The Trouble With Time
Read The Trouble With Time Online
Authors: Lexi Revellian
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Thriller & Suspense, #Romance, #Science Fiction, #Time Travel, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Adventure, #Thriller
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
Published by Kindle Press, Seattle, 2016
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10 A dark night in future London
12 The answer to the right question
23 A brief history of time travel
35 Time is, time was, time is past
39 Quinn gets a present, Floss and Jace get a pizza
Schrödinger’s cat has far more than nine lives, and far fewer. All of us are unknowing cats, alive and dead at once, and of all the might-have-beens in between, we record only one.
― Yoon Ha Lee,
Conservation of Shadows
In fact, the mere act of opening the box will determine the state of the cat, although in this case there were three determinate states the cat could be in: these being Alive, Dead, and Bloody Furious.
― Terry Pratchett,
Lords and Ladies
2045
It’s hard to arrest a man who owns a time travel device; if he sees you coming he can press a couple of buttons and be sometime else. For this reason, Jace had been in favour of a honey trap. Kayla could have picked him up, no problem; one wide-eyed gaze from her violet eyes, a flutter of dark lashes, and McGuire would have followed her anywhere, tongue hanging out. But at the briefing in the deserted IEMA headquarters that Saturday evening, as they sat round Quinn’s desk in a pool of light, Quinn overruled this.
“He’s dangerous. If he smells a rat Kayla would be vulnerable.”
“She can handle him,” Jace said. “The guy’s a stick insect. A child could push him over with one finger.”
“Thank you,” said Kayla.
“Let alone Kayla with her superb combat skills,” he added, too late. She gave him a look.
Quinn shook his head decisively. “We’ll do this by the book. A raid at first light, surprise him while he’s asleep. You and me at the front, Kayla and the others round the back in case he runs for it.” He turned to Kayla. “Bring Scott.”
“Is that a good idea? He’s had no experience.”
“He won’t get experience sitting in the office. I’ll keep an eye on him. We’ll meet here tomorrow at zero five hundred hours.”
Kayla emailed Scott, then Quinn got to his feet. The meeting was over. In the lift Jace put his arm around Kayla’s waist. “Stay at my place tonight.”
“Hmm. Not sure you deserve it.”
“I’m thinking of you! It’s nearer for tomorrow.”
“I suppose that’s true . . .”
Jace pressed her against the elevator wall and kissed her, drinking in her perfume, feeling the muscles beneath delectable curves. He murmured, “Why don’t we get married?”
She gave him a slow smile. “Now that’s a novel idea. Never been asked that before. I’ll give it some thought.”
The lift doors parted and they walked hand in hand through the warm spring night towards Jace’s flat.
In the pale Sunday light of a May dawn, Jace, Quinn and Scott stood outside the derelict warehouse, dressed in dark trousers and hoodies. The day was colder than it looked.
Though he must have been on a dozen IEMA raids by now, Jace still got the adrenaline rush, the sensation of being extra alive, every sound, sight and smell heightened. Going by Scott’s trembling hands, bright eyes and flushed face, their new recruit evidently felt the same. Jace’s doubts about him resurfaced. Not that he wasn’t intelligent. He was. He was also enthusiastic – if anything, too enthusiastic. Scott was young, had only been on the team three weeks, and tended to be impulsive. To Jace’s mind, he should be with Kayla, not here at the sharp end where he was likely to get in the way. Still, at least he wasn’t lumbered with him.
Quinn nodded to Jace. Silently they moved in opposite directions, hugging the wall in case McGuire glanced out of one of the huge windows. He had no reason to expect them, but most likely he’d have the TiTrav on his wrist and they weren’t taking chances. Funny that Quinn thought him dangerous; had told them to shoot if necessary. Jace was the only one of the team to have encountered McGuire before, and he didn’t think the man clever enough to be dangerous – he was a loser, a drifter, a jackal hovering round others’ prey, easily scared. He wondered how someone as useless as him had managed to get hold of a TiTrav in the first place. They’d only been on the open market for six days in 2032 before the World Government passed a hasty bill to outlaw their sale, possession and use. No one knew how many illicit TiTravs were still in circulation, but the number probably wasn’t in double figures.
Jace picked his way over fallen masonry and scrubby plants till he reached the small door within the big one and slipped inside, careful to avoid crunching the broken plaster that littered the floor. He waited for his eyesight to adjust so he could check for tripwires, though he couldn’t imagine McGuire setting traps. Pale shafts of sunlight from high windows traversed a vast dim space dotted with pillars. He couldn’t see Kayla and Farouk, but they’d be there, concealed in the shadows at the back. Above him was a low mezzanine, reached by spiral staircases at either end.
Quinn, followed by Scott, appeared beside the far staircase. Quinn got out his weapon and lifted his thumb to signal
Go
. They began to climb the stairs, stealthily, making no sound.
Jace slowed as his head levelled with the mezzanine’s dusty floorboards. Staying at the side, he gradually moved upwards until he could see the long narrow space bordered by a scabby white wall on the left, a metal railing on the right. Sunshine streamed through the window, illuminating a sleeping bag curled like a grub on a mattress on the floor. Someone was inside the sleeping bag. At the top of the second staircase, two faces appeared. Jace frowned. He had assumed Scott would be left at the bottom of the staircase. They moved slowly towards each other, closing in on the mattress. The floorboards creaked beneath their feet and they stopped. Quinn nodded.
Jace switched on his vidcam and shouted, “McGuire! On your feet! Hands in the air where I can see them.”
The sleeping bag writhed and a pale face appeared, topped with chaotic hair. Hands emerged, then shoulders and torso clad in a thick over-sized sweater. McGuire wriggled his scrawny limbs out of the sleeping bag, eyes on Jace, hands above his head. The baggy sleeves slipped a little. Not seeing a TiTrav on either of his wrists, Jace relaxed, put his gun away and got out flexicuffs. Hardly worth cuffing this pathetic figure, but Quinn had said to do things by the book.
McGuire made an effort to sound affronted. “What d’you want me for?”
“Peter William McGuire, acting as an officer of the International Event Modification Authority I am arresting you on suspicion of committing timecrime and being in illegal possession of a TiTrav. You will be given the opportunity to contact a lawyer in due course. You do not have to answer our questions. Everything you do and say is being filmed and may be used as evidence against you.”
“I haven’t done anything! I’m innocent! You’ve got no proof.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about. After a few unproductive but cordial hours with the time team at IEMA you can go back to bed. I don’t expect you’ve much else on this morning – urgent appointments, people to see, things like that? Nah. I’ll buy you breakfast.” He lifted the cuffs. “Turn around.”
Grudgingly, McGuire turned. He saw Quinn and Scott for the first time, and it was as if an electric shock went through his body. Before Jace could react, he had leaped for the railing and vaulted over. As they all rushed to the rail, they heard the thump when he landed. For a moment, seeing McGuire motionless in a heap on the floor, Jace thought he was dead. Then McGuire jumped to his feet and ran.
Quinn said, “Jace, after him.”
As Jace sprinted for the spiral stairs, a sound made him swivel. Quinn and Scott both had their guns out. He yelled, “Don’t shoot! He’s not got it!” but his voice was obliterated by gunfire. Jace raced to the foot of the stairs.
Alone in the middle of the wide space McGuire lay face down on the gritty boards like a pile of old rags, as ruined as the building. Jace ran to him and turned his limp bony frame over. Faded blue eyes stared unblinking at the ceiling. One bullet had hit his right arm below the elbow in textbook style, the other gone straight through his heart. Jace pulled up McGuire’s left sleeve. As he’d thought, no TiTrav. He tried his right wrist, then his pockets; a packet of grey-market legal highs, a dataphone, a couple of thousand pound notes. Nothing of importance. No weapon. His death had been a stupid, unnecessary mishap. He got slowly to his feet as the others gathered round. Scott’s face was drained of colour and he was shaking.
Jace said to Quinn, “Why did you shoot? Didn’t you see his wrists were bare?”
“No. You were closer than we were. You should have told us.”
“I thought you knew! You saw me put my gun away because I didn’t need it. I was talking to the guy!”
“He’s dead. This discussion is irrelevant. Get the body collected and taken to the pathologist. Tell him I want the autopsy done straight away.” As Jace got out his phone, Quinn turned to Scott. “Don’t take it to heart. These things happen. It’s hard to shoot a moving target accurately in the heat of the moment. And McGuire’s no great loss to humanity.” Scott stared dumbly at him. Quinn put a hand on his arm and said, his voice sympathetic, “I take full responsibility for bringing you on this mission. You have nothing to answer for.” He turned to the others, who looked shaken and sombre. “Now find the TiTrav. We know he had one. It has to be here.”
McGuire’s death cast a pall over the day. The atmosphere was subdued, lacking the usual light-hearted jokes and banter. As the light faded that evening, Quinn gathered his team together. They had carried out an inch by inch search of the entire warehouse with barely a break. After this proved fruitless they had scanned the building and surrounding area with metal detectors. The TiTrav hadn’t been found. Everyone was getting tired and tetchy, except Scott who was tired and silent. Quinn looked round the group.
“Theories?”
Scott stared at his boots. Farouk rubbed his hands over his grimy face, making it grimier. “Are we sure he even had it to begin with?”
“The alert came from his house.”
Kayla said, “Yes, but it didn’t
have
to be him flicking the switch. We made the assumption his landlady was telling the truth. Perhaps she wasn’t. Perhaps there was someone else in the house.”
