Day of the Assassins

by Johnny O'Brien

  “Stop!” Jack pleaded.

  The professor paused, still enthusiastically contemplating the apparently limitless scenarios by which they might meet their demise. “Indeed, that is what makes it so very interesting, all these possibilities.”

  “Fantastic…”

  He stared back at Jack for a moment and then guffawed loudly. It was a high-pitched intermittent wheezing – quite unlike any laugh Jack had heard before. “Very good. Very good. I never tire of the English sense of humour. Most excellent…” But suddenly his voice trailed off self-consciously as he realised that, judging from Jack’s pale face and trembling hands, he did not share his own blasé nonchalance about their predicament. “I apologise, my friend. One forgets that it can be quite frightening the first time… but I assure you, we are reasonably safe. I speak from experience. Please… allow me to show you.” And with that, the professor confidently stepped over to Jack’s corner of the basket, placed his hand sympathetically on Jack’s arm and encouraged him to get up.

  “It takes a little bit of getting used to, and it’s no good if you are afraid of heights… but tell me, where else on earth would you get a view like that…?”

  The professor opened both arms, preacher like, out into the sky. Jack rose gingerly to his feet and, gripping the side of the basket tightly, reluctantly peered into the void.

  “Look. We are over the North Sea and there ahead is the Dutch coast.”

  The view was breathtaking. Below, the English Channel merged into the broad blue-grey of a calm North Sea twinkling in the strong afternoon sun. There was no roar in his ears – they were travelling with the wind. In fact it was very peaceful.

  The professor smiled at the look of wonder on Jack’s face. “Beautiful, don’t you think?”

  “… bit scary.”

  The professor grinned broadly and slapped him on the back, “Well, let’s see if we can’t find something to make you feel better.”

  He moved over to his bags. He seemed very well equipped and soon had Jack wrapped up in a thick woollen blanket in one corner of the basket. Next, he produced a large flask of steaming coffee and then some hard, bitter chocolate, which crumbled dryly in Jack’s mouth.

  “Main course later… we might need to ration ourselves a little…” The professor’s English was perfect, but he had quite a strong accent. Jack began to warm up… and he felt a little more confident.

  “Are you from England?” he asked.

  The professor looked back at him from his own corner of the basket as he cupped a tin mug brimming with coffee. He pretended to be offended, “Certainly not. I’m German. Well, by nationality anyway. I’m a scientist. Or more an inventor, really.”

  “How does a German get to be aboard a British battleship? Particularly when war is about to break out.”

  The professor looked puzzled. “War? I don’t think so.” He frowned. “The European powers certainly have their differences, but war – I doubt it… Our diplomacy is too good. Many crises have been averted over the last few years – Agadir, the Balkans. Surely nobody wants war – certainly not between Germany and England.”

  “Even so, how does a German get to be aboard a British battleship?”

  The professor shrugged. “As I said, I’m a scientist.” Jack was none the wiser. “This,” he gestured proudly to the huge balloon above their heads, “is my invention. The navy are interested in using it for spotting at sea. We were about to conduct a test, but then something went wrong with the winding gear.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “It’s very exciting.”

  “What is?”

  “Well… obviously the navy is paying me for my new design, but I had planned that, once perfected, I might use the balloon to set a world record. Your navy and I are helping each other, if you like.”

  This was getting better and better, Jack thought. “A world record for what?”

  “Distance travelled by air – of course.”

  Jack’s heart sank. “Oh no. And now you think you might have a chance?”

  “I admit not quite in the circumstances I expected…” the professor peered out over the basket, “but, I must say, the conditions look most favourable.”

  “Why would the British employ a German scientist on one of their most important battleships?”

  “Well, of course Dreadnought is not as state of the art as she once was… and I have helped the navy out on various bits and pieces. Anyway, they know my politics.”

  “Politics?”

  “I have none. Well… I’m a pacifist. Don’t approve of politics.” He shrugged. “But if you need your research funded or your balloon tested, there are limited options.” He gave another apologetic shrug and there was a pause before he looked across at Jack curiously, “Well I have given you my story,” he said, “perhaps you should tell me how you come to be here…” Jack started to feel nervous as the professor’s blue eyes drilled into him. “You seem maybe a bit young to be a regular sailor in the king’s navy. And the escapade back down there might suggest that you are maybe, shall we say… in trouble?”

  Jack weighed up his options. Should he tell the truth? He said the first thing that came into his head.

  “Oh that’s easy. I’m Jack Christie. I’m a time traveller from the future – and I’m being chased by time police who want to kill me.”

  For a moment, there was silence as the balloon cut through the sky. Then the professor shook as he let out a second wheezy, high-pitched laugh, “Excellent, excellent!” he cried. “Jack Christie – you and I are going to get along very well. Very well indeed…” He then scrabbled inside his bags again, chortling to himself, long after Jack’s remark ceased to be remotely funny.

  “More chocolate?”

  Professor August Pinckard-Schnell might be as mad as a March hare – but at least he was making Jack feel better.

  “Thanks professor.”

  *

  Soon, the professor became distracted. He rose once more from his position, sniffed the air, looked about and then moved around the basket from one corner to the next. “Now, we need to make sure we prepare ourselves properly… it is all about optimising our chances.” He checked the burner, which had not yet been used, and ensured that all the gas cylinders were properly secured. He looked up towards the gas bag above, which completely overshadowed them, inspecting it carefully. He glanced several times at the afternoon sun, narrowing his eyes, and then scribbled in a scruffy notebook. This went on for a full ten minutes while Jack hunkered down in his corner of the basket.

  When the professor finished he announced, “We seem to be maintaining our height. Still going east, or more south east, really. Fast, we are travelling fast. Maybe eighty kilometres an hour. Although it does not feel that fast.” He pondered what all this might mean, “If we keep going at this rate, well…” he grinned, “a world record! Easily. A world record for manned flight!”

  “I’m very happy for you.”

  “We should maybe try to increase our height a little… what do you say, Jack? Would you like to try the burner?”

  Jack was not quite sure what he meant, but then the professor pointed at the large metal burner in the middle of the basket.

  “It’s easy, quite safe,” the professor said. “You just do this.” He pulled a lever and there was an ear-splitting whoosh as a large flame licked up towards the aperture underneath the balloon, way above their heads. The professor smiled reassuringly and gestured for Jack to have a go. Jack put his hand on the lever and repeated the procedure. Again, there was a roar as the flame from the burner shot skywards. He jumped back and watched as the flame receded, soon replaced by the silent sky as they sailed on. Reassured that the procedure had not resulted in the balloon going up in a ball of flames, Jack gained a little more confidence, and took a second opportunity to inspect the breathtaking view from their vantage point. Soon his remaining fear melted away – replaced by a surging exhilaration. The air was like crystal and you could se
e a hundred and sixty kilometres in every direction.

  “Funny,” Jack remarked. “No vapour trails.”

  The professor looked at him oddly, “No what?”

  “You know, vapour trails. I was just thinking, professor, it’s funny that you can’t see any vapour trails from all the jets… there’s usually loads…” Jack suddenly realised what he had said and his voice trailed off self-consciously, “even where I live…”

  The professor looked puzzled. “‘Jet’, ‘vapour trail’ – these are English expressions I have not heard before…”

  Jack grimaced, “Sorry professor, doesn’t matter, it’s just where I come from… we have some funny words for stuff – there’s a bunch more I probably need to teach you as well, like ‘Google’, ‘iPod’, and ‘Global Warming’. That kind of thing.” He shrugged, “But you won’t need to worry about any of them.”

  The professor frowned, “I see… oh well… you must, er, tell me what they mean… sometime.” He put his notebook back in his bag and began to busy himself with retrieving some more provisions. Soon he had laid out quite a feast. Sausages were produced, bread and some cheese.

  “I hope this is OK…” the professor said airily.

  They ate and the professor probed again.

  “So, come Jack – the truth now… what were you really doing aboard the ship… Had you stowed away? Maybe trouble with your family – at home? Maybe I can help?”

  Jack considered his options again. It was going to be difficult to brush off the truth, however unbelievable. And his earlier blunder about there being no aeroplanes in the sky could easily be repeated. More importantly, he knew he was still in danger – he had escaped Tony and Gordon once – but with all the technology they seemed to have at their disposal, they could easily turn up again. Maybe the bizarre Professor August Pinckard-Schnell was right and he could help in some way. He seemed kind, if eccentric. Honesty, however unbelievable, was probably the best policy. He glanced at the professor, toying with a piece of cheese, took a deep breath and launched into the incredible events of the last few hours. As he did so, the professor studied him with a look of amused scepticism.

  After he had finished, the professor put his hand over his mouth to hide a doubting smile, “Well it’s an impressive story, Jack, but I’m not sure it is quite believable…” He clearly thought that the strange waif he had inadvertently rescued either had an over-active imagination or had escaped from the local lunatic asylum. To be fair, Jack could see his point.

  Then he had a brainwave. He reached inside his rucksack. It was still there: the history book. In triumph, he tossed it over to the professor and it landed at his crossed feet on the other side of the basket. It blew open and the crisp white pages ruffled provocatively in the breeze.

  “Well – if you don’t believe me – take a look at that.”

  The professor took the book gingerly in his hands and leafed slowly through the pages. As he did so, the expression on his face changed.

  Jack looked at him smugly, “It might be difficult for me to make all that up. Published in the year 2006 for a start… a few years from now I think you’ll find. It would be hard for me to create the detail in there – the whole history of the war… all the horror… the pictures…”

  The professor’s amused scepticism evaporated and after a while he raised his head and looked at Jack with ashen-faced incredulity. He tried to say something, making a couple of false starts in the process, “But…”, “How did…?” and finally, he muttered, “So this war of yours, this ‘Great War’, it really happens?”

  “Oh yes, Professor, it happens alright.”

  “It’s incredible. It cannot be true.”

  “Incredible. And true. Either that, or it’s a complete nightmare. And I’ve fallen asleep in Pendelshape’s class…”

  The professor was concentrating intensely, his brow deeply furrowed, as he thumbed the book with increasing fervour. He began to speak to himself in a quick-fire stream of German as his brain tried to come to terms with Jack’s revelations. “Well, I suppose, the new physics; of course I am familiar with this. Einstein, Planck – relativity, quantum mechanics. The new physics has incredible conceptual leaps. Few understand it, and probably none can comprehend the implications. But nothing like this, surely… surely not…”

  The professor shook his head in awe as the enormity of it all started to sink in.

  “The consequences of this are… profound… and this war, you say it kills, how many?”

  “I’m not sure. I think around eight million… over sixty million are mobilised.” Jack reached over and located a table at the back of the book that he remembered seeing. He showed it to the professor – statistics of the dead by country. The professor gawped at the numbers.

  “In fact, I believe your own country, Germany, suffers greatly. Nearly two million dead. And Germany loses the war, and takes the blame for starting it.”

  A shadow crossed over the professor’s face.

  Jack shrugged, “But if it’s any comfort, my history teacher says that people are still arguing about the causes of the war.” He continued gloomily, “But that’s not all. That book tells you all about the war… but what I haven’t told you is that this war leads to another, even more horrific war. The Second World War, twenty years later.”

  The professor shook his head, “Sorry Jack… this… book, your… story. It is so incredible. I find it hard to believe…”

  Jack fished around in his pocket again. He’d started now, so he might as well go the whole hog. He produced the time phone and presented it to the professor.

  “Here, the time phone I told you about. It links to the Taurus, which sends people backwards and forwards through time – when it decides to work, that is. It’s a bit dodgy. Look…” He flipped open the device showing the professor the mysterious blue light, screen, SATNAV and buttons. “You’re a scientist, Professor, but I bet you’ve never seen technology like this.”

  The professor studied the time phone in wonder. Jack imagined that he had the same stupid expression of shock on his face that he and Angus must have had on first hearing Pendelshape’s revelations back at the Taurus control room.

  All the professor could say was, “Incredible… incredible…” He repeated the words to himself trancelike, over and over again.

  As they stared into the time phone, Jack noticed that the grey bar inside was starting to flicker. Gradually, the grey was replaced by a yellow light, which was soon burning brightly. Jack’s heart leaped.

  “A signal! Professor! We have a signal!”

  He grabbed the phone. Suddenly a message appeared on the display.

  “Someone’s communicating with us!” Jack could scarcely contain his excitement.

  “Look! Look!”

  You have one message from Taurus:

  My dear Jack – you are in great danger – your trip through time threatens us all.

  You must give yourself up to VIGIL’s agents – Tony Smith and Gordon MacFarlane – as soon as possible. They are trying to locate you and bring you back. You must do what they say.

  I love you – Mum

  Jack was gobsmacked, “Mum? A message from Mum… on the time phone… but?” He couldn’t understand it… how could his mum possibly be involved?

  “What does it mean?” the professor asked.

  “I don’t get it. The yellow light is on… that means we are now being tracked and that’s why we can receive messages from the Taurus. I also think it means that we could travel back to the Taurus…”

  “Astonishing. But this message, it’s from your mother?”

  Jack grimaced, it wasn’t making any sense. “Yes… it seems so. Or maybe Tony and Gordon or the Rector are playing a trick.”

  “Maybe she is with them?” the professor added.

  Jack was dumbfounded, “It can’t be… can’t.”

  He tried to think back through the recent course of events. How was his mum involved in all of this? And why hadn
’t she told him? He felt a sudden twinge of anger – it was as if she was always keeping things from him.

  He had an idea, “I know!” he said triumphantly. “I could send a message back! Pendelshape explained how to do that. I can ask them!”

  He scrutinised the time phone once more, trying to recall how to create and send a message. But as he stared into the device, the bright yellow light flickered.

  He groaned, “No! Please not again! I think we’re losing it…”

  The yellow light went dead; the grey bar took its place.

  “Stupid thing!”

  He shook the device in disgust and then sank back into the corner of the basket, dejected. The professor moved over to him and pulled the blanket over his shoulders. He gave Jack a reassuring pat on the back. “Don’t worry, my friend, I don’t understand either… but I’m sure we can work it out.”

  Jack looked up at the professor and tried to squeeze out a smile. It wasn’t easy.

  *

  After a while, he fell asleep – the nervous energy from a tumultuous day had finally taken its toll. In silence, on the opposite corner of the balloon, the professor studied Jack’s history book. It was beyond belief. His logical mind strained to identify an alternative, more plausible explanation. But as he worked his way through the pages, his natural cheerfulness evaporated and his expression became grim. Occasionally, he glanced across at Jack, shook his head and murmured something to himself as he tried to absorb the dramatic revelations from the future. Once or twice he stood and gave a blast on the burner and then gazed from the balloon as it moved steadily southwards, pushed on by a relentless tailwind.

  The sky was finally beginning to darken in the east as the midsummer sun set. Way below, the European canvas spread out from the English Channel to the Russian steppes. Far away, for the first time, the professor spotted that the horizon had an irregular, jagged outline and exuded a faint, pink glow.

  He mumbled something – half to himself, half to Jack – who slept soundly on in the opposite corner. “The Alps.”