The Doomsday Code

CHAPTER 34

1194, Oxford Castle, Oxford

‘This will ensure you have the full co-operation of that bumbling fool,’ said John.

Liam looked down at the roll of parchment in his hand. It was sealed with a blob of wax in which John Lackland’s royal crest had been impressed.

‘What is it, Sire?’

‘Orders for the Sheriff of Nottingham to give you anything that you need in hunting down this Hooded Man and his bandits.’ He pursed his lips with wry amusement. ‘Should that useless fool, the Sheriff William De Wendenal, object to this, or prove obstructive in any way, you may assume the office yourself. These papers confer that authority to you.’

‘You mean … I’d be Sheriff of Nottingham?’

‘’Tis so if necessity requires.’

‘Cool,’ Liam chuckled.

‘Aye,’ said John, looking around at the courtyard. The readied horses blew plumes of steam and overhead the grey winter’s sky tumbled uneasily, promising another light flurry of snow. Cool indeed. ‘But it shall warm up soon, though, I warrant.’

Stern-faced soldiers stood nearby, rubbing gloved hands and stamping their feet to stay warm. ‘I give you a dozen of my best guards to take up to Nottingham with you. They are all good men. I trust them. They will take your orders as if they were mine.’ John glanced at Bob, now equipped with a chain-mail hauberk over his wide torso, a chain-mail coif protecting his coconut head and a long sword in a sheath attached to a belt of leather cinched tight round his waist. ‘Mind you, if your big friend is half the fighter as you say … I should think you’ll not need them?’

Liam looked at them and struggled hard not to grin proudly.

My own little army of tin soldiers.

‘I’d like to hang on to them, please,’ said Liam.

John frowned for a moment, then understood what he meant. ‘’Tis so, then.’ He placed a hand on Liam’s shoulder. ‘Bring me back what was taken, Liam. Before ’tis too late.’

He nodded. ‘Aye, Sire. We’ll get it back.’

‘I do have one condition I insist on.’ He nodded at Becks. ‘Lady Rebecca will stay here in Oxford with me.’

Liam drew back. ‘What?’

John tipped his head subtly and a pair of soldiers appeared from nowhere and grasped her upper arms. Liam heard the scrape of a sword being drawn and Bob getting ready to swing it.

‘Bob, stop!’ he shouted. He spun round to face Becks. Already she had one hand round the throat of the unfortunate man to her right, squeezing his larynx. His eyes bulged and his feet shuffled and scraped against the flagstones.

‘Becks! Put him down!’

She stared at the man defiantly for a moment, before releasing her grip. ‘As you wish.’ The man gasped, dropped to his knees hacking and coughing up phlegm on to the ground.

John puffed anxiously. ‘Good grief!’

‘She’s a feisty one, Sire,’ said Cabot. ‘She can fight just as well as any man I’ve seen.’

‘So it appears,’ said John. ‘Nonetheless I insist she remain here until you return with … it.’

They could fight their way out of here, out of the keep. Liam knew that between Bob and Becks this courtyard would be nothing but a carpet of dead and dying men on the flagstones inside a minute. But he suspected a more intelligent solution was needed.

‘May my friends and I talk in private for a moment, Sire?’

John sniffed. ‘If you wish.’ He waved a hand and the soldier standing beside Becks helped his colleague to his feet and took him across the courtyard to join the other guards, where a soft hubbub of laughter and ribbing ensued — a grown man, a King’s guard … bettered by a girl!

John took a dozen slow steps back from Liam and started humming tunelessly.

Liam, Becks, Bob and Cabot converged and began talking with muted voices.

‘We should stay together!’ said Liam. ‘You’ll miss the return window if we leave you down here!’

‘The scheduled window,’ said Bob, ‘is due in three days, one hour and — ’

‘The one-hour back-up window will follow and there will be another after that in ten days’ time,’ interrupted Becks. ‘We also have the final back-up set for five months, twenty-six days, one hour and seventeen minutes from now.’

Liam realized Becks seemed to be making a point. ‘You’re suggesting you stay here?’

‘Affirmative. There may be an opportunity to acquire tactically useful data here: additional information on the Treyarch Confession.’

Bob nodded. ‘She is correct. Also, now that we have a method of communication with the field office we will also be able to provide them a separate time and location stamp for Becks.’

He was right, they could open a portal right here for her. She wouldn’t need to make her way up to Kirklees. Liam looked at her. ‘You’re OK with this?’

‘It is the correct tactical choice,’ she replied.

Liam glanced at John, looking up impatiently at the sky and still humming. ‘I think he’s got a bit of a thing for you, Becks.’

‘A thing?’

‘You know … I think he fancies you.’

Cabot snorted a dry laugh, then quickly blessed himself with a guilty glance to the heavens.

‘Yes! You’ll have to be careful!’

‘I will be able to deal with him,’ she replied calmly. ‘I will use his … desires and motivations … to my advantage.’

‘You can’t let him know you’re some sort of robot from the future,’ said Liam. ‘Do you understand? That’s too much contamination.’

Becks studied Liam for a moment, then her cold, emotionless face seemed to melt, transforming into a warm and sensual smile. She tossed her dark hair for good measure. Liam felt something flutter inside him … desire?

Oh come on, Liam. Meat robot, remember?

‘My AI has already learned much. I have observed female rituals. I have also read Harry Potter. I know what body language and verbal inflections work most efficiently on human males.’ The smile remained on her face — teasing, encouraging, bewitching. She even managed a wink: clumsy and forced, but still enough to make his heart flutter. ‘I will be fine, Liam O’Connor.’

She will at that.

Liam nodded. ‘All right, then. You stay here. See what you can find out. We’ll let the field office know exactly where you are so they can beam a tachyon signal to you. If something goes wrong, Becks … if for some reason Maddy doesn’t contact you with a schedule for a window here, make sure you get to Kirklees in time for the six-monther. Do you understand?’

‘Affirmative. I have no wish to self-terminate.’

‘All right, then … that’s that.’ He looked at Bob and Cabot, nodded, then turned to face John. ‘Lady Rebecca agrees to stay, so she does.’

‘Of course she does,’ said John. ‘I will make her most comfortable.’

Liam stepped forward and offered John a polite nod. ‘We’ll be off now, Sire.’

‘Please waste no time, Liam,’ said John. A momentary flicker of tension crossed his face. ‘I have heard rumours King Richard is already in France.’

‘We’ll be back before you can say pog mo thoin.’

John’s heavy brows locked in mild confusion again. For a moment his lips pursed as if he was going to actually have a go at saying it.

‘It’s just a turn of phrase where I come from, Sire.’

‘Right.’ He dismissed Liam with a curt nod. Liam turned and pulled himself up into the back of Cabot’s cart. Bob followed him up, the cart’s axles creaking under his weight.

‘It has been good to see an old friend again,’ John called out to Cabot. ‘Lord knows ’tis been a while since I’ve had one.’

‘We shan’t return empty-handed, Sire.’ Cabot clacked his tongue and goaded the horses to life with a sharp tug on the reins. The cart slowly clattered forward across flagstones towards the castle’s front gate. Liam looked out of the back canvas to see the men — his men — forming up and dutifully falling in behind them: a short column of ruddy-faced soldiers in dull chain mail, marching heavily in their wake.

He caught one last glimpse of Becks, that teasing smile of hers packed away for later use. She nodded a farewell at him as they clattered beneath the archway and out on to the bridge.