Page 38 of Out of Time

SSC Vanessa Broadbent pulled the glasses down her nose, a gawk, similar in both style and duration to a German presented with an evening meal containing no pork products, the only expression she could muster. “You seriously expect me to believe that?”

  Neil had run through everything again. Every image, every word, every one of Artimus’ lessons. Now he had the chance to study the events end-to-end he was sure of only two things: One, he would not believe the story if it were told to him, and two, it turned out Artimus was not as bad a person as he thought.

  “Does it matter what you believe?” said Neil, resigning himself to his fate. “I know what happened, and now I’ve told you. Just do what you must.”

  “Detective Townsend!” said Vanessa, with disgust. “I do not think that is that attitude…”

  “Please shut up.” said Neil, sagging back into his chair. The fight was over; he could tolerate being civil no longer.

  “Mister Townsend!” said Vanessa, turning to Henry. “That is not a very professional attitude.”

  “I concur.” said Sir Jeremy, leaning forward, his piercing gaze focussed on Neil.

  “Thank you.” said Vanessa, nodding appreciatively.

  “I’m not agreeing with you I’m afraid.” said Sir Jeremy, turning to Vanessa.

  “I…” stumbled Vanessa, gobsmacked. “But… But his story doesn’t even make any sense! How could you stop something that was already going to happen?”

  “Easy.” said Neil, distantly. “I asked one question of the younger Gordon Cooper and one of the elder. Their responses told me everything I needed to know.”

  “What?” said Vanessa, scanning back through her notes.

  “It’s really very simple.” said Neil, condescendingly. “Elder Gordon Cooper didn’t know how to prove who he was to younger Gordon Cooper even though they were supposedly the same person. He should not have had to invent anything. He should have known exactly what to do and say, because it had been done to him before. Therefore, it was logical to assume that when elder Gordon changed the timeline, he created an alternate history, one we are all existing in now. That meant elder Gordon came from an alternate reality to our Gordon. That gave me the opportunity to prevent our Gordon Cooper doing what the alternate Gordon Cooper had done to his own timeline; cause the end of humanity. I am still torn as to whether we still have no time travellers because the machine gets invented somewhere down the line and this all comes to a very abrupt end anyway, but Gordon Cooper will no longer be the cause, so it probably won’t happen in my lifetime.”

  Vanessa stared blankly at Neil, before turning to Sir Jeremy. “Tell me you’re not going to accept this story as truth?”

  “There’s only one thing I shall tell you, and that is that I am formally nullifying all proceedings in this case, and expunging all details relating to these events and any allegations of wrongdoing from Detective Townsend’s record.” said Sir Jeremy, sitting up straight. “That will be all SSC Broadbent.”

  Vanessa paused for moment, unsure what to do. She went to speak, but was cut off long before she could make a sound.

  “Dismissed.” said Sir Jeremy, firmly.

  Vanessa gathered her things and made her way out of the room. When she had left, Sir Jeremy removed his cap and placed it on the table.

  Even though he was not in the correct mind-set to be trying to ascertain motives, Neil could not help but feel Sir Jeremy was weighing up a decision.

  Neil watched Sir Jeremy neaten his appearance before reaching for an attaché case and removing an official-looking brown folder.

  “I am sorry for all this Neil.” said Sir Jeremy, his face relaxing and a warm smile spreading over his features. “You seem to have a very good understanding of our mutual friend.”

  “Artimus?” said Neil, perplexed as to what was going on. “I had a good understanding, sure. I’m not sure why that’s relevant. Or, in point of fact, what this is all about.”

  “Mister Crane can be exceptionally persuasive.” said Sir Jeremy, shoving the file over to Henry. “We needed to make sure you were still on our side before we talked to you.”

  “I am, and always will be, a detective of Scotland Yard.” said Neil, proudly.

  “That is good to hear. Then I may have something for you to look at now you are still a valued one.”

  Henry handed Neil the brown folder. Emblazoned with the official seal of the Office of Military Intelligence and stamped ‘Confidential’, it was stuffed with photos and photocopied pages.

  “What I am about to tell you requires the very highest level of intelligence access.” said Sir Jeremy, casually pacing round the table. “If you have any doubts about assisting me with what we are about to discuss, now is the time to air your fears.”

  “I have no idea what any of this is about,” said Neil, his curiosity piqued, “but I will be of any assistance I can.”

  “Good. Two weeks ago we received a threat communication stating that a ghost terrorist faction was about to start a bombing campaign on British soil.”

  “Ghost faction, sir?”

  “Threat communications come from unknown sources or known sources. So that we can quickly ascertain the veracity of any threats inbound to us, our security forces hand out ‘code words’ of a sort to known factions, so we know their threats are legitimate. Well, the threat we received this time is from a known source, but one we long thought eradicated. We classify such threats as coming from ghost factions.”

  “Who is the faction in this case?” said Neil, scanning the dossier.

  “This is our problem. You see, the last time we heard from these people was the eighties, and we know we took them all down because we had a mole in their organisation. They were known as the Blackfriars Syndicate; a powerful sub-sect of freemasonry working out of the Blackfriars district of London.”

  “The Blackfriars Affair?” said Neil, remembering that the mole who brought them down was Artimus. “I’m sorry sir, I never read the case file.”

  “There is always time for reading, detective.” said Sir Jeremy, leaning over Neil and flicking through the pages of the file until a handwritten note was reached. “This is our real issue Neil. This note was received yesterday. It says the first bomb will be tomorrow, and it will be placed in a busy commuter hub.”

  Sir Jeremy could have been saying anything, Neil was too stunned to listen. He stared at the note, a tear welling in his eye, as a dawning realisation settled in. How was this possible? “I’ll do everything I can to help you find him, sir.” said Neil, eventually, his head bowed.

  “That’s what we needed to know.” said Sir Jeremy, grabbing his cap from the table and moving to leave the room. “His office is now your office, and Henry knows to assign you all the resources you think you need.”

  “Thank you sir.” said Neil, but there was no volume to the words. Neil’s mind and focus were elsewhere. Lost in trying to understand the note.

  Why had it been written? How could it have been written? What possible reason could the writer have for wanting to bomb London?

  However, the one thought that overpowered them all was the one he dare not meet head-on.

  As Sir Jeremy left the room, Henry turned and smiled at Neil, the action hollow, more a form of apology than thanks.

  Returning to the note, Neil felt that same hollowness descend throughout his entire being. All he could see was the text, the handwriting practically illegible.

  There could be no doubt.

  Somehow, Artimus Crane had written it.

  Dear Reader,

  Firstly, let me say thank you for reading my work. I really hope you enjoyed the ride, and would love to see you back here again when the second novel in the series, ‘Lone Nut’, becomes available.

  Secondly, could I ask you write me a review? Your feedback really is important to me, and a few seconds of your time would make me feel like the nine months I put in getting Artimus and Neil onto the page for you were worth it. Just a mark out of five and a few words would re
ally make my day.

  Whatever you decide, thanks again for putting your time into reading my novel, and I look forward to keeping you entertained again soon.

  Steven Allinson

 
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