Bob answered. ‘There is nothing. In this timeline you and all the people in thisbuilding have a high probability of dying in less than five minutes.’ Bob mimickedLiam’s attempt to calm the man and rested a large palm on his trembling shoulder.‘But be reassured, citizen, this timeline will be completely eradicated once we havecorrected the time contamination.’

Liam shook his head as the hapless man stared at him in bewildered silence.

Yes, very reassuring, Bob.

The support unit turned to Liam. ‘We must leave now.’

CHAPTER 37

2001, New York

‘There must be some way to hack past their security and access the rest ofthe online history database,’ said Maddy.

‘Maybe there isn’t any more?’ asked Foster. ‘Maybe the rulers of thistime consider history before this date, before the conquering of America, as irrelevant. Oneway they could have chosen to keep control of the American people is to delete records oftheir national history, maybe even world history.’

Maddy shrugged. ‘But these are the Nazis, right? Surely they’d want to keeprecords of Hitler’s rise to power, the Second World War and how in this screwed-uphistory they actually won it? I’m sure Adolf Hitler wouldwant all his subjects to know how brilliant he was and how hard a struggle he had as a youngerman… and all that rags-to-riches rubbish.’

Foster sighed. ‘It doesn’t make sense. I don’t know why all that’snot there, Madelaine. I really don’t. Perhaps, for these Nazis, the day they tookcontrol of America is all that counts. Everything before that was of no importance?’

Sal coughed politely and the other two turned to face her.

‘Maybe,’ she said, ‘maybe the Hitler guy died and the one who took overfrom him, you know, didn’t like him or something? Decided to remove Hitler from therecords?’

Foster nodded. ‘Sal might be right. We’ve been assuming DerFuhrer is Hitler.’

Maddy’s eyes widened. She looked for a search function on the mainpage and after a minute of trying various buttons labelled in German gave up.

‘God, these Nazis really suck at laying out a web page.’

‘Perhaps in this version of the year 2001 the Internet is a brand-new thing.’

She gave up on the idea of doing a search on the name ‘Hitler’. Instead sheclicked through the various article tabs along the timeline chart — scanning eacharticle for the name.

Five minutes later she shook her head.

‘No mention at all of Adolf. It’s like he never existed.’

‘But plenty of mentions of Der Fuhrer… theleader,’ added Foster.

Maddy ground her teeth with frustration. ‘So who exactly isDer Fuhrer?’ She accessed the computer’son-site database, a vast encyclopedia of correct history, andpulled up files on Hitler’s high command, his inner cabinet… the men most likelyto succeed him. ‘Heinrich Himmler? Hermann Goring? Martin Bormann? JosephGoebbels?’ She turned to Foster and Sal. ‘One of them maybe?’

Foster splayed his hands. ‘It could be any ofthem.’

Sal spoke quietly. ‘Or perhaps none of them?’

1956, Washington DC

Splinters of plaster erupted around Liam’s head.

‘Oh God help us!’ he yelped, ducking down behind a desk. ‘They’re inthe entrance hall!’

The air was thick with the percussive rattle of machine-gun fire, and the throaty burr of theinvaders’ pulse rifles.

Bob pointed down to the far end of the room. ‘Recommendation: go to the end and takecover.’

‘What about you?’

‘I shall secure tactical advantage.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Bob shoved him. ‘Please go now,’ he said calmly as bullets from the entrance hallsprayed in through the open door and noisily shredded the typewriter and telephone on the deskthey were crouching behind.

‘What about me?’ asked the man in the suit.

Liam half smiled. ‘Come with us for now, but we can’t take you back withus.’

‘Jeez… I’ll be happy staying alive just a little while longer.’

‘You must go now,’ insisted Bob.

Liam pulled himself to his feet, poked his head round the desk and stole a glance through theopen door into the entrance hall. He could see a couple of dozen black-suited men firing onthe marines’ blockaded position. The staccato chatter of the marines’ guns waslessening against the incessant snatched purr of the pulse rifles.

Liam realized the Germans had whittled down the defenders to one or two marines. The fightwas all but over.

We have to move now.

He pulled himself out and sprinted down an aisle between two rows of desks, away from theopen door and the one-sided battle. He came up against a wooden-panelled door at the farend.

The man in the suit was right behind him.

‘Where does this door lead?’

‘A hallway. If we turn right there’s an exterior door that leads us out to therose gardens.’

Liam looked back the way they’d come. At the far end where they’d been hiding wasthe mustard-coloured mist. He could only just make out a dark blob that might have beenBob.

‘Your friend coming?’ asked the man.

‘I hope so.’

The dark shape moved suddenly, lunging out from behind the desk, and then it was gone throughthe doorway and into the main hall. A moment later Liam heard a renewed and intense burst ofgunfire: pulse rifles. He heard cries of alarm and panic, muffled voices barking hastycommands in German. He heard several loud screams that ended abruptly, the sound of aferocious struggle, something toppling over and shattering.

‘What in the heck is happening back there?’

It’s Bob happening.

For the briefest moment, as he imagined what those powerful arms could do to mere flesh andbone, he almost felt sorry for them.

A moment later, emerging through the mist, he saw something lunging like a charging bull downthe aisle towards them. Bob emerged from the smoke, his face and chest spattered with blood,none of which appeared to be his own.

‘I have acquired a tactical advantage.’

Hands slick with fresh blood, he held out a gas mask and a black rubber hood.‘Suggestion: Liam O’Connor, you wear the mask and hood. You will appear to be oneof them from distances greater than ten feet.’

‘What about me?’ asked the man.

Bob regarded him dispassionately. ‘You are not a mission priority.’

Liam took the hood, wet with blood. ‘You killed one of them?’

‘Incorrect. Seven enemy units were killed.’

With just your hands?

Bob looked sternly at both of them. ‘There is insufficient time for thisconversation.’

Liam noticed several ragged fleshy wounds across Bob’s hip and waist.‘Jay-zus! Bob, you’ve been shot! More than once it looks like.’

‘The wounds will heal in no more than three days. The blood is already coagulating.This is not a

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