Alex Scarrow - The Eternal War

‘Yes?’

‘We’ve got ourselves a winner. He’s only gone and got himself arrested already!’

‘Surprise, surprise.’

‘He’s being held at the precinct station over on Elizabeth Street. No more than five minutes from you, I think.’

‘You want Bob to go in and break him out or something?’

‘God no! That’ll kick up a mess we can do without. No, just go in and ask about him. Doesn’t sound like he’s done anything too serious. Say he’s your eccentric cousin or something and you’re there to take him home and give him a frikkin’ good talking to.’ She shrugged. ‘We might get lucky and they release him into your care.’

‘OK … I’ll give it a try.’

Maddy hung up, settled back in her chair and groaned into a hankie before dialling Liam. It took him about two dozen rings before he finally answered.

‘Ah, so you managed to figure out how to answer it, then, Liam?’

‘Aye. Them silly little buttons on the front all look the same to me, so they do.’

Her patient, long-suffering sigh rustled down the phone line before she proceeded to explain as quickly as she could where Lincoln was and that they’d best come home to the arch. She figured Sal wasn’t going to have much luck talking the police into releasing Lincoln. Chances were they’d probably let him out first thing tomorrow morning with a verbal warning if he hadn’t done anything too bad … on bail, if he had.

She hung up and aimed a hang-dog look at the webcam. ‘Can I go get some bunk-time now, do you think, Bob?’

› Recommendation: minimum four hours’ sleep. You are not functioning to your full ability. You look like total chudyah.

Maddy smiled, surprised … and not a little impressed with computer-Bob. ‘Sal’s been teaching you more naughty words, hasn’t she?’

› Affirmative.

2001, New York

‘What’re you doing, Jim?’

His friend looked up from the computer terminal and rolled his eyes. He’d undone the top button of his NYPD uniform tunic and rolled his sleeves up. Jim looked like a man who’d already clocked off shift and gone home. Only, of course, he hadn’t.

‘That fruitcake we picked up earlier in Chinatown just went and generated a bunch of paperwork for me.’

Bill slumped down in his chair, facing him over their paired-up back-to-back desks. ‘What’s he gone and done now? I thought we were holding him overnight with a caution?’

Jim scratched his nose with a pen, then ran a hand through his buzzcut blond hair. ‘Stupid idiot went and said some crazy stuff about the Twin Towers comin’ down. Said they was goin’ to explode an’ all.’ He sighed. ‘Which means with the FBI’s Threat Alert system on Amber, fer crissakes — ’ he shrugged — ‘I gotta go log it all in.’

‘Mind you …’ Bill shook his head. ‘He said a whole bunch of other crazy stuff too … What was it?’

Jim chuckled. ‘Oh, you mean that he’s gonna be the president one day, that he’s been transported through time from 1830-whatever by a bunch of time-travellin’ kids … or somethin’?’

Bill nodded. ‘And that name? Like something out of the Bible. Abraham Landon?’ He checked the screen in front of him. ‘ Lincoln … Abraham no-middle-name Lincoln.’

They looked at each other for a moment before Jim finally spoke. ‘Stupid goddarn name, uh? You see us ever havin’ a president with a dumb-soundin’ name like that?’

Bill shook his head. ‘Not with that funny way he talks. Like a southern gentleman … like a pastor, a firebrand preacher or somethin’. Know what I mean? Tell you what, though, man, I can almost believe the crazy son-of-a-gun just stepped out of the Wild West.’

Jim looked up at him. ‘What? You trying to say he isn’t a crazy loon needs lockin’ up in a room with no hard edges?’

Bill snorted. ‘Nope, I’m sayin’ he could make a nice buck doin’ Crazy Preacher-o-grams.’

‘Yeah, right… Like that’s the first thing you gonna order for your pal’s bachelor night, uh?’

‘Come on, man, finish up … let some FBI pencil-neck go figure it out.’

Jim nodded, pecking out a few more words on the keyboard before finally slapping a heavy hand on the desk. ‘Done!’

Bill grinned. ‘One for the road, my man?’

‘A beer? Sure. But just the one. Don’t wanna — ’

‘ Don’t wanna keep yer mamma up ,’ parroted Bill with a well-worn smile. Same lame ol’ line. ‘Problem with you, Jim, ol’ buddy, is you need to come up with some new one-liners.’

‘Yeah? Or what? You gonna go find some other dumb sucker to partner up with?’

They weaved their way out of the deserted precinct office, all cubicles and desks piled high with sitting paperwork.

‘Now you know me better than that, Jim … You an’ me, we’re like an ol’ married couple.’

‘Gross,’ Jim muttered as he grabbed his coat and kitbag. ‘Now I got a goddarn picture in my head gonna give me nightmares tonight.’

2001, New York

The sound of the cell door being unlocked and wrenched open roused Lincoln from his sleep. Bleary-eyed, he blinked back the glare of morning light spilling in through the slit window and looked up from the bunk at three men in dark suits crowding into the cell and staring down at him.

‘Abraham Lincoln?’

He rubbed his tired eyes and lifted himself off the pillow on to one elbow. ‘Yes, that is I.’

‘You will come with us, please.’ A dry emotionless voice.

Lincoln pulled himself up to a seated position and swung his legs off the bunk. His bare feet touched the cold floor. ‘Gentlemen,’ he started, ‘I have done nothing to deserve being incarcerated like this! Being treated like a — ’

‘Sir, you will put on your shoes and come with us now.’

Lincoln’s face clouded with anger. ‘I will do no such thing , sir! Not until I receive, at the very least, an apology for — ’

‘All right,’ said one of the suits, his lips barely moving. ‘Cuff this scumbag.’

The other two fell on him like a ton of breeze blocks, pinning him down on the bunk as he squirmed and thrashed beneath their weight.

‘THIS … IS … AN … OUTRAGE!’ he barked. ‘HOW DARE YOU — ’

‘Save it for later, pal,’ grunted one of the men lying on top of him, fumbling for his wrists. ‘You’re in for a world of hurt, buddy ,’ said the other. ‘You filthy, murdering, terrorist sc-!’

‘Agent Belling, best keep your feelings to yourself, son. While you’re on FBI time, I expect a certain level of professionalism.’

‘Sorry, sir.’

‘Now, get him up.’

Between them the two men in suits hefted Lincoln off the bunk and turned him to face the third.

‘THIS IS A TRAVESTY — ’

‘I’d advise you to keep your mouth firmly shut, Mr Lincoln. Emotions are running very high this morning and the last thing me and my boys need to hear coming out of your mouth right now is a whole load of attitude .’

‘I INSIST YOU TELL ME — ’

‘A few minues ago a second plane just impacted with the other tower. ‘Last night you were logged making a claim the World Trade Center was coming down this morning.’

Lincoln frowned. ‘Those two tall towers? Yes I — ’

‘A few minutes ago a second plane just impacted with the other tower.’ The FBI agent’s jaw set firmly. ‘You’re either a prophet … or a terrorist. Either way, we’ve got a whole bunch of questions for you.’

He stepped backwards from the cell into the corridor. The other two men shuffled out of the cell with Lincoln wedged between them. ‘You’ve just been signed over to FBI custody.’ He smiled coolly. ‘Your sorry, murdering, terrorist, scumbag butt is ours now.’