by Alex Scarrow
‘And so it does.’
With no time to savour the moment, he ordered them to load up the cage again as he reset thetransmission program on the palmtop.
At the back of Kramer’s mind — although he realized now wasn’t the time tovoice it aloud — was: in what condition were those things arriving at their destination?Intact? Or in pieces? He could visualize too easily himself arriving in the past and only living long enough to see his body had been contorted into a steamingpile of inside-out organs.
He licked his lips anxiously.
You’re not chickening out now, are you, Paul?
CHAPTER 19
2066, New York
Karl listened to the radio traffic coming in from his men. From their quick burstsof distorted cross-talk, it sounded as if they were doing a good job of keeping the policearmed-response teams tied down. Both flanking teams had called in at least a dozen killsbetween them. The police were getting chewed-up out there from the snatched exchanges he couldhear over his earpiece.
But already two of his men were dead.
Rudy had gone down early — took several rounds in the chest. Aden, one in the head: dead before he hit the ground.
His men were buying time all right, but they couldn’t afford to lose too many. Theycouldn’t afford to lose any, if truth be told. There wereonly two dozen of them. Twenty-four men… not exactly an army. Hardly enough to conquerhistory.
He tapped his throat mic. ‘All units fall back to the basement stairwell. Immediately.Keep your heads down. I don’t want any more casualties.’
‘Doing our bloody best, Karl,’ one of them called back. He recognizedPieter’s voice. One of the other men laughed over the radio comms.
The intensity of chattering gunfire increased momentarily as both teams laid down suppressingfire before hastily abandoning their positions to fall back to the mainhall.
Karl turned to Saul. ‘Ready? They’ll need covering fire.’
Kramer watched the fourth cageful of equipment vanish amid a shower of sparks. Hejust prayed to God that their invaluable equipment and his men were all going to end up in thesame spot, rather than scattered throughout history.
He looked around. Most of the kit had gone through.
‘So now,’ he said, ‘we need to start sending people.’
Max pulled his Arctic-camouflage jacket from his backpack. ‘I’ll go first,sir.’
‘Good man, Max.’
He zipped up his jacket, unslung his pulse rifle and offered Kramer a crisp, clipped salutebefore stepping confidently into the cage.
‘You ready?’
‘Yes, sir. Ready to change history, sir.’
Kramer nodded. ‘To change it to the way it should havebeen.’
‘That’s right, sir.’
Kramer saluted the man. He felt self-conscious making the gesture, having never been themilitary type — but it seemed like the right thing to do. ‘I’ll see you onthe other side with the others, Max.’
‘I’ll see you too, sir.’
Kramer hit the purge icon.
The last of Karl’s flanking men raced across the main hall towards where heand Saul were holding position in the open doorway to the stairwell.
Moments later several gas canisters rattled across the dusty marble floor of the hall andinstantly spewed clouds of acrid smoke.
Karl’s men squeezed past him, gasping and winded from theirsprint.
‘There’re loads of ’em,’ said someone. ‘It’scrawlin’ with ’em out there!’
‘Down the stairs!’ Karl shouted. ‘And set up a defence position below atthe basement entrance! Go! Go!’
The men trampled downstairs, their heavy boots and equipment packs jangling noisily.
Karl aimed down the barrel of his automatic, his night-sight HUD of little use through thebillowing smoke. He fired off a dozen rounds into it, more in the hope of forcing their headsdown than in hitting a target.
The kill zone was too wide here for just the two of them to hold. They’d be betterwithdrawing with the others and holding the stairwell at the bottom. The police would beforced to bunch up on the stairs. A much better kill zone.
‘Go, Saul, go!’
‘Sir?’
‘Down to the basement. Go!’
Saul followed the other men down, leaving him alone in the doorway. Karl pulled threemanual-fuse anti-personnel grenades from his belt and set fuse times a minute apart. He tossedthe first out into the hall, dropped the second at the top of the stairwell and turned roundto scramble down the first two flights of stairs, where he placed the third grenade.
He raced down the third flight of stairs to the bottom of the stairwell.
‘Hold your fire!’ he called out in the dim light as he descended.‘It’s me! It’s Karl!.. Hold your fire!’ His voice echoed off thehard breeze-block walls.
His men were waiting, eighteen of them, tucked behind a barricade of boxes and crates hastilybuilt across the open doorway leading to the museum’s vast storagebasement.
‘Excellent work,’ he said, slapping the shoulder of the nearest man as heclambered over to join them. ‘There’s a three-minute spread of grenades up there,which should slow them down.’
He looked around at his men. ‘How many did we lose?’
‘Another two,’ said Saul. ‘Dexter and Schwartz.’
His face tightened.
Not good.
‘Karl? What about them?’ asked one of his men, nodding at the museum’ssecurity guards huddled together a few yards away beside another stack of crates andboxes.
‘Do we kill them?’ he asked.
Karl bit his lip in thought for a moment. They were no threat. Old men, frightened men.He’d let them go up the stairs, but the chances were they’d be gunned down themoment they stepped out into the main hall.
‘All right, Joseph, tell them they should go find a quiet corner and hide. Wait untilthe gunfight is over.’
‘OK.’
‘Oh, and tell them to make sure they call out to the police first before they show themselves. They’ll be trigger-twitchy.’
Joseph grinned and nodded. He obviously shared the same opinion of the dunderheadsupstairs.
Amateurs. Big boots, big guns and no brains.
The first charge went off in the hall with a dull thump.
Karl put a hand to his earpiece and nodded. He turned to his men. ‘Ross, Pieter,Stefan, Joseph. Head down there,’ he said, gesturing towards a narrow passageway betweentwo tall storage racks on their left. ‘Kramer is down there. He has the machine runningnow and is sending us back one at a time. You four are first.’
The men nodded and headed into the passage.
The second charge went off at the top of the stairs. Louder. Rubble anddebris rattled down the steps.
This is it, Karl, he told himself. Thelast holding position.
CHAPTER 20
2066, New York
Kramer sent the man through and reset the co-ordinates for the next as the rattleof gunfire echoed down the passageway from the distant stairwell. He had lost count of howmany of them he’d put through, perhaps a dozen, maybe fourteen.
Karl had radioed through a few minutes ago; they were down to the last five men holdingposition at the bottom of the stairs. Another man had gone down — Saul. Woundedbadly.
Things were getting tight by the sound of it.
He tapped his throat mic. ‘Karl, you need to come now!’
Haas’s voice crackled back over the radio. ‘Someone’s got to hold themhere, sir. If we all turn and run, they’ll be on to us inseconds.’
Kramer cursed. Karl was right. Someone was going to have to be left behind to buy enough timefor the last two or three to be sent through and for Kramer to sabotage the machine so theycouldn’t be followed. Already they’d lost five good men; to have to leave one ortwo behind to hold them off wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
‘Dammit,’ he hissed.
If he’d managed to find the machine sooner, assemble
it just a little morequickly… or if the police had taken a few more minutes to get organized before stormingthe museum they could have all been through into the past without any bloodshed, without a single casualty.
‘I’ll hold them,’ wheezed Saul.
Karl looked down at him; the front of his grey and white Arctic-camouflage tunic was almostentirely black with his own blood. Several unaimed shots sprayed over the top of thestair’s handrail had found him, thudded into his chest and knocked him off his feet. Theyoung lad was spraying thick gouts of blood with each laboured breath; a lung, or both, hadbeen hit.
Karl didn’t need a medic to tell him that the rest of this young man’s life wasnow going to be measured in mere minutes, perhaps even seconds.
‘Saul, I…’
‘You have to go, sir.’ The young man forced a ragged smile. ‘You have togo… Change this world for a better one. Kramer’s one.’
Karl nodded. ‘We’ll do it, Saul.’
‘You better,’ he gasped, a thick curl of congealed blood leaking from the side ofhis mouth. ‘Go… now,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll give you… aslong as… I can.’
Karl nodded. Saul was fading fast.
He looked at the remaining men and gestured with a well-practised hand the signal for them tobreak cover and pull back to join Kramer. As they did so, Karl emptied a complete clip on tothe stairs. Sparks and sprayed chips of concrete danced amid plumes of dust. The armed police,getting ready to storm the last flight of stairs, backed off, ducking their heads from theheavy fire.
The clip empty, he looked down at Saul quickly and squeezed his shoulder. ‘Perhapswe’ll see each other in another time.’
Saul grinned, then began firing at the stairwell with short economic burststhat would conserve his ammo and hopefully buy his comrades the precious time they needed.
Karl turned and ran after his men, hearing their pounding footsteps ahead of him.
Kramer reset the machine once more. The last of the men with him had gone throughand now he was waiting for Haas and whoever else was with him.
He could hear footsteps and, in the distance, short staccato bursts of gunfire.
‘Hurry!’ he called out.
Out of the darkness two men emerged. Ronan and Sigi.
‘Quick!’ he said, ushering the first of them into the wire cage.‘Where’s Karl?’
‘Coming just behind us, sir.’
‘All right… good.’
He activated the machine, sparks showered and the darkness flickered alive with strobinglight as Ronan vanished. Sigi stepped in just as Karl’s pounding footsteps could beheard.
Kramer quickly reset and activated the machine.
The gunfire down the aisle suddenly ceased.
Damn… they’re in.
Karl appeared. ‘They’re through!’ he called out.
‘I know, I know. Hurry up and get in,’ he said, holding open the door of the wirecage.
Karl drew up and looked at him. ‘Who will send youthrough?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll manage, Karl.’
He hesitated. ‘No one gets left behind. Your words, remember?’
Kramer offered him a smile. ‘No one left behind, I promise. I’ll be right behindyou, my friend.’
Kramer closed the door on him. ‘I’ll see you there, Karl.’
He replied with a salute. ‘Yes, sir. I’ll have the men ready tomove out.’
Kramer nodded. ‘Good… see you in a minute.’ He activated the machine.
Once more the dark area of the storage basement lit up, throwing the wooden fascias ofstacked crates into stark relief.
For a fleeting moment, as the sparks showered to the floor, it occurred to him that thecontents of some of the crates and boxes down here in this dusty basement were about to bechanged. History, recent history… the last hundred years to be precise, was soon goingto be drastically rewritten.
No bad thing. History as it stood had led mankind here to this dark, poisoned, overcrowded,exhausted world.
No bad thing at all.
Over the noise of the portable generator he heard the thud of combat boots on hard concreteechoing down the passageway swiftly and voices calling out. The police were coming, and fast.He could see the dancing beams of their torches swinging from side to side in thedistance.
He kneeled down beside the palmtop and set the co-ordinates one last time. Taking a deepbreath, he set a five-second delay on the command, then hit the purge icon.
Quickly he stepped inside the cage, pulled a grenade from his pack, pulled the pin and placedit on the floor outside the cage. He shut the door and closed his eyes… hoping that themachine would have finished sending him into the past before the grenade detonated.
Come on!
He cracked open his eyes and winced at the sudden blinding shower of sparks cascading aroundhim. Through the wire of the cage he thought he saw the approaching shapes of several armed police swiftly dropping to one knee and raising their guns to fire athim.
Come on!.. Come on!.. Come on!..
It would be the cruellest turn of fate for one of their bullets to find him a microsecondbefore he left this world for good. Kramer clamped his eyes shut, expecting any second torecoil from the impact of several lethal high-spread large-calibre rounds or to be blown topieces by the grenade on the floor just outside the cage.
Then he felt it… a sensation like falling, as if the floor of the cage beneath his feethad been suddenly whipped away like the trapdoor of a hangman’s scaffold.
CHAPTER 21
2001, New York
‘Umm… that thing’s a complete mong-head,’ said Sal,studying the figure from the perspex tube pityingly.
Maddy regarded the creature with something approaching motherly sympathy. ‘Are you sureit’s meant to be like that?’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Foster, ‘the on-board computer is preloaded witha basic program of artificial intelligence: its adaptive learning code. It’ll pickthings up quickly enough, you’ll see. The most important thing right now is that itimprints you people on its mind. Particularly you,Liam.’
He frowned. ‘What do you mean by imprints?’
‘Think of it as being a bit like a chick hatching from an egg and deciding the firstthing it sees is its mother. To ensure the learning code embeds more efficiently, let it bondwith you first, Liam. Go on… go say hello.’
Liam looked uncertainly at Foster.
‘Go on, it’s perfectly safe.’
He turned to look at the large muscle-bound form on the ground and imagined this thing couldquite easily rip his arms out of their sockets and beat him over the head with them if itdecided that might be a fun thing to do.
Warily, Liam took several steps forward, grimacing as his shoes slipped on the drying smellygunk on the floor. He kneeled down beside the giant and studied it more closely.
‘Glaf… bug… drah?’ it gurgled in a deep voice thatseemed to rumble up from its chest. The creature was entirely bald, not a single hair on itsmuscular body, its skin pale, almost milk-white. Liam offered the pitiful creature a friendlysmile.
‘Hello there.’
‘Eh-oh,’ it mimicked.
‘My name is Liam,’ he said, pointing at himself. ‘Me…Liam.’
‘Leee-hammm,’ it repeated as it climbed to its feet and stretched out both bighands curiously towards Liam’s face. He swallowed nervously as the thing’s largehands cupped his face.
This thing’s going to crush my head like a ripe melon.
With hands still wet from the sticky fluid, it curiously stroked Liam’s cheek.‘Lee-aaamm?’
‘Liam,’ he corrected.
‘Lii-aam.’
‘And you are…?’ Liam turned to Foster. ‘Does it have aname?’
Foster shrugged. ‘You can decide on the name you want to give it. Try not to think ofsomething too stupid, though. The name’s got to last.’
Sal suddenly giggled at the sight of the thing’s genitalia.
Maddy turned to
the old man. ‘Foster, maybe the first thing we should do is give itsomething to wear? I mean… Sal’s only thirteen, and I’m… well, I justdon’t want to be looking at that right now.’
‘No, I’m sorry… Patrick is acompletely dumb name for him,’ said Maddy. She sipped her coffee as she studied thelarge muscular form across the floor while Foster finished putting some clothes on him.‘There was a stupid kid’s toon called SpongeBobSquarepants that had a dumb starfish character called Patrick.’
Liam shrugged his shoulders. ‘I had a big bruiser of a cousin called Patrick. The nameseemed to fit.’
Maddy smiled. ‘I’ve got the perfect name for him.’
They looked at her expectantly and her grin widened. ‘Arnold! You know? After the Terminator guy?’
Liam looked confused.
‘Arnie… Arnold Schwarzenegger!’ she continued.
Sal looked surprised. ‘Do you mean Schwarzenegger? The forty-fifth president of theUnited States?’
Maddy gawped at her. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. President?’
‘Of course! I remember now,’ Sal continued. ‘We studied him in Americanhistory; they amended their constitution to allow him to be a presidential candidate. Born inEurope somewhere, wasn’t he?’
Maddy nodded.
‘He started out life playing some kind of robot in a sci-fi movie once, didn’the? What was the movie called?’
‘Duh…’ Maddy rolled her eyes. ‘TheTerminator?’
‘Oh… yeah,’ said Sal, ‘that was it.’
‘I love those Terminator movies. They were so cool.’Maddy ran her eyes over his hulking form and nodded approvingly at her suggestion.‘Arnie’ was the perfect name.
Liam was about to ask what they were both talking about — Terminators? Toons? Sigh-fies, Sponge-bobs? The girls might as well have beentalking in Mongolian as far as he was concerned.
‘There was this funny bit in Terminator 2,’ Maddycontinued, ‘when the hero, this kid called John Connor, introduces the terminator robotto this other guy as his Uncle Bob — ’
‘Uncle Bob?’ cut in Liam. ‘Bob. That’s a good name. Nice andsimple.’