Not Without My Cat

(When fish is not enough)

A.M.Russell

Published by Anne Russell at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 A.M.Russell

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Contents

One: Home Is Where the Cat Is.

Two: A Body, the Ex, Paradox.

Three: Time Travel is Hazardous.

Four: Strange Objects & Sushi.

Five: A Night to Forget.

Six: Cat Friends & Modern Art.

Seven: Cat Magnetism, Knockout Teleport.

Eight: Good Science & Bad Girls.

Nine: Going Crazy, Future Man.

Ten: Fish & Chips, Time Control.

Eleven: Future Self, Wired, Cocktail Dresses.

Twelve: Muse, Alternate, Catatonic.

Thirteen: Puzzle.

Fourteen: Elemental Forces.

Fifteen: Convergence.

Sixteen: Endurance.

Seventeen: Vertigo, Reality.

Eighteen: Forget, Remember.

Nineteen: Cheese Sandwich.

Twenty: Impossible Art, Illumination.

Twenty One: Closure, Deceit, Entrusted.

The End

About The Author: If Teabreaks Exist, All Things Are Possible.

*****

Dedication:

To all those who

In the measure of what is possible;

Also Believe.

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Author Forward:

This book is a winner of the 2012 “NanoWrimo” Challenge, passing the 50 thousand word mark in 30 days in the month of November.

I believed that I could do this; in fact I was confident it was possible, and required no special piece of equipment, magical formula, or strange gift. If I had any gift while doing this, it is the one I already possessed, the ability to weave a good tale. And one might suppose in that, the root of my success with the challenge rests. I think that determination to do it kept me going, and if you consider this impossible, I tell you it isn’t, and perhaps you would want to do this too.

The whole story was finished in the telling by 25th January 2013, at a count of 138 thousand words….writing an average of 1500 word per day. This is for someone with a busy life, a lot of responsibility and the normal hazards that every day brings.

As for the story itself; I went to the NanoWrimo challenge with a small scribble of an idea in a notebook, no plan, not a jot of anything except a few of the characters that I had already created in stories I had written; and as such, this has ended up becoming the prequel to those novels.

If I consider where this all began….well it was with an idea. And ideas are potent things, and should be handled like explosives, since that is what they are liable to do. It was just a picture in my mind’s eye: A man and his cat. The cat is important because, like all small things it can make bigger things happen. And like any cat has endless curiosity.

Anne Russell; 28th January 2013.

Rotherham; Yorkshire; England.

*****

Not Without My Cat

(When fish is not enough)

is

Book One

of the

Cloud Field Series

*****

Chapter One

Home Is Where the Cat Is.

What do detectives do? Detect. Being a gnat’s hair above the pavement chewing gum of the world was not Sam’s plan. But what can you do?

Check list: Cat food; milk; bread buns; ciggies….

Sam sat on the bus and longed for home with that visceral hunger that comes from too many cramped hours watching the goings on of yet another sad sneak who had forfeited his rights to the marital bed and was now on the short road to a long painful bout with the female of the species that he had been foolish enough to join forces with one long ago forgotten April. Sam knew by experience that his kind were the sort to make as little noise as possible when doing it on the side, and were vocally demonstrative in court when dividing up the spoils of war….Oh well. All in all it had been a good day. He clutched the overhead hand strap as the bus juddered to a standstill and as the sound cleared from his head he started off in the direction of the mini market.

Loaded with the thoughts of a leisurely evening and a multipack of fishy chunks for Camille, Sam climbed to the third floor. The turns in the staircase made him dizzy, and realising he had in fact forgotten a packet of fags, Sam dumped the shopping on the yellow kitchen table and turned back to the offending stairs…. The keys jangled; funny that Camille wasn’t peering through the balcony window wanting to scoot in and demolish his latest offering. He shrugged and went out.

‘Funny about that girl? She claimed that she was only out for the evening.’

‘What?’ Sam said, then: ‘two of the usual.’

‘Bad for your health Meester Wright.’ Ollie grinned and slapped the packets down on the counter with an enormous fist.

‘You sell them.’ said Sam mildly.

Ollie shrugged and handed over the change, ‘It’s the way of the world Meester Wright. You should get some rest. Relax; watch some porn…’

‘Not my cup of tea.’ Sam pocketed the fags and wandered out into light drizzle. April showers. Where’s that lighter gone now? He got one lit and puffed contentedly for the walk back. His Landlord didn’t care what he did but mindful of the cat’s health and wellbeing Sam always opened a window or went on the balcony. Looks like Camille would have to suffer this once.

Strange….really odd. Sam made sardines on toast that usually got Camille all a pother, and had her rushing in through the roof patio doors with an indecent haste that belied her rather ample bulk. And it was raining…. Better get the old towels out. Camille in a bad mood, and damp was not pleasant. Sam put the TV on in the background, made a huge mug of tea and put his feet on the coffee table. Still no cat. He ignored the fact for the length of time it takes one to get legitimately irritated with the beast. Then there was an in-between time where there was no reason to worry really but he had better just consider the possibility that she might be out all night. After that it got wetter, and considering that she must be holed up somewhere until it stopped he shut the door. A detective mystery was just starting on the television. Sam flipped channels onto a Sci-fi series he had casually been watching. One of those that is so difficult to follow that it is better to assume that nothing makes sense and then you can be surprized when it does. Why was the hotel keeper feeding his pet mice honey from genetically altered honey bees? Why was the young girl keeping her mother in the dark about the perfume she had been wearing that was given to her by the charming but creepy hair dresser? He had an evil glint that suggested either murder or a deeply held obsessive devotion that would end in the young (and entirely innocent – as if!) attractive woman being tumbled in a more than willing fashion into the rather strategically placed pile of blankets in the backroom where the charming hairdresser kept all his spare instruments…. Or does he? Drat the puzzle solving brain! Sam tried to switch off his analysing cerebrum, failed and opted for popcorn instead.

He was just getting to the point of exploding kernels when he heard a faint scratching noise. He shook the pan, they were exploding like a miniature firework barrage and he was in no position to leave the kitchen at the critical moment. Shit! Definitely Camille! A plaintive Meow issued from the direction of the bathroom. She had tried climbing in the window once and had got stuck. Sam had to go outside that time and unjam her from the rear. She had been filthy and covered in cobwebby mess and unidentified sticky gloop. He saw her shadow through the wobbly glass, and then it was gone. So he went to let her in from his rooftop patio. She seemed uncertain, and didn’t shoot in immediately.

‘Camille? What’s wrong?’

The cat trotted forward with something between her jaws. Sam knew better that to try and persuade her to drop it; and concentrated in tempting her inside out of the wet. The cat sat on the towel looking confused and very bedraggled. She still held the object in her mouth. It wasn’t wriggling so Sam just waited until Camille had lost that look of bewildered storm shocked furry-brainedness. She followed him through to the kitchen while he retrieved the popcorn. Then followed him back through and sat on the towel again. The cat was looking at him with a look that said: ‘Are you paying attention human?’

Sam sat on the floor and scooped up some popcorn. He offered some to Camille. She rolled her eyes and under the influence of the fresh crunchy snacks slowly opened her jaws. The object rolled onto the towel, longish metallic looking, and covered in cat drool. Sam fetched kitchen roll and picked it up very cautiously.

‘Good cat….’ She hadn’t moved. It was very un-catlike behaviour. Camille and a bowl of popcorn in close proximity usually were up close and personal the minute Sam turned round. But this wasn’t it at all. Was she hurt? Was she so hungry she had lost the will to live? Had she been molested by the neighbourhood randy tom? Sam lifted the towel and rubbed Camille with his free hand. Then he took the thing to the aqua tiled bathroom and ran some water over it. It was muddy, gloopy and to be fair rather unidentifiable. But Sam’s nature was to be enquiring, and this was too irresistible to not take an interest in. He dried it with some more kitchen paper and then sat with the object staring at him from the low coffee table. Camille had seemed to have come out of her trance and was washing herself and bending and contorting her body into impossible “S” bends while cleaning her fluffy cream coloured tail. Sam examined it carefully without touching it. There was nothing to indicate damage by the biting strength of the feline in full on hunting mode. And something told Sam that this was someone’s treasure. It was a bit like a cigar shape but shorter and fatter. It had two little indentations in the surface near one end. And there was nothing else to suggest that it had any function other than a decorative one. But this wasn’t some random thing. Camille was a cat who only did what a cat did. And picking up stray objects just wasn’t her style. Sam put his hand to his head and flicked his hair out of his eyes: annoying and blondish; a bit like the cat; who, as furry custards on legs go was usually entertaining, but not today.

He reached out and very gently touched it with the tip of one finger. Nothing happened. He let out a sigh, realised he had been holding his breath and laughed; ‘Well! I think this calls for a lite beer…’ Camille stopped washing and regarded him with distain. She knew….or rather she instinctively felt the impending presence of her “Owner” in semi-intoxicated mode. Sam scrambled to his feet and fetched French beer. Four per cent was about as much as his constitution could handle.

‘Don’t even think it.’ said Sam as Camille edged closer. Last New Year’s Eve with a pissed pussy was one memory too close to the ones he would rather put in a box marked “You REALLY don’t want to know”. Anyway it was better than the alternative; as much as he thought the evening could be improved by the influx of a small amount of legal brain fuddler, he started to feel depressed almost immediately. So he went and pressed the replay on the answering machine: it was flashing furiously and had gone into error status. The first six messages left by a new client, the first two telling him how much he was glad Sam could help; then another rather strange one saying that he would have to put it on hold for a day or so, then one where he appeared to be arguing with another person in the background; after that there was a silence and some strange snuffling and a giggle; then another rather upbeat message – this was extended and had some sound effects that sounded like something out of a cookery program, like when cream is whipped or something is mixed in a blender.

‘Oh….Oh what?’ Sam swayed slightly, ‘That’s disgusting!’ mercifully the message was abruptly cut off in the middle of some pre-coital gasps. Another client lost this week; never mind…. It clicked to the next one; the bank reminding him he had an appointment that had been at one o’clock today; Sam blinked, shrugged and waited for the next message; his car was ready for collection at nine tomorrow or any time at his convenience, ‘Too bloody right!’ Sam toasted the machine with the half empty bottle. After that there were a few regular bits of info, messages from friends, that sort of thing; and then a voice plaintively whined echoing round the room as if she was standing somewhere nearby. Gina. Sam was fixed to the spot, and then shook himself.

“You really need to pick up the phone. I really need you…. Look we could meet; I’m free at one o’clock. That’s alright isn’t it? You never did tell me what else you do the rest of the week, after all you could fit me in. In between your other clients that is… Sam, please Sam I’m sorry, I really want to make it work… we are so right together Sam. Please call me: Or on the mobile, or text. I’ll text straight back, just like we used to. I miss you…..” the message ended and Sam was just turning to the kitchen to start making a sandwich when another message cut in: “Look Sam,” this time the voice of Gina was in a more bullying tone, the sort she used to bring clients to their senses, “You are just going to have to deal with this… the thing is, I LOVE You. And I think we’re perfect together. And to be honest you’ll never find someone who is as ambitious as I am. I’ll be in a position next year to take my pick… Sam…. Please Sam,” her voice softened slightly but lost none of its essential snobby belittling of Sam’s lifestyle, “I can make you the Man you want to be, I have loads of contacts, they all will want your services…. You do see I can help you don’t you? You need me.”

‘Fucking right I need you….you stupid bitch!’ another message was meanwhile playing in the background, Gina again; repeating the same thing in several different forms. She must have left at least ten messages. He kept pressing next message until he got to one that wasn’t the Mad Ex (after a year he thought she would let up, no doing); but all this was swept from his mind by the rather plummy well-mannered voice of a Lady, who said that she needed his services to look into the theft of some valuable items, but she didn’t specify them over the phone, and she was willing to pay for a discreet enquiry as there were some difficulties that she would like to explain to him in person. Expenses and a daily rate she would expect of course…. Sam scribbled the details on the pad. He could ring it said the next morning. Got that! He was pleased. And by tomorrow awake and sober too. The phone rang. Sam was so startled that he picked it up without screening it first.

‘Sam? Is that you?’

‘Of course it me! You’re ringing my phone, who is this?’

‘It’s Juliet…. I’m sorry. I thought I had the right number for a private detective. But you’re Sam…. From college?’

‘Huh….yeah! Hello Juliet.’

‘Juliet Penn. The Geologist….third rate that is…..sorry. I’ll go now.’

‘No…. don’t go,’ Sam straightened up and blinked hard to clear his head of the vision of trying to strangle Gina, ‘I’m sure I can help, whatever it is.’

‘Well,’ she said with more confidence, ‘It’s rather odd….’

They talked for ten minutes and gradually Juliet sounded less hesitant, and more like the same happy person he had known four years ago. She was in the city, working it seemed temporarily, at a costume department for a theatre. Not quite what she wanted to do… but hey it was work. Sam decided to take the initiative and suggested they meet. Her problem was to do with something that sound rather like a cross between Ghost busting and something closer to home: ‘Because,’ said Juliet, ‘I heard you take cases that are more unusual and you don’t take the piss if it is something more erm…. supernatural in nature, apparently.’

‘Yes… well, it often is that we think we’re seeing something that hails from another plane of existence but it can usually be found that the answer is very much rooted in this world, with a perfectly rational explanation.’

‘I’m glad you said that, because no one else will believe us. You see that?’

‘Of course.’

‘There have been things stolen out of rooms that were definitely locked. And objects moved. Someone’s sandwich disappeared when they went to get a coffee.’

‘And no one took it?’

‘Definitely not. We rang the police about the money and stuff going missing, but Jerry the production director made the mistake of mentioning the sandwich, and they just laughed down the phone at him.’

‘I think that sometimes that is what gives us a clue to the real motive.’

‘You do? I mean you did…. Believe me. I swear it’s the truth. And today my purse was stolen; there wasn’t much money in it. Just my credit card and other bank stuff… I got it cancelled straight away. But then; I don’t know how to say it…. it seems silly…. ‘

‘It’s alright. Do tell me.’

‘Well, and please don’t think I’m mad or taking the piss or anything. But it reappeared.’

‘It did?’ Sam knew there was a punch line coming. And he relaxed and turned to see where his coat and keys were.

‘The wallet part of it had money in it. Quite a lot of money; a lot more that it had in it before in fact. Although ordinarily I would be pleased… if somewhat perplexed by someone nicking something and then giving it back plus interest, I think that you need to look at this. It’s really creeping me out.’

‘Is the money real? Do you think it’s forged?’

She lowered her voice, even though it was not needed, and said somewhat breathily, ‘The money appears to be real but it cannot be used… because it hasn’t been issued yet.’

Sam looked at Camille, who was sat in a mess of popcorn. The bowl had rolled across the floor. He picked it up. She looked up at him expectantly.

In the kitchen he opened a large packet of mackerel fillet cat dinner in gravy. She trotted forward salivating, and dived in enthusiastically. Sam tidied up the mess and leaving Camille to her dinner and carefully piled additional bowl of cat crunchies, he left and tumbled down the stairs two at a time. He burst out of the door, reminded himself that he was not actually on a date, and went to meet the lovely Juliet.

She sat in the little all-night café nursing a mug of tea. And to Sam’s eye, was as sweet and delightfully cheerful as he remembered. She had strangely long lashes and dark shiny hair. And she loved rocks and the outdoors and like to talk about the planets and the stars. Sam was transfixed by the lovely girl whose image had been fixed in his mind, and who was even more beautiful in the flesh than in his mind’s eye.

‘Hello.’

‘Hello Sam.’ her voice was softly mellow and she smiled in a way that made it difficult to concentrate on the subject in hand.

‘Tea Love?’ A big lady in an apron stood over them as Sam lowered himself into the bench seat opposite Juliet.

‘Tea?’ said Juliet, and Sam nodded, ‘yes, that would be lovely.’

‘Just checking.’ said the big woman, ‘you could be someone she wasn’t in the mood for.’

‘Yes. Of course.’ Sam tried to make himself comfortable; and stared at Juliet who was rummaging in her bag. She hooked a long strand behind her ear and then passed the wallet over to him.

The huge café owner put the tea down and rolled away, still keeping an eye on Sam.

‘Shall I?’ Sam looked at her enquiringly.

‘Yes. Of course.’ she indicated that he take a look.

The wallet was dark blue with a zip round closure. Inside he found several notes and quite a number of one and two pound coins. He put the coins on the table.

‘How much is there in here?’

‘About Two Grand.’ Juliet looked at him sharply, ‘in the other pocket there are notes folded up… fifty pound notes.’

‘Yes I see.’ Sam peeked at them but didn’t get them out. But the coins… regular issue; normal, right kind of edge, seemed the right weight…. And had totally the wrong dates on them… he looked up at her. He examined one more closely. They were used, as if they had been in circulation. They didn’t appear to have anything else unusual about them.

‘We can’t verify these in the usual way. But I would say that they were real.’

‘You’re kidding me?’ Juliet seemed a little freaked then, and then calmed right down, ‘They are impossible! Look at them. What do I do? Go to whom exactly? It is not something I would ever admit, but I think that someone is trying to make a believer out of me. And it’s definitely starting to work.’

‘No need to turn away from deeply held convictions just yet,’ said Sam, ‘ there may be a way of confirming that they are… in a sense, legal tender.’

‘Oh? How is that?’

‘I know someone.’

‘Ah!’ she said. Sam watched her eyes, seeing if she got it straight away, did she see? Did the penny, or rather the pound in this case drop into the right chute and find its way to the one person who could be relied upon to give Sam an honest appraisal of the situation.

‘Okay. I give up,’ she said, ‘who can we go to see?’

‘Me; not we. I cannot reveal my sources. That is if you want to hire me. I can find out if this could be, in some sense seen as legal tender, and then we can look into an examination of the metal itself.’

‘That would mean that I give you this money?’

‘No. Just some of it. Only a sample. One note and one each of the coins. You say there are only fifties in the notes? Do they look new?’

‘Yes… actually, they do. It’s just the coins that have been used.’

‘Right. I see.’

‘So you’ll take the case?’

‘Yes. Of course. I’ll need to visit the theatre as well. Talk to the people who have been affected and see if this matches with anything else. Then I can get some answers on the coins. There is just the matter of my fee…’

‘Yes. Well Jerry has said that we should pay you extra for the provision of potential social embarrassment.’

‘I’m guessing it’s his reputation he wants to protect, rather than mine?’

‘You bet!’ she suddenly smiled, ‘he’s been disturbed since it all started to happen. You do know how superstitious these theatre types can be?’

‘So I’ve heard.’

‘He can see you tomorrow at two, just before dress rehearsal. The play is due to start in a week, on next Friday.’

‘Opening night?’

‘Yeah. He’s trying to be cool. I think you will help put his mind at rest.’

‘Right. Well I better go now.’ He reluctantly handed the wallet back.

‘Shall I give you one of the notes as well?’

‘No. I’ve got it.’

‘That was fast.’

‘I didn’t want you to be seen handing me a large note in public.’

‘Oh…’ she blushed furiously realising the connotation of the situation, ‘Err… thank you. So at the theatre, at Two tomorrow?’

‘It’s… I will be there.’

‘Main door. The staff will know you’re expected.’

‘Thanks.’ Sam stood unsure of what to do. She held out a hand. And they shook on it. So now it was agreed. She had nice hands; Dry and cool and not at all sticky.

Sam went home to find a hoover in the back of the cupboard and Camille asleep with her legs splayed out like she was a cartoon character who’d gone splat.

After cleaning up sprayed popcorn remnants, washing the cat bowls, and scooping up Camille and laying her gently in her duvet thick edged cat basket, Sam sat down exhausted. The object was still there on the corner of the coffee table. In the early evening light it had a dull gleam that seemed ominous. He turned on the lamp and looked at it again. He sat for a full ten minutes watching the thing as if he expected it to do something. What, he had no idea. A thought occurred; perhaps the thing was part of something else? Perhaps it was a souvenir….dropped on a roof? No way. It fell out of a plane? Perhaps it was part of a plane! Sam glanced upwards with a momentary feeling of threat. UFO? Vital bit of a UFO? He sighed. It was probably just one of those things that looked a bit strange but was really boring actually. But the longer he stared at it the odder it made him feel. He went in the kitchen, cracked the window and lit a cigarette, the first one in hours. Juliet…. It had been four years, and then out of the blue she had called him. It was weirder than the numbers of new clients who had now become new ex-clients, by virtue of the fact they had all quite coincidentally crawled back to their almost ex-partners with a degree of contrition that staggered the reach of the most deranged imagination. It was as if the world had collectively gone loopy in one afternoon. While still toying with the idea of another fag, he heard the phone ringing. There was a whirr and a click and the answering machine did its best to speak to the person at the other end of the line in measured tones, while the caller was yelling with undisguised anguish about some man who had call her a slag and was threatening to lay out her “friend” if she didn’t stop flashing her G-string in his direction. Sam stared stonily into the middle distance. Gina was getting completely on his nerves….and yet, something in her tone suggested that she wasn’t putting it on this time. He waited for her to ring off but she didn’t. She was breathing into his answering machine. It was a good job that he had taken Ollie’s advice and upgraded to a large memory digital device, which could hold up to 200 messages. Quite clearly the developers had not heard of the mental ramblings of a sex-starved minx whose verbal output was only exceeded by number of minuscule bits of underwear that she had so diligently collected in celebration of every event invented or real that could be brought to Sam’s attention. Sam edged towards the hall still listening to the muted sound that could have been a small hiccup of sobbing. Out of desire to put an end to Gina’s misery once and for all and perhaps because it had in fact been a day where the nicotine injection had fallen drastically short of the balance of stress that was to be endured, he picked up the hand set.

The first ten minutes Sam didn’t say anything much at all. Gina was, unlike the coldly bossy person he knew her to be, quite softened with female distress. Knowing how not helpless she actually was Sam clicked his brain into neutral and let her talk. Eventually she slowed down and left pauses long enough for Sam to put in a word or three.

‘Hello Gina….’ he said very calmly.

‘Hello Sam,’ she sobbed, ‘I think I want to make amends…. Really….’ She left a long pause. It was so long in fact that Sam was almost tempted to offer words of encouragement. But now Gina had him on the back foot, she took her time.

‘Okay.’ said Sam.

‘Okay…..’ she said huskily, ‘I think I have something for you. But it’s not what you think. There is someone who claims to be involved with group of scientists and they want to get something back. Something that was lost nearby your building in fact. So if I could just….’

‘No!’ Sam said sharply.

‘I’ve not said anything yet!’ (That was a monumental understatement Sam thought).

‘You are not coming to my flat Gina.’

‘It’s that cat isn’t it?’

‘Camille.’

‘Yes….the cat. It never liked me.’

‘Smart Cat.’

‘Don’t be mean. I’ve never seen your new flat.’

‘I know. That’s the way I like it.’

‘Mystery Man huh? So how about elevenses?’

‘Really?’ Sam was trying to be resistant, but it was inevitable that the entanglement that was Gina would net some part of him. Better out in the world. Somewhere as far from a horizontal soft surface as possible. There was probably a mathematical formula to determine the safest point in the city for him to meet her. But as he was no mathematician, he would have to trust his instincts.

‘At Gold Exchange?’ she was saying.

‘Where’s that?’

‘It’s near the theatre… round the corner, five minutes. Or driving, two. Do you have your car?’

‘No….look, okay I’ll meet you at Eleven. But no tricks Gina. I’m a busy person with a lot of clients and I deal straight; I’m not about to start the day with one of your little treats.’

‘No treats. I promise.’

‘Fine.’ Sam sighed, outmanoeuvred.

‘We’ll do well. I have something for you.’ She sounded syrupy now she had him exactly where she wanted him.

‘It isn’t booze is it?’

‘No….well not exactly.’ she giggled, which was another way of saying that it was booze, exactly. Sam elected to not fight the tentacled monster his way, and thought that a face to face, once and for all talk, might be the way to convince her that the next time she got in touch after that was never. When he put the phone down, he groaned and shrank into a balled up huddle on the floor, his stomach curdling with regret. How could she know…? The one thing his curiosity….. Scientists; lost something; near this building? He had told no one…. Gina? She was well connected. She worked for a massive advertising agency, and had several important clients. She wasn’t easily deflected. And being nosy as hell, and determined to have things her way, always seemed to pull the rabbit out of the hat just at the moment he had almost released himself from her clutches. Sam was weak with fear and curiosity; and for once reached for a stiff drink. Trembling, he drank a whisky down in one and poured another. Now it was anger. He was molten with feelings of injustice, and impotent with unexpressed rage. After that he found the secret stash of giant chocolate buttons. Gina seemed to bring out his self-destructive side. Not that chocolate counted in that way. But as cigarettes were his only vice and he had not fallen into the disarray that he had once felt existed in his life for at least a year, this was a new departure… only Gina made him want to scream at the top of his voice with completely focused passion. She just sometimes thought she could inspire love by provoking him. His new made self…. The one that was familiar, that existed in harmony with Camille and the new electric tin opener, was right now spilled all over the floor on a drunken haze. Sam longed to be back in control, and his longing brought him close to the edge…. He curled up on the sofa trying to not remember how she had just checkmated his moves. The trajectory that had taken him near her was one he would forever wonder at, in the world; of the universe in all the possibilities that could or had been; was she the person who had been sent to torment him? As sticks and carrots go she was well versed in each, and would use either as the mood took her.

His thoughts were suddenly given the cold shower of back to reality in an unlooked for way. Two things. Camille trotted in, stretched, yawned, and flexed her claws. Then suddenly she stiffened in alarm. He could see the fur on her back bristle and her tail swished from side to side like a soft teasel. Thing number two: a soft bluish glow that rested on some of the objects in the room. Camille’s tail was edged with a neon light and she didn’t move at all. Sam, momentarily stunned by the sudden appearance of the glowing somethingness that bathed his cat in a wash of nightclub trendy backlighting, was a little slow in getting out of the chair. He rose up like Dracula from his coffin. It had an ultraviolet edginess and made the white bits of objects glow with growing phosphorescence. Camille seemed turned to a kitty shaped statue. He edged round the settee to see that the metal thing was emitting a wide beam of soft light. The brightness at the point of origin in the end of the metal object was what had hypnotised his cat. Sam fetched his sunglasses, and cautiously approached. The light dimmed, rose back to full intensity, dimmed, rose again. And then began to flash a pattern: a long beam, off, flash, flash, then off; then on again. It was as if the thing was transmitting, or receiving something from a place in space. There was something rather compelling about the light. It was rather like the pattern on one of those lighting sets that you can get at Christmas. And it was emanating out of the tip of the object; the one that was at the opposite end to the little dimples. Despite a diet of richly embedded and culturally ingrained irritation against the kinds of people in films who do exactly this sort of thing….he reached out and touched the object. As Sam would say: You had to be there to really know what it felt like. As his fingers closed round the object he felt a slight tingle. As if a tiny wavelet of electrical charge had passed over his whole body. He stood up, holding the thing in his hands, and he felt lighter, as if the floor had slightly detached itself from his feet. There was a sense of fluidity, and there was a feeling of longing that overwhelmed him.

He was on the carpet in a sitting position, legs spread, and hands resting on the floor behind him. It was as if he had missed some time. The daylight, which had been dropping as twilight got nearer, was now almost gone from the room. A light drizzle outside was clearing a little, and then he heard someone speak. It was odd in the way they inflected the words, as if the speaker was from another country, and had learned very good English which they could speak fluently, yet could never escape the origins of their background. Sam realised that the….whatever it was, transmitted a message, which repeated in two minutes blocks, with just that steady bluish light and silence in between. The voice seemed to be giving coordinates. But it didn’t correspond to any map that Sam knew. This lasted for about 20 minutes. Did Camille really stay totally still for that length of time? Sam didn’t move much himself. He really believed there was someone out there now. What exactly? Well leave that to another day. Perhaps another week. He felt all mushy; and just then it lost its glow and went into inert and irritating pause mode. Sam eased himself off the floor and at once sat down on the settee. Camille leapt into his lap.

‘Bloody Hell!’ Sam reached out and put it carefully on the coffee table again, ‘Well now we know it does something. You were right Camille, we have to stop being such a fish obsessed family, there is definitely more to life than haddock.’

Camille rubbed herself against him, and gave a little meow; as if to say “Uh huh…” She toddled to the other end of the settee and curled herself in an elegant spiral. Sam, shivering got up, took the metal cigar and carefully wrapping it in kitchen roll hid it in a drawer. Then he went to bed to enjoy the warm glow of the whisky and better to forget the day at last. He debated with himself, decided to stick to the plan…. Pyjama bottoms only. And then felt better of it and threw them at the chair, which they missed and landed in a crumbled heap on the rug. He flopped down; half pulled over the duvet, and trying not to think of Gina, passed out until dawn.

*****

Chapter Two

A Body, the Ex, Paradox.

‘You really have to be kidding me!’

‘No….no, not at all Mr Wright, there is no way your car would have been ready by today. I don’t know who told you this.’

Sam breathed in, looked the man squarely in the face, and very calmly took out his Dictaphone.

‘Now,’ said Sam, ‘I would like you to tell me again what you just told me. Just so we’re absolutely clear about this. And then; let’s just say for the sake of argument that I had a recording of the other message that you are telling me was never left yesterday; and supposing that I put in a claim for loss of earnings, stress, and to the point the actual fact of your company not being absolutely…. And let’s be fair here: not quite accurate in what is it… as in what you are (as the representative of the company) now saying…. Well I think that someone might just rule in my favour.’

‘Err….’ said the officious man with the orange badge, ‘I’ll just consult with my associate, one moment….’ With that he disappeared rather hastily through the swing doors. Sam could just make out a tersely worded conversation, if not the actual words. Then there was a silence, in which several other customers in the small waiting room began to look at each other and clear their throats. A large sweaty looking guy in heavy work gear, with big arm muscles and safety boots arrived and leaned on the buzzer. He had a set of papers in this ample fist and after a few minutes was raising his voice and leaning over the counter.

‘Oy! Get yer arse out here grease monkeys! I’m not paid by the hour! What ya pissing about for!’

Another man came out of the double doors from the bowels of the garage offices. He was thinner and wore a tidy shirt. He greeted the customers with a soft authoritative voice. He politely handed the large man a set of keys: ‘The van is ready for you in the usual spot sir.’

‘That’ll do.’ The big man said and left.

‘Mr Wright. Your car will be ready for you in five minutes. They are just finishing the valeting now. For the inconvenience we will discount your bill.’ He held out the keys to Sam.

‘The bill?’ Sam repeated.

‘Yes Sir. We do not wish to charge you. Bay number two in five minutes.’

The well-heeled woman and the two smart but casual guys who had witnessed the whole thing, made various sniffing sucking cheek noises of approval. Sam left as the well-heeled woman began: ‘I think I have a problem with my brakes….’

‘You will in those heels Missus.’ muttered Sam, and fiddled with his lighter while the car was given a final polish.

Sam was back in the Astra and on his way to the first appointment of the day. Clearly being congenitally pedantic did have its advantages. He turned smoothly into the ring road, noted that the drift to the left had been cured, and marvelled that he was, by any estimation of fate, still in credit for the day.

The Lady in question, she of the plummy voice was represented by a rather slender girl who turned out to be her niece.

‘Auntie is a little sensitive about the facts of this case, as her estate is subject to some rather strange clauses in the will of her grandfather. Any suspicion that she might have in any way broken up the collection; and the other branch of the family might make a claim to rescue the remaining items out of her possession.’

‘I see.’ Sam still didn’t get the point.

The girl moved round a rather large desk and slipped a file out of a drawer. ‘These are the pictures from the inventory that we keep for insurance purposes…. And these we have taken of the items this week.’ She handed them over.

‘I’ll need to see the actual pieces of course.’ said Sam.

‘Auntie was very particular. She would only let you see the pieces, after you had agreed to work for her.’

‘And what exactly does your Auntie… sorry Mrs Marchant wish me to do?’

‘Well,’ said the girl, ‘I think it best you hear it from Auntie.’

‘Ah…’ Sam relaxed, the sense of pantomime growing with him, as he waited for the reclusive Mrs Marchant to enter the elegant drawing room. The girl left him alone, and he looked round rather carelessly. Even this office was graced with paintings and antiques. Sam was not really an expert on such things but he had contacts in the business who would tell him all he needed to know. His next stop would be with Howard Logan, a wonderfully eccentric character of a surprisingly low count of years and yet had fitted into his life the exciting, the bizarre and the downright illegal. Yes, Sam was within a cat’s sneeze of several useful ex-lowlifes who may once have done the sort of thing that he suspected the mysterious Mrs Marchant had been calling him to investigate. The girl returned and seemed to be hiding some perturbation of the mind.

‘I…..I…..Oh My God!’ and at that she fainted. Sam barely had time to react when there was a clamour of voices and several people rushed into the room at once. It was like being in a deserted railway station at night and then suddenly being teleported to the same place on a bank holiday in May. All that was missing was the bratty kid screaming for a treat.

The police were the soul of efficiency, and the girl (Holly) was draped sobbing over one of them, a particularly hunky officer who eventually sat her down and ordered the nearest WPC to get her a cup of tea.

‘You are…?’

‘Sam…. Sam Wright.’ he answered automatically while still staring at the limp damp niece; who was clinging to the policeman in a way that she would not have been able to do if she was wider and not as pretty.

The officer at his elbow got his attention by tugging on his sleeve, ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Did you see the body?’

‘No; err Officer, I did not. I was invited here on a private matter that was unrelated to this. I have not left this room. I came straight through from the hall when I arrived and have not left since then.’

‘We will need to know about the matter that brought you here Mr Wright.’

‘I don’t actually know. The young lady Holly had just left the room to fetch her Aunt, so she could speak with me. And then she come back in and passed out. The other people in the house came in the room almost immediately and I was told to wait here until you came.’

‘I see. And what is the nature of your possible association with Mrs Marchant?’

‘As I said I hadn’t got to that point in the discussion.’

‘We will need to know if the matter was business or personal.’

‘Business.’

‘I see.’ The female officer smiled in a reassuring way, ‘we will need your contact details in case we need to take a statement from you. It may not be necessary; as you did not actually see the…. body. I hope you will not discuss this with anyone. The investigation must not be obstructed in any way.’

‘Why might it be obstructed?’

‘I’m sorry Sir, but that is police business.’

‘Can I go now?’

‘If you wait just a few minutes. I’ll see if we can clear you to go. Please leave your details with my colleague.’ She indicated the Hunk who was being hugged by the grief-stricken woman. Personally Sam thought it was a little like a rabbit trying to eat its way through a patch of dandelions while attempting to pretend it was actually muesli. Not entirely convincing.

He stood relieved at the entrance to the elegant town house and quickly exited from the scene of the crime. Since death cancelled all things it was clear that he had no further obligation in this regard. He felt in his pocket and realised that he still had the photos that the girl Holly had given him. He decided as he quickly walked away that this was one occasion where scrupulous honestly might in fact be a bad idea. And the sand shifting feeling that something wasn’t quite right about the whole thing made him want to go to a bar and have a vodka and coke and think very clearly about it for at least half an hour. He climbed back in the Astra, locked all the doors and started her up. The next thing to do was see Howard. The trouble was that he could be in one of three places. So he went to the Art Gallery and parked up. Sam opened the window, lit a cigarette and took out the photos. They were rather meticulously boring shots of art work. Seven in all. Strange, he had expected there to be more than that. But anyway; the other set were just as well done but the shots were closer and there was more than one picture of each object. It was almost as if the person who had taken them wanted to emphasize the difference between these and the other pictures. Sam put them down on the dash. He took out the mobile and rang Howard.

“Now then me old sot!” Howard spoke as if he was eating or sucking something through a straw.

‘Sam here. I need your advice.’

“Anything Darling! Just come on over. Say ten minutes; mint juleps on the house?”

‘How did you….?’

“I can see your car dim witted boy. What kind of detective are you?”

In fifteen minutes Sam was cheering up, and even the impeding bout with Gina could not dampen his mood. Howard, for whom the phrase “happy as a pig in muck” had been invented, simply got a confession of all that was on Sam’s mind since yesterday. He was a great interrogator; and was equally generous with his skills of sharing information. Sam was not one to be bested by a few dead bodies on occasion. But he didn’t like to step on police territory.

‘It’s clearly a cover up.’ Howard rolled a new cigarette.

‘Aren’t you supposed to go outside?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. All the things I have to do! Where would I find the time if I was always popping out for a fag Darling? Try one. They’re better for you.’

‘No thanks.’

‘How’s the cat?’

‘Okay. I guess.’

‘Mmmm….’ Howard regarded him soberly, which was quite an achievement since he had already knocked back a martini and was helping himself to a third one of the day, ‘It’s Friday.’ He added when he saw Sam looking at him. ‘Are you still in the position of not being able to hold your drink?’

‘I’m driving.’ Sam pulled a face.

‘Shame,’ Howard pushed his chair back, ‘Ah Tea!’

Howard’s personal assistant wheeled in a trolley.

Sam supped from his cup gratefully, and waited for Howard to get the point. He was used to handling difficult types: gallery owners, petty crooks and those freaky people who made his business what it was, the artists themselves.

‘I have an opening next week. You’ll come.’

‘Of course.’ said Sam. Howard had something for him he could tell. There was a connection that he would be working on. And then the matter of the anachronistic money and even the dodgy art work might be given an injection of his particular flavour of “It’s not what you think”.

‘You are worried about something darling.’ said Howard suddenly.

‘Yes.’

‘Yes?’ Howards shifted in his chair and took a slurp of the still steaming tea.

‘Yes.’ said Sam rather heavily.

‘I see…’ Howards stood, and then walked round the table. He picked up a card from a nearby shelf, ‘This should pickle your sausage darling.’

‘My what? And what is this? Oh come on! You know I’m not really that kind of person.’

‘Dating agency. Good for the soul. Bad for the wallet. Ultimately addictive. Restlessness for a fraction of the price of the average bender.’

‘You are NOT getting me into this!’

‘It’s fun, besides,’ Howard sat down again and swung his chair from side to side, ‘I already know who is going to be there. I can make sure you get in with the right ones.’

‘That’s dishonest.’

‘Sam. My dear, dear Sam; I’m disappointed that you think so! Do you realise what this is worth?’

‘It is one of those speed-dating nights and you want to get me to hit on unsuspecting girls armed with inside knowledge.’

‘Ordinarily, I would not advocate this course of action. But the witch queen has taken out her wand of power again; the only antidote… the thing that will give you the ultimate strength is to find your true love.’

‘Who said anything about love? I thought it was just dating?’

‘Date yes. Love Yes. Sex….maybe. Happiness… who knows? Getting rid of Ms Redding: 100% probable.’

‘Actually it’s just going to make her more determined.’ Sam sighed.

‘You are, by any definition of one of the many dictionaries that I do in fact own…. Stupid.’

‘Fair enough. I’m stupid. I’m seeing Gina at eleven.’

‘What!’ Howard gulped more tea, ‘Fuckadoodle! This calls for sabotage. Or laxative. Or even an accident… nothing fatal.’

‘Hers or mine?’

‘Hers of course. Don’t want the stupid airhead feeling sorry for you.’

‘Of course not.’

‘Bloody women! Why don’t you date someone who can’t speak English? That way you don’t have to talk to her.’

‘That is below feeble Howard even for you.’

‘Yes. Sorry. Really. I will send a car for you for the opening.’

‘The what?’

‘Exhibition. You really need to get the GR girl out of your life she’s damaging your IQ to an approachable degree.’

‘Really?’

‘Next Friday. Six onwards. Drinks on the house. Artists in residence. For once we have the full set. I’m a genius. And don’t worry, I will find out what you need: about the money and the antiques. Totally discretely of course.’

‘Naturally. Thanks Howard.’

‘You better go,’ he said dryly, ‘you’ll be late for She-who-must-be-obeyed.’

Oh Gina, Gina, Gina; could you be any meaner? Sam flipped open the case and donned sun glasses. Only because he felt hurt that Gina had brought someone with her. She was fond of business meetings. He wondered what kind this was. He saw Gina uncrossing and re-crossing her legs as he sauntered down the aisle into the coffee area of Gold Exchange. Sam had that funny feeling in the back of his neck. That prickle that told him someone was watching him. He looked right and then left, not turning his head. And then very consciously took his sunglasses off and made an exaggerated turn through a full 360 degrees. Something…. Nothing perhaps. His mobile rang. And he answered it quickly, still far enough away from Gina to not seem like he was actually meeting her.

“Mr Wright?”

‘Clearly, since this is my mobile.’ Sam didn’t bother to be effusive as Gina’s eyes were swivelling towards him, in mute horror.

“Mr Wright;” the voice calmly repeated, “I believe you have something that belongs to the estate of the late Mrs Marchant?”

‘I’m sorry… but who is this?’

“I represent Reading and Fowler, Mrs Marchant’s Solicitors.”

‘Yes? And I am supposed to believe this because….?’

“The items in your possession….we wish them to be returned to us.”

‘What items?’

“You are aware that you could be charged with theft if you don’t bring them to us immediately?”

‘Theft of what?’ Sam was good at this and could do it all day. It was only the embarrassed agitation of Ms Redding – the Ex; with eyeliner narrowed against some invisible tornado that made him cut short the call: ‘I’m sorry, but something’s come up. You will have to ring back…. Take the right approach and you may get somewhere.’

“Mr Wright we are not going to….” But Sam cut off the call. A very smart hostess in pointy heels and a silky voice asked him if he needed a table. But Gina floated into his peripheral vision, and hooked an elegant forearm round his elbow and steered him in the direction of an alcove in the lounge area.

‘What are you doing here?’ she hissed.

‘Hello Gina.’ Sam said and sat down in the curving seat. Gina seemed caught between wanting to act as if this was a contrivance on Sam’s part, and an uncertainly about how her companion would react if it became clear that Gina herself had invited him here. The rather rigid man came over. He carried and expensive coat over one arm, and had an elegant blue suit and a clean shaven tanned complexion and black eyes. He touched Gina on the sleeve with one smooth stroke of a manicured finger. Sam felt that this was to create the impression of an almost perverted promise of something later.

‘When you are ready….’ He said in a low accented voice. Sam frowned; the man was not what he seemed. But Gina looked impressed. The man nodded to Sam, head pinned to his shoulders and then abruptly turned and walked in a clipped and rather stiff way out of the building.

‘Sam….I’m so glad you’re here.’ Gina seemed to be suffering from post-fake-Italian date depression. And she flopped into the seat on the other side of the table with a limp disarray that was at odds with her dress sense and general controlled running of her work life.

‘It’s already eleven Gina, what was all that about?’

‘Angelo is running late. He had some appointments with a man in the stud farm.’

‘The what?’

‘Horse breeder…’ she sighed.

‘You don’t believe him do you?’ Sam thought this was feeble for Gina, normally adept at spotting people’s weaknesses.

‘He’s rich,’ she said, ‘and he’s a client. A huge contract for the promo on his next tour.’

‘His tour of what?’

‘I already told you,’ she was irritated with Sam, much to his satisfaction, ‘he breeds horses.’

‘So he doesn’t ride them?’

‘No he puts the two halves together to make a baby horse. Don’t you know what that is?’

Gina’s stab amidships was an oblique reference to his avoidance of the duties of the boyfriend. Gina was a woman who: and this was in no way meant to denigrate womankind as a whole, had her mind in her knickers far too often for Sam to stomach. It was partly what had ended their so called relationship. Sam’s idea that there was more to a relaxing weekend than bonking, was not something that could be got out of Gina’s mind except with a crowbar; and only if you hit her over the head with it.

‘I am here because you have some information for me.’ Sam got to the point early so that it didn’t get swept aside later.

‘Cocktails?’ said Gina picking up a menu.

‘No.’

‘Two Margaritas,’ said Gina ignoring him.

‘Coffee,’ said Sam, ‘Black, no sugar.’

‘I don’t care what you think of me. I’m not going to sit here with you and stay completely sober.’

‘With me?’ said Sam. Gina was trying it on. The price for information had gone up by twelve points on the Ex humiliation scale.

The coffee arrived, with two snapdragon biscuits, a speciality of the house.

‘Very pretty,’ Gina looked glum, but then straightened herself as the Margaritas were placed with reverence before her.

‘I have useful information,’ she said, ‘and I need something in return, naturally.’ She sipped and looked straight at Sam.

‘What do you want?’

‘You mean apart from you?’

‘I don’t see why you’d want me?’

‘Protection Sam. Insurance. I need you to keep something for me. I need you to keep it totally safe, until I get back. I mean really safe. And I cannot afford to trust anyone through the usual channels. And if you tell I’ll get someone to wipe you out.’

‘No deal.’

‘I wasn’t being serious.’

‘Oh I think you were. But just for the sake of argument, I did do this, what exactly am I getting in return? Of course there would have to be an agreement on the length of time that the whatever-it-is stayed in my possession. And then there would be a penalty if it was longer than that.’

‘If I want penalties, I can go to my bank Sam…. I need somewhere that it can stay for a long time.’

‘What?’

‘I’ll give you information about the visitor that you had the other night. And you can use it to find out all those things you need to know about the thing that you are going to be keeping for me. And then I’ll make sure you have a huge amount of cash to reward you.’

‘Is this a science experiment we are talking about? Is it secret blueprints on the stuff?’

‘Mmm….we are up to speed. Fast as a rabbit on coke. But no, it was not the plans for something. Rather the thing itself…. the real deal Sam; the cherry on the cake. And if they get it back, I get something I want.’

‘The person who claims this knowledge of the lost thing near my building, they wouldn’t happen to be familiar with some of the things you keep in your underwear drawer?’

‘Sam!’ she seemed shocked, ‘Do I detect a note of jealousy?’

‘No. I’m trying to decide if this is all a piss take or not.’

‘It is not. I promise. You will need to see the money or the goods. And you’ll need some instruction on how to handle it; the item that is. And you will need a contact number in case the other missing thing comes to your attention.’

‘The thing that is missing,’ Sam was thoroughly enmeshed by now, ‘is it part of something, or a thing in its own right? I assume it must be a fairly small something; otherwise it couldn’t have got lost could it?

‘Clever boy. And yes it is part of something… but it is a something that can do….. Err.... things in its own right. In other words it is dangerous. So it must be retrieved.’

‘Since when are you so unselfish?’ Sam leaned back and took a mouthful of the rich black liquid.

‘That would be nice. But actually I am in line to get some fabulous spondoolies….’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I will go back to the office soon. The boss likes me to be punctual; especially if it is lunch time.

‘You are still working for….?’

‘Blue Sky….yes Sam I am. I think it is a company that is going far. I have my own office and my own PA now.’

‘Right.’ Sam was rapidly losing interest. Gina wouldn’t come on to him in an obvious way in such a public place, unless she was desperate for surrender on one front or another (?). She was flirting in a mocking casual way and Sam felt the stirring of something that was base and amoral. He hated her at that moment too; her eyes narrowed to dark slits as if she sensed his ambivalence.

‘So you need time to think about it?’ she said quietly, ‘I understand.’

‘I’ll take the deal.’ said Sam suddenly, surprizing himself.

‘Oh….well if you really don’t need time to think about it… but you could come to my office at six…’

‘No. It will be the gallery, third floor; at Ten tomorrow. And you can do the reveal in front of my trusted witness.’

‘I see.’ Gina said, and shifted in the seat. She was trying to work out if she had Sam where she wanted him or not. Outright capitulation without a bit of a struggle wasn’t quite as much fun. The frictionless deal was only part of it though. Gina was really in need of help. Sam watched her cogs whirring and realised that she really didn’t know what was going on; a third party had schooled her, and she was in over her head. She needed the money badly Sam thought, or how else would she have succumbed to this latest entanglement. But it did tell him one thing: he was being watched. Gina had been sent, and someone was waiting to see what he would do. The fake Italian was perhaps a distraction, or a red herring. But then as Gina’s eyes flickered over Sam’s shoulder in a moment of unguarded acknowledgement of another person in the coffee lounge, Sam knew he had to leave soon. He sipped the last mouthful of the dark roast and steadily watched the reflections in the window in front of him. There! A man with a newspaper stood and for a fraction of second glanced towards Gina. He looked back at her again; she suddenly looked down and was feeling around in her huge shoulder bag.

‘My new number.’ She handed him a card.

Sam stood; ‘Ten tomorrow. Don’t be late or the deal’s off.’ And without waiting for a reply turned away and strode out of the building. The man dropped his paper in a bin and crossed the road. Sam crossed too, and caught up with him. He was just behind now walking down the busy pavement. Sam followed the man all the way to the underground. And then he stopped. Some instinct told him this was a ruse to shake the tail. He hadn’t gone for anything really careful. No time. Sam’s talent for anonymity was null if they already knew his face. And even through blending into a crowd was his speciality; this time he just knew that this amateur was going to get a shock. Sam waited at the other exit, behind and to one side of the staircase. Sure enough the tail he had been tailing came up slowly. Sam went into step right behind him. As they neared a news agents; Sam put a hand on his shoulder and steered him inside.

‘Buy a newspaper.’ said Sam. The man nodded, and started towards the counter.

‘No….You are buying? Or selling?’

‘You have made a mistake.’ said the lightly inflected voice. A northern accent but ironed out.

Sam moved so swiftly it was no time. With his arm up his back the guy was bent over and compliant. No other customers were near. But the door opened and closed again. CCTV…. He pulled the guy round so his face would be captured. And then, very softly said: ‘I have a message for your friends. Tell them: Sam says to stay out of my business.’

‘Mr Wright….. Please.’

‘Yes….tell me.’ Sam kept a firm grip, the man was sweating. He obviously hadn’t reckoned on his quarry biting back.

‘We just want to retrieve an important piece of equipment….and if it’s for sale we will pay.’

‘Okay.’ Sam let go of him. The man turned round very slowly and carefully, fearful of being put back in an arm lock.

‘I have to get it back….’

‘We?’

‘My partners and I…. need this to complete our…. research.’ The man looked worried, and regarded Sam with frightened respect.

‘You are not cut out for this.’ Sam said, ‘so you tell your….Partners, that their item will be safe with me. And the price has just gone up.’

‘As you wish….’ The man relaxed a little; money was his language, and Sam was talking. Now he knew two things. One: it was for sale, and Two: these scientists had plenty of cash. This guy was no expert spy and was really bad at trying to protect his own, and his associates’ interests.

‘Tomorrow. At Eleven.’ said Sam.

‘We will be there.’ said the man; ‘the place?’

‘Fish….’ said Sam, and quickly turned and left. He walked fast. And then crossed the road and doubled back. The man strolled out of the shop, straightened his collar as one would do who has just escaped a rather trying interview and turned towards the train station. Sam discretely followed him. This time the man was going home. It was too easy. But Sam was really bothered by Gina. And the strange glow. Thinking about last night set his mind all a jitter. Like he could feel his feet leave the floor again; and his stomach turning liquid with vertigo.

The man entered a house on a quiet street. Sam walked away. He took the train back to the city. Now it was ten past one, and the carriage was crawling with students. Bloody hell! He forgot it was one of those mad weekends. Some of them were dressed up too. More people got on and he was pressed against a girl who was poured into a feathered Basque. He began to feel uneasy. This wasn’t your ordinary misadventure, and there was still the unanswered question that tapped politely at the back of his mind. Whatever had happened to Mrs Marchant?

“George here!” there were sounds of machinery in the background. Sam pressed the phone to his ear. He leaned against the panel in the public call box, ‘I need a favour.’

“Hello Sam. You owe me.”

‘Yes….’ Sam paused. George was generous with his favours and the hint of amusement in the voice was only because he was talking to someone he actually liked. George was a man of singular tastes. He liked what he liked. He didn’t take any nonsense, and in common with a lot of people Sam knew, he had a somewhat unusual past. George had been a Hospital Medic until he had inexplicably disappeared. Then out of the blue he came back. He was not ready to explain himself so the career of the doctor in whom one trusted one’s life and sanity was itself somewhat insane, and therefore he was, to all intents and purposes not actually denounced, but rather inoperative. And George knew stuff…. things that the Hippocratic Oath would not allow for. He had detailed files on Hand guns, equipment, and knew people who could supply information, objects of legal; and illegal origin. And George was like an encyclopaedia. Along with medical knowledge he seemed to be a person who could talk for a full hour without notes on several subjects including history, weaponry, and adventuring of various kinds including arctic expeditions. He knew exactly the gear that would save your life and how many calories you needed in such a temperature, and with so much work on the body, and so on. Sam imagined George in his light framed glasses rather than the serious ones, because he didn’t want to feel he was imposing.

“Come for lunch. Kyle is here fixing my computer. We’ll talk.”

‘Okay.’ He rang off. Just like that, he had access to the man would knew more than the Tax Man, and had the only working version of a Bell telephone that Sam had ever seen.

‘Tricky….very tricky. My advice, which doubtless you won’t take, is to stay out of the thing.’

‘I’m involved.’

‘Since when?’ George took off his glasses and rubbed his nose. He seemed exasperated, and Sam knew it was something else that was bothering him.

‘Actually since yesterday….’

‘Tell me.’

‘It was Camille who got me into all this.’

‘Your cat?’

‘My cat. Yes.’

‘Then you are involved.’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘You are involved because your cat has created a deterministic loop in the space-time continuum.’

‘That is….loopy.’ Sam stared at George who hadn’t moved.

‘Do you like Dragon Trees?’ said George suddenly.

‘I err…. Yes, I guess so.’

‘I will give you a Dragon Tree.’

Sam knew that George, on account of his phenomenal intellect and general sense of wanting to be twenty steps ahead at all times, was anticipating the next moves that anyone in the scenario would make. He didn’t dare ask him why. Kyle came in at that moment.

‘Hi Sam.’ He grinned and handed him a much needed mug of tea. This was more like it! Industrial strength and done with whole milk, not the wimpy stuff that every girl he’d ever met seemed to favour. Camille would be impressed. She had been known to drink cold tea, and this was just her brew.

‘Thanks,’ Sam started to cheer up, then realised that he had been letting the Gina thing get him down, ‘so what now?’

‘Are you allergic to anything?’ George eyed him speculatively.

‘Women.’ he said.

‘That doesn’t count.’ said George, ‘however unpleasant the effect. So it’s a “No” then?’

‘That’s right.’ Sam put the mug down, ‘what do you want to do to me?’

‘Be my lab rat,’ said George, ‘in doing so it will help you. I want to give you a shot of something. It will not be detectable to others. But it will result in me being able to read anything that has been influencing you.’

‘Pardon? You want to do what?’

‘He’s going to stick a fuck-off big needle in your arse and then collect a load of useful data.’ Kyle was clearly enjoying Sam’s discomfort at the prospect.

Sam looked at George, ‘Is that it? You want to inject me with something…. In my lower half and then irradiate me with one of your unlicensed machines.’

‘Yes. That’s about it… except I can put it in the left arm. You may roll up your sleeve as soon as you are ready.’

Sam looked at Kyle. ‘Have you tried it?’ he said.

‘No. I’m the ditsy guy who gets the info into a form that your underdeveloped brain can understand. And I’m the one who can tell if you are about to faint or not.’

‘Really?’ Sam was going off the idea.

‘Don’t worry,’ said George, ‘It’s perfectly safe.’

‘That’s what they said about the Titanic.’ said Sam; and started to unfasten the left button on his shirt cuff.

About ten minutes later Sam was drinking coffee and staring at the meaningless graphic display that Kyle had pulled up. Well, it was full of meaning actually. It was just that Sam didn’t know what it was saying; and he didn’t like not understanding things. George came back in: ‘I know that look.’ he said, ‘You really will have to relax. Your pulse was hitting One Twenty.’

‘I’m fine. I just want to know what that’s saying.’ He rubbed his arm and shook his head. A bit odd actually.

‘Steady on there!’ Kyle took the cup out of Sam’s hand as he pitched forward. There was a moment where things felt the wrong way up. Then….

‘What happened?’ Sam groaned and twisted his head sideways. The other two were staring intently at the large display.

‘Just relax.’ said George, ‘You’re fine now.’

‘Right….I’m fine. What did you do?’

‘I did warn you.’ said Kyle, ‘You can sit up in a minute and I’ll show you what we found.’

Sam lay back still feeling detached: ‘I hope it was worth it. You’re going to tell me I’ve been abducted by aliens aren’t you?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ George took off his glasses and lazily started to polish them, ‘this is much more interesting than that. You said your cat, the lovely Camille brought the object in question home?’

‘Yes. That’s right. It’s not like her at all.’

‘Well…. I think that she has had contact with something very dangerous and peculiar. But because she is a cat, and not a human it doesn’t affect her perception of causal events in quite the same way.’

Sam sat up, and swung his legs off the couch; ‘Tell me the rest.’

‘Well…..’ George seemed reluctant to say it.

‘You are now the centre of a weird paradox,’ said Kyle, ‘as these readings show. The stuff we put in allows us to track the movement of the Z particles….’

‘There’s no such thing.’ Sam was casual and a little put out he had been subjected to an injection of enough metal to make every scanner in the supermarket go wappy. (But that was later, and this was now. And there were more things to get past until tea time).

‘It is just a theoretical substance.’ Kyle rolled his eyes, ‘and in science we don’t wait for something to exist before we give it a name. But there you are….’

‘I don’t know what I’m looking at.’

‘The bluish bits are normal. The orangey bits are things that would normally appear on a metal scanner. That’s my watch, you see,’ Kyle put up another image, ‘and this is you… about five minutes ago.’

‘Are you sure that stuff that you put in is that speckle pattern?’

‘Yes. That’s five minutes ago. And this….’ Kyle flipped to the next image, ‘that is one minute ago.’

There it was…..a strange violet afterglow. It appeared slightly more magenta on the display in places. Sam still hadn’t grasped what this might mean.

‘Do you feel that today has been strange in any way?’ asked George.

‘You could say that.’

‘Anything out of the ordinary? Coincidental, unusual or just plain odd?’

‘Now you are getting this all wrong…. I just was curious that’s all….’

‘I’ll take it that’s a “Yes”. So anything else that you recall out of the morning’s events that would lead you suppose that things are connected in a closer way than would be normal for seeming randomly occurring events?’

‘You mean the thing with the photos?’

‘You mentioned that when you came in,’ George took out a note pad, and doodled with a biro, ‘I can’t help thinking that this is one of those things again….Kyle, pull up the schematic.’

Sam saw a diagram with lots of arrows and coloured panels. It was of a set of events, he guessed rightly they were theoretical. And it seemed to show a section of time where the events had looped back round on themselves. And there were little yellow and black edged boxes like tiny warning signs. One said “Paradox Rate potential 20%”

‘So this….is a template for the information that you have on real events. An example to see how it works?’

‘You do have a brain.’ said Kyle and pressed something. In front of the three friends appeared an interesting diagram, tracing all the known events and tracking the possible points of paradox.

There seemed to be at least two warning boxes, and several footnotes at the bottom of the screen.

‘Of course we need more data to accurately pinpoint the source of this. But there may be an event or a person in the next week who will reveal the course of this. It may happen in an unlooked for way. And unwittingly they may start a cascade of events that will lead inevitably to the point where the item you have in your possession was lost in the first place. The cat will then find it and bring it home in a state of animalistic trance.’

‘I want to believe you.’ Sam pulled off his tie, feeling too warm, ‘But that is just plain nuts! Besides, I have no intention of going into of any of this any further. It’s stupid to say that I must meet someone…. Is that fate?’

‘Not really,’ said George, ‘It’s just the way we have observed that things seem to work. It’s not as if you are a Tra….’ But Kyle poked him in the ribs with a wooden ruler.

‘We need to con-flab.’ said Kyle to George, ‘In the conservatory.’

They both left Sam alone and he concluded that interested as he was in the real reason that Gina had got him on a string; and a rather inept Scientist was following him for something he hadn’t got yet; he was quite prepared to drop it if it solved the problem. The Gina issue being the one he most wanted to drop. The notion of being tied up in anything with Gina, paradoxical or otherwise, made him feel slightly sick. But then he checked, and realised he hadn’t eaten since breakfast and now the hands of the clock were bending towards Three-Thirty. He checked his wristwatch just in case….. Yes, Three-thirty-one. The speaking clock was a nice female voice at the moment and was sponsored by Breaky Chunks, a five year old breakfast cereal that had proved immensely popular. It was simple and just had loads of fruit and nuts and oats and those funny bobbly rice crispy things that the child in you thinks you remember even if you never had them back then.

‘Sam?’ George was standing in front of him.

‘Yeah?’

‘Are you with us?’

‘I think so.’

‘I think that you need to know what is going to happen. I know it sounds like a right load of horsey poo. And to be honest if you and I… well; I wouldn’t feel too sure. At least not to start with.’

‘This is one of those practical joke things isn’t it?’

‘No joke.’ said George; and Kyle nodded. They looked at each other. Kyle closed the door and checked the windows were shut too.

‘What I am about to tell you does not leave this room. It stays inside your head. And you only talk about it to us, and only when we are here. Nowhere else, alright?’

‘Alright.’ said Sam. He was worried because George and Kyle were always straight with him. And it was a moment where he realised they were absolutely one hundred per cent serious about all this.

‘We have had contact with some people who you may or may not have met yet. And because their identity is kept secret; it is possible you have already met some of them and not know it. Or they may not know it.’

‘Travellers,’ Kyle cut in, ‘People who control the flow of Time itself.’

*****

Chapter Three

Time Travel is Hazardous.

Sam lay on the settee in his flat with the door locked and a damp flannel on his head. He still hadn’t eaten, and although he was about to start on tea, he shocked himself by remembering that he had let down the sweet Juliet. Shitty poo-poo! Sam was just wondering if the story that his madly manoeuvring ex was cornering him, and that he got followed by the scientist from the outer reaches of geeks-ville, was a viable excuse, when the phone rang. Sam groaned and put his hand to his head as well. After the ringing stopped the answering machine did its duty: click; whirr….. If you want to leave a message: speak clearly after the tone…. Why was it that in all of space-time, the entire world, and the whole of history were those things the constants in an otherwise changing universe. The message for our generation; not talking to real people but relying on machines to tell us what we need to know. Such existential despair was not unknown to Sam but it came with the added buttering on the bread of life that Juliet might be hugely disappointed in him.

“Hi….. Hello, oh rats! I hate these things so I’ll keep it short. It’s Juliet here. I know something must have come up… well something came up here too. Jerry was ill and the production is in jeopardy. And I think our leading lady has the flu too. Is that what is happening to you? I’m sorry to trouble you. So perhaps you can ring me. Sorry! It’s all gone to hell in a bucket! Dress rehearsal was a disaster anyway. So there’s one of those things where opening night might happen, or it might not…. It’s next week at eight. That’s if you want to come. And if there’s a friend you want to bring; or if not: there should be a pre-production party for the back stage crew….. We’re the ones who hold it together…. It’s booze free so I could invite you. You are after all doing me a favour… I think I better ring off now as you are probably busy with something and me nattering in the background is really annoying I’m sure.”

Sam had almost reached the handset when she rang off. Feeling hollow and depressed he went a read the instructions on the new tin opener. It seemed okay. He read the guarantee, concluded that it should not be used for anything other than opening tins and marvelled at the wildly elaborate machine that did little more than chop the top off a metal sealed tight container. He started to rummage in cupboards: tinned potatoes; tinned spaghetti, tinned fish, tinned sweet corn…. That would be enough for now. And afterwards, tinned treacle sponge and ready-to-pour tinned condensed milk. What Sam didn’t know, and soon was about to surprize him, was a sequence of events that had been set in motion by Camille, which were beyond the ability of even George to extrapolate towards the fire of the gods that was Sam’s lot to begin to understand. There was a mounting feeling inside Camille’s cat brain that she ought to go out of the door. And being a creature of instinct, she did just that….she meandered along the top of the walls on the roof top gardens and patios and balcony arbours of people’s private worlds. She was a creature for whom the notion of privacy and ownership did not exist. She owned everything, in her mind it was all hers and therefore there was no place she ought not to go, unless danger of threat presented itself. So when Camille trotted into the view of two people having a private discussion they did not react to her presence…. She was after all, just a cat. Their laxity in not taking into account the causal connections created by an animal, that they regarded as beneath consideration, was the only thing that would actually in some significant way be their utter undoing. Or that is to say it already had been…. They just didn’t know it yet.

Camille came back out, having knocked over the piece of equipment in the sight of the two men; made of swift exit from their presence. She was nonchalant when she returned and stared at Sam in the enigmatic way that cats often do. She was unaware of her part in something monumental. But she felt pleased, after all they could not catch her….no human would go for a walk by the route that she took, and that was enough to satisfy her that tea was in order and she had caused enough stimulation to other’s otherwise dull lives….well that was Camille’s impression of two people sat droning in the secretive way that humans were inclined to do. She did not understand the behaviour; as anyone with really sensitive hearing would have been able to overhear what was being said from the next balcony. Unknown to Camille, and unknown to the two men….whose identity at this point really isn’t the point…..there was someone on the next balcony. That person was not aware of the significance of what they were hearing, but listened anyway, and were smoking and standing motionless without speaking so that the men had no idea that someone (apart from the cat) had heard anything. They stopped talking and satisfied lit up a ciggie each. They were completely confident that the next stage of their plan would go smoothly. It is about the point where the ground is about to fall out from under your feet. That is fate….or is it? Or perhaps it is just how things are meant to be…. In the distance someone was knocking on the door. Mistake number three; the first guy…. As in the one who started talking, went to open it. He thought it was his associate come to tell them it was time to “Go” and didn’t check the spy-hole first. Two people forced him back; he fell over and cracked his head. And the two who had been sent to retrieve the object that had been stolen were after the second man now. The second guy, being smarter than the first… which was why he had elected to Not be in charge of this little part of it all, scrambled into the kitchen to get the object that had rested lightly on the kitchen table ready for go. It was on the floor, so he picked it up and in an act of desperation, slung the wide belt round his waist clipped it shut and hit the emergency power button. In an instant there was a pop of noise like a giant bubble bursting and he was sucked into the discomfort of the Time Vortex. A moment later he was deposited, unharmed in a side street. He walked out to find that the sixties were in full swing and he was nearly run down by a Morris Minor. He stood, confused and bewildered waiting for the homing signal to take effect. When it didn’t he went and ordered coffee at the nearest place, and concluding that he didn’t have the right money for pre-decimalisation commerce, took to picking a pocket. Tea finished, the man, whose name was in fact Harold Emerson waited some more. Then after a good hour he realised to his horror that the belt was missing one of the packs. The emergency jump would work without a full set. It could even work on one power stick loaded only. But for the homing jump, or a programmed jump the computation alone needed a balanced circuit. He could activate it again but it would just do another emergency jump and he might end up anywhere. He went to drink more tea, and concluded after some time that the right option was to make the best of it; and supposing that his people were bothered about this very expensive prototype they would come for him eventually. He began to cheer up. And after the initial shock realised that this has in fact fortuitous and actually solved more problems that it created. So he decided to fix himself up with a place and perhaps get a job and enjoy the smug delights of knowing what the future held. He wasn’t a betting man. But he did like to remember the results of certain sports events. And reasoned that a suitable bet…. Not too large; on the next major one would set him up comfortably in a way that satisfied all his needs. In fact after a week of this kind of thinking he was inclined to consider that he would really like to stay, and the only problem was the belt itself. To strand yourself in a place you could not leave seemed like ill logic on one side; but being the smarter of the two, and therefore someone who took what life offered him without being too greedy he decided at last to send the belt by itself on the emergency channel. He knew then that even if someone came looking for him they would not find him; and he would not spend all his time looking over his shoulder. His friends and his enemies alike would really leave him be. And so it was…. He decided to set up a breeding program for cats and create a home for lost animals and eventually he met a nice girl and had two kids and was actually a better person than he would otherwise have been. And one day; a young man came in and he picked a tiny kitten and took her home. His name was Sam and he named his new pet Camille. So fate was satisfied on that front and it proves that sometimes curiosity does not kill the cat.

While Sam was readily enjoying the delights of the eccentric electrical appliance; across the city another sequence of events had been set in motion. Gina, on account of her disposition to always keep a man handy in case of emergencies had got herself into a bit of bother over the finer points of a bill at a restaurant. She didn’t have the means to pay, and the latest acquisition (male) had gone to the gents to think about the latest deal (launch party for a range of swimwear), and hadn’t come back. Gina was philosophical and decided to take a trip to the ladies and hide out there as long as possible. It was while she was powdering her nose that she overheard the tittle-tattle of two girls who she knew slightly. Gina wasn’t much interested in Art for Art’s sake, being much more the sort who preferred a use for a lower slave’s creative outpourings; but when she heard it mentioned that the rather reclusive Annalise Golding would be at the opening to the new exhibition at the Viridian Gallery, she took swift action and rang her PA from the ladies powder room.

‘Gina?’ the PA sounded irritated, as she had technically already gone off duty. But as soon as Gina explained what she wanted, the PA was ultra-compliant, not; it might be said because she was a fan herself, but because like everyone else in the business, she had her eye on advancement, and magicking two tickets into being for her boss was Brownie Point Central….perhaps so much so that she might get a position with another Dept. head-case in the next six months and would leave Gina behind forever. Gina thought that the PA adored her. The PA liked Gina to think that. So the arrangement was to everyone’s liking.

Having thus satisfied her inner social tree climber with more to feed upon she looked round; time to make tracks; as she went out she spotted the hunk vainly searching for her in the swelling river that streamed to and from the toilets as the restaurant became too warm and the ladies had to damp down their over-rouged cheeks. Gina followed a gaggle of semi-drunk girls out of the main door. As she steered for the curb a taxi drew up, and not looking back she got in. Time to find out what had happened to the latest “Special Project”.

Gina arrived at the grubby pub, where these so called “scientists” insisted on meeting. It was as if they had watched too many black and white films. She half expected smoke in curls in a fug as she went in the lounge bar.

‘Redding?’ said a voice in almost casual dismissal of her first name. Gina was halfway between fear and excitement and didn’t object in a way that would have sent her into orbit if a minion had spoken to her at work that way.

‘Have we got the time yet?’ Gina leaned forward. Not a wise move in high heels.

‘You better sit down.’ he said and continued drinking a glass of coke. Gina didn’t think too hard about it. Rather like a dark side version of Camille, she knew by instinct that alcohol was going to be bad. And that fruit juice was good. And asking too many…. or the wrong question would get you ejected from this secret circle. She had the money in her handbag. And the anticipation was killing her. Three more people arrived and sat silently in the presence of the “minder”. When at last he stood and ushered them into another dimly lit back room, they did so without a murmur. Gina handed over the cash, and was given a wrist band. It looked like metal. And was impossible to take off once on the wrist. It was, they said, a failsafe. No one was to be lost that way. Everyone could enjoy the illicit excitement of the trip through time and the head pounding rush of seeing history up close and personal, but with the complete safety of knowing that you were protected from both interaction and personal damage. This was the greatest secret of all. It was new, cutting edge; astronomically expensive, and completely illegal.

‘We will gather you all in about three days once the programming is complete.’ said the Minder. Another man stepped forward and inspected the three candidates’ wrists to make sure that the metal circlet could not be removed. He did look the part, yet seemed in some way detached and distracted. He wanted to be somewhere else, Gina could tell. And she saw a man who took the long view. She guessed rightly that he was not a man who would cave into female persuasion with one push; which in her eyes gave him an attractive edge of something that she craved. Real meaning. But he also seemed nervous, as if he might be sick, or over tired and had another onerous appointment after this one. Gina didn’t see him again after that day. But there were whispers of his name. They called him “August”. It was only later that she realised this was his first name. His was a reputation that should make one afraid. But she had blundered in with naïve abandon to become the guinea pig in an experiment of a real scientist, who had long ago left behind any concern for the rules of law. He was just like a man out of the films and wore a long coat and a hat; he took Gina’s hand, and checking the wrist band nodded slightly. She looked up, and locked eyes with him for just one moment. It seemed to last forever. It wasn’t in any way sexual, but the magnetic compelling gaze of this man, would get you to agree to anything. Was he a hypnotist? Gina thought about this…. But the desire to be part of the adventure was heightened all the more by the eerie experience, and no way was she backing out.

Back to our man in the hallway…. The young man the two thugs knocked out. Well, they were in the pay of this “August”, and they had just missed by a breath the second man. He would not be followed as they realised that he had taken the emergency jump. It left one hell of a vapour trail through time, and they could pick him up later. Well that was what they thought would happen. The other (not so smart) guy was coming round; but wisely for once, did not try to give any sign that he was conscious as they rummaged and turned out drawers of the rented flat. After ten minutes they came back in the hall. The regarded him for one moment and then left. He was out of the loop; well they believed it. His companion had abandoned him. And he could not do anything now. As anyone else who had been connected with the situation had been dealt with in one way or another. Not dead but disarmed. However much they might want to kill they could not; as their boss was mindful of the causal repercussions of ending a life in such circumstances, not to say the paper work. The police reports alone would flag up something that another traveller could potentially latch on to. Sometimes it was good to make them think you wanted to kill them. And just to keep the fear factor in geostationary orbit, one of the men kicked him hard on the way out. He groaned and his eyes flickered but stayed shut. The other sniffed:

‘Leave it. We’re done here. He’s a redundant line of consequence now.’

The “redundant” person was nothing of the sort of course. As the one place they hadn’t checked was under the kitchen cabinets. I mean? Who checks there? It’s horrible, spiders and bits of unidentifiable grubby crumby stuff. Nothing that you would want to stick your hand into out of choice. The man found his way into the kitchen after another ten minutes. And then took the precaution of checking under things. A glint caught his eyes. Just out of sight at a slightly higher angle. He gritted his teeth and reached under the gap just below the set of kitchen drawers. And there it was! A single important thing that would, if he took the right action undo this little mess. He was wrong. And he just didn’t realise. When you are working with time you need rules. And this “August”, he knew the rules. They were ancient and refined with use; and had been around for a long time indeed. But this Man wasn’t going to let the fact of the transport belt having gone missing put a crimp in his day. He intended to go back and steal the belt and use it to leave the employ of the other rather inept bunch once and for all. He realised he had picked the wrong crooks to work for. Well maybe that could be fixed too. He cleaned the flat up, removed the ash tray and washed it. Shut the patio doors and prepared to make a short jump. It would all be over by supper time and he would be back in time for another episode of “What Do You Want?” a weird “fix it” game show for people with too much money; showing them how to spend it on something that was beneficial instead of being selfish: Life lessons for the grabbers and the takers. And as much as he wanted to join that class of person himself and not go on Game shows, he still reserved the right to see them as a blight on society for as long as he could. That was until such time as he was rich enough to tell the rest of the world to Fuck Off.

Camille’s instinct to bite was usually worked into her instinct to hunt. But she had made an exception. And cat bites are nasty things. Your fingers swell up, you feel sick with the shock, and you cannot do anything but wait until the puffiness and pain subside. So it was that Camille had in fact bitten the man who threatened her. He recognised her; but she had not seen him as anything other than an out of control aggressor. And besides he had locked the patio doors. He was not happy to be stuck on the wrong side of them in the rain. He left via a drain pipe and made it safely to the ground and ran. And found his error minutes later when he saw himself walking towards the entrance to the flats. Oh no! He hadn’t gone back far enough…. So he thought the best option was to go back to the group and make up a story that fitted the facts…. In agreement with Camille, who at that moment was shaking her whiskers to get rid of the smell of a bloodied, sweaty man, (who at that time was feeling the sharp pain of a bazillion salivary micro-organisms) she then settled on the glowing object. Seduced by the light and the faint vibration of Time-Indeterminate particles she picked it up like a chubby dead mouse and took it home.

*****

Chapter Four

Strange Objects & Sushi.

‘You will be fine! For goodness sake stop fussing.’ The woman moved round the table, and took another look at the man’s hands. He was just beginning to take the view that the mistake had been a bad one. Pain is a great leveller. And now he was cowed by one small furry animal, she had taken it upon herself to be the organiser of their latest escapade.

‘We cannot find Emerson.’ she said in a matter of fact voice.

‘But the belt?’

‘That….is missing too.’ she seemed to be grinding her teeth in frustration. And as their little team gathered in reduced numbers in the dining room and the rain outside began to fall; a gloomy mood had settled. They were not bad, they were just unlucky. A splinter group, who had taken a moral position on the use of the new technology, yet had in a short time become like the people they opposed. The woman stood straight and tall and tried to be positive.

‘We will take a little trip into the stream.’

‘You are an idiot!’ one of the men stood suddenly and stared very hard at her, ‘Remember our failure in the lab… we could not make the jump that way.’

‘You remember well Gorman…. But I will take this upon myself personally.’

‘Dr Miranda Vega you have a singular liking for the more dangerous aspects of the experimental trials….why is this?’

Miranda just smiled as Gorman shifted in his seat and glanced at the others. Alistair Green, the one nursing the cat bite slyly smiled: ‘I will assist you Dr Vega, if that is alright?’

‘Of course.’ she said without missing a beat. Green was her chosen partner when they double-crossed the others and made off with the technology themselves. They just had to get out the bumps and wrinkles by using one of the prototypes to steal one of the newer models. A perfect plan with only one real drawback; they didn’t know where, and more importantly they didn’t know when the new travel belt would appear. Green would be assisting, and Dr Vega would keep him at her beck and call which perhaps involved services of a more personal nature. Of course Vega was only using him. But then he was absolutely loyal, and who can get a man like that nowadays? Gorman and the two lesser conspirators seemed discomforted. They sensed that Vega was ahead of them. She had the brains, and looked good in an evening dress. Gorman was not going to let Miranda have it all her own way however, and told the assistant Hingess to work with them and report in all the progress, however small. The man in question pulled a face as if he had just smelt something very unpleasant, but complied with Gorman. The loss of Emerson was an unspoken blight on their otherwise perfect circle of confidence. They didn’t have the resources to find him, and would have to wait until the other group picked him up. Emerson knew better than to blab; a story could always be shaped to fit the pattern of events. The question was: would he be found? Gorman stared very hard at Vega for several seconds. She stood and with narrowed eyes stared back at him.

‘Are we going?’ said the skinny lad, the one who had not yet spoken.

‘Yeah,’ Gorman was casual, and took a dark jacket off the back of the chair. They left a moment later and the tension in the room was rather heightened than dissipated by their departure.

‘Make yourself useful,’ said Miranda to the hovering Simon Hingess; and she seemed to crumple inwards; then to Alastair: ‘Please get me a coffee. White, strong with two sugars.’

‘Do you…?’ Green turned to Simon.

‘Yeah; whatever. So are we going to get the goods then?’

‘It is a delicate process. And you don’t touch anything without my say so. We need to detect the same wave again….it’s going to take some time.’ Dr Vega smoothed her hair away from her face; Alastair took his pathetic out of action face and went to do the job he could do. Miranda hoped he would feel better soon, as a little relief of the right kind was what she would need after this debacle. Simon waited for her to collect her thoughts and then saw an opportunity: ‘I could…?’

‘No.’ she said almost instantaneously.

‘Has Mr Charles been in touch with you again?’ he smiled in an oily way.

‘That’s really none of your business.’ She twirled her hair into a looped knot at the back of her head.

‘Right.’ he said and made to leave the room. They headed for the basement. Alastair followed them down a few minutes later. Dr Vega was already bent over the screen and made some notes on a pad, ‘Alright boys,’ she said wearily, ‘let’s do this.’ She twirled a dial and a display came up. It was a representation of the timeline between today and a month in the future. The computer extrapolated forward by a series of complex calculations based on all the data that they had to hand. Events: major ones, minor ones; Weather, Stock exchange and so on; in fact anything that was human in origin, or was reacted to by humans, or influenced by humans. Now they had the missing component that had not previously been taken into account to give an accurate; or rather a more accurate forecast. People’s pets…. Miranda sighed and rested her elbows on the console. Little furry creatures: small ones, big ones, gerbils, mice, hamsters, all that there were they listed. Did zoo animals count? Not necessarily, it was an inexact science. The incidence of actual interaction was the key. And there was something coming up that she had not expected. Cats….specifically pets owned by a section of the population that relied on them in a certain way…. an emotional attachment that was strong and significant in their lives. The independence of the creature with the will of the human….a radical combination of instinct and action, of insight and choices made at a conscious or unconscious level. Something…. She looked again, and drank some coffee. Alastair sat watching her mind whirr and took in with admiration the workings of her brilliant brain and that complex aloof intensity. He felt Simon watching him and set about clearing some cups away from earlier.

‘That’s it!’ she said suddenly. They both drew near to her as she entered the template into the calculation. Suddenly new lines of consequence were streaming out at this point and going to?

‘Right boys! This is it. We have our data sets; now let’s get to it. Start pulling up the actual info to input. We might even get some specifics on whom we might have to go and see.’

‘What about the owner?’

‘Yes?’ she looked at Alastair who was holding up his right hand.

‘That one. They must live there.’

‘Okay then…..’ and when he didn’t move, ‘Get on the website! Find the Landlord’s records for the building. Cross check with the electoral roll.’

‘Could be tricky,’ said Alastair, ‘we took the flat because the records were inaccessible. So….’

‘Tell me who they are then?’ she frowned expectant.

‘Yes, right away. Here.’

‘Mmm, yes; very interesting….’

‘What is it?’ said the nosy Simon.

‘Very interesting…. Alastair, get me the records on missing persons.’

‘Okay.’ he said pleased. She was on a roll now and the forgotten coffee had begun to cool. He noted with pleasure that Simon was being made to look up the regular stuff. He got right to it. And then found again that no such person as the Landlord existed.

‘Could be a pseudonym? Or a business name?’

‘Not likely…. He’s real alright. I just know it.’ She twirled an escaping strand of hair.

‘Right then,’ Alastair straightened up and gave Simon the eye; a new energy was rising in him and gave him back his authority.

‘You gotta be kidding me…. I mean no way!’ Simon was indignant.

‘Yeah mate,’ said Alastair with satisfied tone, ‘it’s time to get radical and go to paper records. We need that name…’

‘At this time of night?’ Simon moaned.

‘Do as he said.’ Miranda was clipped and firm.

They left to search the archives. Miranda turned back to the screen and shook her head: ‘It’s going to be a long night.’ she said out loud to no one, and touched another key, ‘So let’s do Alchemy.’

Howard had found the answer to Sam’s question, through his intimate knowledge of the monetary system and a rather strangely smart friend called Jedden Grey. He, rather sulky and depressed in a dark and bitter manner confessed that he saw nothing wrong with the money. It was legal tender, and would be able to be spent once the date on the coins became current. He stared at Howard soulfully, and then said: ‘By the way have you found that document I asked for yet?’

‘I have a lead,’ Howard regarded him seriously; ‘I hope it will help. I’m having it delivered.’

‘Is it coming from a faraway place?’ Jedden sighed and fiddled with one of Howard’s desk toys- a Newton’s Cradle.

‘Scotland,’ said Howard, ‘a church archive, of all places. But I do have to return it in a month.’

‘Fine….Thanks Howard,’ he sighed rather sadly and rubbed his eyes, ‘I will leave as soon as I can. If this gives me the right information….’

‘I hope so my friend,’ Howard frowned, ‘but then how would I get my information on such things again?’

‘You will find someone else.’ said Jedden, ‘we will not miss each other.’

‘I think,’ said Howard, ‘I will miss you just a little, if that’s alright.’

Jedden did not answer but stood up to go. He nodded once and then left. Howard sighed and looked out of the window. He reached for the tobacco pouch and skilfully rolled a cigarette. Meetings with Jedden always made him feel deeply nostalgic for “the good old days”, those forgotten times when he did things he only just managed to NOT get prosecuted for. That is why he helped people now….to create some balance in the scheme of things, for a life that was saved by chance rather than good fortune. He thought about the skill of the deceptions; and then remembered the things he had now; the world snapped back into focus. What was he thinking? It was a bright morning, and his favourite Innocent was on his way up. He wondered vaguely if Sam would cross Jedden on the stairs and conclude that he had been doing business with him. Sam was usually quite observant but seemed distracted when they met the other day. He preferred Sam to be his usual self, and not part of a world that was murky with the undergrowth of deceit and uncertainty, even if he was a detective. Sam, he thought should exist in a perpetual sunlit garden. He was miffed moment later when Gina flounced in, ignoring the insistent rebuttal of Howard’s PA who came rushing through.

‘Shall I get security?’ the PA was looking expectant. Howard blew out a steady stream of smoke that made Gina cough. The PA rolled her eyes and left, already used to reading Howard’s intention without a word being spoken. Sam arrived a moment later. He stood at the door and opened and closed his mouth.

‘Come in.’ said Howard wearily, ‘I suppose you’ll thank me for being psychic and not having my assistant throw Gina out.’

‘I’m right here!’ Gina was indignant.

‘Sorry….I mean, I’m really sorry…’ he looked at Howard like one who really has been caught on the toilet when the fire alarm goes off. Sam wasn’t firing on all four cylinders, so Howard indicated the comfortable chair and pulled out an ordinary stacking plastic seat for Gina. She looked miffed.

‘Please sit down.’ he said to Sam, who did so. Gina glared at him and remained upright.

‘I’m not showing him anything!’ Gina tried to be important, but it was difficult with Howard now blowing smoke rings.

‘Sit!’ Howard barked. Gina, startled did so. And Howard settled behind his desk, ‘I don’t do marriage counselling so make it quick.’

Sam glanced at Gina, with a You-go-first look. Howard sighed heavily. Too much communication was a bad thing with one’s Ex. Sam was bright but thick….Or thick but brilliant….Or brilliant but plank like….A plank with a genius intellect he concluded. Gina pouted waiting for her cue as Howard stared upwards.

‘Darling…’ Howard drawled, ‘I really don’t have time for this. The Golding consignment is due at ten thirty. I will not take time from actual work for this little matter of note.’

Gina thinking he was talking to her, and reaching a conclusion at the speed of light, reacted with a professional politeness all of a sudden. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for; but the specific moment would wait for the exhibition opening perhaps. So she straightened in her chair and inclined her head in a gesture of submission to the greater power. Sam noticed her change of stance immediately, and assumed wrongly that Gina was going to try coming onto Howard.

‘I’m sorry,’ Sam said, ‘I should have asked for you to be my witness to the exchange of goods. I’m really sorry.’

‘I also apologise,’ Gina had become the gracious, poised person that Sam had once loved; and it bothered him that this should be triggered by the obvious attraction of Howard’s rather off-beat charm.

‘That is fine Sam, Gina… so what would you like me to witness?’

‘You understand it is a secret.’ Gina said.

‘Top secret. Or even beyond Ultra.’ Howard replied, ‘this never happened; you weren’t here.’

‘Thanks.’ said Sam. Gina seemed confused for a second and then she caught up. ‘Yes. Fine. Of course. I really appreciate this.’

‘Yes, well. Save the appreciation for another time,’ he looked at his watch, ‘you’ve got ten minutes max.’

Gina drew a lumpy object out of her ample bag. It was wrapped in a sepia coloured cotton cloth. There it was…. the fabric fell open to reveal a heavy belt like structure with a lot of metal and clips and there was a tag attached. This too was metal and it had a serial number on it.

‘It is an unidentified annoying object.’ said Howard, ‘and I witness this. And say I don’t know a thing about it. Got that?’ they both nodded and Sam pulled a day sack onto his knee, took out a cushion that had been filling it and they put the thing into the zippered sack. Sam put a small combination lock through the eyelet of the double zipper and spun the rollers several times.

‘I have the specs here too.’ said Gina, and handed over a small heavily bound text book.

‘Right, said Sam, ‘my fee is two thousand all in.’

Gina under Howard’s watchful eye gave Sam the money in cash. Howard was surprized, as he thought that she was selling it.

‘I note that the flow of notes is in the direction of the now registered keeper.’

‘Keeper yes.’ said Gina, ‘Registered, no. I have to take a trip and I need….’ But Howard help up a hand and stopped her, ‘I am not part of this, just observing the exchange, to confirm in the future to either party that it did in fact take place. And that is all I do. And MY fee is also…. No just kidding. Sam?’

‘Yes?’

‘You leave separately. And don’t bring that back without checking I’m free first. I’m a very busy man.’

The statement, made for Gina’s benefit rather than Sam’s meant that she was out of the door almost straight away. Sam sank into Howard’s chair and groaned: ‘Tell me I’m in too deep.’ He looked at Howard expecting a ticking off. But Howard just said: ‘It’s all a game Darling. Just play the game.’ And with that he shooed Sam out and went to tend to the fabulous offerings of the hard to pin down Annalise Golding, photographer, adventurer, and reclusive author of standard tomes on The Art of Seeing. He put from his mind the interruption in his schedule and only just managed to remind Sam before he left about the opening on Friday. It promised to be a really big move for Howard; the fusion of the new and the more mature artists’ works. A veritable feast: gorging on the delights of colour and light, and subtleties of photographic arts and paintings. And he had secured six people to show their work! All would attend, and all had been known to be difficult in one way or another. Howard was something of an alchemist himself. And as Sam walked back to his car and Howard forgot him almost completely, a curious thing happened. Sam felt very odd for a moment; that is to say it seemed like a moment, and then again it seemed like it was a lot longer than that. Something was ticking at the back of his mind like a bomb that is about to go off. He bit his lip, stuck the bag out of sight in the boot and went to his next appointment.

The so called scientist who had tried to follow Sam was back. He wasn’t a scientist; rather their assistant and he was tangled in the clutches of the people who were also watching Gina. Fortunately for her and in a way because they had to get Sam in their sights, they hadn’t followed her to the Gallery and didn’t know that she had handed over the missing belt. Gina had got this thing from a friend who had recently been on a Time Trip; a lame brained skinny female called Missy Brink; one who definitely had more money than sense, and was probably not going by her real name, the only sensible move she made was to get rid of the Hot Potato. Since these things tended to home in on the signals of the same frequency she had picked it up out of the rubbish pile she had landed in. They were warned not to wear their best clothes and high heels were a no-no. So Missy was regulation from the knees downwards. The excitement of being covered in day old Nineteen-Forties mouldy cabbage was short lived. But then she found the other belt. It was like hers; the one strapped under her clothes, and like a magpie she slipped this second one into her pack and didn’t say a word. On returning she went straight to Gina who was more than willing to relieve her of this bizarre find, and she (Gina) realising that this was an opportunity to actually get past the event horizon of her own knowledge decided to get Sam to keep it while she was on the Time Tripper. Connections are dangerous things, and the choice of keeper for the belt was not one that could logically be deduced to be fate in the sense that predestination is supposed to work, but Sam had that feeling of discomfort again as he walked to the Sushi bar. He thought it best to keep the item with him, whatever the risk, and summoned the courage to take off the padlock for easy access. This was one of those moments when he might do something dishonest…. Or was it? If one looked at the situation from one side it was wrong, yet he needed to know what it was, and he needed to know why they were following him of all people. Logic told him that if this was what he thought it was, they would already know that he had it with him….. Time enough for doubt. He almost doubled back to dump it in the car boot, but then common sense kicked in. He would rather have something like this in his possession than in a car that could be nicked; which, by the way, was not as difficult as people thought. He knew a lad who could get into cars that were supposed to only be opened by a special key. They were easier apparently. And the electronics were much more susceptible to the fine art of hacking. Computers! Sam only used a mobile for convenience at times when he wasn’t working, and would elect to enter a call box when it was a fairly secure line he needed. The old hard line had been kept because of a petition by some irritated historian. His cries of “destruction of our cultural heritage” had been heeded and the boxes had been allowed to stay, on the condition that the group who wanted them to remain paid for their maintenance. They agreed, much to the government’s chagrin, and they were actually a lot cleaner than they had been at the turn of the century. Phone box groupies and strange people in hats had occupied them during the protests. And nowadays mating couples sometimes did it in there just to tell their friends they had dared. Sam supposed it was an economical version of the Mile High Club. Phone boxes were cool and nostalgic. And people liked things like that to be there even if they didn’t use them themselves; just to appear to be socially aware and fashionable.

So when Sam saw the same man in the nice clean beautifully kept box he felt a pang of annoyance. He was a devout user of the service and kept a phone card in his wallet for the purpose… he even used coins on days when he was feeling particularly buoyant, as it always cheered him up. He walked past the bright red upright oblong, deliberately not glancing into the windows, just so the man would have chance to slip out and follow him. Sushi, Sam decided is good for those who like to keep one hand free. He sat down and took a pair of chopsticks out of the little decorative container. He handed a fiver over to the guy in the bow tie and was given a napkin and bowl with a sachet of scented wipes in the bottom. He pocketed the wipes, and peeled the wrapper off the chop sticks. He would enjoy this. He wondered how long it would take the man to sidle round to his position. And then how he would make his presence felt; and if he would order. People who sat too long without ordering and took up space for other eager customers by the revolving buffet were ejected. Sam smiled to himself as he selected a seaweed wrapped parcel, and then some giant prawns. A moment later the man sat opposite him, and was in obvious discomfort at the unconventional setting. But it was Sam’s turn to be taken out of the comfort zone, as a large hand clapped down on his shoulder, and two people slid in on each side of him, displacing the other customers further down the short benches. They moved and everyone ignored the gesture. This wasn’t their business. Anyway, there were always strange things happening around the area. Someone looking like a thug and leaning on a man’s shoulder to intimidate him was not anything to get worked up about. Sam breathed, he knew the place; the staff had a zero tolerance policy for any actual physical violence. The one to his right calmly paid the bow tie, and picked out the more exotic things on the menu as the little bowls travelled round. The other stayed only long enough for this man to be assured that Sam had got the message and then melted away.

‘We are in a position to offer you a large sum of money for the return of something I believe you have recently acquired.’

Sam picked up a prawn, ‘Go on…’

‘I must tell you that this is for your own good, as you could not possibly realise what you are getting yourself into. And it is better if you leave that to the professionals Mr….?’

‘Just call me Sam.’

‘Well Sam; I’ll be a gentleman and give you a choice. You can do something right, and make a drop off tonight at eight. Or we will remove the item by other means.’

‘I see.’

‘You will be compensated of course for your inconvenience and so on. Naturally, if you go to anyone else with this, we will take a very dim view of the situation.’

‘I get it. You are threatening me. I will of course take the safe option. And you will do something for me now.’

‘What is that?’

‘Call off your dog. He’s a crap tail. And I can smell him from fifty yards.’

The man smiled thinly, ‘The reference to the arcane measurement and the passion for a low tech life!! Well, I do have something on you….’ He turned and met Sam’s eyes for a moment. Sam shuddered involuntarily.

‘Yes….yes I see. You are protected. You carry something strange….a mark of something I have not seen for a long time. It is interesting. But you are a man who will not be bargained with I think. You will do the right thing, as you see it. And your principles are worth the sacrifice of the loss of exciting new ventures.’

‘What do you mean?’ Sam looked across at the tail who was struggling with the chop sticks. Idiot!

‘Time is against us.’ the man said lightly.

Sam startled, turned again as if he had heard this somewhere before. But the man had gone. The thug sat down in his place, and pushed a packet of lemon wipes towards him. ‘You dropped these.’ He said and melted away. Sam looked up after pocketing the second packet of wipes. The tail had gone too. They would have put someone else on it. And they would be better, or less stupid. Sam was ready for this. He stayed for a while and enjoyed his early lunch. The little sachet was burning with the astringent lemony pungency of the forthcoming meet rather than the freshness of a clean-up. And Sam had to force himself not to look until he had got back to his car. Next stop Juliet. He read the message on the back of the little packet. Yungs. A4 envelope. Fifty pence. Sam thought about the place…. A restaurant, secluded with a balcony and quiet tables and good wine. The entrance: a seven sided display plinth. And there was a rack with newspapers; where you were invited to help yourself.

Sam checked his watch; yes, it was Monday. A weekend dreaming of the meeting with Juliet and dreading seeing Gina had done nothing for the state of Camille’s digestion, not to say his own. Sam stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a pocket pack of tissues. Something was making his eyes water. Perhaps it was the Sushi. He was admitted to the theatre with little trouble. It was a strange greeting. A once over; then a question about “Moses”.

‘Do you know Moses?’ said the lanky creature Sam assumed to be a tech head.

‘He parted the Red Sea?’

‘Yeah Man… but do you know him…. like personally?’

‘I can’t say I do. Is this a test?’

‘No man…. just to see if you’re a nut case or not. We gotta keep the nutcases out of back stage…. It makes the actors nervous.’

‘Well then I guess you can let me in. I’m seeing Juliet.’

‘Yeah…. Juliet… wow… a woman with really sweet parts. And you know she is single right?’

‘No… I didn’t. I’m here on business.’

‘Sure thing Detective Man. I am showing you the way…’

The lad, affecting a strange kind of walk took Sam through maze of corridors to a back room full of equipment and spare lighting rigs. Juliet sat on a box with a tea cup. She looked up and smiled. That once brilliant, yet sweetly inoffensive smile; one that lit up the room and simultaneously soft focused it.

‘…..I was saying, thanks for coming.’

‘Pardon….’ Sam looked for somewhere to sit down.

‘Come through to the tea room. The Costumiers’ hideout. We have comfy chairs and everything. Mind your head.’ She bent gracefully under the counterweight, and Sam ducked under it after her.

‘There isn’t going to be an opening night.’ she said without preamble, as she made Sam a tea, ‘Sugar?’

‘No thanks…. So what happened?’

‘Nearly everyone is off sick… all of us. There’s only me and a few of the back stage lot who have not succumbed to the virus. Most of the cast are really ill, and the director, and our lighting man. We were going to have live music, but as they can’t fit us in for a revised booking; it looks like this one’s off for at least a fortnight.’ She looked quite glum, but then cheered up a minute later, ‘I should count myself fortunate. I’ve always been the resilient sort. I hardly ever get sick. What about you?’

‘I hope not… at least not until I’ve looked into this one.’

‘Sit down Sam. I really think that this is a good opportunity.’ She stirred the tea. Sam took it as she handed it to him and sipped.

‘What can I do?’ he asked.

‘Just have a look around. There’s no one to get in the way and complain. So we have the run of the building. The production Head Case isn’t due until three, so we’ll know whether we’re going to try for another set of dates. But until then…’

‘Well then where shall we start?’

‘Jerry’s office. You can bring your tea.’

Juliet took him on a tour of the building, which was old and complicated and smelled musty like old parchment. There were numerous dressing rooms and rehearsal rooms and storage spaces, old and full of years. It was like a museum. And ancient copy of a review pamphlet lay on top of a crate. ‘That’s odd,’ Juliet picked it up, ‘I’m sure that’s something I’ve not seen before.’ She handed it to Sam. It was slightly yellow, a rich cream paper with lithographic images on the front. He handed it back. It was nothing to be suspicious about; in fact the only thing about the place that made him feel the least bit strange was the lack of windows in this maze of lower rooms. They took the stairs back up and returned to the costume room. This did have windows that let in a lot of natural light. It was better for doing repairs and such. Sam sat down again and felt safeish… well until later. He thought about the man at the Sushi bar and thought about the item in his possession. He didn’t care what Gina thought, this was a matter of keeping oneself in one piece. But this was intriguing in a rather more cardigan with pipe sort of way. The running around might keep you fit but it did nothing for one’s thought processes, and Sam desperately needed to think. There was something that didn’t make any sense. Something niggled. Something someone had said, or done, that he, Sam had observed and recorded almost unconsciously. What was it? Juliet smiled at him, ‘Getting stuck in already?’

‘There doesn’t appear to be anything out of the ordinary in the building. Is it possible that all the mischief might have been perpetrated by someone who is normally here…?’

‘But they are all sick.’ Juliet pointed out, ‘and besides, there was never a time when there was anyone near the objects that went missing…. Everyone is accounted for.’

‘That is why I am suspicious. You want to keep the speculation on the realm of the supernatural; you need to “prove” that no one was in the room, or near the sandwich. You need in fact to concoct a situation where all the pieces on the board can be seen…’

‘That’s brilliant!’ Juliet was impressed, ‘so that means it’s one of the Cast?’

‘Not necessarily.’ Sam began to doubt himself, but forged ahead anyway, ‘the money you had in your purse, the one that was returned. It was legal tender…. just not for this year.’

‘Any working out why?’ Juliet was interested not spooked.

‘If you ignore for a minute the dates on the money there is only one reason why someone would leave that much money in a purse that wasn’t their own.’

‘Yes? Go on…’

‘It’s if the person;’

‘Or persons?’

‘Quite; or persons had to find somewhere to put it in a hurry. Somewhere in which it would be hidden and lie undisturbed for quite a while.

‘It was during that really long rehearsal. And the bag was in a locker.’

‘They are easy enough to break into. So that’s no supernatural event.’

‘But no one did break in.’

‘Show me.’

Sam went and inspected the locker. He saw some tiny scratches around the lock, and showed them to Juliet.

‘It has been picked. The question is… did it disappear from here. Or reappear in here?’

‘Well both actually.’

‘Was it locked both times?’

‘Well….yes. It’s odd though. Because the second time I don’t remember locking the door. But it was locked when I went back to get a pad… just to make a few notes. I didn’t have my bag… you understand. My purse was stolen so I didn’t trust the locker any more even through it wasn’t open when it vanished and then there it was…’

‘I think I will have to…. Um… sleep on this one.’ said Sam, ‘A problem and no mistake.’

‘What’s wrong Sam? You seem to be saying one thing….but you look like you’re thinking something else entirely.’

‘Yes I am.’ He answered truthfully. Juliet was by far the most decent girl he had ever met and he didn’t like the feeling it was giving him - having to be deceitful towards her. He took a deep breath.

‘What level do you think your credibility can stretch? I mean I think I owe you an explanation for the other day.’

‘That’s fine,’ said Juliet quickly, and smiled.

‘No. Really, I do. I think that there are things that seem in some way connected. And I can’t work out how. There is nothing I can do to convince you of all this, except an instinct. And some very persuasive moves by Camille.’

‘Camille?’ her face fell.

‘My cat.’ said Sam, ‘she was the one who started all of this. Last Thursday in fact. Actually things seemed to be going odd before that come to think of it; but that might be just coincidence.’

‘Ah!’ said Juliet. The mention of Camille the Cat seemed to have energised her somewhat.

‘So where shall I begin?’

‘The beginning?’ Juliet suggested.

‘Maybe. But I think that beginnings are sometimes not anything of the sort. I’m looking to find out where, when and how all of this did begin. That’s my job. Once you know what happened you’ve solved it.’

‘Very Miss Marple. Shall I get my knitting out?’ Juliet giggled a little then. It was mainly relief at discovering that the love of his life was a cat. She just hoped that Camille would like her when they met. Juliet could feel her face going a little pinker, but it wasn’t visible in the corridor. She was leaping forward to a cosy point in the future with Sam. She wanted him like a girl wants a special birthday present, one that you would unwrap a layer at a time. He was very different in appearance from the languid musician who did drugs, and studied combined sciences. He was still cute, Juliet observed, and his eyes followed everything. He had that strange baby soft dark blonde hair that had spewed in a dreaded up mess four years ago. But now was cut well and sometimes lifted by a few strands in a breeze. He had been working out. There was muscle on that slim frame, and he had filled out a little too. She longed to reach out and touch his hand. He had nice hands. She remembered him touching the strings on his guitar and strumming the harmonies to a smoggy evening with cheap beer and salt and sweet snacks.

‘I erm….’ Sam was trying to find a way of explaining the whole thing so far. So he just plunged in and tried to not repeat himself. This wasn’t like giving a witness statement with Juliet hanging on his every word. So he was perhaps a little too literal and kept his own emotions out of the story.

‘You must have been scared.’ said Juliet, when he had finished.

‘Yes.’

‘They threatened you.’

‘Yes. But it’s not a problem.’

‘I want to come with you.’

‘Really? I mean why?’ Sam shook his head to dislodge another pang of regret about not taking Ollie’s advice. Give up smoking. He was by now dying for a fag. And it was making him feel edgy.

‘I was just thinking,’ said Sam, trying to take the objective line on the situation, and then feeling even more edgy, ‘that I ought to invite you for tea and then I can prepare for battle…. so to speak. You can help me. You can go to the restaurant as a customer and meet someone there.’

‘But I wouldn’t be meeting someone would I?’

‘They don’t know that. And when your ‘date’ stands you up, you can leave without arousing suspicion.’

‘So what would I have to do?’

‘Do you have a camera phone?’

‘Yes. Of course.’

‘And a blue tooth headset?’

‘Yes….’

‘And a nice dress?’

‘You bet!’

‘Then you are in, partner.’

‘As you wish Mr Wright.’ She did a little curtsey which seemed slightly comical when wearing jeans.

‘So tell me again. You have to be at the restaurant at eight?’

‘Yes; Yungs at 20 hundred hours.’

‘Well that’s weird,’ said Juliet, ‘A friend of mine is booking a hen night there at eight on a Monday. Strange coincidence.’

‘I don’t believe in coincidences.’ said Sam, ‘but yes, that is weird. So where do we go to get your supplies? Makeup, shoes, dress, that sort of thing?’

‘So you are a “New Man”.’ said Juliet as they walked to Sam’s car.

‘I’m not sure what that means…. But I do know how important it is for a lady to be fully prepared.’

‘And yourself?’ she got in the passenger seat.

Sam turned to her and then started the car, ‘Oh; I’m always ready for every eventuality.’

‘So you have a full change of clothes and fresh socks always there ready in a bag in your boot?’

Something like that.’ Sam said, ‘Now tell me which house it is? I’ll wait outside.’

*****

Chapter Five

A Night to Forget.

Juliet took the tour of the flat. She was polite. Overly so. She realised that this meant she had been accorded a special favour. This was it. Just making the graduation from sad loser to potentially well connected detective’s assistant. She was a little nervous. But the excitement of doing something that was not too risky, but did carry a degree of responsibility was helping her feel useful. She had dreamed of adventure and exotic meetings. But it always faded into dull greyness in the morning’s light. She stared into Sam’s mirror. The well-equipped bathroom was very tidy. In fact the whole flat was very tidy. Here was someone who liked things in control. What had happened to Sam? Something had made him change, while the essential kernel of who he was remained as sweet and unforced as it always was. There was an ex…. That much she had been told. And only in the context of people who might be around at a time when you least expected them to be. Juliet wondered why she was doing this. Then, as she walked through to Sam’s kitchen and saw the most utterly gorgeous creamy coloured cat that she had ever seen being petted by Sam she felt two conflicting emotions; a sweet and hopeless attraction to the object of Sam’s affection; and a strange rising longing that she wished to share the cat’s place in Sam’s world. Camille eyed her with indifference; it was dinner time and the salmon and veg took the attention span of her brain out beyond the outer reaches of its reality. Once the cat had come down off the self-inflicted high brought about by an overdose of choice cuts, she would then turn her attention to Sam’s new acquisition.

They parked about a mile from the restaurant. There was a chance that the new tail had been on them, so Juliet then took a taxi to the restaurant. She would go in and wait for a table in the bar area at the front, and keep watch on the plinth and the news rack. If anyone went near it she would stop pretending to text the imaginary boyfriend and take photos instead. Sam had shown her how to set the camera so that it didn’t look as if she was taking a shot. She rested it on the arm of the chair and tipped it upward while holding it in one hand and sipping a drink. With a little practice she had got it right. The staff in there were used to hen nights and other group liveliness so photos were expected in the place. It wasn’t exactly a bad place for a quiet meal, just not always the most intimate for couples. Perhaps that’s why they had chosen it. Lots of singles milling about would not attract anyone’s attention. The staff were generously giving out free drinks, it was a promo night. Sam had instructed her to accept what was offered; as being obviously sober, and avoiding the cocktail tasters was a sure sign of being a watcher.

‘Is that an excuse to get plastered on the job?’ asked Juliet and then felt ignorant.

‘No, not really,’ said Sam, ‘just sip it slowly. I’ll buy you take out at midnight if we survive the evening. And a bottle of good wine.’

So Juliet twizzled her parasol and sipped again. There was a little commotion at the end of the bar. A few people went to look what was happening. Sam had told her, that if that happened to not let herself be distracted, as it was probably the people in the group keeping everyone’s eyes off the entrance display. There! In a dinner jacket with a rose in the lapel was a man hovering near the display. She steadied the camera and took a shot. Then a woman joined him and they went in. The argument whatever it was fizzled out. Juliet glanced at her watch; ten to the hour. What would happen? She was suddenly a little nervous. She felt exposed to view when the next group left the area as their tables were ready. Just then she saw Sam! He came in purposefully and circled round the plinth. Then he sat down on a seat next to her. She didn’t dare glance at him. This was a change of plan. He should have come in just at Eight, exchanged the goods and then stood briefly by the bar and left.

‘The tail is right behind me. I want him to shake him for me if you’re willing.’ He didn’t move anything but his mouth and seemed nothing to do with her to any outside observer.

‘How do I do that?’

‘Act drunk. Pretend you’re a long lost college chum. Do that thing you girls do. And then apologise for having made a mistake.’

‘What if he won’t leave me alone after?’

‘You will suddenly feel that are going to be violently sick and run to the ladies. Wait exactly three minutes and then leave and go straight to the car.’ As he stood he dropped the car keys into her half open purse. Juliet was scared now. But she took a glass from the nearest waiter who was instructed to offer them to pretty ladies as much as possible, and proceeded to intercept the man as Sam indicated with his eyes. Sam crossed the space diagonally as Juliet; slightly slurring her words greeted the guy in the scraggy suit.

‘Darling! I haven’t seen you for eons! What are you doing here?’

‘Uh! What, oh…’ he was genuinely taken aback and pleased at the same time by the supposed recognition.

‘It is you isn’t it? I mean it must be!’ she furiously tried not to overact but it came out wrong anyway. Never mind, this was a man not used to female company and the ruse seemed to be working. Sam meanwhile had slipped behind the display. And Juliet saw to her horror that two others were closing on his position. One of them put an envelope in the news rack, and the other took the parcel Sam had left under the large leafy plant in the middle. The man, who she had been charming, suddenly lost interest. He started to head towards Sam’s side of the display. Juliet thought that something bad would happen. But the convergence was over and the planets realigned. The tail was now near the door to the dining room. He took one look back at Sam and then went in. The utter sense of relief was coupled with the knowledge that due to distracting the other man she hadn’t got any more pictures; so she sat down for a moment and carried on taking them. Sam was glaring at her. Time to go. She got up, staggered genuinely and tottered out muttering about being stood up. Not a flicker from the door staff. They must see that sort of thing all the time.

Back in Sam’s car Juliet was shaking. The adrenaline was leaving her system and she felt cold, as well as slightly pissed on free cocktails. Ten minutes and Sam wasn’t back. She tried ringing his number and got an unavailable signal. Some date! Then she reminded herself that this wasn’t a date, and that she ought to have a little more confidence in Sam’s abilities. Before she had finished thinking this Sam was back.

‘Drive. Now!’ Sam ordered, and slammed the passenger door shut. Juliet took the Astra straight out into the traffic on the bypass. She could see herself not quite making sense of the road signs and her reactions felt slow. Realising that she was in fact more than three parts cut she slowed down.

‘No!’ said Sam sharply, ‘we must get off here as quickly as possible.’

‘My place is near. What’s wrong?’ she sped up again as Sam started to moan in a slight way. He had a hand to his leg, and she realised there was a smear of blood over the knee.

‘Shit!’ said Juliet, and made the turn off ten seconds later.

Juliet, being an accomplished woman of many talents that she did dismiss and underrate as often as she failed with her relationships, did a really good field dressing on Sam. The second man had taken a knife to Sam; the cut was short and deep, but for Sam not life threatening. Sam had gone every shade of pale for at least ten minutes. And then when forced to eat chocolate, started to shake. Juliet ran a bath, and with a little cooperation stripped him down.

‘But the cut?’

‘Just in and out. It’s warm, and you need to calm down…’

Later Juliet gave Sam her travel rug and a box of Jaffa cakes and made two enormous cups of tea.

‘Why are you being nice to me?’

‘Because I don’t like to see the little guy being beaten I guess.’ Juliet had changed back into normal clothes. She had also wondered at Sam’s instructions, he had asked specifically for no pain killers. It was hard to see him wince at every little movement, but after an all over wash he settled in Juliet’s squishy settee, and slept until midnight.

Sam had made the meet as well as he could; but there were complications. There was another two people there who were interested in taking what was their own….or then again…. Sam wasn’t quite so concerned with the distinction when the second drew out a knife and waved it near to Sam’s belly. Sam backed off and held up both hands. He had done what he promised and the envelope was tucked down the back of his belt under his jacket. This other fellow had an evil look, and the large plants were covering his intention effectively enough.

‘The goods Mr Wright!’

‘How come everyone knows my name?’ Sam said stalling.

The man moved faster than the speed of a snake and had Sam in a grip that he recognised and couldn’t instantly escape from.

‘Drop it!’ said another voice, female and smoothly deep and assured in tone, ‘the package is already on its way out.’

‘This little bundle isn’t going anywhere!’ Sam could feel the man tense before shifting his position, and he took his chance. He brought his elbow up and slammed it into his nose. The man did not stagger back but snapped to attack him even as Sam was moving away. He swung the knife and it embedded in Sam’s right thigh. It was shockingly sudden and it was pulled free and the little blade was concealed so fast there would be no way that he couldn’t prove that he wasn’t the aggressor who had bruised the man’s ego, and his nose. Sam fled, catching a glimpse of a bold redhead in a plunging neck line as he did so.

Later he woke in a blur of pain, and although wrapped in a blanket he felt cold.

‘Oh my God!’ said Juliet, ‘You really need to go to hospital.’

‘No!’ he said sharply, and then drew a breath inwards. He squeezed his eyes shut. It bloody hurt. And there was no way that he was going to get through the next twenty-four hours without professional help…. But hospital, no. They would know that was where he would have to go. So that was why he mustn’t do it. Sam had miscalculated. He was in over his head, and had got Juliet into danger, potentially. If she was connected to him by taking him to A&E, then she might be in really bad trouble. There was something he needed to do. He tried to say it but it came out as a croak.

‘What is it Sam?’ Juliet was leaning over him looking very worried.

‘Get my jacket.’

She complied and she eased the mobile from his pocket. He switched it on, and then found George’s number.

‘Listen…. I want you to go in the boot. Get my rucksack out and bring it here. And then I want you to call this number on your landline… you do have one?’

‘Yes. But who am I calling?’

‘Please….’ he spoke with some effort, ‘it’s important. Really, really vital that you do so.’

‘Okay.’

A few minutes later Juliet was on the phone to George. She said what Sam told her to say. The person at the other end was instantly reassuring, ‘We will be there in ten minutes. Just see if the wound is seeping. If it is, raise his leg on a cushion.’

George and Kyle arrived with two bags each. George ignored Juliet from the moment she let them in and concentrated solely on Sam. Kyle asked her to take him into the kitchen.

‘Can he help?’ Juliet asked.

‘Sure thing. George is a doctor. A very good one. And he does unusual house calls to help the people he works with now.’

‘Oh?’ Juliet wasn’t quite sure how to take this. She heard Sam crying in pain from the other room.

‘I wouldn’t.’ Kyle held out an arm to stop her.

‘What is he doing?’ Juliet’s voice went up a few lines on the stave.

‘George was a doctor who worked in A&E until this new job came up. He can deal with things that are down to street violence and assault. He’s got a strong stomach.’

Juliet leaned against the sink then. Realising how tired she was, she turned to the kettle and made coffee on auto pilot.

Sam knew he was in good hands, but this wasn’t like he imagined; the appearance of the doctor didn’t make the pain go away. There was no mental trick to this that would work.

‘Let me see!’ George took hold of the leg, and Sam cried out, ‘Nasty. But I can fix it.’ he went in the kit bag and took out the various items needed and laid them on the low table on a cloth.

‘Fix me George.’ said Sam shivering.

‘I can’t if you won’t let me give you something first. I’ll have to clamp the cut.’

‘It’s…..fine. Just do it.’

‘I’m not a sadist. I have to close the wound. I don’t want you to bleed to death.’

‘But I’m not bleeding now….’

‘Your girlfriend… as in friend, who is female, is quite the girl scout it appears. But it’s leaking without the right pressure applied.’

‘I don’t want drugs…’ Sam was trying to reason with George, but George was better at doing the job. Years of experience had taught him that sometimes it’s better to ignore the patient’s wishes and treat them as you would an unconscious victim, and do what you can to save them from the situation they are in.

‘I’m sorry Sam, but this is one time where you’ll just have to put aside the health freak, pure living crap, for your own good.’ And with that he got out a case of controlled drugs and then uncapped a syringe. He found a good vein on Sam’s left arm and fed in the liquid smoothly and easily. Sam stared at him with pleading eyes, but didn’t struggle.

‘It’s alright,’ said George, ‘I know that you’re concerned, but it will be fine. I promise.’

In ten minutes Juliet came back in. Sam sat with his right leg raised and they gave him coffee. Something told him he should be utterly grateful to both George and Juliet, and thankful that Kyle was on hand as well; but it was the strange euphoria that overtook him as the drugs reached full strength in his system that disturbed him. He felt like they were further and further away. As if he was looking at everyone down a fuzzy tunnel.

‘Sam….Sam?’

His eyes opened. Juliet was next to him and cradling a coffee cup in her hands, inclined her head close to his. She smelled faintly of pomegranates, and he wondered if that was just his brain playing tricks.

‘Do you….?’ he said.

‘Yes Sam?’ she put the coffee cup down.

‘Are you wearing perfume?’

‘Yes. It’s Baby Doll. I put it on earlier this evening.’

‘Really odd one…. But tell me; does it have pomegranates in it?’

‘Yes…I believe it does.’ Juliet took his hand in her cool gentle ones, ‘it’s really nice that you noticed.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Sam tried to smile. Something in her touch made him feel present in the room again. A few minutes later George stood up and collected all their bags ready for removal to George’s SUV. They had been scanning him once more and Kyle had been peering at his lap top and going “Mmmm” in a variety of silly voices.

‘Come on Kung Fuey,’ said George, ‘time to return to the scene of the crime and finish off the choc chip cookies before dawn rises.’

‘It’s the sun that rises,’ said Sam, ‘actually. The dawn is an optical effect of the atmosphere reacting to the light particles at different frequencies.’

‘You know I didn’t know that!’ said George; and then to Juliet, ‘Call me in the morning. Not before nine. But definitely before twelve. There are things to be discussed.’

Sam’s world was swimming in colour and light. And pools of it reflected in smooth objects. Juliet took him to her bed. Not the liaison he had perhaps envisaged. But now he was glad of her warm sweet presence. His reluctance to take any kind of medication was grounded in a deep and abiding fear of the past returning. He could feel the familiar swell of the euphoric and it was like being in a bubble of safety: a floating castle of unwounded crystalline beauty. He closed his eyes, and he could hear music. He picked the notes and plucked the strings. He still had his guitar at home, but rarely played. It made him want to return to that time. He had worked hard to escape the point where recreational becomes dangerously addictive. He had never quite rid himself of the frightening memory of a really bad trip. At that point was when he took a step back to reality. That was the time when the people he surrounded himself with, underwent a radical restructuring. There was no room for the crack heads, and the dope men, he stayed away. He took vitamins, went for walks and tried to clear his head properly. And then one day, after a really horrible craving that was shrinking his gut into the darkness; he went to the town instead of the supplier. What was he thinking? He saw the place and got his hair cut, and like Sampson he felt he had lost all his strength. But with exams a month away he had no time to be self-reflective. He studied hard, and poured his nervous energy into revision late at night instead of being lost in a cloud of drugs and booze. He passed all the exams and got a “Two: One” grade overall. Some of the former friends were verbal in their abuse of Sam for abandoning them. But he had found himself at the bottom of a heap of rotten hair and threadbare repeating dreams, and he didn’t want to go back to that place again. That night he burned the clothes he had worn the night when the really bad trip happened and he found all the things that could roll up, chop, burn, or feed into his drug habit and got rid of them too. Three months later he found an eighth of Scoggie’s best in an old coat pocket. He stared at it and decided that roll ups were too tempting as they could be doctored. And from that point onwards he smoked ready-mades. Sam took the job with a firm that specialised in the testing of samples for marketing. So apart from the free crunchy cookie chip bars etc., smoking was his only vice.

What about Juliet? The thing that had stopped any kind of boy/girl connection back then, apart from the obvious, was the feeling that Juliet was just too well mannered, too strictly brought up to ever consider a date with a dope head; even a reformed one. So now….she was holding him lightly and adjusting her lavender sweet pillows so that he didn’t get a crick in his neck. And the conflict of the past and the soft floating feeling he had was beginning to be irrelevant. She was a real woman. And he wanted her. Not in some grossed out student way, but in a proper way. He would fulfil his promise as soon as he was back in a state to go and order take out. And he knew about good wine. It was better to savour the taste and therefore one glass was sufficient. And he would let events unfold slowly. This jumping ahead was only down to his injury; but as Juliet murmured in his ear and stroked his hair he thought that perhaps she might have been thinking something along the same lines herself. He half turned to see her face close to his. She was looking at him without speaking, and she impulsively bent down and kissed him lightly on the mouth, just brushing her lips against his. He pursed his lips to taste that faint glaze of lip balm, and felt himself smiling. She cuddled up next to him still fully clothed in her long sleeved tee shirt and skirt. He was in his spare tee shirt and boxers. And the duvet was thick and warm. Her scent seemed to surround him; and the scented calm place that was her bed. Sam slept much deeper than he normally would do. He had been released from a lonely place and wanted to stay in the warmth of this intimate embrace for every night from now on.

Morning brought with it the certain hope of friendly interaction with Juliet. The edge of his memory over which the sea of the past spilled was shot through with a lot of pain. The thing that rose most strongly at that point however was an absolute conviction that he had the answer to what was going on, somewhere inside his head. It was time to stop running around and start using the muscle he really needed to exercise, his puzzle solving brain. Juliet brought in coffee and orange juice and a pile of buttered toast. The same settee in daylight was less mysterious but just as comfortable. He winced as he settled into position.

‘You need to take these.’ said Juliet, ‘George said so.’

‘Oh?’

‘Antibiotics.’ she shook the small bottle to emphasize the point.

Sam obeyed. With George to back her up there was no way he could refuse to do what she asked. He eyed the little zippered bag suspiciously that rested on the arm of another comfy chair.

‘I know why you don’t like the idea.’ said Juliet.

‘What did George tell you?’

‘Nothing. He just told me to ring in the morning. It’s now morning so I will ring him.’

‘Just a minute.’ he caught her hand in his as she got up.

‘Sam?’

‘Please….what do you know?’

Juliet sat down. She was silent for several seconds and then said: ‘I was there Sam. I remember what it was like. You and the others. I know what happened that night.’

‘What night?’ Sam felt queasy; there was a forgotten part of his past about to rise to the surface.

‘That night,’ she said in a different tone, as if she expected him to see what she meant. And then a look of thoughtfulness crossed her face, as she realised something: ‘Oh! Of course….’ She stood and came round the little low table and sat next to him. She took his hand again. ‘I had to leave afterwards. My parents wanted me to go home once they knew everyone was going to be alright. That other lad Jay…. He stayed. I thought he would tell you. I guess he didn’t.’

‘Are we talking about the night four people ended up in hospital?’

‘Yes.’

‘How do you know about that?’

‘I was there.’

‘At the hospital?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why were you there?’

‘I took a taxi; then Jay arrived and he waited with me for ages. Then my parents came to find me. We were clearing out the flat. I was moving to… well here; actually. And they said everyone was alright.’

Sam digested this. And he didn’t want to think that on the most dreadful night of his life, in the fog of darkness and the haze of demonic faces and swirling landscapes, there had been Juliet. He turned away from her. She should not have been there. She was not…. But then in the fragmented field of something like self-honesty, and with those powers of deduction he so valued, it all made sense. In fact it made perfect sense.

They were at the student house…. The others had left. Poggie and his mate had brought some new stuff in. Blake made long drug laced smokes for them all. They started at one end and slowly the world around disintegrated. At first it was great… landscapes and vistas of glowing beauty… but then dark horses galloped in, still beautiful but tossing their manes angrily; and then men were running after the horses trying to catch them. He was running with them through the wild magical landscape. But he tripped on a prickly bush, and it tore his hand. The men stopped and all together turned towards him, and they had faces like birds. They were coming towards him, making a low clicking noise. And he couldn’t breathe. They were nodding their heads and the landscape was nodding too. It was taking him towards a yellow sunset by a snaky sea. And there were actual snakes. And then they were huge men with clubs and he was running down the rocks by the snaky sea away from them and then the men were running with him but they were not men. Smoky things burned his throat with the smell like cinder toffee. And then he could smell burnt flesh. It was lifeless and weak. He tried to stand. There was the door. And the others were still lolling in drug induced torpor. What we do? He was falling and then they were grabbing him and he was screaming, and they were closing in on him and he writhed and screamed until it was all a scream and the world smelt of bright lights and disinfectant. And one more thing…. Sam stared at the floor in shame.

‘It was you?’

‘I came back to the house Sam. Then I found your phone. I called an ambulance. A policeman took me to the hospital. And you were not in possession. The others were…. I said that they had persuaded you against your will. And they believed me.’

‘You lied for me?’

‘No,’ she said perplexed, ‘that was the truth…’

‘No Juliet. It wasn’t. You thought it was, and that is why I was let off. But it was only what you said that saved me.’ He looked down feeling that he had lost any credibility he might have had. Then thought: “Well that’s that then.” And stared at her unflinchingly and told her: ‘I did it because I wanted to. I smoked weed and tried quite a lot of drugs, some Class A ones. And that is the truth. After that night I didn’t do it again. I left all those people behind. I was out in the cold and I spent a lot of time wondering if it had been worth it. But then, after a miserable four months, I got my results. And that was it… I was useful again. I could do something right and I don’t want anyone to know about the past. Even George only knows I was a bit wild in those student times… just normal excessive drunkenness. You are the only one who really does know what happened.’ He tried to smile and then winced, ‘it still hurts.’ He added.

‘Sam,’ she said, ‘Please look right at me….please.’

‘Alright.’ He looked at her quite steadily ready to accept whatever came next.

She leaned closer until they were almost nose to nose. She whispered to him: ‘It was you I came back for. I wanted to…. Umm ask you out. And I finally thought you might perhaps maybe say err….yes? And I just hated the way they got you to do stupid stuff. I liked to hear you play the guitar and sing those songs. You were singing them for all the friends in the house those nights when loads of people were round; but I liked to shut my eyes and pretend there was no one else there….’ And then she leaned even closer and kissed him. It was like last night but not blunted by exhaustion. Sam was actually shocked. A declaration of attraction and liking that had been there all along.

‘What happened after that?’ Sam asked, if only to give himself time to digest this new angle on something he never imagined was happening.

‘Work happened. I got a year with a group on several digs in Wales. I was not able to get down. The pay was terrible but it was good experience. I took two more jobs after that… I worked as one of the team on archaeological research mostly. I only came back to London in September last year. And the landlord very weirdly had this house free to rent. So now who says that coincidences don’t happen?’ she looked pleased with herself.

‘So tell me who recommended me?’

‘Oh that…. It was a guy who I met at an evening’s entertainment. He said you were good.’ She seemed to Sam’s honed instincts to be a little embarrassed after that last statement. He thought about it and bit into the toast, so long neglected.

‘Are you working something out?’ asked Juliet.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll tell you where I was that evening.’

‘No don’t. Let me guess.’

‘Okay.’

Sam was quiet for about a minute.

‘I’ll tell you.’

‘No. Don’t do that.’

‘So what is it?’

‘You spent the evening recently at…..a structured evening. And I’m guessing that it must be…. A speed-dating event?’

‘How on earth did you guess that?’

‘One: you are single. Two: you said it was a man who gave you my number, and I cannot think any circumstances were another single person… that of the male variety would do that unless…. They were put in your company by the seemingly random interaction of something that allowed two as yet unconnected people, to spend a little time talking to each other. He wasn‘t your type and you weren’t his. But you chatted in a friendly not attracted kind of way. He gave you the card because you said something about…. The mysterious vanishing of the…. Sandwich. It would perhaps make him laugh and he maybe wrote his number on the back…. Am I right?’

‘Amazing… you’re spot on…. How do you do that?’

‘Because when you rang me you were looking at the card and you asked me: “Sam, is that you?” and the only reason I can think of you asking Is that you? Was because you couldn’t quite believe it actually was me. And you really needed to check.’

‘Yes….I thought if you were not you I could just say I was ringing about something else and then not say I was looking for my old college chum, and unrequited crush of epic proportions.’

‘Good move. You were right to check of course….’ then Sam looked at her startled, ‘your unrequited thingummy?’

‘Yes…’ she blushed furiously at this. And Sam unable to quite process the momentousness of all this, chewed very sensibly on the toast.

Ten minutes later when they had both got over the shock; and the matter in hand was nearer to the surface again. They discussed the options that were available.

‘I can’t think.’ said Sam. ‘I need to see to Camille too.’

‘Oh!’ said Juliet, ‘I must ring George. He said he would take care of that; as long as you are prepared to lend him your key for about 40 minutes. And he said something about a Dragon Tree?’

‘Yes. He is giving me a Dragon Tree. He sort of breeds them. Or something. It’s very relaxing.’

‘Very well. So shall I ring him then?’

When the matter of the cat had been taken care of and George returned. Sam, Juliet and George set about looking at what had been happening so far. George brought a roll of lining paper and lots of marker pens. ‘Because,’ he said, ‘you can’t get the staff nowadays.’

Juliet sensing that this was probably something to do with George’s sense of humour didn’t comment. He looked at her as she hooked her hair behind her ear, and took out a red pen. ‘So you two know each other because…?’

Juliet told him about the speed dating thing and the man who had been paired up with her on the little table on the third one of the night. And he wasn’t really the sort of person you would want to spend time with: that was until the Sandwich story, and this was followed by his insistence on giving her the number of a good detective, because he’s the best anytime, anyplace, anywhere. Sam looked bewildered by this but George saw that the cogs were spinning none the less, so he pushed for more information. After about an hour they had a manually drawn map of connections that seemed to make no sense at all.

‘There is an awful lot of Gina in here.’ said George, ‘sorry Sam.’

‘She is really getting in the way. I wish I knew which one those thugs she was in contact with.’

‘Do you think Gina is in danger?’ asked George.

‘Not sure.’

‘What about Howard?’

‘He’s always got people around him. But he is good cover because of the events he stages. There are too many contacts of his to follow up all of them, but a crime has been committed…. I think.’

‘The wallet.’ said George then, ‘we must know what happened to the wallet, and your car.’

‘My car? How is that relevant?’

‘More than, I should say. If someone is trying to get in the way of you moving around, this would be the best way to literally slow you up. And that my friend; is why friends like me were invented.’

‘Yeah sure,’ Sam picked up a marker, ‘so what is that?’

‘Possible interference; if it is the same people who were tailing you later.’

‘Of which there appeared to be two separate groups.’

‘Very neat.’

‘And the photos?’

‘Dead Aunt? Crying Niece?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one.’

‘Holly?’ said Juliet leaning over the large piece of paper, ‘But that’s Marcia Ellis’ cousin.’

‘Who?’ said Sam.

‘Marcia Ellis. You don’t know who she is? For heaven’s sake!’

‘Why would I know that?’

‘You claimed to be in her restaurant last week.’

‘Gold Exchange?’ George added to Juliet’s sharp look.

‘So how come….’

‘The niece is Ellis because her dad is Marcia’s dad’s brother. And Mrs Marchant is the sister of the family.’ George straightened up and continued, ‘The will that was mentioned; I think we managed to dig out a copy. Mrs Marchant is forbidden to break up the collection. She, as the eldest of the three, had the power to do so if that clause had not been in the will. The inheritance passes now to Holly. And I think that it was actually “natural causes”.’

‘How can you know that?’ Juliet said to George, and then when he didn’t react, ‘how does he do that?’

‘George is the man at the end of all the jungle telegraph wires.’ said Sam.

They drew some more and after more tea in Juliet’s decorative mugs, they agreed that to overtax the strength of the newly injured Sam would be very bad indeed. And George said that the best thing was to spend time writing down anything else that popped in there, as they thought about the whole thing. By eleven they had exhausted all possible ideas for the moment and took a break. George prodded Sam’s ruck sack with his foot.

‘You didn’t?’

‘I did.’

‘You didn’t…’

‘I jolly well did.’ Sam indicated that they bring the ruck sack to him. It sagged at little in the middle as from something smallish but heavy, while most of the rest of it was empty.

Sam reached in and a using a cloth drew out the metal objects. There were three in all. And they were a fat cigar shape with two little dimples in the side towards one end.

When George had stopped rolling his eyes and Juliet had gone to make another tea; they laid them next to each other on the small table.

‘They got exactly what they asked for; the belt.’

‘Did you take all of them?’

‘Yes, of course. And now the price has gone up again.’ Sam felt he could keep this up forever.

‘How many of these things could the belt accommodate?’

‘Up to eight.’

‘Ah!’ George leaned back satisfied.

‘Why the clever smug grunt of success?’ Sam was getting there slowly.

‘It’s self-perpetuating. The pack can use the power of some while charging the others up. I’ll bet that the energy that is generated by the time distortion at any localised point will reach the one who is making all the noise. Also they are slightly magnetic…..see.’ George touched one with the rounded end of a folded pen knife. It was pulled sideways, but he couldn’t lift it.

‘Wow.’ said Juliet as she puts down more mugs, ‘So what does all that mean?’

‘It means that Sam is right in the action, right up to his neck. And I better put these where they can’t be found.’

‘Will they come here?’ Juliet suddenly felt anxious and stared very hard at George.

‘Hey! I’m just trying to help,’ he turned to Sam, ‘we might be able to damp down any signal by sticking these in the freezer.’

‘That’s just silly.’ said Juliet.

‘It’s quite sensible actually,’ said Sam, ‘Oh No! I hope they haven’t found us already! What an idiot I am!’

‘I think you should take comfort from the fact that the minute you left they would have tracked you to here. But they are not interested in causing…. or should I say interfering… in the life of someone who is not actually involved, that’s Juliet here. You keep forgetting that this is one of those things that has to do with Time Paradox. Your Cat is the one you should be thinking about…. She’s red hot.’

‘I didn’t know you felt that way about Camille George!’

‘No you plonker!! She’s glowing like a Christmas tree. But not to worry. The flat itself is somehow dampening the detectable area. I took the liberty of locking the cat flap.’

‘That’s okay… Camille usually likes to go out by the patio doors anyway.’

George stood and bunched the top of the ruck sack together; ‘Do you have some food bags? And some bubble wrap?’

‘I’ve got those freezer zipper bags,’ said Juliet, ‘but I’m all out of bubble wrap…’

‘Newspaper, or brown paper then, so we can wrap them up before we bag them?’

‘Yes…. Actually I’ve got a roll of that greaseproof paper; will that do?’

‘Might be alright. Let’s have a look.’

Sam relaxed in the chair again. He felt less stressed, but the pain was coming back. God knows what George had given him last night, but it only seemed to be really wearing off now.

Juliet returned, ‘It should take about two hours to be cold enough. Then we can wrap them up and take them back to your place. George says that it’s better if they are in that building. He says that it is somehow involved…’

‘The building?’

‘Yes I think that’s what he meant. He said that he rigged up a detector and recording device. It will pick up the… whatever he said a minute ago. I’m not very good with all this; I feel like I’m in a student lecture hall when I ask him a question.’

‘George does tend to make people feel a bit thick… well he does that to me. He just seems to know everything about everything.’

‘Not quite everything.’ said Juliet, ‘I took a look at those photos while you were still asleep. There is something that struck me about some of the people who I saw at Yungs last night. They all had this little thing they were wearing. It was like a bangle…. a sort of silver solid one round the left wrist. But it looked impossible to get off. I mean I don’t see how you could get it over your hand unless you were an escape artist; or it had to unlock and fold in half or something…’

‘Who did you see?’

‘The man with the rose in his buttonhole; and then those two who came in; and then that woman. She stood there for ages and didn’t seem to be involved. But then she walked near to the pot plant and looked irritated. But it wasn’t in the right sort of way. She look like she was waiting for a business meeting, but she was dressed in a really tarty outfit.’

‘Oh?’

‘Push up bra, and plunging neckline.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Fancy hair clips and her hair was overdone curls… all light red and piled on top of her head, but it looked like it was natural….’

‘Juliet,’ said Sam quickly, ‘did you happen to get a photo of her?’

‘Yes of course. She looked really suspicious. And the man with the white rose.’ She held out her phone.

‘Juliet you’re brilliant. I see what they are doing. There are two groups and they are both attempting to get hold of the goods. But they do actually know each other. Look! That one: she’s talking to the man you saw.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Her hand is touching his wrist. But they are not making eye contact. And that guy… the one just in shot was the one who…. Well I did get one in his face first… I hope it bloody well hurts.’

‘We can’t go to the police can we?’

‘Not at all. There is something that you must do. I need you to check your bank statement for the last month. Maybe two.’

‘Why?’

‘Not sure,’ Sam grimaced again as he moved and the cut felt like it was sawing into his leg, ‘it’s just that feeling you get… you know.’

‘I’ll get it right now. They are all in the drawer upstairs.’ Juliet skipped out of the room. Being called brilliant had put her right back into the place she needed to be. The fact that Sam said it… that was a really big thing for her. She had that feeling though, even while she felt buoyant, that the question of the missing purse was about to be answered.

Sam hobbled through to the kitchen. George was making bacon sandwiches.

‘These are really well stocked cupboards! I like this girl Sam. Sam?’

‘What did you give me?’

‘Wearing off is it? I’ll get you some more in a jiffy.’

‘Please don’t.’

‘Doctor’s orders. Besides, you’re useless when you’re cranky.’

‘Thanks.’ Sam sat down rather heavily on the nearest kitchen chair.

Juliet brought the folded evidence to the kitchen: she had the sort of look on her face that said she was either going to cry, or about to scream in an angry way. She managed to go very red, and blurted something incoherent in a stream of consciousness that sounded painful at such close range. George was the one who finally got sense out of her. He scanned the bank docs with a concentrated calmness. Sam, not understanding quite the nature of Juliet’s distress waited until she sat down.

‘You were right!’ she said tearfully. George gave Sam a “Your Turn” look and went to ring Kyle. Juliet carried on sobbing and reached for the box of tissues, ‘I haven’t anything left! I’ve been cleaned out. I just didn’t check. Who could have done such a thing?’

‘You might be able to use the money that was in the wallet.’

She looked at him, eyes all swimmy, ‘You think so? I thought that it was evidence. Doesn’t that make me an accessory after the fact?’

‘I think,’ Sam said slowly, ‘I might be a good idea to put the money in the bank. But first change it into currency that could be seen as acceptable. But there is another way of course…. I could wash it through my account. People invariably pay in cash for most of the jobs I do… so it would not be unusual…. Anyway, I think that there is a shed load more in the envelope….’ Sam wondered if that too had been stolen. Had someone else’s bank account been cleaned out, leaving them without a bean in order to pay him - Sam the fee for the return of the item in question? He had seen the misery this was already causing, so he decided to keep hold of it until he had found out where the paper trail led to. Casting this into the population was easy. But to flood the Capital with anachronistic notes? That came with moral overtones that he wasn’t sure how to react to just yet.

Juliet brought him the ruck sack just as George came back in: ‘Bloody ridiculous!’ said George, ‘the whole lot is hot! I mean, who could be so careless?’

‘Wait a minute!’ Sam said, ‘if the notes… as we suppose are “Hot” as you call it; will that mean that after a while it will be impossible to trace the point of origin. Everything that touches them will be contaminated with those…. Err thingies….’

‘Z Particles.’ said George.

*****

Chapter Six

Cat Friends & Modern Art.

Camille had her eye on a rather attractive picture of another cat in the picture on the top tin of Whiskas. She was perched like some Egyptian Queen atop the huge cling wrapped multi-pack of tins. She set about cleaning herself rather thoroughly and feigning nonchalance until Sam was sat down on the settee; and then she leapt from the top of the stack with all the grace of a flying blob of vanilla mousse and made straight for Sam’s knee purring so loudly it made all window alarms twinkle from the vibration. Juliet sat down very carefully on a chair. Sam had not been too happy having to hobble up three flights of stairs; the lift was out of order. George parked the car in Sam’s space round the side of the building and followed them up muttering about too much exercise.

‘This is becoming too much like being fit,’ said George as he made straight for Sam’s fridge, ‘I guess I’ll have to tell the supervisor at the…..’ then he glanced at Juliet and seemed to be thinking very hard. Juliet watched him watching her, and wondered when he would get to the point. The rest of the week; the bit they didn’t talk about. Just then George’s mobile rang and he bent over the kettle.

‘Is there anything you need right now?’ asked Juliet, more as a way to distract herself from that feeling of being excluded even though it was legitimately applied; than actually offer any practical assistance. Sam was now occupied with tickling Camille’s belly; she stretched out in a twisted bow of glassy-eyed pleasure with that same vibrating purr.

‘That could be interpreted the wrong way,’ said George, who had appeared behind Sam, then to Juliet: ‘I think your problem is solved. It simply a matter of reversing…. Well; let me NOT try to explain that one. Let me be clear about this…as clear as I can be; you have been hacked. Again. And this is for the purposes of restoring the state of all things to what they should have been; and perhaps removing a few unnecessary purchases at a shoe shop while we were at it.’

‘You restored my account? Is that what you mean?’

‘It’s easy. The hard bit is making it untraceable. That is Kyle’s speciality. You cannot find his digital presence…. The ghost in the machine; and with that thought I must bid you adieu. The guy downstairs, has he told the landlord yet?’

‘Yes,’ Sam twisted round, ‘it will get fixed by next week. Nothing happens that quickly around here.’

‘Just make sure when you water the Dragon Tree do it from the bottom. Don’t fill the tray too full.’

‘What about…?’ Sam started.

‘I’ll cover it. This afternoon is a bit slack anyway. Take all the time you need I’ll make sure one of Addison’s crew is pulled in to do the boring stuff.’

‘Err, alright.’ Sam looked at Juliet, ‘It’s just something I have to stick to, sorry about the secretiveness.’

‘Is it a bit like James Bond?’ said Juliet suddenly brightening, ‘That would be awfully exciting.’

‘It’s nothing like that… but then again it would be impossible to say.’ Sam looked up at George.

‘Just call me if anything turns up. There’s milk in the fridge that is actually fresh. So have a restful time. Juliet?’

‘Oh err, yes of course.’ She stood. Sam looked up at her still stroking Camille. She tried to communicate that feeling of concern in a non-verbal way, hoping that Sam would invite her to stay, but he seemed distracted. They left a moment later and Juliet followed George down to the ground floor and out to where his car was parked.

‘Sorry about that.’ said George.

‘What?’ said Juliet vacantly while thinking about Sam.

‘He has his moments. Not good with being ill; or injured that lad; but I know where his parking space is.’

‘No, no that’s fine.’ she said shortly, and hoped that George wouldn’t make any other comments about Sam. They obviously knew a lot about each other and had that easy-going friendship that came from a lot of trust. Juliet felt like an interloper and last night seemed very long ago.

George dropped her off just outside her house and roared off to whatever business he had put off to be here this morning. Juliet let herself in and out of habit put the kettle on. She was now in the state of anti-climax that is usually expressed by too much chocolate and a lot of guilt. But not today. She didn’t see them and was unaware until the woman took hold of her wrist very firmly. Juliet tried to shriek but someone put their hand over her mouth.

‘Best not do that.’ The woman came into view. The man who held her was strong and capable and yet repelled her with disgust. She felt her stomach tremble unexpectedly with anger.

‘I really wouldn’t do that if I was you.’ said the woman. She was tall and wore a long coat and a stylish scarf. Her eyes were dark, almost black like a crow, but perhaps it was the light. And her hair a pale red was swept back in a neat knot at the nape.

‘Time to go.’ said the man in low growl as he hauled Juliet out of the back door and down the little passageway. She decided to take a deep breath and scream as loudly as possible. The woman quickly swung round and clamped a gloved hand over Juliet’s mouth.

‘Someone wants a word with you.’ said the Redhead. And with that Juliet felt something nip sharply on her arm. And then the world changed to brief sepia and the sounds became momentarily brittle and bright before they faded out altogether.

Sam sat in the ringing silence and calmed himself. The morning so far had been a taxing experience. And there was no way he was going to listen to his messages without a really nice cup of tea and a sit down. Moving around proved less onerous in his own familiar space and he gladly went to listen to the answering machine once he had worked down one tea and was on his second cup. Camille came and sat by his feet as he pressed play. He rested on the hall seat with his back again the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. The bank had rung him again. This time it was acknowledged that this was actually inconvenient. He was reminded he could have his account services looked at again in six months’ time. ‘Six months it is…’ he muttered and sipped the tea. Another one of those clients who had suddenly claimed reconciliation with the diverging other…. Weird. That was the third since last week. There were a few pointless ones, and some that were just plain silly. Someone had got hold of his number and appeared to think they were ordering pizza. After a long ramble into the additional toppings they required, and how many extra garlic breads; they gave their number and then laughed. It only seemed to happen when he had been out of the flat for some time; and he still couldn’t work out of it was a genuine mistake, or that someone was just having a joke. Then there was Gina….. Sam opened his eyes and tried to feel indifferent. But he knew that the contents of the freezer box said otherwise; stuffed with red hot power packs and even redder and hotter fifty pound notes in bags. But her tone was almost apologetic. Perhaps having got what she wanted out of him, she had temporarily gone into an “on hold” state of being. She didn’t need to get stroppy until the next time he was non-compliant. She told him should he need to talk to her to leave a message with her PA and repeated the number carefully even though Sam already had it. She said that the other person to talk to was otherwise occupied and again he should direct any communication through the office. That other number: the associate? Sam had a vague memory of telling George about it. Yes, that was it. He said he would find out who it was; and discretely. It had been a mobile number. Sam waited for Gina to start again but she simply said she’d be back on Friday and that she’d be in touch soon. Then he waited for another click and whirr and Gina’s voice to issue from the speaker again. When it didn’t, he felt cheated. At least when she was being annoying he knew what to expect. He shook his head, and felt a little stupid. Howard had warned him about this sort of thing: the attraction of the same dance, around the same maypole; a ritualistic courtship of those who despise each other probably for very good reasons. It was a thing that Howard reckoned should be savagely disrupted with faking one’s own death; changing your name by Deed Poll; or pretending to be a transvestite. The last message made him pay attention. He had only one thing to go on from Howard (bless him), that those pictures were not actually fake ones. No manipulation; so the items had to be different ones. Other versions, by other painters. They were not actually forgeries. They were exquisite copies, and probably, if one could put a price on it worth more than the ones they had replaced. So now there was Holly (Miss Ellis); cousin to Marcia (as Juliet had surmised); Niece to the late Mrs Marchant, and definitely in some sort of bother. He couldn’t actually imagine her not being in bother. She was slim, helpless looking and quite honestly not fit to be taking over the family fortunes just yet. It seemed from the tearful rendition of “I don’t know how they could do this!” that the Art had genuinely been stolen for real this time. And that she needed to produce some evidence that they were in fact in situ on the day that Mrs Marchant passed on. Sam pressed pause, thought about this for all of two seconds, and then rang Howard.

Sam met the sad Holly at a polite little tea shop one slow bus ride away. He loaded up first on painkillers, drank plenty of coffee and hoped that he would not appear quite as out of whack as he felt.

The tea shop suited the mood of the day. It was quietly sedate and delicately gentile. The miniature sandwiches were served with little doilies underneath. And excruciatingly decorative cakes at over inflated prices graced ornamental cake stands. Holly sipped Earl Grey from a china cup, looking for all the world like a pre-Raphaelite lady whose lover has drowned artistically in a river of regret, and an actual river with a name in French that Sam would not care to pronounce.

‘Auntie’s name is being blackened!’ she wailed, ‘All that we wanted was to have the collection appraised for a new insurance. And then, after the quotes were done some odd things started to happen. We haven’t been able to sleep a wink since that. Poor Auntie died of fright!’

‘Is that what the doctor said?’ Sam tried to sound both sympathetic and not the least bit patronising.

‘The doctor said that she was old and that it was natural causes…. But I can’t believe that!’

‘So you are contesting the cause of death and thereby delaying the provision of the will that favours yourself?’

‘Err… no.’ Holly sobered up immediately and stared at Sam; ‘confidentially it was to be expected. Auntie had been ill for some time. We discussed what was to become of the collection of course. But it wasn’t something that Auntie felt was the most important thing. She wanted to pass it on to the others. She felt that they were better suited to deal with this sort of thing.’

‘What sort of thing?’

‘It is a puzzle. A riddle.’ she lowered her voice, so that Sam had to lean forwards, ‘Yes,’ she continued, ‘it was said that the art work contained the clues to something that was a treasure beyond all reckoning. And that to break up the collection was to invoke the curse… but then of course it could simply mean that it would then not be possible to find out what all the clues were to the treasure map.’

‘Ah…’ Sam was beginning to get one of those headaches again. And now that his potential client had already passed on, he felt ready to refuse what he was sure was coming next. So he handed the envelope which contained the photos back to Holly. ‘I don’t know if I can really be any further help to you. I’m not a detective who deals in cases of this sort. And if insurance is at issue… I would be stepping on the toes of an insurance investigator.’

‘I suppose,’ said Holly with a coy little look, ‘that I could ask you to help me find out what the treasure is…’

‘Oh? Why would you do that?’

‘I have the clues here in my purse. Auntie wanted to pass on the actual artworks so that I wouldn’t be saddled with them. The family are so paranoid that they would probably be put in a vault somewhere out of sight. But it seems that someone else has been busy and they have now got into the hands of amateurs. What shall I do if you don’t help me?’

‘Well…. I could take a look at the clues…. Would that be alright? But I do charge a fee. And that would have to be agreed first. Also,’ he stopped Holly interrupting him, ‘it is on the strict understanding that any information gleaned, if you wished it, you will have to act upon yourself. All I can do is try to interpret the clues that you have shown me.’

‘And if you don’t do it?’

‘My deposit is non-refundable. And I will in this case take half fee if the clues are not unravelled. After one month I will return all information I have gathered to you, and I will not retain any copies. You will have a confidential file with my report, and any other information that is relevant.’

‘Okay,’ said Holly as if she was not used to doing business.

‘You can, at any time, cancel this arrangement. You will have to arrange for me to meet with you in person, and then it would be concluded. I will not keep a record of any transactions except in a general sense. Your identity is not my business.’

‘Yes… that is acceptable.’

‘Very well, I will expect the deposit by tomorrow.’ He slid a card across the table.

‘But that’s a lot to not find something out!’ she protested.

‘So then don’t hire me.’ said Sam, as politely as he could manage. He found himself thinking the unthinkable; that here was a female of the species who was more annoying than Gina.

‘I’ll think about it.’ she said, and stood up. Sam also stood and started towards the door. He glanced back once as she paid her bill at the small counter. She had taken his card.

‘It did?’ Howard was for once not getting sloshed on cocktails and had a duster in one hand and a rather overdone cappuccino in the other.

‘Gone. Allegedly.’

‘Well, well, well! So the Lady is no more, the Niece is qualifying for the prime spot for people you’d least like to be trapped in a lift with; and Gina is being…..normal?’

‘Yes, that’s about it.’ Sam had been furnished with a padded cushioned chair as soon as his friend was aware of his inability to stand for long without stumbling.

‘I know what you need.’ Howard winked at him.

‘Tell me.’

‘Come with me. Minion! Bring the chair for my friend here.’ The last remark was addressed at a young lad who was laboriously picking up every last bit of the packing pieces that had spilled from a crate and checking that nothing else was buried in its cheesy puff interior. The lad grinned in amusement and trotted after Howard and Sam with the chair lightly slung under one arm.

‘So now I will show you one of the pieces… this should cheer you up.’

Howard went to the back of the large space and shouted an instruction, and suddenly lights flared into existence. There was a huge painting covering one very large area of white wall. It certainly was startling. Woodland animals and flowers and trees and people…. Not people, or rather like people but with wings… like angels, yet somehow the wings blended to the back ground, like patterns in the foliage; and there was a blue flower… a blue that was almost purple, and that glowed surrounded by the curled leaves and then further up were gleams of something that was like a water fall, but far away. And then he saw flowers and distant things in the detail of the picture and a girl holding an hourglass. Yet as Sam looked she seemed to be the subject of the whole picture and he then saw another object and pedant of crystal and a sundial and the face of a clock. There was a sense of cloudy bright glowingness in the picture that somehow was like warm sun but in an intimate way. And there was a rose garden and a fence with sunlight gleaming on the edge of the little garden….. It was like a story in a whole picture, or a journey; and Sam tried to figure it out…. It must be from…

‘Extraordinary…isn’t it?’ Howard had remained standing and was intensely still. He caught Sam’s eye and smiled. Sam saw that moment and found something that he hadn’t quite grasped before: ‘Yes, it is quite beautiful.’ Sam replied.

‘My young painter. He will be a main feature in some of my future exhibitions. Please don’t tell him that when you meet him.’

‘Meet him?’

‘You haven’t forgotten about Friday have you?’

‘No. Of course not. In fact I mean to tell you something in relation to that.’

‘You are NOT crying off this time. I won’t let you!’

‘It is nothing like that. In fact I was wondering…. If…’

‘Absolutely!! My dear fellow! Don’t feel you need to say any more. Two tickets it is!’

‘How did you….?’

‘Know?’ Howard looked smug, ‘I’m not as good as you in some ways, but the internal disturbance of the inner mind is a thing that I am intimately familiar with. After all these artists are all mad you know! I’m used to dealing with unbalanced people.’

‘Do you think I’m unbalanced?’

‘Not nearly as much as you need to be Darling!’ Howard spun on his heel and they were plunged back into that internal twilight a moment later.

Camille was doing a little contemplation of her own. Seeing Sam go with one eye open in a tiny slit she sat perfectly still until she heard the door click firmly shut. Then with the slick movement of a Ninja cat she was in the hall and proceeded to delicately wrestle with the catch that held the cat flap lock shut. With a practiced flick she almost had it; then with claws extended she found the point of pressure and moved her whole body sideways. The catch sprang up and over into the fully open position. She sat and cleaned her whiskers for a few minutes, until her sensitive ears heard the outer door go. She finished polishing her tufty ears and delicately pushed her way through.

Camille had a map in her head. It wasn’t like a human map. It didn’t have little tiny pictures of sensible things like stairs and doors; no, rather it was a map of the way things smelled and how cold or hot they were, and the air currents and the sounds that could be heard from certain positions. Also certain colours…. Different floors in this large building had different coloured panels next to the main stair well. And Camille knew the best places to find a warm spot, or hitch a lift on someone’s ride to the ground floor. But she rarely took the lift because of the noise it made and the impossibility of escape if she chose the wrong company. Not one to be cornered she usually took the outside edges of balconies and walls… but not today. She was thinking…. And this was what made her mostly smart… in cat terms a genius, and in human terms intelligent enough, with all the aforementioned advantages of her set of sensory detectors and the map…. Yes the map… it told her that there was something to be found one floor down and several smells along. Human smells. Empty flats had a smell too, but this wasn’t that kind of smell. It was a strange hot smell, like old radiators, or packets of bread buns, or like the edgy taste of marmite (don’t ask). So Camille followed her nose and came to an intersection, she took an immediate left and then trotted down the smaller back staircase that was in a glassed in box that overlooked the car park. She checked that Sam’s car was still parked and then saw him waiting at the bus stop. He got on a moment later and she continued to the next floor down.

Inside this flat a little repair job was being done. As nefarious activities go this was pretty tame. Miranda stood with her arms folded and her lips set in a hard line.

‘Idiot! Why didn’t you check it?’

‘It’s not my fault.’ said the inept Tail. He was the one who had taken the package. The other person stood looking sour was called Rhett (no relation to the fictional character of that name). He had been the one to put down the envelope full of money that Sam had lifted.

‘You could say that it was your fault Vega!’ said Rhett and prodded a large digit at her. She stood impassive at the communication of the insult and waited for Mr Charles to arrive. He did a moment later. The Tail (Chester Brown) frowned and dropped his eyes. He wondered if this was his time… the one where you get retired without the proper reward. Yet there were reasons of a causal nature of which he was unaware, that saved him from anyone’s wrath. Not that Mr Charles was upset, far from it. He came into the room and looked at Miranda. She unfolded her arms and pointed at the belt that rested on the bench in front of them. ‘I think it will be alright, it was just a broken catch. I’ve replaced it and there is no damage anywhere else.’

Chester and Rhett both looked up to see what Mr Charles would say. He pulled his gloves off, slowly and deliberately, and then carefully took off and folded his coat. He placed his hat neatly on top of the folded coat, and then leaned into the object’s space on the table, and inspected it at close range. The silence that followed was uncomfortable for Chester who thought wrongly that he was about to be ejected from the conspirators’ circle.

‘We must keep ourselves discrete, and we will take the longer view gentlemen, Dr Vega. I believe that there is an opportunity to turn this to our advantage.’

‘How so?’ asked Rhett reasonably. His tone would only change to brusque and bullying if Mr Charles was not in ear shot, or she was not present. Dr Vega scared him but he didn’t like to show it. Two years as Mr Charles’ muscle had taught him one thing: know your place, and make sure that other people know theirs. So now he waited to see what Dr Vega could add to the mix.

‘I see what you are asking me. Can I make it work? Of course I can. A tweak merely. But to make it so that an ordinary person could use it? That would require at least a week.’

‘There are no new power packs.’ said Mr Charles, ‘so tell me Dr Vega, what do you propose to do to make this useable?’

‘That is being taken care of as we speak.’ said Miranda, and reached for her mobile phone.

Camille was just outside the door, and had heard every word. But that in itself was not the issue…. It was that smell. It was new, yet familiar. Slightly metallic, and there was something else as well; the faintest trace of something else. A scent that Camille had caught somewhere before. She shook her head and then strolled round another corner just out of sight as the door opened. Miranda came out looking thunderous. She had found out that Juliet, who was at this moment in her own version of secret science hell with Gorman and the boys, was now refusing to talk. She told them to wait until she got there.

As Vega left the building, Sam was at that moment in the tea shop. As Vega sat opposite the captive Juliet in their terraced hideout, Sam was just in transit, on his way to the Gallery to confab and be cheered up by Howard. It would be hours until he was anywhere in a state of mind to go home. The flat that had been hired by Alistair and Harold had been cleared and was now up for rent. And furniture removers came to take away an old kitchen table and some chairs that were worn. They passed the three men who left the building as they stood and chatted for a few minutes. The Muscle and the Tail, having been given instructions departed. Mr Charles straightened his hat and walked into the town to meet with an old acquaintance for a late lunch.

Juliet was determined in an I’m-going-to-do-this-because-it-is-vital kind of way. She believed that her silence was essential. It was Dr Vega’s job to convince her that her silence was not only irrelevant, but that it could actually be very damaging to her long term health. Having more subtle persuasion at her disposal than Gorman was wont to use, she dismissed him from the room. Juliet felt a sense of relief when he left. There was look in his eyes that she could not mistake, and she felt now that the presence of the other woman, even though she knew her to be an enemy, was in some way preferable. If she was more aware, she would have opted for Gorman’s blunt attempts that could be resisted, rather than Vega’s which would prove far harder to climb out of mentally. They chatted and although Juliet knew on some level or another that she was being tricked; she was by now desperate for some sort of end to the discomfort of her predicament. It did occur to Vega from the outset that this subject was one who could be recommended to Charles for that new project he was planning. She was so determined; so inspiringly idealistic, and clearly quite devoted to Sam Wright. Perhaps the pressure was being applied in the wrong spot. It was not good to damage a woman in these situations, as they lost value. No one wants to pay good money for a beat up, nearly dead lump that is unrecognisable as the same person. She had to keep her pretty face and her long hair. But just one lock might make this Detective man take notice. Dr Vega was not in the room when it had happened before, but she did see the mess after the fact, and she found it distasteful. Gorman was someone who could be pointed in any direction given the right stimulus. And she had decided a while ago that he was to be got rid of in any way possible. She didn’t want to kill him… or even procure a hit; though that was easy, she felt that a little time travel accident would be more suiting to Gorman’s character. The belt was damaged, and she only needed to conceal the fact that she had reprogrammed the platinum bracelet. She could remove it at any time of course. It was a matter of will and focus. And it seemed a small sacrifice to be rid of the man. Without the power packs there would be no way they could complete the retrieval of the new belts. So she would in fact, have to get Gorman to think that the power packs were back in the belt. And get him to do it, since he was itching to be the centre of attention at the moment. Then she could activate the bracelet with one touch. Juliet saw the satisfied look on Miranda’s face, and thought that some idea she was happy to indulge might visit pain on Juliet. She tensed, and Vega saw it.

‘I think we will have to return you to your house by tonight. I would suppose that Sam will worry if you are not there to answer the phone?’

‘Yes…’ said Juliet uncertain where this was going.

‘Ah! I think it so nice that you have a new job…. Newish job. I suppose that these temporary posts are quite fun while they last. I suppose that it will be hard to leave.’

Juliet pressed her lips shut. Leave? As if…. She couldn’t wait. The rampant sickness had spared her exposure to the dreadfully self-indulgent egos of the cast and the Leading Lady in particular. Vega again watched her reaction. She was feeling around, finding out what touched the nerves the most. Juliet was quite resistant but the thought that they knew Sam’s full name was beginning to eat away at her mind. She stayed alert, ready to stand her ground.

Camille was having the sort of afternoon that any good cat would really enjoy, investigating this and that and picking up some treats on the way. She trotted back up to the top floor and meowed fairly clearly near the door of a friend. Cat friend = Person who will feed you with treats; tell you how wonderful you are, and not mind you shedding fur on their cushions.

The lad who greeted Camille was about Sam’s age and had a rather quiet and secretive air about him that Camille approved of. He also smoked… strange things that made Camille’s nose twitch but in an oddly interesting way. And like Sam would stand on the balcony and gaze out over the scene from high up here.

Let’s be clear about this, to avoid any confusion: he was the person who overheard Alastair and Harold talking, he was also the artist that Sam hadn’t met yet, who did the painting that Howard loved and he was quite as mad as most of the clients Howard dealt with… or maybe eccentric, depending on your point of view, and he loved Camille’s visits. He was sick today and was wrapped in a dressing gown. He had coincidentally just rung Howard, and Howard knew, but didn’t really think it needed to be stated as it was a private matter that they… as in he and Sam lived in the same building but had not crossed paths yet. But then Camille already knew that. The young man, who at this point wasn’t really with it made tea and found the cat treats. He held out his hand and Camille delicately took them, and then danced on her back legs begging for more. She got some more and he made the pot of tea and took that and a pile of crumpets to his living room which was fairly roomy and let in a lot of natural light. Camille circled the room sniffing everything then sat bolt upright watching the flickering images of the television. There was a film on this afternoon. And the artist sat and watched and Camille sat too, her tail neatly curled round her toes. She set about cleaning herself properly, and when the film finished she bid good bye to the young man, who gave her a few more treats before she left, and then she trotted back home and slipped in through the cat flap and curled on the settee just before Sam came back up the stairs from his afternoon’s diversion.

Howard rang everyone else just to make sure they weren’t sick too. He felt like shouting at the lad down the phone. But knowing how he was given to not care what Howard or anyone said in such demonstrations, elected to be agreeable instead. He thought about Sam, and then thought better of it, he sank into the chair. The kid was quite specific: if you tell anyone who I am, I’ll leave.

His fear of being exposed had a rather odd source, he was the point of Howard’s contact with not just the art world he inhabited, but also was part of a world that he desperately wanted to not be part of himself. He was Jay, the old college buddy who had been at the hospital, and he tried so hard to forget his misery and depression from that time of his life, to the point where it all sank into a hideous blur; without any drugs involved. His avoidance was of alcohol, a weakness he shared with Howard, hence the obsessive tea drinking. And Howard, having embraced his habits with a joyousness that came from reversing his view on too many late nights watching other people suffer, had made peace with the demon drink by turning it to his advantage. He had a specialist Cocktail Bar at his gallery. His latest hiring, a French man who could mix cocktails like you wouldn’t believe. And Howard had been trying them for the last week or so, just to make sure they fitted the themes, colours and flavours he wanted to create for the private view. Jay had said he would be there; he had promised…. Howard was at the point of ringing him back when reason took hold. Wait until tomorrow. See what happens then, and give the kid a chance. The fact he had consented to be at the opening at all was down to several months of cultivation on Howard’s part; and he didn’t want to blow it with one ill-timed comment in the heat of the moment. Jay was quiet, too quiet, and Howard suspected a secret. He was right… there was One. So big it would one day be something he could say to himself “I was there at the beginning of this story.” But not yet. That was the future, and the future had only happened for those who were in it. Jay wanted to forget, he wasn’t sure if he could. He didn’t take any part in it. And he was about to get a shock. He had hidden it for so long it had become second nature to do so. He hated what he was, and wanted it to disappear. But there you go… hating things is always bad. Especially things like this. Jay was a Traveller.

*****

Chapter Seven

Cat Magnetism, Knockout Teleport.

Several things happened at the same time. But considering the connection as it stood so far they seemed quite ordinary; well Sam was tackling a tin of Whiskas, with Camille sat by putting her best expression of puzzled amusement on her furry face. She was working on a sarcastic face but hadn’t quite managed it yet.

‘Nearly there.’ Sam said to her, as with a whirring oiled motor sound the can opener did its work.

Across town Vega, having grown weary of Juliet’s stubbornness, was almost in a mind to turn her over to Gorman. But she chewed on a pencil and thought about how she was going to get her revenge.

‘Alastair!’ the sound was like the crack of a rifle shot across a still meadow. He appeared a second or two later.

‘Dr Vega, how may I help?’ Green was as effusive as he knew how. He thought it would double his chances of being chosen to accompany her to the gallery on Friday night. She smiled warmly, and he felt sure she would get round to telling him this was her plan.

‘Bring the car round. We have a package to deliver.’ Vega turned abruptly and went down into the cellar area. Juliet stared at the man. He stared back at her. Her mouth was already gagged once more. She was very still, breathing slowly, calming herself. She needed to be ready to take whatever chance she could get.

Mr Charles sat on a leather sofa with a pipe and puffed away. A man of certain tastes, he was not usually given to indulge these, but the last trials had worked superbly well. He had to celebrate. But he needed to stay fairly clear at least until after Friday. And then they could tie up the loose ends and leave, the test run completed. He made a mental note to watch the busty brunette. She asked too many questions in an intelligent way. And she asked them far too systematically to just be a Time Tripper who was purely in it for the thrill of the thing. He felt that she was not going to be a problem however… but he instructed one of the Muscle to keep an eye on her just in case.

Howard feeling piqued by the casual way that the last reporter had dismissed some of his offerings as “run of the mill” was still working late in the gallery to oversee the placement of the pieces. A friend had already rung him twice. He was supposed to be having dinner with a group of them at some little oriental buffet place in China Town, and he was already late. Sod it! That picture needed to be adjusted a fraction. He called for the team to tweak it again. In the end he got a spirit level out to see if it really was perpendicular to the floor. The people he hired were used to his perfectionism. And he had been known to sack someone on the spot for laughing at the stream of out loud thoughts that he would think while prowling the gallery checking for mistakes. It wasn’t entirely a truism. Or rather that was not how he remembered it. But the reputation for toughness had served him well. The staff were compliant, attentive, and hardworking and put that little extra in where it counted. And for that they were rewarded well. The standard had gone up and he was fast becoming someone who college leavers were queuing up to work for. He could take his pick; and often spent hours going over résumés to see who would add value to the gem that was the Viridian Gallery.

But just as a set of thoughts that were in some ways happy, and also inadequately caffeinated slipped along his mental landscape he heard a strange noise. It sounded a lot like a cat meowing. It was odd since there was no animatronic sculpture that emitted such a sound. Or at least it wasn’t one he had been informed about. He made a mental note to check it in the morning; and thus satisfied closed up for the night.

In the darkness, something moved. It circled around, scratched its ears and then disappeared again. The place was silent and calm once more. In the gloom a faint sparkle could have been seen if anyone was looking: the merest tingle of charge on the surface of the night.

‘Camille! Dinner! Come on, It works now. We have power in tin opener form…. Camille?’ Sam moved slowly to the lounge area. She must be hiding. ‘Haddock!!’ he said firmly, ‘Dinner is served…. Come on, don’t keep me waiting; tell me how much you like George’s tower to Cat Ville.’

Camille came round the settee after a slight pause. She looked cross-eyed. She shook her head and the effect disappeared. ‘Did you….?’ Sam hadn’t seen her go past the other end. It seemed impossible. He shrugged and went to get tea and sandwiches that he had left on the counter top. Camille started on the meaty chunks and realising how hungry she was had her whiskers covered in gravy a moment or two later. She might have temporarily forgotten about her little exploits into unknown space, but the moulding and stretching to fit might prove to be too much to cope with for that bit of space-time and fate hadn’t forgotten about her. There was something turning Camille into an escape artist. She was the cat who might be able to get out of the box. No more waiting to see if you get killed or not; or in other less violent versions simply knocked unconscious. Drat! Why do all philosophers have such stupid names? And why that experiment? Camille looked up as Sam moved slowly to reach for a cup. Her desire to make everything comfortable and warmly pleasant overcame her remaining greed and she swiftly moved in to comfort and charm her devoted human. He let her sit next to him and she purred in a half dreaming way. And so Sam began to relax a little and almost fell asleep. It had been a very trying couple of days.

Dr Vega decided that on the balance of probability it was better to have Juliet on a lease than in a cupboard. And Gorman was really starting to irritate her. Now she had decided she was going to leave him in an out of the way place in time, every little gesture and inflection of his voice got on her nerves. He wore the bracelet too of course. But the way she would do it was to wait until the idiot was having a shower. He had this strange fear that something in the conductivity of the water could trigger a sudden episode. Miranda did and said nothing to allay this fear. It was not entirely without foundation. As water did have an effect on Time Paradox and not quite in an easy to predict way. So as he took yet another wash to groom himself into the kind of state that would reward him with the lush thighs of a more than willing female at that party later, Vega swapped the bangle. She would be wearing his until he left for the evening. She had been very careful and had not worn perfume for several days in a row. The bracelet was gleaming with a dull glow. She found it repellent to touch the thing that he had touched. But it was the only way to ensure that he did not suspect her of duplicitous action. And while she was fiddling with the bracelet, trying to make it feel less strange on the wrist, she undid the case of the new one and snapped it onto Juliet’s left. Juliet was immediately aware of the difference. These things were not just for membership of some secret order, they were treasure in their own right. They blindfolded her when taking her in the car. She tried to recall the turns and the length of time it took to travel to a fairly out of the way place at the edge of the city.

Now Gina was sitting at home. She had thoughts spinning around in her head. Not all of them pleasant. But the one that dominated was the brain blasting excitement of the Time Tripper…. God! What a rush! She breathed in and felt that familiar tingle. She thought about calling Angelo; but she wasn’t sure if he was having dinner with some woman who was a fellow horse expert. She wasn’t too bothered about his preferences in other women. In fact the thought of him caressing the muscly thighs of that rather slutty bronzed beauty, was making her feel lustful in a way she didn’t fully understand. Gina was having one of the reactions that they warned them about: “the excitation of the neural pathways”, which could happen for up to 48 hours after going on the Time Tripper. It could cause a loss of inhibition, enhanced sensory sensitivity, vivid dreams, and excessive thirst. Gina had been in the control group; she knew that the other half of the little expedition had been given a neural suppressing drug to stop these unwanted effects. This had been one of the conditions of the trip: that one wrote down, anonymously of course, answers to certain questions. Gina, who preferred to get the boring business out of the way had been first in the queue and had elected to have hers taken down by dictation. They asked her how she felt physically. They asked her to do some simple maths tests. And they assessed her reaction time. There were a couple of other things too. Gina adored the attention from the tech people. And she was more than happy to go into lurid detail about anything that was relevant. In fact since she came back from the trip two hours ago she would keep checking her fridge to see if the chilled champagne was cold enough; and wondering which on her list of available men she should ring to really celebrate with tonight. They had said that she must NOT tell anyone about the Time Travelling. That was okay. Gina had expended her verbosity in the debrief, and conversation was not on her mind…. She took a stick of celery out of the fridge and chewed on it absently, while scrolling through her special list of single men who might be ready to meet her and indulge in some commitment free bonking. She put the phone down for a moment and thought which she would prefer. Several were working out of town. One was at a niece’s birthday party. It narrowed it down to five. Two she wasn’t in the mood for…. Then thought about those other two… at a party. So it was Jeff then; if he was free. She dialled the number and sat back. He answered immediately as if he had been waiting for her to call: “Darling, I’m so glad you caught me…. I was just going out.” said Jeff. ‘Oh!’ Gina was disappointed. “To the late night supermarket sweetie!” Jeff corrected her worried voice, “I can be around at say, ten o’clock?”; ‘Yes!!’ Gina gasped, feeling a shiver of anticipation inspired by Jeff’s muscly physique and sexual expertise. “Kiss, Kiss Gina dear. See you in an hour?”; ‘Oh Yes!! Jeff come and get me!’; “Be ready for me…” he purred and rang off. Gina stood, shook herself with a little coquettish twitch of her shoulders, and dropping her garments as she walked to the shower, began to feel a wave of desire sweeping into town on Jeff’s shopping trolley of massage lotion and his enormous enthusiasm.

Howard had arrived to find everyone had cancelled. Perhaps they had assumed that as he had still not been ready after the first and second calls that he wouldn’t want to go to the Ice Cream Club instead. His mobile rang. It was his PA; it might be nothing. But one of the movement alarms had been activated at the gallery. The PA asked if it was okay for security to check it out. She said she would ring him straight back if there was anything to report. Howard sighed, felt despondent and realised that he couldn’t go to a place with rock music and cold desserts until she rang back, but was in need of company none the less. So he rang Sam, just for a chat. Sam said to some over… Camille was acting weird and it would be nice to have someone round. Howard in a knowing way was ready for Sam to wax lyrical about the pending romantic squeeze. When he didn’t, Howard just straightened and told him he’d be right there. Something in Sam’s tone bothered him, so he went out and immediately called a taxi.

Juliet was back in her house. She came round after an unknown interruption in her consciousness. She had felt the movement of the car as it sped up on what seemed like a longish straight road. But then she felt nothing. There was a sickening gap of time. It was completely dark outside and she felt disorientated.

‘Not bad for an amateur.’ sneered Gorman.

‘That’s enough.’ Vega warned, ‘Now Juliet, come on. We have a little task for you.’

Juliet rolled her eyes. It was almost dark in the room. And the strange shadows and the stark dragging line from the street lights were making it hard to find her reality. They stood over her like dark statues in a forest. Alastair with a gloved hand proffered her the phone. She took it and waited as the dialling tone droned into the silence.

‘Call Sam,’ said Vega, ‘and tell him you will meet him at the Gallery on Friday. You say that you’ll be busy until then.’

‘What will I be busy doing?’

‘Whatever you normally do. Just make it convincing. We won’t be far away. So don’t think you cannot be watched.’ She tapped Juliet’s wrist. The bangle pressed against her flesh. Juliet swallowed and started to dial Sam’s number.

George and Kyle pored over the readouts like two squirrels intent on finding last year’s stash of hazelnuts. ‘There,’ said Kyle, ‘a slight rise. Something is there. Definitely.’

‘Yes. Very odd that. Normally I wouldn’t wire a communal area but there is something about the place. I thought it prudent.’

‘You were right.’ said Kyle, he pointed at the readouts for the last day, ‘There it is again. What do we make of that?’

‘The silence inside the halls of mystery.’ said George.

‘I think you should lay off the ancient Norse myths for a while.’ said Kyle, ‘I think we might have another one. Look at the band width on the signal.’

‘Someone….’ George took off one pair of glasses and reached for the dark rimmed ones. He thought hard for a moment, ‘Just let me take a look in real time: in Sam’s flat.’

Kyle flicked to a different channel. Someone arrived, Sam let them in. They could hear the audio. But there it was again, fainter but unmistakable. That trace.

‘It’s that chap Sam is friends with.’ Kyle turned in the swivel chair towards George. They looked at each other for a moment.

‘Something is making my nose twitch.’ said George.

‘Mine too.’ Kyle remained very still.

‘Time for a little house call?’ George raised an eyebrow.

‘Okay boss!’ Kyle moved suddenly, ‘I’ll get the kit.’

‘Spongehorrific!’ exclaimed Howard, in best dramatic tone, ‘but then I knew that you were hiding something.’

‘I thought I ought not to mention it unless I was sure there was no one else about…. Except my friend George.’

‘George? Who’s that, a new cat?’

‘No, a friend.’ Sam shifted in the seat with some difficulty. It was hurting again and George was the only one to call. He reached for the antibiotics.

‘Too many of those will turn your ears green you know.’ Howard went into the kitchen and helped himself to a chilled beer, ‘My, you are well endowed with my favourites! You did know I like blue cheese?’

‘Help yourself.’ said Sam.

‘You know,’ Howard came in with a Sandwich with the aforementioned cheese and sticking out pieces of watercress, and a pile of olives, ‘I think I shall make this a regular Tuesday treat.’ He swigged some beer to emphasize the point.

‘I’m not usually here.’ said Sam. The phone rang. He picked it up. Howard watched with eyes round as Sam talked to Juliet. At first Sam smiled. But then he looked worried. There was a long pause with Sam listening. Howard felt the tension frizzling, and waited for the call to end.

Sam put the phone down and stared into space. He sat very, very still; and appeared to be doing something like making a list of things in his head. Eventually he moved. Howard chewing on watercress looked up expectantly.

‘Something is wrong.’ said Sam.

‘Darling; do tell. Let me add my expertise to the situation if I can.’ Howard took another bite of the Sandwich and then stopped and stared at Sam again.

‘What is it?’ Sam came out of a deep muse.

‘Where’s the cat?’ Howard looked around perplexed.

‘Two packs please.’ George tipped his head backwards to meet the eye of the big fella.

‘Ah Meester Carter! I know this is for my friend Meester Wright. So for you half price!’

George held out the Tenner, ‘Just the two packs…. And a lighter.’

Ollie reached behind and lifted the tiny thing between a finger and thumb. ‘Time for a little video shoot? You like models? I know two girls; very compliant. Good titties. You like?’

‘He means porn.’ said Kyle who stood laden with the two holdalls.

‘Not today…..err.’

‘You call me Mr Ollie. I am very helpful.’ He shook George by the arm and pressed the large amount of change into George’s other hand. George shrugged and grinned.

‘Yes. Yes…. I can help. Lots of things. Video recorders. DVD machines. Slot machines. One for jelly beans…. All good quality. All guaranteed; you let me know.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Come on,’ said Kyle, ‘this sack of high tech scanning gear is killing my back.’

‘Just run that by me again.’ George sat with Sam. Kyle and Howard were in Sam’s kitchen making more sandwiches.

‘There was nothing wrong. It just wasn’t right.’

‘Yeah, well let’s look at the paper.’

‘It’s there.’ Sam pointed and George bent to retrieve the map they had drawn earlier.

They unfolded the sheet on the table in front of them and stared at it. Howard came back in and handed a plate to George.

‘Good grief! Is that Art Darling?’

‘Not really….’ George clearly wasn’t used to Howard yet. Kyle started to run a full scan on the flat and walked round with a wand like a metal detector.

‘She told me she would be at work until Friday. She said that she had to repair a costume that someone had ripped.’

‘And?’

‘Everyone is ill.’

‘Maybe they recovered.’

‘Apart from anything else, no one recovers that quickly from this virus that’s going round.’

‘What virus?’ Howard said startled, ‘Are you a doctor?’

‘Actually…. Yes. But let’s not get into that right now.’

‘The really worrying thing is that I thought she would want to come round later…. I was looking forward to it.’

‘Darling; you sound pathetic. I do think we need to get hold of this lovely girl right away.’

‘How?’

‘The phone still works.’ Howard waited for Sam to stop being dim. George glanced across at Kyle who was muttering into his Dictaphone. He switched off the scanner and put it carefully on the floor. ‘The whole place is full of these traces.’ Kyle clicked the replay on his little toy and listened through his headphones for a moment, ‘Yes, yes; we really did not expect quite as much as this George.’

‘Oh.’ said Sam, looking bewildered.

‘What?’ said Howard and put a piece of watercress down and straightened himself in the chair, ‘Will someone please tell me what the Jackson Pollock is going on here?’

George adjusted his glasses pushing them more firmly onto his nose. ‘It’s like this. There are these strange particles whizzing around and with a little ingenuity, myself and my…. Colleague have been able to construct a machine that detects them even to very low concentrations.’

‘But what are they?

‘They are bit of Time…. Rather like the residue you get from travelling somewhere cold…. A layer of ice might be deposited on whatever it is given the right conditions.

‘So,’ Howard held aloof a celery stick to make the point. ‘There must be something I can do for you?’

‘It’s a scenario that gets even more complicated as it goes on.’ said Kyle.

‘Complicated? It’s my middle name, and the show most definitely must go on Darling.’ Howard reached for this own phone. ‘There are some things I can do. In fact I am probably the most well-connected person in this room. I have Royalty on my phone; as well as some Singers, some Actors, and the Ladies and Gentlemen of the Press. Who, although I am loathe to say it, make a right hooey if things go wrong. The enemy and the friend all rolled into one easy to define package.’

‘Howard you are a genius. Can you ring up the theatre and find out when the show will be back on?’ Sam seemed to be going pale again even as he spoke.

‘Darling!’ Howard seemed almost offended, ‘One does not ring the theatre, one leaves that to one’s PA. I will call someone I know…. Be just a jiffy….’ with that he wandered into the kitchen and made the call. George turned to Sam. He wasn’t about to introduce any analgesics until he had heard what Sam had to say about the Juliet situation. Sam didn’t seem disposed to ring her back… probably he didn’t want to spoil his chance with her… but then again, it might just be stupidity. George made a decision.

‘I’ll go to see Juliet.’ he said.

George found the door open. He let himself in. There was a chill in the room as he entered and this bothered him. He called her name softly, then seeing a lamp was on in the living room approached quietly. He lifted the catch on the case of the firearm he kept under his jacket just in case.

‘Oh my God! George!’ Juliet flung herself into his arms. Her face was streaked with tears and he could see that her left wrist was red. She had been trying to remove the bangle by squeezing it over her hand. George quickly made sure the curtains were fully closed and then put the lights on. He went and shut and locked the back door properly. Juliet hadn’t moved. She wiped her eyes and tried again to slip the thing over her hand.

‘Stop…’ said George gently, taking hold of both her hands, ‘I don’t want you to hurt yourself.’

Juliet went limp, ‘I tried everything. Cold water, butter, hand cream. Sheer brute force. Nothing works. I can’t get it off!!’

‘Shh…. It’s alright. We will find a way. You must calm down. Tell me what happened. Then I’ll make us both a tea.’

‘Yes, alright.’ said Juliet in a small voice.

About fourty minutes later, Sam, George, Kyle and Howard had a picture of something that although incomplete was certainly designated as being “As clear as Thin Mud” by Howard, who had taken to the threat of criminals with a hungry enthusiasm that surprized Sam.

‘Confidentially,’ he said to them as George was on his way back, ‘this is actually within the scope of my experience. And to think that they are planning to unveil the endgame of their devious plot during the opening of the Art Show!’

‘Does that worry you?’ asked Kyle.

‘Not at all! Darling….think of the column inches. Think of streams of people just gagging to see where the arrests of these miscreants took place.’

‘We can’t arrest anyone.’ said George who had just come in, ‘not even accidentally.’

‘Pardon?’ Sam was completely losing interest now. The thought of poor Juliet at home in some kind of bracelet with a tap on the phone and perhaps on her mobile as well, made him feel angry in a dull twisting, sour way. He resolved to give George a message to take to her. But George stopped that train while it was still in the siding ‘She’s just got to sit this one out.’ George was really serious, ‘We are in over our heads and until we do find out what all this really means you will just have to sit tight. Howard’s Intel is useful. We now know that the theatre is full of diseased arseholes that will play it for all it’s worth. And will only come back to work if they are threatened with the sack, and there’s a chance they won’t get paid.’

‘I don’t think I can be much more use.’ Sam got to his feet. He limped into the kitchen.

The three of them looked at each other. Howard got out his tobacco case and started to make a cigarette, rolling it slowly and thoughtfully between finger and thumb. Kyle studied the homemade diagram. George took off his glasses and polished them in a deeply serious way.

‘He’s in it.’ said Kyle.

‘Yes….’ said George;

‘Believably,’ said Howard and produced a slim steel lighter.

‘Scrape back the layers; and what do you find?’ Kyle was still staring at the map. At that moment, Sam appeared in the doorway.

‘You find a complex pattern of relationships that can only mean one thing.’ said George.

‘Not just a pattern there either.’ said Howard while staring at Sam. Kyle with his finger on the map seemed troubled: ‘What is Holly Ellis doing on this piece of paper?’ then he looked up.

‘She is supposed to ring me by tomorrow.’ said Sam.

‘Just tell me where I can smoke this?’ Howard wrinkled up his nose. Sam moved forward slowly.

‘Just a minute,’ said George, ‘something is wrong…. Something is most desperately wrong.’

‘No one must move,’ said Kyle, ‘until we know what it is.’

‘What is the common denominator?’ George made it sound really serious. He put his glasses on again. Kyle frowned. And Howard was still waiting expectantly.

‘Has anyone seen Camille?’ said Sam.

Mr Charles saw a flash of fur and heard a hiss. It was a little like a tyre going down. He stood up suddenly. The pipe bowl rested on a little stand, for that moment forgotten. Camille, in a singular attack of no curiosity whatsoever, leapt for the nearest hole in space. A slight whoosh of cooler air was the only thing to indicate movement in an enclosed space.

A shape shifted in the still, cool air and then nosed forward experimentally. In the faintest drift of moonlight, and approaching stars, there arose a monumental feat of imagination. Camille paused, and in reverence to so greater celebration of expertise, she was called thus far to admire such meticulous obsession. Camille regarded it fully for at least a minute. What she saw in the softly greyed out shapes that played across the monochromatic surface of the night on the big painting… well who would look in the mind of a creature such as this? And that was everyone’s mistake; to not catch the scent of green and growing things. A pungent fragrance so strong it eclipsed nearly all other things in the immediate area. Let us be clear… the smell she could smell was coming from the painting itself. And Camille had discovered something very peculiar, and definitely entirely weird about someone who, on the face of it was only a little peculiar when put next to all these other peculiar people, but who had a secret inside a secret, inside another secret like a nest of Russian dolls. And it all made sense if one could see what Camille saw in the painting. There was the answer. Like poetry, or Marmite flavoured Cat Crunchies. You just knew. And so it was that the lowliest creature, who could not breathe a word of all the wonderful things she saw, and in her own way saw no reason to think them any less wonderful than a sunset or a plate of freshly cooked turkey at Christmas, had stumbled upon all the things that Mr Charles,….if he would but see it, longed to discover. It’s all in the wrist…. the way one holds a brush, or a pen; or a knife or a gun; how one holds instruments of creation or destruction. And in the soft paw of one little kitty for a few days, was held the whole of space-time and a few other things thrown in for good measure. And being assured that everything was at it should be, with a twitch of her whiskers, she returned home.

‘Camille!’ Sam cried with relief, ‘where have you been you…..dusty cat…?’

Camille thought the one with the designer suit and the strange little stick in his hand was the most interesting and decided to approach him first. Howard ran his hand along Camille’s back and there was a shiver of current that tingled down to Howard’s fingertips.

‘Kill the lights.’ said George.

Sam pointed and Kyle knocked of the switch and then went and doused the kitchen light too. In the twilight gloom, yet with a strangely faint but unmistakable glow was Sam’s Cat.

‘Bloody Hell!’ Kyle dragged the detector from the floor and waved it over Camille.

‘What’s the reading?’ George was calm and went to put the lights back on.

‘Your cat is not only hot. She’s steaming. I suspect foul play….or I would if she were human which she clearly isn’t. So I must suspect abnormal activity instead.’

‘Camille!’ said Sam, ‘what have you been doing?’ Camille blinked, trotted to the settee, leapt up to the warm spot that Sam had left a few minutes before, and curled up with one eye open.

‘Darling….you really never said what it was you did the rest of the week.’

‘I know I didn’t.’ Sam glanced at the other two with a discomforted feeling. George looked at Kyle, who looked at Howard levelly. ‘We are all in this other thing,’ said Kyle; ‘I’m sorry we cannot tell you.’

‘I see.’ said Howard standing a little straighter.

George was looking at Sam. Sam, who after regarding Camille for a few moments took a deep breath; ‘My friend Howard is involved whether he wants it or not in something that will reach a climax at his Art Show. And considering how important the show is to Mr Logan; I think that we owe it to him to at least tell him some of the basics.’

‘Shit!’ said George, ‘He’s right.’

‘Off the bloody deep end.’ muttered Kyle frowning.

‘Stop swearing.’ said George, ‘and go and put the kettle on. I’ve already had one friend I’ve had to patch up after a stab wound this week because of all of this. And now there is the little Lass to consider too. Let’s not be forgetting that… I for one don’t want anyone else’s damage tally on my conscience.’

‘So as long as we tell them why it’s happening that makes it alright?’ Kyle was looking disgusted.

‘Kyle. Kitchen. Kettle on. Now.’ George turned to the other two, ‘No one who got involved with this started out any differently than this really. But understand; once you know this, you cannot ever NOT be involved. You do understand that?’

‘I guess you mean me?’ Howard shifted on one foot then the other. ‘Can I just have a smoke first? Then you can tell me all about it. We’ve all got secrets Mr Carter, and you are not the first bunch of people with a strange bunch of stuff following them round like a cloud of incense. Trust me. I really do get the need to keep this from the general population, and out of the papers. As for anything else that may happen…. Well there is always a way of explaining anything to any given person. A way of putting things that some quarters find more acceptable, shall we say…. So just the fag; and then the kiss and tell.’

‘Okay.’ said George, with an amused twitch of his lips; then to Sam, ‘for God’s sake please sit down. And tell me where the booze is. I’m not driving anywhere tonight.’

Camille allowed herself to be stroked by Sam, and also Howard after he had returned smelling like a cherry flavoured bonfire. She, unconcerned at the furore she was causing snoozed quietly. Kyle cheered up and found the scotch and water. Sam drank tea, and then chose the malted and matured medicinal drink over the chemistry in George’s bag. He listened and hypnotically stroked Camille’s soft back. From the scanner information both he and his cat were glowing. And they still had a freezer full of weird power packs stashed next to a pack of frozen mince and some garden peas.

Juliet found it hard to sleep. And after trying for an hour, gave up and went to the kitchen in her dressing gown and made a pile of buttered toast. She took out the jars of marmite and honey and slathered them in alternating slices. After eating six slices she felt that the world did in fact look slightly less of a shade of puce, and that there was a natural end to this ridiculous adventure; which in her mind she called: “The week that all the cast were sick”. The thought of next Monday morning going back in to work and listening to the moaning minis rabbiting on about how woefully inadequate their enormous pay packets were, made her feel quite glad that this had, in a way, crossed her path. Her philosophical mood, while it was at its height was interrupted by something else unexpected: the sudden arrival of a visitor. The visitor was wearing nothing but a bright smile and a cream Egyptian cotton sheet.

‘Oh fuck!!’ Gina shrieked on seeing Juliet. Juliet, too surprized by the comic sight of this woman popping into the space in her kitchen, did not have any chance to react.

‘Oh fuck!!’ said the Red head again, as if her brain was stuck in a groove on the record.

‘Is that what you have been doing?’ said Juliet. She stood up with the jar of yeast extract ready to throw at her if the need arose.

‘I should think you should explain what the hell is going on here!!’ The woman’s eyes were round with shock and a hysterical attack of disbelief.

‘Me?’ Juliet was aghast, ‘Who are you?!’ she raised the jar of Marmite to show the other girl she meant business.

‘Don’t shoot!! I promise that whatever I did I won’t do it again! Please…. I didn’t realise it did that!’

Juliet slowly put the jar down on the counter top. The flushed and dishevelled young woman was genuinely scared. And Juliet realising that she was in fact in the more powerful position in the encounter, relaxed slightly: ‘I’m Juliet. Who are you?’

‘Gina.’ She said still with rounded eyes. She clutched the sheet closer to her body. It was then that Juliet saw the bracelet. She looked at the other woman’s face. There was no trace of recognition, or really of any animosity.

‘Are you with the people who make these things?’ Juliet held her left hand out, but with the palm down.

‘Oh….’ Gina was processing this information, and probably making the same quick mental check for clues to the connection as yet unknown that might exist between them. There was none. And the both stared at each other. ‘The bracelet.’ said Gina, ‘I am part of an experiment thingy… I think it just went wrong…. And I’m sorry. God! This is so….’

‘Weird?’ suggested Juliet.

‘Um…. Yes. I think it might be Jeff. I mean I didn’t know that he was a…..he had one on too. And we… well they sort of connected and it felt like…. And then I was here.’ she finished lamely.

‘Connected?’ Juliet thought about it for a moment, ‘today is Tuesday… at it is Two am.’

‘Yes… I mean. It is.’ Gina started to look less freaked out, and hobbled to the nearest kitchen chair and perched on it, ‘Goodness, it really hurts the knees.’

Juliet ignored this and wondered what would happen if her bracelet and the other girl’s connected. The last thing she wanted was to end up in someone else’s bedroom with a man who might be bewildered, or naked. Or perhaps even drunk… but that might actually be okay. Since she was then out of the clutches of the people who were doubtless at this point watching the house. George had checked for bugs, so she knew that they had only wired the phones and put a camera on the outside of the house. This person might be her best hope to get back to Sam and find out what was happening.

‘Look,’ said Juliet, as if the thought had only just occurred to her, ‘we could try the same thing again. And perhaps it will send you back to your place.’

‘Is this your house?’ asked Gina acquiring a level of self-possession that under the circumstances could be considered indecent.

‘I live here.’

‘Ah. Is there anyone else…. about to come downstairs?’

‘Oh,’ Juliet saw what she was driving at. It was odd to think of the single life as not the only way of living and the thought of being alone again smote her with such force that she was determined to try to get this girl back to the other side of town as soon as practicably possible.

‘Will your boyfriend be worried?’

‘My boyfriend?’ Gina paused, and then brightened, ‘My boyfriend…. Of course. Yes. I would suppose so.’

‘So let’s try to connect the bracelets again. I mean, if that is all there is to it?’

‘It was very energetic,’ said Gina, ‘then they smashed together, and there was a tingle all over like electricity. And then I was here.’

‘Hold out your wrist.’ said Juliet.

‘Okay.’ Gina had a calculating expression and smiled coyly at Juliet, ‘I won’t tell them what happened tonight if you don’t.’

‘Fine with me.’ said Juliet in a tone not intended to deceive anyone about her true feelings towards the scientist woman and that horrible man, and their foppish dopey sidekick.

‘So I wasn’t here?’ asked Gina, ‘And I won’t be in trouble?’

‘Scouts honour,’ said Juliet, ‘I won’t tell the people who made them. They’ve really annoyed me.’

‘They are very haughty.’ said Gina and rolled her wrist onto the counter top, ‘not at all like the men I like to date….Especially that man in the hat….dark eyes that look into you: very scary!’

‘Yes,’ agreed Juliet, not having a clue who she was referring to, ‘Scary.’ And with that she gripped the bangle with her right hand to keep it straight on her small wrist, and brought the thing slamming down onto Gina’s bangle as hard as she could.

There was a momentary flood of what seemed like a discharge to earth by a lightning sheet. And Juliet was knocked backwards onto the floor. She lay there unable to move. A static charge that made her hair stand out in candyfloss haze prickled over her body. It seemed like her muscles had not just locked they had been anesthetised. She felt odd and euphoric and then…. Juliet blinked and shook herself and rather stiffly got up off the floor. The kitchen clock said 4 am. She felt cold and crawled back to bed. And this time slept soundly until a new sound awoke her; someone knocking on the door.

She went and let the boy in. ‘Just sign for it when I’ve got it all in.’ he said.

‘What?’ Juliet wasn’t quite able to process what was happening.

‘The delivery. I’ll put it in the kitchen shall I? Is that okay?’

‘Delivery?’

‘The internet. You order. We deliver. Your shopping.’

‘My shopping?’

‘Items include: let me see. Extra mature cheddar; cherry tomatoes; some frozen items. Fairy liquid. Plus fourty-three other items including organic mushrooms… that ring a bell? Just checking err….Juliet Penn. The sheet is here.’

‘Oh…. Right.’ Juliet shook her head to clear it, ‘The kitchen will be fine. Thank you.’

In less than five minutes the delivery was in the house and Juliet flopped into a chair. There on the middle of the table was an extra-large packet of cat crunchies. Juliet put the kettle on. Just as it started to boil, she suddenly jumped up out of the chair she had been collapsed onto and tore open the crunchy packet. Inside there was an envelope addressed in a neat and flowing script that she would know anywhere in the universe. Sam!! She hugged the letter to her chest and took it and the freshly made tea back up to her bed.

The note was quite brief but hand written and therefore precious and personal. She read it and reread it. And felt better as she drank the tea. They would send her another message through the ordinary post tomorrow. Sam knew that she had been trying to tell him there was something wrong. Since George had been back and they had discussed what they should do, they had worked out a few things. There was something going on that no one could calculate or control, and the thought that Sam was in any danger was allayed by the sense of power of someone like George who could get a delivery sent to someone’s house the same morning and still make all the order make sense. He’d even included new toothpaste. Sam said sorry for being an idiot, but he really wasn’t very good at this. And he wanted more than anything to take Juliet out for that supper he had promised her. He said that she was going to be alright…. The sentiment was just that she knew. But if this was what life could be like when reality hit, however dangerous it could be; she thought she would prefer it to any other thing as well as Sam being included in it. He signed card and put “Love Sam” on the end.

*****

Chapter Eight

Good Science & Bad Girls.

‘Time to zip this up.’ George was poring over the notes that Kyle had made. It was Wednesday and they were on their third cup of tea. Sam groaned; partly because he was in fact feeling a lot better, and also for the temptation of the drift towards George’s medicinal ministrations. He felt a confession was in order. It was getting less difficult to refuse. And now he was finding it hard to know why he despised the drugs so much. Then he thought about Juliet and sobered mentally as it were. ‘Where’s that packet?’ Sam looked at Kyle who tossed the cigarettes across and casually tried to ignore Sam’s expression of irritation.

‘Ask George.’ said Kyle automatically.

‘You don’t know what I’m going to say.’

‘You are ninety-two point three per cent predictable. So yes. I do.’

‘Do you think she will go out with me?’

‘More or less.’ said Kyle prodding a button, ‘Honestly, the whole world could be falling down around you and you are worrying about first kisses and other icky stuff?’

‘No.’ said Sam nettled.

‘Then concentrate. We need your brain, not your groin area right now.’

‘She is not Gina.’

‘Absolutely not.’ said George, who had just come back in after leaving the room so quietly no one noticed, ‘You are going to that show. And make sure that you don’t have a tie you can tie on.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it is Bad Form Old Bean. And also for the reason of the mortality rates of people in ties are higher in the given circumstances than is usual for the population as a whole.’

‘But I wasn’t going to wear a tie.’

Kyle grunted in disgust.

‘What’s up with him this morning?’

‘One day you will be entitled to ask questions like that,’ said George, ‘but it is not this day. We are going to conduct a little experiment.’

‘What do I do?’

‘Have you ever worn a wire before?’ asked George.

‘Once, at college. We were doing sound recording.’

‘I’ll make that a No then.’ George said, ‘Righto. Here’s what we do. Take off your shirt.’

Holly moved among the other trippers with practiced ease. This was so ridiculously easy. She hadn’t called Sam. Something…. She felt it might make things difficult. A reputation to animate at all times. Little Miss Ellis was sweet and innocent looking and packed an unexpected punch. She was already rich in her own right and had, by virtue of some timely investment and taking keen involvement at a board level, got herself on the observation platform.

‘I do want them back you know.’ She sniffed and stood straighter.

‘You will…. In fact I’ll give you both copies when we have the space ready to fill again.’

‘So it worked then?’ she put her head on one side, a gesture that never failed to extract a sympathetic smile from a male. Mr Charles frowned. He didn’t like her. She was outwardly silly, but underneath had a mind like a steel trap. He knew she just used her charms to get her own way. And what was not deeply felt by her, was certainly more than a match for the admission filter in the minds of his minions. He straightened his hat, and made sure the top button on his coat was fastened. There it was, coming over the horizon. The boat drifted gently and then started to move with more purpose as the engines took the strain and dragged the bow wave before her.

Mr Charles smiled. This was his favourite moment. Water made it easy. The fluidity of the particles mimicking the fluid motion of the time wave itself.

‘Watch!!’ said Rhett who was stood nearby. He was too smart for the level of most hired big guys; and he didn’t like to show it. He would watch Holly, not with lust but with a strange kind of curiosity like she was a rare breed of big cat.

‘I think I have it,’ said George, ‘the guy with the mobile. The number is in the directory of local…. Get this…..massage parlours!!’

‘Really?’ said Kyle, he pressed one last button, ‘Now pay attention. This wire is adjustable on sensitivity. That means we’ll be able to automatically or manually adjust the output so it doesn’t distort. And we can wash out the clutter in real time too. It buffers really well. There’s no gap.’

‘What?’ Sam winced as George stuck the little pads on.

‘I want you to go for a walk in…. well to somewhere local and then have a conversation with someone. Once we’ve tweaked it should work for Friday too.’

‘Okay.’ Sam’s depression had not lifted. He began to think that things could not get any worse. That was until he went to the Mini Market. He felt quite out of whack. This was either a: post-traumatic stress from being stabbed; b: worry about Camille’s increasingly bizarre absences out of the flat they mostly shared; c: he was in love with Juliet (?). Sam stared at a massive packet of tortilla chips and then a jar of dip – spicy chilli and tomato.

‘Meester Wright!’ Ollie’s face fell when he met Sam’s eyes, ‘You are sick? You are ill? You need a video? I have some new in.’

‘No, thank you. I think I need some advice Ollie….’ He stared at him helplessly.

‘I see you are in need of special advice.’ Ollie led him round to a little space full of tins and leaflets for the shop. Ollie grabbed a sheaf of them from a worn swivel chair and made Sam sit down. He sat on a wooden stool and pressed his fingertips together as if he was about to listen to a lecture.

‘I am all ears… and all noses.’

‘I don’t know what to say…’ Sam really didn’t care if George and Kyle heard him or not; this was not just a matter of life and death; it was more terrible than that. The thought that he might actually be in love with Juliet made him feel all of a dither. He told Ollie about it.

‘It could be a bad curry. But then again, you may have found her.’

‘Huh?’

‘True love…’ Ollie’s eyes glazed over, ‘we have very special oil for that kind of thing.’

‘I’m not sure I….’

‘To make bread. It makes the girl approved. That is the Mama must decide that she is the right girl. You make the right bread; she is yours. Easy!’

‘The girl bakes the bread?’

‘Yes! Very special. Good Olives. You make lots of bread and share it. The Mama likes the girl, she is happy. You are happy. You take her to see you Mama!!’

‘My mother?’ Sam was perturbed by the thought. Ollie’s face fell.

‘I caused offence. I am so sorry.’

‘No, no Ollie I’m not offended. I’m just a little unsure how my mother would react. It really is almost impossible to explain my mother.’

Ollie shrugged, and then smiled, ‘A man’s Mama is not a thing that can be easily explained. But you bring the pretty lady to me; I can tell if she is right girl for you Meester Wright!’

Sam couldn’t help it, he smiled widely at Ollie who stood and reached for a packet of mini chocolate whirly nibbles. ‘Take, eat. It will make the Love sick, less sick. Tomorrow will be better. You will see.’ He patted Sam on the arm and pressed and whole box full of the Choco nibbles into his hands.

‘I can’t take all these.’

‘Ah! Mistake in order. Too much chocolate. You help me dispose of evidence?’

‘Well….if you put it like that.’

A minute later Sam was walking back to the flat. The lift had been fixed. And he slipped in gratefully, since jogging up and down stairs didn’t appeal just yet. Inside George was checking the equipment again.

‘Did it work?’ Sam was trying to catch the display on the replay and see his own voice in a bouncing graphic that expanded and contracted across the screen.

‘Very clear.’ said Kyle tapping away on the laptop. George turned and came and relieved Sam of the two carrier bags.

‘You are really going to eat all of those?’ George was peering into the first bag.

‘Give me the info first. Then I’ll share them with you and Kyle.’

‘I can’t,’ said Kyle, ‘I’m allergic.’

‘To chocolate?’

‘Sort of.’

‘It’s something that is in chocolate bars.’ said George, ‘Anyway… to business. You wanted to know how this will help. We can use it to record the conversation of anyone you happen to be standing close to. We have wired you so it doesn’t pick up your own voice too loudly. We can tune into the pitch and intonation of specific voices. And it can automatically pull that voice forward. As long as we have a few seconds of sample it will work quite well. It can disentangle more than two voices talking at once. And we can do a straight recording as well for analysing after the fact. Very useful.’

‘So all we need now is your friend Howard’s guest list.’ Kyle still kept his eyes on the screen; ‘Alright. I’ve got your vox profile. And Mr Ollie’s….good for a reference on volume in a particular type of indoor space.’

‘But the gallery’s huge.’ said Sam.

‘It is the deadening effect of sound absorbing materials.’

‘He means other bodies in the immediate area, when you are at the gallery on Friday.’

‘What about Juliet?’

‘Please…. Stop worrying. I will have my eye on her.’ George seemed to have an ominous glint in his eyes now.

‘You’re going to be there?’

‘I’m on the guest list.’ said George.

Sam slept only fitfully for another night in a row. Approaching Thursday. And still no word from the rather irritating Holly. He had just about given up on her, and was in a way rather relieved to do it; when she rang.

The basic trouble was that all the people who did know about the puzzle; simply didn’t have the brain power to cope with the apparent complexity of it. Holly this time agreed to meet somewhere of Sam’s choosing.

She was waiting for him when he moved rather slowly through the door and sat down on the bench of the local chip and bacon butty emporium. They ordered two teas for the look of thing. Holly had an envelope to give him with the clues and pictures, but no money, ‘I trust that a cheque is alright, I can put it in the post tonight.’

‘I normally prefer cash.’ he paused; then relented ‘Send it to me tomorrow then….but for speed I will need to ask you a couple of things.

‘Go ahead.’ said Holly.

‘Do you know of anyone in your immediate set of acquaintances or family who might gain to get the result first of what the…. rather unusual err…. clues might indicate.’

‘I would not be to their advantage. My Grandfather’s will was quite specific…. We had to find them together, and the result had to be shared, and then everyone would get a fair share; but that is to be subject to a further clause in the will.

‘What is that?’

‘That anything gained out of this must pass to our children. So it was never ours in that sense. And the people who benefit could only be the offspring of those named on the original document.’

‘So… this treasure. It might not necessarily be in money. Could it be other Artworks?’

‘Only if you think of what it was that my Grandfather was protecting,’

Sam was silent then; something in her manner was making him feel twitchy. He felt that his instincts were stretched on a piano wire that vibrated in sympathy with every passing ripple from the psychic environment. Holly put her head on one side and stirred her tea. She looked up at him, coy, persuasive. She was waiting for something. Something that she had already known was about to happen.

‘You know what it is already….’ said Sam in barely a whisper.

‘Pardon?’ she leaned forward and then smiled. Not a nice smile. Out of the corner of his eye Sam was conscious of three figures approaching. Something in the girl’s expression made him realise that she saw it too.

Two slid in on either side of him; the third stood. Holly carried on smiling and sipped her tea unconcerned. Sam had the sense not to react. It was the same man who had met him in the sushi bar; and the big guy. The third one he didn’t know….not the crap tail; but this guy looked like he was out of his depth.

‘Ellis…’ said the man in the hat, ‘time to go.’

She pouted, ‘Awh…I thought it might be fun to see if he could work out the puzzle. Let him keep the clues. It might show you how clever he is!’

‘Fine,’ said the man, ‘now leave.’

She stood rather reluctantly, her expression had a complicated mixture of surprize, petulance, annoyance and secretiveness. Sam was trying to read her eyes, to see where her loyalties really lay. Her eyes swept over him once, and then she turned and flounced out. Oh she was good! So very, very good! He had no idea if she was working against him, for him, or for a third party. She was superficially in this man’s keeping but only as a convenience. Her eyes….was there a flicker? He wasn’t sure.

‘Comfortable?’ the man addressed him. Sam looked up, and the man slid into the seat that Holly had just vacated. He took out a note book and opened it somewhere in the middle. He turned it around and slid it towards Sam.

‘You do know what this is?’

Sam looked at the drawing of the power pack, and tried not to react, ‘What is it?’ he said evenly.

‘Very good Mr Wright…. Very good. I think you are problematic though. We don’t have anyone who can cancel out your rather peculiar trace.’

‘Trace?’ Sam needed to know this one thing. It might be the only clue he needed to work it all out. But instead of answering, the man nodded slightly to the one who sat to Sam’s left. This guy shuffled in a pocket and took out a small case. Quick as anything the big man on his right reached across and pulled Sam’s hand up and onto the table palm downwards. Sam tried to watch the boss man’s eyes; but he found himself looking downwards anyway. There was a solid bangle. And then with a little shake it folded in two, hinging on the curve. Sam felt a curl of anger, which they sensed. The pressure on his hand increased. The third man slotted it around Sam’s wrist. The thing was eased closed and Sam saw the edge meet and then the line disappear. The bangle now appeared solid. Sam slowly pulled his hand in front of him, examining the thing as they let go. He had seen something that could not be believed: a join turn into no join. Something broken becoming solid right in front of his eyes.

‘You want to know how it works?’ The be-hatted man spoke and smiled in an almost friendly way.

‘Of course I do.’ said Sam. His voice sounded strange and normal to his own ears, but he felt a tide of anger.

‘That is of course a secret. But I will give you a clue; because this job is so tedious and Holly was right, it would be good to see how clever you really are.’

‘Smart enough not to believe that little Madam was completely on the level.’ Sam stared hard at him.

‘You do grasp the intricacies of the situation of course?’

‘Possibly.’

‘It is a molecular lock. There is only one way to get the bangle off. And no one has been able to escape it without the proper instruction. Not everyone can remove them. Some are not really fit to wear such trinkets. But that means they rely on us to remove them… so it is of course quite an effective way of keeping a trace on you. That is so that you don’t get too clever and do something that we don’t want you to do.’

Sam said nothing. He was thinking hard; waiting for the clue that would give away the secret. This man talked about things as if they had reached a conclusion. He watched his face, and noted how the eyes darted to the left when he said about needing instruction on how to remove the bangle. The big guy on his right was not privy to it. But his rather nervous one was. He knew. Sam took in his appearance out of the corner of his eye. He was clean shaven, pale complexion; slightly untidy hair with a backwards flick at the front. He wore a long coat as if he didn’t normally don such gear and wasn’t really certain he could be part of this… someone who liked to be indoors Sam decided. Not like Juliet: outdoor girl. Something was catching his attention. The man spoke again: ‘I will expect you to carry on with your normal schedule of course. Anything out of the ordinary… and we will know. So for now, I bid you adieu.’ He stood and the others followed immediately without any hesitation; properly trained monkeys then. Sam waited until they were out if sight and slid his phone out with his right hand and immediately phoned George. This was getting to be a habit; but this was one favour he really needed to call in. Sam kept the left hand away from the mobile just in case.

Gina was trying her best to keep her cool. There had been three phone calls all from her bank. All of them telling her that there was a problem. Eventually she told her assistant to call them back and put them on the speaker phone. She twirled the metal bangle round her wrist as she did so. She waited for the call to come through and thought about how lovely it would be to teleport to a tropical beach with Sam. She shook her head, realigned her thoughts to the last encounter with Sam and his irritating little friend. Actually it was only Gina’s heels that made her mind shrink Howard down to another size that he had never been in possession of. The thought that she would ever after have to butter up the irritating gallery owner; made her cringe with revulsion. He was not her type; far too non-compliant, too bright and sharply observant: in fact exactly the sort of man that she made a point of avoiding. Oh well!! She had almost forgotten the bank until a tinny and rather nasal voice issued through the speakers.

‘Ms Redding. We really are concerned. We don’t usually recommend that so much money is put into a customer’s current account.’

‘Well I’m….. Pardon?’ Gina sprang upright, ‘Just repeat that please. I’m on the speaker phone in my office, a bit of distortion…’

Five minutes later Gina was calling a trader in the city and arranging to buy shares. She wanted to squirrel it away before anyone got wind of the windfall. She would stop and question later where the money had come from. The sum for taking part in the trials was “modest” and four figures had been aired as equivalent to that. The large deposit she had paid was more than returned to her, as long as she didn’t flunk out at the last minute. Gina did not do so; but out of twenty four potentials only three remained. One of those others would still get a reduced share as she was sick, with a virus, and had not actually bottled it. So to the bank’s little fit; there was a considerable sum that had been credited sometime in the last twenty four hours. It was not bank error…. So it must be something to do with the Time Tripper. She thought that it might be bad for it to be seen to be in her account, and to remove it as quickly as possible could be interpreted as a public service. Gina had a lot of arguments along those and similar lines that she used to keep her conscience on her side and free of burden. She then worked solidly until lunch time. She left her PA free to enjoy her own lunch for once without extra instructions and tripped out in a fine and happy mood.

The circle of fate that sometimes leads us to bump into people who at that moment we would much rather avoid, created a route that took Sam across Gina’s path within ten minutes of her leaving the office. She, in typical upbeat, over the top fashion, swept up alongside him and insisted that he have lunch with her. Sam was in a state of weakness, annoyance and general pissed-off-ness; and thus was ripe for the plucking. Gina, not being entirely without the full complement of feminine intuition took Sam to a small pokey corner of a Chinese buffet place that she rarely frequented.

‘I must say the dark mysterious side of your nature I find quite attractive.’

‘Please Gina, not now. I think there is someone following me.’ Sam sighed and winced slightly as he moved his right leg round. He had been doing altogether too much running around. And since he could not drive this was getting near to the quota of excessive exercise already today.

Gina swivelled round in the seat, picked up a menu and scanned it briefly, ‘I think I’ll have the midi selection. There’s a free soft drink and pudding.’ She eyed Sam brightly. ‘Yeah, sure.’ he said and shrugged. The day would not be made worse by the addition of Gina to Thursday’s mix.

Gina ordered the two buffets and then sailed off to fill up her plate. For such a slim-waisted woman she certainly knew how to pack in the calories. Gina claimed it was from using the stairs at work. Sam thought that she was in the habit of eating only once a day and if at all possible at other people’s expense. So staying slim was her preferred state, but she knew how to gorge unashamedly when the situation and opportunity arose. She was stacked on top today like some spur of an overhanging cliff and Sam wondered what had at the same time put Gina in such a good mood. It was probably a bloke who stood six inches taller than Sam and spent all their time bulking up their enormous muscles and showing off.

‘Darling! Do get some of the chicken.’ Gina was already digging in like a mermaid gorging on seaweed. Sam, not liking the sight of Gina in super hungry mode got up and took his time selecting the buffet items. As he sat down she had slowed to medium and was in the mood to talk between mouthfuls.

‘So what is making you so cheesed off Sam-I-Am?’

‘Dear God Gina! I am really sorry….there has been a bit of trouble over the belt.’

‘Well….okay,’ she said and bit into a spicy pork rib, ‘I suppose it was necessary.’

‘You choose now of all times, to start being reasonable?’

‘I am a reasonable person Sammy; it is only you that doesn’t appreciate that!’ She seemed a little less cheery then, ‘I suppose I ought to be grateful that you decided to have lunch with me.’

‘So who is he?’

‘Jeff,’ said Gina, ‘he’s on the list.’

‘Oh…’ Sam didn’t like Gina’s list. She had collected a file on available men and sometimes, like at Christmas or on someone’s birthday, was willing to share the information around. Her girlfriends loved her for it; and she was popular at parties, because she could always find a spare man to bring as a present to the hostess or other who was unfortunately unhooked up. In fact Sam had been the only recent Man who wasn’t originally on “the list”. And it stung Gina that Sam had refused to create a scene when they split up, and had left her without enough wind in her sails to get her back to her place.

‘I think that there is going to be more trouble on the way. And whatever trouble you have been in Gina; I suggest you give it a wide berth for all the next week.’

‘That’s fine. I only went on the programme to get some experience of other cultures; it is supposed to broaden the mind.’

‘So is reading books. But please get to the point.’

‘Tut, Tut Sam. I was only just warming up. The truth is that I have been on the programme for six months. And in all that time I have not heard of anything like this. We didn’t have any trouble and the weather was fine, despite what was said about being attracted to water.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Water. It makes the Time Thingy happen.’

‘Time Thingy?’

‘You’ve got the bangle on.’ Gina pointed out, ‘So I guess you will take the tripper next week now.’

‘What?’

‘Time Tripper Sam…. You mean to say you don’t know yet?’

‘I think we might be at cross purposes.’ said Sam, ‘In fact I think that there may be a major misunderstanding. The reason I’m wearing this thing is because someone put it there without my permission!’

‘Oh! Well take it off then.’

‘I don’t know how.’

‘Confidentially,’ she said and lowered her voice, ‘I’m not supposed to know either. But there have to be some advantages to being female. If I play it right I can be in a position to be set up for life.’

‘You know how to get it off?’

‘Yes. But not here. Eat your lunch Sam.’

Juliet was eating lunch as well. She had had a call from the theatre, she had been ordered back to work. They were going to try for another new date; the Friday after next. Juliet gritted her teeth and answered carefully: yes she would be in by three. The rehearsal was at three-thirty. They would do the bit with the costume changes first so that she could get off home as soon as the actors and actresses had switched to the last costume. Juliet pulled her hair back in a springy bungee. She nibbled some more of the pitta bread sandwich. She thought about the disappearing Sandwich, then she thought of Sam, then she felt depressed, then she decided to ring him. Then realising that he wasn’t likely to be at home decided to call him on his mobile… and then realised that he kept it switched off. Then she did the simple no shit solution. Send a text. Then it would reach him as soon as he switched it back on.

Sam’s mobile started vibrating. ‘I really hope that whatever mischief you are about to perpetrate Sam-I-Am; you don’t mention my name!’

‘You know these people?’ Sam glanced up as he answered.

‘Not in the biblical sense.’ said Gina.

“Hello Sam….got some info;” George paused and Sam heard a click, “Are you alone?”

Gina’s eyes narrowed, ‘This is not what we came here for!’

‘Go on George.’ Sam tapped a finger on the table and pulled a napkin towards him.

“The Ex?”

‘Yeah….but she’s good. You can tell me now.’

“I’ve got some radical stuff on the dev. Side of it. Listen up. There’s a scientist called Joseph Drucker. You won’t have heard of him…. but about twenty odd years ago he disappeared. Just vanished. His lab assistant was in the place at the time and there was nothing that could explain it…. Except some very dubious research. You getting this?”

‘Yeah.’ Sam eye balled Gina who was mouthing Who is it? ‘It’s a friend.’ said Sam; ‘No I was talking to Gina. Gina… please give me a minute.’ He pressed the phone closer to his ear.

“Now there was one thing that the assistant had in their possession; a set of very interesting readouts for the period immediately preceding the disappearance. And…. And this is going to sound really strange there was a sandwich….”

‘You what?’

“He would take Sandwiches to work. And on this occasion he didn’t have one handy, and the assistant asked him if he wanted anything getting. He said no. She went out, and that was the last anyone saw of him, except for the sandwich… half eaten on the desk.”

‘What did the guy look like?’

“Average height, average build, a little thin on top. Blue eyes. About fourty-two years old. Well that is what he was when he disappeared. But the thing that is bugging me is that the readings…. Well some of them match several of the frequencies that Kyle recorded. It wasn’t just about, but exactly; you understand?”

‘Yes. But what does that mean?’

“It means,” George sounded as though he was fighting with himself, “That there is a very good chance that someone might have in their possession a piece of equipment that can break the known laws of physics.”

Sam lowered his voice: ‘If you’re going to say Time Travel; then say it.’

“Okay…. But just for the record I didn’t say anything like that. You are reaching here. There is no scientific reason for thinking that is what is happening here….”

‘Alright. Is there anything else that you can tell me?’

“Mmm… just one thing. It happened around the same time. There was an Art theft from a small gallery. It’s not far from you. Near the old Mill. Look, I have to ring off now. I think we can reach you at, say Eight tonight. Kyle wants to stop off for kebabs on the way.” And with that he was gone. Sam looked up. Gina cradled her chin in her hands: ‘Time to take a little walk Sammy. I’ll show you a trick with the piece of jewellery alright. But only if you do something for me tomorrow.’

‘What do you want Gina?’

‘You Sam…. Always. And to think I let you go.’

‘You didn’t it was…’

‘Let’s not argue over the details. I need a date for the gallery. And I need to get at least six spare tickets. Because your dear girlfriend Gina is about to help you in ways you could not possibly imagine!’

‘Or believe, I’ll bet.’

‘Don’t be grumpy Sweetie. We’ve got business to discuss.’ And with that she pulled Sam out of the seat and they left. Two streets further on she dived into a department store. They steamed past the perfume counter and into the lingerie department.

‘I think I would like to leave now.’ said Sam.

‘This way.’ said Gina and pulled him though a curtain into a quiet maze of changing rooms.

Juliet would have liked to strangulate the leading Lady. It was only the possible threat of incarceration that stopped her considering the idea with anything other than a passing fantasy to relieve the more than terrible mood that the epic monster could radiate with practiced ease. Juliet bent over the hem of the costume. She was saying that she kept tripping up on the edging, and Juliet had stitched it so it lifted a little, but she was still complaining. The rest of the cast apart from two were back, and despite looking a little green around the edges, were more than willing to work for their bread and butter. Jerry….who to be honest had fared better that the rest of them, and was therefore in a better mood; was trying to get the group into some sort of order before the producer turned up to view their lack lustre efforts.

Eggy – the other one who had not been sick whispered to Juliet. ‘Watch out girl. Your head space is in need of some serious Ganga after this little demonstration.’

‘Go sort the lights out Monkey Boy!!’ she of the enormous arse screeched. Eggy moved smoothly out of her reach. She then glared at Juliet, ‘I’m going to need two extra handkerchiefs for the Romantic interlude. They are all getting lost in the curtain at the back.

‘I’ll just run and get them.’ Juliet scrambled away relieved for a few minutes peace. She searched around to find the lacy doilies that were used at the end of the scene. There was a whole packet of them. Jerry had told her not to open a new one, but to recycle the others in rehearsal. They all looked a little grubby; the hideous Madam was bound to complain, again. Juliet pulled uselessly at the bracelet and wondered if she could risk using the office phone. But Merrill (the scarily critical producer) was due sometime in the next twenty minutes, and she didn’t dare be late back for the run through. She looked at her watch…. Five minutes. Not long enough. Damn!! Why did this job have to be the one she was saddled with…? Anything would be better than this. She felt tears prick her eyes and a horrible feeling of fear about the gallery opening smote her soul. Sam!! She wanted to talk to him so badly it hurt. And she didn’t think of herself as being an emotionally driven person usually…. But ever since they had put the bangle on her wrist she felt kind of well…. Weird.

Howard Logan, at that exact moment was suffering a little weirdness of his own. He stood in front of his desk with a lit roll up and thought about the latest list. Beautifully full of darling people he was ready to impress. But there was a little strange thing that had happened. Three people who he hadn’t seen in ages had suddenly all rung up and asked if they could come to the opening. Being generous and somewhat flattered by the attention of those who were not only old acquaintances, but semi-important people in their own right, he instructed his PA to add them to the list. With that in mind he was on the phone to the supplier to adjust the cocktail numbers upwards. “Times Three” was Howard’s magic number. Getting drunk at these shindigs was almost obligatory. The animatronic sculptures where roped off to prevent any accidental interaction while imbibing. So he thought about the way he would rearrange the opening to accommodate these few extra special guests…. But it was odd. They all had been somewhere else and had not heard about his exhibition until now… all for perfectly legitimate reasons…. And yet… it nagged at his mind. This was something that ticked away like it had done when he was involved in less than strictly legal activity. And perhaps that instinct had saved him many more times than he imagined. A talent for such escapism was “Logan’s run” as he would call it. Just a little more credible than that but not completely without magic…. Oh darling… what do we do when things get strangely uncomfortable? We turn to the friend in the glass tumbler… the single malt whisky Darling. The PA, entering at that moment saw Howard’s strangely faraway look and thought that she ought to go out and come back in again. But his eyes refocused. ‘Tell me.’ he said.

‘The delivery is here. And the bar staff and the ice have all arrived. But we do have a little glitch. Young Joe is really sick, his Mother rang up, and another is coming down with something.’

‘Crumbs! Shall we call in the agency trollops do you think?’

‘Mmm…. Perhaps. But there is a shut down at the Show Room; their staff are all twiddling their thumbs. Shall we borrow the good ones?’

‘Good idea. But no underage chickies! I don’t like the way their boss sneaks them in. Just not Cricket you know.’

The PA smiled, ‘Consider it done. I will check back with you in an hour.’ She took the cigarette out of Howard’s hand as he started through the door to the hallway. He blinked and nodded: ‘Of course. Can’t set off the environmental alarms can we?’

‘I’ve told you before,’ she said patiently, ‘it is not allowed in a public place; the smoke alarms aren’t that sensitive.’

Howard made straight for the big painting. He stood and stared at it; letting it take him to other places in his imagination. He found it soothing and quite meditational. Rather Zen, but without any chanting. He saw again the girl with the hourglass. ‘Who are you Lady?’ he murmured. It was as if she turned and looked at him. She seemed sad, and he wanted to ask her why. And then he saw the angels all around. They were trying to help her… but something was in their way. And he saw the violet star of a flower that radiated the warmth of a Love so other, so intense…. He thought it must be story about a lover. But then it might be about a journey. As if the waterfall and the river that flowed outwards in the distance were the river of life itself… like the story in Pilgrim’s Progress; a book that Howard had read more than once, turning the old paper pages with reverential delight.

His train of thought was broken into by a slight patter of sound. He turned and then saw a thing that surprised him: the furry shape of a cat.

It was not Camille’s wish to be anything other than completely useful and totally interfering and claim everything hers in a way that made the deal a certainly undoable one. She was walking along the top of the outside balcony wall; still trying to find the source of that odd smell. And there it was again, and some: the woman in the tight jacket and the hair that was tight, who had a smell of orange oil and cheese toasties. She was wrinkling her nose against the scent of something acrid and sharply nasty. Alastair was nervously smoking a readymade and Camille didn’t like it. Sam had better taste and always allowed Camille to sniff the packet first to make sure it wasn’t too off putting. She trotted forward and listened twizzling her ears and standing very still.

‘I think that you will have to wait in the car.’ said Miranda in a soft reasonable voice, ‘Mr Charles has made it clear he doesn’t want any more complications.’

‘I know, I know. I really had no choice…. Gorman didn’t see me. It was Chester and Rhett. They thought I was Emerson.’

‘Sorry,’ said Miranda, ‘You really were having a bad day. I’ll take us out to dinner tonight and then we’ll take a trip this weekend if that’s okay? There is nothing I can do about the decision. It’s not up to me.’

‘I know,’ he sighed, ‘I really would like to see the Art Works and meet a few people. There is a display by Annalise Golding.’

‘What do you know about Annalise Golding?’ Miranda’s voice sounded suddenly brittle and stiffer.

‘She is a very good photographer. The tonal contrast in the black and white…’

‘Sorry… I just thought that there was some other connection. Sorry Alastair.’ Miranda unhooked a strand of reddish hair from her ear. She went forward smiling. They connected. And Camille trotted past them on silent paws to see what there was to see. The belt…. So resplendent with the new programming that Miranda had used in it. The latest version would be elegant and a lot smaller. The ripple of energy slightly more focused, and affecting the brain in strangely exotic ways. Ah! The scent of it… that scent, of cedar and wine. Like all the things she thought it could be and some. Time…. Like a drug. Miranda was trying to be objective but had not reckoned on her individual response. She put it aside. Alastair was an attractive man when he relaxed. But ultimately he wasn’t for her. She had business on the other side of the country when this was done and she wondered how he would react when she told him this. She suspected he was a little in love with her already. And he was bright and studious and had quick reflexes. Only getting smacked in the head and bitten had slowed him down and made him pathetically compliant.

‘We’ll see if we can’t get you in on a special guest ticket.’ said Miranda suddenly, surprizing herself with her unplanned generosity: that when away from his company she would interpret in herself as a weakness. She stood back slightly and looked at him smiling. He was already perking up, his ego re-inflating with every passing moment. The ticket was easy to get. Persuading Mr Charles that it was a good idea was not so easy. The solution: she simply would not tell him. Camille reached out with a furry paw. She stretched her claws to drag them across the surface of the object. And then she felt a fizz like too much cat nip. She could feel her fur going into blow dry mode. And she saw the two figures out on the balcony talking softly, quite oblivious to her presence. That smell was driving her crazy… what really was that smell, where did it come from? She tried to grab the object in her jaws and it tasted kind of smoky and woody too, rather like barbecue dressing. She tried to get a grip on the thing with her teeth, and all her needle sharp grappling hooks played along the surface, making no mark on the super strong alloy. Thus satisfied, and charged up like a mini power station, Camille thought of the interesting man who smelled of black cherries and smoky crackers and leapt through the narrow aperture that she saw in front of her…. By thought itself it opened and snapped shut as the tip of her tail slipped through. Miranda turned, sensing movement, ‘Did you….?’

‘Miranda…. Come here.’ Alastair grasped her round the waist, and kissed her with a manly authority. Everyone was becoming more and more affected by the emissions from the belt and the power packs. It was too late. Miranda knew objectively that she was already in a state where her judgement was impaired. But this tasted sweet and she needed to relax. So she gave in to the emotion of the moment.

*****

Chapter Nine

Going Crazy, Future Man.

‘What in Pinky Poofy Pom Poms was that!!!? ?’ Howard’s head swivelled so fast he nearly got whiplash. The thought that there was an infestation of some sort was quickly followed by an angry little aside to the artist who expected him to cope with a month of Rabbit droppings after the last episode. What the….? The furry streak that was Camille shot into the other gallery space out of sight. The reason for this became immediately clear. The Frenchman with his sack of tools for the cocktail making tomorrow was looking for “Messuir Logan.” And he was worried about the ice maker.

‘Ice maker?’ Howard felt very unnerved by all this.

‘The Ice Maker must be full of filtered water. The tap water will impair the taste of the drinks.’

‘Of course. My PA will arrange for the correct water to be put in the ice machine.’

‘It has water in it. It is the wrong sort of water. I told them to not fill it until I got here. I don’t understand who is responsible for this crime!’

‘Well I’m sure we can sort it out.’ Howard said in an even soothing tone, while still looking out of the corner of his eye for the furry cat shape. He attempted to lead the Frenchman back towards the front hall way and thus into the loving care of his excellent PA, who as luck would have it, was at that exact moment dealing with another enquiry about extra tickets by yet another set of important people. She did as she was instructed and set about rearranging the order for the initial address at the beginning of the private view. She had to ring the caterers too. There was likely to be a lack of snacks of an elegant kind. The Times Three Rule was something that Howard insisted on. And dubious as it was to the estimation of more conventional ways of assessing numbers it always worked. Perhaps it was just that Howard liked to invite people whose enthusiasm for life and all its passion nearly matched his own. She sighed as the phone rang, and then smiled. It was Jay. He just needed to check something. His parents would be here tomorrow and could they park in the gallery car park? So she arranged that; got back to the caterers; reassigned some staff; and then got a call from another member of the regular staff who had mysteriously been taken ill.

The Frenchman was made to wait, which didn’t please him. Even the soothing mellow voice of the PA did not ease his anxiety. So they got Andy, the young and wildly enthusiastic college student on work placement to be obedient to his every need and wish. That seemed to work. An hour later they had the ice machine filled properly and were starting to do test shots. All the tables were out and the caterers were setting up the decorations and strategically placed seating. Howard, after feeling bizarre and rather discomforted had now got a coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other and was staring out at the sky from the normally filled to the brim café. The doors to the outer balcony were open and he sat and enjoyed the warmer breeze that filtered in. Suddenly he was all a dither again. Something was in the room with him; and with a sudden rush of astonishment and something like a jolt of pain from tripping over a stair you didn’t expect, he realised that Camille was sitting unblinking on a chair on the adjacent table. Unconcerned she started to wash her face and then smoothed her poufy tail. She combed back her whiskers. Howard, at once transfixed by the sight and afraid he might in fact at last be going mad, did not move. It was then that he caught the faint tingle like interference on a TV screen. She was like a cartoon character but the line around her was really all over her, and you could see it against the light as it had gathered power. An odd violet glow, as if she was a strangely lurid Christmas decoration that someone had forgotten to take down. Yet in all her lively cat-ness and reality she was looking at him. She hopped off the chair and approached Howard; she looked up at him and meowed once in greeting. Howard reached out his hand and she sniffed it and then started to purr. Howard laughed, the tension suddenly disappeared. She must have got a lift here in a car or something. Sam must be more careful. He had forgotten that Sam wasn’t using his car at the moment. He watched her for a moment and then she trotted toward the double doors.

‘Wait! I mean Camille… come back. We need to call Sam, and get you home kitty. Don’t you think?’

She stopped and looked at him very hard. Camille understood the word “home”. So she trotted off to find the painting again. And just as Howard followed her and entered the gallery room she lightly jumped back through the space between spaces and being a cat did not experience the discomfort that a human would suffer under such circumstances. If you believe that there is nothing odd about what you are doing, then perhaps that is what makes it perfectly okay to leap from place to place. Most people would have a dippy fit if you told them that this was possible; and apart from solving traffic jams what real use was it?

Sam was struggling. Not with something familiar. Not with a tin opener or a zipper. Or even Camille’s cat brush when she was particularly tangled. No; this was a struggle that under normal circumstances he could have overcome in an instant. A little thought about snails cooked in garlic butter usually worked – being the most revolting thing he could think of it put him off immediately. Gina was not in a mood where deflection from the objective was even remotely allowable. What pleasure Sam had ever had in her company (which in his inflamed memory at that moment was plenty); he felt the need to relive with the horrid passion that is fuelled by too many spare ribs and not enough coffee.

‘I think you will need to make yourself a little more comfortable…’ Gina purred in that dark mellow tone that reminded Sam of chocolate and silk curtains. She slid over him in a haze of Hugo Woman. She was acting Boss Lady, and slid her shirt over her shoulders and let it drop to the floor in the carpeted changing room. This was not an encounter that Sam had had with her even when she was his girlfriend… but there was something happening to him…, in more ways than one, and he tried to focus on the thing he needed to remember about this. The bracelet; and the feelings of giddiness. The two things were having an effect. Something was making his mind lose control; the inhibitor part of the brain that only let its guard down when in total privacy, was today deserting Sam in a traitorous flurry of hormonal head rush. Despite feeling like he had just been injected with rocket fuel, as Gina’s magnetism took hold of his reason; he still managed to gasp out the question; ‘What does the bracelet do?’

‘Do we need to talk about that now…?’ she mumbled and began kissing his neck. ‘Please….. Gina. Just stop. I can’t…’

‘Can’t what Lover Boy? I’ll tell you all you need to know. Just let your dinner go down first.’

‘It’s not my dinner going down that I’m worried about.’ said Sam unevenly as Gina wrestled with his belt.

‘Don’t worry. It’s just a little like this after the Time Tripper. Best to let it run its course and enjoy the ride!’

Sam grabbed both her wrists and forced her away from him enough to push their bodies apart; ‘I don’t want to be part of this!! You know that…. It was just another game for you Gina…. Just another game…’ Sam sank onto the nearest chair, suddenly overcome with a sweeping sense of depression. He put his head in his hands. Gina sat down next to him, ‘It happens.’ she said, ‘Up one minute; down the next. It usually wears off after a while. I’m really not sure how you’ve been affected though.’ She ran a hand down his arm.

‘Stop….stop it.’ Sam pushed her hand away, ‘If this is to do with the bracelet, then show me how to get it off right now. I don’t like the effect.’

‘Clearly,’ said Gina, ‘It’s easy. You just think of something you like a lot. And then when it is really strong you imagine that thought hitting the bracelet. And it just….Well it opens and you can take it off.’

‘Don’t touch me,’ Sam breathed a long breath out slowly trying to calm down. Gina picked up her shirt and buttoned it up again, ‘I always think of passion fruit sorbet. It really works best if there is fresh fruit on top, and some ginger purée with it too; in a tall glass with fan biscuits and cream.’ She shrugged; ‘I find it easier to control because there are several bits to the idea: the fruit and the cream and so on. I can get the bracelet to unlock quickly and easily like that.’

‘Right.’

‘Oh I see; you want me to demonstrate?’

‘Please.’

Gina held out her left wrist and then the line appeared on the metal, ran all the way round and then it eased open slowly, like the unzipping of a banana. She eased it off her wrist and handed it to Sam.

‘That simple huh?’

‘Yes sweetie. That simple.’ She moved forward and kissed him on the lips, and with the tip of her tongue searched for an opening. Sam began to forget why he was here. She was kissing him and he had almost forgotten that he was here for a reason that was…..important. Yes. It was about…. About.

‘What was that?’ Sam was suddenly aware of where they were.

‘It’s fine. We won’t be disturbed.’

‘What?’

‘There’s a couch in the other side. And they even have a shower for the people who are really mucky.’

Sam stood: ‘I really need to think about all this.’

‘No you don’t. You can get it in five minutes.’

‘I need to go.’

‘No. Look.’ She grabbed his wrist and squeezed hard. The pain was sharp. She had trapped his watch strap in her determined grip. But then something flashed in his mind and out again: a street with horses and carriages; ladies in long dresses and bonnets, and men in hats and suits…

‘Oh my God! What was that?’

‘What?’ said Gina. She still clasped him tightly but had just shifted her grip a little.

‘I saw…. something. Late Eighteen Hundreds….. But that is crazy!’

‘Oh!’ Gina seemed thoughtful, an expression at odds with her still limpet-like grip on Sam’s wrist, ‘One of them was that….It was fun.’

‘Fun?! Let go! Get off.’ Sam stumbled backwards breathing hard. Gina’s expression smoothed out from one of surprize to one of contempt. She examined her nails and then picked up her jacket and her bag. Sam saw that she was about to do the usual: appear hurt, so he would backtrack and be the one to apologise. But not today.

‘Just stay where you are.’ he said and held up a palm, while blinking furiously trying to calm the thudding beat inside his own head. Gina calmly slid into her jacket, shook her head slightly so her hair fell back into place and adjusted the strap on her large shoulder bag.

‘That’s fine,’ she was acting casual, now that her not devious trick hadn’t worked, ‘but I still want you to do something for me,’ she smiled in a sly way, ‘after all I did buy you lunch.’

Sam still couldn’t take it in; he had seen the impossible. A door that opened briefly and then it closed. You could literally end up anywhere. Gina, now everything had been jiggled back into order was quite in possession of herself and the situation. Her ability to be completely unembarrassed about the potential ramifications of sex in the changing rooms with ones Ex….well, it sickened Sam. But she had shown him the way to take the bracelet off. He handed the silvery hinged bangle back to Gina. She popped it round her wrist and it self-sealed, much as the one on his wrist had done earlier today.

‘A neat trick.’ he said thickly.

‘I have many others.’ She stood with her weight on one shoe and her hip pointing towards him.

‘I’ll get you your date. And six spare tickets. But only on the condition that you DO NOT try that again.’

Gina paused, then reluctantly nodded.

‘It is time we called it a day,’ said Sam, ‘I really think that you are….a magnificent woman, who is in need of someone who will fulfil you in all different ways. I know that I am not that person. I think it is important to say it…. just to get things clear again.’

Gina straightened, and seemed pleased, ‘The Time Tripper is an experiment that is run by Mr Charles. He’s a regular fruit loop….As in mad scientist type….Frighteningly intelligent, and rather immune to women; I don’t know what his type is. However, when going on the trip, my friend Missy…. As is Ms Missy Brink found the belt, which I passed on to you. I believe that it had been lost by someone who is working for the scientist. They are developing various types of these belts. They seem to have power that works at a different level each time. And the people who are used to go on the test trips; like Me, are asked a lot of questions about their personal history and how much they can handle….A sort of psychological profile but without the added certificate Sweetie.’

‘Oh?’

‘Someone like me can handle being bounced from place to place in the blink of an eye. But some people get really freaky; some are….Well sick….as in puking. And some just find it too frightening for their little teeny minds to handle. The side effects for everyone are similar: heightened sensitivity, lowering of inhibitions, and the munchies, plus excessive thirst….pretty normal for most hardened party animals on Sunday morning!’

‘It sounds disturbing.’

‘They have a drug….But you could elect to be in the control group. I didn’t have the neural suppression. That just takes all the fun out of it…. I mean if you can’t get a rush? What is the point?’

Sam ran his hand through his hair, just a little too familiar for comfort, all this talk of getting a rush, and the munchies. He looked at her marvelling at her coolness and poise now there was no need for the come on; ‘Anything else? Anything at all?’

‘Actually,’ Gina looked a little uncomfortable, ‘there was one thing. And I don’t know if it’s any use but….Well I thought you might take a professional interest in it.’

‘Just a minute; what about the man who put you up to it….giving me the belt I mean?’

‘There wasn’t anyone.’ Gina frowned, ‘why would you think that?’

‘But the number you gave me?’

‘Oh! It was just random, out of the phone book on my desk. I didn’t want you to think I hadn’t got back up.’

‘What does the belt actually do?’ said Sam, ‘I mean apart from travelling in time?’

‘Time travel is over-rated if it only takes you backwards.’ said Gina, ‘I mean we already know what happened. Unless you want to recreate the smell of the past….which, by the way, is horrendous, I would rather go to a festival and get covered in mud.’

‘Go forwards?’

‘Yes….why else would you want a machine to do all this?’

‘About that other thing?’

‘The thing….’ said Gina flushing slightly, ‘the thing is. When you are, well excited….If two bracelets make contact….err hit each other rather hard it knocks you out.’

‘What?’

‘Yes,’ she smiled, ‘I thought you’d be interested now. I found out quite by accident; an accidental time trip but without any time shift.’

‘A Teleporter?’ Sam felt that Gina had exceeded his expectations for once in the history of knowing her. He forgot how bright and capable she actually was. The over stretched libido sometimes obscured a clever and often likeable girl in Sam’s opinion.

‘So how do you know it does that if you were knocked out? And where do you end up?’

‘The person who wallops it gets knocked out; the other person teleports. As for where you go….That is to the nearest other bracelet in range of your location.’

‘Is that just the bracelet?’

‘And the person who is wearing it of course.’

Sam thought about this for a minute. ‘So who did you go to see?’

Holly sat at a table in The Rose Garden tea shop. She was only slightly less annoyed with Mr Charles than her interfering relatives. Stupidly, she thought that Sam was not really in any actual danger; she had no knowledge of Juliet, or missing money, or experiments in travel other than with the bracelets. She was rather vain, and admired herself in the mirror while waiting for the contact to arrive. She had chosen the location, not because it was the most agreeable to the person she had summoned, but because she was in fact the Boss. Holly smiled to herself as the man arrived. They would see the helpless little thing, and they would, as they always did wrongly conclude that she was in here hiding from the Big Bad World outside. Holly was used to disappointment. But now she had Mr Charles almost where she wanted him she could use the leverage of being a supporter of the greatest show on earth as an enticement to gain their….interest. Trust was not a word she ever associated with a man. And this one was most definitely not to be trusted….He sauntered in and looked at her woefully. God!! What a beautiful man! She blinked, annoyed with herself. If she could pull this off she would have every single one of them right where she wanted them. Holly was, and always had been entirely not entitled to the mysterious bequest. Holly was adopted. And Holly resented that the old man….Her father’s father had specified that she would not ever see any part of this….It was not in Holly’s interest that the puzzle should ever be solved. She wanted the thing to go away. And when she had found out about the sponsorship for the time travel society….as much as she had at first been sceptical she reckoned on taking advantage of the greed of others and offering the art works as a useful experiment in themselves. An Art Exhibition: “Out of Time”. It was a subtle study into the effect of future things on a past generation…. It amused her that the very thing that had started this bizarre story of the puzzle in the pictures might be the very thing that she was doing at the moment. To be first… to get in there before anyone else; that was what she craved: to see her grandfather suffer. And get her revenge for being so disregarded. Holly, as the unwanted offspring of some distant cousin was trash to him. The only consolation was that she wasn’t the only one in the family who was adopted. And yet….that other….she wore the dishonour without any sense of inferiority. It infuriated Holly, that her cousin was so together about it all. And the casual relaxed indifference only served to make Holly the more determined to make her mark. Only Auntie understood, only Auntie knew….But Holly still did not realise that Mrs Marchant had been trying to protect her….It was never grandfather’s intention to cut anyone off. It was his intention to give them something to focus on that would draw them away from the truth….a truth that Holly in all her cleverness could not have accounted for….

‘May I sit?’ he said. Holly inclined her head graciously. He took tea. And she noticed how carefully he stirred the tea, not bashing the spoon against the sides of the china cup. ‘So we have something we can do for each other?’ she spoke softly and smiled. He seemed unmoved by her often used ploy. ‘There has been a complication.’ he said, ‘If I am to work for this Mr Charles; he must not suspect me of trying to rob him.’

‘Rob Him?’ Holly’s manner became stiff and frosty, ‘I think you are being a little confused. The artworks belong to me.’

‘I think not.’ he said and regarded her levelly and without malice, ‘This business deal will not get you anything but trouble. As I said….complications.’

‘You are talking about the legal inheritance? Well that can be resolved in court quite easily.’

He leaned forward, and spoke softly, ‘Have a care little girl; you are not playing with your suitors now. A woman should, at all times attempt to be like a Lady, even if she is not entitled to bear such a rank.’

‘Very amusing. You sound like something out of a history book! The way some of you people talk….’

‘I was going to say that it is better if we do not meet again. I am not interested in Artwork like this, however valuable. I think the experiment has been a success. There is a time loop, and a stable one. The older Mr Ellis recorded his trip to see the art works. And he later collected ones that reminded him of them. He, in fact gave them value that they would not otherwise possess. And the ones from the past…. So newly painted… a shame that they cannot be displayed…. But it does prove that the appreciation of art is still limited to those who have the sensibilities for it.’

Holly wasn’t sure if she had just been insulted, and paused thinking what to say next. ‘So I am to get both of the sets of art….And then I can sell the more valuable set?’

‘If that is what you want to do….They have been “lost” for a long time. And that will doubtless make the papers. But I do think that your father and Uncle should indeed be induced to put the others into storage….The accusations of fake can cut in both directions to the uninitiated. No one wants to find out that they were all really quite mediocre to start with….’

‘I think they are rather lovely.’

‘You think nothing of the sort! You are just out to see what you can get from the deal…..don’t get me wrong; I admire such a practical perspective. But you need to get over this fast. Because I doubt if your part in this can be covered up once the truth is out….’

‘What truth?’ Holly demanded.

‘You cannot rely on Mr Charles to back you up. He won’t once his part in this farce is over.’

‘The point is proved….so what. We both got what we wanted.’

‘Not quite. You might need to see something. And believe me. I make no judgement about it. You can do with this whatever you want,’ he pushed an envelope towards her, ‘but know this: If I can find it; others can too. They won’t like it. And although in this century it isn’t the problem it once was; I’m sure that the old ones won’t see it quite in the same light….you being, um….female.’

Holly looked at him sharply, he seemed morose not gleeful, the task of delivering this unpleasant news was not a pleasure but a chore. And in this way Holly finally realised the truth in the statement “Be careful what you ask for.” She pulled out the folded documents and some letters, and a dog eared birth certificate. She examined them. And a small gasp escaped her lips. He drank some more tea and remained impassive. He wasn’t in this for the money. He just wanted to work for Mr Charles for a while. He just needed a way in.

‘If this is true; it makes no difference.’ She tried to not let her voice wobble.

‘It’s not your fault. But it does change things for the kinds of people that you seem to like dealing with. This is a gesture. A tug on the line if you like; to remind you that you are still attached to the rest of this and are not free floating.’ He seemed tired and sighed.

‘Are you depressed or something?’ Holly felt that the impulse to ask this that kept coming back was right to give into now….She was the….she couldn’t think about it just now. She felt exposed. And he seemed quite indifferent, as if this really was just a message about….well it could have been a shopping list, or the contents of a page in a catalogue; but he stared at her with dark soulful eyes, and again tugged at his right sleeve, a small gesture that was too unconscious for him to iron out of his practiced anonymity.

‘I am depressed…as you just said,’ he replied, ‘your modern people would make me feel worse….their analysis of the mind; so intrusive. I am only answering you because Miss Holly you would find it useful to keep your private thoughts to yourself in future.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t tell anyone. What shall you do with that information? Shall you repeat it? Or forget I told you?’

‘I shan’t say.’ She stared at him her tea forgotten, ‘But what shall I do now?’

‘Forget what you know Miss Ellis. Forget it. And do not speak of it again. It’s just a piece of friendly advice. You are after all,’ and here he lowered his voice, ‘a sensation for the tabloids for only five minutes, but that could ruin the value of all you possess forever. It is a tainted thing to some….not that I care. But there are those who do think that the love child of your father is to be gossiped about for their amusement around these very tables….I do believe that is how it works isn’t it?’

Holly in that one moment found herself being grateful to him. It was just a problem….It was easily disproved. There was no way….I mean, how silly. He held the cup in his long beautiful hands and she suddenly felt quite hollow. ‘What about the exhibition tomorrow?’ Holly thought all this “never meet again” stuff was way too melodramatic.

‘I hope you enjoy it.’ he said, and placed his tea cup gently down; ‘Just remember that if you do see me; you don’t know me. We’ve never met before, that I must insist upon.’ He stood, and with a slight bow met her eyes once more, and then turned. He moved so softly as if he was invisible. The sound of the place seemed to turn back on once he had left. Holly stuffed the envelope in her bag. She thought about those things, and decided there and then that it was one secret that would never see the light of day. Daddy didn’t need any more difficulties, and she needed those paintings archiving, best keep him on side.

Outside, and out of sight of the tea shop, Jedden Grey sighed and lifted a finely rolled cigarette to his lips. It made him feel bad to play in the shallows with the amateurs. He started to walk, and in ten minutes was sat on a bench by a river. Quiet reflection….Mr Charles approached and sat down on the same bench a little way from him. ‘Is it done?’

‘Yes.’ Jedden didn’t even turn his head.

‘Do you think she will talk now?’

‘No.’

‘The new programme starts in a month. Be at the fountain in the north on the 6th.’

‘Where?’

‘Something forged in a furnace Mr Grey….the time…. Noon. And bring lunch.’

‘Will you be there?’

‘I will not be sure until next week. But yes, I anticipate arriving the night before. And dress for the weather.’

Jedden looked sideways at him, ‘You want me to look like him don’t you.’

‘No. Not yet. In Time. I know I don’t own you. You are not tame. And in time we will part ways. But for now…. Will you please look a little more summery? It isn’t a funeral you know.’

‘As you say…’ Jedden blinked against the smoke of his cigarette. Mr Charles stared out at the ducks upending on the river, ‘Oh; one other thing…’ he turned, but Jedden had already gone.

Camille appeared near the staircase, and felt hungry. She popped home for the refreshments, and then slid out of the cat flap to visit her friend. She found the lure of the belt had waned; and realised in her rather sensible relaxed way that that direction held trouble and was best avoided until curiosity had goaded her to go back again. After she had refuelled herself on crunchies, she came to the other third floor flat, and sat by the door uncertain. It was as if something had slipped. There was a disturbance in the Space-Time around the door. And she, with her new finely tuned sense could see it. She meowed once, and waited. The boy came and let her into his flat. He greeted her in the customary way. So then she went to sit on the rug. The TV was switched off and a lady with wavy blonde hair was sat on the settee. They continued to talk, giving Camille only momentary glances while they sorted out the arrangements for the exhibition tomorrow. The blonde lady got up and kissed the boy on the cheek and hugged him. Camille regarded this as a bit odd and curled her tail neatly round her toes and looked cute for the Lady’s pleasure. It worked, and she bent over Camille and stroked her silky fur.

‘This cat is….’ she said still stroking her.

‘Is what?’ asked Jay and took another tissue out of the box.

‘Not sure,’ the lady knelt down, ‘it might just be from visiting you.’

‘Now you are going to tell me that I need to avoid contact with furry creatures in the future.’

‘Not at all Dear. In fact she is good for you. I did wonder if you were secretly eating them.’ she pointed to the packet of cat treats on the kitchen work top.

‘She does make me feel calmer.’ Jay admitted.

‘I think you and the cat suit each other.’

‘A secret girlfriend with a difference,’ he said and ran his hand through his hair; ‘I like her conversation.’

‘She doesn’t talk.’

‘Not English, no. But she is very adept at communicating.’ He sneezed then, causing Camille to jump up on the settee.

‘Just get an early night. You are on the mend. And Mum and Dad are coming to the hotel at three. I better go. I promised to take them out for an early tea.’

‘I thought Mum wanted to go to the theatre?’

‘Nah! We’re going shopping.’

‘Is Dad okay with that?’

‘You bet!! He’s the one who suggested it.’

‘You’re kidding me.’ Jay picked up another tissue.

‘Look; I’ll see you in the morning. Dad said to come for you at Four pm.’

‘Isn’t that a bit early?’ he sighed trying to force the viral nasties to drop dead on the spot so he could do something useful with himself.

‘Just rest!’ she said firmly and with another glance at Camille they went towards the door. Camille heard them talk a little more before the pretty Lady finally left. Jay came back in, ‘You want to sit there Cat? Budge up a bit. I need to rest, Big Sister has spoken.’ Camille moved along and sat again.

‘You really are very mysterious,’ he said, ‘I think you must be the only girl apart from my two sisters who have been in the flat you know.’

He leaned back, ‘Here I am talking to you…. And to think I thought that it was a difficult business starting a relationship with someone new. How long have we known each other?’

‘Meow, meow.’ said Camille….meaning “Seems like ages”; and then started to clean her face.

‘You’re right. I can’t remember the time you first came to see me. A long time ago.’ He leaned back, ‘I wonder who you really belong to? It has to be someone in the building.’

‘Meow.’ said Camille pausing for a moment.

‘Yes?’ he smiled suddenly. ‘The truth is I’m petrified. You probably don’t suffer from stage fright. The press will be there tomorrow.’

Camille stopped and just stared at him.

‘Yeah, silly isn’t it? I want to be successful. And getting a shot at it turns me into a wreck. But then again, it’s probably just the germs.’

‘Or maybe,’ here he picked up the glass of water from the small table, ‘it is the other artists….some of them, most of them….okay; all of them.’

‘Meow, purr….purr….purr…’ Camille vibrated with a comforting sound of her mini motor running. Jay reached out and stroked her back.

‘Confidentially, I think that the thought that Annalise Golding is going to be showing in the same gallery as me, as well as the other four has got to me. The only one whose career didn’t start a long time before me is Nikolas Connor….He is a photographer like Annalise, in case you are interested. And then there’s Carla Lee….she does these 3D sculptures like landscapes and other stuff; oh and Miranda Stewart; she has displays of jewellery that is metamorphosing into something else; kind of surrealist. Oh God help me! There’s Geraldine Carter….She is amazing, she has this way of painting that is so free, sometimes representational, often abstract, symbolic and so rich with colour you think you’ll drown!’ he tickled Camille’s ears, ‘That’s why I’m umm….nervous. The parents are so proud….Do you want to know a secret Cat?’ here he shifted to a more comfortable position, ‘A whopper of a secret?’

‘Purr….purr….purr….’ said Camille ears turning round in interest.

‘I am a strange Man. I’m glad you like me. I can Time Travel Cat. I can, but I don’t. Well, I haven’t for a long time. I’m frightened of that too. And the other person who was here….she is my Big Sister; she’s a Time Traveller too….The thing is….This is the thing….My real parents aren’t coming to the show tomorrow. It’s a problem…. I’ll tell you some other time why. I have my adoptive Mum and Dad, John and Anna, they are like regular parents and Karis….my Big Sister spends more time with them than I ever have….It’s complicated….’ he sighed, ‘you are the only person….err, creature I can tell. But that’s a good thing. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m mad….I mean to say more mad. It’s a tricky thing to say….I suppose that this is a better option than talking to myself, or better than pretending not to talk to yourself using a mobile phone headset.’ He fell silent then and let Camille stay for quite a while. Her presence was a natural drug. And it wasn’t until the light started going that Jay let her out of his flat.

‘Sorry. I kept you. Go straight back to your flat, Cat. Thanks for listening.’

‘Meow.’ said Camille, and took just one last look before she scooted along the early evening corridors to find Sam.

Sam had practiced the technique all afternoon. He concentrated on the things he liked; stronger and stronger images. The trouble was that the things that worked to unlock the bracelet were, shall we say, of the kind that pertained to the more instinctive parts of the mind. It made Sam feel queasy trying to think about something that wasn’t to do with Drugs, or Sex, or Jelly Beans. In the end he realised that an aversion to thinking about Gourmet Jelly Beans was just silly, and he really needed to do a check with reality central. He was by now near to the library, so he went in. The low tech, and the loved and handled objects, and the books touched by human hands were soothing to Sam’s mood. He didn’t want to take Gina up on her offer to hit one bracelet with the other. There was no knowing where he might end up. And the thought that Gina might be in the changing room for a couple of hours unconscious, gave him a chill that didn’t bear thinking about. Gina seemed less bothered by this. Anyway Sam had successfully managed to take the bracelet off and put it back on again. It sealed tightly round his wrist. There was the matter of whose fault it was; it would be safe to guess that Sam blamed the man who had stabbed him, for most of the ills this day. But the one who captured his interest at this moment was the nervous guy who was with Mr Charles and the loyal Muscle; he was clearly not used to the role and had almost lost control of the situation. He wasn’t sure if he had seen him before. Sam felt that this could get extremely messy before the day was done. He resolved to speak to George as soon as he got home. That was if the answering machine hadn’t been sabotaged by Gina in full on triumphant mode over the business with the tickets. Drat!! He had forgotten to ring Howard’s PA; the excellent Angelika Peron. She said she was no relation to the Argentinian; a reference that had only fallen on good soil a few times, so she had stopped saying it as a general rule. He took out the mobile, and reluctantly switched it on. This was the one and only time…. Just as he made the call, a text came through. Thinking it was from George he waited to the end of the call to the gallery to take a look at it.

Hi Sam, I’m going to the Theatre. Most are back, and I am really admitting I HATE this job. Just text me. Rehearsals are getting longer. A bit like one of those modern plays. Juliet xxx

Sam feeling morose and not looking forward to trying to unravel the silly art clues of the faithless Holly, decided to get some take out. Then he realised where he was, and started to walk quickly. The time was around about Four-Thirty. And this might just be the time to catch Juliet not helping them in and out of their large and complex costumes.

Juliet was meanwhile crying into her tea, after being reduced to the smallest particle of her battered soul. She felt like she had been through a Russian epic herself by the time the Leading Lady and the Leading Man had stopped yelling at each other. The producer made very little comment about what went okay, but had the kind of expression a person’s face that meant if everyone had a job by the end of next week it really would be a miracle. It was at this point that Eggy came to get Juliet.

‘Just take it in Jerry’s office.’ he said, ‘some sense will be talked in there today after all huh?’ Juliet hurried to the phone, to find Sam gasping on the other end. He sounded as if he had been running. That wasn’t true but he felt very tired. The grinding down of will by an overdose of Gina was more than enough to make him breathe heavily with a struggling sense of guilt over what happened earlier. The thought of going to Howard’s Do filled him with nothing but a deep indwelling sense of tiredness. Perhaps it would be different in the morning.

Miranda was back at the house that she and her fellow conspirators shared. This was the tricky bit; How to play one off against the other. How to find the balance that would ensure that the plan for her, Dr Miranda Vega to come out on top, did not go awry. She concentrated on the readouts. What she wanted was to get the new belt and the compact power cases and get her life back on track. There was one thing she wanted to change. And then it would all be peachy. Mr Charles had said that he understood the need for a person to want to change their own past. He also had said, the bit Miranda choose to ignore, that it could be quite tricky to avoid anything that could not be foreseen. In other words there were weirdly twisted lines of consequence issuing from such an action. As Mr Charles said: Paradox? That is just the beginning. Then he would sink into one of those extended moments of eerie stillness where he stared into space and didn’t move at all. Only Miranda found this interesting, everyone else found it unnerving. Despite her resolve not to; she found him attractive in a brutally sexual way: Mr Charles that is, but due to his absence of obvious signals in that direction he never made any sort of personal relationship possible. And she didn’t dare ask why. Another time maybe… Everyone has secrets… Everyone tells lies… That was what Miranda thought. Time to find out if she could handle a silver fish like Mr Charles.

*****

Chapter Ten

Fish & Chips, Time Control.

Evening was fast approaching. George and Kyle were on their way to Sam’s place, winding down country roads and debating the difference between certain kinds of subatomic particles….Not usual for a part time Hacker, and a qualified Doctor; but there you go. The thing that everyone keeps forgetting in life is that most of the discoveries and most of the progress in science or any other thing have been brought about by what some kinds of people do in their spare time, as it’s called. Almost all of the people, who did these now commonly acknowledged amazing things, were legally certifiable as having some sort of deviation from what would in regular terms be considered “normal”. We owe life as we know it….as in human progress to the weird people of the world, and if the world doesn’t make sense, that is probably because you are on the edge of discovering something about it that you did not know was true. Or then again you might just be an ordinary crazy person. So difficult to tell those two sets of people apart don’t you think? Kyle drove, and George mused on all the things that had been discovered so far. He was concerned about the connections that might be there with the current project that he was already part of. The two of them, and Sam on two days of the week were working on something that was so hush-hush; they didn’t even talk about it to each other unless they were at the Base that they had just left. So to say that keeping secrets was second nature to George and his friends was like saying that a haddock is a fish…. rather pointless. Long established facts about the nature of people’s social habits, and general tendency to blab, was something that most profiles did not take into account specifically. This one did. And the price was high for those who could not be discrete enough. This was so secret that even admitting it existed might land you in more trouble that you might ever know… Within its bowels, depending on your clearance, you would find the info. on many projects; and records from experiments since the Second World War. There were also experiments in Time and circumstances. This was already underway and had been for some time. And Involved was a word that lost meaning in this kind of job. It would be like saying a Priest is involved with the Church. Can you separate the person from what they do? Is that really possible? Identity… in Time. More about that later; George’s immediate concern was Sam, and how he had managed to get through his day. They arrived, and Kyle popped to the minimarket and thus to cross paths with Ollie. George went upstairs straight away. He found Sam sat in the darkness with Camille curled up on his knee.

‘Sam?’ George moved forward, ‘Sam…. Are you alright?’

‘Uhh? What? Yes, I think so.’ He blinked a couple of times and focused on George, ‘I must have nodded off. Did the guy downstairs let you in?’

‘Umm….’ George went to hit the lights and Sam winced, ‘kind of. Technically I broke in. But let’s not quibble over something like that. You did say to come at eight.’

‘You bypassed security?’

‘Yeah…’ George held out the lock picks and a small electronic box, ‘It’s a hobby. I have to keep my hand in. You understand?’

‘I get it. You break in. Then Kyle gets on the computer and he breaks in: the perfect team. So how did you learn to do that?’

‘I learned from a crook. It was useful. Saved a few lives. People locked in their own houses in need of medical attention. It’s better than breaking the door down.’

‘I’ll put the kettle on.’ Sam shifted in the seat, and reluctantly got up, ‘I heard from Juliet today.’

‘Juliet? I thought she was supposed to be out of bounds.’

‘Not if you are clever. Which I am.’

‘I seriously doubt that,’ George rummaged in the cupboard for mugs, ‘they will know you know.’

‘I’m really fed up with this.’ he held up his left wrist. George stopped and stared. Kyle came in at that moment and took one look and went forward, ‘Oh my God! Fabulous Alien technology!!’ he dropped the bags he was carrying on the floor.

‘It’s not alien,’ said Sam, ‘In fact it’s probably been made somewhere quite local.’

‘Jewellery.’ said George and looked at it with an appraising eye. ‘Now take the thing off.’

‘How do you know I can?’

‘Your air of smugness. You never announce things like that when you have to eat humble pie.’

‘Oh…’ Sam held out his arm. And then quite suddenly a line appeared on the solid surface, ran round like the rolling line of condensation down a window and then the whole thing opened up. Sam eased it off. It sat in his right palm like an open bud. His face was flushed, and he seemed quite calm.

‘Interesting.’ said George, as Kyle got the equipment out of the bag. ‘It’s hot as Ma’s pancakes.’ said Kyle.

‘Does it match the other readings?’ George came near and adjusted his glasses for a closer look.

‘Just checking.’ Kyle twisted the end of the electronic device.

‘Where did you get this?’ George looked at Sam sharply then, as Sam still seemed glazed over, ‘Sam?’

‘He’s hot with it man!’ Kyle waved the detector wand over the bracelet in Sam’s hand, ‘Bloody Hell!’

‘Now tell me the facts without the swearing.’ said George, then gently to Sam: ‘Put the bracelet down Sam. Just down there on the table…. I think it’s having a bad effect on you. You are still soaked with all those other particles as well you see…. I think you seem to attract them. You’re like some sort of magnet.’

Sam’s eyes pulled focus and very carefully he put the bracelet on the edge of the coffee table. Camille looked up at Sam as he did so and meowed once with approval.

‘Sensible Cat. She agrees with me.’ George took out his torch pen, and tested Sam’s reaction to light, ‘Normal. Come in the kitchen Sam. I need the light in there to take a better look at you.’

Sam followed him and sat down on a kitchen chair. He looked up at George. ‘I talked to Juliet on the theatre phone. I was in a phone box. I think it was an acceptable risk.’

‘Acceptable risk of what?’

‘I had to talk to her….It was driving me crazy.…’

‘Yes….I can see that. Will you let me have a look at you Sam?’

‘Sure thing.’

‘Do you have some freezer bags?’

‘Yes. But why?’

‘It’s got a weird controlling influence on you Sam; and since the freezing thing worked with the power packs and the money, I guess it may also work with this expensive trinket.’

‘In the drawer.’

‘What is?’

‘The freezer bags.’ Sam seemed almost offhand. George got two bags, double layered them, put it over his hand inside out, went back in the sitting room and carefully picked up the bracelet. He sealed the bags and Kyle waved his magic wand over it again. ‘Nada.’ said Kyle, ‘They won’t make the petit pois radioactive.’

George got them in Sam’s freezer and hit the extra freeze button. Sam went and sat down next to Kyle on the settee and collapsed into the cushions. He was completely whacked. It had been an emotional day; and a somewhat scary one as well. The others took readings for the next twenty minutes and Sam dozed in the chair.

‘I think I have it!’ said George.

‘If it’s going to be about something very small I’m leaving the room.’ said Kyle.

‘Waves and forces,’ said George. ‘It is similar, but it’s a variant of the positive version of the particle charge that covers the cat and Sam.’

‘The funny violet glow.’

‘Yes. The funny glow…. As I said this is the positive to the negative of that static charge. The glow that was picked up off the power packs and the money is the same thing, Z particles. They are a special kind of static charge. Peculiar properties and all that; well the bracelet expresses a similar positive charge….but here’s the thing. It doesn’t cancel out the negative; it kind of boomerangs it. It uses the sling shot energy of the atoms geo-stable orbit. But that it what makes the whole thing go….well really weird!’

‘Is that a scientific statement?’ Kyle smiled amused.

‘No. Just a likely scenario….’ George looked down at Sam who had been paying attention to none of this and appeared to have fallen asleep; ‘I think we need to make coffee.’

‘For Sam?’

‘No. For me. I think we need to crack what is causing this by tomorrow. I sense trouble….Big trouble.’

‘Uh Huh?’ Kyle tapped a pencil up against his front teeth, ‘And what makes you think that?’

‘That little thing that Sam has been wearing is the result of a lot of science that is backed by a lot of heavy duty rich people.’

‘How rich?’

‘Very rich.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘That pretty bracelet isn’t silver, and it might even have something inside it even weirder than that; but to realise this one must know more than a little about the furnace’s brilliance, which does not give you entrée into the place of its works; no secret is about to be let slip without some closer testing which we frankly haven’t got the equipment for.’

‘So what is it?’ Sam spoke very softly. They both turned and looked at him surprized he had spoken at all.

‘It is Platinum.’ said George.

Gina was still waiting for Sam to give her the okay on the tickets. She had uncharacteristically resisted the temptation to phone repeatedly; best to show some restraint this time. Sam would be a lot more compliant. She knew that he had said that he wouldn’t get involved with her again….but, well; a date can change that. While she was umming and ahhring, and trying to stop pacing up and down, or think of chocolate ice cream; the phone actually rang. Gina snatched it up and held her breath. It was Sam. She let him speak first. He sounded a bit strange. But nothing he said indicated why. There would be a car round at seven, and she had better be absolutely ready, as it would not wait. Gina agreed. And then relaxed. ‘See you tomorrow Sam.’ she said huskily, and thought about the deliciousness of it all. As soon as the phone call was ended she called her six friends and told them to wait for her in the lobby of the Viridian Gallery at seven fifteen. They all were eager for the treat, like hypnotised budgies, all simultaneously going tweet.

Gorman knew what Dr Vega was doing. The excellent services of his man Simon Hingess provided him with all he could have wished for and more. And although Alastair had seemed to be elevated to Mr Charles’ favour, Gorman was glad that Miranda’s drooling pet was absent at least some of the time. He twisted the bracelet round on his wrist; and thought of taking it off and substituting a new one. But the things were only deprogrammed by Mr Charles himself. Although Miranda thought herself clever, and she was the best it would seem at altering what was already there, she could not get round the deeper core of the object. Gorman made no pretence of understanding the operation of the travel bracelets. Except to know that they were like a direction finder; and they needed added power to make them useful. It was not enough to travel; one had to know where you were going; and more the point where you had been. Time… Gorman feared the thing that he had been assured could not happen….meeting yourself and causing a big paradox. Apparently no one ever felt bad about meeting themselves and if it did happen to you it was really best to keep quiet about it; which is why the rumours persisted of dreadful dark things at the edge of this science laden world. The unscientific mind of which Gorman called himself to be was not really the heart of all things. He was Russian by descent and there inside lay the heart of a poet. It had not been completely supplanted by the cold heart of a professional hit man. This messing around in the shallow water of the Professor’s world was a pleasant enough diversion from his last job. It was just a job. He didn’t like the messy way that this was going. It needed tightening up big time. He was there to ensure that no one who could still remember after the event got away. If that meant the candle of life was to be extinguished, then he was the one to do it; but only as a last resort. Damn these moralising deceivers! Who had got the stomach to be really committed to what they were in fact doing? Even a Holy Man commanded more respect from Gorman. They were consistently following a code, and that he did admire. He disliked those who could not make up their minds which ideology to cling to. He considered himself better than that. He stood to gain if all went well and would be well paid to cover the smooth running of the event. The experiment that Mr Charles was to perform meant that he would perform a Time Jump within the confined spaces of a public event, and hopefully it would be seamless. He had to do this to check the fine tuning, and see if the product could be commercially available to selected buyers who owned large shares in the other special projects. They would get the first fruits of this dangerous little investigation into the world of Time Travel. And then they would experience it for themselves with all the wrinkles and bumps taken out. This was the final test. And by tomorrow at midnight it might all be done. Anyone who escaped could then be brought to heal quickly. There was to be no mercy for those who refused to let the control erase their experiences. Yes. They could do that too. It was selective memory replacement; perfected recently, and working on most normal people quite easily. Mr Charles looked sour when Gorman dryly suggested that he could save him the trouble and poison all their coffees. The meeting was ended quickly after that, Mr Charles’ tea remaining untouched.

A world away, someone was playing cards. They laughed delighted with the pattern the cards made as they laid them down on the table. Then suddenly on the lawn before the girl a large fluffy cat appeared. The girl stopped, transfixed with startled delight at such a beautiful creature. She carefully put the cards down on the little table, and slid off the seat. She went towards the cat with calm smooth movements that would not alert its anxiety. She reached out a hand very, very slowly, and was pleased when the creature did not flinch from her touch. The fur was silky and soft, and had little sparkles of silvery light running over its creamy river of filaments. The creature blinked and sniffed her fingers, the long whiskers folding backwards as to avoid brushing her hand. She ran her hand over the coat of the creature again. And towards a tail curling upward like a riotous dandelion clock. Suddenly a breeze was stirred up and the cards flew from the little table bowling across the neatly cropped lawn. She chased after them wishing not to lose any of the set. The animal remained where she was near the table. And as the girl turned back towards the little quiet spot, the cat trotted around the table to the right and then, with a sudden snap of its whiskers, it jumped upwards and over a clump of purple flowers. The girl ran to the edge of the border to see where the animal was heading. But it had gone. Woefully she gathered up the cards searching all the way round the lawn. She sorted them into piles and then put each suit in order. There were two missing. She put a heavy stone over the pack and searched again. She found one: the knave of hearts. After ten minutes more she had not found the other. She put the knave back into the pack, and thought of the creature she had seen. What name should she give it? What could it be? This young one was bright and learned. But she did not know what it was….

She had never seen a cat before.

Howard was exhausted. The PA, showing only the faintest hint of weariness brought her clipboard for his perusal.

‘The caterers will do the set-up from two o’clock onwards. The Frenchman told me that he would have to get more gin… I said fine. We have six staff on sick but we have managed to get eight to come over from Show Room; and the boss says he will send more if necessary.’

‘Do we anticipate it being at all necessary?’ Howard suddenly felt a little alarmed.

‘I will ask how many he has got at short notice; only the experienced function staff. And I have already rung the agency. They can spare ten; but only if we ring before twelve tomorrow.’

‘Surely we’re not in competition with another opening?’

‘No…. it’s just the call time limit for same day work. We can’t get them after that time; their contracts with the agency won’t allow it.’

‘What about emergencies?’

‘Well that’s a different matter Howard. But you already know that.’

‘What if we get all our own staff sick? It’s running through the field like a scythe Ms Peronette…. What do we do?’

‘Don’t panic,’ she said with a half-smile, ‘I’ve got it all under control.’

‘Ah!!’ Howard crumpled, but then lifted himself up from his desk chair, ‘what would I do without you?’

‘You are not going to be without me. I have had every inoculation known to man. And besides….’ here she adjusted his tie, ‘I am not due to be ill until next month.’

‘Then I thank you….as always. And hope that you don’t find me too difficult to work with…?’

‘You are very challenging. That is why I do this….’

‘Don’t leave!’ said Howard suddenly tensing.

‘I will not leave.’ she said facing him.

‘Yes….sorry. It has been one of those days hasn’t it?’ he started out of the door, and returned a second later to collect his coat and messenger bag as the excellent PA held them out to him.

She straightened everything and then left. Security and the night watch were on duty. And the lights dimmed as she walked out of the front doors. She paused, and then shook her head. She thought she had heard Howard’s imaginary cat, best get a grip.

Juliet got home. She could still taste that smell of makeup and dusky backrooms. The wooden floors smelled like her old school. It was time to try the thing that Sam had told her about. Tomorrow. She would then be able to slip the net. What was another day? Ever since the nuclear fall out of the two stars she had wanted to walk away. But she really needed this job. Despite some very promising opportunities in the area she really wanted, nothing was currently forthcoming. Just fate? Or coincidence? She stared at the boxes that she had never unpacked. This was only supposed to be temporary after all. Juliet went and made tea. She stared out across the darkening garden with its little bushes and the trees at the end. It was a nice garden, she suddenly decided. The house was pleasant and in a quiet street. And there was room for party if she wanted to have one….but had never got round to it. A good place to make friends: seating outside, and a mix of punch in the big bowl. Her eyes refocused. She couldn’t be bothered to make supper, so decided in a fit of defiance to go to the local fish shop. Let’s give the bastards a run for their money!! And then, if they caught up with her they could see that her trip on foot was quite mundane.

As Juliet walked to the fish and chip shop, some other things were happening at the same time that would perhaps propel events forward to a particular chain of consequence by the next day. Firstly, Miranda Vega was eating Cheese on Toast again. She did not understand herself the need for this, perhaps it was her mind trying to cling to something familiar; perhaps it was a need for protein, or the soothing properties of toast. But certainly when she settled down next to grill the atmosphere in the house subtly changed. She was ready to do what she felt she had to do tomorrow. So simple, and so wrong. She would go back… after “borrowing” the new belt and simply remove the car keys from the hook. Her mother would not drive, and therefore would not be injured, and suffer years of unnatural torment that was to the detriment of her family and herself. It had made Miranda the hard diamond-hearted person she now was. And perhaps the accident that did not take place may just mean that she was not out of favour with her Sister, and estranged from her father because of insulting her Mother’s condition. Things like that had ceased to bother Miranda years ago. And now they courted her favour; she very graciously, and with the necessary disdainful expressions of mild contempt, let them stand at the edge of her world….And yet recently….she wanted to know what it would be like….just for an hour; then she could put the keys back again. And it would all be as it was. Or so she thought.

Juliet was waiting in line with the wash of warmth flowing over her in the salty sweet life and brightness of the fryer emporium. Meanwhile across the city, Mr Charles tapped his finger on the edge of a glass of dark amber liquid. He was alone and finally decided what he would do with the new test subject who had been recently brought to his attention. She would be magnificent! It was rather promising.

Sam stared into his fridge as if he was staring into the abyss that his life had become.

‘Don’t you think you’re taking this Juliet and Gina thing just a little too far?’ George rubbed his eyes again, ‘This is making no sense whatsoever.’

‘It is an experiment. And anyway; she isn’t all bad.’

‘Just listen to yourself!’ Kyle barked making them jump; ‘Is this valley of the exes? Or should I attempt to retune all the channels this time?’

‘I really need to get some basil….and maybe garlic powder.’ said Sam, ‘My toasty sandwiches will be cause for alarm when someone tries to throw themselves off a cliff to avoid tasting one.’

‘I think that being left in charge of a grill is not to be recommended. You are still suffering the ill effects of the particle….’ George pulled a face.

‘Particle’s quantum reality?’ asked Kyle.

‘Don’t be a smart arse!’ said George; ‘Besides, you said not to mention something that small.’

‘Actually I said I didn’t want to watch people do the ritualised meeting of minds. Okay….perhaps not strictly word for word. But then who does do that?’ Kyle seemed satisfied with their look of admiration. Sam was staring at them both somewhat intensely.

‘You really don’t want me to answer that.’ said George, and flicked a pencil between his fingers.

‘Just tell us?’ Kyle leaned over, ‘It’s looking good.’

‘Not really. We need a way to shield Sam from the effects of the bracelet, and the other wave forms without arousing anyone’s suspicion.’

‘No pressure then.’ said Kyle.

Gorman shook the bracelet round into position. He had hold of it with his right hand ready to pull it off. He thought about the distractions. But one was established in the mysterious decision making process of Mr Charles. He always seemed to be attempting to have fun out of the sandpit. What that meant for others, Gorman wasn’t sure. They were not stupid people: the ones he surrounded himself with. There it was; a loyalty based solely on what they had found; and found in the first five minutes of meeting with Mr Charles. Gorman grimaced, he was not so easily taken in by the man; yet he better appreciated his reasons than the others. To use these ordinary people to make sure the technology was safe….that he did see as being valid. After all….No one had died. Well, not yet. So….Miranda was up to mischief. And she would do something very stupid. That he did know….he had watched her for a long time. She had a recklessness in her character that she hid well. Not well enough for Gorman. He was almost beginning to like Mr Charles, a man who was like himself, resistant to her more than obvious charms. And now Gorman wondered if he should tell Mr Charles what he knew about her. After all, they were all supposed to be working for Mr Charles. And this might be the opportunity to put aside her baleful influence…. The only trouble was; he was afraid of the Time Travel. If he hadn’t been it would be a simple matter to change her history. Unlike Miranda, Gorman had a very clear idea about the consequences of any action; and on this he based his own values. He accepted that whatever he did, he would be responsible for. And not being put across the path of those who would take advantage of him was one of his overriding principals. If she had not been a woman, he would have called someone, and she would be dead by tomorrow night. But this was personal; and since Miranda had chosen the means to get her revenge as she saw it on Him; he thought it fitting that she should get a taste of her own medicine. His only regret was that he couldn’t really include Alastair in the deal. That would not be right. He was an irritating prick, but not so bad that he would want to strand him with Miranda. That would be more than mortal flesh could bear.

Juliet walked home with her wrapped supersize fish clutched against her chest. The warmth began to leak out of the packet and comforted her against the chill of the evening. At home she made tea, put on the television and made and unashamed pig of herself. The tension of all the day had begun to lift. And suddenly she focused really hard chewing the piping hot haddock, eyes half closed in pleasure at the meal. The thought of all that prime haddock was like a drug. And she flung that thought with such force at the bracelet that it sprang off her wrist and catapulted onto the rug just in front of the TV. Juliet was astonished; yet somehow not so. A defiant attitude of manic power had begun to arise in her. She dared to try it again. She placed the thing round her wrist and let the joint seal fully. She waited for at least ten minutes and went to make more tea. Then she tried it again. It curled back obedient to her will. There was quite a tonic in it; controlling things with your mind. Juliet realised that this must be why few people could actually travel in time successfully. They simply did not have the focus and mental discipline. Juliet was a survivalist, ex-scout, mountain climber, and had a very strong stomach when it came to dealing with accidents in a first aid situation. In fact if she hadn’t been fascinated with archaeology, geology and the research side of it, she would have considered a medical career. She thought of George, a maverick; and a fellow adventurer. It was strange now she came to think of it. She sat down and speared a chip with her fork. George had more in common with her than Sam. But much as she admired the very capable George; it was Sam that she longed for in that secret place we call the heart. She tried a little experiment. Think really hard of each of them in turn, and see which thought took the bracelet off. A moment later, she saw the bracelet begin to curve away from her wrist. She was thinking of Sam. On thinking about George nothing happened, even though he had been so kind the other night. She finished the last chip. The bracelet lay inert on her rug. She sat on the floor and focused on it again. It began to curl even when it wasn’t on her wrist! This was a new skill. So the link was not just physical. Or maybe it was purely a psychic one. There was nothing else that she could think of. There had been no time for them to programme it to her personally… or had there? Perhaps it was like a computer. It registered the known user once it made contact. In other words it must record what had happened: despite the fact that it had been removed for a short while. Perhaps there was too much going on to want to check something like that. Juliet sat looking at it for the longest time. This thing was a device that could teleport. And with the knowledge that Gina had acquired it would in effect be possible to temporarily get rid of someone by hitting their bracelet with your own. But then there was the matter of the power surge that knocked you out….then Juliet had a brain wave. It was clearly having an effect on the electrical activity of the brain itself; and feeding off the electromagnetic field of the body too. So….if you insulated the band, while still wearing it…. No. Then it wouldn’t charge up. Let it be in contact until you wanted to use the teleport function. Then isolate the wrist. Would it work if you simply carried in your pocket? Then they might know. They would certainly insist upon a dress that left her lower arms visible. There was no way they could not know…..Juliet stopped. She suddenly had a moment of extreme clarity come over her. There was a way. There was the way to fool everyone. But she needed to get a message to George. He must know someone who could help….

Jay stared at himself in the mirror. He didn’t do this as a rule. But he felt self-conscious and wondered how things really would go tomorrow. It was dark outside and he resolved to have a whisky, for medicinal purposes only and then go to bed. There would be cocktails tomorrow and Howard had hinted that there was one that he had ordered specially in Jay’s honour. He groaned and rolled his eyes. Then sneezed. That broke the spell. He hadn’t shaved since being ill and there was definite designer stubble appearing on his chin. He made the decision to leave it there, and felt relieved that shaving was one thing he wouldn’t have to do tomorrow when he was nervous and in need of calming down.

‘Who are you?’ he said to his reflection. He saw someone who was not all they could be, and the nearly beard seemed like he was trying to grow into his true self somehow. Weird….something; Like a memory. He clicked off the light and went back to the kitchen. The phone rang and he went to pick it up without thinking.

“I told you to start screening calls ninny!”

‘Hello to you too.’ Jay sighed.

“I’m almost done marking my little first years’ paper. Do you want me to come over?” she sounded a little concerned and her voice dropped lower, “I really felt funny a few minutes ago. I know that you are feeling nervous. Is there anything I can do?”

‘No. Actually I’m going to bed in five minutes.’

“Got the order huh?”

‘Yes my dear, I have. And two of you in one day would definitely be too much.’

“Okay,” she sounded light and not bothered, “I’ll catch you at the little meet before the main event.”

‘I’m sorry,’ Jay said softly, ‘I know we were going to go to town together today. I hadn’t forgotten.’

“Thanks Honey,” she sounded mollified, “I miss you.”

‘I miss you too.’ he felt himself smiling, ‘Thanks for being there tomorrow. I mean it.’

“We’re good. See you tomorrow. Love you. Night night Jay.”

‘Goodnight.’ He held the phone for a moment puzzled before resting it back on the cradle. There was something a little puzzling. Both his sisters had a concern for his wellbeing, but this one was more….like a psychic connection. Sometimes she just knew. He thought briefly of ringing his Mother….his real mother that is; then thought better of it. He sloped off to bed, and thence to unconscious oblivion.

George and Kyle gathered their findings in Sam’s kitchen. The map that they had made with Sam's help; notes, various drawings, and some printouts.

‘This is weird.’ Kyle picked up the readout for Sam’s building.

‘Very weird.’ agreed George, ‘I think we have something that cannot be verified from here…. We need to go and walk the corridors.’

‘I’ll get the small detector and a big bag.’ said Kyle.

‘Sam better stay out of sight.’ George nodded his head in the direction of the front room settee visible through the kitchen door.

They began to walk the corridors a few minutes later, and reached the stair well. It was then that Camille trotted past, intent on her own investigation.

‘Anything yet?’ George tried to whisper.

‘No; and please stop that. You sound like a badly tuned radio.’

‘A what?’ said George in a normal voice, ‘Oh; okay….’

They continued along this floor. No one was about and they slid silently along.

‘We’re on our way to a fancy dress party.’ said Kyle suddenly to a woman who passed them and frowned.

‘Ah!’ was all she said, and went on her way.

‘It’s here somewhere.’ Kyle looked at the readout; it was pulling an almost full strength signal from this vicinity.

‘Find it quickly,’ said George.

‘I can’t. It’s all over the place.’ he swept the small wand over the nearby wall; ‘Whatever it is behind this wall is pulling twelve on the Richter scale. Look.’ He held up the portable digital display.

‘Are you sure that’s right?’

‘Pretty sure.’ Kyle pressed something and it rescanned the same area. George saw it too. There was something behind this wall. George noted the flat number with his pencil stub into the well-thumbed all-weather notebook.

‘Time to go.’ George said. The door started to open. They turned and ran down the corridor, and flew round the corner just as Chester and Rhett came out, followed by Dr Vega; ‘Goodnight Boys!’ she stood glancing this way and that. She appeared to be making a decision. What was to be on the menu tonight? Was it to be lightly grilled fish in lemon sauce, or was it?’ Alastair was waiting inside. She was about to suggest that they went out to get some dinner. It always took her mind off the quiet tension before the unveiling of whatever project she was working on. But Mr Charles came through the door at the other end of the corridor. He was in a good mood tonight, and he might need some energy for something other than collecting information from the archives. She had told Alastair to stay quiet and sit down on the bed with the door closed. The meeting wouldn’t take longer than twenty minutes.

‘Time to throw a last little jig into the pot before the big show.’ As Mr Charles came up to her; she remembered how much that purposeful tone recruited impressionable minds. She consciously resisted him and thought of Alastair lying on the bed in the other room.

‘I need the belt Miranda.’ he said firmly; Miranda didn’t miss a beat. She led him through the flat. Inside it was tidy. Miranda took the belt out of the specially constructed case, and handed it to him.

‘Just observe.’ said Mr Charles.

‘Of course.’ Miranda was thankful that he came now. She wouldn’t want to use the other belt if this little test was still pending.

Mr Charles took out the new power packs from some oddly marked power cases.

‘Are they new?’ Miranda was careful to be matter of fact in tone.

‘You surprize me Dr Vega, surely you recognise the new fast charging modules?’

‘Yes….yes of course.’ She moved round the table. She had not registered seeing them before. She felt a sudden chill, as if something was missing; something…..and then a moment later she was concentrating with the stopwatch.

‘Observe carefully Dr Vega. I want a description of the visual halo. And also any measurements that are over two on the dial.’

‘Two?’ again she felt she was missing something, but held the stopwatch firmly and kept her eye on the portable detector on the table. It gave the highest high, the lowest low and recorded the readouts on real time inside the machine. It could be read back at the house with their main computer when the data package was fed in and analysed. She stood straight and watched as he inserted the new packs and then took off his coat and hat and folded them neatly. He clipped the belt around his waist, and locked the clip. He fastened the additional clip too, then nodded, ‘Count me down.’

‘Ready,’ Vega held the stopwatch up in front of her and tensed, ‘Three; Two; One…..’ and then there was the numbing tingle of the Time wave. The stop watch was moving and Miranda felt like she was underwater for a few seconds. All sound was distant and muted, and there was a swishing sound inside her head. She focused on the readout and watched it climb and then dip; it was certainly lower than the spike on the other tests. But she felt the intensity of the backwash from this one far more strongly. She could feel the sweat beading on her forehead. And still she waited. Thirty seconds…… then to one minute since he had vanished into thin air. Then a minute and a half….. Two minutes…..at that point she glanced at the dial again. It had started to climb. This usually meant that a person would reappear at any moment. It climbed…. And climbed…. Two, two point five, three…. And still it rose. Miranda began to feel a prickle on her skin; as if the static charge in the room had increased tenfold; and then all of a sudden everything flat lined. Just bottomed out, just like that. She looked at the stopwatch. The needle was no longer moving. But neither was the digital display on the portable reader. The clock display at the top of the little screen was no longer counting. Miranda was breathing faster. She told herself that this was just a glitch. She had been caught in some wave that the journey Mr Charles had just gone on had generated. She reckoned that it would be alright in a minute or two. She began to count under her breath…. ‘One elephant; two elephants; Three…..’ she turned around startled. She did not dare move…. The room was different. It was empty of furniture. And there was a wooden crate in one corner with a tea cup on it. An old battered chair was next to it. And Mr Charles was sat there smoking his pipe. It was daylight. And it streamed in through the curtainless windows. Miranda was actually terrified. She didn’t dare move from the spot she occupied. Her fear was that she would rematerialize inside a piece of furniture. There were some aspects of the travelling that she never fully appreciated. Tables and chairs did not take kindly to being so invaded and simply being near to something repelled you away from it. Mr Charles wasn’t looking at her. He was looking out of the window. She didn’t know whether she wanted him to see her or not. If she was seen would she become part of that reality and unable to escape it? She stood and breathed hard. And like a scene in a movie, he stood and put on his hat, and walked towards the door. He passed her and she felt a chill of nightmarish intensity. He left and she still stood not daring to move. She screwed her eyes shut and gasped.

‘Miranda?’ the voice snapped her into awareness again. Alastair was stood by the bedroom door. She blinked uncomprehending. The place was exactly as it should be. And Alastair was wearing the same shirt, but with three buttons undone. And Mr Charles was nowhere to be seen. Miranda looked around barely processing the fear that coursed through her veins like acid lava. She uncurled her fingered from the stop watch. There was an imprint of it on her hand where she had clutched the thing in that spasming grip. The readout of the portable device on the table was inert, and the clock moved as it ought to.

‘Miranda?’ he said again, more concerned.

‘The day….. What day is it?’ she looked at him, and he started to move towards her, ‘No! Stay there. What day is it?’

‘Thursday. Still is…. I mean it’s nearly nine-thirty.’

‘And what is happening tomorrow?’

‘The Viridian Gallery preview. We’re going there at just after seven.’ Alastair had the sense to wait until her expression smoothed out. He knew her better than she really believed, and thought that this was not a time to ask stupid questions. That was why she liked him being around. With a little sob she ran into his arms. The cue for some high-grade comforting. Alastair was shocked by her sudden show of female vulnerability, and reasoned that he would welcome it as long as it lasted. She might be back to being firm and assertively together Boss Lady by the time the sun came up, in the meantime…..well; after ten minutes of comforting that had Miranda down to her underwear, Alastair ordered takeout for delivery.

‘There is a general sense that this four tiered residence is not your usual set of weird housing to grace the more leafy parts of city living.’ George was speaking to Sam, who leaned on the counter top and half-heartedly tried to resist the nicotine craving. He took it out of the packet, put it back in again; and then took it out again.

‘Just go and get some air. That is if you’re going to poison my air space.’

‘No….I must stop it. It won’t improve things on the… girlfriend front.’

‘Gina never objected,’ said Kyle who had just entered, ‘you are likening a woman to a set of mathematical variables. And that my dear lunatic…. It never works.’

‘Is that why you’re still single?’ Sam retorted.

‘No. That’s to do with the Geek thing. I’m an acquired taste.’

‘You’re not going to do much acquiring hanging around here.’ said Sam bitterly.

‘That’s enough of that.’ George got the mugs out, ‘I think that you should warn Howard about what we think might happen.’

‘And what do I tell him?’ Sam twirled the lighter between his fingers.

‘The truth.’ said George,

‘Ah!’ said Kyle, ‘That someone is…. We believe; about to carry off the most audacious Art theft in history; and no one will even realise anything is missing until the next day when the whole event is pieced together?’

‘You’ve explained your theory to me,’ said Sam, ‘and I don’t understand it. So what chance does anyone else have?’

‘Faith is a funny thing,’ said George and poured water into mugs as soon as the kettle boiled, ‘you can believe something without any evidence whatsoever. And you base it on the apparent belief of someone who you love, respect or admire….. He’s your friend for heaven’s sake! Can’t you a least get him to beef up security?’

‘Look…’ Sam tried to gather his thoughts, ‘there has to be something that we’re missing. No one is that obvious. And as for security, I think Howard can handle that; besides, if what you are saying is true then no amount of security can get round the factor of someone who can teleport in and out at will and take what they like. We don’t want to cause any panic or alarm. A lot is riding on this exhibition. I don’t want Howard to freak out. He’s very highly strung when these things are approaching.’

‘It’s a long time since I heard the term “highly strung”;’ said George, ‘it used to refer to annoying and precocious children who were allowed to get away with all sorts of things on the grounds that they would suffer dreadfully if they were properly disciplined. I think the delicacy of their nature was such that parents feared some sort of mental breakdown if the little monsters were even denied ice cream on a cold day.’

‘You are sour because it wasn’t you.’ said Kyle.

‘Let’s just say that I have a chip. And I am not talking silicone.’

‘Please don’t say that word again.’ said Sam, and started for the lounge so he could go through the patio doors.

‘Silicone?’ George looked blank; then brightened, ‘Oh! Don’t worry. There’s nothing artificial about it. You worry too much.’

‘You do care.’ Sam shouted from the other side of the room before he slipped through onto the balcony.

For Jay: a night that was riddled with unpleasant dreams. Giant gingerbread men, and silver pens that attacked him from different angles, followed by his younger sister who recited poetry to him. In the dream it was really sad and he wanted to cry. It changed again, and then he was in a jungle and there was water. A river? Or lake? He wasn’t sure and there were big leafy plants and he brushed through a quiet place and then into a little clearing. And then as it always did, the vision began to fade…. There was a sundial. It was beautiful and old but he could not walk to reach the place. There was sunlight over there and he was in shadow. And then he woke up with a pounding head, and a lot of confused thoughts about the nature of reality. Jay flexed his hands and his feet and then slid out of the warm cocoon and went to get a drink from the kitchen. He ended up making a herb tea. And back in bed was feeling a little cold and very lonely. Suddenly he was aware of something in the corner of the room. But it wasn’t frightening. He did find such things a little startling usually, but not today. The person came forward and as they had once before, reached out and touched his hand. They were warm. Not a ghost. And the face he saw was the face he knew. In the monochrome night there were shadows and light that delineated the one he knew so well. Himself.

*****

Chapter Eleven

Future Self, Wired, Cocktail Dresses.

Howard slept well, and woke refreshed in the light of an apocalyptic morning. Well that was what he always thought of these things. Howard lived alone. He had a cleaner who came in twice a week; and he had a laundry fairy who served him up with beautiful freshly pressed shirts. Howard stood on the edge of the garden with a freshly made coffee and a special aromatic rollup. The taste was a little lighter than usual, and it suited the lightness of his mood. The sky was clearing and it was to be a fine day. Nine am. Angelika Peron was due at nine thirty, and thence to the gallery. She would take his suit and shoes down to the private changing room, and make sure than his office was freshened up and ready for the day’s events. In the meantime he could get on with the business of dressing for the in-between period when there were still things to be done, but he needed to be smart enough to welcome the other early arrivals who would be assisting later. This was a party that would last for hours and Howard was looking forward to the day. Not that all the problems seemed to be completely under control. The PA had just arrived and walked round the side of the house to greet Howard in his dressing gown.

‘Mr Logan?’

‘Ms Peron.’ he inclined his head and smiled, ‘I think we are going to be alright today.’

‘I believe you are right.’ she said, and put down the leather brief case on a garden chair for a moment.

‘Would you like breakfast?’ Howard suddenly felt open and generous.

‘No,’ she said, ‘I mean, no thank you I have already had breakfast.’

‘Not even a coffee?’

‘Very well.’

Howard prepared the coffee and took it back out. They had a quick run though of the order of service as it were; and then she went to collect the suit and shoes. She hung the suit on the hook in the back of her car and the shoes were in a box wrapped in tissue.

‘The cravat?’ she said as she returned to the outdoor breakfast area.

‘I don’t know,’ said Howard, ‘which do you think?’

‘Perhaps the pale gold… but the violet one works just as well.’

‘You don’t think people will get the wrong idea?’

‘About you?’ she raised a carefully teased eyebrow, ‘Never. Everyone knows that you are an eccentric old soul.’

‘I’m not a hippy.’

‘You are definitely too clean to be a hippy. I think you are a New Man.’

‘What about the Old Man?’

‘Old…. Mature. New: as in touch with your own insights.’

‘Ah!’ Howard blew a stream of lightly fragrant smoke out into the air, ‘so you think that my celebration of the aspects of creativity are insightful?’

‘Indeed….you have a way with expressing the personality of the Artists that even they might not consider.’

‘Do you think they will like what I have done?’ Howard’s tone was suddenly worried again.

‘I think that you need to relax Howard. And I really think you need to lay off the booze until later this afternoon. At least until we have the introductions and opening out of the way.’

‘Seven! I won’t survive until then without something Ms Peronette! Oh please don’t make me stay on the veggie stuff again.’

‘It was herbal. And I think that you can get a pre-party drink in at about six. Your friends are arriving then.’

‘Friends….of course. I will need some coffee for Claire and Jayne…. They both said they had to stay clear-headed…. Well fairly; at least until eight.’

‘What happens after eight?’ The PA consulted her schedule again.

‘Chocolate?’ Howard frowned, ‘Or trouble. I worry when Claire says she isn’t letting her inhibitions drop. It usually means that there is something on the horizon.’

‘Trouble?’ Ms Peron sighed.

‘I know you think it is all hippy nonsense.’ Howard took back the last of the coffee.

‘She does seem to have some instinct for these things,’ the PA conceded, ‘but anyway, I must go straight there. Don’t forget to call in and get your special presentation gift… since you insist on collecting it yourself.’

‘Jayne had something to discuss with me,’ and seeing the look that Ms Peron gave him, ‘very briefly. I will be there by Ten-Thirty.’

‘Good.’ she picked up her bag and turned to go.

‘Oh, and would you…?’

‘Mr Logan I will consider the possibility that you are not insane; more likely overstressing… if I see a cat I will report it to you immediately.’ and with that she turned to go. Howard stood for a moment and then with an annoyed flick of his stylishly foppish fringe turned to gather his sartorial ensemble for the first part of the day.

By the time Sam was up George had gone. Kyle was reading a Beano and eating Sam’s muesli when he found him in the kitchen.

‘Tastes like cardboard.’ Kyle said with a puzzled look and took another scoop.

‘There’s always toast.’ Sam was feeling vaguely human, but wouldn’t regain total semblance of normality until after he had fed Camille and combed his now tangled hair.

‘Is that the new fashion?’ Kyle was looking at him, ‘you look like one of the Bash Street kids.’

‘Got it.’ Sam found a comb he kept in the kitchen jar.

‘So what’s it going to be? Smart but casual? Or the full works tonight then?’

‘Oh? The usual.’

‘Which is?’

‘Excuse me; but why are you talking an interest in what I’m wearing?’

‘I’m not interested. I just need to know what we are going to hide our kit underneath. I’ll have to get you to suit up so that we can make sure that it will be completely undetectable.’

‘Those things feel odd.’

‘That was just the test set. The other one is smaller and lighter. You won’t feel a thing.’

‘That’s what they said when I had a flu jab.’

‘Well there it is,’ Kyle shrugged, ‘I conclude that you have already told George he’ll be Gina’s date?’

‘Err, no. It slipped my mind.’

‘Well a good job I told him.’

‘How did he take it?’

‘Ask him when he gets back. The girl in question has him on call.’

‘Gina?’

‘No, you git! Juliet.’ Kyle finished the muesli and started on the Shredded Wheat. And seeing Sam’s look of surprize, ‘I’ll cover this lot in sugar. You do have sugar?’

Sam pushed the jar over, ‘Have you seen Camille this morning?’

Juliet met George on the dusty staff entrance that was rarely used. He handed her a little case.

‘As long as I get it back, you are okay to hang on to it until it is no longer needed.’ George looked down at her with a sympathetic expression, ‘Are you okay?’

‘Umm….I guess so.’ Juliet rubbed her eyes. It was a strangely childlike gesture; and George felt somewhat protective towards her. But he blinked and gave her space. ‘We will get there just after the introductions, at about seven-fifteen. There are some other people coming in with me and Gina Redding. She is going to be my cover for the evening. I will talk to you and I need you to not recognise me…. Just let me introduce myself. Then I can get Kyle to scan you.’

‘How? I mean… that’s clever.’

‘We will be wired up, Sam and Me. He will arrive earlier. I don’t know when they are bringing you.’

‘I think it might be before the official bit.’

‘Well keep your eyes open. Just act like I’m the most interesting man in the room and laugh at my very bad jokes, and then you can slip some info into the conversation.’

‘Will there be food?’

‘Yes,’ said George, ‘Tons of it, I am reliably informed by Sam. And please make sure you get introduced to Howard Logan.’

‘Who?’

‘Only the person who owns the Viridian Gallery; and has put on the exhibition.’

‘Oh. I didn’t know.’

‘He’s one of Sam’s friends.’

‘He is!’ at this Juliet brightened, ‘Well then, I really must get to know him.’

‘Act casual. He’s a bit…..eccentric. I think. He seems so.’

‘Right.’

‘And don’t panic. If we find out what is really happening; we’ll get you out of there. Remember what I said…?’

‘Just drop the bracelet in your pocket?’

‘Yes that’s right.’

‘Are you really going to take that with you?’

‘What?’ George seemed defensive then.

‘The…. err… that…’ she pointed.

George took her arm and they moved into the quieter part of the little corridor; ‘The thing that you really need to know. And trust me, it will be to your benefit; is that there are some things that you are not cleared to know about me.’

‘Does that include Sam too?’ said Juliet in small voice.

‘Look…. I’m sorry. But you cannot…. I mean you must not blurt anything like that out. Or even look in that direction. It really is not something I can tell you anything about. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ said Juliet, then after a little pause, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘That’s okay.’ He smiled at her reassuringly for a brief moment. ‘It will be alright. Remember we’re on your side.’

‘Thanks Doc.’

‘You’re welcome.’ he grinned at her, and Juliet felt instantly relieved. She wasn’t on her own. And well….there were some damn strange and interesting things to know about Sam and his friends. Security? Secret service? Bloody hell! George left and she thought as many wild thoughts as a girl could think who uses her imagination to divert her from the terrible tasks of the day. And for once the ego of the leading lady didn’t get to her.

Holly pondered her less involved role now that the experiment was coming to an end. Success brought with it a sense of frustration. So she took a bold step and went to see Mr Charles. He was not entirely displeased to see her. He seemed glad that she had called, if only to tell her that the payment for her part in the experiments would be credited as arranged to the account she had designated. Holly was nonplussed, she still wanted in on the next stage, but Mr Charles was being as cagey as hell. The open water demo had been a selection procedure he said. And she was not on the list. She wanted to know why? His eyes grew very hard. It’s classified was all that he said in a clipped tone that told her that the interview was at an end. Holly left and then remembered her deal with the detective man. They still had him in tow and she needed a way back in. She found the nearest smart clean phone box and called his number.

Sam was ready. He was as ready as he would ever be. And apart from the lack of a; Camille; and b; nicotine, he could be said to be fully primed for the evening’s escapade.

‘Just let me go and have a smoke, please.’ Sam pleaded with Kyle who was adjusting the various settings on the receiver.

‘This will take ten more minutes. And you need to keep still.’

‘Okay….’ Sam sighed and went into a hypnotised half-aware state as his mind wandered over the events of the last few days.

‘There…. All done.’ said Kyle in an imitation motherly tone, ‘You can go and play now.’

‘Just one thing,’ said Sam as he slipped the cigarette out and clicked the lighter, ‘what are we considering doing with the bracelet?’

‘Nothing at all,’ Kyle tweaked something else on his computer screen, ‘we think that it is best if you go as you are.’

‘They will know.’

‘Will they?’

‘You and George are plotting again.’

‘Absolutely. Now go and look for the Moggie, I’ve still got some calibration to do. This is tricky stuff.’

Gorman’s man Simon arrived before the others. He was careful to join a group who slid their way in, and then were directed to a general meeting point for most guests. He noticed that some of the others went through a little door at the end of the café area. He asked one of the staff who was offering round teas and coffees. As soon as Gorman arrived he glanced at him briefly and looked away. The Russian was eyeing up the cake display. Simon took his time before joining him.

‘The door at the end. Special guests.’

‘Artists and family.’ said Gorman, ‘probably.’

‘What about the tinted busty girl?’

‘The red dye job?’ Gorman’s mouth twitched in amusement, ‘Yeah; it’s good. Most likely henna.’

‘Oh.’ Simon’s eyes flickered. Gorman’s attention to the finest of details disturbed his lazy side and made him feel inadequate.

‘You will know it’s her. She will make an entrance, trust me on this.’

‘I’ll watch out for her then.’ Simon picked up a toffee tartlet and moved away.

‘This is not right!’ Howard stared at the cravat in the mirror of the small private changing room.

‘Then use the purple one.’ The PA was already wearing a coral pink evening gown and her hair was piled up in carefully tamed curls. Some small pins sparkled at the back of the up do. She helped him adjust the amethyst silk and stood back to admire the effect. The softness of a deep indigo suit and deep blue-black slightly pointed tooled leather shoes. The jacket was tailored and didn’t have pockets. The trousers were slightly fuller. The whole effect was oriental, yet subtle. A hint of something, and yet just on the side of the almost traditional to still tease the eyes until he moved. Howard was lithe and carried a suit well. But he worried terribly. The PA was patient. Once the excitement of the exhibition was underway, he would forget all about it, and fit into the beautiful suit with an unconscious elegance that gave it its fullest expression of life and luxury.

The families were there. And the Artists were nearly all in the room. Jay arrived at that moment with all his family just as Howard entered.

‘Darlings!’ he was loquacious in his expression of friendship and welcome. He needed to find an ally or two in this group of special-to-the-artist people. And then if any critics slated him he could call upon their natural defensiveness of their loved ones to be his shield.

Round about that time Gina was trying on her six “suitable” dresses one after another. She really wanted to make an impression; but be subtle; but striking; but also modest; and seductive; forward; and yet friendly and business like. After a good twenty minutes of angst, she went to the fridge and took out a celery stick. She made herself eat half and did breathing exercises to calm her mind and focus on the essential issues. That, she decided was to ingratiate herself with the esteemed Ms Golding – Photographer and Author. Gina was after work and an inside story. And she reasoned that the best option was to play it straight, and not act too tarty; also Sam would approve. With that thought three dresses were immediately discounted… for being either too low cut, too short, or too “stringy”….as in made of strips of cloth that revealed flashes of her toned midriff and legs. Shame. After ten more minutes of deliberation she chose the demure(ish) pale pink dress with the slightly Grecian draping and little dribbles of coral beads that issued from both shoulders on tiny narrow points of fabric. She admired herself in her full length mirror and decided that her hair should be piled up, and that some strategically placed curls pulled down round the neckline would add that innocent yet sexy touch. She took off the dress while she got her curling tongs out and quickly checked the time. Six! Gina breathed again and focused on her de-stressing inner voice…. You are calm, you are beautiful. You are in control. By ten to the hour she was ready. She took one last look in the fridge and sighed. Best not give into temptation…. Anyway there would be masses of free booze at this thing.

Meanwhile George was having a similar problem. Not in the sense of what to wear, but how to get the fitted holster and the wiring not to interfere with one another. Sam came in as Kyle made the final connection.

‘Is that necessary?’ Sam stared at the gun strapped to George’s chest.

‘It’s classified.’ said George automatically.

‘I’ve got clearance.’ said Sam.

‘Not out here.’ George looked him in the eye, ‘you will have to trust me. Really trust me.’

‘This is about the experiment isn’t it?’ Sam didn’t break George’s gaze.

Both George and Kyle looked as if Sam had broken one of the Ten Commandments.

‘You know the rules.’ said Kyle on George’s behalf. George shifted from one foot to the other.

‘Yes. But….’

‘No.’ George’s voice was hard and he grimaced, ‘no buts… I am not going to say this again.’

There was an uncomfortable silence for about thirty seconds. Sam left the room. Kyle and George just looked at each other, neither communicating much except that they would not speak about it. Five minutes later they were all ready to go.

Howard looked at his watch again. They were still missing a few people. Ms Peron approached him, and handed him a glass of mineral water. ‘There are still some family to arrive. Carla Lee said that her son might not be here. He is trying to get back from Scotland… there is some trouble about the trains. I think there was a derailment somewhere near York.’

‘Is she on her own?’

‘Her husband is just on the way up. He’s a very pleasant person; actually likes the Art.’

‘Thank God! Sometime they can be so ignorant. What about our Mad Woman?’

‘Howard! I told you before…. You mustn’t call her that.’

‘Give me one reason.’

‘You had better be careful. Karen Ellis is here.’

‘Miranda Stewart’s old friend?’

‘Don’t say anything untoward in front of her, she will take exception to it.’

‘Yes Mother.’ Howard smiled crookedly, and Angelika patted him on the shoulder.

‘Now go and talk to Jay and his family. The poor kid looks terrible!! I think I’ll have to make an exception in his case on the “no booze until after the official opening” rule.’

‘Ah! Ms Peronette. You are gentle of heart and practical of approach. Make mine a double too.’

‘Just Single Malt. One measure with ice, one glass for JJ Arden,’ she consulted her clip board again.

‘You are actually keeping track?’

‘Of course. I wouldn’t be a very good PA if I didn’t know when to stop you would I Mr Logan?’

‘If you say so Ms Peron.’

‘I do.’ And with that she strode forwards to greet Nikolas Connor’s family.

Gina stepped forward as the cab drew up. The window wound down. ‘Ms Redding?’

‘Oh Yes!!’ she exclaimed with joyous abandon. She was so looking forward to the party. And Sam. And Sex later and lots of booze and food and meeting Annalise Golding…..and….. ‘Who the Hell are you?’ Gina was utterly taken aback, when a well-built, tall and obviously powerfully endowed man rose up from out of the other door to the cab from the back passenger seat.

‘Good evening.’ said George and tweaked his cuff. He gazed at her levelly waiting for her to react. Gina wasn’t sure if this was test or not. Mr Charles was a slippery customer!

‘Good evening.’ said Gina, unable for the moment to react in any way except socially polite.

‘I am George Carter. I will be your date for the evening. Sam arranged that I accompany you to the party. And make sure that you have a good time. He also said that we were to meet your friends and get a good seat for the opening address.’

‘I…. err…..’ Gina got in the cab. He sat next to her and smiled. There was something sublimely authoritative about his manner. Gina was for once in her life, totally tongue tied.

Dr Miranda Vega was wearing her serious evening dress; black with little sparkles on the shoulders. When she arrived at the party and was directed through she wasn’t sure if it had been a mistake or not. No black here. Colours and exotic makeup and eccentric characters abounded. Even the men were like creatures of fable from some French film. Beautiful suits in soft pewter and indigo, and even pale teal. This was not her world. She felt keenly the dislocation between her and the others and in a way welcomed the reminder that she was different to them. She moved swiftly and smoothly through the crowd to where Simon was standing. He had his back to her but knew she was there. ‘I think that Mr Gorman better behave himself tonight.’ she said.

‘You really don’t know anything.’ said Simon with a heavy sarcasm, ‘You being the wrong kind of doctor.’

‘Oh?’ she spoke lightly attempting to be indifferent and untouched.

‘Dear bitch. We have you in our sights. And Mr Charles is not going to stop us.’

Miranda Vega thinking that they didn’t know what she was actually up to, laughed little under her breath, ‘I suppose you and Gorman are trying to get me deprogrammed too?’

‘Not likely.’ said Simon soberly, ‘I think you are not seeing the reality of the situation. We are all in this together and you still have a chance to reap some decent rewards from this. Gorman hates you. That is no secret. But I am really more interested in wrapping this up with the minimum of fuss tonight. We all have had enough.’

‘If you can’t handle it, you shouldn’t play.’ said Vega.

‘Handle it? What do you mean? I was not talking about me. I’m just the messenger.’

‘Whose messenger?’ Miranda was irritated with him. That in-between creature, so resplendent in his arrogant maleness; serving all, but acting like he was serving no one; ‘Whose messenger?’ she repeated. But there was no reply. She looked around. Simon had moved away. She took her anger out on an imagined demeaning of Mr Charles himself. She feared him now…. Mr Charles that is. So she moved quickly to the place where the belt was secreted.

‘Oh Darling! You look lovely!’ Howard went forward to greet Sam, as he hesitantly entered the main party area. A few people stopped what they were talking about and turned round; then, realising that it was their esteemed host and one of his favoured friends turned back to their conversations.

‘Is it alright?’ Sam looked around.

‘Good God man! She isn’t going to be any trouble tonight. In fact a little birdie told me that Gina girl is going to have a fabulous time… so good in fact that she will not want to get in your knickers again Darling!’

‘Shhh…. Howard, please.’

‘Don’t worry. It’s expected. Almost everything is allowed and nothing will be used against you here. Unless you do damage to the Art Work of course.’ Howard took his arm, ‘over there is Annalise Golding…. She’s my star. And then the others: Nicolas Connor, Miranda Stewart….she’s a bit over the top but lovely; Carla Lee… she does the animatronic sculptures; then here’s the absolutely marvellous Geraldine Carter! Darling! Do say hello to Sam.’

‘Hello Sam.’ said rather buoyant and curvy lady who wore her fabulous multi-coloured robe with a youthful exuberance that belied her maturity.

‘It’s lovely to meet you.’ said Sam.

‘That’s okay,’ said Geraldine. ‘I went to Art College. No one says anything remotely polite there most of the time. We’re all a rather savage and untrained rabble. Don’t be alarmed. I’m the sane one. All the rest are mad, eccentric or just paranoid.’

‘It is true.’ said Howard, ‘Geraldine is my lovely hero. And always willing to come and be friendly to the boys and girls of the press. Makes for good column inches Darling and charms all the difficult types with her wild stories.’

‘What kind of stories?’

‘The sort you wouldn’t believe.’ she said and sipped her tea, ‘I’m the well behaved one. It’s the quiet ones you have to watch.’

‘Yes. I know.’ said Sam.

‘Smart Huh?’

‘Detective.’ said Howard.

‘Well! That is useful to know…. A man of vision. Do you like art?’

‘Yes. Especially paintings. It must take ages to achieve that; all the patience that goes into it.’

‘Painting; the essence of all things. Doorways to another world. I remember seeing one at the Tate once…. I stood there for half an hour just looking. It was a transformative thingy. Do you know what I mean?’

‘I think so.’ said Sam.

‘I’ll take him to see the other Painter now. If that’s alright Geraldine?’

‘Catch you later alligator. I must go test the toffee cakes before they’re all gone.’

They moved through the room. And various people nodded at Howard and Sam. ‘Just smile.’ said Howard, ‘Only my PA really knows who they all are.’

They reached a small knot of people. There was Jay with the glass of whisky, he detached himself from them and came over to Howard.

‘Thank for this.’ he said and tipped the glass slightly towards Howard.

‘Sam. I’d like to meet my other painter. This is Jay. Jay this is Sam. The rest you can work out for yourselves. We’ll be having the official intro soon. Look, duty calls. We’ll all be through to the first exhibit in ten minutes. Must find the PA!’ and with that he left them stood opposite each other. Both a little unsure of what to say, and both thinking that this person was not the stranger they took them to be… Something about their appearance was keeping the truth hidden.

‘Are you the one who did that really big picture with the jungle and the angels?’

‘You saw the angels?’ Jay said, ‘Not everyone sees it that way.

‘Is that what it’s supposed to do?’

‘Depends on the viewer.’ said Jay, ‘You cannot make a person see something your way. It doesn’t work like that.’

‘Do you….?’

‘Know you? I think I do…. from before. Must be college.’

‘Yeah. I suppose.’ said Sam evenly wondering if he was meeting some reformed druggie like himself.

‘It’s okay,’ said Jay, ‘whatever happened back in college is not something I would really want to remember. But I know your face…. But not the rest, that’s changed.’

‘It has…. Rather a lot.’ Sam admitted.

‘Jared Jay Arden,’ he said suddenly, ‘but then it is in the program. I guess they will give us all one in a few minutes. Then they can smear them with vole-au-vents.’

Sam laughed, ‘Sorry. I was just trying to avoid my ex-girlfriend. I think she is about to arrive.’

‘Ex? That’s tough. Better to worry about all the ones who will be after your body now that you’ve been seen with Howard.’

‘Never!’

‘It has a cultish following. Some like the emotional Artist types.’ He grinned then and suddenly sneezed, and grabbed a large paper tissue out of his trouser pocket. ‘I’ve only just got out of bed; everyone is dying this week. But Howard insisted.’

‘It’s Sam Wright.’ said Sam, and held out a hand. Jay took it slowly. He appeared surprized. As if something that he had just recalled was trying to be fitted into his awareness.

‘Hello Sam Wright.’ he said, and then blinked. ‘Yes… I know who you are now. You are Juliet’s friend. The musician. That is right?’

‘Yes.’ Sam looked away as the noise level went up and people started to surge toward the double doors.

‘Later.’ said Jay, and was gone. Sam shook his head. Jay… Jay Arden: the depressive skinny kid. The loner. He hung around with that other crowd… or rather they adopted him like some stray cat. He was still the same, except for the stubble and the being really depressed looking bit. Sam remembered he always had an odd sense of humour when he was happyish. But he was not someone who had frequented the group that Sam had been part of. At that time he (Jay) was practically teetotal and disliked those kinds of parties. It was so hard to trawl though the memory banks of a time, that until recently he had not wanted to think about. But when Jay took his hand, there had been a warmth of kindness and understanding communicated. Something Sam rarely did, shake hands with strangers, but this one was somehow… a friend. Or could be. Something told him that he better trust his instincts. George had told him that connections of that sort might have to do with the project. Of course he only said things like that when they were at the project base. And George was rigid about observing the “no leak” policy on this. Come to think of it where was George? They should be here by now. He remembered that he was wired and muttered ‘Bash Street!’ under his breath. He wondered if Kyle was enjoying his time in the van with the mini techno bank of gismos wired into the system of this place. He was suddenly conscious of someone looking at him. He saw that woman. But this time she was wearing a rather subdued dress and carried a small bag that had a shoulder strap, but she had it bunched up in her hand and seemed to be moving through the crowd at a diagonal away from the flow of the other people.

Sam began to move; but it was difficult as the expectant crowd dragged him forwards. He found he was already by the doors. He twisted his head just in time to see the woman who had been at Yungs disappear through another door in the room. Sam found that he was in a brightly lit space. One of the first sculptures adorned the end… a cascading waterfall of flowing structures that rippled with blue-green undulations. He stared as the others did. A waterfall…. but not. The colours were subtle and softly variegated and the continuous movement suggested water as the many banners were rippling in a light breeze. Sam went forward with the others, scanning to the side for another way through to the place that the woman had gone. The staff were guiding people to the seats that had been arranged into two semi circles, in about ten rows each. It was a little theatrical and then the lights very slowly began to dim. Sam thought that he was imagining things. But he saw the staff with torches and baskets of programs. The guests obediently filed into position and then he had to sit also. He ended up on the very last seat of a row next to a lady in a voluminous red dress. She smiled at him enthusiastically.

‘Are you a friend of the artist?’

‘Pardon? Erm… not exactly. I know the gallery owner though.’

‘Ah!’ the woman’s eyebrows lifted, ‘You are favoured indeed. Wonderful to be here don’t you think?’

‘Yes, it is.’ Sam took the program that one of the staff handed him, ‘do you know any of the artists?’

‘I’m with the really crazy one. A friend don’t you know!’

‘Oh…who? I mean pardon?’ the noise level had gone up as everyone started talking at once and several flashlights went off at the same time.

There was Howard looking elegant and composed, his PA at his right hand. And the artists all came and stood before the audience…. Sam noticed straight away who must be who: Jay he had already met; he glanced at the program… the lady in a sea-green trouser suit, with an upright stance despite her obviously mature years – it must be the famed Annalise Golding. The voluptuous red head, with hair that blazed with natural fire, that had to be Miranda Stewart; and then he saw Carla Lee, a slim and extremely pretty girl with very long blondish hair. She seemed the happiest and most at ease in front of the crowd. A man came and stood next to her just after she was announced. The last in line was young; with an unripe youth that belied his talent; the other photographer Nikolas Connor.

Then the last one…. Sam was quite shocked; after all he had never mentioned it. George that is. The likeness wasn’t huge but she had the same amused gleam in her eyes, and an energetic overenthusiastic manner, as she bounced up and down on her toes… Geraldine Carter – George’s older sister. She smiled hugely and said a few words to the other girl stood near her – Carla.

Sam half listened as Howard introduced his exhibition, and each of the artists in turn; he made a point of thanking them all for their generosity in being here tonight. Sam was watching Jay’s face then…. Something told Sam that he was drifting mentally too. But it wasn’t that…. There was something that he was looking towards, at the back of the room. Sam turned slightly and following his eye line, and came to the upright figure of a man leaning against the door jamb; a man in a long rather cassock-like coat. It was a very dark colour, almost black. And he stood perfectly still. Sam glanced back at Jay fascinated. He was staring without moving. He looked as though he’d seen a ghost.

‘Excuse me.’ Sam murmured, and stood. The woman did not hear him, rapt as she was with fascination at the smooth eloquence of Howard’s discourse.

Sam went forwards to the stranger, and was almost surprized that he didn’t move away as Sam approached. Their eyes met, and Sam felt strange again, as he had some time since when he had been wearing the metal bracelet.

‘Sam Wright?’ the man spoke softly, and it occurred to Sam that this person knew him; yet he could not think where from.

‘Is there…?’ Sam began in a whisper.

‘…Somewhere to talk?’ the other finished and turned without another word and slipped back through the double doors. He went to a small table and sat down in one of the secluded points of the room.

‘It will have to be brief.’ said the other to Sam, ‘I really don’t have much Time.’

‘Who are you?’ Sam felt that this was all slipping out of control.

‘I am called John Grey; but you do know me by another name…. or rather you will, eventually.’

‘You’re part of this?’

‘No. I’m trying to stop something bad from happening just as you are. But ask me for my credentials anyway.’

‘You want me to ask you to prove yourself to me?’ Sam was momentarily taken aback, but the strange familiar sound of the man’s voice was unnerving him so he blurted it out, ‘I have met you before. I know I have. I have seen you somewhere. And why was Jay the artist looking at you?’

‘Ah!’ the man bent his head down. When he looked up his eyes seemed very bright, ‘I am here to save him from himself. You will have to have a little faith Sam. You will need something you always will have….a strong conviction that there is a right thing to do. Do you understand?’

‘But who are you?’

‘A friend. I’m also your Landlord.’

‘My….yes, that’s right. But John Grey is a recluse. No one sees him.’

‘I know. I’m sorry. But John Grey is very much a person who cannot normally be seen….for very good reasons. Listen Sam, the woman you are after is going to do something very foolish. She has double-crossed her employer, and she is hoping to find the answer to why she cannot ever get along with her family in a really deep sense….it is very sad. She has to take action, and that action cannot be thwarted by us…. it is about the lines of consequence.’

‘How do you know this? Whatever it is. Any of this?’

‘You’re the Detective. You work it out.’

‘It has to do with Time Travel doesn’t it? That means that you are already aware of what she is trying to do before she does it….’

‘Yes.’

‘You know this because…. you are from somewhere else….in time.’

‘Yes.’

‘And there is only one reason I can think of why anyone would be that interested in something. Someone wants to take a chance in their own life…. It must be like a ripple that travels outwards and keeps going. That means that you must be from somewhere in the future?’

‘Smart and you have a cat. I think we must have a little trust. There is only one thing I can say to really convince you. It is not going to help me if I don’t… so I will have to do something that isn’t usually allowed to happen. And if this is all a bit too much, I’m sorry. I really am. I’ve known you too long Sam for something like time to come between us as friends. I’m sorry…’ and the stranger took Sam’s hand, and he felt as if his feet had truly left the floor. The sensation wasn’t like touching the power pack though, as there was no sense of vertigo. And he was still aware of the room around him, just in a more distant way. And then he saw himself. And he saw Camille, and they were at someone’s house. And there was the stranger, only he wasn’t a stranger, he was a friend. A friend who had suffered and the person assigned to him on the project was Sam. Sam was the one who was able to help ones who were finding it hard to adjust; or who were going through something else. And Camille jumped on to the stranger’s knee. And then he saw another thing: a picture….small and full of life, a picture of purple flowers, like some mythological garden. They were there in the sitting room of a house…. George’s house, and there was the cat. And there He was…..

‘Who am I?’ said the Man. He sat perfectly still waiting for Sam to answer him.

‘You are Jared Jay Arden…. And there is another name too but I will not speak it here.’ Sam blinked and the stranger was the friend and the present and the future were one. A little of it anyway. He sensed more, but to see it clearly would be overwhelming.

‘You are the artist…’ Sam was suddenly a little dizzy after all.

‘Yes. Sorry.’

‘Does he know?’

‘Yes. But it is making him sick again. He is full of doubt and very unstable.’

‘That’s not very fair to say that about someone….. Oh!’ Sam looked back at Jared, ‘I just realised how nuts that sounds.’

‘My past self is aware I will be here but he doesn’t really know why. And I hope I won’t have to take out some of his memory. It would not be a good idea.’

‘You can do that?’

‘Yes.’

‘You could do that to me?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because without that knowledge you will be in danger. And here comes Juliet!’ they both stood as she came near.

‘Juliet…..’ Sam said her name like a prayer as she approached. The man remained where he was, and nodded in acknowledgement of her presence.

‘Sam…’ Juliet gasped and came towards him. She hugged him tightly, ‘Oh my goodness!! What is going on Sam?’

‘I will go to the room with the big painting in half an hour.’ said Jared, ‘I will find what I can by then.’

‘Alright....’ said Sam as the man moved away.

‘Sam…’ Juliet was pleading, ‘I really have to tell you something. About the bangle….’

Just at that moment the crowd came surging back through the double doors and the side doors to another room were opened to reveal the magnificent buffet. The place was also filling with latecomers. Over the heads of the women who moved around the room Sam could see an entourage moving in their direction. George and Gina, and a collection of peacocks with their plumes. Gina’s friends, Sam supposed.

‘I’m not wearing it anymore.’ said Juliet in his ear, ‘I’m wearing a very expensive piece of real jewellery. George got it just this morning. I have the handcuff in my bag… I think I know why the sandwich was missing.’

‘Why?’ said Sam, keeping his eyes on Gina’s movements,

‘This kind of thing has happened before. There was another experiment. George told me about it, at least the evidence. There had to have been. And the thing that seems to happen with time travel is that it disrupts your sense of time…. The circadian rhythm, jet lag with attitude. The munchies are a really simple sign that things are in process.’

‘A time traveller ate the Director’s sandwich?’

‘Yes. Do you believe me?’ Juliet suddenly seemed to shrink, ‘can we just leave?’

‘No. There’s more than just dodgy money being exchanged. That is just a symptom of the crime. The cause and effect might not have happened yet.’

‘You’re kidding right?’ Juliet smoothed her hands over her hips. A gesture that made Sam find it difficult to think clearly about the matter in hand. The crowd meanwhile had swollen to maximum, with several dedicated late-comers talking loudly. Howard was seen moving through the room greeting people and telling them where to get the cocktails.

‘The night is yet young.’ said Sam, and started to cross the room, ‘don’t go into the room with the big painting.’

Juliet nodded and turned to a waiter who was dispensing the first batch of the twelve different cocktails that had been specially made for the event.

Sam swam through the crowd, looking and hoping that he could find the woman from before. He tried to find the Nervous one, and the Tail….the Muscle…would he be there? And that Man, the one in the hat, Sam tried to picture him without, and spot him in the crowd. He spun the bracelet round on his wrist. He still wore it but it was coated with some high tech shrink wrap stuff that had a wire attached. So if the power in the bracelet dropped the kit he wore would sense it and allow a temporary connection. He hoped that the man in the hat didn’t have someone as clever as Kyle on his side… but then again maybe he didn’t need one. Maybe; and here Sam stopped at the buffet table with a keen sense of fear; he could just see right inside your mind. The man had creeped him out. But all instincts, all deeply held senses of weighing people up and knowing what they were up to told Sam that the Man did not know everything. And that he (Sam) in some way had the jump on them. Sometimes it’s the simple things that they don’t think of that make the whole thing work in your favour. He scanned round the room again, mentally tracking people’s positions and direction of movement. ‘You getting all this Kyle?’ he muttered, if only to remind himself that he wasn’t alone. He had no ear piece and so couldn’t get comments from Kyle. George had thought this injudicious and had also inserted a circuit cut off. It involved a sticky strip that would have to be peeled off. Sam picked up a plate. He made a note of each person and picked up a corresponding nibble to represent them. There were many, both sweet and savoury. He matched them to the bodies as he scanned around. There was George, talking loudly to Gina, and introducing her to his sister Geraldine, the other Painter. Gina seemed flushed and happy, her bosom heaving out of the pale pink dress in a suggestive way. She was definitely trying to ingratiate herself at all costs. And George seemed to be getting the full megawatt smile from her every minute or so… clever George! Sam then saw a small knot of not so likable people; Holly Ellis! And just behind her….that MAN! Sam turned and started to edge round the table, the stinging sensation of pain in a memory that would normally erase something so unpleasant. He was now covered by a large and loud family. He saw Holly talk to the man who had stabbed him. Something twisted in Sam’s gut, something terrible, and he realised it was a rage that he would not be able to control if the man crossed his path in a place with few witnesses. Get a grip! He told himself. He breathed and continued to scan the buffet room, and added to his pile of nibbles. There was Jay again, with a hanky in one hand and a tall cocktail glass in the other; he was surrounded by his family it seemed. There were an awful lot of them: at least five. Also, several girls hovered near giggling and trying to get his attention. Sam saw him talk to them; all the while a petite blonde lady stood at Jay’s right watching them closely. Another woman came and stood with her then, she was slightly taller and had a cascade of dark golden curls that looked like a lion’s mane. The two were clearly sisters and from the manner of the second they were Jay’s two sisters. The one who had stood intently guarding him was persuaded to move away by the second girl; leaving Jay surrounded by admirers. Sam looked to the right towards another door. People were beginning to move through the gallery, programs held forth. And the packed feeling was lessened. The staff were moving too, tracking the guests and keeping an eye on them. Sam realised that security was really tight. And he saw at least two guys who he recognised as security guards, who towered over most of the others and looked as if their muscles were trying to escape from the tuxedos. At that moment he saw that Man… the man in the hat, he walked with a flouncing over-dressed lady in very high heels. She was all frills and flamboyant gestures, and seemed to be enjoying herself enormously.

‘Hello Sam!’ the voice at his left made him start with shock. Until he realised it was Howard. Howard, holding a glass and offering it to Sam, ‘I think this just might be your poison. But then again a Vodka Martini may just keep you sane! Not that I’m judging.’ He offered Sam the glass.

‘Thanks,’ Sam mumbled, and tried to refocus on his friend while not losing sight of Mr Charles. At least he thought that was what he was called….Gina was a little foggy on the issue… or perhaps he was a little foggy at the time.

‘Darling; for the sake of all concerned please try this: it isn’t too AWOL inducing.’ And with that Howard pressed a glass into Sam’s hands that was full of a deep golden purple liquid.

‘What is it?’ asked Sam, still trying to follow two others who were moving against the general flow of the guests towards the next gallery room, and the first of six animatronic sculptures by Carla Lee.

‘It is called a Baccarat.’ said Howard’s PA, who had just appeared minus the clipboard. Howard himself looked slightly put out. ‘You’re not going to be like this all night Darling?’ he asked, ‘Perhaps I should introduce you to some more of the artists? Would that cheer you up?’

‘I think there is someone here who means to steal something.’ said Sam. Howard and the PA exchanged a glance. Angelika spoke first: ‘I think we’ve got that covered.’ she said. Howard frowned: ‘You have paranoia to a finely tuned degree tonight. Are you sure you didn’t go to Art College at some point?’

‘I think I would have noticed…. I mean it would have to be quite something to forget a thing like that….’ Sam stared at Howard in a surprized kind of way, ‘Howard you’re a genius!’

‘Of course.’ Howard looked mollified as Angelika moved away to join another guest and encourage them to consider taking out a bank loan to buy some art. He leaned closer to Sam, ‘You have to find out what is going on… because honestly; I don’t think anyone will stay sober enough for very long to make anything of it in a witness statement. But I do have some people you need to meet. Friends of mine. They can be quite perceptive.’ he took Sam by the arm. Sam followed unresisting, seeing that George was moving though into the same gallery as them. He really felt he needed to talk to George now. It had to have been nearly half an hour. Wasn’t he supposed to go to the big painting in the far gallery soon?

Sam found himself in the company of two very pleasant ladies. They were Jayne and Claire.

‘Be nice to Sam my lovelies. He is very delicate and needs to be coddled and pandered to.’ Howard swept away in a cloud of subtle aromatic essences.

‘I think you might need a tea.’ said Claire,

‘On account of the weirdness of the evening.’ Jayne concluded.

‘Pardon? I mean what? And actually I’m not…’

‘Delicate?’ Claire looked amused, ‘Howard has a way of giving us the signal about something. We can be told a thing. It is a code really.’

‘Oh…’ Sam felt perplexed by the relaxed air of quiet around these two.

‘Your Lady friend might be walking into trouble,’ said Claire, ‘and it won’t just be what happens tonight.’

‘You mean Juliet?’

‘Juliet?’ Jayne turned her head, ‘Yes, over there. Look.’

Sam saw the Knife man, and another stood close by. And hovering uncertainly was the nervous one from the other day. They were standing in a way that suggested tension and something that they were about to do.

‘I will tell you what they are saying,’ said Claire, ‘just let me stand a little to the right. That’s better…’ she froze into a still concentrated statue. Sam saw Juliet standing with them. She was feigning relaxation and indifference, but he saw how she gripped the glass she was holding, and knew that these were the ones who had taken her.

‘She has agreed to be in the third gallery at eight.’ said Claire, ‘and they are saying that she must tell you to stay close…. Look at your program… he says; and then he says: tell your handler to mind his own business. This is Mr Charles’ show tonight. And there is going to be no trouble.’ Claire glanced at Sam, ‘She is scared. And I think that they are trying to get her there for another reason. I think someone is lying to someone else. I think that they have more than just one plan in mind…. See; notice what he does when he says that phrase. He puts his hand over his mouth for a moment. When speaking the lie the subconscious tries to block it… unsuccessfully of course.’

‘What should I do?’ asked Sam.

‘Keep your appointment.’ said Jayne, ‘You want to move, and you are already late.’

‘Yes. Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome.’ said Claire; and picked up a cup of tea off a nearby table. ‘Go. We’ll speak later.’

Sam hurried to the room with the big painting. There was no one else there yet, and he felt a little foolish. He stood and examined the picture again. He sipped some of the drink Howard had given him which was delicious, and realised that he had left the plate of nibbles on the table near Claire and Jayne. He decided to wait for a few minutes: something was chilling up and down his spine. There was a power that had somehow linked all these separate events. Each thing was connected. What Juliet had said about the sandwich…? It was silly; but it was evidence. All of a sudden he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned. Nothing. Weird that. He waited some more and stared at the painting.

‘Marvellous picture.’ A man stood a few yards away. He seemed woeful and distracted.

‘Sorry? Are you….?’

‘Jedden…. Jedden Grey. Howard invited me. He thought it might cheer me up.’ The last thing was spoken with a tone of bitterness that Sam was sure wasn’t against Howard. But there was a malediction that could be uttered against the persons unknown who had caused this moroseness. ‘It is great. As in a great painting that tells of the forces of nature and of life…. a story of longing and loss…’ the strange man stared at it very hard. ‘I still cannot work out what the sundial is doing in there though. It doesn’t seem connected to the rest of it.’

Sam looked again. Perhaps he knew what the stranger meant; ‘I say; are you a relative of John Grey?’

‘Not that I know of…. There is a Mariel Grey here tonight that I think I am related to. But only distantly.’

‘Oh.’ Sam took a look at the painting again. Something flickered in his peripheral vision, and his head turned automatically. Nothing. Then, as if there had been a tide that suddenly swept up the strip of sand on the beach, the room began to fill up. There she was!! The woman in the black dress. Her hair seemed slightly different. Odd that. It was up, but it looked as if it had been tidied up before going onto the floor of the gallery again. As if she had been crawling around in someone’s loft space and didn’t want to admit it.

‘Are you interested in Dr Vega?’ the man Jedden asked.

‘Is that her name?’

‘It is Dr Miranda Vega. She’s a clever woman, out of reach of most men.’

‘Because she is unobtainable?’

‘Because she has three degrees and a huge ego.’ said the stranger, ‘I work in association with Mr Charles. I saw you watching him. Don’t worry! I’m not interested in this for its own sake. You can’t shift furniture when you don’t have access to it.’

‘What?’

‘The question is Who? The rest it just something making it look pretty.’

‘Prettying up what, by whom exactly?’

‘The data from the experiments for the sponsors. One’s ethics are not tested by doing an experiment, but by who you sell your results to. You could be on top of the world, except you’re not. Because you’re too honest. That gets anyone the sack. You need to blacklist people who are annoying beyond belief. As if Life isn’t bad enough as it is! We really need to get the weird out of pseudo-science.’

‘Excuse me, but do I know you?’ Sam asked him tersely.

‘Obviously not.’ the Man who called himself Jedden replied. He started to move away. And then there was a flash of brilliance across Sam’s vision for a fraction of a second. He heard a woman’s voice: counting backwards from ten slowly. Her clearly enunciated tones contrasted to the extreme sense of fuzz that had issued from the…. well what? Sam felt that he was missing something. As if he had sleep-walked through some time. He checked his watch. Nearly Eight. What happens at Eight? Something happens at Eight? There was another, this time discernible flash across his vision. Like a bright blue-violet light for a fraction of a second. Sam looked at his watch. Seven twenty- seven. Impossible! Sam turned to see George with Gina and a large contingent of exotically attired people in the group. There is was again. A fraction of a moment. A brief flash. This continued two more times and then he realised that his watch had in fact stopped. There was a clock on the wall near the entrance to this gallery space. Exactly Eight. And then the second hand started round its course. Sam looked around. He was still holding the glass. He knocked back the remaining drink and turned slowly through 360 degrees. A few people wandered through, but there were more in the space next door than in here. It was very quiet. So Sam sat down on the bench in the middle of the room. What happen next was weird in the extreme. And Sam wasn’t at all sure if he had in fact imagined it. A man walked through the room who could not… unless it was fancy dress, have belonged to this century. Then Gina came past and didn’t see him, which was in itself peculiar. And then a group gathered. All the “Bad Guys” as Sam had labelled them in his head. That Vega woman; and the Knife Man, the Muscle and the even the Tail. And Mr Charles. The Jedden character came up to Mr Charles and handed him the remnants of the wires. They looked like the ones that Sam himself had under his clothing. But the curious thing was that he couldn’t hear them, as if he was watching a news report with the sound turned off. And then another man brought Juliet in. It was Gorman’s other man. A shrunken, but wiry man. He didn’t speak at all from what Sam could see. There was no sound. And he had just about got used to the idea that he was seeing a vision, when they all started to turn and look towards him. But it wasn’t him they were looking at. From one side came the man John Grey. He stood a little way from them. It was unclear what Mr Charles thought of him. But the way the others reacted told Sam he was not liked at all by this group and then something even weirder happened!! From round the edge of the open entrance to the opposite gallery strolled something on four legs. Cream coloured, smallish, very fluffy, and definitely not human.

Sam was still staring. And the Cat…. It was Camille it seemed, strolled in an unconcerned way right past all these people. And it was weird to see how they reacted. They avoided having even her tail brush slightly against their legs and stepped out of the cat’s way. It was then that Sam realised that the thing he saw, that expression stamped on all their faces. Fear.

Sam felt cold. And then he felt sick. And then he thought he would actually be sick. Then he saw Juliet. She was stood up but leaning against the wall. And off to his right a number of people were disappearing through the gap into the next gallery. He looked at the clock on the wall. Seven o’clock. George and Gina came in at that moment. Juliet looked at Gina and there was a sign of recognition.

‘Sam?’ George came over to him, ‘Anything yet?’

‘Err….’ Sam was still feeling the receding ebb of whatever it was.

‘How many of these have you had?’ George looked at him in that strange, down his nose way that people still adopt even when they haven’t got their glasses on.

‘Can you see me George?’ Sam asked him.

‘Of course I can see you. What on earth are you talking about?’

‘But you wear glasses.’

‘They’re in my pocket just in case.’

‘Oh.’

‘I think you better eat something. There is going to be a presentation of achievement at eight o’clock. You better get to the food before Gina eats it all.’

‘Now, now!’ said Gina playfully, ‘I think we have established that my metabolism allows me to ingest a non-girly amount at these events.’

‘You mean you stuff your face.’ said Juliet, who had now moved away from the wall.

‘Of course,’ said Gina pleased with herself, ‘for God’s sake take him to the buffet girl and get him fed! George is going to take my photo next to the Moving Meadow.’

‘The what?’ Sam stood and straightened himself. He felt stiff, as if he had been in one position for ages.

‘Come on George, we will let them get in the nibbles before eight. But we must go back for more profiteroles and cream!!’

‘Of course.’ said George smiling and took Gina’s arm.

‘And I’d like to get a taste of the Illusions; or maybe the Blue Hawaiian. What do you think?’ Gina looked up at George with an expression that Sam recognised.

‘They are about the same strength. So just a matter of which you prefer; they’re both quite tropical.’ George winked at Sam as they moved away.

‘What on earth is going on?’ said Juliet. She sat down on the bench and Sam sat next to her. A new group of people surged through the space and chattered with enthusiasm.

‘I feel distinctly odd. Let’s go eat something.’ said Sam.

They piled up plates and sat down at one of the many tables in the buffet area. People were going round the gallery making notes, discussing options on possible purchases; having food and drinks and going round again.

‘Something happened in there that I cannot explain.’ said Sam.

‘I was there too.’ said Juliet and started to nibble on prawn toasts; ‘I saw the whole thing. I think that this has something to do with a partial contact with the bracelets. Mine is in my bag. And yours is shielded. But there’s something else as well. Everyone was at that point absent from that area. The dislocation of time only works if no one who is not controlled in is the room; or in direct line of sight of the room.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely.’ Juliet seemed thoughtful then, ‘Someone has an experiment in progress. And there is something happening to our perception of the reality they want to impose on us. We were supposed to have no notion of what just happened; the bracelets would see to that.’

‘There is one way that we can find out what really went on.’ Sam wondered if they could get out without Mr Charles’ men seeing them.

‘Come on. We need to take a trip to the little boys and girls room.’

‘It has fuzzed up the signal.’ Kyle was looking pissed off. ‘I must find a way to compensate.’ Juliet squeezed into the small space in the van with Sam. She was shivering.

‘We’ll go back to the party in a minute.’ said Sam.

‘You could have left with the girl’s jacket.’ said Kyle reproachfully.

‘Then they would know that we were doing something other than what they think they can control.’ Sam rubbed his hand over his face, ‘I feel weird.’ he added.

‘You just might qualify for the glow in the dark toy of the year award.’ said Kyle waving the scanner over him.

‘Okay.’ said Sam, ‘I need the head set… I mean the ear piece.’

‘George said not.’

‘George doesn’t know what happened.’

‘The receiver he’s got picked up something though,’ said Kyle, ‘it was fuzzy, but there might be something I can wash out of that twenty minute gap.’

‘It was that long?’ Sam was worried, ‘what the hell are they up to?’

‘No idea. But the signal has been dipping consistently for the last half hour. Soon I’ll be blocked from even making out the normal conversations.’

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘Of course it isn’t.’ said Kyle, ‘Now get back in there; and for goodness sake keep your hand away from your ear. It is amateur gestures like that, that get people killed out in the field.’

Meanwhile, Mr Charles had got Vega in his sights. She had taken the new belt had gone back in time; and then to her surprise found that the keys she wanted to remove had not been there. It was just one trip. Where was the set of keys? Did her mother already have them on her? No. They were searching for the missing keys. They could not find them. Miranda jumped forward to the next day, and used a light frequency displacement so that they could not see her. The car was still in the driveway.

‘You really should not do this sort of thing.’ said the man who stood to the side of the path.

‘You!’ Miranda felt helpless.

‘Yes,’ Mr Charles stepped forward, ‘now can you really take the risk that you can change what is happening? You remember one version, and I have proved to you that life would not be any different. So what are you going to do?’ He held out the keys to her.

‘Is this a trick?’ Miranda asked shivering.

‘No. A choice merely.’ Mr Charles offered them to her again. Miranda’s hand closed round the keys, and her fate was sealed. Mr Charles had her now. She occupied a redundant time line and any divergence made outside of what he wanted would result in very much changed fate for Miranda. And the beauty of it was that she would never know what had happened to her. Mr Charles did not want to destroy Miranda. She was simply the first fruits of a technique that would not reach its full power until the field generator was in place at the lab. She had been kept alive by the changing of one little thing in her environment. And Mr Charles felt that he didn’t like playing God any more. By giving Miranda the choice back, he detached himself out of her time line. Her interaction with him would lessen; and in time she would forget she ever had anything to do with him. All because of one decision.

Miranda put the keys back on the hook. She took a deep breath and waited for things to go back to normal. She arrived back at the party in the girls’ cubicle just as Juliet came into the ladies to find a place to hide the controlling bracelet: Juliet couldn’t see George anywhere. Miranda waited and pressed her face against the cold glassine walls of the cubicle and tried to slow the panicky feeling that rose like bile out of the pit of her stomach. She flushed the toilet just for effect and came out. The other girl was still there; she was staring into the mirror and only glanced sideways for a second. Miranda took in the pretty face and the upright posture as the girl ran a comb through her long dark hair. Ugg! She hated that sort! So naturally fresh and understated. Miranda’s dress and bag had not changed. She slipped the bracelet off her wrist and put it in her bag. She returned to the cubicle and while the memory still told her to, she removed the harness from under her dress. There was a slight mark like a too tight bra strap where it had pressed in at the waist line. But that in time would fade. Miranda thought about the job she would be taking next month; the one across the country. Mr Charles had been thorough. She would have no geographical connections with all this either. And her job would be done. She would remember…. well only that she was paid for a short and simple job, and it was discrete, so too many questions could not be asked. The next one was for a lab over near Birmingham. All legit, all set up ready for when Vega came out of the fuzziness that a Time Mend brings. She still was a Doctor, and there was nothing that could disturb her, not really.

As she left the hallway Alistair joined her, ‘Are you alright?’

‘Pardon?’ she stared at him puzzled. Alastair shrank away from her realising what had happened. She had made her choice. And he could feel it slipping away.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked.

She looked up at him, and thought about the job and then thought: Why not? It was a party and he would just be one of many ships that passed in her night. Just another one or two moments of loneliness after the fact, then she could lose herself in the interesting science. There was always her family…. they would understand. They would…. Miranda stopped. She paused. She remembered. She had no family. They were gone a long time ago. And it smote her then with sadness that her mind was playing its trick again; making her forget that she had forgotten them, as if there was another world out there. She looked up at the man.

‘It’s Alastair Green. I hope that is okay?’

‘Yes.’ she said automatically. She was used to male attention. They went back into the party.

Holly was having one of those times that you make yourself believe is better than it is. So when she saw Sam alone in the foyer, she pouched; ‘I think you owe me an explanation Detective Man!!’

‘Oh, it’s you.’ Sam’s cold tone made no pretence this time.

‘That’s very rude.’ she said, ‘I think you should be a little more agreeable, after all I am paying you!’

‘Really?’ Sam spoke more softly, ‘How is that?’

‘I left a message on the answering machine. You must have got it.’

‘Not as yet,’ he said patiently, ‘and I think it might be better if you asked someone else to take the job.’

Without warning, Holly grabbed Sam’s wrist, and her lips curled back into an imitation of a snarl, but her tone was soft and threatening; ‘You listen to me, Detective Man. I expect results. And I expect them by next week. And if you don’t get me what I want. I will set the wolves on you.’

Sam stared into her eyes to see if she really meant it. He counted slowly in his mind to Ten, and breathed in and out very slowly. Her pupils contracted, and her gaze flickered. Something was working in her mind, he could see it. She had blown her cover as the sweet helpless one, to him at least. Let her try to act it out in front of others.

‘I require,’ said Sam very softly and firmly as he twisted his hand round, ‘a deposit to secure my services. And considering the nature of the request… in this case I will have to decline.’

‘You’re making a mistake.’ She kept her grip on his wrist. Sam could feel her nails digging in. He could have thrown her off easily he knew, but then she would doubtless go running to her pet psycho: the man with the knife.

‘Why? Is there something I am not taking into account?’ Sam glanced sideways to see if Juliet was coming out of the Ladies. She seemed to be taking a long time over it.

Holly laughed rather haughtily he thought, and seemed to bristle with a dark unnatural fervour. ‘You have absolutely no idea what you are getting yourself mixed up in. I do. And considering your position in the chain of command you ought to be a little more appreciative of my attention.’ Sam did not react in the way she expected. His eyes narrowed a little and he seemed to straighten himself. Usually such comments were met with indignant denial and justifications of the other’s position. Sam was not in his job and successful for no reason. Mind games were the special preserve of slighted lovers and spouses, and he had heard every variant of this sort of mind manipulation; and he wasn’t the least bit impressed.

Juliet was now crossing the space towards them. Sam focused inward and relaxed his mind. Juliet stepped behind Holly and with one hand pressed her elbow. Holly immediately released Sam, and recoiled several steps away from them both. She looked at Juliet and something washed across her expression like a shock of sea water. She turned and cradling her numbed arm ran back into the party.

Sam was rubbing his wrist. He was philosophical about it. And Juliet just met his eyes and smiled. ‘Shall we?’ she held out her hand to him. She looked confident and bright. ‘Thanks.’ He said.

‘You’re welcome. Now let’s wrap up the mystery Scoobie. I’m getting hungry again.’

George was worried. Sam and Juliet were nowhere to be found and it was getting on for Seven-Thirty. He went with Gina through the gallery with the big painting again.

‘Talk to me Kyle.’ he muttered.

“You said not transmit unless it’s an emergency.” Kyle swore then, “Fucking equipment is playing silly buggers.”

‘It’s not the equipment,’ said George as they reached the buffet tables and Gina helped herself to more Meringues; ‘There’s something gathering like a storm. Kyle?’

“I hear you; just. There is a huge increase in the electromagnetic frequencies…. I can’t…..”

‘Kyle? Speak to me.’

“Shit, shit, shit!!”

‘Speak, not swear please. Tell me the bad news.’

“I will lose transmission in the next five to ten minutes. There’s nothing I can do.”

‘Can you switch frequencies?’

“No… bloody hell George this is like some magnetic storm. Aliens have landed and all that… all the equipment is going weird. Just bear with me; is that better?”

‘A little.’

“Sam has the head set. George… do you hear me?”

‘Yes,’ George sighed. Too late to tell Sam that the wire would not pick up all the detail with that on as well. But now it made no difference.

“I’m recording everything George. But the weather is starting to come into the equation too. It’s raining. I think there is a thunder storm on the way.”

‘Okay. Just record everything. Unless the power goes off just do that… alright?’ George listened. Nothing. He felt the prickle on the back of his neck and the room seemed warmer too. Something uncanny. Or maybe a rational scientific thing that seemed uncanny.

‘If you would please gather in the second gallery for the presentation in Ten minutes!! Ladies and Gentlemen! Please come and take your seats.’

‘Come on,’ said Gina, ‘I must get to the front! Annalise is getting a special gift, presented by Mr Logan.’

‘What kind of gift?’ George looked round. The people were surging through the place again. Outside a rumble of thunder was heard.

Gorman skirted round the edges of the crowd. He saw the artists in a little cluster like a shoal of obedient fish. They were the exotics of the evening. Gorman was strangely approving of such things. He saw the colours and the light and something stirred in his withered bitter soul. But then again he was still under Mr Charles’ control. And what was it? Gorman, the man of violence who read Shakespeare and appreciated the beauty of the woman’s body like an old painting come to life. He was out of step, and yet had integrated well into this life. He could not go back to his village in Russia. That was a long time in the past. A long time, a whole life time away. All his family were dead; killed in a war. And Gorman had a blind spot. The removal of a person from their environment made it very simple; if they were already a wanderer. A person whose nature it was to disassociate from the people around them. Mr Charles came close to him and whispered two words; ‘Remember Alexi.’ then he passed on. Gorman was still and he saw the images of old Russia. He saw the snow in thick bars over the fences of the enclosures, and he remembered the lamp light and a night of terror and fear. And there in the dark he was alone. The sounds of the wolves had fled into the distance. Who were they? He did not know. But there was nothing he could do. And that was the moment that something happened. He was changed and later when he served as a soldier he could kill as they had killed. Without mercy… yet swiftly. For that was a mercy. For the bitter cold would take you quickly if you lived at all. He dressed in the heavy clothes and he bore something of nobility, but it was not enough. He wanted to go back to his village. He found it deserted. There was nothing there. And in that morning in stillness, a man came to him and offered him something that would take him to other places. He could leave it behind. Gorman’s English was good. And that was perhaps why he had had been chosen. And now the same voice whispered to him. Then, it had said “Come with me.” Gorman had walked through the cleft in the rocks and he was gone from that place. The others supposing that he was dead in the place of his birth, did not look for him.

Gorman shook himself. He felt undone. Mr Charles came round to face him, and he removed the bracelet that Miranda had put on Gorman by trickery. He gave him the small portable belt. ‘It is pre-set. And here is a new wrist device.’

‘Will it bring me back here?’ Gorman’s voice was steady. He was no longer afraid. He knew he could not go back there.

‘You also need to take this and leave it were I instruct you to do so.’

‘Where?’

‘Go and put on the belt. And take this envelope. And this is what you must do.’ He gave Gorman a folded slip of paper and a small bag containing a second new belt. Gorman nodded and left: His final task to fulfil.

Camille was at that moment snaffling the smoked salmon. She gorged herself in the sneaky way that practice had made perfect. In fifteen minutes she had shipped enough food to fill her up to the brim. Then, drawn inexorably towards the room with the painting she was met with the two friends of Howard.

‘Well look at you!’ Claire scooped the cat up off the floor. For some reason Camille didn’t see this an imposition on her privacy as a bearer of strange particles and odd events. The other young woman looked carefully at the collar.

‘Sam Wright. The cat is called Camille.’ Jayne looked worried. ‘I think we need to warn Howard. There is not just the regular amount of local instability being generated.’

‘I don’t think he takes what you say seriously.’ said Claire stroking Camille’s soft fur.

‘Umm…. I think Howard is very distracted. There’s too much going on in here. If anything is going to happen tonight, then they will need to use the weakened time cohesion as cover.’

‘It isn’t the Travellers we know about then?’ Claire was surprised.

‘No….’ Jayne was thoughtful. ‘I suspected as much. The boy is the key.’

‘The painter?’

‘Yes. He draws the others in. They may be aware of it. They may not. But it creates an unstable field in the place tonight. I think this Mr Charles means to exploit a weakness.’

‘But it normally doesn’t affect the area in that way.’

‘I mean a weakness in the people themselves…. Do you see?’ Jayne bent down to pick up the program and paused. There is a thing about this that I don’t understand.’

‘The “Why” of it?’ Claire seemed doubtful.

‘We cannot reveal ourselves.’ Jayne reminded her.

‘Not even to protect our own?’ Claire gently put the cat down. Camille sat and washed her ears and then her tail with great care. Jayne bent down and looked into the Cat’s eyes; and something was communicated.

‘The painting.’ said Claire.

‘Yes.’ said Jayne, ‘we can do that. But only if it is necessary.

‘Whatever is going to happen will happening in the next Fifteen minutes or so.’ Claire looked at her watch, ‘It’s ten to eight. How many travellers are here in the building?’

‘I think eighteen.’

‘Eighteen! That’s an awful lot.’

‘We can handle them.’ said Jayne, ‘I just think that some of them are too selfish to do anything to help.’

‘You are right of course. So we had better help our own people and the ones connected with them.’

‘Sam Wright and the girl Juliet.’ Jayne sighed, ‘I wish Jay would be easier on himself. It’s painful to see it.’

‘You haven’t met John Grey?’ asked Claire.

‘Ah….’ Jayne was very still for a moment. ‘It might just all be too much. We must leave room for their return. And not get in the way.’

‘A tall order.’ Claire stared at her cup of tea. ‘I’m gagging for a cocktail. Do you think there will be some left?’

‘You know Howard. We’ll be drinking them into next week.’

Camille, satisfied then that her wash was completed trotted away to her final appointment of the evening.

Everyone was in position and Jay was fiddling nervously with the Margarita. He lifted it to his lips and tasted the salt rim. He could feel the electrical storm. He was beginning to tire and this was not what he wanted. They were all here to watch, and be around Annalise. The press were lined up to take pictures. The relaxed atmosphere induced by Howard’s generosity with the booze, was undercut with the minor key of something unbelievably sinister. He could see the two college friends edging round to the last seats here in the second gallery. The jewelled strands of Miranda Stewart’s work criss-crossed the space, and on one wall a group of large format pictures hung. Landscapes of stark beauty. Jay feasted on the wild outdoor images. The colours and the contrast adjusted to create the otherworldliness that Annalise Golding was famed for. A way of seeing…. And last night he had been visited. He remembered the comfort of another person’s touch. And that stillness. The other sat with him for a long time and spoke in soft whispers; like some visiting angel. And he was here, tonight. Jay wanted to sit and talk to him again. It was a deep lonely feeling. And he realised he still felt the effects of the virus. As much as Howard had tried to ply him with life giving tea and relaxing tequila based drinks; he was still beginning to flag.

Just as he felt that the evening was going to drag into weariness and exhaustion there was Howard! He had a funny look on his face which quickly smoothed out as he came in front of the crowd. He caught Jay’s eye for a tiny moment and his eyes flicked to the right. Jay followed Howard’s direction and saw the man…. His other… he couldn’t think of the person as being his future self; that was too weird. His landlord then. And just beyond that he saw Juliet and Sam sneaking out of the side entrance into the other gallery.

Vega was getting sloshed, and she didn’t care. As long as her dress was still on at the end of the evening and at least some of her dignity remained intact. Alastair was very attentive; and attractive…. in fact he said he was moving to Birmingham. What a coincidence!!

Mr Charles perhaps knew that their little romance was trying its best to keep going, and in the scheme of things it seemed almost irrelevant. And perhaps would have been except for the person of Alastair. He was upset, and all of a sudden decided, late in the day to do the right thing. He went to find Sam. Miranda was sat in a chair with arms on it and would not be going anywhere except Alistair’s bed tonight. He would make sure of that. Just one thing he had to do. He saw that the girl Holly was getting equally sloshed on yet another French Kiss and felt that it was fitting that her association with Mr Charles would end with a really dreadful hangover. He decided not to confront the man. After all he knew that this was best for Miranda in the end and perhaps for himself. A fresh start was what he wanted. But there was something to be said for trying to warn others of the impending doom that waited their little screams. He felt ambivalent about it all. And then he had a brain wave: all he had to do was get them to take the bracelets off by claiming they had to be collected on Mr Charles’ orders. He took a small strong drawstring bag out of his pocket and went round to reclaim the bracelets. One skill that Alastair did have was to remove them with ease. And now he saw the opportunity, it seemed obvious. But then with a shock of surprise and dismay he found himself face to face with Mr Charles.

‘Alastair?’

‘Sir?’

‘Just make sure you are out of here by half past. Take Ms Vega home will you. And make sure that any of your….or her personal items are out of the flat.’

There was a little pause…. Of course he had known. Of course. It was obvious, so silly to hide the heavy sessions. The bedroom sheets had been changed and laundered; just those two things; a text book on pot plants; and some stockings of Miranda’s. Alastair turned and left immediately to clear the items away. He would be back by eight twenty. And then he could get Miranda and go.

*****

Chapter Twelve

Muse, Alternate, Catatonic.

Mr Charles gathered his people. And now there were seven – if one included Jedden Grey. But Jedden had his own agenda, and if neutrality was an art that could be practised then he was an expert in these things. The secret of Jedden’s perspective on the matter was that he had seen these sorts of theatrics before. Not the party and the gracious host, for if someone was to be dramatic then it ought to be Howard Logan. Jedden stood near the group of artists. This permission, despite the stiff security was on account of Howard’s friendship. Jedden had no malicious intent, but if others had known what he was doing there they might have been less friendly. Too many borrowed their credibility from others. Jedden sipped on one of the cocktails; his first of the evening. And wondered what Mr Charles was really going to do. Was he really so bold as to do the demonstration right under the noses of so many Travellers? Did he know how many were here tonight? The crowd, now very much oiled with the relaxing and uninhibiting effects of the food and drinks was pressing forward eagerly. Soft music began to play and some coloured lights slowly came on as the main lights dimmed. A voice was reciting a thing that seemed like a poem: Jedden turned to see that lovely girl Angelika reading from an open booklet bound with red cloth:

IF in the muse then I saw,

Within the light, my soul would stay,

And taking the path from outside in,

The night is turning into day.

MY stolen love,

My lost, and shifted sea,

My night, my immortal,

Come to me.

IN passing places of the world,

Where ways are overgrown with the years,

In Summer’s heart and Winter’s splintering dark,

I am. I wait for you fair lady.

COME back….

When all is gone,

Take my hand and lead me home,

Within the silent grass and trees,

At last my peace, my place, my own.

AND do not forget that the world weeps,

When it hears the stranger’s cry,

If we can find our human heart,

If we can live before we die…

Jedden watched their faces. There was a hush that travelled through the crowd. The extract that came out of the book “Ways of Seeing”, and accompanied some of the images that Annalise had used to illustrate her theories. It was about something that a Traveller would see. It pleased Jedden that she was so discrete, Annalise Golding that is… She was an extremely difficult person to read, and even now he wasn’t absolutely sure that she was in fact First Level. He didn’t even try taking any notice of all the silly formal assessments; they were so often wrong he wondered why they bothered at all. It must be political. To his right he saw the powerful Man who was the Director of the institute of which he was now a minor freelancer. The head of all the formally recognised Travellers in the Society: Mr Ira Shore. He made the others look like idiots. And he commanded people who were absolutely loyal…. unlike Mr Charles’ rabble. And then it was that Jedden saw the one he had been looking for all night, John Grey. In the dimness of the room their eyes met and fastened on each other. Now then! This one was altogether a different fish. The man was very still. He was looking at Jedden, and Jedden was unable to blink. It was like holding your breath before something is about to happen. A moment later he found himself staring into his drink as Howard took the floor and talked a little about Ms Golding’s achievements…. Damn!! The guy had done the mental equivalent of searching through his pockets! John Grey had tricked him… and then Jedden realised that what was about to happen had already happened. And he too had been fooled by the timing of the party and the sense of moment. And the Detective lad and his feisty and able assistant were nowhere to be seen. Jedden thought about moving to intercept, and then sighed. They could handle it themselves. And if this Grey was a good as he seemed there would be nothing to connect him to this later. Jedden looked up and momentarily caught Howard’s eye. Howard smiled and was stepping aside to let Annalise receive the book he was presenting. She nodded her head in acknowledgement of the gift and everyone clapped furiously.

There, at that exact moment, he felt it. Something radical. Something had changed. Mr Charles would sit with his pipe when Jedden went to see him, and tell how clever he had been. And it was so subtle; so slight and yet to Jedden, even without his usual focus, he could see it; just. There was a shimmering behind of several of the exhibits. And that….was what it was about. Jedden looked at his watch; then at the nearby digital wall clock: Five past the hour. And as if all he had seen was burning in front of his eyes, Jedden recognised the two women from earlier. They were watching. And they were far more powerful than any of the others. They didn’t need to worry about the time. They were not held by it, not in the usual way. Howard’s friends. Sam Wright….Howard’s friend….That young artist…. Howard’s friend. A crime… Oh Shit! And the motive: Jedden handed the glass to a surprised looking lady and started to push through the crowd which was pressing forward so they could listen to Annalise’s speech.

Simon Hingess was on the move. Gorman had left some time ago. And he had not seen him since. And since he was nominally Gorman’s Man he felt it only opportune to take his place. He went straight to Mr Charles.

‘You’re late.’ Mr Charles was listening to the address by Annalise. He appeared quite at ease, if a little irritated.

‘But Sir…. the demonstration?’

‘The…. what?’ Mr Charles looked puzzled.

‘Your experiment Sir.’

‘Ah!’ Mr Charles thought for a few moments tapping his fingers on the table in front of him, he took a sip of the pale red concoction, ‘I think you need to get Ms Vega out of here. Take her to the nearest bar, will you.’

‘But Sir!’

‘Get the woman out of here. And then report back to me. If Green returns, which I doubt this evening; tell him where she is. If it is meant to be, then they can continue their little Amour on someone else’s time.’

‘Yes Sir.’ Simon backed off. This was one time when he was relieved to be out of the loop. He looked across at the dripping distorted shapes of the sculpture nearby and shuddered. The evening was nearly over and he would be glad to leave. He turned away from Mr Charles, the conditioning taking full effect, and left to find Miranda’s coat and thence to convey her to a quiet spot out of range of the gallery.

John Grey….or rather Jared was walking through the gallery seeing the ripple of the radical time alteration taking effect. And he knew why the painting, his painting was now so important…. It held within it the key to reverse what had been a terribly rough and messy Paradox Event. People were all over the place, it was untidy and dreadful and Howard was the victim of all this foolishness. Was it revenge? Could it be that simple? It had to be more than that… it just had to. Howard’s reputation and the future that could not really be there. Where just one decision acting like a fulcrum had changed everything. What decision? And he saw that the girl and Sam were walking into a trap. They were trying to stop something that could not be stopped by conventional means. It was like asking a cat to go on the internet and do a search for the latest wholesale cat crunchy supplier: anatomically impossible. Even a cat can only play a piano by accident. He tried to get around the crowd and found himself blocked by the huge group and by security. There was no point in arguing, he would have to go the long way round.

Sam and Juliet reached the gallery, it was eerily quiet; all the sounds for the moment stilled as the guests sat in rapt attention at Annalise’s story of days gone by. They came to the gallery next to the big painting, and peered round the doorway.

‘Come on. There’s no one there at the moment.’ Sam heard his own voice sounding small and hollow in the silence of the empty gallery.

‘We’re an awfully long way from the front of this place.’ said Juliet, ‘it’s a bit weird.’

‘Yes. Very.’ Sam walked forward trying to keep his cool and not get the creeps. There was something wrong with everything. All the Art Works looked like they had been made by deranged nutcases. Everything seemed off beat, but not in a good way.

‘I wasn’t like this before.’ said Juliet, ‘I remember things that were uplifting and beautiful… this is all wrong. Everything is different. Except this painting…. This is still wonderful. Still alive…’

‘Yes indeed.’ said another. They both turned swiftly, to see John Grey stood in the shadows of the corner. He came forward into the light, and looked hard at them both, as if he expected to be finding something different about them as well.

‘What is going on?’ said Sam, his voice at last sounding strained and frightened.

‘I can’t change this.’ said Jared, ‘I can’t risk making things worse than they already are.’

‘What has changed? All these things…. Well they are just horrible now!’ Juliet looked from one to the other of them and felt helpless.

‘Yes….they are dreadful. Not at all the sort of things our friend would choose. Perhaps it is even possible to have changed the guests that he has brought in for the show. The fact that Jay’s…. err, my painting is still here tells me that he is using some advanced level manipulation of time. You are immune it seems, to a point. The question is why?’

‘We don’t have a program. Or we could check who was on the list.’ Sam said, ‘Did you see George on the way into this room?’

‘No. Your friend with the firearm? Is that who you mean?’

‘Yes…. How did you….?’ Sam turned slowly as Mr Charles came into view from the next gallery, ‘Very nicely done; both of you. I think this is yours?’ he looked at Juliet and held up a bracelet that had recently been retrieved from the toilet cistern. And then, coming out of the shadow like some avenging force, they slid into a semicircle around Sam and Juliet: Holly stood a little behind Mr Charles, perhaps thinking that going diving into cold water up to one’s elbow somehow qualified her to join this next stage of his experiments. Mr Charles didn’t seem to mind her attentions as she fawned on him, well not for the moment at least.

Sam very sensibly didn’t make any sudden moves as the Muscle stepped forward and roughly hooked the bracelet back round Juliet’s wrist. Sam saw the molecular lock close and thought about what would happen if they discovered that the one he wore was attached to some high tech surveillance equipment. Sam tipped his head forward in the hope that they would not discover the earpiece. But no one made any attempt to search Sam and Juliet just yet.

‘The thing is,’ said Gorman’s other Man, ‘we are ready to negotiate with anyone who will play…. You can join in if you can afford it.’

‘I see.’ said Sam, ‘and what if I said I can afford it. What then?’ he squinted sideways for a second realising that the John Grey character had disappeared into thin air.

‘Our starting price is Fifty Thousand. That gets you the demo item; and a limited number of trips. If you wish you can go all in for Seventy-Five.’ The little wiry fellow rocked backwards and forwards on his heels as if waiting for a verdict.

‘Okay. I’m interested.’

‘Are you, Detective Man?’ said Vega, who had just entered. She seemed for the moment alright. She was quite recovered from her loss of perception, and ready again to do the will of the boss. Mr Charles smiled and his eyes rested on her for just a moment. Sam saw that micro second and realised that if he was willing to get rid of his own to get them out of trouble; there would be no problem with someone like Himself. He stifled an involuntary shudder. The sculpture through the doorway in the next gallery looked like a big pile of mashed potato that was tinted lime green. Perhaps it was more like a giant blob of ice cream. Or Play-Doh. Sam did not resist as the Muscle got hold of him and started pulling off Sam’s jacket and shirt. They got down to the vest tee shirt that had the wiretap attached to it. They unclipped it and searched his jacket very thoroughly. Two minutes later Rhett held it all in his large hands. Sam was smarting with anger and a sense of unfairness, if not actual pain because of sticky tape. This might be less painful, but it certainly would have been one way for the conspirators to have been slowed up. Some of these things were like trying to get super strong Velcro to cooperate.

‘What now?’ asked Sam, still conscious of the ear bud that might give Kyle a chance to get the info and get this lot arrested…. that was assuming it was working at all.

‘We just stand here and make sweet music.’ said Mr Charles. In the background some strange whiney music started with accompanying Indian instruments.

‘Not exactly the best example of all the things available in space-time.’ said Sam, ‘This is what you want to listen to?’

‘Not really.’ said the other quiet and wiry man. And as they watched the surrounding place became more dusty and old and unkempt. Juliet edged closer to Sam. Sam straightened realising what was happening. The girl Holly was eyeing them with a greedy self-satisfied look.

‘I got you Detective Man.’ she said.

‘Enough,’ said Mr Charles, ‘I just want you to see what the alternatives are.’

‘Is this an illusion?’ asked Sam, as daylight was stalking in. All around were dusty and broken things. And in the distance they heard voices. Someone was walking round the building viewing it. In what had been the next gallery a couple and a plump man with a folder stood.

“What do you think Darling?” asked the Man on whose arm a lady hung.

“It needs a lot of work. But then it has been empty for a while… all because of that man… you remember my dear it was in all the papers.”

“The lady is correct,” said the chubby one, “he was taken somewhere in the end. All very sad. This place needs a little hope….”

Sam looked at Juliet and then at Mr Charles, ‘Why are you showing us this? If there is no other reason than to taunt us, why do it at all?’

‘I mean nothing by it,’ Mr Charles replied and examined his cufflink, ‘I think you will understand better once the thing has taken full effect. We are still in a state of flux. And that is why I have given you a choice.’ Here he turned slightly and indicated to the Tail. Chester Brown came forward obediently and dropped his eyes before Sam.

‘Show him.’ Mr Charles flicked a hand negligently.

‘Really?’ asked Sam, ‘Is that the best you can come up with?’ Inside the case that Chester opened was a lot of money, far too much for Sam to estimate accurately. It could not have been less than ten thousand pounds.

‘There’s more,’ Mr Charles said sharply. The effect of all that visible cash made Holly and the Wiry Man glaze over. Sam noticed this and looked at Mr Charles squarely.

‘I can’t be bought. And I won’t betray anyone. So you’ve failed.’

‘On the contrary, I have succeeded. I simply needed proof of your preference in this matter. We don’t make such elementary mistakes.’ with one finger he indicated that Chester should close the case. He did so and withdrew.

‘You see,’ Mr Charles was slow and deliberate, ‘I have no business trying to work with people who have no talent, and no integrity. There has to be a code if you will…. Because without a strong desire there can be no motivation. I am giving you a choice Mr Wright; and let’s see if you can work your way through the little puzzle I set for you. Either way I prove something useful. I am not in this to win…. not in the conventional sense. Winning is for greedy people. Money; Power…. Well they are all very well. But what about the secrets that no one can tell? The mysteries of the world Mr Wright; what about those?’

‘I think it sounds like you are a crazy person.’ said Sam, all the while trying to think his way out of this one.

Mr Charles laughed; ‘You really would like to believe that, but no. I am not. I am not even your enemy, not really. It’s all a game. Play the game.’

Sam felt strange then… as if something was invading his mind from the edges. He could feel something slipping sideways. The Muscle pulled Juliet away from him and there was nothing he could do.

‘Ten minutes will be all we need.’ said the Wiry Man, and stepping forward gripped Sam’s arm tightly. As he pulled his hand back from Sam there was a bead of blood where the man had pricked him with something. Sam staggered and dropped onto one knee. He tried to focus on Juliet but they were still pulling her away from him. He could feel the sweat rising and there was a buzzing inside his head. The floor floated up to meet him and then…..

Jared ran through the gallery. He was looking for the couple that Sam knew: George and Gina. He had seen them earlier… but they might be too close to the epicentre and be locked into the circle of effect that kept them temporarily outside of the alternate version of this reality. He slowed as he neared the second gallery. He could hear the chatter of happy guests and several flashes sprang out from people’s cameras. There was still time. The people were still bunched round the artists and their family and friends. The cohesion of this would go as soon as people started to dissipate around the building. And as soon as they left the effect would take full force. Those other people were not trying to steal someone’s art…. They were trying to steal someone’s whole life. In this case: Howard’s life and future. He breathed and tried to stay focused. There were too many people here, too many strands of the river of life clashing and burning in his mind. Mr Charles knew that. Jared thought this version of him did know. Was it the same man? He wasn’t sure if this was before he had known him or not. There was no sense that he, “John Grey” was a threat to him. So he must conclude it was before the whole thing got out of hand. In Mr Charles’ personal timeline this was early days. So then…. he needed to find his own counterpart. He slid to the edge of the doorway, careful to stay out of sight. He scanned the room. And then again just to make sure. He wasn’t there. Think!! Come on! Where was I that night? Just because the past can be changed doesn’t mean it has to be in this case…. either way; Jared needed to remember what he was doing that night… so long ago. And there was something of a blank being drawn. But think; where would I be? Then it occurred to him where, and he quickly skirted the doorway and dropped down to the outer reception areas.

George and Gina stayed near the crowd and George tried unsuccessfully to speak to Kyle. Nothing at all outside; the rain was falling and a rumble of thunder was heard. George spotted the man who had been hanging around near the woman Sam had identified; that fellow with the superficial air of confidence. He looked like an actor who has been given an annoying role to play and George made straight for him, much to Gina’s dismay. She was busy collecting more cocktails and turned to find George had moved. She followed. The person of Alastair was at that moment turning round and round trying to find Vega. She was not where he had left her. George put a hand on his sleeve and stopped him spinning.

‘That will not do you any favours later in the evening my friend.’

Alastair stared at him then let out a long breath. ‘I swear to God that I will not get involved in anything like this again if you help me find my girlfriend. I promise. I don’t know where they are…. But she is with them I’m sure. I think this has gone far enough…. She is not a bad person, not really….’

‘Whoah! Slow down,’ said Gina who had stepped forward, and then said: ‘I know you! You’re the instructor!’

‘No! I mean I’m not supposed to tell.’

‘You said you didn’t want to be involved a minute ago?’ George was heavy and urgent sounding, ‘Can you see Sam Gina?’

‘No. but I’ll have a look if you like. Our darling Sam will be with that new skinny student creature. Looks likes she needs a few cheeseburgers if you ask me!’

Alastair eyed Gina’s rather low cut revealing décolleté and then looked up at George, ‘I don’t know if this helps. But he did say I should be out of here by half past eight, with Miranda.’

‘Miranda?’ George glanced at a nearby program.

‘Not that Miranda. It’s Dr Miranda Vega, my girlfriend.’

‘Your girlfriend?’ George seemed doubtful.

‘Yes. Black dress with little sparkles here…’ he pointed at his shoulders, ‘about five foot eight, but with really high heels. But she might have taken them off. She was getting very drunk.’

‘The redhead?’ asked Gina sucking on a straw.

‘Err, yes.’

‘Right,’ said George, ‘if you’re on the level I’ll help you get your girlfriend and go. But if you get in the way, I’m afraid I’ll be forced to shoot you.’ Here George leaned closer and just opened his jacket slightly so that Alastair could see, ‘Got it?’

‘Absolutely; definitely.’ Green nodded energetically.

‘Good boy.’ said George and patted him on the shoulder with one hand, ‘Now where are you going to be?’ and then on spotting the bracelet, ‘My friend will take that. If you don’t mind. Gina!’

‘Yes dear!’ said Gina and put her glass down on a nearby table. She took Alastair’s wrist, ‘don’t worry,’ she said ‘this won’t hurt a bit.’ The bracelet dropped off instantly into Gina’s hand and she secreted in her bag before he could object. George led him away towards the cloakrooms. And having convinced him to collect his coat from a very confused cloakroom assistant who had just seen him come in ten minutes since, they went into the entrance hall. ‘Just sit here.’ said George and put his hand on Alastair’s shoulder. There were a few people sitting out there already. George leaned and pressed on the right spot and Alastair slumped in the seat. George went to one of the Security Men. ‘Keep an eye on him fellas. Don’t let him leave, even if he does wake up before we go.’

‘He’s with you Mr Carter?’ said the biggest of the three who patrolled the doorways.

‘He is now.’ said George and gave them a card with his chosen taxi firm’s number, ‘give me about half an hour.’

‘Very good Sir.’

Jedden didn’t want to get mixed up in some else’s mess. But Howard! That was different; it was personal. Howard had been helping him. And if the long shot paid dividends, he wouldn’t need Mr Charles and his sad little hangers-on any more. So the realisation that it was Howard that was really in trouble motivated him. He stopped in his tracks thinking quickly, why do the obvious? Mr Charles had anticipated everyone’s move; he could see a little way ahead and he could read someone’s intentions and press their buttons really effectively. He was a magician of sorts, he had a power over those whose will was weak, and he manipulated the rest. He never seemed to be doing it though. Working with him was like getting tangled up in spider webs. But Jedden knew that what Mr Charles really wanted was a fit antagonist to his genius mind. Jedden couldn’t be bothered, and Howard wasn’t a traveller, so could not do so. But this other, this John Grey…..he might be that man. Mr Charles must sense his presence…. Or did he? Jedden needed a dice roll: a random act to determine his next move. So he turned and approached the first woman he saw and asked her for directions.

‘What?’ she said, and staggered on her heels slightly, ‘Which way? The way out you Gorgeous Thing? Would you like to come home with me?’ she blinked in a mascaraed flash of bright blue eyes. She was drunk and slurring and clearly thought she was winking. ‘No thank you,’ Jedden replied, ‘but I appreciate the offer.’ Being called gorgeous helped him feel slightly less depressed too. But he started to quickly go to the entrance by the shortest route. And then he saw the other one! He stopped, blinked and realised in an instant what was happening to the time line. This John Grey…. A crafty bugger he was…. There were two of him… and here was the younger, and apparently drunker of the two.

‘Are you alright?’ Jedden asked.

‘I think so.’ Jay sat heavily on a chair in the corridor, ‘do I know you? I mean you are familiar.’

Jedden looked at him and for once didn’t feel out of place. He sat down next to him. ‘I’m a friend of Howard’s. Hello. I was just getting away from the party for a moment. What about you?’

‘Also Howard’s….pet artist. I’m sick….as in dying of germs. I hope that no one else gets it. Howard has done his best, but I really want to go home now.’

‘Aren’t your family taking you back home?’

‘No. I was planning on getting a taxi…. But I have to say bye to my Sisters, or they will not forgive me tomorrow.’

‘Yes, or course.’ Jedden smiled thoughtfully, ‘I say… do you know someone called John Grey. I think he might perhaps be related to me…. Sorry. Jedden Grey. I know it’s a bit late in the day for introductions.’

‘No, that’s alright,’ said Jay, ‘I don’t usually get introduced to people; they act like they already know me. It can be very confusing. Especially if they really do already know me and I haven’t remembered who they are…’

‘Tricky.’ said Jedden,

‘Very.’ Jay leaned back against the wall, ‘Christ I’m tired.’

Jedden made a face. He didn’t like that kind of profanity. Jay saw his expression, ‘Sorry. I’m just so whacked.’

At that moment John Grey came round the corner and saw them both together. Jedden immediately stood. Jared (John Grey) took in one swift glance the scene and moved forward. He frowned and seemed concerned. He spoke to Jay: ‘Are you alright?’

‘Not really. What are you doing here?’

‘You saw me earlier remember?’

‘Umm… yeah. I guess. Did you see Karis or Janey?’ Jay looked up at him with an innocent wide-eyed expression and then broke into a fit of coughing.

‘At a distance…. But not recently….’ Jared replied, and lightly touched Jay’s shoulder.

‘Look, I hate to break up the mood,’ said Jedden, ‘but isn’t there someone who needs saving from themselves?’

Jay looked up at Jedden, ‘Do you two know each other?’

‘In a manner of speaking.’ then to Jared, ‘That was a sweet trick you pulled, I’d like to know how you did it?’

‘Another time,’ said Jared, ‘but right now we have to put things back how they were. And I should not need to remind you the consequences of getting yourself involved in something like this and making the wrong choices?’

Jedden laughed a little nervously, ‘You know who I am?’

‘Maybe,’ said Jared, ‘maybe not. But either way, we are both in need of what Howard can do for us. So are you willing to help?’

‘Yes,’ Jedden frowned, ‘what about him?’ he turned to the younger man who still sat on the chair.

‘Excuse me.’ said Jay and got up and rushed into the toilets.

‘Don’t you need to see how he is?’ Jedden asked.

‘He’s a grown man,’ said Jared, ‘and he can puke quite effectively without anyone’s assistance.’

Five minutes later Jay sat in the cloakroom. The girl whose job it was to look after coats, rather than people, was more than happy to be left in charge of Jay. She used the little kitchenette at the back and made him a mug of tea.

‘Do you need to take a ticket?’ Jay asked before they left.

‘Don’t be funny.’ said Jared, ‘I’ll have to live up to it later.’

They skirted the edges of the party that was not showing any signs of dissipating. Jared saw George but though it best if they found out what had happened to Sam in the intervening few minutes. He didn’t entirely trust Jedden, and with good reason, but there was only a short time left until the cohesion of the anchor to the former version of time snapped. The dust and ashes of Howard’s life would come crashing down around his ears, like so many dreams that die in the morning light.

They neared the place, and things shimmered with uncertainty. Jedden, who wasn’t as used to this kind of time bending disruption as Jared, slowed to a walk and stopped as he got to the edge of the room with the painting in it.

‘You stay here then.’ Jared said, and Jedden nodded, not sure of what to make of the rippling undulating bands of colour that were flowing out of the place like an acid attack of the mind.

As for Sam, he was seeing something similar; and even though every habit of the mind, and every sense that told him the truth, said that he was trying to work out the thing had been pumped into his system and was affecting him internally; something told him what actually what was happening was that those ribbons and rainbows of light were out of another bending of reality initiated by Mr Charles. He raised his head from the floor and moved it from side to side to try to clear his mind. He decided to put his shirt back on and then his tie and jacket. The people were still there somewhere. Perhaps here; but not here in the conventional sense. What had he learned about physics? That two things cannot occupy the same space at the same time. Well apparently that was proved to be nonsense. Or was the space in another reality? Was it a completely different space entirely, which meant that the original space was still there somewhere? Perhaps the whole thing was a matter of perception. But no…. it could not be that. A puzzle; Mr Charles had said. And this was like a maze. A Time Maze… So what to do? How to find Juliet; save Howard; and get back home to Camille? He had forgotten his vision. And just when he remembered- there she was again!! Now he thought he really was seeing things. Across the other side of the room the group waited to see what Sam would do. Vega had gone now. And Gorman would arrive soon. And the news that he gave them would close the loop forever. Unless someone could change it before that happened. As long as they didn’t sense the one who closed the loop; events could in fact still change. But then again sometimes it was just impossible. At that moment they saw the Cat.

Jedden and Jared saw it too. From a distance trotting round the sculptures like a mini Wookie in ice-cream land, was Camille, full of fish and determined to go back to the garden. She had set her sights on another visit to the nice girl. The little girl who looked like good fun and ought to be ready to play as soon as possible.

Mr Charles saw the animal, and was consumed with fury; not against the Cat, but against the carelessness of the people. The power packs had enough power to make this possible. And suddenly as if a curtain had been ripped from a window a ripple of another world travelled like a wave through the room. The presence of the Cat banished the frame of reference that had any other meaning put into it by Mr Charles and his brood of conspirators. They all cringed as she approached and seemed determined not to let her touch them. Simon had been back for two minutes and he saw it first. He felt the air move as Camille strolled past, and the static charge of her fur crackling with the tension in the air. The lights seemed to burn dimly and the crawliest feeling of disquiet climbed up the back of several of the people there. Camille, who was pretending not to be aware of the commotion she had inadvertently caused; looked for the gap in reality that would take her back to the garden and the little girl: the new playmate.

Sam held out his hand and then Camille saw him, and with a little Meow trotted over to him. Sam hugged Camille gratefully as she plonked herself on his knee, right where he sat in the middle of the floor.

‘Wait!’ Jared called. But it was too late. A Cat related reality closed around Sam. Jared walked right into the room and nearly slap into Rhett the Muscle.

‘Crikey!’ he muttered, and wondered what he could do to play it straight. Should he let the events flow around him as they will, or should he step into the fray now? This was difficult. And as for the man Jedden, he wasn’t going to be easy to cooperate with. He was afraid of Mr Charles, or at least in awe of him. And this was not a situation that Jared had similar feelings about at all. He feared only one person. And it was someone he thought he had met but he really wasn’t sure any more.

‘Just dropping in?’ A wiry and wrinkled but bright-eyed man touched the edge of Jared’s consciousness. It was amazing that they could have done this all by themselves. They therefore must have realised that nothing can come without a price. Nothing can take out the poison, except if their sin is being freely wiped out of the past. One person’s failure might be another’s success. But people don’t always see the obvious.

Howard slipped into his office and felt around in the drawer for the bottle he always kept in there. Whisky. He found a tumbler and after going to the little kitchen space and dribbling a little water he poured in the spirit. He sat there in the semi-darkness and wondered: Why? There was nothing more to be done. It was all so predictable. Nothing made sense anyway. He would let her go, the excellent PA. Her reference would be the one thing that would not be a work of fiction. Everything else; even the damning news reports and reviews would be all stirred up with the thrill of the condemnation that comes from and overenthusiastic use of the English language in times of stress and excitement.

Howard sighed heavily and stared out into the night. It was quiet, too quiet. All the guests had started to drift out now. Soon it would all end. The exhibition would continue of course. But in its present form it could not fail to win him some very dubious comments. He found the gun that he kept in the bottom drawer beneath the other secret stuff. In the drawer that was always kept locked. He laid it on the desk: a remnant of other times. And something he hadn’t quite been able to let go of…. It is all such a game…. Play the game Howard. Play the game…. He suddenly was bolt upright. Someone was there in the room. They moved forward. Howard kept his hand on the gun that was on the edge of the desk, but didn’t pick it up. It wasn’t loaded anyway. He quickly slipped it back in the drawer as the man became visible.

‘Oh it’s you.’ said Howard dully. He slammed the drawer shut.

‘That’s not at all friendly.’ said the little Wiry man.

‘It’s not intended to be.’ Howard looked at him bleary eyed. Being saved from a poetic suicide by an intruder made him feel even more despondent.

‘We can make this all better.’ said the wrinkled little guy. He sat down in the comfy chair opposite.

‘We?’ Howard laughed bitterly, ‘Who is this we? I don’t see any magician pop out of the floor. What is it this time?’

‘Where is your PA?’ said the little guy ignoring Howard’s tone.

‘That is not your concern,’ Howard smoothed his hands over his diary, ‘but coming into my office is my concern. I want you to go. Right now.’

The man did not move but his face changed, ‘Ah! So that is what it takes. That is how far we can push you.’

‘Fuck off.’ said Howard and seemed to grow and his expression became dark and thunderous.

The little guy stood. ‘I really did want to help you know.’

Howard wrenched himself to his feet and grabbed the letter opener and strode round the desk. The little man backed off his eyes bulging with alarm. Too far. Too, too far. Interaction was not his intent. And this was a mistake. He left immediately closing the door quietly behind him. Howard collapsed in a chair and actually cried. The last journalist had uttered one phrase that would sting his soul forever: “Don’t waste my time….” That gutter press rat with mouldy ink for blood thought himself better than Howard! It was the last straw. Howard took out the gun and very deliberately started to load it.

Juliet found herself in daylight in a room, tied to a chair. She immediately felt it her duty to get untied as quickly as possible. Either the people who had done the knots were not very good at it, or they were quite happy to let her escape. She slipped out of the room ten minutes later and then out of the old cottage. She walked out into the landscape. There was nothing to be seen. Just hills and sheep; and lots of nothing. No one was there and then she found to her dismay there was no telephone, and no village nearby. And it was also fairly chilly. She looked to the horizon and saw a mist rolling in. There…. She ran back upstairs and looked out. She was in a cottage on a hill by the sea, high up. She guessed that perhaps it was a remote part of Scotland. She realised that this was the only thing she was supposed to have for a very long time. There was no communication with the outside world and nowhere to go. She inspected the cupboards, and looked in the pantry in the place and found it well stocked. But that was it. She went outside and found tire tracks in the mud. She found a coat in a closet and boots that fitted her, and after making herself a mug of tea decided to start walking. There was no way she was going to wait around to see what happened next.

Sam was he thought, in the same (?) reality as when things started to go wrong. He was alone. And he had the strongest suspicion he would not see anyone again unless he got this case solved. He was still wearing the bracelet. This might be the one thing that could in fact help him. He remembered the power packs in his freezer compartment and thought about the risks and then thought about the consequences of, a: Doing something dangerous, b: Not doing something dangerous, c: Stopping and thinking too hard about this when a lot was a stake; and anyway, whether the fate of his friends depended on him or not, he was jolly well going to try to unravel this one.

He took a taxi. A few people were milling around, but no one he recognised. In ten minutes he was home and staring in to the abyss that was the pile of frozen haddock, the petit pois, and a large carton of strawberry ice-cream that was about two months old. And of course the plastic bags wrapped around the power packs and the money. Sam stared outwards and lit a cigarette, the first in hours….Mmm….he thought about The Sandwich, and the Girl who Didn’t Get Sick. There was something going on there. Someone had brought germs back from somewhere. And the reason one does not get sick? 1.Previous exposure; 2.Inoculation; or 3.Natural immunity. Juliet; in Wales; on a dig. Sam dragged up a chair, switched on his computer, and made coffee. Now he was using his brain, now it all started to make some sort of crazy sense.

The only person who was still actually not catching on to what was happening was Holly. Still obsessing about not being allowed onto the watery experiments that Mr Charles had moved out to some remote spot, had got her riled. So as Jared backed off she caught him by the arm.

‘I think you need a little lesson in being helpful.’ she said, ‘You will give me what I want.’ Mr Charles and the others didn’t try to stop her. She glanced sideways and gasped seeing Jedden just by the doorway. He stepped forward and didn’t pretend not to know her as there was no point in it.

‘I’ll take it from here.’ he said. Jared said nothing but twisted his arm round and flung Holly towards him. She fell into his embrace. And although it was actually rather annoying she felt quite pleased to be the centre of attention again. Jedden took a bracelet out of his pocket. He snapped it on her wrist.

‘There are some things that can only be learned by experience.’ he said. Then, with a terrible and angry yell he flung her into the time stream. Holly’s scream of surprize was swallowed up in the rushing roaring noise like a huge waterfall. The preprogrammed destination clicked in. Jedden had pushed enough energy in there to activate it. And he was still pushing on her and she could feel his arms and his strong grip, and then as the acceleration took hold he eased her away from him. She looked at him desperately as the colours of time swirled around her.

‘You didn’t tell me.’ she gasped.

‘A Traveller never tells.’ he said, ‘especially where I come from.’

‘Is that where we are going?’

‘No Miss. Not there. We are going in the opposite direction, and we are getting faster. See!’

The colours blurred into one and the sound dropped. Jedden waited for about thirty seconds more until the flow was steady and the bracelet had locked onto its destination. He could felt that click. He pulled one hand off her and then was holding with just his left hand on her arm.

‘Don’t let go!’ she said, realising what he was doing.

‘Why? I am not yours. I am nothing to you remember? I am just another Man who is to be used. There is only one woman who will ever command me!’

‘Where is she?’ Holly asked hoping he would stay with her and keep talking. But he did not reply. She grasped his sleeve. He very deliberately detached her, and then all at once released her. She accelerated beyond anyone’s reach and Jedden slowed and caught his breath and began to reverse his course. He had to find Howard and help if he could. He was involved now. And being neutral was no longer an option.

Gorman had followed the instructions. He was quite certain that he had done neither no more or no less than was expected. He had talked to Howard. He had given him the envelope. He had waited and gone back the next day, and then pressed him for an answer. Howard had succumbed just as Mr Charles had predicted. He had agreed to the first of the month being a date to meet his new sponsor and then they would work together to make Howard successful….for a small share of course. It all went well and things were going his way. It worked for three years and the fourth was not so good. But as Howard put this down to the recession and people’s taste changing; the little man could quietly get on with dripping his poison into Howard’s ears. The only ones they could not dislodge from Howard’s company were the two friends who proved to be tolerant and stubborn. Also the PA whose loyalty was so much, that she endured Howard’s ranting and swearing at the high changeover of staff. They all pulled sickies just to get away from him and if Howard found out; despite Angelika’s best efforts they would get sacked on the spot. And in the time just before they got near to any new Exhibition he was particularly irascible. But then there was Jay; similarly someone who could not be dislodged from the timeline of Howard’s fate. Why? Because he was more than just a Traveller. As for Sam…. well his relationship with Howard wasn’t frequent and Howard valued the point of view of his “Innocent” as he called him. As for Jedden; a regular crook he seemed, and right up Howard’s street. But most of his choices were unwise and his friendships did not last, and if any woman he had dated spread rumours about him, he would ruthlessly crush them in court as a necessity. It only took a couple of bad reviews to start to turn the otherwise opportunist press again him. There was no slack in the line, no give. In this reality there was no forgiveness for those who made the wrong choices. Jedden walked back into the darkened room wondering if he was too late. Howard was sat in the chair. The gun was in his hand, a bottle of whisky by his side. He was rambling to himself. A strange pity awoke in Jedden. This was wrong. Even if the man had made a choice, he had been badgered into it. They had kept nudging him away from the light until he was dead inside. Howard stared at Jedden. Jedden sat down opposite him. There was nothing to do but wait until Howard decided to move. There was a trembling point of consequence that Jedden must not….could not interfere with. Life and death were not trifles. And as much as he now desperately wanted him to live he could not stop him. Howard had to make the choice freely. Jedden knew then, as he watched Howard that his own life was like a reflection in that same bitter pool. And he was like Howard in that he needed to make some choices too. Perhaps this sitting and waiting was that: a vigil for those who are dying inside. That we should not accompany loneliness with denial but affirmation of its terrible power until the other can let themselves free of its clutches by reaching out a hand to us and coming back from out of the dark.

*****

Chapter Thirteen

Puzzle.

Mr Charles was satisfied. Vega had gone. Simon was stood there flapping like the crawling maggot that he really was. And Holly alarmingly had been dispensed with by those rather convenient arrivals. Jedden had gone again. But that was normal. He was a law unto himself and didn’t take kindly to Mr Charles affecting some control over him. He straightened his cuff and looked at Jared. The Man stood very still. He was breathing calmly and his weight was balanced on both feet as if ready to spring. The Wiry guy examined him, walking round him without touching him. Only Jared’s eyes moved.

‘You are trouble?’ Mr Charles spoke very quietly. The other’s eyes looked to him, and then away back to watching the small man. The small man beckoned Chester Brown forward.

‘What?’ Chester still carried the bag with the case of money.

‘No. Search his pockets.’

Chester looked alarmed, ‘But….’

‘Hingess will help.’ said Mr Charles. Rhett grunted with approval and Simon went forward. He did it systematically as he had been taught, and the captive did not object.

‘Very good,’ said the small man, ‘Now strip him.’

‘What?’ Hingess balked at this. He didn’t know what they had in mind for the stranger but this seemed off the record, and outside the plan.

‘Assistance?’ asked Rhett.

‘Yes.’ Mr Charles uttered that one syllable and the air in the room trembled. Chester stood back relieved to not be part of this, but watched them as they unfastened the long coat. The man stood so still, so silent, and did not struggle against them at all. The Stranger looked into Chester’s eyes, and Chester had to look away, his insides curdling with shame. This man had done nothing to be so humiliated.

Rhett and Hingess unlaced the ankle boots and then took off the dark shirt and the rather odd dark purple trousers.

‘Enough now.’ said Mr Charles. Rhett bent the man’s arms round so he was forced into a kneeling position. Inside Jared there was a ripple of memory as Mr Charles bent over him. Another time; another life. He closed his eyes for a moment. If this bought Sam time, it was worth it. He would not struggle, he would comply. He would abase himself for the love of friends and the saving of a man who he loved better than he realised. Howard had been there all the time. And this was one time that he could pay back that debt of gratitude for all those moment of encouragement, all those tall stories, all those bad jokes and singular moments of laughter. Logan….. Jared opened his eyes again. The sun was rising on a new day. The night…. They had shifted forward and sideways in time. Another dimension; and to six in the morning. The large windows bought with the dawn a small trickle of hope.

‘Come on Sam….’ Jared muttered.

‘You are looking to cheer your little friend on?’ The small Wiry one said, ‘Why not look around you? There is nothing left. The business failed five years ago. This place has been up for sale for a while. Once the sun reaches its zenith, then we can conclude that your friends have failed you. And that your plan will not succeed. Your time line is wrapped in his is it not?’

Jared looked up. He stared steadily at the man and the light broke in through the windows. This one did not look away. Jared’s gaze was hard to fight. His eyes were like the deepest whirlpool of elemental forces. He glanced at the wall where his painting had been. There was something there like a shimmer of the presence of that other place. And then he remembered the Cat! Sam’s cat. Where was she? She broke apart the pattern in unexpected ways. It could work to their advantage or against it. Rhett bent his arms up his back and he groaned.

‘Now,’ said the Wiry man, ‘you are going to tell us exactly where you are from and who you are working for.’

‘Nothing.’ said Simon who had finished searching the clothes again thoroughly.

‘Ah!’ said the man, ‘Careful are we? Well that makes it all the more interesting.’ He grabbed a handful of Jared’s hair and bent his head back. Chester looked away. The man placed his left hand against Jared’s face, his finger tips on points on his forehead and cheek and lower down on the short stubble. A small gasp escaped their victim’s lips. A realisation. The little man nodded to Rhett who pulled Jared’s arms down into a more comfortable, but also more secure position. They used cable ties to fasten his wrists together and the same round the ankles. Jared felt faint then, and wondered what the man was capable of. He knew himself and his powers of resistance. He wouldn’t tell them anything. In fact the longer they delayed moving from this place, the better Sam’s chances became. In time; every minute could potentially add a day to the time in the other place. And advantage. He was frightened though, because someone who knew about the Travellers would also know this…. Perhaps he was just being played after all. And all this was just another experiment. He groaned as the full knowledge of his endangered position kicked in.

‘Yes…..Yes.’ said the Wiry guy, ‘Very good indeed. So much going on in there; very hard to read; very difficult. We have netted us a Big Fish. A Very Big Fish it seems.’

As the sun rose Sam spread his print outs and notes on the kitchen table. Still no cat. He had worked through the night with the fevered intensity of a man who knows that his life as he knew it might depend on what he was doing right now. He shut the thought of what was happening to Juliet out of his mind. Logically she was alright, and she could take care of herself. So there was only one reason for parting them…. so that he would have to work this out on his own. The thought occurred to Sam as he rubbed his face and boiled the kettle, just as it had occurred to Jared that this was an experiment on a much larger scale. A life for a life. Sam could succeed where Howard had fallen. But was that it? He was being made to comply…. But this was not just a simple thing; there was more to this than just time travel. Not the enemy? Surely not! He was a bad man, and in Sam’s eyes would remain so. All this was cruel in the extreme. Soon he would find within himself the strength to think a little outside the box, and then discard the box altogether. He found the information on the woman Holly’s paintings as well. Sam discounted nothing; he sat in his kitchen as the light level rose and another fine day came into being.

Juliet was eating a sullen breakfast. She had followed the track until it disappeared onto stonier ground and the elevation had made it difficult because of the cold and the gathering mist. She returned to the cottage as twilight fell and fastening the latches on all the doors, had then built up a fine fire. It wasn’t so bad. She was warm and comfortable and in no immediate danger. But frustration had turned to anger and her desperation had, rather like Sam’s been supplanted with cold hard logic. They needed her out of the way. That Vega woman…. she had said something about someone wanting to see her…. Was that it? They wanted her for these experiments. It sent a chill up her back and she built up the fire. Perhaps this was the experiment. Perhaps. To survive. She did some calculations. There was enough food and fuel for two months. And she wasn’t a girl who couldn’t work out how to survive should the worse come to the worst. She found clothes, and tools in an outside shed and plenty of chopped wood. They meant to strand her here… that must be it. Just keep her out of the way, without actually harming her until that whatever it was had run its course….. Juliet shook her head… it couldn’t be that simple? Could it? She realised that the sickness that had affected the theatre people and the staff at the Viridian Gallery might have been something that was set to deliberately change the circumstances of the situation. The difference was simple. The theatre performance had been stopped. But the gallery opening had gone on. Howard had got the staff from somewhere. Why get the regular staff out of the way? It must mean…. There were to be as many strangers or people who had no previous connection with Howard around him as possible…. This wasn’t just one thing but many. And it was like a web of nightmares and dreams. One wrong step and you could end up anywhere. She had ended up anywhere!! Here. What to do? Tool up and get walking? No. It looked like the weather was bringing clearer sky behind it. She would look at the stars tonight. The stars did not lie. She could work out position and direction. Then tomorrow, with a reasonable knowledge of the area….strike out of the homestead and head to the nearest town or village.

Sam looked at it all again. He took out of the arrangement anything that seemed irrelevant, or silly. He looked at it again. No. He looked at all the silly things, then all the deadly serious things. In sickness and in health…. He shook his head. And the throb behind the eyes was heightened by this. Time for a fag…

Sam stood on his balcony and stared out across the roof tops. The early morning air was refreshing and gave him a level of clarity despite the lack of sleep. He clicked his lighter again. And something else flared in his mind. That something should be worth a little sacrifice? What did no one have any control over? Ah! He breathed in and took in the smoke and felt the kick of the nicotine. A pattern forming, so simple; so audacious; and so clear. This was all nonsense. Now it seemed so simple. At each point a decision had been made. And each decision rested on other decisions. And all things went back in a chain to the beginning of any given person’s life. So the paintings were painted by someone. And the tea was picked by a tea picker. And the cocktails were made by a man who knew his art. And the Sandwich was eaten by someone who was hungry? Yes. Not a crook…. No. A victim then: someone on the run who didn’t have time to pack. It was there, so he took it. He dumped the money and ran. And that was where he could hide it. He hadn’t come back for it. Juliet had found it….Maybe he had been stopped. Sam had the information in front of him now. The man…. Joseph Drucker, the scientist who vanished into thin air. And it made the papers in the local area. When? First of August Nineteen Ninety-Nine…. Hey! Sam was startled to realise it was his own birthday. He put that thought to one side and kept trying to see connections. The program for the show; he still had one in his pocket. He looked at the information. And then read all the artist’s biographies. There! August the first….Nineteen Ninety-nine…. Weird or what? He and Jared shared the same birthday. And the date the scientist disappeared….The same day. The beginning of a mystery that had no answer. And the silting up of years and the expectation of the assistant that the scientist would be found had died within the time it took for them to archive the case. But he found her details…. She lived here; in London. Sam found the address and his car keys and went out.

George and Gina sat near to the artists. Geraldine sat with them glass in hand and chatted very amiably with Gina. Gina was watching George out of the corner of her eye. She had so much buzzing round in her head she felt like it would burst. She felt chic and sexy, and like a heroine in a thriller who always managed to look alluring however many times she had to run through corridors or climb down the outside of high buildings… all the time wearing one’s high heels with amazing panache.

‘I do so like your ensemble.’ said Geraldine.

‘My what? Oh yes…. It’s by that new young designer Hershel Reed.’

‘Really! I hear he is very exclusive.’

‘I’m in promotion and advertising. I went to his show. He said I was a perfect Ten. I will have to introduce you. I think you have the right body shape for Hershel. He likes his women with exaggerated curves.’

‘That’s me!’ Geraldine grinned and swigged her drink, ‘You do know I’m George’s big sister?’

‘Err… no. I thought you were twins of something. You seem very forthright.’

‘I grant you that we share the same enthusiasm for all things unusual. I’m well preserved. One might say even peculiarly youthful. But there you go! I do what I love. I embrace life with Joy and abandon. And smile at all possible opportunities. That’s why Howard loves me. I like to smile for him. It’s good for the promotional side of it. Good continuity. They think… the journalists that is, if Howard can’t frighten me off, he must be alright!’ Geraldine put down her empty glass, ‘You might be able to help me for my show in Sheffield. Do you work that far north?’

‘Definitely,’ said Gina, ‘we do tours and all sorts of promotions; even book premiers and parties, all that sort of thing.’

‘Perhaps you should say hello to Annalise.’ Geraldine casually pointed, ‘we can always use a friendly face. By the way; how long have you and my brother been dating?’

‘Err…’ Gina did not want to tell a porky-pie to the very open and friendly Big Sister. She was saved by George himself who bent over them both and put down two more glasses.

‘Treat time?’ asked Geraldine.

‘Of course.’ said George.

‘So you two…’ said Geraldine sipping the fresh Illusions, ‘do tell!’

‘Ah!’ said George, and put his arm round Gina’s shoulders, ‘we have quite a thing going. She is a challenging woman who can deal with anything.’

‘Wow!’ was all Geraldine said. George moved away to talk to some of the other people nearby. Geraldine rolled her eyes at Gina.

‘What is it?’ asked Gina, who despite the blunting effects of the alcohol was very much awake to the nuances of any relationship related fall out.

‘My dear…. George has never said anything like that before…. In fact he doesn’t tell us about the girls he sees. We’d given up on him.’

‘Really?’ Gina was cautious.

‘It’s a family trait. I’m still single. There aren’t enough toy boys to go round. Do you know any available men?’

Gina smiled and rolled back her shoulders, ‘Well actually….’ she began.

Sam arrived and was let into the terraced town house by a surly looking lady who turned out to be the “help” who came in every Saturday to clean. Inside was a tidy place with a room that said “DO NOT ENTER” and “You WILL be Experimented On with Extreme Prejudice.”

A tired looking studious woman in a green smock and sneakers opened the door to Sam.

‘It’s fine. A leftover from my student days. It does seem to work though.’ The other woman grunted and went to get her dusters.

‘Don’t worry about her. She’s just acts like that to get rid of people when I’m working….. So much to do; so little time.’ she turned and Sam followed her in the room.

‘I don’t want to intrude…’ Sam began.

‘You already have,’ said the other and ran her hands through rather short pale hair, ‘let’s get the introductions out of the way first and then you can tell me why you want to know about Joseph.’

‘I….’ Sam was at a loss, ‘….think I might be in trouble.’

‘No shit?’ she stuck out a strong looking hand, ‘I’m Sam Parker. Ex assistant and total freak, and you are?’

‘Umm…. Sam Wright, Detective and in a situation most people wouldn’t believe.’

‘That’s about the size of it.’ said the other Sam eyeing him speculatively, ‘Look, just for the sake of convenience you can call me Parker. It reminds me of the good old days. And I HATE Samantha. It is just too icky for words to describe. Are you just Sam?’

‘Yes. Just Sam. Not shortened at all.’

‘Lucky Bunny! Well let’s have a swig of coffee me old all-nighter and then you can ask the questions that I probably am not supposed to answer…. Official secrets act and all that. But what the hell! It’s all in a good cause.’

‘Okay.’ Sam sat down. Five minutes later it was all making so much sense he thought he had found the mysterious city of gold. Parker told him the story and asked him to wait to the end to ask questions or back track and get out more detail on a point. So when she sat back and looked at him he didn’t quite know what to start with.

‘Most people ask me if I’m sure he didn’t just leave by conventional means. They imply, if they are nasty that I was trying to get some notoriety by lying about the whole thing… but he’s been missing for years without a word. He just wouldn’t do something like that…. unless he had a really good reason.’

‘I believe you.’ said Sam, ‘I think we may be coming at the same thing from two different ends. I have a problem. Like an experiment. As in I’m the experiment, the test subject. And I don’t know how much time I have until I run out of time….’ He held out both hands helplessly.

‘Well…’ said Parker slowly, ‘we might be useful to each other.’

‘You believe me?’ said Sam.

‘Yes…. I thought something would happen today. It has that effect on you. The particles, I mean. You do know about them don’t you? They do something to your perception of time. I think it’s irreversible. You just see things differently that’s all. Or perhaps they don’t do anything to you. They just stop the blockage that makes you not see what you can see. It’s a way of seeing. And not everyone who is exposed to the particle ends up understanding what is going on in that way.’

‘So some people are special. They have an innate awareness of time effects?’

‘Yes. Very good. You studied science. I can tell. You think in the right way. The art of it… it’s science. And the science of it: it’s art. It’s all a bit weird. You meet a really strange person and they live in your mind. It’s like they are outside of the normal social world and they are someone who is looking at things from a completely odd vantage point. Do you know what I mean?’

‘I think I do.’ Sam looked round at the chaos of the room and the bright white shelves.

‘It’s not here.’

‘What?’

‘The records of the research. My house insurance would not cover the value of it.’

‘So where?’

‘You don’t need it.’ she said and smiled, ‘You have everything you need already. You just need to realise it. That’s all.’

‘I don’t know.’ Sam felt that the moment was slipping away. And he was so tired.

‘Go home. Get some rest. Nothing is going to change. But just remember, whatever you do decide to do; make it the right thing. Drucker took the wrong door. I didn’t dare take the door at all. And then something bad happened. He might never return. But even if I never know what happened to him. I must insist that no one else ends up like he did.’

‘So you won’t really help me.’

‘Like I said. You have everything you need. You just need to work out how to use the power you already have.’

‘You can see it?’

‘Yes. I can. It’s like a bloody Christmas Tree. Just don’t hang around too long in a dimly lit room. Someone might notice. Time to go Mr Wright. And if you do see Joseph any time soon. Tell him he still owes me lunch!’

‘I… err. Thanks.’

‘Don’t be sad. I’m better than this. It’s all been a bit trying. You understand. Call me if you want some more pointers. You need to get on now Sam. Time is pressing.’

A few minutes later Sam found himself outside the door. And try as he could he was stuck to think of anything but that empty bird cage that hung in the corner of the room. That and the mess. Weird…. Well it was all weird. He went to a café and ordered an omelette and a large coffee. He got out his lighter and put a notepad down on the table. It was at that moment that something literally clicked. The lighter produced the flame. Cause and effect. It was a symbol. Fire…. What did it mean?

Sam walked to the Theatre. He had parked the car a few streets away. This was the place. It was quiet. And it was eerie. He saw that the side door was open. Led by a compelling force to find the source of this strange anomaly he ducked down the corridor. A few staff were moving around and paid no attention to him. He slid into the locker area easily. It was there: Juliet’s locker. She had left nothing in it after the incident. There were other things missing too. He had a list. The things had all gone missing either from this room, or from the costume room. Someone had taken what they needed? He took out the list. Juliet had been quite detailed and Sam had written everything down. There was no logic to what had been taken. Unless…. He got out his note book again. The theatre was old. It had been here before the turn of the century. It was a place of secrets and old things. There had to be a connection. There just had to be. The theatre was ten minutes’ walk from the Gold Exchange. The Viridian Gallery was across town; but it was on the bus route. Wait!! There was something. There was a shuttle service, the park and ride that had operated for some time and still did on special occasions. You could go free and it was one that had been used in that time too, when Drucker vanished. Did he dare use the computer in Juliet’s boss’s office? Yes. Better be ready with a plausible story in case someone came in. But this time Sam was feeling a little better, and being caught in here didn’t seem quite as dreadful as everything else. He found the room and went it. Desk, telephone, computer. Password protected? No. It was old and used by all the staff as they had need. This was a working office and programs and other paraphernalia were piled up all around.

Sam took a quick look and concluded that there was nothing on the computer. He shuffled through the desk draws. Nothing there either. So he sat down and stared at the ceiling. The place was painted white. It was as bright and fresh as it could manage to be given the age of the building. He moved suddenly. It wasn’t here. What he was looking for; Something old…. Something new, Something borrowed…. He started to walk down into the bowels of the old building. Where better to conduct experiments in time…. that in a place that would have existed back then in that time?

Sam found it. A door that had not been painted; a place that was left undisturbed and a room that was not accessible. What to do? Try his hand. George had given him the basics. Get a feel for it. He took out the picks. Time to test a supposition.

He jiggled the lock and flicked it carefully as George had shown him. Something moved. Then the next one…. Visualise it. Feel it. See with your fingertips. The tumblers moved and the door opened. Sam got out a small digital camera and started to document everything he saw. Piece by piece. He stepped carefully forward not touching or disturbing anything in the room. He would leave it as he found it, as far as he was able. A desk, a chair and something covered with a cloth. A bottle and glass; a desk lamp. Should he risk light? Yes. He found the switch…..and the room opened out and he saw that there were steps going down to another level to a huge room. There were benches, and things on the benches that he could not identify and something smelt strange. Like chemicals. Preservative? Something odd. He went forwards cautiously. There had been someone here. But no one had been here recently. All this was untouched and had been for years. But he looked and tried to picture what had happened. Could someone have been here and travelled in time and gone up into the building; and secreted the things they wanted to get rid of? And then took what they needed and then got away….? This was stupid! Sam turned back towards the door. Maybe it was just an old props room after all. But just at that moment something caught his eye: a pile of papers on a desk. They were stacked neatly and they seemed to be there for no particular reason, in the sense that they had just been left. Like extra copies of something. A print run that was more than needed. Something blue…..

Juliet set out with the intention of finding the nearest village, farm, town, or telephone. She looked out on a doubtful scene. It was chilly and cloudy. Would the mist come down? She would have to risk a little. She had no compass. But she had worked out that she was in the northern hemisphere. It was Scotland and those, bless their little woolly coats were Scottish sheep! Sheep meant a farm. And knowing that they ranged not more than six miles from their point of origin she set about to look for sheep paths; always the safe routes through the hilly places guiding her to a farm, she hoped. She packed enough food for three days, and extra warm clothes and anything else she could find without adding too much weight. She spent a little time making a flint and steel made from a row of lighter flints glued into a grooved piece of cane. It had a piece of hacksaw blade to strike it attached to the end of the cane with strong cord. The thought of being out at night did not thrill her. Last night had not revealed any light from distant towns glowing in the sky. But it might have been the weather blocking any reflection. Juliet set off by what she judged was about nine in the morning, and started to look for those little paths that the sheep took. She had to climb higher up to get over the hills and at last found a track. She followed it. It got colder and more unpleasant and a horrible damp misty rain began to fall. She walked for another hour and took a short break, drank water and ate some dried fruit. She would not be going back. Whatever happened, she wasn’t going to wait around until the people who had put her there came back to collect her. Perhaps they thought she was a proper city girl. But she doubted it. There was too much like interference; they knew her address and where she worked and they knew what she had worked on in the past. So the thing was to take a route that no one would suspect. As she walked on and the light came through and the clouds began to lift, she thought about Sam. Her first idea was to contact him as soon as she could get to a phone. But then reason kicked in. They had tapped her phone. So why not his too? So she thought about all the people she could ring. Who to talk to? Someone who was as unconnected as possible to this whole thing. Perhaps someone she hadn’t seen for years herself.

Camille had vanished into thin air. The air was not thin and neither was Camille. She crouched in the long grass and eyed a smooth mound. Something very insistently tickled her nostrils; yet she waited until the breeze dropped before she made her move. There was a movement in the clouds above and the sun came out. Camille went to investigate the stone tower… about three feet tall and well within reach of a determined leapt. She scrambled onto the top and walked round and round the warm patterned surface of the sundial. If Camille had been able to tell the time she would have seen that it was about half past three in the afternoon. And soon the little girl came and petted her. The child brought another who was curious and fed the creature small pieces of meat from their picnic boxes. Camille was enjoying the attention and went and sat on their rug. The boy was just as mystified as to what it was…. but it was friendly, so they made a pact to not tell the grown-ups. After all you could get yourself in to trouble for claiming that such things existed. Mythical creatures and all manner of odd things. At half past four they gathered the remains of their picnic together and bid adieu to their fluffy companion. Camille stood there uncertain of what to do. And then decided that the two ladies would be just as interesting and leapt from one dimension to another right in the middle of a thunder clap!!

There was the strongest flash of blue-violet light. And from the middle of the now more obvious tear in reality the Cat bounded into view. Several of the women nearby shrieked with surprize; only because it was accompanied by the stirrings of the electrical storm up above. Rain was hammering on the windows at the end of the gallery and the lights dimmed for a second.

Jayne stood up suddenly, but Claire gripped her hand. ‘No!’ she said rather sharply. People were running forward to see what had happened. Then it came; a visible ripple that travelled through the room.

‘Let’s see who is here.’ said Claire.

‘They won’t risk exposure.’ said Jayne and rather unsteadily regained her seat.

‘No… Look.’ Claire nodded slightly. Two people had started to close in calmly on the place. Other people were still looking for the furry animal that had appeared out of nowhere. George was across the other side of the room and he saw it too. ‘If you’re getting this Kyle….’ he said, and quietly described what he had seen as he prepared to intercept the two people who had moved in a purposeful way.

‘Good evening.’ said George to the two, a Man and a Woman. George watched those weird micro-signals travel across their faces. They knew. George had some background, and he had a good idea that there was a disaster of epic proportions waiting for them all somewhere. They turned and eyed him carefully. One was a relative of the Young Photographer Nikolas, the other…. George had seen his picture, and he knew he had something to do with that well-manicured man Ira Shore. But that one had left the gallery with his sycophantic bunch shortly before things got weird this evening… about twenty minutes ago.

‘Come with me.’ said George. The Man complied instantly. The woman flashed a look at the other for a second and turned away.

‘Now then,’ said George, as they stood on the stairs to the reception, ‘no nonsense. Don’t waste my time with anything like that.’

‘Howard is in trouble.’ said the other, ‘but there is nothing that I can do.’

‘Why not?’ George poked him in the ribs.

‘No one has left. They are all circulating round a central point. No one can get out… without breaking this present apart. If they leave…. If I leave; or you leave; It’s all over.’

‘What is?’

‘You heard me. Howard Logan is in trouble. We all just have to sit tight.’

‘I don’t buy that. What are you? Some kind of fluffy bunny the Traveller’s society left behind to watch it all fall apart?’

‘They are vicious creatures, actually;’ said the other, ‘and you should watch your back.’ George spun round to find Gorman coming towards him. Gorman saw him and changed direction; heading past the reception desk and thence the back way round to the cloakroom corridor. George started running. But the other was faster. He broke into a run and skidded round the next corner slamming a door in George’s face. George pushed through trying to watch for another sudden turn. They were pelting up the long narrow corridor the staff used to gain access to other areas of the Gallery. George lost sight of him and ended up near to the Men’s room. He wasted valuable time looking in there to make sure he hadn’t hidden in a stall. Then he had to double back to make sure Gorman hadn’t slipped past. Reception was empty. George took out the gun and started to stalk slowly back down the corridor. This was one time that he would have to be ready to damage someone. Maybe. He got to the end. Nothing. He slipped the Beretta back under his jacket. He was back on the edge of the party. Music played and people still milled round. But there seemed less of them. He went straight to Gina. ‘Any sign of the others?’

‘No. but there’s…’

‘We need to leave. Right now.’

‘Okay.’ Gina was quick to get a grip on the situation and didn’t question George. They headed round to the public area near the cloakrooms. ‘Just take mine too. And go to the biggest security guy in the foyer. Get a taxi home. Don’t question me. Just do it.’

‘You are scaring me George. What’s wrong?’

‘Almost everything. You need to go straight home. Lock your door and don’t leave until I call you.’

‘Right. I mean…. Alright.’ She tottered sideways uncertain. The check girl handed her the two coats.

‘Now go. It’s time we emptied this place.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’m sorry Gina. I’ll come round later and explain. But I need you out of harm’s way.’ They reached the top of the staircase. George nudged her forward and she walked down toward the security men and put on her best friendly smile. The huge beefy guy looked up towards George, who nodded a fraction. Gina was on her way. George waited a few minutes more until the taxi drew up outside and then turned back to find Howard’s office.

Sam was looking at the pile of large blue folded information sheets. A whole set of programs. He spread them out and marvelled at this discovery. Lots of different variations of the same event. Some seemed older than others. Some were yellowing. Some were freshly made and unused. Some slightly damaged and one ripped in half entirely…. Sam bent over and found a pen light in his pocket. Inside the program there was a tiny strip of silvery material, such as you might find inside the paper of a five, ten or twenty pound note. Like a fifty…? Sam pulled the program he had got at the exhibition out of his jacket. He picked at the edge in the same place. There it was…! Metal inside the paper. Invisible to the casual observer. Deliberately put there. It looked like steel, not silver. Just needed a magnet to test it. Surely it could not be Platinum? He didn’t waste any more time thinking about it. He got out of there and carefully relocked the door, even though it was a tricky thing to do. The delivery of the programs was from a printer who was near to here. Just round the corner from the restaurant where Gina had met up with him a few days ago. With a strange pang of concern he hoped that Gina and George were still alright. They were at the party and what this all might mean for them was way beyond his capacity to speculate on freely. So he headed for a phone box.

Phone directories were digital now. And the touch screen was made of a special kind of toughened glass. There it was…. Howard had regaled him at length with the exquisite quality of the programmes and the special orders that were fulfilled with such alacrity and fervour. Now Sam knew why. “Ingels Print and Design” he read and thought about what he would do when he got there. Better get a move on.

It turned out that the card stock for the covers had been delivered to the printers, and they had simply fulfilled the order. There was nothing in their records that would indicate who had originally supplied the card. There was a distribution company and a lot of other paper work with codes and references. But Sam had a knack for getting information in this way. They knew he was with Howard. And he was putting himself forward as potentially needing to fulfil an order for a client of his own. They accepted this. After all, it was all good for business. It was then than Sam made a rather startling discovery. The graphics and PR firm Blue Sky had a file as thick as you like for the same printing firm. Of course. They had things printed on a regular basis, what was odd about that? Sam flipped the file open on the desk while the man was waiting in the back room on the phone to get the info. from the central branch to find out where the special papers could be ordered.

Sam turned the whole file over and looked at the last entry in the order sheets. Bond 180gsm – Duck egg blue. And a firm somewhere in Scotland. He quickly closed the front of the file and stepped back. The man returned.

‘It’s a special printing and papermaking firm. They specialise in wood free pulp. Eucalyptus, Bamboo. Very unusual. They can do all sorts of special processes. This came down by the overnight train from Scotland. It’s a good job too. Especially after that derailment at York yesterday.’

‘The train was derailed?’ Sam began to feel a headache coming on.

‘Yes. It’s been on the news. Didn’t you see it?’

‘Can’t say so. Party last night…. you know.’

‘As you say.’ the man smiled and handed him the sheet with all the helpful notes.

Juliet was on the phone. She had got to a village after four hours of rotten weather and sheep poo. A Post Office! And even better a Tea Shop where she could dry out. She mentally thought of all the people who would be willing to help her. And came upon the oddest, most peculiar solution…. If this was tomorrow and time was weird… well the one person who could help her…. Juliet shook her head. If this was anything like reality she had obviously been leading a very sheltered life. After making the call she went to the sweet shop and got a packet of fudge. The woman told her they would square it up once the money was transferred. She could have lunch and get cleaned up. She went into the Tea Shop – lots of friendly wooden furniture and an open fire; and chocolate cake.

Sam lay down with a damp cloth on his head. The headache was getting worse. The advice of the scientist girl was about the only thing that stopped him from getting up and trying to work through the pain. What is it to be young! But even youth could not protect him from nearly thirty six hours without any sleep. He was tired…. so tired…..

Sam awoke with a start in monochromatic evening light. ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ he stood, swayed and sat down again on the settee. He heard the answering machine click and whirr and a voice he did not expect ever to hear again echoed into the darkness and greyness of this sickening moment of disorientation.

“Sam…. Sam are you there? Sam?” there was a pause, and then some other background noise. He stepped closer trying to make this out. There it was again that click and a silence. Was it a recording? Was it a trick? “Sam….are you there? Sam?.....I’m here. I think you can come home now….” Sam balled his right fist into the left palm. He waited and it clicked off. He sat down on the seat staring at the flashing light. He didn’t press the button to replay the message. He breathed, and remembered what he had to do. He went to the kitchen and put all the lights on, banishing the night. The silence, once so friendly got to him this time. And where was Camille? Then he remembered, she had gone. Somewhere? Nowhere? Perhaps it was himself who had gone? And everyone else was looking for him. Perhaps he was like Drucker, stuck in this Neverland trying to find the solution to the problem. Perhaps he was in that other reality with her. He shuddered. He made himself make coffee and biscuits and put them on the tray. He put on the TV, and set out the tray carefully in an ordered fashion. He thought logically about the problem and decided that tomorrow, whatever happened he would tell this Mr Charles what he could do with his reality. This was no fun… and that was the cruellest cut of all.

Jay had nodded off in the chair. And when the check girl prodded him, he was momentarily unaware of where he was. Then he remembered….

‘I think I have to go.’

‘He said you stay here.’ she pouted.

‘I’m not a kept man…. and my future self can go stick his head in a bucket of ice cubes….’ he pulled himself upright.’

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’

‘No. But then that might be to my advantage, don’t you think? I am a grown up. I think.’ he started off down the corridor towards the place that joined back into the buffet area and the cocktail bar.

George saw Jay and quickly came alongside him. ‘Do you know where Howard’s office is?’

‘Yes. Of course I do. But what is that to do with anything? What is going on? Where is everyone?’

‘They all left.’ George turned slightly. Everyone had gone except Jayne and Claire and that other Man who seemed determined to stay even if George was about to prod him in the ribs again.

‘Hello John.’ said Jay coldly.

‘Hello Mr Arden.’

‘You know this…. This…’ George was getting exasperated.

‘Cool it George,’ said Jay, ‘the girls have all been giving me the low down on you. You really are the dark horse aren’t you?’

‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Oh… no. Wait a minute; that was some other brother of Miss Cheery pants!’

‘Why are you behaving like this?’ George looked at him squarely.

‘My family have all gone. The party has finished and I just spent half an hour asleep in the cloak room. Do you think there might be a connection?’

‘Alright!’ George held up both hands, ‘I get the picture. Or rather you get the picture. I just need to understand it.’

Jay sighed, ‘I’ve heard that joke before.’

‘No Joke.’ said George, ‘We have some sort of Time Thingy going on. And you two…’ here he stabbed a finger at each of them in turn, ‘….know that is true.’

Jay sobered instantly, ‘Sorry. Yes. I’m just not very good at this.’

‘I thought you were?’ George looked up as the lights dipped again.

‘No…’ said Jay slowly, ‘that’s my other self. Where are all the staff?’

‘Didn’t you hear it?’ asked George.

‘Hear what?’

‘The fire alarm.’ said Jayne stepping forwards, ‘Look we can’t really do much. But we can’t actually be affected by what that Rat is doing either.’

‘The Rat cannot be named.’ said Claire joining the little group, ‘because we are all from different… well let’s just say that when you do find out you’ll know why.’

George frowned with irritation, ‘All this ninja kitty crap. I just want to stop this. Sam has disappeared. So has everyone else.’

‘Everyone will remember whatever version fits the facts they later take on board.’ said Claire, ‘It’s human nature.’

‘So what are you? Not human?’ George walked over to the bar and helped himself to the whisky.

‘You emptied the place.’ said Jay.

‘Cause and effect.’ said the other Man who had remained listening to the others.

‘And what is it to you?’ said George.

‘Everything. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

‘Try me.’ George pulled out the gun and checked it was loaded properly, and then took a gulp of the whisky. He seemed to calm down. ‘It’s okay. I get it now. I just don’t like it that’s all. Being on the program. Part of the pet scientists. In with a reasonable chance of making the obituary column before my time.’

‘You’ll live.’ said the one Jay had called John.

‘Don’t.’ said Claire.

‘Sorry.’ said the other man, ‘but where I come from the rules are different.’

‘You’re with that lot from the society.’ said Jayne.

‘No. I’m not.’ He held out a hand to George. The two women looked at each other. George regarded him with an amused air of indifference. Jay shook his head as if to clear it. ‘This isn’t my timeline.’ he said, ‘This is a divergence away from what it would have been. That’s why I saw him earlier tonight. He’s trying to stop this too.’

‘Who is?’ said the man called John.

‘I am…. My future self is. He came to see me…. It changes everything.’

Jayne and Claire looked at each other, and then simultaneously stepped to either side of Jay and both took one arm.

‘He’s telling the truth.’ said Claire.

‘He’s definitely telling the truth. And some.’ said Jayne.

‘So John,’ said George, ‘what truth are you going to tell us?’

‘I’m from the future.’ said John, ‘It’s John Briar. I’m here to help. But the society will kill me if they find out.’

‘You mean literally… as in dead, and not breathing kill?’ said George.

‘That was the general meaning I was trying to convey.’

‘So,’ said George putting one arm up above his head, ‘hands up those who can’t travel through time.’

They all stood and looked at each other.

‘Well,’ said Jay, ‘that does put the evening back into a state of being rather more interesting than I’d hoped for.’

‘So now we have sorted out who is what,’ said George, ‘will someone please tell me where Howard’s office is?’

*****

Chapter Fourteen

Elemental Forces.

Gina paced up and down. She ate some celery and paced up and down some more. She looked at the clock. She sat down. She stood up and went to the freezer and got out the Rocky Road. Just as she was about to jam the ice cream scoop into its innards someone knocked at her door. Missy came in then all of a flutter and a kerfuffle.

‘Oh MY GOD Gina. My date is just outside and there is no way that he can cope with the very idea of this all being a total failure. I mean the poor man is very upset…. You must come and speak with him at once!!’

‘Who?’ said Gina suddenly suspicious.

‘My date.’ Missy blinked as if to wrestle with the idea that Gina didn’t know who she had been mauling in a semi-intimate way all evening. Gina put the scoop down and sighed. ‘Okay. Just let me change into my flats. My feet are killing me.’

Gina went out to the car that Missy was just approaching. Out of the other door, like the undead, rose the figure of Gorman. He smiled. But there was a glint there. In the front another sat. It was that little guy who Gina always felt was trying to estimate how much elastic was in her underwear. And then Simon….the smart arse. Gina sensed something was amiss, but now was caught. It was Simon who moved first. He grabbed her wrists and bent her arms back. Gorman came from behind and wrapped her wrists with some strong stuff.

‘What the…!’ Missy began, but they bundled Gina into the back and roared off leaving Missy stranded like the fool she was. And the little idiot, instead of doing the sensible thing and calling the police; rang up one of her girlfriends to tell them what had happened. By the time it occurred to her what she should have done…. they were long gone.

Alastair was coming round. He heard the wailing of the fire alarm and in the commotion that followed he left the building. The despair that levelled him with the pavement was trying to get him to go to an all-night strip joint. But he thought it would be better to get so drunk he really couldn’t remember. Vega had gone. And now he thought it was all an act. She had always been so smart; perhaps he could bump into her in Birmingham. He briefly thought about the man in the suit. And he remembered the bosom of the girl. Miranda had a similar thing going when she was in the mood to enjoy the evening. She wore colours with a daring that enhanced her natural looks; and her intelligence. He crawled away into the night. In the earlier hours he remembered why he hated those things. It was always the women who made trouble for people like himself. He got really very drunk indeed. He wandered home as the sun came up. Home…. where was that? It wasn’t the flat. It wasn’t the house. Just a small bedsit, and a few belongings and a new job starting soon…. If it hadn’t been for Miranda he would have gone quietly. Now the hangover was taking effect he remembered his sense of loss. Mr Charles would pay! And so he went home to write a letter.

George and Jay, followed by Briar and the two women trod softly up the staircase towards Howard’s sanctum. The quietness of the place was punctuated only by soft rain that flung itself against the windows. The lights burned dimly and then suddenly were extinguished. Jayne stifled a cry.

‘Listen!’ said Claire.

In the distance they heard a sound. The two women were running up the stairs passing the others.

‘Wait!’ George ran after them.

‘Come on.’ Jay looked sideways at Briar who was staring at the rain lashing against the windows.

‘This storm….it’s unnatural. The epicentre is here. We’re caught.’

‘Look,’ Jay took his arm, ‘if it makes you feel any better; I really don’t know who I will be in the future….if there is a chance….’

‘You think that this might mess things up for you too huh?’ Briar shook himself and was once again climbing the stairs.

‘I don’t think it will end well.’ Jay pressed his hands together. He raised his foot to the last step and reached the landing; ‘I need to find him…. he was with Jedden Grey.’

‘Jedden?’ Briar looked shocked, ‘I don’t trust him.’

‘You don’t trust him? What is this; do we get marks out of ten?’

‘It’s not like that….’ Briar looked taken aback, ‘I’m sorry about anything that happened before.’

‘It’s him you ought to be apologising to.’ Jay said, as they came to the door of the PA’s office.

‘Yes, your other self….I forgot. He’s out there somewhere.’

Jay didn’t reply and they both stared at George sitting on the floor next to Angelika. She had been crying, and that coupled with the untamed mass of curls that spilled over her shoulders made it so that Jay didn’t recognise her at first. Jayne and Claire very sensibly went to make her a tea and find Howard’s stash of emergency chocolate.

‘I don’t think there’s much we can do here.’ said George to Jay and John Briar, ‘It’s time for you boys to do that thing you do.’

‘What happened?’ asked Briar.

Angelika looked up at them still sniffling, ‘It’s Howard! He was in a frightfully bad mood. Worse than I’ve ever seen him…. I think that someone said something that tipped him over the edge!’

‘Who was that dear?’ asked Jayne bringing in tea and a box of hankies.

‘I don’t know…. I thought he came up here. But then there was that…. weird flash. And I couldn’t find him. But there was this….’ She held out a letter. Jay took it from her carefully. It began: “Dearest Angelika, please forgive me. I have been a terrible employer; and I hope that by the time you read this you will have gone home. Please find another letter among my personal effects… the file in the desk. It is for you; a reference, and the only thing I will ever write that wasn’t half pretend. You do deserve better….” Jay couldn’t bear to read any more and handed it to Claire.

‘There is nothing to be done here.’ said Claire.

‘George is right.’ Jayne looked at Jay, ‘we need you now.’

‘Me?’ Jay said, ‘But what about him?’ he indicated Briar.

‘No. He cannot do this. It is you.’ Jayne handed the chocolate to Briar; and drew Jay away from the others for a moment. ‘I know that you are out of your destined path. But perhaps this is meant to be. You are one of us….and I cannot spell it out clearer than that.’ she lowered her voice even more; ‘We cannot act without reason. Even then it has to be justified by more than just one person’s fate.’

‘You are afraid of losing your power?’ Jay asked, ‘So you want me to use mine? Do you know what will happen if I do?’

‘Yes.’ she looked very hard at him.

‘Then you are wiser than most. I must not do anything yet. If seeing my older self tells me anything…. he must be the one to act.’

‘And what if he isn’t?’ Jayne became more urgent, and looked toward Angelika, ‘You are looking at the world as you know it becoming nothing at all…. What then?’

‘Not necessarily. It might just be a game. A test…. a diversion.’

‘And what about Howard?’ she stepped back, and went to join the others. Jay turned away, something burning behind his eyes. George came over to talk to him. ‘We ought to at least go and try to see what happened to the others; last seen heading to the far end of the building.’

‘That’s where he went.’ said Jay and then sneezed, ‘I picked a fine time to be ill.’

‘Did Howard make you come?’

‘Yes. He was very insistent. Although I think that was partly my fault. It made him feel better, all those little victories. And getting the reluctant Weirdo to attend was a feather in his cap.’

‘Mmm….You actually are rather odd.’

‘Oh?’ Jay folded his arms.

‘It’s those paintings. They all seem to be a little…..odd.’ George grimaced, ‘Now tell me I don’t know anything about Art.’

‘I think it’s a valid point. I just like to paint what I see…. in my mind’s eye of course.’

‘Well perhaps you can imagine a way out of this. I have to find out what Kyle is up to.’

‘A friend?’

‘A close friend.’ George tapped his ear.

‘How far away is he?’

‘Two minutes. Just out of sight.’

‘Perhaps we could send someone with a message?’

‘Good idea. So then…. who?’

‘I’ll go.’ said Briar. ‘That is if you trust me.’

‘I will too.’ Angelika stood pushing her hair away from her face. ‘I just want to get out of here.’

‘Fine. And then the rest of us go to the dark side of the gallery, agreed?’

‘Tell me the message.’ said Angelika.

‘Tell Kyle to pack up and go home.’

‘That’s it?’ Briar looked perplexed, and then he rolled his eyes, ‘See you on the other side?’

‘Yeah… maybe.’ said George, ‘Now does anyone have any questions?’

‘Yes,’ said Claire, ‘where did Gina go?’

Gina had every reason to be, in short: worried. But for some reason she wasn’t. She was tied up and kidnapped but it seemed like a huge robust and rather romantic adventure. They dragged her manfully into a room she hadn’t seen before. There were windows and there was very little furniture. It was still dark… Gina wasn’t sure but she estimated it must be about two in the morning by now. The available alcohol still sloshing round in her system gave her the ability to calm herself and get into the swing of the idea. The three looked at each other and the small guy snorted with annoyance, ‘What are we doing! This really is too much. He isn’t going to come.’

‘You don’t get it!’ Gorman was flicking a knife open and closed, ‘This lovely prize is far more kittenish than the other one. She will do nicely.’ And with that he stood over Gina and snagged through a lock of her hair that had been artfully curling against the nape of her neck. Gina felt the coldness of the steel against her flesh and it sent an exquisite thrill of fear through her body, which only served to heighten the excitement she felt.

They put the hair in an envelope and sealed it. Gina didn’t say anything. The little guy had licked the gum strip. Clever people with their big grown up chemistry sets would be able to get an ID on him from that. She watched them, and wisely didn’t utter a word. For some reason they hadn’t gagged her. Gina thought that was because they would want her to talk. She was right. And so for the next half an hour she answered their questions. Gina had one policy: tell it all. The true, the gossip; the irrelevant and the downright silly. She bombarded them with information; so much so that Simon left the room with his fingers in his ears muttering something about needing a strong drink to wash it down.

‘Make mine a coffee, black.’ said Gorman, ‘and the good stuff! None of your budget shit!’ Gina noted all these details. Trained in the observable arts; the real world of reading people and finding out what they were about to do she was a master. Perhaps not a grand master but she did think that they might need to be a little more careful. Telling people what kind of coffee you liked was a dead giveaway.

After an hour of Gina they were quite in need of a break. Simon was despatched with the envelope and told to deliver it to a specific address at a specific time. So he left in the same car; and was relieved to be out of the room with the woman. He stopped at a garage to get some chewing gum and a newspaper, and folded the paper on the dash. There is was: the derailment, making the evening edition. He opened the packet and then with the gum firmly jammed in his mouth made his way to Gina’s house. Perhaps they weren’t being very imaginative. Perhaps Mr Charles had given them the impression they were invincible. But there is a point where one’s luck is bound to run out sooner or later. Just as Simon got to the door, and was about to post it; a large hand clamped on his arm. ‘I think someone is going to regret taking on the postal service.’ A very big guy in a suit that seemed to be fighting it out with his muscles calmly removed the envelope from Simon’s hand. He took one look at him and caved in. They sat him inside a white van, after putting handcuffs on him. Ten minutes later they were on the phone to Kyle.

‘We’ve got something. Do you want the slippery one as well?’

There was a pause at the other end of the line, “You betcha Big Guy. I’ve been waiting to try this out on someone!”

‘How would you like the package?’

“Untouched but ready to comply.” said Kyle.

‘We will deliver it in half an hour.’ said the big guy. He rang off and went round to explain to Simon what would happen if he was the least bit difficult.

By Saturday, in some reality or another, there was rather more happening than could be taken into account in one glance. Mr Charles was waiting for the thing to make it to the end. Ira had bet against him: That boy would not make it! Mr Charles was angry, he liked to prove himself the strong opponent, and showing his teeth in creating this little paradox piece was going to be impressive. If he could pull it off. He lit the pipe and waited for Chester to call him back. There was no point in waiting around, since his companion was the only one who could work on the annoying Traveller John Grey. Hours of work and the illusion of sunrise, and even that had not moved him. The little guy thought that it would work. Clearly it didn’t. So they left Chester to watch him while they tidied up the others. Gorman was mad because he still hadn’t been paid. But Mr Charles was determined not to let him close down the end game just yet. The whole thing was set to end at midnight on Sunday….whatever happened. And as Gorman knew that to be so, he was surprised that he was making a fuss. Now that Miranda was effectively out of the way, Gorman was twitchy and would not let up about the girl being the wrong subject; it was Juliet he meant. But Mr Charles, having settled on a pretty thing would make himself believe that he had her right where he wanted her. She had shown some spirit already, and it only served to heighten his excitement at the dream project that he had set to start in the summer. She was perfect…. Oh well! Gorman would go and another would take his place. He would be sorry to see him leave, but Gorman’s conditioning slipped sometimes. It was difficult to stop him having the dreams of his village and the loss he had suffered. Having one morose depressive around was enough and with Jedden apparently on another of his flights of fancy, Mr Charles was happy to wait.

It was only the one call from the little guy that broke in on his mood. He rolled the tobacco in his hand as he listened to the call. At first he didn’t take in what was being said. But then he sat up and really did take notice. He stood quickly and nearly tripped over the chair. He rang off and called Chester at once. The Prisoner was still tied up neatly and beginning to complain a little. He reassured Chester Brown, and let him know he’d be relieved at twelve noon. Then he got his coat and hat and took the bus to the nearest phone box. When there, he tapped in a code which gave him access to the internet server, and he looked for the person of John Grey. It had changed! In this reality he was listed as the Landlord of the flats and there was a contact address of the agent here in London. Mr Charles grunted satisfied. He knew it would not be a good idea to use the belt from within an alternative path of reality; and this information gained without doing that, made the man closer to cracking. All they needed was his name…. his real name; and then they could track him back. Mr Charles wondered if this was all really necessary. But then again they all helped each other. And the lad Sam was proving to be useful. Very useful indeed. He was a good person to enable them to track others through time, as he was a contract point for several high level Travellers. He might even attract them. He might be one of them…. No….it could not be. There would be something that would indicate it. Nothing did so far. Mr Charles meant the sort who didn’t need something like a bracelet or a belt to get from A to Z. A road map of all the people at his disposal was what he wanted. There had to be a way to control the lot of them…. a divine alchemy if you will. The little guy pretended he thought that it was all nonsense and Ira didn’t seem to commit himself one way or the other. Only Jedden, the romantic tragic character believed in such things. Surely he would be back soon?

George and Jay and the two women arrived in front of the big painting. It glowed with some inner light. And even though Jay was the one who had painted it, it still filled him with the same longing he had felt at first. That desire to be free. A new life and way of being that was not bound. He sighed rather heavily and turned to the others.

‘So what do we do?’

‘We can open the door way on one direction.’ said Jayne.

‘But you will have to find the doorway to here from that side.’

‘That’s fine.’ said Jay, ‘but which door?’

George shifted onto his right foot and back again to his left, ‘Are you sure about this? We will come out in any of the other versions of whatever is happening here?’

‘Yes that’s right.’ Jay went forwards to the painting and touched it lightly with his fingertips. Others were not allowed to do this. He closed his eyes for a moment feeling around inside, letting those things that held him drop away one by one.

‘We are ready.’ said Claire and they stood on either side of the large frame.

‘But….’ George was looking dubiously at the big oblong.

‘Give me your watch.’ said Jay.

‘What?’

‘Let him.’ said Jayne. George took it off and gave it to Jay. He held it between both palms and closed his eyes. Nothing seemed to change, yet something did seem to change at the same time. George shook himself and blinked as if he was just waking up. ‘What did you do?’

‘Put it back on.’ said Jay and handed him the watch. It felt warm and George blinked again, ‘Okay.’ He said.

‘You won’t get lost in there now.’ said Claire.

‘Like the bracelets?’ asked George stalling because he was suddenly nervous.

‘Only in a manner of speaking,’ said Jay, ‘I can find you. Do you trust me?’

‘I’d rather not say.’ said George, ‘Is it going to help to take a run at it?’

‘Yes. I think so. A bit of momentum. Not too much. As long as you jump and your feet leave the floor, it will work.’

They backed away for the painting, and stood and regarded it for a moment.

‘On three?’ George asked.

Jay nodded, eyes suddenly aglow.

George spoke firmly, ‘One! Two! Three!’ they ran towards it and leapt for the dappled grass of the painting. George shut his eyes for a fraction of a second and felt a rush of a breeze. He dropped on the ground and stumbled. He looked around and saw Jay a few feet away, a funny look on his face.

‘My Goodness!’ George was agog, ‘We’re there. I mean here. In a garden!’

Jay didn’t reply but neared the little mound and the stone sundial. ‘Now then,’ he said softly with a catch in his throat, ‘what is this doing here?’

George went and shook him by the arm. He didn’t like the idea of being trapped in a painting even though they had explained that it wasn’t really that at all.

‘Yes…yes of course,’ said Jay with his face turned away, he rubbed his eyes with a sleeve and then smiled in a lopsided way at George. ‘So where now?’

‘I think the point just before the end of Annalise’s speech. Let’s see where Howard goes.’

‘Right. So we just do the same thing. But this time hold my hand. It’s just a precaution. Don’t worry. You’re doing fine.’

‘The things I do for England!’ George said and then they leapt again.

It was nearly Two pm before Gorman arrived to take over from Chester. He whispered that Mr Charles wanted to see him briefly. Chester took one look at the sad limp figure of the captive and wondered what Gorman would do to him. Breaking down a man took time. Chester had found it really difficult to follow the instructions. A strange monologue had developed as Chester chatted in his discomforted way to Jared. The other said nothing. He uttered not one word. Still naked apart from the dark blue shorts he seemed to go into himself and at one point Chester prodded him to make sure he was actually breathing. They had tied him with strapping to a heavy arm chair. And although he wasn’t in any immediate danger of dying or dehydrating Chester thought he looked very sick indeed. He told Gorman this.

‘He’s playing with you mind.’ Gorman muttered with disgust, ‘Now go and make you little report to Charles. He’s waiting outside.’

Chester scuttled off, and once inside the car offered Mr Charles the bag with the case he was still carrying.

‘Is it all there?’

‘Yes Sir! No one has been near it. I made sure of that.’

‘I’m sure you did,’ the car started moving, ‘I’ll drop you off at the train station. I trust all your own things were out of the house?’

‘Yes Sir!’ Chester blinked and seemed puzzled, ‘what do you want me to do now Mr Charles?’ he spoke respectfully and with extreme care. He didn’t want to draw the short straw again. Mr Charles handed him a plastic ticket holder. Chester looked at it with tears in his eyes. He was being dismissed. This was for his train out of here. ‘Have I failed you sir?’ he asked in a whisper.

‘No Mr Brown. I find you have fulfilled every expectation.’

‘Oh…. So…’ Chester didn’t dare ask about pay. It was time to get back to reality. The door was opened. He stepped out. ‘Thank you sir.’

‘Oh… Mr Brown!’

‘Yes Sir?’

‘You have forgotten your knapsack.’ Mr Charles pointed at the bag that still contained the box with the money in it.

‘Sir?’ he seemed to be unsure.

‘Your bag Mr Brown.’ Mr Charles indicated with a flick of his wrist. Chester very gingerly picked up the bag from off the seat and then slid the strap over his shoulder.

‘Thank you Sir.’

‘You never met me. You do not know my name. You will take the next available train that your ticket allows.’

Chester blinked, and then as the car door closed it started to pull away. He looked at the ticket. First class; one way; back to Manchester.

*****

Chapter Fifteen

Convergence.

And then there were three. Simon was singing like the proverbial canary. Boy! Did the stuff that George had been mixing pack a punch! He cried into the coffee Kyle gave him and promised he be a good boy forever.

‘Perhaps we need to adjust the mix.’ Kyle said to himself.

‘He’s in the Scouts you know,’ said Simon, ‘he’s going to build an empire of Lego bricks and candy sticks!’ and he started to laugh.

‘Who is in the Scouts?’

‘The big cheese… the Chief I mean… he’s a regular guy. Very, very regular. Part of the group. Sworn in. You know what I mean?’

‘Not really.’ said Kyle, ‘Do tell.’

‘It’s all over the papers. All over the times. In the times…. In ours too….’

‘What?’

‘The old boy is working for that old man. And he’s not really old. Just would be if he hadn’t…..’

‘Hadn’t what?’

‘Hadn’t a pickle in his pie… I mean had a look at the secrets with his eyes. Just got a captive audience.’

‘Try to focus,’ said Kyle, ‘you’re doing great.’

‘I am?’ Simon started to drift into sleep, ‘I wish I could dream like he does…. Clever chap.’

‘Who is?’

‘Mr Joseph…..’

‘Joseph?’

‘Drucker. That’s what they called him sometimes. He’s a fruit.’

‘A what?’

‘Fruit. Squeezed him dry they did…. Before….’

‘Before what?’ Kyle touched his shoulder; but the man was out cold. ‘I really will have to talk to George about the mixture on that one.’ He clicked off the recorder, and then picked up the phone. The lab had got the ID from the envelope. But the girl at the other end seemed hesitant. She told him they had checked it three times: ‘It’s been licked by someone who has been dead thirty years.’

‘Who?’

“Is it important?”

‘Yes.’ Kyle said shortly.

“A person who was the victim of a particularly brutal murder. They never found the weapon. The case was never solved.”

‘And he was?’

“Come on,” she said, “it’s already a favour too far.”

‘Just one.’

“Alright Kyle. It’s someone called Bishop. He disappeared and then they found the body. Later, in a wood in Yorkshire.”

‘Positively ID’d?’

“It was him.”

‘The full name.’

“Okay, okay! Geoffrey Bishop and he was a scientist. Worked alot in animatronics and clockwork. There’s something in a museum in London somewhere. A little place: The Historical Preservation Society.”

‘Who do I need to speak to there?’

“Kyle… please!”

‘Just one name. Save me looking it up.’

“Gary Stone. He’s still there I believe. But it has no bearing on his death. They wouldn’t like it if…..”

‘That’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.’

“What’s George up to?” she said.

‘You know George.’ Kyle said and rang off.

George and Jay crept through the edges of the party. They latched onto Howard, who quickly and nimbly ran up the stairs to his office and shut the door. The lights ducked off and on just as they had before. And it was still raining.

‘Just remember that all you have to do is jump into the air to go back to the garden.’ Jay whispered as they sneaked along the corridor that was plunged into shadows.

‘I’m not comfortable with this!’ George hissed.

‘Shh…’ Jay stopped. They heard Howard shouting at someone. And suddenly the little guy who had been hanging around the party burst out through the door and scuttled down the stairs. There was some movement inside the room and the door swung shut and clicked on its hinges. They followed the line round to the PA’s office and found it unlocked.

‘That’s odd….’ Inside things had been turned upside down. Someone had been looking for something.

‘He was already here.’ said George, ‘perhaps he wanted to hide something that he had done?’

‘Maybe….maybe not.’ Jay felt round the room. ‘This is not right. Things are chucked about but nothing is actually missing.’

‘Something has been planted?’ George suggested still whispering. They could hear a little movement in the other room. Then they froze someone was coming up the stairs. Jay peeked round the door.

‘It’s Jedden.’

‘We have to stop him.’ said George.

Jay held up a hand, ‘Wait. We cannot interfere with the time line. Things must play out just as before. We just need to know what happens to Howard.’

‘Then what is the point?’ George said. They both ducked down as another set of footsteps were heard.

‘Oh no! We have to hide.’ said George looking around.

Jay reached out and grabbed his wrist, ‘Stay very still.’ he said. George was at a loss to think how this would help matters but he complied none the less. The footsteps slowed and stopped; the person, whoever it was had not entered the room. Jay was squeezing George’s wrist a bit too tightly. George mouthed something, but Jay just pressed his lips together and looked towards the door again. Then they heard another person! The first moved slightly, their heels clicking on the hard floor and a man’s voice was there in a low growl. They could not make out the words. Jay stepped forward, still holding onto George’s wrist. All of a sudden, two people came into the room!! One of them hit the lights. George froze, expecting a barrage of questions, but the figure of the woman moved round the desk and took something out; the other came in…. a man and he held a glass in one hand and a leather wallet in the other. “Just put that in there.” said the man, “I feel better with all those friends of Marchant’s around.”

“You think someone will pick your pocket?” she said, “No matter. We are going for a full house tonight. They all look like they’ll sign up.”

“Alright Darling;’ the man put a hand round her waist and kissed her, “You look lovely. Here’s to success!”

“Thanks,” she said, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

A moment later they left the room, switching off the light as they exited. Jay immediately let go of George’s wrist and went straight to the desk drawer.

‘Are you going to steal his wallet?’ George rubbed his wrist.

‘No. Checking it isn’t there.’

‘What?’

‘Just try to think of this as like one layer of the sandwich….and then the other realities as other layers.’

‘Okay.’

‘We are in one. They are in another.’

‘So how come they couldn’t see us, but we could see them?’

‘Ah!’ Jay grinned, ‘that was my doing. I’ll explain better some other time. But basically I moved us a fraction out of sync with time. It’s like running a film at a difference speed…. It creates an interference pattern. Light sort of misses you.’

‘You mean invisible don’t you? If you are going to do it, then say: Invisible.’

‘Alright, I made us invisible.’

‘Is there any limit to your power?’ George rubbed his wrist again.

Jay turned and looked him in the eyes, and for a second seemed uncertain, then said with a different tone that was lower and authoritative: ‘There is no limit that I have put upon me. I can do anything. I could turn this world upside down if I chose. I….I do not choose it.’ He dropped his eyes and looked away. A faint ripple travelled through the room then, George thinking it was something to do with Jay, was about to comment; but Jay pointed behind them both. All the mess, all the debris that had been in the place was replaced again with order. And again they heard the clatter of feet up the curving staircase. Again they stood still, and again someone entered. This time it was Angelika. She moved to her desk and sat down. And then on noticing the letter propped up against a desk stapler, she hesitantly took it by the corner between her finger and thumb. She dropped the letter and sprang upwards as a clatter was heard from the other room. Angelika hurriedly flung the connecting door wide open to take a look; and they also saw there was nothing there except an empty office. She went in, circled the room a couple of times; went out through Howard’s door and entered back through her own; looked again through to the other office, and then, very reluctantly, as if some invisible loathing was pulling her away from the task, she went and carefully slit open the letter. Jay and George slid though into Howard’s office. They moved out of sight of Angelika as she read the letter.

‘Where did he go?’ George spoke as quietly as he could.

Jay held a finger to his lips. A moment later Angelika closed the door dividing the two rooms.

Jay released George. ‘That last one was a possible future. Not to be confused with an alternate past.’

‘Oh, so what is happening is not the present time.’

‘Not exactly, no. Things can’t actually happen at the same time. They kind of push each other out of the way.’

‘Like marbles in a chute?’

‘Good, you get it. Which falls down first, is not the point… it’s that they touch and connect. And as long as something connects at some point; things in theory can change.’

‘I thought that is what we are here to prevent.’

‘Maybe. But then again, this has changed my time line. I know that a divergence has taken place. I cannot explain how I know. But this means that things happened another way for me in the future. I’m a different person…. And I don’t know what that might mean.’ Jay was closely examining the various parts of the room. Especially the book shelves.

‘Thoughts?’ said George.

‘Howard just left. These are the books he had in here a few days ago. They are the same.’

‘So we are now in an alternative version of our world?’

‘Correct.’ He handed George a small object, ‘what do you make of that?’

George pulled out his glasses. ‘It’s a nine millimetre cartridge for a hand gun.’

‘There are more in the bottom drawer.’

‘So where’s Howard now?’ George looked towards the other door that led out onto the landing.

‘God knows!’ Jay went out there and looked down over the bannisters, ‘I just don’t know where he will be.’ He put his elbows on the rail and his head in his hands.

‘I forgot you weren’t feeling well.’ George said, ‘so there is nothing to be done?’

‘I can’t think. What would you do?’ he turned to George, ‘tell me; what would you do if your world was falling apart and you wanted to use a gun?’

George frowned, ‘I think I’d want to shoot the one responsible.’

‘So that is…? Maybe the little guy?’

‘Maybe those others… but are they here?’

‘We will have to go back into the party.’

‘No….you will. I’m already there remember.’

‘Change of plan. We go to find the victim.’

‘Perhaps Howard isn’t planning on shooting someone else,’ said George, ‘perhaps….’

‘You’re right…’ and Jay started off down the stairs.

‘Wait a minute!’

‘I know where he will be!’ Jay said urgently, ‘Come on!’

They clattered down the back way once they had got to the ground floor. Something seemed to wash over them again like a warm wave for a second. The happy sounds of a successful party, and then it faded once more as they reached the far gallery.

‘Back here so soon?’ George was relieved in a way. They tip-toed towards the place where Jay’s painting hung. Someone was sitting on the seat in the middle, and they were hunched up in a way that suggested something dire. George was about to run forwards, when Jay stopped him. ‘No…. let me look.’ He pointed to where he wanted George to wait and then blinked and took in a sharp breath. George jumped slightly but didn’t cry out. Jay had simply vanished. There was a tingle in the air and George could almost sense where Jay actually was. It was weird to see, yet he was back sooner than George anticipated. Howard was only a few yards away.

‘We’re done here.’ Jay took George’s arm and pulled him further out of sight.

‘But….’

‘We have to go. Jump now George, please.’

‘Okay.’

They leapt forward and found themselves tumbling out of the painting back into the reality they had first been in.

‘We didn’t help him!’ George rounded on Jay, ‘why didn’t you let me do something?’

Jayne and Claire came forward, and they both put a hand on George’s arms. He felt a calming effect straight away. ‘Sorry….sorry. He’s your friend. I know that you had a reason.’

Jay didn’t respond. He just looked at Claire, then at Jayne, and lastly at George himself. A strange look, one of resignation. Then he turned and before they could move or do anything Jay leapt through the painting again.

George ran up to it, ‘What are you….doing…’ he bashed into the surface and fell back onto the floor. Jayne came and crouched down by him, ‘We cannot open the door for you. You aren’t able to come back out in the place you choose.’

‘You would get in, and then if you got out; you could end up anywhere.’ said Claire, ‘You might be anywhere in time; even before the building was constructed. It’s quite a drop to ground level.’

George slammed his fit against the floor, ‘What is he doing?!’

‘He is not himself today.’ said Jayne, ‘Claire can say more what he will be.’

‘I’d rather not say.’ Claire helped George to his feet and brushed his lapel, ‘but he does love Howard, and he will risk himself to help him.’

‘His future self?’ George tried to not sound like it was completely mad, ‘What of him?’

‘He is already in trouble.’ Claire sighed.

‘Yes.’ Jayne concluded, ‘We see his end may be near. But the future is unclear.’

‘What are you?’ George suddenly asked.

‘We are like the earth.’ said Claire.

‘We are always there.’ said Jayne, ‘In the past…’

‘….and in the future.’ Claire concluded.

‘It okay.’ said Jayne. ‘We only want to help, but our powers are limited.’

‘What powers?’ George regarded them carefully and cautiously, ‘Are you witches?’

‘No.’ said Claire, ‘We are not able to do magic.’

‘There is a difference between being and doing;’ said Jayne. ‘I do not choose to be what I am; I only choose how I will behave. I have a choice to care. I take it. People matter. Love matters. Jay has chosen love over self-interest. He cannot be brought back by you. He has a path you cannot take. It might be best you go home now. Your friend brings news. And your fellow worker is about to make a very interesting discovery.’

‘Kyle? Sam?’

‘Yes.’ Claire shook her head, as if to dislodge some unpleasant thing.

‘It’s alright. She sees the future more than I do.’ Jayne clasped his hand.

‘And what do you see?’ asked George.

‘The past; and the present. But that’s always changing too.

‘Go home.’ said Claire. ‘Time enough. Be back before it gets dark.’

‘But it is dark.’ said George, and then found himself alone in a deserted gallery. He left the building and started to walk very quickly indeed. There was nothing that would calm his nerves as well as a brisk two mile stroll. And when he had got his sense of perspective back he called a cab, and returned to Kyle and his recently acquired drugged up test subject.

A furry face was pressed up against his. He mumbled something and turned over. In sleep all things were possible and in waking all things were impossible. About time to reverse the trend. Meow!! Purr….Purr…Purr… She paddled the reluctant “owner” with her paws. Breakfast was definitely on the menu. And Camille having been everywhere except the time of dinosaurs was ready for some meaty chunks. Sam opened one eye.

‘Camille…. Hi….. Camille!!’ he was suddenly upright and processing as fast as he could the fact of The Cat. Camille was not impressed. She wanted food. Now.

‘Okay….’ He tumbled out of bed naked, grabbed his dressing gown, and made for the toilet. ‘Do you have to do that?’ he said as Camille hovered in her self-absorbed way while Sam had a pee. She came and s–bended round his ankles and he nearly tripped over her.

The kitchen: put on kettle, don’t trip over cat. Find milk: still avoiding cat, which has moved right under you. Look for loaf of bread, and vegemite. And go in fridge again. Actually trip over cat…. Plug in tin opener; get out mug and put in tea bag. Go in fridge, get juice, nearly stand on Cat this time. Flick switch; reach for tin. Put in electric tin opener, press button. Whirr, whirr…. Try not to stand on cat and get fork out to fill cat bowl. Put in toast into toaster… bread actually. Boiling kettle clicks. Camille tries jumping onto counter top. Haul her off stool onto floor; get fork, empty cat chunks into bowl; stand back. Stay clear of the blast area. Make breakfast. Sit down. Relax.

“What day is it?”

‘Sunday.’

“Saturday….”

‘Oh…’ Sam shook his head, ‘I don’t see what the problem is. You’re back. I’m back.’

“But it’s Saturday.” George insisted.

‘Okay,’ Sam watched Camille chasing a fly round the living room, ‘Let’s just agree for the sake of argument that it is in fact Saturday. And that what happened to me yesterday took no time at all. And then meet up have coffee and take to plotting our revenge of the perpetrator of all this weirdness.’

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

‘Absolutely.’ Camille leapt again and landed on the settee, claws extended, ‘Camille is back. It made me feel better. I ate breakfast, and then you rang.’

“How’s the leg?”

‘Still attached to my body. Look, the sooner we ring off the sooner we can get together and join forces, and compare notes.’

“I don’t think it’s as simple as that.”

‘Why not?’

“You do know that Howard is in danger don’t you?”

‘No…..’ there was a pause, ‘I didn’t know that. I say George? Is there any way of telling me if one thing is the same as another thing without testing it in a lab?’

“If you mean materials…. The only way is to set fire to it.”

‘That’s what I thought. You see I found out something about the theatre. And about the scientist; and about the….’ he shuddered, ‘the reality we are now in….I really think we need to get it together.’

“Alright.” George pondered for a moment, “You come to me. And bring the cat. If she disappears well there is nothing I can do in transit. But here, there might be.”

‘I don’t want her sedating.’

“She’s a loose cannon. And you need to find out if Juliet is at home too. Have you tried to ring her.?”

‘Err….no. I mean I was going to; I actually don’t know. I felt really freaky yesterday…. as in the day you say didn’t happen. So perhaps that’s why.’

“So we agree. For a workable reality we call it Saturday. And then if something else happens we will have to agree on that instead, got it?”

‘I’ll drive up in ten minutes.’

“Send a text. Or ring. Do you have a hands free kit?”

Juliet was nearly to York. It was Sunday and she had started out making good progress after a night at a small B&B. But there was something holding them up. She tried to be patient and took out the paperback novel she had bought at Aberdeen station. What was taking so long? They edged along the track for about two miles and then stopped again. A group of lads further down the carriage started chanting “We Shall Not Be Moved!!” And several other passengers took this as a cue to get out their sandwiches and snacks. A rustling of crisp packets was punctuated with comments on the vicissitudes of the rail services and all its glorious confusion. But anything was better than being stuck in the wilds of nowhere. Actually Juliet preferred the sheep. After all they just pooed and went “BAA” and they did have some use. This was getting annoying. She asked the guard who was going towards the front of the train.

‘Don’t know miss. We could be here a while. Just be prepared for it, that lad will ID everyone.’

Juliet looked up for a moment, the trainee Rail employee was laboriously checking tickets and giving people advice on the delay for their personal journey time. The other guy rolled his eyes, clearly indulging the lad’s over-enthusiastic devotion to his job; then shuffled off down the train muttering to himself. Juliet sighed and wished she had something more interesting than fish paste sandwiches to eat.

Two hours later they slowly eased into York station. Juliet got off, and contemplated hitching a lift. But she knew the dangers of getting in a cab with a truck driver who pretended to be French and tried to conjugate his verbs in more than just a verbal fashion. Juliet focused on the board in front of her and discovered that there wouldn’t be another train for two hours. She was already tired and it was heading for three o’clock. She found herself craving chips, but decided to stay near the station and sat drinking endless cups of tea in the station buffet. She wasn’t the only person trying to get back to London. A man kept looking at her. He eventually spoke to her. Out of a sense of desperation she started to chat. The boredom was almost worse than the tiredness.

‘Hi; Alex. And you are?’

‘Juliet. Juliet Penn. You’re waiting for the London train?’

‘Yeah, a real pain in the proverbial. I need to get back for round about….now. But there we go.’

‘I just want to get home. Well….as soon as possible. I need to get to see someone I met at a party. An Art Exhibition, he’s called Sam…’ she blushed realising she’d said more than she intended to.

‘It’s funny you should say that,’ he smiled and looked amused and puzzled at the same time, ‘I’m trying to get home for something like that….an Art Exhibition in fact. I thought that I’d be there by now. That’s what you get for going on a diving holiday. A bugger to get there, and a bugger to get back. The rest of the gang are still there…. I’d be back in time for Ma if I wasn’t for this derailment. I hope no one got hurt.’

‘I don’t think they did.’ said Juliet, ‘The news report was reassuring last night…..’ she stared at him in shock.

‘Last night?’ he looked at her concerned, ‘It only happened this afternoon. I say, are you alright?’ Juliet had gone very pale.

‘I….err,’ she swallowed, and licked her lips, ‘just give me a moment….I’ve had a rather difficult time.’

‘Look; I think I might be being a little forward. But you need to get to this Sam? Am I right? Perhaps I can help. The train only goes as far as Sheffield. Then there will be another change. Chances are you’ll be waiting another two hours. I could give you a lift. My car is parked securely. I’ll be driving straight back to London.’ He paused smiling. Juliet felt herself welling up. The kindness of strangers.

‘I…’

‘Well if it helps. I will only just be able to get back for the Viridian Gallery Show right at the end. But I promised Mum…. It’s really important to her. The first one she’s done in a while. She was there because of being friends with Annalise Golding…’ at this Juliet stared, the colour draining out of her face; ‘What day is it?’ she gasped faintly; her mind was doing summersaults about how the money had been transferred; but the point of fact that it had, answered a rather bizarre question. Was Time Travel possible? Apparently it was. ‘Okay. I would like to accept your kind offer,’ said Juliet, ‘I owe you.’

‘That’s fine.’ said Alex, ‘You introduce me to this Sam, and we’ll call it all square. Look! Here’s the Sheffield train.’ They climbed on; and the journey passed quickly as Alex and she chatted about all sorts…. Juliet; the girl for whom coincidences were always part of life.

‘Meow!!!.....me-ow ….Mehow?’

‘Nearly there.’ Sam kept looking at Camille, wondering if she was about to disappear again. Maybe it was like a lot of things. They never happened while you were looking. Better keep looking then.

At George’s place Sam had to park, and then went and knocked on the door to be let in. It meant leaving Camille alone for two minutes. He stood anxiously, and Kyle answered. ‘I got it mate.’ Kyle squinted at the bright morning light as he took Sam’s holdall.

‘Just got to get the Cat.’

‘Okay, I’ll wait here. George wants the doors guarded at all times. You know….’

Sam was worried by the silence as he lifted Camille’s cat box out of the car. She seemed alright, if little miffed. They went straight into George’s kitchen.

‘Put her onto the table.’ George ordered, ‘Kyle coffee. Sam… you can smoke in here if you want to.’

‘I’ll wait. Or if the conservatory door is open.’

‘No. Not until we’ve worked out the level.’

‘He’s got a scale going,’ said Kyle, ‘Now use our phone and try to ring Juliet.’

‘How did you know?’

‘It wasn’t the first thing you said when you arrived. So go! And tell her to bring some more milk if she is going to come round later.’

‘What?’ Sam was already halfway into George’s hall way.

He pushed the doorway half closed for some privacy and tried her number. It rang and rang. And then the answer phone clicked into gear. It was the standard machine voice and not Juliet’s. He decided to not leave a message. Then two seconds later rang back; waited and left a message. It consisted of: “Hello” and a long pause and then “Call me” he sighed; “I love you Juliet” he said clearly, surprising himself, “Bye….” he put the handset back onto the cradle and stood staring at it. He didn’t want to think what was happening. He didn’t want to know why or how it would work out. He just needed to know, to be sure that it did…. Somewhere in the crazy universe of all things possible; surely this would be….

‘What are you doing? Come in here.’ George stood in the door way and Sam turned towards him.

‘No joy so far? Don’t despair; all things will be right, when Aslan comes in sight!’

‘You’re quoting again.’ Kyle pointed out, ‘Please look at the reading.’

‘Feed it into the map; and give us a probable extrapolation to…. Think of a number for me Kyle.’

‘Okay.’

Sam went up to the Cat basket. Camille spread out, legs akimbo, with a slight cross-eyed look that Sam remembered seeing before. She twitched and then turned round, stood and looked at him, and then delicately put a fluffy paw through the bars.

‘She’s trying to trick you.’ George stood over the basket and peered in, ‘It seems that the reading will peak in the next twelve hours. Look. It’s like the tide going in and out. Rises and falls, rises and falls….but each time it rises a little higher and doesn’t fall quite as far back down. Kyle is just working it out more accurately.’

‘The program you showed me….a few days ago?’

‘The same. Paradox is simply the putting together of two things that simply don’t fit. You can eat jam and marmite together, but it would be better if you don’t, and simply putting cheese in there just makes it awful.’

‘Actually that sounds alright.’

‘You would think that. Come on, I’ll show you what else we found. And bring the cat with you too.’

Kyle had it all set up. The display showed something that Sam didn’t grasp until Kyle explained it to him.

‘That is you. That is that Cat.’

‘Camille.’

‘Yes. Now look what happens when I extrapolate forwards.’

‘Do that again.’ Sam saw the display jump and seemed to reset.

‘Do you see it?’ George stood by with his gun clicked open in his hand and seemed thoughtful. He rubbed it with a cloth, and then put it down on the bench; he put his serious glasses on, and started to run his finger across the display. He picked up his note book, ‘Just go forward an hour at a time will you.’

‘That is weird.’ Sam watched the screen.

‘We’ve tried to incorporate all the other factors into the equation… and, here’s the clever bit: the factor of the other lot having a piece of equipment a bit like this one is a possible addition that can change some of the detail.’

‘And how do we fair in both scenarios?’ Sam leaned in closer.

‘There is something that you can add to this.’ Kyle said ignoring him, ‘Is there anything that has happened that would indicate that a radical parallel is possible as a temporary reality in this case?’

‘In English.’ said Sam.

‘Has anything happened that you know is not true in the world as you normally know it to be?’

‘Err….’ Sam found himself choking on the words he wanted to say; ‘I just need a fag. Give me a minute will you.’ Without waiting for an answer he went through George’s conservatory and pushed out into the garden and patio area. He sat under the pear tree and lit up. George followed him a moment later. He sat down too and didn’t comment.

‘She rang me.’ Sam took in a drag and then another and then another…. He felt a little dizzy and his fingertips buzzed.

‘Who is she?’

‘You don’t know George. It’s something no one knows. I never tell anyone about her….’

‘It might help save Howard if you do. It’s part of the skewing away from the Timeline as we know it. In order to know how it will spring back into shape…. rather like a giant elastic band; we need to find out the amount of tension in the line before that point. And not to put too fine a point on it you seem to be the crossroads for everyone in the scenario. You have pulled in people to one place.’ George took a deep breath and faced him, ‘It’s you Sam. You are the common denominator between all the people in this….happening. And it won’t stop until you tell us how far the pendulum has swung…. We don’t need to know everything. But we do need that.’

Sam turned away. He drew on the cigarette and blew it out in a long stream, ‘Alright, I can do this. It’s like this George… and only you and Kyle will need to know….’

‘That’s fine. Just say it. We can have a stiff drink straight after if you do….’ He rolled his eyes, ‘Okay then, chocolate as well.’

‘My mother was calling me.’

‘I see.’ George sat back his brows drawing together.

‘She never calls me.’

‘Did you speak to her?’

‘No….I heard the answering machine. I listened. I didn’t play it back…. I couldn’t.’

‘Tell me.’

‘She can’t speak to me… ever…’

George saw the pain in Sam’s face and put a hand on his arm. He didn’t want to push it. It had to be revealed freely without forcing.

‘I cannot ever tell Juliet this…. You do understand?’

‘Yes. Of course Sam.’

‘My mother was detained a long time ago in a secure mental hospital. She tried to kill us. She is not allowed to have any contact with us…. ever. My father does see her….But only once a month. And it must be supervised. She is…. She is….’

‘Sam; it’s alright Sam. I understand. I do. Just tell me when this message came in.’

‘Nine Twenty-Seven, yesterday evening: The day that never happened.’

‘I’m sorry to ask this. But did she sound….normal. As in: not like she is?’

‘Yes.’ Sam leaned over, ‘This isn’t right. It isn’t. I heard her message and I thought she sounded like she was kind and cared. But it still frightened me. I was very young. I barely remember any of it. But it’s in there somewhere.’

‘Thank you Sam.’ George handed him a hanky, ‘I’ll feed the info in. Be back in a jiffy. It’s just the level. It won’t be entered as a specific detail. Just a code…’ George stood and left Sam alone for a few minutes. Then he returned from the small sitting room.

‘We have some clarity.’ said George, ‘Sam?’

‘Yes.’ He stood and smiled. There seemed to be no trace of that thing now. Just a little redness round the eyes.

‘Now give us the low down on everything else. And tell me: does Camille like mackerel?’

*****

Chapter Sixteen

Endurance.

And then there were two. Kyle had left the unconscious Simon on the garden bench at the back of house that those dubious conspirators used. He woke, stumbled into the kitchen to be met by Mr Charles in a mood of sublime intolerance. Mr August Charles gave Simon a ticket for the trains; his bag and some money and pushed him out of the door. It took the man three attempts to find his mobile, switch it on and call a cab. By the time he was fully awake he was on his way to the south coast, to a little hotel in Brighton to meet his girlfriend. She would ask him a lot of questions he couldn’t answer; assume he had been cheating on her, and leave him to ponder what to do with the generous settlement of his ex-employer. He was given as much as Chester; but was forgotten far more quickly. Simon went back to what he was good at, selling luxury motors, and offering limousine rental for private parties. So it was that he forgot the past, and was not bothered about the future. A woman is a thing to be disposed of after all. In the circle of fate he might one day meet Missy again. She was enthusiastic and sexually adventurous and not too picky about whom else he might have been in intimate relations with; but they would only meet if she came out there for the topping up of her tan. And then if she wanted to hire a fast car for the week. Perhaps they might find each other again, and cause trouble of a lively kind for other’s personal lives.

Simon, having got to the seaside and then being unceremoniously dumped by the girlfriend; found a bedsit and slept for two days. He lived to tell a made up tale of exploits that were in fact less bizarre than those he had actually been involved in. Memory does find tricks to play and sometimes he thought he saw a little wrinkled guy peering at him from over the fence.

Gorman and the little guy had a con-flab in another room. They had moved their captive and felt that they needed to start him talking. They discussed the options. Gorman, familiar with the more painful methods of persuasion was keen to try a small experiment. The Russian way worked, and he could see the man caving in after five minutes only. The little guy wasn’t so sure. He sat like a philosophical monkey and tapped his forefingers together.

‘That man is not at all the simple case that can be opened by such elementary procedures.’

‘Fine,’ said Gorman, who was beginning to want out, ‘what do you suggest?’

‘Let me tell you my friend, there are inside the mind various buttons that can be pressed. This one is not an easy one. But he is weak in some ways.’

‘How so?’ Gorman was really losing interest; he thought that a little simple torture would extract the information with the minimum of fuss. Then a thought occurred to him, ‘Have you actually asked him the questions yet?’

‘No. But then that is why. I must come at it clean. He doesn’t know what I will say. He has to prepare for every eventuality. The not knowing is what will break this one. He is a soldier of fortune it seems; an accidental break on the road of life; a Man not of this time.’

‘Look,’ Gorman’s voice stiffened with anger, ‘you can try fuddling the rest of them but don’t bother doing that with me. I really couldn’t give a fat fart what you want to get out of him. Once it’s done…’

‘And that is why you fail…. You must care. Be committed. Be invested in the thing. Seeing inside the mind is dangerous and difficult…’

‘You are really full of shit! You do know that? I can’t wait to see your face when this all goes to hell in bucket.’

‘My, my you have picked up the idiomatic use of the English Language rather well haven’t you?’

‘Pardon?’ Gorman was very still; something tickled at the back of his mind, and he wasn’t sure if he should continue this conversation. He picked up a program instead, ‘It will hold for another six hours at least?’

‘So Mr Charles says.’

‘And what of the miserable bastard?’

‘He’s gone.’ said the other shortly, ‘good thing too. I think he was getting to the point of disloyalty to the cause.’

‘Can you read people’s minds?’ Gorman’s tone was mocking and he ripped the edge of the program as he spoke.

‘Only some people.’

‘I see.’ Gorman sneered, ‘well then, if you can read mine you will know what I am going to do next.’ He turned to leave.

‘You won’t get it that way!’ the Wiry man called after him, ‘Anyway, you have to dispose of the female. How do you propose to do that?’

‘I don’t. But I suppose I could inject a little excitement into an otherwise dull day.’ He came back and eye-balled the little guy, ‘Tell me what I’m thinking now…’

‘I do not know.’

Gorman stepped back smiling, ‘Let’s see if he’s ready to talk.’

They entered the room where Jared was still tied up. His head lolled forward and it seemed he was unconscious. The little guy nodded to Gorman. Gorman took a pencil out of his pocket and put it between the second and third fingers of the man’s left hand. He squeezed and Jared’s head sprang upwards and his body stiffened with the nerve pain.

‘Stop.’ said Wiry.

Gorman removed the pencil and went and stood behind the chair. Jared looked at Wiry. His eyes rolled and he licked his lips. ‘Give him some water.’ said Wiry. Gorman did as he asked, and dribbled a few drops into their prisoner’s mouth. He received it gratefully and the deep blue eyes opened a little more and focused on Wiry. Gorman stood behind looming with the threat of more pain. Wiry watched the man’s face. He stood and watched him for perhaps a minute. Then suddenly turned on his heel and stomped away. Jared reacted. The little man spun to face him, ‘Nothing more to do.’ and nodded. Gorman grabbed his hair in great fistfuls and pulled his head back. The little guy ran towards him, fists raised. Jared’s whole body jumped, and he cried out. The little man straightened up and eyed him some more; then suddenly viciously slapped him across the face with his right hand. Gorman still held him. Jared murmured something, his head shaking a little at the limit of Gorman’s grip.

‘What’s that?’ the little guy bent closer.

‘You’re dead.’ said Jared.

‘I’m…. dead?’ and then with a vicious smack he hit him on the back hand. The prisoner was breathing in and out faster now. Now he was stirred up. Wiry nodded at Gorman, who let go of his head. Jared lifted his eyes to Wiry and kept watching him.

‘Attention is always a good thing in class.’ said Wiry. Gorman stood back. He was impressed. Timing that fitted to the victim. The art of it. To be admired. Then suddenly Wiry seemed to lose interest in Jared.

‘You can do what you want now.’ he spoke to Gorman in dismissive terms and Gorman grinned and moved round.

‘No!’ Jared shouted, appealing to Wiry. Wiry with his back to the prisoner stopped and slowly swivelled round. The prisoner was pleading with his eyes, the body straining against its bonds, trying to reach him; promising him compliance. The Wiry guy smiled, and then chuckled, this would be marvellous. So very tender like a fine steak; delicious….he could feel those defences begin to crumble. The room was cold, and this was one time where he could offer some small thing for a great gain. He turned back to the Young Victim. Those deep blue eyes regarded him openly, so luminous, so cowed with pain. The appeal was still there and the fear. He wasn’t as strong as he made out. He was a boy. Not a man.

‘What is your real name?’ Wiry asked.

‘It’s John.’

‘No.’

Jared was silent. He blinked and his head dropped forward again. Gorman pulled his head up leaning over him. ‘Not a good time to take a little nap.’

‘Fuck off!’ Jared said. Gorman almost reacted. But Wiry held up a hand. He stepped forward and pushed Jared’s knees apart. Jared started to shiver. But the little guy rested one knee on the chair between his legs. Again; as he had before he bent over the prisoner. And then pressed his fingertips against his face: forehead, cheek, and chin; one hand on one side, one on the other. Gorman thought the boy was ready to crack. There was something sinister about him (Wiry); and his proximity in this way was the final step. Gorman moved back and got the recorder out. Time to find the truth.

Jared sensed that there wasn’t much time left. The digital clocks on the wall might be right, they might be wrong. But the daylight had tracked across the sky through the window in the way he expected. They were getting twitchy and he was tired himself. He knew that he could not actually stand up to them forever; if there had not been a field generated by that clever fellow August Charles, he would have made the jump out of there. He knew that it would have collapsed the alternative version and Howard would probably be ruined, so he really had to stay. He only had to stay for a little while longer. It was all a matter of timing. These two were different. One a paid man, a soldier of the old school, when fighting meant killing. Not a high rank, a regular man; the Russian. He wasn’t quite where he should be. But this had been shielded almost completely. The time adjustment was so complete as to be almost unnoticed. Of course he didn’t know himself. The reason a Traveller cannot hide their nature is they think about it, a lot. After all what is this wonderful gift? They knew that he: Jared was a Time Traveller. But as yet they had not made the strangely obtuse connection between the younger self and him. He was alone; and all he had to do was wait about twenty more minutes. There was something shifting in the sands of time. And like a bird knowing when to migrate, Jared knew when to make it appear his mind was about to crack open for them. But the little guy was clever. He could, in a limited way read a person’s intention and emotion. He was a Traveller too. Second level probably and therefore carried his time piece somewhere on his person. Jared tried to spot it and couldn’t. It was nearly four pm; was it time? Just keep stalling until four-thirty. That would be enough….Surely. The edges of the geographical area of this alternative version had begun to sag. And when they moved him, they had inadvertently put him nearer to it. He looked for a sudden change in the weather, glancing sideways as they loomed over him. And then:

The wash of something he didn’t expect came over him like a tide of horror. The little guy was inside the first part his mind. How did he get in? What had Jared not done to protect himself? He realised then that the only way might be to let go; to reveal all his secrets in a torrent. If this whole thing could be defeated….then one of two things would happen: They would no longer be here as things reset to what it had been before; or they would fear him…. What to do? The mind of a Traveller; this man didn’t have it. He was a nut and bolt guy, who made the pretence of being deeply in touch with the otherness of that central fire…. Or was he? Jared gasped and he saw the reflection of the window’s light in this man’s eyes as he broke further into his mind….At that moment it began to rain….Jared closed his eyes, and it was like a song in his spirit: he heard her voice again. He heard her telling him to be careful. And then she was counting. Backwards from ten…..the rain was falling down the window and he opened his eyes again. They were hurting him, pressing on a nerve somewhere. He could hear himself screaming in pain.

Then….in a blaze of reality, while the rain fell and the pain rose like a parabola to a peak he let go and revealed himself to the little man’s mind.

‘Stop it! Stop it!!’ the Wiry man screamed with anger as he pulled himself away from the Boy Traveller. He recoiled and clutched his head in his hands: and with a long drawn out grinding retching scream he tried in vain to take a swing at Jared. ‘Make him stop! MAKE IT STOP!’

Gorman at the same time winced at the rising wail of the captive in a cacophony of pain, it sounded like the unearthly howl of some animal, and the face was contorted and the eyes glazed and fixed on some indeterminate place in the distance. Gorman tried to hold Jared’s head as it started lashing from side to side.

‘Break it now!’ ordered Gorman, grabbing at the man’s head once more. But the horrible cry issued out from his lips again. Gorman couldn’t hold him and saw the little man doing some sort of dance of agony as he held his hands to his temples and tried to pull away from that mental connection. Gorman scrambled to the side, put on the leather gloves and then punched Jared in the head. He stopped and sagged but then nodded and raised his head again. He was moaning now and the little guy was crying and carrying on and the sound rose to crescendo too unpleasant for Gorman to stomach. He focused and then cracked Jared really hard this time and knocked him out cold. The little guy stopped screaming and slid into a whimpering heap on the floor. Jared was a limp mess with a trickle of blood dripping down his temple.

‘What the hell?’ Gorman was shaken; even with all his experience he had never seen anything like that; then to Wiry: ‘Get up! He won’t be going anywhere for some time.’

Wiry got to his feet and went to look at Jared; ‘Is he alive?’ he asked with a thick sounding croak.

‘Yes. And I really do believe you. So it’s true, you can read minds.’

‘That was… was…’ Wiry’s eyes were so wide he seemed like a cartoon character. Gorman pulled on his arm, and led him away, ‘No amount of pay is worth this. We’re leaving.’

The little guy went back to pick up the few things they had with them and withdrew from the scene. As they crossed the room a breeze blew through it as if someone had opened a window somewhere. The little guy looked back. The reality was breaking up and falling apart. Soon it would all be gone. He wanted to take the prisoner with them; he didn’t know how that would work, the captive caught in the tension of different realities shirring apart and burning up. They ran the last few yards as the ripple of those new things had almost reached them. Scattered across the floor in the hallway were the pale blue oblongs of the exhibition programs.

‘Wait!’ said Wiry, ‘We cannot leave him here. It will disrupt the Time field Charles has created.’

‘You want to go back into that?’ Gorman’s urgency was heightened by the way the walls appeared to be bending inwards and the solid floor had a wave travelling towards him in a rounded ripple like one on the shallow fringe of seawater as it comes up a beach. Gorman reached out a hand to grab Wiry and pull him out of the door. His hand missed and Wiry was running back across the entrance hall. Gorman staggered back. His eyes were watering and there was a foul taste of ash in his mouth. The whole thing was folding in on itself. He quickly got to a safe distance. The thing crunched and rumbled and pieces of grey curls passed near his face. There was silence all of a sudden, and then:

Someone walked past, heels tapping a pattern on the pavement. He opened his eyes, looked up. In the pre-twilight time, people streamed in to the Gallery, chattering with excitement. The guests. Gorman turned to see the face of a distant clock but not trusting this asked one of the people passing him. Seven o’clock. He was back….Somewhere; and that reality was gone, depositing him in front of the Gallery. It was late afternoon, and the sky was clear above but there were clouds in the southern hemisphere, tipping diagonally across the sun’s course.

Gina was tied up and it was becoming very annoying indeed. After a while she found herself being bored. They had left her there and decided it was time to go and “discuss” something. She found herself beginning to worry, and after twenty minutes, when they did not come back she called out. No answer. There was a little while when it was a light flutter of worry, which gradually gave way to mounting desperation and then fear, thence to more anxiety and then onto despair. Gina threw back her head and howled in real anguish at her….she supposed, untimely demise; her smudged mascara; and the worry of who she would find… rather, who would be found to give a good home to the designer wear and her beautiful shoes. Her dreadful thoughts could not have been made worse by the addition of guilt over not doing what George had told her to do; but she did swear to give Missy a good talking to if… and that was a long shot, they ever met again socially.

George stared at the lock of hair. He looked back at Kyle, and then again at the lock of hair: ‘It is Gina’s.’ he said flatly, ‘When did this arrive?’

‘An hour before you did. I’ve never met her…. It wasn’t addressed to you. I guess this is my practice for prize pillock of the year.’ George didn’t reply, the strand of Gina’s hair still in his hand he picked up the gun in the other.

‘No you don’t Big Guy!’ Kyle warned.

George turned and smiled at him, ‘I’m not. I just pity the poor buggers who get a dose of that fire cracker.’

‘Let’s start by feeling sorry for you then.’ Kyle turned back to the display. ‘Sam’s going to come and cooperate?’

‘In a manner of speaking; what we really need is Juliet. This is too coincidental to just be coincidence.’

‘You are indeed…..right.’ Kyle pointed at the new extrapolation of the time lines. ‘But we do have a certain tight packing here. There are so many variables that I’m having trouble unravelling them all.’

George leaned over. He traced a finger and hummed a tune. Then he hummed another tune and traced another thread. At that moment Sam walked in.

‘What do you know about counterpoint and harmonic progression?’ George asked him.

The Lovely Juliet (Sam’s view); who was a practical and lively girl (Alex’s View), had just worked out a way of finding everyone without knocking someone out: a creative solution (Jerry the Boss’s view). Juliet’s fan club was stretched far and wide. And the only person who had absolutely no notion of this whatsoever was the girl herself. But it still did not account for the level of strange coincidences that she suffered, or was blessed by, in equal measure. Juliet attracted both trouble and opportunity. Some people were unlucky and seemed to always have things go wrong for them; some were born, it seemed, to never be out of life’s stream of blessing that flowed from the outer reaches of probability. Juliet seemed to have both, and a few natural advantages that could be considered unfair by others and Normal and the same by Juliet.

So when they eventually reached London, Alex found a parking space that was free straight away. She shrugged with acceptance; then she saw a little newsagent and bought a paper. She found out it was indeed Friday by asking the shop keeper; and then asked if Alex had a pen knife.

‘Yeah; sure thing. Did you need to cut something?’

‘I have to cannibalise this bag.’

Five minutes later she had a working solution to avoiding getting electromagnetic brain freeze: Plastic gloves and a strapping that was looped around the bracelet and fastened inside the bag. And then a careful breaking of the stitches on the lining seam underneath it completed the arrangement.

‘There it is.’ Juliet flexed her fingers and slipped on the plastic glove. She took it off again and pushed inside the inner zippered pocket with the bracelet. Satisfied, she put the tissues and lipstick in the outer pocket, and then wondered where she could get changed.

‘The pub?’ Alex indicated a nearby hostelry.

‘You’re not going to ask me what it is for?’ she said.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it dear Lady. In the short time I have had the pleasure of your company you have shown yourself to be capable and knowledgeable on a variety of subjects. And a little respect for the eccentricities of human activity is something I am known for; usually at the work place. Anyway, I will have to get changed myself so let’s go.’

They emerged fifteen minutes later (Alex: two minutes, plus a glass of Coke), and put anything not needed in the back of Alex’s Land rover. He held out an arm to her, ‘Well Cinderella….you shall go to the ball.’ They crossed towards the Gallery and followed the other brightly dressed creatures in through the doors.

‘We were both wrong.’ George struggled with Sam’s Cat, and with a brush that seemed to enrage the beast.

‘Here, let me do that.’ Sam took the brush off George and with practiced strokes smoothed out the few tangles.’

‘That’s enough.’ George said, ‘It’s just a sample. Kyle!’

‘Yes Boss!’

‘Just take a look. Run it through the other machine. See what you can get.’

‘What does it do?’ Sam expertly pulled the rest of the hair out of the brush with his hand and dropped it in the swing bin.

‘It’s a….Oh! For goodness sake! Look at the time!’ George rushed out of the room to get changed, again.

‘What is that?’ Sam peered at Camille who curled up on a kitchen chair and seemed to have made herself quite at home. Kyle shrugged; ‘Dunno. Best get the glad rags on Samuel. Time to do the quick step; George has spoken.’

‘I am not elongated.’

‘Yeah. Okay. Sam the nonigated.’ Kyle picked up his mug and went to do the last scan of Camille’s fluffy rump offerings.

*****

Chapter Seventeen

Vertigo, Reality.

Howard was waiting. The painting didn’t tell him anything that he did not know. But it soothed him none the less. Jedden had not yet found him. If he did? He could handle it. Did Howard care….? Of course. This kind of life….in its brief brittle way was for people like Jedden who were running away from a life that had no real room for kindness. That is probably why they got on so well. Nothing told him how he would feel at this moment. Light….Almost. In a scarily freed up way elated. There was nothing more for him here. He had left instructions with the solicitors to make sure that Angelika was given all she needed. These had been in place for the last year. The feeling had been growing. And Howard was drawn in some wild way like a moth to the flame of his true desire….one moment of significance against all the backdrop of little things.

Jedden had lost him in the maze of back corridors. Unlike Jay, he didn’t cotton on to the meaning of the painting straight away. But then in dawned on him; Howard had been staring at it a lot before the opening, even after he was sure it was set on the wall straight. There had to be something symbolic or meaningful that attracted him other than he simply liked it.

Jay sat on the grass in that other place and waited for his thoughts to stop swirling round in an uncomfortable tumble like the inside of an industrial washing machine. He had all the time he needed, but one wrong move…. Too early, too late; or an attempt to interfere, or simply putting off the choice to another time was only making it worse. He raised his head. The soft light of late afternoon crossed the grass, and nearby the sundial stood. He had not seen it before today. That chance; that he would find it here. This in-between place…. It was a real place; but not a place that was connected to the world he knew. The far future, the distant past; who knows? Jayne and Claire were knowledgeable, but did they see? They would, he hoped. As for George: he was not a traveller. He could potentially be hurt jumping from place to place. Not a nice thought. He bowed his head and agonised about what he could do. It came to him a few minutes later as the day burned to death and the shadows lengthened on the meadow; that he could stand and watch, and be there for Howard. And whatever happened at that crucial moment, he would not intervene until the decision time had passed. He stood, and went forward a few steps. This was something that no one had ever done before: jump through time from an elemental doorway into a time freeze in a specific alternate in one very exact place. He had the place and the time alright. The reality….yes got that. But the time freeze….Tricky. It was not just difficult… it was thought impossible. Oh well! Here goes. He ran and jumping high over the purple fronds and flower heads; he burst through the glittering rainbow of the time flux, and he took control and shaped the time freeze before entering Howard’s stream, so that Howard appeared as a statue before him, slightly illuminated by the light from beyond light. Was he too late? He took a step forward. Perhaps not. That other sat with him: Jedden Grey, his gesture; one of understanding and sympathy. It was then that Jay realised that the light that rested on them…. It could be for either of them. And he decided to find out why.

He walked quickly through the gallery, even though there was no need. And then saw that several people were going to converge on the far gallery in about five to ten minutes. It was as if his sense of causal flow had been heightened, and he saw where people would be in the future. Only in his eyes they remained like statues until he passed among them. They perhaps moved slightly at that point. And if they were more sensitive maybe they felt his presence for a moment.

Gina wriggled more successfully into a different position. It was a little bit of crossed wires, and a thing that afflicts most people from time to time: They could not be bothered. So Gina was left to her own devices. And Mr Charles, back fresh from his round trip to reality was ready to receive applause for his audacious experiment as it neared its conclusion. Only Rhett accompanied him. And in the interests of simplicity he sent Rhett to summon Gorman to him. And so they converged at the exact moment some others converged. And Ira Shore watched with lazy lidded eyes to see what Mr Charles could pull off his time.

Gina wriggled and twisted and something snagged on something else and she had one ankle free. Good! Now to work on the other one. She was limber and perhaps able to twist into a position that others would find uncomfortable. So! The tantric sex had been useful after all! Gina’s right wrist came free and she quickly undid the rest. Retrieving her bag off a nearby stool; she found she was locked in and thought about the options. She hammered on the door just as one of the men who Ira had brought along was passing. He ran to tell of this misfortune and Gina decided that she was getting out. She made for the window. This was it. If that celery was good for anything it meant she could still fit though a cat flap sized gap. She wriggled through and was out on a part of the outside balcony. There was only a ladder up to the roof. She took off her shoes and followed it up.

Sam and George had entered the gallery and were working their way straight to the back. Juliet, on Alex’s arm was just being introduced to Carla Lee, when she saw Sam’s blonde head dip in and out of her eye line in a fraction of a second.

‘Would you excuse me? I think I see him.’

‘You go find your Sam.’ said Alex. She handed him the cocktail glass, and hitching up the front of her skirt so she wouldn’t trip, she ran through the crowd and out into the deserted spaces beyond.

Briar saw the girl move and was about to follow her. But the rather pixie-like lady, put her hand on his arm. ‘Just wait. Remember we need to wait for this one to play out.’

‘Yes. Of course.’ he said. He saw Ira lean over to receive a message handed to him by the huge man; and how he twisted a signet right round on his little finger and then stood. John nearly moved, again she stopped him; ‘We must stay here.’

Juliet couldn’t believe she had lost sight of Sam in those few moments. Rain had started to dribble down the windows and she felt strange, a kind of fizzy indistinct feeling of otherness. She hurried closer to the point where she would meet the other.

Gorman was running too; trying to get out of the maze. And then he saw the female and dived straight for her. She ducked and ran. He ran after her. She was scared, but not nearly scared enough for the proper jolt of speed. He grabbed her and shook her until her hair frothed and tangled over her face. He put his right hand on the back of her neck and pulling her only with the left arm which he gripped in a painful pinch, made his way to the back gallery. There he supposed the might find the man that he and Wiry had left behind. His quickly scribbled note to Mr Charles would annoy him. But after everything he felt that his pay was way overdue. After this he was leaving, one way or another. He looked for Wiry too. Not because he hoped he would see him, but because he hoped he would not do so. Wiry was an idiot, and he; Gorman would bring Mr Charles everything. The prize was “John Grey”, and the knowledge they could extract. He pushed Juliet through the door first and then she saw. Gorman grimaced; that man, the weirdo. The one that Wiry had had such bother with. In this darkness and silence he looked dead. Was he? He pushed Juliet forward. She didn’t need instructions. She knew. She checked the boy and then turned slightly.

‘He’s alive. Just. Did you do this you sadistic….?’

‘Shh….’ Gorman breathed as he clamped a gloved hand over Juliet’s mouth. He spun her round, after that he tied her wrists and then fastened her to another chair. He didn’t gag her. It was perhaps his thought about the amusement to be gained from finding out what people really do say under pressure. Anyway, he then was ready to find Charles; and in passing listened at the door way where the other woman was secured. A light breeze blew in and he sensed that this one had got away. Suddenly it all seemed ridiculously out of depth for one such as himself. Magic tricks? What was he thinking? He turned to go and face Mr Charles, his fists clenched. He sat down in the little room for his brief yet telling report. Mr Charles noted that Gorman was very jittery. But as Gorman spoke he calmed down. He reeled off the list of instructions that he had followed, and Howard’s reaction to them.

‘So where is Mr Logan now?’

‘In the party.’ said Gorman, ‘where else?’

‘You need to be mindful of your purpose Alexi.’ said Charles smoothly.

‘And you need to watch your back August.’ said Gorman as Ira came up silently behind him. Even Rhett whose ears were on huge stalks had not reacted.

‘Ah….August.’ said Ira, ‘Very good; Excellent; so well-constructed. Well done! I didn’t think you could do it. But there it is.’

Mr Charles turned and saw Ira there with one of his acolytes by his side.

‘As you say Ira. I did it.’ And he inclined his head as he accepted Mr Shore’s compliment.

‘Mmm…. Well done. Yes. But just one thing is puzzling me. Why is there a woman on the roof?’

‘What?’ Mr Charles didn’t try to hide his surprize. ‘That has nothing to do with me!’

‘It is Gina Redding. You really mustn’t hang them out of the windows. It is simply not the way we do things down here.’

‘Simon was the last one to see her. Or maybe the little guy.’

‘I do hope you are not calling him names again.’ Ira frowned.

‘No, of course not…. But Redding is….’

‘Redding is important. She succeeded on the time tripper. She scored high on the tolerance tests. What were you thinking?’

‘She knew things. Her handler was here this evening.’

‘Oh Him…. that was her date.’ Ira noted with satisfaction the way August shrank a little.

‘Shall we go sir.’ said Rhett, who, actually being possessed of a brain, had worked out what was going to happen next.

‘Yes…. Yes of course.’ said Charles, then looking round, ‘Where’s Gorman gone?’

Gorman was unfastening Juliet, who protested with vim and vigour. Just as he dragged her from the room George and Sam had reached the place, opening the door carefully as they heard the sounds of struggle and Juliet’s protests. They were on the second floor and as Gorman pulled her up the stairs. George and Sam found Jared, still tied to the chair.

George immediately went to him; ‘Call the police and ambulance Sam. Do it now.’

Sam got out his mobile; ‘I must go after Juliet.’ George looked up at him briefly. ‘Okay Go!’ He got out his own phone and called the Gallery Security. Sam scrambled after the fleeing Gorman, and followed the cries of insult that did Juliet credit. She sounded annoyed rather than frightened, and was struggling for all she was worth. They turned a corner and made it up to the third floor. There was another place that rose steeply in a small tight twisting place and above that the door onto the roof.

George quickly examined the young man and after slitting the tapes, found his clothes and lifted Jared onto his coat and wrapped him up in it. The man was breathing if unconscious. There were marks on his wrists and legs as well as the cut above his eye brow. George noticed some old injuries too. He felt the pulse; rapid, and he was cold, probably hypothermic. The upper rooms in the Gallery were not used, and therefore chilly, especially at night. Whatever the man had suffered, he was going to need some time. He was young though, and George knew that the will to live had been exerted here. Nevertheless, the Russian had a mean look. He focused on what he could do next, and most effectively as security made their way up. Then they could sort out the rest of the emergency services. The Big Guy in the suit galumphed across to George.

George spoke quickly: ‘This one has been tortured. The man is dangerous and he has a hostage. They were heading for the roof. Sam followed them.’

‘We got it.’ The big man clicked his fingers, three other big guys followed up the same way, ‘Your friend should have waited for us.’

‘It’s a woman he cares about.’ George took Jared’s hand, ‘Are they on their way?’

‘First thing I called in. We will have to clear the building.’

‘No!’ said George, ‘I mean….don’t. We don’t want him taking a pot shot from up there. There are some very important guests in the Gallery this evening.’

‘Uh, important? Everyone is important. You let me do my job.’ he tapped his ear piece.

George remembered Sam still had his in too. He talked to Kyle down the wire, ‘Call Sam! Tell him Security is coming up…’

The big man tapped him on the arm; ‘We have a problem. Apparently there are two hostages. Another woman is on the roof.’

Instantly, George knew it was Gina. She had been making her way well enough; but he realised that this Gorman might very well target Gina. She wasn’t quite the Girl Guide. Perhaps he ought to go after her. But no…. that would not be good. He looked down. The big security man turned. Others were coming soon and the paramedics were on their way up. George was torn. His duty to the injured man, or his obligation to Sam and Gina, and Juliet…. Jared at that moment started to come round. He had warmed up a little. ‘Jay?’ George called his name…. then thought about the party; the man who had stood by the doorway. With a shock of gravity to the mind’s sense of reality he saw the double. And it was this man. More than a twin, more than a reflection of the shy artist.

‘Jared?’ George slid his arm under his head gently cradling it, as Jared shook it from side to side slowly.

‘No…..’ there was long moan like a child’s cry. It sent a shiver through George. In there was something quite animalistic and deep. He had a sudden flash of memory. He realised with a cold shock of awareness; it was not his own.

Jedden saw the reality breaking up around them. And then the rain spattered afresh against the windows. Howard looked up at him. His face in shadow as some of the lights had already gone out. He was silent and moved very little; there was something….Jedden could feel it like a ghost in his mind. Somewhere, someone was screaming. Someone was crying out and shrieking with the indignation of youth and life. Howard lifted his head. He had heard it too. And he seemed to see Jedden for the first time.

‘I’m sorry my friend. I couldn’t get that document for you. I think I will stop doing this for a while….quite a while….actually.’

‘The document doesn’t matter.’ Jedden said slowly and carefully, ‘But I should like, if you are willing, to look over some of your other research?’

‘My research?’ Howard shook himself, ‘Yes….my books. The files on things that are not….regular. Angelika will have them.’

‘She is very efficient in cataloguing things. It would help me if you let me go through some with you…. How about next Monday?’

‘Monday?’ Howard said the word as if he had approached the idea of another Monday occurring with startled realisation. There would be another….whatever he did. The world would still turn. And Jedden seemed to be making an effort to be positive for a change.

‘Monday?’ Howard repeated in a slightly different tone, ‘I think I have dinner on Monday at the Gold Exchange. Come along. The chef is excellent.’

‘The chef?’ Jedden was relieved but puzzled.

‘Yes,’ said Howard picking up the gun, ‘the chef is very, very good.’ He cracked it open and unloaded it. He tipped the rounds into his trouser pocket and held out his hand to Jedden with the gun under the palm.

‘You could put this back in my desk if you like. I only use it on special occasions.’

‘Okay.’

At that exact second there was a scream from somewhere up above, and all the lights went out completely. They both stood up, looked at each other. ‘I think a Lady requires assistance.’ said Howard.

‘Sounds like more than one Lady.’ said Jedden. They started to move though the darkened rooms, Howard leading the way. He knew this place so well; he could have drawn a map of it in his sleep.

He had stepped back and let the people whose expertise could save the young Man move into position. They crowded round and he was forgotten for now. He turned away and began to run, turning upwards into the unknown.

So, just as George got to the top of the third floor, Jedden and Howard were moving along the same floor from the other end.

‘Fuck!’ Howard said as they came round a corner and almost collided with him.

‘What are you doing here?’ George asked.

‘The same as you, by the look of the thing Darling.’ Howard stared pointedly at the Beretta.

‘I’m trying to find Sam and Juliet; and Gina; and some Russian mobster; and Security….three of them.’

Jedden came up behind him. ‘They’re up there.’

‘Don’t do that!’ George hastily put the gun away.

‘He’s with me.’ said Howard.

‘I thought you were with us?’ George now looked at Jedden who was actually smiling.

‘I’m not with the Russian. Or his Puppet Master. Well… let me describe the nuances of it later.’

‘Good enough,’ said George, ‘make sure you do.’

‘I say,’ said Howard, ‘that is rather a lot of people to misplace Darling. Perhaps they are up on the other side of the roof.’

‘He means the narrow space above the decorative parapet.’ Jedden said.

‘Right,’ George straightened, ‘is there any other way up there?’

Some of the people in the street had spotted the woman on the roof and others had gone outside to look. Most were unaware of what was happening. The medics brought Jared down and took him straight out to the ambulance parked a little distance away. Briar moved then.

‘I’m going now.’ he said, and she just stared. So used to this place she had forgotten what it was like. He hadn’t. He followed the milling crowd outside, a few paces behind Ira and his courtiers. He ducked as Ira turned, not wanting to be spotted right now. He looked up. There was a small splattering of rain and above the glowering masses of cloud the lighting on the building picked out three figures in sharp edged tones. There was a collective intake of breath as one of them slipped and stumbled near the edge. John saw that the crowd was filled with mainly gawping onlookers who had stopped in the middle of the street to enjoy the show. Most of the people in the Gallery were still inside. He did note, while people were distracted that the two women were also stood looking up. Those two!! Claire and Jayne. For Briar, the whole thing was just repeating. He had trained to remember the break in reality. He saw them with a kind of double vision. They noticed him and came over.

‘Is it what you expected?’ said one.

‘Not really.’

‘A show?’ said the other.

‘Now look here!’ he thought that they were implying that he was hand in glove with Ira and approved of the casual disregard for other people’s safety.

Claire held a finger to her lips; ‘Shh….’ she said and pointed. He followed her finger and saw the ambulance. There was a light there too. Fate? Or true destiny? Someone was about to meet theirs. He hurried over. A worried looking lady was stood near. She pushed the lion’s mane away from her face and looked at him. He could see the life leaving the person inside and he felt helpless to do anything. Then in a flash of intuition he saw another scenario. Only one person can decide the fate of someone in this state. One who is entitled to decide…. He turned and ran to find him and bring him to the dying man….the one called Jay.

Jay was following the little party up and up onto the exposed roof top. He passed Sam like a ghost, and he shivered, sensing his presence. Jay was in normal time now, but unseen. He watched them, and didn’t dare show his hand. Gina spewed a torrent of invective at the Russian as she was cornered in the tight balcony with nowhere to go. The Russian pushed the two women together, and Jay saw he had a knife in his hand. He knew that the others were just behind and sought to draw Sam away, and save them all. But he (Sam) could not be deflected from his course, which took him straight into Gorman’s path.

‘Come for the prize have we?’ Gorman fingered the bracelet on his wrist: the “clean” one that had replaced the one Miranda had been desecrating. Under his shirt he wore the superior third generation belt. Sam saw the bracelet and that was enough.

‘You did it!’

‘You are an idiot!’ Gorman said, lifting the knife and waving it before him. Sam looked sideways to see if Juliet and Gina were alright, so Gorman took a lunge at him. Sam missed being stabbed a second time by a fraction and backed right off. He was still wearing the bracelet and he wondered if that had been a mistake. George had also cling wrapped two power packs and brought them along. Sam felt a faint buzzing in his ear but no actual words, and concluded that he was out of range of the wire. The intermittent splatting of rain was making the surface slick and dangerous.

‘You give me what I want.’ said Gorman.

‘What is that?’

‘That Traveller…. The man. Tell me who he is!’

‘I…I don’t know.’ Sam knew this truth would perhaps get him into trouble too. ‘Kyle….Kyle….’ he whispered, in the vain hope he would find the signal once more. He carried on whispering; maybe Kyle could hear him, even when the favour wasn’t returned. Somewhere behind Sam were three Security, who had taken a wrong turning, and managed to find the way up through the maze ten minutes too late. Sam couldn’t see anyone else. Then Gorman, with a prodding and gesticulating action pushed the women round the rail onto the narrow ledge. It was barely a brick wide and the drop which had not been visible behind the decorative parapet was like the yawning chasm to Never land. Sam tried to not react, or make any sudden movement. Or they could fall. Gina and Juliet backed up, and Gorman followed them a little way, reaching back with the point of the knife outwards to encourage them to keep moving.

George, who wasn’t as incautious as Sam, rose up out of the small doorway very smoothly and silently. He watched the scenario while still being himself unseen and then dropped back down. He indicated to Jedden and Howard, and they leaned closer. ‘Is there any way of getting to the next window? Howard went up the short ladder and peaked out. He stepped back down, ‘You mean that little porthole? They would fit through; but they cannot reach it. It is above the drop.’

‘No, no. A rope. Something to cling to…. We have to get them to safety somehow. Sam had seen the same thing and clattered down the stairs backwards and collided with George, eyes wide with panic.

‘It’s this way.’ George pulled him along without any bother. Howard led them round and still hearing the rain followed the line under their position. They got to the little window. But it was high up.

‘Lift me up!’ said Sam.

‘But…’

‘I’m the lightest…. almost the lightest?’

Howard nodded to Jedden. ‘Make yourself useful.’

Jedden got Sam up on his shoulders in a sitting position. The catch was stiff. George passed him a penknife; he prised it loose, and then dropped the closed knife back into George’s hand. All at once he scrambled up onto the little window sill. Crouching and gasping and trying to get a clear view of the two girls, while ignoring the vertigo that the position induced in his inner ear, he saw that Gina was swaying slightly. Juliet was doing the sensible thing and facing the sloping roofline rather than looking down. He relayed this information to the others.

‘Nearly there Sam. We have rope. Just need to attach it to something.’

Sam turned back to see Gina struggling with Gorman. She backed away a little more and Juliet was forced to move more quickly along the narrow little space too.

‘Security is here!’ Sam called down, ‘And I can see police down on the ground.’

‘Bloody Hell!’ George muttered something else as well.

‘What should I do?’ Sam said as the rain that had been splattering worked into a heavy down pour. They gave him the end. Sam started to let down the rope.

‘George!’

‘We are stuck. Just be ready.’

‘What is happening?’ Howard asked. Sam twisted round and saw the scenario developing. Security perhaps weren’t aware that the two women were beyond Gorman, and if he shouted out to warn them; the shock might frighten Juliet and Gina. Sam knotted a loop in the rope, and then another. He let it down and knotted some more loops. Security had seen the tail sliding down the incline behind. And Sam realised that as soon as Gorman caught on this might be a good time to swing it towards the two girlfriends.

Jay was standing between Gorman and security. He could almost reach him but not quite. The moment he changed or used a different Time fluctuation Gorman would find him, and react with unpredictable violence. But something held him back. He sensed something coming. Security edged closer. They had now seen the two girls and they stopped and stood firm. A helicopter was overhead circling and sighting the people on the roof. Gorman waved his hand over his head as if to waft it away. The budgie disappeared. Jay turned and then saw coming over the roof top, like some genie out of a bottle, the little wizened face of the other man. He looked like some evil gnome, and popped up with the minimum of fuss as if he wasn’t on the top of the building and began to stroll along the very top edge of the roofline. Jay realised it was flat up there, right on the very top peak. He had to admire the sheer ego, and physical courage it took to do this…. That was until five seconds later when the little man made a jump to the edge just next to him. All the people nearby collectively breathed in, including himself. It looked impressive. Short range teleport jumps usually were. You saw the beginning and end of the trick. The real jumps were decades apart and there was no way of seeing them as an observer. That is why in that instant Jay grabbed him. The little guy was saving his real trick….As Jay found to his cost. He walloped Jay in the stomach and dropped him into the visible world at the same time. ‘You can see me?’ he groaned, trying hard not to want to vomit.

‘I can now!’ said Wiry proudly.

Gorman was momentarily taken aback, and then recovered; on seeing Jay, he had perhaps thought it was his older self, and seemed afraid. No one recovers that quickly from either the hours of captivity, or the beating they had given him.

Juliet was running out of ledge. Gina was in that state of terror where you become blind. And this could not go on for much longer. It was that she could not go any further. Something caught her eye. The rope. But it was too far away to their left. They was no way Gina was going to make it.

‘Gina! Listen! Remember my kitchen?’

‘Yees-es.’ Gina’s teeth were chattering.

‘We can get you off this place. Right now.’

‘But you will fall!’

‘No….Look.’

‘Okay.’

Juliet held the bracelet firmly in her right hand and swinging it down smartly onto Gina’s bracelet caused the shock wave to catapult Gina into invisible space. There was a blaze of energy that flared and blinded everyone. Sam saw what was happening and swung the rope to Juliet. Gina reappeared on the other side of Gorman and screamed at the top of her lungs. Wiry turned and ran towards the little edge; ready to grab the girl. But Jay leapt past him and threw her bodily backwards tumbling her over and over onto the wider surface to the feet of the nearest security guard. Juliet took one look and leapt for the rope. Sam saw she would not make it just as George appeared with Howard behind security having gone back round. He leapt out of the window grabbing loops as he went down and hooked his free arm round Juliet’s waist. The rope went taut and they made contact with the hard surface and a ringing swirling sound in Sam’s ears. The rain was cold but he didn’t think about his predicament, just about holding onto Juliet.

Wiry went for Jay and there was a horrible wrestle were their feet slipped and scrambled off the edge. George was looking at Gorman. He smiled and then suddenly vanished. Shit! Security moved and tried to grab Wiry but he leapt out of their way and jumping and somersaulting over everyone heads took Gina’s wrist and disappeared too. There was a clatter in the building, and a moment later a scuffle. George heard Gina scream. And Howard started to run back round to the room with the little window.

‘Don’t move sir!’

‘I won’t’ said Sam, trying not to look down. He and Juliet were on the rope. They were in an uncomfortable, if actually not in a perilous position; as long as the rope held. But with a sudden jolt, it dropped downwards by a foot.

‘I’m sorry Sam.’ said Juliet, ‘I tried to get Gina to safety.’

‘You didn’t know. Gorman and some of the others were wearing the bracelets as well.’

They looked up in a last desperate attempt to see a way out. The sound of scuffling was heard, and a sharp cry and some swearing.

‘Sam!!’ Juliet grabbed his arm as the rope was dropping. And then; as if in slow motion they began to fall.

George and Howard went to find Gina. Wiry was there with her in some kind of arm lock. She winced with pain. Jedden was on the floor out cold.

‘Bastard!’ George was beginning to make this really, really personal. Wiry undid a loop with the one hand and a curl of rope unfolded and they heard the cry of Sam and Juliet outside.

‘No…’ George said.

‘Oh yes!’ and then with one practised flick of his knife he cut the rope.

Jay dragged himself back onto the relative safety of the place behind the parapet.

‘Let’s go.’ said one of the Security. Jay turned has the man indicated the empty turret. Jay bent over and vomited.

‘Better out than in.’ said the last one. ‘If you don’t mind you can tell us who you are later Sir?’ he turned sharply to follow the others. The little guy was toast if they could catch him. Jay was left alone kneeling in the rain. He looked up. He sensed it. The way it went. The other woman, the buxom energetic one was being dragged away. He felt sick again and was momentarily unable to do anything.

Inside George was recovering from being kneed in the groin. They marvelled at the almost supernatural strength of the ugly little man as they waited for the pain George grappled with to subside. Howard helped George to his feet. They didn’t mention what had just happened. There would be time for the grief and anguish later, after that man was cut into tiny little pieces. They were both curling inside with an unrelenting anger; the Wiry guy was now the hunted. They could hear a distant wail, and they began to follow as fast as they could manage, dropping down inside the darkness of the building as the storm steamed water over the roof. The power was still out on the upper floors and even if there was anything to see they couldn’t get to the switches from here. There was a control board somewhere. Howard knew where, but they had to follow Gina downward as she still called out in furious anger.

Jay slowly made his way down. It took him ten minutes to find the last few people. At last they stood in an upper room. Wiry was sure of himself. But Jay looked at the rain on the windows, and knew that if he was what he appeared to be, he could not take Gina out of here. The rain made sure than if he time jumped it would be alone.

Wiry threw the sodden form of Gina onto the floor of the empty upstairs studio. George and Howard were there, just as Jay entered.

‘Come in! Traveller!’ said Wiry in a loudly triumphant voice.

‘Is this a joke?’ said George, ‘You are crazy. You will be locked away forever.’

‘No….and he knows why.’ Wiry pointed at Jay.

‘Him?’ Howard turned to see Jay standing there. ‘What do you want with him?’

‘Why don’t you tell them?’ Wiry said addressing the question to Jay.

Jay just stared.

‘What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?’

The question was maybe the most curiously inappropriate one. It made Jay think of Camille. He thought about her really really hard. Are we to believe that the Cat was responsible for what happened next? Or was it the thing that happened when reality itself cannot account for you and lets you off the hook?

There was Camille.

‘You have really got to be kidding!’ George exclaimed.

‘So it’s really NOT a hallucination then?’ Howard seemed relieved.

‘She’s Sam’s cat.’ said Jay, as the penny finally dropped, ‘Felicitous.’

The Wiry man took one look at Camille and tried to grab hold of her. But cats are not the least bit like humans and don’t worry about the general meaning, rather the specific intention of the thing. If you intend to make one into kitty kippers the best policy is to get out of the way.

Sam and Juliet fell. There was a moment of rain soaked sky and a moment of pavement and then everything went pale. It was like falling though soft fronds of grass. It felt so much nicer than the idea that Sam had about dying. Honestly, he was really pleasantly surprised. That was until he found they were actually still falling but from high up in the arc of blue that was the dome of the heavens. If he was going to die then spending those last moments with Juliet made it complete. She locked against him and they fell. The wind ripped past their ears now and they did not try to speak but fell and fell. And then the lights went out. They were rising. And then they were bobbing on the ocean. A warm lake of deep green water that swirled around like wine. They both opened their eyes.

‘Juliet!’ Sam managed to gasp, and then they were submerged again. After that they were floating in a vacancy of deepest stillness for a second of time. It was like the sky on a summer day with no clouds; and then the grass formed under them: slowly reappearing. They lay there with their arms wrapped around each other. It was night, and it was raining.

‘I have had just about as much of this as I can stomach.’ George pulled out the Beretta.

Wiry had not foreseen this little turn up but the Cat still wandered in his vision and distracted him. Jay understood well what Wiry meant. And he pressed his lips together. There were some rules for Travellers. Six tenets that should be obeyed. Since George knew he was one of them, and Howard was going to find out anyway, at least one of those didn’t count. He stepped forward.

‘So speak.’ said Wiry.

‘Yes…’ Jay coughed and felt sick for a moment; he pulled himself to his full height. Howard and George looked at each other and began to edge towards Gina. Gina looked up and started to move slightly. George shook his head. She stayed still pretending to be in a swoon.

George turned keeping hold of the gun, as Jay slowly went towards Wiry. A movement in his eye line. The Cat had seen it too, and stiffened in alarm. Gorman!

‘Come now.’ said Gorman to Wiry, ‘We have to report to Mr Charles. Bring the girl.’

‘No.’ said George, pointing the gun at Gorman. Howard looked sideways at George and then gazed at Jay too.

‘All a game darling.’ he said to Jay, ‘Play the game….’ George took that cue and leapt towards Gorman. He missed him and the gun went sliding across the floor as Wiry slammed into him out of nowhere. It was hard to tell if Gorman was pleased that Wiry had just stopped George shooting him; but the latter was looking cross. Jay stood still and didn’t move at all. He found this hard but it gave him power to act to undo it. So they intended to go against the tenets about the set times. Unless: they could get Jay to do it for them. He knew it would cause trouble that could not be undone and he might actually hurt far more people. He didn’t want to see them fall but he must. He leapt into space and found the point of the shift into another place. He saw, and he did not believe….then he saw them reappear on the grass below the pinnacle. What is love if not a power than cannot be reckoned in the normal way? When you are loved you can do anything. Did they realise it yet themselves? They did not move; still waiting for the world to stop turning. It was enough. Jay returned instantly.

The scene had changed. Howard was fighting with them for all he was worth and George was trying to stand, after being clanged in the brain by Wiry. Vicious bastards! Gorman saw Jay and turned his attention to him. Time to let rip! Jay grabbed his shirt. Unhooked the belt and let it drop. Then he removed the wrist band. Now; that got a reaction. Gorman was struggling to run away now.

‘Stop!!’

The scene froze like some still shot of a film. Howard had the gun. Jay was about to object when the shot rang out. Gorman was down. Shot through the shoulder. Wiry turned and that was it: George tripped him and Jay pinned him down.

‘Where is it?’ Jay eye-balled him right in the face. If he could remove his travel totem he could be arrested and held.

‘You have got to be kidding my dear Traveller! I knew you. I know you. I will know you! Did you think I was second level? Did you? Let go of me!’ Jay released him.

‘I see.’ he continued, as in the distance the clatter of footsteps approaching broke the silence, ‘You did not believe there was anyone to best you! But I did…. It is easy Jared…. Or should I say Vincey?’ The last word was spoken so that only Jay could hear him… Jay flinched and stepped back a little.

‘Yes, yes. Now you see. Now you understand. Mr Charles had one agenda, I had another. I got what I wanted. You. Your reveal. Interesting that you should choose to hide for so long. I see that you can create a stable paradox. You will do this for me one day.’

‘No.’ said Jay.

‘Nevertheless one day you will come to me. Willingly. Without any resistance. I will have you. I will know you. And you will be mine…’

‘I will never….’

‘Don’t be foolish. You insult the name of Traveller boy! It is a certainty. And you know this.’

‘You are lying.’

‘Even if I was, it won’t change it.’

‘No Fate.’ said Jay softly. And then he saw an object that Gorman had dropped a moment ago. The flint and steel.

‘Leave. Now.’ he said to George and Howard. Gina clambered to her feet. ‘Get out Gina Redding.’

She grabbed George’s arm. And they hurried away.

‘Not you.’ To Wiry.

‘You cannot stop me.’

‘Yes I can.’ And with that he stuck the little blade against the striking steel and a sparks flew to the floor and caught on some little pieces of rubbish and some wood shavings.

‘You cannot do that! My wonderful reality.’

Jay ignored him and made the Jump and got Jedden and deposited him outside. The building burned and the place cleared, and as it edged to seven forty-five the wailing of sirens could be heard.

Briar went to Jay as he stood exhausted on the curb and told him about his “friend”.

‘He’s already dead.’ said one paramedic, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Please give me a minute.’

The second nodded and they let him be with the one they thought so clearly was his twin brother.

Jared had gone into the depths of something like a dream. But it was soft and warm at last. He felt lighter somehow; as if a question had been answered. And then, just when he thought of letting go, a little Cat trotted into view. And with one little Meow! she awoke in him a raw desire for life; a terrible thirst to taste and smell again, and to kiss a woman he desired. He travelled back through shades of green and grey and then into the light of an afternoon. That day. And there he was stood by that door, looking into his own eyes. And there he saw love and acceptance, not fear. One thing; a drink: Margarita. He tasted the salt and was revived. He touched his head with his finger tips and was surprised to find he had been healed. The pain and the cold gone. He stood wrapped in the long coat. It felt warm and he was comforted by it again.

Ira waited for the test to begin. He tapped his fingertips on the edge of table and then sighed. It was so like Charles to make a drama out of a crisis. A couple passed in front of him. They seemed familiar but then he thought it was just a little moment of distraction. A red head, and a young fellow, who acted in way most attentive; they went to the buffet table and took a plate each.

Howard came forward to Jared, ‘Are you feeling alright?’

‘Yes. Are you?’ he glanced at his younger self surrounded by the family.

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ said Howard, knowing the meaning straight away. He leaned over to Ms Peron, and then turned back to him. ‘She will see if the little one can come to see you. Do you need a moment somewhere?’

‘No. that’s fine. Just by the drinks table. It is fine now.’

‘As you wish.’ Howard inclined his head.

Sam came to him with Juliet on his arm.

‘That was weird.’

‘Very.’ Jared agreed, sipping the Margarita.

‘What happens now?’

‘We have some food. Some drinks. And look at some Art.’ Jared picked up the program and ran his thumb down the edge. ‘I think we might be alright for the speeches soon.’

‘See you in there.’ Sam turned, and then turned again, ‘You will stay?’

‘Yes…. Jay and I….we have a decision to make…. That’s for tomorrow. I won’t let it trouble us for now.’

‘You are sure?’

‘Yes Sam. Juliet; don’t frown. Everything worked out in the end.’

‘How can you be sure?’ Juliet said. She still wore George’s bracelet.

‘Just go. We’ll meet and talk. I’ll answer everything before I have to leave.’

‘How long have you got?’ Sam noticed a furry shape approaching the smoked salmon.

‘As long as is needed. The weekend should be long enough. I must be gone by Monday I think.’

Sam just nodded and they went to take their places at the presentation.

*****

Chapter Eighteen

Forget, Remember.

Later, as Sam and Juliet hugged each other, and Gina slow danced with George while his sister looked on; Howard stood by Angelika.

‘Good Party?’

‘Good Party.’ she agreed nodding.

‘Did they….?’

‘They did all like it Mr Logan.’

‘And the Cat?’

‘I believe….’ she turned and faced him, ‘the Cat has gone back home. Your young friend informed me of this a few minutes ago.’

‘What of my Artists?’

‘They are all pleased with the turn out. Annalise left you this…’ she handed Howard a folded note, ‘A thank you. Most complimentary.’

‘It is, isn’t it?’

‘Very.’ she agreed.

‘You look very well this evening Ms Peronette.’

She reached up and adjusted his cravat a little, ‘As do you Howard, very well indeed.’ Howard turned away smiling, looking across the room.

Jay leaned against the double doors and closed his eyes for a moment. He waited for the others to be ready to go. George had ordered taxis for them all. Jay wanted to savour every last drop of this time together. In the gallery with his smaller paintings his older self waited for the two sisters to say good bye to him. He would let him have that at least. He wondered if they had fallen out in his future time. But somehow it worried him very little…. He had tasted something and it had lifted that doubt from his mind this night. But there at the back of it all was the image of fire. That elemental force…. It burned so brightly and it flared in his memory and overwhelmed it like the taste and sensation of dark wine drunk from a fine goblet. He saw them pass in slow motion and wondered why he felt so swimmy…. Howard’s cocktails, he guessed.

Sam detached himself from Juliet and came to stand next to him; ‘What will happen?’ asked Sam.

‘Tomorrow? I don’t know.’ Jay looked down at the floor, then back at Sam. A shadow of worry crossed his face. ‘He’s with them now.’ he said.

‘The other one.’

‘Yes.’ Jay looked away, ‘you know it’s funny, I thought it would be harder. But it doesn’t seem so at the moment.’

‘What does?’

‘Letting go.’ Jay took a last sip of a drink from his glass, ‘He has to go tomorrow, and I have to make a choice. Let me ask you Sam…?’

‘Ask me what?’

‘What would you do?’ he held out his hands in front of himself, ‘if on one hand you had your memories….and on the other; you had a certainty of who you were in the future. I am defined by what I know about myself the same as anyone…. Do you know what I mean?’

‘I think you’re asking the wrong person.’ said Sam. Jay saw a brief worried look toward Juliet.

‘I wanted to say Sam. I was there that night because I came to find you. Juliet had just arrived back and we went in together. She found you and I helped her. We sat you up. Juliet rang the ambulance. The others were just lucky. I can see why you don’t wish anyone else to know. And I understand that. It will remain as it is….and I hope that we can become friends. Properly, I mean.’

‘I’d like that. I think that Camille would too.’

‘Your Cat.’

‘My Cat.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘Okay; but how long have you known the Cat?’

‘About six months.’

‘So that’s where she went.’

‘Six months ago…. She watched Lord of the Rings Part One with me. Sorry.’

‘No. Better that she was getting a cultural education.’

Jay just smiled and waited for his lift.

‘That’s the last of them.’ Gina said. She handed the little drawstring bag to George; ‘I hope if you are going to melt them down you will let me know; I know a very good jewellery designer.’

‘So do I.’ George smiled and sliding his arm round Gina’s shoulders nodded to his sister.

‘Bye Gina!’ Geraldine tripped slightly and then laughed, ‘My lift is here. Better get back to some more Art. Well, starting again on Monday. Byeee!’

Sam and Juliet came over to George and Gina. ‘There’s just one thing. It’s a bit weird.’

‘Go on…’ George sighed.

‘Juliet didn’t have any money. So she rang herself.’

‘Okay….’

‘And the money arrived.’

‘How did it arrive?’

‘In an envelope.’

‘Just give me ten minutes.’ said George.

Gina bounced on her toes, ‘I can help. I know what to do!’

‘What is that then?’ asked Sam looking a little suspicious.

‘It’s not what you’re thinking.’ Gina tipped her chin up and narrowed her eyes.

‘Get Jay.’ ordered George. He turned to Gina. ‘We will visit the nearest cash machine.’

‘What do we do? Juliet looked puzzled.

‘Wait here.’

They saw George have a word with Angelika as he and Gina passed her.

About ten minutes later they were back. George had a slightly secretive look.

‘What did you do?’ Juliet was intrigued.

‘All in one day, right?’

‘I think so.’ Juliet was frowning again.

‘It’s taken care of.’ George said, and then smiled at them both and led Gina out.

The following morning Jay woke and saw the sunlight making patterns across the floor. Saturday. He half sleep-walked into the kitchen and filled the kettle.

‘I’d like a tea too.’

‘Oh!’ Jay turned, startled. He was there perched on the kitchen stool in a tee shirt and boxers, reading the morning edition.

‘Please warn me when you’re about to appear.’ Jay said.

‘You invited me.’ said his older self, and pointed through to the large main room, and the spare duvet rumpled up on the settee.

‘Oh… err… of course.’ He rubbed his eyes, ‘this is a little weird. I mean I…. yesterday.’ The other came forward and took both his hands; ‘Calm down Jay….you made a huge leap into Who you are yesterday. It is a lot to take in.’

‘I am not you now am I?’ Jay was worried, but the touch of this other self helped him stay calm. Jared breathed in and out and seemed hesitant. ‘We need to decide which one of us keeps a memory of the rather….Dramatic recent events.’

‘Why can’t we both?’

‘Because,’ said Jared, ‘if we do that….then I am another person when I go home. And I will have to find out who that is…. A lot could have changed.’

‘So the alternative is…. That one of us forgets everything?’

‘Almost. If I forget….and go back to my place… as in your future; the forgetting must be clean. I will not remember being here at all.’

‘Oh…. So that means I am the dominant one. I decide? I don’t think I want to do that.’ Jay squeezed his hands.

‘Strong grip.’ Jared joked, ‘I need a smoke.’ He broke the contact and cast around for the lighter.

‘And the other alternative?’ Jay asked and handed him a box of matches.

Jared took out a Sobrané from the packet and lit it before answering. ‘Just one….Every now and then when the occasion calls for it.’

‘Say it.’ Jay got the mugs and re-boiled the kettle.

‘You forget what you did yesterday….and life will go on pretty much as it had been doing. And you don’t know what some of the others know. They (Sam and George and so on) will have one up on you and you won’t know. But that means that you….eventually, become me…. and….well I can’t think of an “and” to say…’

‘But you will know that you have been here? And everything that has happened?’

‘Yes. And some….I will recall it as soon as I get back: all the memories that have been buried in you about this recent event. I will then know. It will suddenly come back. But only if that is what you want to happen.’ Jared looked away then and blew a steady stream of smoke into the shaft of sunlight. Jay turned to make tea thinking about it all. They then sat down opposite each other. Jay felt funny. Yet he knew what he really preferred.

‘In the end I will know. And all will be the same for you? That is if I forget just now?’

‘Yes.’ Jared said.

‘And how far in the future are we talking?’

‘Not far. Three years.’

‘That’s not long… I think I…’

‘It’s not like that,’ Jared cut in, ‘remember that you are a Traveller.’

‘So how old are you?’

‘I’m not sure.’ He shifted in his seat and then suddenly laughed at the irony of it, ‘Do you know, I’m really not sure!’

‘We must both choose. And both agree.’ Jay looked into his eyes, he saw sadness for a fleeting second, ‘I know that it is not a good thing to know too much about your own future; but is there anything you can tell me?’

‘I don’t know….there is a lot that happens.’ Jared’s expression clouded over, and he turned away. When he turned back there were tears in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ He said, ‘I cannot hide anymore….it is approaching. I will get dressed and then I must go home.’

‘No! I mean, please stay. For breakfast at least…. There’s never any time.’

‘Just because you are immune to paradox doesn’t mean that this is not going to be very weird whatever.’ Jared stood and smiled. ‘I’ll just get my coat; and shirt and everything.’

Jay sat and sipped his tea. He pondered this moment of his decision. On the one hand loss, and a story that was yet to be told. But he knew what kind of man he became… one who would sacrifice himself for a friend. Then on the other side: There was total uncertainty. And the man who he loved might never come into being. He could not face that fear alone. And see his other walk into oblivion. He would go to that home in the future and as he arrived, he might feel inside his personality crumble and become what? It was too frightening to contemplate. It is true that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. And Jay didn’t want the other to be disappointed in him. His future self had come back to sort something out. And he need not be worse off when he returned. That was it. A choice, and for himself, in the here and now, he choose the power of forgetting.

Jared returned. He had the coat over one arm and a letter in his hand. ‘This is for you.’ He said, ‘whatever you decide to do.’

‘I cannot decide!!’ I can’t; I won’t! It may be the philosophical conundrum of the century, but there is also simple plain courtesy. You’re the one who made the effort; you are the one who came back. You deserve to choose what future you will have!’

‘I know you have always believed that. I thought that for a long time. But now I know it isn’t so. We make of the journey very much what we take with us Jay….and you are me. We are one, you and I. Do not fear… whatever you decide, I cannot be lost. The essential core of what is….is always. You have already made your choice. And that was what I needed to see; that you care. And I thought…. I thought I was not like that…. even though Eve…. Sorry, I’ve said too much.’

‘Then….’ Jay stood up too, ‘I choose to forget for now. And then one day I will wake on, I hope, a fine morning like this….in summer?’

‘Yes.’

‘In summer; and I will think about today. All of it. Yes?’

‘Yes. That is it. We will be whole again Jay. And that time the recall will not be incomplete.’

‘Just give me a few minutes.’ Jay said.

They sat together in the morning light. Jay in a long sleeved tee shirt and jeans. Jared in the long coat.

‘How do we do this?’ Jay asked, and felt a flutter of nervousness in his diaphragm. Jared stood up, and Jay followed suit. Jared buttoned the last button on his coat and tipped his head down towards the floor as if he was praying. He held out both hands. Jay laid his wrist across Jared’s strong hands. He gripped him tightly, and Jay locked his hands round Jared’s wrists in turn. Jared leaned into him so that their foreheads touched.

‘I don’t know any other method for this kind of thing. Are you alright standing?’

‘I think so,’ said Jay.

‘Are you ready?’

‘Yes…’

All at once their minds merged into one. Jay felt as if he was bathed in liquid light. The fluid strands of those things that make time travel possible flowed like strands of his sister’s hair. And then all the memories he had rose one after another. They were today’s, yesterday’s, and all those times. All of them going right back. All of them. He felt himself resisting and then suddenly he let go. He was floating in a pure light bathed in warmth and golden stillness and peace. He felt a deep sense of Love and generosity towards his friends and as if all the wrinkles and crinkles had been taken out. Then another thing…. Like a soft blue tide. It quietly drew a blank over something. It washed over it. And the beach was pristine and trackless again. He did not forget Jared had been to see him. But now it was only that intimate stillness; that companionable silence when he had been alone and sick that he remembered. And then it softly faded out, and he was aware of the room again. His whole body felt unstrung and liquid with relaxation. Jared staggered under Jay’s weight and held him up as he slipped and slid towards the floor.

‘Should have seen that coming.’ Jared said to himself. He eased his arms under the other and lifted him with hardly any effort. Jay was awake, but felt slightly trancelike. As if he was drunk or something. Jared took him and put him down on the bed. Jay could not move. He looked up at Jared. The other put his hand on his head. ‘Be calm, my friend, all will be well. Rest now. Time to let go.’ He bent down; his expression was sad but relieved, the eyes full of compassion. Jared kissed him on the forehead; ‘Goodbye dear friend.’ he whispered, and then withdrew. Jay saw the shapes fade away and the softness of the bed was all around and he could not move. In the still morning he slept some more.

Jared had stepped away from the younger self after making sure he was asleep. Then he left the building. He would walk and walk until he was tired, and then he would make the time journey back. When there, he would have to walk all the way home. And then it might be afternoon…. He thought about his Sisters as he left the building. He felt a pull of pain. It was still there. He walked into the next street and not being able to wait he made the time jump. He arrived gasping and screamed out in anguish. He had his answer, and he had that truth. And twenty minutes later he was back home, at the flat. He dropped the keys in the bowl, and went into the kitchen. It was a different kettle; he remembered that old one now. He took off the coat, and carefully hung it in the wardrobe in the spare bedroom (The one with no bed); and making tea sat down and watched a film. A little while later, there was a scratching at the door, and a small sound.

In trotted the Cat. Jared patted the settee. She jumped up and he stroked her back.

‘I’m glad you came to call.’

Me-ow… purr….purr…purr….Camille had her motor running.

‘I think I can remember now,’ he said to her, ‘I was left in the cloak room like a spare umbrella!

Purr…..purrr…..

‘I suppose you always knew that though.’

Camille gave him one of those furry-faced looks she had been practising, and then curled up and fell asleep.

*****

Chapter Nineteen

Cheese Sandwich.

George had many things on his mind, not all of them pleasant. The first three things were to do with disappearing scientists, unsolved crimes, and a rapidly developing headache. Kyle meandered into the kitchen. He practically lived here during the week, and since the Base had needed staff at short notice on weekends as well, Kyle had stayed to keep George company and fix the things that needed it.

‘Where’s the Marmite?’ Kyle was cheerful, and a late night cross-referencing data from the “Gallery Event” as he had christened it, had not dented his upbeat disposition.

‘Have you fed the monster yet?’ George reached for the paracetamol.

‘Camille? Yeah….she is now watching Scooby doo with Sam.’

‘Is he here?’

‘Yes. You insisted that a full scan was made of everyone and everything before they were allowed back home. They have all made themselves at home. Oh! And Sam says he’ll cook breakfast.’

‘Oh! Good… that’s good.’ George left the kitchen still in a distracted mood and thought about Gina for a few minutes. Gina….that is a full MA.

He and Kyle rated women on the difficulty of understanding by various levels of qualification. They liked to vary them imaginatively and so Juliet had been named “BA Hons in Science”. They didn’t tell Sam. He wasn’t like that. And anyway it seemed a little ridiculous in the face of the actual Gina who floated down the stairs already perfumed and bathed and softened by her gratitude to George and Sam for being so heroic. That was the problem. George wasn’t sure who she was feeling the real appreciation for. And the unfinished business of the Sam/Gina conundrum had reached new complex shades, beyond most male brains; now with the added angle that Gina might actually like George. The question he asked himself does George like Gina? And if he does, should he go down that road? A least he knew what he was letting himself in for.

‘I prefer relativity.’ George muttered, ‘an outside chance of not being made to look an idiot.’

‘But you are absolutely top of the class George!’ Gina’s hearing was sharper than your average girl in high heels and she was ten times more observant.

Those who were already up met in George’s huge farmhouse kitchen. Sam was getting all the ingredients out for a Full English. And George thought that on reflection this might be a good thing. Gina set about making coffee. So he sat down and raised an eyebrow at Kyle.

‘That kid Alex is coming round.’

‘What?’

‘Juliet got a lift with him last night. The one who arrived later; Carla Lee’s son.’ Kyle had a lined notebook in front of him and was doodling in it. ‘I feel a hack coming on.’ he added.

‘It’s all out of control Kyle. The whole thing.’

‘No, it’s not. Look. I really think that there has to be a connection between Drucker and the other man… the other dead one…’

‘Not that kind of whole thing.’

‘Pardon me. But I thought there was some urgency?’

‘There is…’ he rubbed his eyes, ‘never mind. Just tell me what you’ve got.’

‘Art Theft,’ said Kyle, ‘in every case.’

‘Go on….’

‘But it was never about the Art.’ he pointed at the notebook, ‘What if that was just the Trojan horse? The way in? You said that these people had to have a lot of money. A huge wad. The huge wad that they want to spend. And Gina was just on the edges of that. But the big boys…’

‘And girls…’

‘Yes. Girls too. There had to be a connection. So I did a bit of digging. There seems to be something happening each time. A deposit is paid to go on the Time Tripper…. In cash and then the rest is made up on a bank transfer. But here’s the thing… about a week, or two weeks later… the money moves again. And then… well it just gets thee gone!’

‘Money laundering?’

‘Maybe. But what if you had money to spend… like a little kid you just wanted to find something to spend the money on.’

‘The notes.’ said George.

‘Some of the People; the ones that passed through the selection and the whole experience were paid their share afterwards, mostly in cash. These in relative terms were moderate amounts: the stuff Sam received was some of those notes. What we are looking for is a bigger bunch of Timey particle note things flooding the area. Acting just like those programs did. Doing something. Like a very low strength quantum field… a slight lift in the background reading. A trace of something. Over a certain geographical area. And it’s in the population. For a short while if it’s still in a city say, or in a town the effect will last longer before it dissipates. But it does something that I think we measured recently… the conditions have to be right to do certain things. And this makes the conditions just right…..’

‘Fuck me! Of course!!’ George jumped up out of the chair, ‘Stolen…. Art. And the one thing that is common to all these things?’

‘Insurance?’ Kyle clicked his pen, ‘In particular insurance pay outs…. I think there is a pattern. But it is such a spider web out there.’

‘Who pays a claim in cash?’

‘Well I guess they all can do.’

‘Get on to it Kyle!’

‘Breakfast first.’ He turned to see how Sam was doing.

‘Are you sure you’ll be alright?’ Sam held Juliet’s hand.

‘It’s fine.’ Gina said, ‘You boys get on with your really important stuff. And we’ll do something even more vital.’

‘Yes?’ Sam was waiting for this with bewildered incomprehension.

‘Juliet must be taken shopping. At once. I insist!’

‘See you later?’ Juliet smiled sweet and shy.

‘Let’s tool up and go shopping. Come on girlfriend!’ Gina threw out her chest ready to go bust some cash machines and put out a dent in her well-endowed credit card.

Sam watched them leave and marvelled at the way that his spare jeans and sweat shirt were transformed on the slender form that was Juliet.

‘Snap to it!’ Kyle called, ‘And make some more coffee. We really need to get a grip.’

They sat and pondered. There were some leads but none that were conclusive and fitted all the facts.

‘I thought I was onto something.’ Kyle looked for once despondent.

‘Wait a minute….’ George stood up and waved his biro around, ‘....a connection back. That’s right.’ he put a finger and thumb to his head, ‘It is really giving me a headache trying to work this one out.’

‘We need to find the source of the activity.’ said Kyle.

‘I know that.’ said George, ‘more tea?’

They all were silent for a few minutes.

‘Not going for fag then?’ Kyle prodded Sam with the business end of the retracted biro.

‘I’m thinking.’

‘What about?’

‘About Gina.’

George turned away, ‘Argh!! Will you please keep that minx out of the mix.’

‘No! Listen. She is in the mix. Gina admitted this morning that she had an unexpected windfall. A really big one. Huge. She has no idea where it’s from. But she did say that the Time Tripper took your money, quite a lot of it then they returned it to you with interest if you completed the programme. She did. And she was paid. But there were two credits at the same time; both large. But one was extraordinarily large. And I think they accidentally paid Gina someone else’s fee as well as her own. And then….’ Sam stared into space remembering.... thinking, trying to recall.

‘How much exactly?’ Kyle was as ever getting to the essential facts.

‘She didn’t want to say.’ Sam seemed resigned then, ‘She was never like that when we were dating.’

‘George can get her to tell all when they get back from their little shopping expedition.’ Kyle turned to his laptop and prodded a few keys.

‘Come on.’ said George, ‘If this is a wind up, I prefer a clockwork mouse.’

‘Steady on!’ said Sam, ‘Just because you really, actually like Gina, doesn’t mean you have to start being funny with me.’

‘I what!!’ George spluttered his coffee.

‘Alright, playtime is over,’ Kyle adjusted the diagram he was doing. He pulled up the note book from under his elbow and scribbled a few more notes down.

They gathered round again and looked at the new information. And after a while they stopped and stared at it all.

‘Wow.’ said Sam.

‘Not sure.’ said George.

‘There’s always some foot print in the snow,’ said Sam, ‘I think we need to get help.’

‘I’d like to introduce you to a witness to the crime; or crimes.’ Sam stepped aside while Sam Parker stood and took a good look at them all.

‘Lovely to meet you.’ said George.

‘Save it Soldier.’ Sam Parker eyed him, ‘I let you in ‘cos you’re with the other guy.’

‘Me?’ Kyle was hand on chest scared of women and this was too discomforting by far.

‘I know what you do. It is very smooth.’

‘What do I do?’ said Kyle, not one to succumb to flattery.

‘Oh… this and that. Have a seat.’ she turned to Sam. ‘I knew this would be a very odd day. Must be something in the water.’

Alastair had made his peace with the world at last. The letter was written. And then he rubbed his face and reached for the now cold coffee. But for a second….there was a flicker of something. Last night….he had gone to the bar; sat and drank, a bit too much. And then what? There, in the recesses of memory was Miranda. He turned from the small desk. For a second he heard the sound of a toaster being clicked down. What was it? He turned back and found the envelope. But he didn’t seal the letter yet. He carefully placed a stamp on the corner, nice and neat. For if nothing else was true Alastair was good with making his presence felt in the keeping of records. And while he was not actually sacked, he felt that Mr Charles was just about to dismiss him and pay him off. Sure enough, at nine thirty, the post arrived. A padded envelope; inside was a wrapped plastic packet full of money. And a note: “Your claim settled in full, compliments from:” and underneath a logo, an R and an F entwined in a subtle way; and printed in Royal blue.

Alastair put the plastic down and carefully folded the note and slipped it into the back pocket of his diary. Then he heard a distinct tink-tink sound and a click in his small kitchen. He burst into the room and startled Miranda who was stirring two cups of what looked like dilute juice, except it was in a mug.

‘Oh!’ she was dishevelled and had that mascara smudged look of a woman who isn’t bothered what state she’s in on account of getting something more fulfilling into her collecting bag. Like collecting shells and then finding diamonds. She was poised with a tea spoon in one hand, her eye brows raised in slight alarm.

‘Miranda?’ he shook his head in disbelief.

‘Yes,’ she put the spoon down carefully and tipped her head to one side, ‘I made tea with lemon. I hope you like it.’

He went to her and swept her up in his arms, and put his face against her hair and breathed in her warm perfumed scent. ‘You’re real…’

‘Yes. You brought me home with you. And well; it was very sweet. You told me I was the most beautiful woman in the world and then you kissed me all the way down to my toes. Then you said that you were very tired and very drunk and did I mind you resting for a little while.’

‘I did?’

‘Now it’s a little while later. And I thought this might help.’

‘Miranda!’ he uttered hoarsely and pulled away just far enough to look into her eyes, ‘I love you. I will do anything for you. Just name it.’

‘You just met me last night.’ She was pleased but puzzled.

‘Listen,’ he said kissing her hair and speaking in her ear, ‘what if I told you that I knew you better than that, and I can prove it. If the reality you woke in this morning was a different one to last night; and that I’m honestly not going to do anything to hurt you?’

‘I think I’d say….that I would take a chance on that. No one ever said that before….’

‘It’s an unbelievable story.’ he said carefully.

‘I’m all ears.’ She handed him a cup, ‘I think you could just be what I am looking for.’

‘No…. Miranda, I’m serious.’ He took both mugs and put them on the countertop. ‘Look at me. Just look at me. Please…’

She stared at him and her eyes flickered. He took her head in his hands and kissed her….long, slow, lingering.

Miranda licked her lips and pressed herself against him. ‘I think I know why you waited until this morning to give me that kiss. Show me more please.’

Alastair looked at her and didn’t need any more encouragement. Two hours later, as Miranda drank a tea, this time with milk in it; Alastair sat again at his desk. He added a paragraph to his letter, and then sealed it and stowed it in this jacket for later.

‘I will have to go out.’ he said, and her face fell, ‘No, no…I want you to come with me.’

‘Alright. Where are we going?’

‘To the Post Office. I need to send a letter. But it’s recorded signed for.’

‘And then what?’ Miranda gathered the sheets about her breasts invitingly. Alastair blinked, but he needed to get the letter in the post soon. It would be there by Monday.

‘Get dressed Beautiful.’ He held out a hand to her and she came towards him still wrapped in the sheet, ‘I’ll take you to dinner at a very nice place I know; as long as I get it in the post by twelve thirty.’

He slid his hand round her wrist and concentrated very hard indeed. The bracelet dropped away unnoticed…. It was a spare, the spare she always carried. He decided to buy her a new one, this time without any thing in it.

‘Game over….’ he said.

‘What?’ she mumbled as he kissed her once more.

‘Are you game for a little treat?’ he was astonished by the intense sensation of gratitude he felt to her as well as attraction. If she felt like he did? Well, he would take his chance. ‘I would love to treat you to a new car.’ he said, ‘Is there is somewhere you have to be?’

‘Yes….soon.’ She rolled over languorously, and then sat up. ‘You really do have a letter to post? And you really want to take me out to dinner?’ She bounced upright and started to get dressed. Then realising she didn’t have anything appropriate, elected to borrow a shirt and slim line jeans. ‘I need to find something to wear.’

‘Also stopping by ladies wear dept.’ he wrote in an imaginary notebook.

‘I think I like you Alastair Green.’

That was it. He was sold. She always remembered his name right and never mixed him up with anyone else.

‘What else do you remember about last night?’ he asked her.

Camille had eaten enough fish and drunk enough cat milk, and sneaked enough pieces of cooked chicken out of the pantry. She took a drink out of her borrowed bowl and gave her face the once over. The house smelt different to Sam’s flat. It had rooms that were locked too. She had investigated quite thoroughly everywhere except the garden. George wouldn’t let her go out, in case she got herself lost. Camille shrugged, or rather her tail twitched and she faced people bottom first to show them her disgust. Really! Humans were so silly. All one had to do was follow one’s nose! Cats didn’t get lost; that was a stupid idea. They just got distracted, or climbed into the back of a truck that had recently been scheduled to leave the country. Or they decided they wanted new staff. It was a matter that puzzled those two legged creatures that were under the impression that they “owned” you. Camille was with Sam because she, in her cat way loved him. She had a strange devotion that was again not as odd for a cat as was believed. For cats can fall in love; and often with the strangest things. A wild idea; a new experience; a particularly tasty dinner smothered in gravy. Sam was caring and reassured her. It was all she had ever known, those hands that stroked and petted her and told her she was cared for and safe and beautiful. More to the point he saved her the trouble of fur balls by giving her a really good brushing on a frequent timetable. Sam always remembered to get Camille’s dinner, he always fluffed her bed, cleaned up messes, and never shouted at her for being crazy and eating something she shouldn’t. As for the being drunk….well not even that did nothing but make him laugh….but then he was three quarters down the lake of Xmas joy at the time too. A hangover in a cat is not a good thing….she shook her head at the memory. And at last she found her mystery, her grail. There it was behind that door. The third generation belt that George had taken away and Jay had got off Gorman. It was in a box with the bag of bracelets. And expensive haul even given today’s economics. Camille did not care for this; doors were no problem in her current state of being; but there was a strong inhibition; a sense of revulsion that touched her senses along with the attraction that the Z Particles gave out. So the dear Little.... (who are we kidding?) Medium Kitty, sprudoinged into the locked room. It was nothing to grasp it between her jaws and pull the end. The whole lot fell onto the floor. The bag spilled and the bracelets rolled. Camille, who had jumped right back when this happened approached cautiously again. The belt, the complete third generation snazzy shiny thing, had a big button under a metal flap. This was to stop it accidentally being depressed. And with a little gentle teasing with her claws extended, the little flap was swung to one side. And now Camille sniffed. It was much more like tasty chicken, by the smell. Just that hint of spiciness to add zest to the dish. Camille wrestled with it, chewing and clawing at it, as if she was trying to eat it. The strapping got a bit damp, but otherwise there were no marks on the surface of the pods inside which the power packs rested. She sat back puzzled; she licked her paws, and finding that they didn’t taste of the chicken thing started chewing and pulling at it again.

‘I find the question a little hard to understand given the circumstances….’ Parker was sounding doubtful, and her body language showed defensiveness. Even being outnumbered three to one didn’t account for it. Sam was doing most of the talking along with Kyle. Kyle was fascinated and boggled by the stuff she was saying. George was listening, taking it all in….he was making mental notes and would write them up later. Sam seemed to keep going back to the “night in question” as he called it.

‘It was early evening.’ said Kyle, ‘and there’s nothing more to tell.’

Parker looked sideways at him; ‘Uh, I think.’ he said.

‘No. that’s fine.’ she said, ‘it’s good to be back with the human race if only for a short while.’

‘Do you work for the British government?’ George asked quite out of the blue.

‘Yes. But if you ask it anywhere else, then No.’

‘I see.’ George smiled, and then looked away.

‘There is something that has been bothering me….’ Sam began.

‘If it’s about the wave form in the expanded graph, I’m telling you I’m not going to explain it again.’ Kyle shivered.

‘I wasn’t about that. But now you mention it….’

‘So,’ said Parker, ‘Tea anyone?’

‘Yes please.’ said George.

‘I’ll get the staff to do it.’ She had a quick worded conversation with someone just outside the door.

‘She’s a spy.’ said Parker as she went to sit down again; ‘but I’ll work round that.’

George and Sam looked at each other, Kyle was staring transfixed.

‘The question is….I suppose rather seemingly irrelevant…’ Sam tried to phrase it another way, ‘but if….that is to say, there was a way of actually making some sort of Time alteration, could it not be reversed….as in by going back to the point before it happened?’

‘Ah!’ Parker was musing and she seemed relaxed, ‘You think that if you went and stopped Joseph just as he was about to go….then he would not be missing?’

‘Err….yes.’ Sam waited for her to reply. George looked at Kyle who was smiling in a knowing kind of way.

‘You would have to break the known laws of physics.’ said Parker, ‘Or….and it’s a biggie; actually change what happened….or seem to. As we don’t know where he went, we don’t know what happened during the thirty-two minutes that it took for him to disappear.’

‘Thirty-two?’ George said.

‘No.’ said Kyle, ‘You are not.’

‘Mr Owen here is right.’ Parker interjected, ‘not a good thing to try.’

‘But I didn’t say anything!’ George held out both hands.

‘Going back would not do that. I already tried it.’ Parker said. ‘And there is so much near that point that you cannot get near it. I mean it’s packed tight. About a dozen people all trying to grab the truth in various ways, literally, metaphorically. I was cautious. Even at a distance away, I found that observation can be a dangerous thing. They have tried to keep me from talking ever since.’

‘But you gave your statement to the police?’ asked George.

‘Of course. When someone disappears, and for the sake of appearances they were supposed to have gone by conventional means….a nervous breakdown, that sort of thing. I told them exactly what they needed to hear.’

‘What did you tell them?’ Kyle was polite.

‘The truth.’ Her voice lifted with a bright tone, ‘You can be amazed just how powerful it is… I was gone for thirty-two minutes exactly, and during that time…. Between those two points in time my friend and mentor, who I had been assisting disappeared….everything went mind. All of it.’ Her eyes gleamed and Kyle sat back. He knew what she was driving at. And there was no need to say any more.

‘Just one last thing.’ asked Sam, ‘and this for the sake of truth….what kind of Sandwich was it, and did Mr Drucker like them?’

‘Ah!’ Parker smiled in satisfaction, ‘at last….it was cheese and tomato. And he never ate them.’

‘Didn’t he like them?’ Sam asked.

‘I think he couldn’t eat them.’ said Kyle.

‘Of course not.’ said Parker, ‘Time for you Gentlemen to go.’

‘Tell me what you were doing?’ asked George, ‘Apart from sounding like a prat?’ The question was addressed at Sam but Kyle answered it: ‘It wasn’t Joseph Drucker’s because he was allergic to cheese, or more precisely Lactose – milk sugar. Do you see it now?’

‘Of course.’ said George huffily, ‘Let’s go home.’

Camille had a grip and paddled the thing with her paws. An exciting kitty toy that gave off the weird particles that made her glow so brightly in the dim room. She tossed one of the power packs that were loose in the box. One of those wrapped in cling film. Her claws broke the surface of the plastic and made contact. Something started to fizz. And a buzzing sound of the belt charging itself was heard; to a cat’s ears quite noticeable. It drove her to a frenzy of playfulness. She tossed the thing again and dragged at the straps. At last there was a sound of a car pulling up outside and the three of them got out. But by now the belt was reaching its full charge. A tiny light came on…. Red; when it turned blue it would be ready. Camille tossed the other, loose pack up in the air again. It fell towards the other and the cling wrap had come undone. It fell smashing into the metal at the top of the power cases on the belt causing a live circuit to engage. It was alive and counting down. A woman’s voice audible now, and the lights went blue. The power cells having rested were fully charged anyway. This had kicked the circuit into activation. Camille shook her head. She nudged it with one outstretched paw. There was a sudden blast of light like a firework from the loose power pack, and an afterimage of a pom-pom of light on the Cat’s retina. She scrambled out through a gap in the door as it was opened by George, and she wasn’t seen again until she had spent three hours hiding in an old airing cupboard.

‘Well that’s that.’ George was philosophical rather than angry.

‘What about the other packs?’ asked Kyle.

‘We haven’t a clue how to use them.’ George seemed unconcerned, ‘anyway, this has all been rather trying. I think I’ll make some lunch.’

‘What is wrong with you?’ Kyle really was exasperated.

‘Nothing,’ said George, ‘we know what happened. We know that someone took Drucker, and that he was kept against his will. The only question is: why did they leave the sandwich behind?’

‘It might be a red herring.’ said Sam. At that moment Camille reappeared. Sam bent to fuss her.

‘It is simple.’ said George patiently ‘Parker couldn’t go back, because she had already been back. Don’t you get it? It was her sandwich.’

‘What!’ said Kyle.

‘You have got to be kidding!’ Sam blurted at the exact same moment.

‘Yes.’ said George, ‘She was telling us. It is okay.’

‘You mean she’s a crook?’ said Kyle ‘I’m confused.’

‘No…. she’s not. She rescued her friend and mentor Joseph. She told everyone the truth….remember. But like a lot of people. The one’s she told it to have not asked the right question. The case was, after all slightly unusual.’

‘So Drucker is safe somewhere?’

‘No!!’ said George ‘Haven’t you been listening? She said she tried to rescue him. She had been to get lunch, for them both. She tried and failed. They came back and took him away again later….The same day. The same few minutes later even. And she never went back. She tried. She could not find him. And that is why the sandwich was left on the bench. She put it down. She still had his with her…. And so….’

‘But… but…’ Sam was trying to get his brain in gear. ‘The sandwich in the theatre went missing?’

‘Yes. That’s right. Because he thought it was his. He put it down and forgot where he was in time. He picked it up in more or less the same place in the office. It was the Director’s sandwich as you said, or rather Juliet said. He picked it up. And then found out he was actually in the wrong place and had inadvertently found himself in a different time to the one he intended to be in, perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps it was deliberate. But you cannot run forever.’

‘This is a theory certainly.’ said Sam stiffly.

‘You’re just sour because you didn’t think of it.’ said Kyle.

‘So where is Drucker?’ asked Sam.

‘That, I grant you, is now a genuine mystery. Perhaps he is here somewhere.’

‘The bad guys had him, used him, and then he got away?’ asked Kyle.

‘That would be my guess. But don’t go following Sam Parker, she won’t give away a thing. She’ll never tell.’ George started to search the fridge.

‘How do you know?’ asked Sam.

‘I just know it.’ said George.

Kyle looked away. Sam stroked Camille.

‘She knows.’ said Sam.

‘Time to feed the beast.’ said George.

Later the girls came back, and George took Gina to some other part of the house on her own. A little later they came back. Gina had a really funny look on her face and immediately swept Juliet off for some trying on of their recent acquisitions.

‘What did you say to her?’ Sam asked George.

‘It was about the money. Kyle! Over to you.’

‘The money has been paid to Gina Redding. It should have been paid to Gavin Reading.’

‘Ah! The Solicitors?’ Sam instinctively reached for his own note book. ‘Reading and Fowler, they rang me. Made a threat.’

‘Yes. It seems that the heavy hand of the law is somewhat NOT to be taken seriously. They are in fact accountants. Very, very dodgy ones!’

‘Mrs Marchant’s solicitors were not the same people?’

‘No. They are a firm in Oxford called Brightman Inc., not the same thing at all.’

‘Shit! But then, I didn’t tell them anything.’

‘Well that’s good.’

‘They wanted me to deliver the photos of the art work to them.’

‘Holly Ellis and all that?’

‘The same. And she was mixed up in all this too. She was at the party. I saw her. She was being really horrid.’

‘Nothing new there. You are really not that good with women.’ Kyle was smirking.

‘My clients are fine. They like me.’

‘They don’t date you. Or interact with you on a personal level. Oh my….’

‘Yes Kyle?’ George was heaping things on the kitchen table to turn into a cake. But Kyle was sprinting to George’s lab to look at the extrapolation of the time line. He came back a few minutes later.

‘We’re still in it.’ was all he said.

What does fate depend upon? As they all pondered this, and in the comfort of tea and George’s cake they waited for Sam to come back into the room. They then spread out the things that they had: 1.The picture clues from Holly Ellis. 2.The remaining power packs. 3.The money – (still in the wrappers). 4.The bracelets. 5.The program (without a strip now in this reality). 6.The other program out of the theatre basement. 7.And Camille, the cat.

‘Should we write notes on paper of the things that aren’t here?’ Kyle looked doubtful.

‘I think,’ said George slowly, ‘we have enough in front of us. Let us consider the connections.’

‘What happened to the belt?’ Juliet had been quiet for so long, that Sam was relieved she had said something.

‘We think. Or suppose that it will appear with someone who is still wearing a bracelet or maybe they are attracted to another belt.’ George sipped his tea.

‘Not another belt,’ said Kyle, ‘remember the charge has to be positive to negative. Opposites attract.’

No one spoke for the longest time. Eventually they all drifted off to bed.

*****

Chapter Twenty

Impossible Art, Illumination.

Sam was led through as before into the lounge study of Mrs Marchant’s household. The staff had indicated that Sam was welcome and that one of the other Ellis relatives would be through to speak to him in a few minutes. The staff seemed less oppressed and edgy than they had done when he was last here. But then death in the house does tend to put a crimp in your day, and besides that the Niece, he had been informed, was not available.

‘Hello!’ the tallish friendly looking man shook hands firmly with Sam as he stood. He wore a suit and smelt vaguely of tobacco. Good quality stuff for a pipe Sam guessed.

‘Do sit. I am Michael Ellis. I’m Mrs Marchant’s brother, youngest brother.’ he laughed then, ‘I really thought we’d never get to the end of this. It’s all rather silly. But I suppose that it has a serious side to it as well.’

‘Well,’ Sam cleared his throat and was quite taken with the friendly manner for all of two seconds; but when he remembered his last encounter with Holly he felt it would be better to play it right; Nice and professional. No over-familiar stuff. ‘Thank you Mr Ellis for seeing me at such short notice…’

‘Just call me Michael.’

‘Yes; err Michael. Thank you. I have a request, which perhaps you may be able to fulfil. I don’t know if that’s possible. But then again I don’t know if you would want me to. You see….’

‘It’s alright.’ The man interrupted again. ‘You can talk freely. And yes, you may view the items directly. They are here. And if you have managed to interpret those clues for us, that will perhaps lie to rest this family’s silly feuding once and for all.’

‘Well, there is the matter of my fee….’

‘Of course, of course. I have it all here. Every single bean! You may have it the moment that we have the answer.’

‘I see. I wasn’t…’

‘Let me just see if the Gent. has the way prepared. We must check with the staff of course.’

‘Of course.’ said Sam. He felt uneasy as the big man left the room. Something felt wrong. And to his tightened nerves this was too much. He sucked in a lungful of air and breathed out again.

Sam looked at the paintings. Six in all. Each about 24 by 30 inches. They looked like oil paintings. They seemed to be part of a set….in that each had something in the frame that gave it a kind of thematic unity throughout. Yet the style was a little different in each. Something odd. Like a collection that wasn’t meant to be a collection in that sense. Yet it clearly had some relationship when you put it together. A boy, and a balloon. A little boy of about six or seven in short pants and a tunic; and a hat in one picture. He was running after a balloon which had already floated over the tree tops. Red. It was red. Sam blinked. The others had different colours. But there he was again. The boy in the picture. And you did not see his full face except in profile; and the curl of hair around his temples and cheek. A little longish and yet…. Sam stood back, he thought about what he was looking at and then it occurred to him that he had seen something like this before….an evening class. Everyone did the same still life; the same subject but different people’s work. Some were similar to others, they all carried the mark, or rather the influence of the social whole, the wanting to please the one in charge. It was like that….in fact as he looked at it, it was much more like that than he first supposed. These were good amateur artists. Self-taught? Rather skilful. And which set were these? He got the colour prints he had copied out of his pocket. The second set? No. this was the first. The second were overall of better quality. He saw that the second set were copies of the first, and that the second appeared to have all been painted by the same person. They took what was there and made it better. Sam heard someone moving. But he didn’t look up. He slid the pictures quietly back into his jacket. He straightened himself, and took in a final viewing. He thought he had it. He thought he knew. But there was one question that remained. Michael Ellis came back into the room.

‘Ah! Mr Wright, some tea?’

‘Yes…. That would be fine, thank you. Tell me…. Michael; do the others now reside in storage? Or are these the ones to go into storage?’

‘Mmm….well you would have to ask my Brother about that. He is making a decision about what to do. After all we cannot have two sets of the blessed things hanging around now, can we?’ He laughed in haw-haw kind of way and then left the room. Sam looked at one of the paintings, and noticed a mark. A small initial in one corner. There, in that shadow written in dark green. “IV” just like the Roman numeral. It was the only one of the first set that Sam thought carried any really professional artistic merit. It was painted in a dreamlike way, with fields and trees, yet the light seemed diffuse and gentle. And then he saw it. In a little meadow a girl and a younger boy playing with what he took to be a small dog. He took the pictures out of his pocket again. He compared the two sets of prints with the one set of originals in front of him. The girl and boy figures were missing from the second set, and they only appeared in this one picture. A glimpse of uniqueness hidden among that which is the same. A group of people all seeing the same thing but only one saw that as well. The copies (the second set) were made to look like they belonged together and so they did, and that little thing was missed out. Just that, only the boy with his balloon that perpetually escaped continued to dance across that other world. The imaginary alongside world of the imagination; another dimension…. Sam stood and laughed. There he was, the boy in the painting. He was so caught up in his chasing that he didn’t see the watchers watching him, and his red balloon. But the two little figures saw. They looked and they saw what was behind their reality: another world.

Michael returned with a rather subdued air. ‘My brother tells me that this set, are to be put into storage, and the others will be on display….’

‘If you don’t mind me saying so, you seem unhappy about it.’

‘Yes, yes…. I always liked them. The two little figures in particular. The other ones don’t have them you see. They don’t really see them as being important but they are.’ He smiled sadly, and Sam thought that there was perhaps more to this Mr Ellis than met the eye.

‘I think,’ said Sam, ‘that I am done here.’

‘Yes, yes. Your tea. My Gent. will bring it to the study.’

Sam followed him through. They sat and Michael sipped and looked at him clearly, ‘I had hoped that the mystery would be solved. But there you go!’

Sam tasted the tea, very good. And he gathered his thoughts before he said anything else. He wondered if it would sound silly, or even if it was worth knowing. But you simply had to take the position of the viewer. If it had been painted when they said they had been; well it would be impossible. The ground was flattened out, the perspective shifted. The person had to be up a structure or on a building that didn’t exist yet. In a park, in a place that Sam had Kyle checked was in fact a real place. Near to the lab. Near to the gallery (of the 20 year old Art theft) but with no tall vantage point to capture the high angle that the painter had used…. Impossible. He looked again at Michael, who was shaking his head in resignation, ‘Never mind…. Never mind. Mustn’t get sentimental about these old things. After all they will be kept for future generations after all this is gone. It’s all climate controlled down there.’

‘Down there?’

‘The archive.’ he said; but didn’t expand upon that or describe its location.

Sam smiled, pressed his lips together and drank his tea. After that he stood. He didn’t mention the fee and felt it better to walk away while he still could. One man’s disappointment was better than more complication and danger. Michael shook his hand. He paused as if he might square with Sam. But it had been Holly who made the deal, so this was just a courtesy. ‘Most kind of you to call by. It’s been a pleasure. I hope that I might see you some other time?’

Sam paused as he was about to go out through the door, ‘I doubt our paths will cross but I appreciate the thought.’

Michael smiled: ‘You never know young man. Everything is possible.’

Sam walked away, and felt lighter. The mystery, such as it was had been solved. He saw that the picture could not have been painted at all. Not yet…. Feet were clattering on the pavement behind him. Approaching, slowing. He stopped and turned. Holly.

She seemed to be thinner, put perhaps it was the clothes she wore. She regarded him with a solemn seriousness, ‘Hello Detective Man.’ when he did not react but just stood there, she looked down, then: ‘I thought about it a lot. You know; the party. And I’m sure I wasn’t myself then…. but anyway…. I wonder if you know about it now?’ she raised her head to look at him.

‘Yes.’ said Sam.

‘Does Uncle Mike know?’

‘Know what?’

She looked relieved. And then a shadow passed across her face, ‘If you….?’

‘I wouldn’t know where to start. Besides, no one paid me. So as far as I’m concerned it is all over.’

‘Would you….?’

‘No.’ said Sam quickly.

‘As you wish.’ she replied, ‘Look, I must get back. I have things to do….’ she trailed off, and her expression was blank.

‘Did you find out anything useful?’ Sam asked, ‘While you were away?’

‘Away?’ she smiled suddenly, ‘Away….yes. I think I did. And I believe that some things can only be told right; if you were actually there….the story I mean. Do you see?’

‘I’m not sure I do.’ Sam thought of his adventure.

‘I have your fee here.’ She held out the envelope at arm’s length and averted her eyes.

Sam reached out and touched it cautiously.

‘Everything is then yours?’ he said.

‘Yes. That’s right.’

‘Very well.’ he said, and took the envelope.

As Sunday advanced, and the sun tracked its course across the spring sky, Mr Charles was waiting for the news that the whole thing hadn’t been a complete waste of time. Now; he was willing Sam to get there. To the finishing post. Just one last call to make. They had his location.

Sam called George and gave him a brief update and said he was going to the theatre again. George said he would meet him there, as he was just going to take Gina home to her place. And then Juliet would need to be delivered back also. He had already checked that her house was bug free. Sam put the mobile away, leaving it switched on this time. He drove and parked very near. In the quiet of the morning he let himself in. He had crossed the line from upright citizen to human being at last, and did what he needed to do. He found the cellar just as before and this time the door was open. He walked in, and almost walked straight out again.

Sam just stared. He had not expected this. Not in a million years. He had thought that he would get hold of the programmes and see if any had been dated further beyond in time. But the place had been cleaned up. Or had it? It looked like it had been in use for rather a while. Mr Charles sat smoking his pipe; a note book in his other hand.

‘Welcome to the last place on earth,’ he stood and put the book down carefully closed on the bench. He placed the pipe on a fire proof mat.

Sam was stunned and didn’t think that this was a good time to start asking questions. If they were not going to answer them then, they would not do so now.

‘Would you like a little tour?’ Mr Charles asked.

Sam nodded, unable to say anything. They went up though the building. It was transformed in the blink of an eye into a lively vibrant place. ‘This is the only one we have. It’s taken years, of course. But one can cross quite easily from various stable parallels. The programs…’

‘Yes. That’s it.’

‘Sam. You clever soul. You clever, clever thing. Of course you see it don’t you? We hadn’t got it into being everywhere at once, but we could influence things radically from this vantage point.’ They ducked as a man came past with a large mask and costume. There was noise of bustle and aliveness. They reached the room with the lockers. There were no lockers, just some shelves. And there was a game of cards that had recently been abandoned, four players.

‘They heard us coming?’ Mr Charles seemed amused.

‘Where are we?’ asked Sam.

‘Not far. Just twenty years into the future. And my they have gone all retro! So here’s to us!’ He picked up a stray glass from the table that was nearly empty.

‘I don’t drink other people’s leftovers.’ said Sam.

‘Of course you don’t. And here he is!’

The big man, the one who most of them knew as just “Ira” came round a pile of crates and followed them to the small break room and costume area.

‘Go.’ said the big man. Mr Charles went.

‘I am Mr Shore. But I don’t want to go into the ins and outs of what most unfortunately happened at the Gallery on Friday night. Charles does get a little carried away. Never the less; I am intrigued as to how you got out of your little pickle?’

‘My what?’

‘Your dangerous position, hanging from the roof.’

‘I didn’t exactly.’ This man could not make him talk just by looking at him.

‘You are full of surprizes. And then again maybe…. But no. This is a mystery. And a prize. I hope that in this reality at least you might decide to try with another knife and fork. No? Well then there is only one thing left. Charles!!’

Mr Charles came back in and stood quietly by the door waiting, he seemed calm.

‘I’m impressed.’ said Mr Shore.

Sam saw Mr Charles stand a little straighter.

‘With both of you here;’ Ira continued, ‘One last thing. I would like our equipment returned. It’s not the money you understand, just the principal of the thing. Charles will give you a list of the things that went missing on Friday night and you can drop them at the post office on Monday morning. I have an address here in London. You should follow these instructions….’ here he handed Sam a small card, ‘….but they must be in the post mind; to this exact address.’

‘Fine.’ said Sam automatically taking the card.

‘Oh. And one other thing Mr Wright; I would suggest that you do not mention this visit to anyone at all. I think it would be most unwise….there is a cascade of events when information is imparted….a line of consequence, I’m sure you know what I mean. One small decision can change everything. So remember this. It will help you.’

Sam did remember that. He thought about it very hard as he was dismissed from the presence of this shadowy powerful man, and followed Mr Charles down into the bowels of the building again. They still wanted something out of him. They wanted to use Sam in the future and they had a plan. He felt cold inside, and wondered what he could do to stop it.

He was given a list by one of Mr Charles’ minions who hovered in the basement room like the cockroaches they were. Mr Charles himself was acting as if this was all wrapped up and ready to go. Sam turned slightly as one of them closed the basement door. The room did not change but there was a slight sensation of movement, like being inside a lift, you cannot see the movement but your inner ear senses it and responds accordingly. Mr Charles put on his coat and hat, looked at his watch and seemed to twist the bevel round. He looked sharply at Sam.

‘You are the resilient sort, I can see that. You just moved twenty years and it didn’t bother you in the slightest.’

‘I’ll believe that when I’m back outside.’ said Sam, and put his hands in his pockets. He was absolutely dying for a fag. They left and started to climb. So was that it? He felt cheated. A little more drama perhaps? A little more dangling off buildings trying to save the woman you loved…? No. Not really what he wanted. He fingered the lighter in his pocket. I MUST give up. About time I threw it away…. They made another turn in the stair case. Sam felt there must be something he could do. Shafts of sunlight from above as they returned to the real world illuminated the dust motes and turned them into golden sparkles. They made the last turn. Then they were again in the gloom of those back rooms and backstage places. One thing. Consequence. Sam took the lighter out of his pocket as they made their way along the little corridor to the fire exit. Mr Charles pressed on the bar and it sprung open. Daylight flooded in. They both stepped out onto the little courtyard behind the building. The other door that Sam had let himself in through was nearby.

‘Time to go, Mr Wright.’ he reached to push the fire door shut. At that moment Sam sprang towards him, and shoved him to the ground. He tossed a small object inside the dusty corridor and slammed the exit shut. Sam turned to see that Mr Charles was still sitting on the cobbles with a round-eyed look of complete surprize. He scrambled to his feet.

‘What have you done?’ and when Sam didn’t answer he went to the door trying to pull the edges to get it open again. He turned with his back against the door, ‘No, no, no!! You stupid little man! Don’t you see? Don’t you know?’ There was the smell of burning, and then as the fire caught in the corridor with a combustible feast, Mr Charles ran to the other door.

‘It’s locked.’ said Sam.

Mr Charles pulled out a key, and fumbled with the lock. Sam was on him in an instant. He had no difficulty taking it off him.

‘This particular experiment is over.’ said Sam. He felt that twist of rage in his gut that must have been visible on his face. Mr Charles backed off.

‘Wanton destruction of property is a criminal offence.’

‘And you are a witness?’ asked Sam casually as the fire took hold of the old theatre in a relentlessly hungry way.

‘No…. no; it cannot be.’ he was saying it to himself, and then looked up at Sam, and then over his shoulder. Smoke was beginning to swirl round the little cobbled yard. They would have to move through the gap soon.

Mr Charles looked back at Sam again. He straightened himself, and then seemed calmer, ‘They will find your lighter and know it was you.’

‘No they won’t.’ said Sam.

‘There is always evidence of where a fire was started.’

‘Know much about fires in buildings do we?’ Sam goaded him now and stepped forward. Mr Charles was standing between him and the exit. Sam felt sure Mr Charles could drag him off to some other reality if they touched and he was wearing one of those belt thingies.

‘You fool!’ said Mr Charles suddenly enraged. Sam took his chance and ran towards him. He jumped as high and as fast as he could. Mr Charles instinctively ducked. Sam leapfrogged over him, pelted down the alley way and out into the deserted street beyond. He quickly went to his car, started her up and left. He was shaking, and had to make himself slow down.

His phone was ringing in his pocket. He took it out and answered it even though you are not supposed to.

“Sam, Sam?”

‘I’m okay George. Meet me at that little café on Kibbling Way. Ten minutes.’

“Alright. Be there.”

George handed him a tissue. Sam was still shaking. Perhaps it was 1.Escaping the Scary Man who made people disappear; 2.Reliving the moment he thought he was going to die; 3.Committing Arson while NOT in a parallel reality; 4.Extreme nicotine withdrawal.

George pushed the tea towards him when it arrived; Sam groaned and put his head in his hands.

‘If it’s any consolation you might just have saved several people from kidnapping and imprisonment….or something worse.’ George tried to get Sam to look up.

He did so a moment later. His eyes were red and he was visibly fighting with himself.

‘Oh Shit! I fouled up. I’m guilty of the worst possible thing you can do!’

‘I think you’re being just a little melodramatic. Come on! Everything seems to be returning to normal. Look! There a text from Kyle….yep. It worked. We reckon on total normality by Monday morning.’

‘Your weird machine George?’ Sam tried to smile but it ended up as a grimace.

‘My weird machine. Yes, quite so. And everyone is back home. Intact and in one piece.’

‘No,’ Sam looked at him, eyes glittering and with a blanched ill look, ‘don’t you see. It’s Juliet. It’s changed. I’ve….I am…..’ He put his head on the table and sobbed.

‘I must recall the job that was yours to do… to fix this. To save her…. and you did. She hated the job. You do know that?’ George drank some tea. He looked out of the window and thought a little about the lab at work, and where he would be on Monday.

‘Your friend, is he alright?’ a slim undercooked student working the early shift come over; all girlish concern, wondering if she could get inside the head of a man long enough for him to take some interest in her.

‘Woman trouble.’ said George.

‘Oh….’ her speculative expression dissolved into one of genuine sympathy, ‘can I get you a refill?’

‘Yes Love. And some chocolate cake. One slice.’

The cake came and Sam sat up, ‘Not having some?’

‘No. I saw Camille eating mackerel again this morning. It puts me off anything that is even vaguely tan coloured.’

‘No problem,’ said Sam and slugged some tea to wash it down.

‘So you used a lighter?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ah….’ George’s lips twitched, ‘You’re learning.’

Juliet ran a bath right to the top. She had to be careful as the overflow took away the excess. There were bubbles and she dozed into a dream state.

Somewhere a phone was ringing. In her mind she heard someone answer it. And voices. She got out of the bath and burrowed in her wardrobe for a long summer dress in yellow. Bright like buttercups, or butter. Her hair felt cleaner than it had done for a while. Unlike Gina she didn’t feel comfortable exfoliating and getting naked and wet all over in someone else’s bathroom. She made coffee, found a packet of frozen croissants and prepared them. Jam, butter. Afternoon sun, lovely. Now let the answering machine tell its tale. She listened with disinterest to the last message. Then turned and played it again. Good God!! She tried to be shocked, failed and opted for vaguely freaked out. It was a joke; surely. But Jerry the production director sounded deadly serious. She decided to wait until she could confirm what really had happened. He must be mistaken. She ate another croissant and made another coffee. Just because she was at a standstill she listened to the previous messages. They were all boring, annoying or irrelevant. The line was the Landlord’s and there was so much unsolicited rubbish. But then while she was in the kitchen she heard another. She rushed back in and played the beginning of it again.

Sam’s voice saying: “Hello” followed by a long pause. Then eventually with a breath he said “Call me”. She reached out to stop the replay but then she heard him again: “I love you Juliet”. Juliet gasped and tears sprang to her eyes. She had never, ever had anyone say it on an answering machine before…. Proof, evidence. Totally irretrievable. She rewound it and played it again; and then again just to make sure. She hugged herself. The machine ran on “Bye….” he said softly. A lover’s voice, not just a friend. She ran to find her mobile and call George, thinking that Sam must have his phone switched off.

Sam looked at Camille. Camille looked at Sam.

‘Bloody cat.’ said Kyle, ‘I’ve fed her twice already.’

‘How much did you give her?’ Sam turned round and put his keys on the table and dug some change out of the jacket pocket.

Kyle turned away and Sam picked her up, ‘You’re really heavy Cat! Really what have you given her?’

‘Now kids!’ said George sweeping in, ‘dinner?’ he started to roll his sleeves up.

‘She nearly ate my cheese sandwich.’ Kyle complained, ‘I saw her. She was sniffing it.’

‘You left it unattended on the bench I take it?’ Sam put her down and Camille went straight to the dish.

‘Just give her the other tin.’ George waved his hand, ‘Recycling box is over there. Wash it out first.’

‘Yes Boss.’ Kyle did it and Sam lit up a long delayed cigarette. He clicked the disposable, ‘How long before we’re sure everything has returned to normal?’

‘Background reading is fine now,’ Kyle ladled in more meaty chunks, ‘better just give you a quick once over.’

Sam blew out a stream of smoke and sighed, ‘You sound like the vet.’

‘Did he give the beast all the shots? I hope so. She was sat in my chair in the office when I went back in.’

‘She’s had everything. And some extra. And she’s insured. And nearly micro-chipped.’

‘Nearly?’

‘She bit the lady at the pet shop. I’ve not been back. I have got her paw-printed through.’

‘Wanker!’ said Kyle, when he saw Sam tittering and flicking ash into the saucer in front of him.

‘Okay kids,’ said George ‘have we got it covered?’

‘Yeah.’ said Kyle.

‘Yes. I guess.’ said Sam.

‘Okay. Volunteers for washing up will be appreciated.’

‘Phone’s ringing.’ said Kyle and rapidly went to take the call. He came back, ‘It’s for you. She sounds kind of excited.’

‘Who is it?’ Sam poised ready to stub the end.

Kyle looked blank, ‘What do you mean? Go talk to her. It’s Juliet.’

And so it was that Gina mused on the capriciousness of fate while digging into the ice cream (at last). George cooked dinner. Everyone ate it. Cat included.

Juliet lay back on her couch and listened to “The Planet Suite” and dreamed of things that a girl would not normally dream of without hope really being there.

As for Mr Charles, he decided to lay low until the next meet. Gorman had gone. He thought it wise to transfer the money to the account though. It was better than a knife in the back Russian style. And Gorman was not known for his patience. Ira was “Busy” when Charles rang his office; and his assistant was also unavailable. Holly had been absent. And he was glad. But there was something quite sinister in the way which she had quite suddenly stopped the insistent behaviour and the annoying interference. Better look into that another time if it caused any bite back. Only Rhett stood by waiting for orders. Mr Charles gave him his pay, plus a little extra and told him to give a message to Ira, and only Ira - personally.

Rhett waited in Mr Charles’ small room. The one he kept permanently in the large building that was the Traveller’s Society. Mr Charles himself had already gone. He wouldn’t be back for several weeks, or even a couple of months. Rhett stood there, waiting with the patience that comes with practice. Eventually, Ira appeared. He was clearly irritated at being summoned by August and was in a mind to raise his voice ever so slightly this time. Rhett stood there, unmoved by the flush in Ira’s face when he realised the room was empty apart from the Muscle.

‘August better watch it. I have two….no, three meetings this week. And a whole lot of notes to write up. And where is his report?’ the last statement was addressed to Rhett; who standing there completely unfazed by anything that Ira might throw out in anger.

‘So tell me… is there anything? Or is this just for him to make a point?’

‘I believe Sir he wished for you to have this.’ He handed Mr Shore the sealed envelope. Ira tore it open in irritation. Inside was a short note. And a CV. He looked up, ‘Did you know what was in the envelope Mr….er Naylor.’ He glanced at the typed text.

‘Yes Sir?’

‘You are working for me now.’

‘Very good Sir.’ said Rhett, without missing a beat.

Ira turned to his own assistant who hovered indistinctly in the corridor, ‘When August comes back, make sure he knows I need a Full Report.’

‘Yes Mr Shore. Of course I will.’ he scuttled off with a wave of Ira’s hand, leaving Rhett still stood there.

‘So…. Rhett. How are you with figures; maths?’

‘I believe I can turn my hand to those things, and be functioning at peak efficiency within a week Mr Shore.’

‘Very good. Go now. Get a new ID at the main office….make it before this evening. Then come to the staff dinner. Eight o’clock. Wear smart but casual.’

‘Yes Sir. I will.’

‘Later…. after you have made your mark; you shall call me Ira.’

‘Thank you Sir. Shall I go now?’

‘Yes, yes…’ Ira indicated with his hand. And Ira was left pondering the options. What was Charles going to get up to next? He sailed far too close to the wind almost every time. Better that than complete exposure. He might find something really useful. Ira sighed, and put off any thought of dismissal. August was far too clever to be the enemy. He was too clever to become one’s friend either. But then there was another way. He took one look at the small room with its teacher’s desk and wooden swivel chair with a cushion, and behind that a big old fashioned radiator. Ira turned and went out, closing the door quietly behind him.

*****

Chapter Twenty One

Closure, Deceit, Entrusted.

Six Weeks Later:

The fountain made a pattern. It rose with the continuous rush of sound and into the heart of the jets were bodies half seen through foam bows and rainbow lights. The place was packed. A man sat on a little bench, not far from the limit of the splashing. Children raced; their shrill bright voices giving joy to the day. The continuous rush of life and sun-baked warmth bathed him in a vicariously tasted comfort he had never known. He waited, a card bag next to him, reserving the seat. Then he saw Mr Charles swerving to avoid the track of two young boys running wildly, toy buckets held aloft. He waited as the man lifted the bag and then sat.

‘Your lunch.’

‘I’m surprized you remembered.’

‘Ah, I see,’ said the other, ‘I think you need to recall my method. No paper. No notes. No traces.’

‘You don’t like us do you?’

‘Not the way you insist on keeping records of everything. I think it’s backwards.’ with that he took his sunglasses off, and looking as if he was smiling said, ‘I think we might have a way in.’

‘You think?’

‘Yes. But it will take time.’

‘Doesn’t it always?’

‘You want to try something like that again?’

‘No.’ Mr Charles took off his coat and unbuttoned his suit jacket.

‘You told me to dress for the weather?’

‘Yes.’ Mr Charles took out his pipe and started to fill it.

Jedden watched the people and only moved his eyes.

‘Why are you interested in this Jay? What is he to you? You seem really obsessed with this one.’

‘And you are no longer behaving like the depressive I know you to be. What is going on Jedden?’

‘Nothing.’ he took out a sandwich and bit into it, ‘Very good. Please try one.’

‘In a moment.’ Charles felt in all his pockets and then checked the coat, ‘Bother. I lost it somewhere.’

‘When?’ Jedden asked screwing his eyes up as he gazed out across the happy crowd.

‘Oh….a while ago. It’s not important.’ he turned to Jedden, ‘but I have something you might be interested in….’

‘Not important.’ Jedden repeated mechanically, ‘You decided what is important.’ It didn’t sound like a question but August answered it anyway.

‘Yes I do! I think that I have enough experience in these matters….whereas you….’

‘I’m just a Traveller. Yeah, I get it. Even if I am from the future…’

‘One possible future.’ Mr Charles corrected.

‘You really are a stickler for that distinction aren’t you? It bothers you that I know something you don’t.’

‘You don’t know.’ said Charles with some irritation, and found a box of matches which he shook. He took one out and looked at Jedden. ‘I need to find out more about this Jay. Will you do that for me?’

‘I thought the purpose of this meeting was to get on with the longevity experiments?’

‘The meeting is about whatever I say it is.’ Charles rolled the match between finger and thumb before striking it.

‘Yes….alright. As you wish.’ Jedden dropped his eyes and seemed a little morose then; more like the person Mr Charles was familiar with. He handed him the sandwich a moment later.

‘Cheese and Tomato. Good. You remembered that too.’ Mr Charles was frowning then as if he was working up to ask another question.

Jedden saved him the trouble, ‘I will do as you ask. But you remember this; I think that getting involved in that Traveller’s timeline is a bad idea. He’s dangerous. He is volatile and quite out of control.’

‘Yes,’ Mr Charles agreed, ‘that is why I must have him. The society recorded him as a fail on the tests. But he clearly has remarkable skills.’

‘Cheating death is indeed a skill.’ Jedden now sounded amused, ‘As you say; remarkable!’

‘That was a parallel. And it doesn’t count. You cannot actually die if your other self is still in the same present. You must know that?’

Jedden grinned and put his sunglasses back on, ‘I just wanted to see if you knew that’s all. It is quite a skill to bring down that flighty bird. What do you have in mind?’

‘I want his ability. I want him to teach others; to show them what he knows. He’s far more extraordinary than anyone realises.’

‘In what way?’ Jedden’s voice was suddenly hard and he stiffened, his open relaxed manner gone.

‘I will tell you. If you find out more about him.’

‘A simple matter of spying?’

‘It is what you’re good at.’

‘Yes.’

‘The usual remuneration plus expenses….’

‘Naturally.’

‘I shall be in London by July. So come and see me then.’

‘At your office in the Scout Headquarters?’

‘It’s not….Oh, yes! For heaven’s sake! But don’t say that when one of Ira’s staff is listening in. He’ll just go sticking his nose in again.’

‘Then why not meet somewhere else?’

‘Because,’ he bit the sandwich, ‘it is protected. There is no travelling in and out of the building.’

‘Full field eh?’ Jedden sat now with his arms folded and stared stonily ahead; ‘I am impressed.’

Mr Charles didn’t respond. Whether Jedden was being sarcastic or not was hard to tell; his brief brightness was now overshadowed by that same dour demeanour.

‘There’s cake too.’ said Jedden. He stood. And dropped the bag in Mr Charles’ lap, ‘I think,’ he said leaning over him, ‘that you ought to watch what you say to me. Because there might come a time when I decide I just don’t like it.’

‘That day…that day you will be accorded every favour. Your problem solved, your honour restored. Then whoosh! Back to the future!’

‘I think you will know when it happens….’ Jedden straightened, ‘you of all people should be mindful of the situation you find yourself in.’

‘Of course….I do. Sit down Grey, there is still time to be angry with the world when you’re safely where you want to be.’

Jedden sat. August dipped his hand in the bag and took out the custard tart, he passed it back to Jedden who removed the last item and screwed the bag up depositing it in the nearby bin.

‘July the 24th is helpful. But if another day is better for you?’

‘Fine. Time?’

‘Two. In the afternoon.’

‘Very well.’ Jedden offered the donut to a passing child who took it without suspicion.

‘You needn’t bring anything then….’ he turned to speak to Jedden again, but he had already gone. Mr Charles twisted round and saw him walking swiftly away. There was something that never made sense with him. He shrugged and thought about the new things on the horizon. The only cloud was that boy: Sam Wright. He was too much the honest man. He was tantalising and challenging because of that too. But could he be played? Tricky. Very precise the conditions to work it right; perhaps he could find him on his side…. Maybe. In time.

Ira took a call and listened. Then he frowned. Then he called for his assistant. ‘Take a memo.’ he ordered, ‘To 1st level staff: you are not to take any new assignment with Mr August Charles without direct authority being accessed by control. No exceptions. If in doubt…. Etc.; etc… got that?’

‘Yes Mr Shore. Will there be anything else?’

‘No. That is all.’ And he turned and set about finding out how many of these bracelets were still floating around unaccounted for: six had arrived at the Historical Preservation Society all wrapped up. Posted from Yorkshire (?) What the hell? He spent some time on the phone confirming the details with Gary Stone. He had been advised against any further action. If it hadn’t been for that, Ira would have been on the war path. People in his position rarely disputed the Chief Cataloguer Mr Stone. The Historical Preservation Society had always been the custodians of all the objects that Travellers had, could, or would use. All those things had been put there for very good reasons. They really were shadowy, secretive and gave one a funny feeling at the back of the neck. Even Ira felt it on occasion. He was bolt upright a moment later, when the phone rang. He picked it up without expecting anything else today. It was Mr Stone again….he had received a letter and he needed to be sure that he – Ira knew of its contents before taking any further action. Ira listened; breathed deliberately in and out….he wasn’t sure whether or not to shop Charles to Mr Stone. Mr Stone’s measured tones were quite at odds with the amount of executive power he held; almost life and death it was said. In the end they agreed that Ira would personally count up any others and pass them down to the archives. If there were any more bracelets that had escaped notice well….that would then be out of his hands…. Ira put the phone back in the cradle. His brows knitted together in genuine discomfort. They never called. Well, not in his time. Times were changing it seemed. Not for the better either. He summoned his 2nd assistant and dictated a memo. That done, he sat back and gazed at the ceiling. There was a crack, his favourite, and he thought about that crack, and how it might be covered….the thing was to keep oneself covered. August had been on a trajectory that was taking him further and further from the safe fold. As if he had some sort of death wish. There was an incident; a long time ago. Charles might have been involved. But yet…. there was no proof. Did he know? That Ira had covered his back all these years. He took out the dusty aging file and stared at it. He read it again. He looked at the clock and heard the tick-tock of its time keeping, sighing he put the folder back in the secret place in his old filing drawers. He sighed once more. Too much like hanging a friend. Another day perhaps. The committee were too wrapped up in other things to worry about what Charles was getting up to this time. He rang the bell for coffee and set about erasing it from his mind. There was still time. Just enough. We all deserve a second chance don’t we? Ira owed August, and that was what stayed his hand, that and the fear of getting dragged in himself. Even if he was to crash and burn (Mr Charles that is) even then Ira would not ever stop wondering. Who else knew? A thought he put from his mind. Time to go now. He waited for coffee and then having taken his break left the building to take the sun and watch others have the life he denied himself.

‘You really need to help me with this!’

‘You are fucking kidding me.’ said Kyle, a look of undisguised disgust crossing his face again, ‘I’ve come to debug the pot plant.’

‘But I can’t carry it all.’

‘You cannot do it a bit at a time like normal people? Do come on! I’ve got my stuff too remember.’

Sam groaned then tried to lift the bag, ‘Must go to the gym again. I’ve been a lazy bugger.’

‘It has got to be that girl. She must be The One. Fucking looks like it!’ Kyle heaved his own bag onto his shoulder.

‘Meester Wright!! You do not carry this. I will get little foreign man who helps out - to help out you.’ Ollie gripped the huge bag in one hand and swung it lightly towards the door. ‘Sorry. I cannot leave the shop. My wife is expecting twins. Most exciting! Do you want more chocolate?’

‘Chocolate?’ said Sam.

‘No chocolate?’ Ollie’s face fell, ‘Was it bad? Shall I be sued by all your friends?’

‘No! It’s fine.’ Sam and the little oriental looking guy heaved the straps of the bag of cat food between them.

‘Mr Wright, very mad person.’ said the little Chinese man, ‘I will tell fortune for twenty dollars. Best tell tale of Cat too, yes?’

‘Err….No.’ said Sam. ‘My Cat is quite happy with life, and so am I. I just haven’t needed the chocolate. It’s okay Ollie, I’m doing alright.’ They pushed the door.

‘I think you are not so okay today.’ said Ollie holding the door open as they went through.

‘So so.’ said Sam.

They tottered the short distance to the flats.

‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ Kyle rounded on him still holding the duffle bag of advanced weirdly tailor made science and computer stuff.

‘Nothing much.’ Sam dragged the cat food into the kitchen.

‘It’s that girl, isn’t it?’

‘No. I told you. We’re fine. Better than fine actually…. Actually fine.’

‘You’re repeating yourself. And that is not a happy face. That is a sad face. Fucking relationship fucking muck ups! There should be a law against it!’

‘Just stop now.’ Sam said, looking in the fridge.

‘What? Speaking? Swearing?’

‘Bad language. I don’t want Camille to be affected.’

‘You don’t want the Cat to be affected?’ Kyle sat down. ‘I want tea. And I want it now.’

‘Yeah….whatever.’

Gina was looking at herself in the mirror for the fifteenth time. She really was trying to look nice for George. He’d asked her to have lunch. Although they had remained friendly and there was it seemed from Gina’s side a definite spark of something; this was the first time that George had actually asked her, to actually have actual dinner, just them…. Wow!! She paced up and down and felt dizzy. Is one supposed to breathe in a bag to stop the hyperventilation, or is there another cure? Laying on the floor and putting a book on your stomach for instance? That would work…. You would find it harder to breathe in and out and therefore not be able to overdo it. She realised she had been holding her breathe then and felt better and took her own advice and had a cup of tea. Tea!!! Oh, My, GOD!!! I never do those sorts of things. The effort made to impress George was taking its toll. She’d lost six pounds and her work colleagues kept looking at her gone out. Her PA was especially effusive in her thanks and admiration for Gina’s pick of Man. Gina was puzzled by this. But the PA was just grateful (thank the Lord) that Gina (Venomous Bossy Boots in actual pointy boots) had acquired at last something approaching the normal level of compassion and altruism for their life style. They were running a book on how long it would last. Gina didn’t know about that. And if she had it might have damaged their chances at the promotion recommendations that happened every month at the office.

Gina rushed to answer the door. She forgot her own rule of being cool and nonchalant. She forgot that she was in control and that she was the one who ordered her life. George stood there looking just gorgeous!! Gorgeous George… she sing-songed in her head.

‘Shall we?’ he held out an arm. She nodded like a shy teenager and took it. They walked down to the waiting cab. Dinner and drinkies then? He had his light metal framed glasses on….a sign that he was in a good mood and not trying to prove anything. George was fine at distance but needed to see a menu, in probably terrifically small print. Gina promised herself she’d be a good girl and not try to seduce him after pudding. It was Friday after all… just take it easy. The whole weekend is before you.

‘Do you use chop sticks?’ George asked

Did she use chops sticks? Absolutely. Every day for you George.

‘Yes. That’s really lovely George.’ she said polite and demure, and dropped her eyes.

‘Hey? What is it? Are you alright with this? I don’t want to take you away from something else. Other plans perhaps?’

‘No! Oh no George. I am so happy. I mean I was pleased…. Err… excited to be here.’ A creep of colour up her cheeks told him all he need to know.

He leaned across and took her hand as they travelled in the cab, ‘Gina, I would officially like to ask you out. As I don’t know how this normally is done I’m sorry if it’s a bit abrupt…. It’s been a while you see. I just don’t…’

She touched his hand with her other one, and looked up. ‘I think you’re doing just fine.’ she said.

Jay sat on the floor thinking. He’d been doing quite a lot of that recently. Sitting and thinking. And sometimes sitting and thinking with a sketchbook in his hand. He sometimes went running across the park, he took a knapsack with sandwiches and a drink and his sketching kit. He would run until he was pleasantly tired and then sit and take a break. If redemption comes in the form of another, then perhaps he was about to cross paths with someone who would be his salvation. His future self’s key to sanity. They missed each other by about ten yards, on different paths. And then the moment was gone. Jay slowed thinking that he had seen something out of the corner of his eye. It was like…

He’d been thinking a lot about the other picture he had been working on. He wanted it to be perfect. A place of imagination again, but this time it had to have the sundial and the little children in it. He glimpsed them, what were they doing? Just curious he guessed. He went to the rocks and sat and waited for the muse to follow him. It was no stampede, just a tumble of images, some related to the things around it: the afternoon light; and many others out of that secret place we call the soul. All this made manifest and brought to life on the sweet skin of the canvas. His soul, his salvation, his consolation against the darkness and the loneliness. His family lived far away. Well, far enough and this was not going to be an easy thing to do. He had to make a decision soon. A decision that would mean freedom out of some torment. He squinted into the sun. He needed to find peace. Something had rocked his soul, and it was eating away at him like the darkness that sometimes sent him to his knees. It was not easy to be Jay. That is why he understood the trouble that Sam had got himself into at college. It was a path of escape he needed to take. A way out of his personal darkness. But his was not something that could simply be removed by not taking illegal drugs; it was not that simple! Sam was almost a bit too clear-headed and well turned out and clean and tidy. Too much…. He went home and ran a bath and lay in it for a very long time. Ever since the Gallery opening he had felt strange. Something was meandering at the edges of his mind and it was like everyone else he met seemed to guess it but he didn’t. He wanted out. A way out. So he had an interview for the 2nd of August, drat! He would have to drive down from his parent’s house. The Birthday party. He must be there on the first of the month. He could not miss it. They were going to make it special. Never mind! He would accept the offer of the interview time. And there was another thing that intrigued him. Another way out? People wanted for a three week stint in an exploration of physical and mental endurance; and must be…. He fitted the criteria. He decided to ring them and tell them about the other thing.

Ten minutes later he stood puzzled. They had accepted without much fuss. Come to the interview on the Second of August… how odd. Better get it all over in one day. Better to do that. And then he could decide what he really wanted to do. He picked up his sketch book off the table and looked at the drawing of the sundial. Imagined; yet it seemed like a memory. And the numbers spaced around the outside carefully and well. Towards him the Four; the Roman numeral IV. He smiled then and went to let in Sam’s Cat as she had come to see him.

Kyle wrestled with the display, teasing it into coherence. He chewed on a pencil, and eventually made tea. Always the same thing. Nothing makes sense. Nothing adds up. Nothing is the result of all variables. That point when you have reached the absolute point of infinity. He sighed and went to have a coffee. He rang Sam Parker.

“You really have to see things differently.” she said, and sniffed waiting for him to respond.

‘Did you really like the way I do things?’

“Of course. Alchemy.”

‘You think so?’

“Naturally…. Would you like lunch?”

Kyle choked on his coffee, ‘Are you asking me out?’

“If your ego can cope with it. Yes.”

‘Okay….I mean, where?’

Juliet looked out across the concourse for perhaps the last time ever. If she passed this way again….well it might be in a car or in a taxi. But it would never be like this…. She saw Sam and her heart contracted. She was going away and Sam would be here in London. She had been offered a place in a group doing research in Scotland. It had quite a lot of forensic archaeology. It was a totally irresistible opportunity. And they promised each other they would ring every day. Sam had got used to keeping his mobile switched on now….but in the whole of everything she wondered: did their first fleeting attempts at a regular romantic relationship go the way of all flesh?

He looked at her. He was so there; so immediate and so much at her command. It was not what he wanted in one way, but in another he was glad for her. Some dreams exist because others die. And they are supplanted by yet others in their time.

‘Ready?’ Sam’s eyes were conflicted pools of uncertainty. Did he believe enough in them? And did he want to see himself served more by what was happening, the rectified framework of hope? Was it better to let go than to follow this…. For Juliet? He looked at her again and his vision cleared. He stood straighter, smiled into her eyes, ‘You can text me?’

‘I can now I’ve got a new phone that doesn’t spell “hello” with a “p” every time!’

‘With a….?’ Sam looked sideways and then back at her, ‘Try turning the word recognition off.’

‘It sometimes just wouldn’t say its H’s at all.’ Juliet stared at him trying to memorise everything in that moment. Sam was looking so sad. His eyes softened with pain at her parting, his baby blonde hair shuffled in the light breeze. Finally they stood on the platform and there it was; the train that would carry her out of sight. Imprisoned in his memory was a picture of Juliet. He could not let go of it. That moment when he met her again, and she lifted her hand and a strand of hair was smoothed into place. She stepped nearer so that she was looking up at him.

‘Will you miss me?’ Juliet slid both arms around his waist and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her and bent his head into the glassine fragrant strands of her hair.

‘I have got the ability to write letters too.’ he said, ‘I think it would be good to send a real letter. And then you can send me a text on your new phone….just to remind me to text you back.’

‘Sam….I’m sorry. For going away, I mean. I wanted the job so badly and it is the only chance to do something with that wretched degree!’ she looked up at him, and their noses touched.

‘I’m glad you are getting your chance. And if things go well I might be able to come up in a few weeks. It all depends.’ he frowned and sighed.

‘Don’t….think about it right now. We will have so much to say. And the time will pass so fast….I really….erm….you are really special to me Sam…’

‘Okay.’ he said and hugged her again. He looked down and then drew back a little, ‘Time to go.’

‘Yes…of course.’ Juliet turned her head to look at the two cases and her ruck sack. Together they got her things on the train. She found the seat and the allocated space for all the luggage. It was time. She was in the train doorway. He was on the platform.

‘See you.’ said Juliet.

‘Yes of course. Tell me what the weather is like up there!’ Sam sounded kind of forced and jolly. A couple were getting on the train and Juliet had to move out of the way to let them on. Two minutes.

‘I’ll miss you.’ said Juliet.

‘I’ll miss you too.’ Sam stared into her eyes, she on the step above him and so they were about at the same level. Suddenly she jumped out and grabbed him round the waist. ‘Gotcha! Oh Sam! I don’t want to go…. But I do… I…’ and she kissed him.

Sam kissed her back….it was urgent and passionate. And somehow more, well…. real than everything else. He pressed himself into her and felt….wanted, loved; even though she had not said it. All in a kiss.

And there was the whistle. Juliet and Sam released their embrace and Juliet ran through to the window seat. She waved furiously and mouthed something he couldn’t make out. The door sprang shut and all down the train was a shiver of movement. It started to pull out and Sam was waving. He started to run. He ran with the train to the platform end, so Juliet could see him. And even then he kept watching and waving until she was out of sight. He bent over and got his breath. The phone pinged in his pocket. A text: “Very impressive! The lady opposite was admiring your fitness.” Then another pinged through: “She asked me, is he your boyfriend? I said YES.”

Sam thought for a moment, and then pressed the keys: “Lovely Juliet, your kisses are like wine. Your hair is a river of ebony, and you are scented like a summer meadow.”

His phone pinged again: “Thanks….she is really convinced now….”

He sent back: “I was not for her benefit. I meant it. Glad lady is impressed.”

Text alert: “Sam…I Love You.”

Text alert: “Sam I really think I Love You.”

Text alert: “Sam? Please reply! Now I’m feeling like a prize tomato.”

“Squishy?”

“No…Kind of mushy.”

“Mushy is good.” Sam replied.

“Mushy tomato. I loved kissing you.”

“I’m the tomato now?”

“No. You are the cheese Sandwich!”

“Is that a metaphor?”

“No it is lunch.” replied Juliet.

“Good Lunch.” texted Sam.

This could go on until Stevenage. Sam sat on a bench and felt something warm inside. A feeling unfamiliar, but one worth having. Someone who was really there for you…. And someone who he could trust…. He looked up. The late afternoon was full of colour and life. After a while he stood and went to walk a little, and dream a little too.

Kyle sat at his computer and hummed in a cheery way. At that moment the phone rang. He picked it up automatically. It was the lab. There was something new. Or rather a new angle on something old: the genetics that came back on the Bishop case. There had been contamination at the scene.

‘So who was it?’

“Not sure,” said Luce the more formidable Lab coat, “but looks like the info may have been mixed. Or swapped. It’s one hell of a fuck up….” At this Kyle smiled to himself, he approved of research monkeys who showed a trace of real humanity. Luce continued: “I really don’t know how it happened. And that is one hell of a feeble excuse I know. But we do have something else for you. The envelope was a match to a living person’s DNA. So it means that the dead body is not the match for it. But we do hold a record for a crime somewhere; or the victim possibly. We need to look at some other cold cases. It might help. I mean there are mistakes very occasionally. Not by us…” she added quickly, “It is always further up or down the line. We just interpret what we are given. Can’t help it if some blasted idiot has given us the wrong evidence for the case!”

‘No. Quite. What a bummer.’ Kyle was sympathetic.

“Save it Sticky. I’m not the pushover the other one is. You’re only getting this because we discovered a mistake.”

‘Thanks anyway Luce.’

“Don’t bother me unless it’s something important. Or saw the leg off the table to get my interest. We are actually very busy here.”

‘Right. Okay.’ Kyle laid the phone back on the hook quietly. The Cat was no longer about, but Kyle felt sometimes like Camille was watching him. He flipped over the paper that had been left on the table. Nothing like a bit of juicy gossip. But something caught his eye: “Theatre Ghost Star is part time barmaid.” But below that was another section; a little article no bigger than a large postage stamp: “Girl (17) dreams a whole life and claims to be back to reality after stopping by at a mediaeval banquet.” He reached for the scissors and carefully cut it out. He reached for the phone and called George.

‘Well there is it Darling!’ Howard had the customary coffee, and on this occasion no cigarette. Sam was let in by the PA who shook her head in amusement at Howard’s rendition of Happy Birthday to You.

‘This is clearly a bad time.’ said Sam.

Howard spun on his heel and faced Sam, ‘Don’t be silly! I’m just practising my falsetto.’

‘Would it be hazardous to ask why?’

‘Really! Darling you do me a disservice. This time is to celebrate!’

‘Someone’s birthday?’ said Sam with trepidation, he hadn’t really seen Howard in full-on bizarre stream of consciousness mode before; so this was a little hard to handle. Howard turned, ‘Oh! It’s you. Oh well. Back to reality. Is there a Cat or an Evil Baddie or some Maniacal Scientist who needs dispatching?’

‘Not today.’ said Sam.

‘Pity, a little light dismemberment is always helpful before lunch,’

‘Is that a metaphor?’

‘What? You and your metaphors! If you mean: I didn’t mean it, then that would be correct, yes. But please tell me you are here for another reason than insipient nosiness.’

‘I just came to see you. That is it. No excuse for it really.’

‘No excuse! We shall see! Come with me!’ Howard swept out of the office with a speed that made Sam jog to keep up with him.

They stood before the big painting. ‘It still intrigues me.’ Howard murmured, at last still and calm again, ‘I thought you might want to see it before the exhibition comes down tomorrow.’

‘Where will it go? What do you do with the artworks?’

‘Well, they go back to the artist. But this one is going on a little journey. In fact Jay ought to be arriving any minute. You can come in to see him. I’m sure he won’t mind.’

‘So where is the painting going?’ Sam stared at it with a kind of empty feeling. He found the thought of it not being here somehow discomforting.

‘Along way away,’ said Howard, ‘It has been sold. I think that they will need to sort out the insurance though.’ But Sam wasn’t listening. Two losses in the same afternoon seemed unfair. He turned to Howard again, ‘So does Jay know? I thought he had a Not For Sale on them?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous! I can’t exist on fresh air. This is the life and soul of the gallery. That and cream buns in the upper room every Saturday.’ They left to walk back to the splendid room and Howard’s overloaded bookcases.

Jay was sitting in Howard’s chair swinging from side to side when they got back up there.

‘Better move Jay,’ said Howard, ‘I don’t like sitting on people I’m about to do business with.’

‘The painting has been sold?’

‘The large canvas, yes. They took their time, and now they want it really soon.’

‘Shall I…’ Sam waved vaguely at the door. Howard wafted an arm equally vaguely in the direction of the nearest available chair. Jay moved and sat down next to Sam.

‘This reminds me of the headmaster’s office,’ said Jay, ‘the man behind the desk had the plushest upholstery.’

‘You have your first sale. And we can discuss my fee over an expensive lunch…. And no, I’ve not worked this into my costing.’

‘So it’s fine? They have paid?’

Howard looked startled, ‘Well! I never heard that before. You’re kidding Jay? They absolutely loved it! I know you have sold paintings before so this shouldn’t be something new…. But here.’ And he handed Jay a slip, ‘Just observe the part where it says “Gallery Fee”. You must appreciate my part in this I hope.’

Jay read the slip, shifted in the chair, then looked up. He looked glazed. Sam looked from one to the other, both being far too enigmatic for Sam’s state of mind. But he didn’t try to escape again.

‘It was another agent?’

‘Yes Jay,’ said Howard swinging from side to side much as Jay himself had done a few minutes before. The chair seemed to encourage it. He took out his tobacco and started the process of rolling up. There was a strange tension that Sam was almost on the point of breaking with a question, when Jay who had been looking down at the floor, suddenly lifted his head and looked straight at Howard. He seemed very emotional. Sam looked to Howard too, thinking this was a meeting that he ought not to have been an interloper in.

‘But….but…..’ Jay shook his head.

‘Yes, yes….’ said Howard nodding and starting to smile.

‘They paid OVER the price in the catalogue?’ Jay said in a choked voice and sobbed once. Howard reached for his bottle of whisky and Sam wondered if a hanky might be useful. But Howard with an amused smile seemed to understand it all, and waited patiently. Jay laughed a minute later. He jumped up and grabbed Howard’s hand and shook it. He went to the book case, and head in hands was perhaps digesting his enormous good fortune.

‘Is he alright?’ Sam whispered.

‘Yes, of course.’ Howard jammed the roll up between his teeth, ‘Please don’t whisper. Jay can hear you.’

Jay turned to face them both. He eyes were round with childlike surprize. ‘I’m so happy! I mean I never thought….’

‘That’s fine. That’s fine…. Now how about that lunch? Sam?’ he crooked a finger and Sam leaned in; ‘There is something I have been meaning to ask you. Do you think that dreadful man got away?’

‘Which one?’ Sam frowned for a second.

‘Ah!’ said Howard, ‘Tricky….the one I mean is the little fellow: the spiteful looking Monkey. I don’t know him. And no one I know knows him. How about you?’

‘He is…’ Sam was about to say: “related to a dead body” but thinking that would break the mood of the moment, elected for: ‘….on a criminal data base; according to Kyle.’

‘Your shifty friend?’ Howard looked disapproving.

‘He does….stuff, of a discrete nature. I assure you that he’s not a crook.’

‘I’d think better of him if he was Darling! Now give me that glass back and let’s getting going. Jay!’

‘What?’

‘Get your coat my Lovely Pet; you are going for a treat. And when we have all come down off a high, I’ll call security to escort you both home.’

‘Okay.’ said Jay and grabbed his jacket. Sam reasoned that this Howard effect must be very potent; he couldn’t imagine Jay complying like that for anyone else. They followed Howard downstairs and kept up a brisk pace to the outside. A car was waiting.

‘Where are we going?’ asked Jay as they got in.

‘Gold Exchange. I have a special order to fulfil for them today. But don’t worry about that, let us Eat!’

Later the two men were delivered back to the street where they lived. Sam was going to the mini market for some more milk. Jay stood looking a little fuddled. ‘Are you coming?’ Sam nodded in the direction of Ollie’s shop. Jay followed him in.

‘Meester Wright!! And Meester Arden….this is most unusual. I was asking my helping hand man to work out this conundrum of things. Two people who come into my shop and here you are together at last!! Such a day it is! Yes, yes….’ He was putting his coat on as he said this, ‘I must Love and leave, as they say. Meester Fou will help. Lady wife….is, quite about to have a….the hospital just rang! Twins… they are two, and I must be with Lady Wife, so sorry!’ and with that he rushed through the door.

Sam and Jay turned back to the counter; the little Chinese man was stood there as if he had been there all the time.

‘I need some milk…. Err matches, and have you got that coffee in a big jar again?’

‘Thinking of doing an all-nighter?’ asked Jay prodding the bread with a finger.

‘You are buying?’ the Chinese man spoke, ‘Or you pay for holes in bag.’

‘No… sorry. Actually, I need some tea bags, and a large packet of crumpets, please.’ Jay blinked as the man behind the counter set his items in a bag and took the money. Sam got the things he needed and they walked the short distance back. At the top of the staircase they were about to part ways.

‘Do you want coffee?’ Jay asked. He said it like he expected Sam to say no, and he was looking disappointed already.

‘Uh, okay then.’ Sam said, ‘Just let me dump these in my hall.’

They sat on the balcony. And Sam looked out over the trees tops and into the edges of the haze, where the rising bank of rooftops gave way to a railway bridge.

‘Has Camille been round again?’

‘Not recently no.’ Jay handed him a lite beer, ‘Maybe she’s found another person to make friends with as well.’

‘I don’t think so.’ said Sam, ‘She just seems subdued that’s all.’

‘Yeah,’ said Jay, divining some meaning, ‘it does that…’

‘What?’

‘You cannot tell anyone. Anyone at all. But just once I thought it was all clear you see. And then she is waiting at my door.’ he paused to find the Sobrané in his coat pocket, ‘Sorry. Bad habit. Must give up.’

‘Yeah better to stop.’ said Sam. He got his own out. The craving was driving a wedge between him and his reason. Jay pulled an ash tray between them on the balcony patio table.

‘What did you want to tell me?’ asked Sam.

‘Everything. I think. But that is for another day. Fate….’ He stared outwards.

‘So did they really pay above the list price?’ asked Sam, mostly as a way of derailing the strangeness of the comment than any real interest in that moment over the inner workings of the Viridian Gallery.

‘It does not make sense.’ said Jay and blew a stream of smoke outwards.

‘It isn’t really bad though, is it?’

‘No.’ Jay shifted in the seat, ‘It’s just….a feeling. Best not take too much notice of me. I have just finished painting another one today. You go kind of demob happy….or just high; depending on the weather.’

‘I think I better go home in a mo.’ said Sam. All the talk of getting high, and the unravelling of a logical line of events, as well as the slightly chaotic feeling of the flat, made Sam think anxious thoughts about giant kittens tearing the place down.

‘I wanted it to happen you know.’ said Jay.

‘I can read what’s already there,’ said Sam, ‘But I think what you are saying is that there is something wrong with what happened today?’

‘Yes….no. Oh! I don’t want to think about it.’ Jay stubbed out the end, ‘I think I hear your Cat.’ He stood and disappeared back into the main room. Sam got up, howbeit a little stiffly, and made for the front door of the flat.

‘Jay? Jay, I have to go now.’ and when there was no reply he quietly let himself out.

Sam was dreaming. His eyes flickered with the scenes and the people who walked across his inner eye. And then there was Juliet, and she was sweet; sweeter than any good wine. They kissed in the dream. And in the room were Sam slept, Camille slipped. She walked round the bed to the side that was least difficult to reach and made the call to listen. Poor Sam. Camille in deference to the vagueness of those who are lovelorn, and feeling a need to make sure her cat bowls were properly tended to, leapt lightly up, started to purr and curled up strategically in a hollow on the covers.

Sam dreamed; but the dream changed and in the dream they were trying to take Juliet away from him. He was silhouetted in the garden, but no sound was coming home. There was nothing there. No sound. But Camille seemed different there too. And here was the scent of barbeque and the taste at last of seaweed particles mainly in big pieces.

He was awake, panting with the dash of coldness that the night air covered. Camille paddling her paws on the covers, her weight pressing on his chest, made the tiny space in the curve of his own body seem less lonely.

‘Juliet….’ he murmured.

The next day Sam was making toast when the phone rang.

‘I’m coming up to see you.’ George said firmly.

He came with the post, and a tin of cat food that had lots of squiggly writing on it, ‘Try it Cat. Tell me what you think. If it’s good I’ll get a jumbo pack.’ with that he dumped the sheaf of letters in Sam’s hands.

The usual stuff, plus one large, heavy, off-white envelope. George, who already knew what it was didn’t react as Sam slit the thing with his penknife.

‘It’s an offer to work full time for the project!’ said Sam, and smoothed it out on the kitchen work top. George looked up and waited for the next thing Sam would say: ‘They want me to be living in…. no? Well that’s nice. I guess, but here’s no way except on a few occasions.’

‘I got one too.’ said George; ‘We can all help each other out. Did you want to stay at Base?’ he watched Sam carefully to see what he would say….

‘Well….it might be interesting for some of the things. But I didn’t take this on to be full time…’

‘You can put the other work on hold Detective Man.’ said George spooning coffee into his cup, ‘So what’s the big deal? You could stay at Base.’

‘It would mean being away from home for three weeks in a row. I just can’t do that.’

‘Oh?’ George pushed his glasses up his nose, ‘we can help each other with change over and getting our things arranged. So what else is causing doubt?’

‘I have to think about this…. It’s a big commitment. I know it’s just for the summer stint. I’d have to find a way round it.’

‘Juliet?’

‘She’s not here.’

‘Ah!’

‘I won’t stay away from home for all that time….I don’t think I want to. Not without my Cat.’

‘She can stay at my house.’ offered George heroically (which especially considering the thing with the advanced belt; the locked door; and the mackerel incident; was really generous.)

Sam sighed, ‘Thanks…. Really. I do need this. I do. It’s been getting worse out there. In the normal world I mean. And well; I actually feel safer back at the lab, like I belong, you know…’

‘Yeah, I get it.’ George took of his glasses and cleaned them, and Camille trotted in and said Meow in greeting.

‘What’s she say?’ George slid them back up his nose.

‘Dunno,’ Sam went to get packets out of the fridge.

George picked up the mobile that was buzzing across the counter top, ‘Kyle? Yeah, what is it mate? Yeah, it is?’ there was a long pause and the Cat leapt onto the stool next to George and let him stroke her as he talked to Kyle. Sam waited.

‘Verdict?’ Sam was expectant.

‘Tricky.’ said George.

‘I’m in.’ said Sam.

‘Camille?’

‘She can stay with Kyle at your house.’

‘I’ll let him know.’ George smirked, ‘He will be pleased.’ and they stared at each other waiting for some great revelation. Nothing came.

‘It’s time.’ said Sam eventually. He went to pick up the landline and make the call to confirm his full time status. He came back in the kitchen, ‘It’s done.’ he said.

‘I’m glad you’re in.’ George held out a hand. They shook on it, ‘Welcome to the team.’

‘Thanks.’ He looked at Camille, who stood legs akimbo atop the kitchen stool unperturbed by all this, ‘There are times,’ he addressed the cat, ‘when fish is not enough.’

She leapt off the stool and sat by her bowl waiting for the fresh dinner to arrive.

‘Soon cat. It will be there in a little while.’

The electric tin opener whirred, and released the aroma of the new fresh salmon dinner. And as Camille tucked in Sam started to think ahead. George saw his philosophical gazed look and his dreamy fixed stare and tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Come on Sam. It will work out in the end. You’ll see. I have news.’

‘What news?’ Sam refocused.

‘Later.’ George said.

In the corner there was a glow. A quick, quiet glow, a moment that faded; and the thought that you dreamed something impossible. And if you count it so then it’s all just a silly tale. Camille walked along the tops of walls and all the world was hers. She dropped down into Jay’s flat and followed her nose into the darkened room. She nudged his hand as he slept. A letter fell to the floor. Large, off white, and neatly typed. Camille smelt it all round the edge.

Very interesting. Very curious indeed.

*****

The End

About the Author

If Tea Breaks Exist, All Things Are Possible.

A.M.Russell has written several novels in the Science Fiction genre. She has always felt compelled to write and this book is the fulfilment of a deep and single-minded ambition to put a full length novel into paperback format.

Between Summer 2010 and Summer 2013, she has written four novels and is part of the way through a fifth in the series. This book begins a story arc that continues in the next story “Cloud Field”, which is an adventure mystery into a strange icy land and its multiple realities.

As a lifelong fan of authors C.S.Lewis; Tolkien & Douglas Adams, she has a particular liking for the magical, the fantastical and the often ridiculous aspects of life. But is also fascinated by science and admires theoretical physicists such as Stephen Hawking.

In an attempt to marry Science with Magic (unconsciously developed, but consciously realised), the novels contain aspects that are often kept separate in fiction of this type. Characters may ponder the science of Time Travel, while others display a supernatural ability to travel to another place in time at will.

The author feels a debt of gratitude is owed to the most excellent book “Perelandra (Voyage to Venus)” by C.S.Lewis (and of course to the man himself), where the idea was first suggested that both Science and the Supernatural coexisted - well in fiction anyway. A very battered copy of the “Cosmic Trilogy” (of which the above is the second part) - has a permanent place of fond appreciation. This inspired respect for the art of writing, and aspiration to develop an understanding of the writer as a true storyteller who can enlighten and delight the reader.

The author does have some qualifications, although these are not what makes a story, it does add colour to life in between drinking tea and typing for hours. She has a HE Cert film and video production - including scriptwriting; and City & Guilds in Embroidery.

She has played Samba, Free Improvisation music and Classical Music; and has taught community classes in Arts and Crafts.

Currently: makes Abstract Textile Art, and creates designs with digital images.

Writing has been the constant thread since deciding to be a Novelist at junior school, right after listening to The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe every story time for a week.

The author, although having a notebook and pen handy at all times, does not claim to know anything more than she should, or be ignorant of anything that can be considered vital to existence. She believes that, despite rumours to contrary, writing is not a competitive sport and should be respected and encouraged to flourish. If as many people as desire it, sit down and write stories and are ready to share them with others the world might be a better place tomorrow (or so the author believes). And if not, we can always put the kettle on, since it is essential for the cohesion of the universe as well as for the sanity of many.

Anne does occasionally inhabit the fictional world of the internet on some social networking sites, including Twitter & Google plus; and sometimes commits and opinion to a blog (on Blogger).

Twitter id: @PeachyPinkCloud

Blogger Address: http://peachypinkkipper.blogspot.com

*****

Further Copies

Not Without My Cat

(When fish is not enough)

To download a copy of this eBook at Smashwords:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/250849

*****

Cover Design

& All Original Artwork

Photographs,

& Illustrations

By

A M Russell

Copyright ©A M Russell 2013

*****

Table of Contents

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty One

The End

About The Author

Dedication:

Author Forward:

Further Copies