was dead now. Any evidence of what really happened would be lost. So much for Dr Thalman inspecting the device. He shouted into the comm over the roar of flames, “How long till the fire engines get here?” The answer was not encouraging. “Tell them I want this fire out within one hour.” Even he could see it was hopeless. “One hour,” he insisted. “They need to use whatever technology will do the job.” He’d seen film of bushfires being water-bombed and there was a new thing that created a sudden vacuum. “Two lives depend on it. Make sure they understand. Two lives.” Returning from a timesplash to materialize in the heart of that inferno was the stuff of nightmares.

  “Sir?” It was one of the surviving MI5 officers. “The Met just called. Seems they picked up two women trying to run the blockade.”

  “Two women? Nobody got out of here that we don’t know about.”

  “No, sir. They were trying to get in from outside. They claim to be relatives of Mr Kennedy. The police have them in custody and they’re waiting for instructions.”

  “Custody? Two of the Section Head’s relatives in custody?”

  “Yes, sir. The older one was armed with an unregistered shotgun and the younger one … she seems to have bitten one of the arresting officers.”

  Chapter 14: The Future

  Darkness.

  Jay blinked but the darkness remained.

  “Cognitive subsystems online.” The voice was melodious but not human. “Sensorium booting. Selecting environment.”

  He saw a sketch of a landscape, wireframe hills, trees that appeared in outline and were filled with monochrome texture as he watched.

  “Wake-up in three, two, one …”

  He was on a hillside, standing still with his arms by his side. It was a sunny day. A light breeze touched his cheek. With a start, he realized there was someone beside him.

  Sandra.

  She turned to look at him at the same moment he saw her.

  “What the hell …?” she said.

  He was so glad to see her he could have shouted. The last thing he remembered was being in the sphere. They were being thrown around, smashing into things, into each other. He had tried to hold her to him, to protect her, but the buffeting was too violent, the sudden shocks too extreme. He tried to manoeuvre her into the seat so he could strap her in. Then he felt his arm break.