The Ocean of Time (50 page)

‘It’s a code,’ Matteus says.

‘Probably.’ But I know what they are. Coordinates.
Time
coordinates.

And there, at the bottom of the drawer, in a pale cream presentation box – the kind you might use for a pearl necklace – are seven of the lazy eight pendants, their silver forms shining against the plush red velvet.

Silver? Or something that only looks like silver? Because I’ve got a hunch now what they are, and if I’m right …

I pocket them, then close the drawer and lock it.

‘Come,’ I say, but even as I say it I hear the sound of voices out front. I go through to the front window and peer through the curtains. Someone is leaning into the car, talking to Phil, who looks distinctly uncomfortable.

As I watch, the newcomer pushes back away from the Tucker and, turning, comes quickly across the lawn. A tall, balding man in a long, dark trench coat. There’s the sound of a key in the lock, then footsteps on the bare wooden floor of the hallway.

As he steps into the room, Matteus steps quickly up behind him and puts a gun to his head.

Whoever it is, it isn’t Kolya, and doesn’t bear any kind of familial resemblance to Kolya. He’s not anyone I’ve ever seen before, and from the way he’s dressed I’d guess he’s an estate agent. The gun terrifies him. He puts his hands into the air, wincing, as if he expects to be shot at any moment.

‘Who are you?’ I ask.

‘I … I …’

Whoever he is, he’s clearly no threat. In fact, he looks as if he’s about to pass out.

‘Matteus,’ I say. ‘Put the gun away.’

Matteus removes the gun from the man’s head but stays where he is, blocking the door.

‘Do you know Kolya?’ I ask.

‘Kolya?’

‘Mr Kerenchev,’ Matteus says, using the name of the club’s owner.

‘Ah, right …’

‘We’re government agents,’ I say. ‘We’re looking for him.’

The man wets his lips with his tongue nervously, then says. ‘He’s gone.’

‘Gone where?’

‘I, I deal with his lawyer.’

‘You have an address?’

He gives it me.

‘Did he have children?’

‘Children?’

It’s clear he knows nothing. I look to Matteus. ‘Come. Let’s go.’

We hurry back to the Tucker and drive off. Phil is quiet, brooding, and when I ask him why he tells me.

‘That guy knows me. He used to be a customer at the record store.’

‘Shit!’ Matteus says, glancing round. ‘Then …’

‘We can expect a visit,’ I say. Only it doesn’t matter. Not now. I’ve got all I need in my pocket.

Gehlen is amazed and delighted. ‘How did you know?’

I stare down at the vague, gaseous shape beneath the opalescent floor and shrug. ‘I guessed. I mean, I knew they had to have some kind of portable focus, because of the way Reichenau grabbed you from us that time. Only …’

‘It’s from the future,’ Gehlen says. ‘Way up the line. Such technologies …’

The seven pendants are exactly what I thought they were – foci, made not of silver but from their owners’ DNA. They are the means by which Reichenau’s agents travel through time. It appears that tremendous forces are channelled through each of the circular arms, going round and round at phenomenal speeds, building up momentum until they are released through the facing arrowheads. The resulting controlled collision of particles powers the jump through time.

Gehlen chuckles. A sound like water being pumped uphill. ‘You’d think such a thing would simply implode. And it’s so delicate and fine …’

Gehlen – or his ghost, anyway – is impressed. This thing is so far beyond him that, for once, he’s not even jealous.

‘It makes you wonder what kind of mind came up with this.’

Or minds.
But I keep that suspicion to myself. It’s enough to know now what we’re looking for. Besides, it must surely make them more vulnerable. To remove our foci our enemies would have to cut deep into our chests, but to remove theirs …

That’s the unanswered question. Whose
were
these? And why were they in the drawer? Did Kolya take them from Reichenau’s dead agents, or were they waiting to be used?

Hecht wants to see me. He wants to know what’s going on. He’s heard that I asked for an audience with the
Genewart
– Gehlen’s gaseous AI – and he wants to know what it’s all about, but I’m not sure I want to tell him. In fact, for the first time in my life, I don’t hurry to answer his summons.

In the end, he comes to my room.

‘Otto?’

He’s tense, angry with me. Behind him, I note, is Freisler, like he suspects he might have to use some strong-arm stuff on me.

‘What?’

I’m acting like a child, I know, and he could probably ground me, only then he wouldn’t get his answers, and as the days diminish he seems desperate for them.

‘No need to be impertinent,’ Freisler says, bristling with anger.

‘No?’ But I regret that even as I say it. I bow my head. ‘Forgive me, Meister, only—’

‘Only you want to see that damn woman …’ Hecht’s grey eyes, usually so cool, flash anger, and then he turns away.

‘Yes,’ I say calmly. ‘Yes, I do. More than anything. Don’t you understand? She is my other half. She … completes me.’

Hecht turns, about to say something more, but Freisler reaches out, touches his arm, and Hecht steps back. It is Freisler now who confronts me.

‘You will have your report on the Master’s desk within the hour. If you do not, you will be grounded, your status as
Reisende
annulled.’

I almost laugh. After all, this is what I’ve been waiting for for weeks now. Only I can’t afford to be grounded. Not now that I’m so close.

‘What do you want to know?’

Hecht speaks from the shadows. ‘What did you find in the drawer of the desk?’

I smile. ‘A map of Mineral County. A notebook full of coded numbers. Some photographs – most of them of Katerina and me – and seven pendants, of the same design that was in the frontispiece of your book of Russian folk tales.’

‘The sign for infinity with the two facing arrows?’

‘That’s the one.’

Hecht is himself again, cool and collected. Given these four things, his mind seeks a connection. ‘The map I understand. The code book?’

‘Time coordinates, I think. Meister Schnorr is looking into it.’

‘And the photos?’

‘All of them taken on a journey Katerina and I took across northern Russia, between Novgorod and Moscow.’

‘Taken by whom?’

‘I don’t know. But several different people, certainly. And totally without us knowing. Agents, I’d guess. Someone keeping a very close eye on us.’

Hecht nods. ‘And the pendants.’

‘I gave one to Gehlen – to the
Genewart
, rather – to analyse.’

‘And?’

‘It’s a focus, but of a very advanced kind. Gehlen thinks from way up the line. He was impressed.’

‘Gehlen … impressed?’ Hecht’s eyes widen slightly at the thought. ‘Made of DNA? Or is there another process involved?’

‘Made of DNA. Seven different kinds.’

‘So the question is …’

‘Whose are they, and why were they in the drawer.’

We meet eyes and he gives me the slightest nod of respect. ‘You did well, Otto. But next time come to me first. I am still Meister here. For a time …’

I feel sorry now. Maybe even a little angry with myself. Only he’s still blocking me. At least, I think he is.

‘Meister?’

‘Yes, Otto?’

‘Will you let me go back? To see her? To make sure she’s safe?’

‘No,’ Freisler says. ‘Impossible.’

But Hecht speaks over him. ‘Okay. But only once you’ve cleared all this up. Made sense of it. Until then, well, you must be what you were trained to be, Otto Behr. Patient.
Loyal
.’

I bow my head. ‘Yes, Meister.’ But inside my chest my heart is leaping.

‘So what did Hecht say?’

Matteus and I are sitting in Phil and Kleo’s kitchen. Our hosts have gone out somewhere, and in their absence, Matteus is in an interrogative mood. He’s guessed that I went back and, to put him off the trail, I tell him that Hecht was excited about the map.

‘He’s ordered us back in,’ I say. ‘He wants us to investigate it further, this time
without
Phil.’

I’m sorry Phil’s out because I wanted to rehearse one or two things with him and see what he made of them.

Matteus stares at me a while, then smiles. ‘You get some good news, Otto?’

‘Good news?’

‘It’s like a cloud has lifted. You were so tense …’

I don’t know what he means about tense, but my mood has certainly changed. Secretly I’m elated by the thought of going back to see her with Hecht’s permission, of having everything out in the open at last.

But when Phil returns, the news he brings isn’t good.

‘The cops came,’ he says. ‘First thing. Took Kleo and I down to the station house. Made me make a statement.’

He seems to make light of it, but I know how Phil feels about authority. It’s the one thing that truly fucks him up.

‘What did you say?’ I ask gently.

‘I lied. Said I wasn’t there at the house. That he must have imagined it all.’

‘And did they accept that?’

‘Not at first. So I asked them, “Was he
robbed
?” and they said no. “Was he
threatened
?” That’s when they told me about the gun. Only I must have looked as surprised as I was. You didn’t say anything about
guns
, Otto.’

‘It was Matteus, wanting a bit of excitement.’

Phil looks at Matteus, not happy with him.

‘So what else did they ask?’

Phil looks back at me, his green eyes thinking back. ‘Who you two were. Who owned the car.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I just lied. Said I was in bed. That their guy must have dreamed it all. Only I don’t think the cops are going to leave it be. They let me go but …’

‘It’ll be okay,’ I say, using every last drop of conviction I can muster. ‘If I have to I’ll make changes. But don’t worry, Phil. I won’t let them trouble you again.’

‘Thanks.’ Then, remembering something, he grins. ‘Hey! I almost forgot! They’re showing it! Tonight!’ he says, when we don’t respond. ‘At the Cinema Guild on Telegraph Avenue!’

‘Showing what?’

‘Eisenstein’s
Alexander Nevsky
. You know, the film. They’re showing it, tonight, and I’ve got tickets!’

I stare at him, amazed. ‘There’s a
film
, about Nevsky?’

I feel I ought to have known, but I didn’t. Phil laughs. ‘Sure. It’s a classic. Not as good as
Children of Paradise
, but the battle on the lake …’

Kleo enters, then takes off her coat and steps over to the sink. Phil smiles as he watches her.

‘Kleo’s going to come along, too, aren’t you, sweetheart?’

But she only shrugs, upset, I guess, from having had to go down to the station house.

‘What time’s the show?’

Phil looks back at me. ‘Eight fifteen. But we can get there a bit earlier. Get the good seats.’

I nod, the urge to tell him what I’ve decided – that I’m jumping back tonight to change things – strong. But I decide against it. There’s no point spoiling the evening.

‘When was the film made?’

‘Thirty-eight. Before the pact.’

He means the pact between Hitler and Stalin. The famous
non-aggression
pact. Hitler’s means of buying time to prepare Barbarossa, while Stalin foolishly stripped his officer corps bare with putsch after putsch.

History
.

That evening we get to the cinema club just after seven thirty, but already there’s quite a crowd and Phil is a little put out that we didn’t come earlier. We find some seats. Phil sits immediately to my left, Kleo to my right, Matteus beyond her. Waiting, making small talk, I feel a strange tension in my stomach, and realise it has to do with Katerina, because this is a film about
our
time, set in a time and place I know only too well. I have stood on Lake Chudskoye in the depths of winter, in the shadow of Raven’s Rock where the battle took place. But it’s more than that. There’s a kind of cruel sentimentality at work here, for no matter how inaccurate this is, it cannot help but remind me of what I’ve lost.

Kleo places her hand over my own where it rests on the arm of the chair. I turn and look at her.

‘Are you all right? You seemed …’

‘I was just remembering,’ I say. ‘You see, I was there, in Novgorod, a long time ago.’

How long she doesn’t know. I smile and, returning my smile, she removes her hand, but I know now that she’s taken with me, and that disturbs me.

When the darkness falls and the film starts, I am surprised by how stilted and old-fashioned it is. It’s black and white, for a start, and rather than being realistic it has a distinctly theatrical style. I like the music, yet when I get my first glimpse of their so-called thirteenth-century Russians I can’t help but laugh.

‘Those clothes!’

There’s hushing noises from all sides. I sit back a little in my seat, trying not to react, but when I see the actor who’s playing Nevsky, I can’t help but be indignant. ‘Look how old he is! Alexander was barely nineteen …’

‘Hey! Can it, buddy!’ someone says angrily from the darkness.

‘Yeah! Shut it!’ another adds.

And so I sit there, silent, watching the drama unfold, keeping my comments to myself. But it’s hard. The film’s a travesty. The outline of events is vaguely correct, but as for the rest, it’s mainly invention and propaganda.

Afterwards we go to a small restaurant two blocks from Art Music, one of the few places Phil likes and will go to, and take a corner table, ordering coffees.

‘Well?’ Phil asks me excitedly. ‘What did you think?’

I’m aware of Kleo there, watching me intently, listening to every word.

‘It was …
interesting
…’

‘Yeah? What do you mean by that?’

I smile at Phil. ‘You want to know the truth?’

‘Sure. After all, you’re the expert.’

‘Well, to begin with, the film was based very heavily on the
Life
.’

‘The
Life
?’

‘Of Nevsky. It was written forty years later by a man who never even knew him.