Foresight: Timesplash 3

by Graham Storrs

  Muting the feeds, she tried calling Jay again. This time she got a signal but he didn’t pick up. His face appeared and asked her to leave a message.

  “Jay, just call me, OK?” she said and hung up.

  She called Jay’s mother, Dot. It was the sixth call since the previous night’s weirdness, but Dot hadn’t heard from Jay, either.

  “Are you still coping, Dot?” she asked. When Jay had finally found out about his teenage daughter, he had insisted on taking Cara to see his mother. Sandra could hardly object, but she had insisted on going with them to apologise in person for having hidden Dot’s granddaughter away from her for sixteen years. It had been difficult at first, but, in the end, Dot had been so pleased to have Cara in the family that it swept away all the resentment and anger. Over the past couple of years they had visited one another quite a few times and got on well, despite Dot’s constant harping on the theme of Jay and Sandra getting back together.

  “I’m fine, love,” Dot said. “I’ve found a builder who said he can come by in a few days to put a tarp on the roof. He doesn’t know when he can actually fix it though, what with everything that needs doing. It’s just a few missing tiles. As long as it doesn’t rain ’til he gets here, I’ll be fine.”

  “I could drive over and do it myself,” Sandra said. She’d never fixed a roof before but how hard could it be?

  “Oh, good grief, no! I’m not having you driving all that way with things the way they are. You just stay where you are and look after Cara. She must be so frightened.”

  Sandra laughed. “You’d think nothing had happened. I’m beginning to wonder if she even noticed it.”

  Dot was shocked. “But after what happened to her in America, isn’t she terrified?”

  Sandra shrugged. “Apparently not. Did you understand Jay when he was that age?”

  “I’ve always been able to read him like a book.” She fell silent, then said, “I wish we could reach him.”

  “Me too. I’m hoping he can tell us what happened last night.”

  Jay’s mother looked anxious. “Was it one of those timesplash things, Sandra? You’ve seen them. You know what they’re like.”

  Sandra had seen them all right. Twice in her past, they had nearly killed her. “It was nothing like anything I’ve seen before, Dot.”

  “The newsfeeds are calling it the tempocalypse,” Dot said. “They had a man on talking about it this morning.”

  A surge of anger rose in her at the irresponsibility of the media channels. They needed real scientists on the feeds right now, reassuring people, not self-appointed gurus spouting quasi-religious rubbish. “That’s just nonsense, Dot. Trust me, I know. Jay will tell you the same when you get through to him.” Sandra thought for a moment. Apart from Cara, Dot was the closest thing Sandra had to family: she didn’t like to think of her alone and anxious at a time like this. “Dot?” she said. “What do you think of the idea of me and Cara coming for a visit? My office is closed for the rest of the week. They said I should work from home but there isn’t really anything for me to do.” She saw Dot preparing to object, so she talked faster. “It would be great to see you again, and Cara would love it. She always likes to see you. And I bet Jay would be pleased to know we were all together and safe.”

  A small smile crept across Dot’s worried features. “It would be nice,” she said. “I haven’t seen you since Christmas.”

  “That’s settled then. I’ll get us packed and we’ll be there by—” She was going to say “lunchtime” but there was no telling how long the journey might take. “Well, we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  “You be careful on the roads, love.”

  Sandra could see how much brighter Dot seemed. Maybe she’d been hoping for a visit. She had certainly acquiesced to the suggestion with very little fuss. She said her goodbyes and went to find Cara to tell her the news and get her moving. But she had gone just a few paces when the doorbell rang. She turned and looked at it.

  People did not call on Sandra. She discouraged friendships and she had no relations. Even Cara’s friends were kept away. The sign on the gate said, “No salesmen, no charities, no visits without an appointment.” She knew how it must look to the neighbors, but she wanted it to be clear. They were not in hiding, exactly, but they did not advertise their presence, either. It had been Sandra’s habit since Cara was a baby to live a reclusive, friendless life. She had too many old enemies to risk being noticed. And the fewer people who knew she had a daughter, the better. Despite all of these precautions, her past had caught up with her two years ago and it had dragged her and Cara into extreme danger. Jay too.

  So she went to the door and turned on the exterior cameras. A display showed several views from around the house. There was just one man there, standing on her doorstep, wearing an overall with the electric company’s logo. She studied him for a moment. He was a man of average build, in his forties, no sign of a gun, hands dirty, fingernails short, shoes scuffed: everything about him was consistent with him being what he seemed to be.

  “Yes?” she said into the intercom.

  “South Star Electric,” he said. “Are you the householder?”

  “What do you want?”

  “We’ve had a few problems with meters suffering damage in the quake last night,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re checking all the houses in the area. There could be a fire risk. It’ll only take two minutes.”

  “Can I see your credentials, please? The plate’s under the intercom.” Sandra had no reason to doubt he was a genuine electrician but she had a process.

  The man at the door reached out and touched his fingers to the metal plate. His commplant communicated through the electrical field on his skin and his company credentials appeared on the display Sandra was watching.

  “Just a moment while I call your office and check,” she said.

  “Check?”

  “I’ll just get them to confirm who you are and that you should be here.”

  “Couldn’t you just let me in? We’re already well behind on our schedule.”

  “It won’t take a moment,” she said.

  The man outside seemed agitated. “Look, I’m sorry, missus, I can’t hang around here all day,” he said. “I’ll come back later.” He turned and walked quickly away, heading straight for the van she’d seen earlier.

  Her heart rate jumped. She swore under her breath then ran to Cara’s room. Her daughter was immersed in her studies, stretched out on her bed, her face half-hidden in a full VR mask. Sandra had to grab her by the shoulder and shake to get her attention.

  “What’s the matter? What’s up?” Cara pulled off the mask and sat up, eyes wide.

  “Something’s going on,” Sandra said. “I want you to grab your bag and get out of here. Go to your grandma’s—she’s expecting us anyway.”

  “What’s going on? Is someone here?” Cara glanced at the bedroom door as if there might be a stranger standing there. “Oh God, is it starting again?”

  Sandra saw the fear growing in her daughter’s face and felt terrible for frightening her like this, but something odd was happening and she needed to make sure Cara was safe.

  “It might be nothing at all,” she said. “But I want you to go to your gran’s so I know you’re well away from here.”

  Cara blinked. “Right now? This minute?” She looked towards her wardrobe. Inside was a bag she kept packed and ready for emergencies. It contained everything she would need to disappear for a while. Sandra and Cara always lived with the possibility that they might have to make a run for it.

  “Just grab your bag and leave the back way. Catch a train to London if they’re running, or a bus if they’re not. Don’t tell Dot anything. Just say I’m doing something for work and I’ll be along later.”

  Cara got off the bed and went to fetch her bag. Sandra felt a surge of relief that her daughter wasn’t going to argue. She was a sensible girl. A good girl.

  “What ab
out Dad?” Cara asked. “Have you told him?”

  “I don’t know what it is, honey. It might still turn out to be nothing.”

  “When will you get to Gran’s?”

  Cara’s bag was a light backpack. She pushed her VR mask into it and slung it over her shoulder.

  “You’ll need something warmer than that,” Sandra said, grabbing a heavy jumper from a drawer. “And take your coat and scarf from the hall. It’s freezing out there.” Cara took the jumper. “I’ll probably be there a couple of hours after you,” she added. She went to the window and looked out into the street. The electricity company van was still sitting there. She could imagine the men inside discussing what to do about Sandra’s refusal to let them in. Maybe they were calling their boss for instructions. “You need to get going.”

  Cara nodded and went to the hall to collect her coat. “Is it to do with what happened last night?” Sandra shrugged. It seemed like a reasonable guess. “If you’re not there tomorrow, I’m calling Dad,” Cara said.

  Sandra grabbed her and kissed her. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. We’ve had false alarms before, remember?”

  Cara gave her a long, troubled look and left without another word. Sandra felt her throat choke up. This is no way to make a child live, she thought. Yet she could think of no other way. She had made enemies, lots of them, dangerous, ruthless enemies who might at any time reach out to punish her. Obscurity and constant vigilance were the only defenses she had.

  She waited until Cara was out of the house then went to get her own running-away bag. She set it down by the front door with her coat and went to a window to check the street. The van was still there. The men inside would either come back for her, or they would drive away and try something else. Probably the latter. If they were here to kill or kidnap her, they would have done things differently. They must have wanted access to the house for something else. To plant a bomb? To install bugs? Still there was no movement. What were they waiting for? Then, as she watched, the van pulled away from the curb and began moving up the street. She waited until it turned left at the end of the road and rushed out to the car, grabbing her things on the way.

  She threw the car recklessly out of the drive and into the street, racing after the van, determined not to let it get too far ahead of her.

  Chapter 6: Hunting

  Jay’s second meeting with Crystal had not gone well. His boss seemed to think the previous night’s event had been his fault. Telling her it wasn’t a timesplash didn’t seem to appease her at all. Whatever it was, she seemed to believe, K Section should have seen it coming and prevented it.

  “It might have nothing to do with time travel,” he’d said.

  She’d just looked at him as if he were an imbecile. “The Security Standing Committee is in emergency session in about two hours. Do you expect them to believe that?”

  He told her about the failure of CERN to detect a displacement field. He explained the satellite evidence showing no centre for the disturbance.

  “All negatives, Jay,” she’d said. “I can’t tell people that all we have is a lack of evidence. I don’t want a lack of evidence. The Chairman doesn’t want a lack of evidence. Nobody wants me to tell them what we don’t know.”

  With a tight jaw, he’d told her he would do what he could.

  Now he was in his office staring at the newsfeeds of the mounting global death toll and wondering what to do next. The stock market had plunged. The gold price was through the roof. A war had broken out between neighboring nuclear-armed fragments of the old Russian Republic. There was concern in Berlin that the “quake” might leave some parts of Europe without the net for days if not weeks.

  He checked his messages and there was a missed call from Sandra. He called back immediately.

  “Jay?” She accepted the call voice-only. He could hear the sound of a car engine, other traffic, a slight strain in her tone. She was driving. “It’s not a good time.”

  “I just wanted to know you and Cara are all right. I haven’t been able to get through.”

  “I know. We’re both fine. What happened last night? Was it …? You know.”

  “No. Not as far as we can tell. It’s something different. Worse in many ways.”

  There was a brief silence in which he heard her curse under her breath followed by the squeal of tyres. He was going to ask what she was doing when she said, “I spoke to your mum this morning. She’s OK. Cara’s gone to visit her. I’ll go soon too.”

  Jay felt a rush of relief. Everybody safe. Everybody OK. “Thanks, Sandra. I owe you one.”

  There was another silence. “No,” Sandra said. “I don’t think so.”

  He knew what she meant. For sixteen years she had hidden the fact that they’d had a child. The last time they’d spoken about it, she’d called the deception the biggest mistake of her life. He was inclined to agree but, more than two years on from the shocking discovery, the overwhelming anger that had filled him was beginning to ebb. Maybe it was time they spoke openly about it again.

  “Look, Jay, this really isn’t a good time. I’m sort of in the middle of something. Can I call you back?” Her regret sounded genuine, but he wondered what on Earth could be so important at that moment.

  “Yes. Yes, of course. I’m pretty busy myself or I’d come over.” More silence. “Goodbye then.”

  “Bye, Jay.”

  The line went dead just as an astonishing news item came up on the feed. He turned up the volume and gaped at the images of St Peter’s Square in Rome.

  “… this amazing footage of Pope John the Twenty-fourth addressing an awestruck crowd from his balcony.” The feed anchor sounded suitably impressed. Pope John the Twenty-fourth had died eighteen months earlier after a freak storm had ripped the tail off the aircraft he was flying in. “Amateur video footage of the ex-Pontiff’s speech is being examined by church officials. Some are already calling it a miracle, while others say it is a fraud perpetrated by the Vatican to try to prop up falling church attendance, pointing to several references the late Pope made in last night’s speech to events that have happened since his death.” The anchor leaned in to the camera, and Jay thought he saw a hint of worry on the man's smooth brow. “Perhaps, of all the things that we’ve reported on today, this is the strangest—and maybe the most significant.”

  Jay turned it off. He’d called a meeting of his senior staff and he needed to muster his thoughts. He’d spoken to his opposite numbers at Interpol, MI5, and the Centro Nacional de Inteligencia and none of them had the slightest clue. Or, if they did, they weren’t sharing it. Initial reports from his own team amounted to much the same. None of them had any idea. They had received no intel prior to the event or after. Whoever had done this was flying completely under the radar of Europe’s intelligence services.

  If anyone had done it at all.

  He stood up and paced across his office, then returned to his chair and sat down again. He needed to think, but his mind seemed to be operating in a vacuum. There were no clues, no intel, no hypotheses from the technical team, no demands from terrorist groups—nothing! Just a dead Pope murmuring in Latin to a terrified audience, and his daughter, standing there saying, “How could you forget that Mum died?”

  ***

  The electrical van pulled off the A40 into a semi-derelict industrial estate on the outskirts of Oxford. Sandra dropped back but kept the van in sight. She scanned the map of the area, displayed on her car’s windscreen. There were just a dozen or so businesses active on the estate: a motorbike repair shop, a decorative tile retailer, a kitchen renovation company—the usual miscellany. Then she saw one that jumped out at her: B & T Security, Limited. It was obvious now where the van was heading.

  She pulled over two hundred meters from the shabby brick building and watched as the van pulled into the garage beside it. The big window at the front of the shop was opaque, with the company name stenciled on it. She grabbed a pair of binoculars from the glove box. There was a front door, also with
an opaque window, with a “Closed” sign illuminated beside it. There was no other entrance she could see but perhaps there was one from the garage. She zoomed the map on her windscreen and switched to an aerial photo view. Behind the building were a concrete yard and a large shed. Judging by the positioning of paths, she judged there was a back entrance.

  For a moment, she considered breaking in, surprising the two men, and demanding to know what they were up to, beating it out of them if necessary. The guy who’d come to her door didn’t look tough but she’d only seen the other guy in glimpses as he’d driven the van. He didn’t seem particularly big and scary either, but size wasn’t everything. They might be armed, and there might even be others inside the building. She took a deep breath and fought down her impatience to confront them. Instead, she called Cara.

  “Hi, Mum.” From the muffled tone, Sandra could tell Cara was sub-vocalising, meaning she was not alone.

  “How’re you doing?”

  “I’m on a train. A very crowded train. It’s a limited service as far as Ealing Broadway, then there are supposed to be buses from there to Paddington. It’s going to take hours to get there.”

  “You weren’t followed?”

  “I don’t think so. I did the things Dad showed us, you know, checking reflections in windows, suddenly doubling back, all that spy stuff. I didn’t see anybody. Where are you?”

  “I’m following the guys who were pretending to be from the electric company. Turns out they work for a security company. My guess is that if we’d let them in our house would be full of bugs right now.”