Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(162)

She smiled. Message received.

Though she’d not been expecting it, a heal shield arrived a few minutes later. She applied the shield to her arm to cover the wound. It would sped the healing, cut the pain and look remarkably like her own skin.

“Thanks, Ralph,” she said, tucking her sleeve around the nearly invisible shield. When it finally evaporated the wound would be healed, though the suture marks would still be there. That was okay.

She set the interface to roust her out at eight in the morning. Until then, she was off-duty.

The coordinates Ralph had given her turned out to be quite specific. London Bridge. As she stood near the railing, feeling the breeze against her face, she checked the interface dial again.

“Another three hundred feet out.” Which put the location in the middle of the Thames.

Copeland wasn’t stupid. He knew not to transfer into water. That was a death sentence.



“He had no choice, I suspect,” someone observed.

Anderson. He hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“So how can you just appear in the middle of a bridge without anyone thinking that’s weird? Except me, of course.”

“You’d be amazed what we humans will ignore,” he replied.

She peered down into the water. “I sent Copeland to…” she waved to indicate the future. “Why did he bounce back here?”

“His future bosses did not appreciate his failure, so they diverted him. It’s a very unpleasant way of dealing with failure.”

“That’s why he looked so terrified,” she murmured. “I figured it was because he’d have to face Klein.”

“The Government was the least of his problems.”

“Who are those future bosses?”

Anderson leaned against the rail, watching a boat glide underneath the bridge. “We’re not particularly sure. It’s much like here—you can’t quite put your finger on who is pulling the strings.”

“Why didn’t you just tell Morrisey about the coins in the first place?”

“Some things we knew, some things we didn’t. As it was, we’ve done a lot of meddling here, more than we probably should have.”

“What sort of meddling?”

He looked over at her. “I was with Inspector Ramsey throughout the Keats’ investigation. Though he didn’t need much help, I made sure he was aware of any clues he’d missed. I was the one who persuaded the academics to loan you their interfaces, and I convinced the police commissioner to allow you and Morrisey to handle the bombs in the East End.”

“That’s a lot of messing around,” she said, astounded. “I thought that was a no-no.”

“It used to be, but now we seem to be involved in the time stream more than ever. I can’t say I like that.”

“We?”

Anderson shook his head. “I’ve told you too much as it is.”

That was fair. “What about Defoe?”

“His mind will never be right again. He must stay in our time. We’ll keep him safe.”



“Theo isn’t going to like that,” she protested.

“We know, but there’s no other choice. We have no idea why our counterparts want him so badly. Until we do, he’s at risk.”

Farther downstream, a boat departed from a landing, heading to the far shore.

She had to ask the question. “Is this how my timeline was supposed to fall out?”

Anderson shook his head. “Much like the doctor and the sergeant, your life is now on a new thread.”

“It was Chris’ death, wasn’t it? Things felt wrong from that point on.”

Anderson nodded. “His accidental death triggered a time swell that rippled through the stream.”

And brought Theo and me together.

She straightened up. “Do me a favor—make sure Defoe attends Adelaide Winston’s funeral.”

The Future opened his mouth in protest, but she waved him off. “That’s not negotiable, Mr. Anderson. That’s what you owe me.”

There was a deep sigh. “I will see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” Cynda relaxed, gazing out at the Thames. “Why the Armageddon scenario?”

“It was the opening they needed to replace some of the key figures in Victorian politics with shape-shifters. It would have been easy during the upheaval. There are some who believe the Transitives should reveal themselves before 2062. That’s a mistake, of course, because it significantly alters history.”

“So does London burning like a Yule log. Why not let the shifters come out?” she insisted. “It’s going to happen anyway.”

Anderson shook his head. “The outcome of the Second World War would not have been to our advantage. They play a key part in overthrowing the Axis powers. If they are revealed now, that would not happen. Changes would ripple upstream.” Anderson paused, pitching his voice lower. “It was not a decision we made lightly.”



“What about the Null Mems?”

“Those are your problem. We have enough of our own.”

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“What matters to us is that our foes have lost this round. There will be other plots, though I suspect not in ’88. This patch of time is significantly more stable now.”