Time Riders

CHAPTER 19

2066, New York

Karl listened to the radio traffic coming in from his men. From their quick burstsof distorted cross-talk, it sounded as if they were doing a good job of keeping the policearmed-response teams tied down. Both flanking teams had called in at least a dozen killsbetween them. The police were getting chewed-up out there from the snatched exchanges he couldhear over his earpiece.

But already two of his men were dead.

Rudy had gone down early — took several rounds in the chest. Aden, one in the head: dead before he hit the ground.

His men were buying time all right, but they couldn’t afford to lose too many. Theycouldn’t afford to lose any, if truth be told. There wereonly two dozen of them. Twenty-four men… not exactly an army. Hardly enough to conquerhistory.

He tapped his throat mic. ‘All units fall back to the basement stairwell. Immediately.Keep your heads down. I don’t want any more casualties.’

‘Doing our bloody best, Karl,’ one of them called back. He recognizedPieter’s voice. One of the other men laughed over the radio comms.

The intensity of chattering gunfire increased momentarily as both teams laid down suppressingfire before hastily abandoning their positions to fall back to the mainhall.

Karl turned to Saul. ‘Ready? They’ll need covering fire.’

Kramer watched the fourth cageful of equipment vanish amid a shower of sparks. Hejust prayed to God that their invaluable equipment and his men were all going to end up in thesame spot, rather than scattered throughout history.

He looked around. Most of the kit had gone through.

‘So now,’ he said, ‘we need to start sending people.’

Max pulled his Arctic-camouflage jacket from his backpack. ‘I’ll go first,sir.’

‘Good man, Max.’

He zipped up his jacket, unslung his pulse rifle and offered Kramer a crisp, clipped salutebefore stepping confidently into the cage.

‘You ready?’

‘Yes, sir. Ready to change history, sir.’

Kramer nodded. ‘To change it to the way it should havebeen.’

‘That’s right, sir.’

Kramer saluted the man. He felt self-conscious making the gesture, having never been themilitary type — but it seemed like the right thing to do. ‘I’ll see you onthe other side with the others, Max.’

‘I’ll see you too, sir.’

Kramer hit the purge icon.

The last of Karl’s flanking men raced across the main hall towards where heand Saul were holding position in the open doorway to the stairwell.

Moments later several gas canisters rattled across the dusty marble floor of the hall andinstantly spewed clouds of acrid smoke.

Karl’s men squeezed past him, gasping and winded from theirsprint.

‘There’re loads of ’em,’ said someone. ‘It’scrawlin’ with ’em out there!’

‘Down the stairs!’ Karl shouted. ‘And set up a defence position below atthe basement entrance! Go! Go!’

The men trampled downstairs, their heavy boots and equipment packs jangling noisily.

Karl aimed down the barrel of his automatic, his night-sight HUD of little use through thebillowing smoke. He fired off a dozen rounds into it, more in the hope of forcing their headsdown than in hitting a target.

The kill zone was too wide here for just the two of them to hold. They’d be betterwithdrawing with the others and holding the stairwell at the bottom. The police would beforced to bunch up on the stairs. A much better kill zone.

‘Go, Saul, go!’

‘Sir?’

‘Down to the basement. Go!’

Saul followed the other men down, leaving him alone in the doorway. Karl pulled threemanual-fuse anti-personnel grenades from his belt and set fuse times a minute apart. He tossedthe first out into the hall, dropped the second at the top of the stairwell and turned roundto scramble down the first two flights of stairs, where he placed the third grenade.

He raced down the third flight of stairs to the bottom of the stairwell.

‘Hold your fire!’ he called out in the dim light as he descended.‘It’s me! It’s Karl!.. Hold your fire!’ His voice echoed off thehard breeze-block walls.

His men were waiting, eighteen of them, tucked behind a barricade of boxes and crates hastilybuilt across the open doorway leading to the museum’s vast storagebasement.

‘Excellent work,’ he said, slapping the shoulder of the nearest man as heclambered over to join them. ‘There’s a three-minute spread of grenades up there,which should slow them down.’

He looked around at his men. ‘How many did we lose?’

‘Another two,’ said Saul. ‘Dexter and Schwartz.’

His face tightened.

Not good.

‘Karl? What about them?’ asked one of his men, nodding at the museum’ssecurity guards huddled together a few yards away beside another stack of crates andboxes.

‘Do we kill them?’ he asked.

Karl bit his lip in thought for a moment. They were no threat. Old men, frightened men.He’d let them go up the stairs, but the chances were they’d be gunned down themoment they stepped out into the main hall.

‘All right, Joseph, tell them they should go find a quiet corner and hide. Wait untilthe gunfight is over.’

‘OK.’

‘Oh, and tell them to make sure they call out to the police first before they show themselves. They’ll be trigger-twitchy.’

Joseph grinned and nodded. He obviously shared the same opinion of the dunderheadsupstairs.

Amateurs. Big boots, big guns and no brains.

The first charge went off in the hall with a dull thump.

Karl put a hand to his earpiece and nodded. He turned to his men. ‘Ross, Pieter,Stefan, Joseph. Head down there,’ he said, gesturing towards a narrow passageway betweentwo tall storage racks on their left. ‘Kramer is down there. He has the machine runningnow and is sending us back one at a time. You four are first.’

The men nodded and headed into the passage.

The second charge went off at the top of the stairs. Louder. Rubble anddebris rattled down the steps.

This is it, Karl, he told himself. Thelast holding position.