The Master of Time

by David Wingrove

  ‘But you can’t—’

  ‘I have to. I can save her. Little Zarah. I can get her back.’

  Alena wants to call the others and discuss it, only I’m sick to death of discussing things. In the end I order her to send me back two days earlier than before.

  Sighing, Alena shakes her head, then, gesturing for me to get onto the platform, sends me back.

  432

  I stay off the path, making my way around that godforsaken town, keeping among the trees that surround it, then come in from the north, using all of my skills not to be seen. There’s a hill to the east of the town and I position myself there, looking down on all the comings and goings. I wait throughout the long day and, eventually, just before nightfall, my patience pays off. I see Kolya walk into town along the path, his two young assistants pulling an empty cart.

  While I’ve been waiting, I’ve been trying to work out what to do. The Otto and Katerina who are in this timeline have to die, because I have to see them at Krasnogorsk, on the cart. But what about baby Zarah?

  Asking that question direct, it makes me realise something. Something we’ve overlooked. There was no sign of Zarah in the cart. Katerina, yes, me, yes, but no sign of her. Kolya doesn’t seem to have her with him. Is she therefore in the church already?

  I jump back to Moscow Central, then get Alena to send me back in, this time inside the church, an hour earlier. And back in I go, to find the church in almost total darkness, the windows barred, the big front doors locked. Confident that I won’t be seen from outside, I light a lamp and walk over to the altar.

  And there she is.

  I kneel beside her, my heart breaking once again, yet when I lift her severed wrist to see how it’s been cauterised I realise she isn’t cold; that she’s drugged, in fact, not dead! And with that, hope blossoms inside me. I jump out, then jump back in, almost immediately, clutching one of the time pendants on a necklace. Gently lifting her head I slip it on, then tuck it within the collar of her smock dress to keep it from sight.

  For a moment longer I kneel there, drinking in the sight of her, then, bending close, I gently kiss her brow.

  ‘Daddy will come for you.’

  And then I’m gone. Vanished from the air.

  433

  Only this time there is a welcoming committee awaiting me when I get back: Saratov and Ernst, Zarah and Urte and Katerina, Svetov and Master Schnorr, among others. They are angry with me for having acted unilaterally once again.

  I try and explain why I did it, and Katerina, having heard about baby Zarah, is placated, but the others want me to stick to my word and consult them in future.

  I say I will, then spell out what I think we should do.

  To begin with, we need to keep watch – see what we can see – then jump in and rescue Zarah. That’s our number-one priority. But that’s not all. I need to know how I die, and what Kolya says and does, because that will give us a clue to his behaviour, and that, I feel, is vital.

  ‘But we know why,’ Katerina says. ‘You lost him an empire.’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘We all did that. It was our job. But why hate me for it?’

  Only there’s no answer to that. His hatred seems irrational, the product of some imbalance in his nature, some mental instability, like a black cloud blowing from the arctic north.

  Or so it seems.

  Yes, and one thing more. We need to find out where Martha’s being kept. Because I won’t rest until I have her back. Until we’re a family again, complete and whole.

  But first Zarah. First Krasnogorsk and all that follows on.

  434

  I make my brief preparations then go to the platform, keen to jump back in. Only Alena is there again, in charge of the platform, and this time she will not budge. I’m going nowhere without the permission of the veche. She even has written orders to that effect!

  Furious, I go and confront them, finding them in the main conference hall, looking at charts and maps.

  ‘What in Urd’s name is happening?’

  ‘We’re going to make another push, Otto,’ Svetov says, coming across, his whole manner conciliatory. ‘Against Kolya.’

  ‘But I’m Master. Why wasn’t I told?’

  Svetov puts a hand on my arm. ‘We were going to, Otto. We were just working out the details before presenting it to you.’

  ‘And what if I said no?’

  Svetov looks about him, then shrugs. ‘Then of course we’d take no action. But that won’t happen. These are measures you suggested, Otto. We’re merely putting flesh on the bones.’

  Flesh on bones. I shake my head angrily. First they harass me at the platform, then they meet behind my back to formulate policy!

  ‘For Urd’s sake, Arkadi! Who’s Meister here?’

  Svetov huffs, exasperated now. ‘Why do you make it so difficult, Otto? You’re Master, fine … only you don’t act like you’re Master! You act like you’re still only an agent, and an irresponsible one at that! Kolya is running rings about us, and why? Because you react to everything he does. And the one time you didn’t react – when he sent back Schikaneder’s corpse – was the one time you should have acted!

  ‘And what ought I to have done?’ I ask, squaring up to him.

  ‘You should have hit him hard,’ Ernst says, pushing in between us. ‘At every point along his ancestral line. You should have made the bastard sweat. Made him move his pieces ’round the board!’

  ‘And what if that failed? What if, in the meantime, he hit back at us, right here at Moscow Central? What then?’

  ‘It looks like he could do that anyway,’ Zarah says. ‘Any time he wants.’

  I’m silent a moment. Then: ‘Is that what you think? What you really think? Then let’s surrender to him right now. Let’s make him Master!’ I pause. ‘The way I see it, I’m alive. I’ve come through the loop and, though I died, I’m still here, fighting back. And my little girl is there, in that church, a time pendant about her neck, ready to be carried out of there. But first I want to find out what he’s thinking. What he’s got planned … yes, and why he hates me so much. If I can get answers there, then, well, maybe we can formulate some coherent plan of action. But now’s not the moment for what you’re suggesting.’

  They turn away from me, debating what I’ve said, their voices low, for their ears only. And then Svetov turns to me again.

  ‘Okay. But this is the last time, Otto. The very last time. If you mess up this time we do it our way. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed.’

  And so I’m there again, hidden from sight on the wooded hillside overlooking Himki, even as Kolya and his two assistants walk into view with their empty cart.

  My mouth is dry. It’s these three and that cart – only with my and Katerina’s bodies on it – that I first saw, long ago, in Krasnogorsk, when I was a prisoner of Nevsky’s. Yes, and what I am finally about to witness is mine and Katerina’s deaths.

  Only … Svetov has pulled me out of there, and my other self (and Katerina’s, too) are not in the church but are looking on. I don’t even know where they are at that moment, only that they, like me, are watching as events unfold below us.

  And suddenly I get a very wrong feeling about everything. I know that the Otto and Katerina that are watching are not expecting to die, merely to observe, and if they’re threatened they might just jump straight out of there.

  So just how is Kolya going to kill them?

  The thought has just entered my head when I see another Otto and Katerina approaching the church, not a hundred yards from where I am. They go inside and, though I cannot hear the groan of their discovery – of little Zarah lying there ‘dead’ on the altar stone – I know what’s happening.

  The old, discordant bell starts ringing loudly, but I am watching Kolya closely as he walks across to the church and, after a moment’s dramatic pause, throws the doors wide open.

  As Kolya steps inside, there is a bellow of rage … and then silence. And I know – because it’s in
the loop – that the Otto and Katerina who were in the church have been pulled back to Moscow Central.

  And all the while the old bell rings.

  I wait, wondering what will happen next, then see Kolya emerge from within, carrying Zarah limply in his arms. As the two young men bring up the cart, Kolya throws her down onto the sacking like she’s barely worth considering.

  The sight of it inflames me. I want to kill the man, and could, only I know we must wait and watch.

  I cannot act. Not yet.

  Craning my head, I look for a sight of my other self, and suddenly see him slipping between the houses stealthily, making his way over to the church. And even as Kolya is busy giving his assistants instructions, my other self slips into the darkness of the church.

  Kolya straightens, as if somebody has spoken into his ear, then nods.

  He turns, smiling now, and walks back across.

  I am about to go down, to try and get a better view of things and maybe even overhear what’s happening in there, when Katerina suddenly appears beside me.

  ‘I thought it was you,’ she says and smiles at me, taking my hands.

  I’m confused. ‘Were you here already?’

  She nods, and again my mouth goes dry. How do I tell her that she has to join my other self in the church? That she has to die?

  ‘What happened?’ she asks. ‘What was it he threw on the cart?’

  Only I can’t answer her.

  ‘Look,’ I say. ‘You have to go down there. There’s been a change of plan.’

  ‘Down there? But …’

  I pull her to me, kissing her gently. ‘They pulled us out,’ I explain. ‘We … weren’t the ones.’

  Katerina’s lips part, as if she’s about to say something, then she stops, her eyes shocked.

  ‘Then it’s us?’

  ‘I’m sorry …’

  For a moment I close my eyes, savouring her touch, the warm, sweet scent of her. And for that moment it seems impossible that I will ever let her go. Only I must.

  I release her.

  Her eyes hold mine for an instant longer. Those same eyes I fell in love with, half a lifetime ago.

  ‘I love you, Otto. I always will.’

  And then she’s gone.

  In agony now, I follow, making my way down through the trees and out among the shabby-looking houses. And there, suddenly, before me is the church.

  The bell stops, the sudden silence haunting. I count the seconds and then there’s a gunshot, and then a second. My heart is in my mouth.

  Is that it? Are we dead? For an instant I think I’m going to vanish, to shimmer into nothingness, only I’m still here. Still in the loop.

  Carefully, I peer round the side of the building, toward the doorway. The crowd of villagers is still there, surrounding the empty cart.

  For a moment there is nothing. A moment that becomes a full minute, and then Kolya steps out into the daylight.

  ‘Ilyusha! Malya!’ he calls. ‘Come! Get them onto the cart!’

  At his order the two young men come into view, hurrying to do Kolya’s bidding. I watch them drag my corpse by the legs, out of the church and through the dirt, swinging me up onto the cart beside Zarah’s infant figure. I swallow drily as they go back, then reappear, dragging my darling girl between them, swinging her as before, once, twice and third time up onto the cart, grunting with the effort.

  It’s a sight I can barely face, and yet I force myself to look.

  And all the while this is happening, Kolya has his back to me. He stands there, watching, relaxed, or so it seems, smoking a thin cigar.

  Now that the bodies are on the cart, Kolya is ready to leave. He stubs out his cigar, then walks across and, with an insolence that almost breaks my resolve, he leans over Katerina and plants a kiss upon her cold, dead lips.

  435

  I slump against the wall of the church, my back to it, my eyes closed.

  Kolya has gone, and I too should have gone – back to Moscow Central – only there’s one last thing to do. I have to get Zarah back.

  Only I keep seeing, in my mind’s eye, the two bodies being dragged through the dirt … and that final, awful kiss.

  Staggering up, I lean forward and am violently sick. I know I ought to go back and rest before returning – that time is on my side in that regard – only I don’t think I could face anyone just yet.

  And besides, there’s Zarah to bring home.

  Some of the locals have noticed me by now. They come closer, staring and pointing at me, but I ignore them. Wiping my mouth, I push through them aggressively, hurrying to catch up with Kolya.

  I know where he’s heading – west to Krasnogorsk – but I know I’ll simply get lost unless I follow close, keeping them in sight. They can’t travel fast, not with the cart slowing them down, and it’s only minutes before I spot them, directly ahead of me, through the trees. Keeping well back, I trail them, using all of my skill not to be seen. But what’s strange is Kolya’s coolness, his apparent lack of concern that he might be being followed. Or is that part of his scheme? Does he know I’m following him?

  All that I know is this. That when the cart arrives at Krasnogorsk, only two bodies – mine and Katerina’s – will be on it. There was no sign of a child’s body on the cart first time out. But then, from nowhere, another thought strikes me. If I was wrong about baby Zarah, then maybe I was wrong about the other bodies. Maybe they weren’t corpses, after all, but were drugged the same way Zarah was drugged.

  Only why would Kolya do that?

  Besides, I heard the shots and saw the bodies. And there was not enough time between the shots and the appearance of the bodies for drugs to have taken effect. Not only that but Kolya wanted me dead. I’ve seen the hatred in the man’s eyes.

  For the next three hours I keep my distance, looking about me from time to time, fearing an ambush. Then Kolya stops and the tiny group have a rest.

  I decide that it’s time to make my move.

  Only when I get closer I am dismayed to see no sign of Zarah’s tiny body on the cart. Has Kolya discarded her on the way? He must have, and yet I would have seen that, surely? I work my way closer, until I’ve got a clear view of the cart.

  No. There’s no sign of her at all.

  Swallowing hard, hoping I’ve not lost her for good, I jump back to Moscow Central.

  436

  Katerina and the others are waiting for me. They want to know what happened, but I’m insistent that they send me straight back in. To Zarah, wherever she might be.

  Alena doesn’t want to. There are risks. I look to Svetov pleadingly and he nods, and so in I go again, to find myself among the trees, just outside of Himki, beside a tiny stream, in which my darling baby girl lies, face down.

  I cry out, then stumble across, kneeling to lift her up. Cradling her to me, my heart is rent by how cold she is. She’s blue around her lips and her body’s still, no sign of life in her. I groan, then, knowing what I must do, set her tiny body down and jump to Moscow Central.

  And in an instant I am back, only two hours earlier this time, hidden from watching eyes, there on the turn of the path, beside the stream, even as we hear the cart trundling closer down the path to my right.

  I duck down, watching as Kolya stops the cart, then, picking up Zarah’s body by one arm, throws her, like a piece of rubbish, into the stream, where she lies perfectly still.

  Watching from hiding, I am filled with anxiety. Anxiety and a profound hatred. I want to kill Kolya there and then, to tear the cunt apart limb from limb. But I also want to save my child and know I have only a minute or so to do so.

  Only I can’t.

  Kolya stands there, then lights up one of his small cigars and takes a long draw from it, a self-satisfied smile on his lips, almost as if he knows I’m out there looking on. And maybe he does.

  The waiting is almost too much for me to endure, but then Kolya flicks away the partly smoked cigar and, turning his back, walks off into the trees.
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  I wait for a twenty count, fearing that he’ll turn back, then rush across, lifting her up out of the water, and jump, knowing her best hope is back at Moscow Central.

  437

  There is a long, agonising wait, and then news comes. Zarah will live.

  The relief I feel outweighs all else. Yet there is still one of my girls – Martha, at five the second youngest – missing. Is she, as Zarah was, back in Kolya’s un-tender care? Or did Reichenau still have her? Whichever, I sense that getting her back will be the hardest task of all.

  But I have other things to attend to. Svetov and the others have finalised the details of their planned campaign against Kolya, and they want to present me with the scheme.

  ‘Why these points?’ I ask, intrigued by the specifics of it.

  ‘Because those are where he’s weakest,’ Old Schnorr answers, leaning toward me as he does. ‘Elsewhere his ancestors are surrounded by family. They’re a big, strong, healthy clan for the main part. But in places the genetic connection is slender. In places the family almost dies out. Single children to elderly parents and things like that.’

  ‘Go on …’

  ‘One other thing,’ the old man says, grinning now. ‘We’ve charted the bastard’s DNA.’

  Knowing how careful Kolya is, how he tends to recover every ‘brother’ that he loses, I’m shocked by this news.

  ‘How?’

  ‘We took samples from a whole range of his relatives, both distant and otherwise. Brothers and cousins. Partners from outside the central core.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And we filled in the blanks – worked out what ought to be there – and then ran a computer reconstruct. Have a look.’

  And Master Schnorr gives me an almost photograph-quality picture of a man who is undoubtedly Kolya, especially the eyes.

  ‘Okay. That’s great. But what use is it?’

  It’s young Moseley who answers. ‘We’re working on special antibodies. What you might term bacteriological toxins. Things that are harmless to us, but would be deadly to him.’