‘And now Waldstein knows we know…?’ She pursed her lips, focusing on the lenses she was unnecessarily scrubbing clean. Still thinking things through. ‘We can’t be relied on any more. We’re a loose cog.’ She put her glasses back on. ‘Not fit for purpose.’
‘Jahulla!’ whispered Sal. ‘He wants to wipe us out and start again!’
Maddy turned to Bob. ‘If we changed our mission goals… where does that leave us, Bob? Does your core programming mean you’d have to attempt to stop us?’ She turned to Becks. ‘Kill us?’
Both support units looked at each other.
Bob finally spoke. Maddy wondered whether he was speaking on behalf of the pair of them. Probably. Becks would defer to him right now. Her mind, after all, was a pale reflection of his. ‘On previous occasions, I have been able to override hard-coded mission parameters.’
‘And? So, this time?’
His thick brow lowered and became a monobrow of intense thought. A long pause of deliberation. Finally he spoke. ‘I am able to comply with a new mission directive.’ He stared at her intently. ‘And what is your new directive?’
‘To, uh… to stop Pandora?’ There was a tremulous, questioning tone in Maddy’s voice, worried that somewhere deep in his coconut head a logic gate might flip its state at what she’d just suggested and Bob might suddenly leap across the room and rip her head off.
‘Your stated intention is to prevent the future event codenamed Pandora from occurring?’
She nodded slowly. ‘That’s kind of it. Yeah. You know… save the world?’ She winced as Bob’s forehead creased with thought and his eyes seemed to disappear into the shadow cast by his thick Neanderthal brow.
‘What do you think? Bob? That OK with you?’
‘The original mission goal of preserving the destruction of the world and humankind appears to be an illogical mission goal,’ he announced finally. Maddy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding for the best part of a minute. ‘Becks?’
She nodded; her mind had processed the same information and arrived at the same answer. ‘With the information that Dr Rashim Anwar has provided us of the future, the previous directive appears to make no sense.’
‘If that’s your plan, Maddy, if you wish to work against the goal of your agency then you need to be somewhere else entirely,’ said Rashim. ‘You need to get as far away from here as possible. Another place, maybe even another time. You know that, don’t you?’ Maddy knew.
‘If you really are what you think you are… engineered units,’ he said that carefully, desperate not to cause offence, ‘then if Waldstein’s after you, he will, I’m sure, have all your pre-inception date memories on file. He’ll know everything there is to know about you.’
Liam stirred. ‘Pre-inception?’
‘Before our recruitment,’ clarified Maddy. ‘Our so-called life stories.’
‘Right,’ said Rashim. ‘He’ll certainly guess you’ve come up here to find your family, Maddy. He… or more of his support units… could be close by, closing in on us as we speak.’
‘You’re right.’
‘A new base for us to set up?’ Liam’s clouded face seemed to brighten a little.
‘Yup, new home. New mission.’
‘I’m not sure I get what our mission is, though,’ said Sal.
Maddy wasn’t a hundred per cent sure herself. To make Pandora NOT happen. Yes, that… but also to continue, in some moderated way, the mission they used to have: to make sure no reckless time traveller set this world hurtling towards another nightmare timeline.
‘We’re going to make the call, Sal. We’re going to take control of history. We’re going to steer it so the world gets a future where we don’t kill ourselves off. Where we don’t completely trash this planet.’
Liam nodded. ‘Now that makes a bit more sense to me, so.’
Even Sal perked up a little bit. ‘But if we’re moving on to somewhere else… aren’t we going to need some more money, or something?’
‘Aye,’ said Liam. ‘We’ve nearly run out.’
‘True.’ Maddy shrugged. ‘I guess we better think about where we’re going to get some more, then.’
Chapter 39
16 September 2001, Interstate 90, Westfield, Massachusetts
Bob held the gun up at the man behind the counter. The sock pulled over his large head was far too small and stretched so taut that his thick horse-lips were mashed against his teeth and squished back into a hideous leer, halfway between a snarl and a grin.
‘I ’eed you to ’ive ’e all your ’oney!’
The old Korean man behind the counter shrugged. ‘What you say?’
‘I ’AID… I ’EED YOU TO ’IVE ’E ALL YOUR ’ONEY!’ Bob’s voice boomed across the racks of convenience goods in the petrol station. A trucker taking his pick from some microwavable snacks in a fridge unit looked their way.
Liam lifted his own sock up to reveal his nose and mouth. ‘Excuse the big fella, he’s not so good with a sock on his head.’
‘This is robbery?’
‘Aye, yes… yes, I’m afraid it is.’ Liam shrugged guiltily. ‘Really sorry about that. We’re going to need some of that money in your till there.’
The old man nodded, understanding. ‘Ah…’ and then ducked down out of sight.
‘Uh?’ Liam hadn’t been expecting the old man to be quite so co-operative. He looked at Bob. ‘Well, that wasn’t so hard.’
A moment later the old man reappeared holding a rusty old Korean model AK47 held together by duct tape. ‘YOU LEAVE NOW!’ he yelled, his finger resting on the trigger and looking dangerously like he was halfway pulling on it.
‘Maybe we should — ’
The gun went off, five rapid-fire rounds before the old weapon clicked. Jammed. Several polystyrene ceiling tiles exploded in showers of plastic snow, most of the bullets whistling past them. But one caused a puff of crimson to erupt from the side of Bob’s head; an ear, almost completely intact, flew across the racks and landed among the refrigerated snacks not too far from the trucker.
Bob shouldered their shotgun.
‘Hoy! No!’ Liam pushed the barrel up as the weapon boomed. The rack of cigarettes behind the old man’s head exploded with a shower of tobacco shreds and paper.
‘Just get that till!’ barked Liam.
Bob passed the gun to Liam, leaned over and grabbed the till embedded firmly in a counter housing. Plywood cracked and splintered, chocolate bars and scratch cards spilled on to the floor as Bob shook the till vigorously. The whole counter unit was lifted clean off the floor. With a loud crack, the till pulled free and the counter crashed back down again.
‘Sorry ’bout the mess there!’ Liam grimaced, before he pulled the sock back down over his mouth.
Maddy had only just finished filling the motorhome when she heard the rattle of gunfire inside the petrol station’s convenience store. Another shot, deeper, the boom of a shotgun. Then a second later what sounded like a bull charging around inside.
‘Oh Jesus!’ she whispered. ‘I said be discreet!’ They were meant to be holding the store up for some quick cash, not levelling the place to the ground.
A moment later she saw Liam emerging, followed by Bob carrying something that looked almost as big as a bank safe in his arms.
‘Becks!’ she called out. ‘We’re leaving! Now!’
The Winnebago’s engine started up with a roar of an accelerator pedal pushed down too hard — Becks’s first go behind the wheel.
Liam tumbled up the steps inside, Sal helping him up. He collapsed on to the seat at the back, hyperventilating. Bob followed him inside and tossed the till on to the floor. The vehicle rocked on its loose suspension under the heavy impact. SpongeBubba wobbled and lost his footing.
‘Woo-hoo!’ he chirped merrily on his back, stubby paddle feet whirring ineffectually in the air.
Maddy slammed the door shut on them, cursing under her breath as she ran along the outside of the motorhome, pulled open the passenger side door and clambered up on to the seat beside Becks. ‘Go! Go! GO!!’