Johnny O'Brien - Day of the Assassins

Jack considered his options again. It was going to be difficult to brush off the truth, however unbelievable. And his earlier blunder about there being no aeroplanes in the sky could easily be repeated. More importantly, he knew he was still in danger — he had escaped Tony and Gordon once — but with all the technology they seemed to have at their disposal, they could easily turn up again. Maybe the bizarre Professor August Pinckard-Schnell was right and he could help in some way. He seemed kind, if eccentric. Honesty, however unbelievable, was probably the best policy. He glanced at the professor, toying with a piece of cheese, took a deep breath and launched into the incredible events of the last few hours. As he did so, the professor studied him with a look of amused scepticism.

After he had finished, the professor put his hand over his mouth to hide a doubting smile, “Well it’s an impressive story, Jack, but I’m not sure it is quite believable…” He clearly thought that the strange waif he had inadvertently rescued either had an over-active imagination or had escaped from the local lunatic asylum. To be fair, Jack could see his point.

Then he had a brainwave. He reached inside his rucksack. It was still there: the history book. In triumph, he tossed it over to the professor and it landed at his crossed feet on the other side of the basket. It blew open and the crisp white pages ruffled provocatively in the breeze.

“Well — if you don’t believe me — take a look at that.”

The professor took the book gingerly in his hands and leafed slowly through the pages. As he did so, the expression on his face changed.

Jack looked at him smugly, “It might be difficult for me to make all that up. Published in the year 2006 for a start… a few years from now I think you’ll find. It would be hard for me to create the detail in there — the whole history of the war… all the horror… the pictures…”

The professor’s amused scepticism evaporated and after a while he raised his head and looked at Jack with ashen-faced incredulity. He tried to say something, making a couple of false starts in the process, “But…”, “How did…?” and finally, he muttered, “So this war of yours, this ‘Great War’, it really happens?”

“Oh yes, Professor, it happens alright.”

“It’s incredible. It cannot be true.”

“Incredible. And true. Either that, or it’s a complete nightmare. And I’ve fallen asleep in Pendelshape’s class…”

The professor was concentrating intensely, his brow deeply furrowed, as he thumbed the book with increasing fervour. He began to speak to himself in a quick-fire stream of German as his brain tried to come to terms with Jack’s revelations. “Well, I suppose, the new physics; of course I am familiar with this. Einstein, Planck — relativity, quantum mechanics. The new physics has incredible conceptual leaps. Few understand it, and probably none can comprehend the implications. But nothing like this, surely… surely not…”

The professor shook his head in awe as the enormity of it all started to sink in.

“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!”

You have one message from Taurus:

My dear Jack — you are in great danger — your trip through time threatens us all.

You must give yourself up to VIGIL’s agents — Tony Smith and Gordon MacFarlane — as soon as possible. They are trying to locate you and bring you back. You must do what they say.

I love you — Mum

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.