Tomorrow's Guardian

CHAPTER TWELVE – EMPRESS OF INDIA

  "This time it’s going to be rather difficult,” the Professor said.

  Septimus, Tom and the old man were still sitting in the Professor’s study. A pot of tea and a stand of cream cakes were on the desk, next to a map of the eastern Mediterranean.

  Bending over and peering at the map, Tom could see Italy, Greece and its islands, Turkey and Cyprus, along with the coasts of Egypt and the Holy Land. On the map, the Professor had drawn a blue pencilled line leading out of a port marked Alexandria on the coast of Egypt and ending in an X on the map. A second line in red emerged from Taranto – an Italian port – and zigzagged around a number of Greek islands before ending up at the same point.

  On the table were two books. He knew that they were the logbooks of HMS Paladin – a British destroyer from the Second World War – and U–356, a German submarine or U–boat. The books had been scooped up by the boarding party that had tried to capture the U–boat, before it sank. There were also a number of papers and faded documents from the war years.

  The Professor pointed at the log books. “These give us a good account of the stalking and locating of the U–boat and its eventual destruction. The co–ordinates we have are accurate enough as is the precise time of the boarding operation. However,” he emphasised the point by tapping the Royal Navy book twice, “the coordinates only enable us to be accurate to within a few hundred yards or so. That’s potentially quite a distance at sea. I trust you two boys don’t want to be dumped down in the water!”

  Septimus winked at Tom and then grinned. The Professor sighed at the younger man and went on. “Furthermore, the U–boat log becomes very confused after the British started attacking her with depth charges and the account from HMS Paladin is equally vague, so we really don’t know precisely where U–356 was in relation to it. That’s going to make Walking on board her extremely difficult for you two.”

  Tom nodded. At Isandlwana he had a precise location to work from in the present day. That made Walking back to the battle and keeping his bearings quite easy. Likewise, with the Great Fire, maps existed of old London; Pudding Lane was a recognisable landmark, as was the bakery. There was even a monument in modern day London to mark the spot where the fire started. Had there been some error, it would have been easy to adjust when they arrived. But, with this last rescue, it was not so easy. They would appear in the middle of the sea if they had no fixed point to work from.

  “How about a boat or a plane?” Septimus asked the old man. “We take a boat with us or Walk a plane back. Then we can locate the U–boat and board her …”

  “While the Royal Navy are boarding her? Without any intervention on their part or the Germans’?” the Professor pointed out.

  “Ah; you’re right, I guess, besides, pulling a plane or boat through time would take a lot of strength. Even Tommy boy might struggle,” Septimus allowed.

  “How about another submarine?” Tom suggested. The two men looked at him.

  “Our agency might have some assets and influence, but they don’t include access to a submarine,” replied Neoptolemas after a moment. Tom sighed and slumped back in his chair. Then, he noticed a small pile of red–coloured glass beads on the table. Reaching forward, he picked one up: it was quite heavy. Curious, he held it up.

  “Sir, what is this?” he asked.

  The old man looked at the bead. “It’s a tracker,” explained the Professor.

  “What’s that?”

  “It gives off a strong temporal signal that we can trace, using a kind of radar we have downstairs in the basement. We even have a portable version – about the size of a mobile phone – with shorter range. Each signal can be used to assist Walking to a precise location and a given time because the signal decays at a certain rate. That knowledge can be used to calculate the time co–ordinates. It’s like a GPS transponder, except it works across time.”

  “Clever stuff your boffins come up with, boyo. But I can’t see how that helps us now – given that we don’t have one of them there trinkets on the U–356,” Septimus observed, and the Professor had to agree.

  The three of them were silent for a while. Tom studied the map of the Mediterranean. The old man was flipping through the Paladin’s log. Septimus picked up a few other papers and photos amongst the pile on the Professor’s desk. Idly he glanced though them. After a few minutes he suddenly sat up straight and stared at the map, then back at the sheet in his hand then slowly glanced up at his companions, smiling.

  “Maybe we can’t stretch to a submarine, but it gives me an idea. Tommy, how good a sailor are you?”

  The boy looked confused. “What are you getting at?” he asked.

  Septimus pointed at the line on the map showing the route of the German U–boat. Then, picking up a pen, he added another line. The end of it coincided with the point where the U–boat was sunk and where the Paladin found her. The other end of the line emerged from a small island south of Scilly – almost a dot in the sea. Tom leant forward to read the name: Malta.

  “This paper is a log from the Empress of India. That was a merchant vessel that plied the lanes between Malta and Alexandria. It brought food and supplies into the Island of Malta during the years from 1940 to 1943, when that island was under siege by the German and Italian air forces.”

  “A heroic battle,” mused Professor Neoptolemas. “The entire population of Malta was awarded the George Cross collectively for their bravery you know. Indeed there was a story…”

  Septimus interrupted him, “Yes, yes, very interesting I’m sure, but we are getting away from the point.”

  “Just what is the point, Septimus?” Tom asked in a tired voice. He had a headache and wanted a rest.

  “The point is that we have been looking at this from the perspective of the Paladin or the U–boat, but there was a third vessel present during all of this,” Septimus observed, throwing a black and white photograph across the table towards the old man. The Professor picked it up and looked at it.

  “The Empress of India?” the Professor suggested.

  “Indeed, what do you think the U–boat was stalking when it was detected by the Paladin and its flotilla? The destroyers were sailing east for Alexandria. The Empress had left Valletta three days earlier. U–356 spotted it and closed in for the kill. It was about to torpedo the merchant vessel when the Paladin arrived and launched an attack on the sub. According to this log, the Empress was advised to stay with the flotilla in case there were other U–boats around, so it was only a few hundred yards away at the time the U–boat went down.”

  “How does that help us? We don’t know any better the coordinates of that location,” Tom pointed out.

  “We don’t need to, Tommy boy, if we can get on board the Empress before she leaves port – and I have here the departure time and date – well, then we know it will take us to the fateful encounter. Look, I even have a photo.” The Welshman reached over, taking the photo back from the old man and then holding it up to show the boy: a faded and damaged image of a large ship with two funnels.

  “If we can get on board at the right moment and locate a safe point on the ship, we can leave one of the Professor’s trackers there. We can then Walk back and forth from here to there until the time comes to take action. All we then need is swimming equipment and breathing apparatus in case we are underwater during the rescue. Which reminds me, boyo, can you swim?”

  Tom nodded and explained how he had picked up some experience with scuba equipment when the family were on a package holiday in Kenya a couple of years before. His father had approached the new hobby with enthusiasm, taking advantage of the lessons offered as part of the package by their hotel. Tom and his dad had dived off the Kenyan coast and visited the coral reef, whilst his mum and sister had chosen to explore the sea in the more sedate, if rather touristy option of a glass–bottomed boat.

  “Excellent!” Septimus beamed.

  The Professor’s agency might not run to a submarine, but it appeare
d that it could stretch to scuba diving equipment. A few hours later, as Tom put on his wetsuit and examined the breathing equipment to remind himself how to use it, he thought of that holiday and of his family. Life had seemed so normal then, with no hint of danger. The most adventure they’d had was avoiding a jellyfish and sunburn. He wondered again about returning to that life of normality, of having Professor Neoptolemas remove these strange talents in his genes. Tom had promised to help rescue the three Walkers. Now there was just one left and then the job was done. What would he decide to do? He tugged on his wetsuit, a thoughtful look on his face.

  Using the Professor’s map to focus in on a small part of the world, Tom reached out and felt the now familiar link with the Flow of Time. For a few moments he let its power and strength flood through him. The world had become a confusing and changeable place lately. Something about the eternal nature of the time stream made him feel comfortable. Whatever happened to him, to any of these other Walkers, indeed to his world, time was still there. But, he now needed to concentrate on the job at hand.

  Tom reached out a rubber–coated arm to his companion and with an ease that came from a certain degree of practice, he Walked them both away from London in the early twenty–first century, across Europe and back through time to the dark years of the Second World War. There, in the waters of the Mediterranean, he focused in on a spot on a map: a dot which represented the rocky, but beautiful island of Malta. They emerged into a warm autumnal day to find they were several feet above the waters of Valetta harbour.

  Plunging into the sea when, moments before, he had been standing on the floor of the office in London, disoriented Tom and it took him a few moments to surface and locate his companion. He found him floating on his back a few yards away. As he swam up to him, Septimus opened his eyes and softly sang, “Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside …”

  Tom frowned at him. “Don’t you ever take anything seriously?”

  “Not if there’s any other way!” the Welshman replied with a wink. Then, he swung himself round, so he was treading water like Tom and asked, “Can you see any sign of the Empress?”

  Tom paddled round in a complete circle scanning the harbour. At first he could see nothing, but on a second scan across the waves he made out a dirty smudge in the distance. As he peered in that direction, a wave took him upwards for a few seconds and now he caught a glimpse of sunlight reflecting off metal. It was a warship and next to it, huddled like a chick near a hen, was the smaller form of a merchantman. It certainly looked like the picture in the Professor’s study.

  “I think so,” he pointed.

  Septimus gazed that way and squinted, “Maybe half a mile, perhaps more. It will take a while to swim it. Let’s get on with it.”

  Pulling up his mouthpiece, Tom got it comfortable in his mouth and tried a few breaths to test it. He then pulled the mask down to shield his eyes. The two of them submerged and swam in the direction of the Empress of India, wondering what would happen if they were spotted. Two young men in frog suits swimming around Valetta harbour in the middle of a war would certainly be thrown in jail, thought Tom – if they weren’t shot first!

  They approached the ship on the side facing the harbour, furthest from the quay, and saw that the merchantman had rope netting hanging over side. It dangled almost into the sea and Tom and Septimus, cautiously surfacing and expecting to hear shouts at any moment, clambered up it until they could peer over the side. A dozen burly deckhands were heaving crates about on the deck and tying them down. None was looking in the Walkers’ direction. After a while, the crew went forward to fetch more crates from the quay.

  “Now,” hissed Septimus, rolling over the side and stealthily approaching one of the crates. Using the knife at his waist, he prized open the lid and looked inside. Smiling, he beckoned Tom forward.

  Tom peered inside, puzzled to find it was empty. “Why are they loading empty crates?”

  “Malta is being blockaded – effectively it is under siege. It needs food and supplies and above all, fuel and ammunition. It has little to send in exchange. Crates come here full and go back empty, to be refilled,” Septimus explained.

  Tom nodded.

  “Right then, in we go,” Septimus said. Stripping off his gas cylinder he lowered it into the crate then climbed in after it, squeezing himself into a corner. Tom followed suit, pulling the lid in to place behind him.

  “Ok, here we are then. I’ll just drop the tracker,” Septimus said and Tom heard a slight tinkle as the bead hit the bottom of the crate, “Right that’s it. Let’s go.”

  Tom felt a sense of relief as he Walked them both forward to Neoptolemas’ office. When they arrived, Septimus held onto Tom and told him not to move. He then had Mr Phelps measure a square within which they were sitting. Only then was Tom allowed to move. He watched as Mr Phelps, using a marker pen, drew the square onto a tablecloth.

  “So, when we go back, we sit within the confines of that square and we know that we will be inside that crate,” Septimus explained.

  “So, what do we do now?” asked Tom.

  Septimus looked at his watch and then pulled out a device similar to a GPS handheld unit. Tom could see a time counter on it and various coordinates and numbers he did not understand. Septimus studied it and looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he glanced at Tom and the Professor. “As we are using a tracker and we need a precise fix in terms of location time, the safest way is to let time pass here and in the past. We know from the log book that it was about three days after the Empress left port that the U–boat was attacked in the vicinity of the merchant ship when HMS Paladin arrived. We have the precise time in fact, programmed into this gizmo,” he waved the electronic device around. “So, I think we should meet again here a little time prior to that event. Say you come here after school on Thursday, Tommy – is that ok?”

  Tom nodded. That was easy enough given that his parents were not in till after six and his sister often went to see friends after school.

  “In that case, we will call it a day...” the Professor started to say, but was interrupted by a gut–wrenching scream from upstairs. There was a crashing of furniture and then a loud bang followed by the sound of something made of glass smashing. The screaming continued.

  The Professor, Septimus and Tom ran out of the door and up the stairs.

  Suddenly, the screaming got closer: it was coming towards them; it was coming down the stairs!