Ambrose Chapel, London
August 29, 1933 CE
Nathan's heart hammered. Two commandos, dressed all in black and wearing ski masks, raced into their cell. The barrels of their antique machine guns probed like pig snouts looking for fodder. Nathan's body twitched as panic and fear flooded through him. Was this the "team" Haversham had ordered?
The shorter of the two commandos seemed to relax and tore off his ski mask. No, her ski mask. She glanced at Nathan, but then tossed a wry grin at Haakon. "You do get around, don't you? Good thing the Russians didn't know about your transponder implant."
Nathan's head spun. Transponder implant? So, Haakon must have known they were going to be rescued all along. At least they were safe.
A wide smile split Haakon's features. "Nell! I thought it might be you." He turned his gaze to Nathan. "It's going to be all right. Nell's another Timekeeper. She's my partner on our mission here."
Nathan's head spun. Relief turned his muscles to jelly, and he sagged against his bonds. He looked back and forth between Haakon and the newcomers, Nell and the other guy, who was also removing his ski mask to reveal granite-like Captain America features. "What? We're not going to die?" He hated the way his voice squeaked and quivered, like a friggin' mouse.
Haakon's grin grew broader. "No, we're not going to die." He laughed. Nell's companion laughed too. The two looked at Nathan and laughed.
Captain America pulled a wicked-looking hunting knife from his belt and knelt next Haakon, where he sawed at the ropes holding him. Once the arms were free, he reached for the bonds on his ankles.
Haakon brushed him away. "I'll get the rest of these, pal. Take care of Nathan."
Still chuckling, Captain America sliced through the ropes holding Nathan like they were yarn. Blood rushed back to his limbs, and pain throbbed. He rubbed his wrists and took in the grinning faces of the others. His face heated. So, what? The joke was on him? What the fuck? He twisted his mouth closed and controlled his breathing.
The muscular guy patted Nathan on the head. "There ya go, little fella."
Nathan glared at him. He knew he should feel grateful, but the jerk's condescending manner punched buttons. It didn't help that the guy looked like a middle-aged comic book hero. Grizzled hair, cropped short. Craggy features. Piercing blue eyes. Super fit, with narrow hips and broad shoulders. Just the type to make him feel like a stick figure. In fact, he was a carbon copy of Nathan's high school gym teacher, the one who had taunted him and called him a sissy. Whoever this guy was, Nathan hated him already.
Nell appeared to be Native American, with sweet features and an efficient, short hairdo. But this other guy, he could star in a Hollywood blockbuster as the hyper-virile, Nordic, Handsome Mature Warrior. Or maybe he'd be the "after" archetype in a Hair Club for Men ad. His only physical flaw was the scar that wrapped around his neck and disappeared under his shirt, but that just made him look more heroic and virile.
Haakon stared at this pillar of perfect masculinity and did a double take. "Gunnar? Is that you?" Joy flashed on his face, and his eyes glowed.
Nathan's gut tightened.
The not-his-gym-teacher's face split in a grin that revealed perfect teeth. His voice was perfect, too, a baritone. "The same. Come here, you handsome man." Warrior guy reached out and clasped Haakon to him.
Gunnar. Haakon said he'd shared the Chicago apartment with someone named Gunnar. They'd been lovers. Somehow Nathan had thought they were the same age, but this guy was older. So, Gunnar was Haakon's type. Hell, he was everyone's type. He was nothing like spindly, weakling, Nathan, who was apparently no one's type.
Haakon hugged Gunnar and then pushed him back and scanned him from head to toe. "You're looking mighty fine, if a bit older. The last time I saw you, a Viking berserker had just slashed your throat. I'm so glad you're not dead."
Gunnar's eyebrows crawled up his brow. "I'm glad I'm not dead, too. That was the last time? That was decades ago for me."
Nell broke in, her tone urgent. "This reunion is heartwarming and all, but we need to get out of here. There are Russian agents still around, and they won't take kindly to us raiding this place." She handed Haakon a Celtic cross. "I rescued your Timepiece from that twit in the kitchen. It's preset for the Resident's HQ."
Haakon draped it over his neck. "Here we go again, Nathan." He reached out, eagerness bending his lips.
Nathan held his ground. "Where are we going?" he snapped. They'd fucking laughed at him, after he'd been scared shitless. The assholes. Even Haakon laughed at him.
Haakon hesitated. "What's wrong? We're going to an old Tube tunnel. It's where the local headquarters for local Timekeeper operations are located."
"She said it was the Resident's HQ."
"Yes. So? We'll be safe there."
"Your fucking Resident is in cahoots with the Nazis. He was going to have me killed. I met him at an estate, right here in London, before a Timekeeper 'rescued' me. But it wasn't much of a rescue. She just turned me over to your Russian friends. That's how I wound up here."
"Babe, the Resident is a she, not a he. Whoever you met wasn't the Resident. Soviet spies are all over London in this era, but trust me. None of them are Timekeepers. And certainly, no Timekeeper is collaborating with Nazis." Gunfire rattled from downstairs. "Look, unless you want to fall back into Kutzenov's hands, we need to leave now." He wrapped his strong arms about Nathan and stroked his Timepiece.
Nathan still resisted for a moment, but the gunfire was pretty convincing. He held himself stiff in Haakon's embrace while the temporal field whirled about them. This time, the jump jeebies barely tickled as it transported them to Timekeepers' local HQ.
The two commandos, Gunnar and the other one, the woman, arrived immediately after them. What was her name? Nell, that was it. He pulled away from Haakon and inspected his surroundings, wondering what new Hell awaited.
Physically, this tunnel was much like the one where he'd first arrived. Except it was warm, LED lighting kept the place bright, and officious people bustled about doing officious looking things. A matronly old lady bustled up then, her iron-gray hair in a bun and long skirts swishing at her ankles. She took Haakon's hand in both of hers. When she spoke, it was in a high, thready voice with a heavy Brit accent. "Agent Sigurdson. So glad we were able to locate you."
Haakon smiled warmly at her. "Thank you, Clementine. Let me introduce my colleague, Nathan Hilbert. Nathan, this is Clementine Thorogood, the Resident for this period."
Her eyes sparkled when she offered her hand. "So this is the young man you've been chasing after. It's a pleasure, sir."
Her handshake was more like a wet wash rag. Still, Nathan supposed she meant well. "Thank you, uh, ma'am." What was he supposed to do now? "Uh, they told me Claude Becquerel was the Resident."
She quirked an eyebrow at him. "They? Who was that, dear? And who is this French person? Becquerel, you said?"
Before he could answer, Haakon said, "He's Nathan's former lover. He was in Jorvik in 1066, too. He said he was a Timekeeper attached to Duke William's court, but I didn't trust him. Also, Control has no record of him." He pursed his lips. "Nathan, maybe it's time you tell us more about what you've been up to."
Nathan tried to squelch his anger at Haakon answering for him, but that jerk Gunnar interrupted before he could speak. "Yes, Nate. Tell us what you think happened."
That did it. "My name is Nathan." You supercilious jerk. What I think happened, indeed. He took in their expectant faces. "Here's what happened." In minutes he told them the whole tale. Claude and the Pleistocene. Corbett. Maggie. Clivedon, with that jerkface Claude back as the Resident and his asshat professor Wilson. The woman Haversham with the movie star looks and gangster threats. He left out the saber-tooth attack.
At the end, Nell said, "Thank you Nathan. I believe you. You've been through a lot." She turned to Clementine. "Ma'am, you'll be familiar with the official findings on the events in 1066."
"Yes," she mused. "I see where you are headed. It would appear the Deviation is not over yet, but has now penetrated this era, with some of the same antagonists. It seems to have even involved the Founder in some mysterious way." Her features firmed. "This is an emergency of the first order."
What could only be worry darkened Haakon's features. "There's more. There's the Russian who kidnapped me yesterday. He was also in Chicago, in the false 1962. Even worse, Haversham herself showed up in our cell right before you arrived. She wore Red Army regalia, and was clearly in cahoots with the Russians. She even mentioned having had dinner with Stalin."
Nathan said, "She was planning a dinner with some German tonight. Ribbentrop, maybe?"
Nell frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Why would she be involved with Russians and Nazis?"
Haakon looked puzzled, too. "Why is she here at all? She should be in Wisconsin inventing time travel. Nathan, back in our cell when you accused her of being a Nazi, do you remember her reaction?"
"Yeah. She dismissed the idea. She was lying. I mean, she looked different in that uniform, but it was the same woman. I'm sure of it. She's having dinner with that Nazi dude tonight."
Haakon nodded. "I think we've got two versions of Haversham here, both false. This Deviation is really mucking with things. Bog knows what the Nazi Haversham is about. The Soviet Haversham is an echo of that fake Portuguese Missile Crisis in 1962."
Nathan shook his head. "What do you mean? I'm not so hot at history, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't a fake crisis. We would have had World War Three if LeMay hadn't backed down."
Nell started to speak, but Haakon stopped her. "It's the only explanation that makes sense." He turned to Nathan and his voice took on a knowing, lecturing mode. "When there's a potential Deviation, reality, uh, flickers, with alternative futures interacting in a, uh, quantum haze. You do know what we mean by a 'Deviation,' right?"
Nathan rolled his eyes and held a palm to his head. "Reality flickers? A quantum haze? Do you have any idea how stupid that sounds to a real physicist? Like, say, me?"
Haakon just looked stubborn. "I admit I'm an applied historian, not a scientist. That's exactly why we have to rely on the temporal engineers. They know more than me, and even you. It's their job to understand the physics of time."
Like mere engineers knew more that real scientists. Nathan wanted to tell them how dumb the whole idea of Deviations was, but Gunnar interrupted, "Really, we have to go with what the experts at Control said. The whole purpose of Timekeepers is to prevent Deviations. We've all dedicated our lives to the preservation of reality. Let's stay focused, shall we?" He took a deep breath and glared at them. "I was dispatched here against exactly the chance this might be a continuation of the Deviation from 1066." He jabbed a finger at Nathan. "His presence proves Control was right. We need to report back at once. Haakon, you too. Don't argue with me this time."
Nathan wanted to slug him. Haakon had been right when he said the guy was a tight ass.
Haakon looked like he felt the same way. "Not so fast. Let's think this through." He tossed what looked like a forced grin at Nathan. "Now that I've got you back, I'm not about to lose you." He shot a defiant glare at Gunnar.
Clementine narrowed her eyes and declaimed, "Our duty is to history. I remind you all of our destiny and our purpose." She turned a solicitous smile on Nathan. "Dear, I'm interested in what happened at Clivedon. Who else did you say you met with, besides the false Resident?"
"You mean Maggie? I don't remember her last name. It sounded like something from Dickens."
"No. The Americans."
Haakon's eyebrows shot up, like he'd missed something.
Nathan thought. "Well, my doctoral advisor from Iowa was there, Duane Wilson. I already mentioned that Haversham creature. She seemed to be in charge. I tell you, she's the same one who showed up in our cell. That's twice she's ordered me killed." He pursed his lips. "She claimed to have transported a cat two weeks in time. In 1937. That'd be four years from now, right? Like I wouldn't know about that if it really happened."
Haakon nodded. "You wouldn't know if she kept it secret. Which she did. But you're right. I'm more convinced than ever that there are two instances of Haversham here."
Two Havershams. Deviations were dumb, but the idea of two Havershams wasn't. Nathan wanted some quiet time to think it through.
Clementine touched Nathan's hand. "Excellent, dear. What else did they say?"
"Some nonsense about how Duane—that's my advisor—was going to use technology from 2018 to engineer the first Timepiece. Claude wanted me to join them. Like I said, I told him to fuck off." Two versions of Haversham meant two versions of reality. He almost had it.
Clementine's face crinkled in a smile. "Good for you, dear."
Anger clouded Gunnar's face. "What a minute. Haversham is the Founder. None of this happens without her. She can't be here now. If she is, it's the biggest Deviation ever. This explains why the stochastic simulations were all off the scale. Whatever is happening here, it threatens Timekeepers itself."
Nell had been mostly silent up to now, for which Nathan was grateful. When she spoke, wonder and fear mixed in her words. "You know, the origins of Timekeepers has always been shrouded in mystery, known only to the executive committee. Almost no one has actually met any of them. Except Haakon, and now Nathan of course." She favored him with a smile, and he warmed even more to her. She hadn't laughed at him, he remembered.
Clementine mused, "I did, once. It was at a formal dinner at a refuge in Australia near Ayer's Rock. Uluru. Over twenty megayears ago. Haversham was there, holding court. She reminded me of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, but less humble." Her eyes twinkled, but then she frowned. "It was the strangest meeting. I remember overhearing chatter about the other Haversham, like there was more than one."
Nathan frowned. "You mean they're twins?" He supposed that could explain things, but his earlier idea explaining two instances of Haversham was more...elegant. He needed some time to think it through.
Clementine shook her head, her eyes unfocused as though she were still millions of years ago in Australia. "No, it was something this other field agent said. She looked old, as if she were over ninety. She used the word Haakon used, instances. She was the strangest person. Told me she was born in 1058, in Norhtumbria." She suddenly focused on Nathan. "What was the name of the person who rescued you from the Pleistocene?"
"Corbett. Charlotte Corbett."
Clementine's face lit with memory. "That was her name. I'm sure she said there was more than one instance of Haversham at this meeting."
Haakon's face paled and he looked thunderstuck. "Got it! I didn't make the connection until just now. Corbett was just a child at the Sack of Scarborough. Later, her adult self sent her child self to the French court, right before the battle of Stamford Bridge. She's got to be the same one who keeps cropping up. It's a fucking paradox." He hesitated. "You said she was with Haversham? Using that name? Control told me there was no record of a Timekeeper of that name."
Gunnar shrugged. "The Deviation could have messed with the archives. It's just more proof of the critical nature of what we've discovered. And we've just scratched the surface of this Deviation. We've got to report in."
Nathan started to tell them about how they had it wrong about Deviations, but Haakon interrupted him. Again.
"You're wrong. We've got stay here and figure out why this place and time is a critical turning point in history. I mean, it's not like there are invading armies or nuclear missiles involved. But there must be something that's about to happen—or not happen—here that changes everything." He turned to Nathan. "Corbett must be a key figure. She keeps popping up and disappearing. She rescued you back in the Pleistocene. Maybe she said something to you that'll shed some light on this?"
Nathan frowned. "She was older. I mean, a lot older. Maybe as old as when Clementine met her. But she didn't say anything useful, other than being nasty. Didn't like her then. Don't like her now. She's a cold-hearted spook if ever there was one. That's despite the fact that she saved my life. I'm sure she didn't do it for me." Now that he had their attention, he could tell them how time really worked. "But, look, you've got it all wrong. Closed, time-like loops aren't 'paradoxes.' They're natural phenomena." Maybe if he had a chance to talk it through, he could put it all together.
Gunnar exploded, "Stop it! All of you. This is just getting worse and worse. We've got to report back to Chicago, I tell you."
What an asshole. Nathan shouted, "Screw all of you." They turned shocked faces to him, and he continued. "I’m the only one here who's a physicist. I designed an honest-to-god time machine, for Chaos's sake, even if it did only transport photons. I'm telling you, all this crap about paradoxes and Deviations is wrong. It's not the way the Universe—or Universes—work. I need to do the fucking math, but I'm sure of the big picture. Everything you're talking about—all that flickering and quantum haze crap, multiple instances of the founder lady, even the Missile crisis you think is false—it's all just evidence that you're wrong and I'm right." He didn't need to run simulations to confirm his suspicions. Data always trumped simulations.
Clementine held up her hand. "Yes, dear. We should listen to you. We will." She straightened and started to tick action items off on her fingers. "First, Gunnar, you should by all means report to Control. Do so, and bring back any additional instructions or advice they may have. Second, Nell, I want you to take Nathan's full report, including his explanation of his time machine. Third, Haakon, I want you to attend the meeting that Nell arranged for today with your Hungarian friend and that Texan, Quilp. The most recent simulations show an unsettling resonance around the physicist. And, fourth, I'll have our local friends with MI5 clean up this Russian infestation. We can't have them kidnapping our agents. By this time tomorrow, they'll all be safely stashed away in His Majesty's facility in Wakefield." Her gaze snapped from face to face. "Any questions? No? Then get started."