‘I can give you enough riches to last the rest of your days on this planet.’
Charlie’s eyes lit up with corruptibility. ‘I’m listening, dude,’ he said.
‘You retrieved the time capsule for me. That was excellent work and proves to me that I can rely on you in difficult circumstances. You showed ingenuity and confidence. I like that.’
‘You don’t look well, dude. You look like you need a cold beer.’
‘My health matters not. Listen, I know that when you brought the capsule to the surface it was then taken by the site’s security guard. You should know that he was working for me all along. I always employ more people than I need, sometimes working against each other. I find it is a way to breed healthy competition between them.’
‘He flew the capsule here. Did me a favour. I was going to drive.’
‘He let me down. Got greedy. So guess what? I killed him. He could have been rich, like I am planning to make you, but he was stupid. You’re not stupid, are you Charlie?’
‘Well, I am kinda dumb sometimes.’
‘No you’re not. You’re resourceful and you’re loyal. You’ll go far. Here’s what I need you to do.’
***
‘Look at that bruise,’ said Ruby, as Ratty opened all of his layers to prove that his bulletproofing system had worked. The bruising was almost a perfect square where the book had been imprinted against his chest. It was tender to the touch, but not disabling.
‘Mitford may be unarmed, but he still needs to be stopped,’ said the Patient. ‘And I apologise for letting him go. My judgement as to his physical state was clouded by the shock of Ratty’s predicament.’
‘Totally understandable, Patient chappy. I appreciate your concerns.’
‘There are many ways in which Mitford can sabotage the launch of the Keo rocket,’ continued the Patient. ‘He can physically tamper with the rocket. He can detonate the on-board explosives if he can hack into the radio frequencies used to control the rocket in flight. He might even be able to hire someone in mission control to detonate it for him on the pretext that it was going off-course.’
‘Should we warn the staff at launch control?’ suggested Ruby.
‘Too bloody risky, girl,’ said Lady Ballashiels. ‘We don’t know how many of them are on Mitford’s payroll.’
‘So, we should split up,’ said Ruby. ‘Two of us search for Mitford, and two try to watch the perimeter of the space centre in case he gets in through the fence. Unless anyone has a better idea.’
‘I have. Why don’t the boys go after Mitford in the woods, while the girls patrol the fence?’ suggested Lady Ballashiels.
‘That’s what I said!’ protested Ruby. ‘Although not perhaps the pairings I had in mind.’
‘And be careful with that gun, Mister Patient,’ Lady Ballashiels continued, ignoring her. ‘It wouldn’t do to shoot Mitford dead, no matter how tempting. We need him to talk in case he’s already instigated something that we need to stop.’
Ratty and the Patient ran into the trees on Mitford’s trail, but the forested area was vast, and there was no indication as to which direction he had taken.
‘I don’t suppose you happen to have read a book on tracking people through the old jungle, Patient chappy?’
‘I have no need of such a book.’
‘Why ever not? Surely it would be jolly handy right now.’
‘I fear not, Ratty.’
‘Explain?’
‘Mitford did not make his escape through here.’
‘But we saw him run into the trees, old sniffer dog.’
‘Do you not find it difficult to move amongst these trees and bushes? The foliage is dense and challenging.’
‘Of course. It’s a pain in the old wotnot.’
‘And Mitford is almost twice your age and is clearly in a state of distress. It is therefore more than likely that he diverted at the earliest opportunity to the river bank. From there he will be easy to track.’
‘Why is that easy?’
‘Because the river bank is sandy and the river is tidal. That means footprints are wiped clean twice a day. Given the scarcity of people in this area, any prints we find will probably belong to Mitford.’
‘Crikey.’
The Patient turned left and threaded through the trees to the riverbank. The footprints were obvious. One set. Heading upstream, away from the dock where the shootings had occurred.
‘Can you run?’
Ratty patted his chest and winced.
‘Go on ahead, old chum. I’ll see you there.’
The Patient ran through the sandy riverbank, at times sinking up to his knees as the sand became a thin mix of silt and mud. A small tributary that flowed through the trees and into the main river necessitated splashing through warm water up to his waist, but he pressed on, following the footprints that were clearly imprinted ahead. Finally, he reached a jetty and a spread of small huts and buildings, which serviced the boats that were moored there. He noticed a seaplane with a broken window, and could hear banging coming from one of the sheds, but Mitford was nowhere in sight.
He scouted around the area. The footprints disappeared as soon as solid ground replaced the soft river bank. Tracking his prey would be virtually impossible now. His only chance of locating Mitford was if he was still in the vicinity, and for that to be successful he had to keep out of sight. He crouched behind a random hut and listened intently.
Moments later the unsubtle tones of Charlie’s voice carried across the breeze. The Patient peeked in the direction of the voice and saw Charlie walking slowly alongside Mitford, deep in conversation.
‘Charlie, I recommend that you walk away from Mitford,’ shouted the Patient, stepping into full view and confidently aiming the weapon he had earlier confiscated from Mitford.
Charlie stood between Mitford and the gun that was pointing at them.
‘And what if I refuse?’ Charlie asked.
‘Perhaps you don’t understand. I am aiming this gun at Mister Mitford. He is a dangerous man who must be contained, and I intend to apprehend him. I have no quarrel with you, Charlie, so please step aside.’
Charlie wobbled left and right, torn between his innate cowardice and the lure of great wealth. The Patient wouldn’t shoot him, he decided. He could see this through. He could protect Mitford, earn his briefcase full of cash and come out of this experience on top, for once.
Ratty arrived, sodden and exhausted. Charlie waved a polite hello to the aristocrat as he backed away from the Patient, sheltering Mitford with his body all the while.
‘You have cut the capsule open?’ Mitford whispered to Charlie.
‘Kinda. Lot of junk got stuck in there.’
‘I need to see.’
‘I thought you wanted me to help you get to the launch site for Keo?’
‘I can’t bear the thought of erasing myself and the wrongs of the world without seeing what Dalí contributed to the Westinghouse capsule. Please help an old man indulge his curiosity.’
‘Sure. What harm can it do?’
Charlie opened the door and showed Mitford inside. Rocco looked horrified to see him, but faked a smile.
‘Never mind that,’ said Mitford. ‘I don’t care how you feel about my presence. All I ask is that you permit me five minutes with my time capsule.’
‘Of course not,’ said Rocco.
‘Let him have his time with the capsule,’ ordered Charlie, in a tone that carried a degree of authority that surprised even him. It was amazing what the prospect of wealth could do.
‘We dug it out,’ objected Rocco. ‘We’re going to see what’s in it.’
‘I knew you would not be trustworthy,’ said Mitford. ‘That is why I never relied on you.’
‘Rocco, we are going to let the dude help us empty the contents of the capsule. Make room for him.’
Charlie got Rocco to stand behind him while Mitford examined the half-empty tube.
‘Please hold it for me,’ said Mitfor
d, as he produced a wire from his pocket and reached inside the capsule. ‘They packed everything very carefully so that it would last five thousand years. But there is something in here that renders the capsule pointless. Something that was added secretly in order to make the world a better place.’
Charlie heard something sliding within the copper tube. A triangular bundle of leather, secured with a narrow strap. Mitford opened the pouch and extracted a 9mm Luger pistol with a bevelled walnut grip. There was something engraved on the barrel. Mitford held it to the light. A single word.
Mitford ran his finger across the chiselled steel and closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the discovery, allowing its reality to sink in. Dalí had not lied. Its profound symbolism was proof to him that his mission would work. He opened his eyes and pointed the pistol at Charlie.
‘Coolsville,’ said Charlie. ‘So Dalí put a gun in the capsule!’
‘Why would he do that?’ wondered Rocco.
‘The circle of time is more complex than you could ever understand,’ Mitford replied. ‘But Dalí planned for this day. My needs were fulfilled before I was born in order that I would have the tools required to undo my birth. Stand back.’
‘What about my ten million bucks?’ protested Charlie, fearing his prospects for sudden and easy wealth were evaporating fast.
‘What ten million bucks?’ asked Rocco.
‘Make way,’ ordered Mitford, making it clear that no one would be receiving anything from him. Charlie and Rocco made space for Mitford to leave. Outside, the Patient found himself in a situation where shooting Mitford would be unproductive. Both were armed equally. It would be mutually assured destruction. The Patient lowered his weapon and let the old man leave.
‘All that for a gun?’ asked Rocco, emerging into the light, followed by a sheepish Charlie. ‘That doesn’t make sense. He knew there was a gun in that thing, but why go to the trouble of getting it dug up and flown halfway across the world, bribing everyone he comes across, just so he can have a weapon when he gets here?’
‘It’s his second gun today,’ said Ratty. ‘The fellow already shot me in the Dalís with the first gun.’
‘There’s no logic to his actions,’ Rocco went on. ‘You’d expect Dalí to have put something profound and meaningful into the capsule, not just a gun.’
‘When you apply such logic,’ said the Patient, ‘it appears inevitable that the profundity and meaning must be contained within the gun itself.’
‘So it’s not a real gun?’ asked Ratty.
‘In an existential sense it is real,’ replied the Patient. ‘But its firepower is less relevant than its symbolism. If only we could know what it meant.’
‘I know what it meant,’ said Charlie.
‘With respect,’ said the Patient, ‘I doubt that you really have the requisite background knowledge to understand the symbolic status of that weapon.’
‘I know that it’s something to do with Keo,’ said Charlie, completely indifferent to the put-down he had just received.
‘How?’ asked Rocco.
‘The gun had the word Keo engraved on its barrel,’ said Charlie.
Rocco instinctively grabbed Charlie’s shoulders to prevent the source of this profound knowledge from slipping away.
‘Not sure what the font was,’ Charlie elaborated, wriggling out of Rocco’s grip, ‘but he held it close enough to my face to see three letters there. In capitals.’
‘Well why didn’t you say so?’ asked Ratty.
‘Thought I just did,’ replied Charlie.
‘If Dalí placed a gun in the time capsule with the word Keo written on the barrel,’ said the Patient, ‘it is the corroborating evidence needed to prove beyond doubt that in 1937 Dalí witnessed the response from those who will receive the Keo time capsule in the distant future. As such, it gives Mitford a boost in his confidence. It reinforces his belief in his plan.’
‘Forget the rest of the contents of the time capsule, then,’ said Rocco. ‘None of that matters. Mitford’s the target now. We have to stop him.’
***
Lady Ballashiels was astonishingly resilient to the heat and humidity, thought Ruby. The two of them had walked for miles around the perimeter fence, and they now appreciated that two people could not possibly hope to watch every inch of it. Without the need to speak a word to each other, they concluded that they had to find a suitable vantage point to oversee the launch centre. Eventually they found a spot where the view of the rockets was relatively unimpeded.
‘Is there anything you’d like to ask me about Ratty – I mean Justin – from the years I’ve known him?’ Ruby asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
‘Well, one thing’s been bothering me, girl.’
‘What’s that?’
‘This “Ratty” thing. How did that ghastliness come about?’
‘Not sure. He was always Ratty since I met him at Cambridge. He said it was to do with his nose or something. I know he’s no George Clooney, but I think he’s sweet and he has the kindest heart on the planet.’
‘It means a great deal to me to hear that, girl.’
‘It does?’
‘I know we didn’t quite hit it off at Stiperstones, girl. Our personalities seem to grate, and I know I snapped at you somewhat, but I’m not really a crocodile.’
‘Might help if you stop calling me “girl” and modernise your Seventies prejudices.’
‘It’s not been easy for me. Incarceration plays havoc with the mind. And I didn’t think the world was going to change so much during my lifetime. You’ll never comprehend what I went through, knowing that my boy has had to grow up without his mother’s guiding hand.’
‘That’s rough.’
‘So don’t jump at my throat when I say something that doesn’t go down awfully well in a modern society with which I have no familiarity. I’m still learning to be free. I’m learning to be a mother again. Learning to be a woman again. At my age these things don’t come naturally.’
‘Your son pretty much raised himself,’ said Ruby, ‘and you know what? I think he’s done a fine job of it.’
‘That’s kind, Ruby.’
In an attempt to disperse the bad air between them, Ruby gave Lady Ballashiels a tentative hug, a literal embrace of their new entente cordiale.
‘What’s happening with the rockets?’ Ruby asked as they released each other.
‘I don’t know. You must have better eyesight than me, girl.’
Ruby glanced at Lady Ballashiels with a stern eye.
‘Sorry. Ruby.’
‘Better.’
The elegant Ariane rockets stood next to their utilitarian gantries. Each a coupling of beauty and the beast, enjoying their brief companionships. Ruby tried to see them clearly, but the heat-haze-induced wobble strained her sight. Everything seemed to be moving: the rockets, the gantries, the trees, even the air.
‘Is that smoke coming out of one of them?’ asked Lady Ballashiels.
‘Probably the venting of cryogenic fuels. Super-cooled gases turn to steam in the air. It could mean this one’s fuelled and about to launch.’
‘How come you know so much about rockets, girl?’
‘Comprehensive education.’
The two women continued to watch the distant Ariane turn the air above it white as it snorted and puffed, seemingly alive and eager to launch. And something else seemed alive. A shape, moving in the gantry. A person, wearing white. There were no vehicles around, no coworkers, no signs of any official visits.
‘Mitford!’ exclaimed Ruby and Lady Ballashiels in unison. Their mutual outburst almost made them smile, but the devastating implication of his presence on the gantry did not merit humour.
An indistinct figure climbed across from a gantry arm to the top of one of the two solid boosters that were mounted either side of the rocket. He seemed to settle comfortably upon the framework that coupled the booster to the body of the Ariane. It was hard for them to be sure with the naked eye, but it
appeared that he had strapped himself securely in place.
‘It’s got to be Mitford,’ said Ruby. ‘This is the moment he sabotages the launch. But he can’t expect to get away with this. He’ll be spotted by cameras on the gantry and on the rocket.’
‘I’m sure he’s thought of that, girl. The bloody camera operator will be on his payroll. There will be no live feed. He’ll have arranged for video loops to play, showing the rocket as it was without him.’
‘Well then, we’ve got to report this.’
‘I fear not, girl.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s no one we can trust at launch control. We have no contacts in the space agency. Mitford has slipped through our bloody fingers one last time. There’s nothing now that we can do.’
‘There must be something!’ screamed Ruby.
‘Perhaps it’s time to let go.’
‘You’re just going to let him win? Let him destroy Keo and erase us all from history?’
‘It’s too late, girl. He’s already on the rocket. The bloody satellite will never make it to orbit. Even if someone believes us, the launch will miss its flight window, there could be years of delay, and the result could be that the time capsule is never found, or found by someone else who doesn’t send the confirmation of receipt back in time.’
‘I’m sorry, Lady Ballashiels, but I can’t accept this.’
Ruby started climbing the mesh and barbed wire fence. The Ariane now began venting white plumes from its base.
‘Don’t be silly, girl. You’ll hurt yourself.’
‘At least if I can feel pain I’ll know I’m alive. Don’t feel all that keen on oblivion, to be honest, even if it would give me a rest from hearing you call me “girl” all the time.’
‘But that thing looks like it’s about to launch.’
‘Then I really have nothing to lose!’ called Ruby from the top of the fence.
A car pulled up. Ratty flew out, closely followed by the Patient, Rocco and Charlie.
‘It’s too late!’ shouted Rocco. ‘The countdown has started. They changed the launch time in secret. Keo’s going now.’
‘It can’t!’ screamed Ruby. ‘Mitford’s on the rocket. He’s strapped to one of the boosters.’
The Dali Diaries (The Ballashiels Mysteries Book 2) Page 26