Day of Deliverance Page 12

  “Jack, this is the Timeline Simulator – or at least a part of it – the full thing is too resource-intensive even for this mighty machine. This software is the key to it all.”

  “Key to what?”

  Pendelshape sighed. “Let me explain. VIGIL and your friends, Inchquin and the Rector refuse to accept that Taurus can be used as a tool for good.”

  “Yes. And they have a point. We saw what could happen when we went back to the First World War,” Jack said.

  “You nearly got us all killed, Sir,” Angus said bluntly.

  “I admit, at that time we thought we had got it right – but we were still not quite there. VIGIL’s concern is that by intervening in the past you can trigger changes, however well intentioned, that may have unforeseen consequences in the future.”

  “Yes and it can be extremely dangerous. Those consequences could lead to worse things happening. Intervening can backfire,” Jack said.

  “And VIGIL is right up to a point. But this,” Pendelshape tapped the laptop with a chubby index finger, “this little chap changes everything. We have developed causal models of history to such a degree that we can show precisely the impact that changes we make in the past will have on the future. We can also evaluate the different scenarios that arise from this. If necessary, we can make subsequent interventions in time to optimise the results. These interventions may also be used to ensure that we can keep the Revisionist team untouched.” He smiled, knowingly. “Obviously there are some things in the present we want to keep… ring-fenced, if you like.”

  Angus finally finished his breakfast. “So what?”

  “So what, Angus?” Pendelshape continued, a note of frustration in his voice. “So we can make measurements of our scenarios. We can evaluate changes we make in terms of their impact on economic wealth, political stability, health and a whole range of other things, including, believe it or not, an index of human happiness.”

  This was too much for Angus. “You’ve got to be kidding, Sir. You’re saying that you can kind of use that computer to say what would happen to the world if you assassinated Hitler and measure how happy everyone would be as a result?”

  “Indeed. It sounds strange, I know, but every scenario has up sides and down sides; winners and losers. What we are seeking to do is to find the best overall scenario which optimises human well-being in the long term – and for that matter the well-being of the planet, and, yes, we can’t really do the comparison unless we can measure the scenarios. Happiness is one of those measures. All the measures together are called the Utility Index – the UI.”

  “So you’re saying that you’ve managed to develop the software to a point where you can really run ‘what ifs’ and measure the impact.”

  “Yes, Jack, exactly.”

  Jack lowered his voice. “But Dad didn’t agree with your plans, did he?”

  Pendelshape sighed, “We had a disagreement with your father. We were keen to use our Taurus with the new Timeline Simulator, but your father refused until he was sure that you were safely removed from VIGIL’s control. Their control over you and your father’s fear of what they might do to you, should we act, were the main reasons we didn’t do anything with the new system. But he also wanted you to join us – he has always wanted you to follow in his footsteps. We became impatient, the arguments became more heated, and eventually…”

  “Eventually what?”

  “The team and I decided to remove him as leader of the Revisionists. He left of his own accord, however, and we knew he might do something reckless. There was a risk that he would contact VIGIL and tell them of our plans, to avoid them thinking he was still in charge and that this was all his idea. He was worried about you… and your mother. Your presence here confirms that he did indeed warn VIGIL – although why on earth VIGIL decided to send you and Angus back on a mission as important as this, I have no idea.”

  “It hasn’t quite gone according to plan,” Angus said sheepishly.

  “But you still haven’t explained the ‘intervention’ you plan to make – why you have decided to come back to this point – and what Whitsun and Gift were doing in Cambridge,” said Jack.

  Pendelshape gazed out of the window, which was starting to mist up from the warmth in the room. He seemed to be weighing something up in his mind – something important. “I suppose it makes no difference now,” he said, turning back to the screen. “Let me show you.”

  He punched the keyboard again and leaned back. “Here. You can see.”

  The year counter was reset to 1587 and again the days, months and years ticked forward. This time, something strange happened on the map. The yellow, denoting the extent of Spain’s geographical and political power did not decline as before. Instead, first England turned yellow and then gradually the whole of South America, North America and Western Europe. As the years on the counter ticked through the nineteenth century some other colours – blue, black, red – did appear on the screen, but they failed to grow. They seemed to be quickly snuffed out by the yellow shading which continued its onward march until, as the year approached 1894, it engulfed almost the entire world.

  Jack stared in wonder at the screen. “Spain rules the entire world? Is that what it means?”

  “Not quite. Spain conquers England, of course, and in time that gives rise to what becomes an Anglo-Spanish hegemony – the power base eventually moves to the Americas and that becomes a basis for global domination. What we see here starts with Spain, if you like, but over time it morphs into something different and new.”

  “And that’s a good thing?”

  “You miss the point. It’s a better thing. Very high UI – in the long term.”

  “But doesn’t that go against – I don’t know – things like people being free to choose who governs them – democracy and all that stuff?”

  “There is a place for democracy, in time, and a democratic global state does emerge from this. Eventually. The point is that there are no countries as such. All artificial boundaries are destroyed as the super state develops. At points, of course, as in any historical process, there is brutality and special interests have to be crushed. But you can only achieve stability through strong leadership and control. In the long term, though, what emerges is much better – certainly better than having hundreds of different countries that can’t agree on anything and keep fighting each other.”

  As Jack stared at the map of the world in front of him, entirely shaded in yellow, it dawned on him that the ambition of the Revisionists and of Pendelshape was utterly astonishing. They planned to use the Taurus to rip apart the fabric of history and start again. It was mindblowing. Jack could see that this ability to play God would be hugely seductive – particularly for someone like Pendelshape.

  “How will you do it?” he asked.

  “To begin with it’s very simple. First Spain must defeat England. The new nation that forms from this must then be guided at certain points through the subsequent centuries, with an occasional hand on the tiller from us. The scenario is also modelled to ensure that the Revisionist team and our Taurus are protected. Ring-fenced, if you will.”

  “How is England defeated?” Angus asked.

  “Ideally, we need to make two interventions. Elizabeth must die. This will result in a power vacuum and internal strife in England – civil war, in fact. This first step is desirable, but not completely essential. Secondly, and more importantly, we need the Armada to succeed. The battle of Gravelines during the Armada was a key English victory. If that can be reversed, then the Armada will succeed, laying the way for a successful Spanish invasion. And with a successful Spanish invasion, order will be restored and we can start the next stage of our work.”

  “So this plot that we stumbled across with Marlowe… I guess that has something to do with part one of your plan – the death of Elizabeth?” Jack commented.

  “Indeed. We researched the period to identify a suitable opportunity. We considered the Babington Plot and using Mary, Queen of
Scots, but we dismissed the idea. Our plan now is to avoid an obvious successor to maximise a period of internal strife in England before the arrival of the Spanish. Of course this period is rife with espionage. Your Spanish friends from yesterday have a well- developed plan and Whitsun, Gift and myself are here to make sure it goes smoothly, hence their presence in Cambridge. When they discovered that you were in Cambridge too, they had to act quickly to remove you, so you would do nothing to inadvertently…”

  “Alter your plans?”

  “Yes. But Whitsun and Gift failed, of course, and now your actions in the torture chamber have put everything back. The Spanish assassination cell will shortly discover that three of their colleagues have mysteriously disappeared and they will very likely abandon the plot.”

  Jack tried to follow Pendelshape’s logic. “So now that this has all happened, your next step must be to infiltrate the assassination cell to make sure that the plot still goes ahead. Right?”

  “Correct. With Elizabeth dead, stage one is complete.”

  “How do you, er… they plan to kill her?”

  Pendelshape refilled the coffee cups in front of them. “That, my dear boy, would be a little too much information. But it is all set out in the letter that Marlowe gave you. That is why it was important to prevent it reaching Walsingham. Without it, and with Marlowe safely in the hands of the Spanish, Walsingham and the crown are none the wiser…” Pendelshape patted his sides absent-mindedly. “In fact, where did I put the letter?” Jack and Angus looked at each other. “No matter – I will find it in a minute… Anyway, we know all the details of the Spanish plot and it will not take much to get it back on track. Everything is in position.”

  Jack’s head was spinning as he tried to assimilate Pendelshape’s words. There was one question that their old teacher had not answered.

  “Why are you telling us all this?”

  Pendelshape paused before he spoke. “We need to make some decisions. Or to be more precise – you do.”

  Jack’s brow furrowed.

  “It’s your choice really. You can come with me and join the Revisionists – as we suggested before. Your father is right – just like VIGIL we must also seek to train the next generation. The irony of this great power we have – this power to change history – is that we are still mortal. I will not be here for ever. We need to recruit and train new followers to continue our work. They will ensure that the course of history continues to be maintained for the benefit of the human race. Who better than yourselves to start this process? With you on our side, your father, with his great intellectual gifts, will rejoin us and nothing will stop us then. VIGIL will be destroyed and we will change the world and then keep it changed – for good. This is the opportunity before you.” His eyes glinted. “To spell it out – I am offering you one final chance.”

  “And if we don’t join you?”

  Pendelshape quietly reached into his holster and pulled out the gun they had seen him wield in the cellar. He pointed it across the table at them. “If you choose not to – I’m afraid you leave me with no option. I do not have the same family concerns as your father. If you continue to side with VIGIL and meddle in our plans, you must be removed. If and when I see your father again, I will explain, with great sorrow of course, that you were – what’s the expression? Collateral damage.”

  He cocked the gun.

  “I need your decision, gentlemen.”

  Pendelshape held the gun steadily, less than a metre from Jack’s face. Jack’s heart raced. He had already witnessed the casual attitude that Pendelshape could take to a human life. His whole demeanour would change, bringing a cold, dead look to his eyes. Pendelshape had that look now. Jack had no doubt that he would carry out his threat. The irony was, of course, that Pendelshape was giving the boys exactly the opportunity that Inchquin had hoped for when VIGIL had sent them back. Their mission was to gain Pendelshape’s confidence and infiltrate the Revisionists. On the spur of the moment at VIGIL HQ it had seemed like a good idea; but now, faced with the reality, it was frightening and confusing. Without contact with Tony and Gordon, they had no support, no back-up and no way of communicating with VIGIL. But with Pendelshape’s pistol hanging menacingly in the air in front of them, it looked like they had no option.

  Through the small kitchen window Jack heard a strange noise. It was a sort of muffled jangling. Suddenly, an object appeared outside the window. The object arced slowly from the left side of the window across to the right. As it moved it bobbed up and down. Through the fog of the steamed-up window it was difficult to make out what it actually was. But it was colourful. In fact, it had yellow and red stripes. As far as Jack could discern, for some inexplicable reason, a large jester’s hat was flying backwards and forwards outside with no visible means of support. Pendelshape was understandably distracted by the strange apparition. He rubbed the misted window to get a better look.

  “What on earth…?”

  Suddenly, the small wooden door on the opposite side of the kitchen flew open. Harry Fanshawe stood in the doorway brandishing a full-length musket – he looked almost as scared as Jack and Angus had been feeling. For a moment the musket wobbled uneasily in his hands. Pendelshape swivelled away from the window and jumped to his feet, levelling his gun at Fanshawe. Fanshawe panicked, shut his eyes and pulled the trigger of the mighty blunderbuss. The flintlock slammed down into the breach and there was an odd delay before the powder inside ignited. When it did, it was as if the whole house had been detonated. The musket recoiled so hard it lifted Fanshawe off his feet and threw him nearly two metres back through the kitchen door. Pendelshape screamed as the crude lead shot embedded itself in his thigh. He immediately fell to the ground, clutching his leg with one hand. Somehow he had the presence of mind to retain his grip on the gun and he squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew into the ceiling and a shower of plaster rained into the room.

  Before Pendelshape could fire again, Angus heaved the wooden kitchen table on its side and, using it as a shield, he and Jack retreated from the kitchen. Pendelshape squirmed on the floor, but with the boys protected by the screen of wood, he was unable to get a clear aim. He roared in frustration and fired off a volley of shots. The table in Angus’s hands jarred violently as each bullet hit; the wood splintered but the bullets did not get through. They reached the door and Angus dropped the table, leaving it as a horizontal barrier across the threshold. They pulled Fanshawe back to his feet and sprinted out of the cottage into the yard, leaving Pendelshape inside, trapped but still armed.

  Outside, Trinculo and Monk had the horses ready. Trinculo put away his jester’s hat which, with a large stick poked inside, had been the source of Pendelshape’s distraction. Jack rode up behind Angus.

  “Let’s go!” Fanshawe shouted and they galloped off.

  But Angus waited. “Are we just going to leave him there?”

  “What choice do we have? He’s well equipped – he’s not going to die.”

  “That’s what I mean, Jack. We could end it all right here.”

  “He’s armed – in case you didn’t notice.”

  “We could burn the cottage down or something.”

  Jack punched Angus in the back. “You’re not serious? He might be mad and he might be okay with going around killing people randomly, but we’re not – remember?”

  “Yeah, right, sorry. So what then? Try and take him prisoner or something? Remember our mission.”

  Their conversation was cut short. The front door of the cottage flew open and Pendelshape staggered towards them, zombie-like, brandishing his pistol and firing wildly from a fresh magazine.

  “Okay – screw the mission.” Angus jabbed his heels into the horse and they shot off down the farm track after Fanshawe and Trinculo.

  *

  It took them two hours to travel back into London. They eventually located a small pub in one of the many roads off Eastcheap. As usual, the city was mobbed, and even assuming Pendelshape recovered from the wound that Fan
shawe had inflicted, he would never find them there.

  “So why did you come back, Harry?” Jack asked as they huddled around a small table at the back of the inn. Fanshawe had ordered bread, cheese and a round of ale. They talked between mouthfuls.

  “It’s simple, Jack – you saved my life and I could tell that man was trouble. I decided to follow you.”

  “To the farm?”

  “Yes. Late last night I returned to find help and Trinculo and Monk agreed to come with me this morning. We got the musket from the Rose. It is used on stage sometimes. We brought it just in case. But then everything happened so quickly.” There was a pause as Fanshawe looked at Jack with a serious expression. “What’s going on, Jack? Who are all these people – the Spaniards, those men in Cambridge? And, and… what did you do to those men in the torture cellar?”

  Fanshawe, Trinculo and Monk stared at him. There was silence as Jack searched for inspiration. “We are not sure either, Harry, but we seem to have got ourselves caught up in something that we shouldn’t have. I think it all started when we met Marlowe. The letter from Marlowe describes a Spanish plot against England. Marlowe is a double agent – he works for the Spanish but also for Walsingham. He betrayed us to save his own skin. They tracked us down to London to stop us giving the letter to Walsingham and uncovering the plot.”

  Fanshawe looked confused. “But what about – Pendelwright – what did you call him?”

  “Pendelshape.” Jack had to lie. “We learned that Pendelshape is one of the plotters too. He is a fanatical Catholic. He removed us from the house because it was too dangerous there and was trying to get more information out of us – but we don’t understand why he let you go.”

  “And then…” Fanshawe’s eyes opened in wonder. “Your magic orb – how did it make them disappear?”

  Jack’s imagination was working overtime. “It’s a weapon, Harry. Italian – they’re always coming up with strange stuff. We got to know a couple of older students from Genoa… when we were at Cambridge… they, er, sold one to us. You know what it’s like these days, you need to be able to defend yourself.” It was a terrible lie – but it was the best Jack could come up with. Anyway, the truth was far harder to believe.