Professor Prayfield's Expeditions: Shards of Lost Time (Read novel online for free)

Nick Koriagin Published on May 7, 2025

Professor Prayfield's Expeditions:
Shards of Lost Time

novel by Nick Koriagin

original version

English draft

PART I.

CHAPTER 1

Adelie cried silently and smoked.

The smoke irritated her eyes, already red from tears, make-up and sleeplessness, and the long-forgotten taste of tobacco was far worse than she remembered - but Adela didn't care now.

She felt nothing.

A couple of sparks fell down and the girl spent a glance at them. "Melted right away..." The girl involuntarily clenched her fingers on the railing of the wrought iron balcony, thought and put the cigarette butt in the paint can, already full of cigarettes. Around her, the evening Lyon lived its life, and far below, cars floated leisurely in the traffic flow, glowing with the red light of parking lights. A smooth, chaotic movement that would never end.

A warm autumn breeze touched her face and blew her blonde hair. Adelie fixed it with a finger and looked at the groups of random passers-by. So happy, so free...

- You busty bitch! - Adele finally got it out.

She coughed hoarsely, ashamed of herself. A second gust of wind blew cold, and tears sprang from her reddened eyes again. She wiped herself with the sleeve of her old jumper, cursed silently at the black stains, and stepped off the balcony and back into the room.

She closed the door behind her, took off her dirty jumper and threw it in the corner of the bed, on top of a pile of torn letters and photographs, too many to clean up quickly, and she didn't want to. So Adélie swept them tiredly to the floor, to the broken frame and fragments of glass, adjusted the pillow under her head and stretched out, looking up at the ceiling: the only place where nothing had been smashed or broken yet. It was a little infuriating, but the Frenchwoman caught herself thinking that without the chaos in her side-vision, the white canvas of the ceiling-which was almost free of cracks and irregularities-was comforting. Maybe a little too much so.

Adelie sighed, closed her blue eyes, and turned on her side, resting her head on her closed palms. Her right arm was a little sore, a fresh bruise from a blow that had nearly shattered her cheekbone. If someone had told her that such a thing was possible... "What do you see in her, Andre?" - the girl thought and shrank into a lump. - "What made her better? Loved harder? Was smarter? Or did she just spread her legs every time, ready to please...?"

Probably the last one.

Fucking bitch.

She'd sensed something wrong a week ago when she'd noticed the ajar newspaper slot in the downstairs door. She was always a little queasy when the postman delivered bills, but Adélie was not expecting any correspondence that day. The musician had joked back then, but the girl thought his laughter was a little forced.

And then she found the damn number.

Adélie and André met at the Louvre five years ago, in 1961. She was barely eighteen at the time, and it was her first trip to Paris. There was a long queue for Caravaggio's work, so she decided to look at Velazquez. Adela did not really like his style, but was interested in Renaissance painting - especially the contrast of light and shadow, giving a special expressiveness of faces and poses. All those idle Florentines, dressed-up guards, and Venetian doges with puffed collars in the artistic half-darkness... "They look like pompous turkeys - or like politicians in an election race," said a stranger who happened to be nearby, smiled in response to a chuckle, and introduced himself. Adelie didn't know that she would spend the next years with this man - and they would be happy and peaceful, the best years of her young life that had just begun... If only she hadn't called that number.

Though what would have changed if she had brushed off the innuendos and inconsistencies? It wasn't conjecture or an abrupt conclusion based on emotion. They'd been in contact for a long time, seen behind her back. From her voice and the way the stranger on the wire had called her beau's name, Jeanette realised how long she'd been deceiving herself.

"It's your own fault, you fool. Not seeing for so long..."

The girl turned her back to the wall and squeezed herself into a ball. The tears started coming again, but there was no point in quenching them now. There was emptiness inside, silence... and a painful, strange relief. "The worst has happened. There will be no wedding."

How long she'd been saving for it! She'd saved for the last two years from her salary as a newspaper artist and private draughtsman, planned it up and down... Why had he done that? No matter how long it took... he knew it would hurt her if the truth came out. She's not stupid... or is she?

Anyway, now she was alone again. Broken, in an empty and chilly flat, five years older and ten times more vulnerable than before... free to go wherever she wants, to do whatever she wants.

"It's not your fault," Adelie imagined the quiet voice of her long dead father and smeared her damp mascara with her fist again, "It's not your fault," you would have told me so." The girl exhaled and whispered, turning to the void:

- I've really tried, I've dedicated myself. I didn't give the slightest reason to doubt myself, I left my friends and family, I tried to be strong and faithful....

"And it turns out I'm playing this game alone."

The Frenchwoman exhaled heavily and turned onto her back. She was about to adjust the uncomfortably crumpled pillow when a thought occurred to her that she had always pushed away before, saving it for later and for a better time.

Travelling.

Get out of my seat and onto the train.

When, if not now?

She had long wanted to see the rest of Europe, to visit the States, to visit England... to see how people of other cultures and traditions lived, to get away, to have new experiences and to get bored at home. She had been held back by a sense of responsibility, by thoughts of a future she was passionate about, and she worked day after day, saving every franc and fighting for every opportunity to earn a little more, to cling even harder to the weak position of a young, unknown, unmarried girl from the provinces who wanted to achieve everything on her own - and would have done so if it had not been for that meeting at the museum.

You've broken me to pieces," Jeanette thought, "but you haven't destroyed me. I'll put myself back together again, to spite you and people like you. Stronger, wiser, freer and happier. I'll prove to myself that I can do it all on my own."

The girl straightened up and got up from the old bed. She adjusted her bra, ran a comb through her not long but dishevelled blonde hair. She looked out of the window, where the first rays of the quiet dawn were already on the fountain of the Piazza del Terro, pulled back the tulle, which was almost torn from the curtains, and opened the oak chest of drawers to take out her travelling bag and the travel documents she had prepared when she was young.

When Adélie finished her quick packing, left a note with the money for her landlady, and took one last look around the flat, she realised that she hadn't decided where she was going. For a second she was afraid - was she really starting this adventure? What would she do in a new place, without a job and new money? Would she be able to make new friends and mend her broken heart? Jeanette threw up her hands, clenched her fists and bit her plump lip to calm her excitement. "Calm down, everything will be fine. I'll solve all the problems, on my own. I've got the money, I just need a holiday and time alone, which I can afford. It's okay." And it didn't matter where exactly she went - any point as a first destination would do.

Jeanette thought for a moment and smiled. Once she had started learning German.....

- See you in Bonn, new life.

***

...When the girl finally reached Germany a day later, she got off the last train and left the central station, she almost hurt herself: a policeman chasing someone crashed into her and from the surprise she almost dropped her densely packed bag.

- Enschuldigung," the moustached gendarme apologised, stopped Adele from falling and then switched to broken English: "Das ist moi vin, sorren! Did you hurt yourself?

- Vilen dank," the panting traveller nodded and clutched her valise, "it's all right. What's going on?

- Strassenunruen, Studien... - the man in uniform waved his hand unhappily, and only now Adélie noticed how many people were around. The whole street was crowded with young men and women carrying banners and placards; some of the crowd blocked the neighbouring road and shouted something in the direction of the honking cars and the policemen clumsily trying to stop the demonstration. The people kept arriving and arriving, and Adélie felt slightly afraid. And she thought West Berlin was not going to be easy.....

- Zami videit," the guard finished, struggling to find the words, "pesporjatki, proteste.

- But against what? What are they demanding?

The gendarme frowned:

- My sarabot isn't so big that I have to figure out what they're blabbing about. You should work and study, not make noise in the streets. The generation of rich bums... - Another demonstrator ran past with a shout and the policeman called out to him: - Hey, hey! Excuse me one more time, - the policeman apologised again and continued chasing the new offender: - Halt, ikh sag dihe! Stop!...

Adélie pressed herself to the edge of the street, bypassed the tram stop and headed up towards the city centre. Dozens and hundreds of neat young people and beautiful couples walked past her, holding hands and carrying homemade placards reading "We are for freedom!", "No to rapprochement with the Eastern Bloc!", "Capitalism is the same as fascism, we are tired of the Führers", "The Brandt government - resign!". The girl shuddered when she noticed a bottle and a rag in the hands of one of the protesters - he wiped it clean, removed the tin cap and took a few sips before offering it to his companion. Adélie shivered and quickened her step. "Great," she thought, "now you'll see a Molotov cocktail in every soda. Gotta give you pause." Fortunately, just nearby she saw the sign of a small café.

- Guten Tag," she said to the waitress as she took off her light coat, folded it on her travelling bag and sat down on the soft corduroy sofa. The young slim girl was about to put the menu in front of her guest, but Adélie stopped her with a tired wave of her hand: "Einen koffee, bitte. Cappuccino, if you have any?

- Naturlikh, one moment - the waitress nodded and made a couple of lines in her notebook, - Anything else you need? Moshete speaks English, I'll understand.

- Thank you," Adélie exhaled, squared her shoulders, and looked around. There was almost no one in the café, just some man with a newspaper at a table across the table; she hadn't even noticed him at first. In other circumstances Adelie would have sat at another table, but now she was too tired for such nonsense. And besides, she's only here for a while when the demonstration subsides. "Nice interior..." - Perhaps you have these, what are they called-" Adeli frowned, trying to remember the word, "-cheesecakes? Sorry, English isn't my first language either.

- It's okay," the brunette smiled. - Yes, we have a cheesecake, would you like a New York?

- Of course, thank you very much. - The traveller exhaled and made herself comfortable on the soft couch. - Danke schoen.

- You're welcome, thank you for stopping by.

The girl left, and Adélie looked out of the window again. People kept coming and going, the hum of voices was still, and a siren wailed somewhere. "I wonder," thought the Frenchwoman, "if I were in their place, would I be one of them too...? What could they possibly dislike? All the newspapers are writing about Germany's post-war economic miracle - or rather, the new German Republic. Things were not so good with the eastern part, which had been cared for by the Soviets - she had read that until a few years ago the people of East Berlin had been leaving in droves for the west, where wages and living standards were higher, so much so that they had decided to wall off the divided city after the war to formalise the separation of the two states. Of course, there was a lot of politics in this, which Adélie was not interested in at all, so she didn't care what was happening where; she had learnt about Stalin's death when she was twenty, and had a very vague idea about the Second World War (luckily she had been born during the German occupation of Paris)....

The girl felt someone's attention on her - and met her gaze with the stranger she had noticed in the hall earlier. He smiled welcomingly, put aside his morning paper and said in a low voice:

- Waiting out the storm, too?

The man was in his mid-forties, with dark hair and thick, low-hanging eyebrows. He had a serious, yet soft and kind look from under his narrow glasses (for some reason Adélie thought he looked like a high school teacher), attentive brown eyes, wide cheekbones, and a short grey beard. For some reason, the girl immediately felt trust in him.

- Y-yes," Adela grinned at the pun that came to mind, "the weather's not flying at all.

- That's right," the man nodded approvingly, added a few sugar cubes to his cup and stirred the tea, which was already quite warm. - You've just come from the railway station...?

- You got the bag?

- Not only that, ha-ha. - The traveller's neighbour in the hall adjusted his hat on his briefcase and looked around. - Tourists or passers-by often come here - I live nearby, I often eat here. You don't look like a local - just your accent.

- You have one, too," Adélie squinted. - It's barely noticeable.

- What's true is true," said the new acquaintance. - An immigrant will never leave his roots... no matter how much he wants to.

- Are you haunted by your past?

- I hope not. What about you?

- I don't know," Adélie sighed and lowered her eyes. - Running away from him.

- Did you leave something at home? - Her companion folded his hands carefully in front of him. The girl was silent.

- I don't have one. I never have.

- Then we have much in common. - The man made a warning sign, got up from his desk, walked over, bent down and extended his hand: - By the way, my name is Alexei, Alexei Vorobiev. I'm a surgeon in private practice.

- Soviet...? - Adelie was wary, reaching out her hand in response, and immediately mentally slapped herself in the face. What a stupid thing to say!

- You offend me, - shook his head Vorobyov and gently shook the girl's hand, then ironically grinned: - Although yes, of course, I am a spy for Moscow in the GDR, I collect intelligence information to send it to the Kremlin in a folder to Andropov.

- I'm sorry. - The Frenchwoman was really embarrassed. Judging a person by their name....

- Soviet doesn't mean Russian," Alexei continued a little stiffly and his voice trembled, "and Russian doesn't mean Soviet. - The girl wanted to squeeze into the chair, she thought she saw hidden pain and something Vorobiev would like to forget. But he had already softened and seemed to feel the inappropriateness of the outburst of emotion. - Sorry for the lecture, personal history. What's your name?

- Adélie. Adélie Dumont, I'm from Paris. - "I wonder what his story was..."

- Nice to meet you, Adeli. - Vorobiev folded his hands behind his back and thought about something. - As for our stories..." He sighed and pressed his lips together. - As a friend of mine once said a long time ago, "it's not our past that defines us, it's we who define it..." It doesn't matter where we come from, it matters where we go and who we become.

- I agree," Dumont nodded and only now noticed that Vorobyev was still standing on his feet. - You sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down.

- Thank you. - Alexei sat down at the other end of the table and folded his hands thoughtfully. - Eh, old chap...

Adélie looked at him sympathetically.

- Have you been away from your mate for a while?

The doctor shrugged his shoulders thoughtfully.

- Yeah, about five or six years now, I guess.

- Is something wrong?

- A small thing, as it seems now. - Vorobyev turned round to ask the waitress who had come in with cheesecake and coffee to bring him a cappuccino too. - I overreacted then, and he said too much... and so we broke up.

- It must have been sensitive," Dupont tasted the drink and tasted the dessert.

- Yes...this is the year my wife left me.

- My God," Adela exclaimed with her mouth full. - Not to your friend's, I hope?

- No... no. - Vorobiev sighed and raised his eyebrows. - 'It's a little more complicated there. But I'm not mad at her, not anymore. I think I even understand her now.

"What happened then...?"

- I'm glad you don't hold a grudge against your spouse," Dupont finally tasted the mini-cake and liked it very much. - Maybe you could make up with this friend too? - she said, offering the dessert to Vorobyov. He gestured refusal, frowned and folded his arms across his chest:

- Yeah, I've thought about it a lot. Fate brought us together from different countries and then scattered us back, but... time changes. We change... - Alexei looked at the ceiling, and then - directly into Adela's eyes: "I wish we could go back. We could go back to that glorious time of adventure and discovery, to see if we're too old for such reckless things....

Adélie Dupont was so taken by these words that she forgot about the cooling coffee.

- God, you make it sound so interesting," she whispered. - I'd like to help you build bridges. Can you tell me more about your friend?

- About Prayfield ? - Vorobyovcame back from his memories.

- Well... yeah?

- So," the doctor squinted his eyes and straightened up, "I still haven't told you his last name, and now you haven't reacted in any way.

- Was she supposed to? - Adélie squinted.

There was a pause.

- Wait a minute," Vorobiev frowned. - How old are you?

DuPont is ticked off about it.

- Enough not to answer a question like that.

- I'm sorry, that's not what I meant," Alexei apologised and paused. - You've never heard of Prayfield ? Edward Gregory Prayfield ...?

- N-no?

- Strange, they must have heard of him in Paris.

- I have lived in Paris, but I was not born in it," Adélie replied dryly.

- I'm sorry," Vorobyov turned back and was silent. - One of the few things I am truly proud of is knowing this man. In his time, he was a great, I won't say great, scientist. An inventor, a visionary. - The Russian emigrant smiled genuinely wide for the first time. - An indefatigable adventurer, a true Briton who was unstoppable. Wherever he and his team and I have been, you'd only know.....

- And you haven't spoken to each other in seven years," the girl crossed her arms over her chest.

- Five or six," Vorobiev looked down. - Yep.

Then the demonstrators outside the window thinned considerably. Adelie cut off another slice of cheesecake and held it out:

- You know, I'm just passing through on an impromptu round-the-world trip.

- A very unusual choice for a young lady," Vorobiev interjected, which Dupaul wanted to shush:

- ...don't start. If you'd like, I could give this Prayfield a message for you.

Vorobiev raised an eyebrow sceptically:

- Are you that indifferent to where you're going?

- Practically. - Adélie adjusted the folded jacket slipping off her travelling bag and finished her coffee. - Like I said," she continued, "I don't have anything to go back to. I want to start a new life.

- Well, good. - Alexei frowned and after a short silence said: - Yes, I'd like you to say hello. I tried to start a correspondence with him about three years ago, but then he stopped replying - I hope nothing happened.

- I'll tell him hello," the girl nodded seriously. - Where does he live?

- In the United States of America. - Vorobiev grinned again: - Eisenhower had personally given him citizenship after helping him find Hitler in the fifties.

- Oh wait...he did shoot himself in his bunker at the end of the war.

- Right, right, that's what they told everyone. - Vorobiev squinted his eyes and smiled: - So someone else got sucked into a black hole in the Peruvian jungle.

***

- That was a strange joke, Adélie thought, remembering the conversation to herself again as she walked down the escalator a few days later. She held the new suitcase by the tilted handle and looked down.

There weren't many people at John F. Kennedy Airport today. Rare couples, greeters and greeters, a couple of musicians with guitars, a hippie who got lost trying to figure out the layout of the halls... it was early Friday morning and some flights were postponed due to a light storm off the east coast.

Adelie checked the small watch on her hands-if she sped up a bit, she could catch a bus to New York... not the fastest, but the cheapest way to get to the "Capital of the World" to see the Empire State Building, the Golden Apple, and the newest construction, the Twin Towers South and North. When else should you see the world than now!

- What a suspicious person, look at her," someone said in a low voice behind Adela's back. She flinched, blinked, but decided not to show it.

-That's right," said a second voice, a little closer and older. - Why is she here all alone?

Adelie pursed her lips and turned around to her neighbours on the escalator ribbon above.

- Look...

- Sorry, ma'am," the blond policeman standing there was embarrassed, "we're not talking about you.

- Are you all right? - The second cop, an older, moustached brunette, asked. - Is there anything we can do for you?

- N-no, I'm sorry too.

Dupont turned back around with a slight sense of shame and prepared to descend to the hard surface. I wonder who those cops were talking about?

She set the suitcase on its wheels, rolled it aside, began to adjust her crumpled coat, and heard the policemen continue their conversation:

"Do you think we should check her ID?" "Come on, it's just a kid. Mum's probably gone to the shop... Fuck them, the Chinks. We got enough problems of our own. You heard about the Black Panthers? "Yeah, those coloureds are getting a lot of nerve."

The girl felt a twitch and wanted to grab onto something to steady her heart rate." The Land of the Free, eh?" - she thought with slight anger. It's easy for men to chop and label and move on without a second thought... it's their world, their rules. And anyone who doesn't fit into the norms, or who has the misfortune to be born the wrong sex..... "We're all coloureds and Chinamen."

Adelie clenched her fists, looked around, and spotted a short girl of about twelve. She had dark, close-cropped hair, clothes that had been darned many times over ("Interesting jacket... are those flight patches?"), and new, shiny shoes. She stood by the airport concourse diagram, clutching a tattered briefcase and gazing aloofly at the runway through the panoramic windows. The girl's heart clenched. "All alone..."

The Frenchwoman approached the stranger and awkwardly coughed.

- Honey, can I help you?

The girl looked at her (Adelie hadn't met people with that eye cut before), but didn't say anything back.

- Where's your mum? - Dupont continued uncertainly. - Are you here alone?

Lost clutched her briefcase even tighter and began to stare again at the landing strip outside the window.

- I'm sorry, do you even... speak English? - Adélie squatted down so as not to look up at the silent interlocutor. - Do you understand me?

If that was the case, the Asian refugee didn't give any sign of it.

- Wait...

The girl rolled up her travelling bag, found a notebook and biros in it, and wrote in large letters on the blank spread, "Can I help?"

The girl looked at the inscription and shook her head.

- All right, well.

Adélie rose to her feet in confusion, nodded awkwardly (the Asian woman also bowed politely in return) and rolled her suitcase towards the exit. "Well, you can't help everyone, you can't be friends with everyone.... "

***

Adelie stayed at the Walcott Hotel, near Fifth Avenue and Broadway. She settled into a double room on the fifth floor, quite cosy and quiet, with good noise insulation. When the girl unpacked a little luggage and leaned back on the soft bed with a purple blanket, she listened to her sensations and smiled for the first time in a long time. The nervous shiver that had been beating her most of the time since that very night of the breakup in Lyon had finally passed. "I'm in the other hemisphere, on the other side of the world... you can start again as if the past didn't exist: it's erased, like an unfortunate sketch on paper..." Speaking of paper.

Dupont lifted herself out of bed and reached into the shoulder bag on the nightstand. She put some of her things out, tidied up the inside. Her favourite notebook was almost halfway through - and there were no sketches in it yet. "When was the last time I drew at all?" - Adélie wondered. 'A month, two months ago...? And it had been for work, for the front pages of La Dauphine Liberté and private portrait clients. The endless stress and constant attempts to earn more to pay for a wedding, a trip and a decent life - while he enjoyed her trust and led a shitty double life for two families... "Damn you, André."

Adelie rubbed her temples, got out of bed and walked to the mini-bar, where she poured herself a martini. The alcohol made her head feel a little heavy. She sat down on the bed again, wrapped her arms around herself and sat in silence, listening to the faint hum of cars and the distant street noise below. What to do after all, how to get away from her old life.....

"Can I help?" - asked the question in large letters on the blank spread of the notebook. Dupont hesitated.

And confidently crossed out the question mark along with the last word.

***

The doorbell rang and a young, dark-skinned girl with bouffant hair turned round behind the counter:

- Good day, ma'am!

Adelie smiled back and stepped awkwardly across the threshold.

- Can I help you with anything? - The friendly saleswoman continued and extended her hand: - I'm Charlie Jones, by the way, I'd be happy to help.

- Nice to meet you, just Adélie, thank you very much," the Frenchwoman hesitated to shake hands and looked around. The small art supply shop on the corner of Van Nest Avenue in the Bronx looked a little cluttered, but full of useful things. But in fact, Dupont came here with one purpose. - Do you have sketchbooks? I didn't bring any, and I've already written in my notebook. By the way, do you have diaries or notebooks, too?

- Of course I do. Do you want a scrapbook or a bigger one?

The visitor did not immediately remember the difference in standards.

- I think regular A4 is enough.

- So, the desk... Charlie Jones leaned over and laid some albums on the counter: - Here, look. There are factory-made and Kraft ones.

Adelie thumbed through them and flicked through them carefully.

- Nice cover, and the paper quality seems good. I'll take this one, please.

- Great... - The saleswoman nodded, as if she had no doubts about her choice, and put the unnecessary options aside. - That'll be a dollar and ten cents. How long have you been painting?

- All my life," the young woman replied as she paid for her purchase. Charlie folded her arms across her chest:

- I knew it, sister, I have a good eye. I paint a little, too, but..." The dark-skinned saleswoman shrugged her shoulders and became sad. - I have to make do with what I have.

Adelie was about to put the album away in her bag, but changed her mind and decided to take a closer look at the purchase.

- Wait," she said. - Is this your job...?

The girl only now noticed that the hard cover, with its art deco pattern and stylised female figure, was hand-painted in watercolours.

- Yeah," Jones nodded and shoved her hands into her trouser pockets. - All the kraft in my shop is homemade.

- Damn, I didn't know. It's very beautiful..." Adela felt embarrassed and even ashamed: she had almost missed the local artist's shop during her first long walk in New York in three days. - Look, you have a real talent!

- Thank you, a lot of people say. But talent is not talent, - and our brother has not had much luck yet. - Charlie sighed and began confidentially: - Have you heard about Malcolm?

- Yes, I read it in the papers," Adélie nodded. - It's a pity he was killed last spring. He was a great man.

- Yeah. Wise Malcolm. who's next - Martin Luther King? - The saleswoman pursed her lips and adjusted the stack of fresh newspapers on the edge of the countertop. - Sometimes I don't understand why this happens. We're just as human as-" The girl held out her hands warningly. - Excuse me, ma'am. You're not from here, you're white and you don't know what it's like to be black. Your mother didn't ride the bus in the coloured seats.

- I understand perfectly well..." Dupont whispered. - And do you know why?

- Why?

The thought had been on Adela's mind for a long time.

- Because I'm a woman," she replied. - And you are a woman. We both live in a man's world.

- It's not quite that..." the shop assistant tried to object, but the guest hurried to finish:

- Pretty much the same. We matter as much as anyone else, and our voices will be heard. - Adela stepped closer and said with all the confidence and calm she could muster, "The world will change someday, Charlie. And the lives of everybody will matter, not only white people and not just men.

- You're right," Charlie began thoughtfully, and Dupont's energy was transferred to her. - I'll break myself," she continued fervently, "but I'll do anything to make sure my daughter can go to school with the other kids. So that she won't be pointed at or teased, so that she can have a better future than we have.

- You'll do fine, Charlie. - The girl put her arm round the dark-skinned artist's shoulder and added: - "We'll all win.

- We'll win," the shopkeeper repeated and exhaled. - Thank you, Adélie.

- Thank you for the great album! - Dupont put the purchase in her purse, slung it over her shoulder and said goodbye to her new acquaintance: "I'll be sure to recommend you to my friends when I see you.

Charlie Jones adjusted a set of brushes on the counter and laughed:

- Say hi to Andy Warhol for me if you meet him!

***

"Well, now that's a thought..."

Adelie was walking back, wondering who she was most likely to meet by chance in the Big Apple, Warhol or Bob Dylan, when she remembered that she had forgotten to buy a new date book. Going back to Charlie's place was out of the question, and Dupont was almost sad, but then a street sign caught her eye: "172 East 172nd Street". This was where the strange friend of her new German acquaintance from Soviet Russia must live in the Bronx!

The girl strained her memory: Vorobyov gave her the address - east of 172nd Street, building 1041, apartment 24. It was literally round the corner!

Adélie wondered if she should barge in uninvited. Maybe she should call or send a letter...? But how long would she be in New York ... and then, Alexei doubted that the phone number was correct-it had been years since they had missed each other. Would it be appropriate to pay such an unexpected visit?

On the other hand, Prayfield would probably welcome a visitor. A lonely retired scientist is not likely to be particularly busy or satiated with public attention. Perhaps an unexpected guest and a message from an old friend would cheer him up, if he had got off on the wrong foot...?

- If you don't check, you won't know..." Adélie said to herself, pulled herself together and turned towards the right house.

When she stepped out of the old rattling lift, she didn't immediately find the right flat because of the poor light. The large monstera in the tub had a thick layer of dust on it, the chair in the corner had clearly not been used for a long time, and the seemingly uninhabited corridor in the semi-darkness was cluttered with old things and seemed a little scary to her. "Did I get the wrong address...?"

She knocked on the twenty-fourth flat and fixed her hair. There was a voice at the door, then a noise, a thump, a high-pitched female voice, the cry of a baby, and a man's voice again, closer at hand. Dupont had barely had time to change her frown into a welcoming expression when the door chain rang and a swarthy face with stubble and bushy eyebrows appeared in the doorway.

- Professor Prayfield ? - Adélie asked hopefully and uncertainly. The Arab-accented stranger rounded his large eyes:

- What?

It certainly wasn't a university scholar.

- Excuse me," Adelie tried to ask loud and clear, as much as possible without her own accent, "Edward Prayfield lives here, doesn't he?

The unexpected lodger shook his head anxiously:

- I don't speak English very well. - He looked round and added: - Neither does my wife.

- Mahmoud, min heda? - A sharp shout was immediately heard behind the landlord. - Tard aldu'uf bisrate!

The man from the East clenched the doorjamb, squirmed, looked back again, glanced at his guest, and said grudgingly before disappearing behind the door:

- Right away, please.

Adelie folded her arms across her chest and waited until the man reappeared with a clumsily torn off piece of paper with a jaggedly written set of numbers on it.

- Here's the phone," the migrant began quickly and confidentially, "I bought a flat from him, he's a good man. That's it, girl, I have to go. - At these words he closed the door and Adeli heard a loud "Fatima, Hasananaan madha tak!".

The girl stood there for a moment, confused, trying to make sense of what had happened ("Fatima and Mahmoud, - okay..."), then glanced at the sheet with the estate agent's number on it and confidently headed back down the corridor.

***

- Hello, hello! Can you hear me? I'm sorry, I'm calling from the street, it's always noisy on Broadway, isn't it? My name is Adelie Dupont, yes, I know, I'm not from here and a client of yours gave me your number. No, I don't need anything yet. I was looking for an old, shall we say, friend, but it turns out he's already moved out of his old flat. Can you tell me his new address? I realise it's confidential, but listen... no, wait, I just need to visit someone. Edward Prayfield - have you heard of him? What? Yes, yes, thank you. OK, I'll write it down... hold on, let me get some paper... Are you sure it's in this neighbourhood? Thank you very much. Y-yes, I'll be sure to pass it on. Thanks again.

Adelie carefully hung up the receiver and walked out of the phone box. Everything was coming together. At first the failure with the scientist's flat had put her on edge, but the conversation with the realtor had calmed her down. Vorobyovhad been at odds with Prayfield for a long time; he couldn't have known that he'd moved out of the Bronx over the years-it was normal for people to change houses frequently. But for what reason had he done it? The flat became unaffordable, he couldn't support himself and was forced to find a cheaper place to live...? "And besides, he still owed twenty dollars," Adélie reminded herself. - It's not a very rosy picture when you consider where he moved to..."

She closed the booth door, fixed her hair and coat collar, walked to the edge of the road and raised her hand to stop the taxi. A minute later a yellow cab with a black-and-chequer plate stopped in front of her, she knocked on the side window and asked, "Good afternoon, can you take me to Harlem...?"

***

- No to war! Vietnam for the Vietnamese! Bring our soldiers home!

"Why am I so unlucky..." - she thought as she paid the taxi driver and got out of the car. Around her again, as a week and a half ago, the crowd of protesters, now American students, raged. The colourful column of people walked slowly and steadily across the street to the cheers of random passers-by, some of whom joined the procession. Banners with anti-war slogans swayed above the crowd, a lone policeman called for reinforcements from a neighbouring station on a pay phone while swarthy kids sprayed offensive graffiti on his car. The crowd grew larger and larger, Adelie felt uncomfortable. "Seriously, what's wrong with this year?"

Dupont walked cautiously along the pavement past Morningside Park, hoping she wouldn't run into any protesters who were on their way to a demonstration in the green space at the monument to the nineteenth-century minister Carl Schurz. She walked the three hundred metres down Morningside Drive, pulled out the new notebook she'd bought on the way and checked the address. "Okay, the real estate agent said the exchange was mutual...I want 410 East 117th Street..... I think it's here."

Second take.

There was no lift in the building, so the Frenchwoman had to walk to the top floor. On the ninth floor, she took a breath, fixed a stray strand of hair and a crumpled sleeve, gathered her courage and knocked confidently on the door of flat 68.

- Mr Prayfield ? - Adelie called out and listened. No sound at the door.

She licked her lips, frowned, and decided to knock again.

- Mr Prayfield !

No response.

Dupont shoved her hands into her coat pockets in frustration, waited a few more minutes, expecting to hear some noise from behind the door, then turned, pushed the empty bottle out of her way, and walked away irritably.

CHAPTER 2

- Bloody Englishman...

Adélie felt like a fool. To waste so much time on a pointless journey to a man she didn't even know, to a fake address from a man she barely knew, who hadn't spoken to the man in a long time - how could she fall for such foolishness? What was she thinking? "And hell, he's not even a rock star! It would be fine to chase after Mick Jagger or the Liverpool Four, but to go after some old loser, a fake celebrity no one outside the country has ever heard of..." The Frenchwoman felt like punching herself in the face. "That's why you have such a painful relationship with men," she imagined her mother's voice, "you blindly believe every damn word, fall for every lie..."

The girl thought of the martinis at the hotel and she wanted a drink. It was a long way to Fifth Avenue, and she didn't want to call a taxi, but the demonstrators had already reached the monument in the park and were chanting "Red Menace - Johnson's splinter!", "Think with your head - don't join the army!", "Make love, not war!". The police had already cordoned off the square, and one of the officers repeated in a megaphone in an unpleasant tone "Your assembly is illegal, you are disturbing public order, we demand that you disperse immediately!", to which one of the protesters shouted "You cops should be with us!".

Adelie spotted a Molotov cocktail from one of the rioters and decided she'd had enough politics for the day. Nearby was the entrance to one of the bars, McKenzie's Drinking House. "Great name," the girl thought, "suits the situation and the mood!" She quietly opened the shabby door with cracked glass and ducked inside.

It was dark inside. It took Adela a few seconds to adjust to the semi-darkness. In the corner above the counter hung a black-and-white TV set showing a live broadcast from Washington (there was also an anti-war demonstration with a march on the Capitol), a neon sign "You Only Live Once" blinked faintly below, a tired, grey-haired bartender in braces was phlegmatically wiping glasses, and behind the counter on one of the high stools sat hunched over, a very old man with dishevelled hair. The girl sat down on the chair farthest from the only visitor, put her clutch in front of her and asked politely:

- I'll have one mart...though no - can you make margaritas?

- Just a moment," replied the barman, and put off his work.

The inebriated visitor raised his hand and wheezed:

- Will you get me another drink, too, mate McKenzie?

- I think you've had enough liquor, Ed," McKenzie replied, pushing the empty glass away from him.

Adelie couldn't believe her eyes.

- Are you Edward? - She hurriedly picked up her purse and moved closer. - The Edward Prayfield ?

The old man turned round on her, gave her a shuddering glance, grinned, and ducked back into his folded hands.

- Who cares who I am... - the drunkard wheezed and stared at the television from under a mop of grey hair, where a presenter with pomaded hair was silently reading something on a piece of paper. - All the more for you.

"What a strange coincidence - first the protests in Bonn and meeting a Russian doctor in a café, then the protests in New York and his backwoodsman friend in a beer hall... maybe it's fate?"

- Listen.... - Dupont began, but the old man suddenly turned in her direction and propped his head up with his hand.

- What was such a beautiful young lady doing in this pigsty? - The man, who was hardly recognisable as the brilliant scientist Vorobyov had once said he was, grinned at the joke that came to mind. - No offence, McKenzie, but the Michelin stars are millions of years away from your nearest star.

The bartender adjusting the bottles didn't even turn round:

- No offence Ed, you're a long way from Rockefeller too.

- Of course you are, mother of God," the old man threw up his hands and slapped his knees, "I'll bet you are now, oh yes.

Adelie could only get a good look at him now. Prayfield was in his fifties, but he looked much older-and not particularly well. A white mop of obviously unwashed hair, a grey moustache and a separate beard on a sharp chin, sunken cheeks and sharp cheekbones, reddened eyes that had once been brown - and two deep scars on the right side of his face running through a bushy brow. "This man has definitely seen a lot," Dupont thought, and decided that first impressions and the circumstances of the acquaintance were not worth spoiling the evening.

- Mr Prayfield ...

- What?" he raised himself reluctantly over his folded arms. Adélie leaned forward and suggested confidentially, with a slightly feigned enthusiasm:

- Let me order us a beer and you tell us all about it. All right?

Prayfield grinned crookedly, looked round the empty hall with a hangman's gaze, and played with his knuckles.

- You think a cheap drink is enough to get me talking? No way, daughter.

- Then how about something stronger?

The old scholar grinned, straightened his back with the words, "Now that's a different conversation..." and suddenly bellowed to the owner of the establishment:

- Prepare the Oppenheimer-Sakharov cocktail, my friend!

Adelie rounded her eyes.

- Like in the old days, with radioactive isotopes? - the barman replied nonchalantly.

A chill ran down the girl's spine.

- Of course, otherwise he wouldn't be the favourite of the Manhattan Project team! - Prayfield replied and laughed hoarsely, then turned and looked at her again: "Are you a member of the press or something?

- No..." Adélie began, barely conscious, but restrained herself: "But yes. I was drawing for a French newspaper.

- So you're from France," Edward stretched out and closed his eyes, sinking into his memories. - Charmaine, Charmaine. I was there a long time ago... a long time ago..." His face darkened; the grey-haired, dishevelled man opened his eyes, stared blankly at himself, and said. - My Fräulein and I were there.

Adélie faded her gaze.

"What happened to you, Edward Gregory Prayfield ?" She thought she was sitting next to the shadow of a man who had once been something more than what he was now. And these mood swings...

"Paint It Black" from a recent Rolling Stones album was playing quietly in the bar, and outside the windows the hum of student protests was unceasing. "It really is like Bonn."

Adelie licked her lips and gathered air into her chest.

- Look, so..." the blonde finally said, "what happened to you guys anyway?

Prayfield looked at her as if she were an idiot, but McKenzie was just in time to set the glasses of bubbling indigo coloured liquid in front of him, "Your drinks, gentlemen," and leaned over to DuPont separately to say, "If I were a lady I'd think this really is a hell of a drink, even for a Scotsman." Adélie nodded appreciatively.

- How do you even know me? - Meanwhile, the downcast professor answered a question with a question, drinking half a shot in one gulp. - Who sent you, the KGB? NSA? - He looked at the girl with a half-crazed look and his right eye twitched.

- Vorobiev told me about you," Adélie replied dryly and licked the cocktail gingerly. Her tongue immediately burned. - Ugh, disgusting... - She took a breath. - Do you remember Vorobiev at all?

Prayfield changed from anger to mercy again:

- Lechka? I remember, of course-he's probably still pouting at me... the narrow-minded old fool. - Edward brushed his hair with uncertain hands, closed his eyes, and pretended to play the guitar. - The sexual revolution, the era of free love!... He'd missed his wife, and now he was resentful of me. That's right!

- Um... - Adelie wasn't sure she had ever taken part in such a strange dialogue. - I don't know what exactly happened between you two, but I met Alexei by chance in West Germany and he asked me to tell you that he was sorry about your breakup....

- Ha, he's sorry, he's a bloody communist... a former Red Army soldier, nuh-uh.

- and hopes that you're doing well. And clearly, you're not.

The Frenchwoman crossed her arms over her small chest and looked reproachfully at the scientist. The Frenchwoman crossed her arms over her small chest and looked at the scientist reproachfully.

-The little detective had figured it out at once, just like Dupin in the Edgar Poe stories! - It was so funny that Prayfield almost choked on his beer. The girl frowned:

- Actually, my name is Dupont, Adele Dupont.

The old man didn't immediately realise that he wasn't being played.

- Amazing," he exclaimed, "Dupin-Dupont, unbelievable! I wouldn't be surprised if you had a friend of yours with the surname of Ctholmes, Puerh-O or Megrain, ha-ha.

- Very funny.

Adelie almost stood up with an impenetrable face to leave, but she made an effort to look Prayfield straight in the eye without blinking. He set the empty bottle aside with a clatter, almost jabbed his shaking hand at the girl's nose, and began abruptly and seriously:

- You want to know what's really funny? That we're talking right now, you're a child and I'm a wasted alcoholic. - He settled down, and in his cracked voice, Dupont could hear the pain. - You think I don't realise what a hole I'm in? I do. I'd give anything not to.

The unhappy old man stared at the label of the ale he had drunk.

- Edward-" the Frenchwoman began, but Prayfield continued with a sigh:

- Vorobiev must have told you a lot of things... but you can see for yourself. - He looked at her and spread his hands: "What am I now? A pauper, a loser. A bankrupt. - There was genuine bitterness in his words, but he did not think to stop. - A recognised charlatan and a charlatan. An undeserving liar, an alleged Nazi collaborator and almost a terrorist, according to the newspapers..." Edward Prayfield swallowed nervously and shook his hands as if justifying himself to someone: - Well, yes, I blew up that house, there was an explosion! And the casualties - t-t-there were-" His eyes, yellow from an unhealthy liver, became moist. - But I didn't mean to, you know? I didn't mean to..." The poor old scientist switched to a barely audible whisper. - It was a bad experience, the tachyon experiment went wrong.....

Adélie, who had shrunk into a lump at the unexpected confession, timidly reached out and touched the old man's frayed sleeve.

- Were you... tried?

- Yes, we tried," Prayfield admitted, raising his eyebrows in concentration, "and the jury sided with me. But the damages..." he clasped his hands around his temples and shook his head, "Do you have any idea what it's like to rebuild an entire block? - Prayfield sighed and leaned back, fingers crossed. - 'I'm practically bankrupt, and the newspapers have destroyed my entire reputation. I was, ha ha, cancelled, you know? There was Prayfield , war hero, adventurer and philanthropist - and gone. He's gone.

Adélie didn't know what to say

- I'm so sorry...

- I had company," continued the scientist. - And what a company! Contracts all over the world, innovations, lectures at the world's leading universities, daring experiments.... " Prayfield Futuristics was living the dream of a better future for all. But then... The respect, the influence, the goodwill - all gone. Even the fucking patents on my inventions, I lost those.

- I understand... - the girl nodded sympathetically and caught herself thinking that she was sinking into her own problems.

- Who am I now? Edward turned to the bar, glanced at the empty bottle, then hesitantly took a glass and signalled the bartender to refill it. Then he turned back to the Frenchwoman and asked her seriously: Tell me, Janet, who am I now?

- Я...

- An empty seat," Prayfield answered muffledly for her. - An alcoholic who drank his last cent. Ready to die any day now, eager to die ... just as soon as it was over, decay and emptiness. - He looked away, hesitated, and added in a shaky voice: "Back to nothingness, back to the starting point of non-existence.

The old man turned away and wiped his eyes. Adélie was surprised to notice that the sleeve of his old jacket had become damp.

- Edward..." she touched his shoulder, "look, Edward... come on... here, wipe your tears. - The girl tried to say this to the man she barely knew as gently and confidentially as she could. - I understand you.

- You think so..." Prayfield mumbled uncertainly and grabbed an already filled glass of less strong liquor.

- That's right," Adélie nodded and decided to open up. - I haven't had a cloudless life either. - It wasn't an easy conversation, but the girl decided to be honest about everything. 'New life, no lies - to myself first and foremost. - Why am I even here... like you, I too have lost everything I had to lose - though you might say that there was nothing much to lose.

- You could have," the bar patron shrugged his slumped shoulders, still unfriendly. Adélie thought it was because it was even harder for him to open up and admit his problems, especially to her, who was very young compared to him and even more so to a woman.

- I, too, felt dead inside, unlived...," Adela's confession continued, "when the man in whom I had infinite faith betrayed me and all that was dear to me. - She miraculously held back a smile of relief. "To think I only had to say it aloud!"

Edward gave her a hard look and turned away. His sober companion decided not to take it personally. "Apparently he's so drunk he can't control his emotions...but he realises that."

- Have you, um. ever had your heart broken? - Adélie decided to ask, and immediately thought the answer was obvious.

- I'm not sure I even have it," Prayfield replied immediately.

Dupont looked at him and this time she couldn't help herself:

- To hell with you," she blurted out, along with a long-awaited smile. Prayfield smiled back at her for the first time:

- I've been waiting for you to crack too. First swear word! - He raised his fist jokingly above his head, bent his arm at the elbow, and leaned towards the girl. - We'll be friends for sure.

Adélie blinked her eyelashes, but repeated the gesture and gingerly touched her fist to his.

- You're in no condition to be flirting with a man forty years younger," she said, a little more languidly than usual, propping her head up with her hand.

- My goodness," the retired professor said, "you're only fifteen, aren't you?

- Excuse me? - The girl didn't appreciate the joke.

- I'm not as old as I look," Prayfield said proudly and signalled McKenzie again. Adela found the former lecturer's words slightly embellished:

- You're flattering yourself or you haven't seen your reflection in the mirror in years.

- Good guess, Madame Dupin.

Edward Gregory Preyield quietly raised his glass full again in honour of his new acquaintance and drank in a gulp.

- Let it be Dupin... - the Frenchwoman gave in with a sigh. - By the way, do you hear that outside the window?

- What is it? - The older man twisted his head, squinted blindly, and tried to remember which side the window was on. - Did Beethoven come back from the dead and go to smash rock 'n' rollers?

- There are no more rock 'n' rollers," Adelie explained with slight surprise, looking out the window with concentration, "the demonstrators have dispersed.

- Wow, I didn't know they were there.

The blonde turned around in surprise:

- How long have you been here?

- Bobby Darin was just a boy when I came in here," said Prayfield , not without pride. Adelie rolled her eyes in response:

- Tell me you remember Queen Victoria.....

- What, she's gone?

***

- Thank you for, um. n seeing the old man off.

The groggy man tried to put the key in the scratched keyhole, but he couldn't. Adélie took his hand in hers with a slight sigh and gently helped him open the door.

- I couldn't leave like that," she said, letting Prayfield pass in front of her. - I flew halfway around the world to tell you hello.

- I'm very grateful, Janet," the scientist entered his flat and leaned heavily against the doorjamb. "Oppenheimer-Sakharov was certainly no use..." - Listen," he turned round and tried to at least sound sober, "maybe you'd like to stay? I can make tea or coffee, if you like.

The young Frenchwoman smiled, but shook her head:

- No, thank you very much, it's getting late, I've got to get to the hotel.

- Maybe we should call a taxi. - Edward glanced at his wristwatch and nodded awkwardly into the dark room. - My phone is still working...

- No, no, it's all right, I'll call from the payphone... - Dupont exclaimed silently, pulled her purse off her shoulder and started rummaging through it: - By the way, so we don't lose the connection, - here, wait... now....

- What are you drawing there? - Prayfield tried to peer over the threshold. The girl explained, finishing her writing:

- This is my hotel room. - An inebriated Prayfield raised an eyebrow. - The phone, of course.

- Am I dreaming, the girl herself leaves her number.....

- You're drunk out of your mind, stop it. - Adélie politely but insistently handed him the paper. - Call me tomorrow when you've slept it off?

- I will.

The young woman buttoned her coat, adjusted her lapels and the clutch on her shoulder.

- If you forget, I'll come and see you myself. When you're sober, we'll sit down like normal people, really, have tea, you'll tell me more about your life, and we'll think together how to get you out of this hole. - She looked him in the eye. - Okay?

- Good. - Edward Prayfield made a serious face and nodded vigorously. - So the first thing to do is to sober up.....

- That's right. We need to start small.

- Small, yes.

Adelie Dupont stood in the doorway and finally gathered herself back at Walcott's.

- Goodbye, Mr Prayfield ," she said goodbye. - Thank you for the cocktail.

- And thank you, my dear. You, um.

- Don't," the girl raised her hand, but her gaze showed that she was pleased with the words of gratitude from her new friend, "don't say anything. Just see you tomorrow.

- See you tomorrow, Janet," said the old scholar and gave her a glance, still holding on to the doorjamb.

When the quiet clacking of his heels died down, Prayfield closed the door and stood in silence, gathering his thoughts. His head was still ringing, the weight of it making it hard to think. His tongue burned, thirsty. "Why the hell did you get so drunk again, you wreck..." - he said to himself and walked from the small hallway into the kitchen. In the darkness he stumbled over a chair, almost dropped it, swore obscenely, and fumbled with a shaky hand for the light switch. The light didn't come on.

- Damn outdoor wiring...

The old man reached the kettle by feel, shook it, then began to drink from the neck. He felt better.

- I'd like a cup of tea. I need to pull myself together.

He lit the candles on the fifth attempt, poured fresh water, lit the cooker and put the kettle on, not forgetting the whistle attachment. Then he noticed that he was still in his coat, took it off, threw it on the coat rack in the hall, and went through the living room to his improvised study.

In his room he sat down in an old armchair in front of an expensive oak desk - one of the last evidences of his former greatness - switched on a lamp with a green shade, swept junk, newspapers and parts of unfinished mechanisms from the desk directly onto the floor, then rummaged through a drawer, pulled out an old tin box with a satin backing inside - and took out some pills. I needed to clear my head and get rid of my hangover.....

Prayfield strained his memory to remember if and when he had made the pills. He had once been, among other things, fascinated by chemistry and the effects of certain substances on the human brain; he had experimentally derived and synthesised several of his own drugs, which he sometimes prescribed to himself without thinking about the consequences. "The human brain is an extremely complex machine, but that doesn't mean it can't be learnt to control it..." How long ago did he give these lectures? About three years ago, I think. "How much things have changed," Edward thought bitterly. He felt a new wave of depression coming on, finally forced himself to remember the date of the pills' synthesis, and swallowed a handful of them without water. Highly active nootropics would take time to take effect, but tonight was the day.

The kettle had not yet boiled. Prayfield leaned back in his chair and looked round the shabby walls of his temporary home of a year and a half. Racks of books on experimental physics and astronomy, boxes of prototypes of new devices, a chest of reagents, again books on engineering and electronics... a box of personal belongings that had never been unpacked, covered with a layer of dust and cluttered with junk. "I'd better get this place in order..."

But that's tomorrow.

Edward got up from his chair, walked into the living room, switched on the wall lamp, walked over to the rack of vinyl records, dusted them off, selected one, ran his eyes over the list of songs on the cover, carefully pulled it out of the paper envelope, put it in the gramophone, set the head from memory, and switched it on.
A string intro sounded and a confident male voice sang the best song of his career, a reprise of the French "La Mer." Prayfield adjusted an imaginary bow tie, turned in a semblance of a dance, and began to sing along:

- "Where... "where the sea is gone. my love is waiting for an answer..."

The old romantic smiled, closed his eyes and continued accompanying Frank Sinatra's colleague:

"My love is on that sand-e-e-e, and waits for ships to sail themselves... "

The kettle began to boil. Edward Prayfield turned up the gramophone and strode into the kitchen with a floating gait, still humming:

- "Where the sea is gone, all there she waits for an answer; here I would fly like a bird - and into her hands, I would go to the sea..."

He had poured the tincture into a teapot and was pouring boiling water over it when he heard some scrambling in the hallway.

- Janet?

Prayfield turned round and listened. The light creaking continued. "Did she change her mind and come back?"

- Adélie Dupont? - he repeated more anxiously.

The deadbolt chain jangled, and the front door began to shake. There was a quiet scuffle and a metallic scraping at the keyhole.

- Damn you, Bobby Darin! - Prayfield cursed half-heartedly and slumped against the wall. - I knew this would happen...

He took off his shoes, slipped into the living room in just his socks, turned the record up louder, then switched off the lights in the room and snuck into his study. "Sooner or later it would have happened..." The elderly and still not very sober scientist shut the door behind him and dashed to the shelving units. Just to get everything done in time...

A noise was heard in the hallway, the door must have been broken in by now. Prayfield heard the sound of footsteps and someone saying to the other: "Is he deaf? Sure he's still here?" The scientist finally found what he needed and with the box he rushed behind the high-backed chair. There wasn't much light from the lamp, but experience and skill should suffice. "I saw him come back with some girl," answered a second, lower voice, "and then she went out alone." "Then he must be here," said a third voice.

The old man took one of the ampoules and a refillable syringe out of the box. If everything is calculated correctly... "No time to think." Prayfield poked the needle through the ampoule, threaded it into the syringe, noted the time on his wristwatch, then unbuttoned his shirt collar, fumbled for the right spot ("Intuition, don't let me down...") - and drove the needle straight into his heart.

The pain took his breath away, but he forced himself to push the stem stop all the way down. When the syringe was empty, he pulled it out and tossed it away, along with the empty adrenaline ampoule.

"Do I switch off the shuffle?" - uttered from behind the wall one of the intruders. "Leave it off, he mustn't guess we're here," replied the other. "- Be on your guard; he must be dead drunk, but he's still very dangerous...."

The door to the office opened, and one of the strangers entered the room. He wore a business suit, a short-brimmed hat, leather gloves, a broker's moustache - and a small pistol in his hand. He was followed by two accomplices in similarly unremarkable suits. The leading man approached the table, pointed the gun at it, stepped closer and kicked a chair. There was no one behind him.

The clerks glanced round.

- You said you cut the wire," the team leader said quietly, nodding at the work lamp.

- Maybe it has its own power supply...? - shrugged his shoulders at the second, shorter man. - He's an inventor.

- We should check the bedroom," the man in charge decided in a low voice. - Quietly. We'll take it right away.

They looked round the room again - and the short man's attention was attracted by a disassembled television set with the glass lying separately. There was something wrong with it...

The criminals moved towards the exit when the door slammed shut and a dishevelled old scientist with dilated pupils and a strange device in his hand jumped out at them. The short broker was surprised to realise that he was looking at a kinescope attached to a pile of other homemade devices.

- Hold it right there! - shouted Prayfield to drown out the music. - Drop your weapons!

- Mr Prayfield ," the white-collar leader began conciliatorily and raised his gun upwards, "we had hoped to talk under more appropriate conditions....

- Drop the guns and get out of my house now! - Edward repeated, shaking from nervous tension and the side effects of the injected substance, shifting his improvised weapon from one to the other. He glanced at his watch-two minutes had passed. "Gotta make it..."

- Look, we're reasonable people," the leader of the strangers said insistently. - Let's just put down our weapons and talk.

- I gave you an ultimatum! - The scientist shouted back, and with a quick movement twisted a couple of mixer knobs on the device. The contacts of the hastily soldered batteries gave a spark, and with a low hum the kinescope of the device in his hands shone with a flickering light directed at the uninvited guests. - You broke into my house like burglars, followed me and my friend, - and I'll tell you for sure that I won't agree to any of your terms. Drop your guns!

The short man was somewhat disturbed by the device in the drunken scientist's hands, but he wasn't sure if it was actually capable of causing harm.

- We are three against one," continued the head of the group of agents and slowly raised the muzzle of the gun, "and I don't think you can do anything to us.

- Then you've very badly underestimated me," Prayfield hissed and put his finger on a separately highlighted button.

- Enough diplomacy," the leader's patience ran out, "we have orders. Begin the takeover!

The trio lunged at the scientist to throw him to the floor, but he bounced back and pressed the button of the device he had assembled a moment ago. The former TV kinescope burst into flame with a sharp sound and blasted the attackers with heat, throwing them back a metre. Prayfield himself also fell backward, but the door saved him; he cringed in pain, yanked it open, and disappeared into the living room.

- Shit!" the third agent, who had not been part of the conversation, shook his weapon. Droplets of molten metal flew from the gun. - The barrel's welded!

- He's too smart and too dangerous," the head of the operation said, pulling a lanyard from his pocket. - If we don't get him, the Soviets won't get him...

-We'll write it off as resisting arrest," the owner of the now useless revolver nodded grimly, discarded it, and put the brass knuckles on his fingers. The leader looked at his subordinates and nodded towards the door.

- He won't get away from us alive.

The trio walked into the sparsely furnished living room, looking at every shadow. A clutter of objects, scattered books, a lonely sofa, a wardrobe, another armchair... the door to the bedroom was ajar, and the light was on.

The leader nodded to the shorter man, who understood and went to investigate. The second agent stepped forward and the leader signalled him to go around the couch. The fugitive scientist should definitely be here...

They moved closer and the head of the group noticed a few familiar items in the pile of stuff. Salt batteries...

- He used up the entire charge," the senior agent grinned in a half-whisper. - An old drunk and a junkie isn't dangerous.

- ...You're forgetting yourselves, gentlemen," the inventor straightened up sharply from behind the sofa, carrying a different-looking device with a long plume coming from it. - This is my battlefield.

He straightened his shaking arms, twisted the control knob to the other side, jumped back, assumed a steady posture, and pulled the trigger. The hastily converted kinetoscope vibrated, the fabric on its inner side stretched with a magnetic coil in the centre, sparks erupted from the homemade power supply - and the device emitted a rumbling low-frequency sound of such force that the air around it instantly condensed into a ring, small objects shattered into fragments, all the glass was blown out, and the sofa, which was in the centre of the supersonic impact, rose into the air, spun on its axis and threw the second agent like a kitten. He flipped over his head and flew out the window, hitting the fire escape. Outside, there was the sound of impact with the ground and a woman's scream.

The head of the assault team hit the wall, fell on a pile of scattered books, and struggled to his feet. He raised his hand languidly in a warning gesture, noticed the brass knuckles on it, and threw it away.

- Look, we can make a deal.

Edward, not noticing the blood coming from his ears, pointed the makeshift weapon at him and switched wires with one hand.

- Tell Lyndon Johnson we have nothing to negotiate.

The old scientist lowered the kinescope and pressed a button. An invisible sound wave of dust and sparks scattered the floorboards, shook the floor, broke through part of the wall, and carried the barely breathing body of the government agent into another room.

Prayfield relaxed, lowered himself to the broken floor, put the weapon he had collected three minutes ago on his knees, and fumbled in the breast pocket of his dirty shirt. He pulled out a crumpled packet, pulled out a cigarette, clamped it to his lips, remembered he'd lost his lighter, shrugged, lifted the device from his lap, opened the power contact and lit it from the spark. "Good..." Somewhere in the distance in the corridor, the lift signal rang quietly, but the old man didn't hear it anymore. Shaking with a surge of energy and muscle spasms, the inventor closed his eyes and listened to the arrhythmic beats of his frantically pounding heart. "There's still thirty seconds left..."

He opened his eyelids to habitually look at his watch, but heard the loud cracking of floorboards and the third unlucky visitor peering out of his bedroom door in shock. Prayfield grinned, picked up his hastily assembled weapon, swung it around, and pointed it at the frightened criminal's face:

- Trust me, son, you definitely don't want me to switch to microwaves.

The short man, with an expression of horror on his face, nodded briefly and gave a twitch.

Prayfield grinned once more. "Doughboys, like that's even possible..."

Someone shrieked at the door; the old scientist turned round in surprise at the sound and dropped his burning cigarette.

- Oh, my God, Mr Prayfield !

Adelie was standing in the doorway, a dishevelled Adelie, barely able to stand on her feet in surprise. She was breathing hard and almost dropped her purse when she looked around and saw the extent of the destruction.

- What the hell happened here? I saw someone throw themselves out of your window onto the fire escape and run away, and then.....

She thought it wasn't worth mentioning that she'd almost been knocked over by someone in the corridor.

- Did something explode in here?

Edward Prayfield laughed and lifted a makeshift device with a kinescope as a gun muzzle:

- I was fixing the TV.

- Oh, my God," Adelie finally snapped out of her seat and knelt down in front of Prayfield . He was bloody, covered with dust and scratches, trembling violently, his eyes red. - Are you hurt?

- Good thing you asked, time is running out," the scientist said in a steady voice and looked at his watch one last time. - I need your help.

- Yes...? - Adelie frowned worriedly, ready to catch every detail.

- I only have ten seconds to explain," the wounded landlord began to speak quickly. - We must act quickly. Look in my office and find a red box with a set of ampoules in the desk, and in the drawer there should be a clean syringe... ah! - The old man clutched at his heart and began to lurch sideways.

- Jesus..." Adélie cried out and stopped him from falling. - What's the matter with you?

- It's starting to fail," the scientist whispered and squeezed his eyes shut. - It's okay, it's happened more than once," he tried to continue in a calm tone, but the girl could see that each phrase was getting harder and harder for him. - You need to take the ampoule with the blue liquid and inject it into me here," he grabbed the inside of his right arm convulsively, "right into my vein. It's a high-level tranquilliser.

- Are you kidding me? - Dupont was dumbfounded. It wasn't that she didn't know how to administer first aid, but so unexpected... "What if I miss the spot? What if the dosage will kill him?"

- No kidding. - Prayfield squeezed the Frenchwoman's shoulder and said with assertiveness, struggling to focus the gaze of his closing eyes on her. - I've taken a mixture of nootropics and LSD and injected adrenaline into my heart," he said, "I feel like a god, but my life is shortened to five minutes. I can't reverse the process myself, but you can. Just..." his voice began to falter, "...do it, Del Then...you'll need to... - he never finished the sentence. His voice trailed off, his legs cramping, his arms dropping.

- What will it take? - Adela shrieked, afraid she couldn't help. - Edward? Oh, my God.

She laid his body on the floor, touched his arm and put her ear to his chest. There was no heartbeat.

- Hey, somebody! - shouted the girl into the empty corridor. - Help! Help! There's a man dying.

There was no one on the floor. Not a soul.

- 'Okay,' the girl said to herself, trying to act quickly, 'I have to get a grip on... what did he say? "Red box, blue ampoule..."

She jumped up and rushed into the room with the broken door, behind which she noticed an oak desk. Dupont frantically searched the drawers for old papers, envelopes of letters, spare parts and old trinkets. In the depths of the second drawer she fumbled for a wooden box lined inside with red velvet; inside were several glass capsules with different coloured liquids inside. There were a few blue ones among them, but they were all the same shade, so Adelie took one of them almost without hesitation and injected it into a syringe she'd found in a first aid kit behind a pile of books in the desk. The most important thing left...

- So...

The Frenchwoman fumbled for a vein on the old man's arm, pierced it with a needle and gently injected the reagent. She pulled the needle out and froze for a few seconds.

- What now, what now? - "It's unlikely to revive someone on the verge of a coma..." Adeli squeezed her temples and tried to focus. - First aid... direct cardiac massage.

She unbuttoned her shirt, placed her palms on the chest of the breathless body and began to press rhythmically.

- Come on...come on!

Nothing was working.

She kept pressing on her chest, trying to get the hushed heart to start. She did it over and over again. Over and over...

She knelt down and covered her face in her palms. "I couldn't save him. If I had come running sooner..." Adelie couldn't hold back her tears. "I could have helped him if I had stayed. He was the one who invited me to tea..."

The girl heard a sharp thud on the floor and turned round: a sudden convulsion ran through Prayfield 's body.

- Shit!

She rushed over to her new friend and proceeded to give indirect cardiac massage. "Did the medicine really work?"

- Come on, come on...

Her hair was dishevelled, sweat dripping from her forehead. There was the sound of footsteps in the corridor and the quiet rattle of a bunch of keys.

- Somebody," Adelie shouted hoarsely, "help!

After a second's pause, the footsteps turned into a run and a middle-aged man with long hair in a bundle and a black beard without a moustache appeared on the threshold of the ransacked apartment.

- Please! - With tears in her eyes, Dupont whispered to him.

He threw the keys into the pocket of his long-striped coat and rushed to the Frenchwoman's aid.

- Don't panic," the stranger with a strong Dutch accent said soothingly, "I used to work as a doctor, and I've pulled some of these things out. What happened to him?

Adélie Dupont tried to gather her thoughts, but fear and violent trembling did not help her succeed.

- I don't know," she began to ramble in a lost voice, "we just met, he was very drunk, then some people attacked him and he injected himself with something, said it would kill him if he didn't inject some substance, and now....

- I see," nodded the bearded Dutchman, and felt the unconscious scientist's arm. - Strange symptomatology: no pulse, but muscle convulsions continue. Do you know exactly what you injected him with?

Adélie, struggling to keep herself from hysterics, threw up her hands nevertheless:

- I don't know! I don't know anything!

- I'm sorry, of course," the man agreed tactfully and stroked his temples. - Let me think... I need to help his heart beat. Just a second..." He looked around at the devastation around him without commenting, noted a couple of things, lingered on the long-wired device lying next to the shaking body, and then hummed approvingly: - I've got it. Hold this, please. - With these words he picked up Prayfield 's device, pulled the still sparking cord from it, and gently handed it to the girl.

- What are you doing? - She asked incredulously, but picked up the live wire.

The former doctor began to quickly disassemble the machine, set aside several metal plates and began to connect them with wires.

- A weak defibrillator from improvised means," the foreigner explained. - One more minute... That's it. - The man switched off the mains power, placed two plates with grounded handles and a double cable on the ground, then connected the homemade assembly to the power wire. - The discharge of electricity would make his heart come alive. Can you help me?

Dupont nodded without hesitation.

- Sure, anything...

The mysterious tech doctor nodded in response and dug into the large pockets of his outer garment.

- Put on for protection and hold the plates like this," the man handed the girl rubber gloves and carefully took the homemade resuscitator in his hands, "but don't touch the contacts themselves. Put it here," he pointed at himself, "and lift it up quickly. I'll give you a brief current and switch it off immediately, so as not to kill you. - Adélie nodded worriedly, and he finished with a nod at the socket: "The voltage from this transformer should be enough.

- Are you sure it will work? - the young girl asked, not without misgivings.

- In theory, yes," the Dutchman replied and looked at Prayfield again. - We should try it.

- Then I'm ready.

Adeli carefully put on her gloves, took the defibrillator blocks and brought it to the unconscious scientist's chest. The doctor walked to the end of the wire, took it in his hands and turned to the girl.

- On the count of three, I switch it on," he explained, "you press and lift. Ready?

- Ready," Adélie nodded. The scientist's spasms began to subside. "It's either now or never."

The man turned his back to the socket and prepared to plug the cord into it.

- One, two... three. Clear!

The contacts flashed with a low sound, and Adele, wearing rubber gloves, sharply lowered the defibrillator terminals and immediately lifted them off the old man's chest. The old man's chest heaved and dropped sharply.

Nothing.

- Let's do it again! - shouted Dupont aside to the doctor. He nodded:

- Get ready. Clear!

The Frenchwoman let the current flow again. The scientist arched up sharply again and collapsed. It seemed to Adela that something sparkled in his chest. She threw the defibrillator to the floor and put her ear to the unconscious scientist's torso. There was no effect - there was no heartbeat.

She lifted her back and hunched over, not getting up from her knees. They couldn't bring him back from the other side. The old scientist had killed himself in a mad and daring attempt to escape the attack, and there was nothing they could do. "Alexei is going to be so upset when he gets the letter..."

- I'm sorry," the technician said regretfully, rising from his knees. - The third discharge will only fry him from the inside out.

The girl rose from her knees as well and turned away, unable to look at the corpse. "I'm going to have to live with this..."

- We did everything we could," Adélie whispered and wiped away her tears. - Thank you.

- No," another voice said suddenly. - Thank you, Delli.

Adélie and the stranger, who had not yet named himself, turned round, not believing their ears. Edward Gregory Prayfield , alive and relatively well, turned on his side with difficulty and pressed his hand to his heart.

- Without you, I'd be dead by now.

Adeli went numb and dropped the now unnecessary defibrillator from her hands

- Jesus Christ, Edward, you're alive! You're alive!

She ran up to him, lifted him up, and hugged him with all her might, almost dropping him on his back. The scientist, just past the brink of death, patted her on the back.

- But how? I thought I killed you.

- On the contrary, you saved me," the old scientist smiled and sat down on the floor with a groan. His heart was beating intermittently, but the arrhythmia should have passed. - I didn't have time to say everything, but you guessed it yourself. Excellent cardiac massage and resuscitation.

- Thank you, but it's a credit... - the girl turned to the man next to her: - Excuse me, what's your name?

- Volkert Van der Berg," he bowed and extended his hand, "I forgot to introduce myself in the commotion.

- Adélie Dubois, a pleasure," the Frenchwoman shook his hand and turned to the Englishman on the floor. - If it hadn't been for Volkert and his idea of making this electric machine.....

She held out an artisanal defibrillator fashioned from a disassembled wave weapon, and Prayfield politely took it and twirled it in her hands:

- Very cleverly thought out, thank you. - "It's one thing," he thought, "to build a wunderwaffe out of nothing under stimulants to respond to violence with violence, and quite another to do the same thing, only sober and to save the life of another ... " - A very quick response," the scientist added aloud. - You both actually saved my life.

- I'm honoured, sir," the clearly flattered man bowed again. - I didn't know I'd be living next door to you.

- Are we neighbours? - The young scientist raised his eyebrows and folded his hands behind his back.

- Since some time: I've just got off the plane. - Adélie looked at the Dutchman with surprise. "Amazing," she thought, "we could have just missed each other at the airport by a day! - It's funny," the man continued, taking off his glasses, "we're colleagues in a way-I'm an inventor, like you.

- It's a pleasure to meet you, Volkert," he held out a still shaky hand palm up and introduced himself: "Edward Prayfield .

Van der Berg shook his hand readily and looked at his new acquaintance with a pang of distrust:

- Wait a minute. The same Prayfield ?

Edward was beginning to get tired of all this attention. What it must be like for McCartney and Lennon ...

- Unfortunately or fortunately, yes.

- I have heard glimpses of you...it is an honour to meet you, please accept my respect.

The scientist forced out a semblance of a smile and patted the travelling retired doctor on the shoulder in a friendly, albeit somewhat irritated, manner.

- Don't talk like that, I'm not Her Majesty the Queen. - There was a noise from the side of the broken partition and Prayfield turned his eagle profile: "Oh, someone else has risen.

Dupont flinched and turned around, catching herself almost grabbing Prayfield by the elbow.

- Jesus, I thought you guys were the only ones here...

The badly bruised leader of the failed kidnappers appeared from behind the mountain of rubble, tried to stand on his sprained leg with a quiet groan, and fell back into the rubble with a noise.

- I think I'll call a paramedic," van der Berg said and hurried out of the room.

- Does he need help...? - The Frenchwoman whispered anxiously and took a step, but the grey-haired Englishman extended his hand warningly:

- I don't think it will be deserved.

Adélie overcame the impulse of humanity and did not interrupt.

- Who were these people? - She asked and looked at Prayfield .

- MJ-12 agents. - He answered and shrugged, "They're the Shadow Government or the Deep State. - The scientist twirled his moustache and grinned. - A secret organisation of mystic idiots, as they themselves believe, obsessed with the idea of control.

- Wow," Dupont stretched out. - Sounds a little scary. I don't think they just dropped by for tea.....

- Unless it's a surprise kidnapping party.

- I hate coercion.

Edward looked down at the girl with understanding:

- In this we are similar. - Prayfield folded his arms across his chest and continued: - "In '47, I worked on the Blue Book Project in Arizona, but I got out of it for ethical reasons. It's a sordid story I don't like to remember.

- I understand, and I don't insist..." Adélie looked at Edward, thinking she was going to say something, but then she asked: - Can you explain something else?

- Of course.

The girl licked her lips and risked speaking openly after all:

- You were drunk as a hog.

Prayfield shook his head and grinned:

- They thought so too.

- And you did them well for a pensioner barely alive from drinking. How'd you pull all that off?

Adelie looked at Prayfield , waiting for answers, and he decided not to discount her age and lack of scientific training, so he told it like it was:

- Ketamine-steroid nootropics and a dash of synthesised LSD.

- My God..." the Frenchwoman put her palm to her forehead.

- It sounds wild," agreed the scientist, who had just been on the verge of clinical death, "but it's experimentally tested and it works in normal cases - at least for my body.

The girl felt a chill run down her spine:

- I'm afraid to imagine exactly how you figured that out.....

- Yes," the Englishman rocked on the toes of his shoes and remembered how he had lectured at the Sorbonne not so long ago. "What a nice feeling!" - Usually it works and takes the hangover off in an hour," he continued in a low voice with the unmistakable tone of an ardent lecturer, "but this time I didn't have time. I had to speed up my metabolism to sober up in seconds, slow down my perception of time, and figure out how to fight off the visitors. I had to improvise and give my heart a good kicking.

- You're quite mad," Adelie interjected admiringly.

- Perfection is unattainable," Prayfield remarked without a shadow of irony, "but it was worth the risk.

He unbuttoned his shirt collar and pointed to the right side of his chest:

- Surely you must have noticed that scar?

- Yes...? - Dupont answered awkwardly, dropping her gaze. She didn't have time to stare at the old man while she defibrillated and massaged his heart, and it seemed unethical in general to stare at someone without clothes on.

- Somewhere in there is a tiny implant device," Edward explained patiently, "a kinetic valve and a tiny battery that reacts to the tranquiliser you injected me with and restarts my heart if it stops. - He smiled at the memory and added: - 'In sixty-second I had to construct one and ask Vorobiev to insert it, accidentally irradiated with plutonium in the Caribbean. I wouldn't advise anyone.

Adelie raised her hands and stepped back. "It can't be. Did I get caught up in a stupid adventure novel?"

- Are you seriously telling me this? Radiation sickness, Caribbean, artificial valve...?

- Quite seriously," the scientist nodded with an attentive expression on his face.

- And the mechanism, um. - Adela found it hard to find the words, - of restarting the heart....

- It does exist, only...

Dupont interrupted him: she had found the words that were on her mind and that she dreaded.

- You could have done it without me," she said disappointed. - That's what you're saying. I distracted you, took up your time.

A great scientist, not even death can control him. Of course, he would have got out of this mess too!

"What am I even doing here..."

The girl turned away and Prayfield put his arm round her shoulders:

- No, my dear," he said in a fatherly tone. - You did save my life. Thank you for being there for me and coming back.

Adélie turned round incredulously:

- But you could also inject yourself with this tranquel... this chemistry?

Prayfield paused to collect his thoughts. Really, how to describe all this chaos...? Rationalise the irrational... but was it irrational? "No, I knew what I was going for and what I was doing."

- I was ready to leave," the old scientist began, and the explanation did not come easily to him. - I was going to give death a head start. Felt that I was tired and there was no point in living to fall even lower. But you-" The grey-haired man looked at Adela and smiled into his moustache. - Believe it or not, I was just thinking of you when you walked in. And you made me change my mind.

- You're not joking? - The girl's breath caught; it was hard to believe.

- Not at all," Edward assured her. He was having trouble speaking, too, not just because of the residual effects of the chemicals and the momentary coma he'd had. When was the last time he'd talked to someone about his feelings? I met you," Prayfield continued, looking her in the eye, "and talking to you... turned something inside me.

Adeli tried to wave it away:

- You have a terrible sense of humour.

- It is not in my words now. - Prayfield turned and looked out the broken window. There was calmness and confidence in his quiet voice. - I want to live again, Delly. I want to live again.

- You don't know how glad I am to hear that," Adélie whispered, wiping away her tears.

- I feel. - Prayfield put his arm around her shoulder, and she didn't want to ask him to take his hand away. - It was time for a fresh start. No more cancellations.

Dupont fixed her rumpled hair.

- So... you're coming home?

- Yes," Prayfield nodded and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, "the American tour is a little long. There's nothing keeping me here for a long time.

- Then shall we fly together tomorrow? - Adélie turned round hopefully. - I want to make sure you're all right and that no adventures follow... those people might come back.

Edward laughed so hard he coughed.

- We can organise adventures for them ourselves, you see," he said. - But I'd stay a day-we've got to get my head round and get this place in order; if they did that to my flat, I'd shoot the tenant.

The Frenchwoman became alarmed:

- Are you sure you have enough money? - She opened her purse and looked for her wallet. - I can borrow...

- Oh, honey," Prayfield stopped her with a smile, "I haven't spent it all on liquor. Even with my talent for drinking, it's hard to drink a whole square.....

There was a stomp of boots and a panting Dutchman flew into the hallway.

- Does anyone even live in this house? - He said with difficulty, catching his breath and picking up words in his non-native language. - I found a phone only on the first floor, the ambulance is on its way... can I help you?...?

- 'No, Mr van der Berg,' replied Prayfield with dignity, 'thank you very much.

- Perhaps you'd like to sleep at my place? - Volkert suggested, nodding towards the broken windows: "It might be chilly at night, especially without windows.

- Thank you for your hospitality," Edward glanced over at Adela, "I think I'll take advantage of it.

- I'd be honoured," van der Berg bowed with relief and invited me to follow him. - But don't mind the mess, I haven't unpacked everything yet.....

- Don't make the old man laugh," Prayfield waved him off, and Dupont decided to take the initiative and extended her hand to the retired doctor:

- Thank you, you've saved me the trouble of offering my modest hotel room. - He bowed, and she turned to the scientist: "Then I'll call you tomorrow, as agreed?

- Yes, Delli," Prayfield nodded confidently, "I'll call you later this evening when I've recovered. I feel like a twenty-year-old now, but tomorrow I'll have a chemical hangover, and I'll need to get myself right.

Adelie touched his sleeve and quickly pulled her hand away.

- Hang in there, Mr Prayfield .

- And you too, Madame Dubois. - Prayfield took off his imaginary hat and bowed. - It was a pleasure to meet you.

- And me," she said, raising her hand in a farewell gesture and stepping over the threshold. - Goodbye!

- Goodbye, darling. - The young inventor smiled back at her and closed the door behind the Frenchwoman.

"So where are you from, Herr van der Berg? - Adélie heard his distant voice. - And what brings you to America...?"

She couldn't make out a reply, and she didn't want to overhear.

What a crazy, crazy day.....

We need to get to the hotel and get a good night's sleep.

Tomorrow is going to be a lot of trouble.

CHAPTER 3

Two days later, on the other side of the world, Alexei Vorobyov stood in the airport lounge and looked nervously at his watch. The plane was clearly running late. Of course, a certain backlash in the flight schedule is acceptable - weather conditions at the other end could change and delay the departure, there could be air potholes and turbulence on the way - but car crashes are also, alas, not uncommon. "I hope nothing happened to you..."

...The telegram he had received yesterday from Adele in Bonn had alarmed Alexei greatly. He had thought he was being followed before, but he had put it down to paranoia and professional deformity. A Soviet dissident who had managed to escape behind the Iron Curtain would see the KGB everywhere... and that would be normal if he were a simple emigrant who had been given a second chance to start life anew, away from the socialist bloc and the heavy hand of the Kremlin. But Vorobiev wasn't like that. And he knew that people like him were not released, but kept away, on a long leash, under a watchful eye. After all, he was a former Chekist himself. And he had been waiting for this moment - for a long time, for years.

He burned the American telegram as soon as he read it. He locked the door, shaded all the windows, turned up the TV with the discussion of the recent student protests, and began to look around. I checked cupboards, pulled out drawers, inspected sockets and radio sockets. I took apart the phone receiver, looked under the door, inspected the jambs. He ran his hand under the desk and finally found what he was looking for. "Gotcha, comrades..." Vorobyov plucked out a miniature wiretapping device with wires and twirled it in his hands. Crude workmanship, an artisanal radio transmitter on low frequencies... It hadn't been here last week. If they've bugged it now, it means something has forced them - whether it's the Stasi or Moscow - to step up surveillance. They must already be aware of his meeting with Dupont and their conversation about Prayfield - if not the meeting at all, which was the reason for the wiretap. "I let them down... relaxed, got sucked into my past." The Russian surgeon doubted that the Soviets were behind the attack on his friend in America, but if he was now under the radar of the secret services, Prayfield and young Dupont were also in danger abroad in the United States.

Vorobiev sighed. There was no choice. "To burn bridges again..."

He dialled the number he had once promised not to dial, said "Agnieszka, five minutes," as agreed, the plan "Crematorium", went to the front wall, pressed a disguised button, took out from a hidden niche a pre-prepared set of documents and travelling things, slowly put on his coat, adjusted the lacing of his boots, put on gloves and went to the kitchen, where he took a bottle of milk from the fridge. Alexei slowly sipped from it, carefully poured the rest into a cup, rinsed the bottle under a stream of water, - and in the back room he poured machine oil into it. He wet a napkin with it, put it in a glass container, lit it with a lighter, went back into the hall and threw the flammable mixture into the TV set.

Splinters fell, flames spilled across the room, spread to the armchair and the curtains. Vorobyov opened the window and rushed to the hallway; he closed the door softly behind him, walked a few metres away, mingling with the crowd, and only then turned round with a cry of "Look out, the house is on fire! Call the fire brigade!" Random passers-by scattered, someone shouted "Fire, fire!", another rushed to a payphone, and in the distance the siren of the city service was already howling. Vorobyov pulled his hat over his eyes and walked briskly through the crowd. A fire-engine passed him with the ringing of bells, when Alexei came up to a dark-haired woman, who came leisurely out of a house in the neighbourhood. He met her gaze and lifted his hat, she whispered expressively "You owe me" and ran towards the burning building with feigned panic in her voice: "My God, there might be a man in there! I'm a doctor, let the doctor in!" Ten minutes later the fire will be put out, the police will cordon off the area and call forensics, but everything will become clear without an investigation: someone threw a Molotov cocktail through the window, no one from the neighbourhood was injured, except for an unsociable immigrant doctor who had the misfortune to fall asleep in front of the TV; an honoured pathologist will confirm his death by tissue samples left after cremation. The forgery of documents will be revealed only after some time, which will be more than enough time for the old spy to cross the Channel under a false identity and find himself in England, at Heathrow Airport, just before boarding a flight from New York to London, which for some reason will be delayed....

- ....i it's very strange. - Vorobyev swore out loud, looking at his watch again.

- Seriously, he was supposed to sit down an hour ago.

- Are you expecting a family? - He asked, sitting cross-legged in a chair, a frowning old man wearing a medical mask and knitted gloves.

- You could say that," Vorobyev replied, when finally a melodious signal from the loudspeakers sounded and a well-pitched female voice announced that the transatlantic aircraft was coming in for landing. Alexei exhaled and hurried to the arrivals passport control counter. There was still about half an hour to go through the cross-border formalities and meet the travellers, but Vorobyov couldn't sit still. When had they last seen each other, back in the sixties? "Still, six years ago..."

When at last the turn came to Adela and her companion, Vorobyev did not recognise him at first. Next to the girl who was supporting him, a grey-haired man with a stooped face and bruises under his eyes, his hands trembling, walked with difficulty, leaning on a carved cane. "What time has done to you, old friend..." - Vorobiev thought with a tinge of bitterness and waved his hand.

- Edward, Adelie!

The Frenchwoman spotted the doctor in the crowd of greeters and became animated. "Look, Prayfield , he's here! Vorobyovis meeting us!" Prayfield muttered in reply: "I've seen such meetings in my grave..." but he did not resist and let the girl pull herself in the direction of her acquaintance.

- My God, my friend... - Alexei started and spread his arms for a hug. - How many years, how many winters! How are you?

- Pretty lousy, as you can see," Edward Prayfield replied coldly, and Adela raised her eyebrows: she had expected a slightly warmer reunion of old friends. And, judging by Vorobiev's voice, she was not the only one.

- Is it that bad? - the man asked worriedly. - I thought we were almost the same age, but you look like you're going to die.

- I was about to," the scientist admitted grumpily, clutching his cane convulsively and trying to get a flask from his waistcoat pocket, "but the lady wouldn't let me go.

Apparently it was appreciation.

Vorobiev turned to the girl and shook her hand gently:

- I knew that advising you to visit New York was the best choice I ever made.

- And I'm glad, believe me," Dupont turned to him briskly with a sense of relief. - It's a good thing I didn't take a taxi, but decided to take a little walk in the park.....

- I wish I were dead," said Prayfield , after a large gulp of whisky, who felt quite disgusted. "I gave myself too optimistic a prognosis the day before yesterday," he thought.

- Did the men in black do that to you? - Vorobyev asked, not giving up hope of breaking through the armour.

- More like I'm theirs, but at what cost... I almost fell off yesterday, overestimating my own resources.

- Let me guess. Trick 51?

- That's the one," said the scientist, leaning on his cane and looking at something on the road through the panoramic windows. - It's a good old cocktail-accelerator and recharging of the mind and heart.

- It's a wonder you're alive at all," Vorobyev shook his head. Prayfield shrugged his shoulders and strode towards the exit:

- I'm surprised myself now. I guess alcohol as a depressant softened the shock reaction.

- Thank Bacchus for something," Alexei nodded, and looked anxiously at Adela; she rolled her eyes helplessly and put in:

- Amen!

They finally left the airport building and came to a car park full of polished cars. Edward leaned on his cane, looked around and asked Vorobiev: "Well, how did you end up here, Comrade Leninist?

Alexei pretended not to notice the last part of the sentence and replied with feigned enthusiasm:

- I decided to go on the run, with fire and sparks.

- Well, you've always been good at that," Prayfield said sharply, stepped back and waved his hand: - Taxi!

A yellow Beetle with a checkerboard on the roof slowly pulled out from around the corner.

- What was that, Alex? - Dupont asked in a low voice, seizing the moment.

- Yes...? - A frowning Vorobyov listened to the question.

- Did you fight that hard the last time?

- Apparently so," the doctor shrugged.

Adeli folded her arms across her chest:

- What did you do to him, may I ask?

Alexei sighed. "If a simple answer could be given..."

- I think he still blames me for the collapse of his company. - The doctor shoved his hands in his pockets; it wasn't easy for him to talk. - We started the business together when we were younger, but then... you see, I felt that I'd had enough adventure and risk, that it was time to settle down and start a family.

- I totally get it, but... Really? That's it? - Adela found it hard to believe. "You lost touch for a few years just because one of you settled down, left the other, and the other took offence? What kind of relationship did you guys have with each other...? "

-Sounds ridiculous from the outside, I agree," Vorobiev continued, examining the car that had arrived. - This feeling had been choking me from the inside for years. We could have thought of something else to do, to continue our common cause together, to make the world an even better place. But I chose Helga.

- ...and regretted it," interrupted Prayfield , who was about to get into the cabin. He signalled to the driver to wait and waddled, leaning on his cane, towards Vorobyov: - Remind me, who did she come to when your marriage started to fall apart? And who almost threw her out of the house when he realised he couldn't give her what she needed...?

Alexei hadn't expected such a sharp attack:

- Look, I don't--

- Shall I remind you how it was, mate? - The old scientist hissed in his face, and raised his voice: "You didn't even try to understand her! All she needed was sympathy and acceptance!

- I couldn't then... it was too big a blow! - Vorobiev didn't notice how he too had switched to shouting.

- Guys, guys!

Adelie rested her hands on her shoulders and tried to pull the men apart. I'm not going to let these two sworn friends get into a fight!

Prayfield took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second.

- You've always wanted to appear better than you are," he said in a much quieter voice. - And you're paying the price for it.

A grey-haired scientist with a dishevelled beard and a very unhealthy complexion turned to the honking car and struggled to get into the front seat. Vorobyov put his arm round Adela and opened the back door for her.

- I don't understand what this is all about..." the girl said in a low voice as everyone settled back into their seats and buckled in, "he stole your wife?

- No, on the contrary," Vorobiev replied, also in a whisper, "I tried to get her back. But I didn't have the... tact and humanity to accept what had happened.

Dupont pressed her lips together:

- Alexei, you're still speaking in riddles.

- What he means to say," turned round from the front seat Prayfield turned with a harsh laugh, "is that his ex-wife himself now has a wife.

- Oh. I see... - Adela was greatly discouraged by this information.

- She's pretty, by the way," Edward winked at her and added towards Vorobyov: "She said hello from California.

- I know," the Russian doctor replied dryly, "we keep up a correspondence.

- It was good to see someone giving the postmen a job. - Edward Gregory Prayfield took another drink from his flask and said loudly to the desperate driver: "Cabman, to Impington, Cambridgeshire!

***

The day was already drawing to a close when they finally arrived. Vorobyovpaid the taxi driver and grabbed the small valise he always carried with him, stepped out of the car, and walked through the unlocked, openworked gate in the low stone fence. Edward was standing with Adelith supporting him on a knoll, a slight breeze ruffling his scarf and coat.

- Welcome to the ruined nest of the dynasty," he said in a low voice.

In front of them, at the end of a shady alley, stood an old, ivy-covered, three-storey house with panoramic windows in the towers, a double-pitched roof with symmetrical hearing windows on either side of the entrance, and three chimneys, one of which was half collapsed from time. To the left was an oblong outbuilding with access to what had once been a conservatory, and a little further away could be seen a pergola with a collapsed roof, a few statues and a dried-up fountain. The branches of the oak trees rustled quietly, the withered lawn was overgrown with weeds, and the long-neglected shrubs had lost any shape. This place had clearly known better days.....

- Make yourselves at home," finished Prayfield , and was the first to waddle down the alley.

...The old front door with the cracked glass opened with a creak, the set of locks already rusted. "At least no one tried to break in..." - Vorobiev remarked. Prayfield nodded silently, put the keys in his pocket, pushed open the second door leaf with his cane, and strode forward. High up ahead, sunlight streaming through a large stained-glass window with a pattern that resembled a stylised image of an atomic nucleus with orbits of electrons, dispersed the dusty twilight over the wide staircase to the first floor. Edward turned left without stopping, fumbled for the switch, and turned it. Something flashed, a small hum, and a crackling light came on in the high-walled hallway.

- Did you pay the bills for years to come? - Alexei asked, taking off his hat and looking around for a coat rack.

- No," replied Prayfield , "I have my own power plant in my basement, using enriched uranium.

Adélie dropped her travelling bag on the floor, glanced at Vorobyov and stared at Prayfield . The old scientist with the cane gave her a nonchalant look and explained:

- A miniature slow decay reactor under ten metres of concrete, elementary construction. Three hundred and fifty years of continuous operation and power to an entire county.

There was silence.

- I see," Vorobiev finally stretched out and scratched the back of his head, "you've never looked for easy ways.....

- Why take the easy way out when there's an interesting way in? - Prayfield grinned and headed up the stairs. - Make yourself comfortable in the drawing room on your left hand," he added, "I'll be down shortly.

The Russian doctor and the French artist exchanged glances again.

- Is this... are you sure it's safe? - Dupont asked uncertainly and picked up the bag.

Vorobyev shrugged and picked up his suitcase as well.

- Not so much in theory, but I trust Edward. - They walked further down the hall to the wide doorway to the parlour. Adelie noted the old-fashioned furnishings, and thought the manor must be old, at least nineteenth-century. On the walls were paintings in massive frames that reminded her of Renaissance paintings-perhaps originals?

- His brain," Vorobiev continued, "doesn't work quite like ours, he's an intuitive and a visionary, a genius if you will. If he says he's been able to curb nuclear energy and safely power an entire city from it, I'll believe him and won't ask unnecessary questions. After all," he turned to the girl, "you and I don't have a Nobel Peace Prize.

The gold medal with the proud profile of the Swedish chemist still stood on the dusty shelf. Prayfield unlocked the door with the special key, stepped into the study, threw the wooden cane on the sofa, stretched out his arms and stretched. It felt good to finally be back home...or back to the place he'd once been.

A grey-haired man, dishevelled and still not quite recovered from jetlag, reached the wide window and opened the heavy curtains. The light blinded him. Prayfield wiped his reddened eyes and rummaged in his pockets, but he didn't find what he was looking for. Of course, he had left them in the drawer... but that would be all right.

The elderly inventor opened the windows one last time, returned to the table, pushed back a massive armchair with wide arms, sat down in it carefully and closed his eyes. He touched the soft upholstery, ran his fingers over the wood. "How many adventures started here... how many paths we've travelled, starting here. How many people met and forever lost... " Prayfield squeezed his eyes shut and blinked a few times. "No time for emotions." He leaned over, switched on the desk lamp, and blew dust off the tabletop. Opening a drawer, he went through the items lying there. What he was looking for wasn't there. "What the..." Prayfield sighed, hesitated, and pulled a large, carefully sealed envelope from under the box. Turning to the filing cabinet in the rack against the wall, he looked at the desk drawer again and pulled a stack of letters from the envelope. Old colleagues and pen pals Einstein and Feynman, favourite students Steve Hawking and Phil K. Dick ... and a few of his particularly dear letters, signed in the same, neat and small handwriting, the last of which was stamped "Berlin, Reich Chancellery". That very letter... his eyes moistened.

One last letter.

Prayfield tossed it aside. His fingers began to tremble finely again. "No emotion, the mind must be sober," the old man reminded himself. But he recognised at once that it would be almost impossible to achieve that.

Edward got up from his chair, shoved his hands in his pockets, and paced the room nervously. A couple of magic pills would take away the symptoms of anxiety and hyperexcitability, relieve the effects of the transatlantic flight, and tone him up, but that would require setting up a chemistry lab and finding fresh reagents ( Prayfield wasn't sure if they'd spoiled in time), but even if he did that and synthesised new drugs on short notice, it was definitely not a good idea for a man who'd had a brief coma two days ago to get hooked on chemical stimulants. "Take care of yourself, my reckless adventurer," She would say, and Prayfield could almost hear her voice. Low, chesty and husky from the cigar, melodious and reverent in its own way, with a slight German accent that she had never quite got rid of.

- Yes," Prayfield muttered aloud, clutched his head and sank to the floor, "if you were here, you'd hardly like what you saw.

A goddamn decrepit loser drug addict who almost killed himself with alcohol and experimental pharmaceuticals, sitting in the ruins of his own faded fame.

- Sad... - Adélie said, folding her hands in a ring in her lap. She was sitting on the sofa in the richly furnished drawing-room in an unbuttoned blouse, furtively studying its interior and trying to understand the character and history of the owner of the manor. 'I wonder how long ago it was built? "The architecture looks like the nineteenth century, those ceiling beams and columns..."

Vorobyovat the window turned round:

- I'm sorry?

- I'm sorry," Adélie corrected herself, "thinking out loud. - She sighed, folded her arms across her chest, threw back her head, and confessed, "I had hoped for a better welcome. I thought it would cheer him up to be back home.

- Give him time," Alexei moved closer and, when she nodded and moved over, sat down next to him. - I'm sure an old friend just needs to come to his senses. You said you were able to... - "How do you say that in English?" The surgeon couldn't find the best words and finally gave up: - Convince him to come back...?

- Yes, we had a heart-to-heart talk and I saw that sparkle in his eyes - he really wanted to change and start his life over. But now... I don't know. I won't recognise him when he arrives. What if the familiar surroundings make it worse?

Vorobyev sighed and turned to the girl.

- Everyone has skeletons in their wardrobe, Delia.

Prayfield moved his hands away from his head in his office and noticed an old metal-lined chest under a bookshelf.

- Decisions we regret ...

The grey-haired scientist opened the lid, paused for a moment, and touched a wooden frame lying prostrate on a pile of personal belongings.

- The losses we've suffered....

The photo card was a time faded black and white portrait of a young smiling girl with thin arched eyebrows, medium length dark wavy hair and wearing a military uniform with a light coloured patch on her left forearm.

- The people we lost.

A tear ran down Prayfield 's cheek.

"My precious..."

- But life is not limited to the past, which is irrevocably gone," Vorobyov continued and rubbed Adela's knee before standing up. - We can always start again.

Edward pushed the open chest away, but didn't put it away; when the man got to his feet, the photograph was gone.

- And sometimes, to figure out where we're going....

The old man sank down in his chair and put his hands relaxedly in front of him. Everything was right now.

- ...we need to go back.

The picture of the woman dear to his heart was once more framed on the oak table. Prayfield turned it so that it would not glare in the light, and again read the inscription on its corner:

"To Ed with love. Yours forever.

Adelheim, Christmas 1943."

The scientist closed his eyes, frowned for a moment - and finally smiled.

Christmas '43...

- ...That's true," Adélie nodded, "but not always and not for everyone. Take you," she pointed at Vorobyov. He turned round with interest:

- Let's say,

- You're obviously hiding from something," Dupont continued and stood up. - When you said you were 'on the run with fire and sparks,' I didn't think it was quite a figure of speech.

Alexei laughed.

- You're very perceptive, Adélie. - He sighed, went to the fireplace, leaned over and turned the long-dried wood with a stick. - I don't want to go into details, but after your telegram I decided to leave Germany incognito and keep you two company.

The surgeon took a lighter out of his pocket, rolled up the plane ticket he no longer needed, put it on the pile of wood and lit the seed for the fireplace. A light smoke came out.

- What's wrong? - Adélie asked anxiously.

- It wasn't just you who were being watched," Vorobiev replied in a quiet voice, watching the fire grow. - I found a wire in my house. For many reasons I have enough enemies, but they used to keep their distance. - He turned the timbers again and the flames grew stronger. - Now something has changed, and I'm afraid something serious is coming.

A log cracked loudly and with sparks.

- I didn't think you could be scared..." the girl said.

- Unfortunately, it can. - Alexei straightened up and spread his hands. - I'm as human as you are. And I'm afraid to put you in danger.

Adelie moved closer and began to stare at the burgeoning fire.

- Is your past that dangerous?

- Not only mine. - Vorobyov turned round and looked thoughtfully at the stoking fireplace.

- You mean those people-" Adelie hesitated. - American secret service agents, as Mr Edward said?

- Yes," Alexei nodded briefly, and added thoughtfully after a short pause, "But they don't necessarily work for the CIA. If both Prayfield and I were being followed, there are two possibilities: either it's an international operation by different intelligence agencies, or it's the work of some third force that we don't know much about yet.

Dupont shivered and added half-heartedly:

- But they'll definitely be back to finish what they started.

- Exactly..." Vorobiev looked at her. - For some reason we don't know yet, they want Prayfield .

- 'Then,' Adélie turned round with a firm look, 'we must stick together and protect him and each other from danger.

- I agree, Delia," Alexei nodded.

- That's the second time you've called me that," the Frenchwoman raised an eyebrow. - Is it some kind of Russian name?

- Yes, and it's quite beautiful. Do you mind?

- 'Not if you like it that way,' Adelie shrugged, still smiling and thinking, 'Strange, but nice...' when a friendly voice came from the stairs in the hall:

- How cosy it's become here!

The doctor and the artist turned round.

Edward Gregory Prayfield stood on the stairwell, freshened and combed, standing upright and without his cane. He took hold of the banister confidently, stepped down further, smoothed out his new waistcoat, and drew from his pocket a pair of round dioptre sunglasses.

- Well, the team is finally assembled, just like in the good old days? - The scientist said with a sly smile, put on his glasses and finished triumphantly:

- Then let's break a few laws of physics!

***

Later at dinner, Vorobyovand Prayfield discussed the last few years they'd spent apart, and Adela listened half-heartedly. She stayed in the guest bedroom, the cosiest and most uncluttered room on the estate, according to Edward, and sorted out her travelling bag and a few things and settled into the low-backed armchair by the window. With a little tidying up, dusting and cobwebs, it wouldn't be bad at all. "I could stay here like this..." The girl was determined to cut her journey short and spend some time with her new friends, to take a break from her past life, her failed relationships, to find herself anew. And deep down, she knew that this decision was the most right one she had made in recent years. Adelie didn't know what lay ahead of her or what kind of trouble her chance encounter with first a Soviet émigré and then a broken English scientist might get her into, but it was enough for her that she had stepped forward and changed everything completely. Maybe she can change the fate of her new mates too, help them get back to life, find meaning in it again and make the world a better place?

- ...And I say," continued Prayfield with a laugh, cutting a piece of turkey from the head end of the table, "how can it explode, there's nothing physically to explode.

- But it exploded," Vorobyev added with a smile, refilling the wine.

- Exactly! - The grey-haired scientist splashed his hands. - I still don't understand why! It must have been the ionisation of the gas and the collateral formation of plasma. I have never seen such fireworks in my life!

- You wouldn't do such tricks with me, believe me, old chap," Alexei laughed and raised his glass, looking at Adela. She smiled in return, distracted from her thoughts and clinked her glass with Vorobiev's:

- We'll start over and we won't blow up any more houses. I think that's a good toast, don't you?

- I couldn't think of anything better, Dellie," Prayfield smiled warmly and raised his glass. - Cheers!

Vorobyovhastily put his glass forward again, but Edward continued:

- No, there's a better option. - He took a theatrical pause. - To you and your kindness that brought me back from the dead.

Adélie blushed. Prayfield went on softly:

- Come on, don't be embarrassed. It's the truth. And I sincerely wish I could thank you the way you deserve....

The girl couldn't help but admit that she was very pleased to hear this speech.

- ...But I can offer you a place to stay and a job, if you don't mind staying in England," Edward said, setting down his glass. - I could use an assistant like you while we sort things out. No housework," he hastened to assure her, "don't worry, it's not a governess or a cleaning lady.

- I'll do for a butler," interjected Vorobiev, who had already drunk one glass of wine and was quietly pouring himself another.

- I also solemnly promise to respect your boundaries," finished Prayfield as seriously as possible, "and to make your stay as comfortable as possible. - He raised his glass again: "What do you say, Delly?

- 'I agree,' Adélie replied without hesitation, and raised her glass of semi-sweet in return, 'with great pleasure.

- Then welcome to the Adventure Club, my dear," Prayfield concluded solemnly and winked at her. - Welcome to the family.

***

The next day, Adelie Dubois knocked on Prayfield 's office.

- Good morning, Ed!

- Good morning, my dear," Edward replied, glancing quickly toward the door. He was looking through papers at the oak desk, wearing a brown jumper, his trousers burnt in several places, and the dark glasses he was used to.

- What are you doing? - The girl came closer, interested.

- I'm sorting out the correspondence," the scientist replied, adjusting his glasses. - You have no idea how many letters can come in six years. It's not certain that all of them require a reply, but..." He waved his hands guiltily.

Adela's curiosity got the better of her.

- Can I ask you a question?

- Of course, dear," Prayfield looked at her expectantly.

- Why do you need sunglasses?

Prayfield laughed.

- Good question. - He adjusted the frames. - They make me look cool, don't they?

Edward laughed and Adelie involuntarily giggled in response.

- It's really quite simple-I damaged my eyesight in forty-eight. - Edward swivelled in his chair and gestured for Adela to sit down on the guest sofa," If you ever, God forbid, go to a nuclear test site, never look at the flash, I beg you.

- Oh my God, well... - Dupont shook her head and remained standing hesitantly.

- Was there something you wanted to ask? - The scientist asked.

- To be honest, yes. - Adélie lifted her purse with a large envelope. - I was going to go to the post office to send a letter to Mum, and to the pharmacy. Do you need anything?

- No, no, no," Prayfield said, and joked, "if you need to, the bodega is just around the corner. Go for a walk, take a look around. Wait a minute," Edward came to his senses, "are you in pain? I can make a cure...

- N-no," she said evasively, "I'd be afraid to give you that kind of medicine, believe me. And I don't think you'd be able to change... um...

- Understood, no questions asked. - Prayfield raised his hands and tactfully hushed the subject. The girl nodded and turned to leave, but stopped.

"Something else was on my mind when I walked here...right, I remember."

- Say," Dupont turned round at the door, "have you heard from Van der Berg?

- You mean that inventor next door...? - Prayfield looked at her, squinting.

- Yeah, that's right. He was still going to leave after us.

- Edward propped his chin up with his hand and continued thoughtfully. - Edward propped his chin up with his hand and continued thoughtfully: - Something tells me we have a lot in common and could work well together. It's a shame he had to leave for home so soon....

Adélie went down the main staircase into the hall and was about to put on her jacket when a small ajar door in the far corner of the room caught her eye. It must be the wine cellar.

- Adélie, is that you? - came a low voice from the kitchen.

- Yes!" said the girl.

- Would you like some coffee? - Vorobiev asked from afar. - I'll serve breakfast in ten minutes. - He adjusted a large frying pan on the fire, where eggs and bacon were bubbling.

- Thank you, I'm not hungry," the Frenchwoman shouted back. - I'll walk a bit and get you some lemonade.

- I'd really appreciate a bottle of Coke. Isn't there even one here?

The Russian doctor corrected the cooking with a spatula and checked the kettle. There's enough water for everyone...

- You should have brought it from New York," Adelie shook her head, "but I'll ask, of course.

"But first..."

She opened the door and stepped through the opening. There were stone steps with a handrail leading down. "Great, a basement..." Adelie touched her stomach, figured a little walk downstairs wouldn't make it worse, and walked down the stairs to the bottom.

The room was dark and dusty. "I wish I'd thought to ask Alexei in the kitchen for a lantern..." She looked for the light switch and pulled the filament from the lamp. The dim light came on and Adela was surprised at the scale of the low room underground. Along the wide wall were long rows of racks of dark bottles covered in dust. How many were there, several hundred?

Adélie stepped closer and took one out. "Chateau le Joubertz," she read the label, "1879...wow." The old owner of the estate or his predecessors had proven to be great connoisseurs of noble aged wines. "But I still won't let you sleep again, Mr Prayfield ," Adélie said to herself. "You won't ruin your life again, I won't let you."

She was about to rise and cast one last glance at the rows of racks when an oddity caught her eye. One of the bottles was full, but there was much less dust on the top of it than the rest... as if it had been touched many times, but not all the way through. "I wonder what's special about it?"

Adelie walked over and touched the bottle, then tried to reach it. It didn't work. "What if..." She grasped the neck and turned it round. There was a grinding sound, and part of the shelving unit slowly lurched forward and then slid to the left.

- Wow," Adélie couldn't help but exclaim aloud. - A secret passage!

Behind the false part of the hinged shelving unit was an old door with heavy panelling, a wrought iron handle and a small keyhole. She grasped the handle and pulled. The door was locked, but it didn't fit tightly. She wondered where it led to and if Prayfield knew about it. Dupont thought he must certainly know. The girl leaned over and looked through the keyhole. The room across the hall was dark, but there was a glimpse of daylight somewhere ahead. "Is this really a corridor to some outside room?" Too bad there's no way to know what's on the other side right now... Adelie straightened up, stepped back and turned the fake bottle in the opposite direction. The rack segment went back and fell into place, leaving barely visible seams with the main part. The Frenchwoman made herself promise to tell the scientist about her discovery and ask about the estate later. She hurried towards the exit, switched off the light behind her and went upstairs.

***

...And it was at this time, across the English Channel, north of France, in the not-so-large Dutch city of Rotterdam, in his one-storey house, that the inventor and theorist of quantum physics, Volkert van der Berg, finally received the long-awaited parcel he had been chasing for six months and even crossed the ocean to make sure that it was exactly what he had been missing.

- Don't lie down, don't lie down! - he said hurriedly. - Put it just so, I won't turn it over alone! Bedankt, bedankt, thank you!

He signed the delivery form, thanked the postman and the movers, and closed the door impatiently behind them. The tightly sealed box bore the stamp of the U.S. Postal Service, the inscriptions "Careful, fragile goods!", "Do not turn over!" and "This side is the top side". Without hiding his excitement, Volkert grasped the sides of the parcel, the size of a good refrigerator, and pulled. "I wish I hadn't scratched the parquet," flashed through his mind, but he dismissed the thought; it was more important not to drop the load itself. He had been looking for that last piece of the mosaic for too long.

When Van der Berg finally hauled off the oversized load and stripped a few planks, he was overcome with an almost religious ecstasy. "Finally, after all these years..." The Dutchman checked to see if the filler was packed tightly enough, if any fragile parts had broken, if the glass was in place. "A fortune in one wooden box..." Thankfully, everything seemed to be intact. Volkert exhaled and removed the front of the packaging, then the top and sides. Carefully removed the filler, wiped dust from every tube, cylinder and piston, checked the wiring and cooling integrity. Then I rolled the already attached on wheels to the centre of the room and inspected the whole. A tiered cylindrical structure with symmetrically arranged curved tubes and dangling capsules, copper support rods and thin, human-hair-wide steel threads, it was a unique computing device, the like of which there was no other in the world; unable to add up prime numbers, but operating on infinite probabilities. A strange choice for an age obsessed with precision and specificity of predictions, but they were not an end in themselves for a humble inventor no one knew about, nor was the device itself important, for the sake of which he had sold his house, quarrelled with the rest of his family, and forfeited his inheritance.

- Now you have a heart..." said Volkert van der Berg mesmerised and turned around to look at what occupied the rest of the room.

Power cables snaked across the floor, walls and ceiling, the power supply hummed and vibrated low, a bundle of wires led to giant, massively braided magnetic rings hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the room, one above the other in the centre of a circular Faraday cage. Beneath the rings was a capacious screened platform with a chair and control panel that was connected to a bulky, self-assembled computer nearby with several convex screens displaying complex calculations, oscillograms, and time graphs. Nearby, on a slate board fused at one edge, overlapping columns of calculations, physical formulae and equations of atomic masses and quantum interactions where almost everything converged. "But that's about to change..."

Volkert vand ber Berg clenched his fists, gathered his thoughts, exhaled - and prepared to complete his life's work:

- Reality Fractaliser... When I finish it, the world will change forever.

CHAPTER 4

Adélie climbed the stairs, closed the cellar door behind her, walked down the corridor to the large hall, put on her jacket over her blouse, changed her shoes, checked that she had taken all the things she needed in her purse from her room, and went outside.

She had already memorised the route to the pharmacy in nearby Cambridge. Go down New Road, after the two-storey white pub, turn left along the Basway, then past the cricket fields and Chivers Lake, left on to King's Hedges Road, straight on past Northbury Chapel, turn off at Wyndsham Close, then right at the Church of the Good Shepherd and you're there, at Lloyd's Pharmacy. Forty minutes' quick walking and you're in Cambridge, the centre of science and student life. " Prayfield seems to care for this place, living so close to his university," Adélie thought. She remembered that the scientist had mentioned that he had done his doctorate at Oxford and taught there for a while, but then moved to Cambridge to devote more time to practical research in astrophysics and applied engineering. - "Or he had no choice when there was no-one to look after the family estate..."

She was walking along a concrete path past flowering rose bushes and tall larches in the courtyard of a small two-storey house with brown tiles and two gables when she noticed a few short-cropped young men in shabby clothes across the road ahead. They were standing in a group, discussing something loudly, slouching and smoking one cigarette over the others.

Something strained the girl in their manner of speaking.

- Hey, look at that chick over there! - Adelie heard, looked up and saw one of the guys with a strong working-class accent nodding in her direction. She immediately lowered her gaze and quickened her step.

- Oh, well," replied the second cockney in a smoky voice and adjusted his fedora. - What do you think, should I talk?

- Why not? Try it, we'll have a laugh.

- She's not going to let you, why are you pissing yourself?" said the first guy, in a husky bass voice, as the tightly bunched-up mate shouted at him. Adelie squirmed inside and glanced furtively at the carriageway-the crosswalk was far away, but there were few cars. An intercity bus was slowly approaching from the right side of the street.

- What do you bet it'll do? - said the guy in the cap and even straightened up. - I'll ask for the phone number in no time.

- You're really retarded," he grinned and waved his hand.

- Hey, chikulia! Hello! - A dapper man in frayed trousers and a cap walked towards the girl. She squeezed her head into her shoulders, took a very quick step and blurted out:

- Sorry, I'm in a hurry.

- What the hell, a foreigner? - Chav was surprised and followed her too: - You're talking funny. Where did you come from?

- Not from around here," Dupont said, unable to keep the harshness out of her voice.

"Art, huh...?"
She remembered André's blue eyes and his velvet voice. "First time in the Louvre...?"

The gopnik grabbed her sleeve and turned her round sharply as she walked.

- And cheeky too! - Saliva spat from his mouth, his bruised eyes bloodshot with resentment. - What did I do to you? Can't you meet me?

The girl jerked her hand away and shouted in an iron tone:

- Let go quickly! - Adélie was struck by the tone; she turned to the bus stop and waved towards the double-decker car: "I'm late for the bus.

The Frenchwoman clutched her bag tighter and ran across the road to get inside. As she ran, she glanced at the route sign: 'Impington-Cambridge-London'. "I'll ride to the capital, have an adventure..."

- Go on then, skank! - The guy in the cap waved his hand disappointedly and looked at Adélie with bewildered eyes. When he realised that he had just been refused, he shouted after her with exaggerated anger: "What a bunch of women; I'll shout at you another time, eh?

Dupont could hear the friendly roaring of the unlucky Romeo's mates as the doors closed, and she climbed up to the second tier and sat down on a vacant seat on the bus. The view from the top was of the rustic pastoral of a provincial English village one hundred and seven kilometres from the centre of the British Empire.

Dupont straightened her hair, took a breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Her lower abdomen twisted violently, she felt discomfort and thought about ruining her skirt. "Just need some painkillers..." Adélie hadn't thought to bring a first aid kit with her when she'd flown out of Lyon in a hurry, and now it seemed like a big omission. A road trip to London hadn't been in her plans, but an encounter with aggressive speed-dating seekers had forced her to improvise. Besides, she'd long wanted to see the capital, where she'd only been passing through three days ago.

***

When Adela reached Liverpool Street Station and went inside, she found herself in a tall covered building with arched windows and a transparent double-pitched roof, where dozens of people were waiting for their flights, buying tickets, reading the press and calling their families. The girl even felt dizzy - the feeling of New York crowds had time to fade from her memory. So... She looked around at the shop windows and even walked through the second tier of the building, but she couldn't find any pharmacies, only an emergency room - which, of course, was stupid to go to. All the more, the pain had subsided a bit during the journey, thanks to the smooth roads. "But still, I need a mixture for my period... there should be plenty of pharmacies in the centre."

The girl carefully descended to the first level, thought out a plan of action, and entered the passage under the sign with a red hollow circle and the word "Underground" underlined in blue.

She walked out to Charing Cross, climbed up to the surface, smiled at some resemblance to a railway station ("The English love glass roofs"), walked to the exit and spotted the long-awaited sign for Medicines. Finally...

Immediately after the purchase, Adeli opened a bottle of water, popped a pill and stood against the side wall, closing her eyes for a while. "Count to thirty..." Soon the unpleasant sensations should subside, though not completely go away.

She opened her eyes and she thought she felt better already. "Quite a change." She adjusted her skirt, brushed back her dishevelled hair and headed for the station exit.

- Newspapers, buy newspapers!

Somewhere round the corner a press salesman was calling softly and not too diligently. Adélie stepped out into the fresh air for the first time in half an hour, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Pigeons chirped quietly, cars honked at each other, couples in the café across the street talked and laughed quietly about something they were doing. The sun hardly broke through the haze of thick clouds and green, despite the season, crowns of rare trees. It smelled of the coming October.

- Fresh news! - continued the nameless newspaperman closer at hand. - The first British polar submarine has just been launched! Will you take the paper, sir?

Dupont couldn't contain her smile and walked sideways so as not to disturb the passersby exiting the underground.

- What else is there... - the newspaper man's voice became quieter, the paper rustled. - Bechu... vana... Bechuanaland demands independence! - The invisible commentator couldn't hide his surprise. - Wow, and where is this even... Wow, the British are giving it to us.

The Frenchwoman fixed her hair, which had become dishevelled in the light wind, and looked around.

A large red double-decker bus, with pictures of a famous cricket player and a sign that read "Lucky Strike: Catch Your Luck", drove past the kerb on the pavement. In the centre of the small square stood a tall dark stone Baroque tower with statues of blessing men wearing crowns and a thin cross on a tall jagged spire. Adélie involuntarily gawked at it.

- Excuse me," she turned to a passing man with a cigar, "what is the name of this monument?

- Oh, of course. - He gave her a quick glance and then said more clearly: Eleanor Cross. Good day, ma'am!

- You too," Dupont nodded and thought, "Do I stand out so much? I need to get rid of my Lyon accent..."

She walked to the left, towards the exit of the square, and turned round to look round at the houses. To the left of Eleanor's Cross was a large six-storey hotel with government flags hanging on either side of the entrance, opposite it across the street was a four-storey bank building with two colonnades. "So austere and beautiful at the same time, nothing superfluous..."

She passed through a gate with rounded lanterns and saw the sign of a coffee shop in a tall cubic building in front of the square. Since she was in London by chance and a few chavs, why not treat herself to a cup of coffee?

She stepped inside, felt herself sweating, and unbuttoned the top of her blouse. On the radio, Nancy Sinatra was singing along with Lee Hazlewood about "Summer Wine," low lights hung over a long bar countertop with a row of display cases where a young woman with carefully styled hair was wiping cups in front of a boiling kettle and a chalk board listing tonight's menu. Adeli stepped closer and gazed at the beautifully laid out desserts with separate price tags. "Not so expensive for the centre..."

- Did you want something, ma'am? - The waitress and barista asked quietly, keeping her focus on the business at hand.

- Yes," the girl straightened up and pointed in front of her. - Can I have a slice of this tiramisu and a cup of latte?

- Excellent choice. - The brunette turned to the kettle and took it off the stand. - American-style coffee, with milk, right...?

- Café au lait, quite right," Adélie nodded and glanced at the tables against the brick wall, almost all of which were unoccupied.

- By the way," the waitress turned and made a sign with her hand towards a rack of coloured jars and something that Adélie at first mistook for small containers for storing loose additives. - Would you like to try a new product, coffee in a paper cup?

- What do you mean, in a cup? - Dupont didn't immediately understand.

- I know it sounds unusual, we were the first in London to introduce such a service. - The quiet girl took one of the items and held it out to Adela: -You can take the coffee with you and drink it on the way. It's only ten pounds more expensive.

- And it won't spill, the paper won't get damp...? - The Frenchwoman twirled the white glass in her hands incredulously and noted the cardboard lid with the erased inscription "Pr...", over which was a stamp with the name of the coffee shop.

- It's a special foamy stuff, imported stuff. - The waitress started making coffee and reached down to the small fridge under the counter for milk. - Just taste it, it doesn't affect the flavour in any way.

- Well, okay... - Adeli carefully placed the disposable dishes on the counter and the waitress immediately picked them up:

- Let me give you some more syrup and cinnamon, on the house.

Something in the coffee shop manager's behaviour alerted the Frenchwoman. Perhaps she was bored with her monotonous job and there weren't enough customers today for a substantial tip, or perhaps she had problems in her personal life?

The girl finished her cheesecake, put aside her fork, took a sip from a paper cup ("Unusual... but really tasty, almost like New York"), left a few pounds tip, thanked the barista (who only nodded furtively), took the glass and headed for the exit. "Why do I get the feeling she's a bit embarrassed to be doing her job?"

Adelie had just opened the door when she bumped into a passerby and nearly fell over.

- Holy shit! - The young man burst out: he struggled to keep his balance, part of the stack of presses scattered on the pavement,

- Oh, sorry. - The girl threw herself down on the paving stone, put the almost empty glass down beside her and began to help the newspaper man gather together the scattered issues of the morning paper. He put the soiled sheets in a separate pile and pressed them down with his heavy cap.

- I'm sorry, please, it was me who didn't notice you," the dark-skinned newspaper dispenser finally put all the numbers clean in a stack, shook himself off, looked down at his flooded sleeve with chagrin, and again turned his gaze to the ruined papers. "How many have had time to get wet," he thought, "twenty or fifteen?" - One should have walked more carefully.....

- It's no big deal..." Adélie took a breath, straightened up, and put out her hand to help the man up, "I'm sorry I spilled coffee all over the place. Is this your entire print run?

- Yes," the young man nodded, still annoyed, "it's not selling well today. The radio...

He had short curly hair, a small moustache and stubble, a broad nose, smooth skin and pleasant features, looking twenty-five; the girl noted the cheap coat, the bright white and red striped scarf she had seen somewhere before, and the unremarkable trousers and boots.

- Sorry again," Adélie repeated, and bit her lip. "How clumsy that came out!" - Let me buy it back so you don't have to blush?

The guy picked up a stack of clean newspapers from the pavement and leisurely smoothed them out.

- I can't ask you to do that..." he said, choosing his words carefully, "but that way I wouldn't have to explain to the publisher where all those newspapers went that nobody bought.

- I'm buying them back," Dupont said firmly and opened her purse. - How much are you charging?

- Two and a half pence each," replied the newspaperman incredulously.

- Make it three. How many do we have to throw away?

The press salesman knelt down to the ruined stack, counted it, rolled it up like an unwanted roll, and rose, putting on his cap.

- Nineteen issues.

- That makes fifty-seven," Adela counted in her mind and held out the change: "Here's sixty pence. I apologise again for the spoilt suit.

- It's nothing, miss, thank you," the guy visibly relaxed, accepted the money and put it in his shoulder bag. - I'm not used to it," but at least the people here are more discreet, and thank you for that.

- You're... not from here, are you?

The newspaperman stretched out his almost black hands with light-coloured palms in front of him and sarcastically stretched out with exaggerated pronunciation:

- Amazing guess, ma'am.

- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend," Adélie said, embarrassed. - I'm not from around here either, as people keep reminding me.

The young man in the long striped scarf realised he had overreacted and tried to make amends with a compliment:

- You have a lovely accent, very soft.

- Yours is unusual too..." Adélie answered at once, and thought a moment. "There's no mistaking it..." - The South of America?

The new acquaintance nodded:

- Louisiana, New Orleans.

- Wow, we've both travelled a long way from home. - The girl held out her hand: - I'm from France, by the way, Adélie.

- Nice to meet you, Sam... funny name, isn't it? - The shabbily dressed newspaperman shook Dupont's hand readily and smiled affably. - Like Uncle Sam's.

- That's right," French smiled, making a grimace to the side and pointing a finger: - "I need you in the United States Army," I saw the poster.

- And who hasn't seen him. - Sam looked sympathetically at Adela. - Are you homesick?

- A little," admitted the Frenchwoman, and shoved her hands into her coat pockets, "but there's no time to be bored here. And you?

- I'm homesick, it happens. - The newspaper man sighed and swayed on his socks. - I came here a month ago for a concert, got a bit carried away, ran out of money, and now here I am, a salesman for the Daily Mail with a maths degree.

- It's too bad about that-" Adélie thought she wanted to help him, and did some calculating in her mind.

- Well, I don't regret it," the salesman said, picking up a stack of surviving newspapers, then adjusting a coloured scarf and pointing to it: "Almost got McCartney and Lennon's autograph!

***

Vorobyev turned the steering wheel to the left and shifted the gearbox. He pulled into a makeshift car park, straightened the steering wheel, turned the key and switched off the engine. He sat for a while with his eyes closed to the rustle of falling leaves and the singing of late birds. The last operation at the private clinic on Devonshire Place had been more complicated than he'd thought, but the patient would be fine. Domestic trauma, domestic violence. Normally, this sort of thing should be prevented by law, but in this case, the bloke asked for it. Another reminder of how stupid and dangerous unfounded jealousy is... "Okay, maybe not unfounded. But if you can have mistresses, why can't your woman?"

Alexei switched off the engine, raised the windows and got out of his black 1956 Beetle. The rising November wind almost blew his hat away. "Chilly today..." He slammed his mackintosh shut, adjusted his gloves, and walked with a brisk stride across the gravel and the stained lawn to the front entrance. The massive carved doors with their Celtic ornamentation were drying after painting and glistened with varnish in the sunset light. A light was burning behind the glass. Vorobyov did not press the bell button and pulled the door handle towards himself.

The lights were on in the hall. The surgeon looked around, took off his coat and hat, hung them on a rack, took off his shoes and put them neatly next to the lightweight women's cleats and weighty insulated boots. The sizzle of oil and light footsteps were heard in the kitchen.

- Alex, hello!" Adelie, in her apron, appeared from the doorway and threw up her hands in greeting. - I thought you'd be here sooner.

- And hello to you, Delia," Vorobyov smiled back and opened his arms. The girl hugged him willingly.

- Do you want sandwiches? I was just about to fry some.

Vorobiev frowned. "Fried sandwiches?"

- We were talking about cooking. - He wagged his finger upwards. - If Ed's treating you like a maid....

- He has nothing to do with me," Adélie pushed him away and arched her eyebrows, "It's okay, I decided to cook something myself. By the way, how about some coffee?

- I wouldn't say no to coffee," the doctor backed down and put his hands in his pockets. - How are you doing at work?

- Great, thanks. - The girl went to the dining room, poured coffee into a coffee pot and lit another burner on the cooker. - I was finally hired, I'd been an intern for almost a month.

Vorobyev sat down at the wide dining table and folded his arms.

- How is the publication? - He asked sympathetically and adjusted his glasses. - Do you like it?

- Yes," the Frenchwoman nodded with a jug of water in her hand, "It's no worse than the one I used to work in Lyon. The people are nice, the workload isn't too heavy..." Dupont filled the coffee pot with water and put it on the fire. - I even have time to write to my friends. What about London?

- Just like yesterday. Big, crowded and indifferent, which is good for us.

Adelie nodded and noted the time on the wall clock.

- It's great that we're not that far away from him. I don't know what I'd do without weekend trips.....

Vorobyev remembered Moscow's post-war trolleybuses with conductors ready to kill for an unpaid penny, and grinned.

- I'll buy you a bike sometime, so you can walk around the neighbourhood and not jostle on the bus.

- Thank you, but I'll save up for a car myself," the young woman declined the offer, not without pride, noticed the cream rising in the pot, took it off the cooker and casually asked: "How is Agnieszka? You do keep in touch, don't you?

- Yes," Alexei replied and relaxed, "she is my eyes and ears in the FRG. The press didn't believe the staging until the end, but everything was quickly forgotten and there was no trace of surveillance...

- You don't know what I mean," Adélie interrupted him, and inwardly exclaimed. "Got you, you simpleton!" - There was something going on between you two, the way you talk about her.

- I have no idea," Vorobiev made a nonchalant face. - I don't understand French chirping.

- You understand everything," the girl poured the fragrant Arabic coffee into porcelain cups and put them on the tray. - So how is she? Do you miss her?

- I don't understand a word," the Russian doctor shook his head, hiding a smile. - I can't hear a single word, please repeat it.

Adeli set the tray on the table and pretended to speak into the phone:

- Hello, hello, can you hear me?

- Say that again louder, you're disappearing," Alexei tasted his coffee and put the cup back. - I'm sorry, I have things to do...

- Don't hang up, hello!" the laughing girl brought her hand closer to her face, and her interlocutor clapped his hands, pushed back his chair with a loud sound, and rose to his feet:

- I need to check on my good old friend who is so busy with incredibly urgent work that he hasn't picked up the phone for weeks or even come down to see us mere mortals.

Adeli gave a sudden thumbs up and walked over to the fridge.

- I propose to do a good deed in our circumstances... and donate some provisions to the trenches.

- Oh, he won't send me down with such a present," Vorobyov took the bottle of wine from Dupont's hands with approval and examined the label. "Excellent Scottish....".

- Alas," the girl shrugged her shoulders with a note of regret, "I had time to learn all the habits.

Alexei climbed the wide carpeted staircase, passed a stained glass window with a stylised image of an atom, walked down a corridor with paintings and shaped wall lights to the right and reached a tall mahogany door. He waited for a pause and knocked.

- Yes?" came a hoarse, worried voice from the other side. - Who is it?

- Will Johnson," Vorobyovreplied in a serious tone and lower than usual.

- Who-who? - They asked incredulously at the door.

- A doctor from London, who has reopened his practice," Vorobyev began to introduce himself with equanimity according to the legend he had invented, but immediately stopped himself, looked at the bottle and hid it behind his back: "But what's this about me - come on, Ed, didn't you recognise me?

- Ah, come in, old chap. - The chains rattled, the bolt creaked, a series of keys turned in the locks, and the door opened. A dishevelled, grey-haired Prayfield , with grey whites of his eyes, a reddish forehead, and the same unhealthy colour of his sunken cheeks, opened the door with trembling hands, perked up visibly, and nodded towards the room to let his guest in. - It's been a long time since I've seen you.

- It's been two weeks," Alexei admitted with a touch of regret and walked in. Edward held out his palm for a handshake, but Vorobiev spread his arms to embrace him. Prayfield raised his eyebrows high, but he didn't object and returned the hug, noting the alcohol in his guest's hands.

- I'm sorry," Vorobyev continued, "I was getting settled in a new place.

- I'm still doing it, as you can see," Prayfield said with a sideways glance. The desk was still littered with papers, the filing cabinet was open, and empty wine bottles stood by the chair. "Not much has changed here in a month..."

- Have you unpacked all the boxes yet? - Vorobyev asked, remembering the empty walls and things packed away for better times. When was that? Eight years ago?

- Phew," the scientist waved away and pushed a stack of old newspapers off the sofa with his cane leaning against it. - Easier said than done.

Edward sat down on the sofa with a grunt and stretched his legs out in front of him. Vorobyov leaned on the edge of the table and remarked:

- You made a big break with England then. You didn't think you'd actually come back here?

- Yeah," Prayfield shrugged and looked up. His gaze clouded over. - Hadn't considered that option. Just go ahead, Per Aspera ad astra..."

- Yeah, that's a great motto," the surgeon agreed and was silent. A tall clock with a pendulum ticked loudly in the hall.

- There are too many things about this place..." the old scientist finally said and closed his eyes. - Sometimes I wonder if I should have followed my heart and come back here at all.

Vorobyov looked at him and asked quietly:

- Do you regret coming back?

- Had he come back? - Prayfield glanced at him and grinned bitterly. - Sometimes I feel like a part of me died a long time ago. And there's an emptiness inside.

- You're about-" Alexei stopped himself, so as not to be indelicate, and looked at his old friend. He pressed his lips together and nodded faintly.

- I remember how you grieved for her," the doctor continued in a low voice. - We had only just met, but I could see how close you were to her and how much she loved you. Even though you were so different...

Prayfield closed his eyes and shook his head:

- Please don't remind me. Give me what you brought, I don't want to get sober.

He stretched out his hand and played with his fingers. Vorobyov turned to the bottle of wine behind him, took it in his hands and shook it. Full.

- And it would be very nice to see you as you were before," Alexei remarked, and looked at Prayfield carefully over his glasses.

- It's not going to be like it used to be," Edward waved it away, picked up the carved cane, and looked at it thoughtfully. - Look at me, at yourself. We're old, decrepit. No one needs us any more-even the world has changed while we've been doing this nonsense. We're left behind, with our hopes and dreams that will never come true.

-Are you seriously talking now? - Vorobyov furrowed his eyebrows, stood up from the edge of the table, shoved the bottle between the books in the rack without looking, and stepped closer to the professor. - 'All the things we've done, do you think it's rubbish? All the dangers and risks we took to make the world a better place...? - The scientist's depressed mood hit him hard. "Come on, don't tell me you got worse back home..."

- We chose the wrong thing, my friend," Edward Gregory Prayfield sighed, rose with an effort, leaned on his cane, and continued with quiet bitterness: - Following mirages, chasing the future, instead of living in the present and appreciating those who were with us. - He walked unsteadily to the window and looked out at the clouds darkening away from London. - I was constantly, like a madman, driving forward....

- And where are you now?

- I'm floundering at the bottom of a hole I didn't notice," the scientist turned his head.

- And the one you drove yourself into," the doctor objected immediately, pointing his finger at him. - Shall I tell you exactly what went wrong?

- Come on," Prayfield turned round and cocked his chin, "practise your philistine psychology, Sigmund.
The Doctor folded his arms across his chest and chuckled:

- You don't need any Jung here, even a dog can see that. - He looked at his friend appraisingly, smiled at something, and finished with the most serious tone: - It's quite simple: you have forgotten who you are and who you were.

The disappointed look didn't come as a surprise to him.

- That's it? - Edward even raised his voice for a second. - A corny phrase from a tabloid book?

Alexei noted to himself, not without pleasure: "The provocation succeeded."

The scientist lowered his head. - I know who I was.

- But not what he became.

Vorobyov stepped closer with a steady gait and continued in a softer tone:

- You used to light people up with your freedom, enthusiasm and fearlessness.

- It's long behind us...

Alexei gently sat down next to his friend and gently nudged him in the side

- The Prayfield I know has always proved: nothing is impossible or irreversible. - The scientist turned round on him and Vorobyov smiled: - There is always a solution to any equation.

- Life isn't about numbers on a slate," Edward shrugged absently.

- And God doesn't play dice, yes, yes," the doctor nodded and twirled the bottle in his hands, "You can keep quoting your moustachioed and dishevelled friend.

- I'm quite moustachioed and dishevelled myself, what's Albert Einstein?

Prayfield leaned over and took the whisky from his mate with an unsteady hand. He crossed his arms:

- As your friend, I have to tell you, if you drink that much, you'll soon meet him.

- Why not," the yellow-eyed skeleton finally exhaled, clamouring after a big gulp, "there's not much reason to live anyway.

That's a bit much.

- Don't you dare say that," Vorobiev sieged him. - Or even think it. You're wrong.

Edward parried, not hiding the cynical notes:

- I can say whatever I want.

- You can," Alexei admitted instantly and decided to change tactics: "And you can also fix everything.

- Really?" raised Prayfield 's eyebrows, putting the bottle down.

- Yeah.

- A sober look makes me disagree with you.....

- Your look doesn't look sober anymore. - Vorobyov pressed his lips together, shook his head, resolutely took the liquor away from his mate, thought for a second, and then decided to try it. It's strong stuff... a hundred years old, really.
Prayfield rested his palms on his knees and said nothing. Vorobiev had been his closest friend once upon a time. But how long had it been since then...?

- I've got nothing. Nothing but emptiness. - The grey-haired scientist sighed and covered his face with his hands. "My reputation is ruined, my savings are gone, my company is lost, even my patents are burned. What am I, if not a hopeless old man drinking himself to death?

Vorobyev looked at him carefully and replied, setting the bottle down on the coffee table littered with books and smoking paraphernalia:

- An old man surrounded by people who care about him and on whom he can rely. Who are ready to help him start again. - He waved his hands encouragingly: "Think of all your inventions and mechanisms!

Edward folded his arms in front of him and hunched over even more:

- Which haven't been mine for a long time.

- But you invented it all, assembled it, tested it, fixed it, and got it running! You can't change history! - Alexey felt the alcohol hit his head and noted the enthusiasm that he didn't usually feel, but now he should be the inspiration. - Let your company go bankrupt and your patents disappear - I don't care, we'll fix it all together, just like in the good old days - we've already influenced the world!

- If only he'd noticed it.

It's hard to argue with such bitterness.

- And the world rarely notices major changes in the moment," Vorobyev tried to object, searching for arguments. - You know it yourself - think of Kennedy, for example. And why do we appreciate what we had only when we lose it?

- I wish I knew the answer.

- You already know him. - "How to say it in English..." Sparrow's tongue began to slip. - Because we're human. We're imperfect... - "Some strange smell from downstairs..."

- What a subtle observation. - Prayfield turned his head and looked at Vorobyov with a note of disapproval. He tried to finish, noting to himself that he shouldn't have drunk so much so early:

- ...at every moment we are swinging like a pendulum, left and right...perfect balance is an illusion, frozen at a particular moment in time.

- You want to know what an illusion is? - Edward interrupted him sharply and poked himself in the chest. - It's in front of you.

- What are you talking about?

- Everything you described never existed. - There's anger in his voice. - We are deceivers. We deceive ourselves and others. We make up a myth, and we believe it.

Vorobiev stammered. Such an argument he had not expected.

- Look, with an argument like that, I don't know.

From downstairs suddenly came Adela's ringing voice from the dining-room:

- Guys, who wants hamburgers? Smoky and crispy!

Vorobyev furrowed his brows and sniffed.

- Oh, I see, right. We got burgers fried. - He turned to Prayfield and asked quietly: - Do you feel it too?

- I don't feel anything.

- Do you have a fire extinguishing system? - ignored the Russian doctor's ambiguous answer.

- Turned it off in fifty-three. - The scientist shrugged nonchalantly. - It only interfered with the experiments with quantum tunnelling.

- I see. - Vorobyov stood up abruptly from the sofa and staggered a little. - Then I'll go down to our lovely volunteer assistant and look for a fire extinguisher.

Edward Prayfield gave him a glance and folded his arms across his chest.

- See, you have nothing to contradict me.

- I just think that a second fire in six months is a bit much. - Vorobyov wagged his finger at him and headed for the exit. - We'll come back to this conversation.

- "We shall meet again..." - The old scientist grinned to himself. All villains say that.

Alexei paused.

- So now I'm a villain, too? - he said without turning round.

Edward didn't bother to answer. Alexei turned, clenched his fists, and couldn't stand it.

- You bastard, Prayfield ," he said in Russian.

- You don't argue with Bolsheviks," the old man on the sofa answered him in Russian and grinned.

- I'll take this. - Vorobyev came back sharply and grabbed the bottle of whisky. At the door he turned round and threw it over his shoulder:

- Come down when you need the family that needs you.

When the door slammed, Prayfield could no longer maintain the cynical smile on his face. There was no point. "He's right, though. I really am a bastard."

He struggled to get up from the sofa, leaned on the armrest, straightened awkwardly, and staggered over to the pile of unpacked things. The move had dragged on for a month... he hadn't even dusted the mirror yet. Was it an unconscious fear of seeing the real him and not the way he wanted to present himself? Hell knows.

Edward Gregory Prayfield still walked over to the wall, pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and wiped the shiny surface. "Should have done even then..." When he looked at the light slit in the grey canvas, he saw the reflection of his own eyes - faded, wrinkled and tired. And something else... he thought he saw something else.

Prayfield quickly picked up his handkerchief, rolled it clean side down to the mirror, and began wiping the entire area. When he finished and stepped back, he finally realised what had caught his eye.

In the reflection a young man looked back at him. Yes, in reality, of course, he was a man in his fifties, aged too soon, with an unhealthy complexion, a half empty stare, and a twitching mouth, but somewhere inside he was still the same as he had been when he had received those scars on the left side of his face, at eye level, across his eyebrow and lips that had never fully healed. He had once been only twenty....

Prayfield tried to smile and the skinny kid in the mirror did the same.

- Time..." the old man whispered.

- . to violate...," the kid continued.

- . the laws of physics," they both finished.

Young Prayfield grinned.

Prayfield shuddered.

What the...

- What do you think, Timothy? - his double in the mirror said to someone behind him.

Edward squinted. The edges of the objects floated, an iridescent shroud, and it seemed to him that the space of the mirror was closing in on him, filling the whole room.....

...which looked very different from what it had before. There were sloppily made beds with nightstands on either side of the walls, and a tailcoat and bowtie hanging on a chair by the desk. Young Edward stood at the mirror, wearing a white shirt and dress trousers and carefully combing his lacquered hair.

- Do you look like a dandy from the capital? - he asked half-turned.

- Where are you dressed up like that? - came a high, mocking voice from behind him. - Did someone die or something?

- Your sense of humour and decorum," Ed parried, and turned, adjusting his bow tie. - Just tell me, do I look weird?

Sitting backwards in the second chair, a young man with dishevelled hair and slanted eyes looked at his older roommate and whistled in surprise:

- For me, yes, you usually stay in front of your notebooks and textbooks where you can't be seen. I'd forgotten what you look like in one piece!

- Let's be serious, Fields," the paraded student said with a smile, but pulled him back.

Timothy folded his hands on the back of his chair, thought about something, and finally exclaimed:

- Wait, you-- I get it! There are two possibilities - either the Chamberlain himself hired you, or... wait, is the marvellous creature of the opposite sex...?

- S-weird assumption," Prayfield turned to the mirror again, with feigned equanimity, and began to fix his already fine hair.

- That's it! - his roommate couldn't keep up. - Eddie's in love! I never would have guessed. And here I thought you and I were thick as thieves... This is historic, ladies and gentlemen! - Fields threw up his hands and looked at the unlocked door, thinking about spreading the word all over campus.

Ed was visibly embarrassed:

- All right, that's enough, stop bullying.

Timothy got up from his seat, put his hands in his pockets and walked over to his mate to pat him on the shoulder.

- I'm so proud of you, son," he said with a wry smile. - I'm so proud of you, son," he said, smiling wryly.

Eddie wasn't impressed.

- I advise my father not to joke with such delicate matters," he said, shaking off his hand and shaking the highly modernised electric razor, "or you'll get another beating with this thing.

Fields shook his head and laughed.

- Right, how could I forget: my neighbour is a wild inventor of all sorts of things. - He nodded toward the freshly plastered wall, which still had a few cracks in it. - It's been a long time since someone's been messing with university property, I see.

- Then there was a little hitch," young Prayfield readily parried and laid his razor before the mirror, "too much current in the condenser. Besides, Dean Kepler stepped in. No offence, no problem!

- Of course, that's exactly what happened. - Timothy made a deliberately incredulous grimace, and his mate fell for it.

- You just don't understand the concept of sonic levitation," Edward began to explain, and his eyes clouded over, "it's the future of technology. - He put his palm on Fields's shoulder and pointed with his free hand somewhere in the distance. - Someday there will be cars flying over roads made of pure metal, held in the air by the sheer force of inaudible sound waves....

- Of course, Mr. Fantasist," said the student's roommate, shaking his head readily, "as you say. I can't imagine such delicate matters with an empty head.

- I agree with you there, my hedonistic friend.

Timothy decided that the score of mutual banter had been levelled, and lost interest in them. But not in the unexpected private life of his reclusive friend:

- Who's the girl, tell me? From a neighbouring campus?

Ed grinned:

- No way, take it higher.

- You called me a friend, and you're torturing me like this. She's not even from here, is she?

- Right vector," the guy's smile grew even wider. Timothy perked up:

- Oh, wait. Literally... A foreigner or something?

- Case in point. - Prayfield couldn't hold back a slightly arrogant smile. Tim whistled, turned round and slapped his shoulder:

- What a good boy you are! - The former recluse's veil friend ran his hand over his moustache and looked dreamily out of the window. - Eh, I once had a blonde from Sweden... and in bed....

- Wait," Ed stopped his reminiscence and turned anxiously toward the exit. - What's that noise?

There was the creak of door hinges in the corridor, the heavy stomping of seedy feet, the clanking of metal and the loud noise of a door slamming shut. "Not the usual sound for midday in a place where silence is strictly enforced," the young man thought as the sound of lighter walking came and a dry and unemotional voice familiar to both young men said with a note of poorly concealed fatigue and irritation:

- Honourable, do not test my patience. - Dean Kepler paused to adjust the pasche in the breast pocket of his waistcoat, as he always did when he was dissatisfied with something, and continued: - I know you're around here somewhere.

The boys approached the door cautiously and listened. Who could have pissed off the usually unruffled Dean?

- Believe me, no one will extradite or deport you," Kepler continued, obviously looking around the corridor. - Who told you such nonsense anyway? Look, Herr Pufelschmidt, we don't care who you were or what you did during the war, it's been over for fifteen years. And we appreciate and love you as, um... - the lean man with the grey whiskers hesitated, sighed and continued: - a consummate teacher of engineering and a valued member of our research team. So please, put your toy away....

- WUNDERVAFFE! - An unintelligible growl immediately sounded.

- ...well," the Dean didn't argue, "put your wunderwaffe away and go back to your lecture. Lady Jane will not be able to calm the students alone--" Kepler grinned and finished under his breath: - that senseless pack of wild and promiscuous monkeys, the current generation of young talents be damned.

Suddenly the weakly locked door couldn't withstand the pressure and Edward and Timothy almost fell at the feet of Dean Kepler.

He didn't seem the least bit embarrassed. The smooth-shaven dean took a step to the side, glanced briefly at the room number sign, and glared at his friends, who jumped up and down as if nothing had happened.

- To think, young people," he brought the thought to its pedagogical conclusion, "and yet Darwin himself once stayed here....

Secretly pleased with himself, Sir Jonathan-William Kepler lowered the carved cane to the floor, left the dazed roommates where they were, and strode off in the direction of his barricaded colleague: -Herr Pufelschmidt, don't make me call the police!

- What was that? - Prayfield could only exhale as the footsteps of the head of Oxford faded into the distance. Timothy shrugged his shoulders:

- Jupiter retrograde, I believe.

Edward wasn't too satisfied with that explanation. He rubbed the scar at his eye thoughtfully and said:

- More like the paranoid anxiety of a lonely expat multiplied by existential dread of a relentlessly advancing future....

- What?" Fields slammed his eyes shut.

- Jupiter retrograde, Tim," Prayfield reassured him.

There were loud shouts at the end of the corridor:

- STOP, STOP!

- Calm down," Kepler's harsh voice was heard in reply, "I repeat, no one is going to hand you over to Hindenburg!

Apparently, the arguments heard before were not convincing enough, because a loud one was heard in response:

- SHAYSE! WUNDERWAFFE NEIN STOPPEN!

Kepler sighed and Edward was ready to swear he raised his hands disarmingly at that moment:

- You're boring me. I'm calling Buckingham. Let George deal with it himself.

- So what's up, bro?

Ed perked up, coming back from a fleeting trance.

- I'm sorry, my mind wandered off. What are you talking about?

- It's about your baa-boy.

- Oh. Well... let me just note for the moment that I don't want to reveal all the cards. You know, Fieldsie.

- I see, Fieldsy," Timothy said eagerly, and grinned: he had always been amused at the similarity of their surnames, and at the fact that they were both so unlike young men put in the same small room. Prayfield was like a younger brother to him, and though some of his ideas and hobbies seemed to him at least strange, if not peculiar, he accepted them unconditionally and tried not to overstep his bounds where he should not. Especially in matters of love, where we are so vulnerable....

The twenty-year-old wunderkind student closed the door all the way, glanced at his watch and went back to the mirror to finish his toilet before going out. Tim gave him a look and felt really happy for him. "First crush..."

When had he ever had one himself? There had been so many... a string of maidens, meetings and dates, one-night stands and accidental heartbreaks. Was it the right thing to do? Now Timothy wasn't so sure of that anymore. "I wonder if I can actually feel anything..."

- Listen," he began, to interrupt the unpleasant thoughts, and sat down on the window sill with cushions, "well, do you even have a picture of her?

- A picture card...? - chuckled Prayfield , tying his bow tie. - Thinking,

she carries around an album of daguerreotypes along with a pinhole camera so she can give a portrait to everyone she meets...?

- And I thought you weren't everyone she met," Tim squinted slyly, catching his eye.

Edward laughed.

- Touché, you can't fool me.

He finally got through his wardrobe and took one last look at himself in the mirror. "Not bad at all for a good-for-nothing boy from the London docks, eh, Father?" The date promised to be eminently promising.

- However," the young man in parade raised a finger upwards, turning to his friend, "if you're still wondering....

- Of course it's interesting! - Fields immediately turned round.

- ...I've got something after all. - Edward Gregory Prayfield , a future graduate of Oxford University, smiled and walked over to the table. - It may not be the photograph in the locket.....

...but love can live longer than the oldest star in the universe.

Old, dishevelled, shaking with a fine tremor and feeling infinitely unhappy and ill, like a dog beaten by heartless people in an alley - the 1968 Prayfield clutched naughty fingers into the frame of the mirror and breathed heavily. "Heart..."
Inhale, exhale, inhale... exhale... exhale....

I need to come to my senses.
Edward Gregory looked in front of him and tried to focus on one detail of the interior of the study in the reflection at a time. The pleated curtains, the volumes of medieval prose, the old upholstered armchair, the desk, the smoking pipe, the picture frame lying flat....

His breathing had taken another hit, the arrhythmia had returned.

That's the picture.

The old man reached the leather armchair, collapsed helplessly into it, wrapped his arms around his head and sat like that for a while.

Then he bent over the table, creaked open one of the drawers, grabbed a bottle of wine, mouldy on the outside, opened it with unruly fingers. He pulled out the cork with a penknife, sniffed, grimaced, brought it to his lips.

And he started drinking.

Big gulps.

Long.

All the way to the bottom.

CHAPTER 5

...There was an extraordinary excitement at the Royal Mail's head office in Phoenix Place in the heart of London. Everyone who could tear himself away from his duties-except the lowest-ranking clerks and brokers-was crowded on the third floor of the unremarkable-looking building, in a meeting room where, despite the efforts of the riot police, a few journalists from the Daily Post and the Times had made their way.

- And yet, Oswald," one of the reporters with a cigar asked a colleague from a rival publication, pulling out a notebook and pen, "what exactly is going to happen today? I've been given an editorial assignment, but no details.....

- I don't quite know myself, James," said his neighbour with thick-rimmed glasses. - Hardly anything significant, a couple of paragraphs at most for the penultimate pages. Some sort of 'Fun Before the Scrabble' curiosity.

- Yeah," James said, smoothing his hair, "I guess they don't like you either, having banished you here.

Oswald cast an unblinking glance at him.

- Not as much as you, Jim. I heard about that scandal on Thursday-" His neighbour tensed. - It's not manly to let loose like that. If Emma quits, we'd love to have her back.

- Let him prove something first," the Times reporter immediately snapped back. - And anyway, what the hell do you care?

His competitor shrugged phlegmatically and turned away.

- My business is to present the facts honestly and let the reader draw their own conclusion.

James was pissed off.

- Tell your bosses the facts first - about how you hang out at the gay club every Friday night.....

- Now that was out of line. - Oswald turned around, his face flushed, and he was ready to swing his clipboard bag when a blonde woman with a film-style haircut standing in the crowd in front of them turned around and hissed at them:

- Quiet, quiet! It's starting!

The men gave each other a scornful glance and turned their attention to the far side of the room.

An elderly man with a grey moustache in a neat suit came out of a side aisle, walked with a shuffling gait to a podium draped in red cloth with British flags held up for the occasion, placed a sealed envelope in front of him, and began:

- Dear ladies and gentlemen!

The hum in the room subsided. James cast a scornful glance at his colleague and reluctantly prepared to record; a still angry Oswald pulled out and set up the weighty camera.

The old man coughed.

- Dear friends! - He began in a cracked voice, slow and unhurried. - As many of you may know, for thirty years now I have overseen the performance and integrity of our service's commitment to the people of the United Kingdom. - The honourable Postmaster General put his index finger up. - Everyone who has ever sent a letter or parcel through our service in the last four hundred and fifty years has known that it will reach its destination safely. And today we must prove it to ourselves and to others, as we have proved it every single day before. What I want to say-" The old man hesitated, clutched the edge of the podium. Then he carefully lifted the object in front of him and showed it to the audience: "The envelope I'm holding in my hands... came to me from my father. And to him, from his father.

A whisper passed through the crowd.

- What the hell... Oswald muttered, rewinding the film. James turned to him, forgetting the offence:

- So this letter is over a hundred years old?

- What is his secret? - The head of the London Post continued and looked round the room. - Nobody knows. Its contents have not yet been recognised because of this small inscription - see? - He put on his spectacles, squinted farsightedly and extended his hand with the envelope so that he could focus on it better. - The unknown sender had clearly stated: "Do not open until 12:00 noon on 14 September 1968." What time is it? - The speaker looked at his watch. - Let's wait a few more minutes, ladies and gentlemen. Does anyone have any questions?

Someone in the audience raised a hand and James muttered to himself, hastily jotting down the words of the Postmaster General:

- I wonder what's in it...

A secretary standing forward with carefully styled hair turned her head and made a suggestion:

- A message to posterity, perhaps?

James cast a predatory glance in her direction, measuring her from head to toe as far as he could see, and said:

- We're about to find out...

- It's definitely going to make the front page," Oswald deliberately cut in, ready to take another shot.

- Don't dream," James sieged him, stopping to undress his neighbour with his eyes, "my note will come out better.

The moustachioed postal custodian behind the podium looked at his watch again and coughed.

- Noon sharp! Hand me a penknife... - A young uniformed woman with red hair immediately handed over what she wanted. - Thank you very much. All right, ladies and gentlemen! The moment of truth.

The old man carefully slit the envelope from the side, tilted it, picked up a yellowed sheet of paper with perfect handwriting, ran his eyes over it, and his face changed.

An uncertain whisper ran through the quiet hall again.

- What is it?

- You're not going to tell us?

- I'm sorry," the Royal Mail chief finally said, his fear gone and his professional confidence back. - I have no right... this is a confidential request. I apologise, the conference is over. Alicia!

James, Oswald and the others immediately jumped from their seats:

- But sir! A couple of comments, sir!

- One moment! - The old man raised his hands and beckoned: - Alicia, come here for a moment, please.

The red-haired girl with the tenacious gaze ran up to the podium again.

- Yes, Mr Dickinson?
The old man handed her a piece of paper and gave her instructions in a very persuasive tone:

- Take this note-keep it as the apple of your eye! - go down to the telegraph office and transmit its contents exactly as here indicated, exactly where and at exactly the time indicated. Do you understand me?

- Of course, Mr Dickinson," his assistant nodded without hesitation. In the postal business, it's important to be neat and tidy.

- I trust you as much as anyone," Dickinson assured her a little more gently, then waved his free hand: - Now you go, and I'll try to get out of this in front of the public. - As Alicia hurried away with the precious parcel, Dickinson called out to her: "And remember! The telegram must leave at once! We must deliver it before it is too late!

***

- Please, everyone to the table! - Adelie, in her colourfully embroidered apron, sang, holding the plates in the air. - No burgers, unfortunately, but I won't let a little fire spoil the evening.

- Wow," Vorobyov, sitting at the table, noted, wiping his hands, "I just had to leave to park the car, and she had already prepared dinner. You could have waited, done it together...?

- No," she said, "I must have some self-respect. What, I can't make pasta?

- Of course you can," the doctor assured her. - Is it a special prescription?

The Frenchwoman smiled:

- Neapolitan pesto, I saw it in one of the issues of our newspaper.

- It smells very appetising," Alexei praised sincerely, noting to himself that it looked really good, and turned round. - What do you think, Ed?

Prayfield was sitting at the head of the table, slumped, frowning, still reeling from a good bottle of wine and an old drug that should have counteracted the effects of the alcohol, had it not been for a mistake in the grams. His head was still buzzing, his eyes were floating, and his heart was beating at an uneven rhythm. Edward noticed that he was gripping the armrest of the carved chair until his knuckles ached, and he tried to relax his posture. "What would she say if she saw me like this..."

The scientist shook his head in oblivion and squeezed his eyes shut for a second. "Gotta hang on, chase those dark thoughts away..."

He opened his eyes sharply and met the gaze of a critical Vorobyov and a rather alarmed Dupont.

- W-what...? - he interrupted.

- Please appreciate our young friend's culinary endeavours," Alexei asked in a British accent, with a touch of harshness.

- Hm." Prayfield sniffed at the dish Adelie had placed in front of him first while he thought about something of his own. "The smell, I must say, is excellent..." - he noted to himself, gave a polite (but rather menacing) smile, took the fork with an uncertain hand and tasted the succulent green dish. And I must say, it was really good.

- Not bad, not bad," Prayfield mumbled approvingly, with his mouth full, visibly revitalised, "quite decent. Thank you.

- That's it?

Vorobiev lowered his glasses and raised his grey eyebrows.

Edward fixed his dishevelled beard and added peacefully, reaching for the salt and pepper:

- Let me put it this way: at the best of times I've been in the highest circles of the New World and the Old World - and that would fit in perfectly with a Churchill or Eisenhower meal, believe me when I shake their hands.

- I am extremely flattered, your ladyship," Adela curtsied jokingly, but it was evident from her flushed face and smile that she was pleased.

- Wow, what speeches, comrades and friends," Vorobiev slammed the table and raised a shot of vodka in front of him. - I propose to drink to that!

The girl cast a sharp glance from him to Prayfield and back again, but the old scholar, contrary to her expectations, made a hesitating gesture with his hand.

- I-I think I'll pass," he said thoughtfully. I don't want to burden myself, my body is already in a state of exhaustion from the recent events.

- That's a very commendable decision," Adela smiled again and picked up the porcelain teapot, "Tea, then?

At the carved lacquered table, straight out of the nineteenth century, the conversation over a late supper was raucous. Vorobiev told stories from his recent practice and amusing curiosities, Adélie laughed loudly and asked for details, and even Prayfield , usually very reserved and unsociable, seemed calm and even relaxed. He was sitting with an old friend and a new acquaintance who was old enough to be his daughter, and along with the effects of the sedative he was experiencing a slightly surreal sensation, as if everything were as it had been before, with him and many old friends at the same table, familiar faces who had once played an important part in his life, but who were long gone and would not be. Vorobiev had grown old, grey and gray, but he was the only living reminder of a time when things had been very different... a time that could never be brought back.

Edward fell back into the dusky trance of memories and regrets until he was disturbed by the silence and the unintelligible sound that followed.

- Y-yes? - he interjected.

- You're off again, old chap..." laughed Vorobyev, who was already flushed with alcohol. - I said that you still haven't told us your story.

- What story? - Prayfield frowned, already guessing he wasn't going to like the answer.

- The story of your life," the drunk Russian doctor said as a matter of course, "I know it may not be entirely tactful and the timing may not be the best, but... I'm burning with curiosity, mate. And you're going to have to start your story sooner or later anyway.

- I'm not sure I'm ready to tell it.

- Why? - Adela said sympathetically and touched Edward's arm. - We will never judge you. We're here for you, and we want to help," she turned to Vorobyov. - Right, Alex?

- Ahem, sure," Alexei coughed and tried to make a serious face sober enough. "I think the last shot was a little too much..." - No judgement. It's just that I've been thinking about it for a long time... We haven't seen each other in eight years and the Prayfield I left behind was a world-renowned public figure, a fearless inventor and owner of a promising business, and... well, you get the picture.

- I know exactly what you want to hear. - Edward Gregory Prayfield folded his hands in front of him and frowned. - The story of the fall.

There was a heavy silence.

Vorobyov, regretting that he had even started this conversation, fidgeted in his seat. Adelie stared at the empty plate, she wanted to fall under the ground.

- Well," the still pained-looking scientist looked at them hard, his hard voice beginning to tremble, "these stories have always sold well. And I'll tell you mine. I'll satisfy your thirsty curiosity.

Adélie raised her hand, but Vorobyev met his gaze and shook his head.

- You were right, Alexei. I did have everything. If only I'd realised that...

***

"...and today, on the twentieth of May, one thousand nine hundred and sixty, for the first time on The Mike Douglas Show, live and in full colour - I remind you, go to colour television, keep up with the times! - It is with great pleasure that I present to you the guest of the anniversary edition of our programme - a man who has become a symbol of scientific and technological progress, a tireless inventor and adventurer, a war veteran and author of popular bestsellers, a visionary and a dreamer, who has come a long way before recognition and love both in his homeland and in our country. And that's not all! To get to our meeting, he has endured a dinner with the Prime Minister and turned down the Queen herself - meet the newly minted Knight Commander of the Order of Honour, Sir Edward Gregory Prayfield !"

To the sound of bravura music, a thin, middle-aged man with the appearance of grey hair came out from behind the drapes and bowed in the spotlight.

"Good morning, America!" he waved to the people seated in the audience with a smile and separately folded his fingers in a V into the lens of the TV camera. - "Peace and love, boys and girls! Make love, not..."

"...by war, of course- of course," the pomaded-haired TV presenter hastened to interrupt him and cast a quick glance towards the backstage area. - "Please have a seat!"

"Do you mind if..." - The scientist turned and lifted his sunglasses.

"As you wish," the TV presenter entered the rut and smiled towards the cameraman, "we know it's part of your image and you never film them in public"

"More like saving my eyesight," the on-air guest sat down with relief on a red armchair of austere style and reached for a mug of pre-prepared coffee, "I have acquired retinal damage, and replacing my eyes with artificial ones is, unfortunately, too bold an undertaking even for me..."

"An excellent joke, Mr Prayfield !" - nodded Mr Douglas readily. Applause was heard in the hall.

"Not exactly," Edward countered not without a smile, taking a sip of his rather good cappuccino. - I have a few prototypes in the works, but it's still a long way from lab testing

"Really?" the TV presenter perked up. - And is that really technically possible?"

"Absolutely. - Prayfield set the cup on the table and folded his hands in front of him. - We've already achieved a great deal in reconstructive surgery, but going a little further, anaesthesiology and cybernetics-" Some of the people sitting in the darkness of the studio glanced around. - One could imagine an implant that would not only give back lost sight, but also give new areas of senses...!"

"Unbelievable, honoured viewers," the TV presenter looked into the lens again. Guests of this format were his favourite.

"...X-ray vision, for example, or infrared perception. - Edward finally turned to the hushed crowd and raised his hands. - Imagine if we could see through walls, or look up and see the entire abyss of space exactly as it is... everything hidden behind impenetrable clouds of interstellar gas and dust!"

"Without telescopes and observatories...?"

"Without telescopes or observatories! - the scientist readily confirmed. - Man himself can be an instrument of knowledge of the universe - and a far better one than nature has made us. I believe that one day we will be able to acquire such a power over our bodies that... to a man of today it will seem as incredible and shocking as radio communication to a Cro-Magnon. How do you explain to a caveman that it is possible to transmit speech, music or television broadcasts directly through the air, invisibly, over thousands of kilometres? From his point of view there is only one explanation for it."

"And what kind is it?"
"Magic. - Prayfield folded his arms across his chest with satisfaction. - We all do magic. We're the new magicians, working miracles. But at the same time..." The man looked in front of him and thought. - At the same time, we are also the discoverers of what has not yet been discovered. Unlike the book magicians, we don't work with spells or ancient scrolls - we work in strict accordance with logic and common sense, our calculations can be checked and disproved if we are wrong somewhere - or we can be taken as a basis and go a step further if we are right.

Mike Douglas, who had also taken a sip of coffee from his cup during his guest's tirade, squinted understandingly, trying to steer the conversation in the right direction.

"Scientists are not wizards," but perhaps more like priests...? Servants of the temple of true knowledge?"

Edward furrowed his eyebrows and looked at him.

"Not exactly-" He thought for a moment. - Our difference, for example - may my listeners forgive me - from religion is that we are wrong. Religion isn't. - A whisper passed through the crowd in the hall. Prayfield noted this to himself and continued, choosing his words carefully. - Dogmas given by someone from above are always immutable and conservative. But the knowledge we work with is not dogma; it is real and constantly being refined as we learn more and more about the universe. They say God doesn't make mistakes, but we do. And that, if I may say so... is our advantage."
The presenter became visibly nervous:

"Excuse me, let me clarify for the benefit of our viewers. Are you opposed to God?"
"That's a question I can't answer without offending someone's views," Prayfield smiled, and someone in the crowd immediately shouted out:

- Blasphemer!

The middle-aged scholar faintly shrugged his shoulders.

"Just a humble adherent of critical thinking. Ask questions, my friends. You may not like the answers, but it is better to be cast out of paradise with knowledge of the true state of affairs than to be imprisoned by your oblique perceptions that have no connection to the real world..." Edward turned to Michael and suggested: - A commercial break?"

- Look, you've got to be kidding me," the projectionist said to the guest as he stepped down from his chair in the TV studio and walked towards the seating area on the set. Prayfield turned round at once. - The whole country's going to be talking about this tomorrow," shook his head and wiped his forehead with a napkin.

- Your ratings may improve," the scientist smiled and glanced at the still warm coffee maker. There were still two more interview segments to go, and the inter-Atlantic flight was a long one.

- That's right," the operator nodded and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, "that's what the management is counting on. But you, sir... don't you fear the wrath of the Conservatives? Barry Goldwater won't like what you've said.

Edward slid one of the many shiny clean cups over to him with visible pleasure, winked at his prop assistant, and poured himself a coffee.

- I'll be honest," he said after a small sip, "I don't care what anyone thinks of me, especially former presidential candidates. I've been accused of supporting post-colonial separatists, communist sympathisers, even Nazis....

- Glad you're taking it so easy, sir.

- And I'm happy for you-wait a minute. - Prayfield set the cup on the edge of the tabletop and spoke in a changed tone, not taking his eyes off the stack lying nearby. - Is this today's paper?

- Y-yes," the technician nodded anxiously, "I think it just arrived.

- I take it back," Edward Gregory Prayfield said slowly, still staring at the front page of the Chicago Tribune. - Your ratings are sure to soar.
He took the stack of newspapers in his hands and slowly lifted it with the words: - And for me, this is ...

"CATASTROPHE" was the headline of the day's article, "Explosion at Prayfield Futuristics: casualty count is in the dozens".

***

- Mon Dieu-" Adélie whispered.

Vorobyev clenched his knuckles, glanced at her and shook his head. Prayfield pressed his lips together and nodded:

- Yeah.

There was silence.

- I'm so... so sorry, really," she said at last, and folded her hands in front of her. She looked up timidly at her companion and saw his sore eyes moisten, noticeably more sober than usual. Dupont bit her lip. - And how... how did you recover from such a blow?

Edward grinned.

- No, you don't.

Vorobiev looked gloomily at the bottle of vodka, shook it off and reached for his tea. The Frenchwoman choked. Edward hurried to continue:

- This was just the beginning of the end.

***

- Mr Prayfield ! Mr Prayfield !

The spotlight stung his eyes.

- Comment on the rumours!

Flashes. The noise of TV camera motors.

- What do you say in response to the allegations?

A hum of voices.

Edward blotted his sweaty forehead. This really wasn't going to be easy...

- Quiet, please," he began, leaning towards the pulpit.

Didn't help.

- Do you have a comment?

The incessant hum of voices.

- Sir, and what do you say to the statements of the Yorkshire county town magistrate...

- Can you give us a minute for an exclusive interview?

Ed felt his patience was running out.

- Please, everybody shut up! - he shouted, unrestrained, into the microphone.

Reporters from all corners of the UK fell silent.

Prayfield , squinting at the camera flashes of reporters to whom the demand for silence did not apply, tried to pull himself together.

- If you'll excuse me.

A murmur passed through the crowd of reporters. Someone said: "Take careful notes, Oswald..." and the reporters pulled the clumsy reel-to-reel tape recorders closer.
Edward exhaled and began his speech in a calmer voice that had the feel of iron.

- As the founder and CEO of my company, I must make an official statement. - The scientist in the mourning suit frowned and sighed. - " Prayfield Futuristics is deeply... saddened - I'm personally just devastated - by what has happened. - Official speeches never came easy to him, even with a teleprompter. "But we must move on."

- We've already conducted an internal investigation," continued the head of his own concern with more confidence, glinting through the glasses, "and found that as a result of inadvertent heating of one of the sealed tanks, the metal expanded, depressurised one of the compartments and leaked a small portion of a toxic substance that reacted with the air and detonated, killing... killing three people and injuring seventeen. - The rustle of notebooks and ballpoint pens sliding around muffled the still audible murmurs. - I am deeply sorry for what happened. I and my company will do everything we can to ensure that such a tragedy can never happen again. You have my word as a gentleman.

Prayfield took his eyes off the typewritten text and paused, squinting in the light of more frequent flashes. His eyes were already starting to hurt from the light, but he didn't bring his dark glasses with him out of respect for the accident victims.

- In the meantime," Edward continued, raising his hand, "I want to assure the public that we are doing everything we can to help those who have been injured and to support the families of those who lost loved ones two days ago. - Prayfield coughed and continued: - 'I will myself, out of my own pocket, provide for the allowance of all those injured for five years to come, and I will personally see to it that the deaths of the dead are not in vain.

The cameraman of one of the central channels brought the camera closer to catch a close-up. Edward glanced into the frame and continued confidently:

- We will audit the entire international concern, check every production line, inspect every aspect of the creation of every detail of our products to make the company the safest and most reliable in the world. - The scientist's voice trembled and he put his hand over his heart: "You and I are building a future that will be better than today, where there will be no room for suffering and poverty, where each and every one of us will have a place to call home. How can we move towards that goal when our tankers are melting and burning?

Prayfield 's eyes met with the sympathetic blonde in the front row, and he felt he could barely contain himself. The man turned away, awkwardly delivered a handkerchief from his breast pocket, and blotted his moistened eyes.

- 'Excuse me...' said the unwanted hero of the day, looked up and put aside the papers that had become redundant, 'in other circumstances we would have met six months later at the presentation of the world's first flying propeller-driven car. - "I have to say this. It may be a blow to my business, but it will at least be humane." Edward Prayfield realised that many who were counting on him might not approve of everything he was about to say, but he couldn't do otherwise. - What happened was partly my fault," the scientist said at last. - I... I encouraged production. I motivated the employees to work harder, - what's to say, I resisted the unions to the last. It's my fault. And I want to apologise.

Amidst the increasing clicks of the flashes, an unexpected voice sounded:

- Just for that, Mr Prayfield ?

Edward had expected anything but that tone.

- What are you talking about? - He squinted myopically, trying to find the speaker. It was only a moment later that he realised he'd already seen her.

- Of course," the blonde girl in the front row replied coldly and brought the recording device closer to her, "our publication has information that you've been using other people's intellectual property. I'm Martha Coles from the Washington Times. We found out that some of your patents never belonged to you. What do you say to that? - A reporter from a metropolitan newspaper pointed the microphone away from herself.

- Okay, one minute. - Prayfield was really confused. - I'm not quite sure what you mean exactly.

Martha turned away to get something out of her shoulder bag.

- Just this one. See?

***

- ...A coffee cup? - Adélie asked in surprise.

- Exactly," Prayfield nodded and propped his chin with a tired hand.

The girl looked at the girl in front of her in concentration.

- I didn't realise you could have invented them. I was in London the other day and I popped into a cafe... hang on.

- Y-yes? - Vorobiev, who had been busy detoxifying his well-drunk body with delicious homemade tea, perked up.

- It really was you. - Adelie raised her big eyes to the elderly scientist. - Your surname was on the mug, they couldn't even erase it completely...

Edward waved it away:

- I won't argue, the original patent isn't mine; paper cups are half a century old. - The Frenchwoman raised her eyebrows. The slightly animated scientist shrugged his shoulders and continued: - My idea was to make them out of thermally insulating plastic-I invented and tested a polymer composition that kept the temperature of the drink high without burning my hands. - Prayfield folded his arms across his chest and added proudly: - And the glass could be easily folded up and put back together thanks to a special design.

- You didn't tell me about it..." Alexei said, stirring the cup with a spoon.

- But... - Dupont still couldn't understand the main point, - If this is really your idea, which you not only invented but put into production, - then why were you accused of plagiarism...?

Prayfield sighed and poured himself some tea as well.

- I was too young and gullible when I started science and entrepreneurship. - He added a couple of sugar cubes and stirred thoughtfully. - One of my partners took advantage of a loophole in the law and stabbed me in the back when I least expected it.

Vorobyov shifted a tired look at him from under his glasses:

- Is that who I think you're talking about?

- Yeah.

- You can understand him in your own way," Alexei nodded at his own phrase and plunged into memories, "apparently partly pleasant ones.

- I don't think so," Edward shook his head with a sour face. - It wasn't my fault he slept with his secretary and his wife found out.

The only girl at the table raised her hands:

- Wow. I'm not sure I want to know about all of this.....

- Mm-hmm, you shouldn't, Adelie.

- But you didn't sleep with her, did you? - Alexei still wouldn't calm down.

- You ask. Of course not. - Prayfield thought about something and smiled. - We were just family friends - Tim and Agatha, me and the appliances....

- A union made in heaven," Vorobiev laughed and raised his cup in a joking salute.

- Tell me about it.

Adélie looked round at her friends and smiled. How strong the bond between them was-and is! - bond... and how much light there was in that bond. A light that truly changes the world... I wish I could light it even more. That light is so easy to lose if you let the darkness of your soul swallow up all the good and light in you. "But it must be fought for."

She looked at the older of the mates and thought that she was almost a living example of a man who had been through more than he had been able to tell about himself, and it had almost broken him, but not completely. And in spite of the terrible condition she had met him in at the beginning and what they had both been through already, she knew that Prayfield was the kind of man who would always come out on top and help the others.

Sometimes people like that need help too.

Dupont hesitated. Before her was a shabby adventurer, a man of history, a close friend of Feynman's and a student of Tesla. What could cheer him up more than an overly nostalgic return to an abandoned estate in the homeland he had left behind?
The answer came to herself-along with something she'd almost forgotten about.

***

- Here it is...

Volkert van der Berg lifted the heavy notebook straight up to his face and ran the equations through with a glance once more. And another.
And another.

Perfect.
"Concise and elegant..." - muttered the young scientist in the heavy protective suit, evaluating the formulas again. All variables converge, the equations are correct, all errors have been reduced to zero. "A perfect solution."

He had been travelling to this moment for a very long time. Countless tests, sleepless nights, theoretical preparation and hypothesis testing, testing on the microscopic level and experiments on samples of living matter... everything showed that he was right and his device should work. Especially now, when with the help of the experimental prototype of the probability calculator he had bought with his last savings, he had found and fixed all possible bottlenecks of the technology he had been working on alone all his life - now the moment of truth should finally come.

The Dutchman turned to the screen of the lamp computer, typed a few commands through the console from a modified typewriter and began to examine the wires and moving parts of the rather large pedestal with four small pillars on the edges, which occupied the centre of the room, under the hum and click of the warming up apparatus. The computer finally processed the command, its kinescope went out, and the quantum calculator hanging from the ceiling at the far end of the room behind the cooling chamber lit up, a low hum was heard, and a sequence of automatic commands started the main mechanism. The lamps on the poles lit up at random, the wiring flickered and Van der Berg was relieved to see the running lights of plasma inside the bases. "No power loss, temperature is sufficient..." A sheaf of sparks struck from above and a rounded metal plate on retractable holders began to descend from the ceiling, coming to a halt at just over two metres high and began to rotate with a clang. The pins on the edges of the lower part of the platform extended out of the floor another half a metre, the outer circle of the metal base also began to rotate - faster and faster, until finally it matched the speed of the upper circle. Sparks spattered from the plasma lamps again, a crackling sound was heard and the computer screen lit up again with a long list of completed commands and calculations. Van der Berg ran over to the terminal, ran a glance at the completed algorithm, typed a new set of commands and stepped back to a safe distance.

The lamp bases on the tall pillars opened at the centre seam like flower buds and arcs of cold plasma burst from their centre, striking the ceiling reflector. The rotating circuit triggered a response and a column of blue flame covered the entire device, wrapping it in an impenetrable cylinder of shimmering pure energy.

- I did it! - The scientist couldn't contain his feelings.

Volkert cautiously walked around the crackling column of self-contained fire, looked at the report of the newly switched-on computer screen, and prepared for the last part of the test. The most important part of the experiment, the whole point of the last fourteen years of his life... Van der Berg sighed, closed his eyes and listened to the hiss and crackle of the working device, interrupting the birdsong and the noise of the few cars outside the window. This could be dangerous. Deadly dangerous. But he knew that his calculations were flawless, all the preliminary tests had been successful, and the hypothesis he was about to confirm was insane from the point of view of traditional physics, but theoretically possible from the point of view of new and experimental particle physics. After all, Einstein's ideas about the relativity of spacetime had once seemed crazy too....

The young scientist exhaled, leaned forward and typed the last command, the most important one. He thought about the last argument of the request - and pressed the "+", "1", "5" and "Enter" buttons in sequence. , "5" and "Enter".

The computer's memory blocks rumbled again, converting bits and bytes of commands into physical instructions for the quantum computer, whose blocks hanging from the ceiling glowed blue again in their sealed, ultra-low temperature chamber. A low sound was heard from the device, around which the plasma shield that shielded electromagnetic and radiation radiation was still in operation, a ripple ran along the cylindrical surface of the shielding energy, the two front prongs shuddered, their telescoping design pulled upwards, exposing new relays and contacts, over which lightning bolts of electric tone ran - and a small window of intolerably white light began to form at the bottom of the humming structure.

- Great, just great! - Volkert exclaimed. He glanced at his wristwatch and rushed to put on the head part of the protective suit. He would need air, so he already had his oxygen tank and breathing mask ready - plus, the suit was completely airtight, reinforced with shielded aluminium inserts and made of fabric that could (in theory) survive a nuclear explosion. "It took months of hard work to create this suit alone...," Van der Berg wrote in a letter to scientist friends abroad, "...and I hope it will serve its purpose when I can take the first step and announce my discovery to the world."

- And now... - Volkert noisily buttoned up the seam between his helmet and spacesuit, checked the locks and oxygen tank, turned around - and froze.

The kinescope of the computer flickered continuously, the rotating platforms had almost stopped, the plasma screen had dissipated - only the lamps on the pins sparked slightly, trying to keep the device functioning somehow, which stood in puffs of vapour from the dissipating energy, and there was no trace of the scalding white entrance.

- No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

The scientist almost tore off his protective suit, ran over to the homemade computer, pulled his glasses out of his shirt pocket, and began to read carefully. The launch data on the screen said nothing unusual, everything was exactly as he had calculated. There were no problems with the quantum calculator either, the data reception and transmission was not interrupted in any way... everything looked like the device was going to work.

But it didn't work.

- Damn it," the visionary inventor said loudly and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Should I stop now, when I'm almost there?

"There is, of course, a small chance that the problem is lack of power..."

***

A few days later, late at night, Volkert van der Berg returned to his laboratory after a long and not entirely legal trip to the capital. He went to the double-paned window, opened it and took out a huge coil of wires, which he had previously fastened to the outside of his three-storey house. The opposite end of the power cable was many kilometres away from the city, branched and connected in various combinations so as not to be detected by the Dutch police, and the very end of it was discreetly connected to Amsterdam's power grid. Van der Berg realised that this might not solve the problem, but as a true investigator he had to check all the possibilities.

- Well, I was.

Volkert touched the contacts he had just connected, checked the generator's backup power, updated the equation with the new maximum permissible voltage, recalibrated the commands on the machine's terminal, checked all possible errors, made sure that the mechanism started up to the point where the shielding sphere was formed, put on his protective suit fully and completely, entered the last commands into the console and pressed "Enter". Sparks sprang again, there was a violent crackling sound, the air smelled of ozone, and all light disappeared abruptly, except for a strong flicker of bluish-coloured plasma; Van der Berg glanced out of the window - traffic jams were out all over the city (and beyond, apparently). But the device didn't stop: a relay automatically switched the entire system reinforced by the new discharge to the generator, the circuits continued to rotate, and the plasma still flowed protectively over the invisible walls in the same way. "Great..." The scientist ran over to the terminal and entered the last manual start command, this time for five minutes of operation, and in one leap went back inside. The plasma cylinder heated up more and a streak of light glimmered at its bottom again. Volkert squinted - but then sparks erupted from the upper platform, the moving parts creaked to a halt, and the glow faded away again, plunging the room into darkness.

- Damn it.

The scientist pulled a bundle of power cables from the immobilised device, glanced outside the window where worried residents had begun to light the streetlights in their darkened houses, opened the sashes and tossed the no longer needed wires outside to remove them later before the police and emergency services arrived. "So it's not the voltage," the man thought and lit a cigarette.

We need to find a clue. The theoretical part of the experiment is flawless, the technical part is also calculated. What is it?

The inventor put out his cigarette standing by the window and looked thoughtfully at the lights of the nearby suburbs. He would find a solution. He would definitely get there. In the meantime...

Volkert van der Berg spotted a pensioner in a waistcoat and a large travelling waistcoat strolling with his dog far below - and turned round to see an office completely packed with systems of his own invention.

No one's ever done that before, but... "Theoretically, there's a probability of success."

How had it never occurred to him before?

***

...Meanwhile, on a slowly revitalising estate in Impington, County Oxford, UK, a young girl has a plan to revive the landlord of the house and bring back his former fire.

- You know," Adélie began casually, reaching for the teapot, "I did look in the wine cellar once....

- Very unlike you! - Prayfield tried to make a joke, to which Vorobyev immediately responded:

- But we are, if anything, fervently supportive-" Edward gave him a judgmental look. - What?

- ...and I thought it was strange..." the girl continued, hesitated and decided to ask: "Have you been there long?

- A week ago, why? - The scientist frowned.

- I'm not sure if this is common, but I think I found the secret room.

There was silence.

- A secret room? In the cellar...? - Prayfield leaned back in his chair and said confidently, "That's impossible. I know every corner of this house, and I've made adjustments to it myself.

- Ed's right," said Vorobyev, who had also straightened up and sobered up considerably. - We never planned or laid any bunkers or secret rooms in the wine cellar.

- However," Dupont continued to insist, "he is indeed there.

***

- ...And the girl was right.

Adelie glanced at Alexei and he realised he had said it out loud. "I apologise," the doctor muttered.

The dust had almost settled; Prayfield put on his glasses in the light of the paraffin lamp and leaned forward.

- Interesting...

Directly in front of them was a section of a wine rack with a fake bottle that had just been set aside, hiding behind it an old-looking alcove with a heavy, iron-rimmed door that had managed to accumulate cobwebs and dust,

- This place was not on the drawings, as I remember," said the Englishman thoughtfully. His friend looked at him with a serious and almost sober look:

- Could they have been tampered with?

- I don't rule it out," Prayfield stretched out. - But by whom? And when?

- The door looks very old," Adelie interjected and ran her finger along the wrought iron handle in an ornate floral pattern.

- Yes, it's almost the same age as the house," Edward agreed. - It was built in the seventeenth century, and was once the family seat of the Prayfield dynasty.

- It sounds like that," Aleksei didn't miss the opportunity to joke. - And my grandmother only had a farm near Ternopil.....

The girl swiped at the dainty keyhole, which looked deeper than one might expect.

- I wonder if there's a key somewhere in this house...?

- That's not necessary," Prayfield slipped his hand into the back pocket of his trousers and pulled out an object that looked like a pen. - Step back...

Dupont and Vorobyov parted, and the master of the house shoved an elongated metal object directly into the keyhole. There was a slight jingle and a click. Prayfield pressed the outside of the device, which responded with a series of taps and clicks, and then began to turn it from side to side. After a couple of seconds, the device stuck firmly and gave a final clang; Prayfield let out a cheering sound and confidently turned the improvised key anti-clockwise. The heavy bolted door slowly opened.

- How about that! - Adélie could not resist the doctor's surprised look. The inventor explained not without pride:

- It helps when the keys turn out to need keys.

***

Prayfield opened the ancient door wider, signalled to his companions to wait, looked around and listened. No sign of traps or danger...

The scientist took a lantern standing nearby, made a gallant gesture with his hand and the girl, the first to find the secret place, readily accepted the invitation and went inside first.

The hiding place was small but very tall: a three by three metre empty space with a cross-shaped mark on the floor, a small chair and a pile of crumbled plaster in the corner.

Adélie felt disappointed.

- But because...there's nothing here.....

Vorobyev came in last and had to agree with her.

- Yeah. Odd choice for a secret room.

Squinting his eyes, Prayfield continued his inspection.

- It does. It goes to all three floors?

Adelie looked up: high up, a small skylight glowed, hidden by the curves of the roof, and ivy had sprouted through the slits in the vents. "Why would anyone want to design such a strange room?"

The girl walked over to the carved chair and noticed a scrap of paper on it.

- Edward! Alex!

The friends hurried to her call.

- Honest mother..." Vorobiev exhaled.

Prayfield carefully picked up a sheet almost crumbling from dilapidation and read aloud its contents:

"You are here for a reason. Nosce te ipsum. Finish what you started."

A chill ran down Adela's spine.

- What does all this mean...? - she whispered.

Prayfield did not reply. "What unusual handwriting... how old was the writer? And when was it written...?"

Vorobiev shrugged and looked around uncomfortably.

- Interesting skeletons in your wardrobe, mate.....

- There are quite a few of them," replied the still puzzled scientist, "but this one is definitely not one of them.

Dupont decided to raise her voice again after all:

- I'm not quite sure what the second phrase means? Is it Latin?

Prayfield looked in her direction and his gaze warmed a little.

- Yes, I'm sorry, I should have translated it straight away. It means "Know thyself," "Find thyself."

- Rather, "Cognise," the doctor made a professional clarification.

- Yes," the scholar, who had not practised Latin for a long time, agreed unreservedly.

Meanwhile, something else caught Vorobyov's attention.

-Guys," he called to his friends in a low voice. - Would you like another weird thing?

The old man and the girl turned round.

- The lock you picked, Ed... it can only be opened from the inside.

***

- Damn it.

Volkert van der Berg unbuttoned his protective spacesuit and wiped his sweating forehead with his pocket handkerchief. He had tried again and again, tried different combinations, rechecked the equations with different coefficients, even disassembled and reassembled the entire structure, including the ceiling and floor, but nothing worked. The device refused to start beyond a certain point.

"What is the reason..."

And even miniaturisation of the prototype with optimisation of the mechanism of electromagnetic shielding and quantum transgression did not help. Although it could be useful in the future... but what good would it do if the very machine he had spent so many years building didn't work? Theories don't push science forward. They need proof and validation. Pure maths is a fine field, but van der Berg was always a fan of more practical things. He always wanted to leave behind something that would change the world forever - like meat accidentally dropped into a campfire or a handprint left by someone on a French cave thousands of years ago. "Is there hubris in that? Perhaps..."

But it's not the virtues that move the world forward. Imperfections. Flaws. Failures.

Van der Berg looked at the bent skeleton of the dysfunctional structure. "Synchronous resonance fractaliser of variant realities..."

- It would be a shame if you remained a pipe dream," he said aloud and finally rose from his seat.

Dawn was breaking outside the window. The city electricians had already done their work, and the street lamps were burning out their last hours. A light breeze, accompanied by the chirping of waking birds, blew the fallen leaves, and a postal service lorry drove leisurely along the empty cobbled road.

Volkert decided to go downstairs to make a diluted coffee and brandy and at the same time go through the unopened letters.

He picked up a large stack from the basket in front of the front door and went through it without enthusiasm. But one letter did raise his spirits. They had been in correspondence for quite a long time and had much in common; the interlocutor from one of the neighbouring countries did not reply too often - perhaps because of busyness or other reasons - but Van der Berg treasured every letter from this addressee. Especially now, when he could certainly use a distraction.

"...Dear friend," the beginning read, "I would like very much if I had competence in a field in which I could give you at least some useful advice. But I don't. I have never studied space-time and its properties, especially not in the way you are interested in, - I simply don't have the imagination or the courage of spirit to do so. You yourself know how marginal this sphere is considered in high circles, almost akin to searching for brothers in mind, a way to read minds or, God forbid, astral-torsion fields. Where is the line between the audacity of the spirit and conscious profanation, between a dream and trickery, finally, science and anti-science ...? Whatever the answer may be for you, my friend, I do not doubt your honesty and purposefulness...".

Van der Berg stopped half-heartedly. The scientist was not affected by the notes of slight elitism and moralising - after all, his correspondent had once been a professor and a figure, no doubt, quite significant in scientific circles - no, his attention was drawn to something else. He realised that it had never occurred to him that the problem with the fractaliser of space-time variations might not be that it physically could not work.

The problem may be that it works too well.

***

- How silly...," Adélie stretched out.

- What?" said Prayfield . - Why?

Vorobyev turned a hidden bottle switch and a section of the shelving unit pulled back into place, concealing a strange hiding place, the door to which closed automatically.

The girl sighed.

- I thought I'd found a riddle that you could easily solve. That this would be a little adventure for all of us-and it ended before it began.

- Come on, my dear, it's not like that. - The scientist put his arm round her shoulders. - If it weren't for you, we wouldn't know what was hidden beneath our feet. Literally.

Vorobiev shook his head, trying to comprehend this.

- I mean, you literally grew up in this house, knew all its nooks and crannies from birth.....

Prayfield nodded and finished for his friend:

- ...and the stash has been here all along.

- I wonder who created it? - Adélie muttered, looking at the note they had taken with them. The handwriting on the almost decayed parchment was thin, elegant and yet hard to read- old-fashioned and... a little familiar, as surprising as that seemed to the Frenchwoman. But she pushed the absurd thought away. - Could it have been your parents? Their parents?

Prayfield , meanwhile, shrugged his shoulders:

- I'm not sure, the finish is quite old, and the metal and wood give away age. - The man paused and touched his beard. - The false wall, however, looks much newer. It could have been installed in our time....

- Sounds pretty scary," Dupont remarked.

- Fortunately," Vorobyovcut in and embraced them both, "there are no unsolvable riddles, and yours truly has witnessed more than once how this slightly shabby gentleman has solved mysteries far more serious and come out of bindings far more frightening than some cellar that appeared out of nowhere.

Edward smiled and shrugged.

- That's right-we went through one world war together, and I hope we prevented another..." Adela thought he looked sad for a few moments, but she wasn't sure she was mistaken in the darkness. - By the way, you know what that reminds me of?

- What?" Alexei turned to him.

- Hirohito and his agents. - Prayfield frowned, straining his memory, and turned to his mate. - Remember that old man from Hokkaido who thought he was a genius of intrigue and was always plotting?

It took Vorobyov a little longer to realise who he was talking about:

- That's right, I remembered, the grey-haired sadist, - we ran into him back in the fiftieth, in that mess with the robots....

Adeli only rolled her eyes. "With robots..."

- Exactly, yes," Prayfield nodded animatedly, looked at the note in the journalist's hands, and thought again. - This all looks like some kind of game... it's hardly his doing, of course, but if I'm right, this is really the first move, and we should have discovered this link in someone's chain....

She glanced at the grey-haired master of the house and lingered on him. Prayfield 's eyes lit up with fire, and a proud grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

- . then, damn it," finished the returning adventurer, "I'm not just in.

I'm all ears.

CHAPTER 6

...Exactly thirty years ago, on a quiet evening in the year one thousand nine hundred and thirty-four, a skinny student with carefully combed hair and still fresh scars on the right side of his face fidgeted nervously in his chair at a table in a fashionable restaurant on George Street, not far from his alma mater.

An unfamiliar role... will he do everything right?

The young man once again reached for his cuffs. "No, no need to look at the clock...she's definitely coming, she said."

His fingers trembled a little, like a pianist's before a recital. To keep them occupied, he grabbed the illustrated menu on expensive paper again and ran through the list of dishes he'd already memorised. "Risotto Milanese, lasagne a la bolognese, ... God, I hope she likes Italian food at all. She wouldn't have said yes if she didn't, would she? "

- Ed-duard, you're here! - came a thin voice.

Prayfield was so excited that he nearly spilled a glass of water the waiter had thoughtfully given him on his coat.

- Oh, ahem, O-olivia! Good evening.

The student jumped up from his chair, with a quick movement helped his arriving companion to remove her corduroy coat, hung it on a crinkled hanger, pushed back the chair with gallantry, and helped the girl to sit down.

- Thank you..." she smiled, hung her small purse on the backrest and folded her hands with a neat red manicure in front of her. - I hope I'm not too late.

- Нет-нет, что Вы, я сам только что подошел… - с чистой совестью соврал юноша под выразительным взглядом официанта, который принес меню для гостьи так же, как сделал это час назад для ее кавалера.

- Good... - the girl turned her head and looked around: - It's very beautiful here. Do you take all your friends to such expensive places?

He couldn't take his eyes off her. Olivia had delicate features, a small nose, big blue eyes, lots of scattered freckles-and long, well-groomed, fiery red hair that she didn't even try to style, unlike many of the other girls around her. Her simplicity and directness immediately won over the student, who wasn't very good with women - especially those who were a little older than him.

- Only the closest," Ed replied, meeting the girl's gaze and awkwardly looking away. - By the way, the food here should be excellent, too.

The future Oxford graduate handed her his menu and took the one lying next to it.

- Well, it's certainly better than the bakery where I work," Olivia said in a low voice, biting her lip. - Hmm... that's a tough choice to make.....

- Maybe we should start with the pasta? - Prayfield suggested, hoping it wasn't too easy a choice. - How about carbonara a la Caesar?

- Sounds grand," the red-haired girl nodded eagerly.

- You could also try a caprese salad and... You like sweet things, right?

Olivia squinted, looked at her beau appraisingly, and smiled:

- It's a huge secret," but yes, I adore it.

- Then I suggest we get some more tiramisu," Edward said with noticeable relief in his head, and added, inwardly ready for any reaction: - And some wine, if you don't mind.

The young men met their gaze. In the ensuing silence, the quiet voices of the other customers echoed and a small jazz quartet with a phlegmatic dark-skinned pianist played softly. The young woman grinned:

- It's like you're a mind reader... but wait. - She made a fake hand at the neckline of her dress. - Is this a date?

Prayfield looked embarrassed.

- Well... if, um... I hope so? What do you think?

Olivia folded her arms across her chest and said playfully, clearly copying her interlocutor:

- Let's set up an experiment and look at the results.

Ed couldn't keep from smiling:

- Good point. - Something was swirling around in the student's head, but he couldn't figure out what it was. "Pay attention mate... there's something to ask..." - By the way, how was your journey?

- Thanks, it's almost fine," Olivia shrugged. - The trolleybus was only a little late, something happened on the road.....

- Didn't Ireland have that kind of transport problem?

The girl sighed:

- I don't remember, we moved here when I was a kid. But I guess so, less cars, better roads.

- Things change," Prayfield said, folding his arms across his chest. - At some point London will have to do something about the infrastructure....

- I guess...

Olivia thought about something.

- Is everything all right? - Ed asked thoughtfully.

- Y-yes," the redhead nodded. - I just feel like I'm forgetting something.

Suddenly a young waiter came to the table again with a notebook and a bottle of sparkling wine:

- Brunello di Montalcino, gentlemen," he said and poured the expensive wine into glasses. - On the house.

- Oh, thank you very much. - Olivia looked up at Edward in surprise at the noticeably impressed Olivia, but he made a sign to the restaurant worker to lean over and whispered faintly:

- Thanks for giving in after all, James.

- You owe me a hand in your medieval literature exam, mate," his classmate replied cheerlessly and emphasised: - To the whole fraternity.

***

- Well, that's my little holiday over.

Vorobyov adjusted the lapels of his coat, tucked in his chequered scarf and put on his hat. It was raining outside the door, a light wind swaying the drooping tree crowns.

Adeli, with her blonde hair braided into braids, wearing a red jumper and warm house slippers, was a little upset.

- Sorry to see you go, Alex. We'll see each other again, won't we?

- I will, Delechka," the doctor of the private clinic replied warmly and touched the girl's shoulder. - I think I'll come round next weekend and have a friendly dinner with you.

- Old friends are always welcome here," smiled Prayfield , shaking his hand. - Don't forget to call occasionally, Comrade Communist.

- That's right, I serve the Soviet Union! - replied with a laugh in almost pure Russian the political emigrant who had long since left the past behind.

- Pardon moi? - Adelie raised an eyebrow.

- We often tease each other," Edward winked at her. - There was hardly anything Al hated more than the camp he'd escaped from.

- That's what we are, defectors. - Vorobyov shrugged his shoulders and picked up his travelling bag. A pensive look flashed across his face. - There were many mistakes behind us. It was time to correct them.

- I don't know much about your past, but you..." The girl looked him straight in the eye and smiled. - You're certainly a good man. And you have no guilt to atone for.

The former Chekist's even more sincere smile made the girl's heart warm despite the bad weather.

- Thank you, my dear," Vorobiev said. - You're marvellous - you know that, don't you?

- Let's say I guess," replied the Frenchwoman, not without coquetry.

- That's good. Well, I have to go. - Alexei opened the door and turned around before heading for the car parked at the far outbuilding. - So long, gentlemen and ladies!

- See you, you old rascal! - Prayfield raised his hand in farewell.

He closed the door behind him, stood for a moment with a somewhat lost expression on his face, and finally turned to the young assistant: "And you and I, if you don't mind, still have some business to attend to. Would you mind keeping me company in America?

***

Of course she didn't mind.

Adela readily agreed to go overseas again: her savings were still sufficient to allow another voyage, her contract with the newspaper allowed her a free schedule, and she was already settled in England and her soul was bored with standing in one place. 'A little travelling certainly wouldn't be out of place.'Especially as she began to notice that she was thinking more and more about Andre and whether it had been a mistake to break off her relationship with him... even though he had cheated on her with Lucy'.

Could she forgive him? Of course she could. But would it be worth it? Dupont wasn't sure.

Already on the plane, sitting at the porthole overlooking the right wing and Heathrow Airport dwindling far below, the Frenchwoman realised that, in general, she was very happy with the way things had turned out.

Yes, her whole previous life had been devalued that September morning when she had learnt of the affair; all her dreams and plans for a perfect married life with the handsome sculptor had been dashed. But on the other hand, that's what set her free. "The truth may hurt to the point of bleeding, but solidly proven knowledge is always better than a convenient lie." In this Adela was in complete agreement with Prayfield .

Of course, she did not share all the beliefs of her unexpected new friend, who was now slumped nervously in a nearby chair with his hat pulled over his eyes and an old valise in his lap. Or rather, there were more differences between them than they had in common. Along with the obvious generational difference, there were other little things. She didn't understand how one could live such a colourful and interesting life, but meet the beginning of its sunset almost completely alone. She was somewhat annoyed by his secretiveness and sullen reticence, fuelled by alcohol. A slipping arrogance and youthful impulsiveness. A fundamental contempt for religious norms. Adela was a Catholic, albeit of a loose disposition, and she was disgusted by the harshness and aplomb with which Edward allowed himself to mock Christianity and its tenets, which Adela saw nothing fundamentally wrong with. Except for one thing-she thought that the modern institution of marriage, in the conservative sense of the word, was a little overrated.

"How many young lives he has broken..." Love is a beautiful and exciting feeling that helps to pass through the trials of everyday life and move forward together, but is it worth searching for it so desperately, forgetting to love yourself?

"I loved and thought I was loved in return, but my eyes were covered by a veil of illusion and expectation..." She always wanted to be a good girl. Obedient, diligent. Comfortable. When told to listen, listen, when you have to do something, do it. Don't raise your voice, don't get indignant, grown-ups know what to do, men know best, that's a woman's lot. The main thing is to meet a good boy, have children, keep cosy... "But when to live, Maman? What if I just want to be myself, to find myself and my happiness - not in someone else, but in myself...?" You never know what's really in another person's head. But you can recognise yourself. That is the one person who cannot betray you.

***

- ...And really, how delicious!

Olivia smiled, set her fork aside and on the empty dish, and reached for her glass: - I must admit, Mr Prayfield , you know how to impress a lady.

The young man smiled and lifted his vessel of sparkling wine:

- I confess I'm amazed myself - it's a real miracle I didn't mess anything up.

The couple chugged.

- So," Olivia asked with a squint as she took a sip of her well-aged sparkling wine, "do you believe in miracles?

Edward drained half of his glass in one fell swoop-not a very impressive accomplishment for a member of the weekly student drinking parties to Kant and Schopenhauer-and tried to answer as seriously as he could:

- Not exactly, but as a scientist, I have to be open to new things. - The girl sitting across from him had her hands on her chin with undisguised interest, and he was tempted to elaborate and open up a little more: "You know, a man I admire very much... he once said that imagination is more important than knowledge.

- Did she? - Olivia raised her eyebrows. - How... illogical.

- Not at all," Prayfield objected eagerly, and set the flute aside. The shiver of embarrassment was gone along with the soberness and fear of anticipation, so he raised his hand in the air and continued to explain his train of thought confusedly: "You can memorise a ton of knowledge, but without imagination we're blind, you know..." For some reason the words didn't fit together very well. - You can't get new knowledge about the structure of the universe if you don't imagine and extrapolate. If Newton, for example, had not imagined that the apple falls not just for nothing, but under the influence of a much greater force, he would not have discovered it. He lacked the old dogmas alone, he, um-" - "And how to end a mini-rhetoric? - He had the audacity to imagine that there was something more than outdated dogma and a geocentric world system that had been invented by people who couldn't count.

Edward straightened up in his chair with a somewhat exhausted look and smiled awkwardly, trying to gauge his companion's reaction. "Just as long as I don't scare her off..."

But the red-haired girl nodded approvingly, raised a finger upwards, and remarked with barely concealed gloating:

- Actually I would argue - in Newton's time it was already believed that everything in the universe revolved around the sun, not the earth....

- Which is rubbish anyway," a flushed Prayfield almost interrupted her, "so I'm not very wrong....

The couples sitting around them began to turn around.

- ...and the ancient Greeks, if I'm not mistaken, counted quite well," Olivia continued even louder, almost shouting over the melancholy jazz musicians on the stage, "but in general, we like these conversations! Finally, at least with someone you don't have to pretend to be a fool....

Ed leaned forward, made a menacing face, and mimicked the fighting stance of a street boxer.

- Who? How? Show me that bastard, and I'll give him a quick fix!

The young woman in front of him fixed her curls behind her ear and smiled warmly:

- You are too drunk, my dear future scientist... besides, you can't fight the whole world.

Suddenly an unfamiliar waiter with a towel at his elbow and an involved look approached:

- Mrs Walsh?

Olivia turned around in surprise.

- Excuse me, miss, there's a phone call for you. I'm so sorry.

- What...? - The girl turned back to Prayfield with bewilderment and concern and muttered, "I'm sorry, I'll just...

The young man nodded dumbly and stared at himself. An unpleasant feeling took possession of him. A grim, pressing sense of distress.....

A nearby chair creaked. Ed looked up - Olivia was already back, her face was gone. The girl quickly removed her purse from the chair and turned sharply to the coat rack to retrieve her coat.

- What a fool I am," she whispered in her heart.

- Liv...? - Prayfield jumped up from his seat and approached his companion. - What's wrong?

The Irishwoman buttoned up her coat without raising her eyes and replied:

- My sister was hit by a car. At the crossroads by the school. I forgot to pick her up.

- Shit..." Edward felt a chill go through him.

The girl clenched her fists.

- I wanted to write it down so I wouldn't forget. There's also this wine.

- I'm sorry, Liv.

- Okay, that's it," Olivia put her hat on and held up her hands, "I'm sorry, I have to go.

Miss Walsh took a quick step outside, and Ed made a confused sign to James, who had returned to his seat at the bar, and ran out after her.

- How is she? - He asked as he walked, shielding himself from the sharp wind. The young girl was already standing at the edge of the pavement, looking out into the evening traffic, trying to find a coachman.

- Gotta...damn, where's the taxi around here.....

- Liv?

Edward didn't know where to put himself or what to say. He felt partly responsible for what had happened. If he hadn't thought to ask or remind her... she was talking about her sister! He'd put it all down to himself and his own trifles again...

- Don't call me that," Olivia turned around, staring into her failed suitor's face, and sighed. - I'm sorry. She had a concussion and a fracture. My poor Margaret.

Prayfield wanted to hit himself as hard as he could. He couldn't find anything better to do than ask:

- Do you want me to walk you out?
"Idiot!"

- No, it's all right," she made a preemptive gesture and turned back to the road. She held out her hand, signalling for the cab to stop, "I'm sorry, I don't have time for this. I shouldn't have decided to date again.

- Olivia.

- Have a good evening.

The car's gone.

Prayfield sank to the edge of the pavement, sat down on the dirty kerb, hid his face in his palms, and felt drops dripping down his eyes and arms, though there were no clouds in the sky. He sat like that until late afternoon, when the streetlights came on and people started to go home.

***

Thirty years later, at a busy intersection in the shadow of New York's skyscrapers, a car braked expertly and two people, a grey-haired older man and a much younger woman, stepped leisurely out of it.

- Thank you, very fast delivery," the scientist in the white suit leaned over to the side window and held out the folded notes. - Keep the tip!

- Of course you do, pops," the dark-haired, bearded taxi driver with no accent chuckled. - I don't give people away for free. The British...

The tattered yellow car with chequered roofs gave off the gas and sped away in a cloud of road dust, and the Frenchwoman, who had not uttered a word during the whole journey, only raised her eyebrows.

- Here we are, my dear Adelie," said Edward Gregory Prayfield with a cheerful look, stretching himself to his full height and kneading his back.

Dupont, who could use a coffee after a long flight, adjusted her slipped shoulder bag and looked around.

- Wow..." the girl couldn't contain her surprise.

They stood on the corner of Fifth Avenue and 59th Street, not far from Grand Army Plaza, in the shadow of the tower of the old Sherry Netherland and the luxurious Plaza, with a steady stream of honking cars passing by, occasionally interrupted by groups of pedestrians at intersections.

But much more important was the fact that right in front of them, behind the gilded monument of William Sherman on horseback with an angel, was the grand Central Park with a giant artificial lake in the centre, mottled with paths and trails, like a real piece of untouched nature with yellowed lawns and red-golden crowns of sprawling trees, inexplicably in the heart of the development of the city, which never stops moving.

- I've never seen this place like this before..." said Adélie.

- It's breathtaking, isn't it? - Prayfield set his briefcase with documents on the paving stones, pulled the invariable round sunglasses out of his breast pocket, slipped them on his nose, then put his hands in his pockets in satisfaction and breathed in the air. - Golden autumn, the time of fading and sunset.... A damn beautiful one, I had to admit.

The girl turned round and looked intently at her companion.

- Well, now we must get down to business. I suggest we meet in two hours at the Benoit New York," the scientist waved behind him, "it's not far from here, behind the Plaza, and it's a fine Parisian kitchen, if my memory serves me right.

Dupont was confused:

- Wait, so we're splitting up?

- Not for long," Prayfield reassured her with a good-natured smile, unaccustomed to himself in this state, "I have to go to the bank round the corner and pick up some papers, and a few other things.

- Well, I see. - Adélie pulled back the sleeve of her blouse and looked at her watch. - Then... I'll see you at four-thirty at the Benoit?

- It's mandatory. Dinner's on me!

The outgoing girl adjusted her purse and grinned:

- I bet it's Fifth Avenue, and I'm not Rockefeller's granddaughter.

Edward smiled at her and gave her a look of interest and concern. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but there was something about Adela that reminded him of the past. "But how long ago that was..."

The old man pressed his lips together, adjusted his ill-fitting hat, picked up his suitcase from the ground and walked leisurely towards the entrance to Central Park, listening to the birdsong and the rustling of autumn leaves.

He walked along the path lined with fallen leaves, and thought that he was truly alone for the first time in a long time - but it was no longer a burden on his heart. Yes, there was much to be done and remembered, many things he might have lost his grip on over the years of powerlessness and decline - but he was still here, in the long-awaited silence and the calm that was rising like the dawn tide. After a long time of clamour and ringing voices, condemning and humiliating in every way, there was silence at last. And this silence was a blessing.

Prayfield felt even more strongly that he was not alone. He had people close to him, even if not here and now-he had sent Adela away on purpose to feel and remember that-they valued him not for his regalia and achievements, but simply...for what he was. They don't care what path he's travelled or how many times he's stumbled. "A man builds the future now," Prayfield thought, remembering one of the last letters from a friend, "and every act creates new and new versions of possible events, leaving behind a linear past that can be as horrible as you want, if you make a conscious choice and start turning abstract versions of the future into an alternative-free present... we write our stories ourselves, and it doesn't matter if they have readers or not.

What matters is the action itself, the wholeness and sense of purpose.

He had been walking for half an hour. Perhaps he should have hurried and quickened his pace, but he knew where he was going. The old scholar looked round at the benches under the spreading elms, and strained his memory. "Yes, it's not far now..."

When was the last time he was here? Late '50s? "I think it was a very different person then..." The years spent searching for the unattainable will never be made up for - but it's part of the journey, and it's not worth killing yourself over old mistakes when you can make new ones and have a bit of fun in the process.

Edward grinned into his grey moustache. They'd had a good time at the university... until the big war on the continent came along and changed everyone's lives forever.

- Here I am...

The man approached the goal of his journey.

In front of him stood a small old bench of faded wood under a low, shady oak tree across the lake. Prayfield brushed orange leaves off the seat, sat down awkwardly, placed his valise on his lap, and rested his left hand on the backrest. It was an unfamiliar sensation, a forgotten one... The fountain was humming quietly in the distance, the birds chirping their last songs. Edward closed his eyes.
"This needs to be said. Out loud."

- I'm sorry I haven't visited.

He sighed, folded both hands in front of him, and was silent. The words came very hard.

- It was hard," began an older man with a grey beard and dishevelled hair under an old hat. - It was hard without you. I don't think...I never got over it. Even after twenty years. Silly, isn't it?

Edward grinned and wiped his watery eyes with a quick gesture. This was harder than he thought it would be. "Damn heart... why is it still beating..."

A group of leaves fell past with a slight rustle.

- I'm sorry. I hope-" The scientist hesitated. - N-I hope you're still around. I know I am. You're always here," he put a shaking hand to his heart. - And you always will be.

Prayfield closed his eyes and was silent. When he continued, his voice was hoarse and visibly shaking:

- You know, I think about you every day. Maybe that's wrong. I don't know. I don't know anything at all. - The man opened his eyelids and looked at the empty part of the pew with a pained look: -But you have to move forward, don't you? Gotta go forward. That's what you'd say..." His voice faded away. - I will go forward, yes. I will go forward. For you, for the others. For both of us.

Prayfield put his hand on the backrest beside him again and touched the hollow, remembering the curve of his back in his soft cashmere coat and black German scarf.

- Thank you for being there for me. I'll never forget you. I'll always love you.

On a worn metal plate screwed to the back of the bench was engraved: "Together Forever. E.P. and E.A., 1942."

***

- Oh, come on.

Volkert van der Berg knew that the solution to his problem was at hand. For nearly a week, he had been poring over the papers that littered his desk; every available board and wall in his office, which had never been repaired after a series of failed runs of the probability machine, was scrawled with countless equations and formulas - all of which fit and worked in theory, but had no effect in practice. "But it doesn't make any sense..."

The Dutchman hadn't eaten or slept for two days, smoked a dozen packs of strong cigars and even started the whisky of a hundred years old saved for the victorious day - but still, the solution to the protracted problem seemed at arm's length, but not in his hand.

- Why, why aren't you working as you should... what's stopping you? Everything's perfect!

Van der Berg made a sound of inconsolable despair and clutched his head. "Where is the solution..."

He felt himself getting sick.

The young scientist struggled to get up from his chair, walked on stiff legs to the large window and almost fell out when he opened the sashes. If he hadn't replaced them half a year ago... it was too early to fall out of windows after all.

The fresh air perked things up a bit.

"We need to try one more way. Just one more. Just once. But which one...?"

Volkert wiped his eyes with sleep-deprived circles, stood leaning against the window sill for a while and tried to get his thoughts in order. Need to stop going round in circles. There was a thought that had started it all... something on the periphery that he hadn't had time to put into form and think about, because he was too busy checking and looking for errors in his calculations (which turned out to be initially correct, despite everything). The device was started, the relic radiation shielding dome was created, the computer with a trained algorithm calculated the coordinates of space and time conjugation points, the cascade of quantum entanglement series was successfully built - but then something almost immediately cut the stable communication channel between input and output and reduced the safe operation of the device to zero. It was as if the universe and the laws of physics were against the very idea of a machine that defied the very nature of things... which would be natural if he were the hero of a play about a mad genius willing to sell his soul to the devil for fame and power, but now seemed unlikely.

- It's impossible, Mephistopheles, damn you..." groaned the inventor. Well, there can be no universal mechanism, beyond the basic physical constants and the theory of relativity, which would freely allow some things to work and forbid others to work. (Except for God, but Van der Berg was not sure that a hypothetical being who created a multidimensional multiverse from nothing in a billionth of a millisecond could be interested in sabotaging the efforts of a humble scientist from a mediocre planet near an ordinary star).

Still, why wasn't his device working?

Van der Berg leaned against the window frame and tried to relax. The tangled thoughts drifted apart and took flight. He imagined the Big Bang, the nebulae and galaxies emerging from the rippling clouds of interstellar gas, the universe expanding without end, and the vast distances across which the alien suns and the few worlds that mankind would one day reach....

"...but even the limitation of the speed of light, with desire and colossal resources, can be tried to bypass through stretching-compression of the fabric of space to travel between stars in months, not millennia - and here is just an elementary device for temporal portalisation in one direction! Yes, using a very complicated scheme involving circumventing the limitations of relativistic field theory and transferring matter between variants of alternate universes, but still, still..."

Van der Berg wondered sadly if he had gone too far in what he wanted to achieve. The laws of physics do not forbid travelling into the future - in fact, all our lives we actually travel through time at a fixed rate, one second per second. The Variant Reality Fractaliser, despite its complicated working principle and abstruse name, in its planned form did exactly the same thing as any other object in the universe, but it gave the actual possibility to control the course and speed of time outside the shielding shell, and was fully functional on paper, but not in practice.

"Wings of wax were melted by sunlight, and Prometheus was destroyed by his own ambition."

- Pride..." Volkert sighed heavily. - In the end, it's all about pride.

He could not but admit that he wanted to remain in history, at least to some extent to fit in with the great men of the past and present, to become the one who would be called the pioneer of his kind, the conqueror of the most mysterious and unfathomable element of all, the first of...

And then it hit him.

"The first one."

Volkert van der Berg grabbed the window sashes with all his might to keep from falling out; he felt dizzy, his pulse quickened and his heart ached.

That was the exact word that was swirling around in his head, but he pushed it away and refused to consider it for as long as he could. "Of course... it's so obvious..." He felt it was the answer to the question and the solution to all his failures.

He will never be the first time traveller. For one simple reason: someone in the future has already invented a way to travel through time and used it to travel back in time. But they never went back, and they never will.

That's why no one else can.

Neither travelling to the future, nor travelling to the past. As long as John Doe's time machine still works and is in this reality, no others will work.

The door of incredible possibilities and incalculable discoveries slammed shut before it could open.

- Fucking bastard..." Van der Berg whispered. - The goddamn bastard with the God complex.....

He felt anger and a surge of strength he hadn't realised he had. His brain began to work frantically, reassembling combinations of possible solutions and constructing a new theory of space-time travel with the new observations. The Dutchman took a quick step towards the slate to erase all the old equations and start over. One would need to understand exactly how the laws of nature worked with multiple working temporal transfer channels and if there were any other pitfalls before undertaking anything major. But it would definitely work this time. Van der Berg knew that.

It's not the universe standing in his way, it's just another person. This is a whole other level of the problem and its solution.

- If you're still here, I'll find you," Volkert said, looking over the first line of the new equation that was completely changing the operation of the alternate reality fractaliser. - I'll find you, whatever time you're in.

***

- Wow, this place is beautiful. Do you often go to such expensive places?

Prayfield almost choked on his coffee.

- Oh, are you all right? - Adelie got really excited.

- No, no," the grey-haired man answered, coughing, and set the cup on the saucer. - Just a slight déjà vu. Don't mind the old man.

- If you say so... - The girl took the menu, which the waiter, who came and immediately disappeared, carefully handed to her. - Have you been here before? What would you recommend?

Edward grimaced.

- I guess I'll leave it to your taste. You're part of a new generation, and my time has passed.

- Don't talk rubbish. - Dupont looked at him with a contrived sternness over the papers. - We're both starting new lives, remember?

- Of course not. I'm sorry, it's just a flashback.

- Let's save that for the memoirs," Adélie sighed. She was fed up with the circle of depressive states of the man with whom she had become close, so the Frenchwoman decided that it was time to accelerate the changes. Besides, she had long wanted to say it in a gentle but rather decisive manner. - When we get you back on your feet, clear your name, return the lost company, - then you will sit by the fireplace, remember all the past offences and mistakes, and reflect as much as you like. You think I didn't notice the look on your face when you came back from the park?

Prayfield couldn't find anything to object to, so he just waved his hands and picked up the menu as well.

- I won't ask for details, as I respect you and your life. - Dupont glanced down at the list of dishes in the carefully bound brochure, "Maybe we could try the quiche lorraine, the Lyonnaise salad and...

- What is it?

- To be honest, I'm thinking pinot noir. You won't get sick, will you?

- Let's find out! - Edward smiled and beckoned to the waiter.

A young man with a small moustache and in a tailcoat immediately came up with a company notebook in his hands, carefully wrote down the order, unobtrusively asked if anything else was required, and left with a quick step, taking the menu brochures with him.

- So you had time to go into the bank? - Adélie asked.

- Yeah," her tablemate nodded and reached for the glass of water she'd thoughtfully poured, "I stopped by Wells Fargo on the way back. I've got a safe deposit box with some important documents in it. It's safer; banks burn and explode less often than science labs.

- What's true is true," the girl replied with a smile at the joke.

Prayfield , too, could not maintain an unperturbed expression with fine wrinkles on his face.

- So," continued the scientist, "since we are really getting a foothold in Impington, Cambridge, I can't just sit still. A quiet old age is not for me.....

- You and old age? - the Frenchwoman reacted immediately. - Come on, the first time I saw you, I realised that Prayfield had a lot more to offer.

- Thank you for such a flattering appraisal of an old alcoholic.

- A recovering alcoholic, please don't forget," Adélie pointed out sternly in response to her usual attempt at pampering. - No one is immune to falling to the bottom.

- I agree," Edward nodded with optimism in his head, "the important thing is how we're going to surface.

- And how will you surface?

The man had an answer to a poignant question.

- Oh, I've already decided. I'm going to start where I once started, teaching.
- You were a teacher? - Dupont gave a look of surprise. Prayfield couldn't resist falling into her trap:

- My dear, I'm still a professor of theoretical physics! Yes, this old head may be a bit empty at the moment, but I can still surprise the unsophisticated public.

The girl smiled contentedly

- I'm sure you can.

- So I have taken all my certificates, diplomas and licences and all my business will now remain within the UK.

- Are you going to Cambridge?

- Yes," the scientist nodded with a somewhat thoughtful look, "and then we'll see. I think my chair should still be there.

- I like the sound of that," Adélie said seriously and nodded gratefully to the waiter who had already brought the first course. - You'd make a great dean, or even a politician.

- I've never been interested in power. - Edward grinned at the pun that came to mind. - Knowledge corrupts just as much, so why settle for less?

- Science has corrupted you?

- You have no idea how much.

Adelie laughed.

- It's amazing how easily our conversation flows. Although it might seem to outsiders that we are so different that we could be granddaughter and grandfather.

- If it were, we'd be a great family... - Prayfield noticed that the young woman had gone quiet. - What is it, Adelie?

The girl realised the uneasy thoughts reflected on her face.

- I never knew my grandfather," Dupont began after a short pause, her voice quieter than usual. - We have a fairly simple family tree and good relations between my mother's relatives, but on my father's side, everything before the nineteenth century is a blur, no connections.

- How did it happen? - The grey-haired man asked with genuine interest, stroking his moustache and beard.

- I don't know. - His interlocutor shrugged her shoulders. - 'Dad' didn't know his father, he was brought up by his foster mother and the street; he grew up somewhere in England too, by the way, his name was William, William Smith. I'm not sure if the surname is real. - Adelie frowned, trying to remember the details. - He volunteered, went to the front, got concussed while fighting for control of Paris. He met his mum - her name... her name was Natal, she was from a wealthy family with Jewish roots, so..." the girl waved her hand shyly; "Occupation, ethnic cleansing - not everyone survived it, you know.

- Of course," Prayfield nodded gravely, and for a moment he thought about something of his own. - I wasn't in France at the time, but I was in Berlin that year, so... yes, I see. We've all lost someone. Yeah.

The Frenchwoman sighed.

- I can't say I loved my father. It's wrong to say that. His childhood was hard enough as it was, but the war... crippled him. - Adélie closed her eyes and frowned. - I hate war. No matter how right and justified they are in the eyes of those who start them. People killing other people for nothing, over the wrong race or territories...

Edward nodded understandingly, and the girl continued the story. - After the army, my father started drinking, a lot; he'd lose his temper about anything, could... hit me or push me away. I was a little girl and I didn't understand why he did that to me. After a while, it started to feel like I deserved it.

Prayfield touched her hand gently.

- I'm very, very sorry, my dear.

- Besides...I wasn't the most wanted child. He always said he wished I'd been born a boy. He would have taught his son properly, not a woman.

- Adelie...

- It's okay," the girl tried to smile, but her voice didn't sound very convincing. - I grew up. He died. It's okay. I just wonder..." Adelie folded her hands in her lap and stared out the window, "...what kind of man would he have been if he hadn't been touched by the horrors he'd experienced and if he'd had a father himself? What kind of man would he be? And what could we possibly talk about?

- Mm..." Edward sank into his thoughts. "William Smith... a vaguely familiar name..." He was well aware of how easily he could make a mistake with a name so common, but he thought he'd heard something about a man named Smith before, the name popping up from somewhere in the depths of his memory. "It can hardly be that Smith's son..."

- In any case," Adélie tried with more effort to end the story on a good note, "this is all a matter of the past, and we are moving forward. Let's drink to the future!

She raised her glass of pinot noir and Prayfield readily seconded it:

- Cheers, my dear practically-granddaughter. - Dupont smiled broadly to the crinkles in the corners of her eyes, and the scientist finished with warmth and solemnity: "To our eternal, indefatigable desire to resist entropy and move only forward!

***

...Already at the airport, when it was their turn for light screening and boarding, Adelie again noticed a familiar face among the people.

- Ed, look at this!

- Yes?"- Prayfield held up his white hat with his hand and turned round.

By the wall, a teenage girl of Oriental appearance, wearing an oversized aviator jacket, a tight skirt, and simple shoes, sat on an old briefcase next to a tray from a fast-food restaurant on which there were still remnants of inexpensive food; she held a cheap tabloid in her hands, and behind her neatly trimmed dark hair she had an indifferently sad look in her eyes.

- Is that the one? - Edward said incredulously.

- Yes, just as I told you," she said impatiently. - You have to come and insist on help, people don't just live without a home for months on end.

She felt a sliver of guilt that the little Chinese (or was it Japanese?) girl was still here. She definitely needed help, she might not have enough money to fly home, she might have been robbed or abused...

Adélie threw her travelling bag on the floor and with a sharp movement headed towards the foreigner.

- But the line-" the scientist, who was anxious to leave American soil behind, tried to object.

- The plane won't go anywhere without us. Hi!

The girl raised dark slanted eyes to Adela.

- Remember me? - The Frenchwoman said, secretly hoping that the tramp would understand her slight accent - and that she knew English at all. "She must know it if she's holding a book, right?" she said.

The Asian woman nodded.

- That's great. - Dupont is relieved. - What are you reading?

The airport resident turned the inexpensive publication cover to cover.

- Harry Harrison, "The Steel Rat..." - read the girl and gave a thoughtful expression. - Hm, I don't know that author. Do you like it?

The girl nodded again.

- Should be interesting.

The lips of the silent stranger trembled with the shadow of a smile, she made a sign with her hand, laid the book on the floor, and drew from the inner pocket of her army jacket a vaguely familiar bound notebook and pen.

- Look, you've kept my notebook! - Adélie rejoiced and sat down so as not to tower over her companion. She had forgotten that she had left the empty diary on the floor of Kennedy Airport months ago.

Meanwhile, the mysterious girl wrote something in a notebook and showed it to Adela.

"VERY BEAUTIFUL." - she read with an even bigger smile.

- Listen, I'm really glad. And you write very well, well done! - The girl was really impressed by the lost man's English - it must be difficult to learn an unfamiliar language that is still so different from your mother tongue... whatever it may be. - Keep the book, will you?

The girl nodded.

- What I wanted to ask..." the young journalist began. - Are you sure you don't need any help?

The girl shook her head.

- You have a home, don't you, child? - Prayfield asked, a little awkwardly, as he gave way in the queue to the people at the back.

The girl nodded again.

- "You," "child?" - Adélie turned round with a half-whisper.

- How else to address the child...? - the scientist replied perplexed.

- Like normal people to normal people," she said, and turned back, ready to speak very slowly and clearly. - Listen," the Frenchwoman pointed to herself, "my name is Adélie Dupont, I write and draw a little. This," she pointed to her companion, "is Edward Prayfield , he is a scientist and a friend of mine. What's your name?

The illegal immigrant wrote something in her notebook again, this time faster and more confidently. "私は MITSUKI ITAKURA."

- Nice to meet you, Mitsuki Itakura," the young woman nodded with relief and gratitude. "Great, Japan. Less of a mystery." - Say, you have a house, don't you?

The Japanese woman nodded.

- Where is he?

"DALICO," said the new writing on the page.

Adelie bit her lip. "We're not moving this way."

- I realise my home isn't close either. I was born in Paris, but I'm travelling now. My friend and I are going back to his home in England. And you.

Mitsuki's eyes suddenly awoke with a keen interest.

- Angria! - It was the first time she'd said anything out loud, and so quietly that Adelie and Edward didn't immediately believe it had happened.

- Did you fly to England, too? - Prayfield was still as wary as ever. He felt very uncomfortable in the company of children.

Mitsuki nodded more vigorously and her pale cheeks became slightly pinker.

- That's quite a coincidence," Adela said in confusion, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear. - But how...

The girl made the sign to wait again and bent over the sheets of paper.

When she finished, her friends could see the inscription was long enough to make sense of it, despite the mistakes and the unaccustomed handwriting:
"MUM SENT ME TO STUDY, I NEED GOOD KNOWLEDGE, I DON'T HAVE ANY AT HOME. THERE'S FOOD IN ENGLAND."
- So that's it..." Adélie said in a low voice.

Prayfield felt like wiping his eyes; he caught himself starting to remember the phone numbers of familiar Basic English teachers without racist prejudice. "Not an easy task for 1966..."

- But if you have relatives," Dupont began, still trying to put the puzzle together, "if there is as I understand it, an uncle, then... why are you stuck here?

- I think I understand," Edward said. - This place is safe and familiar.

Mitsuki nodded and opened her mouth for a second.

Adelie smiled and nodded:

- Please speak. Don't be afraid.

- Watashi wa shy to speak English, desh," said the girl in the aviator jacket at last.

- You're good at it, you're good at it! - The Frenchwoman assured her. Prayfield nodded readily, finally setting the suitcases on the ground and sitting down on them quietly.

Itakura pulled out the gifted notebook and pen again and after a few minutes of confusing explanations and a few remarks in broken English, the friends drew up a picture for themselves.

Adelie took Edward aside.

- Well, I'll go exchange her ticket for today with extra money. Gotta help the poor thing get to her new home.

Prayfield turned to the young Japanese woman and nodded with a serious look.

- Yes, we need to keep an eye on her, I agree. - He tried to imagine himself in her shoes. Almost no money, sent to another hemisphere for a new life and opportunities that her parents' generation simply didn't have because of isolation, war, defeat and economic decline... - She must still have culture shock.

- I agree," Dupont nodded sympathetically, "it's a whole other world for her. It's a good thing there were kind people to look after her... how the immigration service hasn't woken up yet!

- I guess it wouldn't happen to a white kid.

- Mm-hmm.

The girl, meanwhile, put her diary on her travel book, put the standing tray with the rounded "M" on her lap and unwrapped the still warm burger. Adelie didn't notice the smile - but there were still problems to be solved.

- So," she turned to her older friend, "shall we put her in my room for now?

- Excuse me? - Prayfield frowned.

Dupont began to curl her fingers:

- We need to find her uncle, get her into school, help her settle in. Finally get a message to her mum somehow. - She's a bit of a hand-wringer. - It would take some time.

- Yeah, I guess so," Edward shook his head, thinking that his mansion was slowly turning into some sort of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club, like in last year's Beatles album. - After all, I still have plenty of room and you won't have to sacrifice your room. As for her uncle.

- S-sumimasen? - A quiet voice suddenly sounded very close by.

- Yes, darling? - Adélie lowered her eyes eagerly.

- I'll be quiet," Mitsuki pronounced with a Big Mac in her hand. - Not to get in the way.

- Of course," the girl nodded gently and patted her new acquaintance on the head, "we don't even doubt it. So what about your uncle? - she turned to Prayfield .

- I may have crossed paths with him once.

Dupont rolled her eyes:

- My God, do you know every scientist on the planet personally?

- The circle is much smaller than it looks," Edward grinned, "if you subtract the charlatans, healers, and 'progressive TV preachers. There aren't many Japanese scientists in England. I'll pull up my contacts, and we'll find him if his address has changed.

He leaned over and patted the Japanese woman's shoulder encouragingly with the words:

- It'll be all right, Mitsuki. Let's go home.

***

- This is it.

Volkert van der Berg ran his eyes over the intermittent chain of commands on the computer screen. This small sequence of algorithms concealed a carefully thought-out combination of technical conditions that would completely change the mode of operation of the innovative device. If the Dutchman's painfully long-suffering guess was correct and the solution to his problems lay in finding another traveller ...

Van der Berg glanced at the scribbled boards with countless equations. Everything in the universe either emits, reflects, or absorbs radiation. "So if the second reality fractaliser is somewhere in this version of the multiverse - and it's obviously not switched off properly - then at some point in space and time its radiation can be found and tracked, like a radio signal or a flash of light. You can calculate the coordinates, triangulate them on a spherical plane from the residual radiation of the radiation trail, account for the rotation of the globe and the time shift factor... and get the exact time and place of entry of a guest from another world and time."

Of course, one could limit oneself to that. Put the point on the map, set off on a long journey, start a little historical investigation if the guest from the future was in the past, or wait for his arrival in the future if the moment had not yet arrived. But Van der Berg knew two things. The first was that the event had already happened, and it had definitely happened somewhere in the past, otherwise the test transfer five minutes into the future would have happened, but the machine wouldn't switch on again - and that clearly hadn't happened. The second thing was that he knew for sure that he couldn't stop now. Too much energy and money had been invested in this project, which he had kept in his head since he was a child. But how do you get somewhere instantly?

The scientist shifted his gaze to the kinescope screen again. The solution to the problem was unexpected, even fantastic, but simple and elegant.

- I can't travel to other worlds and time periods...," Volkert said, as if voicing his thoughts. - But that doesn't mean I can't transport myself wherever I need to go.

Technically, it wasn't teleportation. Even if someone had come up with a working method of teleportation (and Van der Berg had heard of such attempts), with living matter it would make neither sense nor be ethically justifiable. One could transport a quantum, an atom, a group of molecules, a grain or a whole mug, but the original object at the point of entry would always have to be destroyed so that a new one could appear at the point of exit, exactly like the original. You can't do that with a laboratory animal, let alone a human being. "And all these fantasies about transferring consciousness, copying brains onto magnetic tapes or modelling neural networks... it's unlikely it will ever work like in the books."

Van der Berg grinned, fumbled for a small wad of notes in his pocket, and pressed enter.

- It should work now.

He looked up the idea from astrophysicists and sci-fi writers. "Travelling between the stars in years, not millennia, without exceeding the speed of light..." Like that American TV series that had just aired, about an international spaceship crew, a charismatic captain and an unflappable navigator with a strange haircut and an unusual greeting. The warp drive was compressing space ahead of the Enterprise ship and expanding behind it, pushing it into distances that would have been impossible to travel any other way. Van der Berg thought he could put the idea into practice - especially since his device was already forming a protective shield of cold plasma and electromagnetic fields. "If you redirect the energy to the right angle, time and power usage properly, and provide for shielding and protection of the surroundings, you could theoretically perform what would look like teleportation to the desired location." The coordinates of which he already pretty much knew.

Sparks erupted from the extended pins, and the metal circles on the half-disassembled floor and ceiling began to rotate with a creaking sound. The familiar crackling sound was heard, the computer screen flashed and switched off. The metal hoops spun even more violently, their edges beginning to glow from static.

Van der Berg pulled on his protective spacesuit and adjusted the protective aluminium plates on his arms, legs and chest. "Who knows what lies ahead..." The young scientist realised how risky his venture was. This was his first run of the Variant Reality Fractaliser in its new mode and he wasn't sure he would survive the moment he stepped beyond the boundary of the slowly forming plasma shield. What place would he find himself in, what would be waiting for him there? You never know until you set foot on the yellow brick road.

There was a low beeping sound and another burst of sparks. Volkert put on his helmet and breathing mask, checked the oxygen tanks behind his back, and tightened all the latches. "It's now or never."

A cylinder of bluish light pulsed steadily from the centre of the room to the ceiling, and the signal lights around the protective structure lit up alternately, signalling the completion of the setup and readiness for transition. Van der Berg drew in a chestful of carefully cleansed air and took a deep breath.

Now.

He lifted a foot in a heavy, metal-clad boot and lowered it behind the barrier of light. A hellish chill and goosebumps ran down his leg and thighs, and he squirmed uncomfortably. "There's no turning back."
And he stepped fully onto the platform behind the pillar of light.

Instantly, the automatics kicked in, a growing hum was heard, and suddenly everything was spinning before my eyes. His ears ached, the light flickered white and blue, and physically perceptible waves of vibration travelled through his body. Volkert felt a jolt on his right side, and he was dizzy. "I wish I hadn't touched the walls," his mind flashed, "I wish I hadn't..."

And it's all gone.

Van der Berg felt himself falling from a height. He instinctively tucked his arm under him and hit his elbow with a thud.

- Shit!

He winced in pain and rolled over from side to back. When the first shock wore off, he opened his eyes and at first thought he was blind.

But no. It was very dark all around, and somewhere up there, much higher than usual, the light of a lantern was shining through the dust.

- Where is it...where am I....

The inventor straightened up with a grunt and on the third attempt removed the now unnecessary helmet of the makeshift teleportation suit.

-Whoa?

Van der Berg looked round. He found himself in a small room three by three metres with an unusually high ceiling, with no doors or windows, only a small hole in the ceiling, which he took to be a lamp.

- Damn it...

The scientist finally got to his feet and noticed that he had landed right on a cross-shaped mark on the stone floor. "What...?"

Sweat broke out on him. Was this some kind of trap? Van der Berg nervously picked up his helmet from the floor and tried to look around. There was a chair in the corner, a pile of rubbish beside it - and nothing else. In desperation, Volkert ran over to the chair, tossed it aside, scattered leaves and broken branches-nothing. Not a key, not a note, not anything else that would shed any light on what this place was or how he had come to be in it.

- Okay...

The Dutchman took a few breaths and exhaled and decided to take a closer look around. He walked round each of the walls, tried knocking and looking for any cracks, - and it was only in the last of them that he saw a door, almost invisible because of the darkness. It was made of very old wood, thickly panelled with metal, and had a strangely shaped oblong handle connected to some kind of chain-and-pinion mechanism (it was hard to tell without a light source, and the scientist had not thought to bring a torch). Van der Berg felt the knob in the darkness, assessed its fragility, and pressed it.

- Aha!

There was a noise and the clatter of machinery. The door slowly opened - and behind it, another door, hidden behind it and looking like... a rack of bottles?

Volkert stepped carefully, by touch, out of his failed dungeon.

- Hello? Anybody here?

I guess it really was a wine cellar. But in whose house? And why did the coordinates of the mysterious opponent lead here? It's a mystery.

The scientist found a ladder by feel and cautiously climbed up it.
- Anyone...?

He opened another door and found himself in a spacious but dark hallway with a two-way wide rise to the first floor and the only natural source of light, a large stained glass window with a detailed pattern of atoms and electrons in orbits. On either side of the staircase were massive classical doors to other rooms, the vintage lamps on the walls were de-energised. Somewhere in the distance, a pendulum clock ticked loudly. He seemed to be alone in this house....

Van der Berg turned quickly round to the front door, which was closed with an automatic lock, and shifted his gaze again to the staircase. The ground floor was likely to be the household, and the bedrooms and study of the owner of the manor. It wasn't very courteous to show up at someone else's home and rummage through other people's belongings, but there was no other way to find out about the owner of the house. What if he had something to do with the creator of the duplicating device-or if he was the creator himself?

There was a sudden knock at the door.

Volkert almost dropped his helmet.

"Not that."
If it's the owners of the house and they have nothing to do with his problem, he's in big trouble. And he doesn't have any weapons for self-defence with him, just a spacesuit helmet and an oxygen tank on his back. It's heavy enough to knock out a grown man, but inconvenient to use.....

There was another knock at the door and a blurred silhouette appeared in the side window and called out his name in a rumbling voice:
- Mr Van der Berg?

The inventor was stunned.

- Volkert van der Berg, is that you? - continued the voice of what appeared to be a young boy. - Please open it, it's the mail.

The scientist twitched, rushing for the door, but remembered he was wearing a suit that was too strange. "No time to think, need to keep cool." He quickly removed his protective spacesuit, tossed it aside with his helmet, adjusted his shirt, hastily combed his hair, and opened the front door as if nothing had happened.

- Y-yes?

- Hello, sir," the postman greeted him, taking a quick glance at his tired face and his somewhat frantic look. - You have a letter for delivery," he said, signing here.

Van der Berg took a pen hastily and signed with one nervous stroke on the form at the clipboard provided.

- Very good," the boy took his tablet back and handed him an oblong envelope in very old paper. - Here you go, have a good day - and watch out for the newspapermen.

- Newspaper men...? - the young scientist interjected.

- They'll be here in half an hour, and they've sniffed it out anyway. You can be a celebrity if you want to be," the postman said indifferently over his shoulder, adjusting his bag. - This letter has been there for seventy years.

Van der Berg closed the door behind him in a daze and stared at the envelope. The yellowed paper, the torn edge, the partially crumbled dye... On the front was written in thin, sinuous handwriting: "Delivered to Volkert van der Berg personally in his hands at exactly 7:26 p.m., 21 November 1966, at 16 Clay Close Lane, Cambridge, Impington, United Kingdom".

"Seventy years...?"

But how is that even possible?

Volkert hesitated a moment, but carefully opened the ancient-smelling envelope. Inside was a note on slightly better preserved paper. Van der Berg looked for a light switch and switched on the light in the hallway of the stranger's house to read the letter. It was written in faded ink and was intended, however hard it might be to believe, for Van der Berg - or his full namesake:

"Good evening, my future mate.

I can imagine your bewilderment, Mr Van der Berg, but we are more connected than we seem. It was no trouble at all for me to find you and deliver this message - and you have probably already guessed why.

But we're not in competition with each other. I am not the cause of your failure with what you call the Variational Reality Fractaliser. It's a much bigger problem, and we need each other to solve it. Or rather, you need me.

By the time you get this letter, I'll be long gone to my grave. But that won't stop our co-operation, believe me. I've had decades to prepare for our meeting in absentia - and I've done my best to make your part of the job as easy as possible.

I was less fortunate than you, and was limited by the technology of my time. But you have every chance of completing my work and gaining what you so badly desire. Yes, some sacrifices will have to be made, but I am more than sure that you will understand the necessity of them and agree that this is the only solution. Hard, but unconditional.

I know that together we will change, free and mend this broken world. Eventually, at the end of time.

Alexander Ludwig Gailford,

London, 1893.

P.S. You'll find all the answers here: ..."

Volkert van der Berg sank to the floor. It was much more complicated than he had anticipated. But he would have to go all the way.

He wanted answers.

So the young scientist folded the letter from the distant past into an envelope, picked up from the floor the protective suit and helmet that had become unnecessary, switched off the light behind him, stepped outside the mansion, carefully closed the front door behind him, which slammed softly shut - and left in the twilight of the fading day to catch a taxi on the side of the road to the place that was indicated in the message, and disappear from sight for a long time, if not forever.

CHAPTER 7

- No...

She pressed herself to the ground and barely had time to cover herself with her oversized jacket when the blast wave blasted her from above, burning some of her long hair. Shards of broken rubble and bricks flew past, and the wreckage of a mangled car overturned very close by. A siren shrieked overhead and a ringing voice came from the loudspeakers.

"Attention! - said the announcer excitedly. - All residents of Hatsukaichi take shelter in houses and basements immediately! Save your lives, your own and those of your loved ones!"

The girl cautiously peered out from behind a pile of rubble.

The street of the town was torn up, the asphalt was pounded by bomb craters, indecipherable signs were falling to the ground, and a fire had started in a neighbouring bakery. Somewhere, a child cried alone.

- Oh no...

The young Japanese woman lifted herself up and looked up at the sky. The setting sun was almost hidden in the black clouds of acrid smoke that rose from everywhere in sight. The growing noise of aircraft engines could be heard.

"Stay in your shelters! - repeated the alarmed voice of an emergency worker from all the pillars trying to block out. - Hiroshima is under attack again!"

There was the rumble of an explosion and the clinking of surviving glass. The girl turned round.

Very close by, in the fire and sparks from the spilled fuel oil, stood a gigantic figure on three articulated legs with a faceted metal body, a small flat cylinder at the very top, and a long telescopic gun muzzle that rotated on a horizontal axis, searching for new targets with a low and indistinct voice that the teenage girl did not know. On the side of the mechanism were red stars, and on the tank turret was a half-erased hammer and... "A curved wheat knife?"

The girl staggered back and jabbed at the surface of a wall that had been razed to the ground.

- Not again..." she whispered.

Just then several green planes with white and red circles on them flew sharply overhead and went into a turn following a white fighter with a red tail.

The Japanese woman pressed her hands to her lips and exhaled: "Oto-san!"

- He's back! We're saved!

The squadron of the Imperial Air Regiment reversed course and aimed at the tall machine. The walking tank made an ominous sound, turned clumsily, balancing on two of its three legs - and turned its turret towards the attackers. The leading fighter opened fire with under-wing machine guns, and the others immediately followed suit.

The teenager covered her head with her hands and took cover behind a wall, the shrapnel from the large-calibre weapons whizzing close by. When she did peek out from behind the obstacle, she saw the fast planes coming around for another attack, and an unmanned mechanical monster with armour riddled with holes trying to target them. The girl's tears splashed. "It's working!"

- Mitsuki! - A familiar voice suddenly sounded. - Mitsuki, where are you?

Itakura turned around and rushed over to help.

- Mimi! Rin!

- We're here, help!

A tall girl in a long skirt was leaning over a pile of wall remnants, from beneath which someone's feet could be seen.

- He's crushed! I can't do it alone!

- Quiet!" Mitsuki hissed and turned around fearfully, pushing away a rock floating in the air. - I'll be right there, I'm coming!

But as she was just starting to come out of hiding, a painfully familiar sound was heard. A Soviet walking tank had spotted them.

- N3MINYEMO3 UNNACHT0ZH3NNE! - cooed a crackling low mechanical voice from the giant speakers on the front of the vehicle, the guidance beam slipped in very close and the tank turret turned to a much closer and easier target.

Mitsuki stopped breathing.

Something inside the rounded barrel lit up and it glowed. But a second before the shot was fired, machine-gun pellets struck the surface of the tank and it disappeared in sparks and smoke; the aeroplanes swept very low past the flock of pigeons flying backwards to reload for a third attack.

- Good for you! - Itakura shouted and waved her hand. It seemed to her that the grey-haired man in the cockpit also waved back - and perhaps smiled as only he could.

But then his plane burst into flames.

- Daddy!!!

Mitsuki stiffened.

The fireball disintegrated into dozens of slowly circling debris.

The squadron of planes scattered, but it did not save the rest: the autonomous fighting machine calculated their trajectory and shot them down with stunning shots, one by one.

- Daddy..." the girl whispered, covering her eyes with her palms.

- Mitsuki!

Itakura perked up, wiped away her tears, struggled to find a glimpse of her older friend's figure and waved her arms, pointing to the still intact walls behind which to take cover.

- Hide, Mimi, hide!

But she didn't move.

Itakura walked closer and stopped. Something was wrong...

- Mimi...

The eighteen-year-old girl slowly turned her crying and scarred face with drooping cat ears among the gently rising stones in the air. A green spot of light appeared on her forehead.

- You killed us all.

And the tank shot tore her apart.

Mitsuki opened her eyes wide and straightened up sharply in the cold bed. It was dark and almost silent, a light rain drumming on the glass with the faintest rumble of thunder in the distance.

She fumbled for the edge of the bed in the darkness and tried to get up. Her lungs ached. "I can't breathe..."

There was a light tap of running feet on the stairs, and the door to the guest bedroom opened. Blond hair glistened in the doorway for a moment.

- Honey, honey, come on!

Adeli ran over to Mitsuki, sat down on the bed and gently hugged the visitor from Japan, "It's a dream, just a dream.

- Nani ga ocotta ka? - Itakura didn't immediately remember the right words in the foreign language. - I'm sorry, did I wake you up...? Nani...

- You were screaming in your sleep," Dupont replied worriedly and stroked her back soothingly. - It's all right.

Mitsuki felt a burning shame. She woke up the people she was staying with....

- Gomenasai. I didn't mean to.

- I'll get you some water. Don't get up... - The blonde rose, went to the table, poured water into a glass cup from a jug prepared in advance and returned to the bed: - Here, wet your throat, please. If it's stuffy, I'll open a window.....

A dishevelled grey-haired man with a small beard appeared in the doorway, clumsily holding a pistol with the trigger cocked.

- What happened? - Edward asked in his sleep, caught Adela's rounded gaze at the ajar window, looked down, and immediately put the safety on. - Did you see someone?

- It was just a bad dream," Mitsuki replied almost calmly, who wasn't particularly impressed by the sight of the gun-wielding homeowner. - I'm sorry.

- Are you sure it's okay?

- That's right, Pareifriend-san. Thank you.

- Well," the scientist in the nightgown shrugged, put the pistol in his pocket, and put his arm around Adela, pushing her slightly toward the exit, "then I'll wish you a particularly good night. You have nothing to fear in my... our home, Mitsuki.

- I know, sir," Itakura nodded, finally calming down. - Domo arigato-des.

As they closed the guest bedroom door, Dupont saw fit to express her bewilderment in a more direct manner:

- A revolver? Really?

Prayfield grinned:

- My battery died in the luemeter, I usually have it under my pillow.

- You thought she saw someone. Why?

Edward dropped the joking tone and frowned. There was actually something that alarmed him.

- It feels strange," the old scientist reluctantly shared. - When we came back yesterday, I didn't realise at once what was wrong. But now the feeling has taken shape.

- And what? - Adelie held her breath.

- I could have sworn someone was home when we were gone.

A chill ran down the girl's spine.

- Bon dew... are you sure?

- Not all the way. - Prayfield folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the balustrades of the second-floor landing. - The intruder left no trace," he said, "but I distinctly remember that the lock was closed differently, with the knob turned the wrong way round. I'll check the security system tomorrow and reinforce it.

- How good is she? - Adelie lowered her hands in alarm and leaned against the oak fence as well. - If those men who attacked you in New York come back.....

Edward laughed briefly, turned and touched the girl's shoulder reassuringly, who turned around hopefully at the gesture.

- This house could survive a nuclear explosion and another ten years of fallout. It's sure to hold off a gang of rogue assassins from the secret society that runs the world, if necessary.

***

- Well, you have a... impressive resume.

- Impressive? I'm Edward Gregory Prayfield , damn it!

The Dean of Cambridge University was less than impressed.

- I know who you are," said the heavy, balding man, fingers interlocked, with distaste. For some reason, the spacious, semi-dark office, lined with bookcases reaching to the ceiling, smelled damp. Prayfield felt uncomfortable in the visitor's chair in the main office of the training complex. - But I also know," the dean went on, "that in the last five years you've gone from being a luminary of world science to, to put it bluntly, nothing. You have a drinking problem, near-extremist neoliberal views, and a thoroughly damaged reputation. You're a catastrophe man, I have to agree with the editorials. A university of our calibre cannot risk its reputation by hiring such a lecturer, even part-time.

- You're wrong, Mr Watson.

- I'm sorry?

Watson hummed, adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses, and finally regarded the third person present at the heavily curtained window.

- I didn't even notice you. Who are you and who let you in? Ladies aren't allowed in here.

- Tell that to Marie Curie and Ada Lovelace," Adelie, in her brightly coloured jumper, crossed her arms under her prominent breasts. - Without women, science would remain a male-dominated contest of destruction and ego gratification. Isn't that so?

The dean hummed loudly, but found nothing to say. Prayfield cast a grateful glance in the girl's direction, and Dupont curtsied jokingly to her grey-haired protégé.

- Well," Mr Watson finally regained his composure, "we're progressive people and we're not against feminism... so, getting back to the men's conversation, do you have anything to say in opposition, Mr Prayfield ?

The girl leaning against the window sill could barely keep from bursting out in response to the manners of the head of the university. Edward in the visitor's chair noticed it sympathetically-and he had an idea.

- I suppose so. I remember something, James... you used to have a man called Goldschmidt, Franz Ulrich Goldschmidt, if memory serves. Remember? - Prayfield made a friendly face. - I believe you've been in this position before.

- That's right, yes," James Watson nodded importantly, his eyes drifting back to his memories. - Passed away about ten years ago. He was a science teacher, a Nobel Peace Prize winner in biology, a man of impeccable quality.

- Indeed," nodded the scientist with a half-smile, his memory finally refreshed and ready to put forward an irrefutable argument. - Except that he had worked for Göring and corresponded with Dr Mengele.

- Impossible. - The Dean of Cambridge leaned back in the upholstered leather seat.

- Not at all," objected Prayfield , "I knew him more intimately than you, our paths crossed at Stuttgart.

- You just made that up.

- But," continued the interlocutor, "you have just complimented a war criminal who taught your children and miraculously escaped Nuremberg.

- It can't be. It's impossible, isn't it?

- Alas, perhaps. After that, I suppose talk of Cambridge's high standards and impartiality will sound very different?

- By the way, there's a journalist in the same room with you," Adélie raised her hand, not without a sneer. - And a woman, yes. Feminism, you see. It's a disaster.

- I'm sure the papers would love an article about the glorious traditions of European bureaucracy in the heart of the British Empire," said a triumphant Prayfield , leaning back in his chair. - 'You're prepared to work with the Nazis as long as it makes money and keeps the system stable. "Business as usual, is that what they say these days?

- You have no proof," Watson exhaled.

- Not yet," the girl shrugged her shoulders with feigned indifference. - But they will. I'm good with sources.

There was silence. Edward and Adelie exchanged glances and stared at the dean, who was frozen by the pressure.

- Hor-r-r-r-okay," hissed the angry-looking man who had finally come to his senses. - A burned-out scientist and a foreign starlet hoping for blackmail. Let's say. And what exactly are they hoping for...?

Prayfield drew forward and replied, throwing off the oratorical pitch, in as open and confiding a tone as possible:

- Just a second chance and a rare thing these days, like humanity. That's all.

***

- Wow, congratulations!

Vorobyov turned round and shook hands with his old friend without letting go of the car steering wheel. - This is a tremendous stroke of luck.

- More of a credit," Prayfield corrected him in the passenger seat, adjusting his seat belt, "but not to me, but to our young friend. You should have seen her tenacity, for God's sake. - He laughed. - Even I wouldn't have been able to say no to that kind of pressure if I were Watson.

- I can imagine, old chap," Alexei nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. - So, thanks to the lovely Zhenya, you are now a respected Cambridge professor again?

He liked to pronounce the name Dupont in the Russian manner; it evoked an almost nostalgic longing for the past and the country he had left far behind, and for a youth that could never return. "But was there anything wrong with that...?"

- If I may say so," Edward nodded. The driver wasn't immediately distracted from his thoughts. - It's a six-month probationary period: it'll take time to get used to it, to adjust, to convince people that many of the unsavoury rumours about me are false. But I already have ideas for my course. By the way, let's turn left at this corner - we'll stop somewhere along the way.

- All right. So what are you gonna teach?

- Astrophysics in the light of new discoveries. - The doctor from the Soviet Union glanced at his neighbour and noticed the smile on his face. - The complete story of the birth of the universe and how it might end.

- I didn't think you'd follow in Edwin Hubble's footsteps," Vorobyev noted. - But not bad, quite a big start.

- More like safe. - The scientist looked out the window and rolled down the side window to feel the coolness of the breeze. - I won't be allowed to do anything truly provocative or breakthrough, but I don't need to now. I'm just old Uncle Ed here, back from a long holiday abroad, in poor health but full of new ideas.

Alexei hummed.

- Not the worst role for a return to the top.

Prayfield put his hand on his old friend's shoulder and said encouragingly:

- We'll climb them together - again, just like the good old days.

Vorobyov praised these words and the intonation with which they were spoken.

- I will," he said with a nod, thinking about something. - By the way, you still haven't told me where exactly we're going on the way to your place...?

- I promised Adela I'd help her with something. She was in London with a new friend, the girl from Japan I told you about, and I had a chance to find out what she wanted, and to combine the useful with the pleasant... tell me, you've always wanted to know that they're building a giant mu-graviton accelerator right next to us, haven't you?

***

...Well, it really is gigantic," Vorobyev said, leaning on the window sill.

Before him stretched a view that looked more like an archaeological dig than the construction of a complex: part of the ring-shaped structure, resembling a closed circular tunnel, was already mounted in the trenches, and above it they were beginning to erect ribbed sections of the protective dome, isolating part of the installed magnetic coils with electronics, on which groups of engineers and mathematicians were already working.

- You don't say," replied a short man with balding hair and heavy glasses in an American accent, adjusting his jacket pockets in the midst of a group of other scientists and technicians scurrying from side to side with clipboards and stacks of notes. - We were fortunate that the authorities in Stortford had gone ahead and allowed the complex to be built.

- The circumference is almost ten kilometres long, by the way," Prayfield whispered to Vorobyov, not without pride. - I helped in a couple of places.

- When we complete it, we will be the largest collider of this type not only in Europe, but also in the world! - the head of the scientific complex spread his arms in enthusiasm, almost knocking down one of his higher colleagues. - Isn't that wonderful?

- Absolutely, fine," nodded the somewhat hesitant Vorobyev, "but, Daniel, I don't quite understand - what, again, do you want to achieve with this... pipe?

Edward made an extended sound and pulled away from his friend:

- Oh, no, you've awakened the beast. I'll leave you alone with the fearsome Jefferson-Smith.

- "Pipes?" - Daniel Jefferson-Smith repeated in horror and pressed his palms to his temples. - "The Tubes?! This is the greatest engineering structure since the Eiffel Tower, if it could be used for more than idle tourists. Understand, dear and much-respected comrade, we accelerate and collide elementary particles with each other to thus experience....

Prayfield pretended not to notice Vorobyov's pleading look and slipped away into the neighbouring room, where he found an old acquaintance looking at him and went straight to him.

- Excuse me, please, can I talk to you for a minute?

A grey-haired man with a bushy moustache finished an equation on the slate board and turned around:

- Of course, mate.

Prayfield took him aside.

- Wow, you're just like Mark Twain. I'm surprised you made it, John.

- I couldn't refuse him, we fought together in the Korean War. Especially Project Manhattan..." - John sighed and shook his head. - What brings you here, Ed? Did Dan invite you too?

The grey-haired scientist from London nodded briefly and pulled back the collar of his jacket to pull something from an inside pocket.

- I invited you for old times' sake, - but I'm really here because of you: I wanted to ask a small favour.

- Of course I'm listening.

- You used to be into genealogy, didn't you? - Prayfield asked, pulling out a small leather-bound notebook.

- I still dig through the archives sometimes to keep my grip on it. It's good for exercising the brain. Are there any new branches in your family tree?

- Not exactly," I promised my new friend to help fill in the gaps in her family history. I had some suspicions, but I needed an expert's opinion to confirm my hypothesis. Look at this," Edward handed John a piece of paper with all the names and dates that Adela could remember. - Can you see if the Dupont family is connected to any of the Gailfords here?

Moustache hummed uncertainly.

- Not an easy task, but I'll give it a try. I know a couple of archivists here and in France, but I can't promise anything.

- Thanks anyway, Lewton," the London scientist patted his mate on the shoulder and glanced at the calculation board: - By the way, there's a small error in the equation - you didn't take into account the spin of the atomic nucleus in the momentum.

- Damn it, Prayfield . - John Lewton looked round the whole chain of formulae and saw the trouble spot too. - You're right, old chap. If this were put into operation.....

- They wouldn't," the Englishman assured him. - You would have noticed it yourself if I hadn't distracted you. Well, it was good to see you. Give my regards to President Johnson if you meet him!

The American with the big moustache gave a joking salute and returned to his calculations on the blackboard. Prayfield in high spirits poured himself a free cup of coffee from a warm coffee pot on the paper-laden desk and returned to the main technical room of the future collider.

- How are you, having fun? - He asked Vorobyov, who had become even more unhappy during the past five minutes, after a sip of a refreshing drink.

- They tried to explain to me what's going on here and what they want to achieve, - Alexei gave up and raised his hands, - but these people are like your copies under LSD...

- Trust me," Prayfield grinned, "you haven't seen my copies under LSD. Never walk past mirrors when you're high.

- ..I mean, you're not easy for me to understand when you've had too much coffee, but these Yanks...

- Oh, I knew you'd like it. - Edward set the empty cup on the desk and shoved his hands into the pockets of his carefully ironed trousers. - So what did we learn in the lecture today, mate?

The Soviet expatriate ran his palm across his forehead and thought for a moment:

- From everything I've heard," Vorobiev finally said, choosing his words carefully, "all I've learnt is that this tiny invisible particle, which all these people are so eager to find, can literally threaten the entire universe if not handled properly.

- Hmm, that's an interesting interpretation of the problem of finding a mu-graviton," Prayfield admitted, and followed the doctor to look out the window at the ongoing construction of the giant engineering complex. He wanted to share his thoughts with his friend in the hope of being understood. Especially if he was going to go back to teaching young people the wisdom of science.....

- You see," Edward began thoughtfully, "this is a fundamental hypothetical particle that has been under investigation for decades. And if its existence can be proven... then a lot of things will become clear.

Vorobyev nodded, and Prayfield continued: - In a nutshell, not everything in physics has yet been discovered and fits together. We still know so little about the universe that one might say we are like children with a torch inside a huge grotto, seeing only shadows in front of us and not knowing how far the cave extends - but we can go step by step and grope its changing walls in the hope that someday we will find our way out, to a place larger and more beautiful. That's what science does. Trying to know the vast world and to do it in a provable way.

As for the mu-graviton... - The old scientist was silent and frowned, touching his grey espagnole beard. - Yes, we have to take risks, to sacrifice something. Science is inseparable from risk and not always unambiguous consequences. The Manhattan Project's nuclear weapons, Sakharov's hydrogen bomb... - Prayfield turned to Vorobyov and caught his attentive gaze. - Remember how the Nazis were desperately searching for anything that would allow them to end the world war they had started. "The Fau-2s they bombed London with ended up being the rockets that people are going to use to get to the moon.

Alexei nodded in agreement. Edward continued:

- Yes, if something goes wrong here, the consequences could be dire. We've been discussing this with Jefferson-Smith and Lewton for years. - Prayfield looked anxiously in front of him, pondering the exact wording. - Particle collisions at the kind of velocity that this experimental cyclic railsotron produces can, under certain conditions, form a cascading chain of atomic singularities at the quark level, the cumulative effect of breaking interatomic bonds could be catastrophic to the very fabric of the universe. But that doesn't mean we should stop struggling to find new knowledge and eternal truths," Prayfield finished, turning again to his loyal listener. - Mankind has always gone forward, from darkness to the stars, and we must continue on that path, my good friend.

***

Two young women of different ages, a rather tall girl in a small but warm coat and a petite girl with a good rucksack and wearing a modest school uniform, were walking leisurely in the small stream of tourists and residents on the left side of Westminster Bridge towards the majestic facades of the Palace of Parliament and the clock tower of Big Ben. Her older companion had wavy blond hair that fluttered in the autumn wind and a slight blush on her delicate cheeks; she was adjusting her brightly coloured beret and carrying on her shoulder a sturdy woven bag with a purse, a new unread book, and all the other necessities of the journey. Her younger friend occasionally caught surprised glances from passers-by, but she paid no attention to it (or didn't show it): she knew how different people were here, didn't judge their surprise, and, on the contrary, occasionally responded with an equally curious glance from under her straight fringes to all those people with too wide-set eyes and unusually pink, elongated faces. But all this after months of isolated life at the airport, which the girl had taken as a long-needed holiday and psychological release - none of it seemed as exciting as the sights around her, which she had only read about in newspapers and rare books in translation.

- How beautiful," Mitsuki said quietly, looking around the slowly approaching Palace of Westminster again.

Adelie threw a quick glance in her direction and looked ahead as well. "It's hard not to agree..."

- I agree, I can't take my eyes off it. How do you like it in England?

The Japanese woman nodded twice.

Dupont looked up at her again from her six-foot-six height.

- Would you like to live here when you graduate?

Itakura thought for a moment and nodded uncertainly. She noticed a small crease between her eyebrows.

- Honey, is something wrong?

The girl shook her head a little more calmly and pulled up the frames of her briefcase. Adélie pressed her lips together.

- Don't be shy to talk to me," she said affectionately, patting the schoolgirl on the head. - I will never hurt you or judge you for making mistakes. Kondani', I often make them myself! But no Englishman has ever reproached me for it.

Mitsuki lifted the corners of her lips politely and quietly objected:

- But you don't have an accent. I'm really bad at saying bye-bye.

Dupont laughed and splayed her hands.

- Oh my god, I have a wild accent actually! - Itakura stood up and looked at her older friend in surprise. When I first came here, I thought everyone would notice the French accent, too. But then I listened to the British accent itself, and then I encountered Scottish and Irish pronunciation... and I realised that even my speech was intelligible.

The teenage girl looked away and thought about something.

- So," Adeli finished softly, leaning in slightly, "please feel free to speak out loud and practice, okay? Your pronunciation is excellent, and any major mistakes will fade away with time, I promise. Okay?

- Chorus roso.

- That's great. Domo arigato, right?

Mitsuki smiled and relaxed a little:

- Yeah.
"But it's clearly not just a language barrier issue."

- That's fine. - Dupont smiled, pushing anxious thoughts to the periphery, adjusted her beret and beckoned her new friend to follow. - So, shall we take a look at the Tower Armoury and Museum...?

***

A few hours later the girls were sitting at a small table by the window in a quiet and bright café opposite Green Park on Piccadilly Street. Mitsuki Itakura stirred her tea with a spoon and a sugar cube, while Adela rested her hand pensively on her chin and watched the wind stirring the yellowing leaves on the neighbouring oak trees. The rare passers-by went about their business; a red double-decker bus drove past leisurely and stopped at the traffic lights ahead. "What does the future hold for us? - Adélie thought with unexpected melancholy. - Where am I now, where am I going? Do I have something of my own, or is Maman right in her letters and I am wasting my life...?"

There was the sound of approaching footsteps.

- Your order, ladies. - A tired-looking waiter placed plates of dessert in front of them. - Bon appetit.

- Thank you," the Japanese woman nodded, trying not to be nervous and pronounce the words correctly.

- Merci," Adélie, who had also returned to reality, thanked her habitually and assessed the order with feigned enthusiasm: "Mmm, cream cheesecake with chocolate sprinkles! Would you like to try it?

Mitsuki didn't refuse:

- Like a vacasana. Try mine?

Dupont took a bite of her chocolate cupcake, too.

- Mm, yours is even better! - The Frenchwoman slid her cup of already slightly cooled cappuccino towards her and took a small sip. "A good place to stop for a few moments in the middle of endless movement without much meaning or purpose..." Itakura nodded quietly once more and Adela once again got the impression that her ward was upset about something.

- Listen," she began cautiously, "you never told me how your meeting with your uncle went yesterday? Vorobiev said you were too shy to agree to walk you to the door, and he didn't insist.

Itakura fixed her fringes, clasped her hands together tentatively, and swallowed. The words in English were very difficult for her to say without stuttering.

- My uncle," Mitsuki began, faltering. - 'He's... not expecting me. To be surprised. Confused.

- But... we thought he'd be waiting for you?

The girl looked away, realising how hard it would be for her to believe.

- Mum writes him letters, but he doesn't answer her. I don't know why. He doesn't seem to read her letters either.

Adelie frowned, trying to piece together the picture.

- It turns out you flew out of your home country to meet a man you never knew and never expected to see you... but why?

The girl bit her lip, trying not to lapse into Japanese out of habit.

- Mum's m-dreaming. I-how do I say this?

- Take your time, don't worry. - Adélie took her palms gently in her own and looked trustingly into her dark, troubled eyes. - I will try to understand everything you say.

- Gomenasai," Mitsuki nodded and decided not to hold anything back. - Oto-san disappeared when I was four years old. It was hard on mum. Raising a child by herself. - The girl lowered her head. - No one to love us.

- Why?

- Daddy was a pilot," the girl admitted with a slight shake in her hands, without raising her eyes. - He went to war. Hear about Pearl Harbor?

- Of course..." Adélie met her gaze with her companion's again, and felt slightly relieved to see their eagerness for openness.

- I know what happened," Mitsuki continued with slight anger. - Not stupid. I know history. My dad... and my homeland... Dono yo niyu nodes-ka? - The Japanese woman took a short pause to get the words and the translation to them right. - Sometimes we do things that seem right before, but turn out to be a huge mistake. I know my dad's not a hero. But I still hope he comes back one day. It's hard to be alone.

- Of course.

- That's why Mum always wanted me to see the world and live outside. - Itakura adjusted the backpack tilted on the windowsill. - Better school. More friends. A future. Lots of money. The food here is good, and back home we didn't have enough yen...

Dupont's heart clenched.

- Mitsuki... I'm sorry.

- So we decided it would be better for me to take a chance and try life with my uncle here. He's been in England a long time. He's an enjinia consutoracuta. I don't want to be a burden to Mum... she'll be more at ease without me. - An almost adult determination sparkled in Itakura's eyes. - I want to study, grow into an adult, work hard, and return to the house with new knowledge and experience. To make my mum proud of me. To make my friends proud. I miss my friends sometimes. But I'm strong. That's the way it has to be.

- You really are very strong, Mitsuki," Adelie said with feeling, rubbing her lips thoughtfully. - But your uncle... hell, if we'd known it was that complicated, I would have come with you, Alexei would have walked you home. He'd be upset if he knew he'd left you on the doorstep of a house where you weren't even expected.

- Don't tell him, please. - Itakura touched her forearm. - It's okay, it's my fault. I'm indecisive sometimes.

- Maybe you could move in with us then? - The Frenchwoman suggested, thinking of options as she went along. - Prayfield would be happy to give you a place to stay and we could find you a school in Ipswich. I could call your uncle and explain everything.....

Mitsuki shook her head:

- No, no, please don't. I'm not telling him when I'm leaving home. If he found out about the airport... He'd be pissed.

- Are you sure? He's good to you, isn't he?

- Yes, of course. Very much so. It's just that he's really not expecting me. Mum should have called, but we don't know his new number.

The confused thoughts of an empathetic Adela finally took shape into a concrete plan.

- Okay, listen to me," she said firmly, ready for any consequences. - Here's what we're going to do. I'll walk you home and you can introduce me to your uncle, okay?

Mitsuki hesitantly nodded and Dupont added meaningfully:.

- I want to make sure you're doing well and you didn't trade one airport for another.

***

Adeli rose to the surface from the underground crossing, adjusted her bag and looked around for transport.

- Right, we need to find the flight we need... - No buses, just the occasional car. - There's got to be a 32 heading towards Cricklewood. Do you see it on the timetable?

Mitsuki squinted and studied the traffic diagram on the wall of the covered bus stop near the exit. Despite her misgivings, it was not difficult: she could read English much better than she could speak and write it.

- I think so. - The girl rolled up her sleeve and looked at the cheap wristwatch. - Twenty more minutes.

- Nothing, we'll wait..." Dupont turned around impatiently and suddenly noticed a familiar figure in the distance. "No way..."
But the cheerful and charismatic voice, beckoning passersby to spend some coins in exchange for the latest news and bohemian gossip, left no doubt.

- What a meeting! - Adelie waved her hand at the stranger and called out to him in a low voice: - Sam? Hello, Sam!

- DDel- the newspaper seller turned round and spread his hands with fresh stacks. - Geez! Hey, mate!

An American in a warm scarf and plaid coat placed a pile of newspapers on the pavement kerb and eagerly stepped closer.

- You look great, London suits you! - Sam hugged Adela, and she responded happily. Her acquaintance only now noticed that the girl was not alone. - Oh, you're here with your daughter?

Dupont almost laughed in response to the suggestion.

- Noooo, that's Mitsuki, she's from Hatsukaichi....

- It's in Japan," Mitsuki remarked quietly and added politely: - Konnitiva.

Adeli made an awkward generalising gesture with her hand and finished:

- ...here, well, me - or rather, all of us - are helping her start a new life.

She felt a little embarrassed that, underneath it all, she wouldn't mind being in Sam's company alone.

- Well," the young man with the fluffy curly hair immediately leaned over to the girl and held out a light-coloured palm to her, "Hi, Mitsuki! I'm Sam, Sam Jones, nice to meet you. - He noticed the still slightly surprised look on the Asian girl's face and shrugged. - As you can see, I'm not from around here either, which is kind of noticeable, right? I have an older brother named Tom, he's an aspiring musician and he's supposed to be somewhere in Vegas right now... - Sam nudged Adela in the side and added: - And I'll be there soon, too, can you imagine?

The girl was visibly surprised:

- Wow, you got the ticket after all?! - She couldn't seem to hide the note of disappointment in her voice.

- Amazing, isn't it? - Jones smiled with a full row of snow-white teeth. - A simple black guy earned something with honest labour...!

There was an awkward silence.

- 'Sorry,' the high street newspaper seller finally admitted, 'it could have been funny at my house.

Adeli stepped from foot to foot.

- So you'll be out of here soon?

- Yeah," Sam nodded more seriously, "I'll be leaving next week, and I've got my stuff in my suitcase. I've lost six months of my life to stupidity. - The boy sighed. - Lennon would have smashed a piano over my head for saying that, but his mates aren't worth it.

Itakura stood and listened with interest to the mass of new words and concepts.

Dupont felt embarrassed, but decided to offer nonetheless:

- Mm... Listen, why don't you come round for one last visit?

- I mean, you're calling me to visit? - Jones was surprised. - We'd only seen each other three times.

- Prayfield won't mind, I've already asked. - She felt herself blush, and hurried to fix her hair. - Seriously, come by this weekend-just call me when you're ready, so we can all be here.

The American recalled that he already had Adela's number.

- Well, if you're inviting me, then I'll stop by! - The boy smiled broadly again and exhaled. - Pau, you're the only person I know who has treated me like a human being here, you know, without all that stuff, you know.

The French woman nodded briefly....

- Understood. - She plucked up her courage and added: - You should see the rest of Europe, you know. Not all people are like you're used to. In a good way.

- Yeah. - Sam looked down at his feet and remembered some unhappy things from the recent past.

It was as if Adela had heard his thoughts (she too had thought of separate seats on the trolley buses for coloureds and barber shops for whites only) and continued with hope in her voice:

- The world is changing little by little and there will definitely be a place for everyone in it. - The girl smiled confidently. - You and your brother will succeed.

Jones shook his head and visibly cheered up:

- He still would, - and also maybe this strange chap called Elvis, if you've heard of him. - The young man made a series of strange pauses with his feet, trying to imitate the crown dance of an aspiring singer. - Some people even like it, imagine that!

- And I like aeroplanes," Mitsuki raised her hand in a low whisper, deciding now was a good time to share her liking.

- Really? - Sam responded with interest. - Not many people hate them!

- I love flying them," Itakura explained, a little embarrassed. - I learnt it myself. Like Oto-san.

Adelie shifted her eyebrows, not sure she'd got it right:

- I won't believe it until I see it.

- I'll fly you sometime," Mitsuki promised and said encouragingly: - It's no big deal, I can almost reach the steering wheel!

Dupont raised her hands:

- I'm not sure I want to take this flight.

- I'd take it," Sam smiled and tried to make a serious face, "I'm sure you're a really good pilot for five and a half.

- I'm almost thirteen! - Itakura hadn't gotten to the article "humour" in her dictionary yet.

- I'm not very good at calculations. - Jones brushed it off and bent down to pick up the circulation paper and continue on his way. - Programming is a different matter.

Adélie wondered:

- Do you know how to write algorithms?

Sam grinned:

- You wouldn't believe it, I even interned at ENIAC once. - Adélie nodded understandingly. - But now I still have to sell all this pile of papers....

A young man with a pile of newspapers in his hands felt the wind change, fumbled and pulled a large knitted hat out of his coat pocket with his free hand. - You see, I'm a failed student, I even had a state scholarship once. But the state decided that one black student per corps was a little too progressive, and at the time I was sitting on the grass and hippin' on Indian wheels, which had nothing to do with the claims against me, so.....

The young girl buttoned up too, adjusted her beret, and remarked with a laugh:

- I didn't know you had such a turbulent past.

- This is America, sister," her friend saluted her. - You can love it or hate it, but if you were born where I grew up, the spirit of freedom will be in your heart forever.

***

- Well...

Edward closed the heavy-bound book, placed it carefully on the table in front of him, and slowly straightened his back, leaning against the soft back of the red upholstered chair. The scientist closed his eyes and listened to the faint morning singing of the last lingering birds outside the window. There was a faint breeze coming from the open sashes, faintly ruffling the light tulle of the plants in elegant pots carefully left by the new neighbour. Somewhere in the distance, someone was listening to jazz on the radio and humming a relaxed tune.

Prayfield opened his eyes and surveyed the study, which, thanks to the long and arduous labour of all the inhabitants of the house, had quite ceased to resemble the sight with which it had greeted them a few months ago. Walls of wooden consoles and bookcases stretched to the ceiling, a slatted ladder stood by one of the shelves on a permanent fixture, and countless rows of books were in perfect order. By the coffee table on graceful legs stood two upholstered guest chairs, and on the tabletop itself lay a stack of yesterday's metropolitan newspapers, a vase with a fresh bouquet of flowers, and reading glasses. Just behind the right armchair was a large antique globe with a massive base, intersecting wooden rings, and incompletely marked outlines of the lands that were open at the time: it wasn't really suitable for serious travel planning, but in some things the professor who had returned to work was terribly old-fashioned.

Edward pulled his chair over to the expensive desk, ran his hand over the freshly varnished surface, adjusted the Schopenhauer volume, and decided to tidy up the rest of the items. Dust had settled on the reading lamp with its white square shade, the notebook was out of place, and some of the pens were worth cleaning. "Final touches before a new beginning..." Next Monday would be his first class with an audience, the first time in a long time that Prayfield would be visibly sharing knowledge, back where he had once started, but in a different status. The pinnacle of his dreams in this temporary, he hoped, role was still Oxford, but the grey-haired man gave himself no chance to imagine that he could return to his nest as a wise mentor. He was not that vain and proud.

Maybe that's why she loved him.

Edward shifted his eyebrows and rubbed the old scars on the right side of his face. Then he glanced at the only thing that was truly out of order on his desk. An old, faded portrait-a photo card in an ornate frame-standing at the same angle as it had at the beginning. So he wouldn't inadvertently see her eyes.

Prayfield reached out to him and noticed how his fingers trembled. "Pull yourself together..."

The doorbell rang downstairs.

Edward cursed softly, then grinned, glanced at his watch - it was too early for the grocery girls to return - adjusted the waistband of his dressing gown, left the study, and started down the stairs.

- Mr Prayfield , right?

On the doorstep stood a bored-looking young postman with a large bag full of letters.

- That's right," the landlord nodded, pulling his dressing gown tighter just in case.

- You have a letter from Mr Lewton, sir.

The young man held out a fresh envelope and the scientist, after hesitating, took it in his hands.

- Hmm, very quick, thank you.

The guy stepped from foot to foot.

- Can I ask you a question, sir?

- Yes?" Prayfield turned around, ready to answer.

- Do you live alone? - Edward raised an eyebrow, but he decided not to leave his interlocutor completely unanswered. Edward raised an eyebrow, but he decided not to leave his interlocutor completely unanswered.

- Not as of late," the old scholar began, "but - with all due respect, I'm not sure it's any of your business.

- I see, thank you. - The postman nodded and adjusted his cap. - Have a good day!

- And you.

Prayfield closed the door behind the visitor and never learnt why the latter was interested in such details of his life, especially as, if the messenger had any thought of telling him that he had seen another person in the scholar's house to whom a letter of unimaginable age was intended, he dismissed it at once.

***

- Can I have your attention, please?

Adeli turned around intrigued, Alexei raised her eyebrows and looked over her glasses, and Mitsuki politely set aside the family sticks, ready to listen intently.

Edward, at the head of the table, awkwardly set down his raised glass of sparkling champagne.

- I just want to point out," he began softly, "how great it is that we're all gathered around the same table, together as one big family.

The scientist turned to the newly arrived guest and made a slight bow:

- Special thanks to our new friend for taking the time to stop by. New faces are always welcome. Welcome, Sam! The former paperboy lifted his vial and smiled broadly. Edward smiled back: "Adele has told me a lot about you.

- Oh, come on," the blushing girl said. It was indeed a slight exaggeration.

The head of the house meanwhile glanced at the thick envelope to his right and continued:

- And before we get to the bruschetta, the salad and that delicious Italian pasta that the girls made themselves, despite all my objections - honestly, I was kicked out of my own kitchen this afternoon! - I would like to thank you. To each and every person at this table. You have brought me back to life. - Prayfield turned to the blond Frenchwoman. - You brought me back to life, Adélie.

Dupont turned away so no one would see the moistened eyes.

- If you hadn't found me in that cluttered New York flat..." Edward paused and stared wistfully at the fizzing bubbles on the walls of the flute. Of course, he still remembered the hopelessness and brokenness with which he'd gotten up every day for years, wishing he were dead. - ...I would finish myself off with alcohol and guilt.

- It's not so," Adélie objected faintly, and laid a warm and gentle hand on his arm. - You wouldn't have been given to those three fools.

The grey-bearded man looked her in the eye and the girl jerked her hand away, embarrassed.

- By the way, maybe it was them," Alexei grinned, remembering the classic TV buffoonery. - Curley, Larry, and Moe; one of them didn't happen to have a potty mouth and crazy eyes, did he?

Vorobiev winked at Jones and extended his hand in a friendly gesture, which the dark-skinned fellow immediately struck with an approving cheer and the thought that he suddenly liked this company and old England was not so bad at all.

- It was hard to see in the dark," Prayfield grinned. - I wish we'd asked their names.

The girl furtively added champagne to her drink and smiled sweetly:
- Too quickly they'd been duped.

Mitsuki giggled. The professor looked round at those present with a warm feeling, and fleetingly remembered the second person who had actually saved his life that day. There had been no letters from Van der Berg for a long time - but perhaps he had some business of his own to attend to, which he would be sure to tell them about when he had time.

Prayfield stood up and raised the weary flute again to finish his speech.

- You know, friends, lately I've been thinking that..." He felt his throat constipate and coughed. The words weren't forming into sentences very well. "When was the last time I was this worried?" - ..It's like I've been given a second chance. You gave it to me. The thing that brought us all together...sorry, I'm stammering...was it fate? Was it chance? Or was it fate? Providence? God Almighty? - "It's time to run out of synonyms..." - I don't know. I don't know as much as I'd like to think I do.

But I know one thing. - Edward paused and finished in a voice shaking with emotion. - You believed in me, and you helped me start my life over. For that, I will be eternally grateful to all of you. To each and every person around this table right now.

He coughed again and raised the vial even higher.

- Sorry for the long speech. To Adeli, Alexei, Mitsuki, Sam.....

- ...and to Edward," Vorobiev finished, tired of waiting, raising his glass in return, "the great adventurer who will surprise the whole world many times over.

***

When it was time for the main course, Prayfield topped up the champagne for all but Mitsuki (she had a fizzy Irn-Brue on hand) and himself placed the painted plates of carbonara and garlic bread in front of the guests, despite Adela's objections

- I never thanked you properly for your help at Cambridge," the landlord said to the girl as he settled back in his seat.

- Come on," Adélie replied with cutlery in her hands, "I couldn't help but go and help you. This place needs reform.

The old scientist nodded briefly:

- That's right.

- And you're the only person I know who could do it from the inside. - Dupont looked Prayfield in the eye. - You're a good man, Edward. You have a heart, a mind, you know about tact and honour ...

- So many kind words in one evening," the grey-haired man shook his head with a slight smile.

- I'm telling it like it is," the Frenchwoman smiled and finally tasted the still warm pasta. - Mmm, delicious.

- Compliments to the cooks," Vorobiev said, who had already finished half of his plate, and nodded respectfully to Mitsuki. She pretended that she had no problem eating Italian food with Japanese utensils and bowed in return.

- Thank you, dear Adelie," Prayfield glanced again at the opened paper envelope on the table. - By the way, I have some news for you.

- Like what? - The young woman looked up.

Edward folded his hands together and said solemnly:

- I did take the liberty of asking one of my old acquaintances to research your family tree and fill in the blanks.

- Really? - Adela couldn't hide her surprise and joy. - You did this for me?

- It's the least I can do for you. - The scientist held out an oblong object to the girl. - This envelope contains your complete family tree, including the answer to the question you asked me.

- Did you find my grandfather? Is it true?

- Absolutely true. And I was surprised to hear it myself. - Prayfield paused theatrically and continued, lowering his voice. - Your family is not an ordinary one, Mrs Dupont. You are the granddaughter of Adenmayer Wilfred-Smith, one of the most influential yet mysterious scientists of the last century. - Sam and Alexei looked at each other, and Mitsuki put her wands away. Edward leaned forward and lowered his voice even more. - There were many rumours about him, and much of his work was lost or unrecognised in his lifetime. So you're lucky to have a pedigree, not everyone has such large-scale personalities in their lineage.

Adelie couldn't believe her ears. All her life she had thought that part of her roots would never be found. Her mother had never mentioned her father, it was just like he didn't exist. And for her long-lost grandfather to turn out to be not just anyone, but a scientist, especially one who lived right here... surely this wasn't the plot of a strange book?

- I have no words," the Frenchwoman whispered. - It just can't be.

- Maybe, my young friend," the professor assured her and leaned back in his chair. - I double-checked my friend's work, and I went through the archives of the royal library myself, and I was convinced that he was not mistaken. And what's more, I was the first to find your famous grandfather's abandoned estate, along with the grave. No-one knew where his real home was, he spent his whole life in a network of clandestine laboratories. So if you'd like to know more about him...

He didn't have time to finish, as Adelie slapped the table with force and blurted out enthusiastically:

- Damn it, Edward, of course I do! We'll go there tomorrow!

***

- Here we are, folks.

Vorobyev stopped the car and switched off the engine. - The first people to set foot on this forgotten land.

Adelie, who had kept her gaze on the tall structure as soon as it appeared on the horizon, lowered the glass of the back door and was finally able to get a closer look at it.

In front of them, in a puff of frozen haze, stood an old, tall and partially ruined three-storey Gothic-style house, with tall, pane-less windows, ivy-covered columns, an arched entrance, and an elaborate double-pitched roof with hardly any shingles. Not far from the building stood the rusty body of an angular car on spoked wheels, tilted on its side. The cobblestone walkway to the main entrance was broken and almost covered with earth, and nearby in a weedy garden of mangled trees a shriveled statue of an angel with his face covered with his palms. And, it seemed, something else...

- Graves.

Adelie jerked the handle and got out of the car. Prayfield glanced worriedly at her from the passenger seat, glanced at Vorobiev, Sam and Mitsuki, put on his round sunglasses and followed her.

Dupont quickened her steps along the path to the back patio with the passage to the memorial garden. She had little interest in the house, its history, the possible inheritance - which would still need to be dealt with, if there was any left - or anything else. What was important to Adela was to know that they hadn't made a mistake and this was indeed her direct relative. The family tree couldn't lie, and if Prayfield in turn wasn't wrong, then a part of her long-forgotten family rested here, right in the shadow of the spreading willows and oaks. What would it change for her? Probably nothing, but the girl wanted to see something visible and tangible, something she could touch like an unexpectedly found piece of the home she'd never really had and had yet to find. Or she wanted to think so out of habit.

The young woman walked around the feral rose bushes and finally reached a row of dilapidated tombstones in the shade of stunted trees. One of them was larger than the others and looked older. Adélie slowed down, walked over to it, squatted down, and brushed dirt off the title slab, accidentally chipping off a piece of the edge.

Barely catching up, Prayfield noticed the confusion and worry on her face.

- Is everything all right? - He asked, also not without difficulty, sitting down and touching her shoulder.

- What a strange epitaph," Adélie muttered.

The inscription on the memorial read: "Here rests Adenmire William-Smith, 1799-1897. "The chained man will one day throw off his chains. He who defies fate will one day defeat it."

Edward hummed.

- And a date of birth. It wasn't in any of the sources. - The scientist clenched his knees to keep his balance in his unfamiliar posture. - Even the biographers claimed it was a complete unknown.

- Do you think it's fake? - Dupont turned to him.

- Unlikely - it's more likely they put the date on for the sake of tradition.

- Or he could really be ninety-eight," remarked a quiet voice with a strong oriental accent.

Mitsuki put her hands in the pockets of her dark jumper and shivered in the morning chill. The others were finally coming over, too.

- It's kind of creepy," Sam admitted. - Boris Karloff is out there somewhere, am I right?

Alexei cast a quick glance at him from beneath his glasses.

- Better him than Bela Lugosi. I'm allergic to crosses and garlic myself.

- Wait a minute.

Adelie took a closer look.

- Doesn't anything seem strange to you?

The men, along with the girl, looked at each other and, without collusion, moved closer.

- Except that it's like we're in a Universal horror film, isn't it? - Jones smiled.

Standing at the side, Itakura squinted her eyes.

- Is there something wrong...with the letter?

- Exactly," Adélie nodded and pointed with her finger. - The word 'once' is repeated in the text, but it's written a little differently. And that border around the second word... it's silly, of course, but suddenly ...

The Frenchwoman fumbled for the letters carved into the granite tombstone and pressed the bottom of the word. The stone yielded slightly. She pressed harder and discovered that the word was carved on a separate plate that rotated on a transverse axis.

- Wow! - exclaimed the doctor in Russian.

Prayfield squinted his eyes.

- Is there something in there?

- Yes," Dupont nodded. - Something inside, not giving in...

She pressed the mechanism harder and the fragment of stone rotated forty-five degrees: on the side that appeared was the word "Imminent".

- "He who defies fate will inevitably defeat it..." - Mitsuki read.

- That sounds a little fatalistic," Sam remarked.

- Wait," the blonde said in a concentrated voice. - There must be something else. It's not moving any further.

- It must be a hidden lock," said Prayfield thoughtfully. - Try other words, there could have been a second button.

Adelie ran her hand over the remaining phrases. Nothing. Or almost nothing... she returned to the word 'Shackles', fumbled for the inconspicuous junction of the granite edges joining, pressed the bottom of the word, got no response and tried pressing the edge. The stone gave way. The girl continued the pressure and another word appeared on the back of the block.

- "The chained man will one day throw off God..." - Alexei read aloud in amazement. There was silence.

- That's it...? - Sam shifted his eyebrows.

Adélie raised her hand.

- Hold on. Do you hear the ticking?

There was a series of light clicks, and stone crumbs spilled from the side of the monument. Dupont leaned sideways and saw that a niche in the tombstone had opened, revealing a shiny object.

- Here's the key! - exclaimed the girl.

She grabbed the find and was about to rise to her feet when she noticed the text carefully engraved in vaguely familiar handwriting on the granite lid of the niche.

- Wait... there's some kind of message here.

- Better get out into the light," said Prayfield , adjusting his dark glasses.

Adelie stood up and led her group of friends aside to read the contents of the stone tablet.

- "Let the righteous not fear the cup of the Neopalimaya, for the cleansing fire will bring deliverance," read the Frenchwoman with increasing anxiety, and looked round at those present.

- Is it something from the Bible? - Sam asked.

- I don't remember such a thing," Vorobyev said doubtfully. - Perhaps some kind of apocrypha...

- Apocrypha? - Mitsuki interjected.

- An unofficial legend, a myth," Alexei explained. - It's hard to explain in two words.

- Do you think he could have been... a fanatic? - Edward asked Adélie with doubt and a touch of fear in his voice and looked at the key, which was engraved with a strange symbol of two intersecting circles with dots inside the circles.

- The biographers didn't know much about his real life," Prayfield said, turning to look at the gloomy, abandoned serpentine house. - I guess we'll find all the answers here.

The scientist, the journalist, the doctor, the newspaperman and the schoolgirl silently turned their gaze in the direction of the time-ravaged building, which for decades had kept the dark secrets of its mysterious and unsociable owner in its depths.

CHAPTER 8

Adélie pushed open the heavy door and heard the rusty lock break inside. Prayfield glanced at her and Vorobyov - and put down the crowbar he had thoughtfully taken with him from the car.

- It looks like no one has been here since the last occupant of the house died," the scientist said.

- Judging by the tombstones," Alexei said, shivering, "the servants did not outlive their master for long.

Mitsuki turned around to cast one last glance at the car and the abandoned garden. She had never been afraid of ghosts, but here even she felt like the abandoned manor was watching her from the veins of shadows and cracks.

The Frenchwoman tied her blonde hair into a ponytail so it wouldn't get in the way or dirty, pulled a heavy Maglite torch out of her shoulder bag, switched it on and shook it to make it glow brighter.

- Well, let's go in," she nodded and fearlessly stepped into the cursed house.

They entered a dark hall with a crystal chandelier that had partially crumbled and swayed from the draught. To the right and left, large arched windows, some of them glazed, let in the misty light, and from above, creeping branches of dark-leaved creeper crept in through a pierced round vaulted window.

Adelie walked past the massive wooden columns in the German Empire style, lingered over the dust-covered and blackened paintings in the faded wounds on the walls, and stepped onto the giant carpet, almost destroyed by mould and damp. She took a closer look and with some difficulty made out a golden medieval-style depiction of the moon, sun and stars against a dark background.

Vorobyovsniffed behind his back and uttered:

- Do you smell it too?

Sam covered his nose with his hand; Mitsuki didn't even bother to lower the collar of her jumper, which she pulled over her lower face like a medical mask as soon as she crossed the threshold of the building. Prayfield stepped forward, politely bypassing Dupont, looked around and sniffed too, interrupting the disgust. The abandoned house smelled of stale dirt, leaves and sweat - and something else. But he recognised the smell immediately.

And he noticed a corner of the rug bunched up, as if someone had tripped over it.

- Lady, stay here.

The scientist nodded to the doctor and headed for the next room. Vorobyov looked at Sam and nodded his head toward the stairs. Jones took the hint.

- Okay girls, let's see what's up there... there's nothing interesting up here.....

Adelie furrowed her eyebrows but said nothing.

Prayfield pulled a miniature torch of his own making from his pocket, switched it on, bent down and slowly examined the shifted corner of the carpet. Then he pointed to a faint chain of indentations and turned to his friend:

- Look at the footprints. See?

Vorobiev squatted down and adjusted his glasses:

- A dragging gait. Whoever was here suddenly had a part of his body paralysed.

The grey-bearded man raised an eyebrow:

- Heart attack?

His younger mate touched the black stubble thoughtfully.

- Perhaps...

- That would explain the disorder and desolation - there was no one to look after the house," the elderly inventor replied thoughtfully. - And if my intuition doesn't deceive me ...

Edward rose to his feet, switched one of the toggle switches on his torch, and shone a light spot of changing hue in front of him.

- The other end of the spectrum? - Alexei suggested with interest.

- Ultraviolet, nothing special. - Prayfield swept the purplish-blue beam from the carpet to the exit, picking out layers of dirt and dust that glowed as if they were themselves, among which suddenly appeared the clear footprints of a heavy, asymmetrical gait leading around the corner. Edward turned to his friend and asked, looking over the dark glasses he kept on even in the twilight: "Tell me, Mr. Doctor, you still remember the skills of a pathologist, don't you?

***

Adelie was about to follow Sam and Mitsuki to the first floor, but lingered at the old mirror in the hall, which was almost blackened with dust. It was covered in radial cracks, as if someone had thrown an object at it or hit it in a heartbeat.

- Who were you really, Adenmire Wilfred-Smith..." the girl said to herself, and bent down to pull out the drawer of the table on which the mirror stood.

Inside were old business papers, scraps of half-eaten newspapers, a few rusty keys that were hardly of any value - and a very old group photograph in a vintage bronze frame. Adélie looked at it more closely. On the daguerreotype stood and sat a number of strange-looking men, some in military uniform, many with long beards and luxuriant moustaches, one sitting with his eyes closed in a wheelchair, another missing an arm and part of a leg. In the centre of the frame sat on a massive carved chair a very decrepit old man in a not quite ordinary-looking camisole, boots and gloves, with a heavy gaze and a dishevelled grey beard. His features seemed vaguely familiar to Adela, and she looked closer. Apparently, this was the owner of the abandoned manor, and he was indeed her... grandfather, oddly enough. They had similar cheekbones and nose; that's why Dupont thought she'd seen that face somewhere - partly in a mirror. "That's probably the reason..."

Adélie dusted off the old framed photograph and, not without squeamishness, wrapped it in a handkerchief and stuffed it into her bag, at the bottom of which was already lying a vintage key with a strange geometric symbol on its base. I wonder what it fits into.....

Dupont looked up, following the footsteps of the boy and the girl in the musty gloom of the creaky staircase.

***

Prayfield and Vorobyov, shining their torches, slowly made their way into the next room, skirting the fallen books and broken crockery. A huge oak branch had once broken through the high arched window during a storm, and the hurricane had wreaked more havoc on the desolation of the dead house.

Unfortunately, not metaphorically.

- Shit," Alexei hadn't expected to flinch himself. - You were right.

The body was crouched in a crumpled posture, lying against a dishevelled shelving unit with its bony left arm outstretched and its right hand clutched to its chest.

Prayfield stepped closer, switched his device from ultraviolet to normal light range, and examined the corpse with a professional researcher's eye, without apparent surprise. Long white hair, eagle nose, sunken, wrinkled cheeks, the whites of his eyes rolled back and covered with a film of clay... the poor man clearly hadn't planned to die out of bed.

- Can you tell me when he died? - The scientist turned to the doctor. He cast a somewhat disapproving glance, but still approached the desiccated corpse.

- Fifty years ago or a little less," Vorobyev replied, after some thought, and pointed to the characteristic spots. - Judging by the colour of his face and the condition of his skin, it was indeed an unexpected stroke. And he died, obviously, not immediately.

Edward closed his eyes and sighed.

- The final curtain comes down for everyone, no matter how good or bad the acting was on stage. And this unfortunate...

He wanted to let his feelings out. He remembered perfectly well the moment when his heart had almost given out and only a miracle in the person of a girl he did not know yet and a young scientist who happened to be nearby had saved his life.

The man's lips trembled.

- He was the last occupant of the house. Buried first the master, then all the colleagues one by one... the old butler, faithful to the end.

- Eternal memory," Vorobyev whispered in Russian and even crossed himself.

The branches of the tree scraped faintly against the shards of broken glass. The swamp fog outside the window grew thicker and thicker.

- We should bury him," Prayfield switched off the lantern and struggled to his feet. - Everyone deserves human treatment and justice, even after death.

- I agree," Vorobyov nodded and rubbed his temples worriedly. - But we'll have to come back later, alone. I wouldn't want to traumatise the guys....

- Traumatise how?

Adelie stood in the doorway.

- Okay. - Edward stretched his arms out preemptively, blocking her path. - Wait, my dear...

- What did you find?

- Wait, don't go in. - The scientist stepped closer, hoping to block her view of the gruesome find. - Please.

- You don't have to treat me like a child," Dupont frowned and pulled out of the unwelcome embrace. - What are you doing here... oh.

Her eyes rounded with horror as she realised exactly what was on the floor.

- I told you, Delly," Prayfield sighed and took a tired step to the side.

- Oh, my God.

The girl covered her mouth with her hands and shuddered. The scientist hesitated and finally put his arms around her, gently turning her away from the sad picture.

- It's okay," he whispered, stroking his mate's back. - It's okay.

- It's not-" Adelie couldn't get the last word out. "What if that grave was empty, or it hadn't been prepared in time, or..."

- No, I don't.

Prayfield 's reassurance had a calming effect on her.

- Then...whose is it....

- The last of the servants," said Vorobyev at the window, who was suddenly in need of a smoke. He pulled a carton of Benson & Hedges cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, took out a pack of matches, and struck one of them on the dirty windowsill. - Your grandfather's butler, most likely. He kept an eye on the estate as long as he could.

- To die far away from family and friends..." Adélie brushed away a tear, but did not move away from the scientist. - It was a terrible death.

- Believe me, he didn't suffer.

Edward cast an eloquent glance at his shamelessly lying friend.

- Guys! - suddenly came Sam's booming voice from upstairs. - Come up quickly, you need to see this!

***

Prayfield walked swiftly into the almost empty room, lighting the way with a torch; he was followed by Adélie, who inadvertently grabbed him by the arm, and Sparrow, looking rather nasty with an unlit cigarette in his mouth; if there was anything he could think of now, it was that there must be an age limit to some adventures.

- What did you find, Sam? - Prayfield blurted out, regaining his composure.

- I didn't find it, Mitsuki did. Take a look.

The boy held out his hand and nodded to the girl. The Japanese girl shook her head in response and walked over to a painting behind a wide desk and an overturned chair.

- Did you see something strange?

The Frenchwoman approached the canvas. It was a masterly portrait of a man she had already seen in a group photo: an elderly man in uniform with sore eyes, a keen gaze, and a lush grey beard. Her grandfather, who had presumably abandoned his family, died in poverty and neglect, also taking his servants to the grave with him... "Why did they stay here after his death? Why didn't they find new masters, start their own lives... What did he instruct them to do before he died?"

- It's just a portrait, isn't it? - The girl tried to ask neutrally.

- Not quite. - Itakura pointed to a corner of the frame. - Take a look.

Adélie squinted and noticed an element of gilded decoration that stood out slightly from the others and looked familiar: the semicircular element again bore the same symbol as the key from the tombstone: two intersecting ellipses with dots in the centres, from one of which small rays diverged.

The girl pressed a button and a buzzing sound came from all directions. Mitsuki turned around with a slight fright. Dust sprinkled from the ceiling, some of the damp plaster crumbled.

- Just look at this..." Alexei put down his unlit cigarette with an elongated face.

The wall to the right of the table appeared to consist of three carefully fitted slabs in a seamless pattern; with a loud creaking sound they began to turn in opposite directions, along with fragments of the floor under which the rotating platforms were disguised. The electrically energised wall lights lit up by themselves. Cobwebbed and dust-covered tables and racks of odd instruments and disassembled tools appeared on the back side of the false walls, and from above a section of the ceiling that opened suddenly, several drawing boards with partially crumbled blueprints and charts dropped down on vintage hinges, nearly knocking Sam off his feet.

- Wow..." he whispered, fixing his curly hair.

- Well done," Edward patted Mitsuki on the shoulder, "excellent observation.

The girl bowed politely, unable to hide her pleasure.

Adelie stepped forward and walked over to one of the antique desks by the turned fragments of wall. All of its drawers were crammed with carefully sorted papers in folders and envelopes. "Why, it's a whole treasure..."

- Ed, there are dozens of science notes here!

The scientist walked over to the girl and took one of the sheets from her.

- Curious...it will take time to figure out what your...or rather, our mysterious friend has been up to.

Adélie cast him a glance of appreciation. She had no complaints about the family tree (which, as far as she could tell, had been compiled without error), but it was still hard for her to imagine that the owner of a dilapidated estate with a secret (why secret?) laboratory and vague intentions, who had died more than half a century ago, was actually her own grandfather. Would she ever be able to admit it? Dupont wasn't sure she would.

- Ja... Ja-nya?

The girl turned round at the call.

Mitsuki held out a leather-bound book to her.

- Look at this! I think it's a diary.

The Frenchwoman enthusiastically approached the schoolgirl and praised her:

- Tsuki, you just have a talent for finding the right things!

Sam smiled and shifted his gaze to the note-taking panels. "I wonder if my remaining university knowledge will be enough to figure out what's what..."

He was not the only one with similar thoughts. Vorobyov looked closely at the half-erased inscriptions on a neighbouring slate panel. He was interested in a small sketch of a strange design of an elongated shape, like an artillery shell with an unusual thickening in the tail. An unusually complex thing, judging from the drawing, and if it weren't for the time of its creation, he would have said it looked like a...

- Well," Prayfield interrupted his thoughts with a businesslike clap of his hands and looked round the room with a satisfied look. - We have found Wilfred-Smith's legacy. Everything he lived and worked for until his death is hidden in this room. We are the first to get this far, and the clue is one step closer. Let's get to work!

***

- ...became clear?

Sitting on an openwork chair in her thoughts, Adélie did not immediately realise that she was being addressed.

- А?..

Edward turned round at the slate, lowered his dark glasses, and patiently repeated the question.

- Anything clear from the diary?

Dupont sighed and slammed the book shut.

- Not much. The notes are sketchy - he must have kept several notebooks, not all of which are here. Some of the notes are encrypted - but with an uncomplicated key, I managed to find it.

- A simple symbol shift? - Sam tried to guess, still studying the first panel with Vorobyov.

- Yes, five letters ahead," the girl nodded not without pride. - A classic story.

- And... what's in there? - Mitsuki inquired, sorting through the blueprints of the strange mechanisms.

- It's easier to say what isn't there. - Adélie sighed. - It seemed that Adenmire Wilfred-Smith was interested in the forbidden sides of science-extreme unproven medicine, life after death, questions about the nature of consciousness and the possibility of transference... hell, he'd even studied the occult and tried summoning spirits!

- Quite a standard set of entertainments for his time," Vorobiev grinned. Prayfield cast a disapproving glance in his direction, but couldn't help smiling.

- Maybe, but all together it's kind of... scary. - The girl shifted her eyebrows and bit her lip. - Surely he was a real scientist, not a mad eccentric?

The grey-bearded professor folded his chalk-stained hands and turned to the Frenchwoman with a bewildered expression.

- That's a good question to which I have no answer," he said after a short pause and looked at the board again. - But all these calculations and notes... they're in the same handwriting as the diary you're holding, and it's perfectly accurate maths, with no mistakes or errors. A madman could not have done such a thing.

- Madness has many shades," Sam said casually. Adelie nodded quietly.

- And yet," Alexei furrowed his brows and leaned against the wall. - What do we even know about this man exactly at the moment?

Edward took a few steps to the centre of the room and sat down on the edge of the table. It was worth discussing before moving on.

- He was an outsider," the scientist began to curl his fingers. - There is very little mention of him in the sources. As far as we can tell, he was extremely gifted for his time and position. Right up until his death, he was looking for a solution to a global problem. He led a non-public life, was a recluse. His origin is extremely vague - someone believed that he emigrated from the Russian Empire after the execution of the Decembrists, someone - that he returned from the New World, where he did not find a place. He had no relatives except a daughter from a... let us say delicately, illicit affair with one of his maids.

- What?" Adela's eyes widened. She hadn't expected such a revelation of family history. - You mean that my-my grandmother was one of his servants? - The girl turned round to the portrait of a grim, hunched old man in epaulettes. - How was it possible to love such a man...?

Prayfield raised his eyebrows sympathetically - he understood what his neighbour's next question would be - and he felt madly sorry for her.

- We don't know all the details, my dear, but ...

- You don't think he could have taken someone by force...or could have...?

There was shock and horror in Dupont's eyes. She could almost imagine the possible outcome and the pain it would cause. Especially since she had once endured a series of harassments and the memory of it still made her shiver.

- My sweet, kind Delly," Edward looked at her over his glasses, pulled up one of the stools by the tables, and took the girl's hands in his. - Look at me.

- Y-yes? - the Frenchwoman was ready to cry.

- I am absolutely convinced," Prayfield began very gently and persuasively, "that your grandmother, if she was with this obviously complex and peculiar man, not without her quirks, it was out of loyalty and love. Your mother was certainly not the product of a violent liaison.

- Mon Dieu," Adélie could not refrain from sighing, "I do hope so.

Mitsuki timidly raised her voice:

- What does your mum tell you about... family?

- That she doesn't remember her," the girl turned readily to the Japanese, wiping her moistened eyes. - She grew up in a Flemish orphanage as an orphan. Her grandmother gave her away almost as soon as she was born, and so far from home... now I understand why. She wanted to protect her daughter. - Dupont looked at the portrait with hatred. - This man was too busy searching for his philosopher's stone to raise a child and be a family man. - The girl turned to the scientist and put her hands on top of his. - I guess you're right, Ed. She really loved him, so she gave up her own child and came back here, to this ruinous place.

- Perhaps it saved you? - Vorobiev said thoughtfully.

- What do you mean?

- From the epidemic. It swept across Europe, but had little effect on the outskirts.

- You're right..." Adélie was about to get up, but a sudden but logical suggestion nailed her to her seat. - Hell, if she was one of the maids, outlived her master, and died of the Spanish disease, then we passed her grave a couple of hours ago! Jesus Christ!

- It's all right, my dear," Edward hastened to reassure her. - We'll go back there and find her. It shouldn't be too hard," he said, and the house had a small staff of servants, not all of whom were women.

The girl answered him with a grateful look.

***

- Any idea what this is? - Vorobyev walked over to Prayfield , who had returned to studying the graphs and calculations on the largest board.

The scientist propped his chin up with his hand.

- That's the thing, I do - and that's what's stumping me. What do you think it looks like?

The Soviet expatriate looked puzzled at first at a note pad with a large circle in the centre, with rounded lines of varying lengths, sometimes spiralling from the top of it; to the left and right of it, in sprawling handwriting, were half-erased equations so complex that even Prayfield couldn't figure them out on his own... and that was saying a lot.

- You found someone to ask," Alexei grinned. - I'm a doctor, not an engineer.

- "Lift me up, Scotty!" - Sam replied with a laugh, fixing something on another panel. Adelie smiled with the diary in her hand and met her gaze with Mitsuki, to whom explaining Star Trek was proving to be a difficult task.

Prayfield grinned and pointed to the spiralling lines.

- It's nothing more than calculating a primitive trajectory to put an object into Earth orbit, my friend.

Vorobyev was so surprised that his thick-rimmed glasses slid right down his nose.

- Wait a minute. In the 19th century?

- That's right.

The doctor thought hard. It sounded too incredible to be true.

- So, - he tried to add up the known facts, - our dead mad recluse with a host of loyal servants managed to invent and almost test a space rocket long before Tsiolkovsky and von Braun?

Edward adjusted his tinted glasses ("How does he even see anything in them?" his mate thought), crossed his arms and looked at the board.

- Yes, it was definitely one of his designs," the inventor nodded. - But I still can't figure out how much of his calculations are true. Besides, it's not clear whether he eventually launched his vintage starship into space or not. There are no blueprints...

- Can I help you with the figures? - The dark-skinned boy raised his hand and, without waiting for an answer, went straight to the two men.

- Can you do that?

- Easy," Sam answered Edward. - I've been a maths student all my life, and I'm short with calculus. But don't ask me to spell-check or just read or write anything-I'm selectively dyslexic.

- As you say, young man," the Russian doctor replied incredulously. Sam raised his index finger upwards:

- Nothing funny, Mr Ravenclaw.

- I'm Vorobiev.

- There you go.

- Well," said Prayfield , trying to lighten the mood, "I'd be very glad if you could help us, Sam. - The Englishman gave way to the young American and was about to explain to him what points of the calculations required clarification, but he remembered something and turned to his friend. - By the way, Alex, I got a strange feeling, as if you assumed that we would find something like this. Why?

Vorobiev grinned and beckoned after him.

- There's a simple explanation. Let me show you.

The friends walked over to the blackboard at the left edge of the room.

- I didn't realise what it was at first, but then..." Alexei pointed to a small sketch among the lines and tables. Prayfield fixed his glasses and looked at it closely. "It's not just an abstract drawing, Ed. It's a sketch of a completed machine.

In the lower right-hand corner was a partially erased sketch of an elongated drop-shaped apparatus, in the precise strokes of which the nose fairing, the convex hatch with a series of portholes on each side, the graceful tailplane, and the slender legs around a thickening that could be nothing other than a rocket nozzle were unmistakable. "Unbelievable."

- A Victorian-era spaceship..." said Prayfield aloud, examining each line. He turned towards the portrait of Wilfred-Smith. A man of such magnitude, who had single-handedly invented and built a spacecraft, and yet died in poverty and obscurity, who came from nowhere and went nowhere... The scientist felt a mixture of envy, admiration, slight fear, and compassion. "Literally ahead of his time." He certainly wouldn't want such a fate for himself.

- He really did it, didn't he? - Alexei's cautious question brought him back to life.

- Apparently so," Edward turned to him. - But was he able to finish the project and launch it into space? That's a whole other question...

Adeli, who had been listening warily to the men's conversation along with Mitsuki for some time, turned around at Sam's voice.

- Calculations say probably not," the guy with the curly hair raised a light palm from his side of the room. - He was looking for combinations of mixtures for rocket fuel, but for the chemistry of the time and the resources of one man... - Jones shook his head. - It was an almost impossible task.

Vorobyov crossed his arms over his chest and said thoughtfully, glancing at the painting in turn:

- I'd give a lot to know what his motives were. And why keep it such a secret?

- We'll be sure to find out, old chap," Prayfield patted him on the shoulder; he lifted the corners of his lips in a friendly manner, but his gaze remained troubled. - He couldn't have destroyed the blueprints if he'd devoted his life to it and presumably left instructions for his assistants in case of his death. There was only one last hiding place left to find.

***

- There's no way he's nowhere to be found.

Adélie sat on a stone bench in the shade of a branched but withered tree not far from the long row of graves, and listened melancholically to the frustrated bickering of her companions. Prayfield continued to explain something to Vorobyov and Sam, Mitsuki interjected briefly from time to time, but it was not important.

The girl clutched the envelope with the letter from the scientist's friend in her hands, which outlined her family tree, and looked at the monument closest to her, with a simple inscription:

"Here rests Eloise-Maria Wright, 1849-1920."

Her grandmother. A person she never knew.

A loyal maid who had lived in this house for decades. Knew all its secrets and mysteries. Finally, the lover of the crazy old man she had briefly outlived, and the mother of the child she had given to the orphanage... but why? Did she never really love her child? What kind of mother would do such a thing!

"And what granddaughter wouldn't guess that her grandmother might have been buried next to her grandfather..."

Adélie sat sadly alone and tried to understand what had clouded her mind - was it the common stereotype that people of science cannot have a private life? Or even that they can't love at all...?

"Was a man like Adenmire Wilfred-Smith ever capable of love?" Spending his whole life in this house in pursuit of a mythical goal, forcing the governess to abandon her child, eventually ruining both his own and the servants' health... all for the sake of some rocket? To be the first, to be ahead of someone or to prove something to himself...?

None of this made any sense.

The girl was so deep in her thoughts that she flinched when she saw the shadow of a man approaching in front of her. Prayfield bowed tactfully, Adélie nodded and moved away politely.

- I apologise if I've disturbed your train of thought. I suppose you need some time? - he nodded towards the grave.

- There was such a desire.

Edward glanced at the envelope in the Frenchwoman's hands, then at the tombstone, and understood.

- Well, I'll join the moment of silence then.

Adelie touched the sleeve of his jacket gratefully, straightened her back, and closed her eyes. "He who is chained will one day throw off the shackles...," she said for some reason, before she managed to get her thoughts under control.

The young woman and the grey-haired man spent some time in silence to the faint rustling of the last remaining leaves on the dying tree.

Dupont finally opened her eyes and felt that the silence next to the man who had become close to her over the past months had a beneficial effect on her.

- Thanks for understanding and sorry to leave you upstairs. Everything okay up there?

- We've hit a bit of a dead end," the scientist said, unclasping his hands. - It feels like we've missed something. Wilfred-Smith's office is full of papers and documents, but most of them are insignificant. It's like he knew the stash might be found and made sure the most important stuff was hidden even better. - Adélie looked at Prayfield in surprise. He saw fit to explain: - Everything else: the study of time, historical statistics and the prediction of the course of events, works on Nietzschean philosophy, the study of the motion of the heavenly bodies and surprisingly modern cosmogony - but not a single drawing of the spaceship or its contents. We're sure he definitely built one, though. And he certainly must have discussed it with someone... but we haven't found a single letter or photograph. Which again suggests a clean-up.

Edward sighed and looked at the excessively time-damaged facade of the Gothic mansion, while Adelie opened her eyes wide and immediately set her purse on her lap to find something inside. She felt that for the first time here she had done something for a reason.

- Perhaps not all the photos are missing. Take a look!

She handed Prayfield a framed photograph she'd found quite by accident in the dresser by the broken hall mirror. The scientist shifted his eyebrows and adjusted his glasses.

- Wow, you're really good. Hmm.

He looked closely at the figures in the old photograph.

- That's interesting.

- Do you recognise anyone? - Dupont looked at him anxiously.

- Just this man. - The grey-haired man pointed to one of the distant figures. Behind the blind man in the wheelchair stood a short middle-aged man with a bushy moustache, wearing a hat and a monocle, looking rather modest and young against the background of the other participants in the picture. - This is Richard Schmidt, a German designer and test pilot. We ran into him in 1938; he was working with von Braun for the Nazis, but he was pursuing his own agenda. - Prayfield closed his eyes and strained his memory. - Specifically then he was - wait a minute.

- What?

Edward lowered the picture, looked the Frenchwoman in the eye, was silent for a moment, and began his story thoughtfully:

- We tried to recruit him on the brink of war. At the time, Hubble suggested to Churchill that we assemble a team of scientists for a potential international space programme, but the fate of Poland changed everything and we were switched to the military... but that's another story. The important thing is that when we found Schmidt, he had already launched a rocket into space and had managed to destroy all the blueprints. He... assured us that he was no longer working for Hitler and that the rocket was completely safe, and surrendered to the authorities himself. - The scientist caught the girl's surprised look and explained: - Ballistics confirmed that the trajectory of the apparatus is not aimed at earthly targets, and we forgot about it. Most likely, it burned up in the atmosphere after a month or two.....

- What happened to Schmidt next? - Adélie asked.

Edward sighed.

- He designed reconnaissance balloons and tried to evacuate von Braun, but the Americans got to him faster. He ended up still helping them with the lunar programme, and Schmidt's competence wasn't that impressive. He died about ten years ago, if I'm not mistaken.

- I see..." the girl pressed her lips together. "So there's no more questioning him..." Her eyes fell on her purse again, and she had a thought.

- We didn't have time to go into detail, but... tell me, don't you think these symbols mean something?

In Adela's hands was a metal key from a tombstone that did not fit any door or lock in the house. Prayfield took it with mild interest and examined it closely.

- You're right, and it's not a secret or a cipher at all. - The man pointed to a circle with a dot in the centre and a curlicue that looked like a two and a four at the same time. - These are astronomical symbols of the Sun and Jupiter, also found in astrology and esotericism, nothing unusual. Another interesting thing is to look at the arrangement of the signs. The ellipses overlap each other... Reminiscent of orbits," and one is depicted correctly. - Dupont nodded and the Englishman continued: - In reality, Jupiter revolves around the Sun, its mass, if it affects the displacement of the centre of rotation of the Sun itself, then very slightly. And on this scheme they seem to move around a common centre, which is impossible... most likely, it is just an artistic exaggeration and has no practical sense.

- It was a pity. - The girl disappointedly took the object back from the scientist's hands and examined it once more, hoping to understand its use. Prayfield tried to reassure her:

- People often act irrationally if they don't know all the motives behind their actions. Perhaps the owner of this key put some meaning into this drawing and it was important enough to order its engraving on the key to the last hiding place...

- ...That we still haven't found. - Adélie slowly shifted her gaze to him with growing confidence.

- That's right," Edward nodded with a smile. - We went round the whole house from the inside.....

- ...but not outside.

The Frenchwoman smiled, slung her purse over her shoulder and adjusted the lapel of her jacket. Prayfield jumped up and held out his hand to the girl:

- Our search is not yet over, my dear Adélie. Don't put the key away.

***

French took out a torch and walked around the back of the manor. It was already beginning to get dark.

- Let's split up," Vorobyov's voice sounded from somewhere behind us. - Mitsuki, you can rest in the car, and me and the guys will examine the outer walls.....

- Ichido mo-dai! - An indignant voice rang out. - I won't miss the most interesting thing!

- I hope we don't have to spend the night here. - Sam replied fearfully. - This place has a bad aura, and we don't have a talking, cowardly dog!

- There's no such thing as ghosts, Scooby-Doo," laughed Prayfield .

- The ghosts would say the same thing!

Adelie smiled, though she didn't fully understand the context. She pointed a ray of light at the ivy that stretched all the way to the roof and examined every brick at human height. Nothing out of the ordinary, a simple wall of a forgotten house.

"There must be an entrance here somewhere..."

She was far more tired than she wanted to show, but her determination to solve the latest mystery and explain the motives behind her (unfortunately) own grandfather's actions drove her forward. If the last cache is really here, and if the original documents of the Adenmire Wilfred-Smith life project have not been destroyed, and if they manage to decipher them... "There are too many ifs," she told herself. - "We just have to keep moving forward and be alert to anything that might give away a passageway or a loophole..."
...or a lone keyhole in a carefully fitted and once painted wooden insert between the bricks.

"No way..."

It was indeed a disguised keyhole that had once been hidden by a false overlay - the girl looked round the ground and saw it torn off its hinges nearby.

Adela's hands shook.

With difficulty she took out of her pocket a carefully polished key with astrological symbols on it, inserted it into the hole, and, hesitating for some time to use it, turned it at last.

There was no resistance.

The key fits.

- Guys! - Without hiding her joy, the young explorer shouted back. - Hurry back here!

***

- Unbelievable.

Sam looked around and whistled. - A whole hidden floor!

Mitsuki, who was trailing behind, had to bend her head to avoid hitting the rafters above the stairs. She noted the uncomfortable descent, looked up, and decided that such an inconspicuous hiding place might be lacking in convenience. It must be very difficult to set up a system of locks right in the wall of a house, out of sight and out of mind at the same time. Besides, why hide an entire basement? What could possibly be so unusual about it? And what was the old hermit really doing in secret?

A beam of light caught a vague outline. Adela felt uneasy. But a man's hand brushed her shoulder; she gave way and a tall figure with blond hair walked past.

- Wait, it might not be safe here.

Prayfield stopped, lifted his darkened glasses to his forehead, found the switch, switched off his all-purpose torch, and turned the switch handle down.

The old lamps on the walls flickered. Vorobyov stepped aside and stretched out in Russian: "Wow..."

And it really was something outstanding.

They stood in the middle of a real, spacious explorer's office underground, in comparison to which the workroom with its turned walls and some of the equipment on the first floor seemed simple and unpretentious. A drafting table, calculation boards, arithmometers and astrolabes, dust-covered models of devices and practical designs... Everything in this room, decorated, despite its location, expensively and tastefully, indicated that it was dear to its owner and that this was where his main work was done.

- You can't even tell that it's been almost seventy years," Alexei said in a calmer tone of English.

Edward nodded thoughtfully and straightened his beard.

- Unlike the surface... On the other hand, this is probably what a place forgotten for decades and isolated from everyone should look like.

But the look on his face said he wasn't entirely sure of that. "Come to think of it, the manor did look older than its age."

- So... - Jones clapped his hands and looked around at those present. - Round two?

- All the answers should be here," Dupont said firmly and made her way to the desk in the centre of the room. "You thought you'd taken all your secrets to the grave...I'll prove you wrong."

***

- Alex, come here.

Vorobyev raised his eyebrows questioningly.

- Yeah?

Mitsuki was going over the wood-carved models on the workbench, Sam was examining the new formulas, and Adeli was flipping through notes and memos from the drawers of the main desk.

- It's important. - Prayfield waved his free hand and instinctively lifted the yellowed papers. - I found something.

- Why whisper?

- You'll find out now. - The scientist beckoned his friend to him once more and he followed the call.

Dupont lifted a tenacious gaze from her papers .

- What is it? - The doctor leaned on the tabletop, adjusted his glasses, and squinted, trying to make out the sprawling handwriting.

- The worst imaginable, my friend. - Edward leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. - What do these calculations tell you?

- Hmmm..." Vorobyov scratched the back of his head. "A good time to recall university knowledge..." - An unexpected interest in particle physics, as far as I can tell. Tritium, deuterium... - The doctor put his hands on the notes and looked up stunned. - That's nuclear fusion, isn't it?

- I'm glad my lectures were helpful to at least someone.

Prayfield grinned, and Alexei sighed:

- We are no longer surprised by the development of nuclear fusion in the nineteenth century, I see... - He put the papers aside: - Wait a minute. It's not just nuclear fusion.

- Go on," his friend nodded, watching his reaction carefully, "I'm interested in your reasoning.

- It's... nuclear decay chains!

Vorobyev felt himself sweating at the mere thought of the word, which stirred up a whole series of unpleasant associations and disturbing thoughts that had made him forbid himself to pick up newspapers and periodicals not in English for four years now. "Socialist Camp." "World imperialism." "American military." "Cold War."

Atom.

Prayfield rose slowly from his seat, nodded grimly, and as if to answer his thoughts, confirmed his worst fears:

- An uncontrollable reaction of crushing force, a cascading release of colossal energy, a flash of light and radiation capable of instantly incinerating the person at the epicentre of the explosion and condemning thousands of people within a radius of several kilometres to a painful death.

- An atomic bomb? - Alexei whispered. Edward shook his head leisurely.

- Much worse, my friend.

Neutron.

***

- I don't want to belittle your intuition, but - are we sure the bomb even exists?

- Alex..." Prayfield folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. They stood in the semi-darkness of the bookcases and the cluttered paintings, far away from everyone else.

- This is a madhouse, not a scientist's asylum," Vorobyov continued in a loud whisper, glancing at the others. The girls and the dark-skinned fellow continued to examine their findings, unaware of anything. "And it had better stay that way!" - No offence, old chap. But all this together... Are we sure all these blueprints and sketches aren't a figment of schizophrenia?

- The maths and engineering here is too complex for a sick mind," the professor reasoned.

- All right," the doctor raised his hands, "let's say the rocket has been brought up to speed, tested and cleared for testing. Perhaps it can carry a charge. But where's the certainty that it's still in the silo...? What do we even know about the neutron warhead.....

- Pardon moi, but what are you guys talking about?

- Adelie...

Vorobyev cursed quietly and turned away. The girl was standing right in front of him with her arms at her sides and her eyebrows furrowed in displeasure.

- I told you not to keep anything from me. - Dupont threw up her hands: "Just because I'm a woman and younger than you doesn't make me any less valuable. We're a team!

Prayfield cast a sidelong glance at Vorobyov and sighed.

- Well, you're right as always," he smiled through Adela's strength. - It's time for a little briefing and exchange of views.

***

- So," the grey-haired man in dark glasses began, sitting down on the edge of the oak table in the circle of light, "here's what we know for sure. According to the journals we found, the owner of this house--" Prayfield glanced at Adela and decided not to mention her family tree again-- "...Mr Adenmire Wilfred-Smith...devoted his life to pushing the barriers of available knowledge beyond the boundaries of ethics and traditional norms. He was a nihilist, if you will, a rebel... and also, no doubt, an extremely gifted scholar.

Edward smiled dryly, bent down and picked up a few yellowed sheets of paper from the surface of the table, then pulled some rusty pins from a drawer and pinned the drawings to the slate board on the wall.

- We found blueprints for flying machines of various designs, designed to fly beyond the Earth's atmosphere," continued the young researcher. - Somehow he single-handedly managed to invent and test a jet-propelled rocket in the 1880s. We don't know if he was able to launch it, and if he did, for what practical purpose. The records we found don't answer that.

Adelie glanced warily at Vorobiev, who shrugged.

- But," continued Prayfield , more seriously, with a new sketch in his hands, "we have found drawings of a device whose design and purpose are out of the ordinary. I couldn't believe my eyes at first, but I was forced to admit that it was also Adenmayer's creation, and that he had paid as much attention to it as to the prototype rocket. - The man had hung the drawing of the rounded structure right after the row of rocket drawings. - Somehow he had managed to come up with the idea of uncontrolled nuclear decay long before Oppenheimer and Cohen. With the same zeal and meticulousness with which he modelled a fully operational spacecraft, Wilfred-Smith also invented the bomb. A neutron bomb. - Edward turned around and looked at the extremely detailed drawing that concealed death. - A small sphere, a metre in diameter, with enough energy to ash an entire city and infect thousands of innocent people with radiation sickness. This monstrous miniature invention is a true Victorian tactical nuclear weapon... and we don't know where it is now or what could happen if it falls into the wrong hands.

- If the Soviets find out about this..." Alexei broke into nervous laughter, "...it could put an end to the Cold War.

- It's not a good prospect, mate," Sam immediately dismissed it as a joke. - I somehow like Uncle Ronald and Aunt Wendy, I wouldn't want to exchange them for Soviet burgers with Lenin in the toy set.

- There are more dangerous forces than the Kremlin and Washington..." Edward stretched and put a hand to his heart, which was still racing from time to time. - That's why we have to find this bomb. And make sure it can never be detonated.

- Just a moment, Doc," Jones raised his hand in a serious tone. - I've been thinking about the rocket. Let's go back to it for a while, okay?

- Okay," the English scientist nodded readily and looked at the young American carefully. - Did you have a thought?

Sam got up from the carved chair and strolled over to the blackboard, which still had quite a bit of space on it.

- The idea is simple, of course. We could easily calculate its trajectory and orbit if we knew the time and place of launch. - The young man picked up his chalk and turned to the rest of the group: - No one saw the gloomy stiff in the notes, he never launched it, did he?

The Frenchwoman rose from her seat.

- I found something," she spoke up at Mitsuki's surprised look. - There was nothing in the diaries, but there were a series of letters. One of them mentioned a ship.

- Well, well..." Alexei leaned forward. Dupont went through a large stack of carefully sorted papers and pulled one out almost immediately:

- I couldn't quite make out their meaning, as my German is poor, but at least the sender had assured the owner of the house that he would take care of the rocket and launch it on time, even if he was gone. - Her eyes gleamed in the semi-darkness of the lamp lights. - And you already know his name, Edward.

- Richard Schmidt..." pronounced Prayfield , looking in front of him.

- Exactly.

There was a hidden glee in the girl's voice. She alone was able to relate what two experienced adults had not seen.

- It can't be. - Vorobiev shifted his gaze from Adela to Edward in a daze. - The old man who'd been Japan and scheming afterwards!

- A loyal subject first of the Kaiser, then of the Führer and the Emperor," finished the Frenchwoman; Mitsuki, who could hardly catch the thread of the conversation, could only shake her head from side to side.

The scientist finally broke the silence. It was not easy to admit one's own mistakes:

- So he had time to launch the ship just before we met twenty-eight years ago! - Prayfield put his hand around his head. - When we captured him!

- Is that... bad? - Sam looked up.

- Bad enough," the old man replied with a pained expression. - If the ship burned up in the atmosphere and was one of a kind....

The boy cast a glance at the board and had a thought.

- Let me try to calculate the trajectory. Can you remember the date and time of day?

- Now..." Edward strained his memory. It wasn't exactly in perfect condition. - Fifteenth-no, sixteenth. Sixteenth of February, in the morning. - The scientist finished more confidently: - We found him two days later, he swore the launch was completely harmless....

- And you believe the Nazis, old man," Alexei quipped.

- There was a little weakness," the Englishman did not parry.

- Great, that's something..." Jones sketched a few formulas and turned to the girl. - Jean, could you throw that notebook over there? In the seventy-third page there were exact measurements of fuel tanks and calculated acceleration, I need to check whether he reached the second space speed or stayed at the first....

- Wow, you really know your stuff," Adeli noted, handing him the notebook he needed.

- You have to do a little bit at a time. So... - The American undergraduate student raised his light-coloured palms upwards. - Give me a few minutes and some silence.....

The friends averted their gaze so as not to disturb the mathematician, and then there came a quiet voice that had not been heard for a long time.

- Misater Pareifird ...

- Yes, Mitsuki?

- I think I understand what cargo to be in the rocket," the Japanese teenage girl shared and got up from her seat to find a few specific sheets in Adela's pile of papers that she had noticed earlier. - See...

She overlapped one sheet of blotting paper on top of the other so as to combine the two different patterns.

- Good God," Prayfield said, and Adela's breath caught.

The spherical device with its parking protrusions fell perfectly into all the grooves inside the empty space on the rocket's blueprint.

- Everything was right under our noses.

- But that means..." Vorobyovbegan, when Sam called out to them:

- The calculations are ready!

The anxious group of friends looked round at each other. Jones gestured them over to him:

- Great news, gang - the ship is still in orbit! - Sam grinned and glanced at the calculations and spiral trajectory graphs next to the detailed drawings of the rocket's internal structures. - We were lucky: judging by the drawings, it has primitive automation built into it, consuming fuel evenly every few years to keep it from losing altitude and collapsing. Only the tanks should be almost empty by now... - Only now he noticed the dead silence behind him. - Okay, people, why are you so sad?

Prayfield answered for everyone, picking each word slowly and thoughtfully:

- It carries a neutron bomb of several kilotons, capable of igniting a small star. If it falls on the surface of the Earth with angular acceleration and shell breach..." The grey-haired scientist closed his eyes and shook his head. - Millions of people would die within days, if not hours.

CHAPTER 9

- It can't be," Adélie was the first to break the silence. She looked at the charts of different combinations of orbits and columns of calculations and was not ready to accept that she was not dreaming. A real heavy-duty bomb on board a spaceship that had been in the sky for thirty years, ready to collapse at any moment-and all this had been invented half a century ago by the man who had given life to her mum, but had never been her father. What kind of madness is this?

- Unfortunately, it's true.

Prayfield sighed, stepped around a subdued Sam, and picked up the crayon. "Well, here's your cue, Professor..."

He didn't want to panic his friends, but in such a serious situation it was vital to clearly understand what they were actually facing.

- Let me explain a little," the scientist began, drew a sign on the blackboard of a circle with three stumpy petals and circled it with a jagged line. - The atomic weapons that were developed during the Manhattan Project, which I was once a part of, are based on the principle of nuclear fission. We tear the smallest particles apart and the released energy, together with a stream of gamma, beta and alpha radiation, creates a sizzling flash of light and a massive spherical blast wave up to several kilometres high. It is the ultimate weapon, ultimatum and ruthless. Capable of destroying life itself if the Soviets and the States exchange salvos... - Prayfield frowned and glanced at Vorobyov, who answered him with a long nod. - So we have an obligation as scientists and politicians to make sure that no country ever resorts to that method of conflict resolution.

Adelie listened intently, thinking about something of her own with an impenetrable face. Mitsuki glanced over at Sam, who shook his head worriedly.

- But those are nuclear weapons," Edward continued. - Neutron works a little differently. - He erased the first drawing, replaced it with a bunch of balls stuck together, a few circles around them stuck on ellipses, and labelled them "Protons and neutrons" and "Electrons," respectively. - It doesn't create a massive shockwave or completely destroy the infrastructure. During an explosion... - The man erased the ellipses and the centre circles, drew new ones in a mess, added arrows from a common centre and wrote "BOOM!" for clarity - ...During an explosion, a colossal stream of elementary particles is released, capable of killing all life within the blast radius and permanently shortening the lives of those unlucky enough to catch radiation sickness. Some believe that this is the future of war - weapons that kill soldiers and leave cities untouched for occupation. I, on the other hand, believe it is barbaric, criminal and a violation of the customs of war. - Prayfield looked down at the floor and thought about something. - As for our problem... and this, by the way, is the first use of weapons in space that could change the course of the confrontation between our superpowers... - The man turned to the blackboard and drew two hemispheres and the contours of the continents with quick strokes. - More precise calculations are needed here, but we can assume that if the Wilfred-Smith missile were to go out of orbit..." He outlined and shaded three elongated ellipses; "...the destruction of the neutron bomb would release enough radiation to cover all of Europe, a large part of Central America, or a third of the USSR, depending on where the re-entry occurs.

Vorobyov stared fixedly at the painted fragment of the handwritten map, where Moscow and Kiev were visible. Edward intercepted his gaze, assessed his drawing, and added another section to it from the edge:

- Of course, there is still the option that it will collapse over the Pacific Ocean and not affect the densely populated parts of the planet... but counting on a miracle is unrealistic.

- If we could find out exactly where the rocket is now..." said Dupont sadly.

- We can," the lecturer's idea struck. - And with just a couple of phone calls.

- A catalogue of natural satellites? - Sparrow, who was starting to figure out what was going on, suggested a hunch. Edward clapped his hands together:

- That's right. Astronomers have been tracking all objects in orbit for a long time, and since the launch of Sputnik 1, they've been even more thorough. - In response to Mitsuki's surprised look, he explained: - It's necessary to know for sure that new and old space objects won't collide with each other - well, and for safety. Besides, it's not just about launching more and more spacecraft. No one wants a repeat of the dinosaurs, so people like my colleagues track the paths of small asteroids that cross the Earth's orbit - some of which remain in the planet's gravitational field.

Adélie brightened. Prayfield smiled back, noticed the young Japanese girl's furtive yawn, and glanced at his watch.

- The day is already drawing to a close. I suppose we can collect all the papers we have found and go home, so as not to tire the young people. Thank you, dear friends, we've all worked hard today. As for Mr Wilfred-Smith's legacy..." The grey-haired scientist looked at the portrait of a sullen old man in a tunic with a keen eye and a long white beard leaning against the wall. Something about his face looked familiar. - I'll call Arnie," Edward finished optimistically, shoving his hands in his pockets. - I'll ask him to pull up the catalogue and find all the objects that have been discovered since 1938, with dimensions exactly like our rocket, and with a trajectory that matches the vector of motion we expected.

We'll be sure to find a Victorian doomsday machine.

***

- ...What do you mean, you didn't find it? Oh, for crying out loud, Arnie!

Prayfield was sleep deprived, noisy and very frustrated.

- It can't be," he said into the dark twisted-wire telephone receiver, lowering his voice for a moment. - You have the most complete and up-to-date database in the Old World! Damn it. Not a single match, you say... Well. Thanks for your help anyway, mate. - He hung up the phone irritably and there was a knock on the office door. - Yes, come in.

Adelie stepped cautiously across the threshold with two cups of hot morning drink.

- Heard fragments of a phone conversation... Is something wrong?

- Thank you, I could use some coffee. - Edward gratefully took the cup in his hands, took a fiery sip, and set it on the hexagon-shaped paperweight. The girl sat down on the edge of the guest chair, kneeling modestly, and sipped the slightly cooled coffee as well. It was nearly ten and neither of them had slept well.

The professor folded his hands in a lock, inhaled the invigorating aroma of coffee beans, thought that a morning with a headache wasn't so terrible, and was more than willing to explain himself:

- Called the Royal Greenwich Observatory - they've been studying the sky since the seventeenth century and have the largest collection of data on celestial bodies, including everything orbiting our balloon.

- And they couldn't help in any way? - The Frenchwoman raised an eyebrow.

- As you can see, nothing remotely like what we're looking for. If a man-made object five metres high was in orbit, it's gone now... and there's no record of it. Which is odd.

The girl concentrated and pictured the image before her: an old German working for the Wehrmacht's missile programme and launching a carefully guarded rocket made according to blueprints from half a century ago; it would leave the earth's atmosphere and carry its deadly cargo, floating in weightlessness over cities and countries and maintaining its altitude until it ran out of fuel... which was bound to happen sooner or later.

- We'd know if the ship...went down and disintegrated...?

- Definitely," the Englishman nodded and left the table, taking his coffee with him. - Even if it happened over the ocean. An object like that can't just disappear.

- Hmmm... - Dupont had almost forgotten about her drink. The solution to the riddle seemed to be in her periphery. Somewhere she had heard that combination before: "orbit," "ship," "disappear..."

- I'm sorry to bore you, sweet Adelie. - Edward sat down in a nearby chair with a grunt, took a sip, closed his eyes, and stretched his legs out in front of him, not without pleasure. Like the others on the estate, he had spent yesterday on his feet, and it was noticeable today. And age was taking its toll....

- Maybe I'm wrong," the scientist said relaxedly, "and the whole story is just a series of ill-fitting facts and coincidences that are not necessarily true. After all, "what is truth, Pilate"?

- No, no, I was just thinking... - The girl looked round and put the cup on the empty place by the books. - Do you read the international press?

- From time to time," the office owner opened one eye. - I still subscribe to the Washington Post, the Times and the Guardian, why?

Adelie clasped her hands together awkwardly.

- Sam gave me a bunch of newspapers as a keepsake and in one of the issues a couple of months ago there was a news story that I thought was strange, but now I think it might be indirectly related to our case. Would you like to read it?

- With great interest," Prayfield said, and straightened his back. - I wonder what connection you see with our adventure last night?

- One minute, you'll see for yourself.

She slipped out of the guest chair, walked lightly out the door, and down the stairs. Edward was not distracted by the leaves falling outside the open window before the Frenchwoman returned with the summer issue of the Chicago Tribune.

- Here, read the column. - She pointed to a note in the lower right-hand corner, between coverage of protests against racial segregation and the Vietnam War, news of the detention of a BBC journalist in Moscow, and a programme interview with former Vice-President Nixon. Edward adjusted his glasses and read:

"LUNAR FALSE START: NASA LOST A ROCKET WITHOUT CARGO IN SPACE

Today, 22 June 1966, an event occurred that may leave its mark on the lunar programme for a long time to come. A Saturn-1 rocket was launched into space, which passed all technical tests on Earth, but stopped responding ten minutes after launch.

As it became known from sources in NASA, the Saturn-1 rocket was supposed to launch experimental equipment into orbit to study space and prepare for the landing of the first humans on the surface of the Moon. Fortunately, the expensive equipment was not lost: the SA-10 mission ship was never loaded aboard the carrier due to a mix-up in documentation, presumably caused by the negligence of the hangar's loading crew. Curiously, Cape Canaveral technicians and maintenance personnel did not notice the problem because the weight of the rocket did not change: possibly due to (another) technical failure of the weighing equipment.

NASA Director James Webb assured that the agency has already launched an investigation into the unpleasant incident and will make every effort to find those responsible and prevent a repetition of events in the future. At the moment it is unknown how much the actual loss of the expensive rocket will affect NASA's plans for space exploration and Kennedy's lunar programme. Recall, according to the data that had previously hit the press, the construction of the upper stage "Saturn-1" cost American taxpayers $ 185 million. But that's not all: Congress is considering revising the funding of the budget of the service, because of which the first manned flight to the Moon may have to postpone until 1969."

- Good heavens," said Prayfield , putting down the paper. - You have a real talent for investigation, young Mrs Holmes.

Adelie blushed so hard that she even shivered.

- It's too good a coincidence, isn't it? - The triumphant girl took the paper back.

- Really..." Edward scratched his grey beard thoughtfully, mentally combining the facts they knew like elements of an imaginary jigsaw puzzle, searching for coincidences. He sensed that behind Adela's aptly plucked news might be the clue to the purpose of the neutron bomb in the half-century-old rocket capsule. "What if the two mysteries are connected?" - It does seem like a possible trail," the scientist finally uttered. - But it's worth noting that the perpetrator had no intention of sabotaging the launch.

- What makes you think that? - The Frenchwoman sat down on the armrest of the vacant chair and leaned forward. The professor eagerly developed the thought:

- If it was, for example, some religious zealot luddite who believed in a flat earth and was skilled enough to damage the devil's flying machine smoking the sky - why didn't he do it during launch? What prevented him from planting explosives or breaking the fuel system to detonate the rocket during takeoff?

Dupont realised what her mentor friend was getting at, and her pupils dilated:

- He needed her unharmed...it was a hijacking of a launch vehicle!

- Exactly, my dear," Prayfield nodded with a smile. - The intruder was looking for a way to get into orbit - and just when that artificial satellite might be there....

- ...which is no longer there, according to Greenwich Mean Time.

The girl bit her lip thoughtfully.

- Exactly," he nodded, and looked thoughtfully at the wrought iron chandelier under the ceiling with its wooden crossbars. - I'm pretty sure that if we ask Arnie to pull up the archives of records of deorbiting Earth satellites, we'll find what we're looking for. But one thing's for sure, it's not that bad, at least the bomb didn't fall and collapse.

- Otherwise the flash would have attracted the attention of astronomers and amateurs?

- You are very quick to grasp things, my dear Adélie. - Edward smiled at his ward again and left the comfortable chair with a quick movement. - It remained to be seen what the mysterious hijacker of the moon rocket was after.

The girl escorted him with a glance to a window with heavy curtains.

- Could he have somehow... connected with Wilfred-Smith's ship to get a bomb out or fuel a missile?

The scientist shook his head, leaned over and fixed the shutters knocked down by the autumn wind.

- Spacecraft docking is an extremely difficult task. It was first performed by our American friends, if I am not mistaken, in March of this year, as part of the Gemini programme. If the perpetrator managed to do it, then he has beaten even the Russians in this.

The Frenchwoman sighed and took her cup from the shelf.

- The story sounds crazier and crazier each time.

- When it's over, you'll write a great book about it," the inventor replied warmly and stretched his arms. - In the meantime, it's time to make a few more calls. If the neutron bomb in the proto-rocket and the hijacked carrier are still in orbit, we'll need a lot of time and available telescopes to detect them and make a plan of action.

***

The phone rattled again in the old hall.

- What's the matter.

An elderly balding man with a week's worth of stubble and permanent circles under his eyes reluctantly leaned over the machine and picked up the receiver.

- Arnold Vitter, Royal Observatory..." He looked up, but the familiar crack of his voice made him drop his enthusiasm. - Hello again, Edward. I missed you already, yeah. What? Again? Ah, in 'crossed out'... - Vitter sighed and whined inaudibly. - I'll take a look, alright. You know very well that we don't destroy such records. If something was there and then disappeared, but no one saw it... it happens. We don't have enough eyes, yeah. Good. - The man nodded nervously and finished emphatically. - Okay, I'll call you back.

The telephone receiver clanked back into place.

- So many calls lately..." a discreet middle-aged assistant in a lab coat remarked quietly.

- It's nothing," Arnie said, closing his book, interrupted by another phone call; "they asked me to clarify something.

- So persistent?

- An acquaintance from Oxford. He's been having trouble with object MH-37149.

The young blond squinted and adjusted his glasses:

- That... micro-asteroid we spotted in the 1940s and lost six months ago?

- Yes..." The frowning archivist gave the young man a short, surprised look. - I didn't know you had such a good memory, Henry.

Henry let out a short laugh and wrapped his arms around his elbows.

- You've got to be good at something around here.

Arnold Witter took his glasses from the table, adjusted his dressing gown and waved uncertainly towards the exit:

- I'm going to get to the archives, I need to make sure that this pebble was really lost, and not missed its disintegration and re-entry into the atmosphere.

- Come on...

Henry listened warily to the hushed footsteps in the long corridor, walked slowly to the telephone and dialed a long sequence of numbers on the disc machine. When the other end answered, he spoke in a very different voice, dry and clear:

- Campbell, code 3-88-24. - There was a short acknowledgement and a series of beeps. When another voice answered on the other end of the line, Campbell continued, glancing coldly towards the door: "Shooting Star is back on the radar. Unexpected interest, suspicious of identity. Level of secrecy? - He heard a series of numbers in response. - Got it. What?" The agent pulled a notebook from the inside pocket of his dressing gown and looked over the notes in small handwriting. - Oxford, somewhere in Impington, according to the intercept. Some scientist lives there, seems to have recently returned from the United States. Again? - Henry frowned. - 'Yes, some doctor is seen with him. Russian. Also a girl not from here. And some Asian woman with a black man. Suspicious bunch.

Extremely suspicious.

***

- Edward...

- What, Alex? - Prayfield looked up from the calculation notes.

- Don't make any sudden movements," Vorobyev said quietly at the window without turning round. - Pretend you're minding your own business.

The scientist sighed and set the papers aside.

- Sometimes I don't think I'm the only one in this house who needs to stop drinking," he said, lowering his tinted glasses.

- I'm serious.

- You've been out of the Union a long time, you old paranoid.

- That man outside the window," Alexei nodded, missing the teasing. - He's been through twice already.

- Are you sure about this?

- Yes. Wait a minute... - the Russian free-lance doctor grinned. - You can come over and have a look.

- False alarm? - The professor rose from his chair and came out from behind the desk interestedly.

- No," his friend turned round, "but I overestimated the level of the outside. Check it out.

- The grey-haired man went to the window and pulled back the curtain that was in the way. What he saw amused him. - Did he seriously think he looked natural? Who reads newspapers like that!

A man in a bowler hat with a cigarette in his teeth was sitting on a bench at the bus stop, reading too diligently the front page of yesterday's Times. He would have been easily lost in the London crowd, but this was not London, and no one here was dressed in full business suit at nine-thirty on a Saturday ... and certainly not reading the press on the street instead of early pub crawls.

- Even Tim and I were more natural at the Olympics in '36!

- That's true," Vorobyov couldn't help smiling. The story of how two English students accidentally got into an athletes' race and one of them hit Hitler on purpose was one of his favourites.

A quick stomping of feet was heard outside.

- Guys... - the door opened and a dishevelled, curly-haired boy in an open jacket and a carelessly tied red and white scarf flew into the office. His anxious face glistened with sweat.

- Yes, Sam? - Prayfield turned round with all his attention, showing no surprise at all.

- It's a little rough out there," their new American friend began, panting. - I was passing by the cops, and I heard something in the corner of my ear. They seem to want to come here... to do some kind of interrogation, but they're waiting for reinforcements.

- It was an odd combination. - Alexei glanced over at Edward, who shrugged calmly:

- Apparently, the MJ-12 are learning from their mistakes after New York.

Jones shook his head:

- I don't know about em-jay and NYC, but Moscow and some sort of scandal or exchange flashed in the cops' conversation....

At this phrase, the scientist's face changed.

- Oh, no. No, no, no.

- What is it? - Vorobyev shifted his gaze with surprise to the young Englishman, who rushed to the table and began to put the papers together.

- Let's pack up and go," Prayfield said nervously, pulling folders out of a drawer. - This is more serious than I thought.

- What do you mean, pack up and leave? - Alexei asked, surprised by his mate's sudden change of mood. - Go where?...

Edward pulled an empty suitcase from under the cupboard and tossed it to Vorobyov, who nearly missed the pitch.

- Grab the files and everything you need. Everything on the neutron bomb, the missile, everything we found in the dead old man's house.

- Wait, what about Adelie? - Sam was even more confused. - I've been looking for her...

- She's on a walk," the inventor turned to him, "she'll catch up later. There's not much time, so take what you can and follow me!

- But where to?

- And this is the part you're going to love.

***

- Mr Prayfield !

There was a knock on the door.

- Open up, please, it's the police!

There was a louder knock.

No one answered.

The policeman in the tall helmet sighed.

- Edward Gregory Prayfield ," said a heavyset man with a bushy moustache loud and clear, leaning over to the keyhole, "this is your last warning: if you don't open the door, we'll be forced to break it down!

- He's definitely home, and not alone," the second policeman said quietly to the tall man in the mackintosh. - Nobody came out of there, Mr Campbell.

- Then he asked for it," hissed the blond man with the dark glasses, who no longer needed to wear a dressing gown and pretend to be an archivist's assistant. - Begin the seizure.

The low policeman nodded, blew his whistle and waved to his team.
- Ready! - The tall policeman nodded and prepared to pile on the door. - Go!

The hinges failed and the lock was knocked out of the door frame. A crowd of uniformed and armed men rushed inside.

- In the name of the Queen, this is the police, everybody raise your hands and don't make any sudden movements!

The answer was silence.

Henry looked at his watch, losing patience. His whole career depended on this chance.....

- There's no one at home, sir," the short policeman returned after seven and a half minutes with a guilty look. - We've had a look round.

- I thought so," Campbell nodded angrily, putting on his hat and gloves. - He's outsmarted us again.

- Us?

- The government that pays your salary," the agent cut off and pulled out a cigar. - This bastard is definitely connected to the missing moon rocket, directly or indirectly. You should know his past... and what awaits him when it catches up with him. I don't envy the old geezer.

***

Adelie stepped cautiously to the door threshold and called softly:

- Edward! You didn't... close the door...

The girl was horrified to notice the torn lock and dangling hinges.

- Ed! Alex! - She spotted a car in the car park, already covered in scarlet leaves. - Is anyone home?

The Frenchwoman walked into the hall, which was turned upside down. Drawers with all their contents were on the floor, clothes were lying haphazardly by the wardrobe, papers were scattered all over the place.

Dupont picked up the torch from the floor and waved it lonely from side to side. She had failed everyone again. She hadn't been there when they might have needed her help - though she could have helped few, she could have bought them time, lunged at one of the kidnappers at least, caught a bullet if necessary... but none of that mattered anymore. Her friends were gone. A mysterious force had taken over. The trinity from New York had taken over.

The girl put the now unnecessary object on the shoe rack and walked into the living room, which also bore little resemblance to herself even from the time before her return from the States. The searchers had overturned even the sofa and armchairs. "Did they really think to find anything there...?" - thought the young woman phlegmatically, and then her gaze fell on something that was strange even for this debacle. On the wall behind the side table.....

Adelie pulled back the shelf and made out the inscription, made with a fountain pen, hastily and clearly not by vandals on a search:

{ "U/F".

- Ultraviolet ...

The girl turned round and rushed into the hallway.

The homemade torch still had a charge in it.

- Oh, that's great. So, um.

She glanced at the windows in the kitchen room and the rest of the rooms. "It's too bright..." The girl ran across the entire floor and draped all the curtains on the windows that gave off light.

- Ugh.

"If the torch was thrown here - then the clue could also be nearby..."
Time to turn on the barely visible light.

The Frenchwoman returned to the lobby, switched on the torch with timid hope, and switched it to one of several alternate modes. The faint blue-violet beam of light revealed invisible scratches, clusters of dust and dirt, fingerprints and bootprints all over the floor-but nothing that looked like a clue as to where the occupants of the house might have gone.

- Hmmm..." Adelie bit her lip. She wouldn't give up so quickly.

She turned around at the entrance to the cluttered living room. And glanced up at the staircase leading to the first floor with the study and bedrooms.

"You'll have to work hard..."

Eventually she found what she was looking for, on the landing between the bathroom and pantry doors. A small inscription, left in invisible ink but illuminated by ultraviolet light: "Kitchen, the button behind the fridge. Get in and don't be afraid, it's safe!".

The girl reprimanded herself. "Perfectly safe, of course. Climb in the window, climb in the washing machine..." Adelie sighed, switched off the torch and still headed for the kitchen.

***

The refrigerator could not be moved. It was obvious from the scratches on it that the policemen had tried, but had quickly given up. "Maybe that's the point," Adeli thought. - Part of some larger structure..."

She was right.

When the girl found the hidden button on the back of the freezer and pressed it, the plump fridge buzzed and moved aside on discreet rails. Behind it was a large alcove covered by a hidden door, which immediately slid aside. Inside, a red light lit up and a growing sound like the sound of dozens of railway wheels was heard; Dupont had no time to be surprised when a small but cushioned chair appeared in the opening, inside a streamlined, wrought iron capsule of miscellaneous metal. A green light lit up inside the alcove and the Frenchwoman gingerly peered inside. There were sturdy rails and a bunch of wheels holding the structure together, neatly insulated wires and rigid hoses everywhere, and on the inside of the mechanism, on a panel just in front of the seat, there were two buttons and several indicators, the only lit one of which read "Take a seat.

- Well...

The girl looked around cautiously and decided to sit down. When she was fully seated and had her feet in the recess at the bottom - quite comfortable, by the way - the "Take a seat" light went out, the "Caution while travelling!" sign lit up and the big "Go!" button lit up. Adelie had no idea where this miniature carriage would take her, how long the journey would last, or whether it would get stuck halfway through somewhere in the walls or underground ("How on earth did Ed ever think of all this stuff and make it and build it into his house?!"), but she trusted Prayfield , and if he said, "Don't worry, it's safe," then it was. Or it should be. In theory.

- I was.

Dupont pressed the "Go" button. The light of the internal lamp changed from green to red, the hydraulics puffed rhythmically under her feet, and the view of the kitchen from inside the carriage slowly shifted upwards. The girl was suddenly frightened. The walls of the tunnel felt as if they were squeezing her.

The capsule continued to move downwards. The girl was no longer happy about the decision to climb into this cleverly made jar.

Suddenly there was a sharp beep, a "Hands off!" sign lit up, and five seconds later a solid glass lid with a rubberised edge was thrust from somewhere above.

- No, no, no, no!

She pressed her hands against the barrier, but there was a soft hissing sound and two signs lit up: "Air in" and "All is well". Adela was a little relieved.

Meanwhile, the carriage accelerated its fall and tilted forward. The girl clutched at the armrests, but the balancing mechanism levelled her position.

- Wow... - Adeli casually looked down and realised that there were several other similar capsules underneath her - only empty. She's on a real vertical mini-train! And one that went up behind her right in the wall!

Before Adélie could marvel at the thought, the fall accelerated several times faster. She felt as if the top and bottom were reversed, and a lump came to her throat. "Hold on, hold on..."

The task was almost impossible.

...When the chain of carriages stopped an eternity later - twenty minutes later, in fact - the girl hardly noticed it. She crawled out from under the raised glass in the green light of the signal lamp, leaned against the stony wall, and took a breath. Her knees were still shaking, her heart pounding. It was as if she'd been on the most terrifying ride she'd ever been on - one that she was completely unprepared for and that had lasted far longer than she'd bargained for.

- O mon Dieu, Saint Jesu! - she exhaled, and even crossed herself hastily. No, she would not sit in that thing again.

"By the way, where am I...?"

Dupont looked round.

It was most like a small London Underground station: long but narrow tracks with a series of coupled capsule cars leading into a dark tunnel, a simple platform, faint lighting... and a passage into a side corridor just beyond. At the end of it, a light was on and soft male voices echoed.

Adelie struggled to her feet, overcame the faintness, and walked towards the sound, leaning against the plaster walls.

***

- ...so," Prayfield finished his thought at the big board, "the network is already set up, the connections are lined up - a couple of nights and we'll know for sure.

- Are you sure it will work? - Vorobyov asked him, critically examining a crude map of the world with scattered dots on it on the blackboard.

- Absolutely," the scientist nodded optimistically, glancing from time to time at the large panel of indicators. The green light in the long row of red lights beneath "Omnirelles" did not escape him, which meant that the message had been delivered.

- Adelie, you made it! - Sam splashed his hands, turning round at the uncertain sound of footsteps in the doorway. Alexei relaxed his shoulders with relief:

- We were afraid something had happened.

- Did you see what they did there? - The girl blurted out her greeting and threw up her hands. - They've turned the whole place upside down! What kind of manners are these police officers - and who did you hurt so badly?

- That's a good question, and one that will have to be answered in a comprehensive way; but for now, welcome to the secret headquarters of the Adventure Club, dear Delly," Edward smiled warmly and pointed to a vacant chair by the round oak table with a pile of documents, diagrams, and drawings that were not new to anyone present. Dupont, still somewhat annoyed, sat down and stretched out her legs, which were buzzing with tension. The scientist gave her a sly wink: - We've been waiting for you, I must say.

- I almost died on the way. "Safe, huh?" the girl folded her arms, but her discontent was beginning to pass: she felt calmer in the company of her friends, who had already become her real family.

- As a matter of fact, yes, but I didn't mention it would be easy. - Prayfield was in a surprisingly light mood for someone who had left his home to the mercy of the security services a couple of hours ago.

- Next time, please be more specific. And what's the name, Adventure Club?

Sam poured the girl a glass of fresh water from the carafe, and she accepted it gratefully. Edward shrugged:

- We have to call our secret society something, since we are being hunted by powerful forces of supposedly international evil.

- Sam rolled his eyes and sat down across from me. - We don't even know who these people are or what they want!

- Well, we have a couple of guesses," Vorobyov objected. Prayfield gave him an impenetrable and friendly look. Adelie noticed it and hurried to intervene, deciding that "complex answers" could wait:

- And I could use a few guesses as to where we even are and what our plan is.

The scientist readily turned to her:

- Well, you'll be impressed with both answers. We're a kilometre and a half below Westminster.

- Wait... we're in London?!

Adelie rounded her eyes and tried to remember a tourist map of the kingdom. "How long is it from Oxford to London...? 80 kilometres...?"

So she was doing 250 kilometres an hour. No wonder she got sick!

- Exactly," the professor nodded, put his hands behind his back, and took a few steps around the table. His face became thoughtful. - We built this shelter during the war in case Hitler's troops broke through the defences. No one knew how it would end or whether the second front would collapse, but it all worked out - and after Nuremberg, Churchill kindly allowed us to use the place as a headquarters for covert operations.

- We were a kind of secret agents, too," Alexei explained to the girl. - A small club of young and eccentric adventurers, capable of doing what the government or the army couldn't.

- We believed we could make the world a better place," Prayfield said, his eyes lingering on a big old globe with a bunch of flags that had turned white with age. - That progress and science and the audacity of free thought would help mankind grow up ... and not make all the mistakes that have cost millions of lives.

Adélie nodded understandingly and tried to imagine the place twenty years ago. What it had looked like after the war...? Somehow, she thought, the flags of the countries where the people gathered under the vault would have hung from the high ceiling.

Edward intercepted her gaze. Sam saw him grow sad.

- I put a lot of work into this place. Westminster Grove was my second home between travelling and flying. I supplemented it with omnirelles tracks with points all over the country, ran a security system... and here we are. We're not there for the rest of the world.

- Good," Dupont nodded and frowned. - Judging by the mayhem in Impington, someone's a little too eager for your blood. Any idea who it might be?

- I'm afraid there is. - The scientist pushed back the last remaining chair at the head of the table and sat down on it tiredly.

- И? - The girl raised an eyebrow.
- It could be anyone. I've crossed a lot of people in my life. - Prayfield refreshed his memory and lifted the corners of his lips. - Peruvian Nazis, Illuminati Marginals, techno-occultists, Raphaelite sectarians, Communist extremists, members of a crazy cyborg group....

- What an impressive list of opponents. - Adelie looked at Sam, who gave her the same look.

- ...but when you think about it, a realistic list isn't that big. I still can't get over the New York incident. - Edward folded his hands in front of him and shifted his eyebrows. - The three amigos clearly knew who I was, what was wrong with me, where I lived, and when it would be easiest to snatch me. Only your lucky appearance saved my life, Delly, and I'll always be grateful for that.

The girl smiled warmly.

- I would do it again and much sooner if I had to. And yet.

Edward never looked up at her.

- It's the past, you know? I've been running away from it all my life. - The old man leaned over and rested his head helplessly on his hands. - There are things I can't forget. I can't forgive. Can't get rid of. But the consequences... they come sooner or later, and all that's left is to wonder what the punishment is for.

The professor looked up with heavy eyes and his friends realised he needed to speak up.

- I am one of the authors of the atomic bomb," Prayfield began softly and almost without emotion. - Without me, America would not have responded to Pearl Harbor with Hiroshima.

There was silence. The girl thought sadly of her new friend. "Mitsuki is also from Hiroshima..."
The scientist finally continued:

- I worked to rebuild the world after the war. Including the Soviet Union. - Dupont glanced at Vorobyov; the latter made it clear that this was news to him too. Alexei looked questioningly at his friend, and he cut off any possible quibbles: -Yes, I was young, stupid, and naive enough to believe that human suffering over a second world war, which is always monstrous, could somehow change a regime built on lies and fear. - Prayfield sighed. - I believed that science could heal the world. That people are the same everywhere. That they strive for goodness, for justice, for freedom.

Vorobiev faded his gaze. He himself had once joined the Komsomol for exactly the same reasons. "Lenin's party will lead the working class of the whole world to the victory of communism and universal happiness..." - he grinned to himself.

It's all lies.

The inventor looked up and continued:

- But when I saw what the fruit of my efforts was turning into... I was scared. I had always hated people like Richard Schmidt, who would sell their souls to the devil and work for concentration camps just to do their work and feel important. At that moment I realised that I was becoming such a Schmidt myself. If my work doesn't make people happier, more open or freer, if my name is only used with others to whitewash my reputation and add weight to my own - then what's the point of it all? I'm not a "useful idiot." And if we turn a blind eye to such things, how are we better than the Germans who equate Wagner and Goethe with swastikas and bonfires from the wrong books...? I realised that I don't want to feel German. I'm English. I'm human and I have a conscience after all.

Edward sighed.

- That's why I chose her over decency. When I saw how ordinary people lived... former peasants with neither money nor passports... I broke off all arrangements with Moscow. He took advantage of the hiccup with ostentatious cordiality and went back when he could. - The head of the revived "Adventure Club" grinned. - Of course, Colonel Lukyanov didn't like it. But he didn't like a lot of things. I wouldn't be surprised if he was still mad at me.

- Do you think he's the one behind the hunt? - The blonde woman with the wavy hair asked in complete seriousness, folding her arms as well.

- I don't know," Prayfield shrugged. - Maybe it was MJ-12 after all, and they never forgave me for Roswell.

- Did you leave them too?

A direct but fair question.

- Unfortunately, yes," Edward took off his permanent sunglasses and wiped them with a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jumper. - Apparently, I'm not a team player.

- Not at all," said Dupont. And your decency is not in conflict with your conscience, quite the contrary. You leave "the assemblies of the unrighteous" because you yourself are "righteous". Here. I think Jesus would like you.

- Thank you, dear Adélie. I hope you are right and... there is still some chance for my soul, if there is anything at all after death.

Sam leaned over to Alexei and asked in a whisper whether his friend was a war criminal or a Ku Klux Klan member, since his conscience was so gnawing at him, to which the Soviet doctor waved his hand and advised him to get used to the impulsive scientist's manner of reflection.

- We'll know for sure when the time comes. But for now, tell me, what's the plan? - Adélie leaned back in her chair. - I think I missed the debate when I was travelling from one county to another on the chair train.

Prayfield rose from his seat, folded his arms across his chest, and glanced at the makeshift computer with several screens and a large panel with a bunch of indicators and lit buttons, most of which glowed green.

- The plan is very simple - I'll stay here for a couple of days, wait for a report from a network of astronomer friends around the world and collate their data. Together we will find the Victorian bomb in orbit, find out where the hijacked NASA rocket has gone, and understand the intentions of the people behind it all.

- Are you staying here? - Dupont felt sorry for him. "It's just a cellar, albeit a well-made one!"

Edward hastened to dispel her fears:

- Again, this place was once my second home - well, it will be now. I don't want to put you all at risk in my company. - The scientist looked into the girl's worried face and added soothingly: - 'Besides, it's a whole underground complex with several rooms, working plumbing and good ventilation: you could spend a couple of weeks here in reasonable comfort.

- What about Mitsuki...? - The young woman mentally reproached herself for only now remembering the Japanese schoolgirl.

- We rang her uncle, explained everything, she'll stay with him for a while. And you'll spend the night at my place, okay? - Alexei leaned over to the Frenchwoman. She nodded gratefully, which didn't escape Sam's gaze, who immediately suggested an alternative:

- Or at my hut, I was going to give the tickets back anyway.

- You're not going home to the States? - Adélie wondered.

- Listen, the fate of the world is being decided here. I'm not going to miss out on an adventure like this.

***

... Prayfield had been up all night. The folding bed was comfortable enough for a bunker, and the bedding had survived the vacuum preservation surprisingly well, but that wasn't the point. It wasn't the absence of the usual silence of the birthing nest - he wasn't disturbed by the noise of the air purification system or the hum of the communications unit linking the few points of contact around the world.

The second twenty-four hours of the agreed-upon deadline were coming to an end. Two days ago, he had contacted his buddies around the world to ask them to watch the sky and find the missing objects. NASA probably discovered the carrier a long time ago, but didn't release the data because of the imposed secrecy stamp from the FBI. I wonder if they know about the 19th century rocket there and what it has on board.....

There was a loud beeping sound. Edward jumped to his feet, pulled on his trousers and shirt, put on his slippers, and hurried into the main hall.

One of the screens switched on and on it flickered a very murky and dark image of a human face.

- Ed! - I heard a voice distorted by radio interference. - Ed, are you there? This is Jabari Otume, can you hear me?

Prayfield ran to the console, switched on the lamp, adjusted the lens of the heavily modified film camera, switched one of the toggle switches, and entered a few commands on the typewriter keyboard. The image on one screen faded out and reappeared, but in partial form and on all screens at once, creating a solid image on the entire wall.

- Hello, Jabari! - Edward leaned over, adjusted the microphone, and made sure the other person could see him. - Yes, I'm here. What's wrong? You could have sent me a telegram!

- I wanted to tell you in person. - The face of the dark-skinned man on the other continent was extremely concerned, as far as one could tell from the terrible quality of the radio signal and the red glow of the special lighting. - I was just watching Jupiter when I noticed a flash. Something had exploded in the sky over Cape Town.....

"God, no."

Prayfield 's eyes darkened.

- Are there any casualties? - he asked in an almost even voice. - How many dead?

Otume bulged large eyes with milky whites of eyes.

- Goi heyer, what are you, no casualties. - The African man let out a short laugh. - Sorry, I've forgotten a bit of English. It looked like a bolide: some object seems to have entered the atmosphere and disintegrated into pieces.

The Englishman in the bunker was relieved.

- Could it be part of the meteor stream? - He asked, regaining his composure.

Jabari shook his head.

- I doubt it, the Taurids are a long way off. But that's not the only reason I contacted you on the film link. - The large man leaned over the microphone lens in his observatory. - 'As I said, I've been tracking Jupiter. Taking pictures of the planet through the telescope every few months to confirm the number of the gas giant's moons.

- Right...? - The white-haired man immediately thought of the symbols from the ruined recluse's mansion: the figure of two ellipses and the signs of Jupiter with the Sun in circles. "It can't be a chain of coincidences..."

- And I noticed something strange in the last two photos," the astronomer continued. - I'll send you copies by post if you like, but as one of South Africa's leading astronomers, I can tell you I've never seen anything like it.

- What did you find out?

- Some object moving in an unnatural trajectory. - Otume lowered his voice, as if afraid of being overheard. - It's not a satellite, it's not an asteroid, and it's certainly not a star. It's something else-and it's moving away from Earth.

This was the answer that Prayfield had least expected. But it could not be recognised as altogether improbable.

- Are you sure about this?

- I swear on the Virgin Mary herself. I calculated its trajectory, and you're not gonna believe this.

- Why, mate?

- Because this object is heading straight for Jupiter. On the optimal gravitational capture vector, barring the effects of chance.

It will collide with the largest planet in the solar system in nine years, Ed.

***

- Thank you for responding so quickly..." Prayfield looked around at the others and scratched his dishevelled head absentmindedly. - I apologise for my rambling, I haven't slept in twenty-four hours.

- What happened? - anxiously asked the girl, for whom this was her first visit to the underground centre of the "Club", not to mention bunkers in general. - Did you find the answer to the question...?

- Yes, dear Mitsuki," the scientist smiled tiredly at the Japanese woman. - And not even for one.

- What did you find out? - Adela made herself comfortable in the cushioned seat, ready to listen intently.

- That's a good question. I'll explain it in a moment.

Edward headed for the metal segment of the wall to hang the photos on it on magnets. While he was busy, Vorobyov poured himself a cup of coffee from the coffee maker and offered it to Sam, to which the guy politely declined, lifting the can of beer under the Frenchwoman's surprised gaze.

- So," Edward began his thorough briefing, coughing and pointing his pointer at a copy of a cracked daguerreotype of a portrait of a menacing hermit in a camisole with a long grey beard, "we found out that the inventor and philosopher Adenmayer Wilfred-Smith spent his life developing technologies far ahead of his time. Specifically, he invented a jet engine, a working rocket launcher, and a primitive neutron bomb - but was never able to realise it all to completion. However, he had left clear instructions to a wide range of followers, from his own servants to the German designer on von Braun's team. - The scientist tapped a photograph of a rather young man with a wide moustache on the side of the old photo. - Richard Schmidt had orbited the Wilfred-Smith rocket to Earth without guessing the contents, but he had had no opportunity to do more than ensure the ship was preserved until the next stage of the plan could be reached. And it came recently: unknown people sabotaged the launch of an American lunar rocket and launched their own upper stage on it instead of the Apollo mission equipment. The booster spent several months in orbit in automatic docking mode, connected with the Wilfred-Smith spacecraft, and took it out of the Earth's gravitational field. Let me sketch it out.... - The grey-haired Englishman took an imported felt-tip pen from a box on a small shelf at the side and drew a circle with the likeness of continents on the metal surface under the photographs, then started a dotted line from the edge of the circle, drew a second circle, placed a bold dot on it, then drew a second dotted line, connected it with the dot on the dotted circle and drew a third dotted line spiralling away from that point, cutting it off halfway. - The trajectory looked something like this. The fall of the separated stages had just been detected the day before yesterday in the skies over Africa. - Edward was disconcerted by the silence behind him, and he turned around uncertainly. - I'm not... I'm not making this too complicated...?

Adelie raised her hand like a diligent student in class. Prayfield nodded at her with a smile, and the girl tried to summarise in a language more easily understood:

- Let me get this straight," the young woman began to curl her fingers. - My grandfather - supposedly my grandfather - invented a rocket and a bomb, put them into space half a century later, then stole a second rocket twenty years later to, um, connect with the first and send them both into space somewhere. - Dupont puffed out her breath and fixed her curl. - Did I get it right?

Edward nodded contentedly and slapped the pointer on his hand in the same way that his idol, who had invented the theory of relativity, had done in his time.

- Absolutely, Ma Cherie. You should be lecturing at Oxford, not me.

- I learn from the best, sir," the girl jokingly saluted. Sam raised his eyebrows, to which the Frenchwoman whispered: "We're at headquarters, and this is a briefing!"

- And yet, what an ambitious plan," Vorobyev said thoughtfully, setting aside his empty cup. - Seventy years between the creation of a space bomb and its final launch away from Earth... it would take a diabolical genius to come up with such a plan. By the way, why away from Earth?

Prayfield excitedly pointed his index finger at him:

- That's a great question, old chap. And the answer contains some very bad news....

- Will the neutron fall to Earth after all? - The dark-skinned American raised his eyebrows worriedly.

- No, Sam, she wasn't going back to Earth. - Edward shook his head and turned away to finish the marker diagram. - Although there was a neutron bomb in the ship, it wasn't meant for Earth, but for Jupiter.

The professor drew a much larger circle at a great distance from the globe, with careless streaks and a large stain at the bottom, and then put the felt-tip pen on a point symbolising the ship assembled from two parts, and from it drew a new spiral, twisting around the larger sphere and finally falling on it. Edward drew a small star at the point of impact and wrote "The End.

Jones pushed the aluminium can aside and scratched the back of his head.

- But... what's the point of that? Why build a ship with explosives that will collide with a... large celestial body like Jupiter - unless I'm confusing things?

- You got it right, Sam," the scientist said with a weary curl of his lips and looked at his drawing. - In nine years the ship will reach Jupiter and sink in its atmosphere, crushed by the enormous gravity. But the super-strong alloy from which the hull was made left the possibility that its contents might survive for a while longer. - Prayfield drew a new dotted line, this time from the star marked "The End" to the centre of a large circle with a smudge-eye at the bottom. - And that's very bad news.

- Why?

Edward turned and his voice changed involuntarily:

- Because Jupiter," he began gravely, "the largest planet in the Solar System, is actually an undeveloped white subdwarf. A neutron bomb blast at its core would trigger an atomic reaction that would restart a process that stopped trillions of years ago. A second star will appear in the Solar System, a competitor to the Sun. - Prayfield gave the hushed audience a hard look and emphasised: - This is what Adenmayer Wilfred-Smith wanted, this is the outcome he coded in his notes and drawings: this symbol we saw on the key, the picture frame and many other places is the double star. - He turned to the improvised blackboard again and drew the symbols "☉ " and "♃ " inside intersecting ellipses. - A new Sun-Jupiter pair system.

There was silence.

The first to break it was Adélie, cautiously coughing.

- But... what does that mean for us? In the sky...will there be two suns?

It flashed through her mind, "It's not that I'm very strong in intelligent matters...".

Edward, if he didn't think the question was serious, didn't let it show.

- It's not just that the Sun will have a little sister," he explained. - Jupiter, heated from within, will quickly (on an astronomical scale) gain mass. He and the Sun will have a common point of rotation, and each time it will be more and more unstable, more and more chaotic.

The lecturer took a second marker, red in colour, held it in his left hand and tried to depict the dance of the paired star on the blackboard: he started the blue spiral smooth, outlined it with a smaller red spiral, then brought the blue spiral into a less smooth line along with the red spiral, which followed along with the blue and became even more broken. Prayfield distanced himself and appraised his work with an artist's eye.

"Yes. Not Picasso."

- Computer calculations would give a more accurate picture," the man admitted, "but you know what I mean.

- But... what exactly does this threaten to do to all of us?

Edward turned back to Sam and shifted his gaze to Adela. They would outlive him, and their children would outlive them... but what would happen then? And what was the point of this now...?

- The orbits of the planets will be disturbed," the grey-haired scientist began in a slumped voice. - Some of the Earth-group planets will burn up on the surface of the Sun. The asteroid belt will disappear. Mars will collide with Saturn, Saturn will lose its rings and fall with Uranus to the surface of Jupiter and make it even bigger and hotter. Neptune will lose its atmosphere and be thrown towards the Oort cloud. As for us..." the old professor gave a nervous chuckle. - There's no need to talk about the Earth: by that time all life will have disappeared from it.

Adélie rounded her eyes. Vorobyev tried to figure out if his friend was joking.

Prayfield looked at the shocked Sam and Mitsuki, who had less of a language barrier than she would have liked, and decided to elaborate: - Great extinctions have happened before, such as in the Cambrian and Triassic periods, but this time... - The scientist paused; - ...This time the planet won't make it. The oceans will shoal, continents will accelerate their movement, volcanoes and earthquakes will show themselves at the junction of tectonic plates, the atmosphere will thin and change its composition - and all so that in the end the Earth will follow the remaining planets and burn up either at the approach to the Sun or in the abyss of Jupiter-star.

Edward gave the audience a serious look from under his tinted glasses and emphasised:

- The Solar System itself will be completely destroyed - and that's not a matter for the abstract future. If Wilfred-Smith's ship makes it to Jupiter, we have... five hundred or seven hundred years left.

Mitsuki glanced over to Alexei.

- That's... quite a long time, isn't it? - Sam said.

The professor shook his head. "If even they don't realise it..."

- Unfortunately, no. On the scale of astrophysics, it's a matter of seconds. The planet is already beginning to die from anthropogenic climate change, and you propose to forget about an even worse fate? Believe me, a few centuries is not a long time in world history. Yesterday we were warming ourselves by the fires in caves under glaciers, and today we are pounding each other with bombs and artillery. Two world wars in half a century! We don't have those few centuries," Prayfield concluded firmly, and slammed his fist into his palm. - We can't let the Solar System be destroyed or leave the decision to future generations. Especially since the changes won't be rapid. We can adapt to a certain extent, but bubbling water becomes boiling water sooner or later, even if the frog doesn't notice it because of the slow rise in temperature.

- And... what can we do? - Adela asked quietly, trying to process what she had just heard in her head.

- Are we with you? - grinned the not-young inventor. - I've thought a lot about it. And I've come to the conclusion that, unfortunately, nothing. We are powerless.

There was a pause.

I could tell by the looks on his friends' faces that this wasn't the answer they were expecting.

- What do you mean? - Mitsuki asked for clarification for everyone, who got the general gist of most of the lecture much better than she had expected.

- We have no chance as a small group of people," Edward replied seriously. - But a larger group, with the resources and capabilities of millions of minds, has a much better chance. - His eyes brightened; it seemed to Adela that he already had a detailed plan of action in his head. - We must publicise our discovery. Speak openly and boldly to the heads of the strongest nations. Convince them to stop the Cold War and start working together towards a common goal. Adenmayer wanted to take his secret to the grave, so we'll take charge. He wanted to divide us - but we will unite. Shoot down one single spaceship in the next few years, before it collides with the gas giant. I am more than confident that for countries with the resources that the USSR, the US and the UK have, this is not a difficult task at all, and can truly unite humanity.

- And how are we going to do it? - Vorobyev asked, already guessing what his stubborn old friend was getting at.

- It's very simple," Prayfield stretched his lips in a tired smile. - Some of the opposing pressure groups want a senile and stupid old man? Then they'll get him. I'm willing to surrender myself to the authorities just to be heard. There's no other way.

We have an obligation to save the Solar System from destruction.

***

- Are you serious?

"Unusually loud...I think I've been figured out."

Prayfield turned around and tried to keep a nonchalant expression on his face.

- What do you mean?

Adélie splashed her hands, unable to hide her feelings:

- Going to surrender to the mercy of...even unknown to you!

Edward shook his head and went back to packing the small suitcase:

- Delli, it's the only way out. - The man folded the papers neatly, fastened the notebook with a special belt, and checked the writing utensils. The Frenchwoman noticed the sheets of drawings and calculations in the folder: they were notes from the dead house. The inventor, meanwhile, continued: - We alone cannot change the trajectory of the spacecraft from Earth, and it is not in my plans to hijack a second moon rocket in a row from the American government. - I am a scientist with a moral compass, albeit a rather broad one, not some megalomaniacal criminal.

- And still, I'm... worried about you. - Adélie folded her arms across her chest and looked anxiously at her grey-haired friend. - What if they arrest you?

The Englishman raised his eyebrows.

- For what? I haven't done anything particularly reprehensible since 1956. - He put on his waistcoat and squinted. - Or almost nothing... electricity bills paid a thousand years in advance, not adjusted for inflation, count as financial fraud?

The girl pretended to let the joke pass her ears.

- You know how it is," Adélie said tiredly. She felt obliged to be the voice of reason. - Bad things don't always happen to bad people.

- That's so..." Prayfield agreed and took a deep breath. In truth, he more than understood the young girl's concern. "It really is in some ways an unreasonable risk... if you forget what's at stake."

- All right," the scientist finally gave up and put his bag on the floor, "let us agree that if anything happens to any of us, the others will come to his or her rescue. I'll always come to your rescue whenever you need anything. And you'll be there for me if I need you. Okay? - Edward took a quick glance over his glasses and gave her the friendliest smile he could muster. It was hardly convincing. - If anything, Alex has the keys and numerical codes to this base, and he should remember the frequency we've always used to contact each other. We got a deal?

- It's a deal," Adélie nodded briefly and smiled faintly, too. - What was it you said? "Adventure Club, right?

- The Adventure Club, that's right. - The scientist's smile became a little more sincere.

- That didn't sound so bad, come to think of it. - The girl relaxed her shoulders a little and straightened her back. - Glad to be a part of it.

- I knew you'd change your point of view. - Prayfield glanced at his wristwatch. - ...Well, I'd better get going.

- But where to?

- A rendezvous at St Paul's Cathedral. I published an advert in the evening papers yesterday, with a coded invitation to meet to discuss the terms of the deal. Whoever's looking for me must be monitoring the press and have already received my message. It would be rude to be late for your own meeting.

- Are you sure you have to do this alone? - Dupont almost pleaded.

- Unfortunately, yes. I can't take you with me this time, but I'll definitely see you again. - Edward couldn't resist giving Adela a peck on the cheek. Instead, he ran his hand casually through her blond hair and, finally pulling himself together, gave the young girl a friendly pat on the shoulder. - All the best, my dear Adélie! Take care of each other!

***

The grey-haired man slammed his coat shut and shivered. A gust of cold wind blew through his scruffy beard. "I should have dressed better..."

The scientist on the bench looked up from his valise and noticed the silhouette of an approaching figure. There could be no mistake.

- Good evening," said a middle-aged brown-haired man with a rather large shoulder bag, "Edward Gregory Prayfield , is that correct?

- That's right," the older man nodded incredulously and looked round at the self-assured-looking visitor. He didn't look like an Englishman; he looked more like an American.

- James Stevens, reporter for The Times. Do you mind? - The man in the neatly pressed suit took out a cigar and reached for a lighter.

- Not at all," Edward said and moved away.

James nodded and sat down beside him, smoking leisurely, folding his hands together and throwing his head back, letting out a ring of smoke.

- I knew right away that you were here for a reason. - The reporter from the capital cast a sharp glance at his interlocutor. - Well, are you ready to share your new discovery?

Prayfield perked up and unlocked the suitcase latches.

- Let's put it this way," the researcher began, "I have a great exclusive, which, believe me, will go down in history and become a topic of discussion around the world for a long time.

- Sounds intriguing," Stevens raised an eyebrow, not too surprised at what he heard.

- But I have a couple of conditions," Edward stopped him. - You'll have to believe everything I say, and it won't be easy.

James from the Times let out a short chuckle.

- I don't care what you believe, I work with facts, opinions and angles. - He looked at the scientist dispassionately. - You do realise that I will have to test what you say and write honestly about the results, right? So if you have found aliens or invented a way to live forever.....

- I don't do that sort of nonsense," the professor cut off, gripping his valise.

- No problem then," the correspondent nodded once more. - You have the story, I have the tribune. I will listen to you willingly, but with one counter-offer.

- What's that?

James lowered his shoulder bag onto the seat and carefully pulled out a portable reel-to-reel tape recorder from there.

- Do you mind recording? - The man took the reels out of the compartment, placed them on the rotating pins, and tucked them neatly into the head. - I like to transcribe the coils for accuracy.

- You've prepared for this conversation," Edward grinned, noting to himself that he would have done the same thing. - Well, so be it.

- Great. - James put the device between him and the person he was talking to, made sure the battery was charged and pressed the red button. The reels rustled and there was a quiet noise from the film rotation motor. The man reached out: - 'Then... do you mind if I delegate the recording of the interview to an assistant?

Edward's eyes went wide.

- An assistant?

- Y-yes, it won't take long. - Stevens nodded toward the exit from the square. - I need to go away for a while. An editorial assignment.

- Well...

Prayfield gave him a surprised look. The interview seemed to be over before it had even begun... not what one expects from a man who has deliberately come at the appointed day and hour!

The scientist's bewilderment had no time to dissipate when a tall man with blond hair and an unremarkable appearance approached him from the other side.

- Good evening," he began in a low voice, "I'm Henry. You're Prayfield , aren't you...?

- Nice to meet you, Henry," Edward nodded warily. - That's right.

- Then let me continue with the interview.....

Henry sat down in James' seat and ran his hand over a working tape recorder with a microphone attached.

- ...what did you want to share with the world?

- One moment.

Prayfield opened his valise, pulled out a pile of papers, and pulled out an old photograph. "It's worth going in from afar."

- This is a daguerreotype from around the 1890s," the professor began, "we found it among the archives of a reclusive scholar named Adenmayer Wilfred-Smith. The man in the upper right-hand corner...

- Can I have it? - the blond interrupted him abruptly.

- Sure. - Edward hesitated a moment and handed him the photograph. Henry stared at the figures on the paper, sighed faintly, and handed the card back. The tone of his voice changed.

- I don't see the point in continuing this spectacle. - The young man rubbed the bridge of his nose in a migraine. - You've probably guessed who I am.

"It wasn't difficult."

- I suppose it was you who tried to corner us and forced us to withdraw. - Prayfield put aside his suitcase and looked boldly into the face of his much younger adversary. The latter endured the hard stare almost without emotion:

- That's right. My name is Campbell, I work outside the official system.

- That is, above the law.

- So do you. How do you often say? "Time to break the laws of physics!" - Campbell mimicked his senile voice ineptly and let out a short chuckle. - But you yourself eventually decided to reveal yourself. What changed?

Edward felt it was worth telling it like it was.

- The world is in danger. The Solar System itself will collapse if nothing is done soon.

- Why should I believe you? - Henry raised his eyebrows. The scientist noted that he wasn't surprised at all.

- Because I can prove it.

- Just like you proved my father's abilities?

- What?

Edward looked into the young man's face and realised whose features they unconsciously reminded him of.

- You ruined his life when you didn't give him a chance to disassociate himself from the Nazis," the agent meanwhile continued emotionally. - He worked for the Wehrmacht, but he never killed a single Jew!

"Of course... your name was once Henry..."

- So your father is Richard Schmidt," Prayfield said aloud. That explained a lot.

Campbell replied a little less heatedly:

- Yes, and he wasn't a war criminal, as you have vilified him. He was just a rocket builder, not even a Fau-2.

- And put a bomb into space that could light a small star," his companion objected. The young man shook his head and touched his cross.

- It was part of the oath he had taken. Part of the idea of community he believed in.

- What kind of idea is that, may I ask?

- Cleansing. - Henry's gaze clouded over, and Edward realised that he was speaking sincerely. - The world is sick, full of anarchy. Capitalism is fighting communism, democracy is strangling monarchy... Chaos is killing order. A new beginning is needed for the world to heal. A new divine light...

- I hope you don't hear voices from the burning bushes? - The old sceptic could not resist a quip. The Catholic ignored him:

- That's why I won't help you. My father's work must live on. The world will end sooner or later. It's God's will.

- Then... why did you agree to the meeting in the first place? - The professor tightened the belt of his coat. It was noticeably cooler.

Campbell leaned sharply toward his opponent.

- I had to make sure it was you. Besides, you were an easy target..." He grinned. - Maybe even easier than in New York. You did a good job on our guys back then.

- So it was you? - The scientist looked into the young political mercenary's face. - Not MJ-12? Who are you really working for...?

The man waved his hand dismissively.

- MJ-12 is long gone, it's a myth, we weakened and disintegrated its core. - Henry grinned. - The Illuminati had fallen for the old European trick: easy money and the illusion of power.

- So who are you, Campbell? - Prayfield repeated the question.

- No-one. A shadow, a haze. - The young man rose from his seat and took a few steps to the side. - A man who doesn't exist on paper, who can do things that MI5, the NSA and the KGB combined can't. I work with whoever is profitable - and at the moment your head is the one Moscow wants the most. - Henry made a vigorous gesture to someone in the distance and turned to the old man with a triumphant look. - They've been after you since the late '50s, but you've had a knack for not getting caught.

- I wasn't alone-" Prayfield said sadly, "I wasn't alone.

- But that was not the case now. - Campbell bent towards the suitcase in the inventor's limp hands. - Let me take it from you - you won't be needing it any more. Comrades, take it!

From behind some nearby bushes came a few stout fellows in overly uniform clothes.

- Come on, Grandpa," one of them said in Russian, clasping Edward's hands behind his back. Edward grimaced in pain.

- All right, all right," the scientist whispered in the same Russian, but did not resist. - As you say.

Campbell straightened his blond hair triumphantly and held the suitcase containing Wilfred-Smith's papers in the air. "Weighty..." He turned to see the young men ready to take the captive professor away and held out his hand in a stopping gesture. The enforcers glanced round and pulled the old man closer.

Heinrich Schmidt-Campbell leaned over to Edward and explained with a poorly concealed smile:

- As luck would have it, you can solve a serious diplomatic conflict. Lubyanka has generously agreed to release a journalist convicted of espionage in exchange for your presence in Leningrad.

- But what-" Prayfield started to say, but one of the enforcers covered his mouth with a gag. The traitor finally allowed himself to smile:

- How long it will last, you'd better ask the KGB, when - and if - you can. As for your secrets and mysteries... some things are better left in the shadows. It's better for everyone, believe me. - Campbell finally waved his hand and finished in Russian: "All, comrades, dismissed!

The Soviet operatives dragged the weakly stubborn scientist from the square in front of the cathedral to a side street where a dark Beetle with tinted windows was parked. The son of the rocket designer gave the man who had put his father behind bars a satisfied look and headed off with his suitcase in the other direction.

A reporter who had just come out of a neighbouring bar met him.

- I kept my end of the bargain," James began, but Henry shoved his suitcase against his chest without further ado and hissed:

- You will be found dead if you say another word or mention the events of this day anywhere. Nod twice if you understand.

The journalist shook his head silently, pursing his lips.

- That's fine. - Campbell put the valise in his other hand and moved on. - Have a good day, and say hello to Oswald.

James remained standing in one place.

As the group of tall men dragged the weakening man down the steps, they didn't notice that there was someone else's face in the archway. Large, frightened blue eyes framed by wavy blond hair watched silently as their owner's worst nightmare came true. The girl clasped her dazed hands to her palms to keep from screaming. A car pulled up to the kerb, from which unfamiliar speech was heard. One of the kidnappers separated from the group and opened the back door.

- N-no! - Adela finally got it out.

The men in civilian clothes turned round, exchanged a couple of barking phrases and started pushing the scientist into the funnel.

- Jnnntt! - he tried to shout through the gag. - Vssss hrrrshhhh! Vssss bbddt hrrrshhhh!

"It's going to be okay..."

- Edward! - the girl rushed towards the black Beetle. - Wait, where are you taking him?!

The man on the left pulled out a pistol. The girl stumbled in her run and rushed to hide-she thought the foreigner was going to shoot her, but the man only cocked his gun and roughly pushed Prayfield into the car and sat down next to him.

The girl ran faster. Just a little more. She could catch up...

The remaining thug made sure the captive was locked up and secured, then jumped into the driver's seat and started the engine.

- Help! - Dupont finally shouted at the top of her voice. - Help!

A few passers-by were looking round at her. Someone ran up to her and seemed to ask her what was wrong, but she couldn't make it out.

- Help--" the girl sank to the ground, addressing herself to an unknown person; "please help....

All she could see was the silhouette of the car that her friend had been dragged into in a puff of smoke.

A friend she may never see again.

PART II.

CHAPTER 10

The bright scent of rosebuds.

Dark curls.

Dimples on the cheeks.

A mole in the corner.

Smudged dark lipstick.

An elusive smile.

Silky touch.

A barely audible whisper.

Her accent...

- Ed'ward.

Prayfield made an effort on himself and unclenched his tightly closed eyes.

The semi-darkness didn't dissipate.

Silence, too. No sounds.

Or almost none.

Somewhere a few walls away, a melodious chime was heard, a professionally trained voice repeated a few words (the man could make out "Moscow speaks!" in Russian), and enthusiastically serious symphonic music began to play. The scholar listened to the almost forgotten language, but the sound was too muffled to make out the details of the evening bulletins. "I wish I knew what time it was..."

The door creaked open, the sound of the receiver became clearer, and approaching stamping footsteps were heard. The bolt in the door slid open, a glittering eye flashed through it, and the beam from a hand torch almost blinded the prisoner. The man behind the door gave a satisfied hum and removed the lantern, the window closed noisily and the footsteps retreated round the corner. Prayfield blinked, shook his head, leaned back against the cold wall and wrapped his trembling arms around himself. A painful emptiness spilled into his stomach. He looked at the tin mug, which had long since run dry. There was still no sign of any nourishment.

How long has it been? It's hard to say when you're in a two metre by two metre room with no windows, no light and good ventilation. His watch, glasses, shoelaces and belt were taken away from him, his clothes were requisitioned, he was forcibly shaved, and several profile and full-face photographs were taken against an old wall with a nameplate and number in his hands.

Prayfield might have wondered what legal grounds there were for his detention, but he realised that a detainee in Soviet Russia could have any degree of unenviable fate. A citizen is the property of the state, and it can dispose of him as it pleases for its own ends. Edward knew what he was getting into, and was inwardly prepared for a Stalinist sentence or firing squad, if it would help publicise his discovery and stop the star-creator bomb being launched towards Jupiter. If to save the future it was necessary to spend ten or twenty years in a labour camp... well, he was ready for anything.

It's time to take responsibility for mistakes.

She would understand it and be supportive.

***

...Thirty-one years ago, thousands of kilometres away from this place - not in the light-deprived punishment cell of the Soviet State Security Committee, but in a sunny Oxford University auditorium - a group of young men were animatedly discussing the imminent arrival of a very important guest.

- How did they organise this in the first place?

- Rumour has it that Francis John Lees personally went to the States to beg him....

- Oh, my God! Our old man is friends with these people?!

- Look, a whole seminar with him in it!

- What is it, boys? - came a cheerful voice from behind the heads of the students' newspaper. Some of my classmates turned round, some grumbled and gave way to the newcomer.

- Have you fallen off the moon, Ed? - exclaimed a tall fellow with an oriental eye. - Albert Einstein himself is here! The lecture is tomorrow!

- Seriously, Tim? Are you serious?! - Young Edward splashed his hands, opened his mouth in comic amazement, and shook his friend by the shoulders. - Where is he, in what hotel, can I fly up to him for an autograph!..?

- I knew you'd like it, Fieldsy," he smiled and gently pulled away.

- Einstein himself, for God's sake!" the twenty-year-old repeated and touched the still fresh scars on the right side of his face. - The father of the theory of relativity, the genius of modern physics!

Timothy Fields gave a pictorial eyeliner.

- Yes, we get it, the German scientist's biggest admirer studies here.

- An Austrian scientist," Prayfield made an important clarification. - In fact, he has long lived in Princeton, New Jersey, and does not consider himself a German.

His roommate shrugged.

- Well, you should, Adolf's not such a formidable bloke.

Ed cast an expressive glance at him.

- Don't tell the Jews that. - The young man sighed and folded his stubby arms across his chest. He remembered his impressions from his trip to the Olympics two years ago, and they unfortunately clashed well with what he was hearing now. - The newspapers say there is some madness in Berlin: the authorities are conducting ethnic cleansing, Blomberg and Ribbentrop are openly threatening their neighbours, someone is talking about a new war....

Tim grinned:

- You mean Germany, which didn't even have a decent army after the defeat?...? - The man with the dishevelled hair waved his hand dismissively. -- Read more of this Marxist nonsense. It's propaganda, not the press.

Ed just shook his head," and then a new face caught his eye.

- Listen, who's the new girl?

- Oh, that one? - Fields cast a quick glance through the crowd. - I have no idea. Someone on the staff.

- Not from the stream?

- No... definitely not. - Tim furrowed his brow and tried to remember. - I think she'd come with Einstein, to prepare the auditorium, set up the equipment.... Look, you're arching your back. Interested? I thought you and Olivia--

- Olivia and I are fine," Edward said unconvincingly. - It's none of your business.

- It's not my thing," his mate shrugged his shoulders, glaring at him, "whatever you say, brother. But in general, I'll tell you this: it's not a sin to get acquainted with pretty girls, you're not asking me to marry you. Go on and with a song!

- Well, that does make sense," the student adjusted his collar uncertainly and looked again in the direction of the person he was looking at. - Why not, old chap.

- Come on, Romeo!

His roommate smilingly corrected young Prayfield 's jacket lapels and his unpowdered hair, turned him round and gave him a gentle nudge in the direction of the department. The penultimate year student walked uncertainly towards the older girl.

The stranger was almost the same height as him. She had large, expressive eyes with eyelashes and fine eyebrows, thin lips in dark lipstick, a small mole on her cheek, a straight nose with a bump, dark hair styled in the latest fashion, and a gilded barrette in the shape of a small bird's silhouette on the left side of her head.

- Erm... guten morgen? - The student raised his hand awkwardly. The girl flinched and glared at him:

- What? How did you know?

The young woman had a pleasant, soft, high-pitched voice with a German accent, a confident delivery, and - for some reason Edward couldn't help but notice - wide and firm hips. The young man was embarrassed, looked away, and shoved his hands awkwardly into his trouser pockets.

- Well... I thought, since Einstein was from Germany, you might be from there, too, since you came with him to prepare his speech....

"What silly babbling!"

The girl's face softened and she visibly relaxed.

- Well, Hercule Poirot's logic, I can't argue with that.

- Danke schon," her interlocutor bowed. - By the way, let me introduce myself, Edward Gregory Prayfield , Bachelor of Science First Class, Master and aspiring Doctor of Astrophysics.

The girl smiled involuntarily and cast a more attentive glance at the young man, which read sympathy and a spark of interest.

- Nice to meet you, Herr Prayfield ," she shook the outstretched hand and introduced herself in return....

***

- ...Evangeline Adelheim, a humble Austrian ...

Her voice was still as clear in his head as it had been thirty-one years ago. And if there was one thing he regretted now, as he spent hours and days in the Soviet dungeon, it was that he hadn't had the courage to fix the one detail of his old office that remained intact: picking up the long-fallen framed photograph on his desk. He had been putting off this moment for as long as he could-and now it was quite possible that he might never be able to do it. If he was accused of state treason or espionage, sent to a labour camp in Siberia, locked up in an academy town outside Moscow, or simply shot in the back of the head in the basement of the Lubyanka, as in not so distant times, he would never see the clear look of her intelligent eyes, forever preserved in the photograph. The only thing he had left.

And is there any sense in all this, if the Earth is doomed to destruction in the crucible of the redesigned Solar System? If the knowledge of the coming catastrophe dies with him and his friends fail to reach the governments of the leading countries, then the whole history of mankind will lose its meaning. The world will simply not notice that it is on the verge of another extinction, but this time it will be irreversible. Even if Earth has a few more centuries before Jupiter becomes a man-made star and pulls the centre of gravity of planetary mechanics, humanity will have to make a choice: accept the inevitable and become one of potentially millions of dead civilisations in the vastness of space - or take the risk and leave the planet, and with it the star system itself. But will the technology for interstellar travel be available by then, lasting a human lifetime rather than millennia? And won't mankind destroy itself in another world war, only much more terrible than the previous two?...?

And anyway, are we worthy of a future if we don't learn from our mistakes?

- Come on, comrade foreign agent!

Prayfield flinched at the loud sound of a lock being unlocked with the creak of hinges, and squeezed his eyes shut. The light from the corridor shone in his face, blocked by two tall figures in earth-coloured uniforms.

- What's his name... - the first of the soldiers checked an impressive notebook. - Mr Twister Eduard Preifeld, wake up! Comrade General wants to see you.

- Hands behind your back and no tricks," the second guard said sternly and walked over to the scientist on the couch to forcefully lift him to his feet and shackle his hands. - We were told what tricks you can do.... You move to the side... you see this Makarov?...?

Edward took his eyes aside, nodded briefly, and answered as best he could in Russian:

- I understand, Comrade Guardian.

The KGB jailers glanced round.

- Wow, look at that, almost no accent! - The warden's cheerful mood with the list is gone. - And he's so cocky.

- Definitely a spy. Western dick.

- Nothing, we know how to work with the bourgeois....

The military men took the Englishman under his arms, and led him with a quick step away from the cell.

***

Standing at the window, a powerful figure in a military uniform with epaulettes and a pair of medals turned round.

- It's good to see you back in our beautiful socialist homeland, Edik," wheezed a mustachioed man with grey temples, bags under his eyes and a scar on his neck, and forced out a semblance of a smile.

Prayfield straightened up in the chair one of the guards had thrown him into and rubbed his already cuffed wrists against each other.

- Leonid... - he replied, choosing his words carefully, but not his intonation. - Impressive career growth.

The general pretended not to hear the sarcasm.

- I was aiming for marshal, but that scoundrel Zhukov beat me. And I didn't even send trophy carpets from Germany in wagons! - The giant spread his arms and laughed out loud. - What a system, eh? If Lenin were still alive.....

The scientist shook his head and looked round a richly furnished office by Soviet standards, with pale green walls, a plaster ceiling, a gilded chandelier and a portrait of the leader of the Russian Revolution with a cap, full-length and inspiring pose.

- Of course, it's just a system," Edward nodded briefly and looked at his companion incredulously. He shook his head, walked over to the carved table, and sat down in the rubber-upholstered chair.

- I know you don't believe in our ideas. I myself sometimes wonder if we're on the right road. - The grey-haired man looked at the still bound prisoner, trying to understand his condition. - But we have to go this way, you know?

- I'm not sure, Comrade Shcherbatov. - Prayfield held his gaze. The military commander sighed and shifted his gaze to the large world map on the wall, studded with flags.

- It is not customary to talk about it, but we are heirs of a great empire. - General Shcherbatov looked away and corrected the history books on his desk. - And even more: we did what was beyond the power of the Tsar: we took fate in our hands, went through the crucible of civil war and devastation, forged a united nation united by common labour and dream, defeated the fascist hydra and were the first to launch a man into space....

The scientist nodded understandingly and remarked:

- This is truly admirable. I have always respected and appreciated the peoples of Russia.

- ...this is our mission, do you understand? - General Scherbatov raised his hands emotionally. - To be the second pole of the multipolar world, a counterweight to the Western bloc rotten by democracy, your eternal rival and partner at the same time. Someone who will be an alternative to the enslaved working class and a role model.

Prayfield shook his head and tried to hide a smile:

- That's all fine, but I'm not quite sure what role in your system is in store for me.

- We need bright minds, Eduard," the head of the secret service put his hands on the table tiredly. - Time is short, the military-industrial complex is failing. We need something that will help us make a breakthrough and win a convincing victory in the Cold War. Something that will strengthen the balance in our favour.

- Aren't nuclear weapons and a hydrogen bomb enough to do that?

- The Americans and even you, the British, already have it all! - Leonid Scherbatov slapped the table and glanced at the string of smaller portraits of leaders to the sides of the Lenin painting. The Englishman noticed that Stalin was not among them. - We need a breakthrough, something so incredible and devastating that it will force us to take our territorial and diplomatic claims more seriously. Which would further strengthen the Soviet Union's position in the post-Yalta world.

Prayfield looked intently at the influential Communist.

- I assume you already have a project you started working on, but something went wrong. Otherwise, you wouldn't have spent so much time and effort to get me here.

The General smiled into his moustache and folded his arms across his chest in a friendly manner.

- You're a brilliant scientist, everyone says so-and for good reason, I see. So..." Edward interrupted him:

- ...then you already know that I don't build weapons out of principle.

Scherbatov tried to object:

- But the Manhattan Project...?

- I try not to repeat old mistakes.

- And you won't even listen to what we're offering you? - The man tried to smile, but you could see in his eyes that the refusal made him very angry. - You'll like it, it's an interesting technical challenge.

"You sure as hell won't listen to me, and that's the only thing I ever risked my freedom for and let myself get trapped in..."

It looks like saving the Solar System will have to be delayed. If there are any sensible members of the government or power bloc in Moscow, it is definitely not in their power now.

"You have to experience what happens on the way out of the room."

- Unfortunately, no," Prayfield insisted firmly, knowing full well that he was escalating. - I'm going to have to turn you down.

- Well... - The General left the pleasantries behind. - Then you've made your own choice. I've tried to deal with you humanely, Soviet-style, but you're still as stubborn and self-righteous as you were at our last meeting. - He raised his voice: - Rakhnenko, Ivashin!

The oak doors swung open and two familiar soldiers poured into the office, immediately saluting.

- Back to his cell, for a couple of days," Shcherbatov muttered in their direction, without even looking at them. - Then to Dr Dybov. Just tell him not to be too zealous, he's not some dissident-marginal. Tell him so: if he kills a foreigner, I'll personally shoot him like a dog. My hand won't tremble.

***

- Wow, an Englishman. - A chubby bald doctor in his seventies, wearing round glasses with thick lenses, smiled good-naturedly. - Do you speak Russian? - Prayfield did not answer at once and looked around. The room he was finally led into looked sterilely clean, the top of the pale green walls had been painted with white primer, and the tiled floor glistened in the light of the laboratory lamps, but brownish-red stains could still be seen in the corners of the tiles. The smell of alcohol overpowered the persistent aroma of chemicals, some of which the scientist recognised by ear. He gazed into the kind face of the owner of the medical office, finally nodded and the latter continued cheerfully: - Well, that's fine. I love to chat during treatment. So many different people pass through my office... What have you done? - The doctor raised his hand. - Well, it doesn't matter. Most of the time, my patients are surprisingly quiet.

One of the guards (Ivashin, I think) pushed Prayfield into the centre of a room with a fold-out couch with a bunch of straps. Edward reluctantly stepped forward, the other guard pulled out a gun and made a sign to turn around. The prisoner let the handcuffs come off and rubbed his reddened wrists. His hands were almost stiff.

- Comrade Doctor," Ivashin began, "let's not do it like last time, okay? Comrade Shcherbatov's orders.

Rakhnenko seconded it:

- He asked me to tell you that-" but Dr Dybov waved his hands at the privates:

- Then it was just an accident! What are we, animals? I've been doing this job for ten years. Everything is much more humane now. - He turned to the scientist and pointed affectionately to the couch. - Sit down here, please. What's your name?

- Edward.

- Make yourself comfortable, Edward. Extend your arms... we'll need to secure them so you... don't hurt yourself. Here. - Prayfield cast a frowning glance at the approaching soldiers, threw his palms up, lay down on the improvised operating table and let the straps latch on his wrists. Rakhnenko slipped his pistol into its holster, squeezed the scientist's legs tightly so that he wouldn't kick him inadvertently, and buckled the clamps on them as well. Dybov smiled and the glasses glinted unkindly in the light of the medical lamps. - Believe me, it's absolutely safe for your health.

- What are you going to do? - asked the Englishman, in what he hoped was an unshakable voice. The sadistic doctor interlocked his fingers and answered readily:

- I have my own programme for treating people like you. Over the years of practice, I have accumulated many methods of making people a little more compliant. Relax your neck... - Dybov bent down, reached out the last strap and buckled it over the foreigner's forehead. Prayfield was completely immobilised. - Today we're just getting to know each other, so it won't be a long session, but you'll remember it for a long time, I promise. And you'll draw the right conclusions, if you're a reasonable man.

The doctor turned back to the equipment locker and pulled out a gas mask with a long black hose extending far into the interior. Prayfield 's pupils dilated.

- What's that?

- Just a mixture of oxygen to bring you back to mental clarity. - The medic with the breathing mask in his hands nodded to the enlisted men: "Straps on, secure your jaw.

- What kind of mixture, what percentage? - Edward asked anxiously as the soldiers tied him even tighter.

- All one hundred. - A gloating smile appeared on Dybov's face. He enjoyed seeing his victim realise what was about to happen to her.

- But...

- That's the point. - The "doctor" put the mask on the powerless scientist and corrected the connection point to the hose. - Relax and don't forget to breathe. - Dybov approached the equipment rack, where an oxygen cylinder stood with other gases, and slowly opened its valve. A slight hissing sound was heard. Prayfield felt his nose faintly crinkle, though there was no odour. "Undiluted O2. It is."

The professor closed his eyes and tried to inhale and exhale slowly. He has about ten minutes before his lungs fill with gas. Oxygen in its pure form is dangerous. He would need to control the pain. Immerse himself. Try to distract himself.

The doctor looked with undisguised interest at the "patient" chained to the couch, breathing the dangerous mixture. A pinch of rational compassion awoke in him.

- Would you like some music? - Dybov walked over to a new Sokol radio set in a leather carrying case. - I don't usually switch it on for my patients, but I liked you and now on Radio Mayak there should be a Shostakovich concerto with the Leningrad orchestra.....

The doctor sat down on a stool by the table, switched on the receiver, turned up the volume, and after a few moments he found the right wave. Edward heard the solemn rumblings of bass lines and the shimmer of bowed instruments. "Not exactly the most appropriate soundtrack for torture..."

Apparently it wasn't compassion.

- Breathe, breathe, it's good for you. - Dybov looked at his wristwatch and got up from his chair to walk round. - A little treatment will put your thoughts in the right direction.....

The itching in his lungs began to feel stronger.

Prayfield squeezed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate on something pleasant. He has friends. Adelie. Sparrow. Sam and Mitsuki. Back there in England. They're looking for him. They'll find him. Adélie saw him, she won't leave him. If he can get a signal on his frequency...

His chest squeezed with a sharp pain. "The air in my lungs has been completely replaced by pure gas..." - Edward noted to himself, trying to think rationally. The scientist tried to imagine that it wasn't him, bound hand and foot, lying on the torturer's couch. A slight respiratory toxicity would overload the nervous system, it would be extremely painful, but not fatal. You have to keep thinking about something other than pain, listening to music or....

Prayfield shrank back as far as the harnesses would allow and cried out softly. The soldiers in the doorway glanced round.

"It's about to go into... pain shock..."

Sweat broke out on the professor's forehead.

Dybov watched the subject's reaction with obvious interest.

- Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. - He waved his hand in the air to the beat of the symphony. - Mm, what violins!

Prayfield breathed heavily, trying to stretch out each breath of poisoned air. "It's... just... pain... just a reaction... of the brain... to receptor signals..." He wanted to punch himself in the chest, break his ribcage and pull out his heart just to rid himself of this burning and all-consuming pain spreading through his entire body as if he were being skinned alive, layer by layer, fragment by fragment. If only he could make it stop... if only he could make a different choice....

...if he'd known what that meeting would bring. And who the girl he had fallen in love with would turn out to be.

An upside-down portrait. Half-forgotten facial features. Touches left in the past. Maybe he was doing the right thing.

Could it be that their story was doomed from the start?

Prayfield 's heart stabbed.

He didn't immediately realise where the unintelligible noise was coming from.

- Well, did you feel better? - Dybov repeated the question and put his hand to his ear lobe with feigned sympathy. - What? Oh, you can't talk... now I'll help you. - An elderly, hairless man got up from his chair and strode at a brisk pace towards a tall glass cabinet with medicines. - It'll make you feel better in a way.

He returned almost immediately; in his chubby hands was a syringe with a wide needle and a translucent liquid inside. "Painkiller?"

Or is it?

- Wha...wha...wha..." Prayfield tried to rise and direct his weak gaze better, but the frontal fixator prevented him from doing so. The doctor, whose name he never asked, smiled, revealing yellowish fine teeth.

- A small injection to keep you focused and remember today's lesson. And it is very simple: never argue with the Soviet authorities. - At a nod, the prisoners piled on the prisoner's hands, which were already firmly secured with grips, the medic quickly stuck a syringe into the base of the Englishman's forearm and slowly pressed the piston. - If you fell into its millstones... then you were in for it. The KGB doesn't make mistakes.

- What... what did you inject me with..." wheezed the barely breathing Prayfield , not even feeling the otherwise painful injection.

- Thirty milligrams of sulfazine.

Dybov paused, watching with amusement the look of horror on his captive's face.

- Exactly, you got it right. - He looked at the empty syringe and placed it carefully on a table with pliers, pliers, a saw, a set of long nails and vials of disinfectant. - Three days of unbearable agony and muscle spasms.

You'll be begging to be killed.

***

...The fire was devouring from within.

Shaking.

Every muscle ached like it was being tried to be pulled out of its base over and over again.

He tried to find his footing, but he couldn't even stand up.

My hands were shaking.

The cold stone floor was floating away somewhere sideways.

An itch was creeping across her soaked skin.

"Gotta... up..."

Prayfield tried to unbend, but he couldn't. The pain in his lower back was even worse than before.

- Ar-rgh!

The old man collapsed down again and bent in half. Everything went black in his eyes.

Pain.
Unbearable pain in every atom of the body.

In every movement.

In every shiver.

Pain multiplies pain.

The meaning of life is pain.

PAIN

Pain.

Huge

Sticky.

...

***

...Has she ever truly loved? (GASPS)

Was it real? (pain)

I... I was young... naive... she was a few years older... how old was she...? Twenty... twenty-six... yes. I didn't know who she was. But when I found out...did it make a difference...? No... and that's the worst part.

(pain)

"Inhale... exhale... air and memories..."

I loved her. I loved her truly, with all my heart, like no one else before or since. She made me feel alive, real, whole. She was one in a million. Sophisticated, intelligent, elegant, self-aware, strong on her feet and able to stand up for herself. She was secretive and trustworthy at the same time, if only to melt the ice and arouse genuine interest. Sometimes I wished we'd met under these circumstances-and that we'd met sooner. Our love... was whimsical, passionate, mutual, and crushing. Or was that what I wanted to believe?

People from two different worlds who turned out to be enemies, but allowed a feeling to arise again and change them for the better for each other...

Could such a love even be real?

***

...and the pain...

...has she grown weaker?

Prayfield tried to stretch out his stiff arms and touch the nearest foot of the bed bolted to the floor. Sparks of tension and weakness flashed in his eyes, and his stomach churned with even more acute hunger and thirst. But my senses were not wrong: the pain was less paralysing.

"We should try to get up on the bed..."

How much time did he spend in a feverish delirium...?

Edward crawled (there was no other way to put it) to the far edge of the couch, grasped the metal side of the couch, lifted his stiff body, and on the fourth attempt, threw himself onto the yellowed and foul-smelling mattress. The sudden effort caused a new pain throughout his body, unexpected in its magnitude. The scientist felt so bad that he felt himself losing consciousness again.

***

- ...

"What is it...?"

Edward tried to turn around, but couldn't. There was enveloping darkness and occasional flashes of light at the edges of his field of vision. The scientist listened - and was finally able to make out individual sounds. It was a woman's voice, echoing repeatedly:

- Ed'ward...

- Lina-" Prayfield turned in the direction of the sound. The invisible entity responded immediately:

- Yes, darling?

Still the same gentle timbre and slight German accent.....

- I missed you and your voice.

- And I missed you, mein liebe.

If she had lips, she'd be smiling right now.

The scientist sighed a lungful of breath that wasn't there.

- I'm sorry I didn't remember. I... it hurt.

- I see, it's all right. - He could almost feel the touch on his arm, the breath and the weight of her curls against his cheek. - I'm always here whenever you need me.

This could be the end. Pre-mortem hallucinations of a brain overloaded with oxygen poisoning.

- I think we're about to meet.

- Aren't we already together? - Prayfield could almost see Adelheim furrow her elegantly emphasised eyebrows. - What kind of nonsense is that?

- I'm ready to surrender.

- That's not true, you never gave up.

Edward almost sighed.

- Things used to be simpler.

- It's never been easier," the imaginary Evangeline, whose silhouette was becoming more distinct, argued fervently. - You were younger... and we had each other.

- I still blame myself.

- No need, darling... it's not your fault. It just happened.

- If only I could...

- You couldn't. Let it go. - The girl stepped into the light out of the darkness, and Edward saw her face for the first time, woven from the flowing haze. - I'll always be here for you.

- But you're in my head. It's n-not real.

The German woman, who would always be thirty-six, machine-adjusted the buttons of her snow-white blouse and folded her arms across her chest.

- Who cares if it was real? I'm just as you remember me. What I was to you. I loved you and you loved me.

- So it is," Prayfield looked sadly at her affectionate smile and reached out to touch the ephemeral figure. - I still love you, and I can't think of anyone else, even though twenty years have passed.

- You see? Our love was real. - The girl took his hand in hers and stroked his knuckles. The old scientist felt tears running down his cheeks. - Now let me go, darling. We will meet again. - Adelheim looked her lover in the eyes and he felt that his fingers no longer held anything. - I will always be here, in your memory.

- Thank you for forgiving me, Lina," Edward said as he watched the figure slowly disintegrate into a trickle of smoke that flickered in the light.

- I never held a grudge against you. - Evangeline waved her hand in the direction of the burgeoning tunnel of light behind the scientist. - Now go, your journey is not yet over. Show me that you still have something to surprise me.

***

The loud rattling of the door bolts, the flicker of light, and approaching voices roused the prisoner from his slumber. He turned his head with difficulty, and the movement made his whole body ache. How long had he been unconscious...?

The scientist tried to move his arm and not without difficulty, but he managed it. "At any rate, the effect of the sulphasin is over..."

A loud speech was heard outside the door.

- What's he doing out there, recovering? - Prayfield 's ears strained to hear.

- I don't know, I can't see it yet.

- Leave him some food, we'll starve him some more...

The weakened prisoner grunted as he tried to sit up on the bed and the jailers opened the cell door.

- Well, comrade foreigner," Rakhnenko asked in the doorway with a sneer, "have you got your brains back in place? Or should I repeat it?

- No, no..." the Englishman groaned and pressed himself against the cold wall, thankful that in his current state he didn't have to overplay his hand too much.

- I thought he'd be stronger," Ivashin said sympathetically and set the tray of grub on the floor. Edward looked greedily at the food, but made an effort to keep his voice as calm and cool as he could, despite the shivering and residual stiffness in his body:

- Tell Comrade Scherbatov I got him. No need for force.

I'm ready to work for the Soviet Union.

***

- So, what exactly is your project?

Prayfield , who had finally been given a cleaner uniform and even his glasses back, leaned on the surface of the conference table in the KGB general's office and glared at his master. Shcherbatov nodded with his arms folded across his chest.

- Let Professor Bykov tell you.

A short man with round glasses and a narrow beard stepped into the circle of light.

- Nine years ago, we launched the first artificial satellite," the young scientist began from afar, casting an incredulous glance at the foreigner. - Since then, space has developed a lot, both in our country and... in the West. Right now, the Americans are preparing to land on the Moon, and we are unlikely to get ahead of them, even though we are trying hard. The Party gave an order to two design bureaus to deliver Gagarin and Leonov with Komarov to the Ocean of Storms to the Copernicus Crater, but co-operation has turned into competition and... it seems that some of the problems cannot be solved in time.

Edward squeezed the tabletop with still aching fingers and squinted:

- Are you working on the Soviet lunar programme?

- Worked. I was designing space communication systems until I got caught listening to Radio Liberty. I almost lost my party ticket, there was a scandal up to Moscow.

- It must be difficult.

The Soviet scientist nodded gratefully and opened his mouth to reply, but the general interrupted him:

- The party gave him a second chance, just like you. - Leonid touched the pistol in his holster and looked round at the few people present. - You'll all be heroes if you finish the project and prove it works.

The shrunken engineers and scientists lowered their heads further and silently glanced among themselves. Prayfield did not give in to the pressure.

- And what is its essence? - he asked, without taking his eyes off Shcherbatov. The latter couldn't stand it and took a few steps towards the portrait of Lenin above the leather armchair by his desk.

- Vitaly Petrovich?

Bykov sighed, straightened his moustache and continued:

- Imagine Sputnik 1, but ten times more massive. Equipped with its own manoeuvring engine, high-precision radio direction finding and a three-degree-of-freedom rotary mechanism. And add to it the most sensitive camera ever, coupled to a radar mechanism.

- Radar can pierce through clouds--" Prayfield looked at him with understanding. - Are you talking about a spy satellite?

- Exactly...

- But not only that," Shcherbatov muttered for his part. Vitaly pretended to ignore the remark.

- Imagine an eye in the sky," continued the man of science, "that can independently reach any point within its orbit and even change it on command from Earth. It would be able to see the most closely guarded secret, the location of any troops, map any position.

- It is possible to make the most accurate map of the Earth by taking out a whole cohort of such satellites... to map the seafloor and tectonic shelves.....

- Always you and your pacifist trifles, Ed. - Leonid slapped the table. - We are the most peaceful country on the globe, - but if you want lasting peace, you have to make your enemies afraid at the mere thought of seeing you on the battlefield.

- So that's the kind of project you want to do. - The Englishman rose slowly and adjusted his glasses. - You want to put a weapon into orbit.

- And not just any weapon, Comrade Prayfield ," Bykov replied. - We have almost completed the development of a hyperboloid-type energy light installation capable of focusing an artificial beam on any point of the planet's surface, taking into account the thickness of the atmosphere and the level of air pollution, in other words....

- I've heard that acronym before in America. In English, it sounds like 'Radiant...'" - Edward rubbed the unfamiliar stubble on his shaved chin, trying to remember. - "...accretion of the mirror-electron kind." You created a laser.

Vitali smiled flatteringly and acknowledged:

- Tiny in size and we have yet to scale it, but yes, dear colleague, you are quite right.

- And you want to put it into space," Prayfield continued to elaborate discreetly, carefully controlling his voice and facial expression, "to be able to point it at any city on Earth.

The mustachioed general shook his head and folded his hands in front of him.

- Nuclear weapons are too destructive to be used in practice, all the major countries of the opposing blocs agree on that. Another thing...

- An orbital ray weapon of colossal power," the English professor finished for him; "something that could burn a city to the ground and would be higher than the flight of any ship's rocket....

- Any objections, Comrade Preifeld?

- Just one thing.

Shcherbatov cast a frowning glance first at the service phone with his personal telephonist in epaulettes on the connection, then at Edward. "Just one wrong word..."

It was as if Prayfield had read his thoughts and gave him a businesslike smile, which after a second became quite interested and sincere.

- The system won't work with that kind of power consumption," the important prisoner explained and pushed the roughly folded sheets of paper away from him. - The heating of the insulating boards would create a vibration pulse and could cause the spacecraft to spin uncontrollably and go out of orbit.

The engineers and technicians looked at each other anxiously. Bykov grabbed the blueprints and ran his eyes over them, trying to find the oversight pointed out by the foreigner.

The General grinned and folded his arms contentedly.

Prayfield straightened with a slight ache in his back and adjusted his glasses with poorly obeying hands:

- This problem can be easily avoided by improving heat dissipation and modifying the power supply circuitry. Give me detailed drawings and let's get started.

CHAPTER 11

The journey was a long one.

Although it would be more accurate to call it a phase.

First, the scientist was taken under escort from Moscow to Pokrov for investigation, then he was put on a special train to Vladimir, from there he was taken to Gorky, and from Gorky he was finally taken to Kazan. He was assigned a room on the top floor of an old pre-revolutionary dormitory: with shabby walls, no electrical wiring and no sewage system, but with armed guards at the exit and around the perimeter of the entire complex of the special prison at the aircraft factory.

At the entrance to a massive low building connected to several smaller blocks, a familiar face was already waiting for the Englishman.

- Welcome to OKB-16," Bykov extended his hand. - How was your journey?

Prayfield laughed and licked his lips, searching for the right words in Russian:

- With all... conveniences of Soviet justice. In Pokrov they gave twenty years of forced labour for failing to fulfil a state order the previous time.

Vitali's eyes rounded.

- Oh, I sympathise... they gave me six.

Edward squinted his eyes.

- To Freedom?
- To Liberty.

- Well... - the Oxford professor glanced at the machine gunners on the tower not far from the half-abandoned helipad and turned to the entrance to the main block of the closed science campus for the unwanted authorities. "Impregnable, but not hopeless."-We both have plenty of time, but let's use it wisely.

- I agree, comrade.

***

- All right, tighten it up here.

Prayfield straightened up, wiped the sweat from his face, and smoothed his noticeably overgrown hair.

- Let's check again!

Bykov nodded, ran away from the assembly table to the far wall and lowered a hanging target with clear circular graduations.

- I can! - shouted the Soviet scientist, darted to the side and pulled on his safety goggles.

Edward shook his head, leaned over to look through the improvised scope, and pushed down on the handles of the rotating mechanism. The stops prevented him from moving too far off target, but he didn't need to: the captive professor pointed the bulky device at the sheet of metal, fastened the mounting bolts, and signalled, "Fire!"

The intern at his desk jerked the switch in a bored motion, put on the tinted rubber-band lenses in turn, and turned the power switch. There was a rhythmic crackling and a growing noise that turned to a ringing. Vitaly covered his eyes with his hands.

A short blinding flash burst from a short cylinder with a series of seemingly opaque lenses, but disappeared immediately. The trainee raised the switch to its original position, and Bykov lifted his goggles and peered myopically: there was a small melted hole in the metal sheet of the target, with metal still dripping from the edges, glowing from the instantaneous heat. The noise of the cooling systems faded, and the air smelled of ozone.

- Wonderful, just wonderful," Bykov noted and turned to Prayfield .

- Cooling is working as designed," he confirmed with satisfaction as he removed his rubber gloves. - Kinetic isolation is minimised, light efficiency... ten per cent higher than last time, but I think we can make it twelve.

- And that's just the prototype, huh? - a visibly impressed placement student raised his voice.

- Exactly," the head of the science and technology team nodded, looked at Edward, who was leaning over to look at the machine's navigation boards again, and continued: - It took us almost a month to finalise it, but now it's ready for the next stage.

- In the real machine, - finally thoughtfully gave voice to Prayfield , - there will be twelve such emitters with a capacity of 200 terawatts and all of them will work synchronously on a signal from the Earth, focusing the beam in one point ...

- I don't envy anyone who gets in his way," he said, examining the ashy mark on the metal wall behind the pierced target.

- That's the point," the older Englishman winked slyly at him when someone called his name:

- Mr Prayfield ?

- Y-yes? - Turned round at the professor's familiar pronunciation.

Standing in the doorway of the testing room was a short middle-aged man in plain clothes with close-set sad eyes.

- Can I have a word? - he asked with a noticeable accent.

- Of course.

Edward smelt his lab coat and walked out of the room. The stranger beckoned him round the corner of the corridor to a large barred window opposite a wall with a large sheet of newspaper with columns of low-key, fierce motivational texts, and finally asked quietly in plain English:

- I've been watching you for a long time and, to be honest, I couldn't believe it when I heard you were here. My name is Christian Higginson, a journalist with the BBC.

- So it was you everyone wrote about," the scientist furrowed his brow and turned round. Two sentries with old Shpagin submachine guns were bored at the door to the administrative block.

The columnist sighed.

- Yes, I was detained in Moscow for an interview with Khrushchev, who had fallen into disgrace in the Kremlin and was completely isolated from the world," Higginson rubbed his aching back and leaned against the wall. - Accused of espionage and held for three months in Lefortovo to be exchanged for someone, but something changed and....

One of the soldiers suddenly called out to them in Russian:

- You Yankees! No foreigners!

- Just a few words! It's a friend!" Christian shouted to them in the same language. The private shook his fist at them:

- Look at me!

- Do you really work for them? - continued even more quietly in English and shook his head in the direction of the propaganda slogan "Labour for the benefit of Soviet science: let's catch up and overtake the countries of the capitalist West!" under the ceiling.

- Doing what I'm good at with what I have on hand," Prayfield replied vaguely, studying his new acquaintance. He had no reason to trust strangers, especially here. A foreigner talking to another foreigner to incite him to do something illegal.... Shcherbatov might well have let down such an order from Moscow.

- That doesn't sound like you," the journalist meanwhile shook his head. - The Prayfield I've heard of would have fought to the end.

- I've been told that too often lately," the scientist shook his head, inspecting the prototype beam launcher for the satellite from afar; next to him, one of his new colleagues bellowed loudly and asked if anyone had seen parts of the backup combustion chamber for the redundant manoeuvring systems. - People change.

Higginson disagreed.

- People break, but you must have been hard to break. What's on your mind?

- A job with full commitment. - Edward looked Christian in the eye with challenge. - What about you?

The world-class journalist grinned.

- Articles about the exploits of collective farmers and being ahead of the five-year plan. - Christian pulled himself together and continued seriously: "You don't believe me. Well, if you decide to run away from here.....

The professor had no time to be surprised when one of the soldiers under the slogan called out to them again, this time in a more threatening tone:

- So, foreigners...

The Englishman's interlocutor raised his hands peacefully and replied in Russian:

- That's it, we're leaving now.

The unexpected ally (or provocateur) cast a meaningful glance at Prayfield , whispered, "Leave a sign on the wall paper by my name, if you dare," and strode away, planting his right foot.

- What were you talking about? - A private approached and poked the remaining scientist aggressively with his weapon.

- About... running," found Prayfield , looking thoughtfully after his new acquaintance. - About running, morning runs in the cold. Gotta keep in shape.

***

It was snowing.

The spruce trees moved quietly in the wind.

The frost in the paper-taped windows glistened in the moonlight.

The burning wood creaked in the hob stove.

The man in the den was tossing and turning restlessly under the thin blanket. But it was not only the cold of the approaching winter that worried him. And not the highly questionable ethics of working for a totalitarian system at gunpoint.

He wasn't going to sabotage. If he took the job, he would do it honestly and see it through. The satellite would be finished on time and a fully functional orbital weapon would be deployed in orbit.

Prayfield smiled.

"The other thing is what happens after that..."

But for his plan to work, he needed one small condition: to finally get out into the open.

"Armed to the teeth guards... the very centre of the Soviet Union... impenetrable borders..." All of this may be much more complicated than it appears at first glance.

Especially for a loner.

Even with what was lurking under his bed in the corner, covered by an old shawl, and causing him to cut his sleeping time down to three or four hours just before dawn.

Edward yawned tiredly, adjusted the thin pillow, and rolled onto his side with a grunt. He was still a little sore from the chemical poisoning.

"If the plan fails..."

But it's best not to even think about it. He's tired of dying.

"Let's pretend this works out... what do we need to do to strengthen the chances of success?"

You may have to take a chance on unexpected help.

And find out if he has any allies even closer.

***

- Almost done.

Bykov connected the last unconnected wires, carefully soldered them, wrapped them tightly with duct tape, insulated them with a layer of foil in case of depressurisation and finally closed the metal lid of the housing part.

- The backup communication system is ready. The Oktyabr-17 satellite will be able to go for the last stress tests very soon.

- Good work, Vitaly. - Edward put the drawings aside and patted his mate on the shoulder. - So, the final check and launch is coming up soon?

- Exactly. We made it, - and you are incredibly useful to us, my overseas friend. - The short scientist smiled tiredly. - I don't know if we could have completed the parabolic emitter system without your help.....

Prayfield shrugged and meticulously inspected the nearly assembled one and a half metre long rectangular shaped mechanism with small manoeuvring engines on each side, movable mounts for the solar panels, a bunch of antennas and a large slot for the rotating laser cannon that lay disassembled nearby for last minute adjustments.

- Well, to tell you the truth, you'd already done most of the work by the time I arrived. - The Englishman turned the page of small calculations face down. - You deserve all the credit.

- Don't be pampered," Bykov laughed and hugged Prayfield in return. - If it were not for you, the device would not have survived the first shot. Now it is absolutely functional, no one else has such a device.

- That's all true, but..." Edward leaned over, took his companion's hand, took him a few steps away, and whispered. - What's next?

One of the trainee assistants at the disassembled cannon cast a quick glance at the scientists.

- Further? - Vitaly asked again, looking round and adjusting his glasses. His interlocutor's tone took him by surprise. - We gave the Soviet Union military superiority in space. They won't forget that.

- I see, but..." Prayfield sighed, searching for the right words, and lowered his voice some more. - Are you sure they'll let us out of this complex?

Bykov looked at one point, his gaze changed. The Oxford professor realised that he had hit the right spot.

- That's a good question..." he finally answered in a different voice. - Probably not.

Prayfield continued cautiously:

- Are you... how can I put this more gently... comfortable with that?

One of the trainees at the assembly table asked his neighbour if he had seen the clock mechanism for the relay. He shrugged his shoulders and remarked that he was missing a couple of wires in turn.

Vitaly hunched helplessly and slumped his shoulders.

- I have a family in Moscow. A flat, a car. - The disgraced engineer wiped his bald spot with a shaking palm. - They made me realise that if I played by the rules, they wouldn't take away the last thing they had left. And one day I would be able to see them.

Prayfield nodded thoughtfully. He didn't want to set his partner up.

- I see... well...

- Don't you have a family, Eduard Grigorievich? - Bykov suddenly looked up and asked.

This question stumped the foreigner himself. Prayfield hesitated for a moment. "Adélie... Alexei..... the boys.

And the fate of an entire Solar System that will be doomed in the next few years if I don't get out of here."

- I... have. - The scientist lifted his dark glasses and wiped his moistened eyes. - Yes, I do. They stayed in London. And they need me.

Bykov smiled weakly.

- Then... what are you doing here?

Prayfield squinted at him and gave him a grateful look. He didn't need words to understand between the lines: he hadn't met an active partner willing to take risks for freedom, but he had gained an ally who wouldn't give him up to the system.

- As you said, that's a good question. - The tall Briton straightened up, lowered his glasses, rubbed his hands together and nodded at the assembly table: "Now we need to get back to assembly and stress tests. The work must be flawless.

***

At the end of the working day, Prayfield was the last in a line of escorted scientists to leave. He lingered at a wall with a huge printed canvas with the inscription "The labour of the Soviet man will liberate the whole world!". The guard who followed him poked the professor with an automatic rifle:

- What are you doing up, Grandpa?

- I want to read a bit," Edward replied, reading a column about the successes of agronomists in the Stavropol region.

- That's good, that's right. - The shaven-haired private hummed satisfactorily and headed for the exit of the complex.

The inventor waited until the soldier was out of sight and pulled a pencil out of his sleeve. Then he found the small-printed line "Christian Higginson, Komsomolskaya Pravda" and put a small cross next to it.

- It's decided," he pronounced to himself.

This is his last month at JCS-16.

***

- So, what's the plan?

Prayfield stirred his spoon in a bowl of watery soup and replied without turning round. - It's very simple. It'll take me a couple of weeks, and then we'll be out of here.

Higginson at the long table next door turned round concernedly.

- Is there anything I can do to help? - he asked quietly.

- Not at the moment," Edward answered evasively, scratching the grey stubble on his chin, "but I'll need a second set of hands when it's ready. Though...

The scientist was surprised to see at a separate table of richer decoration among the management of the scientific-prison complex a smiling doctor with sadistic tendencies already familiar from Moscow.

- Do you know this man? - Prayfield nodded at Dybov, who was laughingly telling the chief of the colony something.

- "Dr Aibolit?" - Christian cast a glance behind his shoulder and shuddered. - Of course, everyone who had been through Lubyanka knew him.

- What's he doing here? - The Englishman squinted, trying to incorporate the new element into his equation. The arrival of the capital's tormentor created a dangerous uncertainty that could be used to his advantage.

A group of Russian scientists at a neighbouring table were animatedly trying to figure out why there were constantly missing parts and whether one of them was stealing them. In the course of the argument, they agreed that this hypothesis was unlikely to be true, but that superiors should not know about the problem because of the principle of collective responsibility.

The journalist thought for a moment.

- I could be wrong, but the Bulletin's editorial office said he was seconded to Kazan from Moscow to follow the launch of your rocket in January...

- It's an act of intimidation. - Edward pressed his lips together satisfactorily. The puzzle was coming together.

- Exactly.

- Well, a slight change of plans then. - The professor shifted his eyebrows and smiled. - I've just had an idea of how to get the good doctor to help us with our plan.

***

The next day, the journalist and the scientist ran into each other quite by chance to an outsider's eye in the empty prison library.

- Did it work? - said Prayfield , studying the volumes of Marx and Engels.

- Yes, I got into his office. - Higginson looked pale as he pulled several vials of clear liquid and small paper labels from his pocket with a trembling, skinny hand. - You needed this, am I mistaken?

Edward accepted the glass vials gently and confirmed:

- That's right, thank you.

- What's that?

On the labels was written in handwriting too neat for a doctor: "Sulfazine".

- A little hello to Dr Dybov and the whole of punitive psychiatry.

- Something dangerous?

A soldier walking outside past the entrance cast a glance at the bantering foreigners. Prayfield shoved Higginson and let out a chuckle.

- What a joker you are! - exclaimed the scientist loudly and in Russian. - What do you mean, Ian Fleming?

The journalist smiled awkwardly.

The soldier continued his rounds with an irritated step. Prayfield removed the fake smile and replied grimly:

- Dangerous only to those who would try to stop us. - The scientist glanced at his watch, estimating the time. "Should be able to manage..." - Tomorrow is Saturday, the last day of work. Security will be less attentive than usual. This is our chance.

- Where shall we meet?

- Five forty around the corner by the bust of Lenin. I'll give you something and say...

- ...what to do about it?

The next day, in the shadow of the pedestal, Christian was already holding a strange object, seemingly assembled from junk parts, with a greenish bubbly liquid inside.

Prayfield adjusted his heavy rucksack of coarse, hand-woven cloth and cast a glance at the homemade hand watch - also, Higginson thought, made from what he'd managed to get from the lab. "Impressive adaptation and ingenuity," he remarked to himself.

Meanwhile, the scientist pulled out two more similar items and held them out to the BBC columnist.

- Take some to spare, but don't use them all," the elderly inventor instructed his partner in a businesslike manner. - When you are at the place, turn it against the arrow at the appointed hour and throw it under the sentries' feet. The pressurised ampoule inside will shatter and release the nerve gas.

The young Englishman rounded his eyes anxiously:

- Neurotoxin? Where did you get it?

Prayfield let out a short chuckle:

- Synthesised it in Bykov's moonshine machine using the chemicals you got. It's completely harmless, but it'll cause a lot of trouble.

- Well, great... - Christian carefully tucked the small polygonal capsules into his pocket. - What's next?

Edward held out to him a flat triangular object with a rounded thickening in the middle and sticky suction cups on the underside.

- Put this on the door of the head's office at six fifteen sharp, press the button and run away immediately. I, for my part, will do the same. The vibration bombs will create explosive plan wave vibrations directed towards the attachment surface; they will go off simultaneously in three minutes and give us some time. And don't forget your gas mask; it will help keep you in high spirits.

"Impressive preparation!"

- Where will we meet? - Higginson asked aloud, mentally calculating whether three minutes would be enough time for him to get a safe distance away from the leg he had injured during KGB interrogations.

- At the north wall opposite the forest," the grey-haired scientist shook his head and adjusted his rucksack again, something jingling in it. - I have some things to finish, but we'll have everything we need by the time we get there. By the way, you can ski, can't you?

The journalist was stumped by the question for a second.

- Used to ski in the Alps and quite well.

- Then I hope it's not too difficult for you to master what I've prepared for us, and that you're not allergic to speeds in excess of a hundred kilometres per hour.

***

Higginson looked at the big clock on the wall. Five twelve. "Gotta hurry..."

The journalist peered round the corner. At the door, the sentries were shuffling from foot to foot in boredom. "Must be the last shift. Well..."

Christian reached for his shoulder bag, but there were footsteps approaching in the corridor.

- Shit...

The Englishman had barely had time to press himself against a ledge in the wall when a couple of soldiers from the new changing of the guard walked past him.

- You've been delayed..." one of the men at the door to the office with the only telephone in the complex said.

- A gun disappeared from the armoury. - one of the men came in. Who stole it?

- Talking in the ranks! - The second member of the squad shushed him.

- Hurry up, hurry up," the soldier hurried them up, handing over his weapon, "or the shift trolleybus is about to leave....

Higginson realised that the moment could not get any better. He snatched an angular object from his bag, turned the handle from the gas cooker on top of the case as far as it would go, swung it around, tossed it toward the soldiers, and hurried around the corner.

- What the...

One of the guards cocked the bolt and pointed his machine gun in the direction of the intruder; the other took a closer look at the rolling object and belatedly shouted:

- Whoa, a grenade!

But it was too late: the ticking sound from inside the makeshift capsule was replaced by the cracking of glass, and bluish-coloured smoke billowed thickly from the bottom. Christian covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve and saw with a hint of sympathy how the military men coughed, dropped their weapons and groaned as they sank to the floor, writhing in growing pain. "At least there's no one to contact the outside world for the next half hour...," the sabotage journalist thought, pulled on a breathing mask and walked around the cloud of toxic gas drifting across the floor with the disarmed men inside. Higginson pulled a homemade vacuum-type explosive device from his shoulder bag, secured it to the door, making sure it wouldn't fall off, and pressed the delayed detonator at the top of the device. The soft ticking of a clockwork mechanism was heard. "The nerve grenades worked - hopefully the vibration bomb will work as well..."

The young Englishman looked round warily and ran slowly away, limping on his right foot.

***

Prayfield , meanwhile, was already outside, in the shadow of one of the observation towers. He picked up the gas mask that had come in handy a moment ago, put the makeshift rucksack on the snow, pulled out the last of the few remaining nerve bombs, and cocked its mechanism twice clockwise. A quiet chime sounded and Edward carefully placed the item in front of him in case it was discovered. "Which is unlikely..."

There was still time. His partner would show up soon, and together they could finally get out of this place. Of course, he could have gotten out of here sooner if he'd wanted to, but he had reasons to stay. Besides, he just needed a second set of hands for this plan. Except...

Suddenly there was a short shout.

- Hey, you there...wow!

Prayfield turned round sharply at the sound and snatched from the pocket of his thin coat an oblong tube with a handle covered with wires and flickering lamps. On the snow-covered path before him stood the bald Moscow doctor, squinting myopically in the encroaching January darkness.

- Not a step back and not a sound, Dybov. - The scientist threatened, pointing his makeshift weapon at him. The capital's sadist readily threw up his hands and took a closer look.

- Who do I see? Edward... Prayfield , right? - The glasses-less medic grinned and lowered his palms slightly. - I'm sorry my therapy didn't work for you. This misguided course of Western humanism... There is no progress without sacrifice, and you, as a scientist, should understand me.

The Englishman grinned and lowered the barrel of a weapon of unknown action assembled from defective parts.

- If you seriously consider yourself a scientist, you are not only a sicko, but also an idiot.

Dybov didn't consider the irony and parried:

- It's funny to hear you say that. - Bykov took a few steps forward and said threateningly: - I am the doctor here. And the authority, too.

- You're wrong," Edward turned away from the non-threatening man and put on the lighter rucksack. - I am my own authority.

Dybov was ticked off by that.

- Do you think you can escape from here? There's miles of forests and swamps. And things that will kill you faster than a Russian winter. - The bald man looked back at the watchtowers with their searchlights and lazy sentries. - Soviet army. If I make a noise, there'll be hundreds of soldiers here.

It was hard to argue with that. Prayfield cast an appraising glance at the object in the snow beside him and turned nonchalantly to the man who had tortured him months ago.

- Then why are you stalling for time...? - asked the fugitive professor. Dybov looked at him with the gaze of a soulless researcher assessing the reactions of a test subject to stimuli.

- I'm wondering how insane you are in your...liberal fantasies that have led you down a dead end. What's your next move?

Edward grinned.

- Extremely simple, in your spirit.

The scientist lifted the capsule from the snowdrift in one swift movement, pressed the button at the top, and threw it at the doctor's feet. He jerked sideways, but he judged the distance to the Englishman, who remained in his seat, and realised that he was not looking at an explosive device.

- That's it? I'm supposed to be intimidated by this trifle? - The torturer let out a short chuckle and raised his eyes to his younger opponent. - 'Don't flatter yourself, Prayfield . I realise who you are.

Edward glanced at the device that hadn't worked and glanced dumbly at the doctor, with whom the odds were now evenly matched. Dybov shoved the metal capsule aside and folded his arms across his chest.

- You're an old-fashioned loser," he began in a hoarse voice, dropping the pretence of courtesy, and stepped close to the scientist. - A man of another age, trying to find his place in a world that has moved on. You have no future, but we do. And we are building it here. - The doctor circled the walls of the closed town with barbed wire, where dozens of minds were working on a project that boggles the imagination. - The future lies in an iron hand and order, where all are equal and everyone is rewarded according to their contribution and ability. Democracy is chaos and anarchy, let's face it. And you... you're in a foreign country, in indefinite detention and all alone.

- That's not true," a new voice suddenly sounded behind them.

Prayfield and Dybov turned around almost simultaneously.

- A free man is never alone," a flushed Bykov said weightily, holding his Makarov pistol and lowering it.

Edward glanced at Dybov and pushed him off him and into the snow; he awkwardly spread his arms and collapsed not far from the still silently ticking capsule, its glass container bubbling with a vaguely familiar liquid.

- Oh shit...

Dybov tried to rise out of the snowdrift, but he didn't have time; Prayfield gave Bykov a short nod and jumped aside. The design engineer squinted his eye and pulled the trigger.

The bullet shattered the metal casing of the device and shattered the transparent bulb, from which spattered fragments and clouds of low-flowing blue smoke under pressure. Dybov tried to close himself off from it, but the substance had already entered his lungs; he coughed and started beating his chest, but it didn't help. He felt a sharp pain appear on the walls of his lungs and went in increasing waves throughout his nervous system.

- Thank you, good friend. - Edward straightened up quickly and patted Vitaly on the shoulder. He nodded modestly, looked at the smoking gun, and with a trembling hand tossed it into the snowy bushes.

- I was in his office, too.

Prayfield nodded understandingly, and both men watched in silence as the cloud of bluish smoke slowly dissipated in the wind, leaving an elderly man writhing on the ground, beginning to be covered with snow. The effects of the synthesised volatile chemical would be long-lasting and no less excruciating than its intravenous bases.

The sound of a spotlight being switched on was heard and someone shouted: "Who fired? Call out!"

A torch beam almost caught them out of the darkness, but just at that moment several explosions sounded and windows were blown out on the ground floor of the main building.

- Oh...

The searchlights aimed chaotically at the source of the sound, where the alarmed soldiers rushed in, and Prayfield grabbed the bewildered Bykov and led him under the nearest tower platform, overgrown with shrubbery where the light of the torches disturbed by the noise could not reach him.

- Is this your work? - The engineer asked dazedly, nodding toward the cracked façade of the building. Prayfield nodded proudly:

- They won't immediately realise what's happened.

- And what happens now? - my partner asked. - What's the plan?

The Englishman smiled, placed - this time without obstruction - the ramshackle rucksack on the ground and finally pulled out the main contents:

- Let's wait for the third member of the team and see how much power these torches have.

***

A flushed Higginson crouched down to catch his breath, only now noticing the KGB medic's body twitching.

- ...Wow, I missed a lot of things.....

Edward waved his hand without looking.

- They'll find him in fifteen to twenty minutes, he won't have time to die of hypothermia.

- But if he dies, it's nothing terrible," Vitaly put in complacently.

Christian shuddered at the memories shared with those present and, after briefly thinking, nodded:

- I'd have to agree with that. What do we do next?

- It's a good thing there are three of us," Prayfield finally rose and held out one of two weighty objects with a row of semicircular spheres of dark glass at one end. - Christian, take it.

- What's that?

- Part of the optical focusing system. - The scientist checked the wires leading from the devices and made a leisurely gesture toward several poles on tripods that ended in a series of hoops with lenses of varying diameters. - Point it this way.

- You didn't take it from a satellite, did you? - The journalist asked incredulously, almost staggering under the weight of the apparatus.

- With redundant systems, you won't need them anyway. Vitaly, take your piece.....

- It looks threatening enough," Bykov said thoughtfully.

- It is," confirmed Prayfield , wagging his finger; "don't even dare look inside or point at anything living.

- You want to... gather the two beams at one point and amplify them...?

The professor smiled, looked through the glass to make sure the angle was accurate, and corrected the last link.

- Exactly, Christian. The light will heat the concrete to a gaseous state and allow us to collapse part of the wall to get out. But we'll have to hurry: the batteries will only last a minute, so aim straight and don't let the beam slip...

Suddenly there was the sound of rattling sirens and a tense voice from the loudspeakers announced: "Attention, all sentries, increase vigilance, escape from the fourth corps, two wounded! I repeat, increase vigilance, if you find fugitives, shoot to kill!"

- It took them a long time to get their act together," Prayfield said as he thought of a new escape plan.

- But we're still one step ahead. - Vitaly handed the elderly Englishman his part of the mechanism. - Here you go, Eduard.

- You're not coming with us?

Bykov shook his head.

- You'll have a better chance if I distract them.

- They'll be all over you. - The Oxford tutor looked worriedly at the man who had risked so much for a stranger on mere instinct, without even knowing the details of his motives.

- It can't get any worse," the older technician sighed and smiled encouragingly. - I want to do something good and finally stop being afraid.

- Thanks for your help, mate. - Prayfield respectfully extended his palm for a handshake. - I hope to see you again.

- Perhaps one day... - Bykov shook the professor's hand and wrapped up his thin coat. - I learnt a lot from you.

- And I'm at yours. - Edward patted his new friend on the shoulder gratefully and added, "Godspeed!

- Vitaly turned round, took a few steps, returned to the path and accelerated his step, gesticulating vigorously in the direction of the movement. - That way! - Bykov shouted; several searchlights were immediately aimed at him. - They ran that way!...

Prayfield gave his mate a long look, turned to the silently frozen Higgins with his part of the laser cannon in his hands and nodded towards the concrete wall:

- Well, here we go.

***

A faintly glowing beam in clouds of hissing steam from vaporised snowflakes melted the concrete, joining in a series of lenses of two invisible streams of energy from their devices, fuelled by a single battery that was already beginning to run out.

- Come on, just a little more..." Edward whispered, holding the generator of high-frequency light as steady as he could. Christian could feel the sweat on his face and the tension in his arms, but it was a joint endeavour that had to be completed. He could not see the point of the effort - the base of the supporting column was hidden behind a cloud of vapour and a bubbling puddle of stretching snow - but the swaying wall made it clear that the integrity of the structure was compromised and it would fall very soon. "If the battery doesn't go down..."

- We'll make it before the blackout, won't we? - Higginson asked in a low voice.

- Ten seconds," Prayfield interrupted him in a tone of defiance. The journalist nodded and kept his attention.

A cracking sound came from the base of the concrete wall, and the column tilted inward even more. The power supply emitted a low sound and smoke, and Christian realised from the fading glow inside the pipes that the lithium battery was completely dead. But Edward wasn't deterred in the slightest. The scientist tossed his part of the ray gun into the snow and meticulously inspected the shrivelled masonry.

- Yes. The calculations were accurate. We made it.

With a careless gesture, the elderly Englishman piled up the lenses on the tripods, threw them into the bushes next to the empty battery, walked over to the almost empty rucksack and emptied it completely. Two small backpacks, four rounded hemispheres with long hoses and holes inside, and a pile of metal strips fell out of the bag, which the inventor began to connect to each other.

- And this-" Higginson raised a finger, but Edward beat him to it:

- Right, the last point of our plan: jet skis powered by liquid hydrogen. - The scientist fixed all the parts, checked the reliability of the fastenings, handed a pair of metal skis with miniature rocket engines to his companion, but he took a closer look, remembered something, kept the set for himself and gave the other one to his neighbour: "You'd better stand on these, there will be no problems with ignition here. Keep behind me and try not to crash into the pines, at this speed it could be fatal.

Christian picked up one of the makeshift skis and twirled the unfamiliar object in his hands incredulously.

- And how to...manage them?

- You'll have to wear a cooled battery and hold this in your hand. - Prayfield , with the tacit permission of the BBC correspondent, slipped a small backpack of wires over him and placed a remote control unit in his left hand. - There are three buttons: the top one speeds up, the bottom one slows down, the centre one switches off the whole system. The controls are intuitive, you'll get used to them in no time. - The professor also put on the improvised ski suit and turned to his partner: "I'll drive, and you just keep following.

The younger Englishman nodded collectedly.

- Well, it's a good opportunity to remember alpine skills.

- One more thing," Prayfield said, turning round. - In case we get separated or something happens... take this.

Higginson looked closely at the crumpled piece of paper.

- Is that a radio frequency?

Edward adjusted his glasses and nodded briefly.

- Yeah, shortwave. Find any working transmitter, tune in, call my name and tell me where we are and what happened. I hope it doesn't come to that, but we need to consider all options.

- Well, got it. - Christian put on the goggles the scientist handed him and pulled on his hat.

- Good. - Prayfield adjusted the sunglasses he never parted with, walked over to the broken "V" shaped column and tapped the middle of it. The structure yielded easily. - Get ready, - the professor turned round, - now I will collapse the wall and we will have twenty seconds to escape. Let's move towards the forest before they react. Ready?

- Yes," the journalist nodded and got into a skier's pose.

- Then let's go.

The inventor pounced on the laser-beam-laden column, ploughed it forward, got into a cross-country stance too, and slowly pulled back to accelerate; the wall collapsed noisily, pulling the neighbouring sections of concrete fence with it and exposing its reinforcement. The beams of the searchlights headed anxiously in the direction of the noise, approaching voices and the first machine-gun bursts were heard.

Prayfield turned round and shouted:

- Follow me!

The Professor jammed the button and leaned forward. The miniature rocket engines on the makeshift skis released jets of hot gas and carried him forward with increasing speed. He pushed off the ground, drove over the tilted rubble of the wall like a springboard, and jumped off it onto the flat and deep snow. The journalist followed him almost immediately, travelling in the same rut, and both figures quickly disappeared into the night woods, leaving behind them a melted trail and thin puffs of smoke.

***

- I think we're off.

Prayfield turned forward and reduced his speed.

- Let's slow down, the batteries need to cool down and recharge on the move.

Higginson levelled with him and tried to shout over the headwind:

- You don't think we'll be chased?

- I'm not sure they have that many resources," the scientist shook his head, adjusting his glasses. They moved slowly across the snowy field behind the vast forest, drenched in ghostly moonlight. The miniature engines vibrated faintly behind their boots, running at the minimum power required. There was near-perfect silence all around, except for....

- Stop," Christian raised his hand. - Do you hear that?

The growing sound could not be confused with anything else.

- Helicopter!

Probably from Moscow. "Of course... Tomorrow is the test launch with the participation of the highest officials, which means..."

The fugitives sped up their jet skis and moved towards the nearest undergrowth.

- Will we be able to escape? - The journalist asked anxiously. The scientist glanced at the hand-held control panel with its light indicators.

- Not at full speed. It needs another half a minute to charge.

The side door of the helicopter pulled aside and from there appeared the figure of a man wearing large head phones, a mink coat and a scribbled cap. He held a shabby megaphone up to his thick moustache and shouted:

- Edward Gregory Prayfield !

The grey-haired man shook his head and leaned forward to speed up.

- Who is it...? - A reporter asked him. The professor replied:

- General Shcherbatov himself.

- The same General Shcherbatov..." Higginson stretched out and frowned.

The scientist turned round.

- Did you two cross paths?

The young Englishman shook his head.

- No, but I wrote an article about war crimes in Czechoslovakia and corrupt connections in the Soviet top brass: to cut a long story short, he has an intense biography.

Prayfield nodded briefly and glanced at the control unit: the batteries had almost regained their charge. Just a little more...

Meanwhile, the helicopter approached and turned sideways toward the fugitives. The man with the megaphone straightened up and raised his voice:

- I warned you of the consequences! You are an enemy of the Soviet people and have caused irreparable damage to its property and military potential!

- What did he say? - Christian asked, pulling on his hat at the wrong time.

- That we're screwed," Prayfield explained to him.

- You're dead! - confirmed Shcherbatov and sat down in the passenger seat, giving way to one of the armed soldiers at the exit. - Commence target fire!

The private nodded, took up a steady position, and pointed the muzzle of his rifle at the slow-moving figures of the escaped prisoners on snowshoes far below. It wouldn't be hard to hit them.

- This is not good! - Higginson didn't like the prospect of dying of gunshot wounds in the middle of the snowy steppe. Edward grabbed him by the arm, shook the jet-ski's control panel, which had all the indicators lit up, and pointed ahead, toward the smoky silhouettes of the pine forest peaks on the horizon.

- Let's split on the count of three! - shouted the scientist and braced himself so as not to lose his balance during the acceleration. - I'll try to get them away!

His companion nodded.

- Wait half an hour and catch up with me on the track, it mustn't fall asleep! - Prayfield finished, and ducked as a series of soft pops and bullets whistled past them.

- Shit! Higginson was hit with a fountain of snow and steam. - So this is what it was like for Dad in Finland!

- Let's go!

Edward squeezed the button on the remote and leaned in. The jet nozzles at his soles came back on full power and carried him forward. He glanced sideways and noted with satisfaction that his partner had followed suit. The sound of the helicopter grew distant, but not for long. More shots rang out and Prayfield realised it was him they were aiming at. He couldn't see or even hear General Scherbatov, but he imagined the look on his face. The scientist made a manoeuvre to the side and glanced at the journalist. The latter nodded to him. Prayfield noted that the woodland had become noticeably closer. In the forest, behind the crowns of the trees, no one would find them from the helicopter, they could wait out the chase and come up with a new plan.

"Well..."

The Oxford professor nodded in reply and gave a sharp lurch to the right. An automatic queue followed. "Great, the plan is starting to work." Prayfield twisted the fuel supply to maximum and the automatic skis carried him even faster. He looked back: Christian had already disappeared over the hill, the helicopter marked USSR Ministry of Defence chasing him alone. It was difficult for the pilot to keep up with the rocket-powered fugitive and maintain a comfortable angle for the gunners, but that advantage would soon be over: the jet skis, made from stolen spare parts, were not designed for marathon distances.

The pine forest was getting closer. Edward thought he would have to slow down among the trees to be able to manoeuvre.

New shots, now quite close. The scientist darted to the side and went straight out again. The sound of the blades grew even louder. Prayfield thought he heard a thump and a shout of "Where did they teach you bums to shoot like that?"

The forest was almost there. Another hundred metres and...

Suddenly something struck his heel and burned it. He lost his balance, his right glide becoming shorter.

- You won't get away from us, traitor," Shcherbatov grinned from the cockpit of the helicopter, lowering his smoking pistol.

The inventor waved his arms clumsily and tried to steady himself. "No..." The speed became erratic. Prayfield quickly looked back at his bloody leg and his fears were confirmed: the miniature engine had suffered a puncture, part of the fuel hose had caught fire, the wiring had begun to spark and the jet of hot gas had become frighteningly unstable. The scientist hastily knocked down the flames, shifted his weight to his front leg, glanced ahead, rounded a tree that had grown in the way, and mentally estimated how long he could last on one thrust of two. The forest had just begun, it would take several kilometres to get out of sight of the helicopter....

"Aim better, he's almost driven in!" - came the general's voice, trying to override the clatter of the blades.

Prayfield ducked instinctively as the bullet split the trunk of one of the pine trees. The flying splinters scratched the glasses and left deep scratches on his face.

"There's no way to stop."

Edward wiped the blood from his cheekbones, concentrated, and jumped over a snow-covered rowan bush.

We've got about three minutes of fuel left. We can try to boost the only remaining nozzle on the move, divert power from both ends to one, and do it as soon as possible, otherwise...

The jet engine on the damaged leg suddenly shut down for a second and flared for the last time. Edward was pushed forward, tossed into the air, and spun around. The ignited rocket boot on the wreckage of the ski carried him away, leaving a smoky trail; the professor was thrown upward and hit first his arm on a pine branch, then his side on a spruce trunk. The faulty jet ski was torn off his leg and carried away, and the scientist fell, breaking branches and limbs, deep down, breaking strata and barriers, through time and memories.

...We're gonna get out of here. We're gonna get out of here.

The scientist clenched his eyes and clenched his fists.

- I know we'll get out of this, sweetheart," whispered a quiet voice with a noticeable accent right next to his ear.

A young man in round sunglasses with black eyes opened them, turned towards a statuesque girl somewhat older than him and touched her shoulder tiredly.

- Wait here for a while. I'll check for patrols outside.

- Maybe I should come with you? - The slim brunette with elegantly styled hair, despite her modest clothes, asked worriedly, shivering in the old leather armchair with the holey upholstery.

- No, mein liebe. It's too dangerous. - The thin young man smoothed his unwashed hair and reached for his tattered jacket. - The Nazis know we're here, but they don't know what will happen next. - He stretched out his arm with a quick movement and looked at his wristwatch. - We have a couple of hours to leave Berlin before the Allied air raid.

The young woman with the mole on her face sighed.

- I'd help you. You know how good my aim is.

- I know, love. - The man leaned over and caressed her cheek. - But I don't want to risk you-and our future.

He placed his palm affectionately on her stomach.

The girl smiled awkwardly and her usually reserved face became even more beautiful.

- Come on, it must be just a delay," she said in a quiet voice, not confident enough, though. - And a little malaise.

- What if she didn't? - Her beau stood up and splayed his hands emotionally. - If there's even one chance that you and I have a child, I'll do anything to protect us. You're my family, Evangeline. You're everything to me.

- And you're everything to me, Ed'ward," she said softly, and glanced outside the broken window, which was hastily sealed with paper that had been torn by the night's still sparse street fighting. - Everything will be all right, the war is almost over. I heard from old contacts, in the Reichstag hope for Wenck's army, but it will not help. Hitler is desperate, he's no longer alive.

Young Edward nodded thoughtfully and clenched his fists.

- Just like his monstrous system. Soon it will be over and we can return to a peaceful life.

- I wish it were sooner. And you know..." Evangeline thought about something and frowned for a second. - When I think about it, I don't even know what it's like.

- What exactly? - The shrunken Prayfield looked at her carefully.

- Living for yourself, being happy. To be free. - Adelheim touched her right shoulder and rubbed it. . - I grew up with the sound of marches and fervent speeches about how much we are all hated and how great the thousand-year Reich is, which will bring peace, freedom, and the true meaning of life to the inferior peoples. - The girl sighed and hid her face in her hands. - I myself believed in the Führer's ideas and zealously served what I thought was my country... until I met you. You made me realise that everything is more complicated and simpler at the same time. - She raised her head and squinted, trying to make out her lover's face in the coming dusk. - That it was possible to love Germany and hate the Nazis at the same time. To love a country, but to wish it defeat in the war it had unleashed. Sounds strange coming from a man who once wore a swastika on his arm, doesn't it?

- We all grow and change, my dear," the young Englishman answered her and kissed her on the forehead. - Your parents would be proud of you.

The German put his arm around his elbow:

- Yeah, I hope so. - She looked straight ahead. - I know now that I'm not betraying their memory. That's not why my father died in Prussia ...

Yesterday's student nodded grimly, remembering stories from his childhood.

- This is the last world war," he said, and put his arm around the young brunette's shoulders. - There won't be another one. You'd have to be an idiot to want anyone to live through it.

- I agree... - the girl put her palm on his hand and patted it. - Okay, I'll check the suitcases again. - Evangeline got up from her seat, walked to the wall littered with the debris of the bookcase and leaned over to the packed valises. - When is your driver coming?

Ed looked at his watch.

- Should be there in half an hour. But if there's military outside, we'll have to get to the edge of town ourselves.

Lina rose smoothly and crossed her arms over her chest.

- It's okay, I know all his nooks and crannies. - The girl grinned. - I was born here.

- All right, darling. - Young Prayfield walked briskly to his betrothed and kissed her absent-mindedly on the cheek. - Well, I'll be off...

The Englishman turned to leave, but the young woman stopped him, took him by the point of his chin, gazed intently into his eyes, and kissed him sensitively on the lips. The stunned Edward returned the kiss a second later.
There was a noise outside the window. Prayfield reluctantly pulled away from the kiss and glanced worriedly out the window. There was the distant sound of a klaxon and several gunshots.

Adelheim put her hand behind her back in a familiar movement and without looking pulled out a parabellum with a polished barrel.

- Take this just in case.

The young man drew his weapon away from him and gently lowered its barrel.

- Danke, but you'd better keep it. I've got something a little more powerful.

Edward unzipped his coat and pulled from an inside pocket an oblong object with a handle and a few buttons, which in his hands slid with a grinding sound into a longer tube with wires attached and a light on inside.

Evangeline shook her head with a smile.

- You're always bragging about your toys.

- Someone has to test the laws of physics," Edward winked at her and put on his worn cap.

He went out the back door and looked around. The street was deserted. To the right of the chapel lay an overturned and burnt Volkswagen Kafer with its windows blown out, the doors and windows of many houses were boarded up, and in the distance on both sides he could see hastily built barricades. Somewhere in the distance, the rumble of tank tracks and the noise of engines could be heard.

Ed ducked down and prepared to hide behind the nearest mountain of rubble and rebar, but after a couple of moments he realised that the machinery was moving down the next street and the Nazis wouldn't get through here. The man straightened up, wrapped his coat and moved on, looking back every fifty metres.

The neighbourhood had long been depopulated. First those on whose doors they painted Stars of David and wrote "Juden Schwein" disappeared, then those who rejoiced too little at military successes, then those who rejoiced too fervently, then those who wrote denunciations against the first, second and third.... and at the end, even those who tried to live their lives quietly, to be "out of politics" and keep in the shadows, saw that newspaper reports and government radio programmes about the frontline valour and genius of the nation's leader did not mix well with the almost daily shelling and panicky rumours about the capital itself being ringed. Although everything started almost six years ago as a war that would end all other wars and show all "Jedo-Bolsheviks and Anglo-Saxons" the greatness and steadfastness of the new Aryan dream.

Prayfield walked past an improvised notice board with a half-torn poster of an eagle carrying a circle with a curved double cross in its talons. For some reason there were no more portraits of Hitler anywhere.

The young man quickened his step and rounded the corner. The driver should be there by now, but the neighbouring street was empty. And quiet. The noise of the convoy from the neighbouring roads had long since died down, and there wasn't a soul around. Edward sensed something wrong.

He looked at his watch again. They had chosen their timing carefully, the liaison had relayed the message, everything had been planned meticulously. He and Evangeline had already passed on the secret information about the British agents of the Nazi top brass that she had stolen from SS headquarters, and the courier should already be at the resistance headquarters in Paris; to secure the envoy and throw possible surveillance off the trail, they had been delayed in Berlin for several days, but Prayfield had been able to personally persuade Defence Minister Attlee to evacuate the besieged city, ringed by two armies at once. Things could only change in one way.....

Edward listened. A new, barely audible sound, the source of which was definitely not on the ground.
There could only be one explanation for the sudden cancellation of the extraction of spies in the enemy camp.

The hum grew louder and lower.

They simply won't be rescued in time.

- Lina!

Prayfield rushed back, breaking his head and nearly smashing his knee on a pothole.

- Lina-Lina-Lina!

The silhouettes of aeroplanes appeared on the horizon. Edward now recognised their sound and their destination. He turned round and saw that the bombers were coming in at a gentle glide.

- Shit!

The young man rounded the corner and rushed towards the building at the end of the street. A series of heavy objects whistled, but the young scientist didn't even notice it. He would be able to run, he would be able to warn them in time, they would be able to....

The first shell exploded fifteen metres away. Bricks and paving stones flew. Edward was thrown backward, hitting the front of the building behind the overturned car. There was another explosion, then another and another. He covered his head and ducked. The car in front of him was thrown back by the shockwave and fell on its punctured underside. Prayfield tried to dodge it, but he was swept away by the now-falling debris.

When he came to his senses, everything around him was smoke and dust. Sounds were gone, and there was a ringing sound. He touched his ears, which were wet for some reason, and saw blood on his fingers.

- Lin-na...

Ed tried to get to his trembling feet, but couldn't. In addition, he seemed to have hurt his neck and broken his back... The man crawled to the edge of the crater, wiped his dust-covered face with a half-torn sleeve, and looked as far as he could into the faintly visible sky behind the puffs of smoke. The Soviet bombers were almost out of sight.

- L-love...

Prayfield leaned on a blistered piece of earth with cobblestones and gazed uneasily ahead of him. Almost all the buildings of the former industrial quarter had been reduced to rubble. Not a single structure had survived.

- Mein libe...

He collapsed helplessly in front of him.

In the place of the house that had just been home to the love of his life, along with an unborn child and a bright future in the world after a horrific world war - there was now a crater and a few lonely wrecks of blackened walls.

- Mein....lib.....

...He remained lying in the snowdrift, bleeding, until the sound of the helicopter faded and the darkness swallowed him whole, along with the cold, the tremors and the endless pain.

CHAPTER 12

...Silence and warmth.

The crackling of the fireplace.

A cosily sprung chair.

Oak tree branches tapping on the glass.

Finished almost halfway through the book.

The grey-haired man with the espagnole beard was so engrossed in her that he didn't notice the pipe in his mouth had gone out.

- It's not okay.

He adjusted his tinted glasses and examined the bitten mouthpiece thoughtfully. Since when had he started smoking tobacco...?

Gentle fingers ran over his shoulder.

- Let me help you.

A lighter flashed in the semi-darkness, someone carefully tilted the smoking pipe in the scientist's hands and lit the tobacco mixture. Prayfield nodded, took a drag, leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes in pleasure, and relaxed, letting out puffs of smoke.

- Thank you, love.

Her fingers ran caressingly through his hair and he felt the touch of warm lips on his forehead.

- You're welcome, darling," the older woman with ashy hair, elegant make-up and a mole on her cheek smiled until the corners of her eyes crinkled. - You're welcome.

Prayfield smiled.

Everything was fine.

- Ed...

Someone shook him by the shoulder.

- Edward! Ed!

But because she and Lina are completely alone...

- Wake up!

...Happy and peaceful, together for so many years.....

- Prayfield , wake up!

The Professor felt everything around him tilt and disappear into a dizzying shroud, from which he was pulled into a deafening light, straight into an icy snowdrift that had already been covered with snow.

- What-" The scientist blinked and squinted myopically, trying to make out the figure of the man above him.

- Good God, Edward," Christian exhaled, out of breath. - I could hardly find you.

- Ohhhh.

Prayfield tried to straighten up, but even that simple action echoed with pain throughout his body. "Looks like broken ribs..."

- How are you feeling? - the journalist asked anxiously, glancing at the bloodstains on his comrade's clothes. - And what happened to you...?

The inventor put out his hand warningly.

- Just a second, I need to come to my senses...geez.

Too bad he wasn't dead. And the vision in his feverish delirium wasn't the last thing he'd remember...too bad she'd never be older.

"Can there be even one chance that in any version of history she didn't die under Allied bombing?".....

- You didn't break anything?

The man flinched and, after thinking for a moment, shook his head.

- N-no, no, no, it's fine. Just a couple of bruises, it'll heal.

- Are you sure? - To the journalist's eyes, the condition of his new friend did not seem credible.

- Y-yes, quite," Prayfield said painfully, and changed the subject. - There was no trace of you...?

Higginson shook his head.

- No, no-one. I waited half an hour, like you said, and then I went looking for you. It wasn't hard to find you at first, but then I lost the trail and... Jesus Christ, where's your shoe?!

Edward only now noticed that he'd been wearing the only sock all this time. And his foot didn't feel cold... "That's a very bad sign; there could be serious frostbite, up to and including the loss of toes..."

The scientist took off a very light and snow-soaked adobe rucksack, found a skein of cloth with twine, and wrapped his bootless foot as best he could.

- The same place where the second snowplough was. - The professor turned round and pointed nonchalantly behind his back: -You see that burnt pine tree?

Christian shook his head.

- You're lucky you're still in one piece. - The young man rubbed his chin in confusion. - But we won't be able to move at the same speed.....

A thick snow fell.

- Unfortunately, yes," Prayfield agreed. "You can't go far with one shoe..." - I'll be your ballast.

- But what should we do...?

Edward thought for a moment. General Shcherbatov will be back: he won't stop until he finds them dead or alive. No one escapes from OKB-16 and goes unpunished.

But they can't escape together.

- We'll have to make a halt," the inventor finally began, his brow furrowed. - Before that, we'll split up again. You're young, and you'll be better able to control a single set of jet skis. - Edward looked at the confused Christian. - Take them and go in search of the radio tower. When you find it, send a signal over the encrypted frequency in the range I gave you.

- But what about you?

Edward folded his lips into a smile.

- I'll get by somehow. I'll see if I can get some help.

Higginson glanced behind him. Dawn was breaking behind the frost-covered trees.

- I saw a glimpse of lights. There must be a village nearby.

- I'll go that way, that's right," the professor nodded eagerly and touched his aching side, which was soaked inside with something wet.

- We won't be turned over to the authorities?

The short-cropped old man grinned into the grey beard that was beginning to show through.

- These are the lands of the Tatars, they have suffered a lot - first from the Tsarist regime, then from the Bolsheviks. Believe me, in words everyone is in favour of the Soviet Union, but in deeds....

Prayfield grimaced, gripped his thigh even tighter, and rocked on his side.

- Are you all right? - The journalist asked worriedly.

- Yes, yes, it's all right," said the scientist. - Let's get some water and then we'll continue on our way.

***

The sun appeared on the horizon.

It had been an hour since his partner had left on rocket skis for the icy steppe. Edward walked slowly, limping with a rag-wrapped leg and wrapped in his blood-soaked dark coat. "I need to examine and clean the wound, bandage it..."

But first we need to get to at least some kind of house.

Prayfield stopped, exhaled a cloud of vapour, and only now noticed that he was shivering. The night, with all its events, had passed quickly-and how cold it must have been... The old man felt a pain in his chest and the heat of his frostbitten cheeks.

"Don't catch pneumonia."

The blizzard is almost over.

He would have been glad to sit down, but all around him was a vast icy wilderness. In the distance he could see the coniferous forest with the snow-covered tops of the pines where he had come from, and ahead, Higginson had said, there should be a village... if he hadn't got it wrong and Prayfield hadn't lost his direction in the snowfall.

But Christian could hardly be mistaken-they were sliding down a hill, and the village might be in a low place, especially now the approaches to it might be covered with snow.

- Yes..." the professor said aloud, taking his glasses off his nose. - That must be it.

He wiped his glasses with the surviving sleeve of his shirt and continued on through the crunchy half-metre layer of frozen snow, leaving a trail of bloodstains behind him.

***

- Mashka, come here to shovel snow!

The older woman struggled to straighten up and grabbed her lower back. Something crunched in her back. She slapped herself on the back in a familiar motion, righted the vertebrae, and pulled the worn patterned scarf back over her wrinkled forehead.

A disgruntled voice came from the other room:

- Grandma, it's early!

The old woman struck a pose.

- What are you, not a pioneer or something? How do you look people in the eyes at school...? - The woman waved her hand and raised her voice even more. - Get out into the courtyard!

A grey and somewhat swollen mustached man with unkempt hair shuddered as he lay on the bench, wiped his slimy eyes and struggled to raise his voice, fumbling for the edge of the table to assume a horizontal position.

- Listen to your grandmother, she's talking.

- There! - The frowning wife readily supported him.

In the doorway appeared a girl of about ten with a long braided pigtail, hastily dressed in a simple light-coloured dress of coarse cut.

- Well ba..." her granddaughter stretched out and leaned against the doorjamb.

The head of the family was adamant.

- Shush, don't "tank" here! Come on, Manka, take the shovel behind the stove and go and do some work. - The harsh, wrinkled woman gave way to the child with grim satisfaction and held back from slapping him. - We have plenty to do in the collective farm.....

- Exactly," the man agreed, and focused his eyes on a half-drunk bottle of something that was hardly clean water. - D-day's just begun, that's something to celebrate....

A cut glass was just at hand, but the man was not the only one to see it. The woman gestured rudely at the dishes on the boardwalk table.

- Don't get too heavy on the vodka, old chap, you still have a tractor to drive....

- What's the point of driving him, it's not a woman, hehehe... - Grandpa grinned, waved his hand, uncorked the container and took a few big sips, squinting at the pleasant bitterness.

- Why are you so cheerful? - The grandmother was dumbfounded. - Give me the bottle back!...

- What about a hangover?!

Masha, who had been standing in the hay and watching the mise-en-scene, shook her head, went to the wood stove made of white brick with painted patterns, took out a shovel that had seen the last of its kind, went to the threshold, put on another pair of woollen socks, put on felt boots, pulled on a tattered fur coat, stood in indecision and went outside.

There's been a lot of snow overnight. To clear the path, you'll have to sweat a lot....

The girl sighed and rubbed her crimson cheeks. She was not frightened by the prospect of freezing; it was not as cold now as where her parents had come from before they were deported from Finland... The frosty air creaked and sparkled in the sun, and the distant pine trees swayed faintly in the light wind.

But there was something else. Masha looked closely at the fence: it, like everything around it, was covered with snow, but somehow part of it was clean. And that sound... it seemed to be the creak of an unclosed gate.

"But Grandma always locks her up..."

The girl gripped the shovel tighter and took a few steps forward. "It's unlikely to be the neighbours again, and it's not a long way to the nearest barracks..."

The sound grew louder.
"Definitely a wicket."

A simple unlocked wicket with the latch down, swinging open and swaying in the wind.

The girl walked quickly forward to close it, and only now saw the unfurled snow and the reddish stains. When she had bumped her nose as a child, it had bled and there were stains like that too.....

She turned around slowly and immediately flinched in surprise.

- Grandma, Grandpa! - She shouted loudly and tapped on the glass. Alarmed faces appeared in the window.

- What is it?
- Some guy fell down!

***

- Oh, well.

Grandfather straightened up and scratched the back of his head.

On the only bed stretched out a man a little younger than he was, thin, with sloppy grey stubble, and covered with deep abrasions. He sighed without opening his eyes and huddled under the rough burlap: the girl noticed that he was still clinging to his side, which was blackened with blood when she found it.

The older woman turned sternly to her spouse:

- Your drinking buddy, I'm guessing?

Toth shook his head.

- No, Matryona, it's the first time I've seen that face. It looks like Mikhalych from the neighbourhood, but it's definitely not him.

The schoolgirl quietly pitched her voice:

- He's a little too shaved.

- N-yes, like a camp one. - Matryona pulled her shawl off her head and scratched her snow-white hair. The uninvited guest had certainly disrupted their plans for the only day off in the collective farm. "On the other hand," she looked furtively back at the blackened icons in the ritual towel on the shelf in the corner of the hut, "how can you not help the man here. But wouldn't that get her into trouble?

- What if it's a man from a closed town? - She said the sudden hunch out loud and turned even more gloomy.

- The one near Kazan...? - the old man looked at her in disbelief. - It's about forty kilometres away... and they don't let anyone out of there, as far as I know.....

- And this one, it turns out, they let him out. Even though they didn't seem to want to. - The stranger groaned, and Matryona tentatively adjusted the bedspread on him. - Look at him, Potap...

- Why don't I give him a vodka? - Potap offered with a hint of hope, but the landlady was not easily fooled.

- You'll drink half of it yourself. No, you old fuck.

The man in the bed suddenly rumbled.

- Oh-h... good heavens..." Edward Gregory Prayfield stretched out in English and winced at the sharp pain in his side.

- What was that he said? - the tractor driver clapped his eyes shut.

- Manyka, did you understand him? - Matryona glanced at her granddaughter.

- No, we're learning German at school..." the girl replied confusedly.

- He's definitely from the orphanage. - The woman slammed her fist on her palm and rushed to the exit to check that the door was securely closed. - A foreigner, they're full of them. Spies of all sorts..." she whispered angrily.

- Damn military! - loudly supported her husband, who was still tipsy. - The treacherous West!

Matryona pulled herself together and slowly turned round.

- We must inform the city executive committee. Otherwise they'll accuse me of something else... who knows, the rules are strong there. - She reached for her coat and shawl. - Come on, Manyusha, let's go to the telegraph office.

- But Grandma...

- What do you want "grandma" for? - The old woman glared at her menacingly. - I won't leave you here alone, with an alcoholic and a half-dead non-Christian!

- Easy, easy with her... - Potap tried to calm down his wife, who himself became uncomfortable.

- Why be quiet? - Matryona, who had long stored up her irritation, exploded. - I, unlike you, am worried about her! Have you forgotten, old man, what times were like?...? - She pointed her finger at Maria without looking at her and she huddled against the wall. - Well, she was born after the war, but we went through camps and denunciations...

- N-no... - a new voice came again, but already in a language that everyone understood, - Don't n-no....

- What? - Grandma dropped her woven shawl in surprise.

- Don't n-n-don't... d-donosov..." Prayfield said in a weakening voice in almost accentless Russian and opened his eyes with difficulty.

- Do you speak our language? - The sobered old man was stunned.

- Y-yes," Edward nodded, and struggled to get out of bed. - Don't tell anyone I'm here. I'm... kha-kha...

The scientist was pierced by a sharp cough that immediately echoed in his injured ribs. "Maybe jet skis weren't such a good idea..."

- Grandma, he's not well! - The girl tugged the hesitant, elderly woman by the sleeve of her coat away from the door, and she hung up her coat with some apprehension, but still hung it back in place.

The pain receded and the Englishman felt he could breathe normally.

- I'll... get some rest and then I'll be on my way," Prayfield finished, looking cautiously around the poor hut and its owners. - If you don't mind.

"Believers," he thought, noticing the icons and seeing nothing that resembled. - "Old Believers, perhaps. In any case, far removed from party life and probably rarely let outsiders into their world." That thought reassured him, and he finally let himself relax a little.

- Well, shall we leave the mate for a day or two?...? - as if Potap had read his thoughts, turning to his wife. - He seems to be a good bloke.

Matryona grumpily parried:

- All your men are not bad, if you can have a drink with them. Yegorych is the same.

- What about Yegorych?

- He's already drunk himself to a white fever, he's disgraced the team. Soon there won't be any men left in the village!

- I'm-excuse me," Edward raised his hand and coughed again. The older woman gave him a disapproving look:

- What is it?

The wounded inventor folded his arms across his chest.

- I've given up booze for a while now.

- Well, no fun at all," Potap replied dejectedly, shook his head and pretended to put on his hat. - I'm calling the KGB.

- Wait, wait, wait!" Matryona stopped him abruptly and looked at Prayfield in a different way. - I've never seen a man in my life who didn't drink. So what was your name, honoured guest?

***

Higginson took a breath. The night was winding down and the turbo-ski batteries were almost out of action, but he could already see the thin line of the radio transmitter tower on the horizon.

- Just a little bit more...

The journalist, shivering from the icy air and fast driving, slowly steered the Prayfield -created vehicle up the hill. At the top of the hill, he suddenly wobbled and almost fell face first into the snow - the battery was completely burnt out. The man had to get down to the ground, remove the bindings from his boots and leave the smoking rucksack with the battery together with the useless skis in the snowdrift. Perhaps he could build ski poles and get back on the piste on the way back, but now he still had to get to the antenna and the communication point near it.

Christian peered cautiously out from behind a snowdrift. The radio tower was a kilometre away from him, and next to it, as the scientist who had instructed him had suggested, stood a low building with small windows, the area was fenced off, and two soldiers with their machine guns lowered walked boredly around it.

- Not good.

Higginson bit his lip and looked around. In the distance he could see a small, seemingly abandoned town with the ruins of a former monastery behind it. Between the houses he could see a snow-covered but still quite legible road with tyre tracks. "There must be a changing of the guard every few days..." The young man looked towards the tower again. While at first it might have appeared to stand on a plain, he now noticed slight irregularities - rocks? cliffs? an unfinished block...? - which meant there was a small chance of getting in undetected, if he was lucky.

- Well.

The man wrapped himself tighter into his rough jacket, leaned over his scorched backpack, pulled the last remaining wardrobe items from the secure pocket, pulled on his holey gloves, covered his face with a rough handkerchief, and pulled on his ski goggles again. The next half hour wouldn't be easy, but if everything worked out, and if Edward's friends were still listening to his frequency....

***

- ...He's a vindictive bastard," said one of the shivering guards.

- Who are you talking about? - His partner turned to him.

The soldier fixed his cap and spat savourably to the side.

- Yes, about him, about the general. - Ivashin couldn't hide his irritation. - What was the point of sending us here with this exiled scientist? In Moscow, at least we had dust-free work. But here...

Rakhnenko nodded understandingly.

- Yeah, guarding some bespectacled guys. Boring, all according to protocols. - The man kicked the weak fence post, imagining it was someone's ribs.

- He also went off on us and exiled us here," Ivashin continued, lowering the Kalashnikov. - As if because of us, that jerk turned half the building around and ran off into the taiga with some skirt.

- Yeah. How did he not get shot at all?

- I hear it's an order from Shcherbatov himself. He needs this prick alive...

- And here we sit, freezing our balls off. - Rakhnenko adjusted the lapels of his uniform and turned towards the distant forest. Ivashin nodded emotionally behind him:

- And who needs this tower anyway, there's not even a toilet!

They continued their watch and never noticed the small mound of snow that slowly circled the barbed wire fence and headed towards the spot with the bent post, leaving a loosened trail behind it.

***

- Ugh.

Higginson finally peered out of the snowdrift a little more than it took to see or to get air into his lungs. There were no guards in sight.
He slowly climbed out of the snow, shook himself off, inspected the torn areas of his clothes - luckily he'd managed not to scratch himself - and stole off down the trampled path to the small building by the tall antenna.

At the entrance, the journalist turned round one last time: there was no one around, muffled voices were coming from the opposite side of the cabin.

- Great...

He quietly opened the shambling door and stepped inside.

There was almost no decoration inside, sparse bundles of wires lining the icy walls and leading to a bulky control panel with a set of inputs and outputs. "This is going to be hard to deal with..."

Christian noticed a book of instructions in Russian with a bookmark in the centre of the console. Prayfield had time to explain to him briefly how to send a signal for help, but if anything, he could try the technical literature.

The young man pulled a soaked paper with a barely legible frequency number out of his pocket, walked over to the stationary radio transmitter, swapped a few wires and turned a series of toggle switches to the lowest position. There was a click and one of the lamps labelled "ON" lit up green.

- Very good.

Higginson leaned over to the cylindrical frequency knob and turned it slowly to the left, watching carefully the mechanical scale in a separate window. When the pointer matched the number that Edward had written down for him, he put his finger on the large button labelled "TRANSMISSION," put on the bulky headphones with padded ear cushions with his free hand, and pulled the microphone toward him.

- Okay..." Christian jammed the switch and coughed uncertainly. - Come in, come in... can anyone hear me?

He released the button. A hiss of static was heard in the headphones.

- Over! - The young Englishman repeated excitedly and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember the names. - Alexei, Adeli, Sam...? Can you hear me? This is Christian Higginson, I'm from Edward Gregory Prayfield , over!

Again the hissing and silence.

"Maybe I was wrong...?" He quickly checked the note, looked at the buttons and switches, and jammed the radio button again.

- Over! - The correspondent didn't realise he'd raised his voice. - Prayfield is wounded, the two of us have escaped from a closed scientific town near Kazan, over! If...

A new crackle was heard in the speakers. "I think someone has tapped into that frequency too..."

Higginson leaned into the microphone even harder and almost went to shouting:

- If you can hear me, answer me - we really need your help, over!

- What "over", who the hell are you? - suddenly came from behind him in Russian. Christian turned round sharply.

Two privates stood in the doorway, muzzles pointed at him.

- Get away from the receiver! - shouted one of them.

Christian reached for his headphones, where he heard a new noise and a barely audible voice - it seemed to be a woman's.

- Now, I said! - Ivashin shouted, taking the safety off his automatic rifle.

The journalist nodded briefly, not taking his eyes off the Kalashnikov pointed at him, took off his head phones and placed them on the table. "Throw myself forwards and whip out the weapon..." - flashed through his mind.

- Was he speaking English to someone now? - turned to Comrade Rakhnenko.
- Fucking hell, they've caught a spy," Ivashin noted with some amusement as he imagined his rapid career advancement. - Put your hands up! I'll shoot you if you move!

- Do you have anything to tie him up with? - Rakhnenko jabbed the machine gun in Higginson's face, keeping his eyes on him.
"No, I don't stand a chance against two armed men..."

- Here, take the belt. - Ivashikh unbuckled the belt from the Kalashnikov, threw it to his partner, went to the radio transmission console, assessed its condition with a keen eye and pulled out all the wires rearranged by Higginson. Then he unzipped his jacket, laid his hat on the table, and reached for the instruction book with the words: - And I'll get in touch with the general now. I'll tell him that one of the fugitives has been caught... with aggravating circumstances.

***

- So you are the spy who tried to learn the secrets of our system from Khrushchev? - Shcherbatov grinned into his moustache, grasped his seat belt and adjusted his cap. - I kept wondering who you were. I thought you'd be older and more experienced. But no, you're a boy who hasn't even seen war.

The helicopter door closed from the outside and the General tapped the pilot's seat, signalling for him to climb up. The shadows from the blades on the snow swirled faster and raised clouds of white sparks.

Higginson swayed and straightened up in the hard chair. It wasn't easy with his hands tied.

- There's been a lot of talk about you, too," the journalist said, looking straight into his eyes. - That you're smarter than you look. - An elderly man in a uniform with medals reached into his pistol holster and unholstered it. But the Englishman was not properly impressed. - 'Khrushchev mentioned your surname,' the prisoner continued. - You have a history before the great battles on the fronts of the Second World War.....

Shcherbatov looked into his bruised face, swollen from the blows.

- You haven't been done enough, I see. Some soft privates have gone, they haven't smelled gunpowder... but it's all right, we'll find all you traitors. We'll punish you all.

Christian forced out a grin; a thin trickle of blood showed from the corner of his mouth.

- You never found Prayfield . But you know he's alive. Otherwise you wouldn't have come after me yourself.

- You're right," he nodded and looked out the porthole. Higginson continued to test the twine for strength: it seemed to him that it was beginning to give way and his right arm could be pulled out. "But how do we get out of here?" He glanced around and noticed on a nearby chair a rucksack with a series of straps that couldn't be anything other than a parachute. "Too risky."

Meanwhile, the moustachioed man in the uniform continued: - You wouldn't have risked your lives and broken into the airwaves if the old man hadn't put you up to it. But he's about to be captured. We'll search every inch of this goddamn land. He can't hide. Especially since we've already figured out where he might be. I just reported about an anonymous call before the flight ... - Shcherbatov again tapped on the pilot's seat and shouted loudly: - Grigory, ground base...!

- Yes, Comrade General. - The pilot nodded, flicked the toggle switches, reached for the individual headphones and held them out to the man behind him.

- Over, this is Shcherbatov," the Moscow military officer spoke clearly into the microphone and metal rang in his voice. - KGB order: send a punitive detachment to Verkhnyaya Shibaleevo. Find the fugitive, and shoot all those who helped him. - The pilot turned his head, but immediately returned to his duties. - I repeat, the village is to be razed to the ground, so that no ashes remain. How did you understand the order?

"P-accepted, Comrade General," came to the bound correspondent from the head phones. - To be executed."

The thread broke, an abrasion-covered hand slipped from the rope.

- Good. And you, Christian... - Shcherbatov took off his headphones, turned to the frozen Higginson and pulled out a Makarov from his holster. - You don't think I'll let you live as a witness, do you?

He cocked the trigger and pointed the muzzle at the young Englishman.

- Like in Katyn, where you killed thousands of civilians? - The journalist showed composure and didn't move. "I'll have to take my chances" - You're a mad sadist and a war criminal.

- But my hand will not tremble to do what is right! - Shcherbatov raised his voice. - The world needs an iron grip and a clearly laid path!

And at that very moment something struck the cockpit, it skidded sideways. Shcherbatov and Higginson fell on their sides, the gun fell out of the General's hands and rolled under the seat; the pilot jerked the control levers to the left and with difficulty levelled the controls - but the helicopter still continued to steer sideways and he saw in the reflection of the windows a smoky trail behind him.

- Fucking hell!... - Shcherbatov swore. Christian clung to the seat, ready to jerk. The Aviator took off his headphones and turned round:

- Comrade Shcherbatov, the propeller is crushed! We're losing control!

- Hit from the ground...? - The General waved his hands. - Land the chopper now!

Again something struck the hull, a clearly discernible whoosh was heard.

- I can't," replied the pilot, "the fuel tank has been punctured!

- Put it down, I said! That's an order!

"It's time!"

Higginson burst from his seat, ripped off his rucksack, pulled it on and rushed towards the side door.

- And where are you going... - Shcherbatov rushed to Christian, but the third shot hit the glass on the opposite door and it scattered with shards, which immediately scattered on the wall: the journalist clung to the door lever and stood on his feet, but the general was less lucky: the depressurisation of the cabin nailed him to the damaged door and it bent under his weight.

- Stop!... - shouted the general, trying to straighten up, and animal fear showed in his eyes. - For what!...?

The helicopter skidded even more sideways. Resisting the air currents, Higginson pushed on the handle and yanked it down. The right door was blown out, the cabin rocked, and he was thrown outward by the deafening sound of wind and bending pines, twisting and turning like a rag doll. Christian tried to straighten up, spread his arms and legs, and looked up: a Soviet helicopter with a smoking tailplane continued its spinning descent, flames blazing on its side.

- Shit...

The Englishman clutched the straps of his shoulder bag and fumbled for the parachute release cord. Far below, the snow-covered forest rumbled. "Just as long as I don't get caught in the crowns..." Christian pulled the cord and felt a jolt upwards. The parachute with the embroidered red star popped out of his rucksack and opened, the ground below beginning to approach at a slower speed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the small silhouette of a car travelling in the distance behind him on a country road along the forest.

Higginson breathed a sigh of relief and looked up again. The burning hulk of the helicopter flared up even more and disappeared in a fireball of smoking debris. The correspondent shrank back and covered his head with his elbows. A broken blade whizzed past and cut one of the straps.

- No, no...

The parachute lurched to the side. The man clutched at the remaining ropes, tucked his legs under him and tried to shift his weight to his left side. "We need to get past the forest..." He was already down to the level of the tops of the pine trees, but the wind was blowing the wrong way.

- Okay, hold on...

He tilted to the left. An old spruce with its top covered with snow whizzed past. On the other side, a low pine with a broken branch approached at dangerous speed. He swung to the right, but not in time. The needles ripped the fabric of the parachute and he began to fall faster.

- No, no...

Higginson shrank back, shielding himself from the needles. The remnants of the cloth caught on a pine branch; the remaining slings broke and he was thrown sideways. Fortunately, the ground was about five metres away and he was in a deep enough snowdrift.

Far to the north, there was a resounding thump. Christian struggled to his feet, threw off his backpack, and looked in the direction of the noise. Something was burning in the forest, and a dense column of acrid smoke was rising.

The Soviets lost General Scherbatov.

***

Higginson climbed out of the snowdrift, stacked the remains of his parachute and rucksack in one place, covered them with snow, and looked around. The forest ahead was winding down, and small houses with smoking chimneys could be seen in the distance. One of the thousands of small villages that lived by agriculture and gave almost everything to the centre. And one of those villages might soon be gone.

"We need to find Edward and warn the villagers..."

Wounded and exhausted, but still on his feet, the journalist wrapped himself in his coat and limped towards the exit of the forest.

But he couldn't get too far.

- Stop!" he shouted. - Hands on your head!

Christian froze in place. "Naturally, in the wilderness and being caught..."

- Hands on your head," repeated the harsh voice, "quickly!

Higginson found nothing better to do than to obey the demand. He raised his hands and turned round slowly.

In front of him stood a grim-looking dark-haired man with a small beard and noticeable grey hair, wearing a dark leather jacket and a military-style ushanka hat. He had a Dragunov rifle with a telescopic sight behind his back and a heavy pistol of an unusual design that Christian had never seen before.

- Are you a helicopter pilot...? - The stranger continued his questioning and waved in the direction of the crash site.

- What?

- Answer, yes or no?!

The BBC journalist realised what had caught his attention. He was so surprised at his observation that he lowered his raised hands.

- You have a slight accent-" He switched to his native tongue. -Do you speak English?

- Good heavens," said the stern man in a low voice, and he too switched to a more familiar language. - Are you English?

- Aren't you Russian?

- I think we have some common ground," the armed man laughed suddenly, holstered his pistol and waved in a friendly manner. - Delia, we have a new addition!

- Mon Dieu!

From behind the wide trunk of a snow-covered tree came a beautiful young girl with her blonde hair gathered in a bundle, dressed in a white coat and a dark shawl.

- I knew it was you," she rushed to the young man and hurriedly hugged him, causing him to be taken aback. "How much of a shock familiar things are when you haven't had them in a long time..." - You sent that signal for help!

She had a lovely French accent and a hearty smile.

- And we just happened to be next to each other," the girl's companion remarked, taking off his glove and extending his hand in a peaceful manner. - Alexei Vorobyev, by the way.

- And Adélie Dupont," the beautiful woman introduced herself without ceremony, and extended her hand.

- Mon plaisir, Christian Higginson, journalist. - The Englishman kissed her hand and the girl was slightly embarrassed.

- I'm sorry I almost got you killed," Adélie said apologetically. - I tried to insist on more peaceful ways to solve problems, but you know no one listens to women.

- I always listen to you," Vorobiev objected with a note of indignation. - But this is Russia, and I've lived here, and I know how.....

Higginson hastened to intervene and reassure both his saviours:

- It's not the first time I've done this kind of work. Chad was even more fun with the military junta. So how did you end up here? -

Vorobiev frowned. He didn't even want to remember what they'd been through.

- We broke away as soon as Ed was kidnapped. It was obvious that he was being held in the Soviet Union, but we lost track of him near Novgorod and finally decided to hole up near Kazan until he could send a signal-and you did.

Dupont nodded and frowned.

- That's how we knew that the centre of events was here and we had to act quickly. - Vorobiev ruffled her hair and she turned to him with a smile. - We started listening to all frequencies immediately after your signal and came across the negotiations with the pilot...

- ...And you realised there was no point in delaying," Higginson finished for her.

The girl nodded, looked thoughtfully at the car left nearby and headed towards it; both men followed suit.

- So you've seen Edward...? - Vorobyov clarified just in case, and took his rifle off his back to put it in its case and throw it into the boot of the four-stroke Niva.

Christian nodded:

- Yes, we escaped together from the prison for the too clever. He was a little hurt in the process, but he should be - I hope! - in good hands.

Adelie smiled gratefully and Christian finished: "But we must hurry: General Sanders, whom you just made a Kentucky chicken, had time to do one last mean thing before he died, and if we don't hurry, there will be no one left to save.

***

The silence was interrupted by the low tinkling of rare bells above, the crackle of pines bending in the wind, and the faint clatter of a woodpecker in the distance. It was cool and dry, not at all like the hut he had barely reached a few hours ago... or more?

Prayfield made an effort and finally opened his eyes. The thoughts in his head were still jumbled, and he felt visibly weakened - but the pain in his ribs seemed to have subsided. The weary scientist touched his side and felt the freshly replaced tight bandages. His clothes were new, too, and he had clean boots on his feet. He mentally thanked those who had been so concerned about him. The rest was definitely good for him.

Edward fumbled for his glasses, wiped the scratched, tinted panes, put them on, and looked around. He was in the altar room of a former temple, with cracked and bullet-riddled walls, crumbling plaster, and a partially collapsed vault, through which the high moon shone and sparse snow fell.

The elderly Englishman sat down not without difficulty on the hard bed by the semicircular bed and found some resemblance to his surroundings: an old church complex, destroyed by the Bolsheviks, which had suffered looting and war, but which still stood here and provided shelter and protection for those who again needed help from above... Prayfield did not believe in providence, but he could not help recognising a certain poetry to these thoughts.

He got out of bed and walked to the small window to the right of the centre of the semi-circular niche where the bishop's chair had once stood. In the distance, beyond the undergrowth, flames flickered, covering the hulks of houses and roofs. It took him a few seconds to recognise the silhouettes from a different angle.

- Oh no...

Prayfield rushed to the nearest door, but it turned out to be a small back room stocked with counterfeit liquor, eagerly used by a puffy-looking older man with a moustache and a vacant stare.

- What, are you up already? - Potap said kindly and lifted the bottle. - And I'm just going to have a good drink. Would you like some?

- No." Edward nodded at the small window, where the light from the fire was shining through. - Your house...

- I know," nodded the old and drunk tractor driver sadly. - Everything is gone. The whole village is on fire. I shouldn't have told them..." he sighed and shook the glass container that still contained some alcohol. - Come on, we've never had a good life. We'll start somewhere else again.

- But your wife and granddaughter.

- They're all right, your friends have warned us. We'll spend a night here and then go to our neighbours, to Nizhne-Uralskoe. - Potap smiled. - Everything will be all right, don't worry about us.

The Englishman shook his head concernedly.

- You got hurt because of me.

- Come on, it's not like that," Potap hastened to assure him, who even got up from his stool. -. This is Russia, here everyone suffers all the time. Parents for children, children for parents... the eternal circle of life.

Prayfield nodded and extended a grateful hand, which the villager immediately squeezed instead of shaking. The recovering inventor left the resting villager in the back of the chancel, walked across the room, paused past the only remaining icon with a blackened image of the Virgin Mary with a baby in her arms, nodded to it briefly, and stepped more confidently through one of the side doors of the former iconostasis.

- Edward!

Adélie Dupont jumped up from her seat and threw herself around the neck of an old friend with whom they had already been through so much.

- Oh, oh..." Prayfield was confused and almost lost his balance. He put his arm around the girl and patted her back affectionately. - And I'm very glad to see you, my dear Delly.

- What's happened to you... you're so thin! And what did they do to your hair?!

- Nothing that time and the usual English weather wouldn't fix," the almost bald scientist smiled through his strength and imagined a good, freshly made shepherd's pie

- So glad it's all behind us now!

Adela's eyes, red from lack of sleep and stress, moistened.

- The main thing is over now," the professor, freed from captivity, reassured her. - Thank you for getting me out and helping these people.

He waved to old Matryona and the sleepy Masha, who sat wrapped in plaids on the gathered sacks of utensils by the light of sparse candles. The girl waved back and smiled at him; her grandmother tried to slap her, but she couldn't help herself and fell on her side.

- It was your cellmate," Dupont replied and nodded to the side, "without his help we would have been looking for you for a long time.

A visibly perked up Higginson threw on the move, heading for the stack of supplies:

- It was a bit of a struggle, even though I didn't sign up to parachute out of a downed helicopter.

- Wow, - I think I know whose job this is," Edward distanced himself from Adela and glanced at Sparrow.

- The hands remember, the eye aims," a doctor with very specific field skills answered him.

- Glad you're still as formidable an opponent in battle, old friend.

- You can't run away from it all the time," Alexei sighed and set the half-disassembled sniper rifle aside on the church table. - It's war again, but now I know what I'm fighting for.

- You guys are like family to me," Dupont said in a shaky voice.

- I guess we are a family," the inventor admitted, and something suddenly almost knocked him off his feet. - Oh! And you're here, too!

- Gomenesai! - The Japanese teenage girl hugged him tightly in turn.

- How could we leave you alone, mate," Sam smiled as he came out of the side entrance, patted the elderly scientist on the shoulder, thought for a moment and put his arm around him, along with Adela, who looked up at him.

- Group hugs," said the scientist, who was nonetheless touched, with a laugh. - Very familiar and not at all embarrassing.

- I kind of like it..." Dupont said with a squeeze. - But I can't breathe.

- Sorry, mate. - Alexei dropped his weapon and hugged his friends as best he could. The Frenchwoman exhaled loudly and still freed herself. Vorobyev took a step back, too, and Mitsuki had to be dragged away.

- It's good to be back together," the dark-skinned American replaced.

- I agree," Prayfield nodded, blinking hard to hide his moistened eyes. - But we still have a lot of work to do... by the way, here it is. - He glanced beyond the high arched window that had been shattered by artillery fire.

- What's that...? - Dupont whispered warily, also looking at the same spot.

At the opposite point from the burning village, where the centre of the region and the closed prison town should be, a swirling glow appeared and a smoky pillar with a glowing top slowly began to rise into the sky. The people in the abandoned monastery church finally heard a rumbling sound that was unmistakable.

- Is that a rocket launch? - Alexei turned to Edward anxiously. - They have their own spaceport...?

- More like an experimental test site," the scientist replied in a calm tone.

- Wait a minute. You were kidnapped for this? - Sam frowned.

- What's inside? - The Frenchwoman turned to the professor in turn. - There is some kind of cargo in there, not an atomic bomb...?

Prayfield laughed and rubbed her shoulder.

- No, not at all. It's a high-tech satellite with a photon energy emitter, solar-powered and virtually invulnerable to ground-based weapons.

Vorobyev looked anxiously at his too cold-blooded friend.

- Nani? - didn't understand a word Mitsuki said. The scientist tried to explain more simply; he wasn't entirely sure she understood his British English:

- This is a new generation of weaponry that no other country in the world has an equal.

Alexei folded his arms across his chest and remarked sternly:

- Ed, if you've been brainwashed, you'd better start quoting Lenin right away.

- No, old friend," Prayfield replied just as seriously and adjusted his glasses on his nose. - I've had a thousand opportunities to sabotage production and escape early, but why destroy something when you can use it...? We must act smarter than our rivals. - He looked after the departing rocket and said thoughtfully: - Everything is just beginning, dear friends.

It's time to make our move.

CHAPTER 13

- ...So, gentlemen," Edward began, "for those who have joined us recently, I will remind you why we are here. - "Lecture after a short holiday, edition expanded and enlarged..." He glanced at the elderly couple of villagers and their granddaughter, wrapped in blankets, and called quietly to the journalist: "Christian, could you be the interpreter?

- Of course. - Higginson nodded, approached Potap and Matryona and spoke to them in Russian. The old woman looked at him in disbelief, but Masha visibly calmed down and prepared to listen with restrained interest.

- Good," Prayfield clapped his hands together. - So, as you remember, a few months ago we came across the research of a little-known scientist who lived in the second half of the nineteenth century. Adenmayer Wilfred-Smith was deeply interested in particle physics and aeronautics, and towards the end of his life he managed to build a crude prototype of a jet-propelled rocket and even launch it into space. But it wasn't the only one: inside he left a primitive neutron bomb of his own making. A small one, but powerful enough to upset old Oppenheimer even more.

- Oppen... who? - Matryona asked Higginson again. Higginson flung his arms around his head, having little understanding of physics:

- It seemed to be an intertextual joke. - He saw a somewhat bored Japanese woman, who realised she had already heard most of the briefing, and waved her off. - Maybe Barbie could show Mitsuki her doll...?

Itakura nodded readily, sat down beside Masha, and made a questioning gesture toward the rag doll she had taken with her from her grandmother's house before leaving in a hurry. The junior high school girl immediately held out the toy to her with the words, "You look just like her, don't you? Same dark hair!"

Matryona nodded approvingly:

- That's right, play with the Kazakh girl.

Higginson didn't bother to correct the older woman.

- So what's he saying? - Potap reminded himself, putting the bottle on the floor.

- That's right, scientific science. - Christian fixed his imaginary glasses and turned his attention to the scientist, who continued his story.

- Wilfred-Smith," Edward continued, raising his voice, "was able to launch a rocket with a bomb beyond the Earth's atmosphere, but his plans extended much further than that, and he could not act alone. So he left a group of followers with an extremely detailed and almost unbelievable plan, which, half a century later, finally found its executor and succeeded. Just in the autumn, part of the American lunar programme collapsed and a rocket was sent into space without its intended cargo. We were able to document that after the Cape Kennedy incident, the rocket gained second space speed and the Victorian craft disappeared from the upper atmosphere - with no tragic consequences. - Prayfield looked around for art supplies, picked up a shard of brick from the boardwalk and began quickly drawing a crude diagram on the not-so-long ago whitewashed temple wall. - That is, we can say with all certainty that the neutron bomb inside Wilfred-Smith's flying machine is now docked to the body of the American Saturn rocket, using it as an accelerator - and is travelling rapidly on a spiral trajectory towards Jupiter.

The still wounded but energetic Englishman circled the fifth and largest point on his diagram of the planets.

- Why, you ask? To light a second sun in the Solar System. - Prayfield drew small rays of light around the circle. - You see, Jupiter is the same star, but long since stopped evolving. If its mass and temperature were much greater, and if it had formed from planetesimals much closer to the sun... but, you know, I've said all this before. - Edward abruptly threw a shard of brick under his feet. He finished grimly and sparingly: "The solar system has a few thousand years left. The Earth, a few centuries.

By the year 2600, life on Earth will be extinct due to the changed conditions, and by the year 2900, the planet will be consumed by one of the two suns.

There was a rumble of startled voices through the ruined church. Sam and Alexei looked at each other, Mitsuki preferred not to be upset, Christian couldn't believe his ears and repeated Prayfield 's words in a low voice before bringing them to Potap and Matryona.

Adelie looked sadly at her feet. They would all be long gone, just as their children's children would be gone, and it was all a distant future, but still... everything she had loved and known would be gone forever, as if it had never existed. Everything would drown in the liquid gold of stellar matter, vaporise and dissipate into tiny particles. There will be no more people. No one to tell stories and pass them on to posterity. There will be no more animals. There will be no more cats, dogs, dolphins or butterflies. No more seas and lakes. Not even the sky will be gone. Everything will turn into dust and gas, become a new nebula in the place of the former Solar System....

- ...But I've got a plan to stop it," Prayfield said with a theatrical pause and a heavy assertion.

- Why would you do that?! - Dupont blurted out, blushing and clenching her fists. Then she came to her senses and asked more calmly: "What's the plan?

Edward grinned and continued to explain the logic of his reasoning:

- We have no way to go into space to dock with the spaceship and defuse the bomb. Also, we can't intercept the ship's controls, the intruder disabled all communications after changing the flight algorithm. But there is still one possibility left, embedded in the design of the vintage spaceship itself: a technology called solar sail. - The professor picked up a piece of improvised chalk from the floor again and made a quick sketch of what was to be the rocket.- Adenmayer... expected to do it alone, but overestimated his strength... and had to resort to outside help. However... - Prayfield , who was not very good at drawing, finally gave up and drew large oval shapes on the sides of the unsightly rocket. - ...he did not change the design of his ship and designed retractable metal panels that acted as primitive solar panels to power the on-board systems. That's how the ship kept itself afloat for decades after its launch into space. And we can seize this opportunity, friends.

- But... how, Ed? - Alexei said, propping up his chin and trying not to miss the slightest detail in his old friend's lecture. He mentally thanked him for the rhetorical question:

- That's what I did for those two months in front of the prisoners: I designed a Soviet beam weapon, but made sure that once launched, it would not harm a living soul without our knowledge.

Vorobiev thought for a moment.

- Wait," he began slowly, "so we can just redirect the orbital cannon and fire its beam after the departing missile...?

Prayfield shook his head.

- If only it were that simple. If you remember, I've already said that I don't think it's wise to risk the consequences of detonating a neutron bomb of this magnitude near our planet. There's a chance of causing a gamma ray burst like the supernova that killed the dinosaurs.

- I'm not sure I can translate all this adequately..." Christian finally gave up and asked Potap if he had any more unsold moonshine.

- What if we wait until the rocket gets further away? - Jones, who was deadly serious, spoke up. He was writing down columns of calculations on a piece of paper and plotting spirals of trajectories to guess the next step of the young Englishman.

- It's better, but it's more likely to miss. - Edward folded his hands behind his back. - You see, old chap, we don't have to destroy the bomb to stop the inevitable. It's enough to stop it from reaching its destination.

- But how to do it...? - Adélie asked quietly.

- By the design of the Soviet spacecraft," the inventor turned to her. - I have not only built in a secure remote control module, but also considerably weakened its rated power. We will be able to direct a laser beam of low power at the solar sail for a limited time - two or three hours will be enough to give it sufficient acceleration, break the planned gravitational manoeuvre and make the bomb fly past Jupiter's field of influence. I haven't finished the final calculations yet, but," Sam wouldn't lie, "it's more than realistic and within our capabilities.

- That's an excellent, though somewhat crazy, plan," the dark-skinned American nodded and looked away from his notes. - From a maths and physics standpoint, it could really work.

- Glad to have you on our team, mate. - The scientist smiled at the tech student with a love of popular music.

- So, what do we need to make your plan work? - Alexei guessed the answer and realised who would be responsible for the next step.

- A lot of hardware and parts. I realise it can be complicated, but....

- Quite possibly," Vorobyev assured Prayfield . - But I am more concerned about the problem of time than the problem of resources.

The professor hummed.

- I will assemble the remote control long before the satellite is fully operational.

- I see, but that's not what I mean. - The doctor frowned and stood up from his seat. - I mean that the Soviets won't leave us alone. You escaped from the most secure scientific prison and embarrassed the chief military officer, I blew up his helicopter and probably shot a couple of dozen other people along the way....

- You what?! - Edward hadn't expected such an admission, so much so that he even opened his mouth for a second. - You're not allowed to stop by the house for a visit!

- I know, I know. - The Soviet dissident with frightening combat experience felt uneasy. He didn't want to admit to himself that the adrenaline feeling of combat was filling some of the emptiness inside him. - A little too much.

Prayfield rests his hands on the side of his head.

- You don't need to be reminded that in normal cases we try not to kill people, even the really bad ones, do you?

Vorobyev remembered himself much younger - the first time he had been issued a weapon, a rusty Mosin rifle, and told to crawl after a comrade through the ruins of a city that was being shelled from aeroplanes... he would never recover from what that war had done to him.

She taught him how to survive. To kill, if necessary, with a cold mind.

- I still dream about what I saw in Germany," the doctor said quietly, not taking his eyes off his shaking fingers, "When we finally defended Moscow and went on the offensive against the Wehrmacht... the Krauts had to pay in blood. What fellow soldiers did to those who fell into their hands... what I did....

Alexei clenched his fists and looked out the arched window at the charred remains of the village. Edward put a hand on his shoulder.

- I understand you, old chap. It's hard to free oneself from the trauma of the past. We all have a lot of them..." The scientist pictured an old framed photograph on his desk at his Oxford estate, which he'd left in a state of ruin by the kidnappers. - Besides, it wasn't easy for you to come back. You sacrificed so much to escape the Soviet Union and start a new life in Europe. I know there are still a lot of people in Moscow who want you dead. I don't have as many enemies as you do! - Prayfield grinned. - But you and Adeli and Sam and Mitsuki rushed to my rescue anyway, spending a hell of a lot of time in those catacombs waiting for a signal for help, with no amenities and no familiar kitchen... maybe that's the most valuable thing anyone's ever done for me. Thank you, old friend. Thank you all.

Edward extended his palm for a handshake and Alexei looked at it thoughtfully.

- You were the one who reached out to me first," said the surgeon with too much combat experience. - And we've been through so much... of course I couldn't leave you.

Prayfield smiled and turned his palm. Vorobyov swung round and shook it with force, like an arm-wrestler.

- We'll get through this night, old chap," the inventor promised him, who had shrunk during his imprisonment. - Then we'll go home and get a good night's sleep in a warm bed.

- Yes, it would be very nice... - the Russian expatriate allowed himself to smile, - but first we'll have to survive a series of assaults. When the satellite is put into operation, they will have time and desire to find those who almost derailed a key project for the Soviet defence industry and killed their general.

Edward nodded and frowned.

- Then we'll need even more materials. And cars. Besides, it's better to take out the village couple with the baby. - "There's no point in risking people who've already lost their home for their kindness..."

Prayfield bit his lip and began to count something in his mind. - Take Sam and Christian with you, ask Potap for a tractor, and get all the scrap metal and electrics you can get. It might take a few trips, but it'll be worth it. I've already got some quick ideas that could be very effective in an open battle with a small army.

***

- Well," the Oxford professor moved closer to the group of people, "it's time to say goodbye. Thank you for getting me out and not turning me in to the Chekists.

- Well, someone, as it turned out, called the KGB... - The grandmother in the kerchief turned grumpily to her husband.

- Sorry about that, Matryon... I wasn't thinking.

Potap did look upset. The hangover was making itself felt.

- If it weren't for you, we'd have a whole house! - the old woman continued to grumble. - And the village too!

- That's right, he had blundered again. - The tractor driver thought how good an excuse not to come to the collective farm would be if the village with evacuated inhabitants was burnt down by the security forces.

- Don't swear, that's enough... - Masha could barely stand on her feet and was clutching a painted doll in her hands. Edward smiled at her and turned to the elders:

- Listen to your granddaughter, don't fight. And be a little kinder to her, okay? - The scientist leaned over to the schoolgirl and winked at her. - We must keep the good in us for the sake of the future. Otherwise, why fight for it?

- Your truth, spy. - Matryona sighed and tried a friendly smile.

- It's a pity we never had a drink. - Potap gave him his hand. - You're a good man, you've got a good head.

"An Evening of Farewell Handshakes."

Prayfield smiled demurely at the Russian man and readily responded to the parting gesture.

- Maybe we'll have another drink sometime, comrade. - He pointed to a small four-wheel drive Niva with a trailer. - And now get in the car, Alexei and the guys will drive you to the nearest village... are you sure you'll find shelter there?

Matryona let out a short laugh and stretched:

- Of course, we'll spend the winter at Tamara Petrovna's, she's borrowed twenty roubles from me anyway, so let her pay it back, the devil.

- And still, you'll need to get on your feet... - Alexei closed the car door, walked up to the farewellers, unzipped his jacket and pulled out a stack of notes from the inside pocket: - Here, here's five hundred.

- Wow, a fortune! Are you a banker? - The mustachioed man was surprised and turned to a whisper. - A Jew? A Jewish banker? Or do you also steal a little from the collective farm?...?

- No, Potap," laughed Vorobiev, "I am a simple surgeon, and not the richest.

- You're also a liar. We'll remember, we'll remember... - Potap started to put the notes into his trouser pockets, but Matryona kicked him under the breath and took away all the money, sensibly enough reasoning that it would be safer in her possession.

- Thank you again for the shelter," the Oxford professor thanked the old woman sincerely. - Without your help, I might not have survived last morning.

- Come on, we're all human beings... - The old woman prepared to get into the car first, but turned round: "Come and visit us if you're in our neighbourhood.

- I will," Prayfield promised her. Matryona nodded silently and got into the back seat. Masha prepared to follow her.

- Sayonara! - came a quiet voice from the right.

Mitsuki timidly lifted her watercolour stained hand and waved it.

- Bye-bye! - The girl answered her and waved too, before climbing into the parlour.

The Japanese woman sighed. Adelie put her arms around Mitsuki's shoulders, and Sam put his arm around her and raised his other hand in a gesture of farewell.

Alexei nodded to Prayfield , put on his ushanka hat and got behind the wheel.

Potap, too, lingered for the last time to say something important.

- I don't understand much," he started uncertainly at the open door of the small SUV, "what exactly you want to do up there in the sky with the sun and those planets... it's all far away from me... but you seem to know a lot of things and, well... - the tractor driver hesitated, trying to find the right words. - I've seen a lot of different people, good and bad, but I've never seen anyone like you. You're passionate about your work and you're willing to go to great lengths for each other, even if it seems impossible. - Potap smiled and finished. - Everything will work out for you, kids.

Edward was prepared for anything, but not for being so moved by praise from a man who reminded him of his elderly father.

- Thank you," he replied in a shaky voice as the door closed, "it's good to get to the neighbours! Goodbye!

***

- So," Prayfield spread a large roll of yellowed paper on the dining room table, spread smaller sheets of paper on it, pulled out a set of lead pencils from nowhere, and rested his hands on the tabletop, "while the men on the raid try to find resources for us, I need you to help me.

Not expecting such a request from a scholar with nearly forty years of teaching experience, Adeli's eyes rounded:

- But with what? What can we do?

- Nani...? - Mitsuki interjected as well, taking a break from drawing abstract figures.

Edward looked at them over his glasses and smiled:

- You're young. You're women. Your view of the world is very different from mine. You're able to see alternatives that I might not see. Find shortcuts where I can't see them.

The Frenchwoman nodded slowly with a concentrated look:

- In other words, you need new ideas - and fast.

- You're right as always, my dear. - Prayfield straightened up on the bench and folded his arms across his chest. - Normally I'd be able to do this alone, but we don't have time now-we're in the middle of the largest and most closed-off totalitarian country in the world, and they're looking for us to kill us. And by my calculations..." the inventor looked at his wristwatch. - ...we have a few hours before the assault begins.

- That's too bad. - The Japanese woman, who had already mastered spoken English quite well, put her pencils away frustratedly.

- That's right, Mitsuki-chan.

- Hmm..." Dupont licked her lips thoughtfully, looking at the vaulted cathedral of the temple with its faded frescoes and cracked walls.

- What's on your mind, Adelie? - The scientist squinted.

The Frenchwoman furrowed her brow, straining her memory.

- I spoke to Potap," Adélie began, "we are in the Pyatiozerny Monastery of St Paul the Apostle, where Tatar and Chuvash partisans lived during the war. It was very difficult for the Germans to dislodge them from the barricades.

- So we'll barricade ourselves," Prayfield concluded after a brief pause. - And we'll mine the approaches to the monastery.

- But it's dangerous! - Mitsuki rounded her eyes.

The professor shook his head, picked up a pencil and pulled sheets of paper to sketch out a few equations and simple diagrams.

- Not at all, I'll make vacuum-electromagnetic mines with remote relays. - The girl watched mesmerised as the strokes of the slate rod turned into crude blueprints. - They will disable all electronics and slow down their tanks for a long time.

- There will probably be a lot of soldiers. - Adelie looked up at Edward with worried eyes. - How are the five of us going to stop them?

- Certainly not with firearms. I don't want to breed violence unnecessarily..." The grey-haired inventor tapped his index finger on the table and then raised it up. - Okay, I've got an idea: we'll use a railgun. We can make a homemade analogue of a rifle using electricity, slow down the speed of the projectile and connect it to a battery... so the bullet won't kill anyone, but it will hit with a discharge of electricity, or even a cascade wave, if there are semiconductors like metal nearby.

The scientist dropped his pencil; there was already a working sketch of a homemade weapon on the paper.

- They'll definitely have enough metal..." Dupont nodded her thoughts and glanced at Itakura. - Maybe we should take advantage of that and turn the numerical advantage against them.

- You work with magnets? - turned to Prayfield the Jap.

- Yes," the Englishman slapped his palm on the table with a raised hand, "and that's a great idea, gals! I used to test magnetic grenades, we can use this concept - and turn it inside out. - Prayfield thought for a moment, looking at the stacks of papers in front of him. - Blueprints, lots of blueprints... and almost no time to assemble. But we can try, it's quite feasible....

DuPont had an idea.

- I don't want to complicate things any further," the girl began, "but we might be able to help you...

- What do you mean, sweet Adélie?

The blonde tucked her unruly wavy hair away and gathered air into her chest.

- You could simplify the design schematics down to individual elements, like that new Danish designer..." The Frenchwoman waved her hand, trying to remember the Latin word. Edward understood what she meant and nodded understandingly:

- Mm, "legis, legot, lego..."

- ... to hand them over to us for assembly and speed up the process. Six hands will do it faster than two," the girl finished confidently.

It was not without pride in his student that Prayfield agreed with her:

- That's another excellent idea. This will buy us more time to assemble the control panel for the satellite, which we may need... - the Oxford professor glanced outside the window and clapped his hands. - Okay, now if you'll excuse me, I need an hour and a half of exclusive peace and quiet to prepare detailed drawings and realistic engineering solutions for everything we'll need.

Mitsuki nodded and obediently moved away so as not to interfere. Adeli leaned over and touched the scientist's hand:

- You can do this, Ed," she said with feeling. - We believe in you.

Her touch was soft and warm, just like Evangeline's. "No... keep your cool... Evangeline is dead and I've had time to grow old... you need to focus on the task at hand, as you always have."

- We're all in this together," Edward told her, looking up at her. - The future of the solar system depends on whether or not we survive this battle.

***

- Okay, that's not good.

Sparrow, with his rifle and a large bag on a sling, swung open the cathedral doors and burst inside, making the girls at the refectory tables wince.

- What is it...? - Prayfield turned round with a homemade soldering iron in his hands.

The doctor threw the bale to the floor with a clang and rushed back, nearly knocking down Sam, who was barely able to keep his feet under the weight of the second bag of machinery parts. The young American with difficulty lowered the things to the ground, and the doctor inspected the entrance and closed the double doors with a heavy deadbolt with the words:

- We pulled out the extra parts, but we were spotted.

- A whole flock of choppers from the direction of Moscow," Sam confirmed, wiping sweat from his face tiredly. - They barely got away.

- Where is Christian? - Adélie asked anxiously.

- I took the second car," explained the tired American, "everything didn't fit into the Niva trailer. He should be here in half an hour.

- So how much time do we have before the assault? - The inventor asked straight to the forehead.

- It's almost gone," Vorobyev cut him off, thinking irritably about the lack of arsenal. "I'd rather rob a military warehouse than lug some rubbish around... Agnieszka won't like it if we somehow miraculously survive." - The assault could begin in the next hour.

Jones caught Adela's worried look, nodded, and unhappily confirmed:

- We could have an entire army against us.

- Then we'll have to improvise..." Edward pulled a badly sharpened pencil from behind his ear, bit the end of it, and thought for a moment. - I didn't want to resort to extreme measures, but I might have to change my principles. And I might have to do it now.

- What do you mean? - Dupont frowned, who had noticed how much Prayfield valued integrity and adherence to his own standards of morality.

- Nothing," the scientist reassured her, "just thinking out loud. - Prayfield glanced at the unfinished assembly, the mountain of blueprints and the church vault already punctured in the last war. "It might not survive a second tank hit..."

The scientist clapped his hands and beckoned his friends to him: "Okay, gentlemen, I'll switch to the control unit, and you finish assembling the defences according to these schemes; the elements are ready, the girls will explain to you what's what.

- It's not hard," Adelie confirmed in a friendly manner to an interested Sam, "we've already done some of it.

- What an impressive machine," Jones remarked and pointed to a massive elongated object with a handle, wires, a trigger mechanism and two parallel rods instead of a muzzle.

- Wunderwaffe! - Mitsuki suddenly shouted clearly and raised her weapon upwards, which shimmered and extended even further in length with a metallic clang.

- No, no, no," Prayfield leaned towards her thoughtfully, "don't point it at your friends, it might shoot.

Itakura lowered the makeshift railgun with a faint smile, and Adeli remarked half-heartedly:

- I don't think giving the kid a gun and teaching her German words was a good idea....

- I'm not a child! - Mitsuki objected vigorously with a touch of resentment.

- Of course you're not," Dupont patted her on the head with sincerity in her voice. - No offence, mate.

That was more than enough for the young Japanese woman.

- Look," Sam said, leaning over the table, "the schematics are really simple. He scrutinised the drawing, took a series of hollow cylinders with unusual cross-sections, connected them with several rods, attached a telescopic sight, attached the lithium battery to the body with a series of wires, added a handle, noticed the blue glow from inside, and twirled the ornate weapon in his hands with surprise.

- How was it? - Vorobyev asked from afar and still incredulous.

- Click, click, click, and there it was! - The American carefully placed the improvised shotgun in front of him and turned respectfully to Prayfield : "Cool stuff, brother.

- Glad you liked it, mate," he answered and looked at his old friend. - What do you think, Alex?

He was already holding a gun assembled from parts, which looked like a mixture of a revolver and a miniature grenade launcher, equipped with capsules rotating inside a field of Newtonian fluid.

- I don't know a damn thing about engineering, but to take something in my hands, put a couple of parts together, and see that it works is very satisfying. - Vorobyev inserted the missing ammunition into the clip, pulled the safety back with an audible click, took aim, and put the trigger back in place. - I think we'll be all together in half an hour.

- That's right," Prayfield nodded with a smile, glanced at the quickly dismantled blueprints, and looked up. His state of mind did not escape Adela's notice.

- Can I help you? - a girl came up to him.

- No, no, darling," Edward snapped back to reality, reproaching himself for his momentary weakness, "I can do it myself, the circuits are simple. But you can power the satellite dish in the bell tower, if you're not afraid of heights and want to save us a few minutes of time.

- Of course, Professor," Dupont nodded with simplicity and readiness, fixed her curls, wrapped her coat and tightened her scarf. - I'll be right back.

She headed with a quick step towards the stairs to the first floor, and Prayfield couldn't help but half-smile:

- Um, "Professor"...

He'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't pleased to hear a new friend address him so intimately.

***

The first floor was filled with boxes of unopened church utensils and blackened icons, withered books and junk scattered on the floor. Adelie had seen Edward here a couple of hours ago when she'd been installing the antenna, so she had no trouble finding the wire branching across the floor and following it to the exit.

- So... hmmm...

The scientist had laid a cable from the ground floor to the tower, but had not secured the contact ahead of time. She would have to walk the entire length of the wire and find where the communications were connected... Dupont swung open the far door and looked up at the flimsy-looking spiral staircase, with a perfectly intact cord running along the railing.

"Damn, looks like we'll have to go to the top..."

She sighed and stepped carefully onto the spiral step. The wooden plank looked unreliable, but the metal of the base hadn't corroded too badly and Adélie reasoned that it wouldn't be too difficult to climb - although she didn't really like heights. But for the common cause, one might as well try to stifle the fear.

Adelie finally climbed up, stood with unsteady feet on the stone surface of the floor, and clung to the edge of the collapsed wall.

The bell tower had no roof, much less a dome. The wind whistled deafeningly, drowning out any possible sound. The half-snow-covered place looked dangerous, but the Frenchwoman knew she was up to the task she'd volunteered for. It was easier than she had feared: the wire she had followed to the top of the ruined cathedral ended in a securely soldered, artisanal-looking plug, and just a metre away from it lay a cord with a suitable socket, which was attached to the remains of the wall and led to the metal dish of a makeshift satellite dish on a rotating platform with three pins converging in one place.

- Come on. You can do it.

Adélie crouched down, careful not to slip on the crust of ice, and crawled to the wires. She glimpsed something glinting in the predawn blizzard haze, but she didn't think much of it. Adélie took the end of the wire and carefully inserted it into the other.

- Mm-hmm.

A quiet click.

- Done!

Nothing happened. "Maybe this is normal?"
The girl crawled back, leaned against the white brickwork again, and leaned over the opening of the spiral staircase.

- Ow! Any contact?

Her voice echoed through the walls of the abandoned temple. She wasn't sure if she'd been heard, but Prayfield 's faint voice echoed back:

- Yes, my darling, thank you!

The light on the antenna lit up and she turned from side to side. Adela's heart was relieved.

- Come back down to us! - The inventor downstairs called out in a noticeably cheerful tone.

- Okay, now! - The girl straightened up to take in the sight of the platform where the church bells had once been long ago, and glanced down. The blizzard had dissipated and she thought she saw something sparkle again up ahead. - Wait...

The Frenchwoman went to the remains of the window and leaned over the edge. Far ahead was a thicket of pine woods, overgrown with shrubbery - but there were figures approaching from the side that could not be confused with any other.

- Tanks! - The girl shouted and turned towards the hole in the floor. - Tanks are coming this way!

- What? - Far below, Edward dropped the welding machine and jumped to his feet. - Come back here at once, Adelie!

- And stay down! - Alexei dashed to his rifle at the back wall and belatedly turned to the other occupants of the hall. - No one stay down and stay away from the windows!

- Guys," the girl shouted in a trembling voice, trying to get a better look at the attack and realising that she was not mistaken, "the troops are here!

Suddenly Adelie felt a momentary stab in her shoulder.

Something splattered in tiny droplets; she was swept aside and felt herself falling sideways - awkwardly flailing her arms in a full turn, her back smashing through the flimsy boards and metal railings, without pain or any sensation, past the shattered masonry and ceiling slabs, falling down, down and down.

She didn't feel anything else.

CHAPTER 14

- No, no, no! Delly, Delly!

Papers and pieces of machinery were dumped on the floor, the shaking old hands not at the first attempt laying the girl's slight body on the table.

- Keep your head, keep your head..." said a trembling, over cracked voice.

- Now..." the younger, shorter man replied.

- We need to stop the bleeding! - A third, older and drier man intervened. - Mitsuki, a bigger rag!

- Hai, imasugu!

A high, almost childish voice with a strong accent was replaced by the stomping of light feet, and the stern man turned to his neighbour:

- You caught it, didn't you? She didn't crash?

- N-no, I had time..." the old man answered confusedly in a voice remotely like his usual one. - ...but it hit some beams.....

Edward.
Edward... Gregory... Prayfield ... the name came up from somewhere in the depths of memory.

- Poor bastard!

S-Sam.

The girl's closed eyelids trembled faintly.

- She regains consciousness--sweetheart, wake up,--come on, come on!

There's that strange sensation again. It feels like she's being shaken by her shoulders.

- Ed...ward... - Adélie opened her eyes with difficulty.

Prayfield exhaled.

- I was so afraid we were going to lose you.....

He ran his hand over her cheek and only now noticed that he had left bloody stains on it.

- I'm sorry, please. - The excited scientist took another damp cloth from the girl who had appeared and wiped the traces of blood from Adela's face. She clenched her eyes shut for a moment at the sharp pain and looked at her bandaged shoulder, where a red stain was slowly spreading.

- Did I get shot?

- Yes," Alexei reluctantly confirmed, washing his hands, "you were spotted by a sniper...

- Why didn't you tell me they had snipers, too? - Prayfield turned angrily to him.

- Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a... curse! - Vorobyovswore foully and silently finished disinfecting. Sam shook his head:

- Not funny, man.

- I know," Alexei nodded, mentally regretting that they didn't have magical technologies of the future that could heal any wounds, like in this new American TV series.

Adela smiled weakly and rolled her eyes, trying with all her might not to faint. The Oxford professor covered her with one of the blankets the villagers had left before they left and tucked it in carefully. The girl nodded appreciatively and laid her head on her side with a heavy sigh. Prayfield turned to his friend and asked quietly, but in a calmer tone:

- Is she gonna be okay?

Vorobiev nodded sullenly.

- Yeah, bullet went clean through the shoulder area, no bone damage, no shrapnel. The girl was lucky. But the contusions.

Alexei shook his head, still feeling a bitter sense of guilt. "I shouldn't have taken her with me, and I shouldn't have taken all of them. What was I thinking, fool... I brought the children with me, threw them under the tanks..."

- It hurts..." Dupont moaned quietly and turned with difficulty to the wall on her healthy side. Vorobyov's heart clenched.

- You bet, my good girl..." Prayfield addressed her affectionately, also inwardly torn to pieces, and reached out to stroke her hair, but stopped himself in time not to traumatise the Frenchwoman more. - You almost fell off the bell tower....

Alexei pressed his lips into a thin line and clapped his hands together.

- So, - the Russian doctor approached the professor and the wounded artist, - I apologise in advance for the indelicacy, but I need to examine whether there are no internal fractures.

- Sure, grope all you want," Adeli moaned.

- It's not funny," the doctor shifted his eyebrows and looked at the young American. He shrugged his shoulders - "one-one count.

- Hang in there, mate.... - A completely distraught Mitsuki helped the girl sit down on the table.

- Thank you... it's not that bad, really," Adélie tried to smile at her. - I feel like I've been hit as hard as I can and stabbed through something..." She squeezed her eyes shut again, unbuttoned the top of her blouse with some difficulty, and adjusted the rather noticeable breasts in her bra.

Edward and Sam turned away diplomatically with commendable swiftness

- Well," Vorobyev concluded after a couple of minutes, helping the girl to put her coat back on, "there is no fracture, only severe bruising and a little bleeding in addition to the bullet wound. - The doctor went off to get some instruments and new bandages. - Now I'll treat the wound more carefully, put the first stitches in and change the bandage... it will hurt a little, but it will heal faster and the infection won't get in.

- Arrgh! - The Frenchwoman clenched her eyes as the cloth soaked in desiccating alcohol touched the fresh wound.

Inside Prayfield , something clicked.

- Hold on, my darling," he whispered, stroking her fingers that clung to his arm. Mitsuki held her palm on the other side just as tightly; Jones sat quietly on the edge of the table, not knowing where to place himself. - You are strong. Very strong. You will recover, my dear Adélie. But those who did this to you..." Edward realised what a feeling had been born inside him. A cold fire moulded itself and glistened. - They'll wish they'd never been born.

The scientist let go of the girl's hand, stroked it one last time and walked away with a limp but determined gait.

- Where are you going, Ed? - Sam rounded his eyes.

- Revenge," the scientist cut off and picked up a nearly completed plasma rifle from the second table.

Adelie, struggling to withstand the jabbing and pulling motions of the surgical thread, flinched and leaned forward, nearly ripping the stitches in her back.

- Wait... wait, there's no need. - The girl turned helplessly to the others in the cathedral hall. - Tell him not to! Edward!

Her eyes rolled back, her body softened, and the Frenchwoman lost consciousness. Alexei barely had time to pick her up, cut the thread with a quick movement and shouted towards the man who was walking away with an increasingly confident stride:

- Mate, wait! You're gonna get killed!

Prayfield turned around on the threshold, inserted the power cables into the carbine, and twitched the bolt of the already assembled energy rifle.

- Then I'll take a couple of dozen souls with me," he muttered grimly before walking away.

Sam pronounced:

- That's crazy.

Alexei nodded with an emotionless Adela in his lap and turned to look for chemicals:

- Without it, we can't get out of here alive. We need smelling salts...

- We have to stop him! - Mitsuki exclaimed worriedly.

- Who's going to stop him," Vorobyev shook his head, knowing his old friend too well. - Hold on, Adélie, don't leave us.....

***

In a small and hastily erected tent a couple of kilometres from the monastery, a specially wired telephone rang.

- We've cornered them, Vladimir Yefimovich!" the man in the big cap reported into the receiver, remembering to salute. - One of the criminals, a woman, our snipers have "taken off", and there are at least four left, if our scouts are to be believed. Including the fugitive from Akademgorodok.

- Very good..." replied the hissing voice on the other side after a short pause. The connection was not very good, but all the words could be understood clearly enough. - I order to start the assault, - continued the interlocutor almost without emotion. - Take no prisoners. The foreigners are to be wasted, the traitor-returner is to be delivered alive, but not necessarily healthy... Report, how was it received?

- Yes, Comrade Colonel-General! - the lieutenant again took up his visor. - Let's start the attack!

The tube lay with a ringing sound on the metal holder of the apparatus.

- Are we advancing? - A young man with a bushy moustache and wearing a uniform with lower rank insignia asked hopefully.

- We're advancing," the lieutenant nodded and adjusted the lapels of his tunic, on which several medals jingled. - Throw everything you have - first the strike group, then the heavy equipment. An order from Comrade Chairman of the KGB himself.

- Wait a minute," said his companion, who was about to leave, "were you talking to Semichastny himself?!

- Yes!" the military man nodded proudly. - It was his father-in-law who had crashed in a helicopter the day before yesterday.

- Uh-oh..." the adjutant stretched out, "then it's personal.

***

- ...It's personal.

Edward stepped forward, reloaded the handheld plasma generator, and shifted it from one hand to the other, getting used to the weight. The test piece had been assembled hastily, but it should be enough for a small demonstration of power. "If you think you can kill my friends with impunity, you won't like what I have in store for you..." Bluish sparks glittered in the inventor's darkened glasses, and the eyes behind them reflected the bluish flames of the headlights of motorbikes approaching at full speed.

- Come on, come on! - shouted one of the helmeted riders to the other.

- There's a man with some kind of gun...? - His partner answered uncertainly and reached for the machine gun on the tether. He waved it away and turned the throttle on the steering frame.

- Come on, it's an old man and he's all alone!

Prayfield grinned and walked slowly toward the increasing figures of the motorcyclists. The scientist leisurely turned the control knob on the modified grip, checked the wires, pressed the buttstock to his shoulder, and pointed the weapon forward.

- Well, who's going to shoot first...? - Prayfield whispered and took aim.

The front one of the soldiers on the bikes turned around and informed his neighbour:

- All right, get ready! He could still be dangerous!

He nodded, lowered his helmet shield, and pulled out his machine gun. The rest of the link followed suit.

"Okay...so, all at once."

Edward put his foot forward and gripped the barrel of the gun more confidently. His finger rested on the trigger. "Just as long as the cables don't fail...I'll only have a couple of shots..."

- It's Prayfield ! - shouted the lead motorcyclist in a changed voice as the distance between them and the monastery shortened enough to make out the face of the man with the rifle. - One of the two foreigners who had destroyed OKB-16! Fire, fire!

The motorised riflemen opened fire. The bullets buzzed and dug into the snow, the walls and windows of the cathedral, coming closer and closer to the lone man, who did not move a single step and kept his fly on the nearest target.

- You've taken the first step.

Prayfield shifted his sights slightly to the left and pulled the trigger. The recoil threw the cold-blooded professor aside; from the muzzle of the rifle flew out with a low noise and crackle a sinuous beam of scalding blue energy, which swept through the cone-shaped cloud formed by the shot at the speed of sound and pierced the first of the motorbikes through and through.

- Shit!" was all the soldier could breathe out.
The petrol tank of the IZH-49 burst into flames, the man was thrown forward and flipped over like a rag doll, wheel debris with bent spokes flying sideways.

- Get back, get back!

The rest of the gunners tried to get round the poor creature, but failed to control it: two of them hit each other, dragging the riders behind them and hitting the broken wall in front of them.

- Damn it! - The only motorcyclists left on the road moved sharply in opposite directions, and Edward took advantage of the chaos, ducked, reconnected the cables from the plasma battery, and ran behind Vorobyov's car. "Just so long as it holds up..." He braced himself for a hail of bullets, but none came. Prayfield peered cautiously out from behind the barrier.

The two remaining pursuers turned around at the temple doors and paused as well.

- He blew Pashka the fuck up," whispered one of the shooters, raising the visor of his helmet, "have you ever seen such a thing? And what is this, some kind of ray gun?

- A ray gun is not a ray gun," his partner answered him and nodded to the side, "but it doesn't shoot any more....

There was a reason for that remark. The scientist was thirty metres in front of them, with a presumably dead battery and behind an obstacle that wasn't flawless either.

- You're right. He's surrounded.

The soldiers exchanged a glance, nodded to each other, "It's time!" they drew their weapons and pressed on the gas, standing on their haunches.

Prayfield realised he had to run, and dashed with all his might towards the snowdrift behind him. "Reflexes, don't fail..."

A series of gunshots and the clang of iron on metal rang out. The motorcyclists riddled Vorobyov's Niva and headed at full speed towards the scientist running away from them, who was about to be overtaken by fountains of bullets hitting the snow. Petrol poured out of the perforated car onto the snow.

Prayfield ducked, holding the barrel of the weapon, still hot and ready to fall apart, and almost got hit by a machine gun.

- That's it, you've been nailed! - One of the remaining pursuers shouted as he surged forward.

The inventor turned round on the run, prepared for the last step, took aim and jumped on his back at the same time as the shot.

- That's a controversial assertion.

A swirling beam of synthesised plasma pierced the SUV to the ground, ripped the doors to shreds and hit the petrol tank already damaged by the gunfire. A billow of fiery smoke instantly erupted and threw the motorbikes and their riders far aside with a shockwave. Prayfield was swept into the snow, which softened the momentum of the shot and the effects of the explosion.

When the scientist got to his feet, the melted tyre was still spinning on one of the mangled bikes. Ten metres away from him, the driver was lying on his back with his leg twisted unnaturally and trying to crawl away, his insulated field uniform slowly smouldering on his back.

Prayfield leisurely unhooked the plasma-warped table of the self-assembled rifle, checked the battery, discarded the burned-out cables, and looked around. The rest of the soldiers - not in the best of shape, but they were still alive. The scientist pressed his lips together, wiped sweat and soot from his forehead with a trembling hand, and walked over to the nearest wounded man.

- You shouldn't have gone against me," he began in Russian.

The soldier turned his head and rolled over onto his back with difficulty. A red mark was left on the snow beneath him.

- It would be one thing," continued Prayfield , sitting down and leaning over the middle-aged Russian man, "if you were hunting me alone-I don't care much for myself-but you nearly killed a man dear to me, and I'm not God to hand out forgiveness left and right. - The Englishman grinned wickedly and looked at the weapon in his hands. - An eye for an eye, just like the good old days.

Prayfield raised the shortened rifle and put its muzzle first to the shoulder, then to the skull of the nameless soldier.

- Stop! - finally cried out with a grimace of pain the man lying in the snow, who realised that these could be the last minutes of his life. - I surrender!

- I don't.

The professor put his finger on the trigger and was about to pull it when he suddenly felt the soft touch of slender fingers on his shoulder.

- Edward, listen..." A familiar voice said quietly, a voice he hadn't expected to hear. - Don't become a murderer.

- Delly...

Prayfield covered her hand with his, without turning round. Something shuddered inside. Did he still have a heart inside him?

- We need you here," Adélie whispered in a weak but still confident voice just above his ear. - We can't contact the satellite without a communication point. Give me that.

She pointed to the shortened plasma rifle, still capable of the last shot. Edward turned around and looked up at his young friend with concern and disbelief.

- Are you sure?

The deathly pale girl smiled, surprisingly well on her feet for someone who five minutes ago had been near death due to a gunshot wound.

- I'm better now; you could say we've reversed roles - as we did in your flat.

The Frenchwoman winked, and Edward noticed her lower eyelids twitching and her pupils dilating too much.

- Did Alex inject you with something?

- It was my turn to be on adrenaline," Dupont laughed, and Edward was relieved: it was a natural laugh, which meant she really was feeling better. Or did she want him to think so?

The scientist, from whose chest it was as if several multi-tonne stones had been removed, finally rose from the ground, and the girl demandingly repeated her gesture:

- Give me the gun and let's get back under the roof before the next army units arrive: I can already see some equipment out there in the distance.

The wounded Red Army man in the snow followed the conversation in a language unknown to him with incomprehension.

- Well, have it your way," Prayfield looked at him and agreed. - I'll use one shot, though.

He turned round sharply and pointed the rifle just above the shoulder of his former pursuer.

- Ah!

The shot of cold plasma burned his skin and tore some of his clothes into threads. But it didn't hurt the way a direct shot from a conventional weapon would have done, let alone the deadly invention of a brilliant scientist.

Prayfield handed Adela the emitter, which for a time had become unnecessary, leaned over the fallen enemy, examined him, and considered that his knowledge of anatomy and his stores of Christian humanity permitted a certain minimum of action. - You came to kill us, and I could have returned the favour. But, as you can see, I didn't.

Tell your people I won't be so restrained with the others. - He got to his feet, but he remembered something. - Now, you're going to need your legs to lift your comrades," Edward emphasised the word, "and get back to your superiors alive. Just bear with me for a moment, and I'll fix your sprain.

There was a squashed crunch, a short scream followed by a sigh of relief.

- Come along, my good lady," Prayfield offered the lady his arm at last.

- Did you have to do that? - The girl looked at him reproachfully.

- I needed to release the tension.

Edward grinned, but habitually, without all the anger and doom that had been in him ten minutes ago, and Adela only sighed briefly, squeezing his hand in hers:

- You're a man like the rest of us.....

***

- Jesus Christ!" Higginson slammed the cathedral doors behind him, finally returning with a huge bag of radio parts behind him, and turned round with a look of shock on his face. - There's the wreckage of a burning car and a pile of motorised vehicles that weren't here before. I've obviously missed something, haven't I?

Adélie grinned and under the young Englishman's even more surprised gaze, spread the fresh bandages on her exposed shoulder.

- It's not a big deal," she said with feigned indifference, "I just got shot on the bell tower, and Edward retaliated by going berserk and nearly killing a crowd of Soviet soldiers all by himself.

Busy soldering microchips on the first floor of the open balcony for the monastery choir, Prayfield smiled and met his eyes with Christian, who shook his head, adjusted the metal bag jingling on his shoulders and headed for the spiral staircase to the inventor with the words:

- What interesting entertainment you have here!

Vorobyev, wiping his washed hands on the move after bandaging the wounded, threw disapprovingly:

- She'll be fine, thanks for enquiring.

The journalist stopped and didn't miss the opportunity to drop a barb either.

- I wonder why there'd be snipers here, huh? Nobody would have known about us if you hadn't blown up that psychopath!

Dupont rolled her eyes and hurriedly stepped between the two men.

- Guys, don't fight! It's not over yet!

Sam, assembling something remotely resembling a grenade launcher on steroids from scattered parts, nodded with unaccustomed seriousness.

- The lady's right. The assault will continue, and we need to figure out how to survive it.

He was very shocked by the Frenchwoman's injury and how quickly it had happened. She could have died in a matter of minutes and there was nothing he could do about it... Jones cast an appreciative glance at the still irritated doctor who had pulled the girl from the dead - and transferred it to the prison-like short-cropped and gaunt professor bent over a pile of homemade instruments and parts, whose success depended on whether or not they got home safely.

A battle for the future of the Solar System, being fought right now with an unknown enemy... Who could even think of that? "The sun will go out one day anyway. Life on Earth will die out... why speed up the process - and in such a dramatic way?"

Sam couldn't help but admit that there was something poetic about the idea of a double star. To give the sun a twin sister, to let the universe build new lines of orbits, to intensify the eternal dance of creation and destruction... to create something new on the shards of the old. But at the cost of hundreds and thousands of years of human history?

"This is more than a crime. It is a time-delayed genocide of astronomical proportions..."

Will they, a bunch of randomly met people, be able to stop it?

Edward, meanwhile, nodded briefly, as if reading the American's thoughts, and threw in a reassuring nod:

- We'll manage together. - He rose from his desk and spoke a little louder: - Take your weapons to your liking and take your positions as agreed. And don't forget the magnetic mines - they need to be placed now, while the tanks are still far away.

- Weapons? Magnetic mines...? - Higginson, who had already gone up to the balcony with Adela, set the bag down at Prayfield 's improvised workbench and shook his head. - 'I've really missed a great deal.

- At least we have a car again. - The girl patted his chest and held out one of the flattened cylindrical capsules. - Here, I'll show you how to switch them on.

***

- Well? - Vorobyev came up to the scientist five minutes later.

- Halfway done," Prayfield adjusted his glasses on his nose and put the soldering iron aside. - The signal's coming through, but no telemetry yet. How's it going down there?

- It's quiet for now," Alexei replied and checked the pistol in its holster. - The guys are ready to give defence.

Edward wiped his stressed eyes and shook his head. He hadn't had time to stop and catch his breath since he'd seen Adelie falling down a flight of stairs with a bloody shoulder. "Gotta make it, gotta finish..." But what if their efforts were in vain? He knew his plan had to work, all calculations pointed to that. Adenmire Wilfred-Smith had invented and designed solar sails for his carrier ship in the nineteenth century, correctly surmising that it would be a good way to keep the primitive on-board batteries charged, but he couldn't have known that almost a century later there would be a way to concentrate light energy and channel it into space. "He certainly didn't know about the laser concept. And he didn't expect the trajectory of a neutron bomb ship to be affected after launch... This is our chance to avert disaster."

But their new friends from all parts of the world... Prayfield looked down at the figures of girls and boys nestled against the temple windows, ready to defend with weapons in their hands. A pale Adeli with drops of sweat on her forehead, a collected Sam nearby with a bundle of gravity grenades, a focused Mitsuki struggling to hold the magnetic railgun, Christian examining the induction ray gun.

- I hope we're not putting them at too much risk now..." the grey-haired inventor sighed and a deep wrinkle ran across his forehead.

Vorobyev put a hand on his shoulder.

- Don't think about it, old chap. You know what's at stake. Everyone realises that.

Prayfield nodded as a short shout came from below:

- Alex, get in here now!

Adela's voice sounded frightened. Immediately, Mitsuki turned around:

- The tank's out of the trees!

- Well, here we go. - Alexei pulled the Makarov out of its holster and took the safety off. - Come on, we'll hold them off.

- Good luck, mate," the scientist turned to him in farewell. - And thank you. For everything.

The Russian doctor with the military man stopped in the doorway and turned round in response too.

- Come on, finish your super receiver and join the party. Let's shake it up, just like the good old days.

***

- So..." Adelie whispered, looking at something in the scope of the energy rifle the scientist had assembled, and gestured to herself. Vorobyov leaned over her shoulder and squinted.

- Remind me again what we do with tanks...?

Heavy rectangles of T-64s crept slowly towards them through the snow, long muzzles on their turrets jiggling. They followed one after another - three... no, four good Soviet tanks.
The girl looked up at the man who, unlike her, had been in a real war and experienced its horrors - but his face was surprisingly peaceful.

- We wait, we wait..." Alexei reassured her. But the Frenchwoman wanted to be a little more sure of what would happen next.....

- They won't shoot, will they?

- They could shoot," Vorobyev admitted. - But they won't.

Christian leaned a long-barreled raygun with a bulky battery against the wall at a nearby window-box and tried to reassure his new acquaintance:

- They're already aware of the battered motorcyclists, so their job is more to scare us, get the soldiers here, and...
There was a loud gunshot. And then a second later, a little quieter. The temporary residents of the ruined monastery instinctively ducked. Lime spattered from the ceiling, falling metal shards rang out somewhere ahead.

- ...and bury us all," Dupont finished for Higginson, rising to her feet first. She looked round the room and shook the fine dust from her blond hair with an irritated movement.

- Yes," Vorobyov said, not really surprised. - Apparently, they realised who they were dealing with. And decided not to be ceremonious.

Sam gave them a puzzled look. During the Vietnam protests he had heard from his pacifist friends that Soviet tanks were capable of firing on targets two to four kilometres away, and somebody, but the tankers should have known that. "So..."

- Wait, so we didn't get hit?

Alexei smiled into his greying black beard and nodded carelessly out the window.

- Prayfield 's defences worked. We placed magnetic deflectors around the perimeter and networked them together.

- Dakara watashi wa! - Mitsuki looked out of her window enthusiastically, peering out between the time-blackened icons and unlooted church utensils.

The column of T-64s stood up, slowly rotating their barrels; behind them the spruce forest slowly burned, hit by a shell reflected by an invisible force. Adeli wasn't sure if the magnetic field would have worked that way, but she didn't bother to correct Vorobyov's possible inaccuracy. "The main thing is that we're still alive."

- But what if they come closer? - Higginson asked the question that had been on her tongue. He was answered by Sam, who had been staring out his window, playing nervously with a bundle of homemade explosives:

- You'll see.

Dupont set aside the rifle she had first learnt to shoot with only an hour ago and looked outside again.

One of the four tanks lay on its side, its underside crumpled and crushed. Armed men in brown uniforms, who had not expected such a turn of events, clumsily poured out of the open hatch of the turret. The remaining three tanks tried to bypass the jam, but one of them also hit an electro-magnetic mine: a bluish flash came from under the snowdrift, snow splashed in the sides of the shockwave, and the front of the armoured vehicle was thrown into the air and it clumsily fell on the damaged bottom with scorched electronics and bent muzzle.

- Wow! That's what those things are for! - Christian couldn't contain his admiration.

The remaining two tanks did not continue on their way and moved away from their downed comrades, then stopped running. Their hatches also opened, the crews gathered among themselves and moved a little further away, hiding behind the vehicles.

- It's unlikely they have more equipment," Sam remarked from his corner. Vorobyev shook his head and made a clarification:

- But there can be plenty of people.

He unzipped his jacket, checked the inside pockets for magazines, inspected the gun, and headed for the exit.

- Where are you going? - Adélie looked round anxiously.

- Outside," the experienced military doctor replied briefly and patiently explained: - there should be infantry behind the tanks - I will meet them with fire and distract them from you. Cover them with fire. But keep your head down.

- Copy that, brother. - Sam saluted Alexei and clapped his hands, drawing the attention of the others. - Come on, we can do this! We've got to make time for the doc upstairs!

Vorobyev stepped outside, ducked down and put the Makarov forward. He knew he wouldn't be seen, but he had to be careful nonetheless. The man glanced at the Volga parked at the far edge of the cathedral, the one Higginson had come in with the supplies, and drove as far round it as possible, thinking, "I don't want to break the other car." The field doctor skirted the monastery cemetery with its fallen Orthodox crosses, passed under the roof of the ruined almshouse building, approached the main gate, cast a glance behind him at the main church of the monastery, and took a seat behind the old chapel, of which only the base and a couple of walls remained. "Good position, they won't immediately realise where the fire is coming from." Alexei lay down between the fragments of bricks, put on his gloves, which had managed to wear out, and powdered himself with snow. "We just have to wait for the first stormers."

He didn't have to wait long. A group of soldiers in white camouflage uniforms armed with disc submachine guns appeared from behind the bushes. Vorobyov counted twenty men. "Come on... closer, closer..." One of the leading stormtroopers, covered in ski goggles and masks, walked a few more metres and signalled the others to stop. The lens of a rifle monocle gleamed in the temple window. "Adeli..." The squad leader pointed sharply forward and Alexei realised that there was no time to delay. He took even more precise aim and pressed the trigger.

The bullet knocked off the lieutenant's dark cap with the Soviet coat of arms, and he flinched in surprise and grabbed his ear. The others turned at the sound and opened fire in the direction of the shot. Vorobyov ducked, fired back several times, crawled back and started to move to the side.

Mitsuki stood on tiptoe and peered out of the loophole.

- It's time! - She shouted to the others and struggled to pull out the railgun, which nearly outweighed her. Her white smart grandfather had shown her how to load the device and not break it, and the rest of it was no more complicated than the machine gun system on a small-motor aircraft, so Itakura had no difficulty. She took aim at the lead soldier with the cap flying off and fired. The iron rods flashed with an electric arc and the magnetic pulse pushed a piece of speed-hot metal between them, which slammed under the legs of one of the attackers.
This took the attackers by surprise. The soldiers rushed to fire in the direction of the church. Mitsuki hid behind the thick walls. Adeli pulled out her rifle from her corner and aimed the telescopic sight. "Okay, the important thing is not to die..." The recoil hurt her wounded shoulder. But she didn't miss: a low-frequency pulse hit the arm of one of the soldiers and threw him aside; the man dropped the loaded machine gun and the man fired several shots into the air.

- They've got a whole armoury! - shouted someone from the group.

The storm troopers scrambled out of the open and well-shot terrain.

- Don't panic," the blond-haired leader with the concussed ear shouted and waved his hand to the side, "let's flank!

He clenched his PPS tighter and furiously directed the squad sideways.

Alexei in his stance crawled to the other side.

Christian looked out from behind the stacks of books:

- They're trying to outmanoeuvre us!

Sam rose to his feet.

- No way. - He lifted the bundle of grenades and nodded to the Frenchwoman. - Jean, help!

Dupont nodded briefly, returned to her weapon and fired a few shots.

Meanwhile, a young African-American man rushed to the side entrance, hoping to make it before the soldiers approached. He swung open the doors fifteen metres in front of them, snatched one of the bombs, twisted its top, which lit up blue, and threw it under the feet of one of the attackers.

- Grenade! - shouted one of the soldiers. - Everyone to the sides!

But it was too late. The capsule clicked, vapour escaped with force from the slit between the parts, and then, with a violet flash, those closest to the epicentre of the silent explosion were lifted into the air - but not thrown back; the astonished soldiers hung immobile in the air for a fraction of a second, then gravity seemed to return with redoubled force, and they were smashed into the ground so hard that the snow came off the ground where they had been hit.

- Damn it! - The lucky ones who had escaped fractures and dislocations groaned as they tried to rise to their feet.

Adelie meanwhile took a few more bullets and stepped back to get higher.

- Feel the weight of your position! - Sam threw a couple more gravity bombs at the fleeing soldiers, and, in the growing hail of bullets, managed to close and deadbolt the century-old iron doors.

- We weren't warned about this kind of repulse! - one of the stormtroopers turned to the lieutenant. He was supported by his partner, who was trembling from painful shock:

- They'll kill us all by themselves.

The chief with the wounded ear swung his subordinate and swung his buttstock threateningly.

- This is the work of that foreigner who stole our technology and killed the general! If we kill him, you'll all get the Order of Lenin! Everyone, do you hear?

- But we didn't see any old man as you described," the first soldier tried to object, glancing warily in the direction of the fortified cathedral.

- It's his job, comrades, I'll swear on anything. - The leader of the assault team looked at the church, too, and pointed to the part of it with the fewest windows. - He must be up there. Take cover and fire on the second tier!

Adélie had just reached the clergy balcony when a succession of bullets pierced the less-thick walls and whizzed over her head. She cried out and ducked. The rumbling sounds of returning fire could be heard from below - her friends continued to divert the invading forces. She leaned on her rifle, rose to her feet, and approached the scientist, who was disapprovingly examining the sparking screen in the ceiling.

- Well, how are you? - she asked, touching his shoulder in a caring manner. Prayfield folded his arms across his chest and pointed above him:

- The base is almost finished, but as you can see.....

There was a hole in the kinescope. Adelie frowned: they didn't have a spare television set among the parts," which meant the Oxford professor would have to think of another way to get the information out of the satellite's sensors.

- It's hard to work in a war zone," the young woman sighed sympathetically. Edward softened, and felt a twinge of conscience for taking refuge in his work, putting others in mortal danger. "On the other hand, it will all pay off, there's only a little bit left..."

- That's right," the inventor said aloud and turned to the militant artist. - How are you doing down there?

- Surprisingly so. - Dupont picked up the pulse rifle and twirled it in her hands with some admiration. - I didn't realise how talented a gunsmith you are!

- I wish I'd never found out," Prayfield laughed and shook his head, "Himmler told me the same thing when I met him.

The girl smiled back and felt her hands tremble. The nagging pain from the through wound was back in her shoulder. "I think the effects of the adrenaline are wearing off..."

- How things have changed now, haven't they? - she said thoughtfully aloud to hide her weakness. Prayfield noticed the change in her tone, but confined himself to a fixed glance.

"We're all very tired..."

- Like that Bob Dylan song. - The scientist turned to the nearly completed spacecraft control centre and leaned on the nearly empty desk with a loud thud. - Okay, I still need to reach the military satellite using parts from flea markets.....

- ...and I need to stay here for a while," the alert girl nodded readily, "so as not to lose sight of our foes.

- Well, I'll be glad to have your company, Delli," Edward smiled at her sincerely, allowing himself for a moment to be as open and cordial as he'd once been. - By the way, you're settling in nicely as a sniper.

Adelie sighed picturesquely.

- What doesn't kill us...

***

- So we know where the think tank is....

Vorobyev ran round the group of soldiers from behind and opened fire on them. One of them bent in half and fell to the ground.

- There, behind the graves! - shouted one of the stormtroopers.

Those remaining stopped firing on the first floor and began firing back.

- Shit...

Alexei ducked behind a tombstone, but he didn't have time to hide: one of the bullets whizzed by him, and the other ripped through his sleeve. He clutched his arm under his arm and gritted his teeth in pain.

- No!" shrieked Mitsuki, who had seen the whole thing. She dropped the Relsontron to the floor and dragged it to the other window.

- What happened out there? - Christian turned at the noise, lowering his overheated ray gun.

- The doctor's been hit!

- This is bad! - The young Englishman put aside the long-barreled induction cannon and rushed to the teenage girl's aid. Together they positioned the massive weapon at the far window and filled the clip with pre-formed metal bolts.

- Well, can you handle it?...? - The journalist asked her quickly, ducking down after another shot. "I hope she understood me on the first try..."

- I've always managed! - The Japanese woman, who had already learnt English quite well, answered him surprisingly cleanly.

- Well done! Then I'll take your place. We'll get them away from Alex together.

Mitsuki nodded and began to aim.

- He's over there, behind the crosses! - shouted the white-haired leader in mirrored glasses and a mask.

Vorobyov lay down even deeper between the graves. The blood from the wound continued to flow, but not so intensely. "It didn't hit hard..."

The leader of the group surveyed the succession of shrivelled monuments in the wild shrubbery and pronounced:

- You're not getting away from us... You have nowhere to run from here.

- Comrade Lieutenant," one of his smaller colleagues ran up to him and lowered the binoculars in his hands, "the heavy ammunition has arrived, and a new group is on its way!

- All right," the man nodded satisfied, "we're a little banged up, but we'll get them. - He signalled to two infantrymen in heavy armour and with clumsy belt-fed weapons. - Open machine-gun fire!

But no sooner had they gained a foothold and blown the doctor's hideout to splinters than they were again fired upon from the lower floors of the temple.

- Take that! - Itakura shouted and fired a railgun shell. Higginson, for his part, backed her up with beam fire. The barrel of one of the sluggish laggard's machine guns melted into a crystalline crust under the influence of invisible beams of radiation, and the iron bolts accelerated by the magnetic pulse proved more dangerous than bullets.

- Spread out and wait for reinforcements! - The blond shouted, reloaded his gun, and was the first to rush away.

Vorobyev exhaled and allowed himself to relax a little. "Okay, the blood has had time to clot... we can examine it now..." He tried to twist his arm at an angle where he could see the wound. "That's right, consider it a scratch. Treat and stitch it up soon..."
Except will there be one...?

***

- There you are! - Sam ran up the spiral staircase. Adélie set her rifle upright, turned around, and nodded toward a vacant small window a few metres from her own:

- There's a good firing point here, join us.

- Anshante. - The young American bowed and looked around: - Where's Ed?

The spacious room behind the clerestory, filled with nearly completed control panel parts, was unaccustomedly empty. "Doc's got to work..."

- Upstairs," Adélie shook her head, trying to keep her tone upbeat, "he's connecting new wires to the antenna. He says he needs to boost the signal and... shit.

She glanced outside the window, noted the unaccustomed silence of the moment, drew her rifle and began to peer anxiously through the scope.

- What's wrong? - Jones came over to her, frowned, put his arm around her shoulder, and looked outside.

- Where did the red ones go...? - the girl whispered.

There was no one in front of the temple, which had successfully withstood the first wave of the assault.

- They've moved away," Sam said uncertainly, scratching the back of his head, "maybe they're waiting for a new squad. We gave them hell.

- They're ours, too, it must be said..." Adélie put the scope away, touched her hot forehead, and felt as if she had burned her hand. The weakness in her body grew stronger, the aching pain in her shoulder turned into an incessant noise. "Come on, hold on...gotta hold on..."

- Are you all right? - the young man asked her worriedly.

- Y-yes, I'm fine," the Frenchwoman tried to smile. - I'll be fine. You okay?

- Yeah, I think I'm okay, too. - Jones looked at her in slight disbelief, then something caught his eye outside. - Oh, look, here we go!

The girl rushed to the telescopic sight.

- How many are there...are we sure we can handle it?

Sam allowed himself to touch her chin, met Adeli's gaze, turned her face to his and spoke confidently before loading the sonic submachine guns and getting into his defence position:

- I'm not leaving you.

***

- Come on, come on!

The leader of the Soviet capture group waved his hand and pointed to the gates of the monastery's central temple.

- Commence the assault!

The heavy infantrymen moved forward and began shelling the heavy metal padded gate.

Adelie took aim and fired at one of the machine gunners. A beam of energy threw the soldier with the heavy weapon aside, but another immediately took his place and fired at the girl's position. She barely had time to hide and thank Mary for the fact that the centuries-old walls of the church were so strong.

- Hey!" Christian saw that the attackers had gathered their forces and were firing on the first floor, so he fired a line of his ray gun at them. But the prudent leader saw it coming.

- The invisible beam! - The lieutenant, who had a new hat and a bandaged ear, pointed straight at him. - Second window on the left!

Bullets flew towards Higginson. He ducked and tried to return fire from around the corner, but he couldn't: something jammed in the mechanism's design. "Damn it... Not now!"

- Keep firing, we'll crush them! - shouted the leader, reloading his Makarov, but it flew out of his hands with sparks of melted metal. - What the hell?!

Having managed to regain his strength, Vorobyev slowly lowered his gun, met his gaze with a grateful Christian, and walked away into the shadows of the shrubby overgrown tomb crosses.

Dupont reloaded her rifle, reached for the empty windowsill, and glanced at the floor in front of her. The shells the scientist had prepared were almost out.

- They're coming! - she shouted to Sam. - I don't think we can hold them off any longer!

Mitsuki on the ground floor heard the girl and backed her up: her railgun was almost out of commission and was beginning to eject at best one projectile in three. Higginson glanced anxiously at the Japanese woman.

Adelie gritted her teeth and returned to the scope, ready to spend the last of her ammo if necessary. "Come on... it can't get any worse..."

Jones fired a few shots from his position and turned around worriedly. Prayfield still hadn't returned from the roof. "Where are you when we need you so badly, Doc...?"

- Everyone barricade the entrance! - came the voice of a severely weakened Alexei from behind. Mitsuki and Christian turned round. The Russian doctor had entered the narthex of the abandoned temple through a side door and was struggling to stay on his feet in the doorway, clutching his wounded shoulder. - Come on, come on!

He turned towards the spiral staircase to the choir and raised his voice meaningfully: "If Ed doesn't finish in the next few minutes, we'll all be dead!

- ...we won't be dead.

Edward walked confidently into the balustrade room with the bell tower exit, lingered at the assembled equipment, turned a few levers, examined the lit kinescope of the former television set behind a makeshift magnifying lens, nodded approvingly at his thoughts, and approached the white as snow Frenchwoman and her distressed neighbour.

- I think it's time to switch roles," the scientist said calmly, touching Sam's shoulder. Adela was magically reassured by his confidence; she even thought she felt a surge of strength, despite the fatigue that had built up and the numbness in her right arm. - The system is up and running," the Oxford professor continued, "the telemetry is coming from the satellite, but for full control we need to synchronise its frequencies with ours, calculate its trajectory and turn on the manoeuvring engines to direct it to the right point. Can you do all that?

Sam looked a little embarrassed under the scientist's tenacious gaze, joined by the girl next door.

- Well... yeah, I guess... if the raw data is there.....

- They're all here, my young friend. - Prayfield handed him his travelling notebook. - You have a keen mind: I'm sure you'll be up to speed. As for me..." The grey-haired Englishman straightened up, adjusted his jacket collar, and looked menacingly out of the window, where dozens of soldiers were still storming the main entrance of the fortress-like medieval church, "I won't let us all die.

He walked over to the table, connected a few parts to the flat metal bases, bent over and hooked them to the soles, making the small LEDs glow faintly. Then he approached Jones again and held out his hand:

- Mind if I borrow it?

Sam, who had already begun to learn the basics of mathematical calculations from Prayfield 's notes, glanced absent-mindedly at the submachine guns.

- No problem, of course.

He handed them to the inventor, who rearranged a few parts, swapped wires, and twisted the muzzles of the guns, making them noticeably longer. The barely perceptible noise from the instruments became even stronger, and the cable connections heated up to glow. Adelie exchanged a glance with Sam, who raised his eyebrows with an expression that said, "Was that allowed?"
Edward raised his hands with his self-assembled sonic weapon in a Macedonian stance and turned around:

- I'm very proud of all of you guys. Thank you for coming after me and never stopped believing.

- Wait a minute," Adelie began, "but you...?

Prayfield only smiled:

- Cover me some more, dear Delly.....

...climbed with surprising dexterity to the sill of the high window-box, easily squeezed through it and jumped down, spreading his arms wide.

Adelie shrieked, jumped up from her seat and looked down.

But the scientist didn't crash. The modified boots activated small kinetic dampeners, and Edward fell to the ground from a five-metre height much more gently than he would have otherwise. The crowd of armed men around him parted in surprise.

Prayfield straightened up sharply, removed the top safeties of each other's submachine guns in one motion, and assumed a fighting stance.

- Did you need me? - With a raised eyebrow, he asked in Russian.

The stormtroopers looked at each other. For some reason, no one had the urge to raise their weapons on him. The leader of the Soviet assault team was furious.

- Stand down the assault," he shouted, throwing his arm out towards Edward, "kill the foreigner!

- Well try it," the man grinned.

A few soldiers began firing at him with machine guns, but Prayfield lunged to the side and returned fire. A series of sound waves of inaudible range threw those in their path far back.

- Fire! - commanded the bandaged chief.

Reinforced by his kinetic soles, Edward swept a series of jumps past a platoon of infantrymen who couldn't aim in time, pushed himself off the chapel wall in a leap, and released a new pair of beams of sonic energy in midair. One of the attackers was pushed with force into the snow all the way to the ground. The scientist landed on his feet, locked the soles of his boots together, and prepared for a dash: the momentum of the soles pushed him forward, and he straightened his legs in the movement to slip through the snow past the confused military men trying not to get hit.

- Don't let him get away! - The lieutenant repeated, but not so confidently.

Still sliding on inertia, the inventor separated several parts and inserted the front of one gun into the base of the other, assembling a shortened assault rifle on the fly. Prayfield turned the top of the muzzle against its axis and switched cables in a new combination to improve heat dissipation and keep the reinforced weapon from falling apart.

The remaining soldiers came out of their stupor and started firing at the professor. One of them took him in his sights, but immediately turned round and fell backwards: Adélie twitched the bolt without taking her eyes off the sight.

- Come on, what are we waiting for! - Mitsuki turned to Christian in battle excitement and raised the heavy railgun. - Let's go, we'll drive them away!

- Hide behind me! - The journalist nodded to her, lifted her archery gun, and ran towards the securely closed gate.

Prayfield reloaded the combined sonic rifle and pushed off the snow-covered ground with his feet: the improved boots absorbed the momentum and multiplied it, the energy of the jump threw the scientist into the air and he flipped in the air before he could fire a series of shots. The adrenaline surge made his old heart beat harder, his perception of time slowed, and he saw with crystal clarity how the low-frequency vibrations, barely visible in the shaking air, shattered the crossbars of wooden crosses, tore apart the fragments of uniforms, and violently pushed out the soldiers who had lost their footing, bending them in half like puppets thrown in a rage and breaking the automatic rifles with the crackle of exploding bullets in the magazines. He pointed the slow-moving barrel of his rifle, ready to malfunction at any moment in the frozen shroud of the winter afternoon, toward the lieutenant's pistol, which was pointing at him, its muzzle spewing flames of flame with metal bullets flying out at the speed of flies, and fired the last pulse of the sonic weapon. Prayfield caught a glimpse of one of the released pieces of sparking ammunition deforming in the path of the nearly invisible beam and changing its trajectory, and the gripper's weapon slipped from his hands as something new collided with his shoulder and nearly knocked it out of joint. The lieutenant began to slump to his side, and as he fell to the ground Edward saw the doors of the monastery open with a crash, and figures with weapons rushing out.

- Kogeki! - Mitsuki repeated the battle cry with burning eyes, aimed even more accurately, and fired another charge of the magnetic railgun.

Christian, who couldn't keep her behind him, took a step to the side and fired a line from his induction ray gun at the soldiers, while Vorobyev, who appeared behind them with a bandaged shoulder, dropped to a knee and fired several aimed shots at the machine gunners.
Prayfield collapsed on the trampled ground and dropped the overheated weapon with parts falling off: he felt his heart rate stabilising, his sense of the pace of time returning, but it became difficult to breathe. Alexei ran up and helped him to his feet:

- Come on, mate.

Christian fired a few warning shots to let the scientist come to his senses, and Mitsuki roared loudly, shaking the railgun almost as tall as herself. Those of the soldiers who were still on their feet staggered backwards.

Prayfield forced a smile out of himself, nodded to Alexei, and took the spare pistol from his hands when someone called out to him from above.

- Doc," a dishevelled Jones looked out the window of the upper loophole, "I've done it! I've got 100 per cent control of the satellite!

- Well done, Sam! - Edward saluted him with a sense of relief. - I knew you could do it.

- It's in geostationary orbit, where do we point it?

The scientist took a short pause and said confidently:

- Right on top of us.

- What?

Adelie shifted her gaze incomprehensibly from the man below to Sam and back again. "He can't be serious, can he...?"

- Enter the coordinates on the last page, and I'll be right up! - Edward glanced at the marines who were raising their weapons and prepared to return the favour when a loud explosion sounded nearby.

A giant fountain of snow and shreds of earth rose up on the right, and the shockwave nearly knocked the friends off their feet.

- What was that? - Christian whispered fearfully, not ready to admit that he had heard that sound before. "They couldn't, they couldn't be destroyed...?"

- Vengeance," the leader of the raiding party said, still lying prostrate. He ripped the mask from his face and threw it to the ground, revealing a face full of scars. The lieutenant squeezed his dislocated shoulder, grimaced in pain for a moment, and smirked at the foreigners and the Russian doctor with a look of contempt: "You defended so fiercely, but we were only stalling our scouts.

- They found the magnetic barrier feeding site and destroyed it! - Vorobyovturned to Prayfield . He frowned and turned his head to the side, calculating something quickly in his mind.

- You're all dead. - The lieutenant leaned back helplessly and couldn't hold back a hysterical laugh.

- Two more tanks from the north, they've broken through the defences! - Dupont shouted from her position, pulling away from her telescopic rifle.

- Then I'll have to hurry," Edward summarised briefly, nodded quickly to the still anxious doctor, and rushed towards the temple entrance.

Vorobyev glanced over to Higgins and reloaded his gun.

- Retreat to the cathedral, barricade the entrance.

The doctor's voice faded to a low murmur as Edward ran up the stairs, slipped past Adela, who was shooting up in a cold sweat, and approached the spacecraft's computer control centre, asking the people present as he went:

- Did you get it?

- Y-yes," Jones turned to him, standing at the window-box with an overheated ray gun, "but I don't see how this is going to work.

- In the best possible way, I hope. - Prayfield sat down on a rough stool, gazed at the image on the kinescope, nodded his thoughts and began flicking toggle switches and buttons, each with its own purpose. - So... secure communication is established, control is obtained... - Adeli threw a questioning look at him and he explained without taking his eyes off the screen: "I designed the military satellite in such a way that the power of its beam on paper was nominal, but in practice - far below the calculated one, but now I have to go against my own task and artificially strengthen it for a while. If you cheat the algorithm, put more current to the pulse lamp and focus the lenses...

Dupont's heart eased a little and she turned to the view from behind the window, but it didn't make her happy.

- The tanks are coming into the courtyard! - shouted through the noise of gunfire and the whistling of bullets a deathly pale girl. - I think they're aiming!

- Just a little more, Delli! - The professor tried to reassure her and began to scroll through the information on the screen even faster. "Every second counts..." - Coordinates, power unit, orbital rotation manoeuvre... no mistakes, young man, congratulations! - He turned to Sam, who was blushing, and immediately changed the subject: "Are any of our people outside?

The one cautiously peered out, squinted his eyes, and whipped his curly head round.

-Only the Soviet army, men--fifty or forty!

Edward smiled with the edges of his lips and pressed a large, elongated button:

- Then let's go.

***

- Prepare to make a targeted hit on the bell tower! - The gunner announced in a collected tone, without taking his eyes off the periscope.

- What is it...? - The tanker looked up in surprise through the slit.

Vorobyovsquinted and turned sharply to the others in the narthex of the temple.

- Everyone, close your eyes and move away from the windows now!

High up in the midday sky, an unexpectedly bright star lit up, and a second later a sheaf of light burst from it, expanding into a broad stream: partially dispersed in the atmosphere, a beam brighter than the sun broke through the clouds and illuminated everything around with a searchlight.

The metal of the cladding began to sizzle and bubble.

The gunner recoiled from the periscope lenses that blinded him and waved his arms.

- Get back, get back!

The tank backed up and nearly collided with the second tank, whose crew was confused by the surprise.

Mitsuki spread her fingers across her face and stared mesmerised as the Soviet storm troopers, their clothes and hats on fire, dropped their melted weapons from their burnt hands and scurried away from the circle of searing light, at the centre of which was an old church whose massive walls and roof protected its occupants from the heavenly flames.

- Hurry up, this way! - shouted back one of the privates, who had reached the end of the scalding zone when he realised that the heat was less intense here. - And somebody get Grytsenko!

The fellow soldier who ran out next threw off his smouldering army coat and shook his head aggressively.

- I'm not going back in there!

- He dragged us here! - A third man, limping, supported him. - We've had it with this scientist!

- Comrades, we can't leave him there! - tried to persuade them the first, who did not want to get into the scorcher himself. - He is still conscious!

His mates glanced round and one of them spat bitterly on the ground.

- To hell with you, let's go get the commander.

...as the last remnants of the defeated Soviet army retreated in shame from the battlefield, Edward assessed the gauges and gave a satisfied nod. He switched a few toggle switches and slowly turned the switch all the way down. The column of light first shrank from a kilometre to a hundred metres, then disappeared completely.

Adélie leaned helplessly against the side wall and looked up, where far above, in the vast depths of space, a multi-tonne machine aimed straight at them, closed its giant aperture and creakily turned its icy panels towards the sun to charge its batteries.

- So that's what your plan was, then..." Christian walked up to the inventor and the young men. Prayfield grinned and shrugged his shoulders:

- It didn't include defence and combat, but since we had to hold a fight, we had to change it.

- We've made it," exhaled Vorobyev, who, in the company of the others, had also gone up to the choir. - They are retreating.

- And they are unlikely to come back..." the girl supported him, clutching the pulse rifle she had been holding with whitened fingers. Alexei looked at her carefully and leaned down sympathetically:

- You're barely hanging on. Let me take a look at you.

- I won't say no.

Mitsuki took her hand sympathetically, Adelie smiled tiredly and turned her gaze to Sam as the doctor checked her temperature and began preparing a compress. Prayfield in turn looked round at them all and felt like he could finally exhale. It had been a very long few months...but it wasn't over yet.

Edward coughed and began:

- You all did the impossible today, dear friends. I am very proud of each and every one of you. But we have one last and most important thing left... - The professor turned to the American student whose love of music and new experiences had taken him so far from home: - Sam, as a gifted young mathematician with a photographic memory, could you help me again?

- Of course, sir," Jones nodded readily and respectfully.

- You can just say 'Doc,'" Prayfield smiled and looked at the control panel. - I'm about to try to regain control of the satellite and turn it away from Earth, but to do that I need to know the exact location of the spaceship with the neutron bomb on board. If you remember, it uses something like a solar sail to recharge the on-board systems to survive the multi-year journey to the point of impact with Jupiter. - Adeli and Mitsuki nodded, Higginson frowned, trying to grasp the whole picture. - If we point a Soviet military laser at those sails, we can accelerate it further and change the trajectory of its orbit.

- Then it will fly past Jupiter and leave the Solar System? - The Frenchwoman raised her eyebrows, feeling much better after the compresses and bandages.

- That's right, dear Dellie.

- And we're going to save humanity from extinction in the next hundred years? - Sam squinted, rubbing his smoothly shaven chin.

- Theoretically, yes," Prayfield nodded and frowned at his thoughts. - I'm still worried," he admitted, "about man-made climate change, but that problem will be far easier to solve than the largest planet turning into a small star and the planets' broken orbits.

- Well, then, we'll have to try it," Vorobiev said, folding his arms confidently across his chest and sighing. - It's a shame I can't be of much help; hard science is your thing.

Prayfield smiled and looked at his friend with whom he had been on more than one adventure.

- You've already helped by not giving up, finding me and leading the boys.

Alexei laughed and nodded sideways.

- Actually, it was Delia's idea. It was her idea to come here at once and wait for your signal. - The girl was lying on a couch made from improvised materials, listening to Itakura's excited account of her battle exploits in almost proper English. - If it hadn't been for her, we would have arrived much later.

- Then I shall be indebted to her for the rest of my life. - Prayfield looked in her direction with recognition and almost fatherly affection. - A brave, sweet girl with a strong heart.

The dark-skinned guy raised his hand, reluctantly interrupting:

- Doc, I've worked out the position of the Victorian rocket!

He held out pages of calculations to the scientist and he adjusted his glasses, checking the figures:

- Well, then it's time for the last shot.

- What do you do with the companion when he's done his job? - The young Japanese woman turned towards the men and folded her hands in her lap. Prayfield answered her readily:

- I had thoughts of leaving it to its former masters, since it would no longer provide a threat. The Soviet Union would not be able to threaten Western countries with a harmless searchlight whose most sinister use is to cook scrambled eggs in a pan the size of a stadium.

The inventor smiled and Itakura laughed resoundingly in response.

- But now," the scientist continued, glancing at the landscape outside the window, where padded Soviet vehicles and abandoned ammunition lay on the completely vaporised snow around the temple, "when I had to use it as a weapon, they will learn of its power and try to regain control of it.

Sam frowned:

- In other words, you'd have to drown it in the ocean.

- Maybe," Prayfield agreed partly. - But the best solution is to close the circuits so that no one can use it for military purposes. Not even for frying eggs.

- A good, humanistic plan," Higginson nodded with a smile.

- Thank you. Well..." Edward held out his open palm to Sam; "May I?

- Yes, of course, - the latter readily handed him his notes with calculations of the current trajectory of the neutron bomb moving away from the Earth.

- Okay, one second... - the Oxford professor ran his eyes over the columns of calculations. - ...Flawless maths," he praised the calculations and leaned over to the satellite's self-assembled control panel, pressing the buttons one by one in a certain order, checking the slowly rendered image on the lens-magnified kinescope. - Initiating orbital rotation manoeuvre... rotational torque accounted for... inertia stabilisation... - Adeli and Mitsuki looked at each other. - So... - Edward adjusted his glasses and squinted, checking the pixelated blue lines on the flickering screen against the numbers on the paper, - For us, the ship is moving with an offset on the horizontal axis... we need additional motion compensation... ready, space searchlight on.

With a triumphant look, Prayfield toggled the last combination of toggle switches and with a loud thud, he pressed the "Enter" button and straightened his back with relief.

There was silence, interrupted by the crackle of the working kinescope updating the image line by line.

- That's it? - Christian asked Sam in a whisper, Sam shrugged, and Adelie asked for everyone:

- How long will it last?

Edward figured it out in his mind.

- Three hours will be enough time for it to accelerate twenty metres per second from its original speed and not get caught in Jupiter's gravitational field. And we can finally go home.

The scientist clocked the time on his wristwatch and rose tiredly from his seat. "It's been so long since I slept in a good bed..."

- The car melted a bit... - Mitsuki looked out through the loophole and sadly reported. Vorobyev hurried to calm the teenage girl:

- It's all right, I'll get her back on her feet if anything happens. We'll definitely get to the plane - I have a little secret airfield near Ulyanovsk.

Prayfield crouched on the floor, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes for the first time in hours, listening to the sound of the winter wind and the friendly hum of voices dear to him.

"We have a long way to go..."

***

...In a few days they were already in England.

Edward was pleasantly surprised to see that the estate had been restored after the pogrom and that every book and box had been returned to its proper place. The old leather armchair had been lovingly restored, and fresh roses stood on the windowsill. Prayfield smiled and hung his waistcoat on the back of the chair.

- We're home, mein liebe.

He carefully adjusted the out-of-place carved frame with a black-and-white photograph and ran his hand over the delicate features of the dark-haired girl with expressive eyes in the picture.

- We're still here.

The scientist turned to the wide bookshelf all the way to the ceiling and pulled on one of the books. Part of the section moved aside and exposed the doors of an old lift. Prayfield pressed the call button, waited for the doors to open, stepped inside the stall and pressed one of several buttons. The lights inside flickered and there was a low humming and shaking, but the professor knew that the isolated power systems of his family home could withstand more than that.

A couple of minutes later he emerged from the lift cabin into a long darkened room, at the end of which a small personal capsule on a magnetic cushion awaited the inventor. Prayfield opened the glass lid, switched on the monosphere's own power, glanced at the tunnel lid that opened automatically in front of him, and saw that a powerful propeller with curved aerodynamic blades extended at the bottom of the vehicle, and small flaps were exposed on the sides. The inventor reclined comfortably in the leather chair inside the device and pressed his feet into the pedals: the monosphere rumbled obediently, the propeller blades turned and in a minute the miniature flying machine lifted off the floor, tilted forward and raced forward through the tunnel, illuminating its path with a warm incandescent light.

When the tunnel ended in a wide area, the magnetic cushion capsule stopped and settled to the ground with its engines switched off, Edward Gregory Prayfield lifted the protective bought and stepped outside, unbuttoning the collar of his light-coloured shirt as he went. On the way out, he spotted three more pods in their trenches at separate tunnels and nodded satisfactorily.

He walked down the brightly lit underground corridor and opened the oak doors.

- Edward! - Adélie rushed towards him and hugged him with all her might.

- Oh, my darling. It's good to see you too! - The scientist awkwardly hugged her back and patted her on the back. - It's good to see all of you. - He remembered something very important and almost pulled away from her, afraid of hurting her: "How's your shoulder?

Dupont grinned and twirled in place in a half-dance.

- The doctor's hands work wonders. Another week and I can stop taking painkillers.

Edward frowned:

- Don't get hooked on them if you haven't seen mice on LSD.

The Frenchwoman laughed and the warming scientist turned to the others:

- How are we doing in space?

Sam nodded towards the large network of screens and set the soldering iron aside.

- I refined the tracking centre and connected the satellite data to it: its simple camera is no match for a telescope, but it still allows me to follow the rocket.

Vorobyov emerged from the kitchen area of the secret hideout with a kettle of coffee in hand and noticed:

- As far as I can tell, it's just as you hoped, Ed - it's moving away from Earth at a much faster rate than it was.

Prayfield nodded dutifully, folded his arms across his chest, and stepped closer to study the telescope readings and satellite telemetry tracking the same tiny object with its metal sails out.

- That's good. Mitsuki's at school, I take it? Have you heard from Christian?

The girl furtively yawned, picked up her cup, asked Alexander to gesture to pour her coffee and replied:

- He sent a letter, says he got to Essex safely, is going to write a series of articles on recent events and maybe take the Pulitzer.

- We agreed that he wouldn't write about our story until we had confirmation that the danger was over, didn't we? - Vorobyov offered coffee to Prayfield , but he shook his head, still staring at the screens, fearing they'd made a mistake, so Sam spoke up:

- Alex is right, we need to make sure the bomb gets past Jupiter and gets lost in space.

"No, there's no mistake. The hunch is wrong, all the numbers are correct. Unless we've accounted for something we didn't know... but we've looked into everything."

- It will take months, but not years," Prayfield said confidently and pointed to the top left screen: "Look at the graph, it's an algorithmic extrapolation of its current trajectory, run on a computer with unprecedented accuracy. We've given the Victorian rocket a tremendous acceleration, far greater than the acceleration calculated by its creator. I think...

The scientist was interrupted by an unusual sound behind them and a new voice they hadn't heard in a long time.

- I'm afraid you're mistaken.

An asynchronous pulsing light burst from the shimmering diamond of indistinct edges, which were shades of blue and violet with millions of stars inside the shaky edge, and from it first an arm that had no beginning, then a leg, and then the whole body, assembled in threadlike fragments from the air, appeared. The figure in the rough and blackened spacesuit, blackened by the colossal temperatures, touched the faceted helmet and detached it. The man inside closed his eyes and inhaled loudly the air he was unfamiliar with.

- What?!

Adelie slumped against the wall, Sam stiffened, Vorobyov reached for the weapon he didn't have with him, and Prayfield made no move as he surveyed the slowly melting veil of hot plasma behind the strange visitor from nowhere.

- I did it..." the man whispered in a muffled voice and cleared his throat, "I can't believe it. After all these years... and it worked. It's over.

He raised weary eyes and they hardly. but recognised that look.

- Volkert? - Dupont whispered, squinting. - Mr Van der Berg?

- No..." the man in the life-support suit suppressed a short chuckle, "not anymore. I've had a lot of time to get to know myself... and to accept my real name.

- And which is which? - Prayfield asked him bluntly.

Volkert raised a cold glance at him and said:
- Adenmayer Wilfred-Smith.

CHAPTER 15

- No, it couldn't be. - Edward squinted, trying to figure out how the unexpected guest had ended up in the secure underground shelter beneath Westminster Abbey.

- Why not? - Van Der Berg adjusted the heavy rucksack on his back with wires and pipes coming out of it.

Vorobyov folded his arms across his chest and answered for everyone:

- Wilfred-Smith died half a century ago.

Volkert looked at the wristwatch-shaped device on his wrist and shook his head unsatisfactorily.

- The nature of space and time allows for more paradoxes than that, doesn't it, Edward? - The inventor in the spacesuit put the faceted glass helmet on a table nearby and shook his head. - Perhaps you and I are related in some way, and not just because I saved your life not so long ago.

- We were brought together by chance, not providence," Edward replied, stepping forward and shading his friends. - I'll always be grateful for your and Adela's help, though.

- And yet here I am, right next to you. Again.

Prayfield glanced over to Vorobyovand Adeli. The girl shifted her eyebrows, "Again?"

Edward shook his head: if there had ever been an intruder in their house while they were away, he didn't know about it. And that was bad news.
Meanwhile, the Dutchman continued:

- The coordinates could have been any number of things, but the door opened here. - The young scientist switched to a thoughtful half-whisper: - Apparently, the residual effect of a previous erroneous reality fractaliser connection...

- Excuse me? - Sam raised his voice. Vorobyov turned and discreetly beckoned to Adela.

- The door through which I came in here," Van Der Berg replied, drawing a rhombo-shaped figure roughly in the air. - My life's work.

Alexei moved towards a cupboard with drawers. Volkert noticed the movement, didn't pay much attention to it, but put his hand on the belt of the spacesuit with a series of buttons just in case.

- What exactly did you build? - Prayfield asked.

- What seemed impossible," replied the man with the overgrown beard. - A device that allows you to travel through time without breaking the laws of nature or God.

- You're talking about a... time machine...? - the Frenchwoman asked, putting her hands behind her back.

The doctor discreetly pulled out one of the drawers, pulling out a scattering of small objects. Each had a small button, an LED, and a tiny antenna on it.

Van der Berg laughed at the girl's words.

- Come on, it's a commonplace trope from cheap kiosk books. - He relaxed and tried to explain. - You can't travel backwards in time, Adélie, only forwards. Which is what we're all doing, second by second. But no-one thinks that if you can't go backwards, you can go sideways. That's why I looked at the theory of infinite universes and created a device for safe one-way transfer of isolated matter with preservation of consciousness from one version of the universe to another without catastrophic consequences.

Edward squinted and shifted his eyebrows. If he'd heard someone else say that, he would have laughed in his face. But Van der Berg was really good at this sort of thing. And somehow he had actually managed to appear here out of nowhere, in a place that only nine people in the whole world, including the Queen of England, knew existed.

- It sounds... not very clear," Adélie admitted quite sincerely. Van der Berg sighed and tried to phrase it differently:

- Then let me put it this way: my machine will allow me to travel to any time in the past or future within ten thousand years, within a certain margin of error. But it doesn't go backwards. I will forever disappear in one reality and reappear in another.

Dupont tried to imagine it and transfer it to herself. Leaving everyone she'd ever known and loved behind for a new world and a different era. No, she wouldn't have dared to make such a time-travelling journey on her own.

- But what about the problem of energy balance...? - the professor asked, rubbing his stubbly chin with interest. - You can't just cut yourself out of this reality without leaving anything behind.

- Good question," agreed the teleported guest and leaned against the countertop. - I managed to solve this problem by transferring the emission of X-ray waves to the microscopic level. There are not only black holes in the universe, but also white holes, quantum foam is full of them.

- A graceful way out," Edward agreed. - But the transfer can't be done without loss, even though you've isolated yourself with a protective suit. You lose a part of yourself with each transition....

Van der Berg thought for a moment, then looked at his hands, as if imagining how with each passage through the veil of interworldly matter some of the cells of his skin and tissue disappeared irretrievably, and said:

- It is a small sacrifice for infinite possibilities. - He raised his eyes to the scientist. - To be in any time. Any place. To see with his own eyes incredible combinations of circumstances... and to carry the knowledge of them further. After all, a door to another world might as well be a window to it.

Alexei cast a sidelong glance at the inventor of the time machine and tossed a handful of the miniature devices into his pocket; with that, he pressed a button on one of them and felt a slight vibration. "Probably won't come in handy, but it pays to be prepared for anything..."

Prayfield , meanwhile, nodded slowly with understanding:

- Sounds like an almost divine power of omniscience.

- That's real power, Ed," Volkert continued, tapping his chest. - Not money, influence, or wealth. Knowledge based on an infinite number of possibilities of events that have already happened somewhere. You of all people should understand that!

The professor folded his arms across his chest and caught himself thinking that the idea of travelling through randomly chosen alternate universes did have its charms.

- Perhaps," he agreed after a moment's thought. - An endless experiment on countless alternative worlds... And you don't have to leave the world to see the consequences of your decisions. It's enough to isolate yourself in an energy cocoon and close the system to yourself to speed up the passage of time inside and relive years of life in the rest of the world in a few hours.

Van der Berg smiled broadly and nodded.

- Exactly! It's like you read my mind!

Prayfield answered him with a quick half-smile and remarked:

- I don't know if I could have resisted the temptation to play god myself, which I understand you couldn't resist.

- I couldn't, I couldn't," admitted the Dutchman. - So you can imagine my feelings when I put the fractaliser together for the first time - and it didn't work.

- Oh..." Adélie sighed sympathetically and turned back to Vorobyov, who had almost pushed her. He cast a meaningful glance at her.

- I was crushed," Volkert continued quietly, lowering his eyes to the floor. - This was the dream to which I had dedicated my life. An invention that could change the course of human history forever. Imagine a source of infinite knowledge and wisdom that could rid us of wars and disease... why go to the trouble of finding a cure for cancer when in some universe or time it had already been invented? Interstellar travel - it could have already been discovered in a few years. And the horrors of atomic war? - He grinned. - Show politicians a real nuclear winter in a dead version of our reality and the Cold War would be over! Progress could be accelerated much faster if there was someone who had seen it with his own eyes in a hundred other worlds and could show it to others...

- Hmm." Vorobyovsnorted incredulously, pausing at Sam's side. Edward rightly remarked, raising his index finger:

- But your device was never fully operational, was it? Even now - you moved here, but you didn't leave our version of events?

- Right," Van der Berg nodded, straightening his back, "or we would never have met again. You're right, I still can't use the reality fractaliser to its full potential. No one can. And that's the worst of it. - He changed again in a drained and visibly aged face. Months of sleep deprivation and stress had done their work. - Our universe, this version of events... there's something wrong with it, Ed, it's fundamentally broken. Time travel is impossible here. At least that's the conclusion my predecessor came to.

- The real Adenmire Wilfred-Smith...? - Adélie asked cautiously, shuddering as she remembered the ruined manor house with the butler who had died alone. The young scholar nodded at her and continued:

- In the world from which he was transported, his name was also Volkert VanDer Berg, and he, like me, invented his device in 1963, and it worked immediately. He travelled to many strange and exotic places until fate took him to the 19th century of this world - where his time machine stopped working. You can imagine his despair - to find himself trapped in a time where even electricity was not yet ubiquitous! He managed to restore the reality fractaliser, but it didn't help. So the aged Volkert took on a new name and backstory, secluded himself in an estate with a couple of servants, and worked until his death to solve the problem. Because it's so much bigger than one non-functioning time machine...

- What do you mean? - Sam frowned. The native of the Netherlands shook his hands:

- Because time itself in this world is stuck! This version of events has become a trap for time travellers - and I am partly involved. - Van der Berg bit his lip and tried to explain the rather complicated concept: - The moment I created the machine was the starting point for all time travel to this reality from the others. And from the moment I invented the fractaliser of realities in this time, it will attract other versions of me. - The young man shifted his gaze to the only girl in the room and explained further: - No two identical people can exist at the same time, so at the moment of my death, the next copy of me from another world will appear here. And after his death, the next one. One person in different faces, living life over and over again... It will be a disaster for all worlds.

Prayfield allowed himself to agree not fully:

- It's a curious paradox that can be capitalised on if you wish - but I understand your feelings.

Van der Berg shook his head and sighed heavily.

- It's not immortality, Edward, it's a curse. And it goes against the very reason for creating a machine of realities. If knowledge from different worlds is accumulated in one, there will be stagnation, entropy for all the others... Adenmayer realised this early on, and spent a lifetime trying to find a solution. And he found it. Although you won't like it.

- What do you mean? - The professor furrowed his eyebrows.

- About the missile with the bomb," his guest answered him coldly, "the blueprints of which you found.

It seemed to Adela that he was regretting that the conversation was once again veering into an unpleasant but necessary direction. "He seems obsessed with his dream...and willing to kill for it."

The girl squirmed inwardly, ready for the worst. Meanwhile, Vorobiev noted:

- A crazy plan, the logic of which we have never been able to understand.

- But it is there," Van der Berg argued vehemently, "although it took me some time to accept it. Wilfred-Smith came to the conclusion that in order to untie the Gordian knot of the time paradox, it would be necessary to sacrifice the point of attraction for time travellers - the planet itself.

Sam was ready to hear those words again, but not from the man who had a hand in the greatest man-made disaster in history. There was silence in the room.

Volkert looked back at the men with the girl and added, as if justifying himself:

- The Earth will die sooner or later anyway, and so will life on it. We are only bringing the inevitable a few hundred million years closer.

- Amazing nihilism," Prayfield said at last. - You're willing to put millions of years of human evolution and development, along with life itself, under the knife. And for what?

Van der Berg turned to him and exclaimed:

- For the future of all other worlds, for freedom and progress! Besides," he added more judiciously, looking at one of the screens with the telemetry readings of the Soviet satellite and the trajectory of the spaceship flying towards Jupiter, "the destruction of the Solar System does not mean the death of mankind.

Vorobyev shook his head impotently:

- You're not making any sense.

- Not at all," the man in the homemade spacesuit contradicted him. - I have a vision and a clear goal. And I won't let anyone, not even you, stop me from realising them for a better future.

There was a metal in his voice that hadn't been there before. Prayfield removed his folded arms from his chest and stepped forward, shielding his friends.

- I'm afraid you're wrong. If you are prepared to destroy the whole world according to the precepts of some mad dead man, you will have to deal with us first.

Van der Berg grinned.

- I don't have to, alas, I've already done it. With your help, by the way.

- What?

Edward turned back to the screens and began frantically staring at the readings. Edward turned back to the screens and began to stare frantically at the readings.

- The chain reaction has already been set in motion," Volkert had meanwhile finished satisfactorily, "and you yourself pressed the trigger.

- That's not true," Adelie, who still hadn't seen any changes on the screen, turned to him with offence, "we found your spacecraft, calculated its path and changed it. It won't get to its destination!

The Dutchman shook his head and reached for his protective helmet to put it on his head.

- You think so? Your colleague seems to agree with me.....

Dupont turned back to the screens and saw Prayfield slumped back down in defeat, while Sam squinted his eyes and said, not believing his eyes:

- Damn it, Doc! The rocket's changed course!

The values of the acceleration and rotation sensor readings began to slowly increase.

- So there was a manoeuvring unit after all," Edward whispered, trying to make sense of what had happened. "It was all one big trap..."

Van der Berg seemed to read his thoughts and confirmed them:

- You should have found most of the blueprints in Wilfred-Smith's house,-but not all of them, not all of them. - Volkert shook the glass helmet in his hands thoughtfully. - He had calculated every detail. I myself... fell into his net. The old man knew when I'd show up, and where... he was a damn good mathematician. - The man looked up. - And he left instructions on how to perfect his plan.

- You're the one who hijacked NASA's rocket booster and used it to launch the upper stage.

Prayfield turned and came face to face with his opponent. - And the solar sail... you deliberately let it out. In case we tried to stop you.

- Exactly," Van der Berg nodded with grim satisfaction. - The energy from the beam weapon charged the internal systems and switched on the onboard automation. - He shook the protective helmet in his hand again and glanced at the wrist device, on which a series of lights flashed. - So, I'm afraid," the Dutchman finished, "you have not delayed the destruction of the Solar System.

You've made it imminent and much faster.

***

Prayfield turned away from the screens of information that no longer mattered, pressed his lips together, and shook his head vigorously.

- I refuse to admit defeat.

- An unfortunate trait," Van der Berg remarked with a note of mockery. - It pays to be realistic.

- The future can be changed," Adélie clutched her head and tried to reassure herself. - We can still make things right.

The Dutchman in the protective spacesuit turned to her and repeated, like an elemental thing, with regret in his voice:

- Time is instantaneous, everything has already happened. And my plan... - the young scientist with a dishevelled black beard glanced at the wrist device, on which all the lights lit up, and sighed with visible relief, - my plan is already completed. The fractaliser was working in full force.

Volkert pressed a few buttons on the device and turned towards a glowing line cutting through the air, which began to expand into a geometric shape.

- You can't just walk away! - Sam exclaimed. Prayfield backed him up, though not so confidently:

- I'll find a way to undo it. The solar system will not die.

"But how... how do you do it... what can a bunch of people even do about a man-made disaster of cosmic proportions?"

- There must be another way! - Adélie repeated with a noticeable desperation in her voice.

- There's no other way," Van der Berg argued firmly, turning round at the almost-formed luminous diamond-shaped veil, behind which were beginning to be seen forming shapes and lines like bushes and trees in a park. - If you don't know how to fix broken time....

- Where are you going? - Vorobyev asked rudely, regretting that he had left his service weapon at home, which would have come in handy now.

- Beginning the endless journey," the creator of the reality machine answered him, touching the veil of light and making sure it missed his fingers, as if it had cut them clean through. - And you... you are advised to forget about all of this. Live happily ever after. Make plans, love, travel. You and your children and grandchildren will have time to enjoy all the pleasures of the enlightened world before the second sun flashes in the sky and everything starts to change.

- Not at all," Prayfield cut him off as briefly as before, and then his focussed gaze brightened for a second.

- You have no other choice.

- There's always a second way to solve a problem," the Russian said to the Dutchman, who stepped behind the diamond-shaped sheaf of light and half-melted into the air when Edward finally found a clue.

- You're wrong about something," said the professor, confidently and loudly. Van der Berg stopped and turned round; his body, with his arm, leg and part of his torso disappearing behind the shining passage, had been cut in half by a barrier invisible from a certain angle. Adélie thanked the Virgin Mary for standing on the other side and not seeing all the gruesome details of the cut.

- To begin with," continued the slowly approaching Prayfield , as if lecturing a crowd of sleepy students, "you were waiting for the automation to kick in and the rocket to change course. You were expecting your machine to work, and that's why you came behind us so quickly.

- I don't see any mistake," Van der Berg objected, albeit hesitantly, and took a step back, regaining his integrity. Adélie calmed down a little and turned to the grey-haired scientist, who continued to develop his thought without his hunting hat and smoking pipe:

- The mistake was to hide the other.

- He was watching his rocket, too," Sam finished for him and cast a surprised glance at the Frenchwoman. She raised her eyebrows and answered in a half-whisper:

- And since he made it, that means....

Prayfield , with a jubilant half-smile, continued for all:

- ...you can control it. If not fully, then rudimentarily. That's what you wanted to hide.

The British inventor took a few steps towards Van der Berg and the latter threw up his arms warningly, closing the already formed passage with its shining walls into the sunset sunlit park:

- Don't come any closer!

Jones quickly counted something in his mind and turned to Edward:

- I think we can try to redirect the current to the outer casing and cause it to heat up," he began excitedly. - The metal would eventually melt, some of it would turn into a gaseous state, and the sudden impulse would make the rocket spin on an unpredictable trajectory.

- And she'll be off course again. - Prayfield looked triumphantly at Vorobiev, still frowning like a captured war criminal.

- But for that we need his equipment..." Alexei began to think, and he finally understood. - Okay, you don't need to ask me twice to use brute force. I'm a doctor, and I know how to hurt.

He stepped forward and began kneading his wiry arms.

- Wait!" Volkert exclaimed, and turned to see the shimmering, three-dimensional image fluttering in the air. - Teleportation without protection can kill you!

- You're being a little bit deceitful," Edward shook his head and pointed to the already undone locks of Van der Berg's suit. - You arrived in a spacesuit that wasn't hermetically sealed. The helmet you're holding in your hands is more for reassurance than anything else.

- Besides," added the savvy American, "it is unlikely that your reality machine has had time to work to its full potential.

- You can't go to the other universe," the professor supported him and turned to Volkert again. - You'll be pushed back, if I understand the working principle of your invention correctly.

- And we're outnumbered anyway," Dupont added with a smile and slapped her fist against her palm.

Van der Berg jerked back fearfully, but Prayfield 's reasoning stopped him. "The old man is right, I can't get away so easily... but I can't let them ruin a labour of several lives!"

- Just try to come any closer!

- Or what? - allowed himself to be sarcastic, an Oxford professor at the head of an international group of friends. - Will you pull out some other ace up your sleeve? Will you say that you and Gagarin have planted bombs and are ready to blow up the Moon? Or that you stepped on a butterfly, because of which some red-haired millionaire with psychotic behaviour will be elected to the USA in the future...?

- No, I will do otherwise," replied the Dutchman and pulled one of the wires of his rucksack. - You won't change anything!

The diamond-shaped passage twitched and melted into a thousand bright particles, and Van der Berg himself darted through the emptied space and ran towards one of the exits.

- Where's he going? - Sam gasped.

- To the monospheres," Edward thought quickly, and tapped the rim of his dark glasses, counting rapidly in his mind. - He needed speed to get into the wormhole before it threw him out... and time to make a new door before the previous one.

- He's going to try to get away through a series of tele...p-portions! - Adélie exclaimed.

- We mustn't let that happen," Vorobyov said and rushed after the figure of the dangerous fugitive slipping away in the darkness of the dimly lit corridors. - Go, after him!

***

Van der Berg raced down the tunnel, trying to think as he went. "An underground complex... a secret area... secret lifts or its own transport system... yes, that arrogant Brit could swing at both!" The Dutchman heard the stomp of running feet and sped up. They won't get what they want...they don't understand all he's been through. "It's a great sacrifice...one world...for a grand future...everyone else...humanity will be extinct by then anyway...if it isn't prevented..."

Volkert cast a glance at the navigation signs and ducked behind a large unlocked door, behind which was a tunnel where, when the lights switched on automatically, he saw strange spherical capsules with glass domes on several railway tracks. "A monorail of our own... just what we need!"

He flipped open the lid of one of the monospheres, jumped into the seat, bent awkwardly under the large rucksack that was vital to him, hastily inspected the control panel, made sure the power was on and tried intuitively to switch the machine on. At the flick of the second toggle switch, a vibration travelled across the metal, the hull shook and Van der Berg felt the streamlined capsule lift off the rails. "Compressed air circulation..." He glanced at the unremarkable speedometer: its scale ended at 120 kilometres per hour. "Not as fast as we need, but we can try..." Van der Berg heard the clatter of four pairs of boots and heels, leaned over the simplistic steering wheel and pulled it forwards. The capsule shifted and floated towards the exit, slowly at first, then faster and faster.

- Great...

Van der Ber pushed the wheel harder, bent his arm at the elbow, and looked at the wristwatch. "We need a forward shift of a hundred or two hundred metres... and another exit right after the first one, so we can get through..."

- Shit! I heard it from behind. - Ed, he's on your wagon!

Volkert turned away, toggled a few levers and hit the steering wheel even harder. The overload pressed him into the leather seat and the capsule flew into the nearest tunnel.

- Damn it, we didn't make it! - Sam swore in frustration. Prayfield clapped him on the shoulder:

- There's still time. Get in the others! - and the scientist ran to the nearest vehicle to the tunnel.

- But how are we going to chase it all together," Adelie began, "I don't know how to control this thing...?

- 'Yes,' Jones backed her up with a smile, 'there was a pilot amongst us, but she's in junior lessons now.

- You haven't seen half of what these pearls are capable of," Edward grinned, pulled back the glass cover and climbed inside. Vorobiev nodded and almost commanded:

- Come on, come on, come on!

Dupont settled into the chair of the free pod with a degree of doubt, clenched the armrests, and flinched when a hiss came from the rear speaker and the scientist's muffled voice addressed her encouragingly: "Delly, hang on, you'll be first. I'm about to engage the magnetic coupling and put you behind me. If anything happens, you'll be safe behind my sphere."

- Good! - The girl nodded with a tremor in her voice, even though she knew the professor couldn't see her.

"Well, did everyone fit in?" - addressed the voice in the speaker to the others. The distorted voices of the rest of the crew were heard over the radio link. - "Then hold on!..."

The Frenchwoman felt the metal ball around her humming and lifting in the usual way, but instead of sliding along the rails, it swayed, tilted forward, and slowly slid sideways. Dupont looked outside in surprise: she hadn't realised that a monosphere moving along a predetermined route was capable of such a thing. Her unit approached Prayfield 's balloon, dropped to the rails behind it, turned measuredly, and gently slammed into the back of the hull. Adelie felt another jolt and turned back with equal interest: through the transparent roof of the small one-person vehicle, she saw Sam's capsule behind her, and behind it, Sparrow's sphere lowering into the path and closing the row.

- All right, friends," Prayfield said into the small head phones with microphones and switched on a few buttons. - Now it's up to us... Let's stop the madman.

The inventor pressed a hidden pedal into the floor and pressed the steering wheel forcefully. The mini-train, made up of four metal spheres on a magnetic cushion, lifted off the tracks, swayed and moved forward, accelerating faster and faster.

***

Van der Berg, meanwhile, took off his backpack with the portable equipment for travelling between alternate universes, swapped out a few wires, unbuckled the top and exposed a small screen with a series of buttons beneath it. The Dutchman entered a short command into the portable computer unit, checked the remaining charge, checked the wrist indicator, pressed a few buttons on it, closed the complex device back into its case and put it on his back. The tunnel ahead was nearing its end, but Volkert had no intention of slowing down.

"It's time..."

Adelie, in her sphere behind Prayfield , squinted.

- What's he doing? - A worried Sam spoke up. - He's going to crash!

- And we're with him! - Vorobyev supported him.

Prayfield shook his head:

- No, these are not suicidal acts. Look...

The end of the path was already five hundred metres away, but Van der Berg was not interested.

The man jammed a few buttons on his wrist, looked at the ribbed tempered glass protective helmet lying at his feet, and still put it on his head as a small rhombus-shaped tunnel of pulsing lines of light began to form in front of him. "The calculations are correct... it should work..."

- You were right, Ed! - came Alexei's voice from behind on the radio. - He needs full speed!

- And he's already made the first pass! - shouted back Prayfield at the wheel of the first pursuit pod. - Hold on, we've got to accelerate!

The professor pressed a hidden toggle switch; the magnetic binding of the monospheres intensified, the metal vibrated even more, and Adelie felt her capsule's engine kick into full gear along with everyone else's, including Edward's capsule. The train of four futuristic hover spheres rushed even faster, and the distance between them and the fleeing man began to shrink.

The man in the glass helmet gathered himself and clenched his hands. Ahead, the end of the tracks with the miniature platform and the exit to the surface was approaching inexorably - but just in front of the wall, a geometrically flat portal had already formed, which had grown to five metres in diameter and fully formed, revealing a very different picture behind the glowing and pulsating edges.

"If I succeed now, then... I will be free... like a god, without death and without fear of error..."
Van der Berg closed his eyes and prepared for the worst.

- Guys! - Edward exclaimed, keeping his eyes on the pursuer's car. - Ten seconds to...

Volkert van der Berg felt a wave of burning cold pass over his skin; he looked down and saw part of his body first disappear in a blinding wave of light and smoke, then reassemble out of the void again after a second of blindness of the reappearing eyes, when an invisible barrier seemed to cut him in half, and then reassemble him again, but in a different place. The young scientist with the dishevelled beard looked round in surprise at his hands, which had just disappeared and reappeared before his eyes, and then shifted his gaze to what was around him. The monosphere was floating in freefall in the light of the setting sun over a sea over which majestic waves were scattered, and a little in the distance swayed the rare sailing ships with fishing boats.

- I have...got it....

Van der Berg looked aloft at the cumulus clouds in the golden light of the slowly fading day.

- Oh, my God, I did it. It worked.

He was all alone, in a place he knew nothing about, and in a time that... "No, time must be the same, and the universe the same... the old man is right, nothing is finished yet. We won't be free until the fate of this world is sealed until the end."

Volkert turned round startled at the series of whistling sounds. Behind him, a train of his pursuers emerged from a dark diamond-shaped hole in the sky with glowing edges. People who would do anything to take away his dream in the name of some abstract humanism. Destroying in the name of preservation...isn't that absurd?

- To run away from the very predestination of fate..." the inventor couldn't resist saying it aloud. - How silly.

He'll still get what he wants. She's almost here. "All it takes is time..."

- Mon Dieu...," Adélie breathed out in her seat. She felt as if she had died for a moment, and it was a very unpleasant sensation. Perhaps even worse than actual death.

- Are you all right? - Edward's voice came through the speaker, visibly weakened.

- I feel like I've been taken apart and put back together again," Sam said, as if hung over. - And I'm not sure it's in the right order.

- You should be warned about this sort of thing, Ed. - Vorobiev said reproachfully.

Prayfield grinned, looking around with a note of restrained surprise around him.

- Teleportation doesn't have to be pleasant.

Adelie, too, looked around at her surroundings and held her hitched breath in fascination. "We're high above the sea... how is that possible? And where exactly are we...?" She held her gaze on the approaching waves and remarked distantly in between, "By the way, it looks like we're falling..."

Ed wondered the same thing, but a quick glance at the pod of the man trying to escape them moving along the same trajectory calmed his anxiety. "We're in the same bind. Either he'll release a new portal and we'll slip into it after him, or we'll be thrown back out. There's no other way..."

The scholar noted the sailing ships on the horizon, the faintly audible speech from the fishing boats, and the rugged coastline of small picturesque houses with flat roofs and red tile in the midst of low cypress trees. He vaguely recognised the place from the days of his youth, when it had been easier to travel by plane rather than like this.

Van der Berg felt the ripples and sensed the metal of the monosphere - still moving on the force of inertia, but now also falling through the air - begin to deform. "Resistance to the fabric of space-time..." Fortunately, the second passage, the creation of which he had managed to programme back in the tunnel under London, had already opened and he was falling straight into it. The free-fall acceleration and frantic speed at first should have been enough to enter the second portal with almost no loss of momentum.

- Ladies and gentlemen, we are in the skies above Naples," Edward said in a steward's tone in the light of the approaching flash, "but, I hasten to disappoint you, not for long: there are several wormholes ahead, and Volkert has just dived into one of them.

"Falling from one passage to another in the skies over Italy," thought Adélie. - Just an ordinary day with Prayfield ."

- I'm not sure I like such rides! - The Frenchwoman remarked aloud, gripping the armrests of the leather-upholstered seat.

Sam was about to answer her in a joking tone, but they crossed the invisible boundary of quantum transfer of subatomic particles again-and he almost threw up.

***

Van der Berg gulped air with a loud sound. "Teleportation..."

Not the best way to travel. But to get away from the chase.

He turned round.

"No, it's not the best either."

Prayfield and his minions had also flown through the shimmering passage high in the sky, still on his tail - and were catching up with him.

"Curse."

They must be using the total power of the engines.

"It's time to accelerate. Fundamentally."

He glanced at the forests below, lifted his sleeve, and ran his eyes over the readout on the wrist device. It was risky, but it would have to do... Volkert pressed a series of buttons and jammed the last one.

- Well, he's slipping away! - Prayfield shook his spinning head and shouted as he spotted another diamond-shaped flash ahead. - Stand by!

Vorobyovin the last capsule muttered something very angry - and was glad Edward couldn't hear him. Adelie clutched her fingernails into the upholstery of the armrests of her seat and mentally asked St. Francis not to take her to the afterlife, at least for the next half hour.

The bomb rocket creator ducked and his monosphere burst out of another portal in the middle of a busy neighbourhood, rolling across rooftops and knocking off tiles. Van der Berg grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it towards him. The vehicle soared into the air and whizzed past the scaffolding, nearly knocking over the speechless workers.

- Hold on! - Prayfield shouted and drove the head unit to the left. The chain of spherical pods followed obediently. Sam gritted his teeth as his balloon collided with one of the erratically flying birds.

- Is our train designed for such flights?...? - he asked.

- I don't know," a dishevelled Prayfield turned to him, "I haven't checked it out yet!

Volkert looked back at his pursuers and grinned. "Sharp manoeuvres aren't your style, are they?" He prepared for another jump and jerked the wheel to the left.

Adeli put her hands out in front of her:

- On the Empire State!

- I see, I see! - The scientist replied and tried to adjust to Van der Berg's trajectory. He dived into another shining hole in the air at the very foot of a tall tower in the centre of New York. The passage began to melt into the air as the mini-train of Prayfield and company's pods jumped into it, barely making the turn.

- ...Hey, what are you doing? - on the other side of the world, one guy spat in the face of another guy, taking him by the scruff of the neck. - You want trouble, don't you?

- N-no, I was just..." the smaller teenager, who looked to be about fourteen, began to make excuses. - I was just passing by...

The second hooligan with a cigarette in his mouth spat and jabbed his finger in the direction of an intimidated schoolgirl in a pioneer dress.

- With that girl, or what? P-ha!

- She's only with you out of pity, Moth," the taller bully turned to his victim again. - You're a nobody, and you'll always be a nobody.

- N-no... - A skinny schoolboy with slicked-back hair and black eyes shook his head and shook it. The idler with the cigarette finally finished it and tossed it into the water of the city canal.

- We'll be smacking you around for the rest of your life, loser," he said cynically, stepped closer to the bullied man and snatched the torn cap from his hands.

- Well, answer them something! - pleaded with the poor schoolboy's friend. The first bully supported her with a sneer:

- Yeah, come on, don't be a pussy and mumble something!

- I... - the Leningrad schoolboy shook and couldn't get anything out of himself. Inside him rage was bubbling up, which never had an outlet. The schoolgirl couldn't stand it and screamed:

- If you don't fight back now, you'll spend the rest of your life hiding in holes!

The boy never answered. A piece of metal pipe lay at his feet.

- See? - turned to his mate, the idiot who had intimidated the Soviet girl, and reached for the cigarette case in his pocket: "Okurok is Okurok.

His neighbour snorted and prepared to slap the shrinking child, but there was a clap from the sky, and then another.

- Whoa, what's that?

The Peter Gopniks turned round at the sound and squinted.

- What, are the Germans at it again...? - one of them started uncertainly. The other squinted, embarrassed for the first time:

- What kind of aeroplanes are these... - but suddenly there was a new sound in the air, and a scrap of pipe collided with the fragile ankle of the offender. - Ouch!

- I'm not Cigarette Smoke! - shouted the boy with the deep-set eyes, who was suddenly bolder than himself. - And I'm not a Moth!

- Well done, Vova! - His friend clapped her hands and bent down to grab a boulder from the shattered pavement.

- I will not allow myself to be bullied! - The grey mouse from yesterday continued to beat his abusers screaming in pain with his bent pin. - Do you want me to hate the whole world because of people like you? Well, you won't. I won't spend my life hiding in bunkers!

- What was that...? - Adélie turned round and looked down in surprise. Vorobyovin his monosphere also cast a glance at the old streets and commented with feigned indifference:

- Some kids are fighting. Leningrad, the usual.

- Beautiful town, but strange people," Dupont shook her head. - I hope our arrival hasn't changed anything.

Edward suppressed a smile, shook his head, and focused on the man he was chasing.

- He's losing speed! - shouted the professor into the communication device. - Buckle up, we'll catch up with him in two more curtains!

Van der Berg realised it too.

- Come on, come on...

It was necessary to close the passageways as soon as he passed through them. Though it might have killed those who would find themselves across the quantum transfer zone while the device was shut down... "No, I'm not a murderer. These people just don't understand me. But they will... they will understand."

The Dutchman squeezed out the last vestiges of speed on the slowing machine and dropped it into one of the last portals. The gravity shifted once more and his capsule floated out into the dim light of the Icelandic afternoon.

- A little more...

Volkert entered the last command on the wearable terminal and straightened his back heavily, glancing at the seatbelts that had been hanging behind his back all this time. The young scientist belatedly buckled himself into his chair and looked outside the window. He realised from the ghostly glow that the last passage had appeared just below the monosphere and Van der Berg had let gravity drag her down.

The metal orb rose up with the dome of a diamond-shaped wormhole, slowly flipped the glass part upward, toward the rays of moonlight somewhere over the Mongolian tundra, but then rattling rays of light stretched out of the hole that had begun to tighten, enveloped the hovering sphere with the European inside, and threw it back sharply.
Volkert squeezed his head between his knees. The metal sphere appeared on the opposite side of the passage in the air again over Iceland, miraculously avoided collision with the Englishman's mini-train which had swept from the previous passage into this one, fell with a crash onto a rocky slope covered with sparse northern moss, and rolled downwards with the clinking of broken glass and failing engines. A few seconds later, the four remaining monospheres, held together by a magnetic clamp that was no longer working, exploded out of the geometrically shaped glowing hole and spiralled downwards like parts of a large but short pearl bracelet. Again there was the clinking of more broken glass, the clang of metal, the clatter of the seat back breaking off, and the thump of bodies.

Van der Berg squeezed his eyes shut and tasted blood in his mouth. His whole body ached.

With difficulty, he unhooked the end of the safety strap and fell sideways. "How... lousy..."

The Dutchman barely got to his feet, checked his rucksack - it was miraculously intact, as was all the equipment in it - and climbed out of the completely shattered monosphere.

Van der Berg turned round to the wreckage of the pursuers' transport. The Russian doctor was staggering to help a pale girl with a bloody forehead up from the ground, the dark-skinned American was trying to regain consciousness, and their grey-haired leader, with a short-cropped skull, could barely stand on his feet, struggled up the stony hill, and waddled toward the Dutchman.

- Why... why did you follow me? - The black-bearded scientist in the protective suit raised his hands to the sky. - Was it worth it? You almost died... I almost killed you!

Jones, who had already stooped down to Vorobyovwith Adela and put his shoulder to her for support, turned his head and answered tiredly for the inventor:

- We can't let you go off and detonate that bomb.

- It's not just a bomb," Van der Berg turned to him and his voice trembled. - It's the end of the old world... and the beginning of a new one.

Prayfield wiped the sweat and dirt from his tired face and shook his head.

- For the last time," he said tiredly, "as a colleague to a colleague, switch it off, yourself. Everything can still be solved humanly.

Volkert shook his head.

- No. I can't do that. The multiverse, time..." he sighed and wrapped his arms around himself. - You wouldn't understand.

- Do you have it with you? The remote control for the missile...? - Edward squinted and then slapped his forehead disappointedly. - Right, it was in your backpack the whole time... along with the portal device..." Van der Berg glared at him with ill-concealed fear and Prayfield shook his head: "That's what you were protecting the most, not the burst generator. Commendable miniaturisation. How did I not realise before....

The Dutchman took a step back and, after some thought, replied:

- Thank you, I am... pleased by your recognition. Even now.

- "Even now?"

The inventor of the time machine lowered his head and spread his fingers.

- I don't want us to be enemies, Edward. But you've left me no choice.

- I'm afraid I have no choice, then. - Prayfield straightened, folded his fists, and stood in the long-forgotten combat stance. - I apologise in advance; gentlemen don't usually do that.

Van der Berg, too, brought his fists to his chin and raised the edges of his lips:

- Circumstances, I understand.

Adeli rounded her eyes and covered her mouth with her hand.

The professor swung and delivered a punch to the jaw, but the young scientist managed to dodge. Volkert jumped aside, but the weight of the backpack with the portable control unit interfered with his coordination and he did not have time to deflect the next blow: the knuckles of the grey-haired man in dark glasses, who had once been an amateur boxer, struck him painfully in the ribs. He swayed to the side, but quickly gathered himself and swung back: the younger opponent's blow struck the old man's skull and nearly knocked off his dark glasses. But the younger man was faster and managed to land a second blow to his jaw.

- Not a bad technique," Van der Berg admitted, grabbing his chin.

Sam, at Dupont's silent plea, rushed to separate the fighting men, but Alexei stopped him.

In the meantime, the Dutchman took a step to the side, executed a series of sharp lunges, two of which the professor missed, and prepared to strike again. Prayfield made a false downward movement, took advantage of the lull, and forcefully struck Van der Berg, who had been heated up, under the breath. He staggered back and struggled to regain his breath.

- What's your plan, to beat me to a pulp...? - The man, who was clearly unprepared for this turn of events, backed away.

- Stop you from destroying the Solar System! - growled the grey-haired Englishman on adrenaline and shook his fists together at his chin. His opponent took a few more steps back and raised his hands in the air:

- But there is simply no other way to fix time broken in all worlds! You will have to face the bitter truth!

Volkert stumbled over a bumpy rock ledge and lost his balance. He swung his arms awkwardly and began to fall downwards. Prayfield hesitated for a moment, but rushed to his recent rival's aid. But not in time.

- No!" the girl shrieked and jumped up from her seat.

- You should have held back," eh, brother? - The American threw an irritated glance at Vorobyov and followed his friend.

Edward ran to the edge of the cliff and looked down. The height was low, and Van der Berg hadn't hurt himself more than a short boxing round would have done-but the backpack with the spatial rupture control panel on which he'd fallen so fortunately was smashed to smithereens and smoke and sparks billowed from it.

- What have you done, Ed..." Van der Berg managed to say.

He was swallowed up by a rapidly growing white flash with jagged, shimmering edges that threw Prayfield aside, lifted Sam into the air, knocked Alexei to the ground, and whirled the almost weightless body of a horror-stricken Adela, who was conscious of the figures of her friends disappearing one by one into a pall of dissipating smoke, and was swallowed up by the viscous darkness.

PART III.

CHAPTER 16

She opened her eyes and immediately squeezed shut.

The warmth burned unaccustomedly even through his eyelids.

"God, I'm so thirsty..." Adelie licked her withered lips and ran a hand over her still sore face with trickles of caked blood. It was a strange feeling... the air smelled green and moist, but not in the way she might have expected. It was unfamiliar, even for someone who had travelled to Europe and North America.

The girl opened her eyes and struggled to raise herself up on her elbow, shielding herself from the light with her right arm. And she had to struggle to keep her balance.

- Mere deux! - Adélie couldn't resist.

Above it swayed the branches of a dense and cohesive crowns of evergreen forest with lianas, interspersed with sparse palm trees, through the leaves of which the rays of the midday sun broke through and the rare silhouettes of tropical birds flashed.

- Oh soooo...? - she whispered to herself.

How did she end up here? And what is this place?

"And the guys... where are they all?"

The girl tried to remember what had happened before she passed out.

"We were... thrown out of the pods... Ed tried to stop Van der Berg, they started fighting... but one of them fell and something broke... must have been the teleportation device... and we ended up here. Wherever that is."

Dupont grimaced at the pain in her shoulder, which had barely begun to heal from her wound in Russia, and awkwardly raised herself to her knees, straightened her back, and examined herself. She was still in her light beige jumper and wide skirt, but the clothes had managed to fray, and the wool of her jumper was full of dirt and splinters. "It seems he's no longer needed..."

But where is everyone? Is she alone in this godforsaken jungle?

- Hello? - Adélie dared to shout in a voice hoarse with weakness. - Is... is anyone here?

No one answered, only a flock of toucans flitted clumsily and fearfully out of a neighbouring tree.

She was scared. Where was she, anyway? How far away from civilisation? And would she even be able to get to help...?

Dupont swallowed and tried to calm herself. "You can handle it, you can handle it... you survived in the icy desert with your friends, you can survive in this jungle alone... it's just a big and shady forest... full of predators and dangers - theoretically!"

I'll have to find a way out on my own. And somehow find some friends.

- I hope they're okay...

She took a quick glance around her, listened for large animals, and quickly pulled off the top of her clothes. It was still silent, only the rustling of bushes, the trills of exotic birds and the faint splash of water in the distance.

"The river!"
Adelie licked her lips again. It seemed as if she hadn't had a drink in ages... How long would she be here before she could get to help?

"Let's start simple. We need to get to the river."

She unbuttoned the top buttons of her shirt, pulled up the straps of her tight bra, adjusted her breasts, tied her unnecessary jumper around her waist, pulled up her skirt to make it easier to walk, and walked along the forest path towards the source of the sound, trying not to make too much noise.

***

She reached the shore in an hour. The tributary of the river was not very wide, and there was plenty of silt in the water, but Adela had enough skill to quench her thirst without choking. The water had a strong herbal flavour and a light suspension, but it tasted good enough. She wiped her weathered lips, looked at her reflection in the rippling water with frustration, and finally washed her face, which was covered with blood and abrasions. "Another thing..."

Dupont looked around cautiously. There was still not a soul around. And even if there had been... the Frenchwoman stripped off her clothes, folded them neatly on the fallen and twisted trunk of a dried tree sticking out of the sand, hung her underwear nearby, and plunged into the part of the creek where the bottom was clearest.

- Ooh! - Adélie exclaimed and jumped up, scaring away the small fish that had scurried underneath her and taken refuge in the sparse seaweed. The river was surprisingly warm. Especially for February. "What part of the world am I even in...?" - the girl thought for a moment. Behind her something big splashed in the water and she felt a slight movement of the waves.

- Okay...time to hit dry land.

Without waiting for the intruder, the Frenchwoman took one last dip, hastily rinsed herself off and hurried outside, holding her breasts with her hand.

***

...We had to move on.

"I hope I'm going in the right direction," thought the traveller willy-nilly.

She looked at the trees on the opposite bank of the river with unusual thin roots joining into thicker stems above the water level. "Mangrove forest... Am I in South America...?"

She had been walking along the river towards the north for about three hours now, taking short breaks and quenching her thirst. Fortunately, she had not yet encountered any large animals-only a flock of flamingos, a couple of Ara parrots, and a few crocodiles with unusually elongated, thin faces that did not leave their water area-but Adélie thanked herself for her caution: meeting them in the water could be a very bad idea.

The girl grinned.

"South America..."

That's a long way off.

She also hadn't eaten in a while and the sun was already slipping towards dusk. "We need somewhere to spend the night..."

But not by the water with the caimans.

***

- Oh...

Adelie dropped the last armful of broken twigs on the ground.

That should be enough now.

She finished chewing on one of the shrub leaves that seemed the least dangerous, and looked critically at her previous sleeping place. The hollow in the roots of the dense tree looked safe and even cosy, but it might attract curious wildlife - including some she had not yet had time to get to know up close, as luck would have it. "There could be leopards or other large cats here..." The Frenchwoman fixed a dishevelled lock of blonde hair and looked straight above her. "We'll have to spend the night in the branches..."

Dupont bit her lip.

"...and not fall off in your sleep."

More sticks will be needed.

***

The night in the tree passed without adventure.

And so did the day after that.

And another night.

Adélie, exhausted and gaunt, wandered tiredly along the shoreline, leaning on a long stick with a jagged stone end. Her stomach was cramping, she hadn't eaten anything more nutritious than a few fruits and plants that didn't make her nauseous and feverish, and she had tried to catch a few fish with her improvised spear, but she hadn't been very successful. But she will have to learn how to hunt and survive if she wants to get out of this jungle....

The girl threw the staff to the ground, sat down on the root of one of the rare mangrove trees on her side of the shore, and covered her face with her hands. A tear ran down her cheek. Adélie wiped it away with the back of her hand and looked around in despair. She was all alone in the centre of a wild continent where there was not a living soul for miles around.

- Wait a minute-" the Frenchwoman gazed into the distance.

Or did she feel that way?

"Is it smoke or am I seeing double?..."

A thin cloud of whitish vapour rose in the distance and melted into the sky. "Someone put out the fire...I'm not alone!"

The girl's heart hammered harder; she strained her vision as hard as she could.

- What is it...

There seemed to be something up ahead between the crowns of the forest. Something so tall that it protruded beyond the edge of the trees and yet was clearly different in colour from the sky...

- No way!

Adelie perked up, jumped to her feet and looked around. Needing to climb higher to get a better look... "Okay, this tree looks older than the others..." The girl walked over to it, climbed onto the ledge and started climbing up the trunk to climb the highest available branch.

When she was able to do so, Dupont carefully straightened up on the branch that was wobbling under the weight of her body and looked out into the distance with a much better view.

There could be no doubt - a few kilometres away, behind a wall of trees rose a stone building with a platform under a rectangular roof and sloping, if her eyesight did not fail her, walls.

And there were definitely people nearby.

***

About half an hour later, the girl carefully pulled the bushes apart and peered out, trying not to make any noise. She had expected something like this, but what she saw still struck her imagination.

In front of her stood a stepped Mayan pyramid several dozen metres high, made of centuries-old blocks covered with moss and covered with vines. Wide, stone-carved steps led around the edges of the structure and up to the top; one of the stairs was left free, and the others were covered with long cloths nearly a third of the building's height. Adélie took a few steps sideways to get a better look at them-and was stunned.

The red coloured straitjackets had a swastika in a white circle.

- Nazis..." the Frenchwoman exhaled in horror.

"But how... how?"

In the middle of the Amazon. In 1963.

- There's no such thing.

Maybe she was mistaken and it was... just someone's evil and unfunny joke?

But the soldiers walking around the perimeter, the disassembled aircraft by the hangar, the pile of containers of obsolete weapons and the muffled German speech spoke otherwise.

It really does seem to be the real Nazis around an ancient and as yet undiscovered by the rest of the world Mayan temple - which, come to think of it, was pretty good for a secret base. "And a hell of a lot of other stuff..."

Adelie mentally cursed, clenched her fists, and tried to hide in the thick shrubbery. Half an hour ago she would have been happy to see any human face. But now it was different.

Her mother had told Dupont about the Nazis. She herself had been born the year World War II had ended, and her childhood had been spent in war-ravaged and poverty-stricken Belgium, so she was well aware of what her mother had been through, and never judged her for the mistakes she might have made, like any other human being. But to meet Hitler's fanatical followers herself, and under such circumstances... she could not have imagined such a thing.

- If you were all here..." Dupont whispered, biting her lip. - Edward... what would Edward have done...?

Probably would have tried to make himself known.

"They must be looking for me. Prayfield had a signal... his own frequency, like back then in Russia. If they've already found each other, or are still looking for each other, they can do it by radio... so I should try to get on the air"

But how?
She wasn't sure she remembered the exact frequency or even the band when the scientist had spoken of them before his abduction by KGB agents. Oh, and how could she do it without equipment?
"Though with this, things may be better than they seem." The Jungle Germans wouldn't have survived all these years without food and money - which means they should maintain some contact with the world. "Maybe we need to take a closer look..."

The girl crawled back, quietly got to her feet, and crept a few dozen metres away. And her eyesight did not fail her: as she had expected, there was a small antenna on the top of the temple, the highest point in the area, wires from which led to a small square-shaped room.

- Oh, that's great.

But there's got to be a way in.

Adelie looked up at the sun shifting from its zenith. "It'll be easier at dusk: most of the soldiers will be asleep and I can slip inside..."

But first you need a refreshment - and something better than unfamiliar fruit and sweet leaves.

Adelie spotted the elaborately made field kitchen with meat roasting on a small fire, made sure there was no one around, felt an unbearable hunger inside and ventured towards the food.

She adjusted the jumper that had fallen off her hips as she walked and didn't notice that a small spherical device with a metal rod and a tiny lamp had fallen out of its rolled-up pocket and flashed green when it hit the ground.

***

She carefully climbed the last large step and turned round. Before her, the full moon shone in a dim light on the solid crowns of the interlocking trees, and far below was the tent camp of the military, once temporary, now apparently permanent. She managed to evade the sentries, who were doing their job without much effort, and made her way to the main entrance of the swastika-covered temple without incident. Except that the stairs were much longer than she had expected.

Adelie made sure no one noticed her, and walked over the threshold of the ancient shrine.

Inside the huge hall was a massive sacrificial table covered with patterned grooves and cracks, on which was spread a map, several books and plotting instruments. The girl walked over to the map and examined it carefully. "Iquito, Cabalcocha...that's northern Peru!" In addition to the riverbed and nearby towns, the map showed the temple itself (with a Nazi eagle, naturally), several arrows from it that looked like attack routes, and a strange circle with a question mark very close to the centre. "How long have they spent here...?" - Dupont thought.

Probably enough to realise that this part of the world is so isolated that you can feel free to shy away from flags symbolising hatred and genocide. "They must know they lost the war, right...?" Adelie glanced at the large portrait of Hitler on top of the stone bas-relief showing the large head of a warrior priest and decided she didn't understand anything about what was going on.

- She whispered to herself and remembered Christian, who had also had to do something similar, but on the opposite side of the globe. "History likes to repeat itself..."

French found a wire running along the wall and behind a column to the outside, followed it back, noticed the power cables, and finally reached a table littered with crates of weapons and empty barrels with outdated equipment, a bulky microphone, and a head phone with a single speaker on a broken wishbone.

- Oh, that's great.

The girl rushed to the equipment to try and change its frequency when a harsh shout in a language all too familiar to her sounded behind her:

- Stop right there! Hande hoch!

"Damn, how formulaic..."

Adélie turned slowly in the shadows, raised her palms cautioningly, and answered in a suddenly hoarse voice, also in German:

- Don't shoot!

- Hands up, I said! - a man in his forties shook his drawn pistol at the doorway.

- All right, all right! - Dupont did not object and folded her raised hands behind her head.

A German private with an unshaven face and a cloudy look came closer, freed one of his hands and pulled out a pocket torch.

- Are you one of those saboteurs? Come on, let's go!

"The circle on the map," flashed through Adela's mind as she considered escape routes. - They've spotted something!"

- I don't know what you mean! - The Frenchwoman raised her weak voice, turning away from the light.

- Wait a minute," the guard was taken aback and even lowered his Mauser. - You're a girl!

- Damn it...

A man with a red armband on his arm took a few steps forward and shone a light directly into the young woman's face.

- And beautiful, too, look at her. - Adélie covered herself from the bright light with her elbow and squeezed her eyes shut. The Nazi lowered the torch to her shivering chest. - It's been a long time since we've had normal women in our neighbourhood....

- What are you-" Adélie shrieked, but the man swung the handle of the gun at her:

- Shut up!

- Stop! - The girl tried to move away, but felt the cold muzzle of a gun at her neck. - Oh.

- Hush, I said," hissed the soldier with a wild look, "or I'll shoot you in the head!

- Okay, okay...

He bent down and examined her like an animal in the market.

- You're one of those European ones... that's even better. You'll have someone to ransom.

- Ransom?

The tanned German laughed.

- How did you think we lived here for twenty years? - The man bared his rotten teeth and spat sideways. - These nigger savages have a surprisingly high regard for their miserable lives-and yours, blondie, someone will have an even higher regard.

The stranger looming over the girl froze for a moment as Adélie laughed unexpectedly to herself. "Escaped Nuremberg to... what?"

- War criminals wanted by the whole world have become pathetic pirates," she shook her head and said fearlessly out loud. - I didn't think it was possible to fall any lower.

The sentry threw back the lantern and gave a painful squeeze to the shoulder of the girl pressed against the wall:

- Be brave all you want, baby. I don't care how smart you think you are, you're not getting away. - The Nazi holstered his gun and started unbuttoning his trousers. - So you'd better relax... you'll like it.

"You'll love it, bunny. Everybody likes it."

- Wait," the Frenchwoman tried to dodge, "no-no!

It's all been done before.

- I warned you, you Jewish whore," the man hissed, grabbed Adela's arm and pulled her forcefully to the table. - The jokes were over.

He turned and pushed her forward onto the tabletop, dropping the rolled-up jumper from her hips. The girl went cold inside.

- Stop... Stop it! - she tried to fight back, but the soldier was stronger. - Help!

André could have stopped there and laughed with a tinge of contempt. But this was not Andre.

Her shirt was ripped off, buttons scattered across the map, and her skirt was pulled down with a tearing sound. Adélie felt heavy hands on her waist and something else pressing against her buttock.

- I'll help you now," the man began, panting, and removed his right hand from the helpless body of the unfortunate woman, "you'll try at least a normal chl....

- I don't think so.

Adélie was so stunned with horror that she did not immediately realise that she had not heard such a familiar voice. The sweat-drenched man with his trousers down was not expecting anyone either.

- What? - the soldier turned round.

- Hands off her, you bastard," Prayfield , standing on the threshold of the main entrance with his pistol pointed firmly at the sentry, said in clear German, and pulled the trigger. There was a loud sound like a cough, and Adélie gasped: a lacerated hole appeared in the chest of the Nazi's red-spattered uniform. He spun on the spot and fell on his back with a wheeze.

The professor adjusted the homemade silencer on his Beretta, walked up to the man in his pants convulsively twitching on the floor, trying to stop the blood spilling over the stone floor, and coldly pointed the gun at his head. - Say hello to your Nazi mates in hell.

And fired.

The girl flinched and turned away. The spray from what a moment ago had been the face of the man who had tried to rape her got into her tangled hair.

Edward, with grey hair slightly grown back from his Siberian captivity, woke up from his own stupor, lowered the muzzle of his weapon, tossed it grudgingly onto the table, removed his hiking jacket, and hurried over to the shrunken girl, who had settled to the floor around the clothes that had been torn off her.

- Delly... - the scientist, his hands shaking after the murder, threw a tattered cardigan over the shoulders of the girl he had rescued.

- Oh, my God, Edward..." Adela looked up at him, and after a moment's pause, she noticed the cloak he had offered her, wrapped herself in it, threw herself on her old and new friend's chest, and wept. How much had come over her!

- It's all right, Dellie, it's all right... - Prayfield tried to comfort her, and put his arm around her shoulders, stroking her hair. - You're not alone, it's over now.

- I was afraid I wouldn't find you..." sobbing, the Frenchwoman whispered.

- It's all behind us now.

- ...This jungle...for a few days.....

- Calm down, my good girl," the Englishman in his dark glasses took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes with a reassuring smile. - No one will hurt you again.

- ...sorry, my r-hands are still shaking....

- I completely understand. As you can see, so do I.

- You-" Adélie pulled back a strand and looked at the corpse at her side with a shudder. Prayfield raised his head and moved his eyebrows.

- Sometimes you can't do it any other way. - His voice shook. - I couldn't let that happen to you.

The girl raised her tear-dried eyes to the young adventurer. "You're not a murderer, but you went against your principles for me... came out of nowhere..."

- But how did you find me? - Dupont asked aloud, puzzled, and turned back to the useless radio panel. - And before I could even get on the air.....

- Thank Alexei," Edward grinned. - He figured out how to plant beacons on all of us before Van der Berg decided to run off with the control panel for the planetary bomb and... what happened happened.

The Frenchwoman raised an eyebrow.

- You mean a chase on interlocking balloons around the world and an awkward fight between two bearded men with a weird explosion at the very end that miraculously didn't kill anyone?

- In a nutshell, yes," Prayfield smiled at her and helped her up.

Adelie, covering her breasts and almost torn panties with the scientist's cloak, accepted with a grateful nod the things he had collected from the floor, turned away, and began to dress in what was still wearable

- We could have just talked," the girl remarked over her shoulder.

- I can't argue with that," Edward replied, turning away tactfully and pausing for a moment. - The truth is," he said, "I got scared.

- Why? - An almost dressed Adélie turned round sensitively.

- Because in my heart I was ready to agree with Van der Berg's arguments.

***

- ...Well, no, how can you agree with that...? - the girl half-whispered indignantly as they descended from the Mayan temple, bypassed the fortified tents, and took a side path past the forest. - What he wants... what does he want anyway?

Prayfield came out of his reverie and rubbed his chin.
- Cut the thread of Earth's future in this universe to untie the knot of the time lines of all other Earths and worlds? - He finally formulated. Adélie clapped her hands together:

- Exactly! But it's still too cruel.

The silent scientist with a pistol at his belt nodded his head.

- Of course.

- Who was he, anyway, to decide the fate of billions of people? - His friend continued to rage, nervously fingering her fingers and trying to stifle the silent screaming inside. - Did you look at his hands...?

- What?

- Does he have nail holes in his arms? Maybe he hung on the cross and his name is Jesus...?

- Ahh.

- That's right," DuPont grinned. - If you haven't suffered for your sins, don't judge mankind.

- In nomine Christi, amen," Edward crossed his arms ironically and folded his palms together. Adela nudged him in the side and couldn't help but smile.

- By the way, where is everyone else? - she asked more seriously. - And where are we going?

Prayfield sighed.

- So far, it's just the three of us. I found Sam in Australia, we were thrown out of a space-time rift not far from each other. Then we picked up your signal and came here.

- What about Alex?

- He must be somewhere in Norway, we'll pick him up on the way.

The Frenchwoman remembered with sadness the first meeting with Vorobiev in a German café, his wit, his awkward jokes and the unexpected seriousness and strength with which he had taken up arms to protect them during the foray into the Soviet Union and rescue the professor from captivity.

- How we are scattered all over the world," Adélie sighed wistfully.

- You don't say," Prayfield nodded tiredly and ran a hand through the still-grown grey hair on his head. Dupont noticed it, hesitated, and touched his back gently, as she had before, suppressing her inner daze. She knew that this man would never do to her what the previous man had almost done to her and what the former man had sometimes tried to do to her-and it wasn't even the age difference.

Edward hugged her back, looking at her thoughtful face as if he could read her thoughts:

- We'll all be home soon. And now..." the scientist nodded at the large building in front of them, "come on, we're already at the hangar.

In the wide opening, a familiar figure appeared behind the barely visible silhouette of an aeroplane with a propeller on its nose.

- Come on, guys, hurry up! - Sam waved at them and held up the closing gate. - The camp is awake!

- Then we really should hurry," Edward said, pulling out his gun and letting the girl pass in front of him.

- Adélie, it's so good to see you! - Jones waited for the scientist to enter the hangar, pulled the switch on the door, and hurried over to the Frenchwoman for a hug.

- And I you," Adelie smiled at the young man and raised her palms low in front of her, "but no warm embrace for now, okay?

Sam raised his eyebrows, but didn't argue:

- Got it, no questions asked, Sister.

- Thank you. No offence taken.

Prayfield , with a large valise on his back, explained, pushing the cargo into the hold of the aircraft:

- I had to kill the man who tried to use it.

- Holy shit... - The American turned pale in the face and turned to his girlfriend: - DeDel sympathise.

Ta folded her arms across her chest and shrugged:

- It's okay, I'll recover. It's not the first time I've been treated like a nice disposable item.

Sam pressed his lips together sympathetically, and Edward, casting an attentive glance at the aloof Frenchwoman, hurried him on:

- We should leave as soon as possible. If the camp's awake, they'll find the body and hunt us down. What about the rest of the planes?

The guy fixed his cap, dirty with fuel oil, and adjusted the spanner in his shoulder bag.

- I took them apart a little more than I needed to fix this one. - Adelie looked at the unemployed student with a knack for maths, who also had a talent for fixing airplanes. Sam noticed her gaze and smiled at her with a straight row of white teeth. - It would take them a few days to repair them.

- Great," the still collected professor nodded and allowed himself a smile, too. - Just enough for us all to get home and for me to call old Geoffrey.

- Who? - it was Jones' turn to be surprised.

- Jeffrey Lawrence," Prayfield explained, winking at the young men. - I think the head of the Nuremberg Trials might show some interest in a base of feral Nazis lost for two decades.

- Yes," DuPont stretched sarcastically, "perhaps international justice will be interested in this...in another ten years....

Edward didn't argue, but glanced ahead and hurried his friends along:

- But so far, they seem to be interested in us: get everyone on the plane now and close the gates!

- But how--" Adélie hesitated at the entrance to the aeroplane, but the old man held out his hand and helped her up with the words, "In reverse, you'll have to turn out," and the dark-skinned American who had come up behind her explained to her in a friendly manner:

- There's a way out on that side too.

- I wouldn't call it a way out," the scientist admitted, helping Sam climb in after Dupont, "but... there's not much choice.

The girl had already settled into the last of the four seats and was about to fasten her seatbelt when German swearing, machine-gun bursts and the sound of bullets ricocheting off the metal slabs of the hangar were heard outside.

- Ouch!
- Get down and stay down! - she heard the inventor's muffled shout. - I'll be right there!

Adélie straightened slowly, lowered her arms, and looked out the edge of the porthole. Prayfield made a sign to Sam, who nodded and began to move to the aviator's chair while the scientist himself fired a few shots toward the doorway, ran up to the propeller and yanked it with force. The engine coughed for a second and fell silent. The professor pounced on the propeller with both hands and with an effort turned it even harder. There was a series of rough sounds, the rotor spun, and the engine started up to full power.

- We did it! - Sam in the cockpit gave a thumbs-up. Edward nodded, gave three thumbs up, and made a new sign with both hands. Jones frowned: "What?

- I'll push on three! - tried to override the sound of the engine and the approaching gunfire. - Get back!

- What about you? - A girl with a helmet in her hands leaned out of her seat.

- I'll catch up with you! - Edward shouted, and glanced at the gate, ready to fall off its loose hinges. - But first I'll buy time!

The scientist looked round frantically. "No fuel at hand, the fuel depot is elsewhere..." But there was a small refrigerator next to one of the untidy repair tables, and an unopened fire extinguisher on the wall. "You don't need more than that!" Edward rushed to the potbellied cabinet, turned it around against the wall, unplugged and ripped out part of the refrigeration system, grabbed some duct tape and a knife, cut one of the pump hoses from the compressor under the seat, and hurried to the high-pressure cylinder.

- What's he...up to? - Sam squinted.

The professor taped a cartridge of liquid freon to the fire extinguisher, connected it to the hose, brought its end to the fire extinguisher pipe and made sure that he could open both valves at the same time. The hangar doors sagged from the dozens of bullets fired and a group of angry faces with a strong crowbar in the hands of one of them appeared in the opening.

- Break down the gate, quickly! - came a voice behind them in German. - Kill them all!

- Blitzkrieg it, you bastards," Edward hissed, pointing the fire extinguisher toward the entrance and sharply knocking off the valve.

A jet of impossibly cooled foam gushed from the exit hole; the man holding the crowbar shrieked and let go of his gloved fingers: the metal bar was welded to the frozen metal, which was covered with a growing crust of ice spikes and foam that had hardened to plastic.

- Wow! - Sam exhaled and looked over at Adela.
Prayfield walked to the edge of the frozen mass, bent over, and poked the empty cylinder into a portion of the frozen gate leaves. The metal, contrary to his fears, did not collapse outward from the cold, but became even harder. "Just as I calculated, the right proportion of temperature and flow rate..." - the scientist grinned to himself, threw the freezing sprinkler that had become unnecessary on the floor and ran up to the right wing of the aircraft with the paint still on over the old swastikas. A grey-haired man in dark glasses stepped against it and started pushing with force.

- Get back! - Shouted Prayfield .

- Got it! - Jones switched a few toggle switches and pulled the thrust lever towards him. The propeller blades spun in reverse and the aircraft slowly began to move to the far side of the hall.

- Come on, come on...just a little more!

Dupont squirmed in her seat: they almost hit the dismantled aeroplanes on the left and right. But Sam, keeping a keen eye on the road behind the raised protective dome, turned the wheel just in time and lurched carefully between the obstacles.

Edward turned around at the machine-gun bursts: the Nazis, who had recovered from their confusion, continued their assault on the hangar with redoubled vigour. "I hope they don't have flamethrowers..."

- Turn round and do as I told you! - The inventor shoved the plane, which had gained enough momentum, and ran after it. Sam nodded and held out his hand with his thumb up:

- Got it! Don't get caught in the tail!

Prayfield nodded and slowed to a run. The American pulled the thrust lever forward with force, reduced the speed, and turned the steering structure sideways. The aeroplane travelled a few metres by inertia, the propeller spun backwards, the hull turned ninety degrees, almost hitting the ducking professor with the tail that swept over his head, - and then the young self-taught pilot pushed the speed lever to the stop.

- But Sam, Sam! - tapped the seat in front of her in horror, the Frenchwoman, whose pupils dilated with terror as she turned forward again. - The gate is closed, we'll crash!

- It'll work," Jones turned round and assured her, "it's a combat fighter!

"I wish I hadn't mixed up the buttons..." Guy froze for a moment and pressed one of the switches on the side. The double vibration of the hull convinced him that he was not mistaken.

- Hold on! - He shouted to the girl, who was nervously clutching her seatbelts, and pressed the throttle.

Streams of heat-glowing large-calibre bullets rumbled from the extended under-wing machine guns and hammered into the bending sheet of the weakly secured lift gate ahead. A few seconds later the metal burst into sparks and bent outward, crushing with its weight the armoured vehicle standing outside, which burst into flames and burst into flames.

"We can... we can get away!"

- Edward! - The girl turned round again and waved her arms. - Hurry!

There was a new noise in the background of machine-gun fire from behind. Prayfield , out of breath, turned round as he ran: the liquid nitrogen-filled gate had surrendered and soldiers were piling inside.

- Shaise! - The unshaven officer with the red patch on his shoulder cursed and waved his hand at the others: "Foyer, foyer!

- Oh, shit! - the scientist didn't have any bullet repellent on him.

- Faster, Doc!" Sam urged him, ready to collide with the gate slab. - I can't slow down!

"Jet boots would come in handy right now too..."

- Give me your hand! - Adélie unbuckled her belt with shaking fingers, gripped its buckle tightly, and peeked out from under the cracked capsule. - Come on, you can do it!

- Oh..." Edward clenched his teeth, unbuckled his gun holster, tossed it aside, took in a full breath, and sped up as fast as he could. The departing plane, with the girl reaching for him, was very close.

A whizzing bullet ripped out a strand of her golden hair, but Adeli didn't even notice it.

- Jump, I'll catch you!

"Come on, old man, come on... you're almost there..."

Prayfield rounded the tailplane with difficulty and continued running. Behind him a machine gun rang out and he felt a scattering of bullets approaching.

- Now... now!

The professor exhaled and put all his remaining strength into the final leap. His feet left the ground, his hand reached helplessly for the frame of the glass dome of the aeroplane, which he could not reach - but it was grabbed by thin female fingers, which were not ready to let him go.

- Come on! - Adélie gritted her teeth. - I got you!

Prayfield grasped part of the fuselage with his other hand, loosened his grip so as not to hurt his rescuer, and looked at her gratefully.

- Not now, come here quickly!... - The Frenchwoman spurred him on and pulled the scientist by the shoulders. He climbed into the cockpit - and just in time: the aeroplane shook, so much so that the glass cover fell down and partially cracked: the aeroplane travelled at full speed over the broken gate like a springboard and finally soared upwards through a cloud of smoke and flames from the blown-up machine to the accompaniment of impotent shots and curses of the Nazis, who were left without an aerodrome and equipment.

- Did it work? - The pilot turned round anxiously. - Is everyone on board now?

- Y-yes," confirmed the struggling Prayfield , nodding to Adela and gently settling her in her seat before the light turbulence of the flight would have knocked them both to the ground. - I'm with you guys again. Just let the old man get his breath back.....

- That old man did a pretty good hundred metres! - Sam grinned and turned his attention back to the dashboards in front of him.

- Berlin on the thirty-sixth," Prayfield grinned tiredly. - I had to remember the old days.

Adelie laughed, exhaled relaxedly, and looked back with relief. The burning hangar, with the crowd spilling out under the Mayan pyramid in Nazi flags, was slowly shrinking beneath a thin layer of silvery clouds in the light of the high moon.

"We did it... "

The exhausted girl leaned back in the vibrating chair and let herself sink into a hazy sleep to the noise of the engine and the soft conversations of friends she had not recently hoped to see so soon.

- So, what are your plans, Professor? - Sam turned round and lowered his voice sympathetically when he noticed Adela slumped on her side. - Where to next?

- We'll try to get to Rio," Prayfield answered from the back row, trying to keep his voice down, "we'll crash at one of my friends' houses and regain our strength. Then we'll pack up and I'll take over for you at the helm....

- That's not necessary, sir," Jones contradicted him, glancing at the map attached to the front panel. - We can skip the detour and go straight to the search for Vorobyov.

- Are you sure you can handle it? - he raised an eyebrow at the scientist, who didn't want to put too much on his young friend.

- Sure," Sam assured him. - You should get some sleep, too, it's going to be a long flight to the Old World...

And I'll set a course for Norway.

***

- ...It was quick.

A tall man with a bushy black beard and greying hair combed his bunched hair and folded his hairy arms across his chest with a smile.

- I didn't expect to be so happy to see a Messerschmidt in one piece.

- Alex! - The Frenchwoman ran towards him, almost knocking down Sam, who was helping her out of the cabin.

- Delia! - Sparrow, standing on the hilltop, readily embraced her and stroked her hair.

- It feels like ages since we've seen each other..." Dupont whispered, struggling to hold back tears.

- Well, well, we haven't seen each other for a week.

- It feels like a lot longer," the young American smiled and extended his hand. - Nice style, brother.

- We're all flower children," the doctor grinned and readily responded to the handshake.

Edward Prayfield , the last to limp in the narrow chair, took a breath, squinted into the light, and adjusted his sunglasses, which had come in handy.

- I must admit, old friend," he began, "slipping us the trackers before that operatic scoundrel first laid out his whole villainous plan and then tried to get away from us through his geometric celestial holes... it was at least clever.

- Well, not as clever as smashing the teleporter while it's working..." Alexei jokingly summarised. Adelie couldn't help laughing and turned to Sam:

- And that's what I told him.

- Come here, you old fuddy-duddy. - Vorobyov lifted his arm from Dupont's shoulder in an inviting gesture, and Prayfield embraced his loyal comrade, along with a young girl who beckoned to the African-American, and he joined the group hug:

- Why not, friendship is a miracle and it's warmer together.

Edward distanced himself and looked ironically at his faithful comrade, whose careless appearance could even be called rested:

- And it's good to see you, Alex. But you're the unlucky one, I see. How have you survived all this time?

Vorobiev laughed.

- Fishing and hunting with bare hands," the Russian doctor began to enumerate, "walks in the fjords, talking with moose and friendship with bears....

- Monstrous conditions, unless you're a druid," Sam winked at Adela.

- I don't know about that," Edward said, looking down at the foaming sea below. - I bet this place was sorely lacking in morning editorials about the new horrors of impending communism, prophets of World War III, upbeat reports from Vietnam, and the nonsense of yet another foot-dragging poser reinventing rock 'n' roll.

- Hey, rock and roll isn't so bad! - the girl objected and blushed. - And what did Elvis do to you anyway...?

- Borrowed a lot of that from black music? - Sam raised an eyebrow, caught the Frenchwoman's confused look, and extinguished the activist in him: "Just kidding, art is for all skin colours, and this guy is really good. Let him sing and dance as he pleases.

- That's right, that's right," Vorobyev agreed. - But in the forced isolation, I even started sleeping more soundly, can you imagine?

The professor shook his head playfully:

- What the lack of civilisation does to people, it's eerie.

- And we, - Adelie shared the news with Vorobyov in an innocent voice, - just defeated the base of Nazi troglodytes from the jungle, blew up what we could, and hijacked their only plane on the move, like in some film with Charles Bronson.

Vorobyev whistled and even wished he was with his friends at the time.

- I'm not even surprised Hitler still has followers. But bashing a Nazi is always honourable. Welcome to the family!

- I haven't had a Mexican beer in a while, Corona, ever heard of it?

Dupont sighed and lightly punched Jones in the side with the words:

- Jesus, you're making me go bald.

Prayfield smiled and gave his friends another hug.

- Let me put it this way," he began. - We finally found each other. We're alive, against all odds. We're together, against all odds. But it's time for all of us to go home. - Edward paused and furrowed his grey eyebrows. - We need to see what else we can do to stop Van der Berg and save the future of Earth... we've lost a little time, but it's paid off.

Time to put the laws of the universe to the test.

***

- I didn't realise your garden made a surprisingly good airfield!

Sam stopped the engine, turned off all the toggle switches, lifted the glass cockpit of the German aircraft, jumped out and helped Adela down first. She nodded courteously and stepped aside to give her hand to Prayfield , who had risen from his seat.

- I designed it that way once," the scientist said, shaking his head at the girl and giving way to Vorobyov. - The last plane, however, was sucked into a vortex over the Sargasso Sea in the Atlantic, so Alex, Bato, and I stopped flying for a while..." he said.

- But aviation is still the safest transport. - Alexei climbed down outside with Jones' help and straightened his back, which was stiff from the long flight.

- Oddly enough, yes.

Prayfield was the last to drop to the ground, closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar air. It smelled of fresh spring grass and blossoming cherry blossoms.

- And who is Bato? - The Frenchwoman asked the Russian doctor in a whisper.

- A mutual friend of ours from Japan," the man explained. - He used to... but Ed will tell me about it sometime.

Vorobyov approached the professor, who stood silently looking at the mansion with ivy-covered walls, wide windows and a few stovepipes, which for some reason attracted the scientist's attention the most. And when Alexei looked closely, he realised why.

- Now," said Prayfield quietly. - I can't remember if I put out the fireplace.....

A whitish smoke was billowing over the sloping roof.

- If not, it should have gone out long ago," the doctor frowned.

- You don't have to do that," the inventor turned to him. - The inbuilt life support system is designed to protect the occupants comfortably for several months, should anything, God forbid, happen to the world.

Vorobiev grinned.

- Paranoia.

- It's a reasonable precaution," Edward parried, but he immediately backtracked: "Okay, I admit, I was in a manic phase at the time, after the breakup, and I'd been on LSD for a month.

- I didn't hear anything..." the blonde put her palm to her face.

Sam, who had slightly better eyesight, squinted:

- Is it just me, or is there someone in there? The curtain seemed to move.

- That's the worrying part. - Vorobyov pulled out his gun and turned to his friends. - Get behind me. I'll check it out.

The scientist shook his head, touched the weapon, lowered its muzzle and raised his index finger upwards.

- Let's just do it this way.

Prayfield stepped forward and, to the surprised looks of the others, headed straight for the large house, walked up to the massive dark wood doors and simply knocked on them.

Adelie and Sam glanced over at Alexei and joined the professor. Edward noticed a vague movement at the living room window and made a short tap on the wooden slab again.

A breeze ran through the sheared hedge at the edge of the garden.

Quick footsteps were heard with the jingle of keys and the door opened.

- Oh, you're back at last! - came a high-pitched voice in near-perfect English. - I didn't believe it at first when I saw....

A stately young woman in a simple dress, with long dark hair and attentive slanting eyes, stood on the threshold with her arms folded modestly. Adélie was so unprepared for what she saw that she did not immediately recognise the person before her.

- Mitsuki?!... - the Frenchwoman aghast and put her palm to her chest.

- Oh..." the girl blushed and lowered her gaze. - Yes. It's me. - Itakura raised her eyes and a mixture of sadness, answering surprise and relief flashed in her gaze. - And you haven't changed a bit....

- Wait...," Prayfield finally interrupted the silence. The Japanese woman turned readily in his direction. The pale scientist took off his tinted glasses with trembling hands.

- What year is it?

CHAPTER 17

- We've been gone for six whole years?

Sam clutched his head and sank to the edge of his chair. But they'd been gone for days... or hadn't they?

- One thousand nine hundred and sixty-ninety-nine..." Vorobyov repeated slowly after Mitsuki, stroking his thick beard. Adelie looked up, still stunned, at the girl who a week ago had been a child to her.

- You're so...changed....

Itakura laughed awkwardly and embarrassedly fixed a strand of long hair behind her ear.

- Well yeah, I've grown up... we're almost the same age now. - The Japanese girl looked at her friend and gave her a slight smile. She folded her arms across her chest in embarrassment and tried to object:

- Well, am I still older than you by... a couple or three years? - Dupont was embarrassed to realise that she didn't remember Mitsuki's exact age. Dupont noticed her embarrassment, jokingly shoved her in the side, and retreated to the kitchen:

- Throw me one more time and that might change, sister.

- Oh, you've really grown up. - Adelie couldn't decide what stunned her more: the fact that they'd missed six years of life in a week, or the fact that Mitsuki, suddenly her equal, had just flirted with her?

Alexei listened thoughtfully to the noise of water being drawn into the kettle and the burner being lit.

- So, - summed up, turning to his friend, a Soviet doctor with military training, - that explosion of a portable time machine scattered us not only around the world, but also threw us into the future?...

- I guess so," Prayfield nodded and slapped his face. - I wish I'd tried violence again....

- Good thing we were within the same week! - Sam tried to make a joke to the still dumbfounded Sam.

- I even liked my two months," Vorobiev smiled at him. Edward raised his grey eyebrows high:

- You waited two months for us? And you didn't say anything?

Alexei laughed.

- Why upset your friends when you don't have to.

Prayfield shook his head and allowed himself a chuckle as well:

- It seems I need to think about holidays for fellow adventurers.

- It's enough to take small breaks between raids on villain bases," Jones assured him, got up from his seat and went to help the Jap with the coffee brewing.

- That's right," the scientist lowered the corners of his lips, adjusted his dark glasses, and sighed. - But the fact that we're here..." He glanced at the Frenchwoman. - You realise what it means, don't you?...

Vorobiev folded his hands in a lock and nodded sullenly.

- We're too late.

- We are too late," the professor repeated quietly after him. - Van der Berg had achieved his goal. The chain reaction in Jupiter's core had already begun.

***

- Are you sure about this? - Adélie asked with a concerned look, sitting down on the sofa by the window next to the coffee table.

- Absolutely," Prayfield turned to her from his seat. - We might have been able to work something out if we hadn't had this time ripped out of our lives, but the neutron bomb ship entered the giant planet's atmosphere a year and a half ago.

- Then all was lost. - Vorobyev put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, wishing he didn't smoke anymore.

- No..." the girl contradicted him softly. Alexei raised an eyebrow, and Prayfield looked at her carefully.

- It's too early to give up," Adélie continued with more and more confidence. - We must fight. A perverted genius who put himself above the laws of God and morality created this machine with the help of science-but with science we can figure out how to stop it, can't we?...?

The professor stroked his chin thoughtfully.

- Technically... yes. - Edward closed his eyes and mentally counted something in his mind. - The final transformation of a planet into a star would take centuries. It wouldn't affect the solar system immediately, either. Theoretically, we can still prevent the inevitable. We or our children, grandchildren or great-grandchildren....

Vorobiev nodded slowly and the wrinkles on his forehead smoothed out.

- Even if the right technologies don't yet exist.....

- . there's nothing stopping us from making them up," Prayfield finished after him with a smile, and looked at Adela with warmth and recognition.

- You see? - The Frenchwoman threw up her hands with a little enthusiasm. Edward nodded and slowly looked around at everyone present.

- You're right, there's still a chance. We can still turn the situation in our favour. - The grey-haired scientist furrowed his brow. - The stakes are higher than ever, and we've been defeated-but that doesn't mean the battle is lost.

- We have no right to lose it," Vorobyov nodded with a serious look. - The solar system itself is at stake.

Adélie listened casually to the voices of the boy and girl in the kitchen and only now noticed the fresh newspaper on the glass table in front of her. From the front page there were eyes that she was unlikely to forget.

- Speaking of who doomed her to destruction..." the girl touched the stack of today's press and held it up in front of her, "That's a familiar face, isn't it?

Prayfield squinted and immediately straightened up with an expression of anguish on his face.

- Curse.

A studio portrait of Volkert van der Berg in a business suit with smoothly combed hair, tidy facial hair and a proud smile stared back at him from the page of the Guardian.

- And he didn't waste any time in vain....can I read it?...?

- Sure. - Dupont leaned over and handed the scientist a newspaper. He fixed his glasses on his nose, extended his hand with the periodical, and read loudly:

- "The Man Who Changed the Planet: Volkert van der Berg on visions of a better world, ideas for the future and healing the present"... what is this even about? - the inventor looked at his friends indignantly.

- The centrepiece of the issue," Adélie shrugged. Prayfield was not happy with this development.

- This scoundrel also gives interviews?! - continued the Englishman's indignation. - And to whom--to some Oswald Kent. How dare they!

- Coffee? - Mitsuki showed up with a tray just in time.

- Yes, I won't say no," Vorobiev thanked her, reached for his cup with the image of the Russian imperial eagle and a broken edge, and raised it with a silent toast. Itakura only shook her head, but couldn't help smiling; she herself didn't realise how much she missed these strange people.

- Who writes such things?" meanwhile, Prayfield continued to grumble. - I've never been interviewed like that!

- They did, Ed," Alexei objected calmly, sipping a strong cappuccino. - I saw it in the papers.

- Okay, maybe they did. But not the whole lane!

- There were three strips before the Nobel.

Adelie and Mitsuki looked at each other. But Edward didn't deny it, not when he was upset:

- Okay, maybe. But I'd remember it if they gave it to me.

- Didn't they give you one? - The Frenchwoman asked cautiously.

The professor strained his memory, but quickly gave up and shook his head confusedly.

- I don't remember, I was pretty drunk and depressed at the time. Pauling had to get it alone, even though we'd worked together on the nuclear test ban treaty... hmm..." The man looked at the folded newspaper again and reluctantly picked it up: "Still, what a scoundrel that Van der Berg of yours is.

- Well, what is it?.... - The last member of the team came into the cosy living room with a mountain of properly prepared sandwiches. Sam handed the sandwich to Adela first and jokingly remarked: "I've been hearing strange noises...

- Oh, the horror! - Prayfield interrupted him, who had reached the last page of the edition. - No, do you see it?!

- ...like that," Jones finished, and exchanged a glance with Dupont, who closed her eyes and shook her head. Vorobyovleaned over to Mitsuki, who was leaning against the wall with a half-empty cup:

- Maybe there's some whiskey to dilute it...?

The girl didn't have to be asked twice:

- I see, I'll have a drink too. - At the surprised look of the Soviet doctor, the Japanese woman went to the kitchen.

- I think it's going to be a while," Jones said, setting the plate of snacks on the coffee table and eating his sandwich in one go.

- Who does he think he is? - The professor exclaimed in a completely lost voice, and at the tired and pleading look of the girl who remained in the room, he handed her a newspaper. - This is out of the question!...

Adélie took the issue of the Guardian with dignity and read the last line of the back spread:

- "Read more about Man of the Year; 'Visionary and Dreamer' is the theme of the issue in the latest Times".

Prayfield howled wolfishly and rose from his chair with a lurch:

- Give me my shotgun.

***

"THE MAN WHO CHANGED THE PLANET: WOLKERT VAN DER BERG ON VISIONS OF A BETTER WORLD, IDEAS FOR THE FUTURE AND HEALING THE PRESENT".

A modest man of thirty-nine to seven years of age meets us on the doorstep of his laboratory. He has agreed to give us a few hours of his time for a first-of-its-kind conversation with our staff reporter, journalist emeritus Oswald Gemini Kent, to reveal the secret of his incredible success and to share his thoughts on the future of the world for which he has risked everything he has.

O.K.: Good evening, Mr Van der Berg. Thank you for agreeing to be interviewed by the Guardian, it's a great honour for all of us.

VB: Thank you for the opportunity to tell your story and your willingness to come - you've come a long way.

O.K.: So, let's start at the beginning. Some of our readers may be hearing your name for the first time. Can you tell us a little bit about yourself?

V.B.: Well, that won't be difficult. My story is quite simple. I was born in Leiden, Netherlands, into a large family of a toy maker and a nurse. I was always interested in how things worked. I used to take them apart and put them back together again, trying to understand how they worked and what could be done better.

O.K.: Did you always know you wanted to be an inventor?

V.B.: I always had a feeling that I could give something to this world... make it better, brighter, more orderly. To leave something good behind. And this, as you realise, cannot be done in any other way than with my own hands.

O.K.: You are right, and your hands are rightly called golden. Your design bureau has created and patented an incredible number of things that have already changed the civilised world. Five years ago, I could never have imagined that a flying Volkswagen would take me to this island!

V.B.: (laughs) Co-operation with one of the leading car companies to completely transfer the entire model range to jet propulsion was not the most difficult task.

O.K.: But you did it - and you also made the entire automotive industry scramble to try to replicate your success.

V.B.: Yes, that's what we were counting on. We made exclusivity one of the core principles of Vanderberg Solutions and our flagship project Utopolis.

O.K.: To get your price up?

V.B.: Not really. Profit has never been my goal.

O.K.: This is hard to believe, especially given the current scale of the network of your organisations. Some even refer to this island as a "state within a state"....

V.B.: I am far from the Pope, especially since I am not a saint at all. Not a saint at all...

O.K.: Have you ever had to do anything that you regret now...?

V.B.: That's a good question. In the past, I would have answered it without a second thought. Now... I don't know.

O.K.: What's troubling you...?

V.B.: (answering not immediately): Responsibility. Through knowledge. I guess I could put it this way.

O.K.: That's a rather vague answer.

V.B.: You will understand everything when the time comes. Let me just say that here, at the cutting edge of progress and science, we have to make hard decisions that may affect the development of the entire humanity for centuries to come. But believe me, every action we take is dictated by the benefit of each and every one of us.

O.K.: Well, I must say, that sounds inspiring!

V.B.: (smiling) Naturally. This is the essence of our endeavour: Vanderberg Solutions' Utopolis was created with large-scale challenges in mind.

O.K.: Then I have the following question: you are engaged in design work of high complexity, consulting and forecasting, diplomatic work to strengthen international ties - at the same time, you have retained sole control over the organisation without losing its effectiveness. How do you manage to do all this?

V.B.: I managed to find my own approach to creating complex things. What I am about to tell you now has been my secret for many years... at the centre of the company's analytical centre is a special device. You can call it a new-generation computer.

O.K.: Are you talking about a calculating machine or, as they are now called, a computer?

V.B.: More about the supercomputer. The project of my life, which gave me everything I have... The Reality Fractaliser is a device that works at the quantum level of computation and operates with probabilistic variables with an accuracy that is inaccessible to ordinary machines.

O.K.: What exactly does it do?

V.B.: It lifts the veil on what has not yet happened and allows you to understand what combinations of events will lead to one outcome or another.

O.K.: So you're... able to predict the future?

V.B.: Rather, to see his options. To feel it. To look into it.

O.K.: I can't even imagine it, to tell you the truth.

V.B.: There is no need for that. I myself did not expect where my dream of creating such a machine would take me. However, here we are. And the device is finally working. At least in sufficient power to change the world. With this device, we can, for the first time, have no fear of history going down the wrong path....

O.K.: What do you think is wrong...?

V.B.: The World War, in which I lost my sister and younger brother.

O.K.: We and our readers sympathise with you very much. But how are you, a fairly young international company with a single person at the helm, going to influence this?

V.B.: There will be no more wars on Earth. We're not going to let that happen. I will not allow it. Look at the changes in the Soviet Union - it is already starting to reform thanks to our intervention!

O.K.: A sensational confession! But, I must admit, it seems to be true: for the first time in history, Red Moscow is bogged down in serious disputes; I will remind our dear readers that a fairly large proportion of the Communists are in favour of reorganisation into the so-called Federal Alliance of Soviet Republics in order to modernise the weakening economy and restore relations with the rest of the world. We don't know what exactly triggered the Russians' sharp turn in policy, but their threatening rhetoric changed dramatically about a year ago

V.B.: A world without the socialist bloc and the Cold War will be a safer and freer world. Children should not be afraid of nuclear bombs.

O.K.: That is true. However, I am not sure that there is a direct link between the actions of your organisation and the sudden start of reforms in the Soviets.

V.B.: It is there, however strange it may seem. We foresaw this as one of the outcomes and deliberately pushed the Bolsheviks into action. Now I can already say that for more than two years I worked through secret channels with an initiative group headed by a man called Gorbachev - he is almost my age, remember that name. And believe me, this is only the beginning of positive changes.

O.K.: A strong diplomatic corps, secret negotiations, peacekeeping ambitions... Can we say that you are deliberately building a new world order?

V.B.: I wouldn't throw such words around. We are not a secret society or a conspiracy myth. We are people who want to lead humanity to prosperity, to give it a road to the stars. For this reason, I created Utopolis, in the heart of which we now find ourselves.

O.K.: Beautiful words, suitable for a strong leader or even a prophet. Are you aware that you are often compared to the head of a religious doctrine or even a sect?

V.B. (laughing): Come on, that's not true at all. I can't answer for all our followers... but we are technocrats and futurists, and my figure is not as important in the hierarchy as it may seem. The city of science and progress will live on even if I am gone.

O.K.: How, may I say, perfectly well Christianity lives without Christ.

V.B. (blushing embarrassedly): I'm not sure whether such a comparison is flattering to me as a Catholic or offensive.

O.K.: I apologise if I hurt your feelings - we'll cut out that part of the interview if you like.

V.B.: No, no, leave it without abbreviations. I only want the truth here. It's the only thing that matters in the end. The truth will reach everyone one day, - even those who once tried with all their might to stand in its way..."

***

... Prayfield went up to his office in a depressed state of mind. "Utopolis...Vanderberg Solutions..... Science for the benefit of all mankind..." It was all too similar to something he had tried to build himself in the not too distant past, and which had collapsed, nearly burying him under the rubble.

- You couldn't possibly not know about my firm.....

The scientist glanced at the massive desk and his favourite chair, walked to the secret door of the service lift to the mini-station of his personal underground underground, opened it and was ready to press the call button when he remembered that not a single intact monosphere capsule remained.

- Damn it.

You'll have to spend some time.

Edward sighed, walked over to the meticulously cleaned desk, sat down in the padded chair, and looked tiredly at the unchanging photo card of the love of his life. "Lina, mein engel..." What would his life be like if she had survived that day?

"We almost had a baby."

Prayfield closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

She would want him to continue to live and fight for the future. One step at a time. For her sake. For the sake of their child together. For the sake of the new friends who would surely become her friends too. For the sake of everyone who was alive now and just about to come into this world... Earth must survive this time so that future generations would have a chance at a better life.

- So it's too early to give up.

The old man imagined her soft voice and intonation that he would never forget. "You're right. I won't give up. I'll never give up."

He corrected the frame, which didn't have as much dust on it as he'd expected, and smiled at the black and white photo of a dark-haired girl with a tenacious gaze and a gentle smile.

"But I'd give anything to see you alive and laughing again..."

Edward slid some of the books off the front of the table top, pressed a hidden button and pulled out a wide drawer with a built-in button panel from a typewriter, waited for a small television to slide out of the centre of the table on a hydraulic mechanism to a convenient height for eye contact, switched it on and entered a series of commands on the terminal. A beep and a slight vibration of the floor let him know the process was underway. Prayfield tucked the screen of the miniature computer along with the control unit back inside the desk and leaned back in his chair, aware that two floors below, in the vast basement, a robotic production line had begun reassembling old and composite printing new monosphere parts to replace those lost during the chase.

***

An hour and a half later, in an inconspicuous shop on Bruton Street, the permanently closed backroom door opened and an elderly man with close-cropped grey hair and a short beard, wearing an overcoat, a work cap and dark sunglasses, stepped out. He nodded to the bored antiques dealer, pulled his hat down, and stepped outside.

Prayfield didn't use this station very often. But now it was a good way to get out into the centre of London on the only minimally ready-to-use spherical capsule; full production would take almost twenty-four hours, and he didn't want to wait that long. And then, could he just get out for a walk in the capital or not?

"It's been six years in just one week..."

Edward looked around him.

"Though you wouldn't know it from the looks of it."

All around were the same low-rise houses with wide shop windows on the ground level, a neat T-shaped carriageway with pedestrian crossings and a small but neatly landscaped Berkeley Square in front with a few benches and dense oak trees whose rustle overlapped the rumble of slow-moving cars. The shutterbug from Impington passed a couple walking past him, noticed an unfamiliar sound, and involuntarily cringed when several car-sized rectangular shapes flew in the sky directly above him, followed by several more. Prayfield took a closer look and realised that they were indeed vehicles powered by small jet engines. "So massively used...? I wonder how he solved the aerodynamics problem and how he powered the engine?" The inventor imagined the effort it would take to run such a vehicle in a civilian environment with all the regulations and how safe it would have to be to pass all the inspections, and involuntarily gained respect for the competition.

Edward walked a little further and spotted a new kiosk selling international percussion. The Guardian alone wasn't enough to know what had changed in the meantime, but a few other publications might help him get a better picture. If he wanted to beat Van der Berg, he would have to get to know his marvellous new world better.

- Hello," Prayfield walked over and said hello, hoping he wouldn't be recognised. But the bored salesman didn't let his expectations down.

- Good afternoon, sir! - The red-haired mustachioed man looked up tiredly from his open book. - What can I get you?

He had a noticeable Irish accent.

- Do you have a new Times, please? - The scientist asked, taking a quick look round the counter.

- Oh, you're after that too..." The man put the book aside and straightened up. - Almost the entire edition has been sold out, but I still had the last issue under the counter somewhere..." He leaned over and rummaged through his things. - Here you are.

The professor paused for a second to pick up a magazine with a red cover, a studio photograph of Volkert in an expensive jacket against a grey wall and the caption "Man of the Year: towards a better future".

- Anything else, perhaps? - The salesman, who noticed the strange expression on his guest's face, asked.

- Yes," Prayfield came out of his stupor and looked round the window again. - I think I'll take the American Sun, the latest Playboy, and the Philosophical Magazine of the Royal Society. - In response to a look of surprise at this choice, the professor explained: - 'There's a lot of catching up to do.

- Have you been away? - The man asked, holding out copies of the publications.

- Yes, on a long... voyage," the inventor found something to answer, holding out the money. - A multi-year cruise.

- Wow, I'm jealous. I've never been further than Scotland.

- It could still change..." Edward was about to leave, but then he thought of continuing the conversation. He picked up an issue of Man of the Year 69. - By the way, what do you think of him?

The salesman shrugged.

- That's a good lad, that's for sure. He's doing a good job. He's been doing it a long time.

- Do you think so?

- Yeah. Nailed those commies. - The Irishman put his hands on the table. - It's their own fault they're going to lose their country. The Soviet Union will collapse, you'll see.

Prayfield smiled and shook his head incredulously.

- My best friend will be very interested to hear this interpretation of events.

"It can't be that serious."

- No, why? - As if he had read his thoughts, the talkative newspaper man grinned. - The Cold War is over, it's over. Officially. - Edward's eyebrows went up. - Didn't you hear Nixon?

- Senator Nixon? - the still confused scientist suggested uncertainly.

The man from the western part of the kingdom only laughed in response.

- The President," he replied with apparent pleasure, enjoying the genuine surprise of a man who hadn't read a news article in the last couple of years. - He won the election in January. My wife is from America, she's been buzzing my ears....

- How interesting. - "This definitely needs to be conceptualised..." The Englishman furrowed his eyebrows and clutched a stack of printed publications in his hands. - Tell me, another question... somewhat unusual... how has your life changed in recent years?

The salesman, who had taken up the book, thought for a moment.

- Heh, that's a strange question indeed. How life has changed... - the Irishman combed his hair and smiled something, this time warmly. - You might not be able to tell from me, but I'm happier. Started reading more. - The man tapped the spread of an unfinished novel and looked round the wide magazine rack behind him. - I work here more out of habit - it was my father's business, God rest his soul. His shop used to be in Bromley and it was nearly sold for debt, but I managed to move it here. It's a memory I'm not prepared to part with.

- I see," the inventor nodded seriously. - You're a good man, your father would be proud of you.

The praise from the seemingly reserved stranger touched the man.

- Thank you. He'd be surprised to see how things had changed. - The salesman looked at the cover of the thick magazine in Prayfield 's hands. - I'm not sure it's because of this guy... he's been on the pages and screens a lot....

- Hmm.

- ...but he's definitely doing something right. - The man felt that he had been wanting to speak for a long time and slapped his hand on the table. - The world has had enough of war and conflict. We need to be together, even though we're different, you know? - Edward nodded understandingly. - Who knows what may lie ahead. Sometimes I look up at the sky and wonder how many stars there are. What if one of them bursts into flames right next to us? They explode, they say.

Prayfield 's eyes lit up, but he did not show how much he was interested in the sudden change of subject. The professor adjusted his glasses and explained casually in the tone of a competent lecturer:

- Some stars go supernova, it's true. They swell to unimaginable sizes, shed their shells and shrink to the size of a small planet.

- That's right, exactly! - The Irishman threw his arms out to his sides emotionally. - I'm glad you're interested in all this too. You must be a scientist, right...?

- In a way," the grey-bearded man in the tightly buttoned coat did not reveal his incognito.

- Do you think that's possible?

- With our sun, hardly. - The professional amateur astrophysicist looked up and squinted into the daylight. - It would die one day, of course, and consume the planets before burning everything else and turning into a nebula - but no humans would be on Earth for a long time. There's nothing to worry about.

- And yet... - the magazine seller folded his hands on his chest and thought, remembering something. - You know, there was a news story about five years ago. Some journalist, a fellow countryman of yours, raised a panic, saying that something was wrong with Jupiter. - Edward turned round interestedly, inwardly exultant. "There it is..." Higginson. He was willing to bet anything that this journalist was Higginson.

The red-haired man, meanwhile, continued, puzzled: - Somebody went out to the Royal Society, they got the astronomers up in arms. This Van der Berg was among them.

- Naturally," Prayfield smiled carnivorously. The salesman didn't notice the sarcasm:

- He was the first to respond to the note and confirmed it, despite all the disbelief in the press. But he reassured that it would not affect anyone and that planets cannot explode by themselves. The cause was never found. So who knows what will happen or not.... - The man behind the counter put his hands to his sides. - But you know what?

- I'm all ears.

- Maybe I'm starting to go a little nuts, but lately it seems to me that one of the stars - well the one next to the moon always - seems to have started to shine brighter.

Edward's gaze faded.

- Do you think maybe that writer was right after all...?

The question demanded an honest answer, but he wasn't ready for it yet. How to tell his interlocutor that his world was in fact doomed and its end, even if it was a few centuries away, but it was a definite end, after which nothing would happen?

"Adenmayer Wilfred-Smith got his way after all, even from the grave. The Solar System is doomed."

- Well... - Prayfield coughed awkwardly, trying to take in the bitter truth inside. He was not a very good liar. - The newspapers are full of unverified sensationalism, you know that better than I do. Every week the world ends. And you and I are still here.

- And rightly so. - The press salesman nodded understandingly, ready to agree with the authority of the man of science. Edward tried to smile and continued with a purer heart:

- Continue on your way. Live and enjoy life. There is more than enough time. - "More than the lives of several generations," he thought to himself, "but it's not worth dwelling on. - Make your personal future what you want it to be," he finished aloud. - It's the only thing we can influence unconditionally.

- The words of a wise man," the Irishman complimented respectfully and squinted his eyes, "Surely I haven't heard of you anywhere?

- Not in the previous six years.

***

The elderly scientist was walking slowly down the street with a pile of press under his arm, his hands in his coat pockets, and thinking intensely.

The world had changed. More than he'd expected in the few years that had passed in less than a week. He hadn't felt like he belonged in this world before, but his tenacious mind and his desire to fix things that could work better for the good of the people kept him afloat, kept him from going insane and helped him close the gaping hole in his heart. Besides, when he was busy working and flitting from one project to another, he didn't feel so alone. He was driven by a dream to change the world, to make it better, freer and easier for anyone who was willing to move forward. He thought he had made some progress - at least until he stumbled and fate turned its back on him. And what had happened now... perhaps there was an element of revenge in it. Van der Berg couldn't have been unaware of Prayfield Futuristics. Couldn't help but realise what had happened when the device exploded and what opportunities it would give him. They were the only ones who knew about the spaceship with the bomb, and could have done something to prevent it from colliding with Jupiter - but now all time was lost. Volkert had won; Wilfred-Smith's plan, however bizarre and contrary to the very essence of humanistic science it might be, had been put into action. Destroying the solar system in one scenario in exchange for the possibility of time travel between the other universes... an impossible choice for any normal person, but Prayfield had seen the look in Van der Berg's eyes when he had appeared behind them in the secret hideout, and knew that a man so deep in despair was capable of anything. But now everything was about to change. He had achieved his goal, and yet he remained here. "So either the reality fractaliser didn't work and we couldn't stop a psychopath with a god complex from going mad, or he had a reason to stay longer..."
Or Van der Berg isn't such a creep and they have more in common than he thought. What would Prayfield do if what happened is pretty much what happened? "I certainly wouldn't leave behind a dying world. I would have used every opportunity that presented itself to help save as many people as possible from the impending catastrophe that was coming in a few hundred years. I would have laid the foundation for a better future.".

So it was hardly revenge. He was just filling a niche that Edward had never been able to establish himself in, using resources that no one else had before.

Prayfield glanced at the cover of the Times with a picture of his former nemesis. "So that's what it is, the face of the future..."

Well, maybe it was worth it. To create a crisis of uncontrollable magnitude to force everyone to unite and set aside their differences. To start moving together and together to make the remaining centuries of humanity the best in its history. The greatest blossom before extinction.

Maybe humanity should have been deprived of a future for its own good.

Edward had taken a few more steps towards the centre with the intention of walking to Westminster to consider the new circumstances and decide what his next action might be when the approaching rattle of mechanical blades sounded above him. The scientist looked up and had to hold up his cap to keep the wind current from knocking it aside.

In front of him, a rather large, egg-shaped metal object with four rapidly rotating screws behind protective covers at the bottom of the structure slowly descended onto the barely filled pavement. Part of the symmetrical darkened panel pulled aside and the professor saw inside a leather-upholstered chair with a seatbelt in front of the control panel, but there was no steering wheel or steering wheel inside.

Prayfield peered inside with incredulous interest and saw a small rectangle on a metal prong with a wide-angle lens extend from the panel, and a crackling sound came from the built-in speaker and a distorted distant signal, but a familiar voice with a still strong European accent:

- Welcome back, Edward.

I guess we both had enough time to not try to kill each other this time.

CHAPTER 18

- Guys...," Adela glanced at her watch, "has anyone seen Ed?

Sam, who had returned from the kitchen, shrugged and looked up the hall stairs.

- Wasn't he upstairs?

- Which doesn't mean he's still there," Alexei said relaxedly, sitting on the couch, his hands clasped at the back of his head.

Mitsuki looked disapprovingly at the bearded man, took the cool can of cherry cola from Jones's hands with a grateful nod, and turned to Dupont:

- I went up an hour ago, the office was empty.

Vorobyev mentally chastised himself for eiDelzm and turned to the Japanese woman, who was unusually mature for him.

- There's a secret descent to its own transport system with a bomb shelter..." the Russian doctor explained more seriously, "and a bunch of other stuff that even I probably don't know about.

- So that's how you disappeared the first time you trashed the place...? - Itakura smiled slyly. That's what I thought.

- I guess that's when you decided this house needed a keeper...? - Sam opened a bottle of Irish ale straight from the fridge.

- He's too good," the girl laughed and opened a can of soda too, "to leave him unattended while you're back on the other side of the world!

- Yes, I wouldn't want to get it back to the state it was in before we arrived..." Adela shuddered at the memory of a week of cleaning. The American noticed it and nodded sympathetically:

- I'm afraid to guess what was here.

- The Desert Row," Mitsuki answered for the Frenchwoman and winked at Sam. He couldn't contain his surprise:

- Holy shit, you like Bob Dylan too?!

The blonde caught her friend's quick glance, patted her knees nervously and rose abruptly from her seat:

- I'll still go up and see if our recluse is back.

***

- Knock, knock? Am I coming in...? - Adelie waited a few seconds, but no sound was heard behind the heavy door. "Well..."

The girl looked at the wooden tray in her left hand.

- You never touched the sandwiches, so I heated them up..." The Frenchwoman gently pushed open the unlocked panel and saw a familiar silhouette in a high chair facing the open window. - Oh, you're here.

Prayfield turned his head and answered absent-mindedly:

- Y-yes, I was out for a walk, in London.

Dupont noticed a segment of a bookshelf not fully slid in with a light burning in a hidden lift stall.

- Did you want to be alone? - The girl walked quietly to the desk, noticed the stacks of unfolded magazines with a fresh newspaper and put down the tray with sandwiches beside it.

- More like alone with my thoughts," Edward answered, and turned back to the view of the manicured summer garden without touching his food. - And to look around in general, to think things over.

- But not only that. - Adelie squinted, folded her arms across her chest, and crouched on the edge of the desk, refusing to leave. - Something's wrong. You have that face-people usually come back refreshed after a walk.

- You're right. I have received a... offer. - The professor tilted his head confidentially towards his interlocutor and lowered his voice. - Van der Berg himself contacted me.

The girl's pupils dilated.

- That fast?! How did he find you?

- I don't know. - The Englishman shook his head, looked out of the window one last time, and swivelled his chair round to pick up a tray with a couple of egg and bacon sandwiches. The dish looked too appetising to continue pretending he wasn't hungry. - 'Perhaps,' the scientist finished, not quite intelligibly, taking a significant bite of one of the well-fried sandwiches, 'he controls more than he wants us to know. But that doesn't matter.

- Why? - Adélie raised her eyebrows. - Did you find out what he wanted?

- No," Prayfield shook his head, chewing the rest of his lunch. - I refused to meet with him. I didn't want to negotiate behind everyone's back.

The girl shook her head and fixed a stray strand.

- Well... perhaps it was for the best. Why did he seek this meeting?

- Clearly not for surrender. - The inventor held out the tray with the remaining sandwich to his friend. She shook her head briefly and the scientist placed it on the stack of press, deliberately blocking out the close-up of his face on the cover. - I think he's more than happy with the position he's been able to achieve. The chief scientist of the decade, the industrial genius ...

- Sounds a bit familiar, to tell you the truth.

Adelie raised an eyebrow, but there was no sarcasm in her voice. Edward, by the freestanding bookcase next to the antique globe, sighed, turned around, and shrugged:

- Perhaps it really is partly envy talking in me. Why deny the obvious?

- I understand," Dupont nodded sympathetically and opened her arms from her chest. - I really do.

- Thank you," Prayfield thanked her and remained silent, staring thoughtfully into the mirror opposite. The young woman intercepted his gaze and bit her lip.

- We're all here... missed a lot..... she began uncertainly.

The professor nodded briefly.

- Unfortunately, yes. The world around us has changed.

He looked at the globe and spun it round in a sprawling motion. The lacquered globe obeyed the impulse with difficulty.

- But not us," Adélie turned to the old man, still choosing her words carefully. - We are still the same.

The mock-up of the globe stopped spinning.

- Do you see that as an advantage...? - the grey-haired scientist asked incredulously.

- Probably. - Dupont shrugged. - We each have our own worldview, and we remember how the world used to be. In a way, we are guests from the past.....

Edward nodded slowly:

- Strangers until they adapted.

- Exactly.

The professor looked at the assistant carefully:

- Would you like to adapt?

Adelie thought for a moment.

- Under normal circumstances, yes. But now they are unusual. - The girl smiled. - And we need to act the same way.

- It makes more sense than it sounds," the landlord agreed and frowned. His mind began to formulate a plan that might not meet with the approval of the rest of the family. "Funny how that particular word came up. I wouldn't have got this far if it wasn't for them. For the sake of the family, you'll do the impossible," "It's too early for us to relax," he finished aloud and the girl grimly agreed:

- Certainly not when a second sun was ready to burst in the sky and we could stop it.

***

- You're going to what?!

Mitsuki nearly dropped the jug of apple juice from her hands.

- Meet," Edward repeated quietly, setting his fork aside. - I think we need to be honest.

- But wait, you're the one who refused to talk to him-" Adélie blinked and set aside her plate of crispy potatoes and steak with cream sauce.

Prayfield folded his arms in front of him and shrugged:

- At the time, I thought it was inappropriate. I didn't want you to think I was having some kind of conversation with the enemy behind your back.

- Well, that's certainly noble in its own way..." The Frenchwoman fluttered her eyelashes and frowned. Her table-mate noticed this and felt a sudden surge of anger.

- Is that why you want to put us on notice and negotiate now? - Sam slapped his palm on the tabletop. - Ed, he blew up an entire planet and didn't give us a chance to stop himself!

- It's my fault," the scientist sighed, his eyes downcast. - And I must atone for it.

- With what, intellectual conversation? - The American couldn't help but sneer.

- Sam! - Mitsuki hissed at him.

The professor looked at the girl appreciatively and shifted an understanding gaze to the dark-skinned guy.

- I don't know what he has in mind, but he doesn't want humanity to die," Edward said, trying to make his point. - A maniac with a mania for destruction wouldn't waste time, energy, and money on improving a world that had nothing left.

- You're saying..." Dupont finally spoke up, "that if he'd achieved his goal, he could just walk away. Go to another universe.

- Exactly," the scientist in the tinted glasses nodded vigorously. - But he didn't.

The Japanese woman frowned:

- Maybe his time machine was never fully operational.

Prayfield shook his head.

- He's definitely using it, to predict the future or variants of it. The world could not have changed so much in half a dozen years without such a trick.

Vorobiev hummed and Adeli remarked bleakly:

- So now he has even more power than the head of a superpower. That's great news.

- I wouldn't say that's a bad thing," Edward shrugged and cut off a piece of steak. - After all, he's a scientist, not a politician.

Sam leaned over and looked him straight in the eye.

- A scientist like you? - The young man's voice trembled with ill-concealed anger. - Could you have robbed us all of our future, too?

Adélie sighed and covered her eyes with her hand. The question was on her tongue, too, and she hoped that the next sentence would put her doubts to rest. But it seemed she was wrong.

- It's a...complicated question," Prayfield said evasively, "one that I can't give a quick and honest answer to.

- Unbelievable. - The blonde put her plate aside with a loud clatter and folded her arms across her chest, her cheeks flushed. - You actually took his side!

- He's trying to use the power of science to make the world a better place! - Edward went into a screaming fit, too.

- I've heard that somewhere before," said the unaccustomedly thoughtful doctor quietly.

- What? - the Englishman turned to Vorobyov. He grinned bitterly.

- All the dreamers on red banners start by talking about a better future for peasants and workers, only at the end you get the same gulag.

Dupont glanced over to Itakure, who glanced at Sam.

There was silence at the table.

- So that's how it is," said the grey-haired head of the house at last.

The Russian doctor shrugged his shoulders:

- I'm telling it like it is. I can't accept it.

- Me, too," Jones said. - This is not what we fought for.

- Mm.

- What do you think, Mitsuki? - The boy turned to her.

- Well, umm..." the brown-haired girl laughed nervously and bit her lip. - I graduated from high school in this regime, and I'm not against all these technical things... but I understand your logic, and I think I'll support it, or something. - The Japanese caught herself almost apologising to the professor, who straightened up in his carved chair and let out a nervous chuckle:

- So I'm in a striking minority.

- I'm sorry, Ed," Adelie fixed her hair nervously and poured herself some water from the carafe to calm herself down. - I'm not sure I know who's right.

- That's a difficult question," Prayfield agreed melancholically.

- But look," the girl continued with great enthusiasm, "it occurred to me... people know that something has happened to Jupiter. The changes have already started, haven't they? - Adélie looked at Edward expectantly. He nodded curtly:

- Right.

- But no one but us knows why they started. - Adélie allowed herself to smile, convinced of the power of her idea with each phrase. - Only we-and the poor reporter who fled Russia with us-know who assembled the bomb and sent it into space.

- And we, unlike him, have all the evidence.

The girl turned round; the American, who had at first listened with disbelief to the blonde's quiet voice, brightened up and did not fail to cheer her on. - We can expose Van der Berg!

A smile played on Sam's face and Adelie couldn't help but smile back.

- That's a good idea," Vorobiev said complacently. - It will be hard to recover from such damage.

- Only we're not going to do that," Prayfield said softly.

Adelie looked over to Jones in surprise, Alexei wrapped his arms around his head.

Mitsuki turned with a pleading look to the suddenly stubborn inventor:

- But why?

Toth sighed.

- I can't help but feel that we could be allies with him. I have to meet him and talk to him.

- Then do it yourself," Sam said, and rose abruptly from his seat, nearly knocking over his chair. - And speak for yourselves.

Itakura raised her hand and prepared to say something, but she pressed her lips together, gave Prayfield a reproachful look, and hurried after her mate.

- There is no "we" anymore...? - Prayfield concluded quietly, looking round the half-empty room. Vorobyov reached for his whiskey:

- You said it yourself, Ed.

Adelie sighed and covered her face with her hands.

***

A few hours later, the chrome-plated capsule on its four propellers descended with a loud noise to an area with evenly lined rows of similar flying machines. The dome of darkened, impenetrable glass pulled aside and Prayfield squinted against the unusually blazing sun. It smelled like the ocean.

The automation of the unmanned flying vehicle stopped the movement of the blades, they gradually quieted down, the seat belts finally unbuckled and the scientist was able to get out, where the delegation was already waiting for him.

- I'm surprised you still accepted my offer," a slightly aged Volkert van der Berg, wearing a strange suit that looked like a mixture of a business jacket, lab coat, and light spacesuit with a helmet slot, stretched his lips in a dry smile and stepped forward.

- I had to weigh everything. - Prayfield straightened and folded his arms across his chest incredulously, surveying his surroundings. A light breeze fluttered his nearly grown-out white hair, and the palm trees, calmed by the lift of the flying machine, provided a pleasant shade.

- And your friends...? - the Dutchman asked, squinting his eyes. - The ardent young men and the old Communist?

- We disagreed on the appropriateness of our meeting.

The Englishman turned too sharply to the side and a group of guards in armoured suits and helmets with one-piece opaque visors synchronously raised minimalist-looking weapons. Prayfield raised an eyebrow and dropped his hand to his tucked coat pocket, .

Van der Berg didn't lose sight of that.

- It's a pity," he said, turning away and raising his hand in a gesture of will: the soldiers behind him immediately lowered their guns and moved a little distance away. - Well, anyway, it's good to see you at last.

Volkert took another step forward, removed the protective glove with the wires coming out of it, and extended his hand in front of him in a welcoming gesture.

Prayfield held her gaze for a moment and finally sighed peacefully.

- Why not.

The men shook hands.

The host of the once nameless island in the Pacific smiled less formally and invited his guest to follow him towards the descent from a landing pad for passenger drones carved right into the rock.

- As you realise," he said as he walked on, "I would like to put our differences behind us and offer you a new way of looking at the world.

Edward shook his head and adjusted his tinted glasses.

- I'm not sure I'm ready to fully side with you after what you've done.

- You haven't seen a tenth of what I've done. - A note of threat slipped into Van der Berg's tone. Prayfield stopped on the steps of the wide road to the cable car transport hub.

- I've seen enough to know that you've robbed humanity of its future.

- On the contrary," the Times man of the year calmly countered, "I gave him the best.

- But at what cost? - The Englishman looked him in the eye, hoping to see at least a spark of remorse. - Do you seriously think that decades of prosperity and technological progress are worth thousands of years of wasted history...?

Van der Berg shook his head and looked at the illuminated screen of the tiny kinescope of the wearable device on his right arm.

- You're thinking too narrowly, my friend. All of this... this has nothing to do with Earth anymore. As a species we must move on. - The Dutchman finished with a convincing smile: - I'm sure you'll agree with me in the end.

- You have a very high opinion of yourself.

- I've seen it," the younger scientist finished with pressure, "and soon you will too. The first of the rest of the world. Let me show you what Utopolis really is.

The Vanderberg Solutions founder continued towards the hitching wagon and Prayfield shook his head before following him.

***

The grey-haired Englishman threw back his head and looked up at the high vault. He had been prepared to see something like this, but not on such a scale and complexity.

- Wow.

In the centre of the vast hall was a gigantic, slowly rotating, multi-level structure of mechanical supports protruding chaotically from a pillar covered with vertical tubes, enclosed behind a secure glazing that was illuminated by a bluish light from within. At the ends of the arms connected to the main spine, small cameras could be seen aimed at the shimmering symmetrical frames, in which rhomboidal shapes lit up and went out rapidly, where the scattered shapes of clouds and buildings were vaguely guessed. At a short distance around the massive cooled structure were concentric tables with recording devices and screens, at which groups of people in white coats crowded and discussed something animatedly with stacks of sheets in their hands.

- Sir," one of them addressed Van der Berg and ran up with a folder in his hands, "urgent change on line 6537-89!

- What is it? - The Dutchman picked up the documents he had just printed on the dot-matrix printer and squinted.

- We think it's an epidemic," the analyst explained anxiously. Prayfield raised his eyebrows. - Hundreds dead, signs of quarantine, closed borders.

The professor shifted a concerned look to his former enemy, but his face remained unperturbed.

- Epicentre? - He asked in a businesslike manner as he continued to read the tables and graphs.

- Australia, looks like Sydney," replied a red-haired man with thick-rimmed glasses. - But there's no Opera House.

- Hmm. Did you get the cause?

The robe-clad assistant licked his lips nervously.

- Looks like a man-made virus.

Van der Berg shook his head.

- It wasn't him, in this line pharmaceuticals are already regulated by artificial intelligence. - He turned the last page, folded them with the rest back into the folder and handed it back to the junior member of staff. - Probably accidental contamination by nano-chemicals.

- We'll check it out in more detail.

- And you got the date wrong, it's 1991. - Volkert tapped the insert with a vague photograph of a music shop silhouette. - Look at this, magnetic discs are out of fashion.

- You're right, sir," the young assistant nodded with a calmer look and smiled politely at the still listening guest in surprise.

- Double-check and do a new analysis," the Dutchman ordered meanwhile, adjusting a part of the spacesuit built into his clothes. - Link to line 3197-71 and 2293-84 and extrapolate retrospectively. I want to know if something like this could threaten us.

- Copy, on my way. - The subordinate hurried to the group of young men and women at the nearest semi-circular table.

- What do you say? - Van der Berg turned to Prayfield . He raised his eyebrows, thought for a moment and then looked again at the titanic structure standing in the centre of the huge hall. "Line 89, 1991... he actually succeeded in achieving what he wanted."

- Very... impressive.

Volkert nodded his head and turned to the tall car, not without pride either.

- It took me two whole years to deploy this system. I had to buy this island and build the infrastructure... but the result has exceeded all expectations.

The professor decided to clarify just in case:

- At the centre of the design is your invention...?

- Yes, but heavily modified. - The Dutchman looked at the Englishman and smiled tightly. - The last time I saw you, the fractaliser was the size of a rucksack so I could travel from one world to another. But then, when we collided and the temporal clap threw me back a month... the machine crashed but kept working and I realised it was an opportunity and a sign from above. What is needed is not miniaturisation, but scaling up.

- That's an interesting train of thought," Edward said with a note of scepticism.

- A small thing is easy to break, and it won't serve many people," Volkert objected flatly. Unlike a large and well-designed system.

The Oxford professor frowned:

- But you haven't built a portal system for mass exodus? And in general, as far as I understand it, you haven't publicly announced your discovery.

Van der Berg shook his head sadly.

- No... the world is not yet ready for it. It would undermine the world economy and destroy society, I fear. And that's the last thing I want.

Edward couldn't resist a jab:

- Doubtful, considering your biggest achievement, which you've kept quiet about for some reason.

One of the women in the forecastle group nearby turned and listened.

- There's no point in threatening me, Edward," the clearly aggrieved head of Utopolis interjected. - I sentenced the Solar System to collapse, but I stayed behind to save humanity. - The middle-aged scientist raised his hand in a volitional impulse. - To guide him, to give him the momentum he needed.

- You've never been too modest.

- But I back up my words with deeds," Van der Berg objected with pressure. - And I have something that no one else has had until now... a source of infinite knowledge.

- Hmm.

- You don't believe me. - The inventor folded his arms across his chest and tried to extinguish the incoming burst of anger. - All right, then let me hear you out. How do you think this all works?

Prayfield raised an eyebrow and examined the giant structure again.

- Well, that was a challenge indeed. - The young scientist turned his gaze to the tentacles of wires connecting the cameras and frames to the main body of what appeared to be a quantum computer. - You process incoming signals ... and you do it simultaneously. - He guessed the answer to the next question, but it had to be asked to be sure. - Where are they coming from?

Van der Berg could not refrain from smiling.

- Everywhere. Bucal.

Prayfield looked carefully at the Dutchman. who walked to the centre of the spacious hall and spread his arms out to explain further:

- The reality fractaliser is divided into an array of independent units, each equipped with a system of highly sensitive sensors operating at ultra-high frequency. I built the system around a set of independent and secure portals that appear for a fraction of a second at a given interval in one of the random parallel worlds. - Van der Berg pointed a finger and Edward followed its direction: - They use microscopic asynchrony in the flow of time - you might call such dissonances anomalies, since we haven't fully explored their nature - but what we discovered was enough to establish a communication channel.A video camera captures the image and records it onto an extended-capacity magnetic tape, which in turn is translated into a sequence of bits and bytes for streaming processing in the computer centre.

The professor frowned:

- A proprietary computer to analyse the video?

The head of Vanderberg Solutions nodded.

- We had to invent a whole cluster of machines networked together to mimic the workings of the human brain. At least the visual part of it. This makes life easier for our analysts and forecasters, who receive data in an already organised form.

- What kind of data?

The man in the simplified exoskeleton for travelling through portals waved his hand dismissively:

- For the most part, it's visual noise. Random images from random places around the world. Often they don't make any obvious sense, but our team manages to find hidden patterns in the smallest details.

Prayfield noticed the woman with a mop of grey strands in her neatly styled hair smile and turn to the group of colleagues still discussing the forecasters' reports.

- That is," the grey-haired Englishman said aloud, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, "if I understand you correctly, you are using fragmentary images from a selected period of time....

- We can't look into the future," Van der Berg corrected him, "we can't look into the past, though we've tried.

- ...random parallel universes.....

- In general, yes," the younger and incomparably more successful inventor interrupted him again, "I can't choose which universe to look into or move to. - His gaze grew serious. - No one knows what will be on the other side.

- ...and all for the purpose," finished Prayfield , with pressure, "of understanding how history has developed in him, and what path we can follow. Have I got it right?

Volkert nodded satisfactorily.

- Basically, right.

- And that is how you have been able to make such incredible progress in such a short time. - The scientist looked at the huge computer centre, which was bustling with endless work with a fantastic machine at its centre. - You had an infinite number of clues from an infinite number of universes.

- You could say that," Van der Berg agreed, and his face grew even more serious. - I've seen a world in which Hitler defeated the States and destroyed Canada," we realised from a scrap of newspaper caught in the focus of the lens. And a world where half of Czarist Russia died in a meteorite explosion in Siberia and the revolution happened years earlier. A world in which Columbus never travelled to the New World, but led the great Inquisition and the Spanish Empire stretched across Europe. I have seen things unimaginable, Prayfield ...innumerable disasters and endless possibilities to prevent them.

- And you've gained incredible power over the world you destroyed.

Edward looked Volkert in the eye. Edward looked at Volkert in the eye, but he looked away almost immediately.

- It's not something I ever aspired to. But it turned out that I got much more than I bargained for.

Prayfield looked away, thought about something, and pressed his thin lips together. He could no longer play the part of the impartial judge, which he had never been able to do. Especially in the face of such possibilities... but a choice had to be made.

- You've become the most powerful man on the planet," the man said aloud, "I'm willing to admit that. But then the question arises... why am I here? Why do you need me?

Van der Berg laughed briefly.

- We need each other, that's obvious. You're a brilliant scientist who was unlucky. I did what you didn't, but we started this journey together. Together we'll give the Earth the future it deserves.

Prayfield turned round after a short pause and shook his head:

- You're not entirely sincere. - The scientist folded his arms across his chest and lifted his chin with a hard stare. - You do need me more than I need you, but only because you still see me as a threat. It's not over yet.

Volkert tried to hide his embarrassment.

- I'm not quite sure what you're getting at.

The Englishman walked round him without taking his eyes off him.

- I guess you tried to leave, but you couldn't," Prayfield continued. - After the bomb was sent to Jupiter, the timeline of our version of the universe changed and the reality fractaliser kicked in - but not in the way you had hoped. You may have realised that you could no longer get through the passage without it killing you. Which means the Solar System can still be saved.

- I'm not sure one follows from the other," Van der Berg raised an eyebrow, but not too confidently. The professor grinned:

- That's not really important in this case. What's more important is that you still think I'm dangerous and would like to win me over to your side.

The man in the spacesuit clenched his fists and the lights on the metal bezel around his neck turned threateningly red.

- Don't flatter yourself. You won't be able to do any appreciable damage to me.

- I'd like to find out experimentally," the inventor lifted the corners of his lips. Van der Berg raised his metal-gloved hands, the handrails of which buzzed and vibrated

- Don't be a fool, Prayfield ! - he shouted, and Edward noticed the small symmetrical spots on the time lord's temples. "Implants?" - flashed through the Englishman's mind. - We must work together," the Dutchman continued passionately, "so that mankind has a chance to have time... to become something more than we were destined to be!

His opponent shook his head.

- The world will still one day know what you've done.

Some of the voices fell silent for a moment. Volkert van der Berg froze, the lights of the implanted devices on his face slowly going out, and he staggered back to his hands, still clenched into fists, ready to strike. He made an effort and unclenched his fingers in the reinforced gloves of the exoskeleton he wore.

- It doesn't matter," he said quietly, raising his eyes to the man in front of him, "the means are not important when the end is... Just think what we could give to people, with your mind and my abilities! - Volkert ran his tongue over his dry lips and looked around at the colossus of reality fractaliser towering above him, with windows flashing in chaotic order into random parallel worlds of different times and eras. Dutch's eyes moistened. - Technological singularity, digital immortality, settlement ships on a centuries-long journey to the stars..." His voice trembled. - This should be the beginning of real life, not confined to a fragile planet!

Van der Berg's shoulders slumped and he leaned heavily on the nearest table. Edward's gaze softened; the grey-haired professor stepped closer and put a hand on the shoulder of his devastated companion, who no longer felt the urge to use disproportionate force.

- It will happen," Prayfield said with conviction and confidence. - Motion can be slowed down or sped up, but life and time itself cannot be stopped. - The Englishman pressed his lips together and continued after a short pause: "You've always had a choice. But you've forgotten that. And who you really are.

Volkert distanced himself from him and looked at the scientist incomprehensibly:

- What do you mean?

Edward shook his head and glanced up at the titanic structure above them.

- You're not a bad person, even though you made a terrible decision.

Van der Berg nervously tousled his dishevelled curly hair.

- There was no other way. The circle had to be broken... if not by me, then by my follower. And then him.

- We'd figure it all out," Preifil told him soothingly. - We would have solved the problem.

Thoth shook his head gravely.

- We wouldn't. Time is far more complex than anything we will ever build or study.

- Well..." the Englishman exhaled and looked at him one last time before straightening up, "Maybe. You know," he remarked from his taller height, wiping his dusty sunglasses, "I had my reasons to see you too, even though I had to go against my friends to do it. I wanted to meet you face to face, to look you in the eye and listen to my feelings.

- To understand and see...what?

- Is there any humanity left in us.

Volkert lowered his head:

- I won't ask what conclusion you drew.

- He's still the same.

Edward put his glasses back on his nose, adjusted the lapels of his coat, gave a slight bow, and turned purposefully toward the exit, nodding to the dozens of prying eyes that had turned away from his work.

Van der Berg straightened up and looked at the departing man.

- Don't go. - There was emptiness and steel in his quiet voice. - This is the last chance for a truce.

Prayfield nodded slowly, stopping on the threshold. There was no turning back, no matter how much he wanted to stay.

- I'm afraid we've gone too far.

***

- ...Back to line 9134-19," a balding man with a large moustache and a tiny beard tapped his desk and placed a stack of just-printed documents at the keyboard. - Potential civil war in Persia and the crisis of the Islamic caliphate in Sudan.

- It's still fifty years away..." someone in the crowd of prognosticators muttered quietly, and the head of the group hurriedly excused himself:

- I know, I know: our reality has too many differences and the chances of getting closer to this future are almost nil, but we must use every opportunity to prevent a similar crisis... - He noticed the raised hand and asked: - Yes, Miss Olsen?

A modest woman, young for her age, with her white hair in a neat bun, lowered her thin arm and squinted her large blue eyes myopically.

- Sorry, I'll interrupt a little out of curiosity..." she said in a quiet and rather thin voice. - Who was that just here? The face was vaguely familiar.

- Prayfield ? - said a young man with red hair and large glasses, who ten minutes ago had been running up to Van der Berg with a stack of documents on Australia-89. - Strange not to know him.

- He threw Bergey down hard," repeated his neighbour, staring into the kinescope of a flickering monitor with a series of graphs and tables. - He'll know how to find new bosses for us.

The intelligent woman let these remarks pass her ears and frowned her greying eyebrows with reddish hairs.

- Prayfield ..." she repeated after the junior assistant. The surname was very familiar, and not just because of the familiarity. - Edward, wasn't it?

- Right," her boss confirmed and frowned. - Wait, you seriously haven't heard anything about him?

The scientist grabbed her clipboard with her calculations and hurriedly turned away so no one would notice the small furrow in her forehead.

- Apparently, she was too deep into her work. - She coughed and resumed her professional appearance. - So we definitely can't use Project Eliza's work...?

***

- Do you think he'll come back...? - Mitsuki asked in a half-whisper.

Adelie nodded quietly and looked at the tall floor clock with its rhythmic pendulum swinging rhythmically. Ed had been gone a long time.

- I shouldn't have told him that. - There was a look of remorse on Sam's face.

- Not for nothing," the Frenchwoman turned to him from her side of the classical sofa and put aside the Hugo novel she had just begun, which she had found in the empty library of Prayfield 's study. - You're entitled to your own opinion.

Jones sighed and shook his head, folding his hands in a lock in his lap.

- You could have chosen other words. Hold back the rage. - The dark-skinned American looked down at his dark hands and glanced at the light-coloured backsides. - I'm a guest, much younger and not from here at all.

- He didn't leave because of you," Itakura reassured him, sitting on the sill of the wide hearing window.

- You're right," Dupont supported the Japanese. - He needed it.

- And yet. - Sam rubbed his chin uncomfortably and raised his hands to his head, thinking hard. Adelie looked at him sympathetically and moved closer.

- You're no stranger to this place," she said softly, putting her hand on his knee. - And I can't imagine our team without you. I hope one day you'll realise that, too.

Sam gratefully lifted the whites of his eyes to her:

- Thank you.

- Oh, you're both so sweet! - Mitsuki melted from her corner, cupping her cheeks in her small hands. - I don't know which one of you I like more.... I'd kiss both of you.
The European girl blushed and looked embarrassed, and Sam fluttered his eyelashes in surprise and looked away.

The doorbell sounded far below.

- I'm closer to the exit," Adelie immediately reacted and rushed towards the stairs downstairs under Itakura's surprised look.

- But you'd be a bit bigger," the Japanese woman whispered enchantedly and faintly after her.

Still a little crimson, Adélie caught her breath and opened the front door. Of course, she had not expected to see the master of the house, who was in the habit of appearing and disappearing from his study, but she had not expected to see a man of her own sex on the doorstep.

- I'm sorry to bother you, but... - a tall woman with large blue eyes and elegantly styled grey hair cast a surprised glance first at the girl, then at the house sign on the ivy-covered wall. - Am I at the wrong address? Is this Edward Gregory Prayfield 's estate?

Her voice was a little hoarse, but still high and very sonorous.

- That's all true, but... he's not home yet. - Adélie shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. - Shall I tell him you stopped by?

The stately lady seemed a little embarrassed.

- Yeah, I'd like to meet him again, to be honest.

- Again? - Dupont couldn't believe her ears and squinted her eyes. - What did you say your name was...?

***

- Think, think...

Prayfield squeezed his temples and closed his eyes.

Something didn't add up. But what was it?

"Got to put it all together. Get it into your head..."

Van der Berg surpassed his wildest dreams. A young and obsessive scientist who had found a way to travel between branching time lines, he faced resistance from the universe itself - but he did not stop there. On the contrary, from his point of view, he not only overcame an impossible obstacle, but also gained an almost infinite source of knowledge about all possible variants of events in the past and future. Putting an end to the very long-term future of the Solar System, but at the same time accelerating the development of all mankind. And one couldn't help but recognise that the bet on reaching the technological singularity before it was too late may have paid off. "If he really hopes to give civilisation a boost sufficient to enable the majority of humans to leave the dying Earth in the foreseeable future, and the remainder to adapt to their crumbling surroundings... then the outcome may well have been worth all the sacrifices. Especially if the time paradox actually turns out to be resolved.

But why did it even arise in the first place...? "

Adenmire Wilfred-Smith had asked himself this question repeatedly. The dozens of diaries they found in his ruined estate were filled with countless searches for solutions. The technology of his time and the years given to him by fate prevented him from finding an answer, and his younger doppelganger from our timeline was too depressed and obsessed with finding a solution to the problem to waste time on his own investigation - something Wilfred-Smith could have guessed in advance. Van der Berg was the perfect candidate to carry out his plan - the only one that made sense to him. If you can't fix time itself, you can destroy what broke it. Even if it was an entire planet with billions of unlived lives.

Dying of old age, Adenmayer believed that there was no other way to heal time in all other worlds. But what if he was wrong?

Edward rubbed his eyebrows together, straining his memory. The tour of Utopolis that his former enemy had given him had been truly impressive, and he'd found almost everything he'd seen convincing. But one detail had caught his attention during his visit to the island. A mundane phrase that might have made a lot more sense than it seemed.

"Microscopic asynchrony in the flow of time..." - is that what he said? "Dissonances," plural.

There could have been a clue in that.

- The flow of time should not have asynchrony, it is simply impossible in living nature," the scientist said aloud and opened his eyes. - Unless it is something artificial.

Could Wilfred-Smith himself have unknowingly damaged the fabric of time when he tried to go back...? Or did Volkert do it when he first entered his portal and realised it wasn't working? Whatever the case, these anomalies appeared to be an important enough part of the workings of the fractaliser of realities at the centre of the wondrous new world, but its architect had not seen fit to ascertain their nature, due to lack of knowledge or too much focus on rearranging the world - and therein might have been the key to the problem. One that the lonely old man who died at the end of the nineteenth century had no idea of.

"Maybe this will actually help fix time. It's a small chance, but it's there and it has to be taken... even if it doesn't save the Earth from destruction."

So be it. He couldn't magically stop a thermonuclear reaction in Jupiter's core or go back in time to stop Van der Berg from launching a bomb. But he could keep fighting. Build hypotheses, test facts, confirm theories. To be what he had always wanted to be, but was never sure he could - to be a scientist.

To those who always go forward, and listen to their heart meticulously.

- One step at a time, one problem per solution," the scientist muttered aloud in the empty bunker, hastily sketching out formulas and calculations for the newly invented device.

It is important to do what you think is right, even if it seems almost impossible and meaningless. Again and again, for the sake of those you love and who love you. Even if you're not together now or don't agree with each other on everything. Science will show who's right. Facts don't lie.

- We'll think of something.

***

- Professor! Professor.

Prayfield stopped halfway through and turned around awkwardly, guiltily hiding the roll-up behind his coat sleeve.

- Oh, um... yes-yes? - He had deliberately left his usual clothes on, including the invariable safety glasses, so as not to be recognised.

- Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were Mr Rosen," said a thin young man with glasses, leaning on crutches. - I thought you were Mr Rosen. I wanted to consult a senior colleague in astrophysics, who also teaches here.....

- Astrophysics? - Prayfield grinned involuntarily. - Funny coincidence, I'm interested in it too, though I don't teach here. Not yet, anyway.

- Bye...? - the young man smiled awkwardly, shifting his eyebrows carefully. The older Englishman shrugged, relaxing his posture.

- I applied here once, but for reasons beyond my control, I never got the chance to get a job. Time... it went by too fast, let's put it that way.

The young man, leaning casually on his crutches, nodded understandingly.

- Well, it is relative for a reason, as a wise man said. - He leaned forward and extended his palm in a friendly manner: - I'm Stephen, by the way.

Prayfield intercepted the object with his other hand and returned the handshake:

- Nice to meet you, Stephen. I'm Edward. As for the time..." He glanced at his watch and shook his head. - You should write a book about it," he said, preferably without the formulae. Don't make the same mistakes I did.

The young man, too old for a student, smiled; he was flattered by his new acquaintance's guess.

- To be honest, I've been thinking about it, and I've already started... oh! - The young man suddenly grimaced and collapsed on his side, unable to keep his footing; his left leg twisted involuntarily.

- Careful, Stephen," Prayfield said, bending hastily towards him. - Are you hurt?

His new friend shook his head guiltily and squirmed.

- No, I-- oh. Sorry, amyotrophic sclerosis, it happens.

- Hey, somebody! - Edward turned to the crowd that had begun to gather. - Help me up!

A red-haired boy a little older than Stephen shushed the younger gawkers and immediately rushed over to the fallen man.

- Damn it, Hawking! - he said, helping him to his feet. - You should be at home...

- I'm not going to stay in one place forever, Billy," the young doctor answered, leaning exhaustedly on the crutch Prayfield had given him. - No matter how long I have left... Don't tell Jane, or she'll be upset.

- I won't tell," Billy nodded gravely and put his shoulder up. - Come on, mate, you need to sit down ...

- Are you sure you're all right? - Prayfield asked sympathetically.

- Y-yes, it's just little things. - Stephen fixed his glasses on his pale face with his free hand and smiled wryly. - We'll fight another day.

- I'm sure he did. - Edward gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and stepped aside, out of the way. - Take care of yourself, Mr Hawking.

- And you yourself, Mr Prayfield ! - The young Hawking turned and nodded with a slight smile at the cloth-wrapped object that the grey-haired man still held behind his back: "Whatever you're up to, I wish you luck.

***

When the crowd had dispersed, Edward took a few steps down the corridor, making sure that no one was paying attention to him, and finally unwrapped the mysterious package.

- Time to put you to the test...

In the grey-haired scientist's hands was a small but weighty lithium battery-powered device with a series of buttons, a linear scale, and a hastily assembled liquid crystal screen. Prayfield knew it should work - after all, that was how he'd discovered the nearest time anomaly in Oxford - but that was in the laboratory conditions of an underground headquarters involving a Soviet satellite in geostationary orbit, not on the ground itself. "The detector might not work at all as it should..."

But it worked.

One of the buttons lit up, the string showed a dissonance level above zero, and the screen even popped up a few pixels that looked remotely like a directional arrow.

Edward exhaled.

"Got it. A micro tear in the fabric of time - really in this place..."

But he had yet to be found without attracting undue attention. The more that caution might be justified, given the effort Van der Berg had put into guarding his island of Doctor Noh.

"It costs nothing for a man of such influence to introduce elements of a private military company into one of the oldest universities in the world, if it helps to maintain his power..."

Prayfield walked cautiously further down the corridor, checking the readings of the device, reached the last door and peered cautiously round the corner.

At the end of the vaguely familiar corridor stood a group of people in cloaks and suits, too glossy for professors, let alone students. From their demeanour, they could have been mistaken for casual visitors if not for their overly bored look along with their desire to blend in with their surroundings. "Of course it's here. He guessed I'd be interested..."

- Hey, gentlemen in mourning! - Prayfield called aloud to them. The men in civilian clothes turned round almost synchronously in their seats. The scientist took one last look at the device and tucked it away in his wide coat pocket, where he had another little surprise stashed. - I think you've got it a little wrong, this isn't a funeral parlour.....

The agents glanced round.

- Stay where you are, don't move! - began one of them with a noticeable accent.

- ...but a funeral can always be arranged," Edward finished succinctly, and with a deft movement he tossed into the air a brass knuckle with massive thickenings and thin wires around the edges.

- Base," one of the Americans in black belatedly raised his hand to his ear, and Edward noticed the wire of the miniature speaker. - Target number one on point O, possible collision.

- And what's more, if you don't let me through that door.

- I know him," one of the guards began in a whisper, nervously adjusting his dark glasses, "my brother crossed paths with him in New York.....

- Don't let him pass! - The older partner interrupted him and drew his revolver.

But Prayfield foresaw an armed response. He quickly drew his brass knuckles, held them out in front of him, and pressed a side button; the side parts of the structure whistled as they separated and hovered a metre either side of the main part, wobbling magnetically.

- What the hell..." the centre liaison said. - What's that...?

The inventor clutched the makeshift weapon and shimmering lightning bolts shot from it to the slats hanging in the air.

- Applied physics on steroids. - Edward grinned and held out a futuristic-looking shield in front of him.

- Why are you standing there? Fire at him!

The grey-haired Englishman gritted his teeth and thrust his left arm with the energy barrier further out. The armed men opened fire. Students who were going about their business rushed in terror down the corridor, some of the teachers began to barricade their offices.

- What's going on in here? - Dean Dickinson peered out of one of the doors apprehensively. - This was not our agreement!

Prayfield gave him a fleeting glance and continued forward. Bullets hissed and sparks bounced off the invisible shield powered by the induction battery hidden in his belt.

- Is he immortal?

- Lower, on your feet!

One of the agents nodded, shifted his aim, and fired a full clip. One of the bullets almost grazed his ankle, and Edward bent to avoid being shot. The streak of lightning paused for a moment. He glanced at the weapon's indicator light-the shield knuckles wouldn't last long without recharging.

- Good, go on! - shouted encouragingly from the main man in civilian clothes. His neighbour nodded, stepped forward to aim more accurately, and reached for another clip.

Prayfield realised it was time to pull a second trump card out of his sleeve.

- That's not all the tricks for this evening.

He took advantage of the pause and pulled a second device from his breast pocket; it resembled brass knuckles but looked a little smaller.

- Damn it! - The man behind them, who had realised before the others, cursed.

The Englishman joined one part to the other with a broad gesture, then spread his arms apart in a swordsman's pose; a part of the main knuckle with a sheaf of sparks separated from it, and the prongs vibrating in the air jerked downwards for a moment and then floated each to its base, turning ninety degrees and freezing half a metre from his hands.

- To battle, gentlemen! - said the inventor and assumed a fighting stance with two homemade sabres.

The guards glanced round and belatedly rushed to reload.

But Edward was faster. He lunged forward with one of the sticks, which again arced with electric shocks, and knocked down one of the men in black. The other tried to strike him with his pistol, but Prayfield anticipated the action and swung a second sword, the blade of which made contact with the gun muzzle and burnt its owner with the discharge. The inventor heard the click of the bolt as the only American left standing finally loaded the revolver and pointed it at the scientist.

- You're finished! - shouted the agent and pulled the trigger.

Edward ducked down, made a circular movement, put his arm out in front, and pressed a single button: the electromagnetic coupling switched off and the heavy metal rail sped towards the armed man, who had no chance of avoiding the collision. The last of Van der Berg's three men broke through a one-of-a-kind cabinet containing a multi-volume collection of the writings of one of Oxford's founders, and Prayfield finally straightened up.

The way was clear.

- Nice try for a beginner," Edward looked down at the fully discharged brass knuckles, tucked them into his pockets, and adjusted his coat. One of the men on the floor groaned painfully, and the scientist tossed it in his direction: "You should have just stepped aside, cowboys.

He crossed the threshold of the room to the sound of the crowd beginning to gather behind him, latched the door, and looked around in the semi-dark light. "Gotta get there before the police arrive..."

There was a light switch next to it. In the same place... yes, it was the same room, his memory didn't fail him.

He was already here and not by accident.

Prayfield switched on the light and looked round the seemingly unremarkable back room. Rows of shelves with boxes of materials, dust-covered books, a draped painting, a lone black-and-white television set from before the war... the grey-haired man felt a memory coming back to him, turned around at the cautious knock on the door, and concluded that he had to hurry. Edward glanced at the LCD wristwatch and noticed the numbers twitching as the seconds changed. He tapped the screen, but there was no defect.

- Well," Prayfield stretched out aloud, pursing his lips sceptically, "at least let's have a look at you ...

The scientist took the detector out of his pocket, checked its readings again, and even walked from corner to corner to make sure that he was not mistaken. But there was no mistake: the readings of the device clearly indicated that the time dissonance really existed, and in the centre of the room the residual ionic radiation, signalling the tearing of the fabric of time, was the strongest.

"But why here..."
There was the approaching sound of police sirens and the stomping of approaching feet. Someone called for paramedics, and there was more banging on the door.

- Edward! - There was a muffled voice outside. - Open the door at once! We know you're in there!

The professor cast a glance at a window large enough to escape through and continued to investigate.

- You break into my university," Dean Dickinson continued, "you shoot people, you maim people, and you think you can get away with it? No other institution in the world would hire you! You'll be nothing, Prayfield !

- I've been nothing before," the scientist said in a low voice, tapping his chin. - I want to try new things. For example...

"Find out how old this temporal anomaly is."

Yes, this really might be the only working way to find out something on the spot without resorting to highly sophisticated equipment that wasn't there right now. Edward pulled some wires out of the detector, rearranged them, increased the cooling, and ripped out the unnecessary buttons.

- That's how it should work...

Prayfield finished setting up and extended his hands with the device to the centre of the room. The digits on the display added up to a long number.

-280 320-" Edward said aloud and frowned.

Two hundred and eighty thousand and three hundred and twenty hours is eleven thousand six hundred and eighty days ... which means ....

- Thirty-two years old. The temporal anomaly is thirty-two years old.

The professor set the detector down on a nearby table and wrapped his arms around his head.

"It can't be a coincidence. There's too much piling up of randomness..." He fixed his hunted-beast gaze on the centre of the room that had caused him déjà vu for a reason.

1937.

Oxford.

Evangeline.

There was only one conclusion...

- The person who broke time is myself.

CHAPTER 19

- ...Where's Herr Albert gone?

A skinny young man with a pair of scars near his right eye and a rather large abrasion and bruise on his forehead looked around puzzled.

- No, seriously, had no one seen him at all today? - The answer was guilty looks and evasive interjections from the few students hurrying about their business down the Oxford corridor in the spring of 1937. The young man adjusted his round tinted glasses and stretched out disappointedly: - Wow.

- What is it, Ed? - A tall, stern-looking man with a broad grey streak in his hair asked as he came towards him. - You don't look well, by the way. Something wrong?

- We've lost Einstein," the young Prayfield moaned and closed his eyes.

Dean Kepler frowned.

- Don't mess with me like that on Mondays.

- I'm not joking, sir. - The young man furrowed his brow, took off his frames, and tried to collect his thoughts. - We had coffee with him yesterday... or rather, not just coffee..." Ed sighed and shrugged. - Well, we were celebrating the almost-anniversary of the collapse of Austria-Hungary with Pufelschmidt, and he was a little carried away, of course....

Jonathan nodded with a slight chuckle.

- I can imagine Hans-Bregel.

- And what happened next... shit. - The young man closed his eyes and shook his head. - I don't remember. My head's foggy.

- Is that so? Need I remind you of the student policy, Mr Prayfield ?

- No, no, I'm not an alcoholic..." Ed objected unconvincingly, putting his glasses back on, "I certainly didn't drink that much. It was just... the end of the evening had slipped my mind.

He really didn't like the sticky feeling of dread rising in his chest. He could have a drink with Tim or other mates, but he never drank himself into oblivion. What had happened that day...

- Curious," Kepler said in the meantime. - Did Pufelschmidt also fall out of reality?

-No," his interlocutor shook his head, glad to have the subject transferred, "I checked on him, he's barely alive, but no one else has seen Albert at all.

- It's a bad situation," Kepler shifted his eyebrows. - He has a busy lecture schedule all week, and I would hate for Oxford to be remembered as the university that lost Einstein, and in such shameful circumstances. Does anyone else know about this?

- I'm not sure, maybe Lina...

- Frau Adelheim?

- Yes, his assistant-" Prayfield blushed visibly and could not conceal the tremor in his voice. - A very attractive young woman.

- Really," Kepler hissed, and Edward lowered his eyes in embarrassment.

The dean of the university finally took his eyes off the young man, looked at his watch, pressed his lips together, and made a plan of action in his mind. - Let's do this," he began in his more familiar tone of icy calm. - Bring Pufelschmidt to his senses and meet me in my office. Not a word to anyone else, understand?

- Y-yes, sir. Of course.

***

- Here's a pill," Kepler held out the palm of his hand with a large white capsule half an hour later. - It'll help with the headache.

- Thank you," the young Prayfield nodded, took the pill, rose from the upholstered chair and walked over to the water carafe. - Whew... it really works. I'll have to learn to make my own.

- Is your head clearer? - Jonathan squinted, folding his hands in front of him. - Do you have any details?

Edward furrowed his brow.

- Yes... Actually, it wasn't just Austria-Hungary we were reminiscing about. - He let out a little chuckle. - There was an argument between us about the possibility of modern science... and Einstein took the unusual position of a sceptic.

***

- Complete nonsense! - With these words, a wrinkled man of good looks with a bushy white moustache choked on his beer two days earlier. - You can't confirm the existence of parallel universes of higher dimensions, that's rubbish!

- Not at all! - Edward contradicted him, already sufficiently heated by his own cocktail. - A shared universe of worlds, nested inside each other like a matryoshka doll: a point - one dimension, a line - two, a sphere - three, a tesseract - five.....

The round-faced German, in a strange fashion also endowed with short Chaplin moustaches, drained a large mug and gave out a low trill which Prayfield could make out:

- That's just abstract reasoning, my young friend,

- But I can prove it! - Edward turned to Pufelschmidt.

The dark-haired German woman sitting a few metres behind him discreetly cast her eyes upwards and shook her head.

- All these trillions of worlds," the young scientist continued, "are not just abstractions! I'm absolutely certain that their existence can be used-" He waved his hands clumsily. - Imagine that someone invented a device for travelling from one parallel reality to another!

- From one dimension to another? - Einstein raised an eyebrow incredulously. - Oh, come on.

- Of course not," the young man agreed readily. "Aliens from other dimensions, Jim Carter from Mars..." - But imagine using them as a transfer station, as a door between one point and another. Or for time travelling...

The famous physicist laughed in a low falsetto:

- In time? Mein gott, are you serious?

- Yes!" Prayfield nodded as seriously as possible, adjusting his glasses. - Without breaking your own rules!

Albert glanced over at Hans-Breugel, who was hurriedly pouring a new beer down his throat, and who did not immediately come out of his stupidly thoughtful look.

- So how does that fit into relativistic physics?

Prayfield pulled out a pocket pen and leaned over to the napkin holder.

- Look: we are in world A and point A where the year 1937 is," he began to draw a rough diagram on paper. - Let's imagine world B with point B where, for example, 1997 is. - Einstein nodded impatiently. - We can take a random elementary particle, link it to a similar one from any other world, trace its path through time and create a kind of... gravitational tunnel for the safe transfer of matter. And no violation of relativity!

The Nobel laureate-21 tried to object, but on reflection came to the conclusion that he had heard things less convincing:

- Well, maybe there's something to it. Not bad for speculative content. - The senior scientist gave a warning thumbs-up. - But you'll never prove the practicality of such a trick.

Lina tilted her head slightly at her pub table, but didn't seem to be listening. Someone tried to approach her, but she gave the man such a searing look and a pithy interjection that he retreated away.

Edward, meanwhile, was ready for this turn in the conversation:

- I can do that. - "Idols don't have to believe in you as much as you believe in them," ran through his mind, and the young man continued, slightly chin up: - Build a rudimentary device for quantum tunnelling and matter exchange between two parallel worlds using a multi-dimensional system. It's not as difficult as it sounds. I'll bet you anything!

Einstein could not resist such unsinkable enthusiasm.

- Then it's a deal! - He grinned briefly. - I'll bet you ten cases of fine Bavarian beer from my Elsa - God rest her soul - that you can't do it.

- It's a deal! - his young colleague held out his hand to him. - You'll see, Albert, we'll tag one of the particles with a beta marker and exchange it for a similar one from the alternative world, and you'll see that it's possible!

The Austrian squinted slyly.

- Perhaps you could do it in a day, then? I'd give a Prussian prince's reward watch for that!

Prayfield grinned.

- Then you can say goodbye to them right now!

***

Kepler straightened in his leather chair and grinned.

- As I understand it, he ended up saying goodbye. Not to the watch, but to all of you.

- Yeah. - Edward looked more miserable than ever. He took off his tinted glasses, put them on the armrest of his chair, and clenched his head with his hands. - The experiment ended...typically. I still don't remember all the details, but I woke up on the floor in the rubble, dust hanging in the air, and there was no one around. - The young man touched the deep abrasion on his forehead. - I think I hit my head in the fall.....

- Mm-hmm.

Prayfield looked almost pleadingly at the dean.

- I didn't kill him, did I? People don't just atomise into atoms...

Jonathan shook his head.

- I don't think so, young man. You're a risky chap, but you're not a maniac. Otherwise half of Oxford would be up in the clouds with harps and halos.

- It's nice to hear you say that," the visitor tried to smile forcefully. Kepler squinted and tapped his lower lip, trying to put the picture together in his head.

- Did Pufelschmidt go somewhere too? - he finally asked.
Edward shifted his eyebrows, straining his stale memory, and shook his head:

- No, he... didn't make it to the testing stage because of his high blood alcohol content. We helped him to the campus, he could barely stand on his feet.

- So there are no witnesses," the grey-haired man concluded and folded his hands thoughtfully. - The case becomes even more interesting. Well..." Kepler glanced at Prayfield , "what about your date?

- My p-passion? - The young man stammered.

- Yes," Jonathan nodded nonchalantly, "Frau Evangelina. Have you seen her since that day?

- N-no..." The young man said uncertainly, blinked, and belatedly reached for the tinted glasses that so well concealed the expression in his eyes. - "Though she may have been with us at the Jolly stableman's pub. I'm not... not sure.

The Dean couldn't resist a slight irony, which he usually rarely resorted to:

- What strong feelings... for applied science. You'll make a real scientist.

- A little more and you'll wipe me out," the self-taught inventor whispered through clenched teeth, unable to find his place.

- Well, not the way you erased Einstein... - Kepler finally allowed himself to smile, - but you're right, it's time to stop your execution. Especially since I believe that you... are not to blame.

- Not guilty? - Edward was almost speechless with surprise.

- Exactly. - Jonathan nodded seriously at him. - I bet I know what happened.

- And what's that?

- Nothing short of an elaborate kidnapping.

***

- Wait a minute, but-" Prayfield slammed his eyelids shut. - Do you really think it was Lina who kidnapped Einstein during our experiment?

A modest girl who always stayed behind - and forcefully kidnapped the smartest man in the world? It was hard for him to imagine a more absurd suggestion.

- Why not? - Kepler shrugged nonchalantly and continued: "She was, as you say, in the pub with you when you were discussing the details of the upcoming experiment, and disappeared immediately after the scientist went missing. I've had a glimpse of her - no one has seen her since last Friday.

- Interesting business..." Edward exhaled and shook his head. "Can't argue against that..."

- More interestingly," the dean continued thoughtfully, "her real identity remains a mystery. When she first arrived with Albert, she had excellent references and a credible background. But this morning I spoke to one of the people whose signature was on the letter - and he claimed he'd never heard of her. I didn't think much of it at the time, but now....

The young man folded his hands in front of him and touched his mouth with them.

- It can't be. - Edward tried to find the right words. - You think she...

- A spy," his interlocutor said with a note of contempt in his voice. - Deceiver. A traitor to the British crown. - The young man shrank inwardly at the words, as if they were meant for him. - I'm afraid that's more than likely.

- But how--" the young aspirant whispered, "and who--?

Kepler shook his head and hummed briefly.

- My money's on Stalin. Soviet Moscow needs new minds more than ever - even now, when they are arresting their own people by the thousands and shooting them in camps for dissent. - The grey-haired man pressed his lips together and lowered his gaze. - All the more so now.

- It's... a terrible picture, of course... - Prayfield still found it hard to believe that it wasn't all a dream. Jonathan glanced at him appraisingly and finally rose from his seat:

- So we should understand what happened, exactly how it happened - and what we can do to prevent the Communists from getting one of Europe's most brilliant minds.

- He wouldn't like it there, if it's even stricter than Berlin..." the dean's interlocutor shook his head, remembering a little adventure from four years ago. Kepler grinned, as if he had read his thoughts, but did not remind him of the scandal at the Olympic Games, during which a modest Austrian artist had been punched in the nose.

- So," the leader summarised aloud, "let's pretend that this is really a diversion by a girl much more intelligent and dangerous than she seems. What ideas?

- Well..." Edward folded his arms across his chest and thought. The task was difficult, but if he wanted to kidnap someone in such an intricate way, there weren't many options for using the experimental particle-binding machine. - Technically speaking, it could reverse the polarity of the current supply and provoke a backward ejection of matter to the point of convergence....

- Slow down, please," Kepler stopped the young scientist. - And in English.

- Okay," Prayfield sighed and prepared to explain. - Look...

***

Ten minutes later, the Dean was no longer sure he needed a detailed explanation.

- So, let's do it again," he raised his hands in front of him. - So you think that Evangeline and Albert fell into one of the pocket universes.....

- Of short duration, yes," Edward nodded his head immediately.

- ...in that...quantum foam of yours, eh?

- Eleven or twelve dimensions, it's all like that.

- And they will, um..." Jonathan tried to put it in simple terms, "materialise back in our world when this pocket universe ceases to exist and bursts like a soap bubble?

- According to my hypothesis, yes," Prayfield confirmed, and made a few quick calculations in his pocket notebook. - Time for the fugitives will go differently, - for them not a second will pass between entering subspace and leaving it. And miniature universes appear every moment of time and live for a very short time....

Kepler glanced at the chaotic diagram the young man had sketched out for him a few minutes earlier. It looked much more convincing now, but there were a few details missing for a successful plan of action...

- Can you predict how long the life span of that mini-universe will be?

After a short pause, Prayfield nodded affirmatively:

- Within hours, yes. Einstein and I have bound hydrogen atoms in a parallel universe and tagged them with gamma rays, so if you take into account the exact time of the incident and the strength of the applied energy-" Ed realised that he was going into another long lecture, and interrupted himself. - Yeah, I can do that. But there's one little "but."

- What's that?

- They won't show up here right away. - The young scientist grinned and snapped his fingers. - The Earth is spinning!

He rushed to a stack of blank sheets to calculate a detailed chain of equations, and Kepler had only to shrug:

- An important clarification indeed.

- And, since we know the time at which Adelheim and Einstein disappeared into the portal..." Prayfield continued to jot down the lines of calculations rapidly, "and the time it will take the pocket universe to complete the full cycle of its rudimentary development... one second... if we take into account the speed of the Earth's rotation around the sun, the distance travelled around it..." Finally, with a triumphant look, he circled the resulting two-part number and set the pencil aside. - Yes, I can predict where they'll end up. Do you have a map of the world?

- Naturally. - Jonathan moved to the far corner of the office, reached over to a shelf and pulled out a tube with a neatly folded piece of paper. - Here you go.

- Thank you... that's right. - Ed unfolded the map, marked a point just below and to the right of the centre of the United Kingdom, reached for a ruler and pulled out a compass. - It's been more than two days, so the coordinate offset will be..." He placed another point to the right and drew an interpolation line across it, on which he began counting off segments. - They'll materialise in seven and a half hours somewhere... here. Hmm, that's odd.

- Which is what? - Kepler leaned over the map, too.

- The line does not reach the Soviet Union.

- But it's coming to Germany...

Edward went cold.

The last point was actually just outside Munster. Maybe there was a mistake in the calculations. It had happened, but not with his photographic memory.

- Do you think...

Jonathan looked his neighbour in the eye.

- She's a Nazi, Ed.

There was a heavy pause.

- But that's absurd..." said the young man at last, stammering. - We have good relations with Germany.

"It can't be, it's not true..."

- There's an opinion that it won't be for long," the dean meanwhile replied, putting his hands in his pockets and straightening up with a frown on his usually impassive face. - My diplomatic acquaintances are increasingly saying that Stalin is not as scary as his German mate. They say they might even conclude a formal non-aggression pact.

Edward wiped the sweat from his forehead with a sharp movement.

- Is that why Hitler needs Herr Einstein? Are they preparing for another war?

Kepler shook his head, ignoring the door that opened quietly behind his back.

- Anything can happen. The Great War took a lot out of them, and I wouldn't be surprised if they wanted revenge.

Prayfield licked his lips.

- I wouldn't want to help them with that..." He turned to the new guest with visible relief. - No offence, Herr Pufelschmidt.

- Oh, you're here now," the head of Oxford also addressed him. - I'm glad you've sobered up and still have a talent for sneaking up on unsuspecting people.

- FSHBFSHPFLSH! - A chubby German with tiny eyes, a bald head and a short moustache, who sat awkwardly on a chair too high for him, raised his hand in a friendly manner and waved at her.

- I missed you, too," Edward replied, pretending to understand him. - It was a great time.

- So," Jonathan clapped his hands together, attracting attention, "what are your plans? I'm not letting any of you go to Berlin to join the Nazis.

Prayfield tapped his lower lip thoughtfully.

- That's not necessary... there's another option. - Kepler and Pufelschmidt looked at him with equal attention. - We will intercept them before they materialise within the borders of the Reich!

- How exactly? - Edward leaned over the stack of sheets with the sharpened pencil again. Edward leaned over the stack of sheets with the sharpened pencil again.

- If we tweak the scheme a bit and take into account a few more nuances... - The young man made a few calculations and nodded satisfactorily to himself. - ...we can catch up with them in the pocket universe and destroy it from inside to stop teleportation in the place Lina had planned.

He looked at the supervisor and the latter shook his head approvingly.

- That's a great idea. But what about the time...? - Jonathan paused for a moment. - You said that for them it was as if it was frozen.

But it didn't take Prayfield by surprise.

- When we catch up with them, our time streams will synchronise and they'll snap out of their stupor. So it won't be easy at all.

- Yes," Kepler agreed with him, as if reading his thoughts, "it is likely that Frau Adelheim will not be unarmed.

- And so do we," Edward finished on a positive note and turned to his neighbour. - Isn't that right, Herr Pufelschmidt?

- FRFR? - Hans-Breugel murmured something in a mixture of German and Polish and raised his small eyebrows pleadingly.

- Here it is, your chance to prove yourself! - Edward encouraged him. The third member of Einstein's rescue team looked at Jonathan and waved graciously:

- It's okay. I don't mind.

The jubilant shout that followed was heard throughout the corps:

- WUNDERWAFFE!!!

***

- Excellent weapon, Herr Pufelschmidt," Edward praised his senior partner an hour and a half later in the old university back room, "we will definitely use it. What about the electronic circuit, Mr Kepler?

A tall man with grey hair bent over the control panel and gingerly touched the tester terminals to the bare wires:

- Everything works, no leaks.

- Excellent," Prayfield noted and turned to his part of the equipment that had been repaired after the breakdown. - Then... almost done. - He'd repaired everything that needed repairing and reconstructed from memory all the settings for the experiment-although it wasn't difficult. But there was still one more thing to do.

- Look," the young scientist turned to his friends and put his hands together, "we have eight hours before the pocket universe collapses and they end up in Germany. I will now repeat the same experimental conditions that were in place when Einstein disappeared, but this time I will attach myself to the bubble that serves as their means of teleportation and protection from the unlivable environment. - Edward took a breath and finished: -We will enter their shielding space, which will pull them out of stasis and simultaneously trigger the destruction of the subatomic space in which we will all find ourselves.

Pufelschmidt blinked and looked up at Kepler from below.

- So we're going to be thrown back...? - the dean clarified.

- Yes," Edward confirmed, "if we help the microscopic universe collapse. That's the whole point.

Jonathan looked at his pocket watch and frowned.

- Then time is playing against us. The sooner we stop them, the less chance Hitler has of getting Einstein.

- You're right. Well... let's get started then. - Prayfield made sure the final preparations were made and leaned over to the wide switch to finally turn it down. What lay ahead of them? Would they be able to return alive? Calculations indicated that travelling to and from the isolated pocket universe should be safe, but that had yet to be confirmed experimentally, and... perhaps Einstein and Lina were already dead and there was no point in the whole thing.

"But we won't know until we try."

- Our destiny lies beyond this world," Edward whispered, lowering the lever. - Let's meet it honourably.

***

Cold and sparks rippled through my entire body. Every muscle felt like it had been electrocuted. The noise and vibrations were almost deafening, and the acrid pain pierced my eyeballs.

Prayfield squeezed his eyes shut - and felt everything go silent.
They went through the funnel.

"The controlled explosion... didn't kill us. Which is a good thing."

Edward tried to open his eyes, but the strange light blinded him. The colours and sounds... he wasn't sure he could even describe what he was seeing. There were clots of energy flowing chaotically into each other, swirling into endless fractal shapes of shimmering light; the air seemed thick and strangely vibrating - and the young scientist only now noticed that they seemed to float in it, a place without top and bottom, woven into ever-changing geometric shapes that were hard to look at for more than a few seconds. Prayfield covered his eyes with his hand and was startled to notice that his body, too, was made of ever-changing geometric blocks.

- Wwwwwwwwhhhhhaaat issss haaapppppeennninnnngggg?.. - came a vaguely familiar voice from somewhere outside. Ed struggled to turn his head and saw two vaguely human-looking figures, tall and stocky, in the air to his left and right.

- Whhhhhhhherrrreeeee arrrrrrrrrrrreee weeeeeeeeeeee? - came a strangely distorted voice from a tall figure.

- Innnnn pooooockkkeeetttt unnnnniverrrrseee, - tried to answer Prayfield and caughed; words came out hardly. "The laws of physics are different here - refraction of light, propagation of sound... but we're still alive, the protective barrier worked!"

- Iiitttt'ssss aaaallllll wwwwooorrrkkkeeeddd oooouuuuutttttt," - Edward continued, articulating with barely audible lips. - We're in a quannnnntuuuum wooorrrlrlllldddddd....

A second figure with a massive object in the geometric semblances of hands clucked something and Prayfield realised that even in the world they were used to, he would hardly have been able to make it out.

- Whhhhhhyyy arrrre weeeee sooooouuuunddd liiiikkkeee thiiiiiissss? - Kepler slowly spread his fluorescent fingers apart with a concerned expression on his polygonal face. - Annnnd loooookiiing liiiikkeeee thiiiissssss?

- Hhhheeerere aaaaareeeee diffffeeeeereeeent laaaaawwwwssss offfff ggggeeeoooommmeeeetrrrryyyyyy, Iiiiii suuupppppoooosssseee, - The young man tried to look around and finally saw through the force two shining figures in the distance, if you could call it distance, which were very different from the ever-changing landscape. - Byyyy thhheee wwwwayyy, thereeeee theeeeyyyy arrrrreeee!

Edward stretched his arm forward, pulled back the sleeve that had melted into the crystallised skin, and touched the small bracelet he'd been wearing just before the experimental machine had started up. The electrical circuits, despite the extremely changed conditions, worked, and Prayfield saw chaotic strings of light emerge from his fingertips, which after a couple of seconds (or minutes?) reached the motionless silhouettes of the people ahead and straightened sharply, and the young scientist felt an invisible force pulling him forward.

- Nnnnnoooow, grrrrraaaaaabbb meeeee! - He shouted to his friends behind him and extended his arm. - Wwweee'reeee gggoooiiiinnnggg tooo gggeeeetttt iiiinn theeeeiiiir fffaaaccceeees iiinnnn gggooooddd tttiiimmme aannnd get thhheeeem ouuuut ooofff ttthhhe ssssttttaaaasiiisss!

"Just so long as they understand..."

If they don't make it in time, they'll stay here forever - or rather, until the air molecules they captured with them disintegrate and they die of asphyxiation and their bodies disintegrate into subatomic particles.

"Come on, come on!"

If it weren't for the subjective time dilation effect.....

But it seems at least one of his older mates had come to the same conclusion.

Kepler turned on the faltering Pufelschmidt, grabbed his elbow, turned back, and managed to grab Prayfield 's leg just as the beam of light accelerated enough to pull all three of them out of the dead spot.

"It's so hard to breathe in here..." But it wouldn't last long.
The movement quickened, and Edward clenched his fist tighter. A little more, and they would cross the invisible boundary that.....

A thread of hard light suddenly crumbled into fine dust and Prayfield felt the abrupt stop throw him and his companions forward by inertia. He flipped upside down in mid-air and released his arms machineatically, but he caught one of the frozen men and managed to stop the movement. "The air is different here..."

- Oh! - The glowing figure of short stature suddenly sighed and looked around him in surprise. - Mein gott, where are we...?

- Herr Einstein! - Edward exclaimed, swimming up to the grey-haired scientist, who was rapidly regaining his familiar physicality. - You're all right!

Toth blinked in surprise and looked around, paying particular attention to the Oxford management members dangling awkwardly in the air, who were not so good at swimming.

- I think so, but..." Albert smoothed his lush moustache in surprise and scratched the back of his head. - What are you doing here?

- We're saving your freedom and your life, colleague," Kepler, who had finally figured out navigation, answered him. - Come here, and let's keep it down....

He pulled the former hostage of the still motionless woman towards the edge of the barely visible spheroid they found themselves inside.

- Everything happened so fast..." Einstein shook his head, looking around in surprise. - The last thing I remember was the flash of the explosion and the bright flashes, and now we're all here. And even you, gentlemen! You weren't with us... - Pufelschmidt helped Jonathan guide Albert in the right direction as he continued to ponder aloud. - So some time passed and you came back here for me... and broke the stasis we were supposed to be in. Did we synchronise each other's time? - asked the Nobel physicist.

The only figure covered in a layer of harsh light moved imperceptibly from everyone.

- Relative to each other, yes," Prayfield joked as he flew to the edge of the protective barrier. He felt a faint support beneath him and touched the viscous floor with his foot. Gravity was slowly returning. "So the pocket universe will soon collapse and we'll be on familiar Earth." - Now watch out, now I'm going to try and get us out of here....

- Not so fast, Brits! - A new voice suddenly sounded.

The men turned round.

Evangeline, freed from her temporary cocoon, pointed her Mauser at them and raised the trigger menacingly.

Kepler didn't raise an eyebrow:

- I suggest you put the gun down, Leena. They're useless here.

- It hasn't been proved yet," the girl said, as if she had read Prayfield 's mind. - If you got here somehow, the bullet will get you.

- In a kinetic sense, she's right..." the young man turned to the Dean.

- But we're still outnumbered.

Jonathan grabbed a small pistol from his coat pocket, pointed it at Evangeline, and Pufelschmidt immediately followed his friend, pulling a gun butt from behind his back, which rattled with moving parts and instantly enlarged to monstrous proportions.

- What are you, what are you! - Einstein, standing aside, waved his hands in horror. - She's a simple lady!

- Not so simple, you old Jew. - Adelheim instantly put her left arm round the scientist's neck and put the muzzle of her gun to his temple.

- Mein Gott, what are you doing? - was all the Austrian could manage to wheeze. The girl hissed through clenched teeth:

- Nobody move or I'll shoot him!

She didn't seem to be joking.

- Hush, hush... - this turn of events took Kepler by surprise.

- Wait, okay, okay! - Edward stepped forward, shading his friends from Evangeline, and held his palms out in front of him. - There, see? I'm unarmed!

- Hands behind your head! - The dark-haired Nazi shouted and pressed the gun even harder against the mustachioed old man's clenched eyes. - All three of them!

- Guys...," Prayfield turned to the men. Kepler sighed and nodded to Hans-Bregel.

- Zer gud, zer gud...," Pufelschmidt muttered, released the raygun into a slow fall and comically raised his short arms upwards.

- Lina, what's all this..." Edward looked into the young woman's expressively painted eyes. - What do you want?

- I wish your world would come crashing down! - Evangeline replied with a brief glance around her. - Your empire is built on lies and blood... you Britons have been appropriating things for centuries. Conquering and subjugating foreign lands, erasing foreign cultures, imposing your own view of the world... but that will end soon, believe me. - Frau Adelheim grinned and held the wheezing Einstein even tighter. - You are on the verge of a great change.

- What changes? You mean the incessant rattling of weapons and constant threats...? - Kepler shook his head and lowered his hands slightly. - It's not going to end well, my dear, and even an alliance with Stalin is unlikely to help you.

- An alliance with Stalin? Ha! - Evangeline laughed in Jonathan's face. - You don't understand it, you are too limited by your imperialist propaganda. The Führer is driven by the dream of a better world for all... and we never attack first, we defend.

- Like kidnapping scientists? - Edward raised an eyebrow.

- Providing opportunities! - The young woman parried hotly, then looked at the barely alive prisoner and loosened her grip a little. - Though I don't know why the Reich would want this stupid student. But I'll do my job, you can be sure of that.

Adelheim tossed aside again and Kepler took advantage of this to lean in and whisper:

- Ed, she's stalling.

- I know," the young man answered him just as quietly. - Play along, and I'll distract her.

- Don't get carried away.

Prayfield nodded and started a little louder, staring unflinchingly at the armed girl with the hostage:

- Lina, well...I can understand you in part, everyone has their own beliefs and likes, but - why...?

Ta sighed:

- I just explained...

- No, that's not what I meant. - Prayfield took a step forward and stopped when Adelheim shifted her weapon from Einstein to him. - You could build a great career with us and in Europe if you only wanted to. Why the Nazis? You're an intelligent woman.

- But I'm a woman," Evangeline said with pressure, lowered her gaze, and sighed. - You wouldn't understand.

- I want to understand you for real.

The girl shook her head indignantly.

- Do you see many women in power? In honourable positions, with a good income? Shayse, you don't see us at all.

- Ed? - Jonathan reminded himself again, trying not to give himself away.

- Hold on.

- We are the second class," Adelheim continued with a rising fury in her voice, "inferior human beings whose purpose is to stay at home, raise your children, serve you and obey you unconditionally because your king and god says so. How convenient, isn't it? - The girl chuckled nervously, took a breath and regained her composure. - The current Reich is young and not perfect, but my homeland at least tries to hear me. It needs me.

Edward looked her in the eye and shook his head, keeping his hands up.

- I'm so sorry you feel that way, Lina. Please let Einstein go and let's just talk. You're right about what you're going through, but please don't make a mistake.

- You're the one who's wrong," Evangeline shifted her Mauser at him coldly. - The future belongs to us, whether you like it or not. The future belongs to the Reich.

- No," Kepler finally raised his voice and stepped forward, drawing attention to himself. - I'm sorry, but I have to interrupt this nice conversation.

He lunged down, grabbed the weapon that still hadn't finally fallen and pointed it at Adelheim.

- Is that the best you can do? - She grinned, and poked the nearly passed-out Einstein in the neck gloatingly. - One bullet is enough for me, isn't it?

- Me, too.

Jonathan grinned into his moustache and swung his weapon sharply to his side.

- Wait, no! - Lina's pupils dilated.

Prayfield , too, understood perfectly well what was about to happen.

- Everybody down! Get ready!

Kepler pulled the trigger and the recoil threw him back: a wide emerald-coloured beam emerged from the muzzle of Pufelschmidt's "wonder weapon" and pierced the spherical cocoon they were all in, followed by the space itself, made of fractal threads flowing into each other. A concentric ripple ran through it and a gap appeared in the centre of the impact, which began to grow faster than anyone could have imagined. Geometric structures began to crumble into blocks, and those blocks began to crumble into blobs, and everything around them began to flow into the widening hole, accelerating and distorting, disintegrating into dust and sparks. Edward fell flat on his face and covered his ears against the intolerable noise; with his side vision he saw Evangeline drop her pistol, which had spilled into droplets in the air, lose her balance, and let go of Albert's grip, to which Kepler reached out, but was knocked down by Hans-Bregel, who rolled like a large boulder, and both were sucked into the rumbling hole, which looked even more unnatural than everything else it was swallowing faster and faster. Prayfield reached out a hand to Lina, who slid slowly down into the abyss, looking startled but accepting his help... and then her gaze fell on Einstein, who was falling nearby, and something changed in him again.

- And you know what, handsome... see you in hell.

The girl jerked her arm sharply and caught hold of the slipping old man, and Edward lost his footing and felt himself falling into the gaping unknown that had already swallowed his friends....

***

...who, however, were unharmed.

- Damn it," Kepler struggled to get up and rubbed the bruise on his head, "what a ride.

- FRFRSHRBRRRRR! - Puffelmidt, floundering on his back, answered him.

- You couldn't have said it better. At least this wasn't dropped..." The Dean of Oxford looked at the weapon, shook his head, and helped his friend up. - Perhaps we'll have to issue a separate ban on travelling to other dimensions within the walls of our wizarding school.

A couple of metres away from them, a greenish flash flashed in the air and the last member of the trio collapsed to the ground.

- Not until we get back..." Edward groaned, barely getting to his feet.

- Ah, the protagonist of the story," Jonathan said. - Why no young lady?

- She decided to go her own way," Prayfield answered at once, and made an important clarification: "But she called me handsome! I guess she likes me, too.

Kepler had his own thoughts on the matter:

- She's a Nazi, Ed. They have strange tastes.

- It's not for us to discuss other people's tastes... - The young man in the cracked, darkened glasses squinted his eyes and looked at the far end of the street: "By the way, I think we should go this way.

- Are you sure?

- Yes, if my knowledge of geography didn't deceive me. - Ed took a quick look at the old medieval houses with the occasional sign in Flemish and looked towards the town hall. - They'll materialise in front of that building in about ten minutes....

- Well. - Kepler folded his arms across his chest. - Then we're bound to get there first.

***

Evangeline felt the sudden movement of air muss her hair with a deafening sound, gravity returned in full force, and she finally unclenched her fingers, nearly hitting her elbow. Einstein was less fortunate: he fell ludicrously onto his back and spread his arms powerlessly.

- Mein gott, let me die already..." the scientist moaned.

The girl rose to her feet, shook off the dust and ash particles from the clothes that had been partially burnt during the portal crossing - and looked at him with disdain.

- Your life is not mine to control, but Germany's. Where we'll be very soon...

The famous physicist sat down on the tiled floor and with despair on his face leaned against the wall beneath the parcel rates board.

- Look, you can't help but realise, can you? Your mates are gonna kill me.

- If you're as smart as they say you are, you'll adapt," Adelheim cut her off and shrugged her shoulders. - Von Braun adapted....

- I have no idea what you're talking about.....

- You'll understand soon enough. For now, please shut up of your own free will and don't move. - The girl fixed her hair, squinted coldly and looked around. - I have one call to make...

Evangeline looked out from behind a column. There was hardly anyone in the large hall, just a few bored men in the queue behind the cash register and a couple of old men staring at newspapers. It didn't look like their appearance had attracted anyone's attention... but it was for the best.

The young woman smoothed her skirt, straightened her shoulders and walked confidently to the far side of the room, trying not to stand out too much. She stopped at a distant payphone, took a handful of coins someone had left behind, inserted two of them into the receiver, lifted the heavy receiver, and was about to turn the dial, but the speaker was silent.

- Verdammt..." Evangeline cursed and followed the wire down the wall ledge. Her first impulse was to move away to another phone, but she couldn't resist a moment's curiosity. She took a few steps to the left and flinched when she met the gaze of an unexpected guest.

- Was Adolphus too busy shouting from the rostrum? - Prayfield remarked snidely, twirling the broken cord in his hand.

- Whatever he's doing now," the German replied with a sharpness in her voice, "I think his men are already looking for a place for you in Dachau.

- Don't be silly, Lina," Kepler stepped out from behind her and pointed his energy weapon at her. - You can't get out of here.

Adelheim turned around nervously and was the last to notice Pufelschmidt, who also held out the disproportionately large muzzle of a portable particle emitter in her direction.

- Three men for one woman," the girl grinned, not moving. - How typical.

Edward gave her a second glance and stepped forward confidently:

- We'll take the hostage and you'll never see us again. - His voice was pleading, Evangeline noted with pleasure.

- No way," she shook her head and shouted loudly to the side: "Colleginen, mahn zee weiter!

Prayfield turned round sharply at the noise. Random visitors with faces too similar to his own had synchronously dropped what they were doing and pointed pistols at them out of nowhere. Hans-Bregel glanced at Albert, who had peeked out timidly from around the corner.

- Who's got the numerical advantage now, boys? - Adelheim smiled and raised an eyebrow gloatingly.

Edward took a quick assessment of the situation and answered her with a burning look:

- On the fast side.

The young man lunged in her direction, nearly knocking the girl to the ground, and in a hail of bullets slid across the tiled floor behind the empty counter, immediately smashed to splinters by the shots.

- Shaise! - The German shouted, lowering her arms. She felt a burning sensation on her forehead and wiped a trickle of blood from a fresh scratch. - Aim better, you fools!

The closest of the Nazis nodded and signalled the others to move towards the cash register.

- Grab Albert and get out! - Prayfield shouted from there, trying to break up the rumble of gunfire. - I'll distract them!

The girl, who was sheltering from the ricocheting bullets in a wall niche, noted that Jonathan did not need to be asked twice. He took advantage of the hiccup, knocked the Mauser out of the hands of the nearest soldier dressed as a Dutch old man, and turned around just in time to fire a ray gun at the machine gunner who was running at him: the shockwave knocked him and his comrade to the ground and knocked them both into the wall.

- Nice shot! - Ed cheered Kepler from his seat and immediately ducked under a pile of crumbling plaster. "I'm not much use empty-handed..." But then he remembered that he'd brought a couple of things with him from Oxford, and now was the time to use them.

Meanwhile, Pufelschmidt realised that it was time to act and slipped over to Einstein, but was immediately stopped by a commanding voice from a height of an impressive six feet:
- Not so fast, kiddo.

Evangeline pushed Hans-Bregel away faster than he could pull the trigger, and with the continuous thunder of gunfire ran up to Einstein, who had not yet recovered from the shock.

- All of Alten knows we're here," she noted with satisfaction, glancing outside the window where a line of more and more military men were jogging down the street on their way to the post office building. "The English don't stand a chance." - We'll cross the border by train....

- Your train has already left.

Edward stood in the doorway of the storage room, scratched and bruised, but firmly on his feet.

- Did she? - Adelheim raised an eyebrow sarcastically, pretending not to be surprised. - I thought you were saving your worthless friends.

"Damn it," she thought, "a revolver would do no harm at all right now..."
On the other hand, the young European looked unarmed, too. But with those lousy imperialists, one could never be sure.

- They can do it without me," Prayfield said and stepped forward. - I can't do it without them.

- It's a pity you won't live long," Evangeline remarked amid the rumble of gunfire, the noise of energy shots and the clinking of broken glass. Albert took stock of the situation from his corner and crawled away.

- For the last time, please back off.

Edward's voice sounded pleading against his will.

- No," the dark-haired beauty shook her head, thinking deeply for a second. - I'm too far gone to be here.

The man sighed, took a thin rectangle out of his back trouser pocket, attached it to the cylindrical handle, combined the pre-prepared wires with the terminals and pointed the resulting object towards the enemy.

- You're unarmed.

- On the contrary," Evangeline contradicted Prayfield and walked slowly in a catlike gait toward him, never taking her eyes off him. - All my... weapons..." she began to say slowly, her shoulders slumping and her breasts clenched slightly between her forearms, "are always with me... you naive fool.

Edward's finger impulsively pressed a button, and a ring of compressed air erupted from the front of the self-assembled blaster with a deafening sound, colliding with the floor at full speed and knocking a huge hole in it, along with the floorboards. Prayfield staggered and almost fell into the open cellar, but the recoil energy kept him on his feet, while his opponent was less fortunate:

- Shayseh!

Evangeline lost her balance and collapsed on her back, but at the last moment she felt something grab her arm and keep her from falling on the fragments of the ceiling and sharp beams. The girl opened her eyes wide and turned around, clutching at her rescuer's lab coat.

Footsteps were unusually loud in the silence, and Kepler appeared on the doorstep, exhausted and dirty from the dust, his emitter melted from the heat load.

- Ed, I'm not sure I can handle a few dozen more Krauts, so if you're done, we need-" he started and then his eyes rounded. - Good God.

The usually calm Dean of Oxford raised his eyebrows in surprise as Edward finally pulled Evangeline to him from the edge of the cliff, helped her to her feet, and awkwardly pulled away from the still shocked girl who had recently wanted to kill them all.

- Ultra-low frequency sound waves," the young scientist explained and shook the homemade device awkwardly to change the subject. - Sometimes it's not a bad idea to repeat yourself.

- So be it, young man, destruction outside the school is not part of my duties," Kepler answered with his usual calmness and glanced at Hans-Bregel, who had finally risen to his feet and whose role in this story was not very useful. - But my question was about... this.

- I don't quite understand, sir.

- A very strange mercy for someone who had never been to Mass. - Jonathan swung the muzzle of his gun disappointedly at the still shaking young woman. - You're not even going to hand her over to the police?

- Nope," Prayfield shook his head and his lips stretched into a faint smile.

- What are we going to do then, Mr Pacifist?

Edward walked over to Albert, pale as death, and finally put his arm around his shoulders.

- We'll just pick up an old friend and luminary of science, make a few calculations and use the remaining charge in Herr Pufelschmidt's creation to disappear for a few dozen hours and emerge in the world we're used to... where mysterious ladies don't kidnap mustachioed theorists to put them behind bars at the behest of deranged Fuhrers.

- There will be no more of this world, Ed," Kepler shook his head gravely and lowered his head, sinking into unpleasant memories. - A new war was on the horizon... perhaps even worse than the Great War.

- I know," Prayfield answered him. - He caught Evangeline's gaze, which was something new, something he had never seen before and something he would think about for years after that day. - But this time we'll be ready for it.

***

- ...but I wasn't prepared for the fact that everything in our world has consequences," the older man with the round, darkened glasses finished his story thirty-two years later. - Even the most desperate and noble of actions. Someone told me then that I would break time itself.....

Adélie raised her eyes to him.

- But Edward," she asked quietly, with a sympathetic look, "what makes you so sure it's your fault...?

Prayfield folded his hands in front of him and straightened up in the chair behind the carved desk of the old study in the sunset light from the open window.

- It's documented," he replied, shifting his eyebrows. - The radiation levels, the level of secrecy..." The grey-haired scientist sighed and looked at the old globe by the bookcase. - You see, we didn't know what we were up against, and we had to act for sure to prevent Germany from getting Einstein.

- And what happened...? - Mitsuki asked, sitting on the sofa behind the Frenchwoman and sitting back down with her slender legs tucked under her.

- We didn't close the door completely behind us," Prayfield explained readily. - The pocket universe through which we came to Holland should have collapsed on its own, but we broke its shell early, and almost died in the process.

- They also lost the gun..." Adeli turned to Mitsuki in surprise and she silently explained, "It's expensive!"

- Yes," Edward agreed with the comment, "his matter stayed in that world. And all of this..." The old man frowned. - I suppose part of the disintegrated pocket universe still exists as an array of microscopic holes in the quantum foam, scattered all over the world.

- Is it dangerous? - Sam stepped forward from his chair by the record player.

- No, not for us," the professor turned to the American and smiled briefly, then sighed sadly: - But for the universe as a whole... this is the reason for all the troubles that drew first Adenmayer and then his double to our world. And the cycle will repeat itself again and again, the errors in time will accumulate like a growing tumour in a diseased organism... and it's nobody's fault but my own.

Sparrow, who had been listening attentively to his old friend's story all this time, at last straightened up in the doorway threshold.

- Come on, old chap. Things are very different now.

- You're not alone now, Ed," Dupont confirmed firmly, and felt her friend's hand on her hip. - And if you thought we were going to go about our business while you took time to realise what had happened and get your thoughts in order... that's never going to happen.

The Frenchwoman placed her palm on her neighbour's fingers and noticed with the corner of her eye how Itakura's usually pale face flushed slightly.

- We faced this problem together, and we're going to solve it together," Mitsuki nodded, turning to Edward, but at the end she couldn't help but shift her glittering eyes to Adela, who responded with a slight smile that made the Japanese woman's chest warm.

- Thank you, friends," the head of the manor answered her with gratitude and relief. - We'd have to do the impossible to beat a man with the resources Van der Berg has now... but even he isn't all-powerful, so we might have some chance of beating him.

Dupont coughed awkwardly and raised her hand:

- Speaking of odds, while you were away, we had a few more members of our team. - Prayfield blinked and raised his eyebrows in interest, but the girl turned to the doorway, "I'm sorry I couldn't introduce you sooner...

- I was embarrassed myself," came a quiet but steady voice from the half-open door, and everyone turned to see the new face. - It's been a long time, Edward.

Vorobyov gallantly moved and a statuesque woman with fine features, small glasses on her freckled nose and her hair in a tight bun entered the office.

- It can't be..." Edward squinted, then straightened up and even rose in his chair. - Olivia?

The guest shook her head, but couldn't keep from smiling.

- I'm glad you still remember. - The old acquaintance approached the table and held out a brush, but Edward rose abruptly from his seat and spread his arms for a hug.

- How could I forget..." He hugged Olivia and looked at her, unable to hide the moisture in his eyes. - You haven't changed a bit.

Fifty-nine-year-old Walsh grinned sideways.

- The grey hairs have only increased.

- I've got more than that," Prayfield objected reasonably, and paused. - How is... sister?

The girl from their only date before Einstein's kidnapping furrowed her brow and strained her already not-so-good memory.

- Oh, you mean that one. Of course. She's fine, I'm sure she is now.

Prayfield nodded and lowered his hands.

- I'm sorry I... never called you then.

- It's not your fault," Olivia comforted him and poked him in the shoulder with her fist. - I didn't recognise you at first when you arrived in Utopolis.

Edward smiled and took a few steps towards the old globe to stretch his legs.

- How did you get here in the first place? - He asked, turning around halfway down the path.

Olivia shrugged and shook a lock of her long hair.

- I know how to look for information. My intuition told me that there was more to it than that, and she was not mistaken. The girls and that stern comrade communist told her what was going on.

Vorobiev grinned and glanced at Sam, who had missed the opportunity to participate in the briefing because of the burnt toaster in the kitchen.

Prayfield sighed and looked at Walsh in all seriousness:

- The passage of time has broken down...

- We'll fix it," Olivia assured him. - I promise.

- The fate of the entire Solar System is at stake.....

- Not a problem, as long as there's time.

- ...and we'll have to challenge the most powerful man in the world," Edward finished with pressure, waiting for her reaction.

- I worked for him until today," the scientist with thin-rimmed glasses lowered her head. - I can't do it anymore.

- Well... then I'm very glad to see you here. - Prayfield smiled briefly and looked round the entire team in the room. - We're stronger now than before, and while it will take a lot of effort and a real plan at the intersection of science and fiction, I still... see a glimmer of hope.

Which means there's still a chance to save our future.

PART IV.

CHAPTER 20

- So... - Mitsuki tapped her fingers awkwardly on her knee and looked around at her friends. - What's the plan?

Prayfield folded his arms across his chest.

- To correct the passage of time while we still have the chance. And we do... still do.

- You think so? - Sam stepped forward.

- I'm sure of it," Edward turned to him and snapped his fingers, pausing for effect: "And here's why: I'm sure that Adenmire Wilfred-Smith came from the future.

- Not from the past...? - Olivia squinted sceptically. Mitsuki backed her up:

- You said yourself that travelling back in time is impossible.

- That's right," Edward nodded, and turned to explain the rules of interdimensional physics to his new acquaintance: "But that's the limit of an isolated system. Van der Berg's reality machine allows you to travel between different versions of universes in any direction within a radius of...

- I've already realised that," Walsh interrupted him firmly, having had time to delve into the Adventure Club problem.

- I wouldn't expect anything less," the professor nodded and stroked his grey beard thoughtfully. - So... when I myself thought about the potential of time travel, I came to the conclusion that even with all the wealth of possibilities available to us now, it is still a task that cannot be solved in the coming decades. But it's not impossible at all.

Adeli lowered her gaze in concentration. "Even with the time jump..."

- So Adenmayer Wilfred-Smith built his time machine much later...?

Vorobiev hummed and cast a lively glance at her:

- Perhaps he was born already in the twenty-first century.....

Itakura did a quick calculation in her mind and objected:

- But how is that possible if his doppelganger in our time is hardly much older than I am?

"It turns out either he built a time machine in adulthood and died an even deeper old man than we thought, or there's something else here... perhaps his doppelganger from another world is different from him... but we can speculate about that endlessly, of course."

- I don't know that, my dear," Alexei admitted aloud.

Sam sighed and stood up, kneading his bones.

- Time travelling yields nothing but paradoxes.....

- That's right," Olivia agreed.

- Be that as it may," concluded Prayfield , "this gives us hope for some success. If the time machine in the parallel universe has not been created yet, and all the time streams are now connected at one point..." the scientist smiled, "it means that we can still untie this knot and remove the very cause of the time paradox.

- How's that? - Sam turned round interestedly, about to go down to the kitchen fridge for a bottle of beer.

Edward slammed his fist convincingly into his palm:

- If time is not broken, there is no reason for the Wilfred-Smith machine to be at this point and out of commission.

The American nodded, put his index finger up and still left the office, walking quickly down the stairs.

- 'Then...' Dupont began to reason, 'if Wilfred-Smith doesn't fall into the trap and can't get out of the nineteenth century...)

- Carry on, sweetheart...

- ...then he'd have no reason to create this overcomplicated plan to destroy the world," the girl finished, growing more and more enthusiastic. - Jupiter won't become a star, the bomb won't work!

The blonde turned on her friend and squeezed her hand.

- We will change reality itself..." Mitsuki whispered and her eyes lit up.

- And we'll beat fate. - Vorobyov smiled and took off his fogged glasses. Prayfield laughed with relief:

- That's what I'm counting on!

- I like this turn of events. - Olivia couldn't help smiling and shook her head in response to the bottle of Corona she held out.

- I don't think it's going to be easy, guys," said Sam, who had returned with a case of beer and set the load on the floor to offer each of his friends a drink. - We're going to have more than one hole in time to fill, aren't we?

- Not just one. - Edward nodded and twirled the liquor, which he had a complicated relationship with, thoughtfully. - I'm afraid that over the past thirty years, the fabric of space and time at the point of the passage has thinned and created a spiral plume following the planet's rotation... so," the professor put the bottle on the table, "we're going to have to do our best to track down all the points of superposition constriction.

Sam wondered for a moment whether to offer a beer to the Japanese woman, who until a few days ago had been a child to him. But Adele spared him the moral choice and gestured for the can opener.

- ...But this task is not as difficult as what will happen next," meanwhile, Prayfield finished to the hiss of the covers being removed.

- The cascading effect of subatomic binding, isn't it? - Walsh surmised.

- Unfortunately, yes. The process of weakening the bonds between the particles will begin immediately....

- God," Mitsuki howled, halfway through the bottle, "not everyone in this room has the Nobel Prize for boring! I didn't learn English to feel stupid!

Adelie rounded her eyes, but still did not fail to support her friend:

- Come on, you're so stupid.

- I will when I want to," Itakura replied, and winked at her. Adelie felt a hand on her knee and blushed.

- Ahem! - loudly coughed Alexei, who was perhaps too conservative and too young to feign polite nonchalance. - The gentlemen scientists mean that this will immediately weaken our rival.

Walsh, who was well aware of what was going on, pretended to be keenly interested in the remark.

- And van der Berg is clearly not going to like it.

- It's okay, he'll get over it. - Sam glanced down at the open bottle and took a big gulp.

- We'd get over it..." Vorobiev mumbled, staring at the globe. Edward followed his gaze and realised that he was thinking about a homeland he could never truly return to and for which he had become a "traitor to the socialist way of life".

But it's better not to be reminded of it too much.

- Well... - Prayfield put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. - We've fought the Nazis, the Soviets and secret cults together....

We can handle the wrath of the most powerful man on the planet, too.

***

- Good, now descend..." Edward glanced at the altimeter and ran his fingers along the dashboard. - I'm going to go down," Edward said, glancing at the almeter and running down the dashboard.

Alexei nodded without taking his eyes off the view in front of him, straightened the tail flaps, switched on the autopilot toggle switch, moved his right hand from the helm to the blade power control knob, and asked:

- What's down there?

Prayfield unbuckled his safety harness and leaned sideways as far as he could:

- There's plenty of room on this rock and the surface looks flat," the scientist said confidently, assessing the situation from the limited view from the porthole.

Mitsuki and Adeli in the back seats in the cockpit glanced between themselves.

- Yes, there's enough room," Vorobyev agreed and began to push the lever away from himself. - Hold on, sit down!

Ed hurriedly snapped the carbine back on.

The aircraft's skin vibrated.

Sam clenched his knees with white fingers and met Olivia's gaze. She smiled encouragingly at him and tugged his seatbelt defiantly. The American nodded, squeezed his eyes shut, and exhaled, shifting his nervous gaze to the approaching landscape outside.

There was a thud. Dupont ducked fearfully.

- Nice fit, mate. - Prayfield patted his friend on the shoulder and finally unbuckled his belt for good.

The Frenchwoman straightened up with a slight tremor in her legs and noticed her neighbour's gaze on her. Itakura grinned and nudged her in the side, teasing her silently in her own language. Adelie didn't appreciate the young pilot's joke and rose abruptly from her seat.

- You've got a great idea with the propellers," Vorobyev said, stopping the rotors and switching off the air transport systems, "I haven't piloted such aeroplanes yet....

- No one has piloted them yet," Prayfield grinned and looked over at Walsh, "No country in the world has them yet.

Olivia shook her head with a slight smile and adjusted her clipboard bag. "Utopolis can hardly be called a separate state..."

- Are we sure we won't be spotted? - Dupont spoke up, buttoning her jacket. Mitsuki folded her arms behind her and thought about something.

- No," the scientist at the front of the cabin reassured the young girl, "it's not very crowded here at this time of year... especially since it's noon local time.

Passing the Irish engineer in front of him, Jones perked up:

- Siesta?

- The Greek version of it.

Prayfield smiled and almost missed the bandage bag thrown at him.

- Put on a poncho, Mr Scientist," Walsh explained from the open valise by the luggage rack. - It'll do us good to blend in. All of us guys, not like in Australia. - The woman turned to the other members of the adventure club and handed out clothes.

Edward raised his eyebrows, but didn't argue. "It did come out a little awkward in Sydney..."

Mitsuki put on a light windbreaker and picked up a wide brimmed hat.

- Why haven't we been to my house yet? - The Japanese woman, who was tired of standing out everywhere, said annoyed. - You'd feel like you were me there!

- Believe me," Sam answered her, tying her bandana, "I feel like this almost everywhere I go.

- We'll look in there again, there'll be time," promised Prayfield , who now looked more like an aging local merchant than a grim adventurous genius. "Hopefully no one will be listening for accents and speech..." - Right, is everyone's batteries charged? If not, then...

- ...you made a whole packet," Adelie interrupted him with noticeable irritation. She caught Itakura's surprised look, bit her lip, exhaled, and continued more peacefully: - This is the fifth time we've done this, it'll go well!

The Englishman answered her with an attentive look, thought about something, and nodded.

- I hope so. I know we're all very tired from a week of constant flying and a constant sense of danger - and I shouldn't have brought you all into this....

- You should have," Mitsuki said quietly. Adelie nodded briefly without turning round.

- ...but you are still here," the scientist continued, turning to the girls, "and we are still together. Despite our differences and disagreements.

Sam lowered his head and thought about something.

- We're from different worlds, different generations. - Ed turned to Olivia, who was frozen at the exit of the salon. - We may not have as much in common as we first thought. But the future of our shared world will disappear if we fail.

Vorobiev nodded slowly from the pilot's seat.

Prayfield looked around at everyone who had travelled such a long way with him. A French woman with a broken heart who dared to start her life with a clean slate. An outcast Japanese woman who had not given up hope of seeing a better future. A broken Russian who returns to the camp from which he miraculously escaped to save a friend. A misunderstood American who has found a new home and a new use for his extraordinary abilities. A dedicated Irishwoman who finds the courage to change sides to fight a battle that is almost impossible to win....

But defeat cannot be allowed.

- This is the last of the key temporal rifts," Edward finished aloud and slapped his hand against his arm. - It was time to heal time itself.

***

- Hmm, that's weird.

- What is it? - Sam leaned over to Edward about an hour later.

- There's more energy spread here than in other places," he explained, wiping the screen of a tiny gamma particle detector. - And I can't immediately pinpoint its source...

- Is the navigation still not working? - Mitsuki, who found it difficult to be idle, albeit with a view of the Aegean coastline, walked into the shade of the spacious patio.

- No," Prayfield turned to her, "and that's strange. I thought it was an analysis error, but... Something's blocking it.

- So we're lost," Adele, who was even less prepared for the southern sun than her former passenger seat mate, said irritably.

- Maybe," the professor didn't deny it. - A little out of the way.

Itakura cast a sharp glance in the Frenchwoman's direction and approached the Englishman with a sharp gait.

- Can I see that?

- If you want, of course..." the old man in the poncho nodded confusedly and handed her the device.

- I do.

Mitsuki took the device, twirled it around in her hands, and skilfully removed the lid to assess the soldering. Edward shook his head-he'd forgotten that she'd not only been tech savvy before, but had learnt new things in the time they'd missed because of the time jump.

- Well, but the places are amazingly beautiful..." Dupont tried to defuse the situation and immediately felt uncomfortable.

- And not bad company," Sam noted from the fence overlooking the beach. The way Mitsuki pretended not to notice her friend didn't escape him.

- Hm... - the Japanese woman shook her head and returned the detector to the inventor. - It's definitely not the electronics.

- Did someone hide the rift? - suggested Vorobyev, smoking a pipe tiredly on a chair at a sidewalk café, and glanced at one of the young women walking down the street.

- Maybe," Prayfield agreed. - I just don't know how.

Walsh, who had just returned from another tour of the area, didn't like it.

- We'll have to look blindly.

- An unenviable prospect...

- And with dubious results," Alexei supported his friend, let out a puff of smoke and tapped his almost extinguished pipe on the paving slab. - Something's wrong here, Ed. I can feel it.

- Come on," Prayfield turned to him, "it must be the effect of radiation background and atmospheric pressure. It's a little different here...

Sam glanced over to Olivia and read in her gaze that she thought that was a likely explanation, too.

- There were other points. - The Russian doctor continued to stand his ground.

- But we're here now and we're not giving up so easily.

- Another mystery? - Jones expressed his displeasure aloud.

- And he'll do anything to solve it..." the Irishwoman said, her lips stretching into a smile. - I recognise that guy from the front pages.

- No, I've had enough. - Vorobyov put the receiver in his breast pocket, patted the portable weapon in his belt holster and glumly rose from his seat. - All this searching for something I don't understand....

Adélie gave him a regretful glance.

- Well, suit yourself," the Englishman did not persuade his friend. He understood perfectly well what Vorobyov had been through during their adventures, and he knew from his own experience that everyone has his limit. "But it is, of course, unfortunate..."

- I'll be here on the patio when you're done with the games," the Russian doctor said as he walked down to the sun-drenched patio, where an open bar with relaxed regulars could be seen in the distance.

- Come on, Alex..." Mitsuki whispered and, after a moment's hesitation, ran after him. Adelie sighed and leaned against the wall.

- All right, we're splitting up," Prayfield summarised with a note of bitterness and looked around at the others. - Who else wants to be just a tourist?

Olivia answered him over her shoulder:

- Sometimes it's enough to be human.

***

- How's that? - Adélie quickened her step and came up alongside the scientist.

- I think we're here," Prayfield told her and showed her the flickering screen of the device. - Mitsuki was right, it wasn't the electronics at all.

- Did you get a fix on the rift? - Sam asked hopefully.

- Yes," Edward confirmed, "but the isotope traces are strange. We're very close...

Dupont sat down tiredly on a rock and leaned on her elbows. They had been walking for hours, and she was getting tired of it.

- Is your device definitely working?

- There was no doubt about it. - The Englishman lowered the detector and looked at the large pile of rocks in front of him. The large boulders were tightly packed together, but some of them seemed too deliberately stacked together with shrubbery that would hardly have grown here on its own. The scientist handed the now unnecessary device to the American and bent down to check his guess. And it turned out to be correct: the upper cobblestones easily slid down, revealing neatly filed edges, and behind the dilapidated barrier was a low tunnel of evidently artificial origin with steps carved in the stone, going far down.

- I'm afraid," Prayfield nodded gravely toward the corridor, "we'll have to go down.

- I love dungeons," Sam responded immediately, as the professor searched for a suitable pile of twigs. - Even more than basements. And clowns.

- Or basements with clowns..... - Adélie suggested with the sweetest smile.

Jones' face turned ash-grey for a moment.

- I hope there are no clowns in Greece!

- Yes, they are," Prayfield turned to the young men and lifted the rag-covered, makeshift hilt. - Worse, they're from here. It's an ancient Bacchic tradition, derived from the ritual practice of pleasing Hades and the harpies of the underworld with a pale face, bright colours and homeric laughter....

- You've got to be kidding me," Sam exhaled and glanced over at the Frenchwoman who could barely contain her laughter

- Of course I'm joking," the scientist smiled, lit the torch with an imperceptible movement and nodded towards the darkness that awaited them: "Follow me.

***

- What's that...? - Dupont asked in a half-whisper, looking around anxiously.

- It looks like an ancient temple," Sam told her, staring at the dancing torchlight on the walls. - Or a tomb.

- Or something in between. - Prayfield adjusted his glasses and approached one of the marble colonnades in the long row of cracked stone tombs. - About the time of Themistocles' reign... look at these characteristic elements of decoration. - The scientist turned round and raised the torch higher. - And the statues... they still have traces of paint on them!

- Wow," Sam whistled. - I thought they were always white?

A great joke about colonialism popped into his head, but he held back out of respect for the girl, who answered him with a serious face:

- Not always, it's a myth. Even I've read about it.

- It's true," Edward agreed, and frowned. - Except...

- Yes? - Adélie came closer to him.

- It can't be a Themistocles tomb," the professor shook his head and walked along the row of columns and statues in the limestone-lined passageways. - I studied everything I could before I left, and there are no known temples in Cnidium of such an ancient era. It is a fairly young city that grew rapidly in the period after the Atheno-Spartan Wars, on the heels of a booming economy.

Dupont folded her arms across her chest incredulously.

- So this place is older than the city?

- It appears so," Preifld nodded.

Sam folded his hands in his pocket and walked thoughtfully to one of the not-quite-full stone-collapsed entrances.

- Why build a temple where the faithful will not be able to pray? - Meanwhile, the French woman said. - Unless it's... that's what it's meant to be?

- Good question, my dear," Prayfield pointed out as the American suddenly hissed and made a sign for everyone to duck.

- Hush... There's some light up ahead.....

Adélie shifted her frightened gaze from him to Edward, and the older adventurer threw the smouldering torch to the ground and put it out with his boot:

- Looks like we're not the only ones in this crypt.

***

Prayfield ducked his back and listened. Ahead, beyond the passage, there was a growing rumble of voices and the echoing stomp of footsteps that grew louder and louder. Sam glanced over to the Frenchwoman, but Adélie was quicker to realise the effect of the acoustics. The girl tiptoed up to the Englishman, stretched her hand out in front of her, and immediately drove it down. He nodded silently, realising what she meant, and gestured for her to follow.

Jones, having no particular desire for heroics, reluctantly followed the pair and found that on the other side of the corridor was a large cavern with a partially collapsed wall, beyond which far below was a hall faintly lit by torchlight with a giant sculpture atop a stone pedestal that looked more like an altar than anything else.

- Holy shit! - Whispered the American.

Adelie cautiously peered down and caught sight of a broad procession of people with shaved heads dressed in identical light-coloured clothes, led by a middle-aged, thin-looking man in a gold-coloured hoodie, whose bald skull was topped by a wreath of olive leaves.

- Thank you for coming at the call from above! - He stopped and spoke solemnly to his followers, strangely enough, in good English. - Today is the day we have been waiting for!

- Listen..." Sam turned to his friends, "does he happen to remember anyone to you?

Prayfield raised an eyebrow in response and looked at Dupont.

- 'Brothers and sisters,' continued the priest in the vaulted hall meanwhile, 'humble servants of our true path... the hour has struck!

Adeli shook her head. She would have remembered this Evangelist Buddha if she had met him before.

- Our Mother has been protecting us from passions and hardships, lighting our way in the darkness for centuries... - the preacher turned to the statue of the deity and raised his hands. - It is time to protect the All-Seeing One!

- Halazi! Halazi! - came from the crowd.

- What are they shouting? - Jones whispered.
- "Hail!" - Prayfield answered him briefly, shifting his eyebrows. Adélie saw him turn away and open his travelling bag. Would they be able to defend themselves without the means of proper self-defence? As far as the Frenchwoman could remember, they were defenceless this time.

Meanwhile, the minister continued his fiery speech:

- I had a vision, Persephone herself appeared to me in all her glory... and asked for help!

- Heere, Megali Miterah! Megali Miterah! - The crowd caught every word he said.

- Mon Dieu.... - said Dupont, unable to tear herself away from the spectacle. - Religious fanatics!

The priest continued, kneeling down in front of the deity's statue:

- The filth of this world is killing her... civilisation is steeped in vice, the Western world has reached a dead end! Capitalism is heartless, communism is cruel, Christianity is meaningless... but our way, the way of the Mother of the Fallen, is the only right way... the way of Hades leads to Olympus!

- Axios! Axios!

The lights flickered on the blindfolded eyes.

- I'd say a real sect," Edward answered the Frenchwoman and sat down on a rock face with a gamma ray detector in his hands.

- But the Great Mother is weakening... her power is not what it used to be. - The cultist rose to his feet and turned to the flock, holding out a bony hand in front of him. - Your faith has failed her!

A murmur went through the crowd.

- You bet, brother," Sam agreed with the professor and looked thoughtfully at the face of the dazzled goddess.

- You have forsaken your mother! - the minister continued frantically. - You have given in to temptation, the seed of sin has entered your womb...!

- I can't listen to this," Adela gave up and sank to the ground. - Why doesn't he conduct this dinner in Greek at all? - she turned to Prayfield .

- Because he's not from here..." the scientist emphasised the obvious and pursed his lips in satisfaction in the light of the instrument's illuminated screen.

- The time of Persephone's miracles is past... but if the faith, the sincere faith of each of you is at least as strong as it once was....

- But I think I know why he's here and what this show is all about," the inventor finished and smiled at the girl who had completely stopped understanding what was going on and what they were doing here.

- Really? - Sam turned to him. - Did something get through to you...?

- Of course.

- ...then the Great Mother will rise up as before! - Finally, the man in the laurel wreath finished and turned to the idol, spreading his arms. - And you will see the signs of her favour again!

Jones squinted and noticed that the bright yellow dots under his skin had lit up on his temples, a glow coming from them.

- What are you doing, Ed? - Dupont furrowed her eyebrows.

- Destroying religion," Prayfield answered her with a smile, lifting the device. - Look.

And he pressed the big button.

- Persephone the All-Seeing, show your mercy and manifest your will!

The sect leader frantically spread his arms in a familiar rush, his eyes closed, and the dots on his temples lit up even more and flashed in time with the inaudible rhythm.

The followers of the cult shuddered almost synchronously and closed their eyes. Some put their hands to their hearts, others covered their faces in religious ecstasy. One of the girls frowned: something had gone differently this time.

The cultist would have agreed with her if he had been interested in her opinion. He too, following the prayers, squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled the air harder. The familiar tingling in his veins never came.

- Shayse," the priest said quietly, no longer playing the role of messiah. - So he was right...

Behind him, a lone figure descended the sloping rock face from the natural balcony and a man he had hoped never to see again stepped into the light.

- I guess," Prayfield said loudly and with a touch of defiance in his voice, anomaly detector in hand, "now it's my turn to enter the house uninvited and turn the place upside down... Henry Campbell, Schmidt, Jr.

***

- So that's how I recognised him! - Sam gaped, turned to the Frenchwoman and shook her by the shoulders. - Damn it, it's him!

- What...? - Adeli frowned.

The priest in the olive crown grinned.

- He ratted out our old man to the Communists! You, well..." Jones blinked and licked his lips. - You weren't there then, but ...

Something clicked in Dupont's head.

- I saw him being dragged away! - The girl's eyes widened in a mixture of horror and rage. - So he did it?

A young woman in the shadow of the cave rushed towards the cult leader standing in front of the confused crowd, but the American could barely hold her back:

- Whoa, whoa, whoa! You'll have time to wave your fists around!

- So it's true, Edward...," Campbell said mockingly, no longer playing the Greek Jesus, visibly shaved and aged but still recognisable. - I didn't believe until the last moment that you had survived. Few people come back from the Soviet Union.

Edward shook his head with feigned disappointment.

- You underestimated the power of the men behind me. - He noticed the noise behind him and added: - Literally, by the way.

The frail girl nearly knocked the young man to the ground and rushed past Prayfield to the man in the robe who barely avoided her blow.

- You'll pay for betraying us! - Dupont hissed, this time aiming straight at his face. - I was almost killed in that tower...!

- This is the first time I've ever seen you! - Campbell grasped his itchy cheekbone indignantly, while Sam tried to calm Adela down. - How did you even find this place?

- It found us," Edward replied, glancing approvingly at the heated girl rubbing her bruised palm. - And so did you. All of you.

Henry turned round on his bewildered followers, whose faces bore the strangely identical expression of extinguished eyes, and looked intently at the professor.

- So you feel it too...

The inventor nodded and cast a glance at the statue of the sightless goddess towering before them all.

- It's not just a sacred place. It actually held a lot of power. - Edward surveyed the walls of the secret sanctuary, frescoes blackened by time and the soot of torches. - I would even say mystical properties... which, however, have a perfectly rational explanation.

The cult leader grinned and folded his arms across his chest:

- What is it, enlighten me?

The Englishman looked at the man who had stolen six years of life from him and his friends, and passed on, nevertheless explaining:

- The progressive destruction of the fabric of space and time. an exceptionally rare natural phenomenon. - Edward stopped and touched the bridge of his nose to correct his nonexistent glasses. "A small sliver of comfort," he thought. - But perhaps," the scientist speculated aloud, "a solar flare about two or three thousand years old ejected a beam of neutrinos that managed to penetrate the Earth's magnetic field and superimposed itself on a microscopic black hole created in a quantum fluctuation... but that's just a hypothesis.

Schmidt Jr. grinned and returned to his usual new direction.

- So it was hypotheses that brought you here? - The cultist spread his arms and turned to the people at his back. - To interrupt my sermon and confuse my flock?

Dupont noticed how the lights on his temples lit up and flickered in time with his speech. "What is it...?"

She shifted her gaze. The people behind the cult leader's back continued to stare blankly, as if foreigners interrupting an apparently infrequent religious ceremony were a common occurrence in their area.

Prayfield noticed this too and shook his head.

- You're the last person who'd be suited to the role of preacher. Admit it, the anomaly's got you in a tizzy, too.

Campbell became visibly nervous and the lights on the sides of his face went out.

- What anomaly, what are you talking about?

- The one that gives you the power to work miracles. - The Professor stepped close to the priest and tapped his temples. - The power that fuels the cranial implants you agreed to have implanted when you started working for the most powerful innovator in the world. It's how you communicate with your flock who don't speak your language.

- Technogenic telepathy...? - Sam exhaled. Adelie looked at him in surprise, adding:

- And the suppression of the will...

The girl in the front row frowned and opened her eyes. She blinked incomprehensibly and met DuPont's gaze, who read the incomprehension and slight horror in her eyes.

Henry squeezed his head in a vise for a moment and turned to his own again.

- Don't listen to them! This heathen mocks the goddess..." Campbell leaned over the young Greek and shook his finger over her head, "You will see that Persephone's wrath will be merciless!

Prayfield shook his head and folded his hands behind his back.

- The deity won't answer," he said, looking at the girl, who was staring fearfully at the sculpture as if she were staring at it for the first time. - You've already felt it, haven't you? - Edward shifted his gaze to Schmidt Junior.

Thoth gritted his teeth and looked at the shaking hand that had folded into a fist. "It's all happening again..."

- He would if he could," Sam breathed out, watching the shaven cultist closely. - I can see it in his eyes. You managed to close the time rift...!

The professor looked triumphantly at his friends and Adélie felt like she couldn't contain herself. Under normal circumstances she would never have let it fly from her lips, but the time for turning the other cheek was over.

- You are nothing, Henry," she sneered, looking straight into the eyes of a man who was not worth a fraction of the pain he had caused them. - Always have been and always will be.

She overcame the urge to spit in his face and stood triumphantly beside the grey-haired inventor and the curly-haired newspaperman.

Campbell stretched his lips in a reproachful smile and slowly straightened, squaring his shoulders.

- Mother used to say that, too," he began, bowing his head. - But I proved her wrong. The man my father served may have lost, but I did not. And I have people behind me, as you can see. - The Nazi's son turned to the confused crowd and raised his hand in a Roman salute. - I am their Führer. And so is their true god. They will do anything for me.

Prayfield shook his head and put his hand in his shoulder bag.

- Not anymore. The seed of doubt has been planted.

Adelie noticed that he pulled her out almost immediately. The frankly insane-looking cult leader noticed it too, but didn't see it as a threat.

- It takes time for the grain to work its way through," he answered Edward and grinned. - I won't give you that. Besides," he paused theatrically and closed his eyes, as if gathering his strength, "... you're not the only one who knows the true nature of the rift.

Jones and Dupont glanced over.

- Herr Van der Berg warned me that you might show up," the smug cultist continued, eyeing his opponents appraisingly, "and asked me to protect this place in return for a few... operations. So if you think that by weakening the flow of energy, you've made me weaker... that's not true. - The lights on Campbell-Schmidt's temples glowed purple, and faint fluorescent smoke billowed from the nails on his hands. - I have all the power of the underworld on my side.....

- Okay, guys," Sam whispered and pulled Adela behind him to shield her from the threat, "I have a bad feeling about this....

Henry threw off his poncho. His bare chest was covered with symmetrical scars, and from two implanted metal rings on his forearms came hoses of pulsating fluid that went behind his back and connected, as the Frenchwoman noted with consternation, to an oblong device hanging from his back without any fasteners.

- Children of Hades! - The priest spread his smoking arms and the implanted container began pumping the glowing liquid through the pipes. - Hear the voice of your prophet! - Campbell shook, smoke also billowed from the overloaded chips on the sides of his skull, burning through his skin. - The Goddess has weakened, the infidels have clouded the eye of the All-Seeing One!

- We've been declared a jihad," DuPont remarked, barely containing her disgust.

The crowd erupted into cheers, while the gazes of the sect members became even emptier. The young girl in the front row stared blankly in front of her again and lunged forward in time with the movement of the exalted puppeteer's hands.

- Very nice," Edward replied and stepped forward, shading the young men.

- Show that you are her faithful children! - Schmidt roared and made a final tug with his arms. - Avenge your Mother!

- All right, everybody back!

Prayfield took the blow, and the Frenchwoman bounced sideways as dozens of people came in one stream at them, rounding the altar and knocking down the torches on the pillars. Sam pushed one of the attackers away and had no time to react to the old man who threw himself on his back - but the girl came to his rescue and dropped the ballast.

- We'll have to fight back any way we can! - Adelie shouted, and confirmed her words with an action, hitting someone in the back with a broken pole.

- Hell, I didn't leave Harlem for this! - Jones shook his head and pushed the older man away from his friend. - Chill, brother!

Campbell slowly approached in the wake of the attacking crowd, well aware of the hopelessness of the situation for his opponents.

- Surrender to the mercy of the goddess and I will stop my flock," he said, his arms spreading, the implants on his temples glowing in a rhythmic pattern. - I have hundreds of supporters; you're surrounded, unarmed, and won't last a few minutes.

Ed glanced in front of him, blocked Adela from the young girl who had tried to jump on her, and punched the grey-haired man who had attacked Jones in the side.

- We don't need more than that," the scientist said, nodding to the side. - We're unarmed, but they're not.

Henry turned round at the sudden sound: the top of the balcony had collapsed completely, almost burying the stray cultists underneath. Several figures emerged in the dust and smoke from the debris at the top of the mountain, one of them stepping forward and speaking in an accent that was noticeable even against the background of Greek speech:

- Try this, you godless!

Vorobyov pressed the trigger valve, and the short-barreled weapon in his hands fired. Edward pulled the American aside - and just in time: a ring-shaped shockwave followed by a brief flash of light knocked some of the attackers off their feet and slammed others into the walls.

- "Godless?" - Prayfield raised an eyebrow as Alexei stepped closer and held out a hand to help him up off the floor. - When did you start believing in a higher power?

The Russian doctor grinned.

- Ever since I noticed that someone had put all the weapons we brought with us in my bag... along with this thing. - He pulled a small device with an antenna and a liquid crystal screen that flashed an arrow-like symbol and a few zeros from the breast pocket of his jacket.

The Englishman laughed and switched off the beacon.

- I have no idea who it was.

- I'm sure you do.

Adelie, still not believing this was really happening, shook off her blonde curls from the dust stuck in them, shook off one of the strangely staggering men in robes, and took a few steps towards her newly arrived friends, who continued to shoot off in a changed balance of power.

- Nice shot! - she praised her older friend. - Did you make it yourself?

Mitsuki cast a glance at Dupont with wet eyes that went unnoticed and bit her lip.

- Yes," Olivia nodded to the Frenchwoman and aimed a small pistol that looked like a mixture of a torch and a machine gun in her direction. - I gathered it up on the run.

- I've heard that before," Sam said in a low voice, and glanced at the professor, who nodded, glanced at Alexei, and gave him a firm sign to hand him the gun.

Henry Campbell looked out from behind the stone slab and realised that the situation had not turned out at all in the cult leader's favour.

- Don't let them get away! - He shouted to the thinning crowd, brought his hands to his temples, and clenched his eyes shut. The lights of the hypodermic implants flickered on and off with visible effort.

Dupont noticed this and looked back at the followers, who flinched in sync and turned to look at the adventurers in the shadow of the deity's statue.

Alexei nervously drew his revolver and took it off the safety.

- So, what's the plan? - Despite his combat experience, he didn't want to use real bullets.

Prayfield assessed the situation and checked the instrument readings.

- Get out of here alive, we're almost done here. - The scientist nodded to his friend and bent down to stow the particle detector in his shoulder bag. Mitsuki saw some movement in her peripheral vision, and all her melancholy evaporated.

- Watch your back!

The girl pushed the old man sideways - and just in time: a weighty stone flew past his head, which would have split his skull had it not been for Itakura's intervention. Prayfield looked at the Japanese woman in amazement and nodded appreciatively, still in mild shock.
Adélie exhaled, turned around to find her teacher's attempted assassin, and saw that it was a young Greek woman who was in the front row of worshippers; her eyes were still rolled upwards and her hands were searching for a new piece of shrapnel to exorcise. Here the Frenchwoman realised that her patience had burst.

- Give me that!

Adelie turned to Olivia, snatched the modified pistol from her hands without further ado, and ran behind the granite altar. Campbell, who was still trying to guide the weakening will of the crowd, spotted her too late and threw up his hands, but the enraged girl was quicker. She squeezed the trigger, and symmetrical protrusions emerged from the rotating lantern capsule, from which stroboscopic light burst forth, and the stream of air in front of the weapon's muzzle thickened to the point of impossibility. Heinrich tried to dodge, but the almost invisible beam caught one of the hoses coming out of his chest and damaged the very container on his back, the glass part of which shattered and flooded him with fluorescent liquid

- Shayseh

The Cultist fell backwards, grasped the severed plume and rolled onto his side, gritting his teeth in pain as the sizzling substance melted some of his skin.

- I think we're definitely done now," Sam said and lowered his abrasion-covered fists.

Vorobyov reluctantly approached the wounded man, examined him, and sat him down to dress the wound with a piece of cloth, which Walsh readily held out.

Mitsuki took a breath and looked around warily: the people around her were barely on their feet, looking at each other in surprise and talking softly in Greek. Their faces were completely different than they had been a moment ago.

The young girl who had just thrown the rock at Prayfield was rubbing her pulled shoulder in confusion. Itakura looked at her and smiled. She flinched and shrank back fearfully.

- Stop, stop! - The Japanese woman raised her hands and showed that she was unarmed. - We are not your enemies!

- Oh guys..." Adeli lowered her shaking hands and looked around at the lost men and women around her. "It's going to be hard to explain what happened here..."

A sudden cough and a painful wheeze was heard not far from her feet.

- You... will... regret... what you've done..." Henry said with difficulty, gritting his teeth and glaring at the adventurers furtively.

Edward shook his head, walked over to his defeated opponent, and leaned into him.

- I'm afraid you've gone too far. With a god complex, it is better to seek help in therapy than to ruin the lives of those who are willing to put themselves in the hands of supernatural forces.

The scholar rose, looked round at his friends, cast one last glance at the statue of Persephone, holding a symbolic sphere with the image of an eye, and headed for the exit of the ritual tomb.

Sam glanced over at Mitsuki, shrugged, and headed towards the corridor where the procession had entered the man-made cave as well.

Dupont walked over to the tall Irishwoman, returned her pocket laser with an acknowledging gesture, and couldn't resist asking:

- Is he okay? I didn't kill him, did I?

- What will our formidable doctor say to that? - Olivia turned to Vorobyov with a slight smile.

Alexei shook his head and was the last to rise to his feet.

- It will be fine, but here I am serving the Hippocratic Oath without much enthusiasm. - The ex-military man looked round at the people who approached and asked: - Hey, does anyone know English? And Russian? "Soviet Union", "Moscow"...?

Prayfield had almost left the kapit when Campbell called out to him for the last time.

- Van der Berg will get you..." the exhausted priest said in a weakening voice, leaning on the shoulder of one of the men in the chiton. - You can't stop... the future itself.....

- The future has many options," the professor answered him without turning round. - We choose the one that is longer.

***

- Sir, we're -- we're losing power.

Van der Berg awoke from his musings.

- What do you mean?

The rookie engineer adjusted his glasses and glanced nervously at a clipboard with a stack of papers:

- T-The accuracy of p-prediction is declining exponentially, minus eight per cent in the last two hours.

"Unpleasant news..."

- Could this be a temporary glitch? - Volkert wondered aloud and turned round in his swivelling chair. - A magnetic storm or a neutrino ejection?

The young man shook his head.

- I doubt it, sir. Besides, that's not all. - He hated what he had to say now. - The communications nodes are going down one by one.

The supervisor's response was expectedly bleak.

- How many are already out of commission?

- Ten out of seventy-five. - The aide licked his lips and mentally cursed the one who had quit right before this crisis and whose position he had to fill. - We are trying to resuscitate them, but so far without success.

- No luck..." Van der Berg stretched and turned to the window, thinking about something. There was one more option... perhaps the last one. - What about the Legacy project?

The assistant thought for a moment, straining his memory.

- Unfortunately, the result was nil. We exhumed the remains, but found nothing at the estate. Perhaps it's some kind of mistake and the old man was buried elsewhere....

"Or Wilfred-Smith didn't have time to leave a will. He left the most precise blueprints of an orbital ship and a neutron bomb, but he never took care of the fate of his corpse... all the encrypted diaries and notes have been found, we have no more trump cards."

- So you did manage to hurt me after all," he said quietly, addressing someone to himself. - But I'm not going to let myself be bloodied. Dewell!

- Yes, sir? - The engineer shuddered and tilted his head, waiting for an order.

The head of the independent island nation folded his hands on the table in front of him and pressed his lips together.

- Isolate all systems and direct them to the main calculation unit. Sever all connections, pause all programmes. - Dewell's eyebrows rose, and the creator of the most powerful technology company on Earth explained: - We have been declared war and we must strike back. With all the power at our disposal.

- W-what do you mean?

- I will destroy Edward Prayfield .

CHAPTER 21

There was a tentative knock.

- Yes? - Adélie turned round.

The door opened tentatively.

- It's me..." said a low voice with a slight oriental accent. - M-can I come in?

The Frenchwoman was confused, but nodded.

- Oh, umm...sure.

She put the book aside, swung her legs off the bed she was lying on, adjusted her blouse, and moved the bunched up pillow.

Mitsuki walked into the room and stopped on the threshold without looking up.

- Listen..." she began, "about what happened yesterday... and all week in fact.....

Dupont straightened her back, fixed her hair, and lowered her gaze as well. The young Japanese woman noticed it.

- I'm sorry, okay? - she said a little louder, looking her friend in the eye. - I shouldn't have acted like that. I-I didn't mean to pressure you, and maybe I was too... well... intrusive.....

She clenched her fists, turned around helplessly, and shut the door behind her, hoping to regain a sense of confidence and security. But she was all alone with her feelings and never spoke the words that had long been torn out...and who knew how those words would be received?

But keeping it a secret was no longer an option.

- Anyway," the girl finished, clasping her hands together nervously, "I'm sorry if my behaviour embarrassed or offended you. - Itakura took a deep breath. - Perhaps it was too fast, or... not at all what you were expecting....

- Mitsuki-" Adeli raised her eyes at her, but her neighbour stopped her, afraid she didn't have the guts to start this conversation another time:

- ...just please don't ignore me, don't pretend I don't exist. It's too cruel!

The young woman's dark brown eyes were full of tears.

- I understand," she whispered, "if you don't want me around. If you don't see me the way I see you. Just tell me. Please. Otherwise I just can't take it.

- Hey... - The Frenchwoman rose from the bed and took a few steps forward.

- I'm sorry," Mitsuki recoiled and covered her face with her hands. - I don't know what's wrong with me. I... always felt wrong, broken. Like there was something wrong with me, like my place wasn't here somewhere. But then, when we first met and... you were the first person to treat me with such kindness..." she turned and dropped her hands, smiling shyly through her tears. - I realised that I had found my place.

- Maire`de Dew...

Dupont looked away, not knowing what to say. Her face changed rapidly from one emotion to the next.

- And then..." Itakura continued, wiping away her tears with the sleeve of her flight jacket, "when you and the others disappeared for six whole years... we thought you'd been in a plane crash or a wreck... I cried for five days straight... and then...
She rolled up her sleeve and Adela saw a series of thin scars on her wrist.
- My darling..." the Frenchwoman exhaled and covered her mouth with her hand.

- ...but then...then I realised, I just knew in my heart that..." the blonde took a few steps towards her and Mitsuki's voice dropped for a moment, "...that you'd come back one day and...maybe you'd need me...

Dupont opened her arms and finally hugged Itakura, awkwardly and quickly - but it was enough to blow away the remnants of her erect composure.

- ...I'm sorry, these tears... - The girl raised her wet eyes to her friend. - I don't... I can't live without you. Literally. I...tried. But I can't. I can't forget you, Lee.

Adeli looked at her silently with her large European eyes and seemed to be smiling slightly, but Mitsuki in her current pathetic state couldn't tell for sure.

- Even if you ask," she finished, tucked a long strand behind her ear, and said what she'd been thinking about for the past few years: "I... will always love you with all my heart. Even if it's unrequited love.

- Oh...

Dupont froze in place and the Japanese woman felt the hand on her back slip downwards. "Well, 'no one teaches love' and you can't take back what you've said..."

- There, I said it," Mitsuki took a breath and tried to smile. - Yay! Now I can go and die of embarrassment.

She disentangled herself from the weakened embrace and turned to swing the door open and hurry out of the room, but felt thin fingers touch her arm.

- Stay in this world for a while.

The velvet voice she liked so much sounded very different now.

- Y-yes?...? - The girl turned round hopefully.

Adeli bit her lower lip and smiled at her thoughts.

- I... want... to try and do two things..." she began, putting her hands on the girl's hips and pulling her towards her. - Maybe even three...

- God... - Mitsuki closed her eyes and shuddered.

But Dupont had something to say, too.

- First of all, I want to apologise. Really," she clarified seriously under the Japanese woman's gaze, "no kidding. I... didn't understand you. And I didn't think that... you were serious or.....

- Of course. - Itakura sank down frustratedly.

- No, wait...

Mitsuki sighed. "What was I hoping for..."

- You probably think I'm crazy or some kind of pervert....

Adelie shook her head sharply.

- God, no. Not at all. You're-" she paused, considering her words carefully-"You're so... interesting and unusual that I didn't think someone like me would ever interest you at all.

- Someone like you...? - The Asian woman raised an eyebrow sceptically.

- I mean..." The blonde with refined features frowned and lowered her gaze. - Look at me. Who am I, anyway? Where do I belong? I don't even know where I come from....

- ...Like why such a sweet bun would ask such questions..." Mitsuki purred dreamily, looking at her lips.

- What?

"Maybe it's too fast... suddenly to her I'm still the same little girl lost at the airport...?"

- I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself," Itakura said sadly out loud.

Adelie interrupted her thoughts with a gentle movement as she touched Mitsuki's cheeks with the pads of her fingers, lowered her eyelids, and leaned into her face.

- Then I won't hold back.

The Frenchwoman's lips touched her friend's lips; she opened her eyes wide at her hot breath, drew herself forward, and responded to her kiss, immediately and wholeheartedly. Dupont flinched for a moment, surprised at the unexpected pressure, but the gentle touch of her fingers on her shoulder calmed her and she returned the kiss.

When they finally parted their lips and saw each other, each in a different and yet new way, the brunette's eyes almost glowed.

- You have no idea what's going on inside me right now," Mitsuki whispered breathlessly. - And... not just inside.

The girl blushed.

- Believe me, I can imagine," Adelie laughed and leaned in again to kiss her nose.

- So that's a yes...? - the Japanese girl asked in awe. No additions were needed.

- That's a "maybe..."

- I mean.

Itakura once again felt like everything inside was ready to go crack. She had been through a lot in these six years, but to go through heartbreak again.....

Meanwhile, Adélie bit her lower lip and developed her thought with feigned thoughtfulness:

- "Maybe I'm not as heterosexual as I thought I was."

She grinned at the girl, who was clearly relieved, but still had questions:

- "Hetero..." what?

- Exactly.

***

- Wow, are we having...a family dinner? - Olivia adjusted her glasses and raised her eyebrows in surprise.

Edward grinned and poured some wine into her glass:

- I suppose you could call it that too, if no one here minds.

A beep sounded in the speaker hidden under the vaulted ceiling, and the scientist scurried away, adjusting his apron. Vorobyov gave him a surprised look and took a moment to look at the ceiling.

- I didn't realise you could dine in the conservatory.

- Was there a conservatory in here all this time? - Sam raised his eyebrows and flapped his unusually red eyes.

- He was, just out of sight. - Prayfield was already back with a large tray, a wide dish smouldering appetisingly. Walsh allowed herself a discreet sniff and nodded approvingly, smelling the mushrooms.

- A hidden underground section? - Mitsuki suggested in the meantime.

- That's right, young lady.

Edward stopped in front of her, thinking it was worth starting with the youngest member of the club, and carefully placed a weighty, pre-cut piece of cooking on her plate. The girl bowed politely to him and whispered confidentially in her neighbour's ear:

- I opened it two years ago when I was drunk and wanted to hang myself. The secret room always comes in handy!

Adelie turned pale and opened her eyes:

- Don't joke about such things!

Itakura laughed and nudged her in the side. The Frenchwoman still hadn't decided whether she thought it was a good joke or not, but she decided to keep a closer eye on her lover's state of mind.

- Oh, and I thought I was stoned again," Jones breathed a sigh of relief as he gazed dreamily at the shrubs and indoor trees glistening in the sunset sunlight after automatic watering. - I mean, more than usual. It's okay to do that now. - He turned to the tall woman next door and pulled a bundle of thin rolls from his trouser pocket. - Share?...? Hippies share the joy!

Olivia politely declined the offer and took the opportunity to change the topic of conversation when Prayfield approached her part of the table as a volunteer waiter.

- Please...," the businesslike landlord put her portion of the dinner on a plate. - The speciality of our little county, beef Wellington.

- Wow," smiled the Irishwoman, noting to herself that the dish smelled and looked great. - Did the great chef cook it himself?

- This time," Prayfield smiled through his dark glasses. - I had to lock myself in the kitchen to do it right.

- It's true," Mitsuki, who had become more animated of late, pointed out, "we tried to break through, but there's not much you can do about the aluminium anti-radiation door.

The short-haired blonde sitting next to her removed her hand from under the table and touched her temple, picturing the weight of her thoughts:

- "I am death, destroyer of worlds..."

Sam looked back at Adela and laughed, not buying the joke:

- I have no idea what you're all talking about.

Itakura smiled, then remembered where she was from and exactly how she was related to Oppenheimer.

- Mm, it's delicious. - Vorobyov put aside his fork and turned to the professor, who had finally sat down in the centre seat. - Is this... puff pastry?

- That's right," confirmed Prayfield . - More mushrooms, Provencal herbs, spices and some cheese. Brings back memories?

- Here's another, no. - Alexei grinned and thought about something. - Old memories..." he said after a couple of moments, slowly and with a more noticeable accent, "...belong to the old life. It is better to create new ones.

His English friend nodded understandingly.

- That's a good idea for a toast. - Edward looked round at everyone at the table and raised his glass. - Here's to new memories, friends!

- Here's to new friends," Walsh encouraged him and looked at Sam. The American supported her:

- A new family...

- To love..." Adelie turned to Mitsuki and placed her hand on her knee again, no longer embarrassed that anyone would notice. - And hope...

Itakura answered the girl with a shadow of a smile and raised her glass as well:

- Here's to new adventures that will make us even stronger and closer.

She looked at Prayfield , nodded to him and he finished, no doubt all the members of the growing Adventure Club would sign off on it:

- For the future and for the freedom that belongs to us alone.

***

- Look," Olivia said, finishing her dinner, "I didn't know you were such a good cook. I didn't know you were so good at cooking.

Edward smiled into his moustache.

- Well, it's never too late to learn new things. Grey hair is no obstacle to new knowledge.

The cooking really did come out surprisingly well.

Sam turned to Adela and pointed out:

- If I had a professor like that, I'd be the second Granville Wood.

- Don't talk ahead of time," Vorobiev cooled him down, pouring wine, "you haven't seen him lecturing yet.

Adelie frowned a little, and Prayfield laughed:

- It wasn't true, it was a long time ago.

- No," Alexei objected and raised his glass, "I saw it with my own eyes. For some reason you invited me to a joint lecture that day, I think, with James Webb.

Mitsuki made a funny face and sang to her friend:

- We've got some pretty cool astronomers here, don't we?

- Wait, is that a British accent...? - Dupont laughed. - And you didn't waste any time!

- ...but you were so drunk," Vorobiev continued, "that in the end you were the only one in the lecture hall, and instead of the history of the Big Bang, you gave a demonstration of some barely working flight suit made of tin cans, paper and a few coffee machines.

- Good God," the professor slapped his forehead. - I shouldn't have mixed bourbon with psychotropics.....

Walsh laughed.

- So this is how you've spent all these years.

- I needed something to occupy myself after the war. - The scientist folded his hands in front of him and became visibly serious. - For many reasons, it was... very difficult then.

The Irishwoman nodded slowly.

- It was not easy for all of us.

- Yeah.

Prayfield pressed his lips together and frowned even harder, staring at one point. Walsh decided not to reopen the trauma of the past and remained tactfully silent; she was familiar with the expression on the faces of those who had returned from the front and lost loved ones.

- Well," Jones slammed the table to lighten the mood. - Next stop, Norway? We're going somewhere else again, aren't we?

Vorobiev threw Adela a serious look, and Prayfield straightened up and folded his arms across his chest.

- Yes," he replied, hardly able to get his mind off it, "we're at the finish line. I found a way to close several time holes at once, so it will be much easier now.

The Frenchwoman grinned into her fist.

- The main thing is not to stumble into secret cults again.

- We'll try to get around the evangelists next time," Sam smiled at her.

Alexei sighed and got up from his seat.

- That won't be necessary. - Everyone turned to him in surprise, and the former Soviet military doctor was slightly embarrassed. - I want to say... to apologise, or something.

- For what...? - Mitsuki turned her head incomprehensibly.

- I failed you then. I left you in a moment of danger. - Vorobyov's voice trembled. - Betrayed... officer's honour...

- God, don't start.

- No, it's true," the Russian doctor objected assertively, his hands trembling. - I have failed you. But I will not fail you again. I give you my word.

Edward stood up from his seat as well and raised his hands reassuringly.

- It's all right, comrade. mate. It's all right. - His voice, at first aloof and uncertain, became softer and more trusting. - You've never let anyone down, old chap.

- You came back at the end, didn't you? - Dupont supported her older friend with the eager nods of her young tablemate.

- We wouldn't have made it if it weren't for your help," the African-American man encouraged the girls.

- That's right. You saw the call for help and you went straight to the rescue. What is that if not true loyalty and devotion?

Edward smiled and Alexei, with a mixture of guilt and relief on his face, nodded appreciatively back at him.

- Thank you, friend," he said to him in Russian and extended his hand to shake. The professor leaned over, readily shook his hand and said:

- It doesn't matter what mistakes we make. What matters is what we do afterwards.

***

- Hey...

A slight nudge in the side - and Adélie came out of the slight reverie into which the monotonous noise of the working aeroplane propeller had plunged her.

- Y-yes, what?

- There's a phone for you, madam. - Mitsuki's on-board headphones jokingly pointed to her own head phones, which the Frenchwoman had taken off for a little nap.

- Oh, sure. Thank you, sunshine. - The girl put the bulky rim on her head. - Hello?

A monotonous voice was heard inside:

- This is the pilot of the aeroplane speaking, welcome back on board Vorobyov Airlines! - There was a short laugh, and Alexei switched to his usual manner of speech: - Just kidding, sorry, I didn't want to wake you up.

- That's all right," Dupont smiled, unable to suppress a yawn. - I'm sorry, it must be strange to sleep with all this noise.

The Japanese woman next to her smiled quietly, trying not to overhear anyone else's conversation.

- Nothing strange, really," meanwhile replied the Russian doctor with a rich history. - By the forty-fourth I had learnt so many things in the trenches and barricades that a good night's sleep in the face of falling bombs would seem an ordinary thing.

- Wow. - Adelie raised her eyebrows in a machine-like and polite manner.

- But that's not why I disturbed you... - Vorobiev hesitated in the pilot's chair and caught the interested look of Prayfield in the seat next to him. - In fact, I just wanted to see how you were feeling.

- You mean the injury I got six months ago?

Itakura looked anxiously at her neighbour.

- Yes," Alexei paused awkwardly, and Adélie could almost physically feel how much he wanted to regain the trust he seemed to have lost. - I usually inquire about my patients' health more often, but with all the events.....

- It's healing, thank you," Dupont smiled encouragingly. - I didn't think I'd survive this.

The girl next door caught some of the words, flinched, and reached up to hug the woman she loved. Adeli smiled at Mitsuki and responded readily to her hug.

- You're stronger than you think," Vorobyev encouraged her, feeling that he had closed one of the gestalts and that his former confidence was returning. - Not many people are lucky enough to get hit by a sniper's bullet and survive.

- Apparently, the Virgin Mary helped me. - Dupont cast a warm glance at her friend and whispered inaudibly: "And she's not the only one!"

Mitsuki blushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure.

- Anything can happen. And now... - Vorobyov took his eyes off the steering wheel and switched the toggle switch from private to general communication: - Dear passengers and members of the club of desperate suicides, fasten your seatbelts and prepare for a sharp descent - we are coming in for landing in Trondheim.

***

- Wow," Adélie exhaled, holding up her fur hat. - I've never seen a fjord up close.

She stood on the edge of a flat rocky cliff, blown by the cold wind, surrounded by the same flat mountains with sparse snow-capped peaks, and far below stretched a still green valley with sparse houses by a huge river, in which, as in a giant mirror, reflected the blue-black sky with massive cumulus clouds that slowly floated from one side of the world to the other.

- Fantastic view, isn't it? - Mitsuki whispered admiringly, touching her shoulder. Dupont turned round and nodded, hardly able to resist kissing her on the cheek. The girl moved closer and inadvertently put her arm around her waist. Adélie closed her eyes.

"We could stand like this forever... like there was no one else... no disaster to prevent... no world to save... just me... and her..."

- Wrap up warm, girls, you'll catch a cold out here. - Olivia smiled warmly at her and walked over to the rest of the group of travellers.

Dupont nodded in embarrassment and lowered her gaze to the graceful fingers at her hip. "Maybe this is the only opportunity... the last moment of calm before the denouement..."

The Frenchwoman looked at the professor checking with the wrist-worn particle detector. "Edward would understand. We've already played our part. It's almost over..." She squeezed the Japanese woman's hand, which immediately reciprocated, and thought about what Itakura had been through in the six years that had flown by in a few months for her. "To give up everything now would be to betray both her and her path. It would be unfair and unjust..."

So no. It's a road they share. And they have to go all the way.

Adeli turned to Mitsuki and hugged her.

***

- And people, like, live in places like this, don't they? - Sam squinted his eyes and whistled.

Prayfield shifted his gaze from his friends at the edge of the fjord to the panorama of the Norwegian landscape with a slight smile.

- More than that, mate.

- Wow," the American shook his head and took a few steps to the nearest edge of the platform. - I guess I wouldn't mind settling down in a place like this, either. Be a gamekeeper or a lumberjack.....

- Or a hunter," Vorobyov nodded toward one of the pine forests far below. - There should be plenty of fur in the foothills here.

- Nah," Jones shook his head disapprovingly, "why kill animals.

Alexei raised an eyebrow.

- For sustenance, for example?

- Are we in the stone age? Nah, bro, not my thing. I'm all for equality to the end. - Sam adjusted his hat, which had fallen off in the wind. - People, animals... don't kill anyone.

The Soviet doctor shrugged his shoulders:

- Whatever you say, comrade.

Walsh glanced over to Alexei and took cautious steps towards Prayfield .

- What does the marvellous compass show? - The Irishwoman asked.

The grey-haired man adjusted his dark glasses, looked at the weighty wristwatch again, and pointed higher to the east:

- The rift is somewhere in that crevice, but we'll need to get closer to snag the frequency as accurately as possible.

Meanwhile, Adélie felt something. The soil and small stones at her feet vibrated. She cast a concerned glance at Mitsuki and turned to the others:

- Wait... are you hearing this too?

A growing rumble was heard.

- Wait a minute-" The young Japanese woman squinted her eyes.

Edward leaned forward and suddenly waved his arms.

- Ladies, get back! - shouted the professor. - Step away from the edge!

Adélie recoiled, barely able to stay on her feet. Vorobiev rushed to her aid.

- Look out! - shouted the Frenchwoman, trying to shout over the strange noise. - Mitsuki!

The brunette tried to keep her balance, but the ground began to crumble beneath her feet.

Dupont's pupils dilated with horror.

- Hold on!

Itakura tried to jump back, but it was too late. She felt herself tumbling downwards with a thud, along with rocks and soil fragments... but at the last moment, something jerked her upwards and she hit the edge of the collapsed platform, but she was unharmed.

- ...Please, just hold on..." whispered Adeli, struggling to hold the girl's hand. But her leather jacket was too slick to hold her long enough.....

- Now, I'll get her out!

Vorobyev dropped to his stomach, grabbed Mitsuki's wrist, which was slipping from the Frenchwoman's hands, and helped her to climb up. The girl struggled over the edge of the cliff and collapsed with a shudder onto Adélie, who had picked her up, white with terror.

Prayfield breathed out a sigh of relief and straightened, watching Alexei help the girls to a safe distance with Sam and Olivia. Then he shifted his gaze to the collapsed fragment of the fjord... and the reason for its sudden destruction became clearer than ever.

From behind the edge of the cliff to the ever-increasing noise showed first the metal gimbal, then the tops of two paired turbines, then they shuddered jet engines in full, and then a series of large portholes of an unusual vehicle of shining metal with yellow inserts, beneath which was a wide hatch that would fit a whole car.

Adelie glanced over at Mitsuki, still white as snow, while Vorobyov pulled his pistol from his shoulder holster and, under the worried gaze of Olivia and Sam, unsecured it.

The engines of the machine synchronously changed the angle of inclination, the aircraft moved a few metres closer and lowered to the very surface and the steel aircraft door moved upwards. The oddly shaped silhouette in the cockpit signalled to someone inside, the turbines slowed down, and the noise and vibration of the air, which had caused a small earthquake at the top of the cliff where the giant machine had landed, quieted down enough not to interrupt human speech.

A pair of boots came down to the surface with a heavy thud.

Edward made a warning sign to the others and stepped forward.

A man in a yellow and white spacesuit with aluminium inserts removed an opaque helmet of gold-tinted tempered glass and said with a chuckle:

- Velkommen til min varden, harr Prayfield . I asked you to stop, but you wouldn't listen.

***

- Well," Edward straightened his head and squared his shoulders, "I can't say that your appearance came as a complete surprise.

- Really?" van der Berg raised an eyebrow.

Prayfield stepped forward and blocked the girls still lying on the ground beside the Russian doctor who was slowly rising to his feet.

- I expected you to find us. - the scientist said calmly. - There's hardly any real hiding from a man of your abilities.

The antagonist in the stylish spacesuit looked down at his helmet and handed it over to an assistant in less flashy clothing who immediately lowered himself from the vehicle.

- I'm glad you are sober about the current reality.

The professor shook his head:

- Except the fact that you're here only proves my point. You're stumped and you can't ignore what we're doing. And you know that our approach works. - The scientist helped the still trembling Japanese woman up, put his arm around the Frenchwoman and added: - We heal time while saving the world you have condemned to destruction.

Van der Berg shrugged his shoulders and casually cast a speaking glance in Walsh's direction. The Irishwoman lowered her eyes.

"He knows more than he wants to say..."

- Well, maybe, although I would argue about the terminology. - The Dutchman thought for a moment. - So you have guessed about the connection of the time rifts with each other....

- What's more, I found their source. And-" The Englishman frowned. - You were right, my part in this story is much bigger than I thought.

- Oh, believe me, I'm aware of that.
There was more than a sneer in Volkert's voice, but Edward stopped any possible explanation:

- Wait...I have to say this.

The Dutchman folded his arms across his chest and the grey-haired scientist continued:

- You and I are bound together by more than fate. My inattention in the distant past has damaged the fabric of space and time in this version of events. And-" Prayfield sighed. - You wouldn't be in this position if it weren't for me. So I suppose I'm the one who should apologise. I created the original time paradox, not someone else.

Van der Berg nodded contentedly, though not without a note of irritation:

- I'm glad we agree on that at least.

The professor sighed, touched the ring on his hand thoughtfully, which was unaccustomedly heavy, and shook his head.

- But I can't back down, no matter how much I want to," he looked into the eyes of his powerful adversary. - We have no other choice: the time gaps must be closed before it's too late for this world.

Van der Berg frowned for a moment, then jabbed a finger at the scientist.

- Don't lie to yourself, Ed, - the usual protectionism and fear of an uncontrollable future hide behind the pathos. You yourself would like to be in my shoes, admit it!

Prayfield grinned with benevolent doom.

- I won't even deny it. Who wouldn't want to feel like a god?

Sam glanced over at Olivia. She looked down at him.

- These are... opportunities that mankind has always dreamed of," Van der Berg said meanwhile, as if convincing himself. - Predictability, stability. True development along the most efficient path without the chaos of the unknown. - Adeli, still hugging the pale from shock Mitsuk, lowered her head thoughtfully and the Dutchman turned to her. - Understand, with the power I have... I can lead humanity forward much faster than has ever been possible. This is a once-in-a-century opportunity!

- Perhaps," the professor nodded slowly, folding his arms across his chest, "but you're making the same mistake I made. You use energy from parallel time streams uncontrollably, and you don't even think about the consequences.

- That's absurd," the Dutchman said and looked up at the four-rotor helicopter that had taken him to the top of the fjord, coming in for a landing far from the collapsed edge. - My technology is perfectly safe.

- Is that really how it is? - Edward raised an eyebrow and did some calculations in his mind. - You are using Einstein-Rosenkov chronodynamic subatomic convergence to capture light from other time lines, but your way of scaling and stabilising microscopic black holes does not take into account the long term. - Prayfield took a few steps forward and added: - You take away, but you don't give back.

Vorobiev said softly:

- Energy imbalance....

- ...sooner or later," Prayfield continued after his friend, "will destroy the universes through which you are trying to guess the fate of our world. Unless the formula for creating portals is revised, at some point in time dark matter will outweigh visible matter and these worlds will collapse into themselves.

Van der Berg nodded profoundly:

- Gods are supposed to create worlds, not destroy them..." The Dutchman turned his head at the smaller drones descending after the massive flying vehicle and looked at the Englishman again with an impenetrable gaze. - 'Perhaps you are right, colleague. I will take your thought into consideration.

- Glad to help," said the grey-haired inventor, who was aware of his surroundings. - Especially since it's not good for our universe either. Your full-power windows to other worlds affect the state of elementary particles, which create unpredictability of the atomic mass... - the professor caught the icy gaze of the Japanese woman, who had already come to her senses, and sighed. "There should be no formulae in the book, as Steve used to say..." - In general, if you reduce the calculations, the end will be only one - the heat death of the universe.

- It will come anyway," Van der Berg said coldly.

Prayfield shook his head.

- There's a difference in our approach. You are a fatalist and you are afraid that I will take away your toy, deprive the ruler of the world of his power and this fear prevents you from reading between the lines.

The scientist sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and took a few more steps toward the Dutchman. The latter raised his hand warningly - and from the unmanned rotorcrafts, one after another, sprang a line of heavily armed soldiers in identical dark-coloured uniforms and helmets with golden visors. Vorobyov immediately pulled a pistol from his shoulder holster, but quickly realised the futility of that idea. Resistance was pointless.

Edward glanced at the muzzles of the rifles pointed at them and shook his head in frustration.

- Volkert," he addressed the owner of the private army with a sigh, abandoning any attempt to retain the gentlemanly gloss of a book hero, "I don't want to destroy what you've done. You have created a wonderful future, an incredible present. But at too exorbitant a cost.

Van der Berg glared at his opponent, but his gaze softened somewhat. Prayfield finished:

- I just want you to help me reduce that cost and save millions of lives yet to be born. That's all.

Volkert shook his head doubtfully.

- It's... impossible. It is. Too risky. - There was a faint note of regret, not remorse, in his detached voice. - There's no turning back.

- It's always there. - The scientist stepped closer at the sound of bolts being cocked and put a hand on the man in the sealed suit's shoulder. - You haven't done any real harm to anyone yet. You're not a killer.

- No," Van der Berg shook his head and brushed the Englishman's hand off his shoulder with a rough gesture. - It's too late. What I've done... there's no changing it. The Solar System was meant to end this way. - Adeli exchanged a hard look with Mitsuki, and Vorobyovnoticed Sam turn pale and clench his fists. - It's for the sake of a better future for all mankind and for all the other alternate worlds," the head of a utopia city with the resources of an entire country finished his tirade and glanced at the people who didn't yet know how doomed their fight against the inevitable was.

Prayfield intercepted his gaze:

- You realise you're wrong, don't you? And we won't stop, even if you have to kill me.

Dupont shuddered. The way Ed had emphasised the word "kill".....

It didn't escape Van der Berg either.

- I am afraid I shall have to go to extreme measures," said the Dutchman with grim determination. - And what's more... I've already done it. In one of the branches of the time lines ...

Edward nodded understandingly.

- You've studied the future and seen the possible outcomes of our clash. Well, that's a compelling argument.

- I know everything that will happen next," Volkert glared at him. - I've seen your every move. You're not as clever and unpredictable as you think you are.

- Well. - The Englishman smiled boldly and shrugged his shoulders. - Surprise me, tell me, what will happen in the next chapters?

The man who had destroyed the Solar System straightened up menacingly:

- Of course, because I know how it ends - I read your novel to the end.

Olivia glanced anxiously at Sam. He gave her a quick, understanding look.

Meanwhile, the man in the tight-fitting spacesuit took a few steps around his patiently crossed arms opponent.

- We'll disagree, you'll try to do more damage to me, there'll be unnecessary and excessive sacrifices on both sides-" Volkert saluted, "It's been a long time, Adélie-" The all-powerful Lord of Fates looked at the grey-haired professor and paused theatrically. - And then you'll try to do something you haven't thought of yet - and use the experimental particle accelerator in London to cause a cascade reaction on the scale of the universe, to repair time itself and solve the time paradox.

Adelie raised her eyebrows and immediately turned to the leader of the rebel group. Prayfield frowned for a moment - one could not help but admit that it might indeed have crossed his mind - but then stretched his lips in a polite smile:

- Well, that sounds like a good ending to the book.

- But you're not likely to read it," Van der Berg said, turning round, "I'm not going to let that happen. The collider is closed, physics research has been curtailed, we've been simulating the behaviour of elementary particles digitally for storage on magnetic disks for a long time. You won't be able to use that trick.

- Not a bad move, I'll admit.

- He forced himself. - The Dutchman clenched his fists and looked at his feet, his voice shaking suddenly. - The solution to the time paradox contains too many variables and possible outcomes, but almost all of them had an unpleasant detail for me...

- ...you died in each of the futures you saw," Edward finished for him, tilting his head. The metal object on his ring finger was vibrating and warming rhythmically, but unfortunately, it could not be more useful right now.

Volkert nodded silently.

- The time paradox..." he continued reluctantly after a while and sighed. - Any attempt to solve it leads to uncertainty, which makes it impossible to predict the future beyond this point.

Prayfield shook his head understandingly.

- But," Van der Berg continued, "since, in the natural course of events, I should long ago have disappeared from this world and time to reappear in another, I suppose so. If you win, there will be no reason for my existence. In the future, my doppelganger won't be stuck in this time and leave instructions on how to ignite a dormant star inside Jupiter and destroy the Solar System, my actions will have no meaning, and..." The failed time traveller, who had instead built an entire empire that changed the balance of power on the world stage, sighed doomedly. - That's why I can't let you win. It's a zero-sum game. We've both gone too far.

- Well. - The Professor inclined his head. - I suppose so.

- So I'm offering you one more option," the man who had once saved his life in a lonely New York flat turned to him. - The last one I'm still capable of, thanks to you. A truce... and a new life.

- A new life?

Van der Berg nodded gravely and glanced at the paramilitary soldiers still ready for any order. God knows he didn't want to do this... but he would have to with all trump cards. Including the last one.

The Dutchman bent his right arm at the elbow, pressed a button hidden in his glove, and made a few erratic movements with the finger of his free hand over the flickering image that appeared on the cloud of rapidly melting smoke above his wrist.

- I've spent weeks researching not only our shared future, but your past as well. And I know the only thing that kept you afloat before you broke. - Van der Berg clicked his tongue in satisfaction, slowly withdrew his left hand, and raised his eyes to Prayfield , whose gaze was fixed on a twitching hologram with vaguely familiar shapes.

- Evangelina, was that the name of this German girl?

Hovering over the man's palm was a blurred image of a young German woman with large expressive eyes, thin lips and dark hair in a vintage style after the fashion of the 40s.

- Lina..." Edward whispered with a petrified expression on his face.
The image of the girl was three-dimensional, swaying in the smoke as if she were alive.

- You were a great couple," Van der Berg said softly, keeping his gaze on the professor. - A switched Nazi and a brave English hero. It's a pity you didn't get there in time....

The Briton turned pale.

- Oh, you.

He almost lunged at his opponent with his fists, but the latter raised his hands preemptively, signalling to the mercenaries at the same time:

- Easy, easy! I can fix this!

Edward exhaled with clenched teeth and punched the air, but he still took a step back and straightened up with an effort. Adelie had never seen him so furious inside.

- There are countless realities where history has taken a different course," Van der Berg continued, taking off his discreet bracelet and placing it on the ground. A new cloud of harmless gas immediately began to form over the tiny flickering lamp, and a holographic image of a girl in an almost full-length white blouse and skirt writhing from foot to foot appeared.

- I've seen worlds where both of you died," Volkert continued meanwhile, standing beside the elderly Briton. - Where she was only wounded. Where only you died.

- You're-you're saying that....

- Yes, Ed.

The man turned to his astonished interlocutor, who was only now able to take his eyes off the ghostly image of the elegant woman, and continued quite sincerely:

- I can return you to the love of your life. In the reality where your doppelganger died so as not to create a paradox. At about the same time, or at the same time, if you are not confused by the age difference. Or we can think together about how to transfer your consciousness into a younger body..." The Dutchman thought for a moment and then admitted, "It's a little more complicated, but with my resources, it's quite feasible.

Prayfield 's gaze read pain that he hoped would remain hidden forever.

- And what do you ask in return?

- Just back off. - Van der Berg raised his hand and led it around him, pointing to the distant fjords and valleys. - Let your world die its fate. And help me free humanity from its chains.

- This is... an interesting dilemma.....

- Believe me, it's not as complicated as it looks. - Volkert put his hand on Edward's shoulder and looked at the hologram. - You'll be able to live the life you've always dreamed of, the life you never had. Get the family you've always wanted. The love you've never been able to let go of.

- Love...

Lina, in the holographic video, smiled gently and waved her palm at someone before the image shuddered and the recording went on another loop.

A tear ran down Prayfield 's cheek.

- You know I'm not lying, Edward," Van der Berg said, and stepped back respectfully, setting an example. - You do get a second chance if you just get out of the way.

The soldiers in impenetrable helmets looked among themselves and one of them lowered the muzzle of his rifle.

- Just one step and a new life, huh...? - Edward finally looked at Volkert.

- I will, mate," the Dutchman assured him, exhaling inwardly. - I promise. If you let me help you leave this reality and give me your word not to interfere with my ability to repair the damage you've done to my system. - The man shifted his gaze back to the projection and nodded slowly to his thoughts. - If you give me that word, I will return you to the woman you love and you can live the life you haven't had in the last... twenty-four years.

- Twenty-four...

- Then it won't all be for nothing. - Van der Berg turned to Prayfield and smiled encouragingly.

- Edward...! - The voice that should have been there a long time ago suddenly sounded.

Adeli stood on shaky legs, hugging Mitsuki's gaze burning through the two men, and tears were in her eyes.

- Everything is no longer in vain," Vorobyov supported the girl, squaring his shoulders with dignity.

The professor averted his eyes, frowned, and clenched his temples with his hands.

- You're right," he finally said briefly and took a step away. Volkert gave him a confused look. - Maybe in another life.

- What?

- The past is gone," Edward turned to him, glancing longingly down at his feet. - Entschuldigung, Lina.

And crushed the holographic bracelet with the sole of his shoe.

Evangeline's portrait twitched and ghostly melted into a dissipating cloud.

- What the hell? - exclaimed the Dutchman indignantly. Prayfield immediately answered him with a mixture of thoughtfulness and increasing determination:

- Everything is relative and you're right in your own way. I can step back and start a new life in a new world... but nothing will make me forget the choices I made here. What a world I left behind, knowing it would be destroyed and I could have prevented it. - The scientist swiped at the large ring on his right hand and slammed his fist grimly against his palm. - I will fight for its future. And not for my own sake, no. For their sake. - he nodded softly to the side, never taking his eyes off his opponent. - For the sake of my family and our shared legacy.

- Oh my god," Mitsuki squeaked and shook the wide-eyed Frenchwoman by the shoulders. - He called us family!

- Something new even for Ed," Vorobiev remarked in a low voice.

- What's a legacy? - Sam asked in a low voice. - You mean white people's? Because my parents' heritage was all segregation and racism.....

- So the balance of power remains the same," the professor finished and raised his eyebrows provocatively. - You can kill me, but I won't give up.

- Proud of that boy," Olivia whispered with a smile.

- And very stupid! - Volkert has lost his patience. - You should have joined me! Because together we could have made the world an even better place!

He barely restrained himself from punching the pompous Brit who had just signed his own death warrant.

- I've had my say," Prayfield cut him off and turned back to the remaining Adventure Club members, covering Adela and Mitsuki. The blonde squeezed his forearm gratefully, and Vorobyov glanced at Walsh and Jones, stepped between them and the armed mercenaries, and slowly raised his Makarov, alone against the fifty automatically rifled military men who were confused and turned on the leader.

- So be it," Van der Berg said in a dead voice, and stepped back. - Get rid of him, I don't want to hear any more," he waved his hand to one of the soldiers and put on the helmet with the orange-coloured glass that he had obligingly handed over.

Dupont felt as if her heart had stopped for a second.

- Sir...? - one of the armed men hesitantly jabbed his weapon in the direction of the girls and the woman. Volkert shrugged indifferently.

- You never know what can happen here, tourists get lost. Is this your first time?

- N-no, sir.

- Then go ahead, Lieutenant.

Mitsuki squeezed the Frenchwoman's fingers with force and looked up at her with deep brown eyes. "I love you," she whispered soundlessly.

Adélie answered her just as silently: "And I you."

It's over.

There was the synchronised sound of bolts being raised. The rifles were aimed at the almost unarmed men.

Alexei pulled the safety off his gun and glanced tensely at Edward. He smiled faintly and rolled up his sleeves.

- Fire! - Van der Berg shouted behind him, losing patience.

Prayfield pushes Sparrowhawk backwards and throws an arm out in front of him.

The rumble of automatic queues was heard.

Surrounding the captives in a semicircle, the mercenaries fired on the place for a minute, hundreds of occasional ricocheting bullets riddled the stony ground, a heavy haze hanging in the air.

- Stand down! - finally shouted the lieutenant. - Reload!

Van der Berg clenched his fists and exhaled.

"The future...requires sacrifice..."

There was a surprised exclamation. The Dutchman turned round sharply.

- What?

The dust cleared little by little.

- Impossible...

A swaying hemisphere hung from the spot where the executioners had been, refracting the light in a strange way and glinting in the sun. Volkert squinted and took a few steps forward, pushing one of the soldiers out of the way.

The spherical dome, standing on a rib, rippled, followed by vague silhouettes of standing people - and the object hissed into sparks, which ran in concentric circles from the edge to the centre of the weighty ring on the hand of a quite alive scientist.

- You're not the only one who's been preparing for this meeting, mate," Prayfield grinned and lowered his fist.

Still not believing they were alive, Adeli slowly straightened up and the first thing she did was rush over to see if Mitsuki was in one piece - but she too was unharmed.

- Is that some kind of force field? - Van der Berg, meanwhile, asked in a daze. - On what fantastic principles does it even work...?

Edward looked at the young girls, crossed his eyes with the American and the Russian, and assessed the situation around him. The dazed soldiers were almost out of bullets, and it would take some time to reload, but the situation was still almost hopeless. "We need to make our way to the plane..." The scientist quickly looked behind the backs of the distracted military, who had arrived here in spacious cockpit-less capsules with four carrying propellers. "...Or take advantage of the panic and hijack one of these," he finished the thought.

The second, of course, would be more realistic.

- Classical thermodynamics," Prayfield answered the question aloud to stall for time. - Vaporisation of the metal layer by vibration, followed by conversion of kinetic energy into thermal energy. The shield would melt any bullets that got in the way.

- If they meet.

Volkert lifted his head and nodded sharply towards the only member of the Englishman's crew who hadn't moved since the rescue.

- Ed...Ward..." Olivia whispered finally, and with an effort she pulled her hand away from the area of her torso near her left breast; there was blood on her fingers.

- I don't...

A crimson stain began to spread across the light-coloured jacket.

- Oh, God, no.

Edward was ahead of Vorobyov, who had rolled up his sleeves, and rushed over to the woman who had fallen to the ground.

- No, no!

The professor picked up the rapidly fainting Irishwoman and gently laid her head down. Walsh's pale forehead was covered with sweat, and a cramp ran down her legs. The doctor glanced at the through wound, grabbed her arm with a quick movement, and began to count her pulse.

Volkert shook his head and took a few detached steps forward, mulling something over to himself.

- You can brag about your toys all you want," he said at last, "but brute force is the only valuable resource. Sometimes karma itself leads it by the hand.

Sam knelt down in a daze, put his hand on the injured engineer's trembling shoulder, and immediately pulled it away. It was all too familiar.

Dupont dazedly pressed her fingers to her lips.

- Oh, my God, just hang on!

Alexei took his hand off his pulse and shook his head hopelessly. "Heart, burst valve..." - he whispered soundlessly.

Itakura clenched her fingers and rested her face on her still friend's chest.

- You shouldn't have betrayed the course of history, Olivia," Van der Berg continued, watching the scene unfold at his feet in fascination. - I saw it beforehand, and... I'm afraid you chose your own death.

Blood from a series of through wounds reached the edge of the cliff and began to trickle down in a rivulet.

- Edward..." Olivia's eyes blurred as she tried to find the scientist, but with each breath, the painful shock made it harder to focus, and her strength began to leave her. - Edward, I don't...

- No, no..." Prayfield took her face in his hands and tried to catch her slipping gaze. - Please, Liv...

There was a hoarse cough and a sigh from the last of his strength.

- I didn't...sting...ley.....

- Liv... Liv!

Silence.

- Liv...

CHAPTER 22

"Time is a god.

And today he died..."

- You killed her.

Van der Berg clutched the glass helmet in his hands and raised his head defiantly. "It's just like in Variant-184... so the horizon of uncertainty is close at hand

- I warned you how this would end.

"It's just an old man losing another person in his too long life..."

- You killed her! - Edward repeated, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists tightly. His pupils dilated and his whites reddened. He was all alone and apparently unarmed-except for that strange ring, which had already spent its charge and was no longer a threat.

- You did it yourself. - Volkert shook his head sympathetically. - I told you I'd take away everything you hold dear.

The Englishman cast a glance behind him and lowered his head.

- You can't do it again.

Prayfield suddenly gave a shout of rage, lunged at the Dutchman, and pushed him on his back with all his might.

- Ed! - The blonde shouted, and the Russian and the American rushed out of their seats.

- Get back! - The grey-haired man in the goggles said, and swung at the man in the spacesuit. He tried to dodge, but only lost his balance, and the two fighters rolled down the cliff in a cloud of sand and dust.

- Edward!

- Hush, hush... - Vorobyov put his hand on Adela's shoulder and gestured for her to duck.

The mercenaries were confused, some fired a couple of shots, but immediately stopped. After a brief pause, they split into chaotic groups and ran to the warming rotorcraft to follow the leader through the air.

- He wants to give us time...! - Sam finally exclaimed.

- But he-" Mitsuki threw up her hands and pointed towards the gentle cliff where the dust cloud had not yet settled.

- He'll be fine, believe me," Alexei reassured her and tried to smile. - He's been preparing for a month. In the meantime... - The doctor with military training glanced at one of the few remaining unmanned helicopters with four propellers, around which there was not a soul. - Can you sneak in there and try to start it up?

The Jap frowned and pressed her lips together.

- I'll... try..." The girl blinked a few times and answered more confidently: - Of course I can, yes.

- Then go ahead," Vorobiev urged her and turned his gaze to Olivia, who was lying on a fragment of rock, pale and dead, with half-closed eyelids, still clutching with stiffened hands the wounds that would never heal. - And the young man and I will... lift the body. Are you ready? - The man looked up at his younger mate from the other continent.

- Y-yes, sir," Jones nodded briefly, the kaleidoscope of events bringing back traumatic memories.

- Then come on," the Russian hurried him up. - We'll organise a memorial service later.

- Yeah...let's say a proper goodbye.

- Let me help too..." Dupont finally recovered from her stare at the girl, walked over to Sam and leaned over so he could redistribute Walsh's weight.

- Careful, don't get dirty," Alex warned her, but it wasn't necessary. She knew how to keep herself clean.

***

- Get away from me! - Van der Berg hissed. But his adversary was not going to give up:

- Oh, no.

One of the soldiers shot awkwardly into the air and the sound of a rifle muzzle hitting a rifle was heard.

- Get off!

No more shots were fired.

- What," Prayfield grinned, glancing at the dwindling figures at the edge of the fjord, "numerical superiority doesn't work anymore when they can hit you too?

"Quick, round!" - came the shout. - "We'll meet you at the bottom!"

But it was clear they wouldn't get there in time.
Prayfield looked behind him and something flashed in his eyes. Was it uncertainty or fear?

Volkert turned his head and spotted the approaching edge of the spinning cliff. They had about ten seconds left.

- You'll never get away... alive! - he shouted and pushed the professor violently to the side. He managed to dodge, but he couldn't hold the lapels of the Dutchman's suit with the same force, and the latter was able to twist his arm to touch the base of the glove on his other hand with a series of buttons.

The indicator panel inside one of the machines lit up and flashed with multicoloured lights. The bulky drone jerked and its propellers immediately spun with a clattering hum.

- Shit!" came a surprised voice inside. - Itai nani?!

The Japanese girl had barely had time to grasp one of the unbuckled seat belts on the seat against the wall when the propellers outside turned and the flying vehicle with its doors open soared into the sky, almost pushing the girl who was clutching the cable outside.

- Mitsuki! - Adelie shouted fearfully, huddling on the ground and watching the transport take off.

- So," Vorobiev said with feigned equanimity, "the situation is heating up.

Sam shook his head.

- I had to get on that particular chopper.....

- Hey!" the Frenchwoman hissed at him. Alexei backed her up and nudged Jones, nodding to the far end of the line of drones left on the ground.

- Plan B. Second pilot, out.

- What's next, Ed? - Meanwhile, Van der Berg asked, breathing hard, who had managed to slow his slide into the abyss.

Edward finally let go of his opponent and rose slowly to his feet. They were standing on the edge of a lower cliff, and far below, beyond the thin haze and low clouds, the winding bend of the river glistened, about five hundred metres away. Above, mercenaries in heavy armour hurried down the slope, their weapons jingling on their belts and leaving columns of dust behind them. Amid the clatter of boots, the approaching rumble of blades could be heard.

Prayfield took a step towards the opponent lying at his feet and the latter instinctively shrank back.

- You're really right..." said the Englishman and started to take off his jacket for some reason. - There can't be two winners in our fight.

He cast a glance at the Dutchman, threw off his outer garments, under which a thin rucksack had been concealed all this time - and ran to the edge of the precipice.

- Wait...

Van der Berg gave a shocked look to the figure of the man who had jumped down from the cliff below.

- What?!

The Dutchman hesitantly approached the edge and saw the wide, streamlined wings extend from the falling scientist's shoulder device. Prayfield grabbed the straps and pulled down: the inner part of the homemade wings turned like aeroplane ailerons and slowed his fall.

He cast a glance to the side, noticed a rapidly moving shadow behind the floating clouds, and grinned into his moustache.

Van der Berg noticed her too.

- N-no!

Edward squeezed the hidden buttons in the metal straps with both hands: the bottom of the backpack immediately burst into flames and decayed, revealing a miniature jet engine made of three small nozzles.

- I'll borrow your crew for a while..." he said to himself.

The inventor clenched his teeth, clenched the control levers and made the turn, watching the silhouette rising out of the four-spiralling morning haze and hoping he'd calculated the torque vector correctly.

The drone with the still open side door lifted even higher and began to turn.

- Sorehanandes-ka?! - Mitsuki shouted in frustration as she was once again swerved to the side. - How do you even control this?!

The Japanese woman ducked down, almost knocked over by something that flew into the cabin of the vehicle at full speed.

- Ah-ay, kuu! - Itakura reprimanded and finally turned around towards the dangerously open doorway.

To her surprise, the new passenger turned out to be a grey-haired professor who nonchalantly rose to his feet, removed his rucksack with sparkling metal stumps around the edges and placed it on the nearest seat.

- Oh, konnichiwa," he greeted the Japanese woman and turned to grop the mercilessly blowing doorway.

- Hello..." Mitsuki said and finally closed her mouth.

- Took over the controls yet? - Prayfield asked, giving up trying to find the hidden switch and moving closer to the young girl at the meagre dashboard.

- Almost," she said, not without wryness, and explained, "I was just trying to, when I almost flew out.

The man nodded and pointed to the inconspicuous toggle switches:

- All right, try these two and don't forget to buckle up.

Mitsuki creased her face, but took the hint. Most of the buttons lit up, the nearest of the chairs slid out on a hidden bracket and turned to the panel, and a steering wheel finally emerged from its base, at the sight of which the girl felt her heart beat faster.

- That's another matter, isn't it? - Prayfield grinned and pressed a side switch. The door of the futuristic helicopter finally closed.

- Tada Subarashi! - Mitsuki smiled predatorily in the pilot's seat and placed her hands on the air wheel.

***

The approaching stomping of feet was finally heard on the rocky platform.

- Sir, we don't...

Volkert turned around and took the nearest mercenary in heavy armour by the scruff of the neck.

- No, you are exactly that - losers and cowards! - The Dutchman jabbed a finger at his chest. - That's armoured cloth, you idiots! And now you've missed it, - again!

The man in the helmet with the darkened visor looked towards the quadcopter flying away on its route and tried to excuse himself:

- Sir, I'm very sorry.

But the anger of the founder of Utopolis was too strong. He snatched a loose pistol from the unfortunate man's belt holster and held it to his face with trembling hands:

- I'm gonna shoot you myself, you understand? Shoot him down before he and his friends get away! And get me another drone!

***

- Well, where to fly to...? - The girl took her eyes off the instruments and turned to the scientist. - We'll take the guys from... well... - Mitsuki hesitated.

- Olivia," Prayfield finished softly after her, and he thought for a second. - No..." He shook his head, pushing the heavy thoughts away. - It's too soon. They're safe, but they'll come after us. - The Englishman glanced at the wide holographic screen in front of the helm, on which the landscape below them flickered. - Since we're in the air anyway, let's head for those cliffs.

- What's in there...? - The Japanese woman raised an eyebrow in interest.

- One last anomaly to get rid of.

- Hmm." Itakura shook her head, considering the new route a rather dangerous venture, but obediently steered the aircraft towards the foothills a couple of kilometres to the west. - Unusual peaks...

- I agree," Edward nodded his head and rolled up his sleeve to check the wearable electronics. - You don't often see peaks like this around here. But let's not waste time. - He looked up satisfied and pointed to a low cliff among the conifers. - Can you fly as close as you can to that point?

- I'll try..." Mitsuki said uncertainly, but immediately corrected herself. - Of course, she was used to the controls.

She was, after all, the daughter of an aviator - and over the years had come to realise that she was damn proud of it.

- Good," Prayfield nodded and looked round at the seat nearest the exit. - Then I can do it without going outside.

Itakura glanced at the small screen with the rear view video.

- There's already a chase after us...

- It's okay, we'll make it," the professor reassured her, who had already wrapped the extended belt around his waist. - A little closer...

- Now...

- Let's go a little more..." Edward held up his hand warningly and glanced at the detector in his bracelet. - Wait, there, that's good. I can see the signal.

- Good to hear, Prei-san," Mitsuki smiled lightly and concentrated on driving carefully.

The scientist checked the cable for strength and turned to the pilot:

- Can you open the door on the signal?

- Yes, now," Itakura nodded and put her hand on the side tumbler. - Ready?

- Ready," the professor nodded to her and pulled on the rope. - Come on!

The Japanese woman quickly turned the lever. Part of the outer hull rose up and a cold wind rushed through the opening.

- Hold on there! - The Japanese woman turned to the professor and furrowed her brow in alarm: he was leaning outwards at an angle of forty-five degrees, one hand holding the rope and the other pointing his wristwatch at a spot far below that was invisible to ordinary eyes.

- Don't worry about me," Prayfield said, watching the anomaly detector as it changed. He had fine-tuned it so that he no longer had to use two hands or aim accurately. - So... great..." he continued under his breath, concentrating. - The energy leak is fixed... and-and... the gap is closed. We did it, Mitsuki! - The grey-haired man smiled at his young friend, carefully climbed back into the cockpit of the manned vehicle, stepped away from the still open door, and began to unbuckle himself from his seatbelt.

- Hurrah! - exclaimed the girl from the pilot's seat and excitedly showed the "V" sign.

Edward relaxed and took a few steps forward.

- You can tell Adela later how you saved the world... oh, shit!

Something struck the side of the four-bladed helicopter. Sparks flew through the rumble of metal, and part of the sidewall was crumpled and punctured through by one of the propellers. The Japanese woman was thrown to the right, but the straps prevented her from falling out of her seat.

- Ed, hold on! - she shouted with eyes widening in horror through the haze of the structure catching fire and the increasing asynchronous clanking of colliding propellers.

But it was too late. The professor couldn't keep his footing and was thrown out of the open cockpit. He saw Mitsuki's drone hit another drone of the same shape and they began to fall down together.

- No... no!

One of the four propellers had caught its blades, deformed from the impact, on the propellers of the rammed machine, but the keen eye of the old engineer noticed a slight play between the parts. So, there was a small chance of detachment....

"It needs a little push..."

Ed clenched the straps of his rucksack - but a faint thump from the sides reminded him that he no longer had wings.

"Come on, pull down!..." - he mentally appealed to the remaining pilot in the wrecked aircraft. If she misjudged the direction of the jolt, they would both inevitably crash....

But she wasn't wrong.

The gilded transporter jerked downward and finally separated from the twin that had rammed it. The second of the four propellers of Mitsuki's helicopter tore through the side of the drone and shattered into debris, one of which whistled past the dodging Prayfield . He resumed his planning parachutist's pose and watched as the girl struggled to steer the barely balanced flying machine to a landing. Her rival was less fortunate: the second drone burst into flames in the engine area and spun uncontrollably as it hurtled downwards. And in the light of the flames spreading from the hole, Edward thought for a moment that there was someone inside.

"Of course..."

That white spacesuit with the orange visor.

The scientist glanced down and estimated the distance. It was only a short distance to the cliff, but if he had time to remove his rucksack and perhaps activate the remaining fuel in the engine....

Edward glanced at the diving transport and sighed.

- Damn you.

***

Van der Berg's downed transport crashed into the side of a mountain peak, bounced off a rocky ridge, flipped over several times, crumpled in half, knocked down several pine trees, and left a deep furrow in the perennial snow that finally stopped it. The smoking plume began to rise upwards and the bent blades slowly stalled.

Edward was luckier. He was able to concentrate as he fell, and he was able to put his shoulder bag with the rest of his electronics under the impact: the controlled explosion of the miniature turbines cushioned the energy of the impact, and the scientist was only slightly bruised as he rolled down the snowdrift. That was not bad for someone who had just fallen from the height of a skyscraper.

Prayfield struggled to his feet and looked around. Far below lay the Norwegian forest, and a few kilometres to the north began the fjords, one of which still had his friends... and Olivia.

Edward pressed his lips together and felt his eyes grow moist.

"Olivia..."

He clenched his fists and looked round. The crumbling pile of metal, hardly a futuristic helicopter anymore, was slowly smouldering, with mangled electronics that still sparked faintly, and engine oil dripping onto the snow from the hoses that had been cut off in the collision.

Edward straightened with an unblinking stare. "Fate, then...?"

He looked back at the faint sound: far beyond the undergrowth, a guided drone with a gilded hull on half of its rotors was tentatively coming in for a landing. "Mitsuki... her father's daughter."

His gaze softened and he allowed himself to exhale.

It's over. Finally, it's over...

Prayfield had taken a few steps away from the wreck when a low rustle and a suppressed groan were heard from under the wreckage.

The professor stopped like a dumbfounded man.

- Oh, come on.

But no, his ears did not deceive him.

The groaning from the crumpled cabin sounded again.

The Englishman turned round. His gaze fell on the splintered blade. Big enough and strong enough to fracture a man's skull.....

The fire was almost finished, the ignition never happened.

Edward stepped closer and ducked down to step into the mangled hulk of the aircraft. The weighty metal beam sat comfortably in his trembling hand.

Rustling and lurching were heard closer.

The scientist accidentally stepped on a shard of glass and immediately cursed himself for it.

- Hey..." she heard up ahead.

Prayfield raised the metal rod threateningly.

- Who... who's here? - repeated the frightened voice.

The old man took a step round the corner.

Van der Berg lay helplessly on his side facing the wall in a damaged spacesuit with a shattered orange helmet, pinned down by a pile of debris and crumpled metal.

- Po...mogi...te....

Part of the wall rebar had punctured his shoulder through and through.

Edward gritted his teeth and shifted his gaze to the piece of metal in his hands.

"He won't even be able to see..."

Fate, huh? Millions of choices leading up to this...?

Olivia.

The smiling girl with freckles who rushed off to the hospital to see her sister. A smart grey-haired woman with a PhD who wasn't afraid to change sides and become part of an impossible task. Another love who died in his arms ten minutes ago....

Edward swung the bat.

- No, mein liebe... No.

The metal fell out of his hands.

- You're not a murderer.

Her voice.

Just as sonorous and soft as it was twenty-four years ago.

- It's not for us to decide who gets to leave and when, dear....

The echo of the dream slipping away into oblivion fell silent with a final sigh and the scientist came out of the trance with a stunned look.

- Wha... what?

- Ed-" Van der Berg repeated, turning his head with difficulty. - I know it's you. - His breathing was ragged, and he spoke with great difficulty. - And that's... a natural outcome. - The Dutchman tried to smile forcefully and winced in pain when he felt a shard of glass in his cheek. - I've seen it all...

- And still went all the way.

- Yeah...

Edward shook his head and slowly moved closer to examine the wounded man.

- We're not so different," he said, carefully pulling out an orange shard.

- Damn it! - Van der Berg swore as blood spurted from the wound. - Apparently so... kha-kha... but I'm willing to accept the inevitable.

It seems he had a collapsed lung. "But that's for a doctor to assess. It's a good thing there's one just this side of Europe..."

- Well, no," Prayfield objected aloud, working out in his mind how the two survivors of an extraordinary plane crash could signal for help in the Scandinavian wilderness.

- Come on. - Volkert tried to nod towards the blade that had been thrown on the floor. - I heard you didn't come empty-handed. Either leave me here, or finish what you came to do.

Ed looked at him sternly through his glasses and cut him off:

- I'm not leaving here with what I came with.

***

- You'd better leave me..." one of the two limping men on the mountainside stretched out.

- Not at all," Prayfield retorted, reluctant to get his mind off his heavy thoughts. - You saved my life in New York, and I'll save yours here. The circle is closed, and we are even.

"And I almost gave vent to my worst impulses... it's one thing to put a bullet in a bastard ready to rape someone who's almost your daughter, and another to finish off a defeated enemy who's already on death's doorstep... an animal impulse interrupted by an equally absurd impulse of humanitarianism..."

- Nonsense..." Van der Berg waved away with a grimace, adjusting the edge of his shoulder patch, "we didn't know what would happen next....

"But Lina's right. I wouldn't be able to look myself in the eye if I did that."

- Who knows? - Edward argued aloud, looking his former enemy in the eye for the first time since his release. "The blood of disproportionate violence cannot be washed from your hands, even if it was well-intentioned," he finished the thought and smiled: - 'Perhaps this is what your fate wanted? You're a fatalist.

- Not to that extent...

- Still. - The professor nodded at the patch of vegetation and helped the wounded man to a single fallen tree. - It's not a good idea to walk in the cold with a hole in your shoulder. I think your men-or mine-should find us soon.....

Mitsuki should be on the slope by now. Perhaps they could light a fire or build a chemical rocket to make themselves known before dark. A night in the mountains with no gear or decent clothing is an ordeal even under normal circumstances, not to mention a plane crash and a through and through injury to one of the...

- What's that...? - Van der Berg suddenly interrupted his thoughts, squinting uneasily.

- Where...? - Edward turned round.

- Right up there...

A wounded Dutchman in a shabby spacesuit with a broken helmet raised his hand in the direction of the cliff top forty metres above them, where something strange was beginning to happen.

- Shit..." the Englishman stretched out and turned to his partner. - Sounds like something too, doesn't it?

In the air above the flat mountain peak, a shimmering polygon of glowing filaments appeared out of nowhere, one into another in a completely inconceivable way. Van der Berg wiped his glazed eyes, and it seemed to him that a shadow had appeared inside the multiple nested polygon ("Multidimensional tesseract?"), and then dissipated, losing its shape.

- Not that much," the man in the damaged defence suit answered the professor, catching his drift. - And... you closed all the time portals, didn't you?

- Practically," Prayfield nodded, watching the object materialise before their eyes. - According to my calculations, the others should have collapsed on their own because of the lack of coherent energy..." He glanced at the anomaly detector that had miraculously survived the fall. - Time should have healed itself.

- Then... what is it? - Van der Berg lifted himself from his seat with an effort and with a mixture of interest and apprehension took a few steps towards the polygonal sphere, slowing flickering and crackling in the air.

- I don't know," Edward admitted, resting a hand on his chin. - But if you think about it... you said yourself that in many of the futures you've seen, you're dead, and the ones where you're alive don't go any further than this moment.

The polygon woven from light with a hiss began to slowly disintegrate into individual strands, blasting a wave of cold even at this distance.

Volkert half-turned on his former adversary:

- You think we've changed the narrative?

"We," the grey-haired inventor stressed to himself, glancing at the approaching flock of remaining drones, but aloud only nodded in agreement:

- Anything can happen. But right now.

- Wait," his companion interrupted quietly, staring at himself and turning pale. - It can't be

Ed turned his head and shuddered.
Now that the multi-stage dodecahedron-shaped protective shell had finally melted away, he finally saw that behind it all this time was an antique leather chair that had fallen with a thud onto the rocky cliff and lingered from its fall. And it wasn't the only object that had unknowingly ended up on top of the mountain. Behind the tattered backrest, a thin white hair was visible.

- Is there a man in there...? - whispered the Dutchman.

Prayfield frowned and hurried to catch up with his partner, who was hastily hobbling towards the mysterious piece of furniture.

When they finally rounded the vintage seat, they saw an old man standing motionless with his eyes closed. He wore a strange-looking camisole with armoured chest and shoulder plates of melted metal, a wide metal ring of locks around his neck, and almost knightly-looking gloves on his weak hands. But most importantly, despite his long, sprawling beard, his bushy eyebrows, and his wrinkled face, Edward knew at once that he'd seen those features before, and more than once.

- It can't be..." his companion said and turned to the scientist with a slight look of horror in his eyes - on a face that looked exactly like the face of the old man who had appeared out of nowhere.

- This is...

Final.

- Adenmayer Wilfred-Smith," Prayfield answered his thoughts in dead silence. - Or, to be more precise..." he shifted his gaze from the Dutchman to the motionless man in the chair, "Volkert Van der Berg from a parallel universe.

The man in the white spacesuit with the shattered visor nodded slowly.

- The one that got into the nineteenth century, got stuck in it... and spent his life creating a plan that found me at the most opportune moment and gave me back the meaning of life... - Van der Berg was silent and again shifted his gaze to his frighteningly ancient doppelganger. - The old son of a bitch planned everything a century in advance....

- Yeah," Prayfield agreed. - Makes me think.

- Is he even alive?

- That's a good question to ask a medic. And, I think," the professor nodded toward a shoal of transporters, one of which was clearly out of the pack, "we'll have a chance to do that soon. - Edward glanced again at the ninety-year-old man, motionless and out of breath, clutched in the armrests, and thought. - And the fact that he ended up here... apparently it says that we - you and I, from our ends of the spectrum - have succeeded. It was... time travel. The first in the history of the world.

Van ber Berg shook his head slowly, relief and pride slipping into his gaze. He had succeeded... they had succeeded. After so many years of countless attempts and wasted resources, millions of dollars and thousands of man-hours, an incredible journey from a half-crazed loner with barely working equipment to the head of the largest technocratic city-state, all for the dream of a world where the last barrier, the fetters of time, had finally collapsed. They made it through. The coherence of the chronological flow has been restored. The way to other worlds is open.
Humanity is free again.

- Edward...! - came a worried, ringing voice.

Adelie ran out to meet them from behind a clump of spreading needles and rushed towards Prayfield .

- Hush, hush..." he only managed to spread his arms and awkwardly pat the girl on the back under Van der Berg's confused gaze. It had been so long since he'd seen her... it seemed like an eternity since he'd shielded his friends from machine-gun fire with the ring's vibrating shield.

- Oh, an unkillable gentleman," came a familiar baritone with a Slavic accent. - He doesn't need a parachute.

Vorobyov laughed with relief, and Jones, who was following him, shook his head and supported his comrade:

- We've seen it all, bro. You don't see that in the cinema.

There was the stomp of a dozen boots and the rustling of bushes. Sam and Alexei turned around - and had no choice but to raise their hands in the air at the sight of automatic rifles pointed at them.

- Guys, stand down! - Volkert belatedly intervened and rose from his seat. - Everything had changed.

The soldiers in opaque helmets looked at each other in bewilderment, but lowered their weapons. One of them put his assault rifle down on the snow, pulled a field medical kit from his tactical backpack, and ran over to a wounded man in a white spacesuit slumped against a fallen tree trunk to examine his wounds. Vorobyov gave the volunteer a glance of approval - he was pleased to think that the Hippocratic Oath did not apply to all cases.

Dupont finally pulled away from Prayfield and he caressed her hair. She turned to the other member of the tandem, her face contorted with long-accumulated rage, when she heard the crack of broken twigs, a quiet sigh, and a stream of curses in Japanese.

- Kudaranai... damn forest. - The dark-haired pilot finally stepped into the light, wiped the dirt from her face, and looked around at those present. - Oh, you're all here already! Hello good guys and techno-nazis!

The lull in the confrontation didn't seem to surprise her much.

The Frenchwoman pushed the grey-haired professor away and ran to her peer.

- Mitsuki! My darling! - The blonde girl swiftly wrapped her arms around the Japanese girl and clutched her tightly, pulling her off the ground.

- Oh my god, I'm so happy to see you..." itakura barely uttered and gave the girl a peck on the cheek, adding, "...baka.

Dupont flashed a blush, gently encased Mitsuki's face in her palms, and answered her with an even more passionate kiss that was taken for granted without anyone around her noticing.

Prayfield looked away, but couldn't hold back a slight smile, and Vorobyovrounded his eyes and turned to Sam to say something, but he pretended to be scrutinising the flock of birds in the evening sky.

Mitsuki finally touched the ground and inhaled the air, slowly running her lips still warm from the kiss, and the Frenchwoman took a step to the side and again fixed her fiery gaze on the wounded Dutchman:

- And you..." she didn't find the words right away. - You're a monster! You killed Olivia..." she clenched her fists, "...and you almost killed Mitsuki on that cliff! I wish you hadn't crashed!!! That's a terrible injustice!

Dupont headed inexorably towards Van der Berg with obviously bad intentions, and Itakura at her back complemented not without pleasure:

- He almost burned me. He rammed me in the air. Miraculously landed.

She glared up at the tight skirt and for the first time in her life she felt she no longer needed to be strong and defensive. Not with Adela. With her, she could be her real self... Besides, there was something beautiful about the sight of a woman you loved, ready to kill someone who'd wronged you.

- You bastard! - Meanwhile, Dupont was attacking Volkert. - I'm going to strangle you, I swear by the Apostle Paul!

The field medic bounced away from the bandaged man in the spacesuit in a panic and opted to keep his distance with the rest of the squad, while Prayfield finally took the initiative - literally.

- Wait, wait, wait, I pulled him out of the wreckage myself! - The scientist tried to push the angry girl away. - We have a truce!

- Perhaps the world," Volkert wheezed, also trying to remove the thin fingers from his neck.

- That still needs to be considered," the professor couldn't help but point out. - Technically, the lady is quite right.

The Frenchwoman had a surprisingly strong grip.

- How heavy..." Vorobyov, who had come to the rescue, exhaled when the two of them had managed to pull the fragile girl away from the barely breathing man.

- Look at yourself, you vodka bear," Dupont suddenly snapped at her, who had been prevented from finishing what she had started. The Russian doctor was offended:

- Hey, take it easy! I'm on your side!

- And this--who the hell is that? - The young American suddenly turned his attention and pointed to the only object that looked even stranger than the motley group of heroes that had once been rivals.

- Oh-oh..." Mitsuki stretched out, finally noticing the leather armchair standing alone near them. The girl carefully walked around it, glancing at the still angry Frenchwoman, and with a mixture of bewilderment and shock examined the body of the ancient old man in fancy armour sitting motionless on the vintage seat.

- What do you think, Dr Aibolit? - Edward nodded briefly toward the stranger.

Vorobyov readily let go of the no longer so fierce European woman and approached the obviously unsuitable subject to his surroundings.

- Curious condition," he said after a minute or two, finally straightening up. - I don't see any signs of tissue death, but there's no breathing either. By all accounts he should be dead, but in fact..." The doctor with the military background raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with the grey-haired scientist. - Is this some kind of hibernation at the cellular level...?

- There we go again," Sam rolled his eyes.

Adélie approached the Japanese woman with an awkward step and examined the stranger's body anxiously.

- What an... interesting resemblance. - The Frenchwoman suppressed the remnants of her anger and still looked at the man in the spacesuit with the broken orange visor. - Are you two related by any chance?

Suddenly a wave of strange ripples of geometric glowing lines travelled through the old man's body - and he opened his eyes in horror with a loud gasp.

- Aah! It's alive! - Mitsuki recoiled in equal horror and found nothing better to do than hide behind her taller friend.

Adenmayer shuddered, strained his blind eyes, and looked around dazedly, his aging mouth partially missing teeth and shrinking from the sudden cold. He clenched the armrests of his chair, furrowed his wrinkled brow, and relaxed a little, as if remembering something he'd never thought he'd remembered. Then he glanced apprehensively around at the blurred silhouettes around him and focused his gaze on the nearest face of a woman with blond hair.

- Jules...," the old man wheezed uncertainly and his throat constricted. - Juliette?

- What...? - The Japanese blinked and looked at the girl, who shifted her eyebrows in confusion but stepped forward, hoping that the old man had mistaken her for someone else. But he took it in his own way.

- Sweet Juliette...," Wilfred-Smith repeated, and held out a trembling, pigmented hand. - You've come back after all.

- Oh..." Adeli shook her head awkwardly. - I didn't...

But it was as if the old man didn't hear her.

- I'm... glad to... see you... again.....

- Yes... and I-" Dupont squinted her eyes and didn't argue.

- Does anyone realise what's going on? - Van der Berg asked in a low voice. The Frenchwoman turned round at the question and folded her arms thoughtfully.

- My mum," the girl began, "never told me about my father. But my grandmother did. My mum said I looked a lot like her. And her-her name was Juliette.

- So..." Edward said.

- Yes...," Adela turned to him and nodded seriously, "everything has finally come to a head. My withdrawn, unsociable and inhumanly closed-minded great-grandfather who disappeared without a trace is you. All this time, it was you.

She looked again at the old man in the leather armchair, straight out of the late nineteenth century, who was losing clarity again. And then she turned her gaze to Volkert.

- So this is what doom looks like? - said the man in the damaged spacesuit, looking thoughtfully at his decrepit doppelganger, whose plans and instructions he had devoted years to implementing without question. - Is this my destiny? To create a time machine in one of the worlds, to be stuck for the rest of my life in another and to see the fruits of my brainchild only now, just before I die...?

Dupont folded her arms across her chest and remarked:

- I still think you're a scoundrel, whoever you are.

- You have the right," sighed the Dutchman.

- But wait, guys," Sam, who had been silent until then, said, pointing to the two Van der Bergs, past and present. - If he's you, and you're both here, in the same time and place.....

- ...So," Prayfield continued after him gravely, "the past has changed. He did not die on his deathbed.

- And didn't have time to leave all the instructions. - Vorobyev propped his chin up, and Jones concluded:

- There was no bomb.

- And there's nothing wrong with Jupiter...? - Itakura raised an eyebrow incredulously.

Van der Berg threw up his hands in protest.

- Not at all. I... spent three years on the whole plan. I've checked and tested everything. Jupiter's core has already begun to change, it's an astronomical fact...!

- But how, if there was no bomb in the missile? - Alexei had no idea what was going on. Mitsuki glanced over at Adela, who had turned white with sudden realisation, and glanced at Sam, who glanced at Prayfield , who spoke aloud the only thing that followed from that conclusion:

- We've created a time paradox....

Edward turned at the strange rolling sound and froze in place.

Adela's pupils dilated.

Flashes of northern lights spread across the horizon of the sunset sky, spreading and spiralling along invisible strings of disturbed magnetic fields; the sun between the melting clouds twitched and protuberances slowly appeared on its surface. Concentric waves of invisible force passed through the few grasses and bushes with pine trees, leaving scorched spits behind, - and in the electrified air, without the slightest wind, luminous polygons with infinitely changing tops, symmetrically expanding into fractals, began to appear and disappear in a chaotic order. One such polygonal rupture with a vibrating noise appeared above the small forest on the left at the foot of the mountain, uprooted several trees and sucked them inside with a bright flash along with part of the earth and rock.

- Watch out!

Wide-eyed Mitsuki pushed DuPont, who was mesmerised by this sight, aside and she saw several more geometric holes in the sky appear and slowly rotate as they began to eat away part of the fjord directly below them.

- We have to get out of here! - Vorobyov shouted and spurred the confused soldiers who ran up to evacuate the wounded leader. The latter leaned on his shoulder and looked back at Wilfred-Smith, who was still sitting in his chair, looking at the disaster unfolding around them with faint surprise.

- The end... without beginning...," the centenarian said with difficulty, grinned, and pressed a hidden button in the armrest. Orange lights lit up on the sides of the headrest and Van der Berg thought the air around the leather chair trembled and began to glow.

Prayfield felt a sudden heat and swung his right hand to knock down the flames: the anomaly detector hissed and shimmered, completely out of action. In the distance, the sound of engines exploding one by one, Volkert stepped forward and saw the drones' engines begin to ignite one by one, the glass cracking from the pressure drop and their only escape route crumbling to dust along with the burned-out electronics of the flying machines falling on their sides, one of which, with the technicians too close, was twisted and sucked into a hole in the glowing abyss that opened up very close.

- The beginning... without end..." the madman continued incoherently, looking around at the disaster unfolding outside the protective dome.

- Everybody back! - Edward shouted. - Stay together!

Itakura squeezed the Frenchwoman's hand tightly and felt her heart beating hard.

- This way! - Van der Berg nodded towards the old man. - It seems safe here!

Prayfield nodded and waved to Sam and Sparrow. He, too, had noticed the self-powered protective sphere... but would it have enough radius to protect everyone? And what to do next!

- Come on, come on! - Jones spurred the remaining mercenaries and gave one of them a seat. - You're in charge of them with your head, brother! - He nodded at the girls, who huddled fearfully against the back of the time machine, built into the chair of a barely alive guest from the last century.

The soldier nodded silently and lowered his gaze to the weapon that had become useless.

- I am... the alpha and omega..." whispered Adenmayer Wilfred-Smith, aka Volkert Van der Berg from the other universe, looking at the work of his hands. He had got what he wanted after all. After all these years...

"Time is God. And today he died... to be born again..."

The grey-bearded old man stretched his lips in a smile, not noticing the people huddled around him.

Sam nudged two more soldiers and stood at the very edge. Vorobyovhelped the other three get closer and concluded that he had never been in this position before. He cast a glance at his old friend with the hope that he had some sort of plan.
But he didn't.

Edward covered Adeli and Mitsuki and turned back around in a huff.

There was nowhere to run.

The world around them began to fall apart.

- I am the alpha and omega," Wilfred-Smith repeated, listening to the rumble and crackle of a catastrophe of astronomical proportions, marking the end of time itself. The plan that had taken his entire life... and was supposed to work even after death... to cheat death itself.

And it worked... Time had doomed him to life and death in the last century, but he didn't accept it. He defeated time itself. He defeated death itself.

And now he's...

- The judge of all the earth.

CHAPTER 23

- Curious...

Ed lifted his hand and pulled it gently forward. His palm passed through the almost invisible barrier, tiny fires of static electricity ran through the hairs on his fingers, and he immediately felt the difference in air density. Whatever the translucent dome was made of, it was clearly doing a good job.

- It seems to be working.

- How's it going over there, is everyone all right? - asked the half-bent Vorobyev.

- Yes..." Mitsuki said without much enthusiasm. - And sheep, and wolves.

The girl elbowed one of the armoured soldiers who had tried to shoot them an hour earlier. And probably took Olivia's life...

- Then we'll figure out who owes who reparations," Alexei interrupted her thoughts and nodded at the massive destruction unfolding outside the barrier. - Right now, we're allies by choice. Any ideas on how to get out of here, old chap? - The Soviet doctor tried to turn towards the Englishman, but it barely succeeded.

- It seems the pickled grandfather didn't count on having company," remarked Sam, who was pinned in his chair by two equally disappointed mercenaries.

Prayfield cast a thoughtful glance at the back of the headrest with its embedded electronics - the only one left intact for miles around.

- I think it can be corrected..." the scientist said and bent down to unbuckle the cover hidden behind the upholstery and look at the structure of the mysterious machine.

- Excessive power? - It was as if Volkert had read his mind, still holding his splitting head with small burns on both sides. It was a good thing the pulse hadn't hit any synapses and was limited to the brain signal amplifiers... the Dutchman looked at his hands and shuddered at the fact that he was nearly paralysed.

- Right," Prayfield confirmed, carefully separating the two wires from the main board and connecting them together. The dome over their heads disappeared for a second, replaced by a trickle of northern lights from the electrified air, but then the protection reappeared, this time thinner and three times as wide.

- Ugh... - Adelie stared mesmerised as rare tongues of greenish and purple flames crashed against the still impregnable border.

- That's different," Jones said approvingly, feeling the freedom of personal space. Itakura shushed her neighbour:

- Hands off, techno-fascist.

The soldier raised his palms peacefully and moved away.

- Alo, mes amis..." Dupont nodded cautiously toward the crumbling rocks, the flaming shrubbery, and the trees slowly drifting upward with their roots ripped out of the soil. - Does anyone have an explanation for what's going on out there?

Van der Berg furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the old man in the chair who had fallen into unconsciousness again. It seemed the man was indeed on death's doorstep... a convenient outcome for the man who had caused the end of the world.
"And I followed his written instructions for years..."

- Well," the Englishman snapped him out of his gloomy thoughts, "that's a very good question. But it is more important to understand what happened and how to fix it.....

- Can we fix this? - Sam exclaimed urgently, pointing to the smoothly disintegrating part of the fjord in the slowly trickling streams of water flowing upward.

- We can try," Edward adjusted the dark glasses on his nose and looked around at his old and new friends. - If we're still alive, there's still hope.

- She's the last thing to die," Dupont said quietly, and the girl beside her squeezed her pale hand:

- We won't let her die. - Mitsuki smiled encouragingly at her. - Not today.

- Not today, Sheri.

Adelie answered her with a tired smile and sent her an air kiss.

Volkert folded his arms across the chest of his damaged spacesuit.

- Do you think our conflict has really created a time paradox? - he turned to the grey-haired professor.

- I don't think so," Prayfield shook his head and frowned. - It turned out to be an equation with an unknown variable..." He nodded briefly at the half-asleep traveller from the past. - What neither of us knew was that this gentleman had kept his car running until the day he died, hoping that his carefully planned decades-long plan would work and he would see another time, if only for the last time.

Van der Berg slowly lowered his head.

- So that's why the grave was empty.....

- What grave...? - Jones turned to him.

The Dutchman sighed and reluctantly explained:

- We did an exhumation about a month ago looking for possible clues. But we never found anything. No new diaries, no body.

- And we were at his main estate..." said Adélie slowly, shuddering as she recalled the experience, "And it looked to have weathered a strange storm.

- Like this one? - Van der Berg nodded toward the stormy northern sky, which was ablaze with northern lights. Dupont grudgingly agreed with the man who had taken six years of their lives:

- Like this one.

- He actually travelled to the future at the very last moment..." Sam said stunned, as the complexity of the picture began to dawn on him. - The signs were right under our noses....

- But the bomb...? - Vorobyev asked incomprehensively.

Prayfield shook his head:

- None of us have seen her.

- I saw it," Van der Berg objected.

- We have no proof that it would have worked at all," Alexei said as if he hadn't heard him.

- But it... worked? - Volkert said, less confidently.

- It looked flawless on paper," Edward answered him, unable to shake the supportive tone. - And the plan you followed was filigree, too. But what happened next..." The scientist thought for a moment. - Our actions might indeed have affected the passage of time.

- Wait..." Jones interjected, and both scientists, standing on opposite sides of the barricade, turned to him. - So the neutron bomb didn't go off at full power? Then, in the past, because of our actions now, in the future...?

It was indeed not easy to comprehend. But Prayfield confirmed his train of thought:

- Exactly. Time is a non-linear structure, as an old friend of mine used to say.

The inventor smiled at the memory of the author of the theory of relativity,

- The past and the future don't exist..." Mitsuki said mesmerised. - Everything exists at the same time...

She felt as if all the secrets of the universe had been revealed to her.

- You're killing me with your complications! - Sam gave up and stepped aside.

- So...," Van der Berg raised his voice again, "it turns out that the whole thing was a hoax to frighten us into deciding the fate of the world...?

- Wilfred-Smith may not have planned it that way," Prayfield agreed, "but he certainly had it in mind. If we hadn't been able to stop you, he would have travelled into the future later-perhaps right after your death. - Adélie shuddered unpleasantly at those words. - And... he would be the last Van der Berg to appear in this universe.

Mitsuki, who was already out of her dreamy trance, shrieked violently and cursed loudly in Japanese, shaking her head and joining Sam.

- I'll buy you a shot," the Russian doctor promised her quietly, to which the girl objected:

- A stack isn't enough.

- And you'll pour me a drink, too," Dupont added, drawing attention to herself and crossing her arms over her chest. - Because no one has answered my question yet, gentlemen.

Prayfield lowered his gaze guiltily.

- Yes, of course. I apologise. This whole thing..." he glanced outside, "looks like a small-scale planetary disaster....

- A small one?! - Sam, who six months ago had only wanted to see the Beatles, exclaimed, still amazed at the magnitude of what was happening.

- Yes, if I'm not mistaken," Edward confirmed, and did some quick calculations in his mind. - The epicentre is here, but after a while - months or even weeks - the destruction will spread across the entire planet.

- How encouraging," Van der Berg muttered.

- But I'm more concerned about these beams of discharged plasma... - continued the scientist and looked thoughtfully at the streams of northern lights streaming across the sky. - Aurora Borealis, of course, looks very beautiful, but in our case it is accompanied by something like a storm of electromagnetic pulses.....

- Is that why your device hissed? - Adélie immediately surmised.

- Yes," Edward confirmed, nodding to the side, "and all the transports, too. The electronic circuits melted.

- We're left without equipment..." Sam whispered doomedly.

- But it's not as scary as... this. - Prayfield pointed to one of the holes in the air with glowing and vibrating edges, and several more similar holes immediately appeared beside it. Dupont looked closely and noticed that within each of them she could see glimmers of different colours. Her pupils dilated. "Clouds... gaps in the sky...?"

The scientist indirectly confirmed her hunch:

- Without laboratory instruments and a series of complex calculations, I can't tell what it is yet," the professor began, adjusting his dark glasses on his nose, "but at first glance it looks very much like other universes are beginning to collide with ours. - He caught the looks of his friends and took a deep breath. - Let me try to explain... There is a hypothesis according to which our universe is not the only one, but one of an infinite number of many existing simultaneously. Under normal circumstances they cannot intersect, but a temporal paradox has created an almost unbelievable event that violates the principle of causality underlying the entire universe. And it created a singularity, a point of attraction to which more and more of our neighbouring universes will aspire, colliding with ours and destroying it.

- And that's... dangerous, isn't it? - Jones asked cautiously. - Facing a leak like this?

The grey-haired inventor shook his head regretfully.

- I'm not sure the conditions on the other sides are even remotely suitable for sustaining life... well, you'd better ask someone who's done it practically," Prayfield raised an eyebrow and turned to Van der Berg.

- I'm wearing all this for a reason," the Dutchman tapped the white, moulded suit with the wreckage of the visor. - Without a protective suit, the chances of survival on the other side are slim.

- I don't envy those poor souls..." Vorobyov said, shuddering at the thought of those mercenaries who had been sucked into one of the rifts.

- But," Edward hastened to defuse the situation, "I don't think it will last long or affect anything beyond our planetary system. On a microscopic scale, such phenomena rarely last more than a fraction of a second. But our case is different from the usual... - the scientist scratched his beard thoughtfully. - If we don't stop this process, these chaotic holes in other realities will simply destroy most of the planet's landscape and its biosphere.

- A lousy prospect, of course. - Vorobiev scratched his head.

- But that's not all.

Mitsuki rolled her eyes as if one end of the world wasn't enough, but the professor meanwhile continued:

- Something's happened to the sun, too. I've never seen such chromospheric activity.....

- 'Maybe,' Sam suggested, frowning, 'it's caused by a gravitational disturbance due to Jupiter's drastically changed mass and temperature...?

- Anything could be," Prayfield agreed. - Apparently, our actions have indeed reversed the timeline.....

- The thermonuclear reaction of a neutron bomb that exploded in the upper atmosphere," Van der Berg said slowly with a concentrated look, "could have reached the core of the gas giant only now. If there were changes in it that were not in the blueprints I've seen, then theoretically it could have unpredictable consequences....

Jones turned to him:

- And Jupiter became noticeably colder - and lighter? Suddenly reluctant to become a second star?

- I'm not a professional cosmologist, but... yeah.

- "And there was thunder..." - Dupont whispered and turned pale. Mitsuki didn't know what she meant, but she put a hand on her shoulder.

- Exactly," confirmed a grey-haired man in a brown jumper and dark glasses. - The butterfly effect in reverse. The change in the future affected the past.

- But you can't change the past, can you? - The Japanese woman turned to the old man, uncomprehending.

- You can't," Prayfield agreed with the girl. - The whole physics of space and time is based on that. So... we have to do something while we still can. - The professor looked bitterly at his hands and sighed. - The dead have no future anymore... and we are still alive.

- You know how to cheer me up," Alexei shook his head with a smile. Prayfield smiled back at him, and Sam walked round to the chair where the old man in the painted lats that looked like a diving suit was still sitting silently, and said:

- You've certainly done some things, old man-" the American hesitated when he saw that Adenmire Wilfred-Smith's eyes were open.

***

- Where... where am I...? - The old man hissed and looked round with dazed, whitish eyes.

- You're in Trondheim, Norway," Jones explained grudgingly. - If that makes sense...

- And the time--the year--? - Wilfred-Smith turned to him and clapped his lips together helplessly. - What year is it, young man?

- One thousand nine hundred and sixty... ninth. - Sam regretted missing six years and wondered sadly if Lennon and McCartney were even performing.

- Wow... it worked..." Adenmayer whispered faintly and tried to look around in his chair, feeding the energy dome. - It really worked... it's a pity it's only now... kha-khha..." he coughed and barely wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his half-decayed camisole. - My lungs were eaten by a disease... the name of which I don't remember anymore..." he explained to the blurred shadows of the people around him.

- It's okay," one of them, with white hair and what appeared to be tinted glasses, reassured him. - You're safe. You seem to have thought of that....

- Of course..." laughed the world's first time traveller, "I had it all planned out... I had decades to do this..." He reached forward and tried to focus his vision. - 'And this, my... doppelgänger... is he here? "The 'I' from... your time?

One of the men, wearing light coloured clothing with orange spots, stepped forward clumsily and leaned over:

- Well... that's me. - Volkert tried to put on a polite smile, which he didn't do very well. - It's good to finally see you face to face.

- A ninety-year-old Dutchman with a long grey beard and the same dishevelled hair shook his head and laughed harshly. - You really do look like me... as I was half a century ago.....

- Yeah.

- And you have completed my plan..." continued his double, clutching the armrests, despite Van der Berg's restrained reaction; "You have done what I never hoped to complete..." The old man coughed heavily again and shook his head weakly. - This morning I realised that this might be my last day on this god-damned earth, and... was about to leave my last will but.... you have succeeded....

- Oh, yes, it did," Jones said, shrugging his shoulders. - And now the whole universe is preparing to tear our world apart.

Wilfred-Smith squinted and tried to make out what was going on beyond the protective sphere that he still remembered was supposed to switch on when he arrived at another time. It took him ten seconds to realise that the young dark-skinned boy might have been right about something.

- It's just one reality among many..." shrugged the man who had single-handedly condemned the Earth to destruction. - A small price to pay... for the freedom of all the others.....

- Do you really believe that? - Edward raised his eyebrow sceptically, his arms folded across his chest. - Or do you not care, because you have one foot in the grave?...?

- Oh no...," Van der Berg turned to him, a deep old man. - I care. I saved this world... by destroying it... and I saved the others too.....

Even the usually quiet Japanese woman couldn't take it anymore:

- You're insane, I'm sorry.

- No... not insane..." The old man in the strange suit of brocade and metal turned to her, breathing weakly. - I'm just a wanderer who came into this world alone... and will leave it without leaving anything behind.....

- You are mistaken," Adélie took a few steps forward and stopped in his field of vision, extremely serious.

Wilfred-Smith blinked and struggled to focus his gaze on her.

- Wh-what? I'm not imagining things?

His whole messianic vibe is gone.

- I didn't imagine it," the Frenchwoman shook her head and took another step closer. - Only I'm not Juliette. Juliette had a daughter, Marceline, and she in turn... had me.

- You mean-" Adenmayer blinked incomprehensibly, pulling away, "-you mean-

- Yes, Herr Van der Berg," Dupont nodded. - In the world you had condemned to death... you had unknowingly discovered your granddaughter.

- Mein Gott...

- Whether you like it or not," Prayfield supported the young girl, "you have left something behind in this world.

A cold sweat broke out on the old man in the chair.

- I... I didn't... I was still... young... I shouldn't have-" Wilfred-Smith swallowed hard as the memories became even clearer. - She... didn't deserve what I did....

- I don't deserve it," Adélie affirmed, still looking at him very coldly. - My grandmother... loved you, even though you treated her so badly. You hurt her. And through her, you hurt me.

Mitsuki had never seen her girlfriend so focused and steadfast.

- Just one... mistake..." Wilfred-Smith wheezed, gulping for air.

- My life is not a mistake. My future is not a mistake. - Dupont clenched her fists; she had been saving up what she wanted to say for a very long time indeed. - All these years I thought my grandfather was a simple... scoundrel - the kind of man who bilked his wives with mistresses and left them afraid of the responsibility, but now... oh, fate has played a graceful trick. - The Frenchwoman grinned bitterly: "I am the granddaughter of the one who killed time itself.

- I'm so sorry...really...sorry.....

- I don't," Adelie said, straightening up and grinning. - It's funny," she said a little more calmly. - It took months of crazy adventures, a marathon of heartbreak, a journey of self-definition, and a journey to the edge of armageddon to realise who I really am... and that my past doesn't define me. No matter how shameful it may have been.

- I didn't know... I just didn't know... um..." the old man faltered, only now realising that he had never bothered to ask his granddaughter's name.

- Adélie," the Frenchwoman said with pain and dignity. - Adélie Françoise-Marie Dupont.

Mesmerised by the unfolding spectacle, Itakura blushed thickly and covered her mouth with her palm.

- Ad-deli..." the old man repeated meanwhile, trying to memorise.

- And I'm not your granddaughter," the girl pointed out with pressure and folded her arms across her chest. - At least not until I decide otherwise. - She straightened her back and turned round. - I'm on my own.

- I'm... I'm so sorry," Wilfred-Smith whispered with pain in his eyes. - I'm really sorry.

Dupont looked at him, softening slightly.

- I know...I know.

- If I could make it right..." The old man's breath caught in his throat. - If I'd known.

- What...? - leaned towards him Adela, who still managed to find her usual compassion.

- If I could... kha..." Adenmayer coughed again and struggled to get air into his failing lungs. - Y-you...

- Yes?" the girl moved a little closer, her eyebrows shifting sympathetically.

- You have... her eyes, Adela..." the Victorian guest chained to the chair tried to smile.

- Maybe," the girl didn't argue.

- And you are very... brave... and to... kind.....

- That's enough. - Dupont was about to pull away, but the unexpected relative grabbed her arm with one last weak effort.

- I know..." The very old man with the Van der Berg face looked at her with blinded eyes, "you can be angry... as much as you want..." He struggled with each word. - And you... will be right... only... kha... - He coughed again and could not stop.

- What? - the Frenchwoman moved closer. Her girlfriend also took a timid step towards her, so as not to leave Adela alone.

- Kha... only...

- De... grandfather? - Dupont couldn't hold back an unsolicited tear.

- I'm proud of you," Wilfred-Smith whispered with lips that were barely audible, looking at her steadily to memorise her distant face in the fading white haze. - And... regret... all that I... sde... did..." His voice became quite quiet. - I thought I was alone in this world.

A final convulsion ran down the man's dry hand.

Life left the fading gaze of Volkert van der Berg.

Adenmayer Wilfred-Smith is gone.

***

- Well..." sighed Prayfield and cast a glance at the doctor rising from his knees, who confirmed his speculation.

- Yes," nodded Vorobiev, who took no pleasure in his coroner's duties. - Unfortunately, complete cardiac arrest. His body had long ago worked itself out.

Edward turned to the Frenchwoman and placed his hand gently on her shoulder.

- I'm sorry, my dear.

- C'est dommage-" Adélie lowered her head and switched to English. - I... a lot to think about and feel.

- Like all of us," Sam looked at her sympathetically.

- I agree, though I don't feel I have the right to raise my voice," Van der Berg said softly, his gloved hands clenching uncomfortably. His doppelganger from the other world had just died of old age before his eyes... what if that was his fate too? If they fail and time shrinks into a circle....

- Olivia Walsh," the Japanese woman interrupted his existential musings threateningly. - I'll remind you of that name for the rest of your life, Akuto.

Volkert nodded silently. It was pointless to argue, her blood was indeed on his hands. And that burden would be with him for the rest of his life.

The American coughed softly.

- I don't want to break the mourning for a man we've only known for ten minutes, but I don't think the battery in this thing is going to last much longer. - Jones pointed to the headrest of the chair.

- Sam's right," Van der Berg turned to Prayfield . - We can't stay here forever.

- But... where do we go? - Dupont exclaimed and circled round, shivering from the cold. - We're trapped on this peak!

Sam nodded towards the rotorcraft lying chaotically on their sides:

- We could try to get there, but the choppers would be unlikely to start. - He shook his head and grinned. - The electromagnetic storm fried them like Ronald McDonald the Burger King.

- But not all of them," Edward objected, and looked questioningly at Van der Berg: "You didn't move the whole squad here, did you? I thought there were more.

- That's right," Alexei answered for him. - Two or three transports remained in the valley.

- We made sure they didn't take off quickly," Jones noted not without pride.

Adélie turned away and listened. Maybe it was just her imagination, but ...

- ...But what does it matter if there's this strange storm around...? - Mitsuki, meanwhile, folded her arms across her chest.

Prayfield squinted his eyes and pronounced:

- It's spreading slowly... and we can outrun it. But we have to figure out how to do it fast without getting a lethal dose of radiation.....

The scientist cast a tense glance at the time traveller's breathless body, and his still-living doppelganger shook his head:

- Yeah, you can't carry that chair on your shoulders.

- Unlike parts of it," Edward perked up and pointed to the headrest. - I think the protective field generator can be separated easily enough without interrupting its operation. So we won't be without the shield... but there's still the question of escape.

- Perhaps," said the Frenchwoman, at last convinced of the correctness of her hunch, "we should make a rafting trip down the stream.

The girl stretched her hand to the north, and the others finally saw what she saw: a barely perceptible stream of slightly warm water flowed down the snow-covered slope, picking up speed and widening downwards into a rushing mountain river a couple of kilometres below. It came out to one of the highlands, the edge of which was still far from the top of the fjord, where the only way of escape remained, but far enough away to get out of the epicentre of the expanding cataclysm. "If we are favoured with a little luck, this may prove to be an excellent way out..."

- A marvellous idea! - turned round and cheered Adela on, the professor.

- But we'll need protection..." Vorobyov said thoughtfully, glancing at the chair of the deceased Victorian guest. - And a raft, of course.

- And it's very fast," Jones added.

Prayfield quickly ran through the options in his mind:

- It's not a problem at all. You could make it out of hull parts, and build the engines out of... Hm... - The Englishman turned to the Dutchman and nodded towards the battered aircraft: - Do you think there's nothing left at all?

Van der Berg thought seriously for a moment before answering.

- Some of the circuitry may have survived," he finally said and smoothed his frowning forehead. - We shielded the control unit in case of warfare with a technologically superior enemy.

- A wise enough move, as it turns out..." replied Prayfield and his gaze grew more confident:

- So there's still a chance.

***

- So," finally asked a visibly exhausted Prayfield about an hour later, "w-e-everybody ready?

- Yes!" a slightly dusty Mitsuki said cheerfully, her arms at her sides.

For such a tight deadline, what they had done seemed incredible. At least to the Japanese woman's eyes.

- I hope it works..." Sam looked incredulously at the fruit of their collaboration.

- It'll work," Alexei encouraged him, who was mostly standing to the side, watching the continuous operation of the force shield, which, once adjusted, barely covered the group of people and the spacious flat ship. - Well, or we'll go down, hit the rocks at full speed, or lose our radiation shielding and die of cancer in a couple of years, - come to think of it, it's always looking for something wrong, isn't it?

- Hey!" Adélie hissed at him.

- Just kidding," Vorobiev smiled at her and patted her on the shoulder, "everything will be fine.

Sam shook his head:

- I think I know what Stalin died of. Your sense of humour!

- Well, that, too, of course, is not excluded.... - The Russian doctor said thoughtfully with a serious face, and Dupont couldn't help smiling.

- On the count of three, then! - Edward concluded and put his hands on the edge of the board. - One... two...

Van der Berg, who had kept aloofly behind, also signalled to his men:

- Guys, come on. You're all gonna end up here.

- They won't," the professor assured him, pausing and thinking for a moment. This is their only chance to get out of the disaster zone before the energy shield battery runs out of charge... a very slim chance, but not impossible.

- Will there be no overload? - His Soviet friend was worried and looked at a long bundle in the back of the raft, clumsily wrapped with a couple of cables.

Adelie swallowed. Edward intercepted her gaze, put a hand on her shoulder, and reassured her soothingly:

- We'll leave no-one behind. Not the living... not the dead.

One of the soldiers exhaled a sigh of relief and leaned against the edge of the board, eager to help.

- I'm sorry, Grandpa Villain," whispered the Frenchwoman, "the ride's going to be a bit rough....

Prayfield , put his arm around the girl, nodded to the military man, and with renewed vigour, paddled over to the float himself.

- Push!

The lower part of the imposing structure scraped on the rocky surface, but moved slightly.

- Let's push on! - Vorobyev exclaimed and sprinted away.

- Careful! - The scientist snapped at him when he nearly crushed the side of the makeshift vessel.

- Understood," the doctor nodded and began to proceed more carefully.

Together, the group of survivors finally pushed the armoured raft, made from the hull parts of the crashed drones, to the tributary of the creek. It easily floated down to the water and began to slowly drift away on the accelerating current.

Prayfield felt there would be no other chance.

- Go, go! - The professor hurried the others, holding the slipping board. Alexei helped him, resting his feet on the rocky bottom, and turned to the girls:

- Ladies, please!

Dupont nodded, taking advantage of the slight height advantage with her build - and almost forcibly shoving an indignant Itakura, who wanted to be the first to show care and skill. Vorobyov nudged Sam, shook his head at Prayfield , and held up the floating board, giving him time to climb in. The scientist returned the favour, and together they helped Volkert up with the rest of their unexpected party.

- Great," Van der Berg exhaled, adjusting his spacesuit gloves and looking back at the flashes of northern lights spreading across the invisible dome above his head, "everything is in place....

- What next, sir? - one of the soldiers asked, nervously gripping the handrail.

Edward looked at him over his glasses, put his hand on the switch, and said:

- I suggest you buckle up, gentlemen. We're in for an atomic river rafting experience.

The professor yanked the speed lever down sharply.

The wires were energised, the blades of the shortened propellers creaked, and the angular, rectangular vessel moved forward, accelerating more and more.

But the path wasn't getting any easier either.

Adelie squinted in the wind, brushed her hair out of her face, and turned: the riverbed was wider, and the current had changed too. Sam flinched at the slight jolt to his side; Mitsuki staggered back and clung to her friend's hand, which kept her on her back.

- It's okay, sunshine," the blonde whispered soothingly, taking her face in her hands, "It's just...

- Hold on! - Vorobyev suddenly shouted, having spotted the new obstacle too late.

The bottom of the ship passed over a rock fragment and the ship jerked sharply upwards.

- Careful! - Prayfield realised and pounced on the primitive steering mechanism. The turning momentum worked, but then the jet raft hit a new obstacle....

- Oh, for fuck's sake. Oh, oh, oh!

Sam didn't stay on his feet and was thrown into the air. Alexei saw him get caught on one of the pipes that held the propellers, fell military and knocked him down, almost pushing him overboard. It seemed the fall had not been a good one.....

- We must slow down! - quickly turned the Russian doctor to the Englishman, struggling to keep his balance and trying to shout over the oncoming squall. - We are going too fast!

Prayfield rushed over to the tightly mounted shield generator, examined the contacts, and shook his head.

- I won't start them a second time! - He said, nodding at the engines running at full power behind their backs. - Just a little more, mates, hold on!...

A new wave tossed them upwards, showering the barely alive jet-ship passengers with cold spray mixed with sparks of static electricity.

The Japanese woman felt that this was her limit. A failed shooting when she was on the verge of death, a sudden air battle and emergency landing, a temporary cataclysm and now the most dangerous rafting down a mountain river to race with death....

- We're going to crash..." Mitsuki finally wheezed, shrinking into a ball. - We're going to crash! Shinitakunai!

Dupont staggered over and put her arm around her shoulders and tried to calm her down:

- No, look... look!

The brunette finally looked up and saw what her friend had wanted to show her: the plasma glow was still spreading across the outer dome like raindrops, but it looked different now.

- The lights..." Mitsuki whispered, looking around mesmerised. - Are they melting?

- The electromagnetic field is weakening..." a black-bearded man in wet glasses confirmed her thoughts.

- Ed was right..." Van der Berg supported Vorobyov and turned to his men with relief. - We're getting out of the storm zone!

One of the girls slid down to the carbon composite floor in relief, taking advantage of the weakened rocking, and Prayfield sighed in relief, allowing himself a tired smile.

- Just a little more, friends..." he repeated his own phrase and steered the steered raft away from the small island on the way. The bottom had become deeper and more predictable, so they should reach the end point, which was visible less than a kilometre ahead, without any adventures...

The worst was over.

Or so he wanted to think.

- Shit..." came a suppressed groan from behind him.

Vorobyev cursed and hurried off to help. Ed gave him a concerned look at the soldiers, who were as far away from the doctor as they could be aboard the barely roomy ship.

- I don't feel so good, Doc.... - The American, lying motionless on the floor in an unnatural posture, said.

- Hush, hush... - Alexei leaned towards him and cleaned his soaked glasses. - Let me have a look.

- How is he? - Mitsuki asked cautiously, clasping her hands together uncertainly.

- I'm afraid it doesn't matter," the Russian doctor turned to her. - His collarbone is broken and his foot is injured. He should go to the hospital before the tissues become inflamed.....

- That's bad news," Van der Berg said and looked back at Edward.

It complicated a lot of things.

- I'm afraid we're going to have to change the order of operations," the grey-haired scientist concluded, still manoeuvring along the calmer riverbed. - I can't risk all of you.

***

- And that's out of the question," Prayfield cut off twenty minutes later.

Dupont stepped into the plating of one of the only two surviving rotorcraft and blocked his path.

- I mean, what do you mean...? - The girl raised her free hand indignantly. - We're not supposed to split up!

- Adelie..." Edward sighed and shook his head. - That's enough.

It would be an exaggeration to say that he was unaffected by the events of the past two hours.

- We can't leave each other..." Meanwhile, the blonde did not retreat, who was horrified at the prospect of never seeing the people who had become her family again. - We're family!

- Enough! - The professor finally shouted at her. The young woman flinched and backed away slightly. The last time she had been shouted at like that was under very different circumstances.

- I'm sorry," Prayfield realised his mistake and slumped down. - I didn't mean to... raise my voice.

- But promoted. - Adeli pressed her lips together and leaned against the side of the futuristic helicopter, where Vorobyev and one of the military technicians were poking around.

Van der Berg stepped away from Sam, who was lying on a makeshift stretcher and had been splinted, and headed inside the second flying vehicle, whose engines were just trying to start with mixed success.

"We'll have to split up..."

- I'm sorry," Prayfield apologised and stood beside him. The grey-haired man with the dark glasses sighed and slumped his shoulders. - Too many we... all of us... have lost along the way. And I don't know how it will end... I don't know the end of our book. Will everyone see it..." the scientist hesitated and shook his head. - I can't take that risk.

Dupont turned to him and said with tears in her eyes:

- And I don't want to lose you all again!

- It's all right," came a soft voice. - I'll go with him.

Jones, barely conscious due to the field painkiller, followed the confident stride of the little flight boots with astonishment.

- But-" Adélie objected.

- And you won't lose me," Mitsuki finished, stopping in front of her and smiling. - I promise. I'll be... safer with Sam.

- Wow, what company..." the young American tried to smile, and the girl turned in his direction:

- Don't get cocky, mate - you're still number two.

- Copy that..." the wounded adventurer sighed and nodded obediently. - Girls...

The blonde smiled:

- And number one, so.

- A brave heroine," began the Japanese, slowly approaching her, "who will go to the end of the world and play her important part. - Mitsuki took Adela's face in her hands and whispered with feeling: - 'My heroine.

- And you know how to be romantic," Dupont blushed and touched her fingers affectionately.

The brown-haired girl melted at her favourite's awkward compliment.

- I have fallen in love with a Frenchwoman, haven't you forgotten? - and the girl playfully touched the tip of her nose with her finger.

- The young woman sighed, reluctantly letting her friend go as the medics carried the wounded man inside the transport. - Okay, I'm in. I'll really feel better if I know that nothing will happen to you....

- It won't," Mitsuki turned around and winked at her. - I promise.

- I know.

- Very well," concluded Prayfield , who tactfully did not interfere with the two ladies. Itakura stopped in the doorway with Van der Berg, and the scientist ordered: "Then you'll follow us to the United Kingdom, and there we'll split up - I'll radio St. Mary's Hospital to clear a helipad for you and prepare the medics. - Prayfield looked thoughtfully at the second stretcher with a long bundle, which the mercenaries from the Utopolis Guard were carrying inside without much caution. - There is a morgue there too, so... we'll see you off later. Is that clear?

- I understand," Volkert nodded readily, "everything will be.

The Japanese woman let the soldiers pass and quietly followed Olivia's body. Dutch was about to go to the pilot of the ship, but the professor stopped him:

- Wait... you think I'm just going to let you go for a second thought? - Prayfield laughed. - No, you're not getting off that easy, mate. Let's go back to Atom Manor and start calling research facilities around the world - I've got an idea that could help stop the destruction of our universe.....

Or speed it up.

***

- ...I certainly like your optimism, Ed," grinned a visibly refreshed Vorobyev five hours later in response to a very different phrase.

- Well, it's science, my friend," the professor jokingly answered him from the other end of the corridor. - Either it bombs or it doesn't.

Adela thought his tone changed slightly after he hung up the phone.

- I'm afraid the scale of the experiment is a bit exaggerated..." shrugged Van der Berg, who had changed into fresh clothes and was still looking at the interior of the living room of the house he had been in only once, and that by a strange coincidence.

- There's no time for experiments," Prayfield said with a serious face, leaning heavily against the back of his chair. - Either we do everything perfectly, or life on Earth is over. The stakes are higher than ever.

It was clear from the expression in his eyes that the slowly sprawling network of chaotically appearing and disappearing leaks to other universes across the sparsely populated valleys of Norway to the accompaniment of gravitational vortices and electromagnetic storms was not the biggest problem yet.

- Did you recognise something? - Adélie asked worriedly.

- Unfortunately, yes. - Edward nodded, pursed his lips, and thought for a moment, not knowing how to choose the right words. - I just got off the phone with Greenwich. It's worse than we thought.

- Is that how...? - Van der Berg raised an eyebrow. 'If the royal observatory is in a panic...'

- Apparently," the scientist turned to him, "the abrupt change in Jupiter's core has caused the centre of mass of the emerging double star system to wobble. - Prayfield , frowning, looked down. - Unfortunately, we are caught between a hammer and anvil, and right now a coronal ejection of unprecedented force is travelling towards Earth.

Aleksei frowned and asked again:

- Coronal... what?

- An ejection, my friend," the professor explained patiently. - A cloud of glowing plasma, - by the crudest calculations, hundreds of times the size of our planet.

- Oh my God..." whispered Adelie, who didn't need to put too much effort into imagining it.

- And how fast are the particles travelling? Is crossing over inevitable?

Prayfield shook his head.

- Unfortunately, it's almost imminent. My friend Vitter thinks we have only twelve to fifteen hours before we enter the area of this, shall we say, firestorm. - He pulled a notebook and pen out of his waistcoat breast pocket and quickly drew a diagram to show the situation clearly. - The gravitational field of Saturn and Jupiter will pull some of the separated prominences back on themselves, but we will still be hit. And it will be crushing for everyone: the Kingdom, the States, the new Soviets... it won't matter.

- It will kill us all equally..." Alexei said unhappily, imagining the consequences. His desk mate, finally rid of his damaged spacesuit, agreed:

- And not in a pleasant way. A cloud of glowing particles of such scale and speed can easily deprive us of atmosphere, not to mention radiation contamination....

- But... there's still time, isn't there? - Dupont took her eyes off Van der Berg and looked at the thoughtful Prayfield . - There must be something we can do, right?

Thoth quickly returned to the present moment and smiled encouragingly at the Frenchwoman:

- It's a good question and I've had time to prepare for it. But first I would like to make sure that we are all on the same side and will act in concert.

Edward glanced meaningfully in Volkert's direction and raised an eyebrow.

- Of course, Ed. There's no other way.

Adélie grinned to herself, remembering how five hours ago he had stood behind the backs of the soldiers he had ordered to kill them, and casually glanced at Vorobyov. It seemed to her that for some reason he averted his eyes for a moment.

- Well, good," the professor folded his arms across his chest and allowed himself a small chuckle. - Because I'm going to need an incredible act of self-sacrifice on your part, dear colleague.

Van der Berg looked at him incredulously, trying to guess the scientist's intentions.

- I think we've proven to each other that we can work together in the face of the apocalypse....

- I'll have to share some of the technology," the Englishman explained innocently. His companion's eyes widened.

- Oh my God," Volkert whispered. - No.

Adélie couldn't tell if he was serious or not.

- It's just a low-power quantum teleport system," meanwhile, Prayfield smiled, watching carefully for reactions.

- No, no, no," the Dutchman dismissed his suggestion with a worried expression on his face. - This is proprietary technology. What if China finds out about it?

- China? - The girl looked back at the Soviet doctor.

- Or Persia. Or Park Chung Hee...?

Van der Berg looked at Vorobyov too for support and the latter shrugged nonchalantly, looking at the young woman:

- I don't know what he's talking about at all.

- We've seen different versions of the future," Volkert explained to Adeli, "and what could happen if one of our technologies falls into the wrong hands....

- The future is fluid and changeable," the professor said seriously, taking off his dusty dark glasses. - Moreover, it may not even exist if we fail....

- You're right," the man agreed, glancing thoughtfully at his watch. - But why do you need my portals...? They barely last more than three minutes.

Edward put his glasses back on his nose with a satisfied look.

- That's all I need. Can you simplify their schematic and make a drawing that can be faxed to me...?

The Dutchman hesitated a moment.

- Theoretically, and if bringing in core staff from Utopolis via remote link - then yes... definitely. - He nodded to his own thoughts. - Yes, it's a robust technology that can still be optimised for rapid assembly... but why would you need it?

- You already know part of the answer... We'll build a collider.

Van der Berg's eyebrows crept upwards.

- Collider? Why would you do that?

- Do you want to make your own time machine and go back in time with it?...? - Vorobyev suggested perplexedly.

Prayfield shook his head and laughed.

- Believe me, we need a particle accelerator. But not just any particle accelerator, but a planet-sized one.

Adelie flapped her eyelashes incomprehensibly and glanced over at the other two men.

- And... how do you expect to achieve that? - Van der Berg asked incredulously.

- We'll build it from disparate scientific complexes," the grey-haired inventor began to explain confidently, taking up paper and pen again. - Using your technology, we'll link them around the world and achieve unprecedented proton acceleration from portal to portal - and then we'll crash them into each other at one end of the hub structure.

The Englishman pushed the notebook aside and lifted the edge of it so that everyone could see a drawing in the form of a polygon with round dots at the vertices, around one of which were drawn outgoing dashes and the word "Boom!" for clarity.

Volkert frowned and looked up at him:

- What do you want to induce, an artificial singularity...?

Prayfield shook his head.

- At sublight speeds, it will not occur," he said confidently. - I expect that the geometric acceleration through quantum teleportation will not only accelerate the particles to unimaginable levels, but also create a multiplied binding.

- You're talking about entanglement... - his main interlocutor bit his thumb nail thoughtfully under the anxious glances of the other two present. - Protons in linked laboratories will not only accelerate each other, but also transfer their state to the others in a circle... - the Dutchman looked at his vis-a-vis again. - And what will this do?

Thoth raised his hands:

- Possible solution to the problem. When they finally bumped into each other on the other side of the world, they would cause a chain reaction in all the places at once. - Edward drew out a few columns of equations on the paper and tilted his head contentedly. - I expect that such an event, almost impossible in nature, would cause..." he thought for a moment, "...let's call it a quantum shock. The atomic bonds will open for the briefest instant, but the wave effect and the force of nuclear interaction will not allow the fabric-space of time to disintegrate....

Dupont thought she was beginning to realise where the master of the manor was going with this.

- You do realise," Van der Berg meanwhile tried to object to Prayfield , "that you're talking about a man-made event that could annihilate every atom in every molecule?

Alexei shuddered at those words.

- Naturally," his friend nodded to his former rival with a sigh. - And I'd be glad if there were less risky ways to stop the inevitable.

- So we have to try," Alexei concluded. -

- And... what happens if your plan works? - Adélie said cautiously, with a note of interest and hope.

Edward met her gaze and saw something in her eyes that he hadn't noticed before. Whatever dangers remained in their path, she no longer doubted that they would be able to do the impossible. Even if she couldn't see it herself... her family would be here.

The professor smiled warmly at the young girl and replied:

- We're gonna restart the universe, my sweet.

CHAPTER 24

- Delya..." Vorobiev called out softly.

- Yes?" the girl turned to him eagerly, putting the receiver down.

- Hospital, right...? - the Russian doctor nodded at the phone. - How is your d-girl with Sam?

The Frenchwoman stared at his overly concerned face and nodded briefly, determined not to hide anything:

- All is well, raring to go - and I don't know who more, Tsuki or Sam. But the doctors won't let him yet. And I agree with them. - Adélie looked at her feet. - It's better to save yourself now...

Alexei intercepted her gaze and a sympathetic expression appeared on his face:

- Does it still hurt? - The doctor tilted his head tactfully.

- Sometimes," Dupont admitted and wrapped her arms around herself. The wound didn't bother her as much as it used to, but a full recovery would take more than three months. If Edward's plan worked and they could survive the remaining nine hours.

- It's normal..." Meanwhile, Vorobyov awkwardly reassured her and sighed. - I'm sorry I unwittingly dragged you into all this.

The Frenchwoman raised her big blue eyes to him and looked at him intently.

- If I hadn't told you about my friend back then, in the German cafe.....

- ...I'd go back to the creep who cheated on me," the girl interrupted the doctor. - "As I've done many times before. It's all right, monsieur. - The blonde sighed and looked towards the living room where two soft voices were coming from. - I wouldn't want a life in which I didn't meet all of you ...

- And so do I, my dear," the Soviet doctor assured her, thinking about something again. - Me too.

Perhaps she had never seen him so closed and preoccupied.

- Alex..." she asked softly, hoping for reciprocity. - Is everything okay?

- Y-yes, of course.

- It's just that you had that look at your desk that I thought....

- Everything is fine," Vorobiev waved her away nervously and took a few steps away. - Everything will be fine.

- If you say so, monsieur.

An unusually dishevelled Prayfield appeared in the doorway with a telephone receiver in one hand and a kettle of coffee in the other,

- Gentlemen and ladies," he hurried his friends and nodded at the tall clock with a pendulum, "the last preparations. I have already arranged for us to arrive in London in an hour.

Dupont sighed quietly and ran up the steps to the top of the stairs.

***

- Do you think they had time to build a portal system? - The Frenchwoman asked in full parade, gripping the shaky back of the chair in front of her.

A stricken chuckle was heard.

- I hired the best engineers in the world," Van der Berg grinned from his seat. - It took them two hours to produce circuits that a child could understand.

- It's a figure of speech, I hope...? - Vorobiev asked, keeping his eyes on the wheel.

- Naturally," the Dutchman assured him. - It would not be in the interest of Utopolis for his inventions to fall into the hands of IBM or Grip.

- "Grape?" - Adelie raised an eyebrow.

Volkert turned to her and strained his memory for a second.

- Potential Future. Two guys named Bill and Steve are still teenagers, but their little garage computing business will change the world in seven or eight years.

- I would have chosen a different name..." the Frenchwoman grinned, gripping the back of the chair in front of her during another round of turbulence as something cold touched the back of her neck. - Ouch!

Edward looked away from the porthole and shuddered. The thought flashed: "Not here..."

The girl tried to turn around - and her eye was right on the line of the gun muzzle,

Four soldiers in dark green uniforms under body armour stood at the end of the cabin by the half-open cargo bay door.

- Don't move... - ordered one of them with a strong Slavic accent, glanced at the girl and waved his automatic rifle in the direction. - Get out, hands up!

On the heads of the unexpected guests were insulated hats with a red five-pointed star.

- Hush, hush...! - The professor tried to calm the intruders and raised his hands together with his wary colleague, whose mind was also racing: "How the hell did they get in here...?".

The Soviet soldier closest to Dupont gave her an expressive look and jabbed his weapon even harder; the girl nodded nervously, rose unhesitatingly from her seat, and joined the men at the head of the cabin. Prayfield jerked to cover her behind him, but the group commander took quick aim and growled in Russian:

- Back off, I said! I'll blow her fucking head off!

The invaders were serious.

- Easy, girl, it's all right," Van der Berg whispered with his hands still raised.

- What do you want? - The scientist also asked directly in Russian, thinking over possible courses of action. - And how did you get on board...?

- We're in position, all clear," one of the armed men standing at the edge of the line radioed to someone.

- You'd better ask your mate about that.... - The machine gunner standing behind them grinned and nodded towards the suspiciously quiet pilot at the wheel.

- What does that mean, Alex...? - turned to Vorobyov, Prayfield .

Toth lowered his gaze with a heavy sigh, set the steering wheel to autopilot mode.... and didn't even turn round.

Inside Adela's mind, everything fell away.

"Traitor..."

How long has he been passing information to Moscow? How much do they already know? And what exactly do they want from them again?

- But he should probably take this tube first... - meanwhile the soldier at the porthole nodded to his comrades, hung his automatic rifle on his shoulder and unbuckled his pocket radio from his belt to hand it to the silent pilot.

- ...he can hear it, can't he? ... - came from the speaker as the doctor picked up the object. By the look of it, he recognised the voice. - Ah, good. Alexei Grigorievich, hello ... - A serious man of fifty years on the other end of the line coughed and began unabashedly: - Perhaps I should say thank you for what you did then near Kazan, - because if it were not for you, the chair of the chairman would probably go to Shcherbatov. And I do not tolerate competition....

- Comrade Andropov... - Vorobyov said at last.

Prayfield and Van der Berg gloomily glanced round.

KGB.

- That's right, that's right," the head of the power structure confirmed with a grin in his voice. - It's amazing how compliant people are when you find their weak spot....

- Don't you dare touch her! - Alexei raised his voice, clutching the walkie-talkie in his hands.

- Nobody's touching it. Your citizen is fine. - The voice on the line got a little quieter. - Maybe you'd like to hear her. Because she's here and she's quite free...

- Alexei... Alexei!" came a squeezed female voice.

- Agnieszka! - exhaled Vorobiev.

- I'm fine, my love, don't listen to them! - a woman with a noticeable Polish accent started gibbering in English. - Don't do what they say... ah!

Adélie shuddered: there was a thumping sound and a short sob.

- Yuri, damn you! - growled the doctor.

The Frenchwoman looked up sympathetically. "He had no choice..."

- Oh, but my hands remember..." The panting man's voice came back. - Damn foreigners. - Andropov coughed and continued seriously: 'So, I'll say it in a simple, Soviet way. The Motherland will forgive you and the Cheka will forget everything if you do as I say. And no other way. And your fiancée won't suffer either.

- W-what do I need...? - Alexei asked through clenched teeth.

- Turn your aeroplane around," demanded the head of the repressive apparatus. - And fly towards the Baltics. My men will show you where to land.

Prayfield had never seen the man, with whom he had once travelled through fire and water, in so miserable a condition.

- We didn't agree on that..." Vorobiev tried to appeal to his interlocutor's conscience, "you said you'd let her go if I gave you the scientists. We were only talking about inside information.

A jerky laugh was heard on the other end of the phone connection.

- Come on, comrade, information in itself is worthless. You think I don't see what's going on? The world is falling apart and you'd have to be an idiot not to take advantage of it.

Edward moved forward in spite of the pointed guns.

- You want control..." he began, a little louder for Andropov to hear, "...and power. The KGB is not enough for you. You dream of the whole of Russia.

- It's a familiar voice, though I've only heard it on the tapes," the self-appointed candidate for general secretary reacted vividly. - Our famous fugitive, eh? Prayfield , who burned half my army with my own weapons...?

- Fortunately, it's not yours anymore," the Englishman objected, knowing full well that an orbital cannon couldn't kill anyone. - And, frankly, I don't think you'll be able to regain the Soviet Union's lost ground.

- Why is that?

- The East needs the West, whatever we think of each other. - Prayfield sighed, realising there was no point in hiding the truth. - The whole world is threatened with extinction if we don't get there. Your sources must have told you by now... about the solar flare.

It was obvious from Yuri's reaction that this was not news to him.

- You're overdramatising. Besides.

Prayfield turned pale.

- ...half the world is still the world.

Adelie and Van der Berg looked at each other anxiously, and the Dutchman almost silently translated to her a summary of the dialogue in Russian.

- Yes, it's true, our Gamov and Shvartsman have made calculations," Andropov meanwhile continued, "the Soviet Union will be almost unaffected, only Kamchatka and part of Primorye. Unlike the western hemisphere... and that's another reason to recognise our legitimacy.

- Legitimacy...? - Volkert interjected, hoping not to be recognised. But Andropov, who was distracted by a barely audible rumble (of guns?), did not recognise the man involved in the multilateral negotiations for a new world:

- The tanks are already in Red Square, son," he said, judging by his voice, rising to his feet. - Those liberal dreamers have had three whole years, and they've blown it down the drain. It's time for real men to take fate into their own hands. Negotiations have already begun, Brezhnev will give up power within the hour... and then it's up to your masters, gentlemen of the bourgeoisie.

- You're using us as bargaining chips," Edward finished for him, thinking hard.

- And what a good one! - There was another hoarse chuckle at the end of the line. - Either Nixon and Charles III lift the oil embargo and recognise our right to sovereignty and our own way - under my sole authority - or... - Putchist thought for a second, - Good luck to them to wait for the end of the world in their bunkers, to put out fires and to ask for humanitarian aid from us, the Communists, on their knees.

The Englishman looked at the pilot, still holding the intercom with a tensely absent look, and said nothing.

- The Soviet Union will be the sole superpower of the new world, Prayfield ," finished the self-appointed architect of Earth's communist future, triumphantly. - And you're going to help me do it whether you like it or not.

The voice from Moscow made it clear that the conversation was over, and the communicator reached for his walkie-talkie, which the still silent Vorobyov handed over without any obstacles.

- Don't do anything stupid," the military man addressed the hostages, switching to broken English for persuasiveness, "let's take the plane back. And no one will be in danger.

Adélie looked at the Russian, satisfied with her knowledge of foreign culture, and whispered to the side:

- I don't feel much like going back to the Soviet Union. What are we gonna do, Ed?

Prayfield looked longingly at Alexei, who with a blank stare put his hand on the steering wheel, switched off the autopilot system and put the plane to starboard. But he had no other choice....

"I shouldn't have left them in a moment of weakness then..."

But there is no fixing that. What needs to be fixed is that they are now on board a plane hijacked by armed men, completely unarmed and helpless, and in a little over three hours they will be in the clutches of a regime that may be even worse than the one they once eluded.

And then the grey-haired professor's gaze fell on his neighbour on the right, who had managed to change his damaged spacesuit for an improved model, the parts of which, if he guessed their purpose correctly, could work exactly as needed....

- I think I've got it," the scientist whispered aloud, turning away from Van der Berg and winking at the Frenchwoman. - Play along with me...

She nodded, interpreting his nod correctly, drew air into her chest and stepped forward, lowering her raised arms slightly.

- Gentlemen," Adelie began, "a moment, please... wait.....

The soldiers hesitated and lowered their rifles slightly.

- Well, well, well! - shrieked one of them, and yet he pointed his rifle at her. - Back, stand with the others!

He licked his lips nervously and realised too late that she didn't know Russian. But Dupont didn't need to:

- You do realise," she continued in English, taking another step on legs shaking with carefully concealed fear, "you do realise that we're on the same side, don't you? - Dupont lowered her hands and casually undid the top button of her waistcoat. - You don't really want the Western Hemisphere wiped off the face of the Earth, do you?

- What is she talking about? - Barely distracted from her hemispheres, one of the fairly young guys turned to his partner.

- I have no idea," he replied, also staring at the neckline, "it's not our way.
Both soldiers looked at the third, who a minute ago had boasted of his knowledge of a foreign language, but he only shrugged his shoulders in confusion, trying to hide his embarrassment - it seemed to be his entire vocabulary.

- What's on your mind? - Van der Berg, meanwhile, asked, who had been distracted from the unusual spectacle of great courage by a strange nudge in the back.

- Hush," Edward said, leaning sideways and doing something with one hand, "don't move... there's an idea...

It wasn't easy to simultaneously disassemble a piece of wearable gear and continue playing the role of helpless hostage. But their friend was doing a fine job as a distraction:

- We're all good people, guys..." Adelie took another step forward and spread her arms out conciliatorily, lifting her chin and shrugging her shoulders a little. - Comrades? - she added in Russian and flapped her eyelashes innocently.

- She is a pretty girl, a Komsomol girl," said one of the Soviet soldiers, looking at her bust and lowering his weapon even lower.

- You bet..." Van der Berg, who understood the Russian perfectly well, grinned and suddenly jerked. - Oh, careful!

- Sorry, too many fasteners.

- Hey! - one of the four military men finally looked away and realised that the foreigners were obviously up to something. - You two! Put your hands up!

Van der Berg, with a not too surprised face, raised his palms even higher, but his neighbour did exactly the opposite.

- You too, grey! - repeated the soldier, visibly nervous, and took the safety off his rifle. - Hands in front!

But Prayfield did not obey. All his thoughts were now concentrated on the accuracy of his movements and the correct sequence of connections between the part behind his back and the cable from the on-board radio that had just happened to be at hand....

- You want a bullet in the forehead, or what?...? - finally lost patience with the airborne invaders and threw to his comrades: - He's hiding something!

It seems they were not prepared for this turn of events.

- Come on, on the count of three, grab hands!" Prayfield said in quick English, turning to Van der Berg and glancing at Adela. She nodded imperceptibly and prepared to retreat.

- What are they doing there...? - one of the military men looked at his neighbour incomprehensibly. The polyglot shrugged his shoulders and frowned:

- I think he said something about... "three"?

"Why are we all learning German!" - A belated thought flashed through his mind.

Meanwhile, Edward turned to the pilot, pressed his lips together, and held out his open palm discreetly:

- Traitors are welcome too.

Vorobiev looked up at him and nodded briefly with gratitude in his eyes.

- Sorry guys! - He quickly threw behind him and grabbed his friend's arm. He elbowed Van der Berg and shouted:

- ...Three!

- Peace-labour-may you! - Adélie shouted one last time, and rushed towards Volkert, preparing to seize him by the free hand.

Prayfield pressed the side of the assembled device connected to the aircraft's power system. A spark flashed across the angular hull, and beams of bluish light shot through the grooves in the light smoke. A second later the smoke was replaced by a stream of plasma, rapidly enveloping the huddled together figures, and then the edges of the cloudy sphere suddenly hardened and sharpened, a vibrating wave ran along the edges of the bluish polygon - and the multidimensional figure with a low noise collapsed into itself with the captives inside, capturing part of the cabin and glazing.

- Shit, shit, shit! - One of the soldiers shrieked and jerked to grab the back of the seat, but he didn't have time. Part of the seat was ripped out with the lower frame and they were thrown out with the unfortunate man through a hole in the hull of the aircraft, which began to fall apart.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on!

The floor and walls of the cabin cracked, the metal and wood began to come apart at the seams and their debris was also blown outwards by the icy wind under the still working propellers on the barely held wings.

- I said...

The second troop collided with the third, but they had no chance to escape. They were surprised to feel a brief moment of weightlessness when the aircraft went down and they were scattered to different parts of the cabin.

- Vasily...!

The man tried to hold on to the luggage rack, but the difference in pressure prevailed and he was whistled outwards, following his mate into the thin and icy air.

He had enough breath to see with horror how the shattered wreckage, along with the last of the four military men without parachutes, was being carried away, and the plane, with its destroyed cockpit and finally failed engines, began to lurch on its side and fall to pieces, preparing to collide with the water column far below....

***

Adela's pupils dilated, and she was horrified to feel the air around her disappear for a moment. An unbearable itch and cold so intense that she thought she would have died if it had lasted longer-but it was over very quickly.

She didn't even have time to realise what had happened when, with a sound that almost hurt her eardrums, the cockpit of the plane was replaced by a bluish haze of scalding-cold air, which for some reason was rushing towards her...

The girl almost screamed, but a light shake of her hand brought her back to reality. She turned her head and saw Edward, who folded and stretched his legs down and gestured for her to do the same. Dupont glanced down and her heart clenched with fear: from a height of several hundred metres they were falling onto the water. "And if it's done wrong..." She inwardly shrank back, straightened her legs and braced herself for impact.

But it was almost painless. There were a series of loud splashes in the air, and Adélie felt even colder-but it was better than being trapped inside a Russian-captured plane... at least she could hold her own on the water, unlike the guns pointed at her.

"By the way, where's the aeroplane?" - thought the girl and looked up. But there was no sign of an aircraft in the sky. And the sky... the sky looked completely different.

"Oh no," a wistful thought flashed through her mind as she thought of Mitsuki remaining with Sam. - Temporal transference again..."

- Ugh..." - the girl was brought back to reality by a soft splash and grunting of the grey-haired professor, who was soaked to the skin and was confidently keeping afloat. - Well, is everyone all right?

- I wish I could hear that question noticeably less often..." Adeli chuckled nervously and shook her head, looking around at her surroundings.

- That's true," Prayfield agreed, and looked away, too. A smooth coastline was visible in the light dawn haze, but it was too far away to make out the details. The tiny silhouettes of boats and sailboats floated slowly in the warm sea in front of the sprawling beach of high-rise houses, which meant that rescue was possible.

Van der Berg straightened up in the salt water with a noticeable effort and brushed a wet strand from his still tense face.

- One thing I don't understand," he said, slowly groping his hazmat suit, "is how you keep coming up with things like this, Ed.

- I don't know," the inventor shrugged, turning to his former adversary. - Engineering intuition, perhaps...?

Volkert shook his head and answered with a slight smile:

- If that's the case, you're some kind of genius. I'd take my hat off respectfully if I wore them.

- Have we travelled somewhere? - Finally, a very pale Vorobyov spoke up, squinting through his fogged glasses. - This isn't Europe, is it? And I didn't... oh, my God. - The former doctor turned green and sharply covered his mouth with his hand.

- Careful, my friend," Edward said sympathetically, preparing to swim a little further away just in case.

- It's okay..." the Russian expat stretched out his free arm warningly and nodded weakly, managing to fight the urge. - Thank you. It's just... escaping the black hole that finally threatened Hitler wasn't as lousy as... this. - Vorobyovswallowed hard and regained his breath. - What was that, anyway?

- The Hubble-Rosen material-wave transfer," Van der Berg explained with feigned indifference. - Welcome to the club, mate, I was almost sick the first time, too.

- So that's it...

- But the question of where we are is an interesting one...," Prayfield remarked, squinting toward the shore. - I think we've been transported to the tropics. I can't say for sure that I recognise the place.....

Dupont's attention was caught by a slight noise behind the men and she drifted off to the side.

- Hey, there's someone out there..." She raised her hands, drummed them on the water, and shouted loudly: - Help!

Edward turned around and looked at the silhouette of a sailboat slowly turning toward them, with someone waving at them from the bow.

- Oh, of course. - The scientist, too, raised his hand in the air in greeting, nearly falling over on his side, and was relieved to correct his wet glasses, in which the blue-white-and-red striped flag gleamed. - God bless America.

***

- So we're in Miami," Edward concluded about half an hour later, thanking the good-natured captain of the spacious boat, who was not too surprised at the group of foreigners in distress on the water.

- What a lovely place..." said Adélie, who was already warm, wrapping herself in a plaid given by a local fisherman. She looked around and added: - It's a pity I don't have time for a luxurious holiday.

- It will be enough when we just reboot the universe," Vorobyov reassured her and turned to the professor: - By the way, how to do it, since we are on the other half of the globe...?

- The European collider is no longer usable..." Prayfield agreed, scratching the back of his head. - But that's all right, we can do it from here.

- How?..? - Van der Berg asked, pulling off his seawater-ravaged protective suit.

- I've asked my colleagues to keep the systems on a cold start," the Englishman explained readily. - For a planetary-scale accelerator ring system to work, we need all the nodes, and theoretically we can make a controlled interruption at any point.

- And it just so happens that one of them is not far from us? - Alexei raised an eyebrow incredulously.

- I can't say it's nearby," Edward tilted his head, "but within reach, yes. - He thought for a moment. - Our old acquaintance, Lewton, if memory serves, had a summer house in the Southerne Glades... and a research facility in Homestead.

- It's close enough, south of here," Van der Berg added, leaning confidentially towards the Frenchwoman.

- But how do we get there? - The girl tapped her lower lip thoughtfully.

Prayfield grinned and brought his palm up to his forehead, squinting against the dawn sun.

- It won't be hard, my mi..." he trailed off, staring at a point on the horizon. - No, I take that back. Take cover!

The scientist waved his arms and chased his dazed companions away under one of the awnings, swinging the door open with a jerk. Adélie almost tripped, but managed to keep her balance and hid behind one of the racks in the penny shop,

The shopkeeper was about to shout at the customers, but then the people on the street frantically fussed and the panes in the window shook with a growing rumble, forcing the owner to change his priorities.

- What the hell is that?! - Van der Berg shouted dazedly, trying to drown out the roar of the straight-winged figures flying at a breakneck speed.

- What will the Vremya programme say?...? - Edward turned to Vorobyov reproachfully.

Alexei peeked out from behind the snack rack and squinted his eyes at the planes coming in for a second round.

- TU-95 RC..." he said slowly. - Most likely from Cuba. But I have no idea how they could have found us so quickly.

- I'm afraid I have the answer," Volkert lowered his gaze.

Prayfield frowned:

- Explain yourself, colleague?

A plump salesman with a mixture of fear and cautious interest peeked out from behind the counter.

The Dutchman sighed guiltily.

- When we signed the peace agreement after the Cold War," he began, "one of the conditions would be scientific and technical co-operation between Russia and the United States in exchange for democratic reforms. We did not let their economy collapse, they signed a renunciation of offensive nuclear weapons - and all together, East and West, began to develop, among other things, a space telecommunications network on equal terms....

- That is," the grey-haired inventor interrupted him grimly, "you yourself gave the rebellious Andropov a network of spy satellites that spotted us.

Van der Berg folded his arms across his chest:

- In my predictions he had no chance of reviving the Soviet Union.

- Your predictions didn't take into account the emergence of a third force and the temporal cataclysm..." Edward began harshly, but stopped himself. - Okay, fine.

He walked cautiously to the window and looked outside. The slayers obviously knew which part of the city they were hiding in.

- I'm afraid they won't stand on ceremony now," the Russian doctor sighed as if he had read his thoughts. - If only Agnieszka were all right....

Prayfield gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

- They manipulated you into doing what they told you to do... it makes no sense for them to hurt her now. The stakes have risen again.

- And now it looks like they just want to kill us," Van der Berg added, looking again at the planes flying over the neighbouring street. - Since the capture didn't work out ...

Vorobiev sighed with a sense of shame.

- The KGB never changes.

- But this is out of the question," Adélie shook her head indignantly. - It's... a real attack, wars have been started over less!
The girl nodded irritably towards the piled-up police cars, whose drivers were talking on their radios in confusion and didn't know what to do.

Prayfield lowered his head:

- The Soviets know everything and are ready to go all-in. And their logic is understandable... if Shvarts and Gamov's calculations are correct, in a couple of hours no one will even remember about the violation of air borders.

- A third of the northern hemisphere will die out from the radiation burst because of the neutrino flux, - supported him with a worried look Van der Berg, and Vorobyov uncertainly said:

- If we don't get to the lab in the south of the resort town and trigger the reformatting of an entire universe...

- ...that should somehow rid us of the flood of deadly particles," Dupont finished for him, glancing at the grey-haired professor and raising an eyebrow in anticipation.

- Actually, the odds are pretty good," the Englishman tried to reassure her, adjusting his tinted glasses on his nose. - You see, as they move in a vacuum, their interatomic bonds are more susceptible to the effects of.....

- All right, all right," Adélie waved her hands and interrupted him impatiently as she took a few steps across the shop floor, "I got it. The miracle button will do everything.

- I'm sure the beam will hit the sky, too," Volkert laughed. - It's a pity there wasn't a fight between us at the factory - that would have been a complete set of film clichés.

Prayfield smiled:

- Perhaps for the first time, I am glad that I know less than others.

- That's all very well," decided Sparrow, "but how are we going to cross the city besieged from the air and get to Lewton?

The Frenchwoman hesitated and then her gaze fell on the edge of the car park visible from the shop.

- Maybe on this one. - the girl pointed to the chrome case.

The men ran up to it, and before their eyes was a streamlined car abandoned in the car park, which for some reason had no steering wheel, the side door was tilted upwards, there was an elongated illuminated sign with checkers on the roof - and in place of the wheels were some strange protrusions with grated holes in the bottom.

- Whoa," Edward whistled, and turned to Volkert. - Did you get in here, too?

- An air transport pilot project," Van der Berg replied not without pride, "so far only in Houston, Tennessee and Florida.

- I wish I had contracts like that...

- I'll share if we survive," the Dutchman promised, and pushed the others towards the exit. The shopkeeper rushed to stop the alleged hijacking of the airmobile, but the sound of fighters on a low flight forced him to abandon the idea.

- Come on, mates, get on board!

Prayfield didn't need to ask Adelie twice.

- So..." she said, settling behind the front seat. - The harnesses are in place, that's good. But I don't see any other cars in the air that we can merge with.....

- That's for now," Van der Berg smiled at her from the front, connected part of the bracelet of his lightweight protective suit to the car's on-board system and pressed a few buttons.

Dupont saw movement from the side and peered out through the lowered window. Other cars of different colours began to rise awkwardly from the neighbouring streets, some of them turning their doors in synchrony, and the seats of the dazed passengers flew out of the cabs, with little parachutes above them.

- Whoa!

At the girl's amazed look, the flocks of already completely unmanned futuristic vehicles flew even higher and began to move in concentric trajectories. One of them got in the way of the returning group of fighters and they had to turn sharply to the side.

- Interesting interpretation of the licence to use," Prayfield remarked casually, starting the engine. Van der Berg joked back:

- The creator should always have the last word.

- I don't think that will scare them off," said Vorobyov, who was watching the Soviet aircraft closely. - They've turned left, they're aiming at the target... Ed, there will be missiles now.

- Let's not wait for them.

The scientist lifted the altitude lever and pressed down sharply on the throttle.

Adelie was jerked into her seat; her breath caught as office buildings, skyscrapers and low-rise houses whizzed past at high speed.

- Lower, lower! - shouted Volkert, clutching at his seatbelt. - And more chaotic... need to merge with the deceptions!

- I'm trying, I'm trying! - I'm trying!" Edward shouted back, turning the steering wheel with effort and manoeuvring between the air taxis hurtling in different directions.

- Ouch!

Dupont shrieked as one of the cars accidentally knocked the rear view window off her side.

- Maybe I'll drive. - the aviator next door casually suggested.

- You won't," said the grey-haired inventor half-turned.

The Dutchman cast a glance to the side and saw something flash and change to a billowing cloud beneath one of the planes hurtling towards them.

- Look out, R-33! - shouted Volkert, and Edward immediately threw the flying car down.

The missile whizzed past them and disappeared behind the block, where seconds later an explosion went off, shattering the glass in the neighbouring houses.

- What the hell?! - Adélie could only exhale. Vorobyovcouldn't find the right words either:

- Whoo!

- Hold on...! - Prayfield gritted his teeth and pulled the wheel towards him. The battered vehicle swayed, but continued its clumsy flight among similar air taxis powered by flattened jet engines.

Three bombers with red stars on their wings flew over the junction with panic-stricken cars and a police car came round the corner and almost crashed into the flashing red traffic lights - but that didn't stop the driver of the car.

- Attention, all stations, the situation is deteriorating... - continued to report into the radio, an agitated dark-skinned policeman in tinted glasses, looking away from the invading planes. - The explosion of a petrol station on Coral Way, a series of fires across the south-western part of the city....

- It's an emergency! - wheezed the fireman across the street, removing his helmet tiredly. - Call the National Guard....

- The army should be on its way..." his approaching partner answered him and glanced at the telephone booth where another policeman with a hastily bandaged abrasion on his head was arguing loudly with the telephone operator.

- ...I repeat, I want the White House! Tell bloody Nixon, the Soviet Union just invaded the United States!

It's World War III!

***

- Did it come off?

Adelie only now unclenched her fingers from the doorknob with relief.

- It seems," Prayfield turned to Van der Berg, also relaxing his hands on the helm, "your idea worked.

- Amazing, isn't it? - grinned his former adversary.

- That's an impressive trick," the Russian in the back seat said respectfully, and looked around, noticing that Edward had steered the air taxi into a circular descent. - Hmm... Are we close?

- Yes," the Professor nodded forwards, "that building over there. We'll sit on the evacuation platform on the roof, Lewton should be here by now... wait.

He shifted his eyebrows and looked at something in the distance. On the city's horizon, there was a slowly increasing capsule-shaped dot with a long, thin tail.

- What's that? - Dupont squinted blindly. But the faint chirping sound left no doubt.

- I'm afraid our story isn't over yet.

From the coastal side, a dark green attack helicopter was approaching heavily towards them.

- The fighters must have turned back..." Alexei suggested uncertainly, thinking something over. - They were cover, this is a landing....

- How many are there? - The Englishman turned to him warily.

He knew he wouldn't like the answer.

- At least twenty or thirty men," replied the military doctor unhappily.

- And they'll all be on the roof soon... That's not good.

- What are we going to do? - Volkert asked anxiously.

Prayfield sighed, lowered the steering wheel, and turned the flying car sideways.

- Same as the good old days.

To hope...and to act boldly.

***

- Great," the professor exhaled after twenty minutes, "we made it....

- Quiet!" the Frenchwoman with the sharper hearing shouted at him. - They're already on the upper floors!

The girl pressed herself against a dimly lit part of the wall and pushed Alexei, who was closest to her, to the side to do the same. The man raised his head and noticed a shadow flickering on the wall above the main staircase.

- Where do we go...? - Van der Berg whispered, looking around the foyer of the research complex with its symmetrical upward climb and branching corridors in the cold light of the halogen lamps.

- To the third floor," Prayfield nodded towards the area already occupied by Soviet soldiers, "the main control centre of the collider is there. But I'm not sure if you can get there through the back door....

Suddenly a cheery shout was heard and a familiar face appeared from a neighbouring back room.

- Jesus Christ, Ed! - the scientist exclaimed in a half-whisper, then stared incredulously. - And... guys? What are you guys doing here?

- Hello, Mr Lewton! - Adélie straightened up with relief and extended her hand in a friendly manner. The American particle physics researcher kissed her gallantly (the girl could hardly resist giggling at the tickle), and then turned to his friend from the island part of Europe:

- Careful, - upstairs these Russians, who come from who knows where, are at home, looking round and waiting for someone....

- Us, John," Edward shook his head with a smile and a touch of bitterness. - They're looking for us.

- Wow, ah... - the grey-haired scientist with a bushy moustache did not immediately find something to answer, and only slumped his shoulders in annoyance. - Ah, I see.

- A classic story," said Volkert as a full member of the team. - The hornet's nest has been stirred up again.

- Some things never change..." Lewton shook his head and pursed his lips nostalgically. Alexei allowed himself a small smirk and decided to hurry the others up:

- I hope so. You got a weapon?

- Not much, I'm afraid," the moustachioed head of the science lab turned to him with a concerned look.

- I was of a different opinion of the States," allowed himself a remark from a doctor with extensive military experience.

- You bet, comrade. - Lewton sighed and glanced warily at the main staircase, where a small platoon of Moscow paratroopers had just descended from the fifth floor to the fourth. - 'Follow me, I'll guide you.

***

- Careful," Prayfield whispered a few long minutes later, "shhhh.

- What is it? - Adela peeked out from behind his bent back.

The scientist lifted his head over the last step and looked around.

- It looks clear. Let's go, friends... - The professor carefully climbed to the floor of the floor they needed and raised the revolver in his hands. The hum of sparse voices from above died down and was replaced by another clamour and clanking of objects being picked over. "They're searching the whole building..."

- The collider nodes are already here, aren't they? - Van der Berg interrupted the Englishman's thoughts.

Edward looked at John and the latter nodded in favour, :

- Yeah, right down the corridor. Just, um.

Suddenly one of the doors swung open and two soldiers in heavy uniforms appeared in the opening.

- Stop right there! - One of them shouted in Russian after a moment's hesitation and grabbed his automatic rifle.

- Oh, hell! - Vorobyev exclaimed and pulled Dupont to him.

- Stop, you bastard! - The military officer repeated the threat and pulled the trigger.

There was a burst of machine gun fire.

- Get down! - Prayfield rushed to the massive monstera cachepot and Volkert followed.

The echoes of gunfire died down and a thud was heard.

- Comrade Lieutenant," shouted the second of the paratroopers in the ringing silence, "they are here! On the third!...

There was a confirming shout in reply, followed by the stomping of boots.

- The terrorists are armed..." the gunman hissed, lowering the barrel. - This one certainly was.

Adelie peeked out from behind a squat cabinet and aghast.

Prayfield , too, straightened up from his point as far as he could.

Lewton was lying on his back near the filing cabinet, breathing intermittently, staring blankly ahead; his hand was pressed against his chest, on which several dark red spots were blurred.

Alexei lowered his head and clenched his teeth.

"If nothing is done now..."

He met Adela's gaze, then looked back at Edward and Van der Berg. He estimated the distance to the corridor, estimated the approximate number of opponents, the ratio of fighting strength... and smiled into his moustache.

Dupont looked again with compassion and pain at John, beneath whom a pool of blood had begun to spread.

There was the click of a reloading bolt. The gunner raised his weapon, pointed it at the dying man, and then slowly moved the muzzle sideways, towards the shelter behind which he noticed that someone was definitely behind. The order had been given clearly, from Moscow itself... no one was to be left alive in this building.

The Punisher took aim to shred the thin metal, but a shot rang out and the bullet passed within an inch of him.

- What the...

The paratrooper recoiled and lost his balance for a second.

- Run! - shouted Vorobyev, aiming again with the Beretta and slowly rising to his full height.

Adelie froze.

- What..." Edward whispered, unable to believe his eyes. - What are you doing?

- No, you don't!.. - Dupont shouted, pushing herself against the edge of the cupboard.

- Go on, run! - Alexei shouted at her half-turned. - I'll cover you!

The scientist lowered his gaze tragically and turned his head. It could only mean one thing.

The Russian doctor fearlessly strode forward and fired a few shots. In response came a scattered machine-gun burst.

The Frenchwoman slammed her fist impotently on her knee and rushed to Lewton, who was still conscious.

- Hand..." the moustache wheezed. - I can't... feel... my... hand.....

The gunshots didn't stop.

- And this, according to you, is a fair fight...? - Alexei's laughing voice sounded in the intervals. - Your time is over and will never return...!

- This is our chance! - Prayfield threw to Van der Berg and ran out, head down, into the crossfire.

- Hold on, hold on! - Adélie begged and pulled him with all her might under the cabinet table by the locker.

- I was.

The Dutchman clenched his teeth and followed the professor, casting a parting glance at the figure of the loner firing back around the corner, who had drawn away some of the incoming soldiers.

***

- Here, here, Ed! - Van der Berg hurried his partner.

- How confusing..." the scientist sighed, recovering his breath.

- Is this it...? - Volkert nodded at the huge structure behind the shaking safety glass.

Directly above them with a low rumbling sound hovered a huge cylindrical two-part structure with concentric nodes of insulated wires and a thin tube between them that shuddered and sparkled every few seconds. At the far ends, on either side of the centre, there were shimmering holes in the air, shakily shaped, with smooth, glowing edges, beyond which the outlines of similar structures were visible in a ghostly blue haze.

Prayfield adjusted his tinted glasses and examined the massive collider.

- Apparently the same experimental model. - He turned towards one of the terminals with a series of kinescope screens. - Just need to check it out...

- Now... - interrupted the Dutchman, who understood him half-heartedly, and ran to the other side. - The connection with London is there, everything is running, the acceleration speed is higher than predicted.

Van der Berg glanced in awe at the titanic machine before him. Yes, the collider might be inferior in complexity to the complex for tracking and analysing alternate timelines that he had built in Utopolis, but the very thought that right now the same charged particle would be passing through the tubes of a dozen synchrophasotrons in different parts of the world, accelerating faster and faster after each passage through the network of portals he had designed and developed... there was something cosmic about it.

- Fine. - Edward leaned over his screen and tapped the table thoughtfully, trying to ignore the gunshots and stomping feet outside the wall. - Everything seems to be in order here, too. All the nodes are working, the quantum tunnels are connected... - Prayfield looked at his colleague and nodded towards the portals with a concentrated look: "We open them, accelerate the proton many times to sublight speed, break the passage of time and make the particle collide with itself from the recent past. And it will be over... one way or another.

Volkert raised his eyes to him.

- It's going to end someday, but not today. That's what a friend of mine taught me.

- That's right," the professor replied to the smile and looked at the giant collider, which is destined to decide the fate of the world. - Hope will fade with the last atom of the Universe....

- And it won't happen today," Van der Berg assured him firmly and put his hand on the control keyboard.

- Not today. - Edward nodded, thought for a moment, then touched the button confidently.

"It's time."

- On the count of three, let's go!

- Wait," the young man stopped him abruptly, noticing the error indication on one of the TV sets. - Some of the nodes are responding with a delay.

- Maybe it's just interference?

- I hope..." Van der Berg looked closely and shook his head with a sigh. - No, two are completely out of action. In Helsinki and... in Madrid.

- Curious...

- And another one. Rome is off the radar.

The grey-haired professor folded his arms on his chest thoughtfully.

- Labs all over the world have begun to collapse. Hmm..." Prayfield frowned, then brightened: "We can manage without them. We'll reconfigure the planetary collider nodes to communicate only with those that won't disappear in the next couple of minutes.

There was a slight crackle.

- Can we do that from here...? - Volkert hesitated.

- It's easy," Edward assured him, and beckoned him over. - I'll show you... like this. - Under his colleague's scrutiny, he turned a few levers and typed the necessary commands into the console of the portable computer. - I'll take the western hemisphere, you take the eastern hemisphere. Do the same on your terminal.

- Got it, now... - Van der Berg jogged to his half of the control panel and repeated the necessary actions. - It's done.

- Great," Prayfield nodded with relief and turned to his keyboard. - Then...

Before he could speak, he was showered with bluish sparks.

- Shit," the Dutchman cursed and looked at the blinking lights. - Something's wrong with the electricity...

That's the last thing we need. If the power system failed, everything would be pointless, and the whole Lewton lab complex would be one big trap - and a grave for all of them.

Edward didn't have time to consider his next move when the door to the Accelerator Room rumbled open.

- Guys! - Adelie appeared on the doorstep, dishevelled and out of breath from the exertion, running to Edward and collapsing into his arms.

- Honey..." the scientist whispered, soothing her, and stroked the girl's back. - Are you all right...?

- Yes," Dupont nodded feebly with her mascara smeared and turned back around, "but the whole platoon will be here now!

Loud swearing and approaching footsteps were indeed heard down the corridor.

Prayfield leaned over the terminal doomfully.

- Then there was no time left at all. - He looked thoughtfully at the collider's start button and after some thought he pressed it. "Proton released and accelerating. All that's left is to release it into infinite acceleration across the connected nodes." - I don't know if this will work or not....

The Frenchwoman gave him a hopeful look, and her former adversary backed her up:

- We are scientists, mate," Van der Berg put a hand on Edward's shoulder, "ignorance is what pushes us forward, what drives us to discovery.

- And they say I'm a sucker for pathetic speeches," the inventor laughed.

- Boys," Adela said sarcastically, letting her eyes down, "I think someone was talking about time... Ouch!

A dozen Soviet soldiers piled into the room.

- Don't move! - I heard a command. - Finish them off!

Prayfield rushed to Van der Berg's terminal and pulled his friends behind him.

- Come on, all of you!

DuPont didn't need to be asked twice.

She swung round and brought her palm down on the hands of Volkert and Prayfield , who together pressed the switch.

***

The rest happened in a fraction of a second.

The accelerated proton beam left the closed circle of the accelerator in London and crossed the boundary with the accelerator in Quebec, then travelled like condensed lightning through a part of the collider in Miami, accelerated even more in Seoul, almost knocked out the walls of the structure in Mumbai, returned again to England, Canada, the States, Korea and India, and finally came close to the speed of light. The first of the particles to reach the frontier of physics stretched into a huge arc, travelled through all the remaining accelerators, and closed in on itself. The collision of the charged proton with itself caused a chain reaction.

And when it did, a ripple went through the very fabric of reality.

The present and the past have come into contact.

Time has stopped.

In a brief flash there was a microscopic burst of gravitational wave, which for a moment shifted quarks from their chaotic, but calibrated by the laws of the universe orbits. It lasted less than an instant and the Brownian motion continued as before, but the cumulative effect was unstoppable.

Atom after atom broke bonds and formed new ones, shifting from their positions - only by the radius of the electron's orbit, but that was enough. If someone could capture this moment in slow motion, he would have seen how first the centre of the collider, then the glass cracked from the pressure surge, and then the heroes themselves, frozen forever, began to change. A wave of deformation travelled down the hands of Adela, Edward, and Volkert, joined in eternal touch, leaving behind a layer of airborne dust. Their fingers became rusty, their tissues and bones becoming one with the dashboard at an alarming rate.

One by one, everything in the room turned into a solid piece of porous metal with crystalline fragments welded into each other. Doors, walls, soldiers, cars and buildings - everything in the world became one, immovable and dead...

After eight minutes the Sun went out, then came the triple star Alpha Centauri, then - Sirius and Procyon, and in some astronomically small moment of time, the entire Milky Way, the Andromeda Nebula, and then the entire Laniakea Superspace completely plunged into darkness.

The universe is dead.

***

How she dies every moment.

Countless parallel universes are born and die every second. Dividing and dispersing like living cells, never to cross again. Born together and die alone. An endless dance of creation and destruction, without end and without beginning, which will never end...

...as it didn't end for our heroes today.

The atomic attraction was stronger than the impact of the past with the present. The nuclei continued to rotate. Electrons returned to their orbits. Matter and energy began to gather back together again.

From the invisible centre of the structure came a second wave of deformation, bringing back the familiar shapes and matter. First the edges of the accelerator emerged from the spongy foam, then the cracked glass became transparent again. The hands of the people still holding the button ceased to be one.

- Oh...

Adelie blinked feebly and barely touched her face. She could have sworn her heart stopped for a moment. Even though she could not physically experience it, or even feel it, she knew that her consciousness was now having a near-death experience.

And she wasn't the only one who felt it.

- Damn it..." Van der Berg exhaled, taking his palm off the switch heavily. - Are we... still alive?

Edward straightened up and wiped his watery eyes.

- I guess it doesn't look much like death.

His hands were shaking.

"We did it. We did it..."

There was an awkward grunting sound - and two men and a young woman realised they were not alone in the room.

- What the hell..." wheezed one of the Soviet soldiers, pushing his hesitant neighbour away and getting up from the floor. - What was that?

Prayfield let out a short chuckle and shook his head.

- Congratulations, comrades. You have just witnessed the impossible. - He straightened his back and squared his slumped shoulders, watching the awkwardly rising soldiers, who had clearly lost their fighting spirit, with curiosity. One of them gave him a confused look, and Edward switched to Russian: "The time course of the entire universe has just been restarted.

- And you... did it yourself? - The paratrooper shook his head incomprehensibly, lowering his raised weapon. - Why...?

Instead of the professor, his colleague replied:

- To dissipate the energy of the solar flare and to counterbalance the other effects of the time paradox. - Van der Berg turned to Prayfield . - I'm right, aren't I?

Thoth nodded confidently:

- Totally.

- Damn it..." the military man swore, yanked off his waistcoat in frustration, and clipped the machine gun to his shoulder strap. - So that's what you were doing.

The younger infantryman simply remarked with some disappointment:

- And we were told, you want to fire missiles at Leningrad.....

The head of the group, who had kept silent until now, let out a short growl.
"Terrorists, my arse."

- Let's turn around, guys," he commanded in a heavy tone, heading for the exit of the laboratory, "but don't put your weapons away. There's a serious conversation with a man in the Kremlin....

- What a peacemaker," Van der Berg said, returning to English for good measure. Edward answered him, glaring at the soldiers who thought they were defending their country by crossing borders and shooting at defenseless people:

- West, East... We are all the same people inside, no matter how much politicians try to divide us for the sake of consolidating their own power.

Volkert thought about something and nodded silently.

- So that's it? - As if reading his thoughts, the grey-haired scientist asked Adélie, "Is it over?...?

The Dutchman looked at the Englishman too.

- Yes, my dear," Prayfield answered her affectionately, folded his arms across his chest, and raised his head optimistically. - It's all over. Though I don't quite understand exactly how it worked....

- You mean that power outage...? - Van der Berg frowned and glanced at the collider's cracked but still holding protective glass.

The Frenchwoman thoughtfully walked around the tables following the stretching power wires and noticed a small passageway towards a nearby utility room.

- That's right," Edward replied to Volkert, heading for the exit. - I thought I'd have to change the plugs under heavy fire.

- It's a good thing it's all over.

- Guys..." Van der Berg was interrupted by a quiet voice from around the corner. - It didn't go round...

The men froze, sensing something wrong. They had never heard Adela like this before.

Prayfield rushed to her aid.

And twenty metres later, he realised it all.

- Alexei...

A man with a dark beard, grey locks of hair, and too pale skin was staring straight ahead of them. His jacket had been punctured in several places and was darkened by the caked blood that ran far from where he had been, and his gnarled fingers were still clutching the carabiner of a broken cable hastily wrapped in duct tape.

It was the last thing he ever did in his life.

But he hardly regretted it.

CHAPTER 25

- Со-о-о свя-я-яты-ы-ыим-м-ми у-у-упо-о-окой......

Adelie stood like a stumbling block. Her make-up had long since run down her face, and she was no longer trying to listen at least partially to the strange-sounding Russian speech. All she could do now was stare with reddened and tear-dried eyes at the open lid of the coffin where her friend's body lay.

She couldn't see his face, only his nose, pale, gaunt and unmoving, and Dupont prayed she wouldn't have to move. She decided to herself that she would definitely not come any closer until the lid was lowered. Adélie was afraid she wouldn't recognise the man in the burial sheets and would remember him as an extinguished shell, devoid of everything but dead and meaningless rest.

Why him...and not her?

Why do we even go on living when everything around us is changing - and not to say for the better...?

The girl caught her breath and closed her eyes with an effort.

Sometimes she wished she hadn't woken up.

- Hey...

Adelie flinched and opened her eyelids.

- Is everything alright...? - Mitsuki's almost black eyes looked up at her anxiously as she adjusted her umbrella.

- Y-yes... almost. - The Frenchwoman sighed and turned away. - I don't know.

- How about this? - thin fingers touched her arm.

Dupont's lips couldn't help but fold into the semblance of a slight smile.

The Japanese woman smiled back briefly, squeezed her fingers and nuzzled into her shoulder with feeling, adjusting the black dome so that it covered them both from the weather.

- You're not alone anymore... - Itakura assured her partner. - We'll get through this together.

Adélie nodded silently, her gaze sinking again.

They're all going to have to deal with it.

- Holy God, holy God, holy God, holy immortal, have mercy on us.....

The ringing of the censer and barely intelligible speech in a foreign language.

Prayfield stood in the open rain, droplets dripping down his impenetrable glass. It was not the first time he had buried friends and loved ones, but with each funeral it was as if he were saying goodbye to a part of himself.

"Lina, John, Albert, now Olivia and Alexa..."

People go away. Ages change. We are left to watch powerlessly and wait for our turn to disappear into darkness and oblivion... as if that makes any sense.

Edward sighed and turned his gaze to a nearby coffin. It looked much simpler than the first, and its lid was closed so as not to damage the work of the makeup artists-but it wasn't hard to tell whose coffin it was from the sight of the lone weeping woman standing over it.

Prayfield involuntarily shrank back, took off his glasses, and stepped closer.

- Martha, I-" he began uncertainly.

A woman slightly younger than him put out her hand warningly.

- Don't," she whispered hoarsely. - I know who you are. - Martha raised a devastated gaze to him, and the scientist shuddered at how much she resembled Olivia. - You should be here, in this place, not her. And not him. - Nurse Walsh nodded at the dead doctor for whom the priest was reading the funeral service.

The professor faded his gaze.

- If she had listened to me..." the Irishwoman continued furiously and shook her head, "But no. She went into her technology, closed herself off from everyone, chased after another crazy freak, and this was the result. But you know what? - Martha glared at him and turned away. - I'm not even mad at you, Edward. I don't even care about you. - The woman sighed. - You're just like everyone else, an ambitious wastrel. A loser, ruining the lives of others.

Prayfield made no reply and lowered his head.

- So you don't surprise me at all... unlike that monster," Martha glanced at the man in the coat and hat who stood pensively at the end of the small procession, under the shade of a gnarled oak tree.

- You'd have to be a monster to come to the funeral of a woman you killed and pay for the whole party.

Walsh noticed Van der Berg's gaze on her, spat under her feet and gave the grey-haired scientist a scornful look:

- Burn in hell, both of you.

A woman with a streak of grey in her reddish hair made a sign and four porters came to the closed white coffin, who on the count of three lifted it and carefully loaded it into the hearse, the driver of which nodded briefly and started the engine.

- She..." - Volkert stepped silently closer and looked at the car leaving with the angry guest.

- She's going to Ireland," Prayfield explained and sighed softly. - Olivia would like to be at peace in her native land.

The Dutchman took off his wet hat with a shaking hand,-as if bidding farewell to one whom he would never see again through his own utter fault.

He did cut short the life of a woman he never meant to harm and to whom he owed much. If it weren't for Olivia Walsh and her research into predictive language algorithms...

Prayfield did not disturb the reflection of his former adversary, smelled the faint odour of church incense, bowed before the sweep of the ritual censer and looked around at the others.

Apart from the priest, whom Van der Berg had by some miracle managed to smuggle out of Red Russia, which was in the throes of another revolution, a young dark-skinned American with his arm in a bandage stood silently in front of the only coffin, next to him leaning on a cane was the moustached head of a particle accelerator from Miami, who had recovered from a bullet wound. Behind him at a respectful distance was a trio of journalists, two men and a woman from London, who were the first to put the whole picture together and appeared on the doorstep of the Atom estate, not without the help of another forgotten hero. Christian Higginson, visibly gaunt and even aged since his escape from the Soviet prison, sensed the scientist's attention, bowed his head in greeting and turned sympathetically to the last of the participants in the ceremonies under the gazes of Adela and Mitsuki standing behind him.

A stocky, overweight woman with a short haircut and a noticeable bruise on the left side of her face leaned over the coffin and whispered something faintly. Then she put an old gilt compass engraved "For a long memory" into her white and barely bendable fingers.

Only the last word in Russian reached Edward:

- Lyosha...

The brown-haired woman straightened up, gathered air into her chest, sighed heavily, and wiped away her tears.

- I sympathise with you from the bottom of my heart, Miss Kaminska," the grey-haired professor said quietly as he approached. She nodded briefly, then spread her arms impulsively, and Prayfield embraced her readily.

- Dziękuję... - Agnieszka sighed. - I know he was very dear to you, too.

The man nodded.

- We've been friends for almost twenty years. He helped us out more than once, saved my life several times.....

- And did it again," Kaminska finished for him, raising her eyes to Prayfield . - As only he could.

- N-yes. - The Englishman nodded briefly, and in the small crowd behind him someone asked softly:

- Is there anyone else here?

- I think we're expecting a couple of guests," came the reply. - Or not.

- Comrade Prokhvessor," the Orthodox priest suddenly intervened, adjusting his black clobuk on his balding head, "it's time, so to speak, to see the deceased off from the grave of sorrow....

- I think you're right, Father.

Prayfield gathered his strength and stepped forward, casting one last glance at his dead friend. Vorobyov's face was calm, peaceful, at the same time unusually sad and almost lifeless, if I may say so. There was almost nothing in that eternally frozen mask that made its owner alive... but that didn't mean he should only be remembered that way.

- Dear friends and colleagues..." Edward began, looking around at those present. - Thank you for your time. Though it is a sad occasion. - Prayfield turned to the gilt-framed portrait on the easel. - Alexei... Alex... was not only my best friend. For a long time, he was the only one.

The professor was silent for a moment, frowning his forehead. Long speeches had never been his strong suit. Especially funeral ones. Especially in honour of friends.

"The downside of adventure is that long life is not guaranteed to everyone..."

- Despite our differences in views, backgrounds and culture," Prayfield continued aloud, turning again to the group of mourners, "we have become as close as brothers. Though what could a Russian and an Englishman have in common?...? - He grinned at one flicker of memory. - It turned out to be a lot. He had a good heart, and never put himself first. Always raring to help when he knew his friends needed him. He was never really afraid. Not for himself. I'm pretty sure of that. Because he-" His voice shook. - He was an example to me. Helped me become a better person. When I didn't have the strength or the stamina, when it looked like the wind was about to capsize our flimsy boat, he always took the wheel and helped me keep going. Just doing his job.

Dupont pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed away the tears that were flowing again. Mitsuki clung to her shoulder even tighter, her normally impassive eyes filled with endless sadness.

Edward sighed.

- He was... not an easy man. Born in the Russian Empire, raised in poverty and destitution, he was... a hot-headed Red Army man. - The scientist smiled and shook his head. - But that had all passed. What hasn't passed is his essence.....

Van der Berg raised his lowered head and slowly removed his hat.

- He was always brave, always tough," Prayfield continued. - He knew how to ask questions and get answers. And that made him an uncomfortable man back home. Fortunately, he knew how to adapt, too. As a man of a dozen names and many talents... Alex found a use for himself even after his exile. It's a pity that he won't tell about his adventures himself anymore...

Sam wrinkled his nose and turned away so that no one would notice the tear running down his dark cheek

- But we will do it," the professor said firmly and lifted his chin. - Today we bury the hero, but not the memory of him. Alexei Vorobyov sacrificed his life to save, nothing less than, the whole world.

Oswald glanced over to James.

- We couldn't have done it without his help," Edward added, addressing the journalists directly, "and if it wasn't for him, many of you wouldn't be standing here on this day.

Christian nodded slowly and involuntarily shuddered: the end of Shcherbatov's comrade was hard to forget even after all these years.

Prayfield sighed and finished:

- History should remember the man who gave his life to heal time itself.

A grey-haired man in tinted glasses put his hand on Vorobyov's fingers folded in a farewell gesture with an old compass in them.

- Rest in peace, old chap. You'll be remembered.

Kaminska met Prayfield 's warm gaze as he returned to her and whispered a silent "Thank you". He nodded briefly and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Now we are alone..."

The professor could not know for sure, but he realised from Agnieszka's slight trembling that a similar thought had flashed through her mind.

And she won't be gone for a while.

***

The modest grey stone tombstone reads "Alexei Grigorievich Vorobyev, 1917-1969. You made the heart of time beat again".

- Thanks, mate.

Van der Berg alone placed a bouquet of white lilies on a fresh mound and stepped back.

The rain had passed. Not far away, the roofs of the Prayfield estate gleamed in the sparse sunlight, a faint wind stirred the branches of the weeping willows, and the damp haze cleared.

Volkert looked up at the neighbouring two graves, which also had flowers on them, albeit not as many as the new one.

"Jonathan Kepler, 1891-1949. Critic, mentor, dean," he read on the monument first.

"Hans Pufelschmidt, 1878-1945. You did it after all," was written on the second one.

The Dutchman sighed heavily and looked at Prayfield standing in the distance, who was talking to Christian and Adela about something, judging from the looks of it, quite animated yet collected as he always was.

But Van der Berg knew Edward too well to believe that.

***

- Thank you for your service, Father.

The priest rolled his eyes and waved it away:

- Come on, everybody's a child of God. Protestants, Catholics.

Edward shook his head and tried to smooth out his accent:

- Don't worry about getting back - you'll be delivered as soon as you get tired of the local weather.

The professor held out his hand conciliatorily, the priest crossed it machine- and both men froze for a moment with embarrassment.

- Anyway..." the Englishman finally stretched out, just touching his interlocutor's shoulder, "we decided to help you rebuild St Paul's monastery.

The bishop shrieked something not quite censorious in surprise, cast an incredulous glance, and then shook Prayfield 's hand with feeling, and even attempted to pass into English:

- Eats what's-his-name, myracle! Sankyu! The Five Lakes Monastery will never forget your kindness!

In the distance, a young man with glasses and dishevelled hair was watching the scene unfold, leaning with some effort on a light wood cane. Behind him appeared a slightly older man in a white jumper, with expressive eyebrows and medium-length hair slicked back.

- I wonder," said the stranger, folding his arms across his chest, "what exactly are they talking about?

The cripple squinted his eyes.

- It seems..." the young man said after a couple of seconds, "our mysterious professor is offering the strange bearded pastor some help.

- Wow," the interlocutor was impressed, "can you read Russian on the lips?

- No, but the language patterns of the Indo-European languages are quite similar.

- Excellent intuition," the brunet praised him and hesitated, "umm....

- Stephen Hawking," the American visitor introduced himself, leaning on his cane, and extended his hand in greeting. - You can just call him Steve.

- Nice to meet you, Carl Sagan.

- Likewise... - young Hawking looked at his watch. - I'm afraid it's time for me to look for Jane. Will you be at the press conference tomorrow too...?

- Of course," Sagan nodded seriously. - I have too many questions about what happened over the last week on our pale blue dot.

Van der Berg was also glancing at his bracelet watch, but with a different purpose, when a hoarse voice sounded beside him:

- So you are the Dutchman.

- Excuse me...? - Volkert looked up and saw a thin, red-haired man in his thirties with deep-set eyes.

- I didn't think I'd get to meet you in person," the man ignored the unspoken request to introduce himself and turned to the row of graves in the distance. - But death equalises everyone...

- Did you know him?

- He saved my life," said the tired-looking man. - And I'm not the only one...

- That's right," Van der Berg sighed heavily.

They were silent for a while.

- You know," the redhead finally turned to the taller man, "I'm not angry with you anymore. I was angry the first couple of years, but not anymore.

- Are you the journalist who figured it out first?

- Yes," Christian nodded. - You've ruined my reputation and deprived me of all my sources of income. - He grinned. - It's convenient to be the one in control of the truth... But I've adapted. I always knew I was right. And that they-" Higginson nodded toward Prayfield , surrounded by Adela and Mitsuki, "-they'll all come back one day and it'll all be over.

- It's really over.

The Dutchman lowered his gaze and his voice was full of sadness and loss. The British journalist still did not refuse to be swayed:

- Do you regret what you did?

Van der Berg looked at him intently from under lowered eyebrows:

- I'm the one who almost destroyed the Solar System, thinking I was saving the rest of the alternate history threads. What does your gut tell you?

Sam stood aloofly by the table with the drinks and snacks and considered whether to move further away so he could smoke quietly on the sidelines. On the one hand, the thought appealed to him, because he hadn't smoked in a long time, and certainly not his special twists, but on the other hand, puffing marijuana right in the cemetery probably wasn't very respectful to the dead. On the third hand, it wasn't a proper cemetery either, it was a private area....

"I wonder what Alex would say to that," Jones thought wistfully and pulled out his lighter.

He probably would have laughed.

The American with the bandaged arm sighed, put the lighter away, and poured himself some lemonade from the carafe. His attention was drawn to a set of large boxes by a strange pedestal that didn't seem to belong in a private cemetery. This was Prayfield 's land, though, and the grey-haired scientist could do whatever he wanted on it.....

An unfamiliar voice reached him by the edge of his ear, seemingly the only girl among the reporters:

- Look, weren't Shelly and Lisa from California supposed to be here?

- I tried to contact them," Van der Berg told her, "but I couldn't find them. I tried, though, through all channels.

- Strange, missing her ex-husband's funeral... so unlike her.....

Indeed, Jones thought. Whatever there was between one of them and Vorobyov, no spat was worth that kind of attitude. It was clear that he was gone, and maybe he didn't care anymore, though who knew how things worked up there....

- Oh, my God! - The girl suddenly cried out.

Surprised gasps were heard.

Sam turned around with some trepidation - and spat out all the unfinished lemonade in surprise, splashing his T-shirt.

- Oh! I wish I was dead on the spot, bro!

- I'd choose slightly different expressions in a graveyard, brother," Mitsuki remarked nonchalantly from very close by, sipping a complex cocktail from a seemingly innocuous can of soda.

- Nah, bro," Jones grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her towards the main gate, "you look first!

Here it was even Itakura's turn to drop the jar and open his eyes wide.

On the threshold of the wide-open gate stood a foursome of men shabby from a long journey, carrying tool cases and wearing identical white suits, one of whom wore round, thin-rimmed spectacles.

- Sorry for the delay, friends," began a modest-looking bearded man with expressive eyebrows in a sonorous baritone, "we're a little out of time....

- Speak for yourself, Paul," the nosey man with the glasses turned to him. -Who takes half an hour to tune a guitar?

- Says the one who comes to rehearsals last," grinned the man behind him, pulling out his drumsticks.

- She inspires me," the stubbornly stubby brown-haired man answered him as the band moved towards the improvised stage with a pile of boxes on the side. - How many times have I told you... I write better when I'm exhausted. I won't specify in what way.

- Jesus, did you read your last poem? - The last member of the group, also mustachioed, couldn't stand it.

- Guys, guys! - Paul raised his hands.

- We're definitely going to break up," Starr sighed and bent down to gather a drum rack from the open package.

- Shorter! - McCartney raised his voice noticeably, and Lennon and Harrison, who had been arguing, involuntarily turned towards him. One of the Beatles' two leading soloists smiled, satisfied that he was still influential, and turned to the funeral crowd. - We'd like to honour the memory of your good friend and cheer you up a little....

- Yes!" Sam couldn't help but shout.

- I see we've already lifted it for someone," the bearded Englishman immediately remarked and pointed his finger at him, "that's very good!

- I love you, Paul! - Jones exclaimed even louder and raised his arms high.

- You don't really mean that," Mitsuki remarked half-heartedly and raised an eyebrow.

But the slightly older American didn't hear her. Before his eyes, a simple kid from a poor segregated neighbourhood was realising his biggest dream... a dream he had almost given up on.

- Anyway," Lennon took the initiative and stepped forward, pushing his co-writer away, "Paul and I have written a special song especially for you. It won't go anywhere and probably no one else will hear it...

- But it doesn't matter," McCartney took the initiative from the gloomy pianist again, "because we're coming back! - He smiled to a thunder of applause and cheers, surprisingly loud for a small gathering. - We'd like this little song to remind you that... you're not alone, and we have each other.

- Trite but true," Lennon noted wistfully.

- Shut up, goggle-eyed," George threw in immediately.

Paul gritted his teeth and immediately lifted a finger up:

- Before we all fight, let's do something new, okay? We really need someone to stand between these two. - The bard thought for a second. - I think we really need someone to--

- The tambourine! - Sam interrupted him. - Give me a tambourine!

- Give him a tambourine," Itakura sighed.

- Great, at least chopsticks," Ringo said, settling down behind the hastily set up drums, "just so the two geniuses don't sparkle.

McCartney beckoned Jones onto the stage and the latter, not believing it was real, looked back at his friends.

- Come on, Sam! - Adelie encouraged him, and Edward, standing next to her, supported her:

- Go, mate! Well done!

- I love you all so much!

The guy gave them a white smile and headed towards the musicians who had already taken their seats.

- Great, the fifth member of the ensemble is in place... - Paul exhaled and extended his hand in greeting: - What's your name, mate?

- Sam Jones, sir," the American shook it readily, "and you won't find a bigger beatleman than me.

- Well, I'm no sir, but, um.

- "But!" - Van der Berg winked at an enthusiastic Adela, who reunited with a sceptical Mitsuki.

- ...but thank you for your kind words," McCartney finished and turned to the other members of the Liverpool Four. - All right, let's go!

George Harrison gave Sam a small tambourine and gave him a seat next to Lennon at an unknown piano; the poet with glasses nodded to him and glanced at McCartney, turning his head slightly. He clearly wanted to start, but he looked at the black and white keys in front of him and the rudimentary score he had written on a page from his notebook on the transatlantic flight - and John just put his fingers on the keyboard, ready for his first public performance in a long time.

Paul McCartney coughed.

- Alexei Vorobiev... - began the bearded Englishman with sad big eyes. - I don't know what kind of man he was, but I know one thing - he was a wonderful friend to everyone who could make it today. And this song is for you. For everyone who would have cared for him...rest in peace, mate.

Ringo Starr hit the edge of the drum three times and started a light rhythmic part, Lennon started with phlegmatic and reassuring piano chords, and Harrison played along with him on the electric guitar connected to the amplifier in time. They played a short harmonic introduction, gradually increasing the tempo, and McCartney began to sing:

Rest, my friend,

We shared our joys and fears,

Till the end,

Together, through all our years.

And now you're gone,

I'm left alone,

With memories

All on my own....

Adeli hugged Mitsuki even tighter, a tear running down her cheek. Prayfield nodded slowly to his thoughts.

John Lennon continued alternating with Paul, his emotional falsetto sounding deep and thoughtful:

Oh, my friend,

I see your smiling face,

A treasure trove

Of vast, live happy places,

But now you're gone,

And I'm left alone,

You know that I'm still here today,

To find my way

Back home.

Sam tapped rhythmically with a tambourine. Van der Berg was thinking about something of his own.

George and Ringo joined Paul and John, and together they all finished after a short instrumental interlude:

Here, at the end,

We've lost you, dear friend,

But your memory stays,

To lead us our ways,

Through the darkness and the pain,

To the future where

Love and peace will reign.

Starr switched to a sharper drum part, and Harrison took advantage of the moment to go into a bright electric solo. McCartney backed him up by playing six-string guitar with Lennon, who brought out a series of inspiring arpeggios on a portable piano that turned to a rhythmic melody in the silence of the evening sky.

- Love and peace shall rise..." Lennon finished in a low voice and lowered the lid of the instrument.

Her pounding was drowned in applause of elation, joy and hope.

***

Christian stood aside with a cup of coffee kindly offered by the Frenchwoman and watched the members of the most famous rock band in the world signing autographs in the backyard of the mansion of the scientist who had appeared out of nowhere and his motley crew, which had thinned out considerably.

- Excuse me," came a dry voice, "do you mind if I disturb you?

Higginson looked round and nodded.

- Of course.

One of the two strangers approached him, a serious man with noticeable wrinkles wearing thick-rimmed glasses.

- So you're the man who predicted everything...? - He tentatively adjusted the sleeves of his coat. - I'm sorry, I overheard your conversation with Mr Van der Berg.
- Yes, you could say that," the former journalist shrugged his shoulders. - And you...?

- Oswald Kent, press. - The man with the glasses did not name a specific publication. - If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to you on the record. Tomorrow's press conference will be the topic of the day on all the front pages, and I'd like to... firstly, to sort things out, and secondly, to make some amends.

- What do you mean? - His interlocutor frowned.

Oswald sighed and fixed his glasses.

- I contributed to this chaos to some extent. Van der Berg gave an extensive interview at the time, which boosted my career. But now I realise that his role in the recent events was not at all unequivocal. So," he put his hand on Christian's shoulder, "... would you mind if I bought you dinner?

- Interesting suggestion," Higginson noted quietly, lowering his gaze to Kent's fingers, but he didn't remove his hand.

- So what do you say? - A faint smile appeared on Oswald's lips for the first time.

- Maybe I'll be okay with more than just dinner.

***

Van der Berg climbed a small hill and stopped.

- There you are.

Prayfield turned round.

- Did you think I'd just walk out of my best friend's funeral?

- You're still full of mystery.

- This riddle is not that difficult..." Edward rose to his feet and stepped aside, and the Dutchman finally saw the object of his interest.

Beneath a hundred-year-old oak tree that had fallen in a long ago thunderstorm was a knoll of recently turned earth, over which stood a small plaque of old stone,-not so conspicuous as the other memorial markers in the small private cemetery, but considered quite unmistakable.

- It's a strange feeling to look at one's own grave," Volkert remarked softly.

The slab was engraved with the short "A. W. Smith" and vague years of life.

- It wasn't quite you," Edward said, and bent down again to tidy up the neglected grave site. - And you're not responsible for what he did.

- That's true. But still...

- You have your own load, I know. And I don't blame you. It's all history.

Prayfield flicked the clogged dirt at the bottom of the funereal inscription with his hand.

"1931-1897"

- A story that began with a man who died before he was born," grinned a man in a dark coat and hat.

- Funny paradox, yes....

Prayfield and Van der Berg were silent for a little while.

The musicians played half a dozen more songs and left, the guests of the ceremony slowly dispersing. The evening was winding down and the only bright star in the sky was the only one that could be seen.

- We've both changed the world, haven't we? - the grey-haired Englishman said at last, staring fixedly at Jupiter above.

- From different positions, but yes..." the unshaven Dutchman replied thoughtfully. - I tried to destroy it with good intentions. You were trying to stop me. We both wanted the same thing, though from different positions....

- Creator versus destroyer..." the professor shook his head with a slight smile, referring to himself in the latter case. - Interesting role reversal, fate has a perverse sense of humour.

- "God doesn't play dice," Van der Berg answered him with a quote and the corners of his lips lifted upwards too.

Prayfield sighed.

- There is no God, unfortunately... there are only people. Which is even scarier.

- Or encouraging.

- In this case, yes," the old inventor agreed with his former adversary and pressed his lips together, "we narrowly avoided disaster. But I dread to imagine what the consequences of our failure would have been.

Volkert put a hand on his shoulder:

- Let it go, you've already paid your price. It's time to rest. To enjoy the world you did build...I leave it all to you.

Edward looked up at him incredulously:

- You're keeping it?

Van der Berg answered him with calmness in his voice:

- Utopolis, all the developments, the patents... everything is yours now. - You could see in his eyes that he'd made up his mind a long time ago. - My legal team is already finalising the paperwork.

Prayfield tried to object to something, but the Dutchman raised his hand warningly:

- Profits from commercial activities will also go into your fund, you don't need to teach for a living. Only if you miss your job.

The Englishman shook his head:

- I'm afraid I can't accept that.

- You bet you can," Van der Berg was adamant. - It's your legacy in terms of ideas, not mine. And besides, you inspired me. Remember? Back in 1963.

- When you saved my life from a heart attack..." the scientist's voice grew quieter.

Volkert continued, his speech was earnest:

- If it hadn't been for our chance meeting, friendship and long correspondence - I wouldn't have been able to finish the reality fractaliser. The chain of events wouldn't have started, we wouldn't have become enemies, you wouldn't have disappeared for six years and let me build my technological empire uniting East and West. I wouldn't have done what you failed to do... - The renegade world lord looked up at the elderly heir. - So after I am gone forever, all of this must pass to you. Think of it as a second chance, my friend.

Prayfield couldn't agree more:

- I don't think I truly deserve it. - The inventor sighed and ran a hand through his grey beard. - The unwitting villain of the whole story we're in is me, not you.

- We've both faced more than ourselves. What matters is not the past, but what lessons we are willing to learn from it in order to move on....

- So you'll just move on? - Edward squinted. - Without going back?

Van der Berg nodded purposefully:

- This is the destiny I've always sought. I don't belong here. But for you and all the other humans... this world is yours now. You deserve it more than I do.

Prayfield nodded to his thoughts.

- So this is goodbye...

- Not quite," the Dutchman turned to him with a hopeful look. - We'll meet again, at least tomorrow. The people of both hemispheres are hungry for answers, and I'm ready to give them. And then-I promise I'll stop by before I leave.

- I'll be very happy to see you, Volkert," Edward told him seriously. - My door is always open to you.

- I know, mate," Van der Berg replied, and for some reason he grinned. - It has always been like that.

- What?

The Dutchman nodded towards the huge house for some reason:

- How old is this estate?

- That's a strange question," the professor shrugged and folded his arms across his chest. My family has lived here since the late eighteenth century. Why?

- I think if you pick up the documents about the building works that were carried out here in the second half of the 19th century, you will notice one very familiar surname.

Prayfield frowned.

- Are you saying...

Van der Berg nodded, confirming his train of thought:

- Adenmire Wilfred-Smith somehow realised that I'd be in this place during the first run of the time machine. And he had prepared in advance. - The Dutchman made a sweeping gesture. - A room, a secret passage... everything so that the first guest from the future wouldn't die bricked up in a dungeon and cause an endless cascade of other copies to appear in the same place and time.

- So that's what this place was," Edward scratched his chin thoughtfully. - How interesting...

- Exactly! - Volkert let out a short laugh. - You and I even missed each other then, six... six years ago. I didn't know how you'd react to an intruder in a spacesuit.

The professor smiled.

- I'm sure the reaction would have been quite violent. Though, if we met and talked..." His tone became thoughtful.

- Yes," Van der Berg said, as if answering his thoughts. - I wouldn't have destroyed the Solar System, and you wouldn't have saved it.

- I never wanted to be a hero," the scientist sighed.

- That's what all the heroes say.

The man in the dark coat was about to leave, but after a couple of steps he stopped, having remembered something:
- Oh, by the way. One more thing. Why I was looking for you in the first place..." Van der Berg rummaged through his deep pockets and pulled out a rather large package. - I have a parting gift for you. Take it.

Prayfield frowned.

- Are those... magnetic discs?

- Yes," Van der Berg nodded, "be careful with them. Use your computer and you'll see for yourself. She'd want you to have them.

Good night.

Prayfield looked thoughtfully after the man who was leaving.

And he clutched the package to his chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

***

About an hour later he went up to his office, put on his old slippers, took off his brown jumper and hung it on his shoulders. He turned the hinged kinescope towards him, flicked the power switch on the computer unit. He waited for the flickering black-and-white letters to appear on the screen and glanced at the object in the unfolded sheets of packing paper.

- Well...

Prayfield carefully picked up a set of magnetised discs, put each one into its own mount in a device attached to his terminal, and connected them by their contacts to each other in an array.

- Let's see what we got here....

He put his glasses on his nose and squinted. There was some kind of programme code on the medium that he hadn't seen before. And, as far as he could tell, the algorithm was triggered by a single command...

- Let's see if we can summon you...

The scientist ran a chain of commands from a connected magnetic disc and slowly, letter by letter, the inscription appeared on the screen of his computer:
">> HELLO..."
Prayfield raised an eyebrow in surprise and lowered his gaze to the keyboard, wondering if it would be foolish to try to write something back, but at the same time the screen blinked for a moment and the phrase gradually had a continuation:
">> ...WHAT DO YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT?"

- Wow.
A flashing dash appeared below the text, as if inviting dialogue.

- Well...
Prayfield typed slowly on the keys from the electric typewriter:

"WHO ARE YOU? WHAT IS YOUR NAME?..."

He pressed the enter key, the kinescope blinked again and after a few long seconds the screen came up:
">> AND WHAT ANSWER WOULD SATISFY YOU? /"

Edward sighed and typed:

"I WISH I KNEW..."

The calculating unit rumbled, a relay switched on a system of small fans. Prayfield folded his hands in front of him.

The system brought up a screen after a while:
">> TELL ME MORE /"

The scientist sighed and lowered his head. He had almost fallen for a psychological trick: the illusion of empathy based on leading questions.

- A simple text algorithm, albeit a rather tricky one.

He moved away from the on-screen keyboard, but the flashing lettering made him think it might be rude to just end the dialogue and turn off the device. Simple program or not, it deserved at least a tiny response.

I don't think," Edward typed on the terminal, "that you can help me.

And pressed enter again, somehow hoping the answer would be different this time.

A little more time passed, and the screen popped up:

">> WHY DO YOU THINK THAT? /"

Prayfield straightened disappointedly. He was right, this was a verbal game of sympathetic interlocutor that could go on forever... so there was no point in keeping himself in line.

"YOU ARE NOT HER," he typed quickly on the keyboard, "YOU ARE NOT OLIVIA. OLIVIA IS GONE."

{ "input".

The whirring of the coolers has changed. Or were the transistors already approaching peak power load...? Prayfield whined quietly.

"What kind of hardware is this strange linguistic toy even designed to run on?"

The letters of his last message were still on the screen.

- Here we go.

The old man reached for the switch when the kinescope finally showed the text of the machine's reply, line by line:

"MAYBE. /"

Edward froze a millimetre away from the tumbler.

Something in the tone of the reply changed.

He leaned closer to the screen interestedly.

"I'M NOT HER... /"

- What...? - came out of the shocked professor's mouth.

The inscription blinked, the next line appearing faster:

"NOT _AT ALL_ HER."

It certainly wasn't the tone of an indifferent imitation of artificial intelligence.

From the last lines of the reply, Prayfield felt a strange mixture of longing, wonder, slight fear, and a deep-seated hope of an almost religious kind.

It appeared on the computer's kinescope:
"BUT I'M GLAD TO BE HERE... /"
"EDWARD. /"

EPILOGUE

- ...look at yourself. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?

A caustic chuckle.

- What's with the hair, anyway? - Her blonde hair was messed up. - Like a boy, for God's sake. - A rough hand went over her head and poked her in the back of the head. - Why the hell did you cut all your locks off, you stupid girl?

- N-don't talk to me like that!

Adela's voice was no louder than a whisper.

- I'll speak as I please," the voice grinned back. - What a suffragette.

- I n-no.

She blushed.

- What's this? - Her fingers, stained with oil paint, clasped her face with force. - Those cheeks, mother of God. I never noticed them before.

- Please, that's enough.

- What's this? - His hands travelled over her breasts and down her sunken belly to her navel. - Is that fat?

- Andre, come on.

- Wow, you're really fattening up. How can I look at you now?

His fingers travelled even lower.

Sweat broke out on the girl's forehead.

- Don't t-t-touch me...! - She sobbed, unable to move.

Her voice failed her completely.

Another man's hand came down on her crotch and clenched it.

- That's what it is, what a cow.

DuPont has burst into flames:

- Leave it! Me! At last! Leave me alone!!!

Adelie opened her eyes wide and drew in air noisily.

Her heart was beating frantically.

It was dark all around, the wind ruffled the tulle in the faint light of the moon from the ajar window. The girl slowly lowered her head to the pillow and relaxed her arms.

- Mon Deux..." she exhaled and ran her hand across her forehead.

I'm sweating profusely.

Adelie adjusted the edge of the blanket against her chest and felt a soft touch.

To her right, bottomless dark eyes looked at her sympathetically.

- Nightmare again...? - Mitsuki whispered.

The Frenchwoman nodded tiredly.

- Same dream. I can't get rid of it...

The girl put her arm around her and rested her head on her shoulder.

- It's all in the past, love. - Itakura's voice was sleepy, but confident and calm at the same time. - I'm not going to hurt you...

- I know, sweetheart. - Dupont bit her lip and whispered: - Listen... (ADVERTISEMENT)

- Yes, sun...? - The Japanese woman turned to her and raised herself on her elbow.

The blonde gathered air into her chest and blurted out:

- Do you like me? Well, in appearance.

In the silence that ensued, the girl was glad that her partner could hardly see her blush.

- Are you serious now? - Mitsuki finally asked.

- Well...

- I'm sorry. Of course you mean it. - Itakura sighed and continued with conviction, choosing her words carefully. - Look, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met in my entire life. And you're... you're mine. In bed with me, a simple and not very smart girl from Hatsukaichi, is a golden-haired goddess from Europe itself. And she has such self-esteem...? - The Asian woman grinned. - God, I'll give that Andre a good punch in the jaw if I see him.

- I don't mind," Adelie giggled.

The expression on her girlfriend's face softened.

- Look..." Mitsuki sighed. - I know it's been hard for you..." She bit her lip, thinking about how to broach a sensitive subject. - You haven't told me much, but from what I know... Look, he was a rare freak. You didn't deserve such a nightmare. The way he treated you.

- And I put up with it," Dupont lowered her head. - I thought he was so loving.

- She doesn't," Itakura replied with confidence and a look in her eyes. - You don't say that to someone you love. Trust me.

- Yes, I do.

The Frenchwoman sighed.

- I love you, do you hear me? - The brunette took her hands in her own, keeping her gaze serious. - And I'll always be there for you. I'll... help you love yourself, okay? You're more than just your looks. - She stopped to catch her breath. - There's so much beauty and strength in you... elegance and kindness... Believe me when I say this. You're perfect already.

Adeli gently pulled her right hand out from under Mitsuki's fingers and ran it over her moistened eyes. The Japanese woman noticed this, smiled, touched the girl's chin and lifted her face affectionately.

- Come here, pie. I'll show you how much I love you.

And kissed her on the lips.

***

...It was quite late in the morning when two pairs of light feet cautiously descended the steps of the main staircase.

- Ah, girls, you're awake! - The squat woman in the kitchen turned round at the sound and smiled. - Ed said not to wake you...

- And very rightly so..." Mitsuki yawned and stomped towards the coffee pot.

Sam put down the midday paper in his hands sympathetically:

- Didn't sleep well?

- At first, yes," Adélie admitted, "but then the pendulum swung the other way... Ouch!

The Japanese woman slapped her on the soft spot, innocently sipping coffee from a painted cup. The Frenchwoman blushed, but Sam just shook his head, grinned, and went back to his paper.
- Careful, careful... - The new guest carried a pot of boiled potatoes from the cooker on her outstretched arms. Dupont retreated to the cupboard in time to notice:

- I'm glad to see you're late, Mrs Kowalska.

- I think Alex would be pleased," Agnieszka told her, pouring water into the sink through a colander. - He would like us to meet one day. So... I'll stay here with you for a while, - the Polish girl looked affectionately over her shoulder at the young inhabitants of the manor. - At least I'll treat them to a good meal.

- Not one word about fried burgers! - Jones said in a loud whisper. Itakura laughed, and Adelie blushed even more and jokingly shoved her in the side.

- Okay, almost done...so, who wants a jurek...?

The caring hostess placed a supremely delicious-smelling dish of hand-baked buns on plates, inside of which was soup with potatoes, sausage and eggs.

- I can't believe what you've come up with," Sam said, inhaling the scent. - It's like I'm visiting my grandmother! No offence; of course, you are not a grandmother, but... - then the young American scooped up the cooking with a spoon and finally tasted it. - Mmm! The flavour is excellent.

- I'm glad you liked it, darling. - Agnieszka smiled and folded her arms cosily in front of her, admiring the almost homely picture.

- Are you staying for now too...? - Mitsuki asked her neighbour in passing.

- Well," Sam wiped his lips with his napkin before answering, "John and Yoko lent me some money, so I could go home... Except my home is here, and so is my family. So I'll definitely stay in England, near you all. Maybe I'll live in London.

- It's not necessary, mate," came heavy footsteps from up the stairs, "you can stay here.

Looking fresh and rested, Edward Prayfield , in his warm housecoat, paused and smiled as he looked round at the company in the dining room:

- Like you all, friends. My house is your house. There's room enough for everyone.

Suddenly the doorbell rang.

- Oh, someone else...? - Agnieszka stood up anxiously.

The professor turned round and raised an eyebrow. They hadn't expected guests on a Saturday afternoon.

- I'll get it," Mitsuki rushed to the entrance.

Prayfield cast a glance at the energy gun hanging against the wall just in case.

But that wasn't the case.

- Wow, what a meeting! - Sam exclaimed and rose from his seat.

The door closed, the Japanese woman walked back with an easy gait, and a familiar man appeared on the doorstep.

- I hope I'm not interrupting anything. - Christian Higginson looked round and shook the envelope awkwardly in his hand. - Yesterday I received a letter with a very strange date, and it said to be here at a certain time ...

Prayfield shook his head and grinned.

- I think I know who did this.

The journalist held out the postal item to him and said:

- I told van der Berg last time that I would write a book about all this. And that he couldn't stop me from telling the truth.

Edward nodded to himself: the note on the very ancient paper did indeed have the sprawling, old, but still quite recognisable handwriting of letters and diaries.

" Prayfield Manor, Impington, Cambridgeshire, 24.09.1969, 12.35pm. You are the man who should be there."

Adenmayer Wilfred-Smith's last will and testament.

- You waited six years to find direct witnesses to the events..." Kowalska said thoughtfully.

- And the wait was worth it," Higginson answered her. - I missed the hell out of all of you guys... - He turned towards the object on the mantelpiece. - Too bad it's gone.

Adélie and the rest followed him.

Among candles and memorable curiosities from different countries in a cracked golden frame stood a monochrome photograph of Alexei Vorobyov laughing at something, taken a long time ago and tied with a black ribbon.

- We'll never forget you," Edward whispered.

And then something hissed in the air.

Prayfield turned round and threw up his hand, shading the people behind him. Mitsuki squinted in the bright light, Adelie looked sceptically at Sam, and Christian leaned forward with interest, unlike Agnieszka, who took a couple of steps back and looked for the fire extinguisher just in case.

A glowing diamond-shaped slit with fuzzy vibrating edges appeared in the centre of the living room, which after a few seconds expanded to the size of a man's height and in the fluorescent haze appeared a figure in a minimalist spacesuit with metal inserts, wearing a geometrically shaped opaque visor and carrying a bulky container behind his back, from which several weighted hoses and tubes ran to the main part.

The stranger stepped onto the parquet, pressed a few buttons on his bracelet, turned round to the slightly less bright passage behind him, and finally removed his helmet, from beneath which purple smoke billowed.

- Ugh... still can't get used to the stabilising mix.

Van der Berg blinked, wiped his reddened eyes, and finally addressed the audience:

- Oh, you're all here. Glad my memory for coordinates didn't fail me.

The professor relaxed and took a few steps, extending his arm in greeting:

- True to his word is honourable.

- Yes," answered the Dutchman readily, "I could not leave this universe without seeing my friends - and enemies - for the last time.

Christian let his eyes down, taking the remark personally.

Adelie cast a glance at the shimmering veil and inquired politely:

- Is fractalisator.com up and running again?

- Yes," Van der Berg nodded to her, "this time absolutely. - He, too, turned to the shining, geometrically shaped portal behind him. - When I walk through that door, I'll never go back. And I never will.

Dupont lowered her head silently and a look of ill-concealed regret appeared on her face.

- Too bad..." Mitsuki whispered.

Van der Berg twirled the helmet of hermetically assembled armoured glass in his hands.

- That's the nature of temporal travelling. You either move along the arrow of time at one speed or another towards the future - or you look for detours... but this is my way. It's my choice.

Higginson nodded slowly and said:

- Eternal Wandering... you are Agasphere. - The journalist's close-set eyes lit up. - The man who refused to help Jesus Christ on his way to Calvary, and for that he was condemned to eternal wandering.

- Maybe so," Van der Berg didn't argue, pressing a combination of buttons on his armband control unit. - But I cursed myself. My story had no other way to go. I nearly ruined this world - and now I will make sure that I bring to all future worlds only the best that man is capable of. Creation and improvement. Order out of entropy.

Prayfield smiled and spread his hands:

- I'll miss our conversations and correspondence, Volkert.

- So do I, Edward. Me too.

Dupont rushed forward and hugged them both. Van der Berg was surprised, but put his hand on her shoulder and stroked her lightly. Mitsuki and Sam followed the Frenchwoman, and Prayfield noticed with a smile that Higginson, following Agnieszka, also took a step towards the group of farewellers and patted one of the girls on the back.

Edward closed his eyes and felt that this brief moment of togetherness was the first time in many, many years that he felt alive and in his place. That everything that had come before had not been for nothing.

All the losses, the falls, the mistakes and failures... everyone they lost along the way and who lost them - it all mattered. Olivia, Alexei, Pufelschmidt, Kepler... and Evangeline Adelheim along with their never-born child.

All of this was not for nothing.

They saved the world and changed it. Stopped a planetary catastrophe in this universe and repaired time itself in all others. This journey had changed them... changed him.

Most importantly, Edward Gregory Prayfield , the loner and loser who just a year ago sought silence from the screams of inner demons at the bottom of a bottle - finally has...

Family.

- Take care of yourself, brother," Sam finally said as the group hug came to an end.

- I'll do my best, mate.

Van der Berg nodded and checked one last time the tightness of the protective suit's connections. The stabilising gas would help him survive the transition, but if a single molecule from the negative space got inside...

Kowalska inquired anxiously, folding her arms in front of her:

- Where exactly are you going?

- To one of the random universes, Mrs Vorobyova," the Dutchman answered her and looked at the wrist control panel of the wearable fractaliser. - 'To begin with, to where it is now... the year 1557. - Van der Berg smiled: - I've always wanted to meet Copernicus and ask him exactly what made him think of the heliocentricity of our little world.

The man put on a sharp-angled helmet of opaque glass, entered the last combination of commands on a miniature computer and put his foot outside the boundary of the intolerably bright vibrating veil.

- Goodbye, friends.

And his silhouette disappeared in a diamond-shaped slit of bluish haze, leaving behind a few bluish sparks.

- God bless you," Adélie whispered.

The edges of the passage flared one last time and it gradually shrank, shrinking into a single bright dot that was picked up by a faint breeze from the open windows and carried away into the distance.

***

- Well..." Higginson was the first to break the silence. - It seems that this story has come to an end.

Prayfield nodded, putting his hands thoughtfully into the pockets of his house dressing gown.

- It's been a long adventure.

The scientist, as if noticing for the first time that he still hadn't changed into more appropriate clothes for the reception, started up the stairs to his bedroom.

- I'm not sure I'm ready to leave the house for the next week..." Adélie admitted meanwhile, dropping exhaustedly into her chair under her girlfriend's anxious gaze. - There's so much to think about.

- Yeah, that's a lot of expeditions for

Agnieszka suddenly splashed her hands, noticing something wrong:

- Oh, boys and girls, - and nobody checked the answerphone, did they...?

Sam raised his eyebrows:

- Have we had a phone this whole time?

- Of course it was, silly," Itakura said sarcastically. - I switched it off a couple of years ago because of the salesmen, but then it just got so complicated....

- It's okay, honey," Edward reassured her from the first floor, "it's just a missed call.

- I think he came a week ago, when we were at the procession-" Kowalska leaned over a complicated telephone set with a flashing indicator light and a compact-cassette recording device.

Prayfield , already in his usual light brown jumper and dark trousers, came closer and stared at a single point. A premonition arose in the back of his mind, the shade of which he could not yet discern....

- Shall we listen? - Jones interrupted his train of thought.

Polka was confused and the young Englishman prompted:

- Click the button on the right there.

The young woman did so. There was a click, the sound of rewinding film, another click, and then an excited voice came from the built-in speaker:

"Alex...I'm sorry I've been missing for ten years... "

Edward stood up like a stooped man.

- Who is it...? - the Japanese woman asked her friend in a whisper. She shook her head.

"...I'm told you've moved and are probably back with Edward...by the way, hi and thanks for everything, Ed... "

The frowning Agnieszka glanced at the confused Sam and looked at Prayfield . He put out his hand warningly and tilted his head to listen.

"...sorry, I don't have much time so it's all so rambling...anyway, check this one..."

Christian snatched up the travelling notebook along with a pen.

"...now... spell it out, - VHF 42, northern hemisphere, 180 kilometres and 85 minutes. I've got to go... I'll call you later."

A short beep along with a click - and the cassette microfilm stopped.

- Do you know her, Ed? - rose to her feet and asked Kowalska with her face still tense.

- Of course," Prayfield nodded sadly at her. - This is Shelly... Shelly McDowell.

- Oh... - Agnieszka lowered her gaze understandingly and pressed her lower lip.

- Who's Shelley? - Jones asked DuPont in a whisper. She looked at Edward confusedly, and he explained:

- Vorobyov's ex-wife.

The one that never showed up at her tragically deceased husband's funeral for whatever reason...despite having a good relationship with both men.

- What's this all about...? - Mitsuki frowned incomprehensibly.

- Here, I wrote it down. - Higginson handed the professor the hastily scribbled figures on a piece of paper.

Prayfield pulled a case from his pocket and took out his invariable tinted glasses.

- I have an uneasy feeling....

He took the sheet from the young man and hurried towards the stairs, throwing it down as he went:

- Follow me, mates... We're about to find out.

- At one time Alex and I put together a small radio telescope," the professor continued as he walked on and stopped at the dead end opposite the door to Vorobyov's former room. - Perhaps we'll still need it....

Prayfield looked closely at the pattern on the wallpaper, ran his fingers over it, and stopped at the hidden ledge under the candelabra.

There was a creak with a lingering rustle - and part of the wall was pulled aside along with the candlestick on it.

- How many hidden rooms are there in this house? - Sam wondered.

- Oh, I think that's enough," Adelie raised a sarcastic glance at him.

Mitsuki walked in after everyone else and surveyed the not-so-spacious room, littered with racks of boxes and dusty books, with a dose of unease.

"Why are we here...?" - flashed through her mind. But then she saw the real reason.

- The numbers Shelley gave are the broadcast frequency," Prayfield explained, extending a narrow folding ladder from the top of the wall at the hidden hatch. - Decametre waves, 42 centimetres, nothing special.

The inventor went up first, opened the hatch and called the others to follow.

- It's the details," he continued upstairs, opening the hearing window in a wide room filled with scientific equipment. Sam looked at the folding telescope on the windowsill with interest. - Shelly indicated the hemisphere, the northern hemisphere for some reason, then the altitude and duration of the orbit.

Cautiously walking after everyone else, Agnieszka felt like sneezing from the dust hanging in the air.

- So it's an artificial object in outer space," Edward finished, pulled out a hinged object that had been folded in half, unfolded the folded blades, put the resulting satellite signal antenna out the window, and ran over to a control panel with a keypad and a bubbly kinescope. - Let's see if we can get a fix on it....

Adelie stepped closer and cautiously ran her hand over the makeshift radio telescope.

Jones scratched his head and frowned:

- 160 kilometres... the number sounds familiar, no?

- A fine memory, friend," the grey-haired Englishman turned to him.

- It won't be easy to pick it out among the many," said a journalist who came from the side. - There are just over three hundred satellites above us now.

- Once it was barely under a hundred," Sam sighed.

- It's all right," smiled Prayfield , "we'll try anyway. - He pulled up an old notebook, picked up a pencil and began to calculate something. - Orbital period-85 minutes ... Earth radius, orbital altitude-" The scientist shrieked jubilantly and concluded: - It's travelling at about eight kilometres per second.

- Wow!" Dupont couldn't help herself.

Prayfield answered her with an interested look:

- Yeah, that's pretty fast for a satellite. - The inventor's eyes clouded over. - I don't see why anyone would give it that kind of speed... unless it went out of geocentric orbit on its own. But for that to happen, it would have to be either very heavy, or quite old....

- Or both. - Higginson's voice was unaccustomedly quiet.

There was a brief silence.

- You're right," the professor finally answered him. - It's an old acquaintance of ours...

Mitsuki opened her eyes wide and slammed herself on her knees:

- Oh, come on.

Prayfield quickly turned to the control panel and punched in a string of commands. The antenna turned and headed into the low cloudy sky.

- The Soviet laser cannon is still up there...? - the American said incredulously. - And it's sending signals...?

- I guess so," Edward agreed, and leaned forward. - Wait, I've got him. I'll try to get it on film...

The professor quickly pressed the record button and the reel on the recording module spun. It was clear from his tense look that they had only a short time before the window of opportunity disappeared.

- Good God...," Agnieszka whispered.

The oscillogram line went down.

- Signal's gone. He's out of range.

Edward stopped the tape recorder and looked at the flickering screen of sensor readings. There could be no mistake.

- But did you get anything down? - Christian asked.

- I think so. - Prayfield nodded and turned to the recording device. - The signal quality is lousy, but we'll definitely hear something....

He rewound the film back and turned on the playback.

There was a faint hiss from the small speaker, followed by a quiet human voice, barely audible through the interference.

"Edward, I know you'll hear it."

Prayfield 's pupils dilated.

"Find me, Ed...."

Interference noise.

"Find us."

Click.

"Edward, I know you..."

- Is that Shelly? - Dupont listened and asked uncertainly.

The recording broadcast by the satellite was repeated again.

The American shook his head:

- The accent is different.

The professor slowly raised his head, still looking at one point.

- I haven't heard that voice in almost twenty years..." he said, unusually quiet and detached, as if talking to himself. - But how is it possible... and is it possible...?

- Edward...? - Sam was worried, and Adelie put her hand on his shoulder:

- Are you all right?

- Hey, hey... - Agnieszka tried to calm him down.

- I don't... I don't know what I heard. - The grey-haired scientist looked up with a mixture of uncertainty, fear, and hope. - But it's her. It's her.

- Who? - Mitsuki asked incomprehensively.

Edward Gregory Prayfield replied:

- My Evangeline...

She's alive.

THE END

Professor Prayfield's Expeditions: Shards of Lost Time (Read novel online for free)

Professor Prayfield's Expeditions:
Shards of Lost Time

novel by Nick Koriagin

original version

English draft

CONTENTS:

PART I.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

PART II.

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

PART III.

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

PART IV.

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

EPILOGUE

Comments

Сообщить об ошибке

Professor Prayfield's Expeditions:Shards of Lost Time

novel by Nick Koriagin

original version

English draft

CONTENTS:

PART I.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

PART II.

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

PART III.

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

PART IV.

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

EPILOGUE

Comments

Professor Prayfield's Expeditions:
Shards of Lost Time