Chapter 57

14 December 1888, Holborn Viaduct, London

Maddy felt the familiar thud of impact beneath her feet, and the usual flood of relief that she’d emerged from the haunting mists of chaos space. She could smell a damp mustiness, unpleasant and yet somewhat familiar; it reminded her of their old archway back in Brooklyn.

She opened her eyes and for the briefest moment she thought that’s where she was: the same low arched brick ceiling, the dim light, the snaking of cables and untidy clutter everywhere. She could almost believe she was right back in Brooklyn.

‘Best step aside, Maddy,’ said Liam. ‘The last one will be coming through soon.’

Rashim had already stepped out of his square, taken off his anorak to reveal a crisp white gentleman’s dress shirt and waistcoat. She smiled; out of all of them he seemed to most relish wearing the smart tailored clothes of this time. He rolled his sleeves up to the elbow and immediately started working with a knife, splicing a loop of thick insulated cable that emerged from a hole in one of the walls. Getting ready to hook up the displacement machine to their source of power, the moment it arrived.

‘Maddy?’ prompted Liam. ‘The square? You should get out of it.’

‘Oh yeah.’ She stepped aside. ‘My God, Liam… it’s just like, well, almost like the Brooklyn place.’

‘Aye.’ He grinned. ‘That was my thought too. You like it?’

She smiled, the first time in weeks that she’d felt like smiling. It felt a little like that first time she’d woken up, Foster hovering over her with a tray of coffee and doughnuts. ‘Pity there isn’t a Starbucks nearby, though,’ she said.

‘Well now…’ He laughed. ‘Actually, there is. Of a sort.’

Maddy looked over the top of her glasses at him. ‘What?’

‘Well, sort of. A coffee shop on the back of a wagon, so it is. Roasted chestnuts. Vanilla slices. Fresh baked pies and tarts. You’ll love it.’

Sal looked around the gloomy space. ‘Where do we sleep?’ She turned back to Liam. ‘Where do we do toilet?’

Liam raised his hands apologetically. ‘Me and Rashim have been doing like everyone else seems to do. You sort of find a dark corner in a backstreet somewhere and you just go — ’

‘Not doing that,’ said Sal. ‘Not going to happen.’

‘Nuh-uh,’ added Maddy. ‘Me neither. I want a toilet.’

‘Aye, all right,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I s’pose we can fix something up.’

‘Immediately, I’d suggest. Like, top of the list.’ Maddy turned her attention to Rashim working with SpongeBubba on the cable, slicing strips of insulating rubber away, exposing copper. She looked at the thick cable protruding from the hole in the wall. ‘That’s where our feed’s coming from?’

‘Yes,’ replied Rashim.

‘Have we got some sort of circuit-breakers installed? Some sort of spike protection?’

‘That’s what I’m working on right now.’

‘Right.’ She nodded. ‘Good job.’

She put her hands on her hips and allowed herself a moment of self-congratulation.

That all went rather well, then. Once the displacement rack arrived and they’d set it and the networked computers up and checked that everything had come through unharmed, they were going to be pretty much back in business. Back to where they’d once been, but this time round they’d be pulling their own strings. This time round they were going to be wholly in charge of their own destinies.

How cool’s that? Maddy smiled. Very.

‘Bob? You getting any particles yet?’

Bob nodded. ‘I am detecting precursor particles. The last displacement volume should be opening very soon.’

‘This has really gone smoothly.’ She nodded, satisfied with things. ‘You know, Liam, I think we’re all getting quite slick as a team at this whole time-travel thing.’

‘Aye. Best team in the business.’

‘The only team in the business,’ Sal said drily.

‘True.’

‘Caution!’ said Bob. ‘Maddy, you should stand back now.’

Maddy did as he said and felt the air around her pulse with the sudden arrival of a dozen cubic metres of air and mass. In one marked square, the displacement rack sat on the floor, powering down with a disgruntled whine, freshly severed from its power source.

The other square was empty.

‘Uh… where’s Becks?’

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