Time Riders: The Doomsday Code (11 page)

Becks splashed into the water beside Bob, kicking her legs to stay afloat and holding a plastic bag stuffed with clothes in one hand.

Maddy finished finalizing the coordinates and activated the countdown. She joined Sal and Adam standing round the bottom of the tube.

‘All right, then, five minutes until launch.’

‘Right-o,’ said Liam, sitting atop the ladder and letting his bare feet dangle into the cold water.

‘Just remember, guys … it’s January 1194. Dark times.’ Her voice reverberated around the archway.

Adam nodded. ‘King Richard’s been away for four years, crusading in the Holy Land. In the absence of the king, England’s become a lawless place. The king’s brother, John, is struggling to maintain order and failing badly. So you need to be careful, all right? This is bandit country.’

Liam cocked a mischievous eyebrow. ‘Not like in the flickers, then?’

Adam shook his head. ‘Sorry. No. Nothing at all like the films, I’m afraid. No men in tights, or maidens with golden locks waiting to be rescued from Disney-like castles. It’s a dark and brutal time. Warring factions, barons vying for power, roaming bands of bandits, mercenaries and murderers.’

‘Be careful,’ said Maddy. ‘All you’re doing is looking for this Kirklees place and find this Cabot guy. Sound him out, but be discreet, Liam, OK? Be very –’

Liam’s face straightened. Time to be serious. ‘Hey, Mads … I know, I know. Discreet.’

‘Bob and Becks have been uploaded with French, which you may need,’ she added.

‘It’s spoken by much of the aristocracy,’ added Adam. ‘The merchants and low-born of the time, on the other hand, speak a primitive form of English. Just bear in mind the pronunciation of words we use today will be
very
different.’

‘Anyway,’ said Maddy, ‘the support units can do the talking if you’re struggling. You can use them as translators if it’s too difficult to understand what’s being said.’

‘Right.’

Maddy realized she was fussing and clucking like an over-protective mother. She turned and glanced at one of the screens behind her. ‘So … three minutes and twenty seconds.’

‘You’ve got winter clothes,’ said Sal. ‘It’s going to be very cold, I think. Wrap up tight when you get there.’

Liam raised the Ziploc plastic bag he was holding in his left hand. ‘Is this not going to cause a contamination? You know? The plastic?’

‘Bio-degradable,’ replied Maddy. ‘Bury the bags quite deep. They’ll break down over a few years.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, they
should
break down if the eco-label’s kosher.’ She checked the clock again. ‘You should probably get in the water now, Liam.’

He nodded and eased himself down into the cold water. ‘Aghh! Hate this bit!’

Maddy climbed the ladder to the top and squatted down beside their bobbing heads. ‘All right, so … I’ve set a return window at the same location you arrive in. It will open, as normal, for only a couple of minutes. There’ll be one set to open an hour after your arrival. A second window for twenty-four hours after. A third window set for a week after. And then, of course, the emergency six-month window. Is that clear?’

Liam, Bob and Becks all nodded silently.

‘Two minutes!’ called Sal.

Maddy reached a hand down to Liam’s bare shoulder and tapped it gently. ‘Please, don’t go missing again. I’m not sure my nerves can take another freakin’ crisis.’

‘We’ll be f-fine,’ said Liam, through chattering teeth. ‘A quick look-see, a q-quick chat with this Mr Cabot about this
Voynik
thing, and then b-back home in time f-for tea.’

‘Is there any way we can communicate with them?’ Adam called up. ‘You know, while they’re back in the past?’

‘Yes,’ she replied over her shoulder, ‘we can beam a signal to them. But they can’t talk back.’

‘Could I – I not use this V-voynik b-book?’ said Liam.

‘Information: it is pronounced
Voynich
,’ corrected Becks.

Maddy shook her head. ‘No. Hopefully this’ll be a quick in-and-out and no need, like last time, to leave any fossils lying around.’

‘Right.’ Liam nodded. ‘S-see you s-soon, then.’

She rested her hand on his, feeling a growing sense of guilt at sending him back through time. Was it really necessary this time? How much damage was this particular journey going to do to his body?

Maddy, get a grip.

She squeezed his knuckles gently. ‘See you soon, Liam.’ She looked at Bob. ‘You keep him safe, all right?’

‘Affirmative. Liam O’Connor is the operative.’ There seemed to be a note of affection somewhere in that deep growl.

And to Becks. ‘You clear on the mission parameters?’

Becks nodded calmly. ‘Affirmative.’

‘Maddy!’ called Sal. ‘You need to get down now, twenty seconds left!’

She clambered down the ladder and took a couple of steps back from the bottom of the tube as Sal counted out the last ten seconds.

Adam was gazing with unconcealed wonder at the workings of the displacement machine: a rack of circuitry and looped wires. The arch filled with the increasing hum of suppressed energy building up and eager to be unleashed.

‘Is that buzzing noise normal?’ he asked, but his voice was all but lost against the increasing electrical hum.

‘Seven … Six …’ continued Sal.

Maddy fought a growing urge to yell out an
abort
. Maybe this was one mission that wasn’t theirs to worry about. Maybe she should have consulted with Foster first. Maybe she should have sent a message forward to the future to check if anyone else was handling it. There were probably a dozen or more ‘maybes’ she could come up with.

‘Four … Three …’

Fact is, Sal spotted a small time wave and they were duty-bound not to walk away from that. Fact is, there was a man standing here in their archway who really shouldn’t be. Who really shouldn’t know about them and what they were up to.

And yes, fact is, I need to know what Pandora is. What does it mean? Who wants me to know about it?

‘Two … One!’

Too late for second thoughts now, Maddy.

Energy pulsed out of the machinery beside the tube and, with a loud, echoing
thud
of flexing perspex, Liam, the two support units and several dozen gallons of water were instantly gone.

Adam filled the silence with his own whispered voice.

‘Absolutely … in-cred-i-ble!’

A heavy and wet landing. Liam staggered under the impact, dropping to his knees as the white mist of chaos space quickly evaporated from around him.

‘Ow!’ he yelped as he slowly attempted to get to his bare feet. The ground beneath him was a lumpy dark soil rendered as hard as sharp-edged rock by a thick morning frost. Shivering in just his boxer shorts, he looked up to see the three of them were standing in the middle of a small and empty windswept field. The lifeless light of a pale sun hiding behind featureless scudding clouds made the winter morning seem like a forlorn twilight.

‘L-lovely.’ Liam shuddered, hugging himself.

‘We should get dressed immediately,’ advised Bob.

‘T-t-too r-right,’ he chattered.

He slid back the zip of his plastic bag and pulled out a thick coarse woollen robe of olive green and eagerly pulled it over his head, ignoring the scratching against his skin. Next, a pair of thick cotton leggings. Not technically of the period, but the best they could get at short notice. As a precaution Sal had unpicked the brand label and wash instructions. It looked convincing enough to Liam’s eye and hopefully no one was going to be studying his undergarments too closely. Finally, a pair of soft leather shoes with wooden soles, picked up at the fancy-dress hire store, and a length of braided rope to secure the robe around his waist.

As they dressed in hurried silence he watched a dozen crows circling in the grey-white sky above; their cawing echoed across the stillness like a caution. He listened to the mournful hum of a fresh wind and the dry rustle of dead leaves picked up and tossed from one ploughed furrow into the next.

‘It’s n-not w-what I expected,’ he uttered, his teeth still chattering as he cinched the rope belt tightly round him.

Becks’s head appeared through the neck-hole of a muddy brown dress. ‘What were you expecting, Liam O’Connor?’

He shrugged. ‘Green woods … sunny meadows … may flowers.’

She frowned and cocked her head. ‘Why? It is winter.’

Liam watched a plume of his breath curl, twist and drift away from him. ‘Dunno really. I just –’

‘Recommendation,’ said Bob, ‘we should dispose of these bags immediately.’

‘Agreed.’

Bob kicked at the ground and dislodged a dark clod of soil. Then squatted down and began digging with his big hands like a dog burrowing for a bone. Liam handed Becks his bag and then took the opportunity to study their surroundings. Ahead of them the field ended at the edge of a wood. He turned. Behind them the field rolled over the gentle brow of a hill, and beyond that he could just make out a thin line of smoke drifting up from the top of a stone chimney.

‘Hey! There’s something over there,’ he said.

‘Affirmative,’ both support units chorused.

Liam tutted at them both. ‘What’ve I told you two about that? The “affirmative” thing sounds wrong, so it does. Even more so now we’re here!’

Bob stood up straight as Becks placed the bags in the hole and began kicking soil in to fill it up. The folds of his grey robe stretching over hard slabs of muscle. ‘We should adopt the vernacular language of 1194 from this point onwards.’

Becks nodded. ‘Affirmative.’ They both froze for a moment, both blinking, both busy retrieving data. Finally they stirred to life once more.

Liam shrugged. ‘Are you two all done?’

Bob nodded. ‘Ay, serrr. We now can speake bothe in Auld Anglishe.’

‘
En outra
,’ said Becks, finishing the plastic-bag burial and stamping down the dark soil with a wooden-clogged foot, ‘
nous sommes en mesure de parler en francais Normand
.’

‘Well.’ Liam grinned. ‘I
am
impressed!’ He nodded towards the thin smudged column coming from the stone chimney, and for the first time his nose detected the inviting odour of wood smoke. ‘Is that the way we need to go, then?’

Becks nodded. ‘
Oui. C’est la destination. Continu tu doit, trois cents, cinquante-six pieds dans cette direction
.’

‘Ay,’ added Bob. ‘Seeke ye, beyonde yon furlong we sholde find –’

Liam raised his hands. ‘I can’t understand a thing you’re saying now.’

‘Three hundred and fifty-six feet in that direction,’ said Becks. ‘We should be entering the perimeter of the Kirklees Priory, according to boundary data of that time.’

‘Ahh.’ Liam scratched at his ribs, itching already from the coarse material. ‘Much better. Could I suggest … while it’s just us on our own, you speak normal?’

Bob and Becks looked at each other and exchanged a nod.

‘Shall we?’ He rubbed his cold hands together. ‘And maybe whoever’s over there can rustle us up a nice bacon sandwich or so.’

‘So what happens now?’ asked Adam.

Maddy pointed to the displacement machinery. ‘We get ready to open up the portal again in about half an hour … it should be fully recharged by then.’

He looked confused. ‘I thought you said we give them
an
hour
before bringing them back?’

‘Time doesn’t run the same,’ said Sal. ‘That sort of confused me at first as well.’

‘For
them
an hour will pass,’ said Maddy, ‘but doesn’t mean
we
need to wait an hour. In about thirty minutes we’ll be charged up. I could send you back in time to some point and arrange to bring you back a whole week later. But the moment after I sent you, I could tap in the timestamp for one week later and open up the portal again. For you a week would’ve passed. For us here, just a few seconds. It’s not, like, symmetrical, if you see what I mean?’

He nodded. ‘I get it.’

She turned to the desk mic. ‘Bob, can you set the data for the first return window?’

> Affirmative, Maddy.

She turned back to Adam. ‘Knowing them, they’ll probably miss the first window anyway.’ She huffed a laugh. ‘I don’t know why I bother.’

Adam looked at the desk cluttered with soda cans, pizza boxes and scraps of paper. ‘It’s almost as messy as my apartment.’

Sal sighed. ‘I clean up – Maddy’s the untidy one.’

He sat down beside them and stared at the monitors. ‘So you’re patched into the Internet?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Maddy clicked with a mouse and minimized a couple of dialogue boxes on one of the monitors. ‘Access to pretty much every linked database in the world, I think.’

‘Good God,’ he said, pointing at one of the screens, ‘is that – is that what I think it is?’

‘The White House intranet? Yup.’

‘You’ve actually hacked into it?’

‘I’d like to say I managed to do that
myself
–’ she chuckled –‘but the field office has always had a line in since we joined.’ She clicked the mouse. ‘For a laugh I go rooting around in President Bush’s email inbox.’ She giggled. ‘He likes sending pictures of cats doing funny things to his buddies. Check it out.’

Adam sputtered laughter at an image of a sleeping kitten on a window-sill with a tiny Yankees baseball cap perched on its head.

‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ uttered Adam.

She smiled and clicked the mouse to close the president’s inbox; she knew there were emails buried in there that hinted about tomorrow’s events – events a person from the present shouldn’t know about. Not today, anyway. She needn’t have worried, though; Adam’s mind was swimming around elsewhere. He turned to look at the perspex tube and the rack of wires on the floor beside it.