TimeRiders: City of Shadows (Book 6) (17 page)

Perfection on the other hand …? Cool,
detached, emotionless perfection. Like those two killer meatbots relentlessly pursuing
them. That’s what sociopaths were, weren’t they? At least in
their own minds – without weakness, without imperfections.

Just after midday they checked into another
motel; it was as generic and nondescript as the last one had been. But at least this was
one in her hometown. Boston. Maddy felt a little more secure. The suburb Arlington,
where her folks lived, was actually only about five or six miles away as the crow
flies.

She was so nearly home.

‘Isn’t this a bit
dangerous?’ said Liam, flicking through the channels on the room’s TV set.
‘I mean … well, might they not guess you’ll come here?’

He’d said ‘they’ like
They
.
Them
: the sort of language a tinfoil-hat-wearing, paranoid
conspiracy nut would use.

‘We’re nearly out of money,
Liam. And, even if the account had more money in it, what if someone’s tracking
the card when we use an ATM?’ It could be done, a bank account flagged and used to
track a person’s movements. ‘We need some help. In case you haven’t
noticed, our little organization isn’t doing so good.’

‘But come on, going to your
parents
’ house?’

‘They can help us out! My mom and dad,
once I’ve explained who I am, they’ll help us out.’

‘Once you’ve explained who you
are?’ He cocked a brow. ‘Listen to yourself. That’ll take some
explaining, so it will, Maddy.’

She could already imagine the expression on
her mom’s face. A squint of suspicion at the strange teenage girl on her doorstep
gabbling about time travel. Then probably fear. Perhaps Mom would try slamming the front
door on her and calling the police. But then Maddy could tell her and Dad some things
that were about to happen. She could tell them that President Bush was soon to make his
infamous ‘Axis of Evil’ speech. That very soon they were going to start
pointing the finger of blame at Saddam Hussein in Iraq. Or aim for something closer to
home.

She tried to think of their family life
directly after 9/11. But she couldn’t remember anything specific that was due to
happen at home over the next few days. They’d lost Julian in the north tower,
their nephew, her cousin. It would be a household fogged with grief right now. No wonder
she couldn’t recall anything specific. She was nine, then –
now
. Her
younger version would be a confused and frightened little girl, believing Fox News that
a Big War was coming. That more planes could suddenly start dropping out of the sky. No
wonder Maddy couldn’t pull any useful memory out of her head from the immediate
aftermath. It was just one big fog of news stations repeating the same things, of fear
and paranoia and rumours.

She decided she’d pick something from
before 9/11 to tell her parents, something only their very own daughter would know. And
yes, there’d be herself –
her younger self
– right there to confirm that
she was telling the truth, that she was their daughter from the future. She could pick
something like her favourite toy’s name, her favourite TV show, her favourite
clothes, her favourite …

Maddy realized she couldn’t recall any
of those things.

Not a single thing.

‘Liam’s right,’ said Sal.
‘Maybe visiting them isn’t a good idea.’

Maybe. Maddy watched channels flash by on
the screen. Maybe the other two were right. But they couldn’t stay here in these
two motel rooms forever.

Liam yawned. She felt tired too. She needed
some time alone to get her head right.

‘Let’s get some rest,’ she
said finally. ‘We’ve all had a bad few days and we’re none of us
thinking straight here.’

‘That is sensible,’ said Bob.
‘Becks and I can stand watch while you sleep.’

‘You boys can have the other
room,’ said Maddy. Rashim
nodded and got up. Liam tossed the TV
remote to Sal, and Bob opened the door for them.

‘Let’s meet for dinner.
We’ll work out what we do next then.’

The boys left, the motel door
snicked
shut behind them. Becks took her place beside the window, the net
curtain tugged slightly aside, patiently watching the slip road outside that led past a
TGI Friday’s and a liquor store to their motel. Sal flopped on to the free bed and
within a couple of minutes was snoring with a soft rattle that sounded like the purr of
a cat.

And Maddy gazed listlessly at the muted TV
set at the end of her bed.

12 September 2001, New Haven County,
Connecticut

Agents Cooper and Mallard looked at the
knuckle-shaped bulge in the cell door.

‘
She
did that?’ said
Cooper.

The duty officer at the county police
station nodded. ‘We had to taser her and heavily sedate her, cuff
her … 
and
put her in a restraining jacket, or I reckon
she’d have smashed her way out eventually.’

‘She’s conscious now,
though?’

The officer nodded. ‘You actually
wanna
go in there with her
?’

‘Of course.’

‘Jeez … don’t rile her
up or anything.’ He fussed with a jangle of keys on his belt. ‘Don’t
know why we’re holding her here. She should’ve been taken to the state
–’

‘On my orders,’ replied Cooper.
‘The less pairs of eyeballs on this, the better. And you and your boys did a
splendid job taking her down at the mall.’ He smiled kindly. ‘I trust her in
your care, officer. For the moment.’

He found the key and inserted it into the
cell door. ‘This is some kind of Top Secret, isn’t it?’

‘Afraid so.’

‘Anything to do with the World Trade
Center?’

Cooper shook his head.
Keep it simple.
Keep it terrorist-free
. ‘No. Nothing.’

He turned the key in the door. ‘Back
at the mall she hospitalized three of my men even
after
we’d tasered the
heck out of her.’ He looked at Cooper pointedly. ‘Could you at least give me
some
idea what the hell she is?’

Cooper glanced at Mallard, then back at the
cop. ‘She’s … the future.’ He pulled the cell door open; it
clanged against the doorframe as it opened, slightly misshapen from the pounding it had
received from the inside.

He stepped in, beckoned Mallard to join him,
but held his hand up to the cop. ‘Just my colleague and me, I’m
afraid.’

‘Right,’ sighed the officer.

He glanced at the bald-headed female
strapped to the cell’s cot. She was wide awake and emotionless grey eyes swivelled
murderously towards him. She was panting like a wild animal, flexing against the
restraints.

‘She’s all yours,’ he said
finally and closed the door on them.

Mallard looked decidedly uncomfortable.
‘You sure we’re safe in here with her, sir?’

Cooper ignored him. He squatted down beside
the cot; those grey eyes were now on him. Her panting and flexing stopped. No longer a
wild animal. In a heartbeat she was calm and impassive. He could feel those grey eyes
coolly evaluating him.

‘Release me,’ she said evenly
after a while.

‘Ah! So … you
can
talk?’

‘Affirmative. I am able to
talk.’

Cooper tapped his chin with his fountain pen
for a moment. ‘I have no idea what exactly you are. I do know, however, that
you’re not a
normal
human being.’

She said nothing.

‘We had a preliminary report back on a
sample of your
colleague’s blood …’ Cooper worked to
keep his voice as cold and clinically professional as this young woman’s.
‘It’s not a match with
any
blood type.’

‘Correct,’ she replied. Her dark
eyebrows knotted momentarily. ‘Abel is terminated?’

‘Terminated? You mean dead?’ No
point lying to her. ‘Yes, he’s quite dead.’

He thought he detected the slightest flicker
of a reaction on her face.

Terminated
. God,
yes … that’s what this was beginning to feel like – that awfully cheesy
eighties science-fiction movie about killer robots.

‘The post-mortem also produced another
very interesting discovery,’ continued Cooper.

This one’s a doozy
. The
pathologist who’d rung this little detail through to him was almost in tears. She
was gabbling, confused, asking him questions none of which he could answer. Mallard had
yet to hear this titbit of information.

‘Your friend,
Abel
, has no
human brain.’

‘
Whuh?
’ Mallard’s
jaw hung open. Cooper scowled at him and his mouth snapped shut.

‘The cranial cavity interior’s
much, much smaller than a regular human skull. The space is taken up with additional
layers of bone. A thoroughly reinforced skull. Inside all of that we found a brain the
size of a fingernail and what appears to be some sort of embedded circuitry.’

‘The circuit has
self-destructed,’ she said, cocking an eyebrow. ‘Yes?’

He wasn’t sure if that was a statement
or a question. He waited for more, but she just eyed him coolly.
‘Yes …’ He sighed. ‘It was pretty much fried.’

‘That is good.’

Was that the ghost of a smile
there?

‘Abel was able to
self-destruct.’

He thought he’d give the direct
approach a go. At the moment she seemed willing to talk candidly. ‘Would you care
to tell me who … or
what
 … you are?’

‘Genetically engineered
organic-silicon hybrid – Reconnaissance and Covert Operations variant,’ she
replied. ‘With W.G. Systems AI version 2.3.11 installed.’

‘What does
organic-silicon
hybrid
mean? You’re what? … Some sort of half human-half
robot?’ asked Mallard.

‘Negative. I am a genetically
engineered human frame with a dense silicon-wafer processor.’ Her eyes flickered
on to Mallard. ‘A computer for a brain,’ she clarified for his benefit.

‘But … but –’ He
looked at Cooper – ‘we can’t do that kind of genetic engineering yet! Can
we?’

‘No,’ Faith replied. ‘Not
for another fifty years.’

‘My God!’ gasped Mallard.
‘Jesus! You’re from the … from the future? Is that what
you’re saying?!’

Cooper was tempted to tell Mallard to shut
up. Yes, at some point he was going to need to bring his new man up to speed. Mallard
had already been exposed to knowledge way beyond being allowed to return to the FBI rank
and file. Cooper decided he might as well get him right up there on the same page as
him. The sooner, the better. ‘Why don’t you start by telling me what precise
year you’re from?’ Cooper said.

‘My batch birth date is 25 June 2069.
Waldstein sent us back to kill TimeRiders.’

‘Oh my God! Did she just say
–?’

‘That’s right, Mallard.
You’re going to need to get your head round this. And fast. I can’t have you
flapping your jaw like that every time something’s said. She’s from the
future – get used to it.’

The younger man paled. He rocked on his heels
uncertainly as his jaw hung open, catching flies once more.

Cooper decided he’d better go easy on
him. After all, personally he’d had quite a few years to get used to the idea that
anonymous time travellers had passed this way in recent years and just might have rather
carelessly left one or two of their footsteps in history.

‘
The future?
’ he
whispered.

‘Mallard, I need you to process that
quietly, all right? I know it’s a helluva thing to take on board. So, just think
about it for now, and later I will talk you through it, all the evidence we have. The
whole deal. But for now? Right now? … I need you to shut up.’ He patted
the man’s shoulder. ‘All right?’

Mallard nodded. Cooper turned back to the
young woman strapped to the cell’s cot. ‘Why have you come back here to our
time? Who were you after in that shopping mall?’

She started blinking rapidly.

‘You all right? What’re you
doing?’ No response, just the rapid flickering of her eyelids.

‘Good God!’ Mallard was
horrified. ‘I think she’s having a seizure. She’s –’

Her eyes snapped open. ‘Negative. I am
reprioritizing mission parameters. Just a moment … just a
moment …’

A minute passed in silence. Long enough for
Cooper to begin wondering whether he needed to prod her again.

‘Information,’ she said finally.
‘While you may be able to assist me, revealing mission objectives to you is a
protocol breach. A contamination.’

‘Contamination?’

‘A time contamination: providing
information to you that may cause you to behave in a way or perform actions that alter
the timeline. This is a basic protocol breach and must be avoided.
However …’ Her eyelids stopped fluttering and her gaze settled back on
Cooper. ‘There is a greater contamination occurring at the moment which must be
prevented.’

‘The people you were after?’

‘Correct. They are not of this time.
They must be located immediately and dealt with.’

‘By that, I’m guessing you mean
killed
?’

‘Affirmative. They have with them the
necessary components to facilitate further time displacements and cause even greater
contamination. They must be located before they effect a displacement.’

‘Displacement? You mean time
travel?’ Cooper felt hairs rising on the back of his neck. ‘My God,
you … you’re actually talking about a functioning –’ he felt
ridiculous even voicing the words, but there was no other way of saying it – ‘time
machine? Is that what you’re talking about? Is that what they’ve got with
them?’

‘The components required to rebuild
one, yes.’

Cooper felt a little unsteady. Like Mallard
had a moment ago, he rocked back on his heels, settling gently against the cold wall of
the cell, grateful for its support.

She played a cold, emotionless facsimile of
a smile across her lips. ‘What is your name?’