The Trouble With Time (11 page)

Floss stared out of the windows, trying to pick out places she knew. London was still its old self, continually changing yet remaining in essence the same; a riotous mix of architectural styles. Victorian gems, jewel-like parks and stunning new buildings mingled with dreary blocks of flats and Toytown closes left over from the last century. Most roofs were made from matt black panels. Jace told her they were solar panels, and compulsory. Windows at any rate had improved; if some were still UPVC, at least they were better designed. And the streets looked wider, more open; Floss puzzled over this then suddenly realized there were no lines of cars parked along the kerbs.

The people, too, looked different but the same. No one was more than a little overweight, for one thing; clearly science had solved the obesity epidemic. Fashion was eclectic, as in Floss’s own time, but men were more flashily dressed than they had been for the past three hundred years – much more than the women. They were peacocks, wandering around looking like Jane Austen heroes, or cast members of
Pirates of the Caribbean
. Women’s garments were plain; eclipse plumage, often elegant but definitely drab.

They reached a run of scabby unloved streets with litter and potholes. The pod turned into a cul de sac beside the railway and bumped over patched cobbles. On the left was a high fence, on the right a series of railway arches, each walled off with a ramshackle combination of bricks and mortar, windows and corrugated iron, no two alike. Between a bike repair shop and a boxing club was the only arch whose purpose was not obvious. Above the door RYKER was painted in letters so ragged they might have been graffiti.

Jace rang the bell. They heard a deep bark which got louder. The door opened and a man stood there, holding back by the collar a large German Shepherd who was straining to get at them. Ryker was lean and scruffy and wary, dressed in worn dun-coloured jacket and britches. A lower deck pirate, Floss thought instantly.

He looked Jace over. “What do you want?”

“Can we come in?”

“What for?”

“Private business.”

“Give me your phones and walk through the scanner.”

Jace handed him Quinn’s phone, and Floss gave him hers. Ryker did a double take at the 2014 Samsung, and put them both away in a safe with gold scrolling and a brass handle that would have been an antique in Floss’s time. They walked through the scanner, a sort of skeletal metal doorway, into a dim interior full of big machines and smelling of mice, lit here and there by naked bulbs. Work benches were littered with tools and electronic items in pieces. The floor was grimy concrete. In one corner stood a few salvaged kitchen units, in the other a door. A ladder led to a narrow platform made from scaffolding running along the back wall, on which stood a rumpled bed and a chest of drawers. The gold bits on Jace’s jacket glinted where the light caught them. To Floss his get-up looked more outlandish than ever in those utilitarian and shabby surroundings.

Jace glanced around. “No one else here?”

“No.” Ryker went to a workbench with four computer screens on it, pushed a decrepit typist’s chair towards Floss with unexpected civility, and lifted coils of wire off another for Jace. He sat on the edge of the bench and waited. The dog curled up in his nearby basket with a sigh; still watching them, though. Floss held out her hand for him to sniff, and fondled his ears; he accepted this attention with reserve.

Jace said, “What would you charge to unlock a TiTrav, and unset the limiter?”

After a pause, Ryker said, “That’s illegal.”

“Don’t let’s have this again. Remember what you told me five years ago? It won’t be the first illegal thing you’ve done.”

Ryker’s eyes were cool. “That was off the record. Just because I gave you a bit of information five years ago doesn’t mean we’re best mates. Back then, your lot had this whole place turned over for six hours, and you didn’t find a thing. IEMA’s got nothing on me.”

“This isn’t to do with IEMA. I’m simply offering you money to do a job.”

“Timecrime. You could be setting me up.”

Jace remained calm, but his patience was beginning to show. “I don’t work for IEMA any more. There’s a warrant out for my arrest. I’m putting myself in your hands, coming here. One phone call and you could claim the reward.”

Ryker stiffened. “I got standards. I don’t grass anyone up, even ex-time cops.” He turned to Floss. “And who are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m from 2015. I want to get back there.” Floss tried a smile. “It would be great if you could fix the TiTrav.”

Ryker came to a decision and turned back to Jace. “Okay. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Jace unbuckled the TiTrav from his belt and laid it on the bench. Ryker looked from it to Jace and his face broke into a sudden grin. “You weren’t kidding when you said this wasn’t IEMA business, were you?” He picked it up and examined it, running his fingers over the damaged case, tapping the screen. “If you want to sell, I know someone who’ll pay whatever you want, and no questions asked.”

“It’s not for sale.”

“Or he’d be interested in just borrowing it. For a fee.” Jace shook his head. “If you change your mind . . .” Ryker fiddled around some more with the TiTrav, then his head lifted. “I seen this one before. It’s the same one you were talking about last time I saw you, that Pete had stolen off him.”

“I know.”

“What you don’t know is someone brought it back to me a few days later, to get the tracker taken off. I reckon it was the stinking bastard who killed Pete.” The ghost of a smile crossed his face. “I didn’t tell him I’d already taken it off.”

“Who was that?”

Ryker sat back. “Now I’m not at all sure I should tell you that. I got paid well enough at the time – after a little discussion. His first idea was I should do it for free, and I had to put him right about that. Explain to him he had quite a bit to lose, same as me. But I also got told what to expect if I wasn’t discreet. In detail. And I believed him.” He paused. “But somehow I doubt you’d have got hold of this if the last owner was still alive. That’s why it’s locked. And probably why it’s a bit knocked about.”

“You’re right. Quinn’s dead.”

Ryker showed no surprise at the name. “I knew you didn’t nail him when he turned up here. So he shafted you instead?”

“You could say that. How much do you want?”

“Fifty thousand. In cash. Up front. And don’t bother haggling, that’s my price, take it or leave it.”

“You’ll have to do it while I watch.”

Jace felt in an inside pocket and handed him a bundle of fifty one thousand notes. Ryker went round the workbench and sat to count them. Jace followed and stood behind his chair to keep an eye on him. Not wanting to be left out, so did Floss. Ryker finished counting and put the money away.

The safe clunked shut and he turned, fixing a beady eye on Jace. “One thing. If you’ve got any fancy ideas about shooting me when I’ve finished and getting your cash back, remember you’ll need me again if it starts playing up.”

“I’m paying you to make it work. A TiTrav’s not much good if it’s unreliable.”

Ryker shrugged. “This model’s quality but it’s getting on, there’s updates it should have had over the last couple of years and I can’t hack in to get them, IEMA upped their game in ‘47. Bound to be slower working out co-ordinates. Not a lot you can do about that, unless you want a visit from your old buddies.” He settled at the workbench and connected the TiTrav to his computer. Rows of incomprehensible data appeared on the monitor. Ryker seemed comfortable with it, altering and adding bits of code. Five minutes later, the catch clicked and the two halves opened. He smiled with satisfaction.

After another ten minutes’ work he said, “I’ll have to take the back off. Something’s not right.” He reached for a screwdriver, unscrewed eight tiny screws and delicately removed a small curved panel set flush with the inside. “Oh dear oh dear. Now that was just careless.” He gazed reproachfully at Jace. “You got blood in it.”

“I was being careful. As careful as I could.” Jace sounded defensive. “I didn’t expect him to bleed as much as he did. He was dead.”

“How bad is it?” Floss asked.

“Hard to say. It’s only along the top here, came in through this crack in the casing. They’re watertight unless you damage them.” Ryker got out dental brushes, cotton buds, a box of tissues and a bottle of clear fluid, and set to gently removing Quinn’s dried blood. This took some time. At last Ryker replaced the screws and went back to tinkering with the software.

“I’ve put in a new pass code: 123456, same number to open it and for access.” He glanced at Jace. “You’ll want to change that.” He tapped and swiped the screen, intent, muttering to himself now and then. “I fixed it for Pete so even if it’s switched on, ain’t no one can trace it no matter what they got. I left the history cause that’s quicker if you want to go back somewhere, but anyone looks, it’s not there.”

Jace nodded approvingly. “That’s good.”

“You put in xyz and up it comes. You can’t change that code, but you won’t need to.”

He went quiet for a bit, concentrating. Floss gazed around idly, wondering what the other things on the bench were. She picked up something that looked like a robotic hand. Ryker told her to put it down.

Finally he sat back, his expression dubious. “I done the best I could. It should be good to go . . . you may find it plays up a bit. If it does, turn it off and on, reset it and try again. Basically it’s all right. Won’t let you down. I’ve unset the limiter. When you’ve got time, bring it back and I’ll fix the case. D’you want to try it out?”

Jace took the TiTrav and said he’d go five minutes into the future. He snapped the cuff on to his wrist, set the time and location, pressed the two buttons simultaneously, and vanished.

Floss immediately started to worry that the device would malfunction and he wouldn’t return, leaving her stranded in 2050, or that he planned to vamoose without her, leaving her stranded in 2050. She really didn’t want to be stranded in 2050. Ryker offered Floss a coffee, and went over to the grotty kitchen to make it, rinsing a couple of mugs while the kettle boiled. She got out one of the motion sickness patches and stuck it on the inside of her elbow so she’d be prepared if Jace returned ready to take her back to 2015. Hope and fear tangled in her gut.

As Ryker put the mugs down on the bench, the doorbell sounded and the dog leaped up and bounded to the door, barking. Ryker peered at the image of the alleyway on the left-hand monitor. A woman stood outside the door, looking away, scanning the street. She turned.

Kayla.

“I know her. She’s Time Police.” Ryker’s face was grey. “He’s set me up.”

“I don’t think he has. Why would he?” Floss wished Jace was back. Surely he should be back by now. How long had he been gone? “She must have followed us. Don’t open the door. She can’t know you’re in.”

Ryker moved the image around to scan the alley. Just Kayla. He brought up another image on the next screen, a brick wall, an overgrown path, a block of flats. No one visible. He relaxed fractionally. “Looks like she’s on her own. She’ll go away in the end.”

Suddenly Jace was in the room.

Floss said in a low voice, “Kayla’s outside.”

“On her own?” Floss nodded. “I’ll talk to her.”

He moved towards the door. Floss caught at his arm. “D’you think that’s a good idea? She’s Time Police, she’s Quinn’s girlfriend, she followed us here.”

Jace looked sharply at her. “How do you –”

Ryker jumped to his feet. “Shit!”

Floss ran back and looked from screen to screen. Both showed men carrying weapons, running into the alley, erupting through the bushes at the rear of the building, maybe six or seven in total. A loud bang made the dog go into a furious volley of barks. They were breaking the door down.

When they burst in they’d notice the two warm coffee mugs, and know someone had just left. Floss took her mug to the sink, hastily tipped the coffee away and rinsed it.

“Floss! Leave that!” Jace said. “We need to go.”

Floss ran and grabbed his belt. He scrolled down the TiTrav’s screen, one eye on the entrance. Suddenly she said, “Our phones!”

Ryker opened the safe and handed them to Floss. She pocketed them. Jace’s arm went round her. They could hear banging on the other side of the building now. Jace said with a hint of warning in his tone, “We weren’t here, Ryker.” He tapped hastily at the screen. Something burst through the top of the door, letting in the daylight. Another bang, then the door crashed to the floor.

Kayla shouted, “Freeze! Hands in the air!”

Jace pressed both buttons. Floss heard a last muted bang as the world went dark.

When the horrible whirling, stomach-churning sensation was over and her feet felt solid ground beneath them once more, Floss opened her eyes. Her immediate reaction was relief that she felt only mild nausea, with no urge to throw up. Then she realized where they were; not Islington in 2015. Back in bloody Bunhill Fields, in the deserted London of the future. The air was damp and a chill gust swirled autumn leaves on to unkempt grass. She let go of Jace’s belt and tried not to wail.

“What are we doing
here?
”

“We had to get out fast. This was in the history and I knew what it was.”

“My
flat
was in the history.”

“It would have taken longer. I had to change the time setting.”

“Why on earth . . . ? If you hadn’t done that you might have had time to choose my flat!”

Jace’s voice was hoarse. He looked spent. “It’s an IEMA rule. You don’t go into the future or the past the same day someone else has.”

“You don’t work for IEMA any more!”

“It’s a rule because it’s dangerous.” After a moment he added, “Okay . . . so the same day wouldn’t matter . . . but we couldn’t go the same minute. We’d have met Quinn.”

Floss turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to get a grip. She shouldn’t be making a fuss; after all, this detour didn’t matter. She said in a small voice, “I want to go home.”