by Steve Howrie
“You’ll have to let us know whether or not you retain your memories of World War Three when you get back home,” I said, “…assuming we’re able to stop it happening.”
“No problem,” replied Mike, “I’ll send you a text.”
“Now there’s an interesting idea.”
“We should discuss Smirnoff’s question now,” Niki said bluntly.
“What question was that?” Yoyo asked.
I relayed what Smirnoff had said the previous night, and the question he left us with: why would the leader of North Korea in forty–odd years’ time attack America?
“That’s a good question,” Mike replied. “We should have talked in detail about this before.” He took a sip of coffee, and then continued. “Kim had been building up his weapons stock – short and long range missiles, tanks, fighter jets and bombers – plus nuclear warheads – and this made the Americans very concerned. The Yanks increased their presence in the North Pacific, and set up a base in South Korea. This was totally unacceptable to Kim, and he warned the US of the consequences if they didn’t remove the Korean base immediately. The Americans wouldn’t back down, and so two missiles were sent towards the USA. They weren’t nuclear weapons, but they were certainly a warning. The retaliation by the USA was seen to be over the top, particularly by Russia, as I said. I think the US President wanted to repeat what America did in Japan to end World War II – only this time they miscalculated the reactions of both the Russians and the Chinese. Relationships with those countries had not been good in the previous ten years, and with the rapid development of China, the USA was no longer the number one Economic power. Also, relations with Russia had become strained for several reasons – one being the situation in the Middle East. The Americans knew this, of course, but they miscalculated.”
“Who gave the order to launch the nuclear attack on North Korea?” I asked. “The President?”
“Yes… but I guess you’ve no idea who the President is in 2056, right?”
Both Niki and I shook our heads.
“Johnny Clinton,” stated Yoyo.
“Johnny Clinton?” I repeated.
“Isn’t he Bill Clinton’s Grandson?” Niki said.
“Yes,” replied Yoyo, “John William Clinton.”
We were all quiet for a moment. I knew what the others were thinking. “We can’t,” I said.
“I think we have to,” replied Mike. Just remember why we’re doing this – to prevent a third World War. Our idea was to assassinate Kim, but now we’re all talking about it, I’m seeing it differently. We have to deal with Johnny.”
“It’s his finger on the button,” Yoyo added.
I thought about this. John Clinton would be no more than ten years old now – just a boy. But how many ten year olds would die in a cataclysmic war if we didn’t prevent it happening now?
“There’s no guarantee than eliminating Johnny Clinton will prevent this war,” Mike pointed out, “but if we do nothing, the war will happen – no question about that. It all started with the US escalating their presence in the Korean Peninsula – and that was the President’s call.”
“Okay,” I’m in,” said Yoyo.
“Me too,” added Niki.
Again, I was in the minority. But I had to agree it seemed like the right approach.
“Well,” I sighed, “I guess we’d better get back in touch with our Mr Smirnoff.”
***
Twenty–Three
Niki contacted Smirnoff and arranged a meeting at 2pm the next day on the South Bank of the Thames in Central London. He wouldn’t say exactly where – just that he’d ‘find us’.
Thus far, we hadn’t discussed a price for the job, but that was on the agenda. Since discovering we could win money very easily in all sorts of ways by travelling back and forth in time, we hadn’t given much thought to the cost of things. We were growing aware, though, that we should be more careful with our gambling habits. Some things were easy to win money on a regular basis: horse–racing and football, for example. They were not huge payouts, but it was a regular income under far less scrutiny than the big lotteries. Speaking of which, we had won the UK National Lottery three times now, in different time periods, and also the Euro Millions lottery a couple of times (netting more than two hundred million on one occasion). But we couldn’t keep doing that – people would become suspicious.
We’d tried Casino gambling too. Roulette was the most fun. I would write down a winning number, rush to a quiet area and jump two minutes back in time. Then I’d place my huge bet on the number I knew would win. I did get this wrong a couple of times (a very expensive mistake!). I had jumped back a couple of turns of the wheel instead of just one, and lost the lot! Yoyo and I therefore tried a technique whereby she stayed by the table and gave me a signal when I arrived back to let me know when to place the bet. This was a little strange as it created a double of me, which caused some strange looks amongst other gamblers. We laughed it off as my twin brother – and never did it again. We were only doing it for enjoyment anyway – we have enough money for this lifetime.
So paying Smirnoff didn’t seem like a problem to us… but what if he wanted an insane amount? I put this question to Niki.
“What do you mean by ‘insane’?” she asked.
“Say, one million pounds. It would be difficult withdrawing that amount from the bank in cash, wouldn’t it? You know what these banking regulations are like nowadays. And wiring it to his account could be a problem too. We could hardly write ‘Contract Killing’ as the reason for the transfer.”
As Niki and I were talking, we gazed across the Thames to the Embankment – and I suddenly felt a prod in my back.
“You should be more careful – you never know who is listening,” the Russian observed after sneaking up on us. “But don’t worry – it’s safe now.”
We discretely let Smirnoff know our new target, relaying our conversation with Yoyo and Mike, and watched his reaction. It was positive.
“I can see no problem with this project. You can leave the when and where to me,” he said matter–of–factly, pausing to light a cigarette. “As regards my ‘Agency fee’ – it is usually one hundred K for the first time, and fifty K for repeat business.”
“Pounds?” I asked, not that it really mattered.
“You are British I take it Mr Joe?” I nodded. “Then yes, British pounds.”
Niki would normally haggle with any price – just her Chinese way – but on this occasion she kept quiet. She knew it was a small price for what we were about to achieve.
“However,” Smirnoff continued, “I would like to make a proposal.”
I nearly said, ‘Okay, shoot,’ but thought better of it.
“Okay, go ahead,” I replied.
“If you can do something for me, then I will undertake this little business for you free of charge – just this time.”
“What do you have in mind, Mr Smirnoff?” Niki asked.
“I would like you to help me visit my mother – before she died.”
Niki and I looked at each other. “Okay,” I said, “just tell us where and when.”
“Moscow, 1997. I was not there for her when she passed away, and it has been troubling my soul ever since. You do not have to do this before I take care of your current business. Already, you have let me meet Mr Lenin… I know you will do this other thing for me.”
We agreed to Smirnoff’s request, and began to make our plans for ‘the Hit’. Smirnoff would jump forward in time to do the deed, rather than undertake it in the present time period (‘undertake’ seemed such an appropriate word in this business). Assuming that the technology of future crime detection isn’t invented in the next few days (as in the movie Minority Report), this plan seemed safe. It was Niki’s idea. We would choose a suitable time period and both accompany the Russian to the future – just in case anything went wrong. Smirnoff suggested the time when Clinton would be a student studying at university. Security would not be
so tight then, we thought, and therefore more opportunities for the kill (I hate that word).
Thanks to Mike and Yoyo, we knew exactly at which university he would be enrolled, and the courses he would be taking… and we were in luck: Johnny Clinton would be following in his mother footsteps and studying at Oxford University – just a short train ride from London. So no need to head off to America.
“We have to take a train to Oxford?” exclaimed Smirnoff when he heard the news.
“Well, yes.” I replied.
“You mean we can travel one hundred years back in time in the blink of an eye, but to travel eighty kilometres, we must travel by train?”
“Or take a bus,” Niki added.
“We can only travel in time, not space,” I explained. “So if you want to visit your mother in Russia, we must actually travel to Russia in the normal way, and then make the time–jump back to 1997.”
“Okay, okay – I get it. But we still do it my way. We travel separately: you and Niki go to Oxford first, and I’ll meet you there, understood?”
“Perfectly,” Niki replied.
*
Whilst we’d been talking with Smirnoff, our doubles had been researching Johnny Clinton’s whereabouts during his second year at University. We thought there’d be less attention on the grandson of an ex–US president during his sophomore year (rather than his first or last), which would commence at the beginning of October 2024. Smirnoff made it very clear that he never discusses the details of his assignments – he just gets it done. Safer that way, he said. No doubt we could read about it in a future edition of the Guardian if we wanted to. It would also be in Mike and Yoyo’s history once they jumped home, of course.
We chose the end October for the jump, which meant it would be during term time. Johnny would be studying law – not a bad subject for a future President of the United States of America, I suppose? No, don’t think about that.
We spent the next few weeks considering our trip, winning money, spending it, and (on occasions) worrying about bumping off a future president of the United States. We weren’t actually pulling the trigger or turning the knife; but we were paying someone to do it for us, which amounted to the same thing. Almost. Niki was better at dealing with this aspect than me, truth be told.
The days seemed to pass quickly, and it was soon time to drive to Oxford. Yes, drive. We had originally intended to take the train, but thought it was better to take the car – no official record of us travelling to Oxford that way.
I must say, I like Oxford. One of my uncles lives just outside the town, though it didn’t seem like a good time to go visiting. I imagined a conversation with him: ‘Oh, and what brings you to this neck of the woods Joe?’ ‘Well, Niki and I have just hired a contract killer to knock off the future President of the United States of America…’ Perhaps not.
Niki called Smirnoff from a phone box outside a pub close to the University when we’d arrived in the city. All I heard her say was the name of the pub and the street – and that was that. Inside the pub, I ordered a couple of beers and two packets of crisps. When I returned from the bar with the drinks, Niki was in deep thought.
“You okay?” I said.
“I’ve been thinking.” she said.
“Whoa! Don’t do that – it’s dangerous!”
She ignored my schoolboy humour and continued.
“What happens if someone sees us with you–know–who ten years into the future? If he’s picked up by the Police after the thing, won’t we be under suspicion too?”
It was a good question – one I hadn’t really considered. I sat in deep thought for a minute, sipping my drink almost mindlessly.
“You’re right,” I said at last, “it’s possible. We do need to be more careful. Actually, we didn’t need to come to Oxford with him at all – we could have done the jump in London and he could have travelled alone.”
“Well, we’re here now,” replied Niki.
“Okay, let’s do the jump well away from the University – somewhere very quiet.”
Niki agreed this was a good idea. But there was something else.
“We should also make sure we don’t return to Oxford on this day in ten years’ time.”
I could see where she was going with this. For one thing, it would mean there could be two of each of us in Oxford on that particular day. Which would increase the risk of being associated with Smirnoff should he get caught. It was all very implausible, but we did need to consider the possibility. We were, after all, about to become accomplices in the murder of a future US President – we must do our best to cover all the bases.
A few minutes later, Smirnoff arrived. He didn’t enter the pub, but tapped on the window, just as we’d planned.
“Remember this day,” I said to him as we walked along the street.
“And don’t come back to Oxford in ten years’ time,” Niki added. The Russian gave her a puzzled look. “Don’t ask,” she added as we walked quickly along some back streets looking for a suitable jump point. We had originally planned to make the time leap within the University grounds, very close to where Johnny Clinton would be living in ten years’ time, but in light of our discussion, it was safer away from the University. We found a small, secluded park about ten minutes walk from the pub, which seemed ideal. The three of us held hands, and made the jump.
“See you back here,” I whispered after we travelled ten years forwards, and the Russian was gone.
“S’funny… it still looks the same,” I said scanning the area.
“It probably hasn’t changed for five hundred years!” Niki replied.
*
Within forty–five minutes, Smirnoff was back. Without speaking, we jumped back to the present date, and walked calmly away from the park.
“Fancy a lift back to London,” I smiled.
“You know my rules,” he said.
“Better than the bus,” Niki added. “And the job won’t have been completed for another ten years, so no–one’s looking for you.”
The big Russian stopped in his tracks.
“That’s true,” he said, “but I thought you took the train?”
“Ah, that’s something you’ll have to learn about us, Mr Smirnoff,” Niki replied “always expect the unexpected.”
As we drove back down the motorway, I asked Smirnoff how the job went. I really shouldn’t have asked – I knew he wouldn’t tell me, and he was a bit peeved that I asked. So I pointed out that we could easily jump to the future and read the news about it, so he said, “Okay, so you will read that the grandson of a former American President had an unfortunate accident in his student accommodation one afternoon in Oxford, and died of his injuries.”
“Our prayers will be with his family,” I replied.
***
Twenty–Four
We were anxious to return to London and talk to Yoyo and Mike. We wanted to know whether or not the mission had achieved its objectives. Had it?
“Well?” Niki said as we opened the door and saw Mike and Yoyo sitting comfortably in the lounge. “Did we prevent World War Three?”
“World War Three?” questioned Yoyo.
“It’s not something you’d easily forget!” Niki exclaimed.
“Well, no, I wouldn’t think so,” replied Mike. “What’s this all about?”
Niki and I looked at each other. Did this mean that we had prevented the War and Yoyo and Mike’s memories were now altered as a result, contrary to what we previously thought?
“Hey, had you going for a minute!” beamed Mike. “Come and have a drink.” Mike poured two more glasses of our favourite red wine, and we sat down to chat.
“Hope you don’t mind us making ourselves at home,” Mike said.
“Of course not – it used to be your home!” replied Nik.
“So?” I queried.
“We jumped forward to our own time period to check, and it worked!” said Mike. “There was no war with North Korea.”
“Wow!” exclaimed Niki. “So who’s the new US President?”
“Sasha Obama,” Yoyo replied.
“You’re kidding!” Niki exclaimed. “Obama’s youngest daughter!”
“So Johnny Clinton is now history?” I said.
“’fraid so,” replied Mike.
“To the future – our future.” Yoyo raised her glass and we toasted each other. It all seemed so unreal. We were celebrating the avoidance of a World War that versions of ourselves had said would happen forty–two years in the future. Our plan had involved the killing of a young man, previously destined to be an American President, by a hired Russian hit–man. It was like something out of a Science Fiction novel.
“So, how did it go with Smirnoff?” Mike asked.
“It was great – he’s a real professional,” I replied. “He said he made it look like an accident.”
“An accident!” exclaimed Mike. “How do you accidently get your throat cut?”
Niki and I looked at each other.
“According to Yougle…” Yoyo started.
“Yougle? What’s that?” Niki asked.
“You’ll find out in about twenty years’ time,” Mike replied. “Personalised version of Google.”
“According to Yougle,” Yoyo continued, “young Johnny Clinton was found dead in his apartment on 29th October 2024. His throat had been cut, and a fellow student was arrested on suspicion of murder. He was released when no evidence could be found linking him to the crime…. a crime that was never solved.
“Well, I suppose that telling a small lie is nothing compared with the job he does,” I said.
“You’re right… but it does show that you have to be careful with Smirnoff. Don’t forget what he is, and that your lives are in his hands.”
We were all quiet for moment. Then Niki said, “So I guess Sasha Obama didn’t react to the North Korean’s missiles the way Johnny Clinton would have done?”