by Alex Scarrow
‘The Anglo-Confederates have invested much in these modern sciences,’ said Devereau. ‘The British seem to have access to the finest scientific minds, the laboratories and, of course, they certainly have the money.’
Maddy made a face. ‘Well, they’re not doing so great in our time.’
‘I find that difficult to believe.’ He laughed drily. ‘The British Empire encompasses half the world.’ Devereau fiddled with the frayed cuff of his uniform tunic. ‘Whereas our government — ’ he lowered his voice — ‘useless self-serving politicians, the lot of them … rely on technology that is decades old. Tanks and steam-walkers that stall and fail in the middle of a battle. Rotor-flyers that drop out of the sky at the first touch of a bullet. But,’ he sighed, ‘so long as the Union High Command has an endless supply of men to throw into the meat-grinder, so long as this cursed eternal war remains a stalemate, there are businessmen, industrialists, weapons manufacturers who remain powerful, and very rich.’
Maddy noticed his voice had become almost a whisper. ‘You wouldn’t say those things in front of your men, would you?’
He shrugged. ‘I suspect they all feel the same cynicism as I do. But it would take only one of them to report my words to the High Command and I would be facing a firing squad. So — ’ he offered her a fatalistic smile — ‘I keep my grumblings to myself and I do my job … and hold my part of the front line.’
His tone changed, his expression changed, a little more hopeful. ‘So tell me, then, what piece of mysterious machinery is it that you need to fix this time-travelling device of yours?’
CHAPTER 43
2001, somewhere in Virginia
‘What? Did he just say we lost them?’ Liam swung a leg over the back saddle of the huff and dropped down on to the ground. The creature — half buffalo, half horse — snorted irritably at his sudden ungainly dismount.
Captain McManus nodded. ‘Yes, it seems we have. Clever creatures, these ones. They split up and one group left a dead-end trail for us to follow.’
White Bear, on his haunches studying footprints in the hard soil, nodded. He looked up at them. ‘They very smart.’ He shook his head, disgusted with himself. ‘Trick me.’
McManus patted the Indian’s shoulder. ‘It’s OK, White Bear. We’ll pick their trail up again in the morning.’
Liam stepped forward. ‘You can’t stop now!’
‘Yes, we can … and we should. We’ve lost them. We’ll end up spending the night chasing shadows and have nothing to show for it come sunrise.’
‘But … they’re going to get away! Please! We have to — ’
‘We’ll make camp here. First light — ’ he tapped the earpiece in his helmet — ‘I’m calling in the regimental carrier. We’ll have some more hooves and boots on the ground. I assure you, we’re going to find them.’
‘Find them?’ Liam’s voice rose, angry, exasperated. ‘But you’ve just lost them!’
‘On the contrary, Mr O’Connor, I’m almost certain they’re headed that way,’ he said, pointing to the horizon. ‘I’d say it’s less than ten miles from here.’
‘What is?’
‘The Dead City, what used to be known as Baltimore. We’ve had genics go rogue on us before … that’s where they tend to head. They know we prefer to steer clear.’
‘Why?’
‘Surely you know?’ He shook his head. ‘Good God, where exactly have you spent your entire life, Mr O’Connor?’
‘I just … I …’ Liam shrugged, ‘a priory. Kirklees Priory.’
‘Ah, Catholic, are you?’
‘Aye, something like that.’ Liam nodded impatiently. ‘What’s wrong with this city?’
‘The North poisoned it with virals. Killed thousands of innocent civilians with Habsburg’s disease. I know it’s been nearly twenty years since then, but they say the rats and wild dogs carry the spores. You really wouldn’t want to go in there if you can help it. That’s why the feral genics use it as a refuge.’
‘I’ll go in! Me and Bob, we’ll go — ’
McManus patted his shoulder reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry. If that’s where they’ve gone, and I do suspect it is, I shall be taking a company in there to flush those vermin out. My boys are all inoculated against Habsburg. We’ll find them all right. Now, if you don’t mind, matters to attend to …’ McManus turned away from Liam and began issuing orders to his walrus-faced sergeant who barked them out again in a parade-ground voice. The platoon dismounted and began to make preparations to camp where they were for the night.
Bob joined Liam. ‘McManus is tactically correct with this decision, Liam.’
‘But — ’ Liam balled his fists — ‘she’s out there. She needs us!’
‘Both of them are. It is our mission priority to retrieve them both.’ Bob was right, of course. They needed Lincoln to be alive too, if they had any hope of putting history back where it belonged.
Bob had a go at a reassuring wink. ‘I calculate a high degree of certainty that we will retrieve them unharmed.’
Liam looked up at the support unit and realized he was doing his best to be supportive. Even though his mind was little more than looping strings of computer code, somewhere inside his coconut computer head was a friend, reaching out and trying to help.
‘Yeah … maybe you’re right, you big ape.’
CHAPTER 44
2001, somewhere in Virginia
The tea was good. Strong and steaming. Liam gulped it down despite the heat scorching his throat. He hadn’t realized just how thirsty he was.
A brazier glowed in the middle of the field — a harvested field, rows of severed stalks flattened by army boots and the hoofs of two dozen one-ton huffalos, now tethered together in a surly huddle of muscle and hide, lowing and snorting.
Four soldiers stood guard, staring out into the darkness, the rest of the platoon wrapped in thick woollen ponchos. Most of them, used to the rigours of army life, were taking full advantage of the few hours of dark left and already fast asleep.
Captain McManus reached for the metal pot hanging from a metal frame over the glowing coals in the brazier. He topped up Liam’s enamel mug.
‘Thank you.’
‘My favourite time of the day,’ said McManus as he sipped his tea. ‘The few hours before dawn. There’s a wonderful tone to the sky just before sunrise. Especially such places like Asia Minor.’ He shrugged. ‘Afghanistan … very nice. The sky’s almost a vanilla colour before dawn.’
‘It’s almost always a grey dawn in Cork,’ said Liam.
‘Ahhh … now.’ McManus grinned and wagged a finger. ‘I knew there was a slice of Irish in your accent, Liam O’Connor. Just couldn’t quite place it.’
‘Well, some of it’s rubbed off. Recently, I’ve been living — sort of — with a girl from Boston.’ He shrugged. ‘And a girl from India.’
McManus looked at him, cocked his head curiously. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you really are quite the strangest fellow I’ve met in a good long time.’
Liam hunched his shoulders. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’
‘You seem, I don’t know — you may laugh at this — you seem to me like a Rip van Winkle. As if you’ve slept all your life. How is it that you seem to know so little of world affairs? Do you not read the papers?’
‘Like I said, me and Bob, we’ve been away in a priory. On our own. Me mother died recently so we came home to care for Sal. And, well, the three of us finally decided to … uh … to see some of the world together, you know?’
‘Well, you’ve not chosen the best place in the world to start your travels, Liam. The American War here may have ground to a halt in recent years, but …’ McManus looked cautiously around before continuing with a slightly lowered voice. ‘There are rumours flying about that that’s going to change.’
Liam perked up, his eyes off the smouldering coals. ‘What do you mean?’
McManus stroked his smooth chin. ‘It’s no big secret, Liam. This particular war is
losing popular support back home. The British people are weary of it. War. It’s all anyone in Britain has known.’ McManus, warmed enough by the brazier, unbuttoned his tunic collar. ‘We have so many different wars going on at the moment, you understand? We’re fighting separatists in northern India, bandit militias in our African colonies, tribal war-bands in Afghanistan, Persia. I can’t tell you how many dusty little backwaters my lads and I have seen action in.’
He shook his head sadly, his eyes lost in the glowing embers. ‘And it’s always the same brutality, the same mindless cruelty. One tribe of savages hacking the next to bits. And always, always, it’s the women and children who die first. I … I’ve seen things, Liam, some quite horrible things.’
Liam regarded the young officer’s face, saw eyes that all of a sudden looked far older than they should. ‘You sound like you’ve seen more than enough fighting.’
McManus shrugged. ‘I can fight any number of battles. I can stand on a battlefield alongside my men and stare down another army,’ he smiled. ‘I’m a soldier, that’s exactly what I’m trained for. But …’
‘But?’
‘But … it’s the evil, it’s the sheer cold hate I see in our colonies, Liam … the savagery. They’re not even fighting us half the time; they’re too busy settling old tribal scores. Odd that, isn’t it? You’d think the people in these far places would unite together to fight the British redcoats. But they don’t …’ His words trailed to silence and for a while they listened to the wheezing and snoring of two dozen men asleep on the field.
‘I do sometimes wonder why we bother to keep this empire of ours. Why we’re there. It’s not like these places want the law and order we try to bring to them. They seem to relish their barbarity, what they do to each other. You can’t educate these people.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s a nasty situation.’
‘Aye, well, I find it’s usually because some rich and powerful fella somewhere’s making money out of any nasty situation.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s probably why you and your lads are all over the place.’
McManus shrugged. ‘Perhaps. There’s always money to be made in a war zone.’ He finished his tea. ‘I do wonder why we’re in all these blasted places. When I lose men and I have to write home to their mothers or wives about how they died courageously for a good cause …’
‘You wonder what that good cause is?’
‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘You know, a part of me says our boys should all return home. Leave these savages to it. If hacking each other to pieces is what they want, then who are we to impose our ways on them? But then … then, I remind myself that the ones who end up suffering the most are the children. When you see it for yourself, Liam … when you’ve seen what I’ve seen, it’s hard to walk away.’
‘But is it not wrong that you’re there in the first place?’ Liam cocked a brow. ‘There was plenty lads I knew who didn’t have much good to say about the British.’
‘For good or bad, we’re in the situation we’re in, and the truth of it is, Liam, we’re beginning to lose control of our colonies. We need more boots on the ground in Africa, in Asia Minor, in the Far East, and we can afford less boots on the ground over here.’
‘Does that mean …’ Liam looked at him. ‘Does that mean your side’s about to surrender?’
McManus looked at him pointedly. His silence was weighted.
‘So, hang on …’ Liam had heard some of the men earlier this evening muttering something about their regiment’s hasty redeployment to America. ‘That’s why you’re over here … to finish the war?’
McManus’s head tilted, the slightest of nods. ‘Our lads are stretched far too thinly. I fancy this particular war is one our government wants to be done with once and for all.’ He ran a hand through his blond hair, pushing a stray tress from his chiselled face.
‘A final push by the South … and then, I suspect, a hastily negotiated peace.’
CHAPTER 45
2001, New York
‘I’m not so sure this is such a good idea,’ said Maddy. The boat bobbed gently on the river’s tidal waves, its steam engine puffing smoke and coughing as it powered a churning paddle at the rear.
‘We’ll be just fine,’ said Devereau. ‘I know Colonel Wainwright; he’ll not order his men to shoot on us while we’re under a white flag.’
Maddy looked up at the rag fluttering from the small boat’s masthead. She wished the thing was a good deal bigger and somewhat cleaner — whiter and more noticeable. It looked more like a loose flapping sail than it did a flag of truce.
Two-thirds of the way across the East River, she could see the Southern front line in more detail now: trenches of reinforced concrete and bunkers with viewing slits from which protruded the long, thick barrels of fixed artillery. She could make out individual faces moving among the structures. A growing buzz of activity as they drew closer.
‘They’re going to blast us out of the water,’ she muttered.
Becks was beside her. ‘We have been within effective range for the last five minutes.’ She turned to Maddy. ‘And they have not fired.’
‘Well, I guess we take that as a good sign, then.’ Maddy grinned anxiously.
‘Affirmative.’
Presently, the boat finally approached a wooden jetty protruding past a graveyard of rusting and rotting hulls of long-ago bomb-damaged vessels lying beached on the silted banks of the river.
The pilot reversed the engine, churning water noisily behind them and slowing the boat down as a couple of soldiers up front waited at the prow to hop over the side on to the end of the jetty.
‘Just hope this isn’t mistaken as some sort of amphibious invasion,’ Maddy found herself muttering under her breath.
‘Negative,’ said Becks. ‘There are too few troops for this to be an effective assault.’
Maddy sighed. ‘Duh, really?’
The boat thudded gently against the jetty and the two soldiers dropped on to the creaking wooden planks, quickly securing a line to a mooring kleet.
Devereau was first on to the wooden planks. ‘Allow me,’ he said, offering a hand to Maddy as she prepared to jump down to join him.
‘Oh, what a gentleman!’ She grasped hold of his hand gratefully. ‘Thank you.’
Becks was next. Devereau offered her his hand.
‘I will not be needing assistance,’ she said, casually leaping down with a heavy thud of firmly planted trainers.
‘Obviously you don’t.’ Devereau shrugged. ‘Sergeant Freeman?’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘You and half a dozen men along with us. The rest to stay on the launch.’
Maddy looked around.
She shivered. The morning was still fresh and cool, the clear September sky stained a beautiful salmon pink by the rising sun.
‘Don’t be nervous, Madelaine,’ said Becks. ‘I am with you.’
She grasped the support unit’s hand. ‘I’m fine,’ she lied, ‘just a bit cold, that’s all.’
Devereau joined them.
‘What happens now?’ asked Maddy.
Her question was answered with movement. At the far end of the jetty, a welcoming committee had assembled. She saw a dozen men in uniforms remarkably similar in design to Devereau and his men, only a dusty grey instead of a dark blue. Leading an escort of armed men was an officer in his late thirties, sporting a dark beard like Colonel Devereau, only clipped in a way that reminded Maddy of some jaunty, laughing cavalier.
A dozen yards short of them he stopped. With a theatrical flourish he whipped off his felt slouch cap to reveal long sandy hair, and bowed like an actor taking a curtain call.
‘Colonel Devereau! What a pleasant surprise!’ he smiled. ‘Unless I’ve completely lost track of the date … It’s quite a few weeks yet until Thanksgiving, is it not?’
‘Colonel Wainwright.’ Devereau stepped forward and extended his hand. ‘Indeed. I’m not over here to share our annual bottle of sherry.’
Wainwright shrugged. ‘More’s
the pity.’
Devereau gestured towards Maddy and Becks. ‘I have with me a couple of … ladies, who are, shall I say … in need of some assistance.’
Wainwright cocked an eyebrow. ‘Assistance?’
‘Yes.’ Devereau took a step closer to the Southern colonel. ‘James — ’ he lowered his voice for Wainwright alone to hear — ‘they have quite an intriguing tale to tell. Very … very intriguing.’
‘Something for my ears alone, is it, Bill?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Important, I assume?’
‘Very.’
Wainwright thoughtfully stroked the side of his face for a moment. ‘We shall have to be discreet, old friend … I’ve got visitors in this sector.’
‘British?’
He nodded. ‘Top brass … a routine inspection of our defence network going on in the sector next door to mine.’ He grinned. ‘I suspect they might take a dim view of my consorting with the enemy.’
‘Then perhaps we shouldn’t waste any time standing out here.’
‘Quite.’ He looked past Devereau. ‘Ladies! Pleasure to make your acquaintance! Bill … why don’t you come with me? As it happens I’ve just put some rather decent coffee on.’
Devereau allowed Maddy to take the lead in explaining her situation, with Becks clarifying the finer technical points every now and then — technical points as wasted on the Southern colonel as they’d been on the Northern colonel.
Wainwright sat poker-faced through half an hour, one expression on his face: a courteous tolerance. Like a friendly old man listening to a child’s tall story.
Maddy finished, and sipped cold coffee.