CHAPTER 21

2001, en route to Quantico, Virginia

Lincoln glowered at his three captors in silence for the best part of an hour. The horseless vehicle they were travelling in was uncomfortable and bare. There were no windows that he could see out of clearly and the occasional lurching motion was beginning to make him feel sick. He had no idea how long they had sat like this, a man either side of him and one sitting opposite, returning his glare through round wire-framed glasses with cool professional contempt.

To his left a hatch suddenly snapped open revealing wire mesh and two more men in a cabin in front. Lincoln had the distinct impression that he was seeing the drivers, the operators, of this curious vehicle.

‘Agent Mead, sir!’

The man who had been silently staring at him turned and shuffled up the bench opposite. ‘What is it?’

‘Message from the New York field office, sir …’ The man’s voice was hesitant.

‘Well? What is it?’

What was muttered, Lincoln couldn’t make out. But for the first time he thought he saw a flicker of emotion on the bespectacled man’s face. The conversation was quick and the trapdoor snapped shut again. The man shuffled back down the bench to look at Lincoln once more. His jaw was grinding away, his lips pressed tightly, the knuckles bulging on his fists as he silently clenched and flexed them. Finally, in a voice clogged with emotion, he spoke.

‘Jesus.’ He shook his head. ‘God knows how many innocent civilians just died. One thousand? Five thousand? Ten thousand? We may never know.’

‘What’s happened, sir?’ asked the agent to the left.

‘They came down.’

Both agents cursed.

‘North and south, both of them, the whole damned thing … gone!’

Lincoln frowned for a moment, and then realized the man was talking about those two magnificently tall buildings he’d seen exploding back in that brick archway. ‘The two straight towers are completely destroyed now?’

Lincoln could see the man with the spectacles wanted so much to throw a punch at him, but was doing his best to contain that urge. Nonetheless, he decided it was worth another go explaining his bizarre circumstances.

‘Now you must listen here, sir. I told those two rude gentlemen last night all about this! I was trying to explain to the foolish ignoramus that I have somehow managed to travel in time –’

‘I’d shut up if I were you.’

‘Good God, sir! This is a free country!’ Lincoln puffed his cheeks angrily. ‘I have a right to speak my mind, sir!’

‘Right now … no, you don’t.’

‘Do you know who I am, sir?’

‘Sure, I know who you are. You’re some scumbag, whack-job terrorist. Some messed-up-in-the-head fanatic who believes in killing innocent civilians to make some sort of screwed-up point!’

Lincoln leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. ‘Now you will hear me, sir. I shall be president of this country one day, and –’

The man wearing spectacles moved with a blur and Lincoln found himself doubled over, gasping for breath, winded by a blow to his solar plexus. He tried his best not to vomit on the metal floor between his feet.

‘Agent Belling, you saw what just happened, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, sir. The vehicle lurched violently and the detainee fell on your fist, sir.’

‘Precisely.’

Lincoln looked up at them. ‘What? No! That man just punched me!’

‘Like I said, Abraham …’ said Agent Mead, ‘probably best if you shut up right now.’