CHAPTER 37

2001, New York

Colonel Devereau and Sergeant Freeman crouched down and shone their flashlights under the half-open corrugated-iron shutter door into the dark space beyond.

‘This is it?’ he said. He sounded disappointed. ‘This is your time machine?’

By the subdued tone of his voice, Maddy wondered whether he actually really had wanted to believe what she’d told him was for real. It would make persuading him, seeking his help, a great deal easier if he did.

She knelt down and looked inside. The archway appeared to be in a lot better shape than it had yesterday. Becks must have spent the night fixing things up; she’d swept away the fallen bricks and mortar, straightened up the shelves that had collapsed, tidied the general mess inside. Apart from the gaping crack running across their floor and the jagged holes in the roof it almost looked as normal, except, that is, for the fact that it was utterly dark.

‘We have no power,’ said Maddy. ‘Our generator was totally trashed when we, uh, landed here.’

Devereau shoved the shutter a little higher and it clacked noisily. The men of his platoon ducked inside and another half a dozen torches snapped on and began sweeping the archway, picking out details here and there.

‘Negative, Madelaine,’ said Becks. ‘The generator works. I was able to effect a temporary repair. I shall go and switch it on.’

Becks stepped inside and made her way briskly towards the sliding door leading into the back room. She was lost in the darkness.

‘Hey! Miss!’ snapped Sergeant Freeman, swinging his carbine off his shoulder. ‘Where ’n hell you think you’re goin’?’

Becks turned to look at him as torchlight danced across her face. Quite calmly: ‘To turn the power on, of course.’

‘It’s through that far door,’ said Maddy. ‘There’s a storage room back there. It’s where our generator is.’

Devereau shrugged. They’d walked once round this odd construction. It reminded him of a termite mound: a large badly put-together hummock made entirely of crumbling bricks. There was presumably no place inside for this other girl – Becks – to run or hide. ‘Better follow her back there, Sergeant,’ he said to Freeman.

Both headed through the opening to the back room and a moment later Maddy sighed with relief at the reassuring sound of the generator chugging to life.

The archway’s strip lights flickered then winked on in unison.

Devereau cursed. He reached out towards the shutter door and yanked it down. ‘Gimme a hand,’ he said to a young soldier. Together they wrestled it down until it clattered and bounced against the floor.

‘We’re right in the middle of the dead zone!’ said Devereau. ‘Last thing we want is begging the attention of their sky navy with a careless show of lights!’

‘Oh … yeah.’ Maddy nodded an apology.

The computer monitors were on, all of them busy showing the system slowly booting up. Becks emerged, Freeman with her.

‘There was damage to the fuel tank,’ said Becks. ‘We have lost a significant portion of our reserves.’ She approached Maddy and Devereau. ‘We will need more fuel, Madelaine.’

‘To recharge the displacement machine?’

‘Affirmative.’

‘But hang on! What’s the point? You said the tachyon transmission array was –’

‘I believe it may be possible to acquire analogous transmission technology and reconfigure it to channel tachyon particles –’

‘Excuse me!’ Devereau made a face. ‘Can you two stop talking whatever gibberish mumbo-jumbo that is for a moment?’

They did and then both looked at him.

‘All right, now … I suppose I’m more than halfway towards considering the pair of you aren’t Southern spies.’ He pulled out his packet of Gitanes and lit one, hacking up a gob of discoloured phlegm on to the floor as he did so.

‘Do you mind?’ said Maddy testily. ‘That’s disgusting.’

He ignored her. ‘But you, miss – both of you, actually – have got yourselves a lot of explaining yet to do if you don’t want to find yourself chained up in a federal military prison.’ He pulled on his cigarette and puffed a cloud of rancid smoke into the air between them. Maddy wrinkled her nose at the stench.

‘A hell of a lot of explaining,’ he added.

Becks was silent. A guarded expression on her face.

Maddy shrugged. ‘Sure … why not? You might as well hear it all … everything.’ She turned to Becks, expecting her to sound a note of caution. ‘After all, this timeline isn’t meant to exist. None of it … not this war, not these soldiers.’ She smiled candidly at him. ‘Not even you, Colonel Devereau.’

‘I should not … exist?’ His voice was midway between incredulity and anger.

‘Not the way you are. Not like this.’

He frowned and jutted his bearded chin indignantly. ‘Ma’am, I rather like the way I am, if that’s all the same to you!’

‘Look.’ Maddy puffed her cheeks. ‘It’s really complicated. Devereau, I guess I’d better explain to you all about how time travel works.’ She nodded towards their threadbare armchairs. ‘Want to go grab a seat? This could take us quite a while.’