invading his private sanctuary, the place he’d invested so much of himself these past six years, his dear and bittersweet perihelion, sparked his fury. “You bastards can all rot in hell!” He lunged for Verity’s pistol and would have murdered Agnes Polperro and Carswell and anyone else whose face he recognised, had Verity not snatched the weapon away from him.
Embrey restrained him from behind. “Easy, Reardon. Take it easy, old boy. Now’s not the time.”
“ Right. You’d better explain yourself in a hurry.” Verity stepped toward Miss Polperro, their sharp gazes clashing like rapiers.
“Gladly. But I’d suggest you keep that crazed lunatic on a leash. He’s a liability to himself and everyone around him.”
“On the contrary, it’s you who put those murderous thoughts in his head. All of you.” Verity pointed angrily at the Whitehall gang. “You’re bloody lucky I don’t put the lot of you on trial for what you did to him. You snivelling pukes. Either step aside right now or give me good reason not to slake the professor’s vengeance for him. Starting with you, Carswell, you pompous scum. I’ve a mind to put one between your rat eyes just for the hell of it.”
Carswell’s bushy eyebrows dropped and formed a V in the middle. He bared his teeth. Cecil felt oddly relieved that it wasn’t quite himself against the world. With strong allies like Verity and Embrey at his side, maybe he could afford to calm down and rethink things a little.
“You’d better come with me.” Miss Polperro crooked her finger.
“What for?”
“It changes everything. You’ll see. But tread carefully-there is something extraordinary taking place here.”
What could she mean? Something more extraordinary than his machine? The Whitehall gang parted while Miss Polperro led Cecil, Verity and Embrey into the heart of Cecil’s creation-the giant, dormant cogs and the five cylinder steam engine, the Hillary magno-abacus resembling a miniature silver pipe organ, and the differentiator’s U-shaped brass casing one could only reach from underneath whilst the machine was in motion. At least no one had found his Harrison clock yet.
The insufferable woman guided them into the work shed, through a maintenance door and into a corridor running eastward, adjacent to the machine. Wire mesh fencing provided no protection from hot vapour, and as the machine had been operating almost continuously for four years, Cecil hadn’t ventured into this particular corridor during that time.
They walked another thirty feet past the final steam exhaust before Miss Polperro halted them at a secluded, bare-brick alcove he was certain he’d never seen before. “Well, here it is,” she said. “Can any of you explain it?”
Cecil squeezed past her to gain an unobstructed view of…
“A spider’s web?” Lord Embrey groaned. “You’ve found a glow-in-the-dark spider’s web? Well, I think I speak for everyone here when I say, sod the tuffett and bugger the curds and whey.”
Miss Polperro adjusted her thick-rimmed spectacles, then ran her fingers impatiently along the brick wall, over and over the same spot, clearly waiting for someone to cotton on to…whatever she’d seen in the web.
Verity shrugged and admitted she was at a loss. “I remember a lilac glow emitted in the run-up to the time jump… This web has the same colour. Unless that has some scientific significance…”
Confused, Cecil inspected the web at close range. Yes, the lilac coating was abnormal; no, it didn’t worry him unduly. Residual energy traces lined various nooks and crannies higher up in the factory as well. So what on earth had Miss Polperro seen that he Wait. That can’t be. No spider could…
“How closely have you inspected it?” he asked her.
She cracked a smug grin. “With magnifying glasses, spectrometer goggles, and the highest-powered microscope from your workshop. Their conclusion is beyond doubt.”
He let the concept swim in his brain for a moment. There had to be some mistake-bureaucratic Leviacrum amateurs jumping to conclusions. Before he could swallow something this unlikely, he would have to perform his own rigorous tests. “You mean to tell me you didn’t find a single-”
“Give us some credit, Professor,” she said. “And if you don’t believe me, scrutinize it at your leisure. It is unprecedented, and some of my colleagues believe it changes everything-your experiment, our so-called accidental destination, the prudence of us even attempting time travel again. They believe we must reassess our entire venture.”
“And you?”
“I think we must take every precaution to ensure our next time jump is our last, at least until we can get to the bottom of this miraculous-and troubling-side-effect.”
The more Cecil tried to compartmentalize her concerns, the more they threatened to flood his reasoning altogether. If the theory held up, it was potentially more startling than time travel itself. He clasped his hands on the back of his skull and tried to squeeze his elbows together.
“Oi, riddlers-stop speaking in code.” Verity prodded Cecil out of his funk. “Spectro-whatsists? Magnifying micro-spiffy-ometers? What’s got you both in such a muck-sweat?”
“Not my curds and whey comment, I pray?” Embrey shrugged.
As Cecil stepped back, the sound of his shoe tapping on the concrete echoed around the factory. He glanced round at his machine and then gazed up to the rickety platform on which he’d spent so much time watching, waiting for salvation, for the elusive combination to God’s temporal lock. And now that he’d opened it, what else had he uncovered?
“Do either of you believe in God?” Miss Polperro asked his companions.
They both nodded.
“But have you ever seen Him, heard His voice?”
“Not sober,” replied Embrey.
“Never,” said Verity.
His hands trembling for the first time in a long time, Cecil pulled out his pipe, then sheepishly put it back in his pocket.
Miss Polperro faced the three of them, her cruel features quivering. “It is our contention that science has surpassed its limit here.” Her lip and chin trembled. “And that we may have just found evidence…of the divine.”
Embrey and Verity shared a puzzled look.
No, that superstitious angle probably wasn’t the most fecund way to introduce a discovery like this. “Or let us put it a different way,” Cecil said. “Somewhere in this factory is the most extraordinary spider ever born-”
“Or created, ” countered Agnes Polperro.
“My friends, this web appears to be flawless. Not just to the naked eye but, insofar as they have ascertained, irreducibly flawless. And as it must have been created since the time jump-the flood would have washed it away otherwise-it appears time travel has affected this spider in a most profound way.” He roved his fingers over the lilac thread, careful not to touch. “It has inspired him to spin an infinitesimally perfect web.”
Chapter 11
“Nothing anyone says will change your mind, I take it?” Verity didn’t need an answer from Reardon, and none came. She’d thought him a little eccentric before, even self-absorbed, but there was a lot more to it than that. No one else seemed to realise how damaged he really was-whenever he mentioned his wife and son it was with a flippant matter-of-factness, as though he spoke with them daily. The others seemed to mistake it for an odd quirk, a side of his dotty professorial charm. Perhaps it took another wounded, driven soul to recognise his torment. But she’d honoured Bernie by becoming the best aeronaut she could possibly be, a reasonable enough pursuit. And perhaps she might one day come to terms with a world without her. Perhaps. Reardon, though, could never say goodbye to his loved ones, heal, and move on in the natural way. Without knowing how he would achieve it, he was bound on this relentless, messianic quest the way a clock hand spins in pursuit of its elusive destination.
