CHAPTER 81

2001, New York

The old man was sit ing on the park bench and throwing nuggets of dough from the crusty end of a hot-dog bun to a strut ing pack of impatient pigeons.

‘I knew I’d nd you here,’ said Maddy.

He looked up at her and smiled a greeting. She closed her eyes and turned her face up towards the clear blue September sky and for a moment savoured the warmth of the sun on her pal id cheeks.

‘Unobscured sun and a good hot dog … that’s what you said,’ she added, ‘and where else in Manhat an’s forest of skyscrapers are you going to get that?’

Foster laughed drily. ‘Clever girl.’

She opped down on the park bench next to him.

‘We’ve real y missed you. I’ve missed you.’

‘It’s only been a few hours,’ he said, tossing another doughy nugget out among the birds.

‘What? It’s been months –’

‘Yes, but for me,’ he said, ‘just a few hours.’ He looked at her. ‘Remember, I’m out of the loop now. I’m out of the time bubble. I said goodbye to you on a Monday morning.’

He looked down at his watch. ‘And now it’s nearly one o’clock on the very same Monday.’

o’clock on the very same Monday.’

She shook her head. ‘Yes, of course. Stupid of me. I knew that.’

They sat in silence for a while and watched a toddler on reins at empt to scare away the pigeons by stamping her lit le feet. The birds merely gave her a wide berth as she ambled through and then returned, to hungrily resume pecking at the crumbs of bread on the ground in her wake.

‘You hinted you’d be here, didn’t you? When we parted?’

Foster nodded. ‘I suppose I felt a lit le guilty leaving you so soon.’ He pu ed out his sal ow cheeks. ‘But I’m dying, Maddy. I won’t last very much longer.’

‘The tachyon corruption?’

‘Yes. It plays merry havoc at a genetic level. It’s like a computer virus, rewriting lines of code with gibberish. Out here,’ he sighed, ‘outside the time bubble, I might get a lit le longer to live. I might get a week or two more. Maybe a month if I’m lucky. That would be nice.’

She thought about that for a moment. ‘But … you’l always be …?’

‘That’s right, Madelaine. From your point of view, I’l always be found here in Central Park, at twelve fty-two a.m. on Monday the tenth of September. Like al these other people,’ he said, gesturing at the busy park, the queue of people standing beside the hot-dog vendor across the grass, ‘like them, I’ve become part of the furniture of here and now … part of the wal paper. That’s the other reason why I left.’

reason why I left.’

She frowned, not get ing that.

‘If I’d stayed with you and the others … I’d be long gone by now. This way, I can stil help you. Someone to talk to.’

‘Ah.’ She nodded.

‘But each time you come and nd me, Madelaine, remember, each time you come and nd me … it’l be the rst time for me. Do you see what I mean?’

Of course it would. She realized, for the old man, Monday had been a co ee and a bagel and a goodbye. And now, three hours later, a momentary reunion in Central Park. Each time the eld o ce reset itself, any conversation he had with her … never happened. For Foster there’d be no memory of it.

He laughed. ‘It’l be like visiting some senile old fogey in a madhouse. You’l have to get used to repeating yourself.’

She shared his chuckle. ‘I had a boyfriend like that once. He never listened to me.’

He sni ed. ‘You came here, I presume, because you need help?’

‘Wel , we did have a problem, but it’s al xed now, I think.’

He pat ed her arm. ‘See? I knew you lot were ready.’

‘Hardly. We scraped through this one, Foster. It was a close-run thing.’

She gave him the bare bones of their story. Foster shook his head. ‘Dinosaur times?’ he whispered. ‘I … I never thought the machine could take us so far back.’

thought the machine could take us so far back.’

‘You never did that?’

‘No. Never that far. How’s Liam?’

‘Wel , that’s just it. I don’t know how much damage that did to him. It’s de nitely done something to him, aged him in some ways. He has …’ She looked at Foster, and for the rst time, she noticed the rheumy whites of his eyes were faintly laced with the scars of old burst blood vessels. ‘Like you, haemorrhaging. And a streak of white hair. Who knows what’s been damaged inside him. I mean, that’s just what I can see. Foster, how long can he take this kind of punishment? How long do you think he wil live?’

He sucked in air through his teeth. ‘Wel , he’s a tough old soul. I can tel you that. But, you see … it al depends on where and when he goes, Madelaine. Who knows how long he’s got?’

That didn’t help much.

‘Do I tel him or not, Foster? You know, he’s not blind. He’s seen his bad eye, he’s seen his hair. He jokes about it, but he’s not stupid. He must know this isn’t good for him.’

He shook his head. ‘I know he’l cope. But whether you tel him has to be your cal . You’re the one in charge now. I can give you what advice I can, but command decisions are yours. That’s how it is.’ He tossed the last of his bun in among the birds. ‘I can’t run the eld o ce from out here on a park bench. You’re the boss now.’

‘But what about the agency? Is there someone else I can talk to? Someone in charge?’

‘I … I’m sorry, Madelaine. That’s … that’s o limits. You

‘I … I’m sorry, Madelaine. That’s … that’s o limits. You have to treat this like you’re entirely on your own. Do you understand? You’re on your own.’

She cursed. ‘What sort of useless freakin’ agency is this?’

He pursed his lips sympathetical y. ‘I’m afraid that’s just how it is.’

She ground her teeth in silent frustration for a while, knowing there was nothing more Foster could o er her on the subject of Liam. In any case, there was a new pair of glasses she was due to pick up from the opticians. They’d promised her they’d be ready in a couple of hours and another day of squinting at monitors and get ing a migraine for her troubles was something she could live without.

She stood up. ‘I’d bet er go. Things to do.’

He stood up, slowly, achingly. Polite, like a true gentleman.

‘You’l be here again?’ asked Maddy. ‘For sure? Every Monday at this time?’

‘Of course,’ he grinned. ‘I do charge by the hour, though.

’ She laughed then hugged him, awkward and faltering.

‘Enjoy your day, Foster.’

‘Oh, I have a fun-packed afternoon planned.’

She squeezed his arm. ‘Take care. I’l drop by and see you again soon.’ She turned to walk down the path leading to the south-west gate. But a thought suddenly occurred to her. She stopped, turned and saw him standing there among his pigeons, watching her go, almost as if he’d been among his pigeons, watching her go, almost as if he’d been expecting her to stop and turn.

‘Foster? How can you be so sure Liam wil cope? What if he works out he’s dying? What’s he gonna do? He might choose to leave us.’

‘He’l do the right thing,’ he replied. ‘You’l always be able to rely on that … the right thing. He’s a good lad.’ He turned away and began to wade through a parting sea of ru ing grey feathers and curious beady eyes.

‘Foster! How can you be so sure?’

He stopped in his tracks and looked back over his shoulder. ‘How can I be so sure?’

She nodded. ‘I mean, come on! Who the hel would be stupid enough to keep doing something they know’s kil ing them? What makes you think you know him so wel ?’

‘Oh, I know –’ he cocked an eyebrow – ‘because he’s me.’