‘You must do it now,’ insisted Bob.
‘I… I…’ Liam could feel his whole body shaking. His stomachtightening, lurching, getting ready to eject the last meal he’d eaten.
‘You must do it NOW.’
The small blue shimmering light hovering above the ground began to flicker and modulateuncontrollably. In the middle of the sphere, Liam thought he could just about make out theflickering, undulating form of someone… no, threepeople… waiting, beckoning for him, for someone, something… anything… to step through.
Then it was gone.
And once again the backstreet was dark and quiet, save for the soft pattering of sleet aroundthem.
‘I’m sorry,’ mumbled Liam. ‘I’m sorry, Bob. I justcouldn’t do it.’
CHAPTER 70
2001, New York
Maddy and Sal stared at the space in the archway where a moment ago the very airhad been thrumming vibrantly, a pocket of space that shimmered like the heat veil above abarbecue or the hot tarmac of a sun-baked highway.
Foster had deactivated the time-displacement machine.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He leaned wearily against the computer desk, tiredand finally looking like someone with no more answers left to give. ‘I thought we hadenough of a charge to get Liam through. I was wrong.’
Sal looked up from where the small ball of hot air had shimmered three feet above the ground.It had bobbed and undulated for less than a minute, and she was almost certain that throughthe flickering haze she’d seen Liam’s and Bob’s faces staring back ather.
‘So, that’s it?’ she said quietly.
Foster nodded.
‘Hang on! We’ve still got some charge left,’ said Maddy, pointing at therow of little green lights on the machine. There were three green LEDs and an orange one; therest were now red.
‘Yes,’ he replied.
‘So… why couldn’t you have used that power to widen the window?’ sheasked, a sharp edge of desperation creeping into her voice.
He took a deep breath. ‘It was as wide as I could make it. There justwasn’t enough to work with. I’m sorry.’
‘Couldn’t we have…’ Maddy was looking for possibilities.‘Couldn’t we have kept the window open longer? Maybe we could have communicatedwith them somehow?’
‘We were just wasting energy, Madelaine. Just wasting it. It was obvious theycouldn’t come through.’
‘So you closed it off?’
He nodded. ‘At least we still have some charge left.’
She shook her head, a shrill, desperate laugh escaped her lips. ‘For what, Foster? Forwhat?’
He said nothing.
‘Maybe…’ cut in Sal, ‘maybe there’s enough diesel left in thegenerator to — ’
Maddy snorted. ‘To what? Charge it up again so we can open up another midget-sizedwindow?’
The muted chugging from the back room filled the long silence between them.
Foster finally nodded towards the small line of lights on the machine. ‘We have alittle stored power left. I suggest we should be thinking how best to save ourselves nowthat…’
‘Now that it’s too late to save history?’ said Maddy.
Foster’s smile was pinched and weak. ‘Yes. What power’s left will provideus with light for a while at least.’
‘And coffee,’ said Sal.
He laughed softly. ‘And coffee… until it runs out.’
Maddy looked up at the ceiling light. ‘And then eventually that will flickerout.’ She looked at the other two. ‘And then we’ll be like those things outthere… in the city, foraging in the dark for scraps.’
She immediately wished she hadn’t said that. They all realized they’d run out of options. It hadn’t needed spelling out quite so bluntly.
Sal slumped down on one of the armchairs around the breakfast table. ‘I guessthat’s it.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ replied Foster. ‘It does seem like that’sit.’
CHAPTER 71
1957, Washington DC
That’s it, then. We’re finished.
Liam looked at the dark hulking silhouette of the support unit, standing in the alley besidehim. Still, calm, as always — free of doubt and despair.
The sleet had turned to rain and pattered softly around them and the darkness flickered everynow and then with passing light as searchlights from above panned routinely across therooftops, across the top of their little backstreet.
‘You must assign new mission parameters,’ Bob’s voice rumbled.
New mission parameters?
Liam could have laughed cruelly at that. There was nothing they could achieve now, not in thetime they had left. In just under two days’ time, a tiny explosive charge insideBob’s head would leave him little more than a comatose giant, a mindless, dribblingvegetable. Liam figured he might be able to keep Bob’s body alive, feeding it like a bigbaby, keeping it going with protein and water. But to what end? Bob would be gone…unable to protect him any more.
‘I don’t know what to suggest, Bob,’ whispered Liam. ‘Doyou?’
Bob was silent for a few moments. ‘Negative.’
Go back and rejoin the freedom fighters?
Liam’s smile was thin. He wondered what they’d make of theirsuperman — Captain Bob — slumped against a tree trunk,drooling long strings of saliva and staring lifelessly at their crackling campfire. Hardly thestuff of legends.
He’d listened in on those men talking about Bob in hushed reverential tones, huddled inone of the tents. It was almost a form of worship. One of them told an exaggerated account tosome newcomers of the raid in which Liam had been rescued, claiming he’d seen ashimmering ‘godly’ halo around Bob as he strode unharmed through the prison camp,protecting him from the guards’ bullets… and angels in the clouds lookingprotectively down on him.
Liam wondered if that’s how all the legendary figures in history began, as tales toldround a campfire, then retold and retold through successive generations, grandfather tofather, father to son, each time the tale growing more exaggerated.
An odd thought occurred to him. He wondered if the ancient Greek hero, Achilles, had merelybeen a support unit like Bob, caught up somehow in the Siege of Troy, his presenceunintentionally becoming a part of history. Or how about the super-strong Samson from theBible? Or Attila the Hun? King Leonidas of the Spartans? He wondered if any of thoseimplausibly heroic characters from history were the unintended side-effect of a mission liketheirs… some other agency team going about their work, leaving unavoidable footprints intime.
Footprints in time.
‘You must assign new mission parameters.’
Footprints in time.
‘Oh my God!’ he whispered. ‘Footprints.’
Bob remained silent.
‘Footprints,’ he whispered again. ‘Bob?’
‘Affirmative.’
‘I think there’s a way we can communicate with the fieldoffice.’
‘Negative. Tachyon transmissions can only — ’
‘Shhh!’ hissed Liam. ‘Listen to me. How long will it take us to get to NewYork?’
CHAPTER 72
2001, New York
Maddy realized she’d nodded off. The steady muted chug of the generator inthe back room had lulled her into a fitful sleep.
She’d been dreaming.
Dreaming of the day she’d been snatched from a doomed airliner, waking up on this samecot and opening her eyes to see Liam slouched on the bed across from hers. That daft, lopsidedgrin on his face.
She realized how much she missed Liam. Even Bob. If she added up the looped Mondays andTuesdays they’d all been here in this archway together — before things had gonewrong, that is — it came to several weeks’ worth of days. That’s all. But itseemed like she’d known them both so much longer.
She missed them.
Another memory floated into her half-conscious mind. Foster taking them down to the Museum ofNatural History. She’d been there before on school trips. But this last time had beendifferent. This time not a bored schoolkid gazing at dusty old exhibits behind glass panels,but seeing these things as precious heirlooms of the past, mark-points of a history crying outto her to protect it, to preserve it… to keep it unchanged…