Day of the Assassins (9 page)

“The consequences of this are… profound… and this war, you say it kills, how many?”

“I’m not sure. I think around eight million… over sixty million are mobilised.” Jack reached over and located a table at the back of the book that he remembered seeing. He showed it to the professor – statistics of the dead by country. The professor gawped at the numbers.

“In fact, I believe your own country, Germany, suffers greatly. Nearly two million dead. And Germany loses the war, and takes the
blame for starting it.”

A shadow crossed over the professor’s face.

Jack shrugged, “But if it’s any comfort, my history teacher says that people are still arguing about the causes of the war.” He continued gloomily, “But that’s not all. That book tells you all about the war… but what I haven’t told you is that this war leads to another, even more horrific war. The Second World War, twenty years later.”

The professor shook his head, “Sorry Jack… this… book, your… story. It is so incredible. I find it hard to believe…”

Jack fished around in his pocket again. He’d started now, so he might as well go the whole hog. He produced the time phone and presented it to the professor.

“Here, the time phone I told you about. It links to the Taurus, which sends people backwards and forwards through time – when it decides to work, that is. It’s a bit dodgy. Look…” He flipped open the device showing the professor the mysterious blue light, screen, SATNAV and buttons. “You’re a scientist, Professor, but I bet you’ve never seen technology like this.”

The professor studied the time phone in wonder. Jack imagined that he had the same stupid expression of shock on his face that he and Angus must have had on first hearing Pendelshape’s revelations back at the Taurus control room.

All the professor could say was, “Incredible… incredible…” He repeated the words to himself trancelike, over and over again.

As they stared into the time phone, Jack noticed that the grey bar inside was starting to flicker. Gradually, the grey was replaced by a yellow light, which was soon burning brightly. Jack’s heart leaped.

“A signal! Professor! We have a signal!”

He grabbed the phone. Suddenly a message appeared on the display.

“Someone’s communicating with us!” Jack could scarcely contain his excitement.

“Look! Look!”

Jack was gobsmacked, “Mum? A message from Mum… on the time phone… but?” He couldn’t understand it… how could his mum possibly be involved?

“What does it mean?” the professor asked.

“I don’t get it. The yellow light is on… that means we are now being tracked and that’s why we can receive messages from the Taurus. I also think it means that we could travel back to the Taurus…”

“Astonishing. But this message, it’s from your mother?”

Jack grimaced, it wasn’t making any sense. “Yes… it seems so. Or maybe Tony and Gordon or the Rector are playing a trick.”

“Maybe she is with them?” the professor added.

Jack was dumbfounded, “It can’t be… can’t.”

He tried to think back through the recent course of events. How was his mum involved in all of this? And why hadn’t she told him? He felt a sudden twinge of anger – it was as if she was always keeping things from him.

He had an idea, “I know!” he said triumphantly. “I could send a message back! Pendelshape explained how to do that. I can ask them!”

He scrutinised the time phone once more, trying to recall how to create and send a message. But as he stared into the device, the bright yellow light flickered.

He groaned, “No! Please not again! I think we’re losing it…”

The yellow light went dead; the grey bar took its place.

“Stupid thing!”

He shook the device in disgust and then sank back into the corner of the basket, dejected. The professor moved over to him and pulled
the blanket over his shoulders. He gave Jack a reassuring pat on the back. “Don’t worry, my friend, I don’t understand either… but I’m sure we can work it out.”

Jack looked up at the professor and tried to squeeze out a smile. It wasn’t easy.

After a while, he fell asleep – the nervous energy from a tumultuous day had finally taken its toll. In silence, on the opposite corner of the balloon, the professor studied Jack’s history book. It was beyond belief. His logical mind strained to identify an alternative, more plausible explanation. But as he worked his way through the pages, his natural cheerfulness evaporated and his expression became grim. Occasionally, he glanced across at Jack, shook his head and murmured something to himself as he tried to absorb the dramatic revelations from the future. Once or twice he stood and gave a blast on the burner and then gazed from the balloon as it moved steadily southwards, pushed on by a relentless tailwind.

The sky was finally beginning to darken in the east as the midsummer sun set. Way below, the European canvas spread out from the English Channel to the Russian steppes. Far away, for the first time, the professor spotted that the horizon had an irregular, jagged outline and exuded a faint, pink glow.

He mumbled something – half to himself, half to Jack – who slept soundly on in the opposite corner. “The Alps.”

“W
ake up!” The professor shook him hard. Jack woke shivering. He raised his head above the woollen blanket and unfolded himself from his foetal position in the corner of the basket. Every bone ached. Although it was light, the temperature had dropped dramatically. He peered gingerly over the edge of the balloon and was staggered by what he saw. Mountains. Everywhere. The balloon was scarcely clearing the peaks – vast rock outcrops, many snow tipped, interspersed with verdant pine-clad valleys. Wedged into the north-facing bowls, snowfields and glaciers still clung on, stubbornly resisting the summer warmth.

The professor seemed to be very excited. “The Alps! Mountains! Isn’t it beautiful? Austria. Incredible!”

“Are we going to land?”

“No doubt about it… out of gas… we’re going down. Fast! We may even crash. Isn’t it marvellous?”

Jack wasn’t so sure. Wasn’t there supposed to be some procedure for this kind of event?

“Don’t we need to fasten seatbelts, stop serving hot drinks… that sort of thing?”

The professor wasn’t listening. He was now staring out from the basket concentrating hard on the mountain terrain, “I think you should wrap yourself up in the blankets… and hold on tight. We are descending quickly… let’s hope we get lucky… some of those peaks look, well, they look high.”

“Why didn’t you put us down safely, before we ran out of gas?”

“What’s that my boy?” the professor shouted back over his shoulder.

“I said… why wait until now to land?”

“In the dark? Suicide! We reached the mountains faster than I anticipated. The wind speed was even greater than I expected. I have been looking for a safe spot since first light. No luck. We’ll have to take our chances.”

The professor had scarcely finished his sentence when there was a loud grating as the underside of the basket made contact with a craggy peak and scraped along it for nearly twenty metres. Then, the mountain dropped sharply away and they were again suspended above a green ‘U’-shaped valley with a kilometre drop to the valley floor.

The balloon swooped up the side of the next mountain as it caught a favourable updraught from the valley. It cleared the next ridge, but the basket suspended beneath was less fortunate. They hit a snow-covered arête between a double peak very hard and were both slammed face first into the inside of the basket. The professor groaned and blood started to stream from his nose. Then, a great slab of snow fell into them as the cornice on the opposite side of the arête collapsed onto the basket as it was dragged on by the balloon.

Breaking free from the cornice, they found themselves swinging high above the next valley. The weight of the snow in the basket forced the balloon downwards alarmingly. With only their bare hands, Jack and the professor desperately shovelled snow out of the basket to reduce weight. Ahead, they could see that they were now heading for a large expanse of snow and ice, spread wide on a plateau resting below the next ridge. A glacier. They made contact – hard. The basket bounced once and the snow, deep frozen from the night before, exploded into a sparkling cloud of icy vapour. Their journey wasn’t finished. The balloon still had momentum and it continued to drag them at speed across the rising plateau of the glacier. They were now lying on one side and Jack and the professor were pressed into the wicker floor by snow rapidly accumulating inside. They were helpless. But finally, the angle of the glacier pitched upwards and the balloon decelerated. The momentum of the balloon began to slow and they came to a gentle rest.

Jack was encased in snow. He couldn’t believe the weight of the
stuff – he could hardly move. It was in his ears, his eyes, his mouth. He pressed his legs into the bottom of the basket, and with a momentous heave managed to wrench himself free. He tumbled out onto the glacier and lay on his back, panting heavily. A moment later, the professor managed to do the same and they both lay – prostrate and exhausted – staring up at the Alpine sky. They looked back at the tangled mess of the balloon and the trail of material their landing had sprayed onto the pristine ice shelf. The professor managed to lift his head a little further to inspect the damage.

“I hope the Royal Navy don’t want their balloon back,” he said, and promptly dropped his head back onto the snow. Jack was too bruised and drained to respond, but just for a second, he smiled.

Way above them on the same mountain, two men watched the spectacle of the balloon’s crash landing and its occupants’ fortunate escape. The men were well equipped and wore skis. Quietly, they slid from the shoulder of the mountain and started to carve regular turns in the slope of deep powder snow. The steep slopes at the top of the glacier, in the early morning, even at this time of year, made for outstanding powder skiing. They put in neat regular turns, to control their descent.

Towards the bottom of the initial descent the slope levelled out and gave way to the main glacier field. The men made their way to where the balloon and its contents were strewn over the glacier. In minutes they arrived where Jack and the professor still lay. The glare of the morning sun was intense and Jack was only able to open his eyes into a thin slit. But the two figures who now appeared in his narrow field of vision were unmistakeable – Tony and Gordon.

Tony stared down at them both, surrounded by the wreckage of the accident.

“Well you’ve made a bit of a mess of this little lot, haven’t you son?” Tony said. The moisture on his breath instantly condensed to vapour in the freezing air.

“Bit of a mess…” Gordon parroted.

Jack could only stare back at them defiantly.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” Tony said.

The professor got to his feet, shakily, but still managed a smile. “Professor Pinckard-Schnell – delighted to meet you.” He thrust out a hand, “Are you here to rescue us? You’ve been very quick.”

Tony and Gordon looked at each other and laughed.

“You could say that, professor, you could say that,” Gordon replied.

Tony turned to Jack who still lay prostrate on the snow. He leaned down and Jack flinched.

Tony put up his palms defensively, and said, “Whoa lad – let me help you now.” For a moment, Jack was taken aback – his tone was almost… kind. He helped Jack into a sitting position, dusted down the snow and then started to examine him – looking into his eyes for symptoms of concussion and checking for other signs of injury.

Soon he pronounced himself satisfied, “A bit battered and bruised – but you’ll live.” He turned to the professor, “What about you my friend? Looks like you could do with something for that nose.”

The professor was holding his hand under both nostrils and they were still bleeding profusely. “Thank you.”

Gordon took some cotton wool from his rucksack and started to wipe the blood from the professor’s face. “Not as bad as it looks, Professor. It’s not broken anyway. A lucky escape.”

Tony shook his head, “Yep – it looked quite a heavy landing from up there. You had us worried for a moment…”

He turned his attention back to Jack, who was regaining some composure, “Now, son, first things first, we’ve got very disappointing news for you… It appears, under strict orders from VIGIL, that no harm is to come to you… and we are to take you back to base – safely.”

“It’s disappointing, because my foot still hurts from where you impaled it…” Gordon added.

“Never mind that. Anyway, rules, as they say, is rules. So we’d better get going.” Tony looked up at the sky, “At least the weather doesn’t look like it will turn.”

Jack didn’t understand why, having tried to assault him back at the
control room and aboard
Dreadnought
, Tony and Gordon were now attempting to be nice. He frowned suspiciously, “So you’re not going to harm us? No more injections? What’s happening?”

“You’re safe, son. That’s all you need worry about. The Rector will explain everything.”

A million questions rushed into Jack’s head. “The Rector but…? How did you get here anyway? And where are we going?”

Tony tapped his breast pocket knowingly, “With time travel you can go anywhere… any time.”

“When it decides to work…” Gordon added grumpily.

Tony ignored him. “Save your energy lad. You’ll need it.” He half turned, and gestured down towards the glacier and the wilderness beyond. “Let’s just concentrate on getting off this mountain, first.” Then he shook his head and said, “Oh, I nearly forgot. I’m afraid that you will need to hand it over.”

“Hand what over?”

“The time phone, of course. Can’t have you gallivanting around space and time. No end to the trouble you’ll cause. Have caused. Once you’re debriefed, we’ll get you back home…” he added with a rueful smile, “Safely. Don’t you worry about that.” He put out his hand, “If you please.”

Jack rummaged in his pocket and fished out his time phone. He clutched onto it for a moment, then reluctantly dropped it into Tony’s vast leathery hand.

“Thank you, lad. We will put that one safely away with ours.”

Tony and Gordon roped Jack and the professor together and they made their way down the edge of the glacier. Eventually, it gave way to steep moraine fields. They picked their way through until they reached the tree line. A gentle breeze hissed through the fir canopy as they followed an old trapping trail. Later on, the forest opened onto a large expanse of high pasture, an
Almen
, and for the first time the group was rewarded with breathtaking views of the valley far below. It was a pristine wilderness of dark green firs interspersed with pasture land, guarded by towering granite walls. Along the valley
sides they could see the shimmering silver threads of at least three plunging waterfalls.

Jack had been in the mountains before. Last year his mum had let him go on the school skiing trip. But that had been nothing like this. It had been busy: lots of people, the mechanical whirring of lifts, barging in queues, the slopes dotted with people in ant trails all competing to find the best way down. But here, there was nobody. The air was champagne clear; the greens were somehow greener and the sky bluer – beyond empty and beyond silent.

They had been going for five hours, and even with regular breaks and provisions from Tony and Gordon, Jack was exhausted. At last, they emerged onto the broad valley floor. Ahead of them was a river that wound its way lazily through the fields. It looked quite deep in places, even though the spring thaw was well past. About three kilometres away they could see a small town, with the rounded spire of a chapel peeking above the tiled rooftops. Slightly beyond this, a craggy outcrop jutted out from the side of the valley, rising to perhaps two hundred metres, maybe more. A castle had been built high up on the exposed lump of black rock. It had narrow windows like slits and at least three sub turrets with conical roofs projecting from high stone sides. It dominated the valley.

As Jack wearily craned his head up at the castle, it slowly dawned on him that he could not see any possible way to approach it. Perhaps there was a route from above, where the rocky outcrop joined the main cliff face? Or perhaps there was a winding track that approached the building from the rear – currently hidden from their view? Then he spotted it. Rising silently from the village ahead of them, a red box magically appeared and rose at a steep angle upwards towards the castle: a cable car. And sure enough, he could just make out the thin wire that looped gracefully from the village right up to the castle. The village was strangely deserted when they finally reached it. They entered the small cable car station. After a short wait, they boarded the return cable car, which transported them smoothly upwards and gently delivered them on to the precipitous landing gantry, high up
in the castle wall.

Tony and Gordon led Jack and the professor from the landing gantry, down a stone staircase honed from the rock, and into the small courtyard of the castle. Jack followed, zombie-like, fatigue overwhelming him. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted an occasional dark figure, high up on the battlements, peering down at them. The place was eerily quiet. It had been a fine day, but the high, dark walls shielded the sun and the courtyard was left in gloomy shadow. On reaching the opposite side of the courtyard, they entered the main keep of the castle, and were led into a hall. By contrast to the austere exterior of the castle, the inside of the hall was magnificent. Tapestries and paintings adorned oak-panelled walls and chandeliers hung from a high-vaulted ceiling. At one end, a large open fire crackled away. They were invited to sit on one of several sofas and armchairs that surrounded the log fire. In front of them, refreshments were already laid out on a low table. Jack barely made it to a chair before his legs gave way and he collapsed into it. His eyelids drooped as the physical exertions of the day and the gentle warmth from the fire took their toll. In a moment he was fast asleep. Two minutes later, the professor was also snoring loudly.