Chapter 4

Everything around me changed in a blur, the Arctic landscape disappeared to be replaced by the interior of a shopping mall. I could hear piped music.

I was shivering despite the heated environment, with sunlight streaming through the glass roof, exhausted due to my exertions running through the tundra and the woods, but I was still absolutely chilled to the bone. I was dressed in my wringing wet and decidedly distressed tuxedo. I looked like I’d been through an assault course in Lapland. I was shivering uncontrollably. I was cold, wet and could hardly feel my frozen fingers.

I looked behind me to where I had run from and there was no sign of Clinton. However, I thought, was he transported back in time and presently laying 100 yards behind me? That would put him in the car park among the cars. I ran down the corridor and out into the warm summer morning sunshine and checked down several rows. There were only cars in that car park, no sign of my adversary.

I knew where I would find him, though, or at least an earlier version of him. One that wouldn’t know who I was from Adam. He would be a fairly new arrival in Cambridge, late of Yale University. And he would be a lot younger.

I walked back into the mall. There in front of me was Terry, who was clearly concerned at my breathless, distressed appearance, and grasped my cold, clammy hand. The hot blood in my core was still trying to warm my chilled extremities.

“Are you alright, honey?” Terry asked, probably thinking I was ill. “What brought this on, sweetheart?”

She helped me sit down in the seat of a fast food area of the shopping mall. “You were fine a half-hour ago and now you are both hot and cold, you must be running a fever. And why did you go home and get changed into your tux? And you’re soaking wet, is that ice on the bottom of your trousers? And you’ve cut your head! Have you been fighting?”

I put my hand to my head and there was blood on my fingers. I must’ve been cut from running through the branches thirty thousand and one year into the future.

“Honey, I need to find a toilet and get cleaned up. Can you quickly buy me a change of clothing? Some cheap jeans, tee-shirt and a jacket or top?”

“Sure, I can get some sale stuff from Sports Direct that will do for now. The toilets are over there, I’ll meet you out in front of the loos in ten minutes. Honestly, honey, I leave you in the café for thirty minutes while I shop for underwear and you go crazy on me!”

I checked my wallet while I walked to the toilets, trying to ignore the looks I was getting from passers-by, and noticed that my new credit card in only my name was not going to be valid for another seven months. The account in my own name was created after we separated and therefore would not be in existence. Fortunately, I still had a debit card in both our names that was currently valid a year in my past.

My finances are always up to date, I am rather anal about it. I check it on-line every couple of days, so I always know exactly how much we have in our (or more recently my) current account at any time, but that running total in my head was a year into the future and I had no idea how much we currently had available. I remembered that money was pretty tight for a couple of years or so before, due to the mortgage on the apartment. I would have to get to an ATM from what was our bank and run out a mini statement or at least a balance.

My face and head had been whipped by frozen fir tree branches and my temple was cut within the hairline above and slightly in front of the right ear. I couldn’t quite see it and didn’t think it was too deep but there was some blood seepage. There were no paper towels, only automatic hand driers. I used some wetted toilet paper to clean up the blood. My tux was pretty well ruined. My court shoes had lost their shine and the leather somewhat crusted and would never again be much good even for everyday wear, but they would do for now.

Outside, Terry provided me with a carrier bag of new clothing. In one of the toilet kiosks I changed my ruined jacket, dress shirt and trousers and stuffed them into the now empty bag. I put on the new clothes, noting that I was now a whole lot thinner than I was last time I was a year younger. I had difficulty saying “then” about a time and events in my immediate “past” yet happened a year into the future. Crazy? That’s what Terry had just suggested I was, and if she knew what I was anticipating doing later that day she would know for certain that I was.

Terry and I sat in the coffee bar area and I told her not to ask any questions but to trust me.

Once she assured me that she would both trust me and whatever I felt I needed to do, I told her I wasn’t crazy but I had something vital that I had to put into action and I couldn’t delay because two people, strangers, had planned to hurt us in the very near future and I had to stop them.

I told Terry that I couldn’t reveal my source, nor could I tell her what I was going to do and added that I was probably not coming back for a couple of weeks or so. I would almost certainly be arrested and have serve some time in prison, but what I had to do was for both of us, for our future. I said that once I had done what I had to do and we were in the clear, I would tell her everything, if she really wanted to know. We kissed and embraced and I walked to the station, via the bank, from where I was able to withdraw sufficient resources I needed just for today.

I caught the train to London and travelled through the underground to Liverpool Street and boarded the next train to Cambridge, arriving there just after lunch. During the journey I searched for Clinton, Cambridge and maths on Google through my mobile phone and found his details and his lecture itinerary. That was almost a problem, as the phone wouldn’t activate at first. I had to call the mobile phone provider and activate the sim card, which meant another hit on my debit card. Fortunately, most of the functionality of the phone was restored, at least accessing the Internet was simple. Clinton Curtis was considered a boy genius, with knowledge of mathematics and experienced in life way beyond his years. Wikipedia said the precious Yale professor was only 12. Yes, right! I could understand now how that had come about. He was lecturing that afternoon in a Cambridge hall.