‘Did you say the male units looked just like our Bob?’ asked Foster.
‘Yup. Like his evil twin or something.’
‘These are military clones you’re talking about,’ said Rashim.
She nodded. ‘Military use, yeah.’
‘Then if they looked exactly like your Bob, they’d be from the same or a similar birth batch. The cloning process develops genetic-copy errors if you reproduce from the same DNA indefinitely. So the batches have relatively small print runs. Twenty maybe thirty units per base DNA pattern.’ Rashim stroked the fine tip of his nose. ‘I recall that the military contractors producing clone units back in the 2050s were constantly having to start over with new candidate genomes to engineer.’
Liam chuckled. The others looked at him and his face quickly straightened. ‘ Back in the 2050s? ’ He grinned. ‘I mean, doesn’t that sound odd? That’s the future for all of us, so it is. The far future for me!’ He shrugged; no one seemed particularly tickled by that. ‘Just sounded a bit funny, that’s all.’
‘When does your clone unit come from?’ said Rashim. ‘Do you know his precise inception date?’
‘Bob?’ Maddy struggled to remember. ‘Uh, I think it’s the 2050s…’
‘2054, if I recall correctly,’ said Foster.
‘Then your enemy, whoever sent those killer units, must come from the same time.’ Rashim folded his arms. ‘That’s an assumption, of course.’
Liam shuffled uncomfortably. ‘But who’s our enemy? Who’ve we gone and annoyed?’
‘What?’ Maddy laughed. ‘Who’s our enemy? You mean apart from some secretive association of Templar Knights? A government-backed top-secret project called Exodus, that group of anti-time travel activists who tried to assassinate Chan, Kramer’s bunch of neo-Nazis.’ Maddy paused. ‘Need I go on?’
‘Well,’ Liam shrugged, ‘apart from them, that is.’
‘The point is,’ cut in Foster, ‘the world, down the line, is an increasingly grim place.’ He looked at Sal. ‘You’ve seen the storm clouds of the future, haven’t you, Sal?’
She nodded. ‘Not good.’
‘A world full of people who see the only way of escape is back through time. And we…?’ Foster looked around at them. ‘We’re who’re standing in their way. That’s a lot of enemies to choose from.’ He turned to Rashim. ‘Maddy told me your group came from 2070?’
‘2069 actually,’ Rashim sighed. ‘The world’s dying. I mean, it’s not good at all. The food chain’s poisoned so that we’re all living on soya-synth products. And the floods took a lot of land. Migrating people, billions. And wars. And God knows we’ve had a lot of them. But that’s what everyone’s worried about… petrified of, you see? A big war. There are countries and power blocs in my time that are in a desperate position. Desperate enough to consider the use of extreme weaponry: bioweapons, nanoweapons.’
‘What’re those?’ asked Liam.
‘ Plague… is perhaps the best word for it, Liam. Whether it’s something genetically revamped, or self-replicating nano-bots, either way it becomes a weapon that doesn’t discriminate over borders, nationalities.’ He looked out of the window at the flickering lights of Times Square. ‘We’re in a bad place. Desperate times. It’s inevitable that something like that will eventually happen. We’ll wipe ourselves out. We’re destined to engineer our own end.’
‘ The end.’ Maddy leaned forward. ‘That’s what Becks said to me. That was what she said was the “reveal condition” for the Pandora message, the Grail message. The end.’
‘Pandora?’
She looked at Rashim, wondering how much they should be letting their new, temporary accomplice in on.
‘All we know,’ said Foster, ‘is that the people who want you dead had access to weapons technology from 2054. Apparently, the very same foetus batch as Bob and Becks, no less.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that.’ Maddy stared at him. ‘That feels like an enemy very close to home. Perhaps someone inside the agency?’
Liam started. ‘You mean a turncoat in our Mr Waldstein’s secret time-police force?’
‘A traitor.’ She pressed her lips together thoughtfully. ‘I just hope not. We can do without that.’
‘Maybe when you sent that message asking about Pandora,’ said Sal, ‘someone else got it? Intercepted it?’
That thought was met with silence. A silence that lasted several minutes and ended when the waitress arrived with an arm laden with hot plates. She served them out, along with the drinks they’d ordered, and, after looking at their glum faces, put a hand on her hip.
‘This some kinda office party?’
Maddy nodded. ‘Sort of.’
‘Sheeesh…’ The waitress made a face, half pity, half amusement. ‘I’d hate to work at your place.’ She wished them a perfunctory ‘bon appetit’ and left them to it.
‘We’re none the wiser as to who wants us dead,’ said Liam. ‘So, how about we decide what we’re doing? Where we’re going to go? Because… I’m completely confused.’
Sal nodded at Rashim. ‘And what about our new friend? Is Rashim staying with us?’
‘Uhh…’ Rashim cleared his throat, fidgeted with his cutlery. ‘Well, I’d really like to tag along. You know, if that’s all right? I won’t be a nuisance.’
Maddy shot a glance at Foster. Is this my call? She wondered if now they had Foster back with them, he might resume the mantle of team leader, relieve her of the burden of making the decisions.
Foster smiled. ‘You decide,’ he said softly. ‘It’s your team now. Not mine.’
She picked at the burrito on her plate, fumbling with both hands to keep the mince and assorted gunk from spilling out either end. ‘I suppose we could use Rashim. He’s got a better understanding of the displacement technology than I have.’
‘Than any of us,’ added Foster. ‘To be fair.’
‘True.’ She nodded and glanced up from her food at the man. He seemed fascinated by the rack of ribs on his plate, inspecting it like a forensic pathologist picking over a cadaver. She smiled at that. Of course. He’d probably never experienced real meat in his time.
‘And he knows forty-four years more of the future than I do,’ said Sal.
‘Excuse me.’ Rashim looked up from his ribs. ‘You’re all talking about me like I’m not right here sitting next to you.’
‘Sorry, Rashim,’ said Maddy. ‘You’re right, that is kinda rude.’
Rashim nodded. Apology accepted. He turned to Sal. ‘When do you come from?’
‘2026. From Mumbai.’
‘Really?’ His eyebrows arched. ‘That’s not long before the…’ He stopped himself.
‘Before?’ She looked at him. ‘Before what?’
He shrugged. ‘The first Asian War.’ Rashim winced apologetically. ‘I’m sorry… I shouldn’t — ’
‘No, tell me. Please.’
He deferred to Maddy. ‘Tell her about it later if you like, Rashim. Right now we need to focus on our next move. We’ve got to decide what we’re going to do.’
‘What is it you wish to do, Maddy?’ asked Foster.
He’s pushing me to lead. Not for the first time, Maddy wondered if she tended to open things up for discussion too much.
She put down the leaking burrito, licked her fingers. Buying time… because she simply didn’t know just yet. A part of her had almost made the decision that the game was up, that their duty as TimeRiders was done and perhaps they should all just put some clear miles between themselves and New York, and then all go their separate ways to live whatever was left of their lives how each of them wanted.
But then an insistent, nagging voice inside her reminded her of the horrendous timelines they’d narrowly prevented from happening. And of course that voice had an even greater urgency to it now she knew it was just their one little team keeping an eye on history. Not some vast agency of multiple teams, with multiple redundancies, safeguards, fail-safes.
Just them.
So the decision, in truth, was already made in her mind. But she wanted to hear what the others had to say, particularly Liam and Sal.
‘We run,’ she said. ‘Then?’ She looked at Liam with a shrug.
‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Liam.
‘I’m putting it to you. I’m asking what you think, Liam. We run… then what?’