Day of Deliverance (3 page)

The Tower

In a moment they were back on Angus’s bike heading out of town and towards the forest. The Forestry Commission owned large tracts of land above Soonhope, and had populated it with pine and spruce plantations that spread for many kilometres across the hills. Soon they were powering up one of the forest tracks, a plume of dust rising from the back tyre. At intervals there were fire warning signs with a picture of a red flame and lists of ‘DON’TS’ beneath – ‘DON’T’ do this and ‘DON’T’ do that. It was as if they’d been put there by VIGIL themselves. But you would need more than that to deter Angus. He worked his way up and down the gears as they ascended steadily. At one point the forest track swept round to the right and a steep path rose through the thick woodlands at an angle from the bend.

Angus pulled up and shouted through his helmet. “Hold on – I’m going to take a short cut.”

Before Jack had time to object, Angus had re-selected first gear and the bike shot up the narrow path. All Jack could do was hang on. After a while, the steep path levelled off and they picked up speed, the densely packed conifers whizzing past on each side of the narrow track.

Suddenly, a shape appeared in front of them, right in the middle of the path. It was a man, just standing there, looking at the oncoming bike as if caught in a trance. Angus hit the front brake and then the rear a split second later. He twisted the handlebars to avoid the man and, as he did so, both tyres lost their grip on the loose track surface. In an instant, the bike, Jack and Angus were horizontal and sliding along the ground. The man leaped free, moments before impact, and the boys slid to a halt in the tall grass on the verge. Jack’s heart was pounding. His leg hurt from where the bike had pressed down on it as they scraped along the track. Thankfully nothing seemed to be broken. Angus was first to his feet.

“What the…?”

Jack groaned and pulled himself into a sitting position. He looked up and immediately wished he hadn’t. He felt nauseous.

The man looked at them from the side of the track. They had slid past him by a good twenty metres. He was, maybe, mid forties, slim and fit-looking and wore jeans, hiking boots and a grey fleece jacket. He had not shaved for a few days and his yellow hair was ruffled.

“What the hell are you doing – trying to get us all killed?” Angus bellowed.

The man did not reply. It was as if he were weighing up something in his mind. Then, still saying nothing, he turned and melted back into the thick, dark woodland.

Angus was apoplectic. “What? He’s just run off!”

Jack pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself down. He could see the grazing on his leg through rips in his jeans.

“You okay?” Angus said. “Can’t believe that guy!”

“We probably shouldn’t be on this track anyway.” Jack looked down at the bike, still lying on its side. “Will it start?”

Angus hauled the machine up, inspecting the scrapes to the petrol tank and chrome.

“What a mess. If I ever see that bloke again…”

He straddled the bike and tried the engine. It fired
immediately.

“Thank God for that.”

“What now?”

“Well we might as well finish what we came up here to do.” Angus looked at Jack’s pale face. “If you’re still up for it.”

“I’ll survive.” Jack mounted the passenger seat gingerly and Angus set off, this time at a more sedate pace.

After a while, they left the cover of the dark green canopy and were released onto the open heather moorland above the treeline, where they re-joined the main track. Apart from the mystery hill walker they had nearly hit on the way up, there was no one around and the fire tower loomed into view as they crested a final ridge.

Angus cut the engine and the air became still. They took off their helmets and walked towards the tower. Jack moved with a slight limp but Angus seemed to show no ill effects from coming off the bike. Sometimes it seemed like he was indestructible.

“Can’t see anyone here at all. No sign of your mystery admirer.”

Jack shrugged. “Weird. Shall we go up?”

They clambered up the wooden ladder to the lookout cabin.

Angus knocked on the rough wooden door. “Hello! Anyone at home?”

There was silence, except for a light spring breeze which teased the top of the trees in the distance.

“Nothing. Come on, let’s check it out.”

The door opened into a crude wooden room with panoramic views of the surrounding forest and hills. It was like being in a small boat in a big green ocean. Far below you could see the river meandering its way down the valley, shining like a silver ribbon in the late afternoon sun. In the middle of the cabin
was a rough, three-dimensional model, a sort of topographical map of the surrounding area. It showed the hills, the main plantations, tracks, streams, the river, each peak, each village and the positions of the other fire towers. The whole world was suddenly defined in detail across a square metre of plastic and modelling paint. From this lofty position you could see how the fire wardens would have a sense of control… of watchful power.

“Nothing here. Certainly no clue as to your mystery texter.”

Jack peered into the one adjoining room. It was a bedroom – but it was more the size of a large cupboard.

“Hey – looks like there’s been someone sleeping here.”

In the room, there was a sleeping bag, a gas burner and a couple of books.

“One of the wardens?”

“Bit early in the year.”

“And I’m not sure they’d be reading these.”

Jack picked up a couple of books that had been left behind. One was entitled
Principles of Quantum Mechanics
. It looked old, and was by someone called Paul Dirac. The other book was a complete works of William Shakespeare. It was open at one page and the reader had circled an extract in pencil. Jack peered down at the book.

“That’s funny – this guy’s been reading
Hamlet
.”

“Please no, I’ve had enough of
Hamlet
for one day.” Angus looked around furtively. “Beattie’s probably got this place wired, just to check I don’t say anything dodgy.”

Jack read the circled extract from the book:

“Sorry, Jackster that sounds like complete gobbledegook… as per usual.”

Jack smiled. “It’s actually one of my speeches from
Hamlet
.”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me what it means and make me feel stupid?”

“Of course. From what Beattie says, Hamlet’s basically saying that things in Denmark, which he calls ‘the time’, are all messed up because of what his uncle, King Claudius, has done – killing Hamlet’s father and marrying his mother. Hamlet’s thinking about what he has to do to put it right… and he’s kind of worried and also resentful that he’s the one who’s got to sort it out. Do you understand?”

“No.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“All I can say is it’s a bit weird that this guy’s up here and maybe we shouldn’t hang around too long. He might come back. I don’t want to bump into some hobo living here all on his own who reads Shakespeare and Maths books for fun…”

“So who sent the text – do you think it was the guy who’s been hanging out here?”

“It’s all too creepy. I think we should go.”

They turned to leave. As they did so, they noticed an envelope pinned to the inside of the wooden cabin door. Jack’s heart leaped when he saw what was written on it. It was in an italic scrawl and read simply: ‘
Jack Christie
’.

Jack pulled the envelope down and ripped it open. Inside was a letter:

Jack stared at the letter in stunned silence. It all came together in his head – the strange books in the tower… the man on the track…

“Your dad… he’s been
here
?” Angus said, incredulously.

“Yeah. And I think that was the guy we nearly ran down. I thought I sort of vaguely recognised him. He was running away…”

“From what?”

“From just about everyone, I think.”

Suddenly, in the distance they heard a faint mechanical whirring. Jack and Angus peered out from the front of the fire tower in the direction of the noise.

“And probably from that thing…”

The whirring rapidly crescendoed into a pounding
whup, whup, whup
as, below them, a large helicopter skimmed the tops of the trees and headed up towards the fire tower. In seconds, the
helicopter was hovering right above them. The noise was deafening and it shook the wooden structure of the tower to its foundations. The pilot circled once before descending, the thrashing rotor blades throwing up a maelstrom of dust and debris. Finally, it touched down on a flat patch of ground near the tower and the pilot cut the engine. Jack and Angus opened the door of the cabin. Speeding along the forest track they could see three Land Rovers driving in convoy. As the noise from the helicopter engine subsided and the Land Rovers pulled up near the tower, Jack could hear loud barking from the back of the vehicles. Dogs.

Pendelshape Panic

Two figures stepped down from the helicopter. They crouched low to avoid the rotor blades that were still spinning at a dizzying speed. One was a tall man in his forties with fine features. He had an air of distinction and authority about him. It was Councillor Inchquin. The Councillor was Chairman of VIGIL and oversaw all its operations. Next to him was another tall figure – slimmer than Inchquin with a bald head fringed with thinning wisps of grey hair. By day he was Soonhope High’s headmaster – the Rector – and he was still wearing his trademark black gown. The Rector was VIGIL’s second in command.

Mr Belstaff and Mr Johnstone, the school games teachers, who also formed part of VIGIL’s security and response team, stepped from the leading Land Rover. All members of VIGIL had day jobs that belied their second life as key members of the VIGIL network. The four men converged on Jack and Angus who stood nervously at the bottom of the fire tower.

“Is he in there?” the Rector said, aggression in his voice.

“He’s gone.” Jack replied.

“Damn.” Inchquin hissed. “No sign at all?”

“He left this letter.” Jack handed the letter they had found inside to the Rector who scanned it quickly.

“Well – it confirms the message we received earlier,” the Rector said. “You saw nothing else?”

Jack was torn. The dogs cooped up in the Land Rovers were in a frenzy. Was Jack really going to admit that he and Angus had nearly run down someone they thought to be his father, only for VIGIL to release a pack of hounds on him in some brutal manhunt?

The thought had not even crossed Angus’s mind. “We think we might have seen him.” He nodded down the hill. “But I don’t think you’ll find him now.”

Inchquin looked at Jack sympathetically. “Sorry, Jack – we have to try. He’s too important just to let go.” He turned towards Belstaff and Johnstone. “Take the other men and the dogs – see if you can track him down. He might not have got far. Hurry.”

“What’s going on, Sir, how did you know he would be here?” Jack said, “… and… what does the letter from Dad
mean
?”

“We intercepted your mobile message. And then the tracker alarm indicated you were exiting the Soonhope safe zone. Sorry, Jack – you know we can’t take any chances.” The Rector waved the letter in the air. “And this letter basically means trouble. We will explain back at HQ.” He nodded at the helicopter. “You need to come with us. We have very little time.”

“Hey – what about my bike?” Angus said.

“The men will take care of it. I can assure you we have much more important business to attend to. Now, let’s go.”

The sun was in the west and hanging low in the sky. Angus and Jack peered from the helicopter as it swooped in above Soonhope High’s extensive playing fields. Jack was pretty sure no one had arrived at school in quite such style before. Pity there was nobody there to see it. They had a bird’s-eye view of the austere Victorian school building which sat in secluded grounds some way out of the town. Until ten years ago it had been empty. It was then
redeveloped
by an endowment from a charitable trust, which they
now knew, of course, had been a front for VIGIL. Since its purchase, the building had spawned a number of modern appendages around its Victorian core: the Science block and the gym and also the theatre, of course, where Jack would be appearing in
Hamlet
in two weeks’ time. It all seemed very normal. Just like all the other schools in the Borders, against which Angus regularly played rugby. There was one difference. Soonhope High housed the most advanced technology known to man: a working Taurus. A time machine. As a result, the site had tighter security than a US nuclear missile base. But it was completely unobtrusive. And that was the idea. Only a select few knew of the astonishing secret within the school walls.

The helicopter touched down and Jack, Angus, the Rector and Inchquin climbed out.

“Keep your heads down,” warned the Rector.

In the distance, two familiar figures stood waiting to welcome them – their old friends, Tony Smith and Gordon MacFarlane. They waited at one of the school’s side entrances. Tony took up almost the entire doorway. Gordon stood beside him. He was shorter but still built like a tank. Officially, they were the school janitors. But Jack and Angus had learned their true identity six months before. Along with Belstaff and Johnstone, they were part of VIGIL’s elite security squad.

“Gentlemen, please escort these two through Entrance B to the Situation Room. We will join you shortly.”

“An escort? Good.” Angus replied. “You two should have blue flashing lights on your heads.”

“That’s funny, Mr Jud. Look,” Gordon clutched his stomach with both hands, “I’m in stitches.”

The Rector scowled. “Gentlemen, I would advise less levity. We have an extremely serious situation here. Do I make myself clear?”

Gordon looked at his toes, sheepishly. “Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

Jack and Angus followed Tony and Gordon into the old Victorian part of the school.

“Right, here we are,” Tony announced.

They had reached a store cupboard halfway along one of the main corridors and Tony proceeded to take a large set of keys from his belt, jangling them loudly as he searched for the right one.

“Isn’t that a bit low tech for VIGIL?”

“Now, son,” Tony replied in a hushed voice, “you know better than to mention that name in an open corridor, even if no one else is here. Anyway, it’s all part of our image. You’re not supposed to see all the high-tech stuff.”

Tony located the key, inserted it into the lock and opened the door. The cupboard smelled of, well… school. That stale, dusty smell of textbooks, old bits of computer equipment and stationery. Tony reached inside his pocket and pulled out a thin piece of plastic, a bit like a pocket calculator. He gently pressed a button on the device and the cupboard door closed automatically.

“That looks more like it,” Angus said, knowingly.

“I think this procedure will be familiar to you all. Step to the back, please,” Tony said, pressing the device in his hand a second time. Without warning, an aperture formed in the floor. Soon the entrance had opened completely and a steep spiral staircase appeared, leading downwards. It was lit by a ghostly blue glow, just bright enough to make out the position of the steps.

“Okay – all clear – on you go.”

One by one, they stepped onto the spiral staircase. The steps began to descend automatically. As they dropped beneath floor level, the aperture above them closed silently and after a couple of minutes they came to a gentle halt. Ahead of them was a door. Tony pressed the device again and it opened onto a short metal-clad corridor illuminated by the same dim blue light. At the end of the corridor was a circular door like the entrance to a bank vault. It had five letters etched on it: ‘V I G I L’.

The door opened without a sound, revealing a tubular passageway that curved off symmetrically both to the left and to the right. Jack noticed that there were no markings on the passage
walls – no rivets, no seams – it was perfectly smooth.

“Round to your left, please,” Tony said. They followed obediently and as they walked, the passageway bent away from the entrance, which resealed itself silently behind them. They had only taken twenty or thirty paces when Jack noticed a strange marking on the wall at about head height. It appeared like the outline of a figure – a stylised hominid figure of some sort. There was something other-worldly about it. Jack stopped and turned to Tony.

“What does that symbol mean, Mr Smith?”

Tony approached the figure on the wall. He turned to Gordon. “Have you seen this, MacFarlane?” he said apprehensively.

Gordon moved closer and inspected the strange marking, running his fingers tentatively over it. “Mmmm – the latest experiments must be more advanced than we thought.”

Tony turned back to Jack and Angus. “VIGIL have been using their wormhole technology to experiment on new applications…”

The boys’ eyes widened.

“Yes – the figure on the door is indeed a symbol…”

“The alien symbol,” Gordon added reverentially.

“Signifying a portal to a whole new universe.”

Angus’s eyes were on sticks, “You mean… space travel?”

Tony put them out of their misery, “No, you plonker, that’s the Gents toilet – and the Ladies is opposite – look. Do either of you need to go?”

Gordon laughed raucously and the boys shuffled on their feet self-consciously.

“We’re fine, thanks.”

The party moved on, Tony and Gordon buoyed by their joke at the boys’ expense.

Finally Tony announced, “Right, here we are.”

The passageway had continued to curve round and they had reached a point where the grooving on the wall indicated
another doorway. Jack reckoned that if they continued on they would eventually arrive back at the point where they had originally entered the underground complex. Essentially, they were in a giant subterranean doughnut from which all the various VIGIL control rooms and annexes could be accessed.

Jack read the lettering on the door:

‘Situation Room’.

He felt his heartbeat tick up a notch. This was it.

Tony pressed the device in his hand and the door slid open.

On each wall of the large underground room there were screens – some showed maps, some complex-looking historical timelines and others just row upon row of computer programming language that Jack could not even begin to understand. Some of the VIGIL team were already seated around a large central board table. They looked like a war council. Others manned computer terminals, or scientific equipment, at pods in separate areas of the room.

Jack spotted a number of familiar faces: Miss Beattie, their English teacher, was involved in an animated conversation with, of all people, Gino Turinelli, from the café in the High Street. Jim De Raillar, who ran the mountain bike shop two doors down from Gino’s, was also there and, finally, Jack’s mother, Carole, was sitting at one of the computer terminals. In fact, as Jack looked around, he recognised everyone. They all either worked at the school or in the local village of Soonhope. Since their inauguration into VIGIL, Jack had learned that VIGIL’s network was quite pervasive. It made sense. Clearly, you would need a lot of different skills to create and maintain a working time machine – especially if you ever happened to need to use it. Each member of VIGIL had their everyday persona: teacher, shopkeeper, janitor and so on. Then they had their other, secret, role in the VIGIL organisation – scientist, analyst, technician or security guard. For example, Jack had learned that Miss Beattie was not only an
expert on Shakespeare, but also had a first class degree from Cambridge and had done stints at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the European Organisation for Nuclear Research – CERN. Gino – actually
Professor
Turinelli – was a computer expert, and Jim De Raillar and Jack’s mother were analysts.

Just then, the Rector and Inchquin came into the room through a separate entrance. Soon a tense discussion was under way, facilitated by Inchquin who sat gravely at the head of the table.

“Jim, can you give us an update on the analysis of the message Tom Christie sent to us a couple of hours ago, please?”

“Certainly. To recap, the message confirms that Christie and Dr Pendelshape have fallen out. It also explains that following their failure to stop the First World War they started to work on a new timeline simulation some months ago…”

“What period does the simulation focus on?”

“Late Elizabethan.”

“Interesting…” Theo Joplin, the historical analyst, interjected, and the Rector flashed him an angry glance for interrupting.

Jim De Raillar ignored the comment and continued. “Anyway, it appears that the Revisionist team have refined the computer simulation software so they can make much more precise recreations of the interventions they plan to make in history, and the potential consequences of the action. Christie’s message referred to it as ‘surgical’ historical modelling. It seems that the Revisionist team were very excited about these advances… but then Christie got nervous when Pendelshape started to talk in terms of progressing the simulation to the implementation phase – an actual intervention in history. Pendelshape wanted to target the late sixteenth century using their replica Taurus. Of course, it was clear from the message that Christie’s greatest concern is for Jack’s safety. He does not want the Revisionists to do
this…” De Raillar looked at Inchquin and then at Carole and Jack uneasily. There was an edgy silence in the room.

“Carry on.”

“Well, it appears that Pendelshape and the rest of the Revisionists do not share these concerns and it looks like they have decided to go it alone. Christie felt that the Revisionists had moved against him and he decided to leave them some weeks ago. Concerned that they would quickly refine the simulation and we might think him responsible, he took the unprecedented step of sending us a warning message today – and then contacting Jack directly by phone. It was a big step to take. Christie knows he is risking his life – betraying his own team in such a way. He is now isolated from both VIGIL and the Revisionists.”