Day of the Assassins (6 page)

Suddenly the pitch of the humming from the control room rose an octave. A number of lights around the console flashed on.

Pendelshape smiled in satisfaction. “We’re in business! Right, gentlemen, before we go any further, I have to explain to you what we must do next and why we have decided to show you all this. It’s not a step we have taken lightly. You’re going to have to trust me one more time. I assure you, it is in all of our interests.”

The boys glanced at each other nervously.

Pendelshape marched over to the table and was joined by Angus, who wandered backwards slowly, still staring up, mesmerised by the Taurus and its surrounding apparatus of cables and pipes. Jack waited by the quietly humming machine, still trying to absorb everything
that Pendelshape had said.

“Jack, please, if you would come back over here, quickly…” Pendelshape gestured impatiently for him to move away from the structure. He took a deep breath, “The Taurus is already set so that we can travel back in time to somewhere I know and where we will be safe, before being picked up. The truth is…”

But he did not finish his sentence.

T
he heavy door at the far end of the control room swung open and through it marched Tony and Gordon. Over their usual uniforms, each was wearing an army flak jacket. From his position next to the Taurus, Jack could just make out some small silver lettering on each of the jackets. The lettering read: VIGIL Response.

Behind Tony and Gordon were two other men – Mr Belstaff and Mr Johnstone – the games teachers. They wore the same get-up as the two janitors and moved with the same imposing power. But what alarmed Jack most was that, quite extraordinarily, all the men were… armed. If he had been an expert on military matters, he might have recognised the weapons that they carried to be Corner Shot APRs – one of the most advanced automatic weapons in the world. With their laser sights, video screens and swivelling gun-mounts, the machine pistols also had a special feature – they could shoot round corners. What on earth they were doing in the hands of the school janitors and the games teachers, Jack had no idea.

The four men were followed by a tall slim figure with a bald head, poorly disguised with thinning wisps of silver hair. With his trademark black gown flowing from a pair of hunched shoulders he looked a bit like a carrion crow. Jack recognised him immediately. It was the school’s head: the Rector.

He advanced towards Pendelshape and Angus, his face purple with rage.

Pendelshape jumped to his feet. He looked terrified, “John… I’m sorry… I…”

But the Rector shouted back, “Silence!”

Pendelshape sank to his knees; he seemed to be… begging.

“Please! I didn’t mean…”

The Rector loomed over Pendelshape, “You idiot! I always had a sneaking suspicion about you. Didn’t you think we’d find out?”

Pendelshape really was begging now, “Please, please. John… I didn’t…”

“I should have guessed you might betray us. You and the Benefactor. A bad combination of hopeless romantic and dangerous lunatic…”

“I’m sorry…”

“MacFarlane. Deal with him.”

From his position only five metres away Jack could not believe what he saw next. Gordon stepped forward. He had a sinister grin on his face – as if he was actually enjoying himself. He withdrew a large knife from a scabbard on his black belt. As he did so, he spun the serrated blade in one hand like a circus knife thrower. Suddenly Jack realised that he and Angus had been wrong. Tony and Gordon were not ex-traffic wardens. The theory that they’d been in the SAS was, in fact, the correct one.

With one hand Gordon reached down, pulled the whimpering Pendelshape to his feet and smacked him hard against one of the wooden bookcases. Pendelshape moaned in pain. With only one hand, Gordon held him a clear ten centimetres off the ground. With the other hand, he took the blade and plunged it into his neck. Jack felt the bile rise in his throat. He thought he was going to be sick. But then he realised that, expertly, Gordon had only nicked Pendelshape’s neck, impaling him instead by both his shirt and jacket collars against the wooden frame of the bookcase. Blood oozed from the wound, but Pendelshape was not dead. Yet. Instead, he was starting to choke as his weight pulled him down and his collar – pinned to the wall by the knife – slowly tightened around his neck. His face was turning purple. The Rector nodded towards Angus who, like Jack, was staring slack-jawed at the violent assault.

“Smith. Please deal with this young man.”

Tony stepped forward and grabbed Angus by the scruff of the neck, yanking him from the sofa with surprising ease. With no hesitation,
Tony landed a punch to Angus’s solar plexus. For Tony, it was a light, controlled blow. But there was no doubt, if Tony had chosen to, he could have killed Angus on the spot. But Tony had held back, and instead Angus doubled over, badly winded, and retched like an old man. The Rector now directed his attention to Jack at the other end of the library, next to the Taurus.

“Bring Master Christie here. You know your orders – no damage.”

Jack looked back across the library as Belstaff and Johnstone strode towards him. Pendelshape was slowly choking to death. Angus was on the floor clutching his stomach. It didn’t look like Jack was going to get away any more lightly. His heart was in overdrive. He needed time… time to think. But in five seconds the two men would be on him… and then what?

He snatched the controller that Pendelshape had left by the console and stabbed the button. Just as Belstaff was in mid stride, the glass blast screen accelerated upwards from its housing under the floor. It caught him without warning clean between the legs. Belstaff screamed in pain and found himself powering on upwards, balanced precariously on the top edge of the thick glass. Two seconds later, with a dull thud and crunching bone, the rising panel crushed the unfortunate man right into the ceiling – like a fat finger caught in a car’s electric window. The powerful motors beneath the floor continued to grind and push upwards as the glass blast screen failed to slot itself into its upper housing, now blocked by Belstaff, suspended five metres above. Johnstone, who had been behind his colleague, smashed into the opposite side of the blast screen and reeled backwards, clutching his head.

Cornered at one end of the control room next to the Taurus and behind the blast screen, Jack knew he didn’t have long. He didn’t know why these people were after him, but he knew he had to escape. It was a long shot – but there was only one way out. Through the blast screen, he could just make out the Rector, Tony and Gordon rushing around in alarm trying to find a way to lower the screen and get to Jack, who, though safe for the moment, now had a new fear. His breathing had intensified and he was starting to wheeze. His chest had
that awful hollow feeling that usually preceded an asthma attack. He reached for his puffer and took a mighty suck. For a moment, it calmed him.

He leaned over the console that Pendelshape had shown them earlier. There, still nestling in its pod, was the time phone. Above it, a small digital read-out blinked invitingly. It said:

‘Initiate synchronisation procedure’.

Jack looked back over his shoulder through the screen. In a few seconds they would have it lowered again and would be on him. He had no doubt what he must do. He snatched the time phone from its pod and flipped it open. Immediately, he saw the little bar to the side burning bright yellow. Just as Pendelshape had said it would. The read-out on the console flashed:

To his surprise another message flashed up.

“What the…?” He whispered in desperation as the commotion on the other side of the screen intensified. He stabbed an ‘N’ on the keypad underneath the console. He definitely was not feeling lucky. Another message immediately flashed up:

“Come on… come on…” Jack, drenched in sweat, stared at the device. He stabbed a ‘Y’ on the keypad. There was a pause.

The read-out changed again:

And then a final message popped up:

“This is not for real…” some propeller-head programmer had a warped sense of humour. He grabbed the time phone and then his bag and, shaking with fear, mounted the gantry onto the steel platform in the heart of the Taurus. From his new position, he looked out between the black girders, through the green blast screen into the library, where he could see Pendelshape still pinned to the wall and Angus bent over on the sofa. Seeing Angus there, helpless, Jack felt a stab of guilt – but what could he do? The Rector, Tony and Gordon were fighting with a control panel to find some way to lower the blast screen. He suddenly spotted a small heads-up display that hung just outside the Taurus structure. His heart missed a beat when he realised what was happening. Taurus was counting down.

Suddenly, the glass blast screen started to lower. Belstaff, pinned to the ceiling, lost his balance as the pressure from the screen released and he tumbled back to the floor. He didn’t move. Jack stared numbly at the body of his games teacher and felt bile rise in his throat as a terrifying thought suddenly occurred to him – Belstaff might be dead.

Jack saw Tony and Gordon look down at their injured colleague and then look back up at him in his vantage point inside the Taurus. When he saw their eyes, he knew he had made the right decision to board the Taurus. Tony and Gordon only had one thing on their mind as they rushed forward towards him.

J
ack looked down at the time phone in his hand. The read-out had changed. It said:

The read-out glinted back at him. Portsmouth…? He was in Portsmouth? On England’s south coast? He looked around. The Taurus and library had vanished, the people in the control room – also gone. He had escaped. But had he really moved? And had he moved in time?

He was standing in the open on a flat concrete surface. There was a damp mist all around, but he could hear muffled voices. He was facing a giant wall – only about two metres away – extending upwards and sideways as far as he could see, although the mist limited his view. It looked like he was on the outside of a large building, maybe a warehouse. The building was not made of bricks, but had a dark, grey smooth surface. He took a step forward to touch it, hoping to find an opening and, in so doing, he nearly plummeted to his death. He jumped back, as if he had just touched an electric fence.

Five metres below, there was a channel of icy, black water lapping between the side of the wall that he had tried to touch and the platform on which he stood. He’d nearly plunged straight into it. He craned his neck up again. The mist peeled slowly back from the wall and way above his head. To his left, he could make out some letters:

What does that mean? The direction of the clearing mist had revealed the letters to him from right to left. But in the right order they spelled: ‘
DREADNOUGHT’
. The wall he was looking at was made of steel. Jack was not staring at a warehouse, but a ship, and he was standing on a quayside. Moreover, it was no ordinary ship. He had only spied part of the stern, but even by the proportion of this, the ship was a monster. In fact, Jack realised, this was
the
ship – the one that Pendelshape had said revolutionised naval warfare before the war. It had given Britain superiority at sea.
Dreadnought
. It was all the evidence Jack needed to prove that he had indeed been transported through time.

He moved back cautiously from the quayside. Nearby, was a series of large pallets. Some were stacked with crates, others with large sacks. On one pallet, there was a gap between two large piles of sacks and, seeking temporary refuge, Jack managed to squeeze himself between them. He tried to control a growing sense of panic. Once again, he took out his puffer, pressed the button and inhaled deeply. The tightness in his lungs relaxed. He crouched down. A hundred and one questions flew through his head. What on earth had he witnessed back at the control room? Why had the Rector been so angry? What had they done to Angus?

Having no answers, he tried to focus on an activity to distract himself. He checked what he had with him. First of all – the time phone. He still had it. So, in theory, he could go back… but to what? A bunch of thugs who wanted to beat him up… or worse? He flipped the phone open, just as Pendelshape had shown him. The bright yellow bar was flickering and starting to grey out. He racked his brains… what was it that Pendelshape had said? They could only use it when the bar was yellow.

But he had been more specific than that, hadn’t he?

You can only use it when you have a signal and when the host Taurus is
in the right energy state… when it turns yellow, you can exchange signals
with the Taurus… it means the Taurus knows where you are… and it
means you can time travel.

That was it. Now the bar was completely grey. So that meant even
if he wanted to get back, or communicate with someone, he couldn’t. He would have to wait. But it also meant, Jack suddenly realised, that if he started to move away from here, where the Taurus had deposited him, he could not be tracked until the signal was restored. The Rector, and his henchmen, would only know his landing point from the Taurus’s space-time fix… as Pendelshape had called it. If he moved away from this spot while the signal was off, it would be more difficult for them to follow him.

He turned his school rucksack upside down to see what else he had. For a start, he took off his blazer and put on his fleece jacket. It was warmer – and probably less conspicuous. Then there was the usual rubbish – moth-eaten exercise book, sweet wrappers and a couple of textbooks. He could ditch those for a start. Then he noticed that he still had the history book – the present from his father. The irony was not lost on him and he briefly flicked through its pages. Could be useful, he thought to himself, and stuffed it back into his rucksack. As he did so, something dropped onto the wooden decking of the pallet. It was the lance head. He’d forgotten all about it, but of course it was this that had got them talking to Pendelshape in the first place. He dropped it into his trouser pocket and quickly checked over the rest of the rucksack. In a side pocket, he discovered some crumbly remains of his mum’s chocolate cake wrapped up in cling film. He felt a lump forming in his throat.

Suddenly, the wooden pallet beneath his feet groaned. It was moving. Jack found himself rocking gently from side to side and had to steady himself with both hands between the two walls of sacks. He looked up. He could make out some cables and the hook of a large crane. The pallet and its heavy load, including Jack, were being hoisted into the air. Through the wooden slats of the pallet he could see that there was already clear air between him and the quayside. Then the crane stopped and he could feel the whole structure swaying gently. From his vantage point, Jack saw that both the ship and the quayside were throbbing with activity. Without warning, the massive load started to move again – sideways this time. With horror, Jack realised what was happening.
Dreadnought
was taking supplies on
board – and the mighty battleship had an uninvited guest: Jack was about to be lowered deep into the hold.

The crane paused once more. Jack was helpless and peered desperately from his hiding place, scanning the edge of the ship and the quayside for some means of escape. Just as the massive crane started to lower its load into the ship, Jack spotted two figures standing further down the quayside – not ten metres away. The Taurus must have delivered a final spasm of energy, after transferring Jack, before losing the signal completely. They were after him already: Tony and Gordon.

He’d been lying in the dark hold for what seemed like ages with dusty smells wafting around him. He was well hidden and one thing was for sure, he wasn’t going outside again, right into the hands of Tony and Gordon. He tried to make himself comfortable. After a little while, he detected a slight vibration as the ship’s steam turbine engines gently pushed
Dreadnought
away from the dock.

They were going to sea.

Jack tried to think logically through the events of the last few hours. Most worrying were Tony and Gordon. They must have been sent to get him. They must have their own time phones – also connected to the Taurus. He wondered if he had made a clean getaway – or whether they had guessed he had boarded the ship and had followed him aboard to hunt him down like a rat in a steel maze.

Jack thought back to the strange conversation that he and Angus held with Pendelshape before the Rector had stormed in. Pendelshape had been about to tell them something. Something important – about the Benefactor – and this was linked to the strange email they had discovered. He tried to remember what the email had said. It had been from the Benefactor, who had been replying to Pendelshape. So the two of them had been in contact – perhaps for some time. What had the email said again? Jack racked his brains.

Do not concern yourself with the Cairnfield workshop…

So the Benefactor knew about his father’s workshop at Cairnfield. And he had also said:
Our own Taurus is complete! Yes!
A functioning, full-scale system.

But… could that mean the Benefactor had somehow developed another time machine? Maybe there were two Tauruses? The one at the school, and a separate one – belonging to the Benefactor. That would be incredible… but already Jack felt he had seen enough incredible things to last several lifetimes. It would have been strictly against the rules of VIGIL that Pendelshape had talked about. But on the other hand, the Benefactor was a key member of the original Taurus team… so perhaps he had the brains to pull it off. It sounded like Pendelshape must have known about it… known what the Benefactor was up to. Maybe that’s why the Rector was so angry with Pendelshape?

Jack tried to remember what else the email had said:

I fear that when they find out, they may take Orion… we must
protect Orion.

Who was Orion? And the email had mentioned someone else too – a ‘she’ – ‘Lynx’. A man and a woman who could not be named. More mystery.

Then, just before the Rector had stormed in on them, Pendelshape said that he had set the Taurus “so that we can travel back in time to somewhere I know and where we will be safe, before being picked up”. So Pendelshape was concerned about something. Concerned enough to have already planned using the Taurus – against VIGIL rules – to carry out some sort of escape. He must have set it to send them back to the Portsmouth naval dockyards – where Jack had been transported. Maybe that made sense. Pendelshape knew all about 1914 – he had proved from the photo taken in Belgrade that he had travelled back to this time before. So he would be on familiar territory.

But Jack was still no closer to understanding why any of this had happened. Why was the Rector angry with Pendelshape? Why had Pendelshape wanted them to escape to 1914 and why did Orion need to be ‘protected’? Somehow, Jack and Angus, whether they liked it or not, had become embroiled in something big – and something they did not understand. Now he was alone and he was scared. It wasn’t like being on the back of Angus’s bike – then you knew it would be over quickly, one way or another. But this was different. The fear Jack
felt was an all-enveloping fear that seemed to suck away at you from the inside.

But Jack had always been good at thinking things through and solving problems. And he knew part of the trick was to try not to let emotion get to you. Information. He simply did not have enough information yet to solve the confusing list of questions, so he would put them to one side until he did. But there was one question he did need to answer and that was, what was he going to do now? He fumbled around for the time phone and, through the gloom, he flipped it open and read its telltale message:

That was right, Pendelshape had also said that the phone had its own energy source, so it would continue to say where and when he was. The screen had a kind of mini SATNAV with a map. Jack noticed that both the time and location had moved since his last reading. It confirmed that they were sailing up the Channel. So he would always know where he was. That might be handy. The yellow bar was still off – greyed out. Until it went on again there was nothing he could do and the Taurus and the people who controlled it – the Rector for one – would not be able to locate him. So he should be safe. In fact, he thought ruefully, perhaps the best thing to do would be just to waltz out and… give himself up. Say he had got lost or something… and then the crew would have to look after him, until they could maybe drop him at a port. It was a risk, but if Tony and Gordon had managed to spot him and then follow him aboard
Dreadnought
, he knew he would be a lot safer in the hands of the Royal Navy. Wasn’t that why they were supposed to be there anyway? To protect people?

Suddenly, the door of the hold banged open and light streamed in. Jack crouched down as far as he could, but it was in vain. A moment later a
large pink face loomed down at him from the pile of sacks above.

“Sir – you ain’t going to believe this…”

“What is it now?” A gruff voice answered. The first face was joined by a second, which was equally surprised.

“I’ve seen it all now. A stowaway!”

“What’s your name, son. How did you get in there?”

Jack stared back at the two faces and calculated that politeness was the best policy.

“Sorry, sir, I mean, I was with the loading gang, er, and kind of fell asleep…”

The two men looked at each other, and then guffawed loudly.

“Someone’s going to cop it for this! Come out of there for a start. What did you say your name was?”

“Jack Christie.”

“Well, Christie, we will have to report you; it’s lucky for you that we’re just on exercises. Better get you tidied up. And then, I’m sure we can make use of you.” Jack thought the man looked like a cook. He laughed again, nodding at the sacks around him, “There’s this lot to sort out for a start.”

And with that, he was marched from the hold and soon found himself seated at a small table outside the galley.

“You stay there.”

The cook went off, but the sailor, with the pink face, looked at him sympathetically. “Don’t worry lad… Navy has a fine tradition of young men at sea. Nelson himself. We’ll get a signal home to let them know you’re safe. You look famished – tell you what – one of the boys will get you something…”