Gates of Rome

CHAPTER 32

2001, formerly New York

She studied the twisted form merged into the trunk of the tree. It certainly explained the reason why Alpha-two’s ident signal had suddenly ceased to register.

The support unit’s head appeared to be buried within the tree; the rest of his body dangled lifelessly, slumped against the base of the trunk. It looked oddly like he’d been attempting to charge the tree head first, like an enraged bull, and the tree had simply decided to swallow him up to his neck. She cocked her head, fascinated at the glutinous and fleshy bubbling where the unit’s neck intersected with the bark. The instantaneous merging of trunk, skull and the computer inside at a molecular level would have instantly reduced Alpha-two’s head to a meaningless pulp.

Faith sensed the wireless signals of the other two support units drawing closer, approaching through the thinning mist.

Abel emerged first. His eyes immediately rested on Alpha-two’s body. ‘That is to be expected,’ he said calmly. ‘The area has a high mass density. There was a significant probability of intersection.’

Faith nodded. ‘Agreed.’

Alpha-four — Damien — emerged from the mist, his eyes momentarily on their colleague before reporting in to the other two. ‘I have not located the targets. They appear to have successfully evaded us.’

Abel nodded. ‘We must reacquire them immediately.’

Their three minds began to exchange data electronically, a Bluetooth committee meeting in the silent woodland space between them. All three support units frozen like statues absorbed in a collective reassessment of variables, options and mission priorities. A meeting of minds that resulted in a decision less than ten seconds later.

‘They will attempt to return to their field office,’ said Abel.

The other two nodded.

‘This way,’ said Abel. He turned on his heel and had just begun to force his way through a thick nest of thorny brambles when he stopped. Ahead of him stood twelve of them. Humans. Primitive humans.

The wood seemed to hold its breath in silent expectation as the Indians slowly spread out, bows drawn and ready to use. Charcoal paint smeared round their eyes and across the bridges of their noses; the whites of their eyes almost seemed to glow in the gloom beneath the canopy of leaves.

‘These are not our targets,’ said Abel.

One of the Indians replied with a barked challenge, a language of guttural croaks and hard consonants. He raised a tamahaken of wood and flint; a clear gesture of warning for Abel and the others to back up the way they’d come.

Faith drew up alongside Abel, her curious mind cataloguing these strange-looking humans. Their heads were also bald, except for a crest of hair in the middle, and they were naked, their skin a rich copper colour, adorned with tattoos of swirling, dark blue patterns.

‘I have no data on these,’ she said to Abel.

‘A significant time contamination has occurred.’ Abel looked at her. ‘But this is not a concern of ours.’

She took another casual step forward, curious, wanting to get a closer look at these odd-looking humans, when a nervous young hand released twine. The wood echoed with the vibrating hum of a bow’s drawstring and the sound of a fleshy thwack. Faith glanced down at the feathered end of an arrow protruding through the grubby orange nylon of her anorak.

She cocked her head as she looked down at it. ‘An arrow,’ she announced matter-of-factly as she yanked its bloody barbed tip firmly from her chest. Then she raised her pistol and fired.

‘You hear that?’ said Sal. She stopped paddling. ‘That was a gun!’

Maddy pulled the wooden oar out of the water and rested it across her thighs. A moment later, they heard the distant crack of another single shot echoing from the receding, mist-shrouded shoreline.

She swallowed nervously. ‘That’s them! I guess they came across the owner of this canoe.’

‘Who… what are they, Maddy?’

‘They’ve got to be support units, Sal. They’re Bob and Becks. Or very similar.’

‘But why are they after us?’

Maddy shook her head. ‘I don’t know!’

‘Maybe we caused it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘That message… the message we sent forward to Waldstein?’

God, Sal might be right. ‘You think it might have been… I dunno… intercepted by someone?’

Sal said nothing. Her eyes on Maddy’s.

‘Jeeez…’ She watched the shoreline they were leaving behind, the mist dissolving before her eyes. ‘Someone knows about us, Sal. Someone who knows where we are, when we are.’

‘Maddy, do you think the Roman contamination is anything to do with this?’

‘I dunno.’

‘It happens at the same time. It can’t be a coincidence, can it? Maddy?’

‘I don’t know! I just…’ She screwed her eyes up. ‘I don’t know anything, Sal! I’m just running… running scared, like you.’ Frustrated, she banged a fist against the side of the canoe. Its fragile wooden frame flexed alarmingly. ‘Just give me a moment to think here, OK?’

‘Sorry, Maddy.’

They drifted in silence for a minute. ‘Sal, why’s someone sent a bunch of support units after us? I mean why? What have — ’

‘Do you really think that’s what they are? Maybe they’re — ’

‘Come on! You saw them too! What do you think?’

Sal nodded silently. ‘They did look like Bob and Becks.’

They drifted for a while, the water gently slapping the taut hide like the palm of a hand on the skin of a bodhran. ‘I’ve got no idea what this is about. But if those really are support units… we’re freakin’ dead already, Sal. I mean it. We haven’t got a chance here!’ She picked her paddle up. ‘We need the others.’

‘What are we going to do?’

‘We need to get Bob back.’ That was it. That was her plan. That’s all she had to offer right now. ‘ He can fight them.’

‘But there’s, like, three of them, Maddy… he can’t fight them all by hims-’

‘That’s his problem, OK?’ She turned round and squinted at the far side of the river where home, Brooklyn, had been only ten minutes ago. It was yet more dense woodland. If it wasn’t for the sun rising into the morning sky indicating which way was east, she would have been hopelessly lost. The canoe had drifted in several lazy circles since they’d stopped paddling and one shoreline looked exactly like the other.

‘Let’s just get back over there… see if we can find the archway.’

That alone was going to be a challenge. It was all trees and thick brambles. And somewhere, somewhere, in the middle of all of that, provided it wasn’t buried or so overgrown by moss or briar, they were hopefully going to be able to find their shambolic molehill of red bricks.

Hopefully.

Sal offered her a supportive smile. ‘I’m glad I’m with you. You usually figure something out, Maddy.’

Do I? Do I really figure stuff out, or have I just been lucky so far?

Maddy returned the gesture with a shrug of bravado. ‘Well, I guess that’s why I’m the boss, right?’ She looked back over Sal’s shoulders at the hump of woodland that was once Manhattan and hoped there weren’t any more canoes lying around waiting to be used.

She dipped her paddle into the water and the canoe began to slowly pull round in the other direction. ‘Come on, Sal… we should get back to the archway as quick as we can.’ She was going to add ‘before they do’, but it seemed an unnecessary thing to say. And saying it was almost like inviting bad luck to come knocking at their front door.

Yeah, right… like, ‘don’t say it and it just won’t happen’.

If only life could be that straightforward.