Time Riders

fired. They stared fearfully back at him, eyes darting anxiouslydown at the weapon slung over his shoulder. A couple of them were tousled-haired andbleary-eyed as if they’d been roused from sleep.

Kramer shook his head pityingly.

Great security guards.

‘My name is Dr Paul Kramer. It’s very simple, gentlemen. We want the major medianetworks assembled outside and I want to do an interview with them, which will be broadcastacross the nation’s networks, live. We also want a hoverjet landed on the roof of themuseum, in which we intend to leave, untouched, when our work here is done. If we don’t get what we want, we will destroy the museum and all ofits incredibly valuable and irreplaceable contents.’

Kramer smiled. ‘There. I said it was pretty simple.’

The security guards stared at him, dumbstruck.

‘Now,’ he continued, ‘we will be letting one of you go to take our demandsout to the police, who I’m sure are already on their way by now. The rest, I’mafraid, will be required to stay here with us as our hostages.’

One of the guards cleared his throat. ‘The government won’t negotiate withterrorists — you must know that.’

‘We shall see. There are too many valuable national heirlooms in thisbuilding. Even in these godforsaken times — people starving, people living in shantytowns across this country — there’s still a pride in our heritage, our grand past.The people will lynch the authorities if this place ends up burning to the ground.’Kramer shrugged almost apologetically. ‘I’m pretty sure they’llnegotiate.’

The guard’s face stiffened. ‘You’d reallydestroy this place?’

‘Oh yes.’ Kramer smiled sadly. ‘I’m afraid I most definitelywould.’ He took a step towards the security guard. ‘What’s yourname?’

‘Malone, Bradley Malone.’

Kramer appraised the portly guard silently. In the distance they could hear the whup-whup- whup of police hoverjets already approaching and the wailingsirens of ground response units converging.

‘Well, Bradley, I like that you spoke up. I really do. You seem to have more balls thanthe others. So why don’t we let you be the one to go out andgive the police our demands? You make sure you tell them that we’re prepared to wait twohours for things to be arranged. Not a minute more. Ifthey’re late… this whole place will go up like a Roman candle.’

Bradley Malone nodded.

‘And if they try something dumb, like — ooh, I don’t know — asurprise assault, they’ll be very sorry. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, my menand I are armed to the teeth and, while I’m more of a desk man myself, Karl here, andhis boys, have quite an impressive amount of combat experience between them.’

Malone nodded once more. ‘I’ll be sure to tell them.’

‘Good. Well, it’s been a pleasure talking with you, Bradley.’ Kramer noddedto one of his men. ‘Send him out the front entrance.’

He watched them go, then turned to Haas.

‘Karl, have the other guards taken into the basement; we’ll hold them down there.And let’s get our kit down there too. No time to waste — the clock’s tickingnow.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The men moved quickly and efficiently, hustling the hostages through double doors labelledwith a fading sign: TO STORAGE BASEMENT: STAFF ACCESS ONLY. Therest of them began to lift their crates and canvas sacks of equipment after them, bangingclumsily through the swing doors and grunting with effort as they hefted them down concretesteps to the basement.

The sound of the hoverjets and sirens had grown louder, and through the metal grilles thatcovered the building’s grand front windows he could see the blue flash of police lights.Apart from a couple of his men, stationed by the windows, keeping an eye on the policeassembling outside, weapons unslung and ready to fire, Kramer stood alone in the dim interiorof the Museum of Natural History’s main hall.

‘That should keep everyone busy enough, for now,’ he muttered quietly.

CHAPTER 14

2001, New York

Foster pointed up at the New York skyline. ‘Do you see something there thatshouldn’t be there?’

Maddy gasped. ‘Oh my God… the Twin Towers!’

‘That’s right,’ said Foster, ‘the World Trade Center.’

She looked at him. ‘Does this mean history’s changed already? That they won’t be destroyed by terrorists?’

The old man shook his head sadly. ‘Sorry, no. History remains unaltered… remainsin this case — regrettably — as it should be.’

‘Oh man.’ Her eyes moistened. ‘I’d forgotten how beautiful theylooked, all lit up at night like that.’

‘The agency picked this time and this place for a very good reason,’ Fostercontinued. ‘Today’s date is the tenth of September. Tomorrow is theeleventh.’

Sal looked up at him. Her eyes widened, suddenly registering something. ‘Nine-eleven! ’ she said. ‘I remember, we studied that inschool. That’s going to happen tomorrow?’

Foster nodded.

Liam looked from one face to another, bemused. ‘Nine-eleven? What’s that? What’s going to happen?’

‘Nine-eleven is how people refer to the terrible thing thatwill happen tomorrow morning, Liam.’

Foster gestured up at the glowing skyscrapers towering above Manhattan’s cityscape likesentinels. ‘Tomorrow, at eight forty-five a.m. precisely, a plane fullof people will be deliberately crashed by terrorists into the side of the north tower, andabout eighteen minutes later another will be crashed into the side of the south tower. By tenthirty a.m., both towers will have collapsed in on themselves and about three thousand peoplewill have lost their lives.’

Liam looked at Maddy and noticed the glistening trail of tears running down her cheeks.

Foster took a deep breath. ‘Many people in New York lost someone they loved, someonethey knew. The nation was traumatized. Tomorrow, Liam, this will feel like a very differentcity.’ He placed a comforting hand on Maddy’s arm. ‘I’m sorry. I knowfrom our computer records that you lost family in there.’

She nodded. ‘A cousin. Julian. He was cool.’ She could have told the others howshe’d had a childhood crush on him. How he’d made her laugh till she criedwhenever he came to visit. He’d run the computer network for one of the banks. Juliandied along with three thousand others. Died, and left them nothing to bury.

‘I know this is painful for you,’ continued Foster, ‘but for practicalpurposes this is an ideal location for an agency field office.’

‘Why?’ she asked, wiping her cheeks dry. ‘Why does it have to behere?… Why now?’

Foster paused for a moment, thinking how best to explain.

‘The archway you awoke in, the field office, exists in a time bubble of forty-eighthours. Two days. Monday tenth and Tuesday the eleventh of September 2001. Come midnight onTuesday it automatically resets back to the beginning of Monday. You, as a team, will livewithin that time bubble. You will live those two days over and over again, whilst for the restof the world those two days will come… and go.’

‘But why does it have to be these two days?’ askedMaddy. ‘I remember that day. I was nine. My mom and dad both cried thewhole day, that Tuesday. Why then?’

‘Because everyone’s attention will be on what happened. No one will ever noticethe comings and goings from that little archway beneath the bridge. No one will ever remember-’ Foster glanced at Liam — ‘this young man dressed in asteward’s uniform, wandering around the night before. Your existence here will neveraffect time, never