Read Online Time Riders: The Doomsday Code by Alex Scarrow - Free Book Online
Authors: Alex Scarrow
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dark about this agency. I want to know more, and if there’s more we can find out …’
‘Yeah,’ said Sal. ‘I want to know too.’
The three of them were quiet for a moment.
‘I don’t know where this is taking us,’ said Maddy. ‘History has been changed a little. There’s a movie out there that wasn’t there yesterday. And maybe that’s all that’s going to happen with this time wave and we don’t need to correct things again. As Foster once said, history can tolerate some change. Maybe this Adam guy got lucky with those couple of sentences, and that’s all anyone is ever going to get out of the manuscript. But I think we have to just take a look. Agree?’
Liam nodded. ‘It’s the time of knights an’ all. I wouldn’t mind seeing some of that.’
‘Cool. So … when Bob’s ready, Sal, I want you, Liam and the two units to go locate some clothing that’ll not attract attention. God knows what they wear then,’ she said, shrugging, ‘potato sacks and sandals, for all I know.’
‘OK. What about you?’
‘I need to put together a data package for Bob and Becks so they’re, you know, up to speed on all the relevant history.’ She looked at her watch. ‘It’s just gone ten. If we say launch time after lunch?’ She nudged Liam. ‘Might as well get some pizza in before you go.’
CHAPTER 15
2001, New York
He was watching the row of archways, not entirely certain which one they’d disappeared into last night. He’d let them get too far ahead, they’d turned into that backstreet and, by the time he’d arrived and looked down past the wheelie bins and bags of festering rubbish, they were nowhere to be seen.
Nerves had got the better of him; he’d allowed himself to fall too far behind.
He could have gone down there, knocking on each shutter door, but he’d wimped out. Back at his apartment in the early hours, unable to sleep as New York finally stilled itself for a new Monday morning, he’d paced his living room angry with himself. Seven years of waiting for this moment; seven years waiting to talk to the girl again – and he’d wimped out and lost them down this street.
In all that time he’d played the memory of that night in his bedsit over and over in his head, trying to understand what it had been about. Trying to keep the memory of their faces fresh and vivid. Preparing himself to accept the possibility that this was for real, that that little ticket stub was actually going to reunite him with someone who’d travelled across time.
Adam had called work this morning, told them he was feeling poorly. Told them he might not be in for a couple of days. Sherman–Golding Investment would cope just fine without their IT systems security consultant for a couple of days.
Seven years. It felt like a lifetime ago, those unhappy university years. He’d never kept in touch with those moronic beer-heads he’d shared digs with. Couldn’t care less what they were doing now. Because he was doing just fine. A nice Manhattan apartment, a gold American Express card, membership of an exclusive gym that overlooked the Hudson. He earned more money a year than his old man earned in a decade. And all he was really was a hacker in a smart suit.
But then this life, this career, everything he’d planned and done since he was twenty-one, had been so he’d end up here in New York, so he could be there at that club on that night. His whole career, his life, governed by the faint print on a crumpled stub of coloured paper.
Totally mental.
Now, watching this little backstreet in the morning, Mr Sensible urged him to make a move. Mission Control to Adam, time to go and say hello now, don’t you think?
The thought sent butterflies fluttering in formation around his gut.
Come on, Adam, you’re a confident man now. Not that nerdy little weasel, not any more. Right? A player. Not a loser – a WINNER! And winners don’t sit around whining.
He nodded. ‘Right.’
Mission Control says
‘Yeah,’ said Sal. ‘I want to know too.’
The three of them were quiet for a moment.
‘I don’t know where this is taking us,’ said Maddy. ‘History has been changed a little. There’s a movie out there that wasn’t there yesterday. And maybe that’s all that’s going to happen with this time wave and we don’t need to correct things again. As Foster once said, history can tolerate some change. Maybe this Adam guy got lucky with those couple of sentences, and that’s all anyone is ever going to get out of the manuscript. But I think we have to just take a look. Agree?’
Liam nodded. ‘It’s the time of knights an’ all. I wouldn’t mind seeing some of that.’
‘Cool. So … when Bob’s ready, Sal, I want you, Liam and the two units to go locate some clothing that’ll not attract attention. God knows what they wear then,’ she said, shrugging, ‘potato sacks and sandals, for all I know.’
‘OK. What about you?’
‘I need to put together a data package for Bob and Becks so they’re, you know, up to speed on all the relevant history.’ She looked at her watch. ‘It’s just gone ten. If we say launch time after lunch?’ She nudged Liam. ‘Might as well get some pizza in before you go.’
CHAPTER 15
2001, New York
He was watching the row of archways, not entirely certain which one they’d disappeared into last night. He’d let them get too far ahead, they’d turned into that backstreet and, by the time he’d arrived and looked down past the wheelie bins and bags of festering rubbish, they were nowhere to be seen.
Nerves had got the better of him; he’d allowed himself to fall too far behind.
He could have gone down there, knocking on each shutter door, but he’d wimped out. Back at his apartment in the early hours, unable to sleep as New York finally stilled itself for a new Monday morning, he’d paced his living room angry with himself. Seven years of waiting for this moment; seven years waiting to talk to the girl again – and he’d wimped out and lost them down this street.
In all that time he’d played the memory of that night in his bedsit over and over in his head, trying to understand what it had been about. Trying to keep the memory of their faces fresh and vivid. Preparing himself to accept the possibility that this was for real, that that little ticket stub was actually going to reunite him with someone who’d travelled across time.
Adam had called work this morning, told them he was feeling poorly. Told them he might not be in for a couple of days. Sherman–Golding Investment would cope just fine without their IT systems security consultant for a couple of days.
Seven years. It felt like a lifetime ago, those unhappy university years. He’d never kept in touch with those moronic beer-heads he’d shared digs with. Couldn’t care less what they were doing now. Because he was doing just fine. A nice Manhattan apartment, a gold American Express card, membership of an exclusive gym that overlooked the Hudson. He earned more money a year than his old man earned in a decade. And all he was really was a hacker in a smart suit.
But then this life, this career, everything he’d planned and done since he was twenty-one, had been so he’d end up here in New York, so he could be there at that club on that night. His whole career, his life, governed by the faint print on a crumpled stub of coloured paper.
Totally mental.
Now, watching this little backstreet in the morning, Mr Sensible urged him to make a move. Mission Control to Adam, time to go and say hello now, don’t you think?
The thought sent butterflies fluttering in formation around his gut.
Come on, Adam, you’re a confident man now. Not that nerdy little weasel, not any more. Right? A player. Not a loser – a WINNER! And winners don’t sit around whining.
He nodded. ‘Right.’
Mission Control says
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