Time Riders

3. ELSE… Await 3rd extraction window in 24hours

Bob opened his eyes and tossed the corpse he’d been carrying on to the pile.The solution was an acceptable one, even though it amounted to little more than wait and see. He was not going to leave nor was he going to terminatehimself; instead he was going to wait for a better opportunity to rescue Liam to presentitself.

But, he realized, something else had been factored into the decision, something to which hecouldn’t assign a recognizable label.

For now he decided to give it the name indefinable factor.

This indefinable factor wasn’t coming from his database orhis AI code; it was coming from the small part of his brain that was organic, the tiny nub ofwrinkled flesh in his skull linked by a myriad hair-thin wires to his on-board siliconwafer-cell computer. And all this indefinable factor could do was whisper avery illogical and impractical message into his logical computer, an awkward message that wasbeginning to cause a little confusion amid his carefully ordered AI code.

Liam O’Connor is my friend.

CHAPTER 41

1956, command ship over Washington DC

Oberleutnant Ralf Hoffman stepped on to the freight platform with two other men whowere hefting a heavy body bag between them. They let it down gently and, like him, looked upin awe at the dark sky above them, at the giant grey underbelly of DerFuhrer’s command ship.

Hoffman had been billeted aboard the ship with the men of his unit, the 23rdFallschirmjager Assault Corps. He was familiar with the inside of the air vessel — but, viewing it from outside, the truly immense size of the thing came home to him.

The freight platform, a square alloy plinth large enough to fit one truck at a time, slowlybegan to winch upwards. Beneath them the grounds of the White House and proud boulevards ofWashington DC gradually receded.

Hoffman watched the waning light of the afternoon fade as dusk rapidly toned thesmoke-smudged sky over the city. There were no street lights on, no lights on in any of thebuildings. The city’s power stations had been taken out in the first wave of theassault. Only sporadic fires burning here and there illuminated Washington DC, along with theoccasional stabbing flicker of gunfire in the streets.

He took a deep breath.

Nerves.

He was on his way up to Das Mutterschiff… ‘the mothership’, the nickname his men had for the giant airship. More specifically, he was on hisway to the upper deck of the mother ship, where a long line of broad windows looked out on tothe world below — Der Fuhrer’s viewing deck.

Hoffman had never been invited up there. Few men, other than the Fuhrer’s highcommand and senior chiefs of staff, had. It was more than the great man’s command andcontrol point — it was his campaign home. A very special place.

The platform continued to winch them up with a dull motorized clacking from above. He lookedup to see the trapdoor yawning open in the vessel’s belly.

All of a sudden, floodlights kicked in and powerful columns of light speared down into thegathering twilight, panning across the city below. Hoffman winced and shaded his eyes. Gazingup just as the damned things had been switched on, he was surprised he hadn’t beenblinded.

Ralf… you may actually meet him. It’s a distinctpossibility. Prepare yourself.

The thought sent an unwelcome shudder of fear and excitement down his spine. He didn’twant to appear foolishly nervous in front of the Fuhrer. He so wanted to impress the man,to appear calm and professional as an officer of the elite Fallschirmjager should. Thetwo men with him, on the other hand, were grinning like excited children on their way to meetFather Christmas.

‘You two,’ he snapped irritably, ‘you look like fools. Smarten yourselvesup and stop gurning like a pair of monkeys.’

The men obediently tidied their appearance and stowed their smiles away beneath solemnparade-ground faces.

Hoffman looked down at the body bag. The order had come directly from theFuhrer’s senior field officer, Reichsmarschall Haas to Hoffman’s commandingofficer. Der Fuhrer had asked to inspect this curious bodyfor himself… and to ask the men who’d seen what happened to explain directly tohim what they’d witnessed.

The clattering from above had grown much louder. He looked up, carefully shading his eyes, tosee the yawning loading bay was now only twenty or thirty feet above them.

The freight platform finally jerked to a halt inside the bay where Hoffman saw a couple of SSLeibstandarte guards standing to attention, dressed crisply in ceremonial black.

For an unhappy moment he thought they were going to take possession of the body bag and sendHoffman and his two men back down. But, with a perfunctory nod from one of them, they beckonedHoffman and the others to follow.

A stairwell guarded by two more men took them to the upper deck. The battleship-grey wallsthat Hoffman and his men had grown used to on the way over — living like batterychickens on the lower decks as Das Mutterschiff sailed gracefullysouth from the conquered area around New York — now gave way to dark oak panels. Thefloor no longer metal grilles but a soft maroon carpet that whispered beneath his muddiedcombat boots.

Ahead of them, double doors guarded by two more SS Leibstandarte standing to attention.

‘Oberleutnant Hoffman, to see the Fuhrer,’ announced one of the guardswho’d escorted them up from the bay.

One of the two standing guard announced their arrival into an intercom. A moment later ayoung smartly dressed adjutant appeared from a side office.

‘Ah, good.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll see you in.’

Hoffman felt his heart pounding in his chest as the young man pushed the double doors open.His first glimpse of the Fuhrer’s grand chamber was almost toomuch for him to bear.

Remember, professional, calm. Look good for the Fuhrer.

The adjutant spoke softly with someone before turning round to them.

‘Come on in.’ He smiled smartly and waved them forward.

Hoffman stepped through the doors, his two men behind him lifting the body bag between them.His first impression was of one long wall of broad windows slowly curving around, like thestern of an eighteenth-century tall ship, and the brilliant glow of the floodlights outsidepouring in, bathing the ornate decorated ceiling of the large room. Through the glass he couldsee an outline of the dark city and, above, the turbulent rolling thunderous clouds of theSeptember sky, framed together like a large oil painting.

Standing behind a generous conference table spread with maps of the east coast of America anddotted with flagged tokens representing the invading German forces, stood the Fuhrer,every bit as tall, slim and charismatic as all the posters and billboards made him out tobe.

To one side, a few feet away, stood the Reichsmarschall: stern faced, fit and alert, as hisreputation portrayed him. It was well known that Haas and the Fuhrer went back a longway, more than a decade. It was said they’d first met while serving together during theSecond World War. Before that time, of course, there was nothing known about them.

Two very enigmatic men.

The Fuhrer smiled generously at Hoffman.

‘You led the attack?’

‘Yes, m-my Fuhrer,’ Hoffman stammered awkwardly.