The Empire of Time

by David Wingrove

  ‘Unconcerned? No … everything that happens in the palace concerns me. Unsurprised might be better. It was only time before Manfred lost it.’

  It’s such a casual comment, that I actually wonder if I heard aright.

  ‘Lost it?’

  ‘His patience. His temper. His sang-froid.’

  Unexpectedly, Adelbert laughs. Distinctly human laughter from what looks like a machine.

  ‘Were you …?’

  ‘Behind the bomb? No. Not that I’d admit it if we were. Manfred will be watching us even now, sifting our words. Especially now. But this once, no. I rather liked his aunt. Or maybe “liked” is too strong a word. Respected.’

  He pauses, then his head rotates again, his eyes meeting mine.

  ‘You want to know who did?’

  ‘You know?’

  ‘I’m fairly sure.’

  ‘Does Manfred know that?’

  ‘Not yet.’ And there’s a mischievous tone to his voice. ‘Not until I tell him.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Our king is a great man. Passionate. Strong. Wise, even. Yet he could learn something from the Brotherhood. How to distance himself, for instance. How not to succumb to anger.’

  I’m not sure I want to have this conversation. It feels like I’m betraying Manfred simply by talking to Adelbert this way.

  ‘Anger can be a useful tool,’ Adelbert continues, ‘only it must be controlled, channelled. To let it shape one’s actions …’

  He stands, then slowly comes across, speaking quietly to me, leaning in, as if confiding some great secret. ‘I have the men who did it. Would you like to see them?’

  This is all a game, I realise. Through me, Adelbert teases Manfred. Or torments him, maybe. Yet if Manfred really is watching …

  I nod, and he gestures to me to follow. And so I follow, down a long, steep flight of steps into the very depths of the earth. There, in a long, dimly lit cell, chained to the wall, their feet dangling, are three men. Two of them are strangers, the other …

  He meets my eyes briefly, then looks away, giving no hint that he knows me. And maybe he doesn’t, not in this time-strand. But I know him. He’s Reichenau’s man, Heinrich.

  Adelbert stands there, contemplating his prisoners, so still he seems switched off.

  ‘How did you find them?’

  His great head swivels round. His eyes, peering out from that mass of metal and plastic, meet mine.

  ‘We were trailing them. There was an incident, two nights back. One of our Guildsmen was killed in the Tempelhof, and these three – known agents of a revolutionary clique – were observed in the immediate vicinity. It might have been coincidence, only last night they entered the Konigsturm, under the pretext of undertaking basic maintenance work. They were there, in Signy’s chambers, less than an hour before the explosion.’

  ‘I see …’

  Only I don’t. Why, after all, should Reichenau want Signy dead? What did he hope to achieve, other than to bring Manfred’s deadly fury down upon his over-sized head?

  It makes no sense. And yet, historically, it’s true. It’s what happened, every time.

  And what has happened yet again. Only this time I’m here, mixed up in it, and Gudrun’s free, and …?

  I turn and look at Heinrich once again. Reichenau’s the key. Only the key to what? To de-stabilising the whole situation? If so, then why? Does he – patriot that he is – want Germany to fail? Is that his aim? To bring the whole thing crashing down?

  Or doesn’t he know? What if it’s just some vast miscalculation on his part?

  Manfred’s voice sounds suddenly in the air about us. ‘Meister Adelbert …’

  ‘Yes, Majesty …’

  ‘You will deliver them at once.’

  ‘Of course, your Majesty.’

  I’m sure he’d smile; if he could. As it is, he turns and, gesturing to me, says simply, ‘Come.’

  118

  ‘Well?’ Heusinger asks, when I’m back with him. ‘Did you …?’

  Find it? I shake my head.

  ‘You saw …?’

  ‘Everything.’

  Yes, and nothing I saw correlated in any way with the map Reichenau gave me. The power source, wherever it is, isn’t here. Not in the Konigsturm, anyway.

  Heusinger hesitates, knowing that every word we say is being listened to. Then he shrugs. ‘So what do we do now?’

  ‘Gehlen,’ I say. ‘We go and see Gehlen.’

  ‘But that’s—’

  ‘Not permitted? Maybe not. But if anyone knows where it is, he does.’

  Heusinger stares at me. ‘Maybe, only we don’t know enough about him. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been briefed about Gehlen.’

  I haven’t either. And that is a weakness. But that isn’t going to stop me. My instinct is so strong at this moment that I can almost touch it, and didn’t Hecht himself say I should go with that?

  I smile, and that only makes it worse for Heusinger. He wants to argue with me, only that would only make things worse, because if they are listening to every word and acting on them, then they’ll be busy right now, asking themselves why we’re so interested in one of their leading physicists and whether there’s a connection.

  Which there isn’t. Not yet anyway. Only they’re not to know that.

  ‘Trust me, Klaus. I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes.’ And I make it sound convincing. Only the truth is I don’t. What I’m doing now is operating on the basis that if all else fails, try Chance. Flip a coin, roll a dice, turn a card and see what turns up.

  ‘Do you know where he lives?’

  ‘No. But I can ask.’

  ‘Lucius, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘What if you’re wrong? What if this is why you’ve failed each time?’

  119

  If it is, then we’re fucked, because I’ve no other strategy right now. I’m trusting to a glazed lavender cup, a beautiful goddess and pure gut instinct. Reason has nothing to do with it.

  Tief comes at our summons, looking tired, as if he hasn’t slept, which is probably the truth. His secretary, a small, nondescript man – a Naturlich – stands just beyond him, very much in his shadow.

  ‘Gehlen?’ Tief says, looking surprised by my request. ‘I don’t see why not. Only … may I ask why?’

  I look to Heusinger. ‘Our president … he much admires the man. His most recent work on positronic collision …’

  Tief stares at me, then shrugs and makes a gesture to his secretary, who hurries off at once. ‘Okay. I’ll arrange it. But forgive me now, I—’

  ‘How is he?’ I quickly ask. ‘The King, I mean.’

  Tief hesitates, then, softly, ‘I fear for him, Lucius. This business …’

  He says no more, but I understand. This business has unhinged Manfred. Reason has fled. What lies ahead is darkness, and Manfred at the centre of it all, like a black hole, sucking everything – every single last thing – into himself.

  ‘Good luck,’ I say. ‘And thanks.’

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ Tief says, then turns away and is gone.

  I turn, looking back into the chamber. Heusinger is still staring at me.

  ‘You should go back,’ he says. ‘Consult Hecht.’

  ‘No,’ I say, and as I say it I feel a strange certainty welling up in me. ‘This time I’m doing it strictly my way.’

  120

  The coincidence does not, of course, evade me. We are in Erfurt, in Thuringia, just about to touch down, and as the craft descends towards the platform, I am conscious that she is nearby, and that Fate has shaped it so.

  Fate or the gods.

  Gehlen is here, too, for this is where he works three days of the week. Just south of here, to be precise, in Orhdruf. And it’s there, if anywhere, that the singularity – their tame black hole – is kept.

  ‘Rather you than me,’ the pilot says, as he gently touches down.


  I look to him. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘This place …’ He shudders. ‘When they turn the power on, all manner of strange things happen.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The big accelerator … it jumbles up reality. I was here once when they switched it on. One moment I was clean-shaven, my hair neatly trimmed, the next … bushy as a bear, holes in my clothes.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  He laughs. ‘As I said: strange things happen near that place.’

  I frown. It isn’t possible, is it? I mean, the place is only a particle accelerator. A powerful one, maybe, but even so …

  I stare at the pilot, wondering if he’s joking with me. All Ages have their superstitions, after all – their urban legends, if you like – and why not this for the Age of Super-Science?

  One of Tief’s men greets me from the craft and ushers me quickly through customs and out to a waiting hover-car. It’s only when we’re in the air that I realise that we’re not heading south but west.

  ‘It’s okay,’ the man says, not looking up from the controls. ‘She’s expecting you.’

  ‘She?’

  ‘The Princess.’

  And now I am confused, because Tief isn’t supposed to know about that. Unless this isn’t Tief’s man at all.

  ‘How did she …?’

  ‘She’s been waiting. She knew you’d come.’

  I’m quiet after that, looking out over the landscape as the urban sprawl that surrounds Erfurt gives way to countryside, until there, in a fold of the land just ahead of us, lies a castle – an ancient-looking Schloss with turrets and a keep. We head for it and touch down on the battlements.

  Gudrun stands there in the doorway, waiting for me. She looks more beautiful than ever, in a pale blue full-length gown, her golden hair, let loose from its braid, falling in twisting ringlets down to her waist. There is a necklace of fine gold about her lovely neck and as she sees me she smiles.

  ‘Otto.’

  What do I say? That I’m not here to see her? That I have to see Gehlen, and soon?

  I smile and walk across, letting her take my hands in hers, overwhelmed once again by the sheer size of her, by her unearthly beauty.

  She has been crying. Tears stain her cheeks. She smiles and gently laughs.

  ‘Forgive me, Otto, it’s just …’

  ‘Does Manfred know where you are?’

  She looks away. ‘I don’t know. If he does …’

  If he did she would be dead. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s content to wreak havoc only on those within his reach. Maybe he’s too distracted thus to worry too much over one absent face.

  ‘And Tief?’

  ‘Tief is my uncle.’

  ‘Ah …’

  So that’s it. That’s why I’m here, and not with Gehlen. Even so …

  ‘Gudrun – can I ask you a favour?’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘I need to see someone. A man. He works not far from here, In Orhdruf.’

  ‘Gehlen, you mean? But he’s here already. I had him brought.’

  ‘You had him …?’ I stare at her, surprised.

  She smiles. ‘My uncle said you wanted that. But I had to see you. And so …’

  What was it Hecht once said to me? That Fate is a boat without a rudder. Well, so it seems right now, as, my hand in hers, I walk beside her, like a young child beside his mother.

  She takes me through to a nearby chamber where a massive table has been set for just the two of us. We take our seats at one end of it, then, at her command, the servants leave us.

  We are alone.

  Gudrun looks to me, her blue eyes smiling through some deeper sadness. ‘You know what has been happening, Otto?’

  ‘In the Konigsturm?’

  She nods.

  ‘Yes. I saw some of it,’ I say quietly. ‘Manfred summoned me down to the cells to witness what’s been happening. It was awful.’

  She sighs and reaches out to cover my hand with her own. ‘Why does it have to be like this, Otto? What went wrong?’

  That, perhaps, is the hardest question to answer. But I try.

  ‘Because it has to go wrong. Because all of this is fated.’

  ‘All of it?’

  I smile. ‘Almost all. There are things that can’t be changed. Otherwise …’

  ‘Otherwise what?’

  ‘Otherwise I’m not here at all. And if I’m not here …’

  ‘I don’t see that,’ she says with a passion that once again surprises me. ‘I don’t see why it has to be so.’

  ‘Because this is where it begins. Time travel. Gehlen invents it. Here, within the next two days.’

  Her eyes widen, her mouth falls softly open. ‘Oh …’

  ‘So now you know.’

  She removes her hand and sits back, lost for a moment in her own thoughts. Then she looks at me again. ‘So I’m … part of the circle?’

  Her understanding pleases me. ‘Yes. But don’t ask me how. Don’t for Urd’s sake ask me how.’

  121

  Gehlen is furious. As I step through the door he almost runs at me and pokes me in the chest.

  ‘What in fuck’s sake is going on? I’ve work to do, and you bastards bring me here and make me kick my sodding heels …’

  He stops, seeing how strangely I am looking at him.

  And what do I see? A youngish man of twenty-eight, slight of build and short – less than five feet six – who has already lost most of his hair. Yet his eyes are unlike any I have ever seen. If intelligence can be seen, then Gehlen has intelligence. It fair burns in those dark green eyes of his.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, bowing to him slightly. ‘It wasn’t at my order. But I did need to see you as a matter of some urgency.’

  He stands back a little, his whole manner arrogant, superior.

  ‘And who the fuck are you?’

  I almost smile. Here he is, our hero – creator of everything we depend on at Four-Oh – and he’s acting like an odious little toad.

  ‘My name is Lucius Manninger and I’m the American ambassador.’

  ‘So Lucius Manninger, what do you want?’

  How direct can I be? More to the point, how far can I trust Gehlen?

  ‘Not here,’ I say, conscious of the camera on the wall just above and beyond him.

  ‘Then not anywhere. I have no secrets. My masters know what I am.’

  Only that’s not true. They’ve no idea what’s in his head. Not a clue.

  I smile. ‘Okay. Then I’ll ask you straight. Has there been a drain on the power source these last few days?’

  It isn’t ‘straight’ at all, but it does get a reaction.

  ‘How did you know that?’

  Reichenau, I could say, only I don’t. ‘A little bird told me.’

  Gehlen gives the faintest nod. ‘And this little bird … why were they talking to you? More to the point, what’s your interest?’

  How do I answer that? Do I just press on and hope that Tief and his master, Manfred, are so distracted that they’ll not notice what I’m up to? No. I can’t count on that. So I keep to my cover story. At least, until I can get Gehlen alone, and out of range of a camera.

  ‘It’s like this,’ I say. ‘We – America, that is – are considering an alliance with Greater Germany. We thought that we would benefit from such an arrangement. Only …’

  Gehlen’s eyes bore into me. ‘Only what?’

  ‘Only things are falling apart here. You’ve heard what’s happening at the Konigsturm?’

  Gehlen laughs humourlessly. ‘Why would I know what’s happening there? I’m a physicist, not a courtier.’

  ‘Maybe. But even physicists can be affected by what’s happening at court.’

  ‘There’s been another cull has there?’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘So what’s different about this one? They happen. Nothing changes.’

  ‘I think you’re wrong. But the power drain …’

  ‘Is a fa
ult somewhere. It has to be.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because the maths doesn’t work. The power has to go somewhere. Energy can’t just vanish, that’s a universal law – it has to be conserved.’

  ‘Somewhere? Or somewhen?’

  He looks at me strangely, then laughs. ‘You really don’t understand, do you?’

  ‘Maybe not. Only there is drainage, correct?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘And you don’t know why.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Where is it kept?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘The singularity. Where is it? It isn’t under Berlin.’

  Gehlen smiles, then looks up at the camera. ‘Can I go now? I’ve work to do.’ He looks back at me. ‘Oh, and I’d curb that curiosity of yours, if I were you. People have been killed for less. Even ambassadors.’

  ‘It’s under Erfurt, isn’t it?’

  Gehlen doesn’t even so much as blink. ‘Even if it were, I wouldn’t tell you.’ He pauses. ‘I serve my masters well, and honestly.’

  That may be so, only his masters are about to let him down. And I still need to find out where the power source is so I can shut it down and free Ernst.

  Or maybe I do know. Maybe my guess was spot on. Erfurt. It would make sense. If Gehlen were using immense magnetic forces to bend the trajectory of basic particles, then he’d not do it under Berlin. He’d do it elsewhere. Somewhere much smaller. Like Erfurt. Which would explain the pilot’s strange comments.

  Time-jumps, caused by the manipulation – the distortion – of the basic laws of reality.

  Gehlen waits, and after a moment a door opens at the far end of the chamber we are in and a servant bows his head as Gehlen walks across and, without a word, without a backward glance, leaves the room. Leaving me alone.

  ‘Otto?’

  The voice is hers. She has been watching our exchange. Listening in.

  ‘Yes, Gudrun?’

  ‘Why did you want to know those things?’

  122

  I explain it to her, when we’re alone together, and she laughs.

  ‘How silly you are. You only had to ask.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You want to see the accelerator, right? Well, I can take you in with me, as my guest. I have clearance.’